"Draco, are you ready yet?" Hermione called to the house in general.

No answer.

Shaking her head in disbelief and exasperation, she made her way across the carpeted floor, up the stairs, and to the master bathroom.

"Draco, we're going to be late!" she exclaimed, proceeding to bang on the door.

"Draco!" she yelled again, looking at her watch nervously.

"What is it, woman?" came his muffled reply, and Hermione fumed at his disrespect.

Tapping the handle impatiently with her wand, Hermione unlocked the door and entered.

Draco Malfoy was rooted to the floor in front of a large, gilded mirror, and having a silent tantrum because his seemingly flawless hair wouldn't style properly.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione grabbed his arm and dragged him roughly out of their London flat, pushing him unceremoniously into the street.

"Now, now, Granger, is that any way to treat the man who makes you scream every night?" Draco questioned, a wicked grin marring his features.

Hermione studied his face for a moment, considering the prospect of administrating certain unpleasant repercussions for his cheek.

But instead, she chuckled good-naturedly and grabbed his hand, simultaneously planting a kiss on his pale face.

"Ready?" she asked, gazing with amusement at the pout that had formed on his lips.

"Ready as I'll ever be," he replied sullenly. "I hate these functions, Hermione, and I still don't understand why we have to go."

"Because it's our job, Draco, darling. Besides, you have a speech to make. Now shut up so we can go."

Muttering sulkily under his breath, Draco nodded his consent and the couple Apparated to the Ministry facility where all celebrations were held.

Arriving in the Entrance Hall, Hermione glanced at Draco's still unhappy face.

"Smile," she instructed kindly, and then grimaced at the sarcastic smile he shot her way.

And with that, they made their way towards the party, Draco frantically trying to make his (already perfect) hair cooperate.

Pushing open the carved oaken doors, they stepped into their work lives. These were the sort of functions where the women dress in their most lavish finery, all tittering obnoxiously and judging each other by the amount of karats around their necks, while the men shake hands a little too enthusiastically, plastering their faces with fake billboard smiles, always greeting each other with loud, boisterous voices that come with being a male.

Hermione suspected that most of the women only came here to meet men. Of course, if questioned, they would say, "I'm here so I can better my career." But what they really mean is, "I'm here to meet a man with a high status and a fat paycheck to sleep with tonight."

Draco seemed to have convinced himself that he despised these functions just as much as Hermione, but she knew that he was secretly pleased with the fancy dress code and the many celebrities… not to mention an opportunity to brag to very important Ministry figures.

And that was what Draco thrived on; why, at that very moment he was in the corner with a glass of wine and a pompous expression, telling a large group of the rich and famous about his latest inheritance.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione seated herself at a table whose covering was the color of catsick. She giggled quietly to herself at the snippets of conversation from people around her. Everywhere she turned was the obnoxious drawl of the well-bred, speaking rather condescendingly to their colleagues.

She heard Draco telling the Minister of Magic that "he had a very clean record at Hogwarts in his day," at which Hermione let out a snort of amusement.

She was, in fact, so busy eavesdropping that she failed to notice the Minister's wife take her place on the stage. She was a wisp of a woman, and looked quite uncomfortable standing beneath the harsh stage lights.

Clearing her throat nervously, the woman began to speak, but the microphone interrupted her with a deafening squeal.

The sound seemed to pull the party-goers out of their banter, and only then did they acknowledge the woman's presence.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the Ministry's 700th Anniversary Celebration! 700 years of Wizarding organization, prosperity, and peace."

Hermione snorted derisively at that, earning her quite a few disapproving looks.

"Before we continue with the celebration, we will welcome to the stage Mr. Draco Malfoy, who's father made a very large donation to the," she glanced down at the paper in her hands, "um, Department of Magical Transport, adding twenty-five new broomsticks to the Ministry's stock!"

Smiling falsely, the woman led a round of applause for Lucius Malfoy.

"Now let us all bow our heads for a moment of silence in Mr. Malfoy's honour. His death shook us all."

'Guess they don't want it getting out that he's been chucked in Azkaban…' Hermione thought, frowning slightly.

"Draco, will you take over?" the Minister's wife inquired of the blond man, who had suddenly appeared at her side.

"Gladly, thank you, Marina," Draco drawled, sidling forward to take center stage. "Friends, colleagues…boss," he began, waving towards the back row, and receiving a collective laugh from the audience. "I am honoured to be the one to kick off the celebration. 700 years this Ministry has been around, and what a grand 700 years it has been. Even though I've only been around to see twenty-seven of them."

There was another smattering of laughter at this, and Hermione smirked as many of the women in the room sighed, staring lustfully at Draco. What was more was that Hermione, as his girlfriend, wasn't remotely bothered by this. Quite the contrary, she was incredibly proud of being the one he desired when so many women were after him.

"Now, before I get my ass off the stage, I would like to introduce to you my girlfriend of nine months, Miss Hermione Granger… the most beautiful, intelligent, witty and amazing woman in the world. Stand up, babe."

Blushing a deep shade of crimson, Hermione rose shakily from her seat and, shooting Draco a murderous look, waved half-heartedly to the audience, who had all turned to study her with interest.

Draco motioned for her to join him so, slowly and shyly, she picked her way through the maze of tables and outstretched legs to reach the stage. Once she was standing beside him, squinting in the bright, artificial lights, he faced her, taking her hands in his.

"Hermione, I love you, more than I've ever loved anything or anyone. You make me laugh, smile…," he paused, leaning towards her with a devilish grin and whispering so only she could hear, "you give incredible head…"

Hermione's mouth fell open in a scandalized manner, and he pressed a finger to her lips so that he could continue.

"Point is, darling, I want you to marry me."

This was not at all what she had been expecting.

Regardless, her answer was inevitable.

Hermione's back collided harshly with the door, but the pain was disregarded; she continued to run her hands wildly over Draco's back, her mouth exploring every bit of his that was reachable. Her legs were wrapped tightly around his waist, causing their movements to be clumsy and restricted.

Feeling his way along the wall, Draco searched blindly for the doorknob. Finally, his fumbling hands located their target and, wrenching the door open, he stumbled into the room, Hermione still latched onto his waist and mouth.

Quickly taking in their surroundings, he deduced that they were in someone's office and that there was a large mahogany desk in the corner that would serve their purpose perfectly.

Lowering her gently onto the desk's wooden surface, Draco began to undress her.

He carefully unzipped the zipper that ran down the side of her dress, and she kicked off her stilettos to save him time.

He slowly slid the dress down her small, lithe frame, and planted feather-light kisses on every patch of skin that was gradually revealed. Her skin tingled and burned wherever his lips touched, and she felt goose bumps rise rising along her flesh. Closing her eyes, she concentrated fully on what she was feeling and the growing heat between her legs.

Her focus was so absolute that she cried out when he took one of her breasts to his mouth, massaging the other with his palm.

Her needy moan was stifled by the kiss he pressed to her lips. She pulled him up onto the desk, and then maneuvered cleverly, flipping them so that she was in the position of dominance. Draco's eyes widened in surprise, but he went along with the change without missing a beat.

Hermione broke the kiss harshly and straddled his legs. He attempted to sit up, but she pushed him down again, becoming increasingly aggressive as her passion heightened. Her fingers flew deftly over the button on his pants, and she pulled the offending cloth from his body in one swift motion.

Grinning wickedly, she took hold of his member and squeezed relentlessly; his protests of pain only served to arouse her more, and she tore off the rest of her garments in a frustrated and feverish manner.

Draco's eyes were closed, so she took advantage of his momentary vulnerability and lowered herself onto him, immediately biting her lip in pleasure. His eyes flew open incredulously and he involuntarily thrust his hips up, eliciting a gasp from Hermione.

Draco, with no desire to lose control over the situation, swiftly grabbed her hips and thrust into her, deeper with every stroke.

The air was heavy with their cries of passion, and soon their hips were meeting thrust for thrust until they both screamed one last time and collapsed on one another, breathing heavily.

They lay panting together, until Draco, His blond hair lying limp and disheveled over his face, sat up and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his discarded trousers.

Lighting it with an air of expertise, he took a well rehearsed drag and exhaled, lying back to face Hermione.

"You're so trashy," she said to him breathlessly, eyeing the cigarette with distaste.

"But you love me," he replied simply, signature smirk in place.

She closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of cigarette smoke and lust-induced sweat.

"Yeah… yeah, I do."

FIN