Disclaimer: J.K.'s characters. Not my song, either.

A/N: My smutlet for the holidays! There is no thought-out plot, just references to a song and steamy sex. It's really not that great, but I figure it'll make someone happy. The song is Baby, It's Cold Outside.

"I'm not letting you leave, Granger; it's practically a blizzard out there," Draco Malfoy said, taking a sip from his snifter of brandy, his eyes trained on her. His staring was unnerving, and Hermione Granger was more than eager to leave the Manor as quickly as possible. She wouldn't have even come in the first place if it wasn't her job to. Really, what was Kingsley expecting she'd be able to extract from Malfoy? Just because he'd helped during the war didn't mean he was going the give them information now. He still had that tattoo marring his forearm.

"I really need to leave, Malfoy," Hermione said as she shrugged her black pea coat over her shoulders. "I think I've more than worn out my welcome." Hermione smiled tightly, slipping her fingers into black woolen gloves and gratefully taking her scarf from the waiting house elf.

Draco shrugged. "What's your hurry? You'll freeze to death if you leave now." He sighed, fingers gripping the stem of the glass harder than necessary. "Look, Granger, I know we have our differences, but would you please accept my hospitality? This may be the only time I offer it to you." He smirked and Hermione briefly saw the bitter sixteen-year-old boy Draco once was. She shook her head, gingerly wrapping her scarf around her neck.

"Oh, come on, Granger. I'll even pour you a glass," Draco said, backpedaling slowly towards his study. "You can at least have a drink before you go. It'd be rude to refuse." Hermione sighed and walked stiffly over to Draco. She stopped in front of him, huffed, and headed towards his study. Draco only chuckled.

"I don't usually drink," Hermione said unconvincingly as Draco handed her a glass of his father's best cognac. Draco snorted. "You expect me to believe that when you spend most of your time with Potter and Weasley?," he questioned skeptically. "I've seen those two out before. I must say, Weasley's ability to consume ridiculous amounts of alcohol and not vomit is quite admirable, and impressive." Hermione rolled her eyes and reluctantly took a small sip from her glass.

"Good, yeah?," Draco asked expectantly. "It's my father's best." He launched into a fairly brief history of the drink and Hermione tapped her foot impatiently.

"Really, Draco," she began, annoyed, "I need to go. I've been here," she glanced at her watch, "close to three hours already. It's not snowing as bad, anymore." She set down her now empty glass on Draco's wide mahogany desk and smiled that same, tight-lipped smile. Draco grabbed Hermione's glass, filling it only half as full as it previously was.

"Half a drink more, Granger," Draco said with a pleasant, real smile. Hermione felt the stirrings of butterflies in her stomach at the unfamiliar grin, and she turned away.

"I really shouldn't," she said, her tone betraying her words.

"You don't sound like you mean that, Granger," Draco said in a low voice. Hermione closed her eyes and fought the urge to shudder at his baritone. It'd been far too long since she'd been with anyone, and the alcohol added with the tension that had been there since she walked through the door was almost too much. It was the same tension that had been there since the night he crawled through the door of Grimmauld Place, too eager to help out the Order.

Hermione turned around, brave smile on her face. She accepted the drink from Draco, swirling the liquid in the glass. "What's in this drink?," she asked teasingly. They both knew she should be home by now, back in her flat alone, working on her notes for the Carrows case. Draco laughed lightly, pleasantly, and sat at the chair behind his desk. Hermione sighed, sitting in one of the dark leather armchairs facing him.

"Why don't you stay a while?," Draco said playfully, with ease. Hermione's fingers, as if they had a mind of their own, went to her coat buttons, slipping them through the holes with ease. She slid the jacket from her shoulders, stripping off her gloves.

"The scarf too," Draco said with a teasing lilt, though his eyes had darkened to a stormy grey and were scorching with intensity. Hermione slowly removed the scarf from her neck, her hands moving of their own accord once again. She stared into the burning flames in the fireplace, lest Draco decide to command her to remove another article of clothing. She wasn't so sure she'd be able to say no.

Draco stood from his desk and Hermione jumped visibly, though her gaze did not waver from the fire. He came around to the front, leaning back against the desk, crossing his legs at the ankle. Her knees bumped into him.

"Hermione," Draco said, his voice gravelly with a feeling that Hermione refused to name. She looked at him before quickly returning her eyes to the fireplace. She didn't want to see the unadulterated lust that was burning in his eyes. She stood, nervous, impatient to leave all of a sudden. Draco was much too close to her; their chests were brushing and she could smell the sweet brandy on his breath.

"Please don't deny me," Draco said, catching both of her wrists in one of his hands. He held them tightly, between their bodies. "Please don't hurt my pride, Hermione." Hermione closed her eyes tightly, but made no movement to pull her hands away.

"I can't, I can't," she murmured softly. "I shouldn't be here right now." Draco said nothing, instead leaning in to her neck, brushing his lips against the pale column in the slightest of kisses. He repeated the action, traveling upward towards her jaw. Hermione gasped at the subtle intensity of his actions, her fingers reaching out to grasp at his black sweater. He still hadn't let go of her wrists.

"At least I can say I tried," Hermione mumbled, whimpering as Draco dragged his teeth against the lobe of her ear. It wasn't a yes, but the meaning was noticed by Draco as he released Hermione's wrists to grasp her hips and kiss her ardently on the lips. Hermione groaned into the kiss. There were no fireworks, but there was no denying the chemistry and sense of belonging that the two felt.

Draco shifted both he and Hermione around, so that she was pressing into the desk rather than him. It took every last ounce of strength that Draco had not to lash out, knocking everything from his desk, and take her there. It had been a long time coming, and Draco wasn't sure his patience would last long at all.

Hermione groaned into his kiss, her tongue searching his out, exploring his mouth with intense precision. Her hands slid under his sweater, nails scratching along his abdomen, over his nipples until he growled with impatience. Breaking their contact for only a mere moment, Draco tore his sweater and white undershirt over his head, tossing them on the chair behind him. Cashmere deserved better than the floor, after all.

Hermione's fingers tore anxiously at the buttons of the white blouse she'd worn to work, pressing herself into Draco's toned chest as soon as the lace of her bra was exposed. Draco's large hands covered her chest, his thumbs brushing over her hardened nipples through the thin layer of fabric. Hermione's hands reached back to unclasp her bra, but Draco beat her to it, forcing the bra under her breasts, eager to feel her naked skin against his palms.

Hermione cried out as Draco's tongue flicked skillfully over an erect nipple, moaned lowly as he sucked. Her hands tangled in his platinum locks, longer than they'd been in school, much more like his father's. His lips traveled between her breasts and down her stomach, igniting a fire in Hermione's core. Draco's surprisingly rough hands gripped Hermione's knees, forcing them apart, sliding her pinstriped skirt upwards as his hands smoothed up her thighs.

Hermione whispered, "Please," when Draco hooked his fingers into the sides of her underwear, slowly tugging them down her legs, teasing her. He grinned up at her, a grin both hungry and devious. He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to the inside of her thigh. Hermione's head lolled back at the sheer pleasure of that small kiss.

"No," she hissed out, and Draco pulled away, glancing up at her questioningly. Hermione turned around, leaning into and over the desk, her hands coming to grip, white-knuckled, at the edge of the opposite side. Her skirt was pushed up around her hips and she was fully exposed to Draco. She looked over her shoulder expectantly, an eyebrow raised in challenge as she wet her lips with her tongue.

Draco's hands flew to the buckle of his belt, undoing it hastily, shoving both pants and boxers past his hips until his thick erection was freed. Gripping himself in one hand, he positioned himself behind Hermione, teasingly rubbing the head over her slit before pushing himself in without warning.

Hermione let out a quick scream at the intrusion, her hips pushing back to meet his thrusts. "Oh, God, Draco," she groaned harshly. The tips of his fingers pressed into her hips, his nails creating little half-moon circles. Hermione didn't even notice, she was so overcome with pleasure. She cried out when Draco's hand slid around to her sweat-slick stomach, sliding lower to rub insistently at her clit.

Hermione bit into her lip, gasping as she came, her nails biting into the wood of his desk. Draco quickened his pace, slamming into the curly-haired brunette until he, too, climaxed. They both panted, though not in unison, as they tried to catch their breath. He was the first to pull away, straightening up and redressing with a post-coital laziness.

Hermione stood from the desk, pulling her skirt down and pulling her bra up. She wobbled unsteadily in her heels, still feeling the aftereffects of her orgasm. She hastily redressed, sliding her coat on once again.

"You're not leaving," Draco said, his tone child-like in its petulance, laced with care.

"I can't stay. You know that," Hermione said, dragging a hand through her wild chocolate curls. She picked up her scarf, fingering a loose thread. "There'll be talk tomorrow if I do."

"It's still snowing out," Draco said, pointing to the window of his study. "I'd be crazy if I let you leave right now. Apparation will be difficult, and I can't let you drive that rusty old muggle car." He pulled his sweater over his head. "You'll stay the night."

Hermione frowned at his demanding tone although she could see the logic behind his request. "Well… alright… I really shouldn't." Draco could see the emotions warring on her face, and he held out a hand to her.

"Come on, I'll make it worth your while," he said with a smile and a cheeky wink. Hermione sighed, taking his hand and returning the smile, with a self-conscious hesitancy.

They'd definitely waited much too long.