This story is three chapters total. It is already written and beta'd, and ready for your reading pleasure. I haven't decided how often I will release chapters. No later than one week apart, but I may break and post sooner.

Ten million thank-you's to GracefulLioness for your amazing Alpha and Beta work on this piece. This story would not be nearly as good if you hadn't helped me.

Draco groaned as he stepped up to the innocuous Muggle flat. He knew who was just behind this red door, and she was not someone he really wanted to see on a Friday evening after a very long work day. And as she had not given him Floo access nor had she allowed him past her Apparition wards, he was forced to stand at her front door like an idiot.

Looking like an idiot in front of Hermione Granger was the worst.

Not only was that the worst because she was apparently a chronic, insufferable know-it-all since birth. Oh, no.

She was also his boss, Merlin help him.

The two of them had started at the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the exact same time immediately out of Hogwarts. They had interned together for a whole year, sitting side by side at the same cramped desk, fetching coffees and copying memos without so much as a thanks from the department heads. But after that year was up and they were both due for a promotion, the damn witch managed to sweet talk her way up levels above him. While he was still a paper-pusher, she was junior deputy department head at age twenty-six. And the cherry on top? He now answered directly to her.

On this particular work day, they sat through an all-day meeting in preparation for a Minister's summit to be held in Croatia the following week. Draco spent the entire day sitting directly to Hermione's left, helping her organize notes and check boxes. Of course, the topic of the meeting was exciting – he actually really enjoyed his area of work. And Granger was, admittedly, good at her job.

He just didn't enjoy being bossed around by Hermione Granger on the clock.

And now, unfortunately, he was likely about to be bossed around by her off the clock as well.

Taking a deep breath, he drew back his fist and knocked twice.

Immediately, he heard a magically-enhanced voice answer. "You're here a little early, but come on in!"

Early? Was Granger expecting someone?

Whoever she was expecting, it certainly wasn't him. There was no way she could expect him to drop by unannounced on a Friday night to inform her that they would have to pull an all-nighter.

Draco pushed the door open and stepped inside the flat. It looked exactly how he imagined Hermione Granger's flat would: neat, comfortable, and filled floor-to-ceiling with books. On her sofa sat an old, grumpy-looking orange cat. The crimson curtains lining the windows reminded him far too much that this woman was a Gryffindor through and through. Draco had to restrain an eyeroll.

The one thing missing from this picturesque flat was its owner. Granger was nowhere to be seen. After standing in the doorway for a couple minutes without so much as a greeting, Draco began tapping his foot. Where was she, anyway? They had so much work to do, and if there was going to be any hope of sleeping tonight, they needed to get started immediately.

She had called him into her flat, but where was she?

Draco cleared his throat loudly.

"Be just a second!" she called from some room down the hallway.

Well, if Granger wasn't going to respect his time, then he saw no need to respect her space. It had been a long day and would continue to be long, after all, so he thought he might as well get comfortable. Toeing his shoes off, Draco padded over to the sofa in his socks and collapsed beside the sleeping cat. It glared at him before turning to face the other direction.

After sitting in a stiff, wooden office chair, this was heaven. He felt himself sink into the cushions and let out a deep sigh. It had been a very long, trying day. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could tell the Department of International Magical Cooperation to fuck off for one night. This was an incredibly comfortable sofa, and if he wasn't careful, he might just find himself dozing–

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

Draco jumped to his feet, whipping around. There stood Granger, eyes wide, her face drawn backward and her mouth pursed. Yes, it was safe to say that she hadn't realized it was him at the door.

"Granger, I–"

Draco paused and blinked.

What in the hell was she wearing?

The normally-buttoned up junior deputy department head was not wearing her usual high-neckline, long-skirt business robes. She was not even wearing proper clothes, it seemed.

Tight and leaving nothing to the imagination, the light pink shirt (could you really call it a shirt?) that Granger wore had thin straps stretching over her shoulders. Just below that, she wore some short pants that barely covered her bum.

Had Granger always had such a nice bum?

Draco thought back to all the time they had spent together, both as Head Boy and Girl during their eighth year and subsequently as interns at the Ministry. Not once had he noticed her bum. And it wasn't just that he hadn't noticed it; it had actually never occurred to him that she would even have a bum.

He shook himself mentally. No, that train of thought was not somewhere he needed to follow. He had come to her flat tonight for a specific purpose; that purpose did not include ogling her surprisingly delicious figure. Clearing his throat, Draco found a spot on the wall just behind her head and focused on it while he addressed his boss.

"Sorry I didn't owl ahead, Granger, but we've got a bit of a situation on our hands." His eyes flicked momentarily to her face, and he watched her expression morph from anger to concern in an instant, her arms folded over her chest.

"What's going on?"

"I just got a memo as I was about to head home. A new round of protocols for the summit has been released and needs revision by eight the next morning."

"Fuck," Hermione swore under her breath.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. He had never heard the Gryffindor golden girl swear before. Even in the most stressful moments while studying for NEWTs, not once did foul language cross her lips. The dirty word rolled off her tongue with ease, which told him that perhaps, she secretly had a filthy mouth. Were there other occasions that made her whisper words like that? The thought sent a shiver up his spine…

No. He couldn't have these thoughts now. Not when he was standing in Granger's home, uninvited, and about to pull an all-nighter of work with her.

"Do you have the protocols on you?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"Yes. Of course," Draco pulled a long, rolled-up tube of parchment from his magically-extended briefcase and handed it over to his boss. "The Croatian delegation is really specific in their rules. We're going to have to rearrange everything if we want to meet these standards."

He watched as Hermione's eyes moved across the parchment, taking in their contents with a clear heightening rise in alarm with each passing second.

"I'm sorry, they want whom in attendance? That's not possible. And these security requirements are obscene." Hermione groaned, running a hand through her bushy mane. "We're going to have to rework the entire budget and logistics plan."

Draco nodded. "And like I said, they want it by tomorrow morning at eight."

"Double buggering fuck," Hermione muttered as she swept from the room and back up the hallway.

Draco stood frozen in front of the sofa. This was absolutely a side of Hermione Granger he had never seen before. Sure, he had seen her angry loads of times before. But then, she had been dressed head to toe in a modest school uniform and she hadn't sworn like a dragon keeper. Was she going to be swearing like this all night?

He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to it or dreading every second.

Hermione returned moments later, a soft-looking blue dressing gown wrapped around her body. She walked around him and settled down on the sofa, patting the spot beside her. Draco lowered himself back onto the cushions. Hermione summoned a small desk from the corner of the room as well as two quills and some rolls of parchment. Snatching the items out of the air, she turned to him with a sigh. "Right. Let's get started."

Four hours in, and they were in the thick of revisions. Hermione had ordered Chinese takeaway; half-empty containers with noodles, vegetables, and meat as well as stacks of unfurled parchment lined the floor, where the two of them had ended up after needing the space to lay out their work.

The clock ticked close to one in the morning.

Draco drummed his fingers on the floor as he considered a sentence he had just written. "So you're sure this order of events will allow us enough time to give the Ministers a break?"

Hermione looked up from where she was leaned over the original memo and blew a stray lock of hair from her face. "Positive."

He sighed, leaning back onto the foot of the sofa and closing his eyes. "Great. Just a few more things to get in order and we can both go to sleep."

"You can go if you want, Malfoy. I'm sure I can finish the rest by eight o'clock and find a little time to sleep."

Draco opened his eyes and looked over at his boss. She had returned to scratching away on the parchment with her quill. Though she seemed as focused as ever, he could see the beginnings of dark bags under her eyes.

"No way, Granger. There's too much work here for you to do by yourself." Hermione shot him a smile. "Besides, when else am I going to see the famous Hermione Granger in a dressing gown?"

She rolled her eyes and shoved a parchment at him. "Here. Since you're so keen to stay, take a look at this report and help me run the numbers, assistant of mine."

Chuckling, he had just begun to read when the Floo roared to life, illuminating the sitting room with a bright green glow. Draco shielded his eyes momentarily as a witch stepped through in a grey dressing gown.

"Hermione, I'm here to pick up – oh." The witch paused, seeming to take in the scene before her. Her eyes lingered on Draco a little longer than he would have liked, and he felt his cheeks heat slightly under her wide-eyed gaze. "Should I come back? Is this a bad time?"

Draco turned to face Hermione. She had gone white as a sheet. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as Hermione blinked and swallowed. She glanced in his direction and licked her lips.

What in Merlin's name was going on here?

Then, just as quickly as she had paled, her colour returned in full. The shock evaporated from her face, and a pleasant, businesslike smile stretched across her face. "Yes. Of course, Maeve. Come with me."

Draco watched in complete confusion as Hermione pushed herself to her feet and stretched before motioning to the woman to follow her down the hallway. In the distance, he heard a door open and close.

Though he strained his ears, no sounds came from the hallway.

First the clothes, then the swearing, and now a woman was showing up at one in the morning at Hermione's Floo? Who even was this woman he worked for? Did he know her at all?

There was something about the latter scenario that rang a bell in the recesses of Draco's memory. He had heard talk around the Ministry – in the canteen and the lifts, primarily – that Hermione Granger helped women… or something. One woman had commented in passing that Hermione had really helped her get over her boyfriend. He hadn't thought much of it at the time.

Then, several weeks later, a young, fresh-out-of-Hogwarts intern at the Department of International Magical Cooperation had whispered far too loudly over lunch that his boss was a goddess of sorts. Though he hadn't heard everything the witch said, he could have sworn he overheard the word "lioness."

He had assumed for months that Hermione was just really good at pep talks, and as that didn't particularly concern him, he couldn't really give a shit.

But now, sitting here in Granger's flat with a woman visiting at one in the morning, he was fairly certain it wasn't advice she was giving. What in Merlin's name was so important that it could drag Hermione Granger away from urgent work from the department?

Draco tried to continue reading over the report for the summit, but he ended up reading the same paragraph six times, the words simply refusing to enter his brain properly. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was now a quarter past.

All of a sudden, he heard the door back in the hallway open again. Footsteps padded their way back toward him, and when Draco turned his head to face the witches, he only saw the visiting woman. She was clearly in a hurry, her face clearly glowing with glee. There was a plain, white box tucked under her arm.

"Have a nice night, sir," she practically giggled as she threw a small handful of Floo powder into the grate. It roared to life.

"Erm, where is Granger?" he asked tentatively. The witch turned back to him, an oddly mischievous grin on her face.

"Ooh, she's back in her office sorting out a handful of orders, but I'm sure she'll be back soon. You lucky wizard, you."

Draco raised an eyebrow at this comment but didn't respond as the witch disappeared into the green flames.

He was a lucky wizard? Why on earth would that be? And she was sorting out orders? What kind of orders? What in the world was going on here?

Nothing about this night was adding up.

Shaking his head, Draco took a deep breath and dove back into the report. Time was ticking by, and if he wanted to get any sleep at all, he had better quit mucking about and get back to work. The report in his hands concerned all the bills up for discussion this year at the summit, and there was one in particular concerning centaurs that no one seemed willing to discuss. Hermione had spent over a year working with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to produce it, and he knew she would be furious if they didn't find a way to get it to the floor for discussion while in Croatia.

Hermione was a determined witch. That much was certain, even if he didn't understand the bizarre events of tonight.

Determined.

The word sparked another memory from a few months back, once again from a ride in the lift. Two men had been having a disgruntled conversation when he stepped inside, and he had only had a few seconds to eavesdrop before they exited. Yet, the words stuck with him.

"Granger is determined to make all men look bad, I swear. My girl showed me hers, and she's insisting I use it. It's like I'm not good enough, or something…"

"She's just trying to make a knut off your girlfriend, mate."

"Nah. It's more than that. Uptight girl like her? There's got to be more than just money involved."

"Well,she is kind of frigid…"

The two men were clearly unaware that the third person occupying the lift worked very closely with Granger. And though Draco hadn't the foggiest idea what they were talking about, it had clearly been an insult. He had almost gotten riled up on her behalf. Almost.

Back in the present, Draco's eyes refocused on the parchment.

The bill. The centaurs. Right.

He rolled his shoulders as the clock rang, marking the half-hour. One-thirty.

Why wasn't Hermione back yet? Surely, she had finished the task in her office by now. The Granger he knew wouldn't get easily distracted from work like this.

This just wouldn't do.

Draco stood and stretched, and he felt his shirt come slightly untucked from his trousers. Normally, he might have been concerned with appearances or decorum, but seeing that it was the middle of the night and Hermione hadn't bothered to dress for the occasion, he saw no problem finishing the job by completely untucking the shirt and loosening his tie. His boss had been gone for nearly an hour, and it was his solemn duty as an employee to check on her to make sure she was all right. Careful to step over the takeaway containers, Draco walked past the couch and over to the hallway. There, at the far end, a thin beam of light peeked out from under one of the doors.

His sock-clad feet made no noise as he padded toward the door, though he was met with a shuffling sound as he drew closer. It sounded as though Granger was rearranging something. All of a sudden, the shuffling paused for a moment before there was a loud clatter of falling objects. A particularly large clang! made Draco's eyes grow wide.

And then: "Shite!"

Hermione swore for the third time that night.

In three long strides, Draco was at the door. He thought for a moment about knocking, but hadn't he just heard a mountain of something falling over? Hermione could be hurt. She could be buried under boxes.

Bursting in, he began to yell, "Granger, are you all ri–" before the words died on his lips.

A mountain of small, white boxes had indeed fallen all around her. But that's not what drew Draco's eyes. He focused on her face, which had immediately turned the colour of a beet after he came in.

"Malfoy! Get out of here. This is my private office."

Draco blanched. "I was just making sure you were okay. You were gone for a long time after that witch left and then I heard the crash." With a flash of heat to his face, he realized that he must have sounded like he actually cared. Quickly, he corrected himself. "But clearly you're just fine, so we should probably get back to work."

His words were met by a moment of silence.

Well, it was almost silence. Something was making an odd sort of buzzing noise.

Draco's eyes fell to Hermione's hand, where she was holding something strange. It looked rather like a wand, but shorter and thicker, and blue. And it was buzzing.

"What in Merlin's name is that?" Draco asked, squinting in an attempt to identify the object.

He glanced up, expecting to see Hermione still looking thoroughly embarrassed. Instead, he found her staring at him, mouth open, eyes wide.

Draco straightened. "What?"

"You… you mean to say you don't know what this is?"

He felt his stomach drop to his feet. Should he know? Draco wracked his brain, but for the life of him, he had no idea what this blue, buzzing wand was. Gods, he hated looking like an idiot in front of Granger.

Draco Malfoy had swallowed his pride on many occasions in his adult life. No matter how many times he did it, it never got easier, and this time was no exception.

"No, Granger. I don't know what that thing is. Now can we please get back to–"

"You mean to say you have no idea what I'm holding in my hand?" Hermione had an odd sort of glint in her eye that made Draco wary. He gritted his teeth.

"Didn't I just say that I don't know? I also don't particularly care."

Gods, he didn't have the patience to be quizzed at nearly two in the morning.

Then, to his horror, Granger laughed. She was actually laughing at his ignorance.

"Oh my god," she said between giggles. "Why am I not surprised that you, Draco Malfoy, have no idea what a vibrator is?"

Vibrator? What needed to be vibrated? Clearly, his expression gave away his continued confusion, because Hermione seemed nothing short of highly amused.

"A vibrator is used for stimulation, Malfoy. Usually for women, though some men enjoy them as well."

Draco licked his lips. "I'm still not sure I–"

"Sex, Malfoy. It's used for sex."

Mouth dry, heart stopped, jaw on the floor, and face aflame, Draco Malfoy stared at the blue vibrator in Hermione's hand.

Sex? That… thing was used for sex? And what was Hermione Granger doing holding a sex object in her hand, completely unabashed? He had always pictured her to be the blushing virgin sort, what with her blouses buttoned up to her neck. And she had always been that way, hadn't she?

Draco immediately tried to remember what she looked like back at Hogwarts. The image of her younger self popped into his mind: unlike other girls, she had a perfectly pressed school uniform, regulation-length skirt, knee-high socks… yes, it all checked out. Hermione Granger had been a prude for as long as he had known her. And it wasn't for his lack of consideration. There had been a moment – a very short moment, of course – during their eighth year when he had considered asking her to Hogsmeade. Even though she tended to cover her assets thoroughly, they had spent enough time in close contact as Heads he had come to realize that she wasn't the annoying chit she had been in her earlier years. Not only that, but he couldn't help but notice at the time that her breasts seemed to be the perfect size for his hands. And the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating had been strangely distracting.

But then he considered his options for two seconds more and settled on Pansy instead. By his estimation, he was far more likely to end the date with a handjob if he went with his Slytherin classmate.

Just a year later, he had actually considered asking Granger out once more. They had gotten fairly close during their stint as interns, and he still had nearly daily impulses to touch her breasts. But then she had gotten promoted, and any warm feelings he might have had were buried beneath thick layers of envy and bitterness.

To make himself feel better, he had told himself that she wouldn't have put out anyway.

He dated Astoria instead.

Several years later, seeing her with this… thing in her hand, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been wrong back in eighth year. An onslaught of images filled his head, and they both confused and aroused him simultaneously. Draco's brain stalled as he tried to reconcile the two diametrically opposed impressions of Hermione Granger now battling within him.

Amidst his confusion, to his abject horror, he felt his cock twitch in his trousers. It seemed that part of his anatomy had made a decision for him.

And though his brain seemed to be misfiring, he managed to croak out a single word.

"How?"

Hermione sighed, glancing around at the mountains of boxes lining the office. Looking at her, it was as though she, too was waging some internal struggle over whether to let him in on her knowledge or keep him in the dark. After a moment, it seemed, she decided. Setting the blue item back in a box, she walked over to his side by the door. "Do you fancy some tea? We're going to need it if we're planning on both finishing the project tonight and having a discussion about female pleasure."

Draco found himself nodding, though he wasn't sure he was in control of his muscles any longer.

Female pleasure? Those two words alone were enough to make him feel as though he had been stupefied.

It was official. If Hermione Granger was about to lecture him about female pleasure of all things, then dragons were surely about to breathe ice.

Hermione had insisted, like the responsible boss that she was, on finishing the work first. Fueled by a strong cuppa, they managed to get the paperwork in order by three-thirty. And although Draco's body ached for sleep, both his mind and his genitals were highly interested in what Hermione had to say.

Once she had sent the paperwork off to the Ministry by owl, Hermione returned back to the sofa and settled beside him.

"So," she began, wasting no time. "You want to know about the vibrator back in my office."

Draco nodded, though he tried not to do so too eagerly.

"That is one of over two dozen types of items sitting back there. It's my side business. I sell magically-compatible sex toys."

Draco nearly choked on his own spit at the last two words.

Hermione spoke them as though they were discussing quarterly reports.

He was now certain that his brain had misfired.

Were there such things as toys for having sex? Sure, he had had his fair share of romps over the years as he casually avoided his mother's pleas to settle down, but never had he heard of such objects. Was it a Muggle thing, sex toys?

He had so many questions. They all bounced around his head in a jumbled mess, and the more he lingered on them, the tighter his trousers seemed to grow.

From beside him, Hermione sighed. "Malfoy, it's going on four in the morning, As much as I want to explain my side business to you tonight, I'm not sure I have the energy."

Draco slumped in his chair, and Hermione clearly saw it, because she continued to speak, her hands fidgeting slightly. "I'm willing to reschedule if you want. Just not at work. I like to… erm… separate my two jobs, if you know what I mean."

He frowned. After having spent the past two hours fantasizing about what Granger meant by female pleasure, he would have to wait? It was almost torture. Still… she had offered for him to come back.

"Sure. Erm… when would be good for you?" He tried to keep his tone casual, though he was sure he was failing.

"We can talk tomorrow afternoon here at my flat. That way I can be more alert… really answer your questions. Part of what I do for this business is education, after all, and I would definitely be a horrible teacher right now."

Teacher? Draco felt his erection swell at the incredibly naughty images that floated through his brain when he thought about having someone teach him the subject of female pleasure.

Even if Hermione Granger was going to be that teacher.

He still couldn't quite shake the images of her that had stuck in his head over the years: she was the buttoned up eighth year he had declined to ask out; she had been his co-intern that he had almost asked on a date again. And now? She was his boss. She was his boss who seemed to be even more buttoned up than ever. But when Draco compared those images to how she looked now, dressed in tight pyjamas and holding, of all things, a sex toy, he couldn't help but be confused.

As he bid her goodbye and stepped into the Floo, he couldn't help but wonder if he knew Hermione Granger at all.

Draco is in waaaaay over his head, don't you think?

Please review and let me know what you think!