Six Months Ago

It's almost midnight as she stumbles from behind an old, metal door. Heel straps of her shoes dangling from curled, shaky fingers. Hair a complete mess of waves and frizz around her head. She has a hair tie somewhere but refuses to pause to search for it. No, she has to get out of here as quickly as she can before anyone notices her swollen, red lips or her euphoric, shining eyes. They'll surely know what she's been doing behind that closed door, and no one can know.

Hermione Granger zips through the corridors of The Ministry, the seam of her dress torn straight up to her hip. Straps no longer clinging to her shoulders but falling down the reddened flesh of her arm. She can still feel his hands there, holding her up as she falls apart in his arms.

Merlin, she's really gone and done it this time. At work, no less.

But, he'd been so infuriating and handsome and sexy — she couldn't, wouldn't, tell him no.

So, she descends the stairs and forgoes the lifts. If she can make it to the floos without anyone noticing her, Hermione can get out of here and never, ever let it happen again.

"Granger!" The husky drawl of his voice almost makes her stop. Only a few more paces and she'll be home free. "Granger—"

She skids to a stop in front of the first floo. Hermione turns to him, eye flick to him sharply. He's wearing one shoe, his tie hangs around his neck, his hair is sticking up at angles all around his head. Cheeks flushed, forehead dotted with perspiration. He looks properly shagged, just as he should.

"You can't just run away," he says, wolfish smile growing on his stupid, arrogant face. "This isn't over."

Hermione disagrees and before he can wrap her up in his perfectly fit arms, she throws herself into the green flames of the floo and calls for home.

Three Months Ago

"It's meant to be an easy mission." Harry pushes his round frames high on the bridge of his nose and then points down at a map on the table. "You and Malfoy stay here while Seamus and I push the suspect this way."

"You want us to hide in a closet?" Hermione lifts one winged brow and crosses her arms over her chest.

It's not that she minds Harry leading a mission. Nor is it that he consistently pairs her with Malfoy every single time they are on the field. And, she's even okay that he tends to rely on her spellwork to get them through the worst duels.

But, her annoyance is that once again, she's going to be stuck in a small space with Malfoy and that never, ever ends well.

Last week, for instance, they'd hid in a small crawl space while Harry and Seamus stormed through Honeydukes. By the time the robbers got anywhere near Hermione and Malfoy, he'd already shagged her once against a rickety wooden beam that shoved slivers into the skin of her back.

"The building is L shaped," Harry reminds her as he draws his finger over the map in the shape of an L. "There's a closet here in the corner before the exit and if we can trap them between us, we might be able to get home in time for dinner."

Her eyes narrow. "You have a date tonight, don't you?"

He blushed and turns his head. It doesn't hide the stupid smile riding up his face.

"Harry Potter, you're not shoving me in a closet with Malfoy so that you have time to shag—"

"If he's doing it right, he won't need a lot of time to shag. It's all in the foreplay, am I right, Potter?"

That voice. Ugh, she could — snog him — hex him into next week. The smirk that teases her causes something warm and pleasant to coil in her belly. She blinks and sneers and wets her lips without even thinking about it.

"Malfoy." Harry lifts his chin.

"Potter. Granger." His grey eyes sparkle in her direction. "So, it's to be a closet this time. Perhaps pull your hair back, Granger. We don't need our already limited space taken up by that unruly monster you call hair."

"Bloody ha ha," she mumbles in reply before turning sharply to Harry. "Why can't Seamus hide in the closet with him?"

"Why does anyone need to hide in a closet?" Seamus' Irish brogue cuts through the tension as Draco and Hermione stare one another down. Neither of them look away. "Isn't it getting sort of… predictable?"

"Obviously not, since it continues to work." Harry balls up the map, shrinks it down, and shoves it into his pocket. "Hermione, Malfoy: closet. Seamus, you're with me."

"Look forward to it." Draco smiles at her. She rolls her eyes in return.

"Do you have to be such an arse, Malfoy?" Seamus laughs. "Maybe we'll get a drink after, Hermione. Wash away the Malfoy from your night."

"We could double date." Harry looks far too excited at the idea.

"What am I to do after?" Draco asks, an eyebrow raised only at Hermione. Suggestive. Too alluring.

"Paperwork." Harry grins and tosses a small satin drawstring bag to Draco. "As the least senior member of the division, you can do paperwork."

"That's bullshit, Potter, and you know it." Draco turns fully to Hermione and opens the bag to peek inside, careful not to touch its contents. "Long night in The Ministry while you're traipsing off getting pissed? No thanks."

"Seamus." Hermione puts her hand on his elbow and glares in Malloy's direction. "I'd love to have a drink with you tonight."

Seamus beams, but that's hardly the strongest expression in the room. Hermione can feel the steely, grey gaze on her and it makes her heart stutter. She flushes and tries to focus on the words Harry is saying now — portkey, rendezvous point — but she's pinned by Draco and the way he silently promises to rip her clothes off later in a closet.

He doesn't disappoint, either.

It's eerily quiet stuck in a small, cramped closet that holds various pieces of janitorial equipment. A mop, a bucket, loads of solvent so potent that Hermione's eyes burn even as she squeezes them shut.

Draco's lips are on her throat, kissing, licking, sucking, and she's got her arms wrapped around his neck pulling him closer still. She loves his hands the most, though, even more than the wicked tongue that drives her wild. His hands, long and slender, with the reflexes of a seeker, sneak up her rib cage and tease the sides of her breasts.

"Tell me you're not having a pint with Seamus," he whispers just below her ear. The warmth of his breath sends tingles twisting over her body and down her spine.

"Do we have to go through this again?" Hermione gasps as his teeth rake softly against her skin. "Draco, we agreed—"

"I agreed to nothing." His hands palm her breasts, tongue draws a line from her ear to the curve of cleavage that he's pushed out the top of her uniform. "You dictated and I argued."

"Shagging against a brick wall isn't arguing," she counters with a whimper as one of his hands toy with the button of her trousers.

"I asked if you'd be mine." His finger slides against her heat and she bucks against him. "You said yes."

"You can't hold me to that," she huffs something that sounds like a whine or a plea. "I wasn't in my right frame of mind."

He stops. Pulls back. He's fire and she's burning under his stare.

"I don't want to share." His words are heavy. She knows how much willpower it takes him to stay away, to keep his hands from her, because it's just as hard for her.

Hermione sighs. "I—"

"Don't say no." Draco's close again, lips just shy of hers.

"We can't tell anyone." Her hands twist into the hair at the nape of his neck and she holds him tight. "I'm not willing to lose my job or my partner for this."

He doesn't answer. Instead, his mouth crashes to hers and swallows her moan for himself.

One Month Ago

She's uncomfortable in a little black dress. It opens wide at the shoulders and falls loosely down her back leaving her spine exposed almost to its base. The dress is his idea and she hates it.

But, it's almost worth it when his eyes catch her across the room and darken. More promises to ravish her the way he's been doing for five months. Harry almost caught them once — and it only heightened her arousal in a way that it shouldn't.

Draco says he wants to make her feel exposed, wants to flaunt their secret without actually giving it away. But if the way he stalks toward her with Harry and Seamus at his side is how Draco Malfoy keeps secrets, they should have been discovered well before now.

"Whoa, Hermione, you look—" Harry scratches the back of his neck and smiles the awkward, crooked thing she's come to know as his 'how do I get out of this' smile.

"Thanks, Harry."

Hermione hugs him around the neck, all the while with her eyes on Draco. His lip curls the most minuscule amount up — subtle enough that even Seamus didn't detect it with his side eye glance.

"Seems like you could have taken a little extra care of that bush you call hair." His words have no heat, no— the heat is reserved for the fire behind his eyes.

The blush she tries to hide storms its way from her chest to her cheeks. Hermione knows Draco likes her hair, likes to grab onto it and twist his fingers around the frizzy curls.

"Really, Malfoy? You have to do this tonight?" Harry sighs and shakes his head. "She's getting an award for the capture of Amycus Carrow and you're going to pick on her hair?"

"Would you prefer I comment on her— is that a dress , Granger?" His smirk twists her insides and her cheeks darken even more. "It's barely a slip of fabric, is it?"

"I think she looks brilliant," Harry argues, though he won't look her in the eye. In all his years, Harry's not noticed her legs or her chest or the slight curve to her hips on such display as they are tonight. "Seamus?"

"Stunning," he agrees and Draco doesn't miss a beat as he steps just in front of Seamus and loses the playful smirk from his face.

"A beverage, Granger?" Draco's pale eyebrow lifts. She nods and as he passes her by, his pinky finger caresses the side of her hand.

The room is scorching and she's sure that anyone who looks at her will know she's engaged in a secret relationship with Draco. Because, how could they not notice the way her lips tremble or how her legs shake when he's nearby? It seems so plainly obvious to her — and yet the world passes her by with naught a care or curiosity.

The secret remains because they strategize their relationship behind closed and sealed and charmed doors. Draco's not allowed to approach her for a dance until after Harry and Seamus; it's too suspicious and even though Draco threatens to pop Seamus inside a boiling vat of his own shoddy potions, he agrees after a little wicked negotiating and one hell of a blowjob.

When Seamus' hands unravel from her waist, Draco is there, just at her back, with warm breath whispering across her skin.

"A dance with your partner, Granger?" His finger slide over the sensitive flesh on the back of her arm and then curl around as he steps into the space Seamus occupied only moments before. "For— oh, we'll say 'team building purposes' this time, shall we?"

She laughs a short, breathy thing as he pulls her close and winds his hand around her waist.

"Hands above the waist, Malfoy."

There's no menace in her words and it's because she doesn't mean them, not because she knows he'll listen. It's what he's best at — touching her when no one is looking, hiding their relationship in plain sight.

"Of course, love." He smiles against her temple and taps a soft pattern on her lip. "I almost gave everything away when I saw you tonight."

"Draco—"

"I said 'almost'." His breath is sweet as it fans against her face. He looks at a point over her head for a moment and then she feels his hand slide down an inch. A slow crawl and a quick grab and a desperate sort of groan in the back of his throat that's almost a growl. "Meet me in the coat room?"

"I'm due to accept an award," she reminds him quietly while her eyes flutter shut and she shifts closer still.

"It won't take long." He relaxes back to peer down into her eyes where he's met with a lifted eyebrow. "If you truly believe I can't get us both off in under fifteen minutes, you're insulting me."

"It took you an hour this afternoon," she laughs.

"Purposefully bringing you to the point that you're begging me to finish you off doesn't mean I can't ever be quick about it."

She chews on the corner of her lip and watches as his face becomes more and more confident that he's won. The more certain he is, the less amount of time Hermione thinks he'll need to get her off.

"Alright." She agrees and steps away from him. "Thanks for the dance, Malfoy, but I need to find the loo."

"Right, Granger. Allows me enough time to pluck off the mane you've shed all over my robes," he says loud enough for the closest crowd to hear. He winks and she's gone with a roll of her eyes.

Today

"You don't have to stay here."

"She's my partner, Potter. Of course I'm staying."

Crackles of spell work pull Hermione groggily from a deep sleep. She doesn't open her eyes, but she's trying to focus on the voices around her.

What happened? Where is she? It's all a blur.

"Fine, but if she wakes up and you're— mean—"

"Mean? I'm not mean to her. I just don't shove my nose so far up her—"

"Mmph." She breaks in then with the only noise she can muster.

"Hermione!"

"Granger!"

There's a flurry of activity. More spells. Potions. Hangs everywhere. But no one is talking to her and no one is explaining what happened or where she's at or why her head is pounding.

"Merlin, we thought— we didn't know if you'd wake up." It's Harry and he's choked up and his hand is on her forehead and then running through her hair. "Can you talk?"

Hermione shakes her head, just a tiny thing because if she moved to much she thinks she'd black out again. She widens her eyes and licks her lips.

But it's another voice, gruffier but more precise, that finally answers her.

"Explosion," he says simply. "We were in a lower level of The Ministry and—" Draco's hands gesture a big explosion and he makes a similar noise. "You got knocked out by debris."

"Speaking of, Malfoy," Harry cuts in and Hermione follows his accusatory glare to Draco. "What were you and Hermione doing in the Department of Mysteries?"

Hermione coughs and scrambles with wide eyes to sit up in bed. She aches everywhere and now something sits heavy on her chest. She looks sharply to Draco and watches him roll his tongue into his cheek.

"Be careful," Harry says, reaching a hand out to help her sit up.

"We were—" Hermione's voice is raw and dry and she coughs again. Her temple throbs. Draco's throat bobs under a tight swallow and she considers him for a long moment.

His eyes are tight but relentlessly caught in her stare. He looks… resigned, almost. And it catches her breath and stutters her heart. All this time, she thought they're just having fun, that he's just a typical bloke with typical desires. But now? How pained his eyes are as she starts to tell Harry another lie…

"I'm falling in love with him," she blurts out, despite the way her throat tears under the words. "With — with Draco."

Harry doesn't react. Just stares forward and watches her. Draco, however, steps forward and plants himself on the edge of her bed. His hand wraps into hers carefully and he's fighting a smile on his face.

"That's quite the declaration, Granger." Draco's thumb caresses her knuckles. "Potter, anything to say or are you just going to let your mouth hang open?"

"I just figured you'd crack before Hermione," he says after a beat. He grins and Hermione startles. "She's incredibly stubborn."

"You'd be surprised the lengths I'll go to keep her." Draco runs a hand through her hair and then down the length of her jaw. There's something knew — or uncovered — in her eyes. "Even if I have to pretend I don't want her."

"Really?"

He barely nods his head, just a little dip of the chin.

"I owe Seamus five galleons now," Harry complains. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs.

"Harry!" There's no heat in her words, instead she laughs.

"That'll teach me for betting against Hermione Granger."

"Indeed," Draco agrees but he's still refusing to take his eyes off her. "I really want to kiss you now, but it's weird with Potter standing here."

"Harry," Hermione's eyes snap to Harry, "please leave now."

"Really? That's—"

"Harry."

Her best friend grumbles under his breath the entire stretch of the room. As soon as the door shuts, Draco is so close that she gasps and breathes in the mint of his toothpaste.

"Falling in love with me?"

"Don't let it go to your head," Hermione tells him, matching his smile with her own.

"Too late."

"Aren't you supposed to be kissing me?"

Before she can say anything else, Draco's lips touch hers gently. There's no fear over losing her job, her friends, or her partner. For the first time in months, Hermione Granger sighs contently and wraps her arms around Draco with no intention to let him go — no matter who knows about them.