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***** HERMIONE *****

My heels clicked on the hardwood floors as I made my way towards his office. The tiny sounds were louder than they should have been. It was late and the building was almost empty; a fact for which I was extremely grateful. My day had been hectic, to say the least, and last thing I wanted – or needed – was more attention.

I had become accustomed to the stares, the whispers, the pointed fingers, and had learned to ignore it all. But eight years after the war had ended, I had assumed that it would have all stopped.

It hadn't.

Everywhere I went, I was still recognised, still stared at, still pointed at, and I hated it.

Of course, it was much worse for Harry, but he was much better at holding his temper in check than I was. His fame had been with him all his life, and in public he managed to simply smile or nod politely at anyone who pointed at him and move along, but in private, his rants were legendary.

And Ron, well, his calm demeanour was a total facade, but he refused to follow Harry's lead. His temper was on a par with Ginny's, and his colourful use of the English language ensured that he was rarely pursued. We all hated the limelight, and the notoriety, but it seemed it was something we would live with for the remainder of our lives.

So my late meeting was perfect. I had only passed two people, both of whom nodded and stood staring wide-eyed at me, like I'd never been here before, rather than on an almost weekly basis. I rolled my eyes at both of them and continued down the hallway to the office at the end. An office I had become extremely familiar with, when at one time I would have refused to even enter the building.

I paused. His PA's desk was vacant, but that wasn't what had caused me to pause in my tracks, it was late and I had expected her to have already left for the day. No, what had stopped me was the fact that his office door was closed. I frowned. My already frayed nerves tensed, and I let out a long, exasperated breath.

I had assumed he would be waiting impatiently for me, a meeting this late would have been pissing him off, but it was the only time I had left in my schedule. And since it was he who had requested the meeting in the first place, I was surprised that the door was closed.

I huffed out another annoyed breath, taking a seat in the soft leather armchair opposite the empty desk, and a fleeting thought of why it was that his door might have been closed at this late hour made me wince. The thought of having to see a dishevelled woman walking out of that office had me wanting to race back down the hallway and forget his request to meet with me.

His reputation was well known. His womanising ways were the stuff of legend. And why wouldn't they be? He was no longer thin and scrawny, the end of the war had done him well. He was now lean and muscular, his chest was broad, and his face no longer held the anger it once did. And 'freshly-fucked' was the description I had often overheard when it came to his hair. And I found that I agreed. He now kept it short, and messed to perfection, and the description was apt.

However, it had been months since I had witnessed his womanising for myself. In fact, I wasn't able to remember the last time I had actually seen him with a woman. And I hated to admit it, but that fact had given me a sense of satisfaction that I couldn't quite understand. He had changed, sure, but the feelings that had been stirring inside me of late when I was near him were confusing and I wasn't sure exactly what to do about them. Discussing anything about him with Ginny and Pansy was out of the question. If I even indicated that I wanted anything more than friendship with him, they would have us married within a month.

I glanced at the closed door and then leaned my head back, closing my eyes, digging my teeth into my lip, and letting my mind drift. I wondered, as I found myself doing more and more often, what that messy hair would feel like between my fingers, what that broad chest would look like under those perfectly tailored shirts, and the thought that most often kept me awake at night was what that arse would feel like as I gripped it in my hands.

I imagined that he would know his way perfectly around a woman's body, imagined hours and hours of long, drawn-out orgasms, of panting breaths and sweaty bodies, and of loose limbs and relaxed muscles.

I shifted in my seat, my body reacting to the images filtering through my mind – Draco slowly undressing me, Draco crawling over me, Draco's naked skin sliding against mine. I imagined the full weight of him on me, imagined the sounds he would make, the filthy whispered words he would surely murmur against my ear.

I shouldn't have been having these thoughts. Not about him. And certainly not here. But that blonde hair, and those grey eyes—

The clearing of a throat pulled me from my thoughts. My eyes flew open and I looked up to find him smirking at me.

"Sorry to interrupt your nap, Granger."

I smiled, and prayed that the heat in my chest hadn't spread to my cheeks. "Well, I assumed that I had time, Malfoy." I tilted my head to the side and looked towards the office door, "I mean, I didn't want to interrupt anything."

He raised an eyebrow, amused, "And what is it exactly that you think you would be interrupting?"

I stood, straightening my spine, which still left me four inches shorter than he was, and shrugged, "I figured you were banging some random bint on your desk."

He chuckled, "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but alas, there's no one here." He stepped back, holding his arm out, inviting me to look. I rolled my eyes, but hesitated before looking past him and peering through the open door. "I had a floo meeting that went over, that's all," He informed me as I followed him into his office and sat on the couch. "Nothing sordid was happening, I assure you."

He sat beside me, leaving only a small space, and I crossed my legs, discreetly squeezing my thighs together in the hope that I could quell the heat that had built between them. I had been this close to him many times, but his proximity to me after my daydream had me wanting a little more distance.

He leaned forward, reaching for the firewhiskey that was on the small table. He held it up to me and I nodded; it might have been exactly what I need to calm my nerves, and to stop me from throwing myself at him right there on the couch. It had been far too long since I'd been with anyone, and he was far too hot for me to not consider it.

He handed me a glass and I downed half of it in one swallow, noting the frown on his face.

"Are you alright?"

I nodded, "Shitty day, full of shitty people who want the earth but give nothing in return."

"Oh, I know those people," He reached over and squeezed my knee. It was a gesture that was meant to soothe, meant to simply indicate that he knew what I meant, but all it did was turn my stomach to liquid.

"Why did you want to see me?" I asked, attempting to steer the conversation back to business and away from my lustful thoughts. "It wasn't to get me drunk and grope me, was it?"

He pulled his hand away and held it up in a gesture of surrender, "No, Granger it wasn't. If I wanted to grope you, it wouldn't happen here."

It was my turn to raise an eyebrow at him, "And where exactly would it happen if not here?"

He laughed but didn't respond. Instead he crossed to his desk, returning with several rolls of parchment. I took them from him and unfurled each one.

He remained standing, watching as I read over the lists of ingredients he was requesting. I frowned. "These could have been owled to me, why the meeting, Malfoy?"

"Keep reading." He said.

I looked up at him when I read the last one, and grinned, "Acromantula Venom? Really?"

He grinned back, "Well, rumour is that you and Longbottom went to some serious lengths to get it."

I looked back at the parchment. Neville and I had both left The Ministry's Herbology Department together, and began working as independent Herbologists, before banding together and becoming a new force to be reckoned with in the Herbology world. Neville was a genius with plants, his knowledge was vast and much respected, but we didn't just deal in plants.

I had become adept at sourcing rare ingredients, and our recent acquisition of Acromantula Venom from a live source had become of interest to several Potion makers, and now it appeared there was one more.

"And why would you think we would choose to give it to you above anyone else?"

He smirked, "Well, I thought since we're friends now..."

"Hmm," I hummed, "Friends, yes. But maybe this is my chance to get back at you for all those nasty things you once said to me."

His smirk faltered, "I, ah, thought we were past all that."

"Maybe," I mused, "But we went to an awful lot of trouble to get this venom and we have had offers from several other buyers who have been much kinder to us."

"I'm sure I could be kinder than any of them."

I laughed, "I'm not sure you're capable of being that kind, Malfoy."

His smirk returned, "You have no idea what I'm capable of, Granger."

"Oh, I'm certain I do."

"Well, then you must also have an idea of exactly what I'm willing to offer you." He picked up the glass from the table and downed the last of his scotch, his eyes never leaving mine and the warmth stirred in my belly at the sight; dressed impeccably in tailored trousers, with a crisp white shirt and fitted waistcoat, and drinking scotch. He was a cliché come to life.

"And what exactly is it that you're offering?"

"I assure you, I'm offering what no one else can give you."

I rolled the sheets of parchment, dropping them into my bag, "If you could outline your offer and send it over, I'll let you know if we're willing to accept it." I stood on legs that felt like jelly - wanting to get out of his office before the thin stretch of control I had snapped and I threw him to the floor and had my way with him – and stepped past him headed towards the door, reaching out to open it, but his hand slammed against it, startling me.

"Are you sure you want to play this game, Granger?" His voice was quiet and close to my ear, his breath warm on my skin making my spine stiffen.

"I'm not playing a game," I said, still facing the door, but I was unable to stop myself from leaning back into him.

"We've been playing a game for months," I felt his lips on my neck; a feather-light light brush against my skin that had the flames in my belly turning into an inferno. "Turn around, Granger."

I was sure he could hear my heart pounding in the silence that surrounded us, and pressed against him as I was, I could feel the heat of his body through my dress. I swallowed thickly and slowly turned to face him. His grey eyes had grown dark and were staring intently at me, his chest rising and falling with each slow, deep breath he took. He bit his bottom lip, the only sign of any hesitation, of waiting for me to slap him and leave.

"What are you doing?" My voice shook, and my already tight nipples grew even harder, almost painfully so, as a sly grin spread across his face.

"I'm upping the game."

His hand slid over my hip, his fingers trailing down my thigh, reaching for the hem of my dress. I sucked in a sharp breath as his fingers scorched across my skin, going higher and higher until he reached the edge of my knickers. He paused momentarily, still gauging my reaction, before slipping one long finger under the fabric and pressing against my clit. My jaw dropped open and I gripped his shoulders, my breath leaving me in a relieved huff.

"Shit," He groaned as he pushed his finger inside me, "You're fucking drenched."

I tightened my grip on his shoulders and let my head fall back against the door. One finger. One fucking finger and I was gone. I wrapped my leg around his calf and groaned; that one, long finger felt like heaven sliding through me. And the fact that this finger belonged to Draco Malfoy just made it all the more hotter.

I opened my eyes; he was watching my face, watching for any indication that I might, at any moment, scream bloody murder and punch his face. But that was the last thing on my mind. This felt way too good, way too perfect for me to even consider stopping.

I shifted my grip, grabbing his shirt collar and pulling him to me. I needed his mouth on mine, needed him closer, needed...shit! I just needed more.

And I got what I wanted.

His mouth landed roughly on mine, his lips hard and smooth, and he kissed me like I had imagined he would. His mouth was sure and commanding, dipping and teasing, his tongue dancing across mine. I pressed my hand against his chest, feeling his heart hammering as rapidly as mine, and a surge of pride flooded my veins knowing that I had this effect on him.

He pulled back and examined my face, his eyes roaming until his mouth curved into a devious smile. He slid his finger out of me, causing me to let out an involuntary moan and he chuckled, curling his fist around the thin lace of my knickers and tearing them off me in one fierce tug.

"Do you like this game, Granger?" He moved his mouth to my cheek and slid his hands up my ribs, stopping just below my breasts.

"No," I hissed and grabbed his hands, placing them exactly where I wanted. "Keep fucking touching me."

He chuckled, squeezing hard, his thumbs sliding back and forth over my tight nipples. His hands were rough, and I was sure that I would have bruises in the morning. Bruises that I wanted, as proof of just how much he wanted me. I arched into his touch, groaning as he yanked my dress apart, tugging roughly at one bra cup and lifting my breast, bending to suck my nipple between his lips.

I reached down, pressing my hand to where he was straining against his trousers, and let out my own satisfied chuckle when he arched against me as I curled my fingers around him.

He lifted his head and pressed his lips to my throat, "You're a fucking tease, Granger. You're so fucking drenched, I wonder how often you think about me doing this."

I made a choking sound as he circled my clit with that magical finger, his teeth biting gently on my ear lobe.

"Do you think about this every day?" His finger pressed hard against my clit, "Do you touch yourself like this? Do you get yourself wet and come on your fingers?"

"Yes," I groaned, although I wasn't sure if it was in response to his questions, or because his finger was flicking over my clit. But in both cases, my response would be the same.

He kissed me again, hard and hungry, his mouth pressed firmly against mine. And just when I thought I would run out of air, he moved, nipping at my jaw and sucking over the place where my pulse thumped in my neck.

"Is this what you want?" He murmured against my pulse, "Do you want me to fuck you, here in my office?"

"It's exactly what I want." I unbuttoned his trousers, sliding the zipper down, and got my own surprise; he was commando. I smiled at him as I wrapped my hand around his erection, squeezing hard. He looked down, watching my hand as I slid my fingers over him from base to tip, feeling him twitch and pulse in my hand. He was heavy and thick, and he was so hard he felt like granite.

And he was big. Bigger than any other man I had ever been with, and I had a fleeting thought of just how much my body would have to stretch to accommodate him.

I dragged the tip of his cock over the wetness between my thighs, swallowing down the tiny flutter of fear that his size had caused, and luxuriated in the groan that vibrated from his chest. His cock was hard, but his skin was soft, so warm and wet from his own arousal. I pressed the tip to my opening and he lifted my leg higher, hooking it over his hip. His eyes locked on mine and he surged forward, sinking into me, stretching and filling me, and causing an almost painful ache between my thighs as if I'd never done this before.

He paused momentarily, staring intently at me, waiting for me to relax around him. I smiled at him and nodded, and he began moving slowly, achingly so, and with each push he moved deeper and deeper inside me. I wanted watch, wanted to see every expression, every reaction, but I couldn't. It was too much, too intimate, so I closed my eyes and focused on simply feeling where he filled me, how his hips pressed against mine, how his length slid against my clit with every thrust.

"Shit you're tight," he grunted and dug his fingers into my thigh.

"No," I gasped as he hit a particularly sensitive spot inside me, "Not me...you're...big"

He laughed against my mouth, "I've been telling you for months I can give you more pleasure than you've ever experienced."

I should have been incensed at his comment, but I couldn't form a coherent sentence. His slow, deliberate strokes had taken away my ability to even think straight.

He lifted my other leg, wrapping both my thighs over his hips, and I linked my ankles together. His fingers gripped so hard into my arse that I was sure I would have bruises to match those on my breasts. He stilled, looking up at me, and I stared right back. His angled features no longer seemed ominous, instead his sharp jaw and carved cheeks seemed more refined, and his grey eyes held a look that said he wanted to devour me, over and over again.

"What are you thinking?" He asked quietly.

I shook my head, "I'm not sure. I just know that I want this."

"Good, because so do I." He smiled and kissed me, slowly, quietly, differently, as if this was something more than a quick and dirty and rough fuck in his office.

He began to move again, and instantly the world fell away and all that was left was the two of us. Just the long, slow slide of him in and out of me, the feel of his hands gripping me tightly, the press of his hips against mine. The overwhelming feel of him inside me.

He looked down to where we were joined, and I followed his gaze, watching how he slowly moved into me, slick and strong, in and out, in long steady strokes.

"Granger," He looked up at me, "You feel better than I imagined."

His mouth covered mine before I could respond, his thrusts speeding up, becoming fast, almost urgent, feeling for all the world like he was completely lost in me, the way I was lost in him. He leaned into me, his face pressed into my neck, and the grunts that vibrated against my skin had the heavy ball of heat spreading lower in my belly and threatening to explode before I was truly ready.

My spine tingled as he moved faster, quickly sliding through me, rough and hard, in a way that I never knew that I wanted.

"Harder," I groaned, and he complied, pressing me against the door and slamming up into me, harder and harder, until the friction became all too much, and the heavy ball of heat in my belly exploded along my sex causing me to cry out.

My head rolled back against the door and I shuddered with the force of my orgasm. I had never come so hard in my life, had never felt the desperate rush of simply wanting someone to fuck me.

"Granger, fuck!" Draco bit into my neck and I felt him swell inside me, felt him shudder, felt the heat explode repeatedly from him as he came with the most erotic groan I'd ever heard in my life.

He leaned into me, his body heavy, and his cock still twitching and pulsing inside me. His breath tickled my throat, and I slid my fingers through his damp hair. I giggled softly and he looked up at me.

"Something funny?"

"Freshly fucked," I told him with a nod and then tugged on his hair. He closed his eyes and leaned into my touch, a small smile curling his lips. I smiled my own smile; he had clearly heard the gossip.

I sighed as he smoothed his hand along my thigh, caressing my warm skin, before moaning quietly and slowly pulling out of me. He eased me to the floor, holding my hips until my shaking legs were steady enough to hold me.

I bit my lip. I'd just had sex with Draco Malfoy. And not just sex; rough, hot, hard, against-the-door sex. Sex that would go down in history as being the best of my life. My heart had barely recovered, but it began racing again. I told myself not to panic, to stay calm and not freak out. I told myself that it was exactly what I had wanted - had needed - and that was all. I had scratched an itch; it didn't have to be anything more.

"Granger—" he began but I cut him off.

"Thanks, that was amazing." I said straightening my dress and bending to pick up my bag that I hadn't realised that I'd even dropped. "So, ah, send your proposal tomorrow."

He stared at me, dazed.

I turned, opened the door and walked out, telling myself not to run, not to look back. But when I reached the end of the hallway, I turned my head. He was leaning against the door frame, his arms crossed over his chest, his trousers open, and a smirk planted on his face.

I paused, and my heart did a little leap.

Whatever had just happened, I was sure it wasn't the last time that it would.

A/N:

I have a couple of stories on the go, but this one gets priority...I'm enjoying it the most. I hope you do the same :)

Also, this one will be over at AO3 as well...I assumed that after a few months off, the doc manager would have been sorted on this site...but since everyone here has been so supportive, I don't want to let you down and not publish here xx