Work Text:
Hermione Granger was going to kill Ginevra Weasley.
That scheming wench had officially sealed her fate. After planning a lovely picnic for Ginny’s birthday, inviting friends, and preparing food for 10 people all morning, she had the audacity to owl five minutes before Hermione was set to depart.
Hermione, the light of my life, my soul mate,
Harry and I are running late — we had trouble wrangling the kids to the Burrow. Should be to the lake within an hour or two.
Go on over and set up, it’s too beautiful outside to wait for us.
I’m assuming the Ferret will already be there to help, the timely, fit, intelligent prat.
....
Also, just a heads up, everyone else cancelled okayloveyouseeyousoonbye!
~Gin
She’d been played. Swindled. An elaborate set up that she walked right into.
Ginny and her girlfriends were scheming to get her together with Malfoy for months. Of course she spent most days with him at work, and some nights with friends, and most weekends since he'd been adopted into their tribe, but they were never alone together. Hermione went out of her way to avoid being unchaperoned with the man. Far too dangerous.
Their chemistry was undeniable. The spark was brought to light a few years post war, after her and Ron’s relationship had run its course. The two worked their way up the Auror ranks, becoming invaluable assets to the department. After a few missions partnered with one another, closing case by case, they became even more so.
At first, Hermione attributed their ability to crack cases faster than any other detectives to their shared competitiveness with a sprinkle of spite. But within months, and after being forced to work with other snails like McLaggen, it was clear that no one rivaled Draco’s intellect or work ethic. Now they had an unofficial partnership, the deputy director assigning them together more often than not.
She enjoyed working with him, and looked forward to it even. At least, she did, until a little over six weeks ago when she drunkenly kissed him at the Ministry Summer Solstice party. What followed was weeks of carefully crafted escape routes and dodging his attempts to talk in private.
It looked as though Ginny was forcing her hand.
Her avoidance was quite immature really, although she would hardly admit it fully to herself. She couldn’t continue to successfully dodge her work partner forever, let alone her feelings for the man.
But it would be so easy to owl and cancel. Another successful maneuver. Or maybe it was time to stop being so cowardly…
Maybe it was time to face the reality that her feelings had surpassed that of work colleagues a long time ago. At the very least, he deserved to be told the change of plans to his face.
Without allowing herself another moment to overthink, she scooped up the now excessively packed picnic basket and apparated to the lake.
Her nerves dissipated instantaneously when she whirled into stability on the shore of the glistening waterhole. The Ferret, as Ginny so graciously put, was in fact already there. Draco stood a few meters away in ankle deep water, one hand in a pocket of his navy slacks, the other holding his ghastly expensive dragon leather oxfords. He wore an uncharacteristically casual white linen shirt tucked perfectly, both of his pant legs rolled at the ankle to avoid the lapping water. His usually large and rigid build seemed softer surrounded by a swaying willow tree and tall grasses speckled with wildflowers.
His face was tilted towards the blue sky, his eyes closed enjoying the warmth from the sun.
Was the heat she felt blooming in her chest also from the sun? There was no time to process those feelings. They were drops of dew tantalisingly poised at the edge of a blade of grass. Instead, she focused on him.
He was positively ethereal.
The sound of her apparition that followed broke his serenity, something she felt a pang of guilt for. The rigid lines on his face and shoulders reappeared, the mask falling back into place. He stepped out of the water hastily as if he’d been caught in a damning act, making her feel even more like a voyeur. He turned and scanned the lakeside, clearly expecting to see more bodies pop into existence. Even though everyone invited now considered Draco a friend, he still felt the need to be on guard around them. The thought caused an uneasy knot to spread in her stomach.
But when all he found was Hermione, some of the softness returned to his brow.
He coughed, “Granger, you —” and trailed off as his breath seemed to catch, words failing to stream from his slightly agape mouth. His eyes flickered up and down her body so fast she almost missed it.
A pit of insecurity crept up Hermione’s throat as she tried to decipher what rendered him speechless. The feeling flickered fast as the slight color on the apples of his cheeks gave him away.
Draco Malfoy was blushing because of her.
He rarely saw her in anything other than Ministry robes or muggle jeans and a jumper. However, because of Ginny’s persistent heckling, today Hermione donned a yellow and white floral sundress. The smocked bust was held up by two yellow silk ties that rested on her shoulders, accentuating her curvy form while complimenting her summer tan. Although Ginny was still destined to a slow and torturous death for this set up, Hermione made a mental note to kiss that heathen before said death for eliciting this type of reaction from Draco Malfoy.
He cleared his throat and swallowed, some composure returning. Hermione cut him off before he fully recovered.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she said, looking over the water that shimmered from the flecks of sunlight creeping through the willows canopy. Her gaze lingered on the blue, lost in the same beauty that enraptured Draco a moment before.
“Beautiful is one way to put it,” he finally professed, voice a bit rougher than usual.
Her brow furrowed at the change in his tone. When she returned her focus to him, about to inquire the reason, it was her words that were lost.
This time in a blazing sea of grey.
His gaze was sweltering and locked only on her. Hermione wasn’t sure they were talking about the landscape anymore.
After a moment, she released the breath she was holding captive. She shifted her weight onto each foot, until it dawned on her that she hadn’t moved from the apparition spot. An invisible string pulled her towards him, the ground crunching beneath her sandals as she closed the distance between them. A slight blush still lingered on her cheeks as she tried to control her breathing. There was no logical explanation for why her body was reacting this way, which only caused her to panic further.
“It seems we’ll be the only ones here for a bit. Ginny and Harry will be here in an hour or two and the rest… well… cancelled?” She trailed off, diverting her eyes from his gaze.
He hummed in acknowledgement before looking down at his bare feet, flexing his toes around the blades of grass.
“Let me guess...this is Weaslette’s doing?” Head cocking to the side.
She hummed back in confirmation, the nervous thoughts from earlier taking root in her mind again.
Was he upset that it was just the two of them? Should she tell him the day was cancelled? Turn around and owl Ginny that she was a bloody idiot who pushed her into a humiliating encounter with her coworker ?
He closed the remaining distance, breaking her mental spiral, and grasped the handle of the picnic basket she was gripping like a vice. His eyes stayed focused on their hands, now only a hairs distance separating them, as his tongue poked the side of his cheek.
“Good,” he finally said, breaking the silence. “I don’t like sharing anyways.” And he grazed his thumb over her knuckles once... twice... before pulling the basket out of her hands.
The simple gesture caused her to stutter, a heat flooding her navel to rival that on her cheeks.
Hermione responded much too fast, “Oh, don’t worry,” her now-free hands moving to play with the fabric of her dress, “I brought plenty of food.”
His eyes followed the motion of her fingers. The corner of his lip caught between his teeth, biting back a smile as he studied her doe-eyed expression.
“You, Granger. I mean I don’t like sharing you.”
“Oh…” was all that came out as a near whisper. Her brown eyes spread impossibly wider at his bold remark.
Oh was right. She was fucked.
When did it become so bloody hot?
A full smirk spread across his cheeks, clearly pleased that he, in turn, rendered her speechless. Sleek fingers glided through his platinum locks and, without another word, he turned on his heel towards the clearing under the willow tree.
They filled the silence while they set up the picnic with safe conversation surrounding work and friends. A handkerchief tied around the wicker handle of the basket was transfigured into a large blanket, cushioned by the patted down wild grass. Trays of sandwiches and charcuterie were left levitating on the outskirts. An absurd amount for just the two of them now.
Draco removed a bottle of champagne, raising it in a silent question. Hermione responded by holding up two flutes for an answer.
They both relaxed onto the blanket, sipping the bubbles in a silence blanketed by tension.
Her attention was focused on her now bare feet, while Draco alternated between looking over the lake to back at her, patiently waiting.
She felt exposed.
She knew this conversation was inevitable, but all the scenarios she played in her head involved a less secluded setting. With multiple exits and witnesses. Preferably when he didn't look so unbelievably edible.
“I wanted to apologize for my actions since the solstice party,” Hermione finally caved. “It was unprofessional of me to avoid you. I regret how I handled what happened.” It all spilled out. To prevent more, she took another sip of champagne.
“And do you regret what happened?”
Hermione finally looked at him again, his expression was guarded and inquisitive. His feelings on the matter were frustratingly unreadable.
She searched her brain, flipping through reasons why it was wrong, why it didn’t make sense, why she wasn’t ready. The insecurities she held onto, the pain of the past. The things people might say or feel. But all of the people that mattered didn’t care, if anything they encouraged it. And none of the thoughts of Draco Malfoy’s lips and hands all over her had any form of regret tied to them.
Her brow furrowed, and as she looked back into his grey eyes, she knew her answer.
“No,” she whispered, brows pulled together, “I only regret not kissing you sooner.”
If his gaze was hot before, it turned positively feral at her words. Greys flashed to molten silver before evening out. His fists clenched and opened, digging into his thigh.
“Then why waste another second, Granger?” he questioned, eyes flickering to her lips. Still patiently waiting, pleading and restraining himself until she made up her mind.
She had to know if his lips felt as electric as they did before. Nothing to blame but the magic between them.
Hermione pivoted on the blanket, nearly leaping towards him. Draco’s seeker reflexes caught her small frame with ease and scooped her to stradle his lap.
There were no words for the feeling when Draco’s lips finally, finally, met hers.
The wall retaining everything surrounding the man exploded in a wave of passion that she translated into every kiss, nip, and swipe of her tongue against his. All the little things she never allowed herself to think of: the coffee he made placed on her desk every morning, the challenging debates that no one else could provide her, the lingering glances. When she went off on a swotty tangent, it would be him listening. When she wanted to pursue another angle on a case, it was him there to always support her. Always trust her. Always.
She expressed every moment into every motion and caress. She clawed at him, grazing her fingers through his hair hungrily. Because she was starving for it. Starving for him.
He met everything she gave him with equal fervor, flipping her onto her back so he could encase her between his muscular forearms and thighs.
He ran his hands along her collarbone, her arms, her hips, leaving tingles in his wake. Memorizing her. The force of his grabs bordered painful, desperate, but she still wanted more.
“Please, Draco,” she begged.
His sleek fingers dragged up her leg under her dress, goosebumps erupting. His hand stuttered when he made it to the bare curve of her arse. Draco squeezed her cheek with a bruising force and dropped his head to the crook of her neck, biting her sensitive skin, eliciting a moan from her lips.
“Granger…” he panted, “If you're bare under that sundress, I’m going to fucking lose it.”
When his head lifted, she was biting her lip, fingers seductively pulling the silk ribbon straps.
“Please,” Hermione repeated. She thought she was going to burn if he didn’t touch her where she needed it most.
His hand, the one not kneading her arse, pulled the bodice of her dress down. Her nipples peaked as they met the open air and he immediately brought his mouth to one, while teasing and pinching the other with the pads of his fingers. Hermione's back arched off the blanket, gasping and moaning at the sensations, before Draco released her nipple with a pop and switched his attention to the other.
On his journey across her chest, she registered a slew of phrases,“tits are fucking gorgeous,” “mine,” and “bloody perfect”.
She threaded her fingers through his soft hair, pleading he stop the teasing and kiss her senseless. To her frustration, Draco had other plans. He ground his hips against her so she could feel his hard need, his undeniable attraction, but he lifted before she could get lost in the sensation.
He began a slow descent around her breast and ribs, kissing and nibbling each one to elicit shivers down Hermione's spine.
When he reached the bunched fabric around her waist, he denied her relief. Instead, he travelled lower, lifting and giving attention to her right ankle. He peppered gentle kisses along the goosebumps on her inner leg while his fingers tickled ahead of his lips to create the sensitive reaction. When his fingers reached the seam of her thigh, dangerously close to her throbbing core, he offered no solace for her body. Instead he lifted her left leg and gave it the same ministrations, causing Hermione to whimper in frustration. She could feel the smirk against her knee, and she groaned as his fingers traced the connection of her left leg.
When she was fully a writhing mess beneath him, he seemed content to settle his body between her thighs. His steady hands flipped up her skirt to meet the rest of the bunched fabric around her waist and he pressed the undersides of her knees to open her to him. Just when she thought she couldn’t spread any wider, his two thumbs traced down the seam of her lips and pulled them apart gently.
“Oh, fuck,” his jaw hung loose and he panted at the sight of her already drenched core.
Her neck and cheeks flushed under his eyes. She had never felt this exposed before. Ron had only done this to her a handful of times, and here Draco was, sticking his face right there during their first go. Her hands moved to cover her face, but she felt a sharp pinch at her inner thigh.
Hermione raised onto her elbows to see him release some of her soft skin from his teeth.
“Tsk tsk, I won’t have you covering that blushing face of yours because your big brain won’t shut off,” he declared, kissing down the crook of her leg to her outer lips, “Your eyes will be on me when you come on my fingers and mouth, Granger.”
It wasn’t a request, it was an order. A promise.
And when Hermione nodded in agreement, Draco gave her exactly that.
He was ravenous. He lapped from her opening to her clit where he swirled perfectly, groaning at the taste of her. Hermione’s back arched off the soft blanket at the sensation, finally getting some of the release she needed, but Draco immediately pushed her to the ground with a forearm on her navel.
“More Draco,” she pleaded through gasps, “I need… I need —”
But before she could finish telling him, he answered her prayers. One sleek finger entered her, then another. With a hooked motion, he reached the spot she so desperately needed.
Hermione threw her head back with a moan, curls fanning out around her in a halo. She splayed her hand through his blond hair and continued her approving gasps while Draco obediently stroked and sucked her clit.
She was close. Her pussy began to flutter around his fingers. Draco groaned and bit her thigh in the same spot, still sensitive from his earlier nibble.
“So bloody tight,” he growled with his mouth against her center as she began to fuck his fingers, “Just like that.”
Hermione whimpered at his words. Quite loudly. The pressure inside her was building like nothing she’d experienced before. It was a deep ache, ballooning in her lower abdomen. His fingers were hitting a spot that caused her to see stars. And his tongue, his fucking tongue.
“Draco I... I can’t—”
“6 weeks, 3 days, and 5 hours, Hermione.” Draco cut her off, speeding up his fingers. Her name on his lips made her heart skip.
That was the day they kissed at the solstice party, she knew it by heart.
“Wh.. what?” Was all she could manage to mumble.
“For 6 weeks, 3 days, and 5 hours I have wanted to taste you,” he said between strokes and licks. “For all this time, I have known…”
His thumb brushed over her clit in tune with the pumping of his fingers, eliciting another whimper from Hermione.
“That I am madly…” he answered, circling her clit again first with his thumb and then with his tongue. His eyes stayed locked on her questioning ones. She was teetering on the brink, fluttering harder around his consistent fingers.
A crooked smile formed on his face, enough to nearly send Hermione over the edge. But he knew just what to do to get her there, the next words escaping him like a hymn.
“...In love with you.”
His forearm pushed harder into her lower abdomen as his lips attached themselves to her sensitive bud, sucking hard as she tumbled over the edge into a swirling abyss. She thought she might faint, or burst, or crumble from the force of it. She didn’t even care. Her orgasm rocked through her, and she moaned his name through the aftershocks.
When she came to, Draco was slowly kissing up her stomach before paying special attention to both breasts on the way back to her lips.
She was still panting when he reached her face, hovering over her puddle of a body. She had never seen him like this before. So open and vulnerable, and almost nervous. When had the man ever been nervous?
Oh, he just confessed to being madly in love with you. You just almost forgot because he said it before giving you a mind shattering orgasm.
Her right hand raised to his chest where she felt the thrums of his heart beating so fast it was nearly worrisome.
Panic rose when she saw his eyes began to close off. He shifted his weight off of her and diverted his attention from her bare form as he sat up.
Hermione's brain was still catching up, unable to form the proper words to describe how she felt about the man who had laid himself bare in front of her. Even without the post-orgasm haze fogging up her brain, she doubted would be able to adequately confess the flood of emotions she felt for him. But she could show him.
Before he could fully turn away, she used his momentum to flip him onto his back, her legs wrapped around his thighs, trapping them.
He propped himself up onto his elbows, but she immediately attacked his lips again before he could protest. She tasted herself on them, and it only intensified her want.
Her fingers worked his slacks open and his pants down until she grasped his cock in one hand. She broke their kiss and looked down shamelessly at his length. Her fingers barely made it all the way around and her mouth dried at the sight.
She lifted onto her knees and shimmied forward, holding her dress up so it pooled around them. Draco’s breaths became uneven as she ran the tip of his cock along her soaked cunt. He groaned and closed his eyes, his head tilting back towards the sky.
Feeling a bit braver, she grabbed his chin and tilted his head back down towards her.
“Tsk tsk,” she mirrored his earlier critique through her lashes, the poster child of innocence. “Don't you want to look at me when I come on your cock, too?”
And at that, his eyes blew open, His pupils were blown so wide the molten silver was nearly gone. All restraint he previously held onto was absent.
He pulled himself up to sit, one arm extended behind for support while the other wrapped around her waist. Without warning, he sheathed her down onto his cock. Hard.
His mouth attached to her neck. He stayed tense and unmoving as she yelped. He was allowing her to adjust to his exceptional size.
The stretch was intruding and magnificent at the same time. Her cunt pulsed around him, trying to take more or push him out, she didn’t know. She shifted her hips and he bottomed out, hitting her cervix. They both groaned at the fullness.
The burn in her thighs was welcomed as she lifted nearly all the way off of him. She looped a hand around his neck for stability as she started to ride him, her other fingers coming up to toy with her exposed nipple.
She was lost in the sensation of him, so hyper aware of every touch, every sense, that her body was nearly overwhelmed.
The shorter hairs her fingers toyed with on his upper neck, the graze of his teeth on hers, his arm pushing and pulling her down as she grinded her hips passionately.
“Thats it, fuck me,” he praised.
She felt the breeze swirl around her, cooling her skin as a beads of sweat began to form and drip down her spine. Her breaths matching the sway of the wildflowers, her thrusts matching the laps of the water on the shore.
She changed angles, moving her hips so her clit rubbed gloriously on the base of his shaft. She moaned and he swore, planting his feet to meet each of her thrusts with his own.
Hermione felt weightless as her body started to lose control. She tilted her head towards the sky, soaking in the rays of sunshine that felt minuscule compared to the heat building inside of her. Draco’s hips began to stutter as her cunt gripped around him. He muttered promises and prayers against her skin.
His arm unwrapped itself and grabbed around her ear to bring their lips together again. She was barely able to kiss him back, the sensations so powerful she couldn’t stop the spill of sounds escaping her lips.
“Come for me, Hermione,” he ordered roughly against her mouth, placing their foreheads together so his eyes could bore into hers.
And then she was gone.
It was electric. It was explosive. Hermione couldn't possibly fathom how anything could feel this raw and real. Nothing had ever come close to this, nothing so good. She was stripped down to a single level, each atom pulsing and thrumming.
This was more than attraction, chemistry, it was magic.
Faintly heard him groan between her panting, ceasing his thrusts. His head falling to rest on her sternum, hot breaths puffing on the skin between her breasts. As clarity returned to her body, she rested her forehead on the crown of his, fighting to catch her breath.
Draco trailed featherlight kisses up her chest and neck before sitting up fully. He slipped a hand into her curls and grazed her scalp with his nails, locking her into his control. He pulled her in for a searing kiss, drinking in her remaining euphoria.
When he pulled away, Hermione's eyes fluttered open to one of the most beautiful sights she’d ever seen.
Draco was smiling at her with an expression that was a portrait for desire and awe. His smile was crooked, causing a dimple she’d never seen before to appear. Around him, the wildflower petals were suspended in the summer air. She was right, it was magic. Their magic.
A crack of apparition, immediately followed by another, broke the trance. The petals dropped to the ground around them and Draco moved to cover her exposed breasts by pulling her against his chest.
“We’re hereee!” Ginny hollered from around the bend. Thankfully, the tall grasses surrounding their picnic offered a moment of protection.
Panicked, Hermione pulled the top of her sundress up while Draco spread the skirt to cover where he was still connected to her. Ginny and Harry’s approach left no time to retie her dress straps or fix his disordered shirt before they rounded into the clearing.
“Oh good,” Ginny said, clasping her hands together, “You two are mostly decent. Harry, you owe me 5 galleons!” A positively smug grin spread across her face, while Harry looked like he was teetering on the brink of being sick, both of them taking in the pair's rumpled clothes and disheveled hair.
Harry groaned and grabbed the open bottle of champagne, taking a large swig.
“Can you two move over? I’m starved.”
Hermione turned towards Draco, who’s swollen lips and flushed face looked just as smug as Ginny’s. A blush bloomed across her cheeks and his smirk deepened when her hand darted to cover her mouth.
She tried, she really did, but the laughter bubbled over. The whole situation was wildly absurd. She had shagged Draco Malfoy, who was still inside of her. To top it off, their combined fluids were dripping out of her as Harry bloody Potter stood a meter away.
A groan escaped Draco’s lips as her giggles caused her to clench around him. His cock twitched in response, sending her into a full laughing fit.
Draco dropped his head into her shoulder, “Hermione, please stop laughing,” he groaned, shifting to squeeze her hips.
Harry froze. His eyes darted from Malfoy’s expression of pleasure and pain, to Hermione's flushed cheeks, to where they were connected at their hips.
“No —” he stammered. He started to back away, pointing to where the skirt of Hermione's dress precariously draped around Draco’s groin. When she refused to meet his eye, he received all the confirmation he needed, “No. Oh my god. Oh my GOD! GINNY ABORT!”
Harry spun so fast that champagne sloshed from the bottle. He grasped Ginny’s arm and began hauling her to the apparition point. He wrangled her squirming body, mumbling obscenities under his breath, as Ginny burst into her own fit of laughter.
In between her gasps for breath, she clutched her stomach and yelled, “10 galleons! Oh god this is the best birthday ever… They shagged, Harry! You owe me 10 galleons!”
And with a crack, they were alone again.
As Hermione’s laughter persisted, Draco growled and flipped her onto her back, smothering her giggles with a heated kiss.
“You wicked witch,” he mumbled on her lips. He thrust deeper into her, his cock already hardening again. She gasped, sensitive from her previous orgasms.
Between his agitated kisses and grasps to remove her dress, Hermione made out some of Draco’s words.
“...so bloody tight…”
“...fucking gorgeous…”
“...made for me…”
“...should be illegal…”
And between her gasps and moans, Hermione promised herself she’d buy a thousand more sundresses.
“I love you too, Draco.”