5 Bookmarks by I_izzy_C
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Summary
Cursed objects are causing death and destruction. When the objects themselves are found to hold no trace of Dark Magic, the Department of Magical Artefacts is stumped.
Draco Malfoy leant back in his chair and crossed his arms in bafflement. “And your professional assessment is that the best way of gathering evidence is sending Granger and I together to a sex club?”
“Worried about your reputation, Malfoy?” Hermione asked flatly.
He scoffed. "Hardly. If I were outed for going to an expensive parisian sex den it would be considered very much on brand.”
"That's why it’s so important we’re believable as a couple. We should talk about touching,” Hermione insisted.
"Touching," Draco repeated, alarm bells going off in his mind.
"As in how much of it you're okay with, where…"
"Casual touching," he nodded.
"But also, passionate touching," Granger pressed.
Merlin’s beard. Draco was quickly coming to the realisation that he was likely to regret this.
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Pansy Parkinson had a brilliant, but petty idea: Hermione should give Ron a taste of his own medicine— after quite the public break up Ron Weasley insists one parading whichever girl he deemed special enough for the night in front of Hermione— and frankly, Pansy had enough of Hermione’s moon eyes.
A petty arrangement is proposed between Hermione and Pansy’s best friend, Draco Malfoy. Hermione refuses at first, not wanting a relationship or a one night stand but when Pansy utters the words “Play Pretend,” followed afterwards by “he’s gay,” well, Hermione saw her chance to make Ron’s head pop off.
Only, things never go according to plan when Pansy is involved. Hermione should have known better. -
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When Hermione Granger is presented with a problem, she turns to research. Information, hypotheses, and experiments... These are all things she knows and loves, so it should come as no surprise that when she finds herself with a problem in the bedroom, she knows exactly how to find a solution.
And it just so happens that the solution is in the arms of a strong and confident stranger, with hands and lips that know just how to drive her body wild. The only problem? They belong to Draco Malfoy, the one person she should never trust.
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Summary
The first week, she had gotten horribly drunk every night, crawled in between the cotton sheets and slept.
Week two and three followed the same way, except the drinking binges stopped after Harry and Ginny staged an intervention.
Harry shot out in concern, “You have more vodka in your veins than blood.”
Hermione tried to take the bottle from his hand and hissed, “Malfoy! Harry, I got fucking Malfoy.”
Harry nodded in understanding and took a long swig from the bottle firmly in his grasp, “I know it’s disturbing. “
Ginny rolled her eyes and asked the group, “No one’s seen him in years. Where do you reckon he is?”
Ron placed the bags of Chinese takeout on the counter and glared, “Yeah, saves me from having to murder the bastard.”
He added knowingly, “I heard he’s living as a Muggle in Russia.”
Harry let out a short laugh, “Probably the most farfetched theory is that he’s Polyjuiced himself to look like the Muggle Prime Minister.”
Hermione groaned, “For Merlin’s sake, Skeeter hasn’t lost her idiotic touch then.”
None of the theories mattered. She would not be forced into any sort of union with Malfoy. The very notion was vile and disturbing, to say the least.