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Draco felt absolutely absurd. There was no other way to go about it. He was slouched uncomfortably in a chair in a now-empty conference room in the Ministry, three floors from his own office, his eyes firmly and unblinkingly trained on a closed door on the other side of the office.
To be fair, it wasn’t as if he had many other options. He had an warrant from the Department of Aurors that would allow his team to set up surveillance on a suspected dark safe house and give them permission to do a sweep of the inside to collect any evidence that could help the case. Hermione Granger, as head of the legal department of the Ministry, was the only one who could finish signing off on the order before he could act.
It was time sensitive, he had to get the order signed today. Their information told them that the wizards were away for three days from the house for a supply run, leaving the house empty for him and his team. If there was any lag, it could put his team in danger of being caught in a fight they weren’t prepared for without knowing what they were up against.
Unfortunately, Granger’s bloody secretary, none other than Pansy Parkinson, was too competent for her own good. Draco had tried three different times in the last few hours to be allowed in to see the head prosecutor, and three times he was told she was unreachable.
Draco explained the situation at length, but Pansy would not be moved. Once, Draco had tried to simply walk past her, only to be struck by a stinging hex, which she was only too happy to see had hit her mark. His leg was still smarting from that one, which made his walk back to the lifts much less dignified than he had wanted. Draco knew Pansy’s favorite foods from the coffee cart that was always parked outside on the street on the Muggle side of the Ministry entrance, which he delivered right to her, but not even the alluring smell of a large white mocha and cranberry orange muffin was enough to bribe her away from her desk.
Which is why sitting in the conference room, his back starting to cramp up from the low angle, peering over a room full of cubicles and stressed lawyers, waiting for Granger’s assistant to leave his desk so he could get into her office, while hurting his ego, was necessary.
Draco watched as Pansy finished off the last of the coffee he had gotten her, crumbling up the bag it had all come in and tossing it in the rubbish next to her desk.
Ten minutes more, he told himself. Ten minutes until he waltz across the bloody room and powered his way through, hexes be damned. He was fairly sure that the sounds of a duel would be enough to bring Granger out of her bunker.
He was just lifting himself out of the chair to do just that when he saw Pansy check her watch. Draco’s arms went limp, causing his body to drop back unceremoniously into the chair. His eyes were wide as he watched Pansy write a note to leave on her desk, checked the room, and started to walk to the lifts.
This was his chance.
Draco snuck out of the conference room and started to walk across the office as if he were in a war. His legs were bent, letting his torso drop below the line of cubicle walls but keeping his head high enough that he was able to watch for either Pansy or a replacement. He was sure the coast was clear when he was only a few feet away, when Pansy’s head swerved around the corner down the hall.
The two Slytherins made eye contact: Draco’s wide, Pansy’s a glare.
“Malfoy,” she called, starting to make her way back towards her desk, he heels clicking menacingly on the tile, “don’t you dare! Granger’s on a strict no-visitors today!”
Draco broke out into a run, dodging surprised wizards that happened to be in his way. He grabbed his wand from his pocket, bringing it up to point at the wall and shooting a spell that quite literally blew it off its hinges.
Pansy was quick on his heels. He narrowly dodged a hex as he threw himself through the doorway, sending a Reparo over his should to put the door back in place, its locks again intact.
He laid on the floor, his Auror robes bunched up below him as Pansy kicked and hit the door behind him. Draco smirked. Casting a Silencio to block it out, he stood, dusting the dirt off of him as her curses were quieted.
Hermione Granger was sitting curled up on the floor in front of her desk, a blanket around her shoulders, papers spilled out around her.
“Malfoy?” she said.
“Granger,” he greeted.
“What are you doing here? I told Pansy not to let anyone in.”
Draco scoffed, “Yeah, thanks for that. I’ve got a welt the size of Greenland on my thigh now. I think Pansy took far too much pleasure in it.”
Hermione smiled a bit, softly, “She’s been waiting for an excuse for ages now to shoot some spells. Pansy thinks she’s some kind of bodyguard out there.” For a moment, Hermione’s mouth thinned, like she had tasted a lemon and was trying to get past the tartness. “I’m sure your perfect skin won’t scar from it.”
He raised an eyebrow at the comment, but continued, thrusting the papers in her direction before settling himself on the small loveseat by the wall. “I need you to sign an order. It’s kind of a rush, which made this whole ordeal very annoying for me.”
“It was important. I really shouldn’t be speaking to anyone today.” Hermione sounded distracted, her eyes focused on the papers, reading them over carefully. “You especially shouldn’t be here right now.”
Placing a hand to his chest for effect, he pitched his voice to one of shock, “Me especially? Why, Granger, you wound me.” He stood suddenly, rummaging through Hermione’s packed bookcase across from the desk.
“I really hate this order,” Hermione grumbled, though she reached for a pen.
“I had one of the new ones write it up,” Draco said offhand, scraping back books from their place to look behind them, “What’s wrong with it? The team could use a good scolding.”
Hermione coughed, “It’s, it’s not the paperwork. That’s all fine.”
“Then what is it?” The pile of books Draco had dislodged was growing as he tossed them aside. “Dammit, Granger,” he said, his back still to her, “I know you have candies stashed back here, where are they?”
“Top shelf behind the Atlas. It’s dangerous.”
Draco tossed the book aside with the others, turning, “The Atlas is dangerous? Merlin, you really don’t want to share.” He grunted, “How do you even reach this, I can barely get to it.”
She huffed behind him, “The mission. I don’t like when you go on missions that can get you hurt.” She paused for a moment, just enough for Draco to lay hands on the small jar, his body stretched to reach the hiding spot. “I don’t share the candies.”
The jar was glass and half filled with bright green candies from the Weasley’s shop, which Draco refused to patron on principle, but had developed a healthy appetite for them ever since George sent her a box to her office to test a few months ago. Hermione wasn’t a fan, but she had a standing order each month for another batch.
“All missions are dangerous, it comes with the job. This one less so.” Draco carefully unwrapped a piece, popping it in his mouth.
Hermione kept her eyes on her lap as she held up the packet of papers with her newly inked signature, “Here, it’s all signed. You can go now.”
Draco took the papers from her warily, “You haven’t got the flu have you?”
“No.”
“Dragon pox?”
“No, please leave, Malfoy.” Hermione stood, waving her arms and herding him to the door.
Draco took a few steps towards the door, “You’re mad, woman, what’s --”
“Don’t!” she yelled, giving him a push that mussed his robes but otherwise didn’t phase him.
“--wrong with you today?” he finished.
Hermione moaned, her hand coming up to her forehead. She closed her eyes as she said slowly, “I had an incident down at Experimental Magic. A strain of Veritaseum in dust form. I essentially have no filter and I can’t control it.”
Draco smirked, “That explains the lockdown, then.” He took the moment she was occupied to sidle further into her office.
“I would have just went home, but there’s too much work to leave. Now, can you leave, please?”
“What do you really think of Potter?” Draco shot out. He was seated on the edge of the couch, candies in hand, looking like a kid in his first movie theatre.
“Harry’s my best friend.” She said automatically. Then, Hermione scowled, “Cut it out, Malfoy, that’s not fair!”
The blonde rolled his eyes, “Well, I was expecting a much more interesting answer.” He tossed a candy her way, “Cheer up, Granger, these things happen to everyone. Have a candy.”
“Can you just please leave? I really can’t do this right now.” She caught the candy and threw it back with a little more force than necessary, “And I told you, I don’t even like these sweets.”
He ignored her request, staying seated even as he dodged the projectile sugar. “Why the bloody hell would you have these if you don’t eat them?”
“I told you that already. They’re for you.”
Draco paused, “Why would you have them for me?”
She huffed, “Because you like them. And I will let you take the whole lot of them if you eat them in your own office.” Hermione opened and closed her mouth, trying to rein in the words the dust was pushing out of her, “I like... watching you eat them.”
He chewed slowly, his eyes squinted, “You like watching me eat candies?”
She nodded, but it looked like it pained her, “When you get them off the shelf, your shirt stretches over your shoulders. You smile when you take a bite, and it’s not a bad look. You..” she swallowed, looking at her shoes and speaking softly, “you lick your fingers when you've finished.”
The room was silent for a beat. Hermione was afraid to look up, but if she had, she would have seen Draco place the jar on the floor, his eyes trained on her face.
“Granger,” was all he said, drawing out her name.
“Take the bloody jar and leave, now, please, so I can sit and stew in my utter embarrassment and we can not talk about this ever again.” She looked up when she heard soft footfalls coming towards her.
Draco was eyeing her like a panther, his movements slow and sure, “I don’t think so, Granger. I think this is the perfect time to talk about this.”
“I’d really rather not.” Hermione swallowed thickly, taking a step back until her hip hit the side of her desk.
“Then what would you rather do?” Draco’s voice was low, like velvet slipping over her skin. He kept towards her, stopping less than a foot away. “Right now, what would you rather do right now than talk?”
Hermione breathed heavily, trying to hold back the words that she knew she could not fight. Her eyes darted around the room, avoiding his eyes and tapping her fingernails on the desk behind her.
“I’d rather...” she started, shaking her head.
Draco took one more half step forward, placing his hands on either side of her on the desk, caging her in and making her stomach flutter. “Well, love?” he asked softly.
Her words were a breath, floating softly to his ears, “I’d rather you kissed me.”
“Bloody hell,” Draco said, pushing himself the rest of the way and meeting her mouth.
Hermione whimpered into him as their lips learnt each other, her hands climbing up his arms on their own accord. His muscles flexed under her grip and her fluttering stomach
went into overtime.
The kiss was strong and intense, leaving them breathless and gasping into each other. Draco still hadn’t moved his hands from their place on the desk, even as Hermione’s scrolled across his chest, under his outer robe. She could feel the muscles she always knew were there but never saw, that she had determinedly not allowed herself to think about. But now, here she was, and she could feel her knickers getting wetter the more they kissed, couldn’t stop her thighs from clenching, rubbing against each other on their own accord, searching for friction.
Her leg grazed Draco’s trousers, feeling just the slightest hardness that was all she needed to know that he was just as affected as she was. Hermione leaned her head back, disconnecting from Draco’s lips as she bit her lip to keep in a small moan.
Draco’s eyes flicked up to her for just the slightest moment, enough for him to measure her face, to know if this was what she wanted. His eyes darkened when he saw her flushed cheeks, her swollen lips.
Still keeping his hands still, Draco dove down to her neck, peppering it with kisses down to her collarbone, then up the curve of her skin to her ear.
When he whispered, his breath raised goosebumps, “I’ve been waiting so long to have you like this,” he said, “You’re bloody infuriating. I’ve missed meetings because of you. Because I wanted to be near you, see you, talk to you.”
Draco brought his head back to look directly in her eyes, so she could see the sincerity there. Then he took a step back, putting up a hand between them when Hermione tried to follow. She stilled, lagging back against the desk. Her eyes were dark, roving his body and not missing the stable bulge he was sporting.
“Tell me if this is what you want,” he said simply. His mind was whirring. His hair, usually so pristine was tousled and falling in his face. He paid it no mind, focused on the witch in front of him.
Hermione nodded. When he only raised his eyebrows at her, she verbalized, “Yes.”
Draco nodded to himself, taking his eyes away for only a moment, enough to take a breath and settle himself. “Okay. Okay. Here’s what we’re going to do. I’m not going to ravish you on your desk --” Even as he said it, his eyes flicked to the wood, banishing the image from his mind before it could take more of a hold, “-- not right now at least. Maybe at another time.”
Hermione’s stomach flipped at the thought. Her thighs pressed firmly against each other. Draco groaned.
“You can’t do that, Granger. Let a man think for a moment.” Hermione felt the blush on her face, but he continued on, “Dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Yes, Granger, dinner.” He spoke slowly, almost patronizing. Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m asking you to dinner. After this magic dust has run its course through your system and you’re back to yourself completely, I’m asking you to have dinner with me.”
“As a date?” Hermione asked, the blush diminishing but not fully retreating. Her arousal had dimmed a bit so she felt more in control of her faculties but still processing his words.
“Saturday night, my flat. I’ll order take out.” Draco started retreating towards the door, “Let me know within the next few days your answer. Not now. Think on it.”
He waited until she nodded before turning away from her. He left the room more confidently than his jellied legs may have allowed if he was a lesser man. The door clicked shut behind him, and he took a moment to breathe freely.
He had just snogged Hermione Granger.
Draco Malfoy had snogged Hermione Granger and asked her on a date. He never thought it’d be possible. For all the time they worked together, he was sure she would hex him into next week if he ever tried anything. But his swollen lips told a different story. He ran a hand through his hair.
“Bloody hell,” he said to himself.
There was a flash of sparks to his left that narrowly missed his face. Pansy was still at her station, rounding her desk on her way to him. Draco high tailed it down the hall, zig zagging to avoid her spells, but he couldn’t help the laugh of elation that bubbled up out of him as he ran.
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