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It is a ridiculous tradition: hanging red and white stockings along a fireplace with individual names on them. Who would want their gifts in such a wrapping? Draco scowled to himself, the Firewhisky he carried a welcome excuse not to mingle. The names he passed were hardly important. Each one was a Ministry official, or an intelligent witch or wizard who knew that donating money was more for their own personal causes than the well deserving. He only paused his personal musings when his gaze landed on a familiar name.
Hermione.
Raising his head, he scanned the crowd that was in attendance at the annual Christmas Ball thrown by the Ministry; and his eyes finally landed on a mane of familiar bushy hair. Reluctantly he scanned her form from head to toe, lingering too long on a certain rounded part of her body covered delicately by the red dress she wore. Any other day, he would have avoided her and headed in the opposite direction. But today, (it might have been the slight buzz he was feeling from Ogden's finest) Draco Malfoy found an inescapable urge to go make his presence known to Hogwarts' most famous bookworm.
Keeping his eyes trained on her as a hunter would his prey; Draco downed the last bit of the Firewhisky before he placed the glass on the tray held by a passing waiter. Straightening his jacket, he took long, confident strides towards her. Her hair, which is usually a wild mass of curls tied messily at the nape of her neck, now hung freely around her shoulders. She stood slightly taller than he remembered; wearing heels so high he knew she was far from comfortable. As he moved closer, he caught glimpses of her face whenever she spoke to her companions, and Draco couldn't help but notice that her makeup was tastefully applied. She had definitely blossomed after their school days, coming into her own beauty; which is why he never understood why she would dress plainly whenever she came to work. It was always the same boring cloak, with the same boring hair and same boring make up. But tonight, she was easy on the eyes. Very easy on his eyes, if he had cared to admit it.
Smirking mischievously, he stepped behind her, his chest gently bumping into her back.
"Granger," he whispered silkily, as he lowered his head slightly so that his warm breath ghosted though her curls.
She stiffened, but Draco knew that she wouldn't move away from him. That would mean defeat and Hermione Granger is nothing if not a formidable opponent.
"Malfoy."
His smirk widened at her unhappy tone. "I see you didn't take my threat seriously."
An awkward look passed between the two women Granger had been happily chatting with just a moment ago.
"Give me just a second," Granger said sweetly. "You know how some office work just doesn't let you be." Without waiting for their response, she eyed him warily and headed towards the balcony. Knowing that it was an open invitation, he followed her.
With a quick charm, he closed the door behind them before pocketing his wand. "A bit secluded, don't you think?" he asked casually, though his tone betrayed a hint of a threat.
Her resulting smile could only be described as fake. "Which is exactly why I chose this place. If something did happen to you, no one would be the wiser."
"And you assume that I would be the one who will be in the weaker position?" Draco asked flippantly as he took slow, deliberate steps towards her.
She stayed where she was, leaning against the railing, her arms crossed in a defensive position. "If you lay a hand or spell on me, yes."
He got closer to her. "But you're the one who broke our agreement."
Her eyes narrowed. "You started it, Malfoy. You should have never tried to stop my promotion."
With the intention of scaring her with his imposing presence, he took another step closer, bringing their bodies nearly a hairsbreadth away. "And you shouldn't have tried to make my client quit."
She leaned towards him, her chest grazing his slightly. "You'll have to try more than a half-hearted scare tactic to get me to leave."
He leant closer, and wasn't disappointed when she refused to move back. "Even if I make your life so uncomfortable that you would need to call on your precious Potter to protect you?" he smirked.
Her glare was as cold as granite. "Like I would ever turn my back on a snake like you." From the corner of his eye he saw her hand inch down the side of her dress and rumple the silky material against her thigh.
Knowing that she was reaching for her wand, he grabbed her wrist to stop her. "Ah ah ah, Granger." He leant even closer to her, his other hand grasping the railing and effectively blocking her in. "You wouldn't want to start a scene, now would you?"
"Let me go, Malfoy," she sneered, even as she pulled against his grasp.
Pushing his entire weight against her, he pinned her against the railing. "Try asking me nicely," he mocked.
Her expression of hatred only fuelled his need to outdo her.
Keeping her small wrist tightly enclosed with his fingers, he raised her dress roughly until his eyes landed on her wand hidden inconspicuously against her thigh high black stocking. "And here I thought you were a modest witch."
She stopped struggling, her eyes narrowing at him; challenging him. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He let go of her limp wrist to circle his hand along the lace across her thigh, bunching up her dress across her hips. She gasped as he lifted her leg against his hip, so as to properly study this phenomenon of his hated rival bringing a certain familiar need within him, to the surface. Their eyes met, and Draco couldn't help but be surprised that not only was she not pushing him away, but her tiny fingers were fisting the lapels of his dinner jacket.
She pulled him closer, her eyes darker than he had ever seen. "I hate you," she sneered softly, her warm breath against his lips.
He leaned forward in an effort to unhinge her; burying his head against the crook of her neck amongst soft curls. "Not as much as I hate you," he whispered roughly. His hand tightened around the soft skin of her thigh as he pushed against her; in punishment or promise, he wasn't sure. Thinking that he could probably blame the copious amounts of Firewhisky he consumed that evening, he did something he never thought he would ever do; he snuggled closer against her neck, and bit the tiny pulse at the base of her throat gently. She immediately arched against him, one of her hands tangling amongst the strands at the nape of his neck, while the other grabbed his shirt tightly. He continued the onslaught against her skin, his teeth grazing her throat almost painfully. She held onto him fiercely; the tiny mewling sounds she was making causing his breath to quicken, and his little bites to become warm open mouth kisses along the soft skin of her jaw and neck. Her hand that was tangled in his hair pulled him closer, which he complied with by moving his kisses up the column of her neck, her jaw, her chin, before they finally landed on her lips.
The kiss between them exploded in a clumsy flurry of hot breaths and moans. He kissed her with all the pent up aggression he felt while dealing with such a frustrating do-gooder for so long. And she kissed him back just as passionately as she tugged his hair painfully amongst the pleasure he was feeling from her onslaught. Teeth clashed, tongues fought, hands roamed across bare skin while his breath mingled with hers in an effort to ensure that no smooth surface of skin was left untouched. Merlin, she tasted divine; a mix of cinnamon and Firewhisky. It was far from the most sophisticated kiss Draco had ever been part of, but it was definitely the most erotic. If he had known there was such a passionate witch under that mop of hideous curls, he would have tried to invade her personal space ages ago.
It was Granger who finally pushed him away, causing him to stumble. Her cheeks were flushed, and her hair far from neat. She glared at him, which he returned fully even as they took quick, deep breaths to calm their exploding nerves.
"This..." she began shakily, her voice husky, "did not happen."
Straightening her clothes and hair quickly with trembling fingers, she marched off, her head held high.
Draco watched her angry figure as she left. If he wasn't mistaken, she just dared him to a challenge.
Maybe he could enjoy getting his gift in stockings, after all.