Chapter 7
Wednesday, July 11, 2018
“Does your 8th grade English teacher still work?” Draco asked as he placed dishes and silverware meticulously into the dishwasher, as though he were being judged on a competition show for the menial task. If he was, though, Hermione would give him a 10/10.
Hermione laughed, surprised at the question. “I’m not sure, honestly.”
“She’s an idiot, calling you uncreative,” Draco said with more vehemence than a childhood slight deserved, but it still made her feel good. “I can’t believe you’re making dessert again too, and it looks so fancy. You spoil me, sweetheart.”
“Only the best for your very late 40th birthday celebration. I can’t believe I had to find out from my boss’ birthday card to you!” Hermione said with the shake of her head. “I prepped most of it at home last night just in case, so this should only take a minute.”
“Tonight is the best celebration of 40 so far. I’ll stand back and watch a master at work.”
Hermione shot him a soft smile from where he leaned against the kitchen island and tried to derail her thoughts that had somehow become the speed train to domestic tranquility.
How did cooking a few dinners for this man make her think that dropping her life plans and holing up as a trophy wife and homemaker might be a good future for her? Was that even a possibility in Draco’s mind? Was she coming down with something?
“I lied, I won’t stand back.” Draco laughed lowly, and Hermione relaxed as he moved behind her and placed his chin on top of her curls and a large hand on her hip. “Tell me what you’re doing?”
“Trying to focus,” Hermione mumbled before shaking her head to try and clear her thoughts. It didn’t work. “I’m making chocolate mousse. I have the chocolate heating up over boiling water, and now I’ll start whipping the heavy cream until stiff peaks are formed.”
“Is this how they make whipped cream?”
“Exactly!” Hermione smiled. “Heavy whipping cream, powdered sugar, and vanilla make whipped cream.”
“Seems like a lot of work for something we could buy at the store...”
“Wait until you taste it,” Hermione promised. “Some generous man gave me enough money to purchase fancy chocolate, too, so I’m going to make sure he gets a nice birthday dessert.”
Draco pressed a kiss on Hermione’s curls, and she wished that her hair was less bushy so she could’ve felt the heat of his lips rather than just the motion of his affections.
“That right, sweetheart?”
Hermione nodded.
“Call me old fashioned, but I like taking care of you… I want to go to bed knowing you have everything you could ever want and need.”
Hermione sucked in a breath, wanting nothing more than to turn around and kiss the daylights out of this man.
“Thank you,” she replied instead. With the way his hand tightened on her hip, she could tell she wasn’t the only one affected by the heaviness of this conversation.
“No, thank you,” Draco laughed. “I… may have some control issues, but it’s not nefarious. I just want to see you happy.”
The sheer earnesty was far too much for Hermione to comprehend. Did older men just move faster? Or was that a government official thing? Hermione felt like he was baring his soul and wallet to her in a way she didn’t deserve.
“Pansy thinks you’re my sugar daddy,” Hermione blurted out then and there, the two glasses of wine she’d consumed catching up to her.
Draco let out yet another loud laugh. “You are free to disagree, but I think that sort of relationship implies an inherent power imbalance that we don’t have. I am not asking for sexual favors in exchange for paying your bills or putting food on your table. I’m just a lucky man with a beautiful, smart woman who I want to take care of with my money. This is a romantic relationship, not a financial transaction for mutual benefit. Does it bother you that I take care of you? That I want to date you?”
Hermione shook her head. She’d thought about it a lot yesterday while watching Draco sit, waiting for his chance to talk during a very long, very boring Energy and Commerce Committee hearing that Congressman Potter was also at.
“The way you throw your money around made me uncomfortable at first, it still does, a bit, but everyone’s free to have their own unique ways of showing affection. I think that money’s just a bit hard to swallow because it’s obviously more tangible than physical touch or quality time, you know? As long as you just… understand I’ll never be able to pay you back, even if we stop seeing each other.”
She left ‘my family is dirt poor and I can hardly pay my loans back’ unsaid.
Draco leaned on the counter to her left, rubbing her nonexistent bicep consolingly.
“I’d never ask you to pay me back, sweetheart. I’d never use money against you, even if this blew up in our faces. That’s cruel and abusive no matter what way you color it. I’m grateful to not know anything but wealth, and only want the peace of mind of knowing you have your needs met. Having someone to spend my money on makes me happy, okay?”
“Of course,” she smiled. “That’s a very good way of explaining it… and you made me feel less guilty for accepting your kindness.”
“No guilt, sugar. Just let me take care of you and feel free to push back if I’m coming on too strong. I’ve said it before… I know my flaws.”
They were quiet except for the whirring of Draco’s mostly unused Kitchenaid stand mixer, Draco watching with interest as Hermione stood on her tippy toes to peek into the bowl.
“Here we go! See, stiff peaks,” Hermione pointed out a few minutes later.
“Mmm…” Draco replied, slipping a hand into the top of her dress without unzipping it.
“What… oh,” Hermione sighed in surprise at the foreign action, leaning back against him helplessly as he dipped deft fingers into the cups of her bra and molded his body up behind hers.
She didn’t know that a man’s hand could be big enough to span across a woman’s chest and rub both nipples at once, but here they were. And here she was, with a man’s hand on her chest for the first time.
Pansy had told her that not everyone had sensitive boobs, but she was pleased to report that Draco’s hand on her chest zinged a direct line right down to her now-wet panties. What a weird, glorious moment it was.
“Talkin’ about stiff peaks, sweetheart, I couldn’t leave these beauties alone,” Draco murmured before glancing up towards her. “You okay?”
“Feels good,” she breathed, all too aware of the insistent prodding of Draco’s penis in her back. She had no idea what to do with that, and tried to just focus on the skilled hand in her dress and the already-cracked eggs that needed to be mixed into the cream.
“Keep working, sugar,” Draco directed as he lifted her off the ground and spun her so she was carefully sitting on the counter next to the mixer, legs wide as he stepped in between them. “This okay?”
Hermione nodded, though she wasn’t sure what ‘this’ was. She just knew she wanted to find out.
“Need to… add the eggs and sugar.”
“Add the sugar, sugar,” Draco smiled, reaching behind her to zip down her tight sky blue dress only so far as to loosen the top enough for it to fold down her torso and reveal her bra. The same one she wore on their first date, a silky little black bra that had no padding, but kept her small boobs as perky as mostly flat chests could be.
“Gorgeous.”
Hermione blushed, almost sloshing the eggs over the side of the stainless steel mixing bowl as the blond intensely stared at her.
He was squinting at her intensely, and perhaps a bit fondly, like he was searching for the next piece of expensive art to hang on the walls of his multi-million dollar home. Like she was pretty enough to impress everyone who came into his home, fawning and curious about how the mysterious Draco Malfoy lived. Like she was worthy of his affections and interest. Like she was someone worth keeping.
So she didn’t stop him as he unhooked her bra and pulled it off of her, only pausing to place the bowl of sugar she was adding to the thickening mixture down on the counter. To hell with chocolate mousse, honestly; Draco could order some for delivery if he really wanted it.
“Keep working,” Draco directed, and Hermione couldn’t help but bang her head back on the cabinet as his lips attached to her right nipple, tongue flicking out against the bud and affirming that she was certainly in the camp of those who loved having their boobs touched.
“Okay?” Draco asked, not removing his mouth from her breast to ask.
“I like it,” she replied, sounding more like a child with a new toy than a woman in the midst of a sexual encounter.
Draco took that as his go ahead to use his free hand to caress her other breast, leaving her hard pressed to do anything but soak in the sensation as he moved back and forth between her breasts.
The more he touched her, the more she worried about the state of her dress. Was the material thick enough for her underwear not to leak through? What dress had she worn today, anyways?
She cursed her always moving mind for taking her out of the pleasure of Draco’s wandering hands and lips.
Was the wetness caused by sexual pleasure something she needed to worry about in the same way she fretted every time she got her period at work and barely sat down due to fear of her tampon leaking through onto her dress? Why did no one fill women in on these sort of things in school? This was the real sex ed that they all needed in schools.
Oh, Lord above… She hoped that her skimpy underwear that Pansy insisted that she was supposed to wear under dresses were up to the challenge of the arousal caused by a roaming Draco Malfoy’s mouth. This, Pansy, was why high-rise cotton underwear were useful; they covered everything without ever doubting their efficacy. Ugly, yes, but high-utility.
Just as Hermione was about to tell Draco she needed to grab the melted chocolate off of the double burner it was warming up on, he kissed up her jaw with a wet, determined mouth, hands picking up right where his mouth left off on her chest.
The nerd in her couldn’t help but wonder what men got from touching and licking a woman’s chest. It wasn’t like… down there, where there could be mutual satisfaction.
“I’ll be seriously impressed if you don’t ruin dessert,” Draco smiled, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek like the buttoned up southern gentleman she now knew he could shed and zip on like a second skin.
Hermione let out a breathy laugh. “I need the chocolate.”
“As the lady commands,” Draco smiled, looking far less affected than she was.
“Oven mitts!” Hermione called as he took a step over to grab the chocolate that’d been melting over a double broiler, looking back at her fondly before putting a mitt on.
“What next?” Draco asked, walking back with the chocolate and standing far away from Hermione as though he could burn her just by being in her vicinity with the bowl.
“I’ll turn the mixer back on, and then you have to pour it in slowly so it doesn’t splash back on you,” she smiled. “Good, now let me go grab something from the fridge.”
On the walk to the stainless steel behemoth Draco called a fridge, she fixed her dress back over her shoulders sans bra, blushing at the stiff peaks of her nipples peeking through the light colored fabric. It was a lack of modesty she wasn’t used to, especially in her tightest, oldest dress.
She’d bought it at Macy’s back at university, wanting to have a professional dress on hand. It’d been useful for class presentations, but it had no give in the material, which had her feeling like she was waddling around, about to rip it in half most times she’d put it on.
“Draco!” Hermione squeaked as she turned back towards the man, “You can’t put your finger in there while the mixer is on.”
He laughed off her concern, licking the blessedly unbroken finger he’d used to reach into the still-moving stand mixer.
“Oh, that’s delicious,” he moaned.
Hermione smiled at the praise, but put her hands on her hips in admonishment. “Just wait until it’s done!”
“What’s in there? You finally gonna tell me?” he asked teasingly, looking at the covered tin Hermione had brought over.
“They’re chocolate ganache shells,” she explained, uncovering the edible bowls. “I made them early this morning… so we could put the mousse inside and eat them instead of just using normal bowls. I thought it’d be fun.”
Too naive to the affections of men, Hermione saw fondness in Draco’s look when he was truly thinking about how there were other vessels he’d prefer to eat the chocolate mousse off of, preferably the ones he was just licking.
“A+ for creativity, sweetheart. You are too good to me,” Draco smiled. Hermione was helpless but to smile back.
xx
“Thank you for coming over,” Draco smiled a few hours later. “I know you have your church group on Wednesdays… I won’t be in the habit of keeping you from attending going forward.”
Hermione nodded, “Summer is pretty lax since everyone travels. We’ll only meet once a month until September, but I don’t feel bad. Honestly, I needed this… I feel like I can just stop thinking when I’m with you.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Draco agreed, running his thumb back and forth over Hermione’s hand. “Next week’s a bit messy since we’re only voting on Tuesday and Wednesday, but maybe you can come over for a late dinner one night. I want as much time as I can get with you before we’re out for August and the election.”
“I think I can confidently say that you’re going to be the one calling the shots in terms of busyness,” Hermione smiled. “I’m really surprised you were able to make tonight work.”
“I had Blaise drive me home after the only event I needed to attend; thankfully it was just down the street. Do you ever drive James?”
Hermione shook her head, “I don’t. They don’t have women in the car alone with him, which works well for me.”
Draco looked thoughtful. “I feel like that’s becoming more of a trend among both parties… can’t say I hate that.”
“Do women drive you?” Hermione asked.
“No,” he shook his head. “It was one of my mother’s stipulations when father came to Congress many moons ago, actually, that he’d never be caught in a situation that could reflect poorly on their relationship or his honor. Not that he’d ever hurt a woman or prey on one, but people talk. Situations can spiral out of control quickly, especially in close quarters like a car where he knows he can get angry and lash out on whoever is driving him. I just followed in his path and hired a driver for long nights if Blaise or Adrian can’t join.”
“That makes sense… I think I’m becoming a little less idealistic about gender equity now that I’m out in DC. Still trying to think through how I feel, honestly.”
“What do you mean?” Draco asked.
“I’m not sure this will come out any profound way,” Hermione started, looking pensive as she tried to find the words. “It’s just… I always thought that men and women could do the same jobs and had a right to. Do I believe women are just as smart as men? Yes. Do I believe women are just as capable of serving in a public capacity as men? Yes.
“But… do I believe that women are more likely to be pressured by male senior staff and Members of Congress into sexual acts or more likely to be sexually harrassed? Yes. It just… makes it hard to get a leg up, especially working for a male member. There’s a distance between him and I that I don’t think my chief or LD have ever had to worry about. A woman, especially a younger woman like me, will never be able to have that closeness with a male boss, never be able to have closed door meetings with a man without people talking or thinking the worst.”
“I think you’re right, for better or for worse. Equity is not necessarily possible in Hill jobs, and I can say that for me, I could never have an unmarried female chief of staff. Even a married female chief who others consider attractive would draw questions. It’s awul, but that’s one of the places society seems stuck in the mud on.”
“I hate that we even have to think about such things. It’s just not fair; shouldn’t the best person just get the job?”
Draco frowned. “I wish I could tell you that was true, but I can’t.
“Why does no one ever talk about this when we’re interns? I feel like I was kind of duped into thinking this place was one that rewarded hard work, no matter the person.
“I think there would be a few legal troubles if interns were told that it’s harder for women to succeed in this male-dominated place that has no human resources department,” Draco smiled wryly.”
Hermione scoffed. She knew there wasn’t a good answer for her, but that didn’t make it less frustrating.
“Is your dad’s chief a man?”
“He is. Severus is also gay and happily married, so that has father’s affairs neatly tied with a bow.”
Hermione was quiet for a second while she thought. “Severus, that sounds so familiar.”
Draco smiled, “Severus Snape is married to Tom Riddle.”
Hermione’s eyes popped wide. Senate Majority Whip Tom Riddle, the notoriously powerful, oxymoronic, conservative, gay Senator from Georgia.
She must’ve been really tired not to make the connection.
“Oh, wow! I didn’t know his husband worked in Congress.”
“That’s how they met, actually,” Draco smirked. “Severus was a newly-hired LA for Senator Dippet and one of the only staffers who actually tried to support my grandfather during the transition. He corrected Tom during a meeting between him and grandfather and the rest was history.”
“So what you’re saying is that there’s precedent for this type of relationship?” Hermione asked with a growing smile.
“I am, though the official story is that Tom and Severus met at an LGBTQ bible study because Tom is shameless and likes to tell a good tale.”
Hermione laughed despite herself. “That’s awful!”
“I’m sure you’ll meet Tom at some point soon, and everything will click. He’s… a man to be both admired and cautious of.”
Hermione let that thought permeate the room for a moment to see if Draco would take back his casual mention of introducing her to the Senate Majority Whip. Not to mention his family…
“Would you want to work for a woman?” Draco asked, rerouting the conversation in a smooth, obvious way that Hermione was grateful for. The Malfoys were a conversation she didn’t feel ready to touch just yet.
Hermione nodded. “Absolutely. I think that’d certainly make upward mobility more of a possibility and working on the Hill long term less of an anxious thought, knowing I have a sympathetic boss in my corner.”
Draco’s hand tightened on hers momentarily. “Do you have reason to be concerned?”
Hermione let out a sigh, rolling her eyes. “Nothing especially egregious, just men who come in for meetings with my team and tell me they didn’t expect such a pretty girl to be at the front desk or ask me to dinner. There have also been weird conversations with members in the elevator, but I just stopped hopping in the elevators alone with them. All par for the course, I’d say.”
The room was quiet for too long.
“Sorry,” Hermione spoke into the silence. “That was more than you needed to know.”
“I’m… just trying not to ask for the names of every pervert who has made you uncomfortable,” Draco replied, voice tight, but motions careful as he pulled Hermione onto his lap from where she’d been sitting next to him on the couch.
“Like I said, it’s par for the course. What did my mom say the one time I shared my concerns back when I was an intern? ‘You knew what you were getting into.’”
“That’s shit,” Draco replied quickly. “Pardon my language, sweetheart, but that’s not true. You are at the Capitol to work for the people of your district, not face harassment from visitors and congressmen. Would you tell me if it happens again?”
Hermione sighed, resting her head on Draco’s broad chest. “It just feels so silly, you know? I take a call from someone who's just lost their husband and can’t get the VA to pay out his benefits, then step into the hallway and have a 70-year-old congressman compliment my dress. My problem, when you weigh it with what others are dealing with, is so so arbitrary.”
“Being harrassed is a real problem, sweetheart. One that they drill into all members’ heads at conference meetings and certainly Democratic Caucus meetings too. One that we’re all warned about at freshman orientation when we first come to Congress, but clearly a message some have gone too long without. I want to be there for you…”
“And what? Ruin your career simply because you outed yourself for yelling at someone after I got harassed?”
“Have some faith in me, okay Hermione? I can protect myself and protect you at the same time. Just trust that I’ll do it,” Draco murmured.
“Okay,” Hermione replied, feeling a bit lighter. “I’ll tell you if something happens again.”
“I’d prefer if you gave me a complete list of everyone who has looked at you wrong since you stepped foot into the Capitol, but they call me a master of negotiation for a reason.”
Hermione let out a loud laugh at that; she still felt a bit guilty for being surprised at the discovery that Draco was funny. In a bit of a dark, dry way, but funny nonetheless. It had her wondering what was behind the public-facing mask of most government officials.
“I don’t want to get anyone in trouble,” she replied.
“You’re sweeter than anyone deserves,” Draco answered honestly, pressing a kiss to her temple like he couldn’t help himself. “One name?”
Hermione made a small noise of consideration. “I know he’s a Democrat, but… Senator Slughorn has been meeting with my boss on some vaccination approval legislation. He’s visited our office three times over the past few weeks and makes me very uncomfortable. He actually invited me to a dinner he said he puts on with young staffers today.”
Draco groaned, “He’s had so many ethics complaints written up at this point that he doesn’t seem to care. I would tell you that he cares more about scooping up young talent and getting mentioned in the news for ‘knowing them back in the day,’ but that doesn’t take away the fact that he’s creepy.”
“I mean… he doesn’t even know me to invite me,” Hermione agreed.
“Exactly,” Draco replied. “What did you tell him?”
“I was honest, I told him I have my church small group on Wednesdays,” her smile was a meek, uncertain thing. “Weirdly, I think that made him more insistent.”
“See… church isn’t a thing for me, but it might be for him. The old man is obsessed with shoving polished gems in his pocket.”
“Isn’t he married?” she asked. “I thought he was just being nice at first.”
Draco tried to shove down the protective feeling in his chest at Hermione’s naivete, feeling more certain than ever that he needed to do what he could to protect the girl from his colleagues and the world at large.
Would she object to being holed up here for the rest of her life? He never wanted her to leave the safety of his home, not when the world could so badly mar her innocence and goodwill.
“Not all married men are good people, sweetheart,” Draco replied lightly.
Hermione groaned, shoving her face fully into Draco’s chest. She was a bit embarrassed.
“What’s wrong?” he asked.
“I’m just…” she paused for a moment, rubbing her cheek against his shirt. “I’ve always been smart, but I’ve never been socially observant? It’s still hard for me to know sometimes what’s up and down when it comes to human interaction. It’s embarrassing.”
“Nothing you do is worth being embarrassed over,” Draco replied, wanting to tack on ‘you’re perfect,’ but leaving it off. He needed to tread lightly. “You’re sweet, so much so that it’s hard for me to believe you’re real.”
“I’m not always sweet,” Hermione pushed back.
“Oh yeah?” Draco replied, looking fond and indulgent at even entertaining the thoughts.
“No,” she replied, shoving down her urge to pout at his disbelieving expression. “Remember Marietta?”
“How could I forget Marietta?”
“I asked you to fire her…”
“In order to hire your friend who needs a job, who, I may add, is already exponentially more competent than Marietta. Did you know she organized the clothes in my office closet while I was at votes today?”
Hermione wasn’t surprised, honestly. Pansy was terrifying when she was given even a smidge of power.
“I… told my professor that classmates weren’t helping with our final project for my debate class last year and they failed.”
“You were committed to your studies and ensured people were judged appropriately for their work. Sounds like you were kind enough to give them a lesson on how it works when you skive off in the real world.”
Hermione rolled her eyes. That logic made him sound much older than he was.
“I shut the elevator in Rep. Umbridge’s face last week even though she was screeching for me to hold it.”
Draco laughed boisterously at that, pressing a fond kiss to her lips.
“I think that may be the best thing you’ve ever done.”
Hermione’s eyes opened widely, joy creeping in on her face. “You don’t like her?”
“Absolutely not,” Draco replied, shaking his head. “She is foul and if I never saw her again it’d be too soon.”
“Is it true she’s running for the Senate in 2020 if Senator Macmillan retires?”
“Father would never let that happen,” Draco replied, shaking his head. “She’s unlikeable anywhere outside of the Florida panhandle. Let’s put it this way, even if Dems put up a black mold covered rock to run against Umbridge, we’d still lose the seat by double digits. Absolute poison of a woman.”
“That’d be fine with me,” Hermione shrugged with a playful smile. “I think Florida will be in play next cycle regardless, it always is in a presidential year… especially now that President Shacklebolt is terming out.”
“Don’t remind me,” Draco sighed.
“Who do you think is going to run?”
Draco looked pensive for a moment, like whether he was weighing whether or not to talk about it.
The moment was too long for Hermione.
“Sorry, I forget sometimes that it might be… unwise for you to talk to me about things,” she said quietly, pulling her hands into her lap. “It’s silly, but it feels like I’ve known you a lot longer than I have.”
“Don’t apologize to me, sugar,” he directed, tugging gently on one of her errant curls. “I just am a bit superstitious about these things, I don't like to put the cart ahead of the horse when we haven’t even seen the outcome of midterms yet. That’ll determine what happens in the new year.”
“That’s fair,” Hermione shrugged. “Just… don’t feel bad if you don’t want to tell me something, okay?”
“I appreciate your concern, but it’s not warranted. Part of our relationship means that I’ll need to trust you not to spill your guts to Politico or someone in your office, right? Which you haven’t done just yet, from what I’ve read.”
Hermione smiled in what she hoped was a consoling way. “That’s not going to happen… I’ve never been one for gossip, and I know how we might look to people.”
“My good girl,” Draco crooned, the words going right to her nether regions. “Yeah, sweetheart? Do you like knowing you’re my good girl?”
She didn’t have the words to reply, instead pressing her face into his neck and nipping the soft skin there.
“Such a good girl, coming to me and letting me help you,” Draco’s low southern voice continued.
“Draco,” she whined, squeezing her legs together as a feeling she couldn’t ignore built between them.
“I’ll always take care of you,” Draco promised, reaching a hand through her massive pile of hair to unzip her dress again. The wetness between her legs grew at the anticipation of what was to come. “Now, I’m going to take another look at your pretty chest.”
Draco tipped her off his lap gently, pulling her dress down with one hand while using the other to hold her hair up and make sure it didn’t get tangled in the zipper. He was far, far too good at this.
“So perfect, sweetheart.” Draco breathed, her nipples hardening to even stiffer peaks as his breath ghosted over them. It didn’t even matter to her that he had just eaten literal mounds of chocolate and had the breath of a kid after a successful Halloween night; not when he was touching her like this.
She wondered what he saw as he thumbed over her nipples, if he was just as anticipatory of what was to come as her. “What do you need?”
She turned red, only letting out a small whine as she pressed her bare chest insistently into his hands.
“My good girl, I’ll give you what you need,” he promised, pressing a wet kiss to each red bud before trailing kisses up her sternum until he was at her lips.
He hovered over her, holding himself up so his hips weren’t flush against hers. The move frustrated her, and she did her best to focus on the very insistent, hot kisses being pressed against her lips while she worked her legs up in her very tight work dress to pull him down against her.
Only her dress ripped at the movement, the sound of the old, cheap fabric the only noise in the room.
Like most women, Hermione knew that clothes ripped all of the time, and normally it was just a seam that you’d never noticed.
Draco clearly seemed concerned, however, pulling back and looking at her with a wry smile before laughing.
She joined in, looking down to see that her arms were still hovering in the air from where Draco had removed them from around his neck. Her legs were splayed from where she’d unsuccessfully tried to wrap them around his hips. And, of course, on top of that, her very rosy boobs were on full display.
“I look like a dead bug,” she moaned with a giggle, throwing her forearms over her face to cover it as she brought her legs back down to the couch.
Draco burst into even louder laughter at that.
“What ripped?” he asked after their chuckling died down.
“Oh, I don’t kn-” she looked down, groaning. The left side of her dress had ripped right up the seam.
“How’d that even happen?” Draco asked, eyes wide. “What?”
He was looking at the blush covering Hermione’s face. Could she sink into the couch and never come out?
“I was…”
“You were what, sweetheart?” Draco asked, voice like a tether pulling the truth out of her.
“Trying to put my legs around you…” she whispered, though it was clear he heard her by the way he pulled her back onto his lap.
“That better?” he asked. She couldn’t see him, not with the way she was now wrapped around him like an octopus, but she knew he was laughing.
“Stop,” she replied, voice quiet. She was embarrassed, but not mortified. She couldn’t be, not with the lightheartedness that Draco was approaching this with.
And, of course, with the newly acquired knowledge that Pansy’s first time had ended with her breaking her pinky finger from the roughness of the act, she couldn’t feel too bad.
Sex is awkward was the mantra she’d keep repeating in her head until she felt better.
“I’m sorry, baby,” Draco replied, rubbing a hand down her bare back. Because her boobs were still out like it was no big thing. “Did you like this dress?”
Hermione nodded into his shoulder.
They both started talking at the same time.
“You can’t buy me another.”
“I’ll give you money to buy new dresses.”
Draco laughed. “Are you telling me that I’m predictable?”
“You are,” Hermione confirmed.
“If you like it, why don’t you want another?”
“Because I won’t be able to find the same one, it’s old.”
She toyed with telling Draco just how old it was, but already felt enough like orphan Annie in times like these.
Draco pressed a kiss to her temple. “Then buy a new one you like even better.”
“I’m fine,” she replied. “Just… do you have clothes I can wear home?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Would you like to see my room?”
“Yes!” Hermione replied, a bit too eagerly. Of course she wanted to see his room.
She hopped up off of Draco’s lap, blushing as she fixed the now ripped dress back over her shoulders. Draco, she noticed, had averted his eyes like the gentleman he was. She liked the way he so quickly went from sexy to respectful, as though he knew exactly what she needed in the moment.
“I realized you haven’t seen upstairs at all…” Draco said, grabbing Hermione’s hand as they walked. The intimacy wasn’t for show; it was for them and them alone, and that left her feeling warm and fuzzy. “It’s three floors high, five baths and four bedrooms. There’s a bathroom on the bottom floor, then en suites in all of the other rooms. I kept two of them bedrooms, including the master, and converted the other two into office spaces.”
“It’s gorgeous, Draco,” Hermione complimented as they peeked through the second floor of the house. And it was; there was an open sitting room right at the top of the second floor, complete with a comfy gray rug and darker gray sectional couch. There was a small white bookshelf built into the wall that she, again, wanted to look peruse.
“Thank you,” he smiled, looking please. “I actually played a part in decorating; I didn’t want to move in somewhere that felt strange… it’s a blessing to be able to have two houses that feel like homes.”
“I’ll bet,” Hermione smiled, peering into Draco’s bedroom as he gestured grandly for her to move inside. “This is exactly what I expected.”
The room bordered the back of the house, boasting floor to ceiling windows. The back of the bed rested against a light gray brick wall, leaving the room feeling open and airy. It was the biggest bedroom she’d ever seen in a rowhouse, and her eyes were immediately drawn to the large bed with a gray leather-backed bedframe and downy white duvet.
She wasn’t surprised that Draco enjoyed naps, not with a bed like that.
“My bed is a bit of an indulgence,” Draco smiled, pulling Hermione tightly to his side.
She swallowed, thinking of everything that could happen in the bed right in front of them.
“We had to build out my closet when I moved in; can you believe that there was no closet in the house’s master bedroom?”
“My room didn’t have a closet at my apartment,” Hermione smiled. “I used a clothing rack that took hours to put together after I lugged it back from the Columbia Heights Target on the Metro. It would’ve been nice if it didn’t collapse every week.”
“That sounds like a crime against humanity,” Draco shuddered. “I’m sure Pansy doesn’t live in a house without closets, but that’s just a hunch.”
Hermione laughed. “You would be correct. She moved into the master bedroom and told her parents that they’ll need to stay in a guest suite when they visit.”
Draco just shook his head. “I am in awe of her. She is a force to be reckoned with, you were right.”
“I’m glad she’s making your life easier,” Hermione smiled.
Draco pressed a kiss to the tip of her nose. “She really is… so thank you for bringing her into my life. Let’s see, clothes…”
The man opened up a set of drawers, revealing a ridiculous amount of t-shirts and sweatshirts.
“You don’t even wear t-shirts or sweaters! Why do you have so many?” Hermione asked.
Draco shrugged. “I have this weird thought that I’ll change my mind one day and wear t-shirts again. They’re yours to take.”
“Hmm…” Hermione thought, making sure not to jostle the neatly folded clothes as she felt the fabrics. She picked out a sweatshirt that was a faded blue and white with the symbols for Delta Kappa Epsilon on it. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Because Malfoy men are always in fraternities,” he replied with a joking smile.
“Like I said… not surprised.”
He opened up the drawer below it next, revealing even more pairs of sweatpants, joggers, and sweatshorts. As tempted as she was to take Lululemon joggers, she grabbed another pair of sweatshorts.
“You like those?” he asked.
Hermione nodded, face blushing. “I’ve been sleeping in them.”
Draco’s smile was a predatory thing. “I like the thought of that… take as many pairs as you want.”
“This is good for now. I’ll be right back.”
To his credit, Draco didn’t comment as Hermione went to go change in the bathroom, though he very much could’ve told her that he’d just spent the past hour kissing the breasts that she was now hiding from him. Again… he was proving to be a real gentleman, and the numbers continued to tally in his favor on Hermione’s mental scoreboard.
She came back out with the sleeves on Draco’s college crewneck rolled up so her hands weren’t covered and the shorts rolled over in the same way as they were.
“Ready?” he asked, receiving a nod.
Hermione had almost walked out the front door with her bag over Draco’s shoulder, ripped dress stuffed inside when she squeaked.
“Where’s my bra?”
Still on the counter, she thought.
Draco smiled, rubbing a hand down her cheek.
“It’s mine now, for memory’s sake.”
“Draco!” Hermione replied, face bright red at the thought. “You… what if someone finds it?”
“The only people stepping into my bedroom are you and my housekeeper, sweetheart. I hardly think that’s a concern.”
“Okay,” she replied, stepping down the now familiar stairs to his home. When did she stop feeling so much like a guest here?
“I’m going to miss this over the next few months,” Draco admitted, looking very confident for a man with a Kate Spade tote tucked over his shoulder. It was a chivalrous badge of honor for a man like Draco, though, she supposed.
“Don’t remind me,” she frowned. “I’m going to miss you.”
“Feeling’s mutual, sweetheart. Are you taking any vacations or going home?”
Hermione had to hide her snort at the thought.
She shook her head, plastering on a neutral expression that had Draco’s attention.
“No, I’m staying here. I have no reason to take time off.”
“Besides the fact that you’re given paid vacation days for that purpose.”
“Those aren’t real,” she rolled her eyes. “Any time I take off will be judged since I wouldn’t be going on a real trip.”
Draco looked thoughtful, “If you want to take a real trip, I know a nice place down in North Carolina.”
Hermione laughed before realizing that Draco was dead serious. He then said as much, as though she couldn’t tell if the offer was real.
“I’ll think about it, okay?”
“That’s all I ask,” Draco smiled.
Pansy was sitting on the front porch of their house when they walked up.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked immediately, jogging up the steps to look Pansy over for physical injury.
“I’m not hurt, but I’m wondering why Harry is asking what type of wine will pair well with the meal we’re making for tomorrow. I thought we were just ordering pizza.”
“Oh, gosh…” Hermione muttered, pressing a hand to her forehead. “We are ordering pizza. I think he’s just excited.”
Draco just watched the interaction, comfortable and amused. Hermione liked how he didn’t seem to have a complex about his employee being Hermione’s dearest friend.
“You need to talk him off whatever romantic plank he’s hopped onto before I push him off,” Pansy warned, folding her arms over her chest.
“I will,” Hermione promised, smiling softly in the placating way she knew Pansy couldn’t stand.
“What’s this? Potter’s son again?” Draco asked.
Pansy scowled. “The roach won’t die, and Hermione is the weird little girl who brings insects inside the house without regard for anyone else’s preference.”
Draco laughed loudly at that while Hermione tried to hide her giggle.
“That is… an apt description of her,” Draco agreed. “Just get through dinner with him, I’m sure it’ll be fine.”
“Hopefully his friend is better than he is,” Pansy replied.
Draco turned to look at Hermione.
“Friend?”
Pansy’s eyes widened for only a second. This was going to be fun.
Hermione nodded, not understanding the undercurrents of the question. “Yeah, he said he has a friend he wants us to meet.”
Us, Pansy mouthed to herself, wondering how her friend could be so obtuse.
“I’ll text you when I’m home from my dinner tomorrow to see if you’ve finished up.” Draco replied, tone breezy. Pansy saw the danger in it. “I’ll fly home right after votes Friday, so I’d like to see you again if possible.
“Goodnight, Mr. M,” Pansy saluted, turning to walk inside.
“Bye, Pansy,” he replied, pulling Hermione close to him. “Goodnight, sweetheart.”
“Goodnight,” she smiled back, getting onto her tippy toes to press a kiss to his lips that was far more tame than those shared over the past few hours.
“I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he replied, leaving no room for discussion.
“Okay! I’ll try and wrap dinner up quickly, hopefully Pansy and Harry want to talk.”
“Let’s hope,” Draco replied with a nod, handing over her bag and down the stairs. “Sweet dreams, my sweet girl.”
xxx
Thursday, July 12, 2018
“You’re the one who said you didn’t want to impress him, Pans,” Hermione rolled her eyes.
“That doesn’t mean I want to eat Domino’s, Hermione!” Pansy shrieked.
Stress was clearly getting the best of her. Or was it annoyance? Hermione couldn’t tell, but she was honestly over it and Harry hadn’t even arrived yet.
“Please stop yelling at me,” Hermione replied calmly. “I’ll order Wiseguys, okay? This is easily rectified.”
“Thank you,” Pansy grit her teeth, but still got the words out. Hermione was impressed.
The pizzas and salad had arrived in perfect time, the delivery woman leaving as Harry and a tall redhead hopped out of an Uber.
“Hi! You live here?” Harry asked, eyes wide. “This is like… quintessential DC wealth.”
Hermione returned the man’s hug. “Pansy’s parents own it.”
“Where is she?” Harry asked, cutting straight to the chase.
Aware of the stranger hovering awkwardly behind Harry, something that was made weirder because of how big he was, she sidestepped her friend and smiled.
“Hi there, I’m Hermione,” she greeted him, holding out a hand.
“Hello, I’m Ron,” the redhead replied in an accent that she couldn’t immediately place.
“You look familiar,” she said. “Are you… related to Percy Weasley, by chance?”
“Oh god,” the boy moaned, slapping a hand to his face. “What’d he do to you?”
“What?” Hermione asked, face scrunched and arms crossing her chest. “He’s a friend of mine.”
“Harry!” Ron’s eyes were wide and they had a conversation like she wasn’t even there. “You didn’t tell me she was friends with my brother!”
Harry shrugged. Was that really his best defense?
Hermione was annoyed already.
“Well, come on in!” Hermione smiled cheerily, already ready for Draco to text her that he was done so she could kick them both out of her house.
Harry didn’t even wait for Hermione to direct him to the kitchen, just taking off towards the sounds of Pansy grabbing plates.
“How do you know Percy?” Ron asked.
Hermione thought he was trying to start the conversation over, so she decided to give him a chance. Hopefully that made dinner more bearable.
“He signed up as a mentor for a program I took part in for my Hill internship,” she explained. “He’s been very kind and helpful to me.”
“You’re a republican? Don’t you work for Harry’s dad?”
She shook her head, “More democratic interns sign up for the mentorship program than republicans, so they matched students up randomly. It doesn’t really matter, though, Percy is still a great friend and resource for me. What do you do in DC, Ronald?”
“Ron, just Ron. Only my ma calls me Ronald,” the boy replied, ears red. “I’m just spending some time here with Percy. Graduated in May, not really sure what’s next for me.”
Blech. Hermione knew guys like this. ‘Finding their path forward’ while spending their parents’ money on liquor and weed. She took a breath. She could be civil and reserve her judgment.
“Oh? Are you looking for fulltime work in DC?”
He wrinkled his nose like he couldn’t fathom why she wanted to know more about his aspirations.
“I’ll get a job soon, just not sure where I want to land yet.”
“Nice,” she smiled, walking him into the kitchen where Harry was leaning against the kitchen island, eyes wide as he watched Pansy opening a bottle of wine like she were turning hay to gold.
“Pansy, this is Ron,” Hermione introduced, seeing that Harry was far too enraptured to perform the nicety himself.
“Pleasure,” she smiled, a toothless expression. It was clear Pansy was not pleased to meet Ronald Weasley to anyone with eyes and a brain. Evidently, that would only be Hermione, as Ron reached a hand out as though Pansy were the type to shake in greeting. The girl simply looked at his proffered limb until he retracted it.
Hermione knew she needed to turn this around; why was it always up to her to get Harry out of bad situations? She felt like the smart, underappreciated friend who had a role in every movie ever produced.
They plated up food and sat down at the kitchen table quickly, with Pansy being a bitch and taking the head seat so she wouldn’t have to sit next to Harry.
“What have you been up to, Pansy? I saw your LinkedIn update, you’re a working woman,” Harry smiled.
Pansy gave him a squinted look, “I didn’t know that we were connected on there.”
Harry had the decency to blush, “I was just checking in on you… How do you like working?”
She shrugged, stabbing a crouton far too viciously on her fork. “It’s nice to have something to do, I like the stress of it all, actually.”
He nodded like a bobblehead. “I bet you’re a great gatekeeper. Dad’s never had someone assertive enough in the role, so Draco’s lucky to have you there busting balls and chopping old white guys down at the knees.”
Hermione could tell that Pansy was hiding a smile at Harry’s unbridled confidence in her abilities. Progress! There was progress.
So, of course, Pansy looked over to Ron. It was a bit of a Regina George moment as she looked over the boy’s three wolf moon shirt and shoulder length red hair.
“Ronald, was it?”
“Yes ma’am,” the boy replied quickly before blushing. “I mean, Pansy.”
Harry let out a laugh. “She’s got a major ma’am energy, you know? Like BDE.”
Pansy ignored him. “What do you do, Ronald?”
“Man, what’s with the German Inquisition?” he muttered.
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth at the misnomer, playing it off as a cough.
“I graduated in May, I’m here with my brother and sister trying to figure out my path in life.”
“Sister?” Hermione asked. “Where does your sister work?”
“Oh yeah, got one of those,” he nodded. “Ginny’s a year younger, she’s in school still, but doing a sports medicine internship with the Nationals.”
“Very impressive!” Hermione nodded, not noticing the rumbling thunder on the redhead's face as she praised his sibling’s success. “Is she enjoying it?”
“As much as you can enjoy standing in the heat for hours to deal with the most boring sport there is.”
“Oh?” Hermione replied after swallowing a bite of chicken parmesan pizza, unsure of what he was ranting about.
“Yeah,” Ron nodded, clearly taking her reply as agreement. “You hate baseball too?”
Hermione laughed a bit, realizing Harry and Pansy were now in a quiet conversation of their own.
“I’m not too big into sports generally; I watch football sometimes, though.”
“Nice! Harry and I thought we could stake out a bar on Saturdays and Sundays to watch football. You girls should come.”
Hermione couldn’t think of anything less that she’d want to do than spend her entire weekend in a bar watching football. She knew many people who did just that, but… no. No thank you.
“Sounds great, we’ll see when we get to the fall,” she smiled politely.
“Nice,” Ron repeated, smiling to himself. “Where do you girls normally go out?”
“I’m not really a bar-goer, but I think Pansy spends a lot of time in Adams Morgan.”
Ron snorted, “Figures.”
“Pardon?”
“Just… Harry’s not too stuffy, he promised you wouldn’t be either…”
Hermione tried not to be offended, and turned back to her food. She knew her temper, and Ron Weasley seemed to be able to just rile her up with only a few words.
“So… what apps are you on?” Ron asked through a mouthful of half-chewed pizza.
“Excuse me?” she asked, barely able to understand him.
“Apps… Tinder, Bumble, Hinge.”
Hermione raised an eyebrow. “None of them.”
“What? Why?” he asked, looking as though she’d just told him that she killed puppies for fun and posted the footage on her Facebook page.
“Because I don’t want to be? Not everyone is focused on dating, Ronald.”
The boy just muttered to himself, shaking his head.
The rest of the meal didn’t go any better, with Harry asking Pansy if she would be interested in joining his family at Crystal Mountain, Washington State’s most luxurious ski resort, over Thanksgiving and Ron asking if he could smoke a joint in the house.
So, no, Hermione did not feel bad about ushering the duo out as soon as Draco texted her that he was done with dinner.
“Could I get your number?” Ron asked as she went to shut the door in his face.
“There’s… what? No thank you,” Hermione replied, truly flummoxed.
“Harry hyped you up for nothing,” he replied, shaking his head as he went to wait with a slumped over Harry for an Uber.
“Well that was shit!” Pansy remarked.
“Was that supposed to be a double date or something?” Hermione asked, receiving a loud cackle from Pansy as though she’d finally lost the plot.
“Or something,” Pansy agreed, placing the plates and silverware into the dishwasher without even rinsing them off.
“That was awful.”
“You’re the one who wanted me to play nice with your friend,” Pansy shrugged. “He’s a trainwreck.”
“You seemed a little interested at the beginning?” Hermione tried.
Pansy looked caught off guard at that. “Nope.”
Hermione smiled, feeling very much like Spongebob when he’d discovered Squidward enjoying Krabby Patties when he thought no one was watching.
“Whatever you say, Pans,” Hermione replied.
“Don’t say it like that, you catty bitch!”
Her smile grew at Pansy’s reply. “Why don’t you just have him over for something casual? Maybe he hasn’t left yet, I’m sure he’d be happy to stay.”
Pansy shook her head. “Not when you’re leaving, can’t have them asking questions.”
“You’re right,” Hermione sighed. “I’d stay any other night, but I’m not going to be able to see Draco for a while.”
The taller girl raised an eyebrow, “So what are you still doing here! Scram!”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hermione replied, laughing loudly as she did.
“I’m changing the locks!” Pansy yelled back.
xxx
“How was your dinner?” Draco asked, looking weirdly calm.
“What’s wrong?” Hermione asked, spinning so she was facing him instead of the television.
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Sure.
“Dinner was a trainwreck, honestly. Harry’s friend was extremely rude and grungy, not that I’m sure I was expecting someone Harry befriended in line at Safeway to be the pinnacle of success. It was nearing The Office Dinner Party levels of awkwardness at some points.”
“I haven’t seen it,” Draco replied, a smile growing as he saw her outrage. “Are you going to join the angry mob of people in my life who want me to watch?”
“No,” Hermione smiled, shaking her head. “We’re going to start from the beginning, I want to see your face as we watch it.”
“If we must,” Draco sighed, though he looked anything but aggrieved at the idea of having Hermione committed to watching a nine-season show with him. “So, back to your dinner. How did it end?”
“Well, Pansy kicked them out of the house citing an idiot-induced migraine, and Ronald tried to ask me for my number to quote chill sometime unquote before I shut the door in his face.”
“Did you give it to him?”
Hermione looked at him in shock. “Of course I didn’t, Draco! Why would I ever give my number to someone like that?”
Draco smiled, leaning over to peck her lips. “My good girl...”
“You really thought I’d do that?”
The man looked somewhat vulnerable for a moment as he shrugged. “I don’t know, sweetheart; I have half a mind to worry that you’ll find a boy your own age and realize how much easier it’d be dating them.”
“Easier it’d be to what? Sit at a bar watching football? Go to house parties that start at 10pm and require you to be fashionably late? Call me boring, Draco, but that’s never been my idea of fun. I like to talk about topics that actually matter… I like to read and discuss books with people who’ve actually read them… I like spending time with you, okay? You make me feel special and wanted. I hope you know by now that I’ll tell you the moment that changes.”
‘I don’t think it will,’ she left unsaid. Hopefully the look in her eyes conveyed that.
“I know,” Draco agreed easily. “It’s just hard for me to know that every guy in DC is chatting up my pretty girl when I’m not there.”
“Well, one, that isn’t something that happens, and two, I told him to leave me alone. Promise… you have nothing to worry about.”
Draco just kissed her in reply, which seemed to be the only thing that could assuage their worries of the great big world that lay outside of Draco’s rowhome. But as he whispered in her ear, she shoved her worries to the back of her mind. For now, worries of public opinion and letting others into their little world could wait.