Chapter 6
Ginny entered in a flurry into Hermione’s living room. Not needing to use the floo everyday, she wasn’t exactly as graceful as Hermione, who had perfected entrances. It always made Hermione smile to see her friend rush out of the fireplace, looking like the rogue wind had blown her in from sea.
“Hermione, this had better be worth me waiting FOUR DAYS for!” Ginny impatiently bristled after dusting herself off.
With a big sigh, Hermione motioned for her friend to sit down on her couch and she began her storytelling. Ginny was so ravenous and shocked as Hermione spilled the tea, that she barely interjected more than a sound of surprise... that is, until Hermione arrived at the part where she figured out it was Malfoy. The part where she now obviously had feelings - albeit mixed - about the Slytherin mystery.
“WHAT?” Ginny screamed, a mere 2 feet from Hermione. Cozy Crookshanks woke up and flattened his ears at the screech.
“Yes, Gin, It’s Malfoy, as much as I want to doubt it I just know it has to be true,” she fretted.
“MALFOY? THE... HOW?” Clearly, Ginny wasn’t taking this any better than Hermione was. The two stared at each other, unable to convey feelings into words but sharing everything between expressions.
“I just have no idea,” Hermione peeped out at last, looking over at Crookshanks who had gone back to sleep. She had waited almost 3 full days to sort out her thoughts and feelings before Ginny came over, but she hadn’t gotten very far. Everything within her felt like it had become solidified and sunk, and now she was drowning at the bottom of the ocean unable to move forward, knowing there was no going back.
“I mean, that’s not something you can take lightly, like fancying any other coworker. Honestly, I think we’d both take it better if it had been Kingsley or something. And he’s the Minister!” They both let out a giggle.
“I couldn’t even look at him in the team meeting today. Thankfully it’s a room full of people, so he probably didn’t notice... Gods, he probably did, I mean, do you even think he knows it was me? At the ball? It’s just that he gave no inkling of recognition when I asked if he had a good night... but why should I expect him to show emotion? I can’t... I can’t, that’s just not who he is...”
“Slow down, Hermione! You can’t assume anything, right? Just stick to your facts, but play them artfully. Show a bit of finesse, have fun. That includes brainstorming, just so you know. He wants to play a game. And he’s not confident you want him, I mean, I’m guessing you do by the sounds of it... incredible,” she muttered and carried on, “...so you have to meet him on his pitch, so to speak. Got it?”
“Gin, I’m not GOOD with "artful ". But I think I can play a good game...”
“I know you can. It’s just this time, it’s not a life or death thing,” she winked, “unless thinking that would help you out - then of course it is! If you do want to be artful, then you have to make it high quality art for a snob like Malfoy - don't even deny it, Hermione! Come up with creative ways to express desire and interest, and leave the door open for him. If he can’t come and sweep you off your feet like the masked man would, then that was all a show. And that’s not who you deserve, anyways.”
“I’m sorry, would you like a cuppa? We sort of just dove straight in,” Ginny nodded and smiled, and Hermione got up to think while keeping her hands busy. There was so much to think about that she hadn’t even thought of the obvious - What if he doesn’t want me? It’s not like he’s had much of a choice in working with me, since I’m his superior at work... he hasn’t been mean or snide to me, but he’s like that with everyone... What if I’m wrong about all this? Hermione finished making the tea with a worried head and sat quietly with Ginny as they drank in hot comfort.
“So, how are you going to lead him on?” Ginny seemed to read her mind. Hermione wanted to be honest, but if she led him on and it ended up being nothing at all, then no harm no foul, right?
“I was hoping you could help me with that.” The two witches smiled wide at each other.
***
Thursday morning felt bright, even if it was cloudy and raining. It was the first time all week she had walked into work without some sort of knot in her stomach, or adrenaline racing through her veins. She had ideas, and she was wearing her first one. Ginny had helped her cover all her bases, which meant helping Hermione to alter her clothes. She had never much cared for fashion as much as comfort, but shortening her skirts, adding deeper cuts to the neck of her shirts, and overall styling tips from Ginny sorted her out. She didn’t anticipate seeing Malfoy today or tomorrow, so she was going to take these days to gain confidence in her slightly sexier appearance. They key was to not overthink it, Ginny warned her, or else she would lose her regular confidence and end up having the opposite effect of a try-hard. Today she opted for a shorter skirt, no thick tights, and a blouse unbuttoned one more button than normal. She cast a warming charm around her and went about her day.
Did anyone notice? Unlikely; she barely saw anybody at all. She wished it was summer so at least more skin would be logical, because she felt out of place dressing so lightly when it was nearly freezing outside. Would she dress like this only on days she saw Malfoy? That could be a bit too obvious, even to the casual observer. Maybe she didn’t have to go all out like Ginny recommended, but meet somewhere in the middle of sexy and practical.
She didn’t want to admit it at first, but Ginny had been right. She really did feel better about herself. She had chosen to put her body on display and walk around like she was on exhibit (Ginny’s words - not hers). Hermione imagined she was a walking marble sculpture in the Greek exhibit of the British Museum, and she longed to be regarded as such. Revered. Admired. Devotees of ancient art would sit at her feet and sketch for hours, trying to get the shading and contours just right... she wondered if Malfoy could draw, and if he would sit at her feet reveling in her beauty for hours...
And she decided that she really, really did want Malfoy. She needed to learn if the masked man could be more than a fantasy, and if Malfoy could kiss her like that, what else could he do? She remembered him saying, “If you’ll have me, I will find you.” He had to know. He must have pocketed some of her hair while he was kissing her and touching her all over. And if he knew, he already knew this was eating her alive. At that thought a new flame erupted in her stomach. He knows I’m thinking about him. Even if he didn’t know she had figured it out, he knew he was the centre of her attention and was acting as though he were a king on his throne, in control of every detail; every movement. She laughed - Malfoy in control of me?! He’s playing a long game, but he doesn’t know I’ve outed him. He doesn’t know I’m Queen in this game now. Hermione was catching on to the thrill of this long, slow game he was playing. She wasn’t even sure it was a game, but she would play her part nonetheless.
Somehow she found herself back in her flat, Crookshanks fed and a festive rosé in hand. Red was for enjoying, comforting, and savouring the moment, but tonight she was feeling feisty and ready for change. It had been a long while since she’d enjoyed a rosé, which was reserved for Ginny’s matches these days, but Hermione felt the shift in her body. She drank deeply and sat perched on the edge of her couch, looking thoughtfully at Crookshanks. He was sat looking back at her, as though trying to communicate a brilliant idea like Ginny had done the night before. Hermione wandered down her hall to her bedroom and closed the door. She gently set her wine glass down on her bedside table and, feeling luxurious, walked around the edge of her bed, fingers grazing the fabric, until she arrived in front of her closet. She stripped all her clothes off, leaving them in a messy puddle, and searched for her favorite silk robe. She put it on, but hesitated in tying it up - she reached for her small lingerie drawer instead. She only had 2 sets in there plus a random lacey pair of underwear, all of which had been for Ron when they were together. Still, she couldn’t remember the last time she had worn any of it. Christmas? Halloween? It had been unmemorable, regardless.
She chose the single pair of lace underwear, which were plum with glittery ribbon throughout, because they made her happy. She put them on and ran her fingertips all over her soft skin, appreciating each curve of her feminine figure. She tied her robe loosely around her waist, and went to the mirror. After a long day at the office, her hair was slowly unraveling from her bun and she was reminded of the Greek sculptures she held close to her heart. Perfect. Perfection was not symmetry and having every wisp tucked away nor every crease ironed... it was this. Hermione stood in low light and her pupils grew wider as she took in more of her beauty she had denied for so long. If I can seduce myself like this, what could I do to Malfoy? She ran her hand over her silk robe, feeling her supple body beneath, and turning herself on. She ceremoniously undid her robe, exposing her naked breasts and sexy underwear to herself. Feeling herself with fervor now, she started pinching her nipples and squeezing her breasts, letting out small moans. She needed to know what Malfoy would see when, when they finally came together. She crouched down, legs open, and gently stroked the inside of her thighs, teasing her way higher and higher. She could go on being her own muse forever, but there was a thought at the edge of her mind that kept pressing through: How would it go if Malfoy were here?
She could feel her wetness and heat building, already starting to soak through the fabric of her lingerie. She could see him in her mind, standing in front of her with his dress shirt unbuttoned halfway and sleeves rolled up ordering her: Touch yourself for me now. She obeyed, gasping Yes Master. She was letting out little whimpers, feeling all around her slickness. I want to hear you, and she obeyed the command in her head. Moaning out loud she started fingering herself before he interrupted, Take them off so I can watch. To every one of his demands she replied with Yes Master which made her throat tight with the sheer joy of being controlled. She locked eyes with herself in the mirror, memorizing her expression of what he would see, before trailing her eyes down her body to watch her finger herself. She reached deep inside, yet achingly, not deep enough to reach her highest pleasure spot, before sliding back out to circle her clit. She threw her head back and moaned for him, wishing he could watch this show she was putting on for him, all while hearing him say Good girl as she continued escalating her pleasure. She was now using two hands to play with both her clit and g-spot, and soon she was begging him Please, please out loud. Please what? She was taking rapid breaths as she answered aloud, Please let me come, Master. With her eyes shut she could see his smirk and his hard bulge under his dress pants, loving every moment of this. He stepped closer, stared her in the eye, and said Be my good girl and come for me now. Hermione’s eyes shot open as she watched herself come in front of her mirror, panting Malfoy’s name as she came down from her climax.
Good girl, she could hear him still. She was watching him get undressed while she lay there in bliss, exposed and ready for him. She hadn’t properly pictured him since learning he and the masked man were one in the same, and she was melting before his very visage. His pale alabaster skin was flawless, his body toned and lean, his hair was ruffled, and his eyes were set upon her like she was his prey. Standing naked before her, she imagined his huge, hard cock dripping in anticipation (bigger than Ron’s, of course, but also not as wet as his, of course) and how it would slide into her effortlessly like 2 puzzle pieces made to fit. She started to ache in anticipation, but the loss was all hers. She had never owned a sex toy and had nothing to ease the frustration sensation of wanting more.
Standing up and tying the robe around her once more, she flopped back on her bed. The build up had been hot and glorious, but now she was left with the comedown that she was alone and the object of her affection was far away and oblivious. She almost wanted to cry, but numbed her feelings with the rest of her wine instead. Starting to get chilled, she grabbed tall, wooly socks from her drawer and put them on, instantly lifting her mood. She remembered she had artisanal cheese stuffed at the back of her fridge, and so taking a running start and sliding down the hall into her kitchen, she found the will to keep enjoying her night. Wine, cheese, and feeling the soft textures against her bare skin while snuggled under a thick blanket with a good book sounded like the perfect way to end her evening.
***
Hermione couldn’t stop playing with herself. For the next 3 days, she would get wet at the thought of Malfoy and how he would use his tongue and his hands on her and nearly soak her underwear immediately. Thank Merlin for drying spells, she thought. She started to get excited to spend time with him alone on Monday, but equally she was just as nervous. She couldn’t blow her cover. Besides, she was there to work on bettering the wizarding community as a whole, not to let her feelings distract her.
On Monday morning she jumped out of bed eager and awake like it was the first day of school, put on the clothes she carefully selected the night before, and arrived at work a full half hour early. She opted for chamomile and honey tea to keep her steady, and kept thinking up scenarios where she would keep her calm and win the banter match. She cast a warming charm in the chilly board room, and set up her papers and documents for their session. She sat quietly, mug in hand, browsing over the relevant documents she needed clarity on, waiting for Malfoy. She must have been lost in thought because she jumped a little when the chair in front of her started to scrape on the floor.
“Oh, good morning Malfoy, I didn’t hear you come in,” Hermione grasped her mug in surprise.
“My apologies for interrupting. It seems you’ve started without me.” Was he being snarky?
“It’s no inconvenience at all; I arrived early today and got a head start. That’s all,” she smiled her classic sweet smile at him and hoped he wasn’t in a bad mood for some reason.
He grunted. “What is it that has you so keen this morning?” His tea wafted toward her, and she noticed it was black instead of herbal.
“I just had a really good weekend, that’s all. I’m fresh and ready for the week ahead,” she pointedly glanced down at his tea, “I’m not sure you are, though. Not a herbal concoction morning?”
“Mind your business, Granger.”
“It is my business when my coworker strolls in grumpy and tired and I have to work with him, is it not?” Malfoy scowled back at her. “Ooo, looks like we are in a testy mood. When was the last time you scowled at me, Malfoy? Seventh year? It’s been ages; I almost missed it.”
Leaning in with danger in his eyes, Malfoy stated, “Do you want that, Granger? Really? You want me to be an arse and make both of our lives miserable? Because you know I can do that. You know I can make your life a living hell. Just tell me.” He leaned back and looked into his mug as he drank from it, averting connection with a slightly stunned Hermione.
“I... don’t think I want that, Malfoy. That’s not what I was trying to get at. I was actually starting to warm up to our Monday sessions, and believe it or not it’s much easier to work with a civil person than someone who’s out to get you every waking moment,” it was her turn to shoot daggers, “so if you wouldn’t mind lightening the fuck up and quit threatening me with idle promises, we should get to work.” She was staring him down, head cocked to one side and waiting for an answer. Of all of the make believe scenarios she had come up with for this morning, this was nowhere on the list.
The edge of Malfoy’s mouth started to twitch, turning into a smirk, and widened into a full blown grin. He was staring at Hermione with what looked like joy on his face. She could see it written that she had won, and he loved it. He wanted it. He was searching her in earnest for the first time today, taking in everything new that had changed since last week. She suddenly realized she knew him so much better than she thought she did, and it felt like there was no barrier to speaking in riddles or sharing expressions. She clasped her hands and smiled back at him.
“I’m glad you agree. And please, do feel free to get more tea if it keeps the bitterness away,” she smiled politely at him. Malfoy chuckled to himself, and finally opened up his own set of documents and parchment showing he was ready to get started.
Hermione had been worried her mind would wander and her attention span would have a repeat of last week, but their work session went as fluidly as any other. She did find it curious that Malfoy seemed to have an endless amount of tea in his mug, but she didn’t press him. When she was wrapping things up, she decided to go out on a limb, and hoped she would be received well.
“Malfoy, I’ve been thinking. I don’t think a big, cold room like this is really necessary, do you? I would be fine with us having meetings in my office, and that way I don’t have to lug additional papers and books with me and wish I had others I didn’t bring... you know? If it wouldn’t inconvenience you, of course.”
“Inconvenience me? Granger, this is clearly all about what conveniences you. Why don’t we move to my office, if this is what your argument is?”
“Because, Malfoy, your office is sparse and is so far away I’d sooner reach Hogwarts by foot than find your door.”
“You’ve found it before. Many times,” he cocked an eyebrow at her.
“Your office is still sparse. I’m your superior. My office. Yes or no?” Hermione stood resolute.
With a dramatic sigh, Malfoy resigned and said, “Your office. Happy?”
“This isn’t about whether I’m happy or not. It’s about practicality.”
“Hm. So are Blaise and Pansy invited to meet in your office as well?”
“No. I’m not as comfortable with them, and I’d rather not have Pansy in my personal space,” she replied with a confident voice and serious expression.
Giving her a sneaky, knowing look, he replied, “It will be our secret then. Don’t worry about me telling the others. We barely talk, anyway.”
“I’m not asking you to keep it a secret, Malfoy. We’re at work. Doing work related tasks. Understood?”
“The more you talk, the less convincing you sound,” he flashed a perfect grin at her, “and I’ll be forced to complain to Rolfson about your unprofessionalism, keeping secrets and all.”
“Something tells me he wouldn’t be keen to believe you. If that’s the best threat you’ve got, then I’m not too worried.”
“Oh, Granger, underestimating a Malfoy? I didn’t think you were so daft,” he clicked his tongue in disapproval and looked away.
“I’m not daft Malfoy, I just understand you better than you think I do,” and with that remark she looked him straight in the eyes and walked out to her office. Phase one of seduction was bumpy, and by gods did it make her horny, but complete.