“Granger, I’m off for the evening.” Draco hung his head around her office door, gripping the frame. “You know what they say, the early Fwooper catches the Flobberworm.”
Hermione didn't bother to look up from her parchment. “Didn’t you mention earlier that you were going out drinking after work?”
“That’s beside the point.” Draco waved a dismissive hand, now fully standing in the doorframe to her office. “Just remember to Floo home at a reasonable hour. Don't fancy finding you sleeping at your desk tomorrow morning. Again.”
“Hm,” Hermione murmured as Draco’s footsteps echoed down the corridor, away from her office. She turned her gaze towards the now vacant doorway, her mind no longer focused on the paperwork before her, instead she could easily picture him: his muscular frame casually propped against the doorframe, his white shirt untucked from a long day at the Ministry, sleeves rolled up to reveal the faded ink of the Dark Mark on his inner forearm. She’d often catch a glimpse of it before he folded his arms across his chest. A faint smirk would play on his lips as he threw backhanded compliments or the occasional outright insult—though, thankfully, no longer calling her a mudblood. She gave as good as she got, however, insulting him right back. He’d often let out a low chuckle as he brushed off whatever retort she threw his way, sauntering back to his own office as she shooed him away, unfortunately just two doors down from her own.
Her head tipped back in frustration as she gripped the edge of her desk. How had she ended up in this situation? Working not just in the same building, but within the same department as Draco bloody Malfoy. The allure of the Department of Mysteries had been undeniable—unravelling secrets, pushing the boundaries of knowledge... How could she say no to that? What she hadn't anticipated was the avalanche of paperwork and the endless parade of quill-pushers that kept her from making any real progress.
Then Draco Malfoy walked in. Two years post-trial and just narrowly avoiding Azkaban, he was in need of a pet project. The department, it seemed, was in need of his family’s financial contribution—or so she had overheard while her colleagues gossiped at the Aguamenti station.
Hermione shifted in her seat, an uncomfortable knot forming in her stomach.
He was absolutely insufferable, yet she couldn't seem to shake him from her mind. Every time he leaned against the doorway with that casual yet confident posture, her heart would race. His smug smile, ever so infuriating, was a constant reminder of his arrogance. It drove her absolutely crazy. She resolved it was simpler to pretend he didn’t exist—to focus on her work and block out the annoyance he stirred in her.
Four hours and twenty-six unbearable minutes later…
Hermione stared down at the never-ending stack of paperwork on her desk, her eyes bleary with exhaustion. Her hair was haphazardly twisted into a bun—more of a bird’s nest, as Draco liked to tease—secured with her wand. The wand served a dual purpose: it kept her hair out of her face and ensured she didn’t misplace it… again. She rubbed her temple, trying to summon the energy to tackle the next report.
A disturbance from the corridor snapped her from her thoughts. Her head shot up and she was on her feet a second later, wand pulled from her bun and dangerously pointing at the doorway. Why hadn't she closed the door? She thought to herself. She positioned herself against the wall, making sure her back was secure. She rolled her eyes as she remembered her most recent promotion had also given her a new office, with a window the length of the wall she was now standing against.
Her eyes flicked outside for a moment, scanning the night sky. She was high enough up that the ground was just visible enough, but not an immediate problem. The skies were clear for the first time this autumn, stars twinkling in the moonlight. She twirled back and he was there, standing in the doorway.
His tie was loosened, the first few buttons of his shirt undone, sleeves were fully rolled, and he didn't flinch when her eyes flickered to his tattoo.
“Malfoy!” Hermione scolded, lowering her wand. “It’s too late for your shit, go home.” She twisted her wand into her hair, securing it back into the chaotic bun. Her hands moved to her temples, rubbing in small circles to soothe the growing tension.
Draco smirked, completely unfazed by her sharp tone. "Come on, Granger," he drawled, leaning lazily against the doorframe of her office. Was it because he was too drunk to stand straight, or did he know exactly what it did to her? He had to know—how could he not, when she felt like she was seconds away from melting into a Hermione-shaped puddle on the floor?
"Is that any way to talk to your colleague?" His voice was smooth, almost teasing. "Especially one who’s here to help?"
Hermione narrowed her eyes, not buying it for a second. “Help? You ? You’ve never willingly helped me with anything that didn’t have some sort of catch.”
He chuckled, pushing off the frame and taking a step closer. “Maybe I'm turning over a new leaf,” he said, though the smirk playing on his lips suggested otherwise. “Or maybe I was headed home from the pub, saw your light still on from the street below, and thought that the Golden Girl might be the one who needed rescuing for once,” he added, gesturing to the mountain of paperwork.
She rolled her eyes, suppressing a smile. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
He shrugged. “So I’ve been told,” he said lightly, his tone teasing. “But seriously, Granger, it's beyond late. Even workaholics need a break. Let me take you out for a drink, or at least make sure you Floo home safely. Call it a peace offering.”
She hesitated, caught off guard by the unexpected offer. Draco’s eyes met hers, and for a moment, the smug mask slipped, revealing something softer. Something that made her heart skip a beat.
“I don't need a drink, or to go home...” Hermione began, her voice trailing off as she searched her mind for what she was actually after. “I need... I need...”
“A shag?” Draco interjected with a sly grin, one eyebrow raised. He sauntered forward, flicking the door closed with a casual wave of his wand.
Hermione shot him a glare, her cheeks turning a deep shade of crimson. “Merlin, Malfoy, you’re absolutely impossible!” She shook her head in disbelief. “You can’t just waltz into my office at some ungodly hour and suggest I need a shag,” she muttered, more to herself than to him. “I should file a sexual harassment complaint. Does the Ministry even have an HR department? There must be a form for this somewhere. Although, considering you’re clearly intoxicated and lacking better judgement...but still! Completely inappropriate!”
“You didn’t answer my question, Granger. Yes or no?” Draco pressed. He leaned forward, his large hands resting on her desk, eyes locked on hers, challenging her to respond.
She opened her mouth to respond, only to close it again and turn away, pretending to be engrossed with the street outside the window.
Draco chuckled, clearly enjoying her reaction. “Come on, Granger,” he said, his tone teasing but with a hint of something more serious. “You’ve been working yourself to death. You need to let off some steam. I’m just offering a solution.” He stepped back, crossing his arms across his chest, “let me help.”
Hermione scoffed, a short laugh escaping her as she shook her head in disbelief. “Let you help? Do I look that desperate to you?”
She turned back towards him…her eyes betraying her, flickering down to his arms, where the fabric of his rolled-up sleeves strained against the muscles flexing subtly beneath. The dim light of her office only seemed to highlight the movement, and despite herself, she couldn’t tear her gaze away fast enough.
Draco smirked. “Will you hex me if I say yes?”
Ready to start a verbal battle, she opened her mouth, but was taken aback to see he was uncomfortably close to her now, his tall frame looming over hers. Her breath hitched as she looked up at him, meeting his gaze as he stared down at her.
“You're an insufferable git—”
She was abruptly cut off by his lips pressing firmly against hers. His hands gripped her waist, and they staggered backwards together. Before she could stumble further, he had her pressed against the glass window, their bodies moulded tightly together.
Hermione let out a startled squeal as Draco’s hands tightened around her sides, breaking the kiss just long enough to speak.
“Tell me to stop,” he demanded, his breath warm and urgent against her face. The scent of Firewhisky on his breath made her head spin, like she was intoxicated just from being near him.
Her lips throbbed from the intensity of his kiss, and the heat of his hands on her waist made her feel uncomfortably aware of her own arousal. She didn’t tell him to stop. Instead, she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer as her lips crashed into his once more.
Draco didn’t hesitate, lifting her effortlessly so that her legs instinctively wrapped around him. He carried her over to her desk, setting her down on top of the skewed papers. He broke the kiss, and trailed his lips down her neck, eliciting a moan from her as he found a particularly sensitive spot and sucked gently. His hands moved from her waist, gliding up her body to cup her breasts, all while continuing his focused attention on her neck.
Hermione’s hands roamed over Draco's body with purpose, unfastening his tie and tossing it aside before moving on to his shirt. She undid each button, letting the fabric fall open as she took in the sight of his chest, marked by faded scars of his past.
As she pulled back from the kiss to examine him, Draco's gaze remained fixed on her. She undid her own buttons with a teasing slowness, enjoying the way his eyes followed her movements. His hands left her breasts to rest on her thighs as he watched, his breath growing ragged.
When she finally revealed her black bra detailed with floral lace, Draco let out a low groan. He had always been captivated by her choice to wear non-padded bras to the office, often bribing the Magical Maintenance team to keep the office cool just to see her reaction as she tried to discreetly hide her stiffened nipples.
His fingers dug into her thighs, and Hermione knew she’d have bruises by morning, but the sharp sting only made her moan louder. Her hands fumbled with his belt, desperate to unbuckle it. Sensing her urgency, Draco took over, swiftly unfastening it with one hand and whipping it free in one fluid motion. Hermione jumped at the sharp sound of the leather as it was yanked free from his belt loops.
His hands were back on her in an instant, fingers tracing over her smooth skin of her waist. Hermione shivered as he found a sensitive spot, sending a ripple of pleasure through her. Slowly, he moved to her back, unclasping her bra with practised ease, letting it slip away to the floor.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Hermione asked, her voice wavering with nerves as Draco’s hands continued to massage her bare breasts, his thumbs flicking over her hardened nipples.
Draco chuckled, his voice low and deep. “Am I sure? I’ve wanted to fuck you since you stormed into my office in a huff about the Elderberry incident.” His eyes bored into hers, filled with an intense urgency. “All I’m waiting for is for you to ask.”
“You’re drunk,” she muttered, trying to sound disapproving.
“You’re pretty,” he shot back without missing a beat.
“Fuck me,” she whispered, her voice heavy with need.
“Say no more.” Draco’s hands travelled down to her hips and up under her skirt, gripping the waistband of her matching knickers. He pulled them off, sliding them down her smooth legs, over her completely inappropriate office heels, and tossing them across the room.
His hand glided up her leg, feeling the soft, silky stockings under his fingertips. Suddenly, his grip tightened on her thigh just above the lace band. A rush of pleasure shot through Hermione, leaving her breathless as she instinctively pushed herself forward, silently pleading for more.
Draco’s eyes darkened, accepting the invitation without hesitation. Slowly, he trailed his fingers up her inner thigh, then began to teasingly brush his thumb against her clit. Hermione couldn't hold back a moan, already feeling a damp heat building between her thighs.
As she leant back on the desk for support, Draco's smirk grew wider. With a quick movement, he withdrew his hand, causing Hermione to gasp at the sudden loss of contact. But before she could voice her disappointment, his hands were already grabbing at the waistband of her skirt and tugging it down over her hips.
Hermione shuffled on the desk to assist him, her pulse racing with anticipation. In one swift motion, Draco lifted her legs up and spread them apart, one foot propped on the edge of the desk while the other wrapped around his waist. Heat flooded Hermione's cheeks as she tried to close her legs together in embarrassment, but Draco was quicker. He placed one hand on each knee and pushed them open, exposing her completely to him.
Without hesitation, Draco brought two fingers to his mouth and coated them with a slick layer of his saliva. Hermione’s breath hitched, her desperation evident in the way she begged for his touch.
Draco slid one finger into her core, gently pulsing until he found her sweet spot. Hermione arched her back, a moan escaping her lips as she relaxed under his skilled touch. Not content with the two fingers, Draco added a third, stretching and filling her.
Hermione gasped as her stomach tightened, a tingling sensation spreading throughout her body. She could feel her climax building, the pleasure almost overwhelming as she tensed against his fingers.
Draco, sensing her impending climax, removed his fingers from her in a teasing motion. In one swift movement he lifted her up, his fingers gripping into her ass cheeks. Hermione instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, holding tight. His lips crashed to her neck, kissing and sucking aggressively against her skin. She knew it would leave a mark, but that’s what glamour charms were created for.
“Draco… please,” Hermione panted, her voice breathless and needy. “Fuck me. Don’t make me beg.”
“Be patient,” he murmured against her skin. “A quick thirty-second shag isn’t going to get all this tension out of you.”
“Hmm, since when do you care about my tension?” she asked sarcastically.
“Since I decided I could use it as an excuse to fuck you up against your window,” he replied, a smirk tugging at his lips.
“No!” she protested, blush growing across her cheeks. “Draco Malfoy don't you dare!”
“Stop being so uptight, Granger.”
He didn't give her a chance to express any further displeasure, with one hand supporting her ass and the other tangled in her hair, he pushed her body against the cold glass window. She let out a sharp moan as the chill of the glass met her heated skin.
He tugged at her hair, pulling her head back slightly, until her lips parted with a gasp. Seizing the opportunity, he slipped his tongue into her mouth, his tongue moved deliberately, exploring every inch of her mouth. Hermione’s hands gripped his shoulders, holding him for support as her body grew weak under his grip.
When Draco hesitated to make the next move, Hermione took over. Using the glass window to push off, she arched her hips into him, pushing her warm core against his bulging trousers.
Her fingers threaded through his hair, mimicking his earlier tug, but with a gentler touch. He responded with a low growl, as she revealed his weakness.
“You're going to kill me,” Draco moaned.
He didn’t hesitate any longer. Draco fumbled with the buttons of his trousers, eventually managing to undo them. His cock pressed tight against his boxers, begging to be released. He pulled them down, grasping his hardened cock. He bit back a moan as he began to stoke the length, relishing in the sensation building within him.
With a low groan, he lined the tip up against her wet entrance, pausing just long enough to feel the anticipation between them. Then, in one swift motion, he pushed forward, burying himself inside her. Hermione gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders as the pleasure surged through her.
Draco gripped her hips tightly, his fingers digging into her skin as he set a steady rhythm, thrusting deeper with each movement. Hermione’s back arched against the cold glass, her moans filling the room as she clung to him, matching his pace. The sensation of his cock sliding in and out of her drove her wild, every thrust sending waves of pleasure through her. Her arms stretched outwards, palms pressed to the glass trying to aid her upper back in steadying herself.
He leaned in close, his breath hot against her ear. “You feel so fucking good, Hermione,” he murmured, his voice rough with need.
Her response was a breathless whimper, her body tightening around him in response. “Draco... don’t stop,” she managed to gasp, her words barely coherent as the tension built between them.
She was completely, wholly, drunk on him. The scent of spearmint and parchment mingled with the Firewhisky on his breath, making her dizzy with desire. Her body arched to accommodate his large member. The sensation was intense, almost painful, leaving her gasping for breath.
Draco’s movements grew more urgent, his thrusts faster and harder. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the room, mingling with their ragged breaths and moans. Hermione felt the pressure building inside her, a tight coil ready to snap. She moved her arms in order to cling to Draco, bringing his body closer—her nails scratching down his back, desperate for release.
“Come for me, Hermione,” Draco growled.
“I'm so close, Draco, please, more,” Hermione whimpered through staggered breaths.
He continued to support her with one hand while his other moved to her clit, tracing gentle circles that ignited her senses. Each touch felt electric, heightening the tension that grew between them.
Her eyes fluttered closed, head tilting back as her mouth fell slightly open, a silent moan escaping her lips. The overwhelming sensation took her completely.
“That's it baby, you can do it. Come for me.”
His words sent her over the edge. With a cry, Hermione’s body tensed, her orgasm washing over her in waves. Draco followed moments later, thrusting into her one last time as he spilled himself inside her, his grip on her hips bruising.
They stayed like that for a moment, panting and spent, Draco’s head fell to Hermione’s shoulders, while she sunk against the glass window. Slowly, he pulled back, his hands moving to gently cup her face, his thumb brushing over her flushed cheek.
“Well,” he said, his voice still thick with satisfaction. “Did that relieve some tension?”
Pulling out of her, he set her down gently, her legs wobbling as she made contact with the ground.
Hermione shook her head, frustration edging into her voice. "God, please don't talk. Why in Merlin's name did I just go through with that?"
He chuckled softly, watching her steady herself. “Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”
Hermione shot him a sharp look, her breath still uneven. “That’s not the point,” she snapped, running a hand through her dishevelled hair. “We work together! We hate each other!”
“Why does that matter?” His voice was calm, almost teasing, as he stepped closer. “You needed a release. I was happy to help.”
“That’s the problem,” Hermione muttered, turning her back on him, furiously scanning the room for her clothes, which seemed to have disappeared into a different dimension. Her face flushed as she scrambled to gather whatever she could find. “This… me, you—God, this was a huge mistake! What was I thinking? ‘Relieving my tension’? I’ve completely lost my mind.”
Draco’s hands moved from his now fastened trousers, she stared as he leant against the wall, folded his arms, and an infuriating smile tugged at his lips. Hermione shook her head in frustration, how could he look so perfectly put together after shagging the life out of her?
“Maybe it’s time you loosened up a little, Granger,” he said smoothly, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “You were pretty tight.”
Hermione’s glare was sharp enough to cut through stone. If looks could kill, Draco Malfoy would be sprawled lifeless on the floor, his body bathed in the soft glow of the morning sun filtering through the windows of her office. If only she were so lucky.
She pulled her shirt over her shoulders and began fumbling with the buttons. “That’s not funny.”
He shrugged, stepping toward her with a maddening calmness, as if the weight of what had just happened meant nothing to him. “I think you’re overthinking this, as usual. You needed an outlet, I was here, and we both got what we wanted. No harm, no foul.”
“Both?”
“Both.” He stepped closer—close enough for her to feel the warmth radiating off him. “It doesn’t have to mean more than it was, you know. No need to complicate things.”
“What did you get out of this?”
Draco laughed. “What did I get? Come on, Granger, just take a look at yourself.”
Hermione, confused but suddenly self-conscious, turned her head toward the window. She caught her reflection, her blouse half buttoned, the top couple left undone to reveal a generous glimpse of her cleavage. She’d accepted her bra and knickers had completely vanished at this point. The black stockings she’d worn still clung to her thighs, and her heels lay abandoned somewhere across the room.
“So…” she swallowed hard, her nerves raw. “You enjoyed it?”
Draco’s smirk deepened, his silver eyes glinting with dark amusement. “Granger,” he began slowly, savouring each word, “I’d let a hundred dementors suck the soul out of my body if it meant getting to do that again.” His gaze raked over her, his body language all too confident.
He leaned in close, his breath warm against her ear as he spoke in a low, dangerous voice. "Hermione, you were... absolutely breathtaking."
Hermione grimaced, rolling her eyes. "Ugh, Malfoy, don’t call me by my first name unless you’re actually in bed with me."
“So, I'm safe to assume that wasn't a one-time stress relief, and I should prepare for more after-hours meetings?”
