Hermione paced the library of Malfoy Manor, her heart pounding. She’d left her paperwork on the balcony, but she was far too wound up to even consider working.
She was ready to scream out of sheer frustration when the door swung open. Stopping dead in her tracks, she gaped at the man that strolled in as if she wasn’t there, tossing an apple and catching it one handed.
“Malfoy?”
“Granger.” He didn’t even look at her, instead surveying the far wall.
“What are you doing here?” Her brain was shorting at the sight of her old school mate.
He finally turned, arching an eyebrow at her. He spread his arms. “It’s my house, Granger. Father passed it to me after the war.” He took a bite out of the apple, the crisp crack echoing through the space as the blood drained from her face.
Draco chewed the apple, watching her with an amused expression. “I take it neither Father nor Severus mentioned that.” He took another bite while she floundered for a response.
“Gemma will be here next week to start the remodel in here, and she asked if I had any requests.”
Hermione pressed a hand to her face. “That’s why she needed your signature.” The day at Trés E Viverna with Severus flashed through her mind, and Draco inclined his head, taking another bite with a sharp crack. She’d forgotten about the appearance of the elite interior designer with Severus’s laser focus aimed at her.
“Wait, if you own it, why don’t you live here?” Hermione’s curiosity was getting the best of her.
He turned, surveying another section of the library. “Mostly because I got sick of walking in on my father and the man that’s practically an uncle fucking over every surface in the house.” He tilted his head, peering upwards. “What do you think of skylights? It’s so dark in here.” He craned his neck to peer at the ceiling, taking another bite.
Hermione’s jaw dropped, and all the pieces slid into place.
“Maybe a lighter color? Get rid of the black carpet.” Draco continued to muse over the library’s interior design choices as Hermione’s mind shuffled through a million scenarios.
“I—“ She blinked at him. “Lighter would be nice.” He nodded, his back to her as he slowly turned in place. Another crack of apple echoed around the library.
“So are you the reason Severus looks like he’s about to murder a first year or is it Father’s fault?” Draco transfigured a chair’s upholstery from dark coffee-colored leather to a pale mauve.
“You will regret that color,” Hermione said absently, wrapping a curl around her finger as she thought hard.
“Mmm, yeah I think so.” He flicked his wand and it cycled through several other colors before it reverted back to its original color. “Whatever. This is why we hired Gemma.” He vanished what was left of the apple, and collapsed in the chair he’d been experimenting on.
He looked just as arrogant as she remembered him. “So who pissed off Severus? And when is he going to get laid next so I can talk to him about doing the basement?”
Blushing furiously, Hermione rolled her eyes and turned away as she considered her options. Quickly she decided on a plan, and turned on her heel to exit the library.
At the last moment, she turned back. “Your father. And give me an hour. Maybe two.” She just managed to catch the shock on his face before she continued on her way.
Lucius was easy to find. He was at his desk in his study, a lowball glass of whiskey in hand.
“Put that down and come with me,” she demanded, giving him no chance to respond before she stalked off to find Severus. She could hear Lucius behind her, so she refused to look back. Like Lucius, Severus was in the first place she looked for him. Glowering at his worktop, he tapped his wand against his leg in agitation.
“Sit down,” she snapped, and he opened his mouth, but seemed to think better of it because he closed it and sat down without comment. Lucius fought a smile, and she glared at him. “Do you have something to say?” She dared him to cross her, but he lowered into the seat beside Severus without a word, expression suitably chastised.
“You,” she jabbed a finger at Lucius, “stop playing fucking games. If you want a ménage, say it. And you,” she jabbed her finger at Severus, “get rid of the damn cigarettes. You know I hate them and they’re bloody awful for you.” She crossed her arms, and then huffed at them.
The two men shared a glance, and Hermione tapped her foot impatiently. “Well?”
“Hermione, please expound on your thought process,” Severus said carefully, folding his hands over his wand.
“I’m not one of your students,” she snapped irritably. “And you know I hate the smell. I’m not kissing either of you until you brush your teeth, I don’t care how—“
“If you’ll excuse me.” Lucius stood, sweeping out of the room. Hermione glared after him, and Severus rolled his eyes.
“What?”
“Snap at me again and find out, Miss Granger.” Black eyes glinted, his voice low and dangerous.
“You do not get to treat me like a student, Severus.” She lifted her chin, and faster than she could follow, he had pinned her against the workbench. Hermione attempted to step aside, but his grip was iron on either side of her.
“Oh you’re not being treated as a student, ma petite. You’re learning what it means to give me orders.” His breath was hot against her ear and neck. Breathing hard, she jumped when the door slammed open again, ricocheting off the stone wall. Lucius had returned, and Severus stepped aside to allow him to take his place.
Icy blue eyes bore into her, and then his hands were in her hair and his mouth was on hers. His tongue felt colder than his eyes, and she could taste mint on his lips, not the whiskey she’d expected.
He’d gone and cleaned his teeth as she’d asked.
Hermione lost herself in the kiss. Lucius’s mouth was talented to say the least and whimpered when he pulled her away from the wall, and then slipped away. Severus immediately replaced him, his mouth similarly mint flavored when she met his tongue with hers. If he’d left while Lucius distracted her, she hadn’t noticed.
What she did notice now was a second set of hands caressing her body, Lucius rejoining at her back. She let herself sink into their warmth,
sandwiched as she was between the two men.
“Fucking hell Granger, I didn’t think you meant it!” Draco’s voice shattered the moment, and she gasped, trying to wrench herself out of the tangle of limbs.
“I thought you were fixing this, not joining them,” he yelled, already retreating halfway down the hall.
“Yeah I’m sure your father will hear about this,” she muttered, and belatedly realized it was his father that was kissing her neck. His laughter tickled, and heat flooded her face. Hiding her face in Severus’s chest vibrating with laughter, she swore.
She was less sure of this now than when she’d plotted the moment in the library, but she wasn’t going to back down now.