A Little Less Distance

“Malfoy? Do you have a second to stop by my office before you leave for the day?” The voice came floating past his shoulder, and he turned to look over it. Half of the meeting attendees were scurrying out of the conference room while the other half lingered in conversation.

Hermione had her arms crossed tightly, her fingers drumming the inside of her bicep. One hip cocked, she tapped the toe of her black heel. Having observed her body in a variety of emotions, clothed and otherwise, Draco had learned that this was a telltale sign of aggression. Irritation. It reminded him of the Muggle documentary he had had the misfortune of watching. Where the lioness nearly bit off the head of the lion after the poor sod had crossed a line. Draco, not unfamiliar with a similar situation, felt for him.

It could be argued not much difference existed between an angry puma and an angry Hermione Granger. The stance she was currently displaying worked instantly to get the reaction she wanted out of most people.

Most.

After excusing himself briefly from the conversation he was having, he tilted his head and squinted his eyes at her, accepting the challenge. This witch certainly wasn’t going to intimidate him into a corner. “Of course. I will be there momentarily.” He nodded once and turned back to…what was his name? “As I said, the Harpies are—”

“Sooner, rather than later, please.” Her voice was low — stern — as she prowled toward him and fuck all if it didn’t send a ripple of lust through Draco’s lower abdomen.

He turned to her fully and mirrored her stance, arms over his chest. “Granger.” He smiled sweetly. “I would be delighted to meet you in your office once I’ve finished my conversation with…him.” He waved one hand over his shoulder at the man he could not remember the name of.

Her chin rose at the same time her left eyebrow did. A brief search of his face passed before she reached out and plucked what was likely an non-existent piece of lint from the front of Draco’s suit jacket.

Is this a test? This feels like a test.

“Excellent.” She smoothed the fabric of his suit, smiled at the man behind him, and left without another word. He watched her hips sway and inwardly damned them to hell.

“That woman.” A voice behind him scoffed. “She can be such a—”

Draco spun, rising to his full height and pinning the nameless man with a cool look. A name scurried up from somewhere deep in his mind. “Millborn, is it?”

“Y-yes.” The man took a small step away from Draco’s towering frame, eyes wide.

“Right.” Draco focused on adjusting his cufflink before sliding his hands into his pockets and resetting his glare on the scrawny man in front of him. Best to keep them contained. “That woman deserves the utmost respect and chivalry. That woman received an Order of Merlin at the age of twenty. That woman could fly circles around you with the amount of knowledge and talent she possesses. And she hates flying.” He spat the last word.

Millborn’s hands rose in defense, palms out. “I-I apologize. I didn’t realize the two of you were—”

Draco stepped away and glanced around the conference room. Most everyone had exited by then. “We are n—” He cleared his throat. No sense in lying. “Yes, well…if anyone in this office has an inkling of integrity in their bodies, it’s that woman, and I refuse to listen to opinions of her — of anything, for that matter — from someone who clearly lacks the ability to match a tie to their suit.” He glanced down at Millborn’s attire, a familiar sneer tugging at his expression. He allowed it to briefly make an appearance before returning to his normal, impassive gaze. With a nod, he turned away and left the man speechless.

“Oh.” Draco grasped the frame of the door leading out of the conference room and addressed him once more. “What you said about the Harpies…” He stepped fully into the room and held onto his icy composure. “Yes, they are all females. Yes, they are young. And they too could fly circles around your ridiculously ill-trained Magpies the association has the gall to refer to as a team.”

Millborn stuttered and shouted some slur that never made it to Draco’s ears. One of the unspoken rules of masculinity: don’t allow someone to badmouth your Quidditch team.

And definitely don’t allow someone to badmouth the women you care about.

Tacky neckties were fair game…

Before he had the chance to realign, Draco stood in front of Granger’s office door. He cracked a knuckle with his thumb, dropped his Occlumency shields, and knocked once. Then twice.

“Come in,” a silky voice called from inside.

She was perched in her desk chair, bent over paperwork, tapping the end of her quill to the tip of her nose. She didn’t look up — didn’t speak — when Draco entered and shut the door behind him, so he took the opportunity to visit his favorite aspects of her office. It felt like her: cozy, tidy, full of random trinkets that held a story. A small brass elephant sat on one of the shelves lining the far wall. It was a souvenir her parents had brought back from Africa during Third Year. A charmed watering can floated around, pouring into the plants covering the shelves — some magical, some not. To the left of the elephant trinket stood a framed picture of Potter, Weasley, and Granger. Weasley was reaching across Hermione, yanking a mug of butterbeer from Potter’s hands and taking a large gulp. Hermione sat sandwiched between them, laughing till her eyes squinted nearly closed. Draco smiled softly at the way she tossed her head back in the photograph. He could nearly hear the laugh. Genuine, bubbly, and contagious.

Moving on, Draco found one of the few objects in her office that represented him. A glass jar half-full of wine corks, each cork having once belonged to a bottle the two of them had shared. When Hermione had told him her plan — he was baffled as to why she was tucking a cork into her coat pocket at a hard-to-get-into London restaurant — he had called her a nutter. But seeing it displayed in her office…well, it brought forth a feeling he wasn’t sure how to process.

“We will be needing to get you a second jar soon.” Draco looked at her and gestured haphazardly at the shelves. “For the um…corks.”

“What?” She lifted her head first, then her eyes. “Oh, yes. I am always up for more wine.”

“As am I.” A beat of silence, then Draco crossed the room to stand at the wall of bookshelves
behind her.

“This shouldn’t take long. Thanks for coming.” She spun in her chair to face him, oddly closed off.

“Well, Granger…if there is one thing you and I are becoming exceedingly gifted at, it’s getting each other to come.” He turned away from an alphabetized row of books to send her an indulgent smirk, hopeful that she would be blushing that beautiful, pink color.

She was.

But she hid it well, rolling her eyes, crossing her legs primly, and swiveling back toward her desk. “Please.” She lifted her arm to signal at the chair across from her. “Sit.”

Taking deliberate steps, he ran a hand down the front of his shirt and kept his gaze on hers. She didn’t back down, didn’t retreat or look away, and her arm was still held outright, gesturing at the chair. Until he sat in it.

“Right.” She cleared her throat and tapped into alignment the files she held before carefully setting them down in front of her. “I’d like to go over the budget for the French Ministry’s Internship Program and I—”

“You’re serious? Didn’t we go over that in the meeting?”

When she met his eyes again, he saw the teasing glint. “So you were listening?” She leaned back in her chair and folded her arms, angling her head and biting her bottom lip.

“Well…” His brain shuffled through excuses like a deck of cards, but he landed on honesty. “No, I wasn’t. But I definitely recall hearing this topic being brought up.” Tipping toward her desk and bracing his elbows on his knees, Draco leveled her with an incredulous look. “Tell me that’s not why you’re cross with me.”

A huff of air left her lips. She looked away, the blush returning to her cheeks, now with a different type of chagrin. “I was very proud of my presentation. I was hoping to hear your thoughts during the meeting.” Her mouth was set into a stubborn line. The mere look had Draco reaching across her desk for her, trying desperately to stifle the laughter in his throat.

“You should be proud. I am happy to go over the budget fully with you, but I trust you to come up with something brilliant without much input from me.”

It took a moment, but her eyes shifted to him, and eventually the rest of her body followed. “Thank you.” Her small smile warmed the atmosphere, and her mood instantly changed. “I truly do have a few things I need you to go over and sign, however. For the Internship Program. I’ve gone through everything and it all checks out.” A stack of papers was placed in front of him. Opening it, she tapped her index finger in several places over the pages. Draco listened to her explanation of each item, offered his thoughts, and then he signed his name. And signed. And signed again.

After the last flurry of his quill, her hands moved to fold in front of her, and her shoulders relaxed. Once she looked back at him, her eyes were gentle, and the entire room had shifted from business to the feeling Draco had been waiting for.

“I’ve missed you,” Hermione said matter-of-factly, but softly enough to make Draco’s heart beat in double-time. Ah, so Draco wasn’t the only one laden with these types of feelings. The thought was comforting, to be sure.

He dipped his head at her and met her gaze with a warmth of his own. “And I...you.”

She smiled again, and he felt his lips return the sentiment. The light in her eyes had Draco on his feet and rounding her desk. Without hesitation, he dropped to a crouch in front of her, spinning her chair to face him. His hands slid from her knees, up her stocking-covered thighs, and under her skirt.

“That stunt you pulled during the meeting…” She made a tsk sound, wrapping her fingers around his where they sprawled her upper thigh. Slowly, she drew his hand up to kiss his palm. Her eyes drifted closed.

Draco wanted to reach out and trace lines between each and every one of the freckles scattered over her cheeks. Instead, he rose into her, nudging between her legs. With both hands, he gently coaxed her face closer to his and paused to breathe her in. “It’s that damned seam on those tights,” he insisted in a whisper, brushing their noses together. “I was like a schoolboy surrounded by sweets. I couldn’t resist.”

She removed the distance between them desperately, inhaling heavily before pushing her lips to his. There wasn’t much lead-up; they were both immediately open-mouthed and licking, pulling buttons and biting exposed skin.

Somehow they made it to a wall, and his back was pressed against it. She was ravishing him, ripping open his shirt and pressing hot kisses to his chest. Sliding her body invitingly up the length of his. Nipping at his jaw and his neck.

He tried to keep up but was admittedly caught off guard and would have bet his last Galleon that his eyes popped out of their sockets when she sank to her knees in front of him. Feeling oddly faint — because gods, could he be so lucky that this is actually happening in the middle of a workday — he sagged into the wall and took a steadying breath. “Fuck, Granger, are y—”

She shushed him, effectively cutting him off when she murmured a silencing charm on the room. After finishing the last button of his dress shirt, her hands found his trousers and began the task of pulling them halfway down his legs. Then his pants. When a determined hand wrapped around his cock, he thanked Merlin that he had chosen the high road this morning and decided against feigning an illness to avoid today’s meeting.

All remaining thoughts floated from his mind when warm lips pressed against one of his hip bones and trailed slowly across his pelvis to kiss the other. A shiver ran up the back of his spine, and he reached out blindly in search of soft curls, growling when he found them pinned back.

“Take your hair down,” he moaned. “Please.”

A breathy laugh from below and she acquiesced, nimble fingers pulling the pins out and placing them into his open hand. Hair loose at her shoulders, Draco tossed the pins across the room and stooped to catch her lips in a wet kiss. Kissing her was something akin to placing a heaping spoonful of honey into his mouth and drawing it out slowly, allowing the sugar to coat his tongue and relishing in the sticky sweetness.

She broke the kiss too soon, pushing him back into standing position against the door and returning to her mission.

If someone had told Draco he was only allowed to extract three memories to be viewed in a Pensieve for the rest of his life, with all other memories completely destroyed, there was no doubt in his mind the first would be the way Hermione Granger’s lips looked whenever she took his cock into her mouth. The second would definitely be the first time he flew on a broom and the last: well...Granger. Either underneath him, eyes pinched closed and mouth dropped open as he fucked her senseless, or on top of him, tits bouncing and hair wild as she fucked him. He would have to decide exactly which later.

Her tongue danced and licked, her lips sucked and stroked. His knees quaked and buckled, his hands yanked on her hair and tenderly touched her cheeks. She pulled back, her lips popping, to tease long strokes of her tongue up the length of him. That nearly did him in until her mouth opened, and she took him fully again, as far back as she could. Her hand added to the mounting feeling: fingers gliding over him and traveling up his leg, dancing at his hip, gliding across his abdomen, and back down. All while her mouth and tongue moved with determination. Every bit of it felt as if he were shooting into the stratosphere until he moaned, tightened his grip on her hair, and released into her mouth as stars burst behind his eyelids.

Breathless, he dropped his chin and opened his eyes to look at her. Beautiful. She smiled coyly up at him. Absolutely beautiful.

After returning his pants and trousers to a proper position, he pulled her to her feet and kissed her deeply. “Allow me to return the favor,” he panted into her ear, spinning them around and walking her into the bit of wall he had just been occupying.

She didn’t protest, simply whimpered and closed her eyes, waiting with her fingers scrambling to his collar. His lips found her neck. “I know why you were upset with my lack of attention in the meeting, Granger.” His voice was low and taunting. He bit down gently on tender skin and then soothed it with his tongue. “You like being told what a good girl you are. How well you’ve done.”

Another whimper and she bucked against him.

Clutching with one hand, he pushed her hips into the wall, halting her movements. Her breath came in short beats through her nose, and her face was pinched in concentration, eyes still closed.

“Don’t you?” He pressed against her again, using his height and width to keep her pinned. One of his thighs nudged between hers, and she wriggled about. “Hm?”

“Yes,” she rasped. “Gods, yes.” She was riding his thigh at that point. He reached for both of her hands, gathered them into one of his, and raised them above her head.

“Well then... be good for me.”

Finding the stays that held the stockings on both of her legs, he clicked the clips off easily. She gnawed her lip and bounced with impatience. “Consider this punishment, Granger,” Draco murmured into her collarbone before pulling back to level her with a look. “If you hadn’t worn these, I wouldn’t have to take so much time removing them.”

Her eyes snapped open, and a glint of mischievousness shone in them. “Would you rather I not have worn them?” The challenge in her voice was laced with provocation and lust.

In the time they’d spent together, they had picked up on a number of things about each other. He knew how to push her buttons, and she knew when he was bluffing. “Touché.”

She smirked at his response. He released his hold on her wrists and squatted in front of her, sliding both stockings down her legs, removing her heels, and finally rolling the netting from her feet one at a time. Bare skin of her legs exposed, Draco took a second to run his hands over and kiss any bit he could reach. The top of her thigh, her knee, her ankle. Untucking her blouse from her skirt and pressing his lips to her navel. Eventually he rose to his feet again and gave in to the need to kiss her lips. She was smiling in it, and her arms slid under his suit jacket and wrapped around his torso to pull him flush to her body.

“Have I mentioned I’ve missed you?” she whispered, head resting over his heart.

“You have, but I’d lie and say you hadn’t if it meant hearing it again.” He undid the buttons of her blouse, one by one, and ran his hands greedily over breasts. When the final button was free, he stooped to mouth at her over the white lace of her bra.

“I’ve missed you,” she gasped, her nails digging into the skin of his back through his shirt. “Show me how much you’ve missed me.”

A flip switched and as commanded, Draco’s hand dove under her skirt. Not bothering to remove her knickers, he tucked them to the side and slid a finger into her. She was completely wet, biting out one long moan when she felt him inside her. Lips on her jaw, he continued to work at her, sliding his finger in and out and pressing his thumb gently to her clit. He added another finger, and she quivered, slumping against him. He picked up the pace, adding pressure and movement with his thumb and relishing in the way her breath quickened.

But he couldn’t give it to her yet. Not quite. When he pulled his hand away, she pouted and his mouth moved to cover it.

“Patience, please,” he murmured against her lips.

Then he dropped to his knees in front of her, and she groaned in anticipation. Up the silky skin of her inner thigh he peppered kisses and carefully drug his teeth. The noises she made nearly had Draco bowing to his forearms and worshiping at her feet. Instead, he curled a hand around her ankle and slid it slowly over her calf to the back of her knee, all the way to the waistband of her knickers. He set all four fingers into the band and wiggled the obstructive article down. Both her feet lifted so he could finish removing them. He considered chucking them across the room, but instead tucked them into his trouser pocket.

She rolled her eyes, mouth open in protest, but a quick lift and her leg was draped over his shoulder, his face exactly where he wanted it and her objection lost. What a gift it was to fit this well with her.

Her hands continued their assault on his hair, threading and groping and pulling him closer to her. His mouth was on her, tongue licking up her wonderfully wet cunt and grazing over her clit. She shook against him when he was only seconds in, but he drew it out. Slowing down while she caught her breath and quickening until she was smacking her palm repeatedly against the wall behind her.

“Draco.” His name rode on her panting exhales, and he hoped he could also include sounds into his Pensieve memories.

A few more dips of his tongue into her and she was quaking. He reached up to press his hand flat on her belly in an effort to keep her from sinking to the ground. The other hand squeezed the thigh on his shoulder, massaging the muscle. His tongue kept at an unforgiving pace until she was coming loudly and quivering all over. A smile spread across his face, and he turned his head to press a kiss to her thigh.

Now, it was she who grinned lazily down at him.

“Merlin, you’re good.” She sighed and ran a hand affectionately over his cheekbone.

Tossing his hand from her belly and unhooking her thigh, she slid down the wall until she was seated in front of where he remained on his knees. Her legs stretched out to frame him, and she reached out to drag him to her by his lapels till he had to brace both hands on the wall above her head. They kissed slowly, this time with less urgency and more…leisure. They allowed themselves to explore. To remember the feel of one another's lips and hands until they both stood and helped each other adjust and rebutton clothing, with touches that promised more in the coming days.

“I have dinner plans with Theo tonight,” Draco told her from where he stood across the office, closing the final buttons of his jacket and shrugging it straight. Hermione looked up from fastening the stays on her stockings, leg raised to rest on an armchair. “I would happily invite you, but it sounds as if he is needing some…man-to-man conversation. He wants to go to a cigar bar in Muggle London.”

“Ah, not a worry.” She set her leg back down, smoothed her skirt, and went to him. Her hands found his collar, smoothing that as well. “Ginny was hoping I’d attend a benefit event with her and Luna, anyway.”

“Tomorrow?” Draco suggested, noticing the hope in his voice.

A broad smile flashed on her face and she lifted on to her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Please. How about dinner at mine?”

“Sounds lovely. My meetings might keep me here longer, but I will meet you there.”

Draco’s hand rounded the back of her neck to pull her in for a quick kiss, and then he left her with a goodbye so both could hurry off to separate meetings.