Her Shoes

First, thank you so much for your reviews and kind words. Some of my fave authors were sweet enough to read and share their thoughts. I'm blushing I tell you.

Again many thanks to the fantastic t_stevenson, my wonderful beta, for her input and magic. And she does it without a wand folks. Oh and check out Diamond in the Rough, it's FANTASTIC!

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“Hermione, what about these?”

Hearing her name, Hermione spun away from the display of delicate evening stilettos she’d been admiring and looked towards Pansy. After her unnerving meeting with Draco Malfoy, she’d gone straight to Kingsley’s office. He’d confirmed what Draco had told her. All efforts to dissuade Kingsley proved fruitless, leaving Hermione decidedly angry, frustrated and shaken.

She was going to be working for and reporting directly to Draco bloody bastard Malfoy!

She had to hand it to Kingsley, he had listened to all of her attempts to put forth other investors, kindly nodded his head at all the reasons why it was better to diversify with their investors, going with one primary investor would put the Ministry at a disadvantage should this whole endeavor fail miserably. But at the end of the day, his mind was made up and this was the path the Ministry would pursue. Recalling their conversation, she’d been taken aback at his words.

“I know you like the idea of multiple investors Hermione but the advantages DM investments funding the entire project was far too good to pass up and, quite frankly, his stipulations are valid. He said he didn’t want some incompetent bean counter handling something so important. He said he wanted the best and brightest, specifically naming you. You were the only person qualified to handle this project. And of course, both I and the Muggle Prime Minister agree. This is far too important to not have the very best, I’m afraid that it’s a done deal.”

Hermione had thanked him and retreated from his office. By the time she’d returned to her office, Draco’s assistant had already owled Davis to sort out an initial work schedule. She and Davis had spent three hours and a working lunch adjusting her appointment book, re-assigning her workload and mapping out next steps on the project being funded by Malfoy the git.

As of Monday, she would spend mornings at the Ministry then Floo to Malfoy Manor to work on the project in the afternoons after lunch. Why they had to work at his home was beyond her but Kingsley had made it clear that her cooperation was imperative. He didn’t care where the work got done as long as the venture moved forward on time and on budget. Emotionally, mentally and physically exhausted, she finished her work day in a haze.

Thank goddess it was Friday; Hermione couldn’t wait for the weekend. After a restless night filled with dreams of a man’s disembodied, sultry voice telling her to do all sorts of naughty, delicious things; Hermione had dragged Pansy and Ginny out shopping in Muggle London. Far be it for them to decline, they loved her fashion taste, most especially in shoes.

“Cherry red patent-leather peep toes? I love them. Actually, I think Ron will love them. We’re heading right over to Agent Provocateur for some sexy lingerie to go with those sexy little heels.” Hermione tilted her head slightly then smiled at Pansy, “I definitely think thigh highs or stockings with garters are a must, don’t you? But before we go I just want to see the new shipment Todd has been holding for me.” Her long, loose hair framed her face in a mass of curly ringlets that fell past her shoulder blades.

Twirling around in a pair of bright yellow and pink Espadrille wedges, Ginny smiled. “I like these . . . Hermione, I love those flats you’re wearing.”

Dressed in slim-fitting off-white, low slung jeans, a midnight blue and green piping peasant top and white leather Degas ballet flats, Hermione grinned back at her friend. “Thanks. Believe it or not I got them on sale. They are so comfortable.”

Handing her purchases to the salesperson, Pansy gave Hermione a pointed look. “You’re avoiding, my girl.”

“Really Pansy, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Two words: Draco Malfoy.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and slowly and silently counted to ten. Ginny and Pansy had been trying to calm her since she’d shared the results of her disastrous discussion with Malfoy and subsequent disastrous discussion with Kingsley. “He’s a bloody prick Pansy. He hates me and I hate him. He’s horrid to me every time we see each other – and it’s before I even say a word. Last time we all got together at your house for brunch he called me a swotty, stuck-up, holier-than-thou prude. He then insulted my hair and called me ‘Plain Jane Granger,’ commenting on the fact that I was single because I couldn’t keep a man’s interest long enough to shag me.”

The lump in throat forced her to stop; she could feel tears begin to burn behind her eyes. After his nasty tirade, Hermione had simply excused herself and gone home.

Pansy and Ginny exchanged knowing looks.

“Hermione,” Ginny gently started, “You know you’re no prude and you’re gorgeous. You date plenty of men so why should you care what he says? Malfoy’s just trying to get a rise out of you.”

“Draco doesn’t mean half of what he says,” Pansy added. “I’ve known Draco since we were in nappies. What you see is not what you always get with him. I’m not excusing his behavior but he has his reasons for acting the way he does, again not excusing his behavior.” Pansy held up her hands in defense as Hermione glared furiously at her about to cut in. Pansy hurriedly said, “He’s not an easy man and his life, though privileged, wasn’t ideal. Trust me; he’s really not so bad.”

Little invisible needles were dancing along Hermione’s skin. “Not so bad? Life not ideal? Doesn’t mean what he says? Really Pansy? That certainly doesn’t excuse the way he treats me! So should I feel sorry for the poor, little rich boy who’s misunderstood? Is that what you’re implying?”

Pansy hands went up again in supplication and plopped down in one of the chairs serving as both decoration and seating for the shoe boutique.

Ginny placed a gentle and supportive hand on Hermione’s shoulder and gave a slight squeeze.

“Look, I’m fine. I just don’t get him, okay guys? He’s so horrible to me. It can’t be because I’m Muggleborn. It’s no secret he’s dated, and no doubt bedded, quite a few Muggleborn witches. He just doesn’t like me. For whatever stupid reason he has, he abhors me.” Hermione tried for nonchalance, shrugged and turned back to a shoe display to pick up a gladiator-style sandal.

Ginny toyed with another pair of heels while looking surreptitiously at Hermione. “Pansy, why did he decide to start dating Muggleborns anyway? I mean his parents must have had a magical coronary when he brought the first girl home.”

“Oh, he doesn’t bring them home,” Pansy rushed out in a single breath. “I mean, he hasn’t brought any witch home to meet his parents. Draco’s a bit old-fashioned that way. Honestly, I don’t think Narcissa really gives a damn. She never really cared about blood status – Andromeda is her sister after all and Narcissa is truly more like her. Lucius Malfoy on the other hand, well, he’s primarily motivated by money and influence right now. Since Draco controls the family estate his parents know better than to cross him.”

“Well, that still doesn’t explain his involvement in all things Muggle. His company, dating – even volunteering to help build that Muggle orphanage during his community service. Did you two know that? His volunteering at the Muggle orphanage? Harry told me.” Ginny slipped on pair of lavender round-toed heels with bow-tie buckles.

Pansy smiled slyly and looked away. “Why don’t you ask him Hermione?”

“What?!?” Wide, with a tinge of panic, eyes glanced at Pansy. “Ask Malfoy? W-w-why would I do that? I mean, it’s not like I c-c-care.” She stood up straighter then more forcefully said, “I could care less what he thinks.”

Ginny popped up. “You know Hermione, that’s actually a great idea. I mean you’ll be working together and maybe it will help him loosen up a bit around you; make him a bit more friendly? And you can get to know him a bit better as well.”

“I don’t want to know him better Ginny,” Hermione snapped peevishly. “I just want him to leave me alone.”

“Well that’s not really an option is it? And don’t you snap at me Hermione Granger, I’m your friend.” Ginny admonished her.

Hermione gave Ginny a sheepish look then walked over to her and wordlessly hugged her. A small cough interrupted them.

“Ms. Granger. Here is the shoe we’ve been holding for you. It’s from the designer’s limited edition collection and is on back-order; however, we saved one in just your size.” The store manager smiled graciously, carefully letting Hermione hold what could only be described as . . .

“Those are . . .” Pansy whispered.

Ginny cut in, “Come-fuck-me . . .”

“NOW! shoes.” They chorused before breaking into giggles.

Hermione gazed in awe at the sinfully designed 4-inch python leather sandal in muted tones of gray, bone and black. One very thin strap held the toes. But it was the ankle strap that held their attention; fringe, fringe, and more fringe. Glorious leather and feather fringe wove around a tiny, thin strap falling errantly around the shoe in an artful display.

“Todd, I’ll take them.”

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Glass of wine in hand, Hermione surveyed her closet the following Sunday evening.

Standing in a pair of bow-tied knickers and spaghetti-strapped peach camisole, she was feeling very stressed as she attempted to organize her outfits for the week. Normally, she would whip together various ensembles with shoes and handbags in 30 minutes flat. But tonight, after three hours, she’d barely managed two outfits and couldn’t for the life of her decide on what shoes.

The thought of having to see Draco Malfoy on a daily basis left her feeling anxious, tense, and apprehensive. She could barely believe that within twelve hours she’d be working at Malfoy Manor and would be subjected to all things Malfoy every bloody afternoon. Not to mention the fact that she would have to pass the room she’d been tortured in. Did they still mistreat their elves? Would they still be as arrogant and condescending as their son? Merlin, what had she done to piss off the fates?

“Stop it Hermione! It’s just Malfoy. Okay, let’s get this done.” She told herself fiercely looking into the mirror, angry with herself for the panic she saw reflected there.

Squaring her shoulders, she dove in and one hour later had put together five – smashing in her humble opinion – outfits along with shoes. Nodding to herself, she padded out to her sitting room to finally relax. Crookshanks settled on her lap after she sank down into her plush couch.

Unbidden, the image of Draco Malfoy once again rose to the top of her mind. She sighed wearily resting the wine glass on her coffee table. The man was an enigma. An arse but damn it, also a gorgeous, dark, dangerous enigma.

Alone, with no one to judge her, Hermione let her thoughts drift; thinking of what his bare body must look like. Hard, chiseled and defined muscles from years of playing Quidditch probably graced his frame. He was a man who knew what he wanted and took it, consequences be damn!

Mmm, yes. Her hands drifted to her hair and ran down her neck as she closed her eyes. His low, dark voice unyielding as he whispered dirty words into her ear, detailing what he would do to her and what she would do to and for him.

She pictured herself lying between his legs as his strong arms held her hands and forced them down from her neck over her breasts, using her hands to massage them gently. His imaginary hands kept one of hers on her hard, ridged nipple while his other hand forced her fingers into her mouth wetting each one then sliding them underneath her tiny top to play and tease the other turgid peak.

“Oh, Draco.” She whispered huskily.

She could hear the voice she was so enamored with in her ear. “That’s it Granger, play with yourself. You’re a hot little bitch aren’t you? Hot for me? You need a man who’ll take control and tell you what to do don’t you? Will you be my bitch, Granger? Hmm?”

“Y-yes, Draco.” She cried out.

Trembling hands made their way down to her silky knickers. They played with the hem, hesitantly, waiting.

“Do it Granger,” phantom Draco ordered. “Dip those little fingers into your knickers. Play with your sweet pussy for me. I know what a dirty girl you really are. Show me how wet and how hot you are for me. Spread your legs wide and make yourself cum and if you’re a good girl I’ll fuck you good and hard later with my thick cock. Do it!” His voice demanded in her head.

Hermione dove her fingers into her aching core. One hand rubbed her clit in languid deliberate circles, while she pushed two fingers from her other hand into that ache. Desperate to relieve her burning desire, she pumped her fingers in and out of her wet sex.

She imagined him cupping her heated center. “This is my cunt Granger. My pussy. You do exactly what I say and I say, right now I want you to fuck yourself until you cum screaming my name.”

Hermione pumped and rubbed faster feeling the heated slickness build within her.

“You think of me and only me, understand? I’m the man and I won’t take your shit. I’m in control and you’re my little fuck toy. You’ll take everything I give you and do everything I tell you to do.”

She could only moan at the words that played in her mind. Words that she longed to hear from the one man that could probably control her. Force her to do things no other lover – not that she’d had that many – had ever dared. Explore depths she could only fantasize about.

“Think about me spanking that pert little ass of yours, imagine me tying you up, feel me tasting and licking your sweet pussy, envision me fucking your tight ass with my huge, thick, hard cock . . .”

Phantom Draco’s words floated over Hermione as she gathered more of her own wetness. Rub, plunge; circle, pump; pinch, thrust. Her plump tits felt tight and heavy from the mere imagination of what phantom Draco told her to do. She could feel the coil in her body tighten as her head thrashed back and forth, her hips bucked and arched up.

“Oooohhh, gods, Draco . . . oh!” Panting harder and harder, short desperate gasps escaped her lips. Then her body exploded, shattering into a violent and intense bliss that curled her toes.

Stillness.

Dazed and tingly, Hermione slowly opened her eyes. She’d just masturbated thinking and hearing Draco Malfoy in her head and by all the gods, it was so good. Her body felt warm, languid and so sensitive as she snuggled deeper into the couch. She smiled lazily, relaxed in her aftermath. She gently pulled her fingers from her knickers, righted herself then stood up and made her way to her shower.

She knew she would sleep well that evening.

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I want a phantom Draco. Here is a pic of Tod's Degas Ballet Flats, now these I have but not in white and they are so comfy: http://images.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://s2.thisnext.com/media/130x130/0F46294D.jpg&imgrefurl=http://www.thisnext.com/list/866AC67F/Hottest-flats&usg=__e674WvMzkl3B99-pw19k4MZg6IQ=&h=130&w=130&sz=7&hl=en&start=9&sig2=nQu701AT2e0XUvqjcdm76g&um=1&tbnid=KqKO4v1sF5JPvM:&tbnh=91&tbnw=91&prev=/images%3Fq%3Dtod%2527s%2Bdegas%2Bballet%2Bflats%26hl%3Den%26client%3Dfirefox-a%26rls%3Dorg.mozilla:en-US:official%26sa%3DG%26um%3D1&ei=ZlnTSfyKAtKVlAe06ui0BQ