Hunter and Prey

Draco thought as fast as the tame lightning in her muggle machines. He kissed Hermione, wanting to show her there could be passion without violence or Weasley slobber. It was all for the guard, though why he was important Draco had no idea. He was not going to question the opportunity presented by her flirting.

Her hands clenched instinctively on his arms, her nails digging in. The werewolf had only kissed her once. It was not something that alarmed her and after the first surprised reaction, Hermione relaxed. Draco was a good kisser as well as a good actor she might as well make the best of it. Her thudding heart gradually calmed.

He broke the kiss only when he ran out of breath. She tasted of cinnamon and the only thing keeping her from finding out how much he had enjoyed that was her stomach brushed his before his groin touched hers. Draco told himself to say something so she would think this was an act but she beat him to it.

“He’s gone.” Hermione laughed again, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She felt like she was fourteen again and flirting with Viktor in the library, though he had never kissed her as hotly as that. He was a nice guy. Draco Malfoy had never been accused of being nice in his life. Dousing herself with mental cold water, she said. “You said there were several reasons.”

“Who was he?” Draco asked and used the moment Hermione looked away towards the retreating guard to covertly adjust himself. Think of Goyle naked. Ah, that did it. She turned back to him and rolled her eyes.

“Audrey’s brother Edwin.” Hermione saw he did not get it. “Audrey is Percy’s wife. Percy Weasley.” She kept feeding him information until the Eureka moment. Then he rolled his eyes. “Quite. So now details of our snog will be winging its way across England. Molly Weasley knew within fifteen minutes the first time Ron and I had sex.”

“Thank you for that mental image.” He smirked. Who needed Goyle naked when you had Weasley hot to trot? With that cooling his ardour, Draco was able to speak quite negligently when he aired one of his other reasons for venturing into the depths of the Ministry. “We, you will note the plural, received an invitation to the Flints’ summer party. An invitation that was not forthcoming to myself or my parents previously.”

“The Flints are hardly the most lauded family in Britain.” Spending a stifling afternoon making small talk with pure-bloods was not high on her To Do list. Hermione had no penchant for masochism. She strode through the Ministry thoroughfares, aware she was garnering more than the usual stares. So she slowed her stride and took Draco’s hand. Her reputation was very important to her. Better a pure-blood’s inamorata than a werewolf’s bitch.

“That is true. However they have a lot of connections across the political spectrum. Their party will be an efficient way to air the plan.” He answered smoothly, having rehearsed his strategy. Her casual nod showed him how little she thrilled at the prospect. He tried another tack. “Have you been invited to any social events this season?”

“Have you?” Hermione asked mildly and his hand clenched around hers. He was going to pull away so she squeezed his fingers to hold him. She had learned that with Ron. Once he disengaged there was no talking to him. Her dinner with him had convinced her of something she had only suspected; there was a lot more to Malfoy than prejudice and arrogance.

“There have been no invitations for several years.” Draco said blandly. His eyes were cool. He could have been carved from marble. He extricated his hand. Hermione met his stare.

“Screw them then.” She said briskly. He gave her a patronising look. “I am serious. They’re just like Slughorn toadying up. And Marcus Flint has the looks and manners of a troll. He is still a horrendous bully. Last season when the Harpies played Falmouth, he nearly had Ginny off her broom after word got out she was expecting.” Hermione shook her head. “Tell them you have something better to do.”

“I don’t.” The scion of Malfoy answered dryly.

“Then find something.” Hermione flicked her wand across a ward gate and stepped into a floo grate. “Surrey exit.” She said clearly and vanished into the green flames. Not one to let anyone have the last word, Draco followed her. He stepped out of the hearth into a Ministry building with all the charm of a muggle bus shelter. Following the witch through the front door, he found himself in a park in the heart of suburbia. Looking back, he had just stepped out of a small brick building with a council sign bolted under the eaves.

“A public loo?” Draco wrinkled his nose. Fair enough the Ministry needed to camouflage its access portals but really, did they need to go that far? Anyone who could afford it maintained a private floo connection. It did not occur to him the issue might have been more of secrecy than knuts. He would never marry a Muggle and have to lie about what he was.

“Glasgow exit is piggy-backed onto a sewerage treatment substation.” Hermione disguised herself then tucked her wand out of sight. There was a confounding ward around the building to keep anyone from noticing the people coming and going. As any mother of small children would tell you, there was never Toilets when you needed them. “I’m going to see my parents.”

“Is that my cue to make an excuse and exit?” He looked around them then back at Hermione. She expected him to shy off. Draco made himself look like his Muggle CEO. What he meant to say was ‘I am not going to leave you to walk around lone.’ It came out a little differently. “I’m not going to leave you alone.”