That Swedish Thing

That Swedish Thing

Without pausing to question the rationality of what she was about to do, Hermione snatched up her wand, the new one she’d been given before checking out of St. Mungo’s, and apparated away from her flat. She appeared a few seconds later in the entryway of the Ministry of Magic.


The atrium was buzzing with people, but Hermione ignored them when they stopped and stared at her in amazement. She noted, as she passed through the crowd, that her disappearance and sudden reappearance must have become common knowledge by now. Whispering followed her as she boarded a lift and waited for the door to close behind her; no one dared to join her as she gazed out into the sea of people with deadly intent in her eyes.


She got off on level two, the floor designated for Aurors and Magical Law Enforcement, and made a beeline for an office she knew was located on the far left side past all the cubicles, an office she knew rather well.


Hermione entered without bothering to knock and pulled her wand on the office’s occupant, a man she’d been best friends with for over half her life, placing the length of wood directly under his chin once she’d crossed behind his desk.


Her voice was a dangerous whisper as she bit off every word; no sign of the breakdown she‘d had earlier apparent in her demeanor. “What did you do?”


Harry’s face was a stony mask that gave nothing away. The war had taught him well. “So, you’ve remembered.” It was not a question to be answered, simply a statement of fact.


“Yes, you bastard, and I swear on the memory of Albus Dumbledore, if you don’t answer my questions, I will kill you.”


And Harry believed her. Because this wasn’t his Hermione, the Hermione he and Ron had rescued from a troll in the girl’s bathroom during first year, the Hermione who had helped him get through the war with Voldemort intact, he wasn’t dealing with her. That Hermione was gone forever.


This was Malfoy’s whore.


“I did what I had to.”


-


A month passed and it didn’t seem like they were getting any closer to finding out who had framed Malfoy. Christmas had come and gone, but Hermione had made no mention of it to him. Any talk of family seemed to bring out his bad side and that was something she’d done a good job of avoiding since they’d called their truce after what Hermione liked to refer to as the ‘incident.’


She would be lying, however, if she said she hadn’t thought about it though. Christmas was her favorite holiday and she was sorry she’d had to miss out this year. She wondered if Harry and Ron were searching for her, and she wondered if she wanted them to find her or not.


It was New Year’s Eve and she was waiting for him to come back from the Ministry. He was late again and she was worried he’d been caught somehow. She wished she didn’t worry about him when he left, but she couldn’t help it. It was a part of who she was.


They’d formed a rapport over the last few weeks and while she didn’t consider him a friend exactly, she’d grown to enjoy his company.


He was intelligent, but she’d always known that, him having trailed her marks at Hogwarts, and he was handsome, but she’d known that as well, although it was always overshadowed by his horrendous attitude towards her. Both of these traits put together when he wasn’t trying to make her miserable, however, were rather disconcerting. And she’d caught herself laughing at some of his more cynical remarks when they perused what they’d started calling the ‘war papers’ together.


He’d been much nicer as well, even bringing her a trunk of clothes he said had once belonged to his mother. They’d been a few centimeters too long as Narcissa had been a little taller than her, but she’d been grateful for the fresh garments all the same.


They’d evaded any and all talk about the incident, but it was getting harder to ignore, especially since they were together practically every moment of the day as they searched for the key to Malfoy‘s innocence. It was like a pink elephant in the room that they both had to step around every time they came into contact with each other. Hermione knew Malfoy could feel the tension between them just as she did, it was a dark pull that tugged at her consciousness, and it was starting to influence both of their actions.


They were gravitating towards something.


If she didn’t know any better, she would almost believe he was scared of her now that she’d taken the control out of his hands. It was no longer just a case of her being a captive. Now, even if she had the chance to escape, she wouldn’t take it until she finished helping him. He’d appealed to her sense of justice and that wasn’t something she could turn away from.


No, she would have to see this thing through, even if it led her down a path she feared to tread, a path that held the secret to a downfall of her own creation.


The door to the library crashed open and interrupted her musings of the last month. Malfoy ungracefully stumbled through the doorway, a large stack of files hindering his vision.


“Granger! A little help here would be appreciated.”


“Sorry, Malfoy, I was unaware that I was now your butler,” she remarked as she rushed over and grabbed half of the pile before it could topple over. Working together, they moved the files over to the desk and set them on top of its already covered surface.


Hermione sighed as she glanced over the increased amount of paperwork they had to search through. “Which files did you pinch this time?”


Malfoy shrugged. “Loony’s, Tonks’, Longbottom’s, and a few of the Death Eater interviews.”


“That’s Luna, Malfoy,” she said as she glared at the blond.


“Whatever.” Another shrug accompanied this astute statement.


Hermione wasted no more time arguing and took a seat in the leather chair behind the desk as she pulled a file off the top. “Well, we better get started.”


“Hold on.”


Confused, she waited for him to explain and was surprised when instead, he pulled a small bottle from inside his robe and enlarged it to its full size.


In his hand was an ‘82 bottle of Chateau Petreuse.


“Where did you get that?” Amazement colored her voice.


He answered her as he worked on the cork. “A case of it was sent to my parents by our French relatives. It’s been collecting dust in our cellar ever since and I stole a bottle to keep for a special occasion.”


Hermione raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “And what’s this special occasion? Successfully kidnapping a former enemy?”


Malfoy gazed at her with hurt eyes and she instantly felt sorry for her words. He reached for the crystal highball glasses sitting on the bar next to the desk and poured the rich red wine into them. “No, it’s to celebrate the new year, a year I hope will mark my reinstated innocence.”


She smiled as she accepted a glass from him and took a sip, the Bordeaux trickling down her throat and the tart flavor filling her with warmth. “What makes you so sure?”


He clinked his glass with hers and took a quick gulp before answering her question. “Well, I have you, don’t I?”


Her eyes snapped to his to discern his meaning and she was shocked at the amount of depth in the gray, a wealth of emotion that both thrilled and terrified her. This was it, the moment, and she had no idea what to do.


“Malfoy -”


But he didn’t let her get out another word as his lips sealed over hers and the glass slipped from her fingers and shattered on the floor. Her mouth opened when his tongue pressed against her bottom lip and her fingers curled in his hair as she moved closer. The taste of the wine passed between them as their tongues twisted and twirled together. She felt his hands wrap around her waist before hauling her tight against him, leaving no space between their bodies.


When oxygen became an issue, they drew back and took in large gasps of air. Hermione caught his bottom lip in her teeth and sucked it deep into her mouth, drawing a heavy groan from him, his hips thrusting into her abdomen and letting her know exactly what kind of effect she was having on him. She released his lip and his forehead rested against her own, both of their eyes hazy with desire as they watched each other.


“Come to bed with me,” his words were soft, as if he was afraid of destroying what was happening.


Hermione had a moment of indecision, but she knew what her answer would be and she breathed it out before drawing his head back down for another kiss, this one even deeper than the last.


“Yes.”


She didn’t even remember him picking her up or the trip down the corridor as they left a trail of clothes behind them on the way from the library to his bedroom, but she felt her back hit the mattress as her nails scraped down his arms, eliciting a growl of approval from him. His hand found her breast and gave the globe a firm squeeze as he nipped at her ear. Her skin was on fire when he placed his full weight on top of her and she could feel every inch of him pressed against her.


His mouth moved down to her neck, leaving wet kisses down the column of skin and his tongue scraping every sensitive spot he could find. She writhed beneath him, her hips lifting off the bed and grinding against his own, as he tweaked her nipples. Hermione grabbed one of his hands and directed it towards her slit, but he only chuckled.


His body moved even lower, sliding down hers, and he took one of her lovely tits in his mouth, swirling his tongue around the rosy bud and drawing it deep between his lips. Hermione cried out at the sensation as her fingernails bit into his shoulders, her legs wrapping themselves around him as each pull from his mouth tugged at her center. He switched to the other breast, giving it the same treatment as his hand traveled lower.


Hermione nearly shot off the bed at the first touch of his hand on her clit, the tip of his finger lightly dragging across the sensitive bud. She whimpered as he pressed more forcefully, the double stimulation making her wetter than she already was. Before her mind could fully comprehend, he released her breast from his mouth and her clit had taken its place.


His teeth gently grazed the bud as his tongue teased her. She squirmed with insatiable need until his hands stilled her by gripping her hips tightly. The tip of his tongue dipped between her sweet nether lips, lapping up the wetness he found there, and his thumb continued vigorously rubbing her clit. Two of his fingers joined his tongue and powerfully thrust against her inner walls, the nerve-endings in her body beginning to tingle as she started to climb. His fingertips scraped the inside of her center and found what he’d been looking for as he put more pressure on the sensitive spot.


Hermione felt wave after wave of release crash over her as the tension in her body broke and he plunged his cock inside of her as she howled in completion. Not giving her a moment to recover, he immediately pulled out and pushed himself back in, going even deeper than before. She once again circled her legs around his hips as their mouths met in a mesmerizing kiss.


Sweat formed on their bodies as he started to build a rhythm, her hips lifting off the bed to meet his thrusts as the headboard knocked against the wall. Her nails left scratches down his back as she tried to find something solid to hold onto, the head of his hardness bumping her cervix making her stomach clench with want. His pubic bone rubbed her clit as the pace of his strokes increased, his hands clasping the bed sheets to keep himself upright, and the sound of their hips clashing echoed off the wall bringing their fervor to dizzying heights.


They exploded together, her walls clenching around him as his seed pulsed into her womb. Their lips meeting in a drugging kiss as they shared breath, pants escaping from their lungs. Hermione coiled her fingers into his hair and brought his mouth deeper into hers, the last tremors of her orgasm dying out.


He collapsed beside her on the bed and when they fell asleep this time tangled together, she felt the difference as his arms curled around her.


tbc...