100 Moments
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,649
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
100
Views:
10,649
Reviews:
52
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Lunch
Title: Lunch
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: Suggestive language.
Summary: #57 – Lunch. He wanted her for lunch.
Word Count: 801 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Yes, I love HG/PW…
Prompt 57 – Lunch
Tea and sandwiches, that had been the norm for the past three years. Hermione Granger ate slowly, enjoying the sandwich, which had become a staple in her diet. Across the desk, sitting back in his padded leather chair, the Deputy Minister of Magic did not seem to enjoy his lunch. Instead, Hermione was trying her best to ignore the weight of his turquoise eyes upon her collarbone, visible above the neckline of her dress.
It was warm in the office, and Hermione had doffed her usual robes of dark red (or plum depending on how the light settled upon the fabric), a signifier of her position as a barrister and a member of the Wizengamot. She and the Deputy Minister were chairs of conflicting factions in the courts, but every day, for the last three years, they took lunch together, usually arguing…or laughing.
Hermione shifted in her seat, reaching for her tea and slowly bringing the rim of the china to her lips. She could feel his eyes now upon her lips.
She had felt his eyes upon her many times through the three years they would take lunch, but today, mid-afternoon in the first week of July, she wondered why his gaze felt so different.
Finishing her sandwich, she washed it down with the last of her tea. Their lunch break was long, and most often they ate first and then ‘got down to business,’ which meant discussing the agenda for the afternoon or cases tried in the morning.
Turning her attention to the Deputy Minister’s face, she smiled blandly, trying not to make it known that his gaze unsettled her.
The youngest Deputy Minister in an age, Percy Weasley had the air of authority. When he first began working for the Ministry, he was nothing more than a Fudge sycophant, but now…he was next to Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt…and no longer a lackey. Percy Weasley had come into his own…and demanded respect.
He had grown to be a handsome man, long crimson hair, luminescent turquoise eyes behind silver framed glasses, wide shoulders, and a toned physique that many of the female office workers found particularly attractive. But Percy Weasley was stoic, humble, and at times frightening…especially in court.
Hermione respected him. Of course, Hermione was not someone to be overlooked either…
“Can I say something to you, Miss Granger? Something that you will not misconstrue as possible sexual harassment?” he asked softly, setting his tea on his desk, leaning back into his chair to weave his fingers together.
Hermione blinked. “I…I suppose?” she uttered with uncertainty
“For three years, you and I have been having lunch, and for three years, you have sat just where you are…legs crossed, the top button of her dress undone, your hair let down. At first, I thought you were trying to seduce me in some coy manner…but now I know that you are too innocent to ever conceive to tempt me to do something untoward…”
Hermione blinked again, her lips parting. She was…too stunned to speak.
“But the problem is this: I want to do something untoward, and I do not think I can endure another day without informing you, Miss Granger,” he said with the same formality he used in court.
Unable to form a retort, Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Her mind was whirling, but part of her knew that Percy Weasley’s feelings, conveyed with the clinical manner in which she had grown accustomed, were honest…and tightly controlled.
“What did you have in mind, Deputy Minister?” she finally asked, her breathing become short due, in part, to her unease, and, in part, in wondering if it would take another three years for Percy Weasley to comment on the unresolved professional and sexual tension between them.
Percy grinned, the first real expression of his true self she had seen in a long time.
“I would not mind ripping that drab dress off you, bend you over my desk, and driving my cock into you…” he whispered, his turquoise eyes shimmering from behind his wire frame glasses.
Hermione’s belly tightened at the sound of his voice, and the implication of his words.
“I want to fuck you on my desk, Hermione,” he growled in a whisper, his voice changing into something deeper, baser, more feral than the voice he used in court…and far more frightening.
“I want to make you want me as much as I want you right now…”
Percy’s sharp eyes moved to her bare knees just visible from the hem of her dress…and to the motion of her thighs rubbing together slowly. Hermione slapped a hand to her lap and was still.
“N-now is not a good time…Depu-Percy…” she rasped, closing her eyes, angry that her body was so responsive to the sound of his voice. “M-maybe after lunch…”
Author: ianthe_waiting
Rating: MA
Disclaimer: The Harry Potter books and their characters are the property of JK Rowling. This is a work of fan-fiction. No infringement is intended, and no money is being made from this story. I am just borrowing the puppets, but this is my stage.
Genre: Drabble
Warnings: Suggestive language.
Summary: #57 – Lunch. He wanted her for lunch.
Word Count: 801 words.
Author's Notes: Drabble: a slice of fic in less than 1500 words. Yes, I love HG/PW…
Prompt 57 – Lunch
Tea and sandwiches, that had been the norm for the past three years. Hermione Granger ate slowly, enjoying the sandwich, which had become a staple in her diet. Across the desk, sitting back in his padded leather chair, the Deputy Minister of Magic did not seem to enjoy his lunch. Instead, Hermione was trying her best to ignore the weight of his turquoise eyes upon her collarbone, visible above the neckline of her dress.
It was warm in the office, and Hermione had doffed her usual robes of dark red (or plum depending on how the light settled upon the fabric), a signifier of her position as a barrister and a member of the Wizengamot. She and the Deputy Minister were chairs of conflicting factions in the courts, but every day, for the last three years, they took lunch together, usually arguing…or laughing.
Hermione shifted in her seat, reaching for her tea and slowly bringing the rim of the china to her lips. She could feel his eyes now upon her lips.
She had felt his eyes upon her many times through the three years they would take lunch, but today, mid-afternoon in the first week of July, she wondered why his gaze felt so different.
Finishing her sandwich, she washed it down with the last of her tea. Their lunch break was long, and most often they ate first and then ‘got down to business,’ which meant discussing the agenda for the afternoon or cases tried in the morning.
Turning her attention to the Deputy Minister’s face, she smiled blandly, trying not to make it known that his gaze unsettled her.
The youngest Deputy Minister in an age, Percy Weasley had the air of authority. When he first began working for the Ministry, he was nothing more than a Fudge sycophant, but now…he was next to Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt…and no longer a lackey. Percy Weasley had come into his own…and demanded respect.
He had grown to be a handsome man, long crimson hair, luminescent turquoise eyes behind silver framed glasses, wide shoulders, and a toned physique that many of the female office workers found particularly attractive. But Percy Weasley was stoic, humble, and at times frightening…especially in court.
Hermione respected him. Of course, Hermione was not someone to be overlooked either…
“Can I say something to you, Miss Granger? Something that you will not misconstrue as possible sexual harassment?” he asked softly, setting his tea on his desk, leaning back into his chair to weave his fingers together.
Hermione blinked. “I…I suppose?” she uttered with uncertainty
“For three years, you and I have been having lunch, and for three years, you have sat just where you are…legs crossed, the top button of her dress undone, your hair let down. At first, I thought you were trying to seduce me in some coy manner…but now I know that you are too innocent to ever conceive to tempt me to do something untoward…”
Hermione blinked again, her lips parting. She was…too stunned to speak.
“But the problem is this: I want to do something untoward, and I do not think I can endure another day without informing you, Miss Granger,” he said with the same formality he used in court.
Unable to form a retort, Hermione bit the inside of her cheek. Her mind was whirling, but part of her knew that Percy Weasley’s feelings, conveyed with the clinical manner in which she had grown accustomed, were honest…and tightly controlled.
“What did you have in mind, Deputy Minister?” she finally asked, her breathing become short due, in part, to her unease, and, in part, in wondering if it would take another three years for Percy Weasley to comment on the unresolved professional and sexual tension between them.
Percy grinned, the first real expression of his true self she had seen in a long time.
“I would not mind ripping that drab dress off you, bend you over my desk, and driving my cock into you…” he whispered, his turquoise eyes shimmering from behind his wire frame glasses.
Hermione’s belly tightened at the sound of his voice, and the implication of his words.
“I want to fuck you on my desk, Hermione,” he growled in a whisper, his voice changing into something deeper, baser, more feral than the voice he used in court…and far more frightening.
“I want to make you want me as much as I want you right now…”
Percy’s sharp eyes moved to her bare knees just visible from the hem of her dress…and to the motion of her thighs rubbing together slowly. Hermione slapped a hand to her lap and was still.
“N-now is not a good time…Depu-Percy…” she rasped, closing her eyes, angry that her body was so responsive to the sound of his voice. “M-maybe after lunch…”