Her Shoes

Thank you to t_stevenson. You’re wonderful. Also, thank you Wildcatcdc for your advice.



Here are the Manolo Blahnik Patent Leather Mary Janes (http://www.productwiki.com/upload/images/manolo_blahnik_patent_leather_mary_jane.jpg). They also come in black but I love the dark brown, don’t you?



This is the RED Valentino dress; it’s simple yet gorgeous (http://images.saksfifthavenue.com/images/products/04/700/1206/0470012061441/0470012061441R_300x400.jpg).



All knickers and lingerie, unless otherwise noted, are Agent Provocateur. Once again, thank you for all the wonderful reviews and support. I genuinely appreciate all your kind words and enthusiasm. This is an extra long chapter so I hope you like it.



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Hermione strolled confidently into Malfoy Manor on Monday morning. She was the embodiment of professional perfection dressed in a conservative dark grey pantsuit, plain black pumps and hair pulled back into a severe bun. To her surprise, she was greeted by Meena, who handed Hermione a small piece of expensive-looking parchment.



Granger,



I’m away on business.

Back on Friday. Meena is at your disposal.



DM



DAMN IT! How was she to put her plan in place if the ferret wasn’t here to cooperate? Narrowing her eyes as she read the short note again, she smiled slowly. He was hiding! Her grin widened further. For Merlin’s sake, the bastard was afraid of facing her, she realized.



Good!



Hermione squared her shoulders, straightened her suit minutely then turned to thank the little elf. She also let Meena know she could find her way easily to Draco’s suite of apartments. She made her way up the stairs and through the portrait gallery, pausing to apologize to Cecilia for her hasty departure on Friday. She assured the worried lady that all was well and that she was now fine.



With Draco away on business, she expected it to be a very quiet week.



And a quiet week it was. She arranged to have lunch at the Manor everyday, taking small breaks to visit Cecilia and the other portraits in the gallery. Given she only had her office to contend with in the mornings, she adjusted her wardrobe and dressed herself in grey or black smartly tailored suits and equally conservative shoes. The suits lent her an air of quiet authority as well as the feeling that she was solidly back in control.



Monday seemed to fly by without incident. Tuesday, she managed to get further along on the cell phone charm. The phone worked for an hour before completely dying. Wednesday brought not only cloudy weather but also an interesting visitor and invitation.



Hermione was enjoying tea at the long table in Draco’s apartment. The fragrant aroma of calming Flowering Jasmine and Lily tea filled the air. Flaky scones along with raspberry jam and the most decadent clotted Devonshire cream had been laid out when she heard a knock at Draco’s door. She set her tea cup down and slowly rose. She frowned in confusion and curiosity, as she strode over to the door. Who would knock? Certainly not Draco.



She opened the door and found herself completely flabbergasted. Standing before her was a smiling Narcissa Malfoy. Hermione resisted the urge to point her wand at the older witch. After all, she wasn’t at war with the older Malfoys just the ferrity one. Breathing deeply she fisted her hand in an effort to control herself.



Hermione greeted the lady of the house with a small polite, painted smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, “Mrs. Malfoy. Good afternoon. Draco’s not here today.”



“Good afternoon, Ms. Granger. I’m not here to see Draco. May I come in?” Hermione stepped back to indicate that Narcissa Malfoy should indeed step into the suite. Hermione really couldn’t be sure but it appeared that Narcissa Malfoy’s smile appeared genuine.



“Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. This is your son’s suite and your home; after all, I’m but a guest. Come in.”



Narcissa Malfoy’s beauty was both regal and aristocratic. She seemed to command any room she graced with just her presence alone. She gracefully glided past Hermione and made her way to the settee seating area which Hermione had avoided all week. She sighed in resignation as Narcissa Malfoy looked to her before seating herself.



Hermione motioned with her hand and nodded. “Please sit. “Would you like some tea Mrs. Malfoy?” Hermione asked politely as she walked towards the long table holding the tea service.



“Oh goodness, Mrs. Malfoy was my mother-in-law and I never could stand the old bird. Please call me Narcissa. May I call you Hermione?”



Hermione looked at her in wide-eyed wonderment. This was decidedly strange. However, Hermione smiled again and nodded. “Yes, of course.”



“Thank you for the lovely offer of tea but I must decline, I know you’re busy, dear. Cecilia tells me you’re making great strides on your project. She’s very impressed.” Narcissa settled herself comfortably on the settee.



Strolling back towards the settees to sit, Hermione had the odd the feeling she was in an alternate universe. Was Narcissa Malfoy actually attempting to have a civil conversation with her? “Cecilia is too kind. The work can be, at times, tedious; however I have been able to make progress while your son has away on business.”



“He returns Friday, I believe.”



“Yes.” Hermione sat with hands on her lap, calmly waiting for the Slytherin beauty to continue.



“Draco’s not expected back until the late afternoon. I would very much like to invite you to have tea with me this Friday.”



Cruciatus, Imperio or even Avada Kedavra was what she expected from Narcissa Malfoy. Instead, Hermione felt as if she’d been hit with a Confundus Charm. “Tea?” She asked in surprise.



“Yes. Tea.”



“Friday?”



“Yes, my dear, is that a problem?” Narcissa smiled a little wryly as if she somehow knew of the thoughts that played within Hermione’s head.



Knowing it would be very rude to decline, Hermione found herself returning Narcissa Malfoy’s decidedly sincere smile, “I don’t believe it’s a problem at all. What a kind offer, Mrs . . . Narcissa. I would love to join you for tea.”



“Lovely. Shall we say three o’clock? It shouldn’t interfere in your time with Draco should you need to meet with him that afternoon.”



“Three is perfect.”



“Wonderful. Meena will escort you to the Solarium. Thank you for your time, Hermione. My apologies again on the intrusion.” She stood up and smiled.



Thanking her in return for her kind invitation, Hermione walked Narcissa Malfoy to the door and bid her a good afternoon and evening. She closed the door behind her then leaned against it and blinked in amazement. “How surreal.” She smiled a little bemusedly, shook her head slightly and went back to work.



Thursday came and went with little to no surprises, leaving Hermione with a some free time in the afternoon.



She thought it would be an ideal time to see if she could glean a little more on the man, Draco Malfoy. Knowing she was being a tad naughty, she decided to snoop. Nervous but resolved she first rifled through his desk, finding nothing other than parchment, quills and ink. She made her way slowly around the suite finding nothing of interest until she found herself standing in from of his bedroom door.



Did she dare? This was Draco’s inner sanctum. It would be a very personal intrusion. Wait, after what that git had done, all his manipulations and machinations, she certainly did dare. The damn sod.



She bit her lower lip as she placed her hand on the door handle. Surely, it would be charmed to prevent intruders? This was Draco Malfoy after all. But the handle turned easily. Hermione could feel her heart beat wildly as she gently pushed the door open and stuck her head inside to glance into the bedroom.



Her eyes widened in awe at the sumptuous, modern luxury that greeted her. The room was enormous and decorated in hues of whites, beiges and dark blues. Three beautiful and narrow floor-to-ceiling French windows lined the far side of the room, all opening to what appeared to be a wrap around terrace. Gorgeous white shantung silk draperies flanked each window. To her right was a small fireplace with two cozy white leather chaises framing either side of the hearth. A thick, lush carpet swallowed the sounds of her footsteps.



To the left, she noticed two doors. One was a double door to what she assumed to be his closet, the other probably led to his bathroom. She’d find out shortly. A small desk and chair sat by one of the windows, next to the desk was an owl perch.



The only other piece of furniture in the room was the massive dark oak, intricately dragon-carved four-poster bed. Merlin, it looked like it could easily fit four or five people comfortably. The bed was piled high with pillows. Hermione blushed thinking of him sleeping in the bed, wondering if he preferred pajamas or did he wear nothing at all.



His room was not at all what she expected.



She made her way towards the double doors and opened them to find his closet. Suits, shirts, trousers all hung in neatly coordinated rows, shoes lined the wall. He had built-in shelving where she assumed he kept his undergarments and jewelry. She stepped into the closet feeling as if she was entering a forbidden inner chamber. She walked along his suits and shirts, occasionally taking a deep breath to see if she could grasp his scent. Although quite tempted to open the drawers, she didn’t.



She stepped out of the closet and closed the doors behind her. Strolling over to the other door, she opened it to reveal a stunning tumbled stone bathroom with double pedestal glass sinks. A massive sunken bathtub with dozens of nozzles, jets and faucets sat at the far side of the bathroom. To her left, was an oversized, glass-encased shower with a built in stone seat. A giant rainfall showerhead was affixed at the ceiling and duo-steam showering systems lined both sides of the walls.



Merlin, all this for one man.



She stepped out of the bathroom and moved back towards his bed. She ran a finger along the comforter. Gingerly, she sat at the foot of the bed then slowly lay back and closed her eyes.



The realization that she was lying on top of Draco Malfoy’s bed, in his bedroom and intruding on his private sanctuary finally hit her. She shot up and quickly retreated; ensuring that everything she had touched was back to its original order. She certainly didn’t want him to know she’d been there snooping around. Who knew how he would react.



Hermione returned to her desk, cancelled tea and decided to finish her workday early on Thursday afternoon.



When Hermione opened her eyes on Friday morning, she realized that not only was Draco due back today but she was also having tea with his mother. So much for ending her week in a quiet, uneventful way. Throwing off her covers, she padded her way to her shower to get ready for the day. She owled Davis that she would work from home that morning then head straight to Malfoy Manor from her fireplace.



Just before leaving for the Manor, Hermione admired herself in the mirror. Pansy and Ginny had come over the previous evening to help her rethink her wardrobe for Friday. Originally, she had planned to wear another suit but knowing she would have tea with Narcissa Malfoy, she wanted a dress that conveyed the picture of the ultimate lady.



She had chosen a Muggle designer’s special collection outfit. The Red Valentino boatneck dress was made of the softest material and in a chocolate brown color which brought out her eyes and highlighted her thick curls. It was gorgeous with a flattering lady-like silhouette. The top was fitted and flared out at the waist and the hemline ended two inches above her knee. The front and back pleats gave the skirt added fullness. The sleeves were wide and nearly off the shoulder.



And the shoes capped off the entire outfit. They were graceful, elegant and demure.



She wore a very sexy version of every girl’s childhood favorite, one-of-a-kind dark brown, patent leather Mary Janes. The shoes had a 3 ½ inch leather covered heel and featured a strap with a snap closure along the vamp. Hermione looked sweet and approachable and felt every bit the lady as she took in her reflection.



She had pulled her hair back into a simple French twist, her makeup elegant; heavy on the mascara with just a hint of blush and glossy, pink lips. She shrugged into a button less matching chocolate brown robe the same length as the dress. Nodding one more time at her image, she grabbed a pinch of Floo powder to travel to the Manor.



At two forty-five in the afternoon, Meena arrived to escort Hermione to the Solarium. Unsure of what to expect and whether Lucius Malfoy would be joining them, Hermione had made the decision she would be polite and respectful, unless treated otherwise. That morning, she had shared her trepidations with Cecilia and questioned the kind lady as to what she should expect. Cecilia had merely chuckled and told her not to worry. That Hermione should give Narcissa an opportunity to make amends given she’d obviously extended an olive branch towards Hermione. Not fully convinced of Narcissa Malfoy’s motives, she reluctantly agreed to afford her a chance.



Surprisingly, tea was lovely. Narcissa proved to be a very intelligent, charming and witty witch. She opened the conversation with a heartfelt apology of events of the past that Hermione had suffered. She explained how grateful she was that Hermione had kindly agreed to work on this project with Draco. It meant so much to him. She was also thrilled Hermione had agreed to share tea with her and asked if she would consider joining her every Friday at three o’clock for tea service.



Needless to say, Hermione was both overwhelmed and flattered. By the end of their tea, she had graciously agreed to meet Narcissa for tea on Fridays. She also had been surprised to find Narcissa was a fellow shoe aficionado and had promised to take Narcissa shoe shopping with her next time she was planning to acquire more footwear. As she left the Solarium, Hermione found herself exhausted but had to admit, she had enjoyed herself immensely.



Smiling wearily, she strolled slowly back to Draco’s suites stopping to provide a brief update to Cecilia of how her tea date had gone. She shrugged out of her robes before pushing open the door to Draco’s apartments. As she walked in, she noticed that the drapes had been pulled shut and all the light extinguished save for the fireplace.



“Granger?” Draco’s deep voice resonated throughout the room.



“Malfoy. You’re back.” Hermione took a small step towards him. He lounged in the middle settee with his back to her, his body silhouetted by the light of the fire. His arms were outstretched, resting on the back of the sofa. One hand held a glass of what appeared to be fire whiskey.



“I’m back.” He drawled.



Narrowing her eyes, she remembered his prior behavior and donned her most professional voice. “Well, I’ve made marked progress this week on the cell phone charm. I’ve kept a detailed daily log of the research, all tests and results. I’ve outlined everything in my report which is sitting on your desk. Would you like to review it now or wait until Monday?”



Draco didn’t say a word. He took a sip of his drink and continued to stare at the fire.



“On second thought, I believe I’m done for the day, Malfoy. Have an enjoyable weekend.” Hermione strode to her desk and began collecting her papers, robes and bag.



“Granger, come here. I want you to sit down and speak with me.”



Hermione stopped and turned to look at him. “No Malfoy. My day is done. I’m going home. We can speak on Monday.”



“Granger, perhaps I wasn’t clear. I wasn’t asking, I’m telling you, as your superior, I want you to come sit by me and give me an accounting of your progress this week.” He demanded.



As if he’d ever be superior to her. “I just gave you an accounting of my progress,” she retorted defiantly. “I’m going home.”



“Let’s see you try and leave the room.”



Hermione snorted, grabbed her personal items and walked quickly towards the door. When she tried to open the door, it wouldn’t budge. She pulled out her wand and muttered confidently ‘Alohomora,’ but still nothing. “Malfoy, open this door or I’ll ‘Bombarda’ it so fast, your head will spin.”



“Go ahead and try it. Won’t work. This is my home, with my wards in place.” Draco replied smugly. “Now, join me on the settee and tell me about your week.”



Bloody bastard! How dare he?!?! Hermione took two deep calming breaths; she would not allow him to upset her. Fine, she would sit on his sodding sofa and repeat what she’d just said then she would leave. She walked to the settee on his right and sat at the very edge of the sofa, lips pursed she snapped, “Well?”



Draco sighed, turned his head to watch her. He appeared weary, tired lines clearly etched along his face. He was dressed in dark trousers and a lightweight long-sleeved, cream jumper. One ankle rested over the opposite knee. He raised his drink to her in mock salute. “Did you have a good week?”



What game was he playing? “It was very productive.”



Draco stared at her, smiled slightly and asked, “Did you enjoy tea with Mother?”



How did he know about that? “It was lovely.”



He chuckled softly before turning his gaze back to the fire. The crackling of the fire was the only sound in the room. Hermione was beginning to become very annoyed.



She wasn’t going to fall for his tricks. “Malfoy, are we done? I’d like to get home.”



He took another sip of his drink. “Actually, no, we’re not done, Granger. Not by a long shot.”



She had no idea what his idiotic plan was today but she was having none of it, her irritation was fast becoming anger. “Well, what did you want to know?”



Draco cocked his head to one side looking at her with those stunning silver eyes. The silver seemed to reflect the light of fire like beautiful pools of water. “You can start by telling me if you were a good girl this week.”



What the hell . . .! Hermione stiffened. He was playing games. “What the hell are you on about, Malfoy? That’s a completely inappropriate question.”



“Inappropriate? Really? As inappropriate as you breaking into my bedroom and going through my things?” He replied calmly, too calmly. “As inappropriate as you going through my closet, entering my bathroom?”



He leaned forward with an intense look in his eyes before stating in a deeper voice. “As inappropriate as you lying on my bed?”



Hermione stared back at him completely flummoxed, her eyes widened in surprise. How in Merlin’s name did he know?



He leaned back and smirked at the look on her face. “Did you think I wouldn’t place wards on my personal room? When I returned, I noticed the wards had been disturbed and imagine my surprise when a revealing spell showed the intruder was you.”



Hermione’s breathing sped up. BASTARD! She would not feel guilty. She didn’t do anything wrong. Yes, maybe she snooped a bit but she didn’t take anything.



Draco laughed heartily. “Dear gods, let this day go down in history. Hermione Granger is speechless.”



“I’m leaving Malfoy. We’re done.” Hermione shot up off the couch.



“Sit the fuck down, Granger. We’re far from done.” His voice low and authoritative, she obeyed. He finished his drink, set his glass down then asked again, “You didn’t answer my question, were you a good girl this week?”



She could feel her traitorous body responding to his tone but she valiantly fought its response. She sat there staring at Draco, anger and defiance evident in every line of her body.



“Granger,” he growled in warning.



She narrowed her eyes and whispered a nearly inaudible, “Fuck you.”



Not inaudible enough because, of course, Draco heard her quite clearly.



He was suddenly in front of her. He leaned down, grabbed and lifted her by arms up and off the couch. “You would love that, wouldn’t you? You’re such a bitch, Granger. With your fucking curls, big brown eyes and hot little body strutting around in those shoes of yours. Fucking walking around making every wizard look at you, want you and you love the attention don’t you? Everyone thinks you’re this sweet, naïve princess but deep down you’re just a hot little bitch who’s hot for me, isn’t that right? You dream of me taking you. I bet you’re wearing another pair of tiny, sexy knickers under that dress that are probably so wet right now for me, aren’t they? I bet if I dipped my fingers into what you call underwear they would be soaked, wouldn’t they? Don’t think you can fight me. Now answer my fucking question.” He snarled down at her as he shook her gently. His grip tightened, biting into her tender shoulders.



Merlin, how did they get to this so quickly?



Throughout Draco’s rant, Hermione felt desire coil low in her belly. Wetness seeped slowly from her aching pussy with every word he uttered. Her skin felt so sensitive, both hot and cold all at once. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist and beg him to fuck her, right this second on the settee. She was so desperate to quench the heat of lust that was coursing through her body.



But this is exactly what had happened the last time. She wouldn’t give into him, damn him. Bastard, she kept reminding herself, he’s a cruel bastard. “Let go of me Malfoy, or I’ll make you,” she spat at him.



He quirked a small smile and whispered, “Go ahead then. Impress me.” His words mockingly familiar from their first meeting in her office.



Hermione brought up a dainty foot and kicked him in his shin, HARD, catching him off-guard. She struggled out of his grasp and dove for her robes and bag, searching for her wand. Behind her Draco, recovered from the sharp attack on his leg, made to grab her but she twisted her body away from him and thudded to the floor as he landed face down on the settee. Scrambling to her feet, she ran to the other side of the room behind her desk.



Draco pushed himself up from the sofa and turned to her. “You fucking little hellcat!” He started making his way towards her.



“Stay away from me, Malfoy.” She snarled; chest heaving and cheeks flushed.



He smirked smugly. “Or what, Granger? Going to hex me?”



Damn him. She hadn’t managed to find her wand in her effort to get away from him. “Stop right there, I’m warning you or do you need a reminder of third year.” She edged her way behind the two desks, her back to the windows, as he came closer and placed his palms on the wood surface facing her.



Draco stiffened, the smirk melting away as he gritted out, “I’m not a boy anymore.” As quickly as it had gone, the smirk reappeared. “Well, well, looks like you’ve gotten yourself cornered.”



She wasn’t going to allow him to intimidate her further. “This is completely unprofessional Malfoy. Step away and unward your door, I’m leaving.”



“Oh no, Granger. As I explained earlier, we’re not done yet.”



She took one step to her right; he took one step to his left mirroring and matching her movement. She went the opposite way, he did the same. The git was so damn frustrating. “This is childish, Malfoy. Stop it.” Did she just stamp her foot? Oh Merlin, she did. She was so furious at being literally trapped.



He gave her a devilish grin. “I agree. So, come out from there.”



“No. I don’t trust you.” She shot back.



Hermione was genuinely angry and slightly afraid. She knew if she stepped out from behind the desk, he’d grab her, possibly crush her body to his, grind himself . . . NO! Stop it! Goddess, she needed to gain some modicum of control. She was Hermione Granger, damn it! Think, she needed to think.



“You were at The Leaky Cauldron the night before our meeting.” She lifted her chin defiantly.



His eyes narrowed before he drew himself into his full height. “Yes.”



“You sent over fire whiskey to us.” She continued, she took one small step to her right. It was the closest path to the door; the other way placed her closer to the library, opposite the entrance.



Draco remained motionless. “Yes.”



Bastard wasn’t denying a thing. “You knew I would be late the following morning. You did it on purpose.” Another baby step.



“I didn’t know you’d be late. How was I to predict you would imbibe too much that evening? I merely sent a bottle of fire whiskey to a table of old school mates,” he stated smugly.



Two more tiny steps, she was nearly at the edge, just a few more steps. Her fingers grazed along an ink bottle. “The proposal was your idea.”



“Yes. Goodness, I certainly didn’t envision this turning into an evening of confessions. Shall I repent? Act contrite? What shall be my penance?” His voice dropped an octave then leaned forward slightly. “What sinful little secrets do you want to share, Granger?”



Her hand curled around the ink as she reached the edge. Draco still hadn’t moved but continued to eye her like a hawk. “You forced Adrian to cancel his lunch.”



“I didn’t force him. As his client, I made certain requests that are within my rights including providing changes to an important document and moving up deadlines. How unfortunate that it coincided with your lunch. Anything else?” Draco’s voice was soft and low, as if trying not to scare a skittish rabbit.



“Why?” Hermione had made her way around the edge and was now casting furtive glances at the loo. If she could reach it, she could lock herself in as she knew for certain that the suite’s main door was still secure. Yes, her wandless magic was more than adequate for wards. She needed to distract him, keep him occupied.



Draco gave her a beaming smile. “Why what? Why send over fire whiskey to a table of beautiful women? Why present the Ministry with an amazing opportunity and demand their best to manage it? Why ensure that Adrian knew not to encroach on what was mine? You really need to be clearer.”



Hermione blinked, not believing her own ears. Fury rose through her body at his audacity. “I’m not yours you smug, arrogant, self-centered, conceited prick!”



“Oh, but you are. And you know it. All I have to do is stick my fingers into those wet, little knickers or maybe my tongue . . .”



With a cry of outrage, Hermione threw the ink bottle towards Draco’s head. She then ran as fast as her 3 ½ inch heels would allow towards the loo with every intention of barricading herself inside, all the while praying her wandless magic really would be enough to ward the door against the seductive Slytherin.



However, Draco had avoided being nearly brained by the flying ink bottle and his long legs ran fast behind her. Just as her fingers curled around the loo’s door handle, he grabbed her by her waist hoisting her up off the ground. She kicked and screamed obscenities as he dragged her towards the closed door of his bedroom.



“Arsehole, liar, bastard, cruel fuck, womanizer . . . I hate you, I hate you so much . . .”



He put her down in front of him and pinned her arms by her sides, trapping her body against his and the door to his bedroom. “No, you don’t, Granger. You’re just angry with me.” He leaned down and kissed her ear, licking a whorl on the shell of her ear. “Stop fighting me, you little hellcat. I’m sorry, alright. I won’t hurt you, ma petit doux. Gods, I’m so sorry.”



At both the apology and term of endearment, Hermione felt the fight go out of her. She sucked in deep gulps of air and tried to fight the tears of rage that were already spilling down her face. She felt Draco’s body relax against hers. She brought her arms up in front of her to rest her palms flat against the door. Draco spoke to her quietly, “Trust me, ma petit doux. Please.”



Hermione couldn’t believe that Draco just said ‘please’ to her. Weary, curious and nearly blind with desire, she nodded her head, acquiescing to him. Once more giving him the power to either hurt her yet again or earn her trust. She felt his hand come up and cup her cheek sweetly, his thumb grazing over the wet tracks of her tears.



“No more crying. Trust me. Relax.” He whispered still holding her tightly.



Hermione closed her eyes and nodded again, not trusting her own voice.



“We’re going to play a game alright, sweet? Will you play with me?” Merlin, that voice was so deep and delicious; it caressed and flamed her desire, causing goosebumps to break out over her already flushed skin. “Answer me, Hermione. Please.”



He’d said ‘please’ again. “Yes, Draco. Yes, I’ll play with you.”



“Thank you.” He whispered, suddenly his voice dropped an octave. “Keep your hands flat against the door, don’t turn around and don’t move. Speak when I tell you. Now, answer my question, Granger. Were you a good girl this week?”



How was it possible that with just one little dip in his voice, her entire body began to hum with desire? She could feel the moisture seeping into what Draco had correctly guessed to be tiny knickers. She wore a sexy, low-fitting thong with a purple satin panel at the front, layered delicate French Chantilly lace. The sides and back were sheer black lace, a satin and lace rose bow adorned the centre. She wondered what he would think when he saw them. And, he would see them. She felt confident in that knowledge.



“Granger? I’m waiting.” He growled into her ear. His mouth and tongue followed an imaginary line from there down her neck and rested on her shoulder, which he nipped sharply.



“No,” she moaned.



“Hmm, so you were a bad girl. You know what happens to bad girls, Granger?” His hands were roughly working their way towards the front of her dress. “They get punished, sweet. Bad little girls get spanked.”



She felt a bead of sweat form on her brow as she held her breath.



“Do you want to get spanked, ma petit doux? You were so naughty. First, with Pucey. Did you enjoy dinner? Then at the party last week with him and those other wizards, letting Pucey kiss you . . .”



Hermione’s eyes flew open and she audibly gasped. How did he know that? Wait, that was what Adrian meant when he’d mumbled about not caring if he got killed, he wasn’t referring to her. He’d been referring to Draco. She was going to have some serious words with Adrian Pucey. Soon. Well, later – Draco began to grind his hips into her bottom and she couldn’t spare Adrian a second thought at this very moment.



He chuckled. “Didn’t think I find out? Shame on you, leading him on when you know you belong to me, sweet.” His lips kept brushing the sensitive skin between her neck and shoulder, licking and sucking gently.



“Then I come home to find my wards breached. And, surprise, surprise; Granger’s been a nosey Parker. How very naughty of you.” She could feel his thick, hard erection press through her dress against her bottom as his hands worked their way to the hem of her dress. He moved back from her and said in a commanding voice, “Brace yourself against the door and stick this pert little bum out.”



Hermione hiccupped and swallowed hard. Dear goddess, he was really going to do it. He was actually going to spank her. She should say no.



“Granger? I’m waiting.” His voice hard and demanding.



She wanted this. She did. She was tired of pretending. She wanted to be an active participant, not his puppet. Biting her lower lip gently, she braced her hands, extending her arms as far as they would go against the bedroom door, spread her legs and pushed her bottom out towards Draco. She heard a low laugh as she felt her skirt lifted up and tucked around her waist exposing her lower body.



Draco groaned aloud. “Fuck, Granger, you and your knickers.”



She gave a throaty little laugh at his statement then cried out when without warning she felt a sharp sting on her bottom. She nearly jumped away but Draco’s growl held her in place. His hand came down again and again, alternating between her right and left cheek. She lost count after ten slaps. She heard herself moan with every smack against her flesh, pushing her bottom out as if asking for another. Draco increased the strength and tempo of the slaps until she was nearly crying with need. Then, just as unexpectedly as he started, he stopped.



Hermione was so overwhelmed with desire, her nipples straining against her dress; she barely heard or felt the rip of her delicate, expensive knickers or the muted sound of a zipper and cloth dropping to the floor. Draco pressed back into her body, his erection jutting free from all constraints and seeking entrance into her hot, wet core.



Draco’s voice was cracked and hoarse. “Merlin, Hermione. This isn’t how I planned our first time but I’ve got to have you.”



“Please Draco.” She moaned; her bottom pushed out further into his body.



“Please what, ma petit doux. Tell me.” He pressed little kisses to the nape of her neck, holding back so he could hear her verbalize her want, her need, her submission to him.



“Draco. Please fuck me. Please, please . . . no more games . . .” Hermione sobbed with want, her voice sounded foreign to her own ears.



“Oui, no more games. I promise next time will be worthy of you, but now . . .” With that, he thrust into her. He sighed with the pleasure of it. “So tight, so wet . . . so . . .”



Moving his hands to cup her breasts, he leaned into her and began thrusting gently and slowly while pinching her nipples through the fabric of her dress. Hermione’s eyes were closed as she pushed back into him, matching his lazy rhythm. Nothing had ever felt this good. He was so thick, hard, long and so damn hot.



“I’m going to fuck you so good, sweet.” He whispered as he pumped in and out of her.



Merlin knows how long they rocked together in that slow, sensuous way before he switched angles and began swiveling his hips, hitting just the right spot within her.



“Dear gods, Draco. Oh, yes, there.” Hermione’s guttural cry spurred him further.



“You love my cock don’t you, Granger?” He gritted out. He grabbed her hair, her French twist unraveled in his hands. “Answer.” Thrust. “Me.” Pump. “Granger.” Swivel.



“Oh yes,” she cried out.



“Say it.” He commanded.



“I looo . . . ve your cock.”



“Who’s fucking you!” He demanded.



“You Draco.” Merlin, again he found just the right spot. “There, Draco, please. Faster. Harder.”



“Hold on, witch.” Draco growled before thrusting and pumping harder and faster into her as she’d demanded.



With an animalistic cry, he reached down with one hand and found her clit. He rubbed the tiny bud while he continued to push into her as if trying to tattoo his entire body onto hers. Hermione felt her orgasm build quickly, culminating into a violent crescendo as she and Draco played out their symphony of untamed desire. Just when she thought she couldn’t peak any higher, she exploded into a starburst of sensations. Her entire body awash in millions of delicious tingles as Draco took her over the edge of sweet oblivion. She felt his hot release follow shortly after hers.



Both of them breathing harshly, Draco held her by her waist and rested his chest against her back. “Hermione?”



She vaguely heard her name being called but it was difficult to tell over the swooshing sound of her heart beat in her ears, she couldn’t be sure.



“Hermione, sweet?” Draco lifted his body from hers. “Are you alright?”



Suddenly, Hermione started to giggle, gradually building into hearty, genuine bursts of deep laughter as she tried to get her bearings.



“Granger, that doesn’t exactly instill confidence in a bloke.” Draco drawled.



“No.” Laugh. “It just that . . .” Chortle. “Oh Merlin, I didn’t think men like you existed. That was bloody amazing.” Still bent over, she heard Draco begin to chuckle as he gently righted her and turned her around to face him.



“There’s no one else like you, Granger.” He pulled her close into him and rested his cheek on top of her head.



Hermione sighed contently. Then remembered the last time they had been intimate. She worried about Draco’s latent reaction. “Draco?”



“Yes, Hermione.” His voice was soft.



“Are you going to . . . well send me away again? Like last time?” Hermione’s voice was small and childlike.



She felt Draco stiffen and then relax. “No! Merlin no. Never again. I’m so sorry.”



Hermione smiled and cuddled closer into his embrace. “Why did you then?”



He pulled away slightly to look down at her, his eyes clear and honest. “I promise to tell you everything but not now alright, ma petit doux?”



Hermione stared back at him then gave a slight nod before asking, “What now?”



Draco grinned in amusement. “Now we go into my bedroom. Will you stay? I promise to Apparate you home tomorrow, or Sunday.”



Hermione gave him a sly smile. “But I don’t have any clothes, Malfoy.”



“You won’t need any, Granger.” He replied smirking.



She laughed as he scooped her up in his arms, ‘Alohomora’d’ his bedroom door and carried her to his waiting bed.



****************************

The snooping and scene against the door was inspired by 9 ½ Weeks with obvious changes. I always wondered what would have happened if Elizabeth had just said yes to John after he came home and she admitted to being a “nosey Parker.”



Thank you for reading.