Promotion

Title: Promotion
Author: Kurt Couper
Rating: NC-17
Pairing(s): Draco/Hermione/Blaise
Disclaimer: Nothing is mine.
Summary: Set after Hogwarts. Hermione works for the two most sucessful men in the magic realm-Blaise and Draco. And things happen.
Author's Note: I've been working on this for over seven months, pathetic I know. I became sick with this story and it's why the ending sucks. Hopefully, one day, I'll rewrite it. Until then...

A lost member of the Tidewater Aristocrat, Hermione mused, was the only way she could describe her boss. Everything fit, to his devilish (and perchance debauched) long hair; his massive family library, filled with, she was sure, thousands upon thousands of dusty volumes; his education based in the Mother Country; and his moral concerns being more worldly than pious. The only difference was that Draco Malfoy was not in America. Instead he discovered the great land of Italy, finding it perfect for another business venture that would make the Malfoy fortune triple their assets. But, she thought errantly, that (the now) Mr. Malfoy's decision of embarking Italy had a little less to do with greed, and a little more about his urbane and extremely handsome colleague, Blaise Zabini, who would only join the partnership if it was in his native soil.

The brunette woman sighed despairingly as another set of papers stacked on her desk, disrupting her from her thoughts. If someone would have said, back in her sixth year of Hogwarts, that she would be working one day for not one but two attractive Slytherins (Malfoy and Zabini at that!), Hermione would have laughed unbelievingly until the person fled. But then Blaise became Head boy with her, and unspoken truce settled, sparking a form of light friendship-the Italian wouldn't exploit her weaknesses and heritage and she wouldn't tell a sole about the guttural moans that were heard from his room when Malfoy stopped by for a "visit".

A neon yellow Post-It halted her nostalgia and forced her into the present.

Bring these immediately to my office when you get them done.

-Malfoy

Beneath the memo laid at least twenty pages of, what seemed, over-due accounting that Whitfield "hadn't gotten to" yet. Aggravation washed over her and she made a note to talk to Malfoy about his deficient workforce, even though he would probably snarl her down, saying he was the employer and she was just an employee and "it would do you good to remember that!" Bloody power hog, she would retort after she walked away from his ever-smirking face.

Picking up a quill and chewing on the tip distractedly, she settled in for a good amount of over-time.

Thinking back over her ten year plan that she established back in her Hogwarts' days, the former Gryffindor princess never included being an overworked lackey for Malfoy into the mix. What it incorporated was graduating from Mecklen college with a degree in Potions and a minor in Muggle Sciences, where she'd write her thesis on "The Ramifications of the Amalgamation of Physics and Potions: What will the future bring with collected resources." After accepting whatever was equivalent to the Pulitzer Prize in the Magical Realm, she'd agree to the teaching contract she would get from Hogwarts. Thus starting her great career which would require another ten year life plan that consisted of finding a husband, settling down, and maybe producing some children.

But things didn't seem to work out, abolishing her normally always correct plan. True, she knew she was a little hopeful of Snape retiring in order for her to get the job at Hogwarts, but the statistics did seem to point in that direction. So after college, she was caught low. Hermione had no income and hardly enough money in the bank to survive on.

It was then that she decided to sell it all, cut her ties, and move to Italy where she could afford a small villa in the midst of town. The thought of changing sceneries seemed to percolate well with the brunette, but sadly didn't change her financial status. Two months later, Blaise stumbled upon her in a humble bakery shop just steps away from her home. He said he was starting a new business with Malfoy and that "you're exactly what we need to get this started off right."

That was three years ago.

Now she was the south side of twenty-four, worked for one of the most successful and profitable companies (and man), and had nothing to bloody show for it!

"Thank Merlin I'm done," Hermione whispered into the dark, rearranging the papers in a neat stack. Wiping away the exhaustion from her eyes, she put away the ink pot and quill.

When she first signed on, Blaise promised her the world: best labs to work with, all the reference books ever needed, and of course, a closed door office specifically for her- "...wonderful, Mya, wonderful. If you asked for the sun, I'll give you the moon and stars." But the holiday ended all too soon when she was needed to do banking and then fill in for Goldman and then "You need to pack up your things, Granger. We're running out of office space."

She hadn't been back to her labs in little over a month. Before she had been severed from her labs and into the dabbling world of neon yellow post-its and paperwork, Hermione had been working on a trial run of testing her hypothesis. She had been tweaking the variables and controls of the experiment for two years, but each test left her with nothing. Even though on paper everything looked plausible, she couldn't seem to get it right. It was infuriating...almost as much as Malfoy himself!

Looking up startled, Hermione realized that most of the lights were out. Everyone had left; it was nearly nine o'clock.

"Oh bugger," she groaned after looking at the clock. "I broke another date with Thomas!" Throwing her hands onto her face, she dragged them down to her chin, hoping to disappear within a moments notice. Suddenly, she felt drained from overwork and she wanted nothing more than to be in her warm bed, cuddling up in the sheets, and falling asleep.

As soon as she tidied up her desk, putting away the odds and ends left behind, the brunette made her way, papers and purse in hand, to Malfoy's office.

If offices were like hotels, then his would be considered the "pent house". Located on the top floor, it was larger than her whole cottage and at least three times as nice. The space was extremely elegant for a workplace. The lush carpet, patterned with intricate designs, was soft under her feet and she often opted to kick off her restricting heels and wiggle her toes in the fiber. Painted a rich wine, the walls graced many famous Muggle artwork and aged tapestries that left her in awe as she traced the motifs. An oversized, buttery-soft leather sofa that pressed snug against a wall countered two wing backed chairs and a coffee table; behind it all held a well-supplied wet bar. Opposite the sitting area, was the actual work desk that detained an inch thick, she was sure, layer of dust from lack of use. Sometimes Hermione wondered why the room was so extravagant since they hardly spent any of their time there. But she knew that "It's all about looks, Granger. Who'd be impressed with a damned hole in the wall?"

She hardly ever found a reason to scrutinize his private quarters, since Malfoy kept the traffic to them bare to none. Hermione was in with the lone few of her work to actually have seen the pent house-most of the others were business men, a couple of long-legged secretaries whose skirts could barely cover their arse, and some solicitors that wanted to sell the new buy-of-the-week. One of the attractions of the office was the many souvenirs that he acquired through business trips. The room was truly an eclectic masterpiece of his refined personality. She was always inwardly thrilled at the idea of seeing his new keepsakes, yet still absurdly jealous of his expeditions and ability to travel. Needless to say, every time she entered Malfoy's office, the former Head Girl was astonished.

Today was definitely not an exception.

From the staircase she saw a thin strip of light under the door, signifying that someone was there. She also heard a muffled racket. From the closed door, she could distinct the noises to be moans-sexual moans. A blush rose to the apples of her cheeks and she pressed the paperwork closer to herself. Interns often tried to work their way up the ladder by lowering themselves morally. Though despised by his behavior, it "Wasn't as if it's going to change anything. It's just a blow job, Granger, not a bloody earth shattering event. They're go-getters. Who am I to refuse?"

TO excuse them all from a possible, and likely, embarrassing situation, Hermione knocked tentatively on the door. A husky, muted voice replied, "Come in," and she opened the door. Rearrangement of clothing, bodies, and hair could be heard from the small crack she made.

Taking a timid step in the room only lit by a dim light, she kept her eyes off the settee and viewed the new addition. It was a Van Gogh oil and it truly took her breath away. It was sensual, the colors were. The warm and welcoming yellow of the cafe seemed to light even the dark cobble stones that held an avid array of all shades and tints. The shadows weren't black, but ranges of plums, wines, amethysts, and violet. The scene was compelling, vibrant, but most of all convivial. She could smell the vintage tinge and she closed her eyes, envisioning different events. Hermione could easily see herself there, sitting at the back table, reading a classic novel, and almost tasting the vivacity. She could even picture Van Gogh himself, finding the small cafe in France, and being enthralled by such brilliant colors.

Tracing the darkness of one of the buildings, she was succumbed into the painting again. "Cafe Terrace at Night," she murmured, mesmerized.

"I got it when in the Netherlands," came a heavy voice from the back of the room.

She jumped subconsciously; he frightened her. Trying to placate her rapidly beating heart, she narrowed her eyes in the dark to find, of course, Draco Malfoy staring at her with bored amusement. She was quite surprised to see Blaise beside him. Draco's twitching thigh was dangerously hitting his friend's. A satisfied grin was placed on his features, while the Italian was almost dumbfounded thick with lust. His black hair was disheveled, fringing into his indigo eyes, and his thick lips were parted as he sucked in needed breath.

"Your scared me half to death, ferret," she chided and took a cleansing inhale. Her sleepiness was coming back to her.

"I think you’re disrespecting your boss, Mya," Blaise joked, his eyes lighting up in mirth.

Raising her eyebrows boldly, she rolled her eyes. "If I was paid to respect him, then I'd be rich and acting like one of those corrupted blonde interns."

Blaise gave a sharp, narrowed glance to the blonde next to him. Draco shrugged, nonchalantly, though his demeanor proved that they'd talk about it later. Turning his attention back to the other brunette, his eyes lit up.

"Jealous, Granger?" he said, the corners of his lips coming up in a smirk. "Besides," he drawled. "If you acted like one of those perfectly virtuous interns, then we'd have to work very, very long hours," he winked.

"Yeah and I'm sure Blaise would just love that," she snorted, trying to override the feelings he was creating in her. It was then that she realized what exactly she admitted.

Her eyes went wide as she snuck a glance at her dark haired friend. He was a bit taken back, but his attractive olive complexion was free of a blush. Malfoy also looked unashamed, but blinked at her blankly. With heat flushing to her cheeks, she strolled over to the sofa and dropped the papers against his lap. They fell onto his slightly tented pants haphazardly, so he quickly placated the mess.

"Those are your papers that you needed oh-so-much," she sighed and massaged her right temple that was throbbing diligently.

"Mmmhmm," he murmured, flipping through the pages.

With a snap of his fingers, an owl came to his beck and call. He put them into an envelope and sealed it with his wand. "Take this to Knott's Accounting," he commanded.

"Are you done with me?" she asked wearily at the two, until her vision blurred together. All of the sleepless nights must have caught up to her.

"Actually, no," Blaise confessed with a smile. "We were wondering if you wanted to join us for dinner. It's awfully late and you didn't go for lunch..." he trailed off.

Surprised at the invitation, Hermione dropped her purse. "Oops," she exclaimed, kneeling down to pick up her scattered belongings.

Feeling foolish, she rattled on, "I don't know, Blaise. I'm terribly tired and I have so much to do!" After collecting her items, she stuffed them into the bag. "I missed another date with Thomas and I'm pretty sure I ruined anything that could have happened with him. I also have to start on my bills. They're a week late. And I..."

Standing up, she held out both hands to balance her. A rush of blood swirled in her head, making Draco split into two people. Forcibly blinking away the lightheaded spell, she kept her stability by hanging on to the couch.

"Whoa, Draco," she scolded. "Stop moving."

Before the chance to faint hit her, both Draco and Blaise came to her side. They eased her over to the couch they were sharing. Blaise tenderly pushed back a fallen lock of wild hair, while the blonde handed her a glass of water. Confused, but grateful, she sipped the liquid slowly, ignoring the coddling by the brunette and the intense stare from her boss. Hermione figured that being smushed between two very handsome Slytherins was not helping to calm the dizzy spell.

"I'm just really tired," she excused with a pitiful smile. "But thanks." A dark smile lit Blaise's face.

"No, Granger. You're hungry," Draco insisted with, what looked liked, a wicked grin.

Blaise nuzzled his cheek against her shoulder, his nose lifting up the thin sleeve of her shirt. Drawing abstract figures onto the top of her hand, Draco inched his drawings up her arm, stopping along her collar bone.

"Let us feed you," Blaise whispered by her ear, his forehead resting just below her jaw bone.

Overwhelmed by the twofold sensations, she mutely nodded. The two men grinned dangerously over her head and quickly dragged her thin form off the couch. They held on to her tightly, one gripping each arm, and gave her an innocent look when she questioned them.

"We’re going to disapperate to my house. Hold on," Draco instructed in a calming voice, not even giving her time to

Two hands wrapped around each hip, both digging into her skin, as he said a few words. She felt a familiar tug against her insides as she was thrown into darkness. Hermione was then brought back to the present by the gentle petting and reassurance of her bosses who just grinned at her.

"Welcome, Miss Granger, to the Malfoy Mansion," Blaise slyly smiled. "Italian style."

With her jaw slack, the brunette stared around her in awe. His house seemed at least ten times nicer than his office, leaving her own humble home reminding her idly of a primitive hut down in Eastern Africa. The decor was rich and inviting, yet somehow cool at the same time. Dark mahogany wood floors complimented well with the deep navy on the walls. A roaring flame flickered from the massive fireplace, a sofa and chairs blocking some of the heat from reaching her. Black bookcases filled with hundreds of novels, trinkets, and photos, lined the wall with the mantle piece that held two grand candelabras and a distinguished, old clock that seemed to roll off its antique value in waves. Glistening jewels sparkled from the fire place, showing an obscure, but fascinating pattern within the wood. Keeping her glance situated in, what she guessed was, the living room, she turned ever so slightly to see blank faces, casually bored, returning her gaze.

"Your living room is...comfortable," she said stiflingly, her chin rose haughtily in the air.

Draco chuckled lightly and rolled his eyes.

"Not impressed, I take?" he smiled absently. "Then, Blaise, please take Granger here for a tour while I cook us up something quick."

Both brunettes nodded, as if they had a choice in the matter. Zabini, bowing his head in a mock bow, motioned her to continue on their way, while Draco went back into the kitchen.

The Italian led her into a hallway, leaving the warm lounge behind, and walked her to a set of doors.

"This room," he pointed to the first door, “is the billiards room," he smiled and opened the door.
Inside filled a rather large table, round, and assumingly for poker, she guessed. There was also a small dry bar, a set of cues and balls, a dart board, and other Pureblood Wizard formalities that she wasn't used to seeing.

"Play often?" she asked, gesturing to the stack of dusty cards with a jerk of her head.

"No, no," he dismissed, closing the door and leading her on. "Draco and I always find ourselves occupied with something else far more fun."

The next room that was shown was the guest room, neatly ordered and free of any belonging from Zabini, claiming her wild notions that only one bedroom was shared between the two. It was bigger than her own and smelled of fresh grapes and lavender. It pleasantly reminded her of the exhaustion she felt.

Noticing her dimness shining through, Blaise gave her a heartening glance. "I'll just show the most important ones, yeah?" She nodded greatly.

Closely following the man, she observed how he hesitated over one door, pausing just ever so slightly that it almost made her bump into him.

"This is Malfoy's room," he whispered, tracing the doorknob with smooth tenderness and a smile. "Would you like to go in?"

Dismissing a yawn, she waved her hand flippantly. "Yes, yes. I'd love to see exactly how extravagant your rooms are. I'm sure he'd rub my nose in it anyhow."

Grinning smugly, he twisted the knob and stepped back, letting her enter the room first. Hermione didn't know if she should be shocked, blushing furiously, or just be appalled. This was no bedroom. This was a room just for sex!

The bed was humongous, taking over at least half of the space there. Judging from the looks of it, more than about five people could fit contently on the bed. Though the sheets were neatly made, she could tell from the slight wrinkles that they had been completely disheveled just moments before. In a dimly lit corner, the brunette thought she could spy some shackles hanging from the ceiling. She could even smell the light musky traces that seemed to be embedded in the walls.

"Somehow this is not how I pictured the Malfoy bedroom," she mused aloud, turning around quickly as to hide her growing flush.

A hidden smirk made its way to his lips while he closed the door. She walked briskly ahead of him, her long, auburn hair shaking in tune with her cute little arse. But he swiftly caught up to her, wrapping his warm arm around her trim waist and slipped his hand into her back pocket.

Startled, she twisted to see his handsome face smile impishly at her. "I'm sure Draco has a lovely start on dinner."

"Mmm," she moaned once a delicious sent filled the air. "I never pictured Malfoy as a cook."

"Well then, Mya, I'm sure this will be quite the learning experience of Malfoy's other talents."

Guiding her to the swinging doors of the kitchen, she gracefully entered the kitchen with an intrigued smile upon her face. Draco, dressed in black slacks and an open gray button-up, the sleeves bunched to his elbows and his black silk tie loose around his neck, was sitting on the marble counter. An oversized wine glass was stationed by his thick lips, licking the edge of the glass distractedly. A frying pan was sizzling next to him that he was stirring with his empty hand, keeping for even cooking.

"What are you cooking?" she asked shyly and sat down in a cast iron chair that was seated at a circular glass table.

"You'll see," he mysteriously said, jumping off the counter and resting his weight on it instead.

Blaise handed her a glass of wine and then seated himself next to her, his own drink in one hand and the wine bottle in the other. The brunette woman swirled the mauve liquid in the glass before she took a sip. The flavor was lush on her tongue, making her almost moan when it reached her taste buds.

"Do you like my home?" the blonde inquired, turning his back to the couple and his attention back to the stove.

"It's lavish," Hermione rebuked, shaking her head. "But I like it. The atmosphere seems so...cozy." Folding her legs coyly, she continued, "It also leaves my plain cottage in the dust."

Blaise nodded his head understandingly, motioning to Draco. He put the wooden spoon down and grabbed his wand from the belt of his pants. Waving it over the stereo, the gorgeous sound of jazz hits hit the area. Hermione sighed when the rich melody floated to her ears. The music reminded her of late nights, sneaking into the living room and watching her mother and father dance passionately.
A lazy grin settled upon her rosy face that joined her glazed over eyes.

"What are you smiling about, Mya," Blaise asked quietly, as if expecting a secret.

She murmured something inaudible to herself and sipped the lush wine in front of her. A pleasant wooly feeling settled itself in her brain.

"I like this," she smiled again and looked lazily over at Blaise. He gave her an encouraging glance. "It reminds me of good times."

The Italian smiled and poured the brunette more wine, getting a deadly smirk from his blonde companion.

"Dinner's almost ready," Draco announced. "Blaise, set the table."

Rising from the table gracefully, he did as Draco said. Plates, napkins, silverware, and the like were taken from the cupboards and placed on the table. Hermione caught her breath as Blaise's arm brushed against her chest. Her eyelids fluttered to and fro as she felt her nipples harden. Twisting her torso to find a comfortable position, she nearly cried out as her pebbled nipples rubbed against the fabric of her bra.

"You okay, Mya?" Blaise smiled innocently as he took in her appearance.

"Mmhmm," she breathed, the alcohol flushing her cheeks.

Seeing that she was preoccupied, Blaise stood behind Draco and stole the spoon in his pale hand. Taking a test taste of the marinate, he groaned softly.

"It's delicious," he mouthed against Draco's neck. "An epicure himself would have to bow down to you."

The blonde leaned into Blaise's body until there was no room between them. Secretly sneaking a hand to the front of his jeans, the brunette rubbed the silky flesh of his hip. Seeing the scene, a white-hot heat went straight to her core. From the wine, her fatigue, or her hunger, she felt almost dizzy with something. Draco next nuzzled his head against his friend's, covering his hand on top of the other. Guiding Blaise's hand upward, he let the dark man's hand rest on his upper abdomen.

"I love it when you say people must bow to me," Draco smirked, grabbing his kiss swiftly into a kiss.

"Oh god," Hermione whimpered and crossed her legs tightly together. Though she hinted at their relationship, she never expected to actually be a witness to it.

Both boys turned to the flustered girl, squirming in her chair. Ignoring their grinning faces, she downed her new glass of wine in one gulp.

"I didn't mean to interrupt you," she sheepishly said.

Exchanging a look, Blaise smirked. "It's really all right, Mya." With her confused look, he strolled back over to the table and sat down. "See, we didn't know how to tell you. So we had to show you."

With furrowed eyebrows, Hermione desperately tried to search their handsome faces for something. All she found were hazy, dilated eyes and fevered cheeks.

"I think I always knew," she quietly said to herself, taking a pause. "But... I just don't understand." Sipping another bit of wine, she looked again at them, pure curiosity on her face. "Why are you telling me this?"

Drawing anxious circles on the glass table, Draco coughed. This signaling Blaise, he smiled nervously. "We're telling you this because we really enjoy your company." After her confused, perhaps drunken, appearance, Blaise grinned.

Hermione stared off into the darken night, trying to comprehend. She became mesmerized by the stars that were shinning vividly through a window. Venus was sparkling greenly, almost winking at her it seemed. Finally, Blaise's words clicked in her. Her almond eyes opened in surprise and her mouth, startled, hung open a tad.

"You like me?" she squeak, overwhelmed with the news.

"Like you, Mya?" Blaise questioned. "We adore you," he whispered sensually.

Taken back at his tone, she snuck a glance at the two. The dark haired mystery was smiling a secret smile on the corner of his lips. Opaque eyes seemed to undress her and he licked his thick lips in anticipation. Draco seemed consumed with passion; lost between lust and impatience. With pinkened features, his face was still void. To her, he almost seemed to be controlling his emotions, either scared from not being able to restrain himself or the thought of her dismissal, of both their own relationship and the upcoming one between the trio, horrifying.

"I don't know what to say," the tiny girl admitted, softly. "I thought you hated me," she added as an after thought.

Blaise smoothly took her hand in his and traced the outlining of her fingers. "What would you have to say?" he asked genuinely. Kissing the tip of her thumb, he gave a slick smile.

"But..." she started, searching desperately for something. The glasses of wine were making her brain turn into wool and she couldn't exactly grasp something important. Seeking out a fidgety blonde in the corner of her eye, Hermione tried to sort out her words. "But..." the brunette continued.

Draco drowned his own glass of wine in one swallow and slammed the drink against the glass table. Startled, Hermione looked at him strangely.

"Fuck it, Blaise," he whispered to his side before he smashed his wine flavored lips against her.

Hermione gasped as he tore at her mouth, sucking and gnawing and biting. The sheer force was taking her breath away, making her struggle with breath. With her intake of air, Draco invaded between her lips, massaging his tongue with hers. The brunette whimpered at his brutal treatment and pushed herself closer to the slight roughness of his face. His five o'clock shadow scraped against her cheek, making her moan deep down in her throat. Breaking for breath, she panted lightly.

As he backed away, leaving her with an astonished gaze, he smugly smirked. The Italian shot him an annoyed look and shook his head helplessly.

"We had a plan, Draco," Blaise groaned, crossing his muscled arms idly across his chest.

Draco gestured to the still taken back girl between them. “You were talking too much," he drawled. "Not enough action."

A matching grin entered his face as he shook his head. Pieces of dark hair fell into his bright eyes while he discreetly caught Hermione's flushed attention. She bit her slightly swollen lips that he waged would taste like two of his favorite things: Draco and wine. Drawled to her moist mouth, he braced her jaw with his fingers and gently savored her. She tasted of coffee, cigarettes, and wine. Hermione arched into his pressure as he nibbled on her tender flesh.

"You're right," Blaise said, dazed as he smirked at Draco. "I think it's time we forgot the plan."

"Plan?" she questioned, confused.

Blaise begun to nuzzle her neck, softly tracing his nose around her smooth collar bone. Draco came at her other side, leisurely shifting his hand underneath her shirt. He groaned as her hot flesh burnt his hand.

"We have a proposition for you," Draco started, kissing his way on her bare side. Her shirt was up to the bottom of her bra, exposing her silky tan skin.

"It's really good, Mya. I'd take it," Blaise hinted and nibbled on her ear.

"Yes?" she asked, overwhelmed with feelings hitting the pit of her stomach. Her body felt as if it was on fire.

Draco slipped off the rest of her shirt, leaving her in a black lace bra. "More," she whispered as she stretched her body for better access. The dark Italian slipped his talented finger up her skirt and drew figure-eights against the inside of her thigh. Draco smiled at her muffled moans and licked her covered nipple.

"There's been news around the office that you hate your job," Draco whispered in her ear, biting her earlobe.

"I thought the yellow post-its were classy, Mya," Blaise smirked into her stomach.

"Anyway," Draco breathed, catching a kissing on the side of her mouth. "How do you feel about a promotion?"

She moaned with excitement, from the news and Blaise's wondering hands. They traced the lining of her knickers, massaging the skin underneath the elastic band.

"Oh yes!" Hermione cried and pulled Draco into a heated kiss.

Zabini threw his hand across the table, pushing everything off the glass. Next, he slid the brunette on top of the table, letting her skirt travel to her hips. Draco unfastened her bra and let it fall to the ground. THere, standing in all her glory, was Hermione topless. Both boys groaned at her pert, bouncy breast. The blonde took the right, while the other took the left. Gripping the edge of the table, Hermione stabled herself for the amazing sensations the boys were creating in her. Her core was throbbing, begging, to be fulfilled. She hadn't had a man in so long... And now she was about to get two!

"I need you," she whimpered needingly.

Draco and Blaise exchanged a look, then letting Malfoy take the reigns. He accioed her knickers off quickly and plunged into her wetness.

Through heated swirls, Hermione was lost in wonderful sensations. Her boss was thrusting inside of her, stretching tight walls gloriously, while Blaise continued to tend to her breast. Grabbing his lips with Draco's, the friend's shared a passionate snog as Hermione reached her end. With her pulsating against him, it was all it took to send Draco over the edge.

The Ex-Gryffindor spasmed underneath him, milking his member until he reached his own orgasm.

Glowing drunkenly, Hermione smiled at the still clothed Slytherins in front of her. Blaise grinded his engorged member against the bottom of Draco's arse.

Pulling Blaise by his belt loop, Hermione grabbed his lips in a swift kiss.

"I think I'll take that promotion, Mr. Malfoy," she smiled and tucked her wild hair behind her tiny ears. "As long as I get these added benefits."


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Yes, I hate this story, but it's so dear to my heart just because it took me too many months to complete. Hoped you liked.