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There was something wrong with Hermione.
“Was that good?” Oh, what was his name again? Ah, it didn’t matter…
Hermione smiled and did what she did best when put in this sort of situation…
“It was great,” she panted.
…lied.
It seemed that he bought it because he grinned that stupid, handsome smile as he crawled from his position between her legs.
“Well, that’s only the start,” he purred, positioning himself.
She felt bad for lying to him, but at this point, she was so proficient at it. A number of suitors have tried and failed to turn her on.
As what’s-his-face pushed in, she sighed along with the wizard but not in the same way. More like coming home to chores.
Thrust.
A mountain of dishes.
Thrust.
Overflowing laundry basket.
Thrust.
Paying bills. So many bills. She shuddered.
“You feel so good,” he groaned.
Hermione smiled before letting out a (fake) moan of pleasure. She watched as the wizard’s hips stuttered. Thank the gods. He was finishing. Once emptied, he fell over next to her on the bed. Mentally, she calculated when it was appropriate for her to leave.
After a few breaths, she sat up. She went to gather her belongings.
“Where are you going?” he spluttered, almost unbelieving that a woman would leave after such a performance.
“I have to go,” she said as she struggled to put on her tight gold dress.
“What do you mean?” The wizard clambered off the bed. His hands reached out to stop her escape attempts. She flipped her fluffy, blown-out curls, which took ages to produce, to glare at him. He shrank back. “Oh, alright. Can I floo-call you?”
“No.” She sighed. “Actually, if you see me, never talk to me again.”
“What!?” Even in the dim light of the room, she could see his face turn tomato red. “We had a nice time. I took you out. You agreed to come over? What’s the problem?”
Hermione paused her redressing as she peered through the curtain of her soft curls at the audacity of the wizard. She lifted her lip to expose her canine in annoyance. “A nice time for you, maybe. For me, it was nonstop, you bragging about your position at the Ministry over a cheap dinner, which you asked me to split with you. Getting mildly fucked on a lumpy mattress, I could’ve done without. ”
“Cheap!” he shrilled. “Also, you’re one of those feminists, aren’t you?”
After putting on both of her heels, Hermione stood at her full height. She silently sent a stinging hex at the wizard. From the way he howled in pain, it might’ve been too much. She might lose her license as a Healer, but she didn’t care. Who were they going to believe, a nameless wizard or a former war heroine? It might’ve been ten years prior, but her Order of Merlin, First Class still turned heads… But not raises at work…
“I’m home,” Hermione sighed as she pushed through the front door of her darkened shoebox flat. After kicking off her shoes, she fell onto her sofa with a thud. Her unseeing eyes stared towards the one feature of the flat that she liked, the long Victorian windows that overlooked Diagon Alley below.
As per usual, no one said anything back. Two years ago, her beloved familiar passed away. Five years prior, her long-term relationship with Ron had ended. It was on its last legs. A year before that it came out, he racked up a ton of debt investing in failed get-rich-quick schemes. Along with her converted Muggle assets and her Gringotts vaults, she was able to bail Ron out.
At the time, she thought it’d make them stronger as a couple.
It wasn’t the first or last time she’d been wrong. But this one might’ve left deeper scars than any other wrong choice she had made before. First, he asked that Hermione never tell anyone about his debt. So, it was a complete shock to everyone in their circle when they broke up. Even though Harry, most of the Weasleys, and their old friends said they wouldn’t choose sides, a lot of times Hermione’s invitations had slipped through the cracks. It was fine because she couldn’t afford it anyway. She still saw Ginny often, but even then, there was a strange strain that hung over them.
As if she knew the real reason for the end, but she was hurt that Hermione wouldn’t tell her. Ginny was right, of course. She was choosing Ron over Ginny in this situation.
“How was the date last night?”
Hermione blinked up from her charts to find Theo standing at her elbow. The nosy bitch. He was constantly buzzing between Healers, trying to get the latest gossip. A broker of lore, as he liked to call himself. He was the one who told her that Romilda Vane and Ron moved in together. They were playing house. He was also the first one to tell her that Percy was gay. But that was easy because Theo was the one who was taking back shots from him (his disgusting, graphic words, not hers). Now he was trying to get the firsthand account of Hermione’s love life.
“It didn’t go well.” She stretched her neck from side to side. She shouldn’t sleep on her sofa ever again.
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Theo hummed. He toyed with the potion vials on the counter. “On to the next one, I say.”
Hermione stilled his roving fingers. “Shouldn’t you be making rounds right now?”
He hummed, returning to standing. “Right. What are you doing tonight?”
“I have a double,” she said absently as she went back to her charts.
“Really? You’ve been taking on a lot of shifts.”
“It’s always been like that.” Which wasn’t true. She had to rebuild her funds somehow. Not only that, but before she found out about Ron’s financial illiteracy, she had to take out a loan from Gringotts to cover her Healer program, figuring it was better to borrow to build her credit and pay it off with her money.
Post-war, the economy had been in tatters. Reparations from the rich Pure-Blood family had hit an injunction. They didn’t want their money to be allocated without their own oversight. The Ministry was at an impasse as the goblins at Gringotts had no magical or legal obligations other than keeping the bank running and money accounted for.
Strangely, the only person who had donated a few vaults to the rebuild was Draco Malfoy. Even so, it didn’t turn the public in favor of him. The general consensus was that Malfoy walked away relatively easily. Even though he was a child, his choices caused such irreversible damage that he became a pariah. Only occasionally gracing the pages of the gossip column. The rare photo showed him dressed in expensive black suits. It was clear he hadn’t been hurt from that. Rich tosser.
Minister Shacklebolt could’ve allocated a scholarship to Hermione, off the books. But that wouldn’t have been right. Hogwarts still had parts of the castle closed off from damage ten years later. Complete repair was not a priority as incoming students were projected to be lower for the next decade.
Needless to say, Hermione needed the money, and so she worked herself to the bitter bone.
The night wore on as she looked after patients with minor injuries. She set bones before administering Skele-Gro. She prescribed potions and wrote apothecary notes. She looked into people’s dilated eyes. She was on her feet the majority of the time, ready for anything that the clinic might’ve thrown at her.
By the end of her double, she went back to her empty, dark shoebox flat. She ended up on the sofa once more. She was too tired to move to her bed, which wasn’t too far. In fact, the bed was in the same room. That was how tired she felt.
“I’m tired of being poor…” she whispered into the cheap material of her sofa.
The next morning, Hermione woke to the rings of her landline. After a languid stretch, she got up to pick up the phone.
“Hi, mum,” she yawned.
“Hi, lovey.”
It took a bit of effort, but Hermione was able to locate and heal her parents. There was an adjustment period for their relationship and relocation back to Britain. But through honesty and love, all three of them managed to get stronger.
“I know you said no because he was a muggle…”
“Mum!”
“I know, I know, but…”
As her mum continued to ramble on, the alternating tapping of two owls pulled her attention. With the phone pressed against her ear, she went to the window to find Bat, Romilda’s owl. The other was the Prophet's delivery.
Hermione sighed as she pulled the small satchel. The weight and jingle of the bag made her lips curl. She poured the contents onto the console table: Two galleons, a sickle, and a tightly rolled note. The other owl unceremoniously dropped the newspaper before flapping away.
Sorry, Hermione. A bunch of things came up last month…
The movement on the front page pulled her attention. There on the cover was the real reason. He had proposed to Romilda with a brand-new diamond ring, which he no doubt used his last month’s paycheque for.
“…And that is why you have to go on the date tonight. Or else my social standing with the book club might be in peril,” her mother pleaded.
The looping photo of her ex and his fiancée pushed Hermione over the edge. “Yes, sure. I’ll go tonight.”
“Wonderful! It’s at a really posh restaurant inside the Savoy.” Her mum put on her most hoity-toity voice.
Hermione let out a humorless laugh. Her eyes locked on the photo. “Right. I’ve got to go. I love you.”
“Love you too, darling.”
The closer Hermione glared at the twinkling jewel, the more she realized that he must have borrowed gold from Harry.
Fuck.
Harry. A part of her wished that she had taken him up on his offer of paying for her Healer program. But Ron had advised her against it. He didn’t want their best friend to know anything about their finances. And now it was too late. The Potter family had expanded with a third baby on the way.
Hermione sighed. She checked her wristwatch. She didn’t have time to sulk. She had to run to Gringotts to deposit before her shift.
After a quick shower (thankfully, it wasn’t a hair wash day as she still had it nicely blown out), Hermione threw on her casual Muggle clothes. She floo’d to the Leaky. It was early, so no one was out and about. No one would ask her opinion on the engagement. No one to humiliate her.
Well, no one to humiliate her about Ron. The goblins were another story.
“Ms. Granger, you have deposited two galleons and a sickle,” the goblin judgmentally said. His sharp nose twitched with disgust. “Would you like the total in your vault?”
“No, I’m alright. I just need you to print it in my account book. Thank you,” she said curtly.
As Hermione waited, she looked around the bank. The front doors slammed open to reveal a dark figure in a long cloak rushing in. His pale blond hair was cropped on the sides, leaving the top long and loosely pushed back. Definitely not as severe-looking as when he was a child. His features were still sharp but leaned more chiseled than pointy. His build was muscular and tall.
For a moment, he stilled in his march towards the private rooms for the rich clientele. His grey eyes widened in shock at seeing her there. He made a quick scan of her before, entirely ignoring her, and made his way to the room.
Hermione blinked in his wake. It was very strange to see Malfoy, only because he had never appeared in Wizarding London in the last ten years. Everyone assumed he haunted the manor halls. Or something ghastily rich. She knew Theo knew what he was up to, but the bastard kept mum on that. He’d gossip about anyone and everyone but not poor Draco Malfoy.
“Hey, Hermione,” Theo purred upon entering the potion closet. “I would’ve thought you took a day off today?”
“Padma needed a cover, so I took it. What’s up?” Hermione asked as she continued to check her charts.
“I mean, what with the news and everything…”
“That’s why I’m relegated to the potions closet,” she sighed.
“Look, I checked the schedule, you’re off tonight. Let’s go out. I’ll pay,” Theo offered.
“Unfortunately, I actually have plans. My mum—” She cut herself off.
“What did your mum do?”
Hermione slowly turned towards Theo. He was chomping at the bit to get the answer. Practically drooling. But she knew how to play this.
“Tell me why Draco Malfoy was at Gringotts at opening this morning, and then I’ll tell you.”
Theo seized up. His mouth clapped shut. Thoughts flew across his features before they settled into neutral. As casually as possible, he lifted his hand to examine his nails. “What’s there to know? He goes out sometimes.”
“Goes out? Where?”
His lips rolled into his mouth. It was clear he didn’t want to tell her. But it seemed that her information was juicier.
“You can’t tell anyone,” he said.
Hermione frowned and looked around her as if to say Who would she tell. “Yeah, sure.”
“He’s been back in the dating scene.”
“No, pure-blood heiress for him to marry?” she asked.
“The roster has become nonexistent. Especially since he has a few fewer vaults. The Malfoys have fallen below the Greengrasses in wealth, making it a lose-lose for Astoria to follow through with the marriage contract. At this point, Narcissa is desperate for him to marry and have an heir.” He ignored the disapproving scrunch of her nose. “He’s opened up the pool to Muggles.”
Hermione’s eyes blew open in shock. She looked around as if someone was about to jump out from around the corner and call her an idiot. Her mouth worked to come up with words. “You’re not serious, are you? How will he explain his part in the war when the unsuspecting Muggle comes into this world?”
“Hopefully by that time, he’d won her over, I suppose.” His eyes flicked back up to her. “Oh, don’t look like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like he’s some sort of monster. He’s a human being like the rest of us,” Theo ground out.
Of course, the gossiping git was right. Malfoy didn’t deserve to live alone. He was a boy when he got the mark. He also tried to make amends by paying things forward without any strings attached. That spoke volumes about the people who idly stood by as children fought for what was right to then not allow their gold to go towards bettering their world.
Hermione scrubbed her face. “You’re right. Sorry.”
His mischievous face appeared in her eyeline. “So, tell me, Granger. What do you have planned for tonight?”
“Dinner at some posh restaurant with a Muggle boy,” she sighed. “He’s some son of my mum’s friend in her book club. She’s afraid she’ll be kicked out if I flake tonight.”
“Oh, that’s interesting. You’ll have to tell me all about it,” he sang as he left the potions closet.
Of course, she wouldn’t because he was among the worst dates she had ever been on. She recycled her gold dress from the date before. Her hair was already blown out and set beautifully. Her face was made up to be a bit more sensual.
“But, yeah, that’s me,” he said as he popped in the last bite of his dry-aged filet mignon. “Tell me about yourself.”
Hermione stopped pushing her Cobb salad. Even though she desperately wanted to get the lobster, she had a feeling this man was going to want to split the bill with her, and her Mastercard could manage her Cobb salad.
“I, erm, am a doctor.”
“Well, la di da!” he crooned. “That’s quite nice. You know, I could’ve been a doctor…”
Hermione's attention went back to her Cobb salad. When the waiter came by, the Muggle man started talking to them. Her eyes wandered around the posh restaurant. It was definitely quite nice. The atmosphere and people were high-end. Eventually, her eyes landed on a singular person. She kept blinking, thinking maybe she was hallucinating. There, sitting all by himself, was the straight-backed Draco Malfoy.
It shouldn’t have been such a shock to Hermione. This was a really nice restaurant, and he was rich, so it made sense. But to see Malfoy out of the context of magic was jarring to say the least.
“Hermione.”
“Hmm?” she hummed, turning her attention back to her date. His brows were pinched upwards in an embarrassed manner. The waiter stood next to him. Her stomach tightened in knots. Something about this situation made her nervous.
“I’m sorry, but I forgot my wallet.” To emphasize his point, he patted his pockets.
Begrudgingly, Hermione pulled out her Mastercard. She felt a hernia coming on when the waiter walked the card back from getting swiped. The meal was one hundred pounds. She wrote down a fifteen percent tip because it wasn’t the wait staff’s fault that her date was an ass and she was broke.
As they stood to leave, he started to talk, “I’ll pay you back. But I’d have to get cash for you. So, maybe next Friday? I’ll buy, promise.”
Hermione turned to grab her jacket and purse. She caught Malfoy walking towards the bar. It seemed he had been stood up.
“So, uh, you want to go back to mine?” he tried.
Like a bullet, it came out. “No.”
It surprised both of them at how blunt Hermione was. They stared at each other for a little too long.
“Sorry. I think the waiter still has my card. And I have an early shift tomorrow.” She backed away from him slowly. Before thinking better, she turned towards the bar.
The bar was empty save for Malfoy and the bartender. She watched for a moment as Malfoy took short, frustrated sips of his tumbler of whiskey.
“Hi, take a seat anywhere,” the bartender announced, causing Malfoy to stiffen in his posture.
Hermione nodded and sat to the right of Malfoy, smelling his rich cologne. Bergamot. Citrus. Black pepper.
“Hello, Malfoy.” It was better for her to break the ice, so it should be a lot less awkward.
Slowly, his grey eyes slide from the front position towards her. His posture marginally relaxed, but his expression was still stern.
“Granger,” he finally said before he brought his cup up to his mouth.
“What will the lady be having?” the bartender asked. “Our well drinks are on happy hour right now.”
“I’ll have a well vodka, please, then. Thank you.”
“No, she’ll have a top-shelf vodka martini with a twist,” Malfoy ordered.
She baulked, knowing that those sorts of drinks could cost an arm and a leg. She probably had already maxed out her credit card thanks to the date.
“Relax, Granger. I’m paying.”
The timber of his offer, his rich scent, and her being in an expensive bar coalesced in creating a tightening in her lower stomach. She turned over to just catch his eyes, quickly moving down her body before turning away.
“Besides, it’s the least I could do for all the years I bullied you,” he said into his whiskey glass.
“Thanks.”
For a moment, they drank in silence, both enjoying the quiet of the bar and each other’s unlikely company. At the same time, they both turned to say something, but paused. Gestured for the other to speak first. It was truly so awkward. The only thing that could fix it was to laugh. They fell into a peal of laughter. An utterly belly-aching one.
“I’m sorry,” she wheezed while wiping away tears. “This is so awkward.”
“Completely.” He inhaled but couldn’t stop the laughter from coming. “We’ve known each other for half our lives and haven’t had a full conversation until maybe now.”
“It’s not even a full conversation because we’re laughing,” she giggled.
“Right.” Malfoy blinked and cleared his throat, seemingly wrangling his laughter to a cheeky smile. “Thanks for that. I really needed it.”
“I needed it too.”
“I know why I had a shit night. What happened with yours?” he said. His body had fully relaxed into his chair, angling towards her. By all the gods, this man was handsome. It was then that Hermione noticed the all-black Muggle suit that contrasted beautifully with his fair features. His hair was still in that relaxed, casual style. He looked rich. He was bloody wearing a pocket watch with a silver chain.
“Oh, erm, I went on a date, which I ended up paying for.”
Malfoy looked offended by this revelation. “No! Don’t tell me you offered.”
“I didn’t. I had no choice. He forgot his wallet.”
“Wit—I mean women, shouldn’t even be carrying around their pocketbooks. Their purses should only be used for things that delight them.”
It was atrociously sexist and reductive, but something about that statement caused Hermione to blush. To hide it, she quickly drank her martini.
“Erm, what about you? Why was it shit?” she said, carefully keeping her voice steady.
“I got stood up. So, cheers to that.” Malfoy held up his glass before downing it.
“How did you even meet this person?”
“At a coffeeshop. She seemed interested enough. I suggested having dinner here. But I suppose, my not fully understanding how a phone number worked was a dealbreaker.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
Malfoy drank the last of his whiskey before checking his damn pocket watch. “I suppose I should call it a night.”
Hermione felt the signs of disappointment rise on her face. She quickly forced her mouth to form a kind smile. “I should go as well. Another shift at St. Mungo’s.”
“Oh, yeah. You’re working with Theo.” A sort of glint shone in his eyes. Something she recognized as someone being a part of Healer Nott’s gossip newsletter.
Malfoy’s hand reached into his breast pocket. He pulled out a roll of notes held together by a silver snake money clip. His long fingers slowly flipped through the hundreds of pounds. By Hermione’s estimate, he must be carrying around close to two thousand pounds. He left two hundred on the bar for the drinks. He counted once more around a thousand and folded it.
“Keep the change,” Malfoy said to the barkeep without looking away from her.
“Very good,” the bartender hummed.
“Walk with me, won’t you?” the wizard asked with a slight bow. He tucked the rest of his money, but still held the thousand in his hand.
“Yes, of course,” she said, pulling on her jacket and shouldering her handbag.
The night air was crisp, and it woke her up from the vodka martini. She had never had top shelf before. She'd have to memorize the taste because that might've been the last time she would have it.
“Thank you for tonight, even though it started terribly,” she said when they got closer to the Apparition point.
“You definitely made it better,” he assured. Right before entering the designated spot, Malfoy stopped her. “This isn’t much. But I thought it was wrong that he made you pay.” He pushed the folded notes into her hands.
“What!?” she spluttered, unsure of how things turned out to be like this. “That wasn’t your fault. I can’t take your money!” Her hands shook as she tried to push it back.
“You can and you will.” He released his hand, causing the pounds to flutter to the ground. Malfoy quickly backed into the Apparition point. The git had to audacity to wink before disappearing.
After a moment, the wind picked up. Hermione scrambled to collect every single bill. Her heart was pounding in her chest. She felt her mouth salivate at the sight of the notes fanned out in front of her.
Upon landing in her flat, she placed each bill onto her bed. She looked at them. They were perfect, brand new. And they smelled like him. Fuck.
There was nothing she could do about it tonight. She’d deal with it in the morning.
In a hazy blink, Hermione fell onto the bed. The money rubbed against her sticky skin. She felt so hot and bothered by the whole night. She needed release. Her fingers found the hem of her risen dress. They pushed down her knickers and tights. Before anything, she pushed her two middle fingers into her mouth, hollowing her cheeks. With her wet digits, she began stroking her clit, sending jolts of pleasure up and down her writhing body. She was already so wet. So close.
“Fuck,” she hissed. With her free hand, she took a few of the bills and rubbed them all over herself. Bergamot. Citrus. Black pepper. All three rich scents permeated her senses. She became frantic, chasing the release.
With the notes pressed into her face, her fingers deep within her, Hermione came with Draco’s name on her tongue.
Her arms fell onto her stiff mattress, boneless. She felt spent but in a deliriously delicious sort of way. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long, long time.
Post-orgasm clarity sank in. She needed to return the money. A part of her agreed with him that this was the least he could’ve done for all of the grief he had caused her throughout her impressionable life. But it was also wrong for her to keep so much of it. He may not even know how much it was. He did seem to think two drinks cost two hundred pounds.
Hermione shook herself. She gathered the notes into a neat little stack. She’d have to trick Theo into arranging a meeting between the two of them. She would thank him for his generosity, but in the end, give it back.
She took a blue satin ribbon and tied the small stack together. It wasn’t a money clip, but it looked cute. She tucked it into her handbag before crawling under her fraying duvet. Hermione fell into a restful sleep.
The next day, while she was working on filing patient charts (the lead Healer felt she was still drawing too much attention with Ron’s engagement), Theo came in, dropping off a file.
“Hermy.”
“Please, don’t butcher my Shakespearean name. A British icon—”
“Oh, please. He was a squib that used potions to get out of work writers to produce a myriad of works for the Muggle masses.”
“What do you want, Theo?” she sighed, not wanting to get into the flawed argument of Shakespeare, Muggle or Squib.
“What are your plans for lunch?” His long body leaned on he counter, mischief playing over his handsome features.
“I brought food, why?” A sad manager’s special deli meat and cheese sandwich sat at the bottom of her bag. Under the stack of notes, which she still needed to return.
“No. We’re going out.”
“Out? Theo, I can’t.” She gestured wildly at the spread of files before her.
“Don’t worry. You won’t be paying. What sort of wizard would I be if I invite you somewhere and made you pay?” An offended scowl made its home on Theo’s face. The same one that Malfoy had on the night before.
“You’d be surprised,” she said under her breath. “Sorry, I just—”
“Don’t worry, it’s going to be in Muggle London.” Then he looked uncertain. “There is one thing, though. Draco will be there.”
Hermione’s surprised eyes flashed up at him. Theo mistook it for suspicion, so he blabbered on.
“If it makes you feel better, he suggested inviting you. I’m not quite sure why. But it’s not for some nefarious reasons like bringing up his social standing. He asked if I had any friends at the hospital, of course, I mentioned you…”
“No, it’s fine,” she cut in. “I’ll go.”
That caught Theo off guard. “You will?”
“Yeah. You’re right. I don’t know him at all. I should make an effort to bridge that gap.” Plus, it was a perfect time for her to return the money.
“Well, wonderful. I’ll meet you in the lobby in an hour.” Theo tapped the doorframe before exiting.
An hour. Hermione conjured a mirror. Her hair was piled into a messy (not in a sexy way) bun. Her face looked rested but still blotchy from the lack of makeup. Her outfit was casual but far too casual for a posh restaurant that Malfoy no doubt chose.
Was it unprofessional for her to pop back home to change and put on some makeup? Yes. But they were literally paying her Healer salary to do admin work because of unwanted attention. It wasn’t like she was doing anything illegal. She just wanted to look presentable at the restaurant. And NOT for Malfoy.
Hermione swished her wand and had the files magically file themselves and organize into neat stacks. She snuck out of the office and moved towards the floo. Luckily, everyone was too preoccupied to notice her exit.
At home, she quickly changed into something more businesslike, a black pencil skirt and a blush pink satin blouse her mum gave her upon getting her Healer position at St. Mungo’s. As she got closer to wash day, her scalp was becoming oilier, but her hair was still nice. So, the best compromise was a bit of baby powder and pulling her hair up. But as she pulled out her last elastic from her bun, it snapped.
“Shit!” she hissed. As it was an unnecessary expenditure, Hermione hadn’t bought any new ones. She remembered she had the ribbon on the notes.
As she walked into the hall to take a final look, she noted that she looked so much younger than she had in years. There weren't any large bags under her eyes. Her cheeks had a natural flush, even though they seemed a bit gaunt. A twinkle of excitement shone in her deep brown eyes. The bow in her hair did make her seem a bit whimsical, cutesy, and feminine.
It was nice.
Hermione rushed to the lobby from the floo to find Theo waiting by the doors to the Muggle side.
“Did you change?” A smirk attempted to pull at the corner of Theo’s lips.
“If you must know, I needed to. I don’t want to look like some girl wandering off the streets into probably the most expensive restaurant I’ve ever been to.” Hermione leaned on his shoulder to fix her heel strap.
“Well,” the smirk was at full force now, “you look nice.”
“Thank you,” she said haughtily as she walked through the doors.
Shirking her responsibilities to change might’ve been the smartest thing that Hermione had ever done.
“Close your mouth,” Theo whispered into her ear upon their entry into the restaurant.
There were gorgeous flowers strung up that draped down in the foyer. The hostess table, chairs, and tables were carved wood with gold leafing. Even the people who worked there looked expensive in their name-brand clothes and pinched expressions.
“Ah, yes, Mr. Malfoy is already seated,” the model-like hostess clipped.
The two followed her through the restaurant towards the back corner. They found Malfoy fixing his cuffs on his black-on-black pinstripe suit jacket. Upon hearing the clicking of expensive heels and charity bin heels, he flicked his eyes up to see them. For a nanosecond, it was clear he didn’t think Hermione would join the lunch. When the reality of her standing in front of him set in, Malfoy stood from his chair. He walked around to Hermione’s and pushed it in as she sat.
“I’m glad you’re here…” He caught himself just as he took his own seat. “Both of you.”
Hermione smiled, taking in his posh outfit for the day. He still smelled like bergamot, citrus, and black pepper. His hair was styled in the same way. He had on a three-piece suit, a white silk-blend button-down, and a delicate emerald green cravat.
“Thanks for inviting me,” Hermione said.
“I hope you don’t mind me ordering the wine before you came…” He looked down at the menu. “Both of you.”
Theo’s eyes were pinned on her, searching for any reaction that would clue him into her inner thoughts. She gave him nothing, only looking down at the menu. As she studied it, she realized that there were no prices. Hermione swallowed.
“Don’t worry. Lunch is on me,” Malfoy assured as if reading her mind.
“Oh!” Theo said loudly, reminding Hermione and the blond wizard that he was there. “I forgot that I was supposed to meet with Percy regarding our new place.” He got up from his chair. “I hope you two don’t mind me leaving. Also, Hermione, don’t worry about the files. I’ll take care of them for you. Take as long as you need for lunch.”
With a wink, the flamboyant wizard flounced away from the table, leaving Hermione alone with Draco Malfoy. It happened so fast that she didn’t have time to process until the wine was delivered to the table.
Hermione watched as Malfoy elegantly tasted the wine on offer to him. His sharp nose poked into the glass as he wafted the scent. His fingers delicately held the stem as he swirled it before tipping the glass into his mouth. His fine brows pinched ever so slightly as he concentrated on the complex layers of the liquid in his mouth.
After a moment, he nodded to the waiter, who then poured a glass for Hermione. She tentatively took a sip.
“What’d you think?” Malfoy asked, a tick nervously. It was kind of cute that he thought she’d know what fine wine tasted like.
“It’s good, I guess.” Hermione watched as her fingers played with the glass. She felt so unknowledgeable about this sort of thing. She was definitely middle-class growing up. The poshest thing she had ever done was ride in a family friend’s Rolls-Royce once.
Malfoy’s fingers stilled her hand. She looked up to find a soft smile on his face.
“Do you feel uncomfortable, it being just you and me?” he asked.
“No! Not at all,” she said a little too loudly. Then she lowered her voice and leaned in. “It’s just no one’s ever taken me to an expensive restaurant like this, last night notwithstanding.”
“That’s a shame.” He frowned. “A witch like you deserves all the finest things in life.”
Hermione felt her breath hitch. Her thighs pressed together to quell the sudden throbbing. She became all too aware that he was still touching her. Her skin felt like an inferno raging. To no avail, she attempted to drown it out with the delicious wine.
Nervously, she looked at the menu, still unsure what she should order because of the price.
“Granger?”
“Hmm?” She didn’t look away from the jumbled words.
“Can I order for you? I’ve been here before, and so I know what's good.”
Hermione closed the menu, revealing a slightly guilty expression. “Yes, please. I am not averse to anything.”
The lunch was delicious. Malfoy ordered a charcuterie board for the table, a goat cheese, an arugula salad for both of them, a grilled salmon fillet for Hermione, and a filet mignon for himself. Even though he said he tried it before, she offered him a bite of the melt-in-your-mouth fish. Hermione felt her heart pumping at maximum speed as she watched him slowly wrap his lips around her fork before tasting the fish.
“It’s better than I remember,” he said. His pretty grey eyes were affixed on her, causing a furious blush to creep up her neck.
“It is very good.” She took another quick bite.
Malfoy offered her a bite of his steak. She took it, but not as flirty or slowly as he did it. She didn’t want to assume that this was anything other than a friendly lunch. But as soon as the rich flavors of the meat hit her tongue, she moaned. It would’ve been embarrassing if she didn’t catch the dilation in his eyes, the licking of his lips.
She swallowed. “It’s very good.”
Aside from the meal, Malfoy was an impeccable conversationalist. He listened intently to everything Hermione had to say, inserting himself only to ask clarifying questions. When it was his turn to speak, he was funny in a dry sort of way, and something else that she enjoyed learning was how humble he became, despite the clear wealth that was shooting out of his ears.
Once he settled up on the check (again, he left too much money for the entire meal), they walked out into the fair-weathered day. They walked towards a close by Apparition spot.
“Thank you for the meal. That was fantastic,” she said with glee. “Though, if I wasn’t going back to work, I think I would’ve wanted to try the pasta.”
“Oh,” he paused for a moment. “If you like pasta, maybe I could take you to a better spot. Maybe this Friday?”
Hermione lit up. “Yes, sure. I’m free Friday.”
They stopped right at the point. Remembering that she should return the money, Hermione reached into her purse. But stilled when she felt him play with the ribbon in her hair.
“I like this look on you,” he said just above a whisper.
She found his hooded eyes. His perfect teeth made a slight impression on his bottom lip. Her brain short-circuited seeing him this close to her. He reluctantly pulled his hand away from her.
“I’ll owl you about Friday,” he said before disappearing.
The rest of the day was a blur of paperwork, filing, and menial tasks. Thankfully, Theo was too busy on the floor, covering for her, to bombard her with questions. When she made it home, she was all too aware that Friday was two days away. She didn’t have anything to wear, and she still had his money burning a hole in her pocketbook.
It’s not like he was hurting for cash. Though she did worry about the rate he was spending his money, he’d lose it all. But if she used maybe a bit of it at a nice charity store in Soho, she’d have something to wear on Friday.
On Thursday, she did a double shift. The fanfare of Ron’s engagement died a bit as Ginny gave birth to their third child, Lily. During her breaks at the hospital, she came to visit mum and daughter. Her best friends were over the moon with their new addition. Hermione was so terribly happy for them. Harry deserved everything good in the world.
“Mi, you’re looking really good,” Ginny said quietly as she nursed the baby.
“Thank you. I think the news of Ron’s engagement really helped me at work. I’ve actually been sleeping at night,” Hermione joked.
“I’m glad you’re taking it so well.” A small but familiar tension lingered between them.
Hermione grabbed her friend’s free hand. “Gin, I know I haven’t been that forthright with you about a lot of things. But just know I’m okay. And…” She looked around. Harry had gone to get more ice chips. “I have a date with someone on Friday. At least, I think it’s a date.” A shy smile was displayed on her face. Something that she hadn’t done before when talking about her dates.
“Oh! That’s good! I’m glad!” Ginny nearly cried.
“But don’t tell anyone.” She took a deep breath. Ginny nodded in agreement. “It’s with Malfoy. And before you say anything, I’ve seen him twice out in the Muggle world, and he was extremely decent. Maybe even better than a lot of men I’ve met lately. He’s grown up and I’ve-”
“You don’t have to explain everything to me,” her best friend assured her. “I could see you’ve been struggling for a while. But for some reason, I’m pretty sure my brother is to blame for it, you’ve decided to keep it to yourself. Seeing you talk about Malfoy was the first time in a really long time that you looked happy. It’s not like you need my permission or anyone’s, for that matter, but you should go for it!”
When he returned, Harry was shocked to find all three witches were in tears.
Later that night, she received his owl. It was an address to his townhouse in London. He said as much as he’d like to pick her up, it’d be easier for them to meet at his home.
The next day, she had taken off in search of the perfect outfit for that night. She went to Soho, but the charity shop didn’t have anything that would suit her. She then found a delicate French shop that sold feminine, pastel-colored dresses at exorbitant prices. She would’ve turned tail and run, but a dress caught her eye. It was a silk number that was a greyish-blue with a scoop neck and thin straps. It perfectly cinched under her breasts and flowed down to create a delicate silhouette. The hem flared at the bottom, just below her knees.
“It’s perfect on you,” the salesperson cooed. “You should pair it with these white sandals.”
Blast it all. The shop person was right. The dress, the low-heeled sandals made her look effortlessly chic. The silk was so soft to her skin that she thought maybe she shouldn’t wear any underthings.
In the end, she spent half of the money he gave her.
As soon as she got home, Hermione began the primping ritual. She washed her hair, scrubbed her body, and shaved every inch of her (but left a landing strip as it would’ve been a step too far from feminism). All of this was just in case it was a date. Her hair was blown out into large, voluminous curls. She added the satin blue bow to hold up half her hair. She opted not to wear any underwear at all as the dress was truly too buttery soft not to touch her skin. Her makeup was feminine with a smoky, light blue eye shadow with a cat-liner to bring out her brown eyes.
Once done, she checked herself in front of the mirror. She smudged on a shimmery gloss to tie the whole look together. There was no doubt at all that she looked like an expensive sexpot and demanded to be treated as one. She threw on a coat before walking out the door. She Apparated to the closest point to his townhouse.
Hermione’s jaw nearly fell off her face. The bastard called it a townhome, but it was definitely three townhomes combined into one on a block. There was an iron-wrought gate around the perimeter of the property. There was lush, dreamy landscaping in the front. The building itself was a three-story brick marvel.
It just screamed old money.
She felt herself clench at nothing. She shook it away.
As soon as she touched the gate, the front door opened. Malfoy, dressed in another smart black three-piece suit, stepped out. His hand pushed back his white-blond hair, but a rogue strand fell over his forehead. He walked briskly down the path. He stopped short upon seeing her.
“Granger, hello.” His voice sounded caught off guard.
“Are you surprised to see me?” she quipped. A playful smile toyed at the corners of her mouth.
Malfoy cleared his throat. “No. Not at all.”
“Good. Where are you taking me tonight?” she asked as he pushed through the gate to join her.
“An Italian spot around the corner. Truly a delight.” His hand landed on the small of her back as they walked. A small breeze pushed his scent, bathing her in bergamot, citrus, and black pepper.
As it turned out, they both were overdressed for the quaint mum and pop restaurant.
“Let me get your coat,” he said, reaching behind her.
“Thank you,” she breathed.
As soon as the coat was off, Malfoy let out a shuddering breath. Startled by the sudden change in his breathing, Hermione turned. She searched his bewildered face.
“Are you alright?”
“No,” he said faintly. “I think I’m getting lightheaded.”
“Oh, no. Do you need to sit down?” Hermione tilted her head, feeling her soft curls fall to the side. “Should we head back to your home?”
“No. We’ll go back after we eat.” It sounded like he said, unfortunately, before clearing his throat. He pulled out the chair for her. “You look very lovely tonight.”
“Oh, thank you.” Hermione’s hands felt soft fabric at the front. A blush crept up her neck as she remembered how she got it. “Erm, I bought the dress and shoes with your money. I didn’t mean to spend so much of it. I was definitely planning on returning it. It was very nice and I can’t afford it otherwise--”
“Granger.”
Hermione blinked up to find his eyes dark and hooded. A lazy smile formed on his face as he leaned his chin onto his palm.
“Yes?” she said softly.
“I’m glad you used my money. I have plenty more where that came from.” His voice sounded low and seductive to her ears. Each word reverberated through her, causing her to squeeze her thighs together. She could NOT feel that way right now, especially without knickers and sitting directly on fine silk.
She faintly laughed and turned her eyes back down to the menu.
“Speaking of,” he continued as he pulled out a slender velvet box from his jacket. “I was going to give this to you later. Well, after I could confirm that this was a date—”
“It’s a date,” she said too eagerly. The blush deepened.
Malfoy smiled wider. “Good. I got you a necklace, and I think it’d go with your outfit.” His fingers pried the top open, revealing a choker of small, faint blue diamonds. His eyes flipped up to look at her. “Can I put it on you?”
“Yes,” she breathed. Her hands shook as she pulled up her hair to reveal her bare neck. She felt, rather than saw, his fingers brush against the nape of her neck as he looped the necklace around her. She sucked in a sharp breath when she heard the soft click of the hook.
“There,” he breathed against the shell of her ear. “Your outfit is complete.”
“Um, Draco,” she said, knowing it was the first time she had ever called him by his first name. “Could we just order takeaway? I-I need you to take me to yours right now.”
“Why? What’s wrong?” His voice hardened with concern.
“It’s—” She turned to whisper into his ear. “It’s because I’m becoming rather wet and I’m not wearing any knickers. The fabric of this dress--”
He inhaled through his nose audibly. He stood up straight and hauled her to her feet. He quickly threw on her coat, which sufficiently covered her bum, just in case. He said something loud and quick to the hostess as they exited. Something about him needing to bring her home, and that they’d send for delivery later.
In a darkened alley, he spun them away, and they both landed in what looked like his bedroom. It looked lived in and refined. Colored with mahogany, sage, and blacks. It felt and smelled like him.
“Hermione,” he tested.
She spun back into his chest. She tilted her face up towards him. His hand cupped her cheek. His grey eyes search disbelievingly over her face. “I’m going to kiss you now.”
She pressed up and took his lips. It began as a sweet, tentative first kiss. As time pressed on, it evolved into a passionate, blazing one. He walked them both back towards his soft, dream-like bed. Her knees bent as he slowly lowered them down with his elbows framing her head. His fingers toyed with her hair.
“Draco, I think I need to take this dress off. I don’t want to ruin it.”
“Understood.” He helped her to her feet.
With shaky hands, she reached down to the hem of her dress and quickly pulled the dress over her head. His practiced hands took the garment from her, and with the flick of his wrist, the silk flew towards his closet. All without him taking his eyes off of her. The nerves of being naked in front of a new partner got to her. Hermione began toying with the ends of her hair.
“Say something,” she said subconsciously.
“What is there to say? You’re gorgeous. I want to eat you up.” His eyes roved over her body.
“You’re not into any specific kinks, are you?”
“None that I know of.” He thought for a moment. “Well, I did very much enjoy hearing you spend my money.”
His left hand reached up to brush along her neck. His index finger traveled down her clavicle, between her breasts, leaving a trail of goose bumps. She caught his hand before it fell away from her body. She boldly brought it between her thighs.
“I realized that money turns me on,” she breathed. Talking was becoming hard as his fingers grazed her clit.
Draco worked his fingertips towards her entrance, gathering the moisture before returning to her bundle of nerves. “Lay back, Granger.”
She complied as he worked her into a frenzy. She was so close.
“If I’d known it just took some money to get you in bed, Granger, I would’ve shown you how generous I could really be. If you want access to my vaults, all you need to do is ask, baby. Let me take care of you.”
That did it. That pushed her over the threshold. She came hard with a scream.
“Draco, I need you now. Take everything off.”
“I, erm,” he started nervously. “I still have my mark. It’s faded, though, and stopped moving long ago.”
“It’s fine. I truly desperately need your cock right now, you idiot,” she babbled.
A lazy smile formed on his face as he leaned back to remove his clothes. Her fingers found the diamonds on her neck, enjoying the cold feeling against her flushed skin.
“You really like that necklace, don’t you?” he teased, pulling off his button-up.
“I think I prefer sapphires,” she joked. Her eyes traveled down his muscular build. Her gaze stopped at his hand resting on his tented trousers.
“What about rubies?” He unbuttoned. “Emerald? Opal? Topaz?” He dropped everything, revealing his cock. It was a perfectly straight, thick cock. His hand worked the length. He ended the movement with a twist of his wrist. He slowly crawled over her body, kissing his way up. “All of it is yours, Hermione.”
“You’ve already got me in your bed, Draco.” She hissed as he pressed into her slick cunt.
“I know. But I’m telling you what you’ll get every time we meet. There’s also a matching ring to the necklace.” His thrusts were slow and perfectly timed, riling her back up. "But that's for later."
“Draco, I’m into you not just for your money, okay? I like you. You're funny and caring. I like that you listen to me. The money part is just a bonus,” she whimpered.
“I know, love. You’re too perfect to be just in this for the gold. I would like to take care of you.”
“I’m going to come!” Hermione felt frantic as another, stronger wave swelled within her. “Touch me, touch me, darling.”
Draco complied, running his finger between them, finding her clit once more. “I’ll take care of you, Hermione. You’ll never need to worry again…”
The waves crashed down as her cunt convulsed around him. “Draco!”
He sped up his thrusting. His hips stuttered. With a groan, Draco emptied himself in her.
“Ah, sorry. I should’ve asked,” he said pathetically.
After a moment, she laughed. “It’s alright. I have an implant.” Her hand cupped his jaw. She planted a sweet kiss on his smiling lips.
They lay in each other’s arms, telling each other the things that they were supposed to over pasta. She told him about her work and how she felt so burnt out by it. At first, it was a passion to help people. But after ten years, she felt drained. He told her that he was working on the Muggle side of Malfoy Enterprises, running the investment firm. Technically, his family didn’t have as many galleons. On the Muggle side, they were comfortable.
“That’s just code for filthy rich,” Hermione teased.
Draco laughed as he stopped her hand from slapping his bare chest. He threaded their fingers together. “I’m telling the truth that I want to take care of you, Hermione. If you want to quit being a Healer to do something else, I’ll support you. You could move in with me. It may be fast for you. But to me, we should’ve been together years ago.”
She giggled in his arms. “Look, I’ve been living in a nightmare for the past ten years. If the rest of my life looked like just the three times we’ve met in the last week, then I’d die happy.”
It was at that moment that she realized that maybe they would work out. He made life so much easier. The way he looked at her, too. As if she were a snitch that he caught and won the World Cup with (his words, not hers).
They shared a kiss to seal the deal.
Before Hermione moved in, she came clean about her finances to him, making sure he knew her situation. She told him to think about it, but he immediately went to Gringotts to arrange for all her debt to be wiped clean. He put her name on his vaults and set up an allowance of five thousand galleons a month deposited into her personal account in perpetuity. She blew him in the loos of the bank.
As a stipulation of her moving in with him, Hermione demanded that he not out Ron for his role in her financial downfall. He begrudgingly agreed to the terms.
After six months of living together, Draco proposed with the matching ring. Rucking up her brand-new floral skirt, he took her from behind against the fireplace as she stared at the twinkling diamond.
“I love you, Hermione,” he groaned.
“I love you, too,” she whined as she turned her head to capture his lips in a searing kiss.