Chapter Text
Ginny Weasley stabbed a piece of tomato with her fork in a particularly vicious manner. Her friend flinched, took a teeny tiny bite of her own fried egg and tried to be as inoffensive as possible. Obviously, the redhead had woken up on the wrong side of the bed - even if it wasn’t her own.
“Yeah, so I didn’t go home last night, but nothing went to plan.” Hermione Granger looked at Ginny, swallowed her egg and hummed. Ginny not going home alone was nothing new, but she rarely seemed so out of sorts over it.
“Well. Where did you end up?”
Ginny huffed. “Do you really want to know?”
“Of course.”
“Do you remember that guy, Malfoy, who we went to school with?”
The mouthful of mimosa burned as it tracked down Hermione’s throat. She nodded.
“Yeah. Him. And true to form, it was perfect in every way. Except for the fact that I’m absolutely sure he never wants to see me again.”
“Perfect?” Hermione sliced a piece of her own tomato into little triangles.
“God, yes. Like, unheard of.”
Interesting. Draco Malfoy was the kind of spoiled, rich arsehole that you wanted to hate but couldn’t because everyone fawned over him, and speaking against him was putting yourself at odds with the status quo. He was handsome, he played polo and his family had more money than they would ever have reason to spend. He had a bit of a reputation amongst the girls at the boarding school they’d attended, but then he’d gone to Oxford (where a new library was named after his grandfather) and she’d gone to Cambridge and Hermione hadn’t heard of him since.
“So, it was good then?”
“I said what I said. Perfect.”
Saturday mornings were usually spent in this manner, with Hermione and Ginny tucked away in some cafe sharing brunch and stories of the happy hour turned evening out that Friday had inevitably become. Lately, it seemed that Ginny did most of the regaling, as Hermione’s recent promotion at work had kept her from overindulging and making mistakes. At least, that’s what she told herself. It had nothing to do with the fact that her fiancé, Ginny’s brother, had left her six months ago and moved to Los Angeles on a whim. A whim that just happened to be bleach blonde and have gigantic breasts.
“What was so good about it?”
“Where to start,” Ginny sighed, knocking back the last of her cocktail. “He has a huge cock.”
Hermione choked. “The world is so unfair!”
“My thoughts exactly,” Ginny exclaimed, waving her fork in Hermione’s direction. “As soon as I touched it through his trousers, I knew. It was beautiful, too. Not just length, but perfectly thick and-“ Ginny groaned, “I told him he’d have to get me off before even attempting to put it in me.”
“And did he?”
“Twice.”
“You’re fucking joking.” The waitress came by their table and Hermione nodded for another round of champagne and orange juice. “How?”
“He ate me out,” Ginny said, unbothered by the waitress’ return with their drinks. “Cheers.”
“That’s it?”
Ginny took a bite of toast, chewed thoughtfully. “On average, H, how long does it take you to come from oral?”
Hermione shrugged. It wasn’t something that she had a ton of experience with, but Ron had always put in his best work, even if she didn’t get off from it every time. It had felt nice either way.
“I don’t know,” she shrugged. “Honestly, a while. Like fifteen minutes, but you know I have difficulty-“
“Two minutes.”
“Did you count?”
“No, but he had one of those vintage-y looking expensive alarm clocks on his nightstand.” Ginny fixed Hermione with a pointed look and shook her head. “I should’ve never gone home with him.”
“But it sounds like you had a great night?”
“I did. Best night of my life.” Ginny motioned for their cheque. “ ‘Night’ being the operative word. He kicked me out at five this morning.”
Hermione had heard horror stories from Ginny before - men that ghosted after a week, men that lasted all of thirty seconds - but never this.
“What do you mean kicked you out?”
“Exactly that.” She waved off Hermione, slapping her own credit card down first. “He woke me up at the arse-crack of dawn, said he had a car waiting for me downstairs and would I make sure to close the door on my way out.”
Hermione’s brows almost disappeared into the curls at her hairline. “No.”
“Yes. Said he liked to get to the gym before it was crowded. There was some fancy car service with a man in a little hat outside waiting to take me home. It was humiliating.”
Both girls stood simultaneously, chairs scraping against the wooden floor of the cafe.
“But surely he’s texted you since then? Maybe he just has a particular routine. I can respect that, you know how I am.”
Ginny snorted. “Yes, Hermione. We all know the most action you get is with your planner. And no, he hasn’t texted, nor is he going to. We never exchanged numbers.”
“Maybe he’s just trying to be mysterious. I’m sure he’ll reach out on socials.” Hermione held the door open for her friend, the early summer humidity of London accosting them both. They walked in silence, side by side and Hermione pushed her sunglasses further up the bridge of her nose. She wasn’t sure what else to say.
“You know what, Hermione? He told me he couldn’t take my number because his phone was broken.” Ginny exhaled, lips forming a tight line. “And then his alarm went off.”
“What an absolute tosser.”
Ginny shrugged, waggling her fingers at an attractive man fixing the chalk sign outside of a neighboring pub. “I should’ve never gone home with him. That’s the last time I listen to Daphne, I’ll tell you that.”
— — —
Two minutes. Has to be an exaggeration, Hermione mused to herself as she waited for the elevator. Her office was on the sixth floor of a busy finance building in the City. Ginny hadn’t brought up her horrible evening for the rest of the weekend, but somehow Hermione found it sticking in her head.
“Are you getting on, Hermione?” Daphne Greengrass was looking at her expectantly from inside of the open elevator. How had she even missed that it had arrived?
“Sorry, Daph. Moving slow this morning.” Hermione shouldered her purse and stepped in next to the blonde women she’d had a desk next to since she’d started at the company four years ago.
“Get up to anything fun this weekend?”
Hermione shrugged. “Ginny and I ended up out on Friday, but I took it pretty easy for the rest of it. You?”
“I went to visit Astoria in Edinburgh. Just a quick trip.” Daphne rifled through the little Dior bag slung over her shoulder, extracted a pink gloss. “I chatted with Ginny on the phone yesterday - told me all about her evening of excitement.”
Hermione and Daphne snorted simultaneously. Ginny’s words from Saturday’s brunch came to mind. The last time I listen to Daphne.
“By the way-“
“I tried to warn her.” Daphne slashed the gloss over her plump lower lip. “Told her it was life-altering, but if she was going to do it to have absolutely zero expectations.”
“So you’ve-“
Daphne waved her off. “Of course I have. You’ve seen the man, right?”
“Not recently.”
Daphne smacked her lips together with a soft pop. “Hideously attractive. Like it’s disgusting, really. His body…”
Hermione blinked, waited. Daphne shook her head.
“Anyway, I tried to tell her it was a bad idea. Even if the man is an absolute god between the sheets. Had to learn that somewhere, didn’t he?”
When Daphne looked over at her, Hermione realized she was waiting for an answer.
“Uh, yeah. Sure.”
“And it’s from being a slag of epic proportions. Did Ginny tell you what he did to me?” The elevator pinged open and they both stepped off.
“No, she mostly told me about his… tongue.”
Daphne sighed. “His only redeeming quality. He was the first man to eat my arse, you know.”
Richard, a sixty-something-year-old man from Analytics, scowled at them as he passed by. Daphne stuck out her tongue at his back.
“That’s-“ Hermione was lost for words. What did one say to that?
“It was so good. He would beg me for it, say the filthiest things… anyway, he was fucking Astoria the entire time.”
Hermione stopped short of their desks. “He was sleeping with your sister?”
“Mhmm. And do you know what he said when we called him out on it?”
“Do I want to know?”
Daphne chuckled. “He said we should all do it together sometime. That he’d always fantasized about being with two sisters at once.”
“Did you?” Hermione’s nose scrunched at the thought. She was no prude, but that just seemed too far.
“Gross. Of course not.” Daphne tucked her purse into the drawer of her desk, perched in her chair and spun to face Hermione. “I fucked him with Cho instead.”
Cho Chang was Daphne’s best friend and Hermione’s yoga instructor.
— — —
“The light in me honors and respects the light in you. Namaste.” Hermione pushed herself up onto her elbows, wiping at the beads of sweat gathered along her hairline. Did that mean Cho had hooked up with Daphne as well? Or did all of the attention go solely to Draco? A flash of an image, the two girls on their knees before him, crossed her mind.
Hermione shook her head to clear it.
“Hermione! I think I’m gonna grab a smoothie from the spot downstairs. Wanna join?”
Hermione crouched next to her mat, rolling it up neatly. “Sure.”
She had to ask. Her curiosity was going to kill her one day.
“Cho?”
The woman looked up from where she was rolling her own mat. “Yeah?”
“I was talking to Daphne the other day, and she mentioned something about, um, Malfoy.”
Cho snorted. “I heard Ginny was his latest victim.”
“Yeah. And then she was telling me that you two-“ Hermione made a weird motion with her fingers and Cho rolled her eyes, but smiled.
“The threesome back in Uni. Yeah, that happened. Why do you ask?”
Hermione shrugged. “No reason, really. I guess I just can’t believe that pretty much my entire friend group has been burned by him.”
“And it was worth every second.”
Hermione tucked her mat into it’s sling and shouldered it. “Really?”
“Oh god, yeah. That was when I learned I could squirt.” Hermione’s eyes went wide.
“Daphne wasn’t too happy about it, as she was under me, but I couldn’t help it.” Cho slugged water from her stainless steel water jug. “He just like.. forced it from me. And we were so young! What twenty-one year old guy knows how to make that happen?”
Hermione was quiet, following Cho from the studio and down the stairs of the brick building in Shoreditch.
“If only he wasn’t such a prick, I’d have continued on. He tried to pit Daph and I against each other though, turn it into some weird competition for his affection afterwards. Like, if I wouldn’t come over he’d say things like, ‘well, Daphne would.’ She and I had an all out screaming match at the pub one night and that’s when we decided he had to go.”
Cho held the door to the small cafe open for Hermione. “We’re still friends though. Actually, he just texted and let me know he’ll be at my Summer Solstice party.”
“You’re still friends with him?”
Cho shrugged, ordered a green smoothie with extra flaxseed. “Yeah. It’s tough not to be. For all his many, extensive flaws, he’s pretty fun to be around. Plus, he has the most amazing sailboat and he’s always down to take the girls out.”
She didn’t want to admit that she was drawn in by his apparent wealth, but at the words “amazing sailboat”, Hermione came to a very big, very unsettling realization - she wanted to fuck Draco Malfoy, too.
But not in the way that all of her friends had gone about it. She had a wealth of knowledge, now. She knew that he would give her the release she desperately needed post-tragic break up. Furthermore, she deserved to have something fun. She deserved someone hot and blonde, too. She deserved a rich suitor with a sailboat. She deserved an orgasm with absolutely no strings attached. It had been way too long, her self-inflicted celibacy. And, already being privy to how absolutely awful he was, she wouldn’t allow herself to get attached. If there was one thing Hermione Granger was good at, it was compartmentalizing.
“You should come.” Cho’s voice interrupted her revelation. “To the solstice party. It’s gonna be a great time. Lots of our old classmates are gonna be there - almost like a mini reunion.”
Of course Hermione would go. It’d be the perfect place to enact the plan already unfolding in her mind.
— — —
The dress was pulled from the absolute darkest corner of her closet, something she had bought with a wild fantasy - that Ron would take her for a romantic picnic and ravage her in the park - in mind. Needless to say, that never happened and the buttercup yellow sundress got relegated to a forgotten corner, never to be seen again. Until tonight.
“Oh, hello tits,” Ginny greeted her as soon as she opened the door to their shared cab. “Are we on a mission tonight, or are we on a mission?”
“I can’t just look nice?”
“No.” Ginny gave Hermione a pointed look, offered her a plastic to-go cup full of Pinot Grigio. “You always look nice. This is not nice. This is hot-girl-summer. This is finger-me-in-front-of-our-friends.”
“Gin!”
The redhead shrugged. “You know very well that Cho’s building has rooftop access. You look like you’re planning on sneaking up there and making every use of it.”
They pulled up to the aforementioned building and Ginny tugged Hermione out behind her.
“Now I’m even more excited for tonight!” She didn’t let go of Hermione’s hand as they climbed the stairs to Cho’s top-floor apartment. “I heard that Dean is coming. You know we have so much unfinished business from school.”
Cho’s apartment was unlocked and they let themselves in to find the party was already in full swing.
“He’s here,” Ginny let out an excited screech and then a more disgruntled, “and he’s here too.”
Hermione followed her line of vision, spotted the source of Ginny’s ire. Draco Malfoy, in the flesh. Even though she’d heard of nothing but his flesh, seeing him in person was somehow different.
He was just as handsome as they’d all said. She watched as he laughed at something another old classmate, Theo, said, followed the bob of his Adam’s apple as he took a sip of the drink in his hand. He seemed taller since they were in school, his face matured from boy to man. He had delicately pointed features that almost pushed him into being pretty, but his ego rolled off of him in a firmly masculine way. As if he could feel her stare, he caught her warm eyes with his own cool ones, the corners of his lips quirking up.
“Fucker,” Ginny grunted from beside her. “Come on, let’s get a drink.”
Hermione allowed herself to be dragged through the crowd of old friends and strangers towards the open kitchen and the island that was covered in every type of booze imaginable. Ginny immediately began helping herself to gin, twisting open a bottle of soda water to splash into it.
“Gin? Wine? Don’t make me drink alone, Hermione.”
She couldn’t help it; her thoughts were still across the room, on the man currently digging for a cherry at the bottom of his homemade Manhattan with two long fingers.
“Earth to Hermione! You’re getting Pinot Grigio. One of us needs to make good decisions tonight.”
Hermione took the offered wine glass. “There are a ton of people here. I didn’t realize the solstice was that big of a deal.”
“It’s not.” Ginny shrugged. “Cho just loves an excuse to throw a party. Do you think I should talk to Dean before I get smashed or just wing it later?”
“Now.” Hermione sipped the cheap Pinot with a wince. “Definitely now.”
“Maybe he has a friend who you could- oh hi, Luna! I didn’t know you were coming!”
Ginny was off before Hermione could even protest to the idea of one of Dean’s friends. Now was her chance, though. Ginny was throughly distracted and Hermione could enact part one of her plan.
Get Draco Malfoy alone.
Leaning back against the granite island she crossed one arm over her stomach, just below her breasts. The move was enough to boost the twins up, make them into enticing pillowy hills spilling over the bodice of her sundress. If he was anything of the animal she’d heard he was, he’d notice her soon enough.
It took all of twelve seconds. His eyes slid from his conversation, found her casually surveying the room. She had to tamp down the triumphant grin that threatened to crease her face as his eyes zeroed in exactly where she’d intended them to. Men were easy; she almost wondered how any of her friends had been fooled at all.
But then he’d looked away just as easily. Gone, ignored, as if she was just another pair of tits prancing around the party. Which, essentially, Hermione was, but she figured she would hold his interest a bit longer than that. Maybe she needed to be less obvious. Hermione wandered the room, employing another tactic altogether - the mingle.
In a less than obvious manner, she floated around the room, greeting friends and meeting new people. She flirted, she laughed, she kissed cheeks. She entirely ignored Draco. If he was anything like the man she’d pegged him to be, her blatant dismissal would only further fuel his curiosity to get to know her.
Feeling slightly socially drained, Hermione made to escape to the roof. If she was right (and she usually was), Draco would make his way after her. A quieter setting would be perfect for a more intimate conversation.
Climbing up the stairs and pushing through the heavy wooden door, Hermione took a deep inhale of the muggy summer air. It was a beautiful night, if a bit sticky. The roof was blissfully empty and Hermione wandered over to the wooden deck furniture at its center, taking a seat on the worn bench and closing her eyes.
“A little overwhelming in there, isn’t it?” Hermione cracked one eye open. Gotcha.
“I didn’t expect all of our old classmates to be here.” She crossed her legs, causing the sundress to rise up, pool against her lap. She watched Draco’s nostrils flare.
“Me either. It’s been a while, Granger.”
“It has. I think the last time we spoke was when you accused me of cheating during our Poli-Sci debate.”
Draco chuckled, hands shoved into khaki trousers pockets as he approached the bench. “Still holding onto that are we?”
Hermione raised a brow. “Until I have something else to hold onto, yes.”
“So sure I’ll disappoint you?” He sat next to her, arm stretching long against the back of the bench, his hand close enough to the back of her neck that she could feel the heat of his body.
“Your reputation precedes you.” She knew she had to tread lightly here. She had to seem as though she wasn’t interested before going in for the kill.
“And are you in the habit of believing everything people say?”
“When they’re my friends, sure.”
“And have I disappointed them, Granger?”
She knew from his inflection what he meant.
“Quite the opposite,” she said with a shrug. “It’s a lovely night, isn’t it?”
His eyes hadn’t left her and he hummed. “It is.”
She smiled again, her fingertips absentmindedly tracing across her décolletage before dipping into the start of her cleavage. Draco wet his lips as he watched her with rapt attention. So much for subtlety.
“I don’t know if I really feel like going back inside,” Hermione mused. “It was just so loud.”
“I’m finding I rather prefer it out here as well.”
He shifted closer to her, close enough that their thighs were pressed tight against one another.
“You know, Malfoy, we never really got to know one another in school.” Hermione smoothed the skirt of her dress, looked up at him earnestly. “Maybe we should get to know each other now?”
“Best idea you’ve ever had,” he breathed, leaning into her open invitation. Hermione giggled coquettishly, turning so that his lips landed on her cheek.
“Is that how you get to know someone?”
Draco sighed against her skin. “I thought you said you’d heard about me.”
“You can have my number-“
Draco sniffed his distaste, leaning away from Hermione.
“Or you can’t have me at all.”
Her words left nothing to be questioned; it was a direct invitation, with only one little requirement. One requirement that Draco Malfoy, apparently, wasn’t keen on.
“I don’t love a tease, Granger.”
“I’m not teasing, Malfoy.” Her hand found his thigh, resting precariously close to his crotch. It tensed under her touch. “Take my number.”
He held her eyes for the longest twenty seconds of her life. It was a challenge as much as it was a search, trying to suss out the truth in her words. His hand dug in his pocket.
“Here.” He handed her his mobile. It was apparent he wasn’t thrilled, but he still wanted it. This would be too easy. Hermione flicked the screen open and pulled up his contacts, entering hers alongside the small yellow flower emoji. He raised a brow when he saw it.
“So you remember,” she said, standing from the bench. His gaze traveled every inch of her, from the strappy pink sandals, up her tan legs to the nip of her waist. When he finally settled on her face, he smirked in a way that had the blood racing in her veins.
“How could I possibly forget.”