Chapter Text
“I dare you, Hermione Granger, to give someone permission, to kiss you whenever they like, for twenty-four hours.”
Hermione felt the air immediately leave her lungs. Ginny was grinning at her wickedly as she sipped at the floridly pink concoction in her glass. The girl was well and truly sloshed. A state that Hermione normally quite enjoyed, but for the rare occasion when her reckless enthusiasm, dropped Hermione thoroughly in it.
It wasn’t like she hadn’t kissed anyone before. She had. There had been a few very okay moments with Ron. A couple of drunken snogs with Dean and one ill-advised make out session in the middle of a bar, with a complete stranger. They’d all been okay but there was always something missing.
She had come to the conclusion that she needed it to be something more serious. A serious boyfriend with long term goals to date her. None of these hedonistic moments of lust. At least, that was the goal she had set for herself this year. A sensible goal for a sensible young woman.
Now that had all flown out of the window because she’d invited Ginny Weasley to a party.
“Ginny, I can’t do that,” Hermione argued.
Ginny crossed her arms across her now annoyingly plentiful chest and pouted. “Then you have to tell me the truth about what’s going on with Harry.”
Hermione grimaced. She couldn’t tell Ginny what was going on with Harry. Mostly because she firmly believed that Harry should probably know what was going on with Harry, before she started talking about it with other people. After his very amicable break up with Ginny, he’d thrown himself into the Auror program and avoided relationships altogether.
He’d told her, “I need to get myself sorted out before I start inflicting myself on other people. I’m not okay Hermione and I need to be okay.”
He’d meant it too.
It was just that he came home at the end of every day, simply bursting with the need to tell her about every single interaction he’d had, with Theodore Nott. Nott had taken up a position with the Department of Mysteries and happened to take lunch at the same time as the Aurors. He’d struck up a conversation with Harry over the mysterious state of the corned beef. She’d heard every single detail of that meeting and every one after.
As much as Harry was trying to keep himself single, the poor boy fell in love easier than a Niffler could sniff out the closest piece of gold.
Plus, as amiable as their breakup had been ― Harry wanted to stay here and be an Auror and Ginny had wanted to play Quidditch in Wales ― Hermione wasn’t entirely sure that Ginny was ready to find out her ex-boyfriend was bisexual. It was highly possible she’d go and pester Harry to see if she could watch and he was certainly not ready for that.
“I can’t,” Hermione repeated, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot.
Ginny huffed. “Then the dare still stands. I told you all about what happened in Majorca.”
To be fair, Ginny had told her everything that happened in Majorca ― every excruciating detail. Hermione kept trying to picture exactly how you had an orgy on the back of an abraxan, but apparently it had something to do with shrinking spells, and some very attractive Italian men. She had spent so much of the conversation, tilting her head in confusion, that it was now a little sore. Though possibly not as sore as Ginny’s had been, after Majorca.
“But Ginny I barely know anyone here.” Hermione whispered through gritted teeth.
The house they were in was small. So small that there were party goers practically crammed into every corner, the majority of them strangers. She could see crowded rooms in every direction, and a balcony packed from rail to rail. It was so intimidating that the two of them had only moved one room from the floo to the kitchen where Neville was haunting the bar and haven’t moved since. It was more than a little intimidating. Hermione had been to many parties in her short life but it was rare that she wasn’t friends with every person present. This was way out of her comfort zone.
The only people she knew were the ragtag group who made up the St Mungo’s medi-witch or wizard internship program and Ginny. The interns came from different Hogwarts houses, years and a couple were even older. The war had caused chaos on St Mungoes as the Death Eaters decimated the hospital staff. Now they were desperately trying to train new witches and wizards to fill the gaps. Hermione had been offered the internship whilst she was spending the year in Australia after the war. It felt like the perfect opportunity to do something good.
Of her fellow interns, she only really knew four: Padma Patil, Astoria Greengrass, Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy. She would describe Padma and Astoria as acquaintances. Neville was only taking the course in order to get a deeper understanding of which plants are used in advanced healing and spent half his time noting down ingredient alternatives to try.
That left Draco Malfoy.
Malfoy was confusing. Gone was the cocky, brash juvenile she had known. This new version was quiet and intimidating. He listened to everything their instructors said and took notes. The questions he asked were insightful and always added value to the round. It was like the war had shaved him down and he had no energy left for his former boldness or the friparies of social convention.
Since the program started he hadn’t said a single word to her. When he looked at her, his eyes slid away quickly, as though he couldn’t stand it. That hurt. With all the truly horrible things he’d done, she was willing to look past it and move on, but apparently, she was alone in that wish. She wanted to live in a better world where prejudice and enmity were a thing of the past. It seemed like he had no interest in mending fences.
The party had been organised by a Hufflepuff girl who Hermione only knew of as Lake. She wasn’t sure whether it was the girl’s first name or some sort of complicated nickname. Either way, that was basically all she knew about her. Her attempts to get closer to her fellow trainees had been less than successful.
She’d never been particularly good at meeting new people and getting along with strangers. These co-workers were going to be with her for the next four years of her life, and even if they didn’t become the best of friends, she needed to at least hold a conversation without feeling like she was floundering. Otherwise, the entire time was going to be torture.
The only reason she was even at this party was to try and breach that gap. Not that she’d spoken to anyone other than Ginny or Neville.
Baby steps.
“It’s highly likely that the person you choose won’t do anything anyway,” Neville pointed out with a tilt of his drink from where he was leaning against the kitchen counter. “Most people are selective about who they kiss.”
Ginny rolled her eyes and grabbed Neville by both cheeks, before snogging him soundly. When she let go and stepped back, Neville looked like he was about to faint, his eyes wide and his jaw lax.
“See.” Ginny gestured to Neville. “Nothing to it.”
Hermione rolled her eyes and looked out over the party guests. Neville was right. She just needed someone who wouldn’t take advantage of the dare. Someone who wouldn’t ever want to kiss her. Someone like ―
“Malfoy!”
At her exclamation, the man in question looked up from where he was drinking with Astoria Greengrass, and some Slytherin’s from their year. On closer inspection it looked like it was Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle and the object of Harry’s obsession, Theodore Nott. In a truly unfair twist of fate, they all looked phenomenal, like they were at some high-class modelling gig and not a house party for a group of newly formed adults.
Hermione immediately felt underdressed in her jeans, and the barely present scrap of cloth that Ginny had assured her was a top. What little fabric it possessed shimmered in the light, leaving no room for the imagination over whether she was wearing a bra underneath. Not that she could have, it was entirely backless, held on by the grace of Merlin and a few spaghetti straps.
Malfoy stood and muttered something to the rest of the Slytherins before stalking over to them. He was dressed in a pair of dark grey trousers, with a pale blue shirt poking out from underneath a blue cable knit jumper. That shock of blonde hair fell softly over his forehead, and she cursed the fact that someone so pleasing to look at, did not want to look at her. Just like usual his eyes fell on her and then slid away to rest on anything else, in this case, Ginny Weasley, who was still grinning like a Cheshire cat.
“Can I help you?” he snapped, “someone called my name.”
“Yep,” Ginny pronounced with a pop. “That was Hermione.”
His eyes shot over to her and actually drifted down to where her nipples were sticking out from underneath the black fabric, before darting away. She felt hot under his gaze.
He sucked in a breath and gritted his teeth. “May I ask why?”
“Well,” Ginny started with all the intensity of a game show host asking the final question of the night. “Hermione was just choosing the subject of her dare.”
Malfoy frowned as he looked at first Hermione, then Ginny and finally Neville who was still thoroughly out of it. “You’re playing truth or dare? What are you? Twelve?”
A blush worked its way up her neck to warm her face. Good Godric. Why did she choose him? He probably thought she was the worst sort of idiot. Fuck.
Ginny nudged Hermione with her elbow. “And that’s why Hogwarts should have maths as a subject.” She laughed, wiping a fake tear from her eye. “Twelve. She’s twenty, darling.”
“Are you going to get to the point anytime soon?” he drawled impatiently as she giggled softly to herself.
“Hold your horses, hot stuff,” she murmured as she patted his cheek condescendingly. “I dared our sweet little Hermione to choose someone, to give unlimited access, to kiss her for twenty-four hours.”
His head jerked around so quickly round that she thought he’d given himself whiplash and this time his gaze stayed. His grey eyes were wide as he scanned her face. Opening his mouth as though to say something, he quickly changed his mind and slammed it firmly shut.
Ginny stood up on her tippy toes to stage whisper into his ear. “She chose you.”
“I can explain!” Hermione stood up making Ginny stumble and fall back into her chair. “Neville was saying that I should just choose someone who would never kiss me ― and I ― well I thought ―”
“Is that right?” Malfoy asked Ginny, interrupting Hermione halfway through her explanation. His gaze darkened as a smirk pulled at the side of his mouth. “All mine for twenty four hours?” He tilted his head. “And what’s the punishment if she doesn’t comply?”
Ginny shrugged. “Standard Gryffindor punishment is a streak around the Black Lake but that would be a bit difficult now that we’ve graduated. Maybe a naked lap around the next party?”
Malfoy’s smile grew feral and he barked out a laugh. He took a step forward until he was towering over her and gestured toward Hermione. “Come, Granger.”
Desire pooled hot and unexpected in her stomach. His gaze was burning her with its intensity. After months of those cool orbs drifting away from her, she felt drawn by them. Unbidden, her feet stumbled forward to close the short distance between them. Malfoy’s eyes widened perceptibly as she lurched toward her doom.
With a wicked expression he pointed at his own lips.
Heart beating wildly she placed both her hands on his chest and pushed up on her tiptoes as she gave him a chaste kiss.
With a groan he surged forward and grabbed her face with both his hands. His kiss was rough, raw and hungry as though he were ravenous, and she was the most appealing delicacy. He tasted like fire whisky as he explored the inside of her mouth with a thoroughness that she’d never quite experienced before. She could hear Ginny’s ecstatic laughter ringing in her ears.
To her shock, she found herself responding. She shouldn’t have been surprised that Malfoy was an extraordinary kisser. His mouth dominated her own; his hands slowly moving over her skin as he wound one into the hair at the base of her neck, and the other skirted with featherlight touches across her collarbone before slipping over her shoulder and down her back.
When he reached the curve of her spine, just above her butt, it spread out until she could feel every one of his fingertips digging into her skin. Without warning he pulled her in until she was lined up against him, like she weighed nothing. His body was made up of sharp corners and hard edges.
Her hands were trapped between their chests so that they were grasping his hard, firm pecs. Merlin, she should move them. This was supposed to just be a kiss not a groping session. What was she even doing? Yes, she’d authorised this, sort of, but what was he thinking. He didn’t even like her. If anything, he’d gone to great lengths to avoid her presence entirely.
In the end she decided to loosen her grip slightly. She’d hate him to think she was doing this on purpose. They would simply rest there until this was over.
All she succeeded in doing was rubbing her fingers against him. The moment she moved over the soft wool of his jumper he growled in a sound so feral that it made her core burn, and pulled her in even closer. So close that she could now feel something hard and insistent pushing against her stomach, and she was not ready to acknowledge what that might be at this point.
“Draco!”
Suddenly he was wrenched away, and she was left panting and slumped against the bench she’d been leaning on. Malfoy looked dangerous as he glared at Pansy Parkinson, who had a delicate fist clenched in his jumper.
Parkinson looked stunning. Her black hair had been cut into a stylish little bob, and she was wearing a tiny black mini dress that left nothing to the imagination. It was shocking to see the Slytherins all embracing muggle fashion, but Hermione had to admit it looked gorgeous on her.
Parkinson pointed a manicured finger into his chest. “Don’t give me that look. You asked us to come here to keep you from doing something you’d regret whilst drunk. This is something you are going to regret.”
Hurt blossomed in her chest. There it was. He was drunk and not thinking. There was no way he would want this if he were of sound mind. She was just an easy mark in barely there clothing. He had made it very clear over all the years that he’d known her, that he thought so very little of her and her blood. It was foolish for her to think anything had changed now.
“Pans.” He grabbed her roughly by the shoulders, his eyes wide. “You don’t understand. I ― I can’t. I can’t walk away from this.”
Parkinson raised an eyebrow and looked from Draco to the assembled Gryffindors. “Does someone want to explain what the hell is going on? He’s on strict instructions from his healer to take it easy.”
Ginny by now was laughing so hard she could barely speak. Hermione’s tongue felt heavy as though covered with sludge. She looked at Pansy in panic, willing her to drag the words out of her brain.
Thankfully, Neville had recovered his wits and sighed deeply.
“Hermione refused to answer the truth question in truth or dare, so Ginny dared her to choose one person in this party to give unlimited access to kiss her, for twenty-four hours.” He gave Malfoy a very unimpressed look. “For some reason, she took leave of her senses and chose Malfoy.”
Pansy’s mouth opened in an ‘o’ of understanding and gave Hermione a pitying look. “Oh honey.”
By this point, curiosity had got to the rest of the Slytherins who had sidled up behind her. Theo held out Pansy’s drink and placed the straw between her lips. Blaise wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave Hermione a long assessing look. Astoria stood to the side, like the quiet little bird she was.
“Need help, Pans?” asked Blaise, his lips mere inches from her ear.
“Unfortunately, I don’t think anyone can help her now.” Pansy mused. “Hermione here has served herself up to Draco on a platter.”
“It’s just kissing!” Hermione exclaimed. “He’s had one but surely that’s ―”
Malfoy dragged her bodily back into his arms and swiftly turned her so that her back was resting against his front. He gently slid her hair away from her neck and pressed his mouth into the soft area underneath her jaw. She shivered at the sensation. Good Godric she loved how his lips felt on her skin.
“Shall we go, Granger?” he growled into her ear.
Inside her head was a chorus of yes. Every time he asked her a question she couldn’t help but respond. Her body was moving before she could catch up to it.
“Go?” She frowned in confusion as she tried to hold herself back and think. “Go where?”
He huffed a laugh into her skin as he kissed the shell of her ear and murmured, “Your house? Or mine? I didn’t picture you as an exhibitionist.”
She wasn’t an exhibitionist. In fact there were probably very few things that she hated more than public mortification. The idea of parading her naked body around at the next party was enough to make her skin crawl.
Yet somehow as his wandering hands fittered over her hips to nudge underneath her shirt she had the distinct impression he meant something very different. She held her breath as excitement and fear mixed together in her chest. Was he going to make an exhibition of her?
“Malfoy,” she exclaimed as she tried not to focus on the way his fingers were dancing over her skin just above her jeans. “I don’t know what you think is happening here, but I am not going to your house.”
Her head was spinning. This entire situation was getting totally out of hand. He was so damnably attractive, and the alcohol coursing through her system was making it hard to reason with her raging libido that was currently singing Malfoy, Malfoy, Malfoy. Was it really so important to make sensible decisions? Malfoy’s presence against her back was making her question whether they were important at all.
“Your house then,” he growled as his large hand came up to cup her chin leading her face back into another kiss.
This time she couldn’t help herself. Her back arched and she pushed against him. She felt the vibration from his groan against her lips as he melded them together. How were they so soft yet so unyielding? She wouldn’t have been able to break away if she tried.
She was snapped out of the trance that he’d put her in by the sounds of nearby conversation.
“Wow. He’s really going for it.”
“Draco has always been big on kissing. This little debacle is a horrific mishmash of his two favourite things.”
“What is his other favourite thing?”
“Control.”
Malfoy broke off their kiss with a sound of annoyance. He glared at Ginny. “Where does she live?”
Ginny seemed to be looking on with wide eyed fascination. “Number twelve Grimmauld Place, with Harry.”
Malfoy let out a dark laugh. “Perfect.”
Before Hermione could say anything, he was dragging her towards the floo. Oh Merlin. Harry was going to kill her when he found Malfoy in his house. Her house. The house she shared with Harry. He was trying to take her there! Her mind swam with the possibilities. Malfoy in her large bed as he dominated her mouth, and her body. Malfoy ordering her to be quiet as he kissed her in the shower. Malfoy casting a silencing charm as she screamed out in pleasure.
Yes! No. For the love of Magic she had to pull herself together.
“Malfoy,” Hermione argued weakly, her resolve crumbling by the minute. “You can’t invite yourself over to my house. All I did was promise to let you kiss me. Nothing more.”
He slammed her into the wall by the fireplace and leaned over her until they were sharing the same breath. His eyes were wide and crazed, darting all over her face, from her lips to her cheeks, eyes and back. Those long blond locks were falling down all around her, and it was like they were in their own personal grotto.
“Granger, I have eight hours until I am due back on shift and if you think I am wasting a second of that, with my mouth not attached to your skin, you have another thing coming. So, either you drag me through that floo, or we are about to become quite the spectacle.”
She had never seen him like this before. He used to be brash and crude, but never irrational. Unless she were to consider his demeanour in sixth year. It thrilled her in a way she couldn’t quite put her finger on. If he was mad then what was she with her compulsion to follow his insane ideals?
“But Harry will be there. Are you sure?” she asked breathlessly.
He huffed out another sigh of annoyance and claimed her lips again. This time he didn’t stay on her face. His lips worked their way down past her jaw and onto her neck. He sucked on the skin until she could feel the bruise forming.
In between each press of his lips he bit out. “I. Have. Never. Been. More. Sure.”
Behind him she could see the various party goers watching with curiosity.
When he was finished, he began to move further down. His teeth skirted over her collarbone but then his fingers hooked into the fabric of her top and began pulling down. She frantically brought up her hands to stop him, but he clamped down around her wrists and held them behind her.
“Now, now Granger,” He rumbled softly against her skin. “The bet was that I had unlimited access to kiss you. It did not stipulate where.”
Her cheeks burned as her brain flew into overdrive. He was right. It didn’t stipulate. Merlin, what had she done? What had she agreed to? His mouth began working against her skin again as his hand came up to brush lightly against the underside of her breast. She shouldn’t want this. He had no intention of dating her. There was no serious relationship here.
But she did want it, more than she had ever wanted anything in her life.
She cried out, “Stop! Stop. Fine. We’ll go.”
His expression was wicked when he lifted his head. “A wise choice.”
Hermione grabbed a handful of floo powder and threw it into the flames.
“Number twelve Grimmauld Place!”
She caught one last look at the shocked expressions of the assembled party guests before Malfoy dragged her into the flames and her own doom.