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Title: Languorous Rating: R Pairing/Characters: Draco/Hermione Word Count: 854 A/N: Drabble for kazfeist - Prompt: Languorous

For the first time in over a year Hermione felt good… and satisfied… and sexy. Sexy? Where did that come from? She looked over at the blond sleeping next

to her and grinned. Definitely, sexy. She stretched her arms above her head, loving the feel of the expensive cotton sheets against her bare skin. It was liberating to realize that she was finally ready to move on – ready to stop sitting around moping about her life. After Ron had left her the previous August for some chippy with big breasts and a fondness for fucking war heroes, Hermione had thought that she would dry up. She had been certain that no one would ever again find her desirable or attractive. Last night’s episode, however, had blown

that theory out of the sky. She gone to the Leaky Cauldron after work with Mafalda Hopkirk and Padma Patil to discuss the Wizengamot’s complete and utter failure to convict anyone for violating the new legal protections for House Elves. While ordering a Fire Whiskey at the bar, she’d been approached by Draco Malfoy. “Granger, ditch your co-workers and come join me for a drink.” “You’re not serious?” she’d asked.

Hermione and Malfoy had developed a civil relationship from serving together on the Hogwarts’ school board, but they were by no stretch of the imagination friends. “Of course I’m serious. I’m bored and want company.” “There are tons of people here tonight, pick someone else to bother,” she’d told him. She looked around the pub and motioned with her head toward the entrance where a group of interns from St. Mungo’s sat. “That table ful of witches would probably love the attention of a successful older man.”

He glanced toward the group and his upper lip curled up slightly as his nose crinkled in disgust. “I don’t like my odds of ending up with a dud. Some of them look lovely, but with you, I know I’l get both an attractive companion and entertaining conversation.” She’d rolled her eyes at his blatant flattery. Determined to turn him down, Hermione impulsively changed her mind after Padama came to the bar and informed her that she and Mafalda were leaving. Draco had grinned and led her to a booth at the back of the pub. Hermione

suspected he was up to something and was determined to figure out his secret agenda. After about an hour of conversation, it finally hit her. He was interested in her. “You’re trying to pick me up!” Hermione had gasped in shock. She thought Malfoy blushed at her words, but his cheeks might have just been flushed from the alcohol. “Well spotted, Granger. I’ve only been trying to get you to notice me on a more personal level for the last three months. I thought you were supposed

to be intel igent.” “Why?” she demanded, ignoring his insult. “Why what?” he responded sardonically. “Why are you interested in me?” “I told you earlier,” he replied with the lift of one sculpted eyebrow. “I find you smart and attractive.” She looked at him, unconvinced. “There are numerous intelligent, pretty witches in the world. Why me? Our history isn’t exactly encouraging.” He smirked, reached across the table, and trailed a finger lightly across Hermione’s

hand. “Haven’t you ever wondered whether the tension between us is just misdirected sexual chemistry?” Hermione had shaken her head. She had never suspected that there was any type of chemistry between her and Draco, especially not one of a physical nature – unless wanting to haul off and hit someone was some kind of chemical reaction. However, now that he’d mentioned it – said it aloud – she couldn’t stop imagining him kissing her, touching her, and fucking her.

“You’re looking a little hot under the col ar, Granger,” Draco had told her, his smirk growing wider. “How far away is your flat?” She’d replied before thinking. He wanted her. It had been such a long time since she’d been close to anybody and he wanted her. Just seconds later, he had Apparated them into his living room. After that it was all lips, and hands, and hot flesh on hot flesh. When it was over, she hadn’t had time to be embarrassed because he’d pulled her into his bed, held her, kissed her, and

whispered the sweetest things until she’d fal en asleep. Releasing a contented sigh, Hermione turned again to look at Draco. He was staring back at her, his lips curved upwards. “I was hoping that I hadn’t dreamed last night,” he told her huskily. Hermione shook her head. “It’s al real. However, I could pinch you if there is need of any further evidence.” “Completely unnecessary,” he drawled, snaking a hand around her waist and pulling her tight against him. “I prefer a more enjoyable method of

reassurance.” He then pressed his lips against hers in a slow, wet, kiss. It was everything that she needed – comfort, desire, and a promise that this wasn’t just a one off. She sank into it. She sank into him. Before long, she was unable to think about anything except just how good they felt together. The End