She had signed the Love Contract less than three weeks ago, and she was already letting him lay her down on her desk and ravish her.

She swallowed, rapping her nails on that very desk, and let her gaze blur at her bookshelves across from her. She tapped her quill against a parchment, creating little blots and blobs.

Would he have done it like in the movies? Sweeping her ink pot, her picture frames, her texts all off the desk so they crash to the floor, and then press her down. Maybe they'd laugh about it.

She blinked and shook her head, clearing the image.

She couldn't tell who had felt more awkward about lunch, Harry or her. It was the quickest and quietest lunch they'd ever had. Harry had asked for the date the day before, so she had thought he had news to tell her or some funny story, but he just sat and watched her eat. Watched her think.

She kept her door closed the rest of the afternoon, and every time someone knocked, she jumped. Hoping it wasn't Draco. Hoping it was.

Dark thoughts slithered into her distracted mind throughout the afternoon. What if Harry hadn't walked in? Would she have let him... completely? She hadn't ever...

Did Draco know? He had assumed, back during the Auction. He had asked for 35,000 galleons, thinking that extra 5,000 to be necessary.

Another 5,000 would be added on if it could be proven that you were 'untouched.'

She closed her eyes, sneering at herself and her stupid, dark thoughts.

Walter checked in on her around 3PM, asking about the Golden Snidget pitch in the morning meeting. Hermione had completely forgotten about that part of her day. He was disappointed to hear that the project was delayed, but Hermione told him they should continue to move forward with it as much as possible.

She stayed thirty minutes later than normal, just to avoid seeing anyone as she left. There was a light on in Draco's office. She could see it flooding under the door as she pressed the button for the lift. The lift took forever to arrive and Hermione felt very vulnerable, out in the open. She counted the seconds, eyes flickering to Draco's door, praying it wouldn't open while she was standing here.

The lift arrived with a loud ding and she winced, jumping in, and punching the "door close" button twenty or so times.

She Apparated home, and walked the few blocks to her building. She turned the lock on the building's exterior door, and looked up to see Ginny sitting on the stairs to their floor.

Ginny jumped up, eyes wide, one hand on the railing and one hand at her neck.

Hermione stopped. She blinked up at her. The door closed behind her.

Ginny blinked back.

Hermione opened her mouth and no sound came out.

Ginny twitched her head, trying to hear her.

Hermione looked over Ginny's shoulder, her eyes distant. She closed her mouth. And looked at the stairs.

Ginny took a breath. And stopped. And looked at the wall. Another breath—and stopped.

Hermione pressed her lips together.

"Who kissed who?"

"Him. He kissed me."

Ginny nodded, trying to read her.

"How was it?"

"It was - it was... Yes. Good. It was... Yes."

Ginny crossed her arms. Then dropped them. "Shall we get Chinese tonight?"

"Yes. Excellent."

~*~

Ginny hung up the phone with the Chinese place. She turned to Hermione.

"So he... I mean..." She frowned. "Harry said there was a desk involved?"

"Yes. Desk. Yes."

Ginny nodded. She bit the inside of her cheek.

~*~

"Was there tongue?"

"Yes."

Ginny nodded and Hermione started washing dishes.

~*~

Hermione opened a packet of soy sauce.

"Was it sweet? Or... slow?"

"No. I'd use the word aggressive."

Ginny nodded and bit down on her egg roll.

~*~

"Did he tell you how he felt, or were you able to connect—?"

"We were arguing."

"Hm." Ginny turned on the TV.

~*~

"Groping?"

"Not really, no."

Ginny snapped the fortune cookie in half.

~*~

Ginny left her alone after dinner. She lay in bed that night, twisting and punching her pillow until finally she gave into her restless mind and just let it run.

What would she say to him tomorrow? Did she have to say anything?

Perhaps this co-worker thing was a bad idea. Maybe she'd write to Mathilda and see if her position had been filled yet.

She still needed to chastise him about using her name to start up the company.

Why did she have to touch him after he asked her not to? Why did she do that?

What was her outfit tomorrow? Was it too revealing? She'd need to check.

She'd touched his cheek, and he'd grabbed her hip. He'd started to push her back, down onto her desk... then what?

What did Harry really think?

What were the actual legal ramifications of that Love Contract. She'd need to check.

Would it happen again? Or would it never happen again? Which was worse?

How would she sit in a board room with him, talking about werewolves and Wizengamot trials.

She wondered if she kissed like she was a virgin...

~*~

She climbed into Ginny's bed at 3AM. She started from the beginning.

She told her about her discovery that he'd used her name to garner respect and business deals. She told her about the dress, and the hair, and the Golden Snidgets, and finally the kiss.

Ginny gasped in all the right places, and groaned at Draco's stupidity, and giggled at Hermione's insolence. She pried the details from her, making Hermione blush and stumble. She asked what it felt like, and where his hands were, and what do you mean "noises," and would you have let him?

Ginny had to be up at 5AM for practice, so Hermione finally let her drift off, apologizing to her. Hermione got about an hour of sleep.

She dreamt of the balcony overlooking the Malfoy Gardens. She stood at the railing, looking over the pond. Draco approached her from behind and she turned to see him in his black robes with silver accents, and she looked down at herself to find her white gown from New Year's.

He smiled at her and took her hand, and when she looked up, they were standing in the gazebo. She had a bouquet of silver flowers in her hand. She turned to see Ginny in a blue dress, reaching to take her flowers for her.

She woke up smiling at Ginny's ceiling, bed empty, the sound of the shower running. Then she cried.

~*~

She got it out of her system.

No, she didn't have all the answers. No, she didn't know what challenges she would face today with Draco. But she put on her purple dress, her matching heels, hid her dark circles and marched into the office.

She could feel her heartbeat in her ears as the elevator doors opened. But then Melody smiled at her, bid her good morning, and she gained her focus back.

She got to her office, and almost shut the door behind her, but realized she had no reason to. She left it open, feeling vulnerable, but at least she would be able to see or hear him coming.

The first hour of her day was quiet. Walter brought in her mail and Hermione responded to several letters. She tried her best not to jump when she heard footsteps, or the rumble of a male voice.

Blaise entered her office, pouting. She looked up at him and watched him throw himself in her guest chair like a child.

"I don't want to do the interviews. Please do them for me?" He frowned and rubbed his hand over his face.

"The interviews for the Wizengamot Relations position?" He nodded. "Why are you conducting them?"

"Because Draco didn't want to reschedule them – sorry, Mr. Malfoy." Blaise rolled his eyes. "Will you do them with me?"

She frowned at him. "Why are you in charge?"

"Beats me!" Blaise slouched down in the chair. "He told me to do the interviews while he was out."

Hermione stared at him. "Dra—Malfoy's out of the office today?"

"Mm-hm." Blaise played with the sleeve of his robes.

She gazed over his shoulder, mind working. Why was he out? Was he sick? Was he avoiding her? This was a business for Merlin's sake, he needed to be here!

"The first one is at eleven. Will you please do them with me? If you don't, then I'm likely to hire the first good-looking woman who walks through those doors."

She scowled at him, knowing he was telling the truth. "Fine.

Hermione spent the next thirty minutes reviewing the duty statement and the submitted applications.

She and Blaise set up in the conference room, deciding on a list of questions that they would take turns asking. Blaise didn't seem like he was going to be taking notes at all, so Hermione resigned herself to be the note-taker.

After the first two interviews, Blaise had one of the interns bring them lunch in the conference room. Hermione wasn't really a big fan of using interns like that, or using company funds like that, but Blaise rolled his eyes and said he would pay out of pocket.

She was poking at her salad, moving the croutons around when Blaise spoke up.

"Why did you speak at Draco's trial?"

She turned to him. He was watching her, picking at the bread on his sandwich.

"It was the right thing to do." She was getting tired of those words....

He narrowed his eyes at her. "And what does that mean?" He pushed a piece of sourdough between his lips.

"I... didn't think it was fair, what the Wizengamot was charging him with. He was the only student going through trial and –"

"He was the only student to try to kill Albus Dumbledore."

She looked up at him. He chewed, watching her.

"And he failed. He lowered his wand. Harry saw it."

Blaise lifted a brow at her. "So that explains why Harry Potter testified," he said, and she waited for the "but..."

"When we were captured by Snatchers – Ron, Harry and me – we were taken to Malfoy Manor," she said, looking down at her salad. "And he refused to identify us." She stabbed at a tomato. "I don't think that type of person should be locked in Azkaban."

The image of Draco turning from her tortured body, the sound of his gasp –

"And if it was someone else?" he said, and she looked to him. "Say if it had been Gregory Goyle who had been asked to identify you. And he said he wasn't sure."

Blaise's eyes were sparkling, and in that moment, she knew. She wasn't fooling him one bit.

She swallowed. "I would have testified for Goyle then, had the Wizengamot chosen to try him."

He grinned at her. "Because it's 'the right thing to do,'" he said, and popped another piece of bread into his mouth.

She nodded and he smirked. She could feel her face heat, so she watched him pull his sandwich apart. Such an interesting way to eat...

"What's the deal with you and Daphne?"

His fingers paused, and she looked up to see the grin disappear from his face. She felt like she was asking too much, suddenly.

"We... used to date." He looked down at his sandwich, placing his pulled piece back down.

"Oh," she said. "Difficult breakup, I presume?"

"Aren't they all?" He gave a small smile, before it disappeared.

She thought she could read guilt on his features, and she imagined what it would be like to be in a relationship with Blaise Zabini, the most incorrigible flirt she'd ever known. She took a stab in the dark.

"You cheated on her?" She kept her face nonjudgmental.

He snapped his eyes to her, and she was wrong. He pressed his lips together.

"The opposite, actually." Blaise swallowed, folded and scrunched his wrapper, stood, and excused himself.

She closed her eyes, tossing down her fork, remembering that she should never presume anything about Slytherins. They were far more complicated than she'd ever imagined.

~*~

She and Blaise finished the interviews, and she drafted up her notes for Draco. There were more interviews scheduled for Thursday, which she assumed Draco would be present for.

Madame Michele was a terror that night. Nothing Hermione did was correct, and the list of notes for her to work on was outrageous. It was her fifth lesson. She was now halfway done and she didn't feel like she was learning anything, or growing.

If Lucius Malfoy really wanted to torture her, he would have scheduled a test at the end of all of this.

On Wednesday, she repeated the steps from the day before. She layered on her clothing, her makeup, and her thick skin, and prepared to face Draco that day.

But he was still out of the office.

She approached his secretary around ten.

"Will Mr. Malfoy be in today?"

"I don't believe so." The girl looked up at her from her magazine, trying to slip it under some paperwork.

"Alright," Hermione said. "Er... Has he cancelled the meeting with Mr. Townsend tonight?"

The girl looked at his schedule. "No," she said. "It's still on there." She looked up at her. "I think the Portkey is scheduled for this evening, just before."

Hermione blinked at her. "Portkey? Oh, is he... out of town?"

"Yes, he's in New York City. He scheduled a meeting out there." The girl smiled up at her, twirling her hair.

Hermione couldn't find words for a moment. A rare problem. "Would you be able to gather any notes he has on the Townsend meeting? I'm afraid I'm underprepared and I was hoping to meet with Malfoy today to catch up."

"Absolutely," the girl said. She pulled a sticky note and started writing. "I'll send over the file."

"Thank you," she said, turning and wandering back to her office.

New York City. The only American she could think of was Noelle, and she really didn't think he'd have a meeting with her after his insistence that she not contact her. Besides, she was pretty sure Noelle's university was in California.

Who was in New York City?

~*~

She arrived fifteen minutes early for the dinner meeting with Mr. Townsend. She had fully prepared for Draco to not show up, just in case.

The hostess showed her to the table, and she was relieved to be the first one there.

She had read all about Mr. Townsend that afternoon. He was a half-blood widower in his late sixties who had gathered a small fortune from a potion-making business. He was quite outspoken about the Wolfsbane Potion being made available to those who could not pay for it.

At five minutes to seven, one of the hostesses showed a grey-haired man to her table. Hermione stood, smiling.

"Mr. Townsend?" She reached out her hand, confident that Madame Michele would approve of this.

"Yes. Hello, Miss Granger." He shook her hand and gave her a warm smile. "I'm quite pleased to meet you."

"Likewise, Mr. Townsend." She took her seat again. "I'm so honored that you wanted to meet with us regarding the Werewolf Policy. Mr. Malfoy should be here, but I know he's been away on a business trip." She gestured to his empty chair.

The waiter took their drink order. Mr. Townsend ordered a scotch and Hermione took a cue to order a glass of wine.

And it was at that moment that she wondered if this dinner was to be on Malfoy Consulting's dime. She blinked at the white tablecloth. She wondered if she had enough gold with her to cover this, and then later get reimbursed. Is that how business dinners worked? Or did Draco have an account with this restaurant that she could charge this to? She looked around. This was a wizarding restaurant, right? She didn't have her Muggle credit card on her.

She tucked her worries away, resolving to excuse herself to go speak with the maître d' later on. She turned her focus on Mr. Townsend, who was a very pleasant man.

They chatted about Hogwarts and books, slowly working their way towards werewolves.

It was ten minutes past seven when she decided it was time to start the conversation without Draco. She had just begun to discuss their current progress with Mr. Townsend when a familiar voice froze her own.

"So sorry to be this late."

She looked up to find Draco Malfoy, smiling lightly at Mr. Townsend. She watched as Draco apologized, and Mr. Townsend stood to shake his hand. She was stuck, deciding if she should stand as well. Was that necessary? Damn you, Madame Michele. Why did she never learn anything useful?

He looked excellent. Beyond excellent. He looked delicious.

Hermione blinked and grabbed her water glass as Draco took the seat next to her, across from Mr. Townsend.

She watched him make small talk, trying to neutralize her expression. He smiled, and worked with his hands, and ordered Firewhisky – wizarding restaurant after all – and played the gracious, but late, host. Hermione watched him. And she tried not to watch him.

Once the conversation swayed back to werewolves, Draco gestured for her to take lead. She realized he had not looked at her once.

She blinked at him and turned to Mr. Townsend, starting up where they left off. She worked through the timeline of events, and their current struggles. Draco would chime in every so often and she managed to only shiver once at his voice.

Draco ordered a few appetizers for the table, and Hermione took the time to look over her menu. They strayed away from the Policy for a bit as Mr. Townsend chatted with Draco about mutual acquaintances, and Hermione read the menu.

"And Marcus Flint! You were close with him at Hogwarts, yes?"

Hermione flinched. She took a breath and looked up at Mr. Townsend. He was smiling, as if the memory of Marcus Flint was bright and happy.

She looked over at Draco just in time to see him smile and say, "Yes, he was my Quidditch captain for several years." She had to look closely to see the strain around his eyes.

She picked up her wine glass.

"Marcus was actually the one to tell me about the Policy." Mr. Townsend smiled, and Hermione drank deeply. "He said 'Geoffrey, have you heard what Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger are up to?'" Mr. Townsend – Geoffrey – chuckled.

Hermione pressed her lips together. She felt a bit nauseous.

"He was an excellent apprentice. Mighty fine potioneer."

And it clicked. Marcus Flint had brewed that potion himself. He'd been an apprentice to Mr. Townsend, who had dedicated his life to helping people by making potions. How terribly sad. She sucked in a breath and tried to breathe the tension out.

"That was so kind of him to recommend the Policy to you," she said. She smiled and heard Draco's knuckle pop on her right.

She took the opportunity to steer the conversation back, and away from Marcus Flint. The waiter came and took their order. From her cursory glance as the menu's prices, she was quite glad Draco was here to cover the bill.

Once the waiter disappeared, Mr. Townsend took his napkin off his lap.

"Excuse me, I'm going to find the restroom."

She felt cold dread twist in her chest. Oh, Mr. Townsend, please don't do this...

Every step he took away from the table tightened her stomach more and more. Hermione didn't dare look at Draco. She reached for her wine glass and almost knocked it over. She righted it and brought it to her lips.

She placed it down on the table. She waited three seconds and brought it back to her lips.

She could hear him breathing next to her.

"How was New York?"

She looked over at him. He was staring at the salt and pepper shaker. She saw his jaw tighten. Then release.

"Excellent."

He didn't look at her. And she was almost grateful, not sure what she would do if he turned his eyes on her.

"A potential client?" She ran her eyes along his jawline, resting her gaze on those lips.

"No," he said. He cleared his throat. "Personal appointment."

"Oh," she said. "Sorry, I didn't meant to pry—"

He shook his head at the salt shaker, implying that she wasn't prying.

"Blaise and I handled the interviews." She wished they could just sit in silence but apparently she wasn't going to let them. "Some excellent candidates."

He nodded.

"Will you be in the office tomorrow?"

"Yes."

Mr. Townsend returned. And she could breathe again.

They had a lovely rest of the evening. Her dinner was delicious, Mr. Townsend kept the mood light, and he even pledged half of their fundraising goal. She was shocked.

Mr. Townsend and Draco argued over the bill, which she thought was adorable. When she stood from the table to use the restroom, both men stood for her. How precious.

When they left, shaking Mr. Townsend's hand and scheduling a follow up meeting at the office next week, Draco gestured for her to exit before him.

She didn't realize how accustomed she was to the feeling of his hand on her lower back, guiding her, until it was gone.

~*~

Draco, Blaise and she sat down on Thursday morning to discuss the interviews from earlier that week.

She triplicated her notes from Tuesday and handed a set to each of them. The woman who Hermione felt the most strongly about was Blaise's least favorite, of course.

"But I do want to share with you one of her answers. It was quite impressive really," Hermione said, flipping through the notes. "Ah, here. We asked 'name a time you had differences or a misunderstanding with a co-worker and how the two of you resolved the issue.' And she said that she likes to come at problems from multiple viewpoints. She'll take a moment to try to figure out where the person is coming from, put herself in their shoes, and accept the fact that she may be wrong."

Hermione looked up from her notes to find Draco looking directly at her. She blinked. She hadn't see his eyes since Monday, since right before he kissed her. They were hot then, and filled with promises.

His eyes were neutral and even now. She watched for any of his facial ticks. None.

"Er," she started, "She also said she treats every situation in the office as 'business, not personal' and knows that office friendships must be sacrificed at times for the good of the client."

She looked up again and Draco's eyes were still on her. The same.

"She was dreadfully boring," Blaise whined. "And I felt personally attacked in the whole 'not everyone is going to be friends' part of it."

"Alright," Draco said. "I'll keep her in mind. Blaise and I will do the interviews today, so that he can properly compare and contrast all the candidates I didn't get to see." He stood from the table, picking up her notes.

Blaise would do the interviews today? She frowned. Blaise who didn't take a single note and judged people on their appearance? She opened her mouth to argue and Draco left the room.

She huffed.

~*~

She had his secretary check his schedule for Friday and find her an opening. While she would truly love to discuss the manipulative use of her name, the current atmosphere was a bit too... volatile for that discussion.

She wanted to give Walter an opportunity to pitch the Golden Snidget idea again. He also had two other portfolios he'd been working on, and one of them was quite interesting. He had drafted a proposal for Hermione and her branch to start a consulting service for Muggle-born families entering Hogwarts, giving counsel to the parents and starting a bit of a "catch-up" program for the students.

Hermione loved it. It was exactly the kind of work she would be interested in. She thought on Arthur Weasley showing her parents around Diagon Alley, watching her father become overwhelmed and watching her mother's awe. She would love to assist Muggle-born families with the transition process.

About thirty minutes before the impromptu meeting, Walter came into her office.

"Just got this," he said, waving a piece of paper. "We'll have to reschedule next week."

She frowned as she took the page from him. It was a memo from Draco's secretary, apologizing that Draco was actually unavailable for their 3PM.

She had just watched the girl check his schedule a few hours ago, finding that time slot open.

"Oh, well." Walter shrugged. "I'll keep polishing it and we'll try again next week." He left.

Hermione wandered over to her doorway, and leaned against the frame. Draco's door was closed, and there was a light on.

Did he really have a conflict? Or did he just cancel their one-on-one?

~*~

The weekend was slow. Nothing terribly exciting happened at Cornerstone, and she found herself wondering if she should think about giving it up. And then she found herself wondering if she should keep working there just to spite Draco.

On Monday the Witch Weekly issue came out. They had chosen the periwinkle dress for the cover, and several other poses and outfits filled the center pages. Hermione was quite pleased, and she got a lovely note from Pansy, letting her know how excited she was.

She stepped out of the lifts on Monday and almost stumbled to see Draco at the front desk, reading through something while Melody opened mail. He turned to head back to his office, and his eyes landed on her.

She nodded at him and continued to her office, trying to shake off the dead stare he had given her.

At the Monday Senior Consultant meeting, she brought in Walter's proposals. It seemed that Wentworth had followed her lead from the week before and had drafted his own packet to pass out to everyone, proposing his next steps for acquiring more businesses in Diagon Alley.

When it came to her, she handed out two packets.

"Walter and I have been working on revising the Golden Snidget proposal, adjusting the budget, and laying down a more workable timeframe to hopefully move up the project into this quarter instead of next –"

"I thought I already shot this down."

Hermione looked at Draco. His eyes were still dead.

"You did. That's why we revised it. For your review."

He closed the packet, opened his mouth to speak, and she cut him off.

"Which means you take it, you read it fully, you think on it, and you come back to me with a decision," she said.

Her neck was warm. She thought she saw a flicker of life in his eyes, but it was gone before she could think on it. She took a breath.

"The next project I wanted to present is truly Walter's idea, and I think it's wonderful."

She went on to describe the Muggle-Born Integration Program, taking them through the packet. Once she was wrapping up, she turned to see Wentworth grinning, Mockridge glancing over the financial analysis, and Blaise doodling on the pages... as expected. Draco was frowning at the front cover. She finished, and he spoke up.

"So, this is the third project of your branch that will be fundraised, having no direct income from specific clients?"

She kept from rolling her eyes at him. "Some Muggle-born families may very well be able to afford the program's fees, but yes, I have projected needing a sort of 'scholarship fund' for the Muggle-Born Integration –"

"So, again, your department's spending will be putting us in the red, without a projected future income for any of your projects."

She met his cold eyes, trying to keep the heat out of her own.

"Isn't that the point of fundraising?"

"Three projects at the same time?"

"The Muggle-Born Integration Program won't even be needed until closer to July, when Hogwarts letters go out. That's definitely to begin next quarter."

"This is a business, Granger." He sat back in his chair, and his nonchalance irked her. "You are only trying to spend money instead of thinking of the profitability of your branch. While all of your causes would, of course, gather excellent publicity for M.C.G. –"

"Isn't that what I'm here for? Public opinion?" she shot at him.

Blaise lifted a brow, suddenly interested.

She definitely saw a fire in Draco's eyes that time. He clicked his jaw shut. And the fire died.

"Keep thinking of ideas that will increase profitability."

She took a deep breath. Draco dismissed the meeting. And she moved as calmly as she could back to her office.

Part of her knew he was absolutely correct. She knew better than anyone about this company's financial situation. But how much longer could she work only on the werewolf project. She was bored with the work she was doing, and her relationship with Draco had her on edge at all times.

This was becoming... impossible.

~*~

On Tuesday afternoon, she crossed the office floor, folded piece of paper in hand. She approached his secretary – whose name, she was embarrassed to admit, she still didn't know – and checked to see if he was in a meeting.

The girl told her no, eyes shifting to the side, but he'd asked not to be disturbed unless it was of huge importance.

Hermione nodded, and knocked on his door.

A moment's pause.

"Come in."

Hermione took a deep breath and opened the door. He sat behind his desk reading through Wentworth's proposal from yesterday's meeting. He leaned back in his chair, comfortable. His eyes flipped up to her, then back down to the paperwork.

"Yes?"

She shut the door behind her. He looked up at her again, eyes flickering between her and the closed door. She swallowed.

She walked toward his desk, fingers playing with the one-page letter she'd written up. She had chosen the outfit Pansy had penned in for Friday, but it was her favorite of the week. Flowy, knee-length navy skirt with a grey button-up. She wanted to get a chance to wear it. She had her hair pulled into a sleek ponytail, controlling the curls like Pansy taught her.

She placed the letter on his desk. "I wanted to...I need to give you my notice."

He stared at the letter and clenched his jaw.

"I've started to feel uncomfortable here and I don't think my comfort will improve over time. My work is starting to be affected. I had unreal expectations coming into this company, and I don't think it's going to work out. So I am giving you my two weeks' notice."

She clasped her hands in front of her, and bit the inside of her cheek as she watched him remain still.

"No."

She blinked at him. "No?"

"I do not accept." He returned to the paperwork in front of him, not sparing her a glance.

Hermione felt heat flushing her neck and she pursed her lips, biting back a few choice words.

"Well, I'm sorry to hear that. I will gladly train my replacement. But my last day will be February 25th. I'll work until the end of that week, and leave that Friday."

He cracked his neck, tossed Wentworth's proposal across his desk, and stood from his chair. Her heart pounded. He looked up at her and his face was bored but his eyes were on fire.

He walked around his desk, grabbed up the folded paper she'd placed at the edge and opened it. He stood three paces from her, leaning on the edge of the desk. His eyes flew across the words.

"It doesn't say anything in here about your boss sexually harassing you." He looked up at her, scowling.

She swallowed. Oh, so they were going to talk about it now? "No. That is not my intention –"

"And what is your intention, Granger?" He crumpled the letter and tossed it to the side. He gripped the edge of the desk behind him, lifting his chin proudly. His cheeks were pink. "What is it you want?"

"I... I want to resign. Clearly." She shook her head at him, not understanding.

"You'll resign if I don't... what?" He tilted his head at her.

"If nothing," she laughed. She studied him. Jaw tight and knuckles turning white. "This isn't blackmail, Draco –"

"Draco, again." He stood tall, stepping off the desk. Now only two paces from her. "It's been months since I've heard that." She heard one of his knuckles pop and her breath left her. "I think the last time was in an alley, whispered into my ear as your fingers gripped my hair—"

She gasped and stepped backward.

"—or maybe it was on my balcony, you in a white dress, smiling at me like you knew what you were doing –"

"What are you talking about, Malfoy—"

"Nah-ah! Can't take it back now. It's Draco, again." He stepped toward her, eyes flashing, breathing uneven. She stepped back, cursing the heels. Her chest was heavy and she felt like he'd let all the air out of the room. His eyes were dead seconds ago, and now they were burning.

"Do you want me to make a sexual harassment claim?" She laughed, shaky.

"I want you to be honest about why you're leaving, Granger." He stepped forward again and she wished she could stop herself from retreating. "Brave little Gryffindor Golden Girl, let me kiss her, and doesn't know how to take it back."

She laughed even as she stepped backward again. "I'm the one who wants to take it back?" His grey eyes danced over her face, spots of pink high on his cheeks as her back landed against the wall. He had her pinned, again. Always pinning her. She snarled at him, "Draco Malfoy, calm and collected, never mixing business and personal, kissed an employee and now wants to be punished for it."

His arms came up to the wall on either side of her. He stepped impossibly closer, and she could feel his chest against hers.

"Are you gonna punish me, Granger?" He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, and she could make out a smirk begging at the corner of his mouth.

She shivered. This was... not what she had intended. She could feel his breath in her mouth. She waited, feeling him sway into her and ebb away with every breath. She tilted her head back, waiting. His breath was heaving.

She found his eyes, dark and flashing, and waiting. Waiting for her to kiss him.

Goddamn him. She stood on her tiptoes, in her heels, and caught his lips with hers. He chased her mouth and murmured a "fuck" as he connected their hips. She gasped and he pushed into her mouth.

She heard herself moan, and one of his hands grabbed her waist, as he ground his hips against hers. The other moved to her neck. He grunted, and reached up, grabbing her ponytail, ripping the band from her hair.

"Never do this..." His voice was hoarse against her neck as her hair fell around them. He sucked on her neck and she shivered.

She felt him running his teeth along her skin, and she let her eyes drift close. His hand at her neck threaded through the hair behind her ear, curling his fingers against her scalp. She pressed her lips together, but the groan still poured out of her.

He gently pushed her knees apart with his right thigh. He was moving slowly on her lower half but ravishing her on her top half. She was gripping his arms, not sure what to do. She was panting. His knee came between hers, softly. Opening her. She could feel the hand on her hip starting to gather the material of her skirt, pulling it up.

She bit her lip. This was heaven. It was everything it was supposed to be. She felt his thigh rising higher, connecting with her center and she moaned, realizing that this was what she'd seen him do to Pansy in the Hogwarts corridors. This was what she'd dreamed about as a sixteen-year-old, what she'd wondered about.

She moved her hips against him, and electricity ran through her body as she came in contact with his thigh. She did it again. And again.

"Oh, god," she moaned and her hands slid up his shoulders and grabbed his hair. Perfect. She felt a tremor go through him and she pulled at his head, pulling him back from where he was attacking her neck. His lips were swollen and his breath caught when he saw her face. She reached up with her mouth again and he kissed her, running his hand down from her neck, down her chest, barely grazing her breast and she groaned against his mouth.

She felt the top buttons of her shirt opening, and the fabric of her skirt scraping against her thigh as his fingertips finally found skin.

He was going to have her naked in minutes and she wouldn't stop him. He wanted her, and she wouldn't stop him.

"You're driving me insane." He wheezed against her lips, eyes closed, pressing his forehead to hers. His right hand was rubbing circles on her upper thigh where the skirt had been pulled, his left was dipping into her shirt, reaching for her breast.

"Sorry..."

He chuckled, squeezing his eyes closed, biting his lip. He brushed against her breast, the fabric of her bra pushing against her. She gasped and he grabbed her thigh, pulling it up to his hip. She teetered on one heel, barely able to stay upright when she was on two.

His fingers roamed across her outer thigh, rounding down toward her backside, finding the fabric of her knickers. He kissed her. His fingers dipped under, and she snapped her eyes open.

He'd know. Soon he'd... be able to feel it, right? She panicked. As if he couldn't already tell by the way she could barely touch him even as he undressed her.

This was something you warn a person about, right? Even if he already had guessed...

"I'm... I..."

He kissed her mouth again, sighing into her as he pulled her bra cup down.

"Wait, wait." She gasped. "I'm ... you were right...to assume, before. About the five additional."

"What?" he whispered, his fingers growing closer to her core.

"It would have been 35," she said, blushing.

"35?"

"35,000." She gasped. His fingers stilled on her skin. His eyes snapped open to hers. "I'm...I haven't..."

His mouth was open and panting. He squeezed his eyes shut, dropping his head on her shoulder.

"How?" It left his body like a laugh.

She didn't know if she was to respond.

"I wanted you to know, before..."

Then she felt him remove his hand from her knickers. And it was like ice water.

He left his head on her shoulder, breathing mist on her neck, and placed his hand against the wall by her neck. He pulled his other hand out of her shirt.

He dropped his knee from where it had been pushing against her, rubbing her perfectly, and she almost whimpered.

He wasn't going to continue. Because she was a virgin. He didn't want her because she was a virgin?

She opened her mouth and no sound came out.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her shoulder. "Things went too far."

She swallowed, tears pricked her eyes. This wasn't fair. She'd waited. She'd only dreamed of him. She hadn't bothered with anyone else, and now he didn't want her for it?

He lifted his head and placed his hand on her cheeks, lightly.

"Don't leave." His grey eyes moved back and forth between hers. "Don't resign." He swallowed. "I'll be better. We'll go back to how it was... before. I won't ignore you or treat you any differently because of this."

Back to before. Back to co-workers after this. After tasting it.

"Don't leave." His thumb brushed across her lip.

She could have nothing or she could have something. But he wouldn't give her everything.

"Okay."