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His Second Chance	By : xSabirahx Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9944 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 1
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. I make no money from this story.

Chapter List
- 1-A Chance Encounter
- 1
“Are we ever going to have sex or not?”
Hermione Granger was tired. Tired of being strung along for years with false promises and fake kisses. Her fiance, Ron Weasley, had been promising her marriage and kids since they graduated Hogwarts, but it was now several years later, and nothing had happened. He kept saying he wanted to wait until marriage to sleep together, but with his constant Auror missions with Harry causing him to be away, all it left Hermione with was an unsated sex drive and a muggle vibrator who’s batteries were always dead. And so she approached her betrothed with this line one night, fed up completely.
“Excuse me?” The redhead asked, looking up from his copy of Chudley Cannons Weekly, appalled at her blunt question and attitude.
Hermione tossed her head back in exasperation. “You heard me. Quit stringing me along. I’m tired of this game, Ronald. We've been together several YEARS now. We both have fulfilling careers, but I am tired of waiting. I know you want to wait for kids, but this is ridiculous. I am a full grown woman, I have needs… and they don’t involve celibacy!”
As Hermione continued her rant, Ron’s face grew more mottled with red.
“Bloody hell, woman! Look, Hermione, I told you. I want to wait for marriage and kids. And what happens if I die on a mission, and you’re left pregnant and alone? I can wait for sex, and I’m a man, for fuck's sake! Don’t think I don’t have needs, too. I don’t see why you’re so goddamned impatient!”
Hermione grabbed her wand, hand bag, and cloak. “If you don’t see it, then I’ll show you. I took my own virginity with a muggle sex toy because I was so frustrated with you! I couldn’t wait any longer so I took care of it myself. If you don’t believe me, go look in my bottom drawer. I’m going out!” Satisfied with his shocked expression, jaw slack and eyes wide, Hermione apparated to the closest wizard bar, The Tipsy Pixie.
She went to the bar and ordered a shot of firewhiskey and a mug of butterbeer, intending to get herself completely blitzed. As she sat down at the bar, she looked at herself critically in the mirror behind it. Her hair was no longer bushy like in her youth, but instead glossy and sleek in gentle, wavy layers.. Her nose was always straight and pixie-like, turned slightly up at the end. Her lips were not full, but heart-shaped. Her eyebrows were well groomed, and winged. Her brown eyes were warm with full lashes. She wasn’t a beauty, but she was attractive, wasn't she?
So why didn’t Ron want her?
When the barkeep brought her drinks, she took the shot of firewhiskey and dropped it directly into the butterbeer, glass and all, to the raised eyebrow of the barkeep. She took a long pull from the glass, feeling the alcohol burn all the way down pleasantly.
It was a nice distraction for a change. Ron frustrated her to no end. She turned down many a wizard’s and muggle’s advances for the sake of Ron possibly making good on his promise and what did she have to show for it? A hyperactive libido and no worthy man to take care of her.
She wasn't naive. She knew the mechanics of sex. She did enough "research" online to figure out what she might be into. She had so many trashy erotic novels under their bed, she could probably wallpaper her house several times over. She made lists of what she might like and what she knew she definitely didn’t like and hid them in the bottom drawer along with her toy. She didn’t have fetishes, but more like curiosities she was interested in exploring. But how was she to do so with someone who treated her like a mannequin? And yes, she did have one toy she used to get breaking her hymen over with, thinking it might make her first real time more pleasant. But beyond that, she didn't have any experience of physical intimacy with another person. She was stuck between being eternally celibate with her fiance or going out and sleeping with the first male she came across.
Unbeknownst to her, she drew many wizard’s attention at the bar, with her sleek legs peeking out from under her robes, and her slender, fit physique with a full bosom. She wasn’t lying to Ron. He was a successful Auror with Harry as his partner. And she worked in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement with them, dealing with putting an end to pro-pureblood laws. After Voldermort’s demise, she demolished Muggleborn curfew laws and was on track to end the Marriage Law that required Muggleborns to be married off to prospective purebloods and half-bloods to keep the Wizard line dominant. It wasn't a currently enacted law, but she was appalled to learn that it hadn't been repealed since its inception over a millenia ago. So she was successful and she was attractive, and she was highly intelligent. What was wrong with her?
She never noticed who had sat down next to her, until he spoke.
"Granger."
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A certain blond’s head poked through the tavern door, his sharp grey-blue eyes scanning the crowd. He did not wish to be recognized, having gained enough media attention since his father’s death after the war. Draco Malfoy grew into a sharp man, his face filling out so he wasn’t quite so beaky looking, instead sporting a strong jaw and masculine features. His shoulders had broadened, his waist still slim and tapered from his affiliation with quidditch. His white blond hair grew longer, not shaggy, but long enough to hang in his eyes in an alluring manner, as well as brush his shoulders. He wasn’t interested in looking exactly like his father but he no longer cared for the slicked-back look of his youth. At six feet, two inches, he was no longer the scrawny kid who made fun of those less fortunate.
Malfoy knew what he wanted and he used his deceased father’s assets to turn his wealth into an empire. He no longer cared for the anti-muggle and Muggleborn sentiment, and thus expanded his wealth by investing in muggle technology, everything from entertainment to boats, planes, and motor vehicles. At age twenty-four, he was a billionaire and a well known figure in muggle and wizarding communities alike.
He was also a bachelor. So what was his problem?
He. Was. Bored.
The ladies who knew him personally also knew his prowess in bed, and the lucky few he kept around were able to divulge in some of his darkest fantasies. But none of them, not a single one, had ever had the privilege to participate in his darkest fantasy of all: To possess a woman completely, have her submit willingly to him, let him take control, drive them both to insanity with pleasure and back again. But he was picky. He wanted a woman with fiery passion, intelligence, bravery, and ambition. He wanted a challenge. And every woman he had ever had, from school onward including Pansy and Astoria and Daphne, always lacked something... something more.
Throughout his years at Hogwarts, one girl stood different from the rest. One girl flamed his ire during the day and his passion at night, some nights becoming so unbearable that he had to take matters into his own hands, quite literally.
He loathed her.
She had everything he wanted. She had the academic talent of a genius who could do whatever she wanted for a career. He was forced to become a Deatheater and do his father’s and Voldemort’s bidding. She had true friends who supported her. He had ‘minions’ who cowered before him because of Lucius. She had passion and determination in everything she did. He had the cold acceptance of one not being able to change his own fate.
And somewhere during the war and last year at Hogwarts, she had blossomed, filling out in all the right places. And so he hated that he found himself attracted to her. And because of that, he distanced himself from her even more so than usual to make it through that last year of school. He wanted nothing more than to pull her into an abandoned classroom and shag her senseless, but to act on that fantasy would be to go against everything he had ever known in his eighteen years of existence.
She was a mudblood.
And he fucking wanted her.
He wanted her underneath him, begging for his cock, putting that pretty, smart mouth to use in other ways besides giving the correct answer in every blasted class they had together. He wanted her restrained in magical ropes, telling him how badly she needed him inside her. He wanted to use various toys and implements to turn her lovely porcelain skin into an even more alluring shade of pink. Most of all, he wanted her submission given freely to him.
She consumed his thoughts, even five years later. So when he sat down at the bar next to a pretty brunette with a heart-shaped face and glanced into the mirror, his mouth went dry as he saw something he never thought he’d see in a million years.
His second chance.
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“Granger.”
Hermione started at the sound of his aristocratic drawl. She glanced up into the mirror and locked eyes with familiar stormy-grey orbs.
“Malfoy?” She asked, incredulously.
“In the flesh,” he smirked.
Hermione didn’t turn her chair, but traced her eyes over his face, taking in the subtle changes over the years. Magazines and Daily Prophet articles didn’t do him justice. She hated to admit it to herself, but she rather liked what she saw. In fact, she caught herself staring and had to look away, blushing furiously. She cleared her throat.
“Um, what are you doing here?” she found herself asking.
“Having a drink… much like yourself, it looks like.” Malfoy replied, nodding pointedly at her empty pint.
Hermione could have smacked herself. What a dumb question to ask her rival after so many years.
“Um… I meant, what are you doing in these parts? You don’t live here," Hermione stated dumbly. Smooth, she thought to herself critically.
“Of course I don’t live here… I was in the neighborhood and was thirsty,” Malfoy drawled. He was enjoying the fact that she was getting obviously more flustered by the second. He turned to her fully and let his gaze caress her image from the top of her head, down her slender form and shapely legs to her tiny feet adorned in no-nonsense Mary Janes, and then back up again to her blushing face.
Was he just checking me out? Hermione thought to herself. You’re imagining it, Hermione!
“I’m just as surprised to see you, Granger. Where’s the weasel?” Malfoy inquired with an arched eyebrow.
He has no business looking so good in a damned jumper, Hermione thought distractedly. She couldn’t help but notice his fine form while he was speaking. Clad in a dark grey turtleneck sweater, dark slacks, shiny dress shoes, and a black belt, he made a fine picture of sophistication. She didn’t know when he filled out or transitioned into a grown man from a cowardly little git, but she could tell he was no longer her school age nemesis. Hermione wasn’t sure about this change of events. But, as soon as he said the word “weasel”, she felt her eyes narrow.
“If you’re referring to my fiance, Ronald, Malfoy, he’s at home.” She wasn’t sure why she had to emphasize her relationship, but she was feeling petty.
Malfoy’s other brow went up to match the first. “Oh, ho… fiance, is he? What took him so long? I had thought you and he would have been happily married and had a bunch of swotty little ginger kids by now.” He gave her a side long glance as he took a long drag from his pint.
Hermione felt her cheeks flame in indignation. She suddenly found herself coming to Ron’s defense. “For your information, he and I both work long hours at the Ministry and have simply been too preoccupied to focus on growing a family. Not that its any of your business.” Hermione distracted herself from this absurd conversation to attempt to get the bar keep’s attention once more by standing up and leaning over the bar to wave him down. However, the greasy man was turned away from her. Unbeknownst to her, Draco’s eyes went straight to the ample curve of her backside as her sensible pencil skirt rose up. He felt his groin tighten and subtly adjusted himself in his seat.
He suddenly felt like playing with fire.
“Preoccupied… has he fucked you, yet? Or is Granger eternally virginal…” He whispered seductively, purposefully using coarse language to see how she might react.
Hermione sank back on her stool suddenly with a thud, she was so shocked. “Ex-excuse me?” She turned wide eyes onto Malfoy, taking in his smirk and noting how his grey eyes had darkened. She was appalled at how her skin flushed and grew warm under her jumper, and how her heart seemed to stutter suddenly.
Draco leaned towards Hermione. In shock as she was, she didn't move away. He narrowed his eyes and licked his lips before continuing in a low, raspy voice. “You heard me… I’m sure your office door has a lock on it… Perhaps Weasley might have grown some balls and took you on your desk? Or maybe, against the door from behind, his hand muffling all the noises you make... or are you strictly missionary only, lights off, clothes still on? Is he even capable of making you scream in pleasure…” Draco tilted his head and lifted an eyebrow once more, gauging her reaction.
Before Hermione could stop herself, she closed her eyes and shook her head, her face red in embarrassment. She wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or that this situation was so surreal that surely she was dreaming.. But she found herself no longer caring to continue the conversation. She stood up, gathered her coat silently, threw a handful of sickles on the bar, and went to leave. She found herself stopped, however, by a strong firm hand wrapped around her wrist. She looked back to the owner of the hand and felt her eyebrows raise once more at the owner. “Let go of me, Malfoy. I have nothing more to say to you,” she hissed, glaring at his offending hand.
“Wait, look… I…” Draco sighed. The first time he sees her in person in 5 years and she already wanted nothing to do with him. Just say it, you fucking git! He berated himself internally. A few seconds passed and he was still holding her wrist. She gave a tug, her other hand slowly creeping into her coat pocket to wrap around her wand.
“I’m sorry.” Draco muttered, and dropped her hand. Hermione found herself once more surprised. Malfoy had apologized to her.
“Did I just hear you say..” She started.
Draco rolled his eyes and ran a hand through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes, before dragging it down his face. He couldn’t look at her. But he knew he had to start somewhere if he were to get anywhere with her.
“Yes, I said I was sorry! All I can say is… old habits die hard.” Draco shrugged sheepishly with his hand on the back of his neck. He finally lifted his gaze to hers and what he saw gave him hope.
Hermione found herself debating. Malfoy had apologized, and he seemed genuine enough. But how could she trust him? And, what's more… Why was she attracted to him? He still seemed dangerous. And the way he talked to her earlier, had her hot and bothered in more ways than she cared to admit. She wasn’t angry at him, as she expected him to be a crude bastard, buit she was angry at herself for liking it.
Hermione found herself letting go of her wand in her coat. She looked up at him from under her eyelashes and studied him critically. On the surface, she could see that he was trying to keep up the same facade of sophisticated bachelor with more money than probably all of Britain, but when she looked closer, she could trace the subtle lines around his mouth and eyes, the dark shadows under the grey orbs staring back at her. She thought back to their 7th year when they returned to school with only a few others. He had left her alone, hadn’t he? And he was polite in the few interactions they had. He didn't even call her Mudblood. Pulling on her Gryffindor courage, she decided to do something she never dreamed of.
She was going to give Draco Malfoy a second chance.
She held out her hand to shake his, looked up at him from under her lashes, and waited until he grabbed her hand, a look of intrigue on his handsome features.
"Please call me Hermione."
A/N: Been cooking this one up for a while. My first actual fanfiction. This is going to be erotic, sometimes fluffy, but over all, definitely not "vanilla." Will take a bit to jump into the actual smut, so bear with me, but I already have a few of those scenes written. Please read and review to let me know if I should bother continuing, hah!
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His Second Chance