Hermione Granger stared at the open door not far from her desk. With a slight frown, she looked away and tried to focus on her work. Within moments, her eyes were drifting back to the door that led into *his* office. Blaise Zabini. Head of Potions Research at Deveruex Industries, a major corporation in the Wizarding world that made a variety of things from brooms to beauty products to potions. It was also his family’s company, Deveruex the name of his Grandmother’s family.
Unfortunately, Blaise had not earned the position because of nepotism. He had actually completed a Masters in Potions in a little over four years, taking over as Head of her department six months ago after graduation. Hermione, herself, had finished her duel degree in Potions and Charms in two and a half years, but she had begun working immediately instead of continuing for her Masters. She had liked her former boss, an elderly wizard that she had discovered worked past his retirement waiting for Blaise to complete school to take over the position, but she had to admit that Blaise was excellent in the position.
When he had arrived at the office six months ago, she honestly hadn’t known him. It sounded awful, but it was true. He had been in numerous classes with her for seven years but there had been no recognition when they’d been introduced. Possibly because she’d been too busy trying not to stare at the tall, attractive wizard that had the most beautiful dark blue eyes not that she’d admit she had been swayed by a pretty face.
Nope, not Hermione Granger. She didn’t think about things like gorgeous eyes and thick black hair that tempted one to run their fingers through it and chiseled cheekbones and plump full lips that seemed to be saying kiss me and a body that appeared too tall and skinny to be able to move with such grace and elegance and she definitely didn’t think about things like large hands and long fingers and wonder what they would feel like moving along her bare skin.
Blaise Zabini wasn’t traditionally handsome. His nose was a bit too wide and his face a bit too long and he was tall and lanky, not overly muscular and compact like the men often considered "handsome", but there was something about him that was captivating. Perhaps it was his quiet demeanor, his complete lack of awareness that he was gorgeous, because even with his few flaws he was still good-looking and often got second and third glances of appreciation, his golden skin and features that brought to mind images of the Gods in the Muggle books of Mythology, or even some subtle thing she had not yet determined. All she knew was that the moment she had touched his hand at their introduction, she had felt an awareness for this man that she had never felt before.
When she had heard his name, it had sounded familiar. He had given her a look and slowly smiled, that action making him even more devastating as his perfect white teeth were shown brilliantly against his bronzed skin. That’s when he had mentioned Hogwarts, obviously seeing the look in her eyes and knowing she was trying to place the name because she wasn’t sure how she could have forgotten his face. That’s when it had clicked. Blaise Zabini, the forgotten Slytherin.
She had seen him in the library, sitting alone with his books, keeping to himself, never speaking to anyone, rarely speaking in class and then only when called upon, the boy she had once remarked to Ginny she found intriguing but soon forgot while studying for NEWTS and helping Harry fight Voldemort. She certainly hadn’t forgotten him this time.
For six months, they had worked together and he was still an enigma. Extremely clever, completely focused, a bit shy, a fantastic listener, observant, not at all talkative, and far more arousing than any wizard had the right to be, in her opinion. They had gotten to be friends over the last few months, the dark-haired wizard slowly opening up to her, confessing that he wasn’t accustomed to having friends and was a bit lost at how one went about it, spending most of their lunch breaks talking quietly or reading in a very comfortable silence.
They had gone out to dinner a few times when they had to work late, Blaise always allowing her to choose the restaurant and asking questions and listening to her during their meal, though he would always answer her questions truthfully and give her his complete attention in a way that she found very attractive. It had never been anything more than colleagues, strictly platonic, Hermione doing her best to conceal her attraction and growing infatuation with her boss. Not only was it completely cliché and ridiculous to become enamored with one’s boss, but she had little experience at relationships and had had a horrid fear of rejection so it was best to just smile and be friendly without letting him see her practically eating him alive with her eyes.
Okay. That wasn’t entirely true. Things had been platonic for the first few months. He had never given any indication that he even realized she was a woman much less might be attracted to her for the first three months that they had worked together. There had been no flirting, no charming smirks meant to gain her attention, nothing except friendly smiles and shy glances. However, that had changed during the fourth month. It was nothing overt and she had been convinced that she might have been imagining things, but it seemed that he was watching her more often, that he casually touched her whenever possible, that there was an awareness between them, unspoken but palpable.
Hermione had very little knowledge regarding men as anything other than platonic pseudo-siblings. She had given her virginity to Harry on the night before the Final Battle against Voldemort during seventh year. It had been both their first times, neither wanting to die a virgin and trusting each other to share that experience. It had been awkward and uncomfortable and neither of them had really known what to do and they were best friends so there hadn’t really been much attraction and it had made things even more weird, but they’d managed to follow through with the actions and had laughed about it later. They were still best friends, Harry happily married to the former Pansy Parkinson of all people, and it had actually strengthened their friendship. She had no regrets losing her virginity to Harry, knowing that he had been gentle and loved her, even if not in a passionate and romantic way.
She had dated a few times since that night with Harry, but it had never been anything serious and never gone beyond that initial date. She’d been focused on her schoolwork and then her job, having very little time for relationships and not finding anyone that made her feel the way she believed one should feel before becoming physical and involved romantically. No one, that is, until Blaise Zabini. When she had caught him watching her with those beautiful indigo eyes and a thoughtful curve of his lips, she hadn’t known how to react.
Normally, she would have found books and done research to find a solution to a situation in which she was unprepared, but the idea of reading books on relationships was just too much, even for her, so that left her uncertain and nervous. In the weeks since she had realized that he appeared to be aware of her in *that* way, the attraction had escalated. He touched her hand when passing her paperwork, his inscrutable eyes on her face. He asked about her personal life, his husky voice low, practically purring, sending tingles to places that definitely should not be tingling when thinking of one’s boss. He had flirted subtly, quietly, in the way he seemed to do everything. Testing her, seeing her reaction, studying her to confirm that she was attracted to him.
Everything had changed last night. They’d finished a project that had been on-going for a month, staying late to complete it before the weekend. She had been straightening her desk when he had approached her. Expecting him to mention dinner, as had become their custom after working late, she’d looked up and smiled. The smile had faded when she saw the desire in his eyes, not having a chance to speak before his lips were on hers. He had moved her against her desk as he devoured her mouth, his large hands moving beneath her robes and stroking her back as she’d kissed him back with the same passion and intensity, letting six months of desire loose as her fingers had tangled in his long black hair.
When he’d released her lips, he’d looked at her and smiled slightly, seemingly pleased by her reaction and remaining as reserved and undisturbed as normal. She had been a mess, her heart racing and her hair ruffled and her robe open yet he looked calm and unaffected. Hermione had felt every insecurity she had ever had regarding her ability to be sexy and attractive and her dislikes about her body consume her as she decided he must have hated the kiss and she’d be humiliated by his lack of reaction. Those doubts fled as his fingers had touched her cheek, raising her head so he could look her in the eyes.
In his quiet voice, he asked her to consider whether or not she wanted to take it farther. Spend one night with him, give herself to him completely, and then she could decide if she wanted to try having a relationship with him or it was simply physical attraction that needed to be released. Never once did he betray his own feelings or which choice he would prefer, his eyes so dark they were nearly black as he had gently touched her face before stepping back. He had given her the evening to think about, telling her she could give him her answer after work. He made sure to clarify that her decision would in no way jeopardize her position at the company and that he would not pursue her if she said no. Then he’d walked back into his office and left her confused and aroused and indecisive.
She had finished putting away her stuff and immediately apparated home. Once there, she had made a list of pros and cons regarding accepting Blaise’s invitation. It would change things, no matter what she chose. If she said no, she’d regret never taking the chance. If she said yes, she’d be giving herself to him and risking rejection or possibly starting a relationship that could be her happily ever after that was often mentioned in romantic stories. When Hermione had arrived at work, Blaise had given her his usual warm smile of greeting before handing her some papers that needed to looked over and gone on his merry way.
She had wondered if he had forgotten their explosive kiss and his proposal, knowing she couldn’t have had such a realistic daydream so it had to have happened. During lunch, he had touched her cheek and looked as if he was going to kiss her, his eyes on her lips, but he’d dropped his hand quickly and looked away, telling her in a soft voice that he would be waiting for her decision after work. The last four hours had gone so slowly that she kept debating her decision, rethinking it, wondering if it was the right choice, thinking of everything that could possibly go wrong or be awkward or weird and pretty much getting very little work done at all.
Hermione sighed as she turned in her chair, her brown eyes darting to his office door. With a determined gleam in her eyes, she stood up and walked to his office. She wasn’t going to wait until after work. There was still nearly an hour left and she was too nervous to concentrate so she planned to just tell him now and then try to finish her work. She stopped when she reached his doorway, her eyes moving over him.
He was writing, his hair brushing the nape of his neck, a few locks falling across his forehead. He was concentrating on his paperwork, a voice whispering in her mind wondering if he could be that focused on her while they made love that she quickly shushed for fear of not being able to present a calm and unaffected attitude, determined to not let him see just how affected by him she truly was, wanting to imitate his coolness from the night before.
She lingered in the doorway and watched him write, admiring the way he focused and spending a bit too much time watching his fingers wrapped around the quill. She had been there a few minutes when he spoke, "Do you plan on standing there holding up the door, Hermione, or do you plan to come inside?" without even looking up from his paperwork.
Hermione’s eyes widened and her cheeks flushed as she realized she had been caught ogling him, wondering how the sneaky bastard had even known she was there when he was concentrating on his work. She saw his full lips curve into an amused smile as he continued writing, rolling her eyes at glaring at his bent head as she took a step inside his office. She quietly shut the door, not wanting to risk anyone overhearing this particular conversation. "Blaise, I need to speak to you."
He looked up then, his eyes meeting hers, narrowing slightly before he smirked subtly. Leaning back in his chair, he arched a raven brow and asked, "What can I do for you, Hermione?"
Damn sexy voiced bastard, she thought crossly. He wasn’t making it easy to resist turning into a drooly girly girl like her former Housemates did around attractive men. With a resolved expression on her pretty face, she coolly replied, "Regarding your proposal last night, I have come to a decision."
"Really?" he drawled lazily, his tongue moving slowly along his lower lip before he remarked, "I don’t believe it is the end of the work day yet."
"Yes, well, I wanted to speak to you now regarding this matter," she was pleased that she sounded as flippant as he.
"Typical Gryffindor impatience," he shook his head slightly, the action causing his hair to fall across his eyes, his fingers moving to brush it back as he looked back at her. There was a flash of vulnerability in his eyes, gone so quickly she wondered if she had even seen it, then he was asking, "What is your decision, Hermione?"
"Yes," she whispered, her false bravado failing her when confronted with actually accepting an invitation to spend an evening with Blaise, having a pretty darn good idea that said night together would involve lots of naked skin against skin and hopefully so much pleasure she wouldn’t be able to walk the following morning.
Blaise gracefully stood up, his hands smoothing out the deep blue robe he was wearing before he walked towards her. His eyes met hers and he huskily said, "I’m sorry, Hermione. I don’t believe I heard your answer."
"Yes," she repeated a bit louder, suddenly nervous as he moved even closer. Merlin, he was stalking her, Hermione feeling like prey anticipating an attack, no fear in her eyes as he moved closer. He was literally stalking her, his body moving with effortless grace as he reached her. She licked her lips before saying again, "My answer is yes."
Blaise took her hand, his lips curving into a smile as he said, "Good," before reaching for something on his desk. Hermione stumbled forward, his arm going around her and holding her close just before she felt the pulling sensation of a port key.
When they arrived at their destination, the brunette witch looked around wildly, her hand moving through her hair as she asked, "Where are we?"
"My Grandmere’s flat," Blaise explained as he removed his robe, laying it across a chair. When he felt her looking at him, he elaborated, "I have rooms here. She only visits during the Winter so we have it to ourselves."
"But, work wasn’t over yet," Hermione protested, "and I’m wearing my work robes and I don’t even have my wand!"
"You won’t need a wand. I am the boss and I decided that we could leave early due to the late nights the past few weeks. And you can feel free to remove any clothing you wish," he practically purred the last statement, his eyes moving over her in a very wicked way.
"Stop that, Zabini!" she muttered crossly, wondering how he expected her to worry about this unexpected turn of events when he was playing the seductive rogue. Bloody hell, he was better at flirting and charming her knickers off than she’d ever have imagined. No, wait, her knickers were still firmly in place, thank Merlin!
"Stop what?" he asked innocently, using his wand to start a fan slowly whirling in the middle of the room. He moved closer, his voice lowering as he suggested, "You might want to take off that robe, Hermione. It’s the height of summer here and, as you can feel, rather hot and humid."
"Where is here exactly?" Hermione asked as she looked around the beautifully decorated flat. He was right. It was extremely warm. She unfastened her robe and took it off, making a face as she remembered that she was casually dressed underneath. Somehow she didn’t expect to be wearing worn jeans and a faded T-shirt when she gave herself to Blaise.
"New Orleans," he answered, "it’s in America."
"I know where it is!" she snapped, "I do know geography!"
"Of course," his lips curved into an amused smile as she glared at him, her nervousness temporarily forgotten at having her intellect challenged. Merlin, she was beautiful. He had thought so even back at Hogwarts, finding her natural beauty far more attractive than the flashy look so many of the witches preferred. Hermione was genuine, a pretty face with gorgeous brown hair that she was always complaining about but that he found alluring and eyes that seemed to be able to look into your soul and see who you really were with one glance. Her beauty was only enhanced by her sharp wit and keen intellect, easily one of the most brilliant people he knew.
He watched her during seven years at school. That wasn’t unusual. He had watched a lot of people, preferring to remain in the shadows and observe versus being known and having attention. Hermione had become one of his favorite people to watch as the years had gone by, the opinionated witch maturing into a lovely young woman and always having something interesting to say. After graduation, he had often regretted never attempting to speak to her, to at least have a conversation. When he had arrived at his new job to find her working there as his assistant and Head Researcher, he’d felt like a child at Christmas receiving that one gift that seemed unobtainable.
During the months they had worked together, his feelings had moved beyond admiration and respect and attraction to infatuation and desire to need and affection. He had realized that there was a good chance he was in love with her a few weeks ago. She’d laughed, her hair falling around her face, a smudge of ink on her chin, and he had felt a tugging at his heart as he’d simply looked at her. He’d been shaken by his realization that his feelings might have developed that far, believing it was just a crush on a girl he had fancied in school.
He had never been seriously involved with anyone in his life, having no real friends until Hermione and never dating. He had shagged a few girls in college but it had never been anything more than a casual shag so he had no idea how to woo anyone, especially someone like Hermione. She was special, different than most witches, and she fascinated him. Blaise had finally decided to see if she felt the same way, believing that she seemed to be attracted to him but wanting more than just a sexual relationship from the pretty brunette.
It hadn’t taken long for him to realize that she felt something, too, and that’s when he had decided to attempt flirting with her and seducing her. That kiss last night had left him hard and aching, barely getting any sleep because he was worried that he’d been too bold by issuing the invitation and convinced she’d arrive at work and tell him to bugger off. When she’d arrived and looked nervous but hopeful, he had been pleased, though he had still been worried she’d suddenly change her mind.
He now had one night to seduce her, to show her that they could have a wonderful future together, and to somehow get her to fall in love with him. He could do it, he decided. He hadn’t graduated in the top five at Hogwarts and proceeded to finish his years of school in nearly half the time by being undetermined. When he wanted something, truly wanted something, he went after it with ever means necessary until it was his. And he wanted Hermione Granger in his life, in his bed, in his future more than he’d ever wanted anything.
"Is it always so hot and muggy?" Hermione asked as she used her hand to fan herself. Had she had her wand, she’d have performed a cooling charm, her T-shirt all ready sticking to her with sweat and her jeans being completely uncomfortable in the heat.
"During the summer, it is often like this," Blaise was pulled from his thoughts as he looked at the brunette witch. "If you’d like to change, I’m sure there is something in the wardrobe that might fit. My sister has some things here as does my Grandmere."
"I wouldn’t want to wear their clothes," Hermione objected, relief flashing in her eyes. When he’d mentioned changing, she’d had visions of a wardrobe full of clothing left over from other women he had brought here to seduce. Merlin, she had given Blaise Zabini permission to seduce her.
"You’re the only person I’ve ever brought here, Hermione," Blaise said quietly, seeing the look in her eyes and realizing what she had been thinking. She looked at him then, their eyes meeting, a silent exchange occurring before his lips twisted into a small smile, "Why don’t you check the wardrobe and see if there is something cooler to wear while I change. Due to the time difference, it’s still early here so I thought we’d explore the city."
"Sightseeing?" she gaped at him, "You want to go sightseeing?"
"For now," his eyes darkened as he looked at her lips, turning away before he was tempted to forget seduction and simply pull her against him and never let go. In a low voice, he told her, "The wardrobe is in that room. I’m certain my sister has left some clothing around and she’s just about your size."
Hermione watched him walk down the hall, her eyes moving over his back and arse, a view she did not often see due to the robes he wore at work. A very nice view, she decided as her gaze roamed across the curve of his bum and down his long legs. Shaking her head, she went into the room he had indicated. Her lips curved into a smile as she took in the vibrant and outrageous décor. Moving to a dresser, she saw photos all over the top, watching Blaise and his family at various points throughout the past several decades. There was a large portrait over the bed, a handsome man that was looking at her in surprise.
"Who are you?" he asked politely but curiously.
"Hermione Granger, a, um, well, a friend of Blaise," she stammered a bit, her cheeks turning red as she realized she would be his lover before morning.
"Ah!" the man smiled suddenly, "I have heard about you, lass. My name is Jonathan McBride. I‘m that scamp‘s Grandfather."
"You have?" Hermione arched a brow, glancing at the door before looking back and whispering, "What have you heard?"
"Now, girl, that would be telling secrets! McBrides are an honorable lot and we don’t go telling tales," he smiled before whispering, "but I will tell you that it pleases me to see you here with my grandson. He’s fancied you for years and I‘d just about given up on him ever telling ye how he feels."
"Fancied me?" she was struck dumb, "For years?"
"Didn’t he tell you?" Jonathan shook his head, "That boy, brilliant wizard but foolish when it comes to matter of the heart."
"He, we, I mean, we’re just friends," Hermione explained slowly, "and I think I kinda love him, maybe, and I definitely want him and, Merlin, I just said that out loud didn’t I?"
"It’s all right, lass. That can be our little secret," Jonathan grinned, "I do believe my grandson has chosen well. Why are you in here talking to me when he’s out there waiting to charm your knickers off?"
"I am going to choose to ignore the knickers comment," Hermione felt her lips twist into a smile, "Blaise said I could find something to wear in the wardrobe. It’s terribly hot and he surprised me with this trip and I’m wearing the wrong clothes for this weather."
"You young people," he shook his head, his eyes twinkling, "in my day, I’d have had my Angelique naked and cooled her off in the most sinful ways imaginable. Worried about clothes! Youth is wasted on the young. And call me Jonathan, my dear."
"Jonathan, I do believe that you’re a bit of a flirt," Hermione teased before laughing, "Blaise and I are not yet in a relationship where walking around naked and doing wicked things is commonplace."
"Yet?"
"Oh, you, I mean," Hermione sighed, "I don’t know but I’ll be sure to stop by in the morning and let you know the decision."
"The wardrobe is in that wall. Tap twice beneath the painting," Jonathan informed her.
"Thank you," Hermione smiled before she followed his directions. She looked at the contents, surprised to see so many flimsy garments. The majority barely covered the necessary body parts and she knew she had never worn anything so risqué. Blaise had fancied her for years? Talking to his Grandfather’s portrait about her even before they’d met at work? That information changed things, made her realize that this wasn’t just something sexual, a game he felt like playing because he figured out she was attracted to him. This was serious. She finally knew what answer he was hoping for in the morning and that gave her a rush of confidence as well as happiness.
"Not that one."
Hermione turned to look at the portrait, still finding it off after over a decade in the Wizarding world to have conversations with portraits. She glanced at the dress she had chosen then back at Jonathan, "Why not?"
"Blaise isn’t fond of yellow. Besides, it’s far too conservative. You’re in New Orleans, my dear Miss. Granger. A city of sin and debauchery and abandon. You’re here with a man you’ve admitted you desire and you want to wear that dress?" Jonathan shook his head, "No, that is a terrible decision. There is a sundress in that wardrobe, a vibrant crimson that would look beautiful against your auburn hair and tan skin. That is the dress you should wear. Trust an old man."
"I’m not overly fond of yellow either," Hermione confessed as she looked back into the wardrobe. She had chosen it because it was the least revealing garment. Now, though, she had to admit that Jonathan was right. She wanted to seduce Blaise, to enjoy this night of abandon, she should dress for the occasion. After looking amongst the clothes for a bit, she finally found the dress. Looking at it, she wondered if she could honestly wear it, her eyes widening as she took in the scrap of material.
The brunette walked into the bathroom, not wanting to change in front of the portrait, quickly stripping her sweaty clothes off. It was just too darn hot, she grumbled as she wet a cloth and wiped the sweat from her body. Sliding the dress over her head, she realized instantly that there was no way she could wear a bra. Unfastening her bra, she removed it and then looked in the Muggle mirror. Merlin’s beard, she looked rather sexy.
The dress fit tight around her full breasts, dipping low and displaying more cleavage than she normally felt comfortable showing. It was short, falling above her knees, the back non-existent. There was a string tying it in place behind her neck, the back bare until just above her arse, and she had to admit it was much cooler. It was a flirty and naughty dress, definitely meant for seduction, the witch turning and watching the skirt fly up as she twirled, displaying the sexy lace knickers she had worn to give her confidence when agreeing to Blaise’s proposal. She took her hair out of the haphazard twist that had fallen into disarray during her work day, shaking her head and letting her curls frame her face in a rather wild way. With a pleased smile, she went back into the bedroom.
"Bloody hell! If I were a few decades younger and not in love with my wife, I do believe I might just challenge my grandson for you," Jonathan replied when he saw her, giving her a playful leer and whistling.
"Thank you, kind sir," she laughed as she twirled for him. The smile faded when she saw a movement by the door, her eyes darkening as they met Blaise’s aroused gaze. He had changed into thin cotton khaki trousers and a white shirt that displayed arms that were far more muscular than she’d have thought.
"I see you’ve met my Grandfather," Blaise finally managed to say once he could speak, thinking that simply shagging her rotten was much better than playing seductive lothario and wooing her during an afternoon of sightseeing. Bloody hell, she’d been beautiful before but now she was simply ravishing.
"We had an interesting chat," Hermione winked at the portrait, pleased that she hadn’t begun drooling or simply asked him to kiss her.
"Yes, well, if you’re ready, the city awaits," Blaise glanced suspiciously from the portrait to Hermione before he opened the door and motioned for her to go ahead of him. Once she was in the other room, passing by him so close he could feel her heat and inhale the sweet scent of jasmine and vanilla, he turned to glare at the portrait, "What did you tell her?"
"So suspicious. You get that from your Father’s side of the family," Jonathan sighed dramatically, watching his normally calm and reserved grandson look after the pretty witch before facing him with a look of longing and desire that he vaguely recalled having seen on his own face when he’d met his Angie. In a soft voice, he told Blaise, "I approve."
"Stupid portraits," Blaise muttered crossly before saying, "Thank you. Now if you don’t want me to recommend to Grandmere and your human version that you belong in the Lodge in Switzerland, you’ll keep your mouth closed if Hermione comes back in here."
"I hate the cold," Jonathan frowned, "Evil Slytherin!"
"Thank you," Blaise smirked before leaving and closing the door behind him. Looking at Hermione, their eyes caught again, a moment of awareness that was becoming all too familiar passing between them. It was going to be a long day, he decided, asking, "Shall we?"
"Of course," Hermione followed him to the front door, feeling his eyes move over her back and inhaling sharply when his hand touched her arm. Gods, she was this aroused just from the casual touch of his hand. How was she going to feel when they were naked and he was exploring her body at his own leisurely pace?