A Bit of Fun

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Story Notes:
The reception is being held in the ballroom at the Cavendish. It’s a Muggle venue, which is an odd choice when the majority of guests are magical. Hermione isn’t sure why Susan chose this particular hotel, though she assumes it’s due to some relatives being Muggle. Regardless of the reason, it’s made for a refreshing change from other wedding receptions that she’s had to attend during recent years. She’s enjoyed sitting and observing the other guests, especially the Purebloods who haven’t ever ventured into Muggle London before much less had to wear Muggle fashion. Susan and Michael have a lot of friends and family. There are well over a hundred people drifting around the room. Hermione recognizes many familiar faces, as the Wizarding world is relatively small, but there are strangers, too. Probably Muggle family members who haven’t crossed her path, not that she pretends to know everyone in the magical world.

Harry and Ginny are dancing, and Ron is chatting with Padma and Terry. She sees Daphne Greengrass watching Ron with a look that makes her suspect he won’t be leaving the wedding alone. Not a combination that she would have expected, but she honestly doesn’t know Daphne very well at all. It’s not as if Slytherin and Gryffindor ever had social hour at Hogwarts, and their paths haven’t crossed since. She does that Daphne works with Susan, and they obviously get along well enough for Susan to invite her to the wedding. Still. She will have to do a little research into Daphne if it turns into more than a one night post-wedding sexcapade. Ron is rather fond of having such things, after all, and he coined that ridiculous name for them after Seamus and Dean’s wedding three years ago. None of the partners have ever turned into more than that one time experience, but she thinks Daphne might surprise her.

“Granger, why aren’t you dancing?” Cormac pulls out the empty chair beside her and straddles it in a way that isn’t appropriate when wearing tight trousers. It just causes the black material to stretch across his thighs in a distracting manner.

Hermione looks up and sees him smirking at her. She frowns at the obnoxious git who interrupted her people watching. “McLaggen, I don’t recall asking you to sit.”

Cormac smirks at her. “I didn’t see your name on this chair or the marquis outside. Did you somehow come into enough galleons to buy this fancy Muggle place? If so, I’d like to suggest adding a better selection to the wet bar.”

“I don’t own the hotel,” she says, gritting her teeth as she shifts in her chair and glares at him. “And what would you know about the wet bar?”

“I reserved the penthouse suite, obviously.” He scoffs and lazily brushes his fingertips across one of his broad shoulders, as if wiping away lint. Hermione’s gaze follows his hand even as she tells herself to stop staring. “If I have to venture into Muggle London, I’m going to ensure that my lodging is suitable.”

“Why did you reserve a room instead of just going home after the reception? If you’re so keen to stay away from Muggles, I would think that would be the best choice.” Hermione arches a brow and gives him a judgmental look for the tone he used when referring to Muggles.

“Dear, Granger. I didn’t know you cared so much about my well-being.” Cormac puts his hand over his heart. “I always knew you fancied me. As for your question, I wasn’t sure how much I’d have to drink to get through this mess, but now that I see you’re here, I know I’ll be entertained without requiring alcohol.”

“In your dreams, McLaggen.” Hermione rolls her eyes and reaches for her wine glass to avoid slapping the smirk off his pretty face.

“You don’t even know.” Cormac studies her in a way that is disconcerting while she takes a drink of her wine. “Now, back to my original question, why aren’t you dancing? I seem to recall you being a graceful dancer back in the day.”

Hermione takes a sip of her wine to avoid admitting that no one has asked her to dance. She had come to the wedding with Harry, Ginny, and Ron, but Ron hadn’t been her date. Been there, tried that, know it doesn’t work well. After swallowing, she licks her lips and puts the glass back on the table. “I prefer people watching to dancing this evening.”

“Hmm?” Cormac blinks at her when she glances at him to see what’s wrong. “Watching life dance by you isn’t appropriate for a beautiful young woman your age. You shouldn’t be watching people instead of experiencing life. Dance with me.”

“Don’t presume to know anything about my life and what I should or should not be doing,” she says curtly, glaring again as she tries to understand his agenda. He just called her beautiful and asked her to dance, but it was wrapped in an insult, of sorts. He’s so infuriating. “Don’t you have someone else to pester? Your date is probably wondering where you are by now.”

“Granger, don’t you know by now that you’re my favorite person to pester?” Cormac smiles slightly, which is off-putting. He’s normally smirking or smug, both of which make her want to slap him. This odd smile just draws attention to his full lips and makes him seem almost…pleasant. She knows better than to trust that, though. He’s a prat who has spent the last eight months driving her batty. “I also don’t have a date, so don’t worry about being hexed by a jilted lover. You know you’re the only one for me.”

“Stop that nonsense. Don’t think I won’t hex you myself regardless of our venue if you continue to talk like that.” She wonders if she can ask Susan to make him leave her alone. Of course, as soon as she has the thought, she realizes she’s behaving like a child, planning to run and tattle to his cousin that he’s flirting with her.

“Dance with me, Hermione?” Cormac stands up and offers his hand to her. She’s so surprised that he actually used her real name that she can’t even think up a retort. “C’mon. Take a chance.” He licks his lips as she just stares at him. “Please.”

“Not fair.” She stands up and runs her hand down the skirt of her dress. “You aren’t allowed to give me puppy dog eyes and a pouty lip like that again. Do you understand?” She puts her hand in his and allows him to lead her to the dance floor area that’s been set up for the reception.

“Got it. Puppy eyes and pouting get me whatever I want.” Cormac smirks at her and tugs her back towards him when she tries to walk back to the table. “Now, now. None of that. We’re going to dance.”

Hermione glares at him as a slow song begins to play. Of bloody course. It couldn’t be something fast and short. It has to be something romantic and slow. “You’re a git,” she says sweetly, stepping closer as they begin to dance.

“Charmer. Don’t think you’re going to get lucky just because you’re complimenting me. I’m not that kind of boy.” Cormac winks as her eyes widen. “We still fit together well.”

“I have no desire to ‘get lucky’ with you, McLaggen.” Hermione nods her head slightly to emphasize her point. “And referencing an event when your hands were wandering and you were a complete lech isn’t a good idea, just for future reference.”

“Oh please. You would have been into me if you hadn’t had your knickers in a twist over that redheaded imbecile and been distracted with Potter’s drama. I was a much better choice for you then, even if I was, perhaps, just slightly lecherous. Not that I’m admitting I was inappropriate, but I was seventeen, and you looked delectable.”

“So it’s my fault you tried to snog me?” Hermione frowns as he rests his hand on her lower back. “That’s even more inappropriate to blame me for…”

Her words are halted by a sudden dip as he leans her back. When he straightens her, he looks sheepish. “I wasn’t blaming you. I’m not one of those blokes, regardless of what you might think of me. I was attempting to flirt, but you make it so bloody difficult because you overanalyze everything and still think of me as that seventeen year old prat. I’ve grown up, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I’ve noticed,” she says before she can stop herself. The stupefied expression on his face is almost worth the embarrassment of admitting she’s paid attention to him in ways that aren’t at all antagonistic. She does rather like catching him by surprise, she realizes. “You aren’t dancing, Cormac.”

“Say it again.” He moves the hand on her back lower, almost to her arse, and pulls her closer to him.

“Cormac.” She tilts her head back and slowly smiles. “Cormac.”

“You want to dance? Let’s dance,” he says, his lips curving into a wicked smile.

Instead of stepping away and running back to the table, she decides to do as he suggested earlier and take a chance. After all, she does find him attractive, and he’s clever, which actually means more to her than the pretty face and fit body. If possible, he pulls her even closer, and she isn’t entirely sure where to put her hands. His suit is obviously expensive because she can’t remember feeling such luxurious material when she helped Harry and Ron choose their own suits. They probably hadn’t shopped at the same places Cormac shopped. Finally, she settles one hand on his waist and the other on his bicep.

“Feel free to squeeze my arse if you find yourself unable to resist.” Cormac moves his hand lower on her back, and she ‘accidentally’ steps on his foot. Hard. “Bloody hell, woman. I wasn’t going to grope you in the middle of my cousin’s wedding reception.”

“Sorry. My foot slipped.” She smiles as demurely as possible as she sways to the music. She hates to admit it, but he’s right. They do fit together rather well. He’s taller than her, but not too much so, and she can’t help but think they’d be compatible if they were horizontal, as well.

“What are you thinking about, Granger? I swear you’re blushing.”

“I am not. The room is warm, and we’re dancing. I’m flushed.”

“I notice you ignored my question. Alas, that leaves it up to me to guess what you’re thinking about that has you blushing. Perhaps you’re trying to resist groping my arse, since it would make you a hypocrite considering your own refusal to be groped. My arse is pretty irresistible.”

“I wouldn’t know, McLaggen. I don’t make it a habit to ogle your arse.”

“Liar. Do you think I’m really as clumsy as I appear whenever I go into your office? I drop files so that you can appreciate one of my finer points.”

“Oh, honestly? I always assumed you just took too many bludgers to the head. That would also excuse the ridiculous conversations you have with yourself in my vicinity.”

“I always knew you were listening to me. Can’t resist it, can you? Far too nosy for your own good. These other men are fools. They’re scared off by your brain and need to control everything, but I find those things attractive.”

“I do not need to control…” Before she can finish, he’s dipping her backwards despite it not being appropriate for the moment in the song. “Cormac McLaggen, you cannot continue to dip me whenever you don’t wish to hear what I’m going to say!”

“The other option is to kiss you, but I think that should wait for at least the third dance. Besides, I simply saved you from another lie. It’s my good deed of the evening.” He grins down at her. “That means I can be bad now, to balance it and all.”

“You’re incorrigible.” She rolls her eye even as she feels her lips twitching into a smile. “Now that I know the truth, you better stop dropping files. You never get them back into order properly, and that means I have to correct them every time I review them. Having to do that tends to negatively impact any good feelings caused by ogling your arse.”

“Ah ha! You admit it then.” Cormac looks smug. “I knew if I couldn’t win you with my charming personality and vast intellect that my body might do the trick. It usually does.”

Hermione snorts. “You might be fit, but I wouldn’t be speaking this bluntly if you didn’t have the mind to keep me interested.”

“I might not have had Ravenclaw as my possible second house, but I am rather clever. I have a high success rate in the courts.”

“Yes, I know. I’ve attended some of your trials. You’re not as good as I am, but you’re not half bad.” She smirks this time and decides to be cheeky by moving her hand down to pinch his arse. He’s surprised, which makes her feel pleased with herself.

“You wanton little thing. Groping me in the middle of the dance floor. Whatever will my cousin think?” Cormac plays the part of offended virgin rather well, with just enough humor that she has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. “You’ve done it now. You’ll have to accompany me to my room so that my reputation remains intact.”

“Somehow, I think my virtue would not remain intact if I go to your room with you,” she muses, arching a brow as they continue slow dancing to the new song that is playing.

Cormac stops smiling and just looks at her. “Would that be so bad, Granger? I think you could do with a bit of fun. Well, only if it’s with me, of course. These other tossers don’t know what they’re missing.”

“What’s on offer?” she asks quietly, unable to believe she’s even considering this. Of course, if she’s completely honest with herself, it’s been building for months. After all, he’s been rather obvious about his attraction, and he even casually asked her to go for lunch a few times. She’s always said no because she hasn’t been sure she wants the same things he wants. Now, though, seems a good time to find that out.

“Whatever you want.” Cormac shrugs a shoulder and smiles self-consciously. “I might have been a complete bastard back at Hogwarts, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t interested even back then. If you want one wild night in a posh penthouse room, we’ll spend hours doing everything we can think of until we’re too exhausted to do any more. If you want something casual, well, we’ll spread all that out for as long as you’re keen on it. However, if you’re willing to give the idea of us a chance, it can be whatever happens upstairs tonight and breakfast in the morning followed by dinner tomorrow night et cetera.”

“That’s quite a few options. Perhaps we can go upstairs, and I’ll make my choice over a glass of something from that inadequate wet bar the hotel has provided?” She can’t believe she’s doing this. She’s going to shag Cormac McLaggen. It’s a good thing that Ron’s distracted with Daphne or he’s likely to have interrupted them just to be a wanker about it.

“Right. That’s a good idea. Are you sure?” Cormac stops dancing and just stares at her.

“Don’t make me change my mind, Cormac.” She smiles when he immediately takes her hand and begins moving them through the crowd. On the way, she catches Harry’s attention and motions with her head towards Cormac. His shocked expression is amusing, as is Ginny’s thumbs up and exaggerated leer.

They take the lift to the penthouse, and there’s a slightly awkward tension between them. Cormac keeps looking at her, but he stands on the other side of the lift. Despite her previous comment, she isn’t one to make a decision like this then change her mind. She isn’t yet sure which of his options she’s going to choose, as she wants to see how compatible they are sexually before committing, but she knows she’s not leaving this hotel without finally shagging him.

“I don’t really understand how this card works,” Cormac admits when they reach the penthouse. He frowns. “A wave of my wand would be much easier. Or even a key. This thing is bloody awful, though.”

“Here. Let me.” Hermione steps closer and takes the key card from him. She sticks it into the slot and watches the light turn green before the door opens. “There. Magic.”

“You’re a bit of a brat, aren’t you? Too many years stuck with only Potter and Weasley as companions, no doubt.” Cormac leads her inside, and she tries not to gawk at the penthouse suite. It’s very posh, and there are windows with an amazing view. “What would you like to drink?”

“Your choice. I’m not planning on having it all. I already had a glass of wine at the reception.” Hermione watches him go to the wet bar and select two small bottles. He opens them and pours them into separate glasses before handing her one. Taking a sniff, she nods. “Whiskey is fine. Bit strong, but I think a stiff drink is warranted right now.”

“Would it be absolutely crass to point out that the drink won’t be the only stiff thing around here soon?” he asks, batting his eyelashes at her when she snorts and almost chokes on the drink she’s just taken.

“Yes, it would be,” she says. “Also rather immature. It’s something that, oh, Ron and Harry might say.” She gives him a pointed look considering his earlier comments about them.

Cormac makes a face at the comparison. “Well, then, I’m glad I didn’t say it.”

She finishes her drink and lets her gaze drift over him. “You look very good in that suit, McLaggen, but I think it might look better on the floor.”

This time, he chokes on his drink. “What?”

“Excuse me. I should have remembered to use simpler phrasing. Get naked.” She smirks as she steps closer to him. “Actually, I think I’d like to take it off you. May I?”

“Fuck yes.” He puts the glass on the table and watches her intently. “Then it’s my turn.”

“Perhaps.” She reaches over to unfasten his tie, deciding to take her time and enjoy this. He is very fit, after all, and it isn’t often she’s had the opportunity to have sex with someone she finds this physically appealing. Once his tie is off, she starts on the buttons of his shirt. There must two dozen tiny buttons, and she soon becomes impatient. “I suspect this shirt was expensive?”

“Extremely.” Cormac grins at her, almost daring her. Not one to resist a dare, she rips the shirt front open, sending buttons all over the penthouse suite.

“Oops.” She smiles as she drags her fingers over his bare chest. There isn’t much hair there, but she lets her fingertips follow the trail of blond curls that leads into the waistband of his trousers. “If the jurors could see you like this, you’d never lose a case.”

“Why, Miss Granger, is that a compliment?” Cormac is far too smug, so she leans forward and nips at his shoulder. He looks down at her and arches a brow. “Are you biting me?”

“It’s just a nip to keep you in line.”

“I hadn’t realized you were a vampire. Too many private meetings with Sanguini during good old Slug Club?”

“Would you like for me to continue or shall we sit and discuss our school days?”

“Please continue. You’re much more brazen than I imagined. I thought it might take more to get you to let go of your inhibitions.”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, Cormac. I’m a confident woman who has no qualms about enjoying sex whenever I have the inclination to indulge. I’m not brazen. I just find it pointless to play any more games when we’ve already been doing so for months.”

“I wasn’t being critical, Hermione. I like it. A lot.”

“Good. Now shut up and look pretty while I take off your trousers.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She smirks at him as she deliberately runs her fingers along the zipper of his trousers. He’s already getting hard, and she is happy to discover a sizeable bulge forming as she teases him. Leaning forward, she lightly bites his nipple, delighted when he shudders. “What do you like, Cormac? What turns you on?”

“You,” he whispers, voice husky. His tone makes her think about sex, which causes her own body to react.

“We should get the first time out of our systems or we’ll never last,” she mutters, giving him a sheepish look as she takes his hand and moves it under the skirt of her dress. “Take off my knickers. I want you inside me now.”

“Merlin, you’re going to be the death of me, woman.” He tugs on the fabric of her knickers while she unzips his trousers. His shirt is unbuttoned but still on his shoulders, and she doesn’t even bother pushing his trousers and pants past his thighs. He’s hard, hardening even more as she wraps her fingers around him and strokes.

Bloody hell. She’s been so caught up with him that she almost forgot to be practical. “I’m on the Muggle pill as well as magical contraception. Let me get my wand so we can perform the other charm.” She fumbles for her wand with her free hand, groaning when he brushes his hand against her wetness. After saying the charm, she tosses her wand on the table by their glasses and reaches for him. “Fuck me, Cormac.”

“As you wish.” He leans down to kiss her while his arms go around her. His hands are on her arse lifting her, and she kicks off her knickers the rest of the way before wrapping her legs around him. She soon feels cool glass behind her as he presses her against the windows. The kiss is rough at first, too much pent up frustration to be anything but. Soon, though, it changes, becoming more passionate and exploring.

Hermione grunts against his mouth when he starts to enter her. It’s been a while, despite her earlier bravado, and she is glad he goes slow, giving her time to adjust to his girth. It’s a good stretch, though, her body soon ready for more. She’s wet enough after the teasing he had done to let him slide in without lubricant, which is good since they hadn’t thought to use their wands to do that charm. When he’s finally fully inside her, they just stand there for a moment, kissing and enjoying the sensation of something they’ve both wanted for far too long.

“So tight,” he murmurs, brushing his lips against her jaw and neck as she scratches at his back. “I want to see your tits.”

She shifts slightly, whining when the action causes his cock to rub her in exactly the right spot. It isn’t easy, but she manages to get the top of her dress down around her waist enough that she can pull her brassiere up and free her breasts. Her nipples are hard, and he seems fascinated by her bare breasts. Men. So easily swayed by two fleshy bags of fat. “You can move now. Then you can watch them bounce.”

“You’re being cheeky, Hermione.” He pinches her bum hard enough for her to feel it and smirks at her reaction. Just for that, she leans forward and bites his neck. Not very hard, but just enough for him to feel it. He thrusts even further inside her, which feels very good. When he sees her reaction, he repeats the action, watching her face as they start to shag.

After that, they don’t waste time. She bites at his neck, scratches his back, kisses him, and rides him as he thrusts in and out. She can’t believe they’re shagging against the window in the penthouse suite, and she hopes that no one in another building is watching them. Oh. That actually makes her squeeze his cock, so maybe she likes the idea more than she imagined.

“Touch me,” she says, not caring that he’s supporting her weight and holding her against the window. She wants to feel his hands on her breasts, needs more stimulation on her clit so she can come. He ignores her, so she bites him again, on his collarbone, and tightens her muscles around his cock. He growls against her ear before he’s shifting them and moving his hand between them.

She relaxes her grip when she feels his thumb and forefinger against her clit. She arches her back, letting him have access to her breasts, moaning when he sucks on her nipple. The position changes the direction of penetration, and she wiggles around until he’s hitting her spot on every thrust forward. Her orgasms sneaks up on her, making her gasp as she tightens even more around him. He comes as she’s coming down from her own release, spilling inside her as he shudders against her.

“Bloody hell,” he whispers, staring at her when they finally finish coming. His face is sweaty and flushed, his hair damp and curling against his forehead, and she can’t help leaning up to kiss him.

When they pull apart, she rubs her nose against his. “I want scrambled eggs and a rasher of bacon for breakfast,” she whispers, returning his smile when he realizes she’s made her choice.