The Tragedy of Chemistry (DM/HG)

A different kind of lunch break

What a fucking nightmare.

"What's with this stupid paper bag today?" Nott asked Draco in a fleeting storm of curiosity before they stepped into the elevator. Even though Draco had hired his friend himself, today he cursed him for his nosiness.

"None of your business," he muttered underneath his breath without allowing his mask to slip. He couldn't care less about Nott's questions; all he could focus on for now was to survive the impending lunch break.

His fingers tightened around the paper bag handle until his nails cut into his sweaty palm. The elevator started moving and intensified his gut wrenching feeling of guilt. The guilt he had felt since Saturday morning, since Granger had run away from him.

"Someone woke up with his wand in the wrong pocket."

Draco could practically sense the way his friend rolled his eyes at him.

"Do you think you'll get over it by tonight? We are still up for our meeting?"

Wizarding Chess and Fire Whisky – every Monday night at Draco's place.

"Did I ever miss it?" Draco replied behind gritted teeth and let go of a shaky breath as soon as the elevator reached the ground level and opened with a distinct 'ping'.

He waited in front of his office until Nott's figure disappeared in the distance. The last he saw from him was the way he shook his head when swallowing down another question. He knew better than to push him. If Draco wanted to keep a secret, he would. And this one he would take to his grave.

When Nott was nowhere to be seen he waited another minute, and a little longer just to be sure the nobody would follow him.

Diagon Alley was grey and busy during this time of day. They hadn't seen the sun in weeks, and even though he was not one to enjoy burning in the heat, he felt his body crave some light. Inside and out.

With a sigh he began his short journey to Flourish and Blotts. He knew Granger worked there since they had graduated Hogwarts. Everybody knew and wondered why in the world the brightest witch of her age sold old ass books.

Draco himself hadn't visited the store for two years or longer. If he cared for a new book these days, he simply went to see his mother in their own library.

He kept turning around to make sure he was alone as he approached the building. He hadn't exactly planned to spend his entire lunch break there. He hoped she was alone, hoped he just could give her the bloody shoes she had left behind in her hurry to get away from him.

Well, that was just his main excuse to walk into her workplace. He could have sent her an owl if he had wanted to.

The truth was that he would not let her get away with whatever was going on in her head. She had begged him to take her home; he had taken care of her; she had spread her little legs for him. The last thing that he had wanted from a one-night stand with Granger was that she left in panic because he had pushed her to do things she didn't want to do.

Sweet Salazar, she could have just said no. He wouldn't have forced her head onto his aching cock, no matter how badly he wanted to see her struggle to take all of him with her swotty mouth. To think that she had felt pressured to return the favor was an insult towards everything he had fought for the last couple of years. Ever since he had started to put the idiotic cult beliefs behind him. His mother had been trying to raise him right her entire life, raise him to be a gentleman with his witches. It had been a tough task for her, growing up between Death Eaters and psychotic relatives fucking like the animals in his own home at any given time of the day. She couldn't have prevented the countless times he had sunk his face or cock in between the thighs of some Death Eater whore in the drawing room or his own chambers.