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amorette
Recipient:articcat621
Title: Working Late
Pairing: Hermione/Kingsley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,100
Summary: Hermione's stuck at work on Christmas Eve, so he brings Christmas to her.
Author's Notes: I picture Idris Elba as Kinglsey because he’s so hot omg and he seems to be the right age. You’re welcome, world. Also, please enjoy, Articcat :D I hope this hits all your holiday rarepair wishes!! And thank you to the mod for being patient and lovely!
The little green springs started curling as they grew larger and larger, spreading across the corner of the ceiling. Hermione eyed it cautiously from behind her desk. The last thing she needed was magical mistletoe following her around her office while she tried to get the final edits done on her proposal. Why was it even blooming when there was no one else around? That was odd; it wasn’t meant to do that. Maybe the spell was wearing off and it was going wonky.
Her department was exactly how she liked it -- silent and empty, without distraction -- so she hoped she could finish in peace. The maintenance staff wanted to make things festive by decorating for Christmas, but their mistletoe was more a nuisance than a joy, that was for sure.
She sighed and looked back down at her notes. She needed Kingsley to sign off on a couple more things, but he had already left earlier with everyone else. She might actually be the only one here. She checked the clock on the wall.
“Is it really seven?” she mumbled.
“Seven o’five,” the clock chirped. “Christmas Eve dinner at the Weasleys starts in twenty-five minutes! Don’t be late!”
Hermione frowned and ignored it. That clock was useful for appointment reminders, but sometimes it harped on too much. “I’m not leaving until I finish this, and you know that. Now hush!”
The clock made an indignant noise and went silent, only the second-hand ticking by.
There was a knock on the door. Hermione jumped; she hadn’t expected anyone else to be here. “Come in.”
The door swung open, and in stepped Kingsley.
“Sir!” Hermione straightened her back, as well as the sheets of parchment on her desk, randomly stacking them in front of her. “You’re here. I mean -- why are you here? I mean, it’s late.” She cleared her throat. She didn’t like to admit that she was one of those people who fancied their boss… but the truth was, she had always been taken by Kingsley, ever since she was a girl in the war. He had always been so strong, confident, and take-charge. He kept a cool head in a crisis. He was intelligent, he was brave… and his deep, smooth voice made her knees tremble slightly. Ever since she began working at the Ministry a year ago, Hermione tried to dampen her silly, girlish fantasies about him, but it was immensely difficult. Especially since they worked in such close proximity. They saw each other practically every day; and the times Kingsley was away fulfilling some Minister-ly duty or other, the day dragged by.
Kingsley walked toward her desk. “I know it’s late, Miss Granger, which is why I should be asking you the same question.”
“I don’t like leaving things unfinished.”
“I know that,” he said with a smile. “It’s partly why I hired you. There is no one who works quite as hard as you do.”
Hermione tried to stop the blush she felt blooming. “I just want to make sure I live up to that expectation.”
“You don’t need to try, Hermione. It’s who you are. You’re a brilliant witch.”
He rarely used her first name; he was rarely so informal with her. But when he was, it sent shivers up her arms.
“And what are you doing here so late?” she countered. “Don’t you have a celebration to go to?”
“I was invited to the Burrow tonight.”
She raised her eyebrows. No one had told her that.
“I believe we have to be there soon.” His eyes swung momentarily to the clock.
“Did you come to collect me?” she asked.
“Sort of… No one sent me, if that’s what you mean. But I suppose I am here to collect you, yes.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry, Minister, I’m not sure I understand.”
“I arrived at the Burrow earlier and I realized you weren’t there.”
“So you… you came back?”
“I wanted to make sure you were coming.” He stepped around the desk. Hermione saw the mistletoe from over his shoulder. It was grown thirty new leaves. She swallowed, clenching her legs together against the onslaught of heat that assaulted her. It traveled through her whole body and settled there, between her thighs. “Hermione,” he continued, coming closer, “you should leave that for next week and come back with me.”
“I was planning on coming,” she stammered. “Just in a little bit…”
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I’m aware of that, sir.”
“Call me Kingsley.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“But Minister --”
“I am telling you, you can.”
“The …” She pointed, and he turned around, spotting the mistletoe. When he turned back, he grinned. “Be careful, that’s been growing all night.”
“I think it’s telling us something.”
“It can’t be.”
“You don’t believe I could feel something for you, Hermione?”
There was no air in her office. The magic windows showed an idyllic snowy scene with twinkling lamps and falling snow. It looked cold and wintery, but inside her office it was burning hot. Or maybe that was just Hermione’s body in reaction to Kingsley's close proximity.
“If you don’t move soon,” she warned quietly, “it won’t let you, until…”
“...until we kiss.”
“Yes.” She looked at his lips.
He was so handsome. And tall.
His body called to her, so warm and comforting. Not for the first time, she wanted to to burrow into his strong arms and be held tightly.
“It’s done,” she said as she felt the tingling magic of the mistletoe surrounded them. “Now we have to.” She watched his mouth, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him.
Kingsley placed both hands on the arms of her chair, leaning down close to her, trapping her in her seat. Slowly, his eyes fell shut and he leaned in closer. Hermione’s breath hitched as her own eyes fluttered shut and their lips met. Everything else slipped away. The only thing she knew was the feeling of Kingsley’s kiss encompassing her in a sort of fever, making her whole body light with desire.
She made a needy noise, and he deepened the kiss.
She was kissing her boss.
She was kissing the Minister.
And she couldn’t stop.
Her arms found his shoulders, and she realized he was lifting her out of her seat and holding her around her waist. He sat her down on her desk, and Hermione parted her legs around him. She knew the magic of the mistletoe had snapped; they were free to go now if they wanted to. The magic had done its duty and now it was done. But she also knew she would not stop.
The fact that Kingsley wanted her back was astounding, and she wondered if this was real. Maybe it was a Christmas miracle.
They finally parted for air, both their chests rising and falling rapidly. Kingsley’s grin was bright.
“I think we might be late for dinner,” he said.
Hermione smiled back. “That’s all right, sir.”
amoretteRecipient:
articcat621Title: Working Late
Pairing: Hermione/Kingsley
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 1,100
Summary: Hermione's stuck at work on Christmas Eve, so he brings Christmas to her.
Author's Notes: I picture Idris Elba as Kinglsey because he’s so hot omg and he seems to be the right age. You’re welcome, world. Also, please enjoy, Articcat :D I hope this hits all your holiday rarepair wishes!! And thank you to the mod for being patient and lovely!
The little green springs started curling as they grew larger and larger, spreading across the corner of the ceiling. Hermione eyed it cautiously from behind her desk. The last thing she needed was magical mistletoe following her around her office while she tried to get the final edits done on her proposal. Why was it even blooming when there was no one else around? That was odd; it wasn’t meant to do that. Maybe the spell was wearing off and it was going wonky.
Her department was exactly how she liked it -- silent and empty, without distraction -- so she hoped she could finish in peace. The maintenance staff wanted to make things festive by decorating for Christmas, but their mistletoe was more a nuisance than a joy, that was for sure.
She sighed and looked back down at her notes. She needed Kingsley to sign off on a couple more things, but he had already left earlier with everyone else. She might actually be the only one here. She checked the clock on the wall.
“Is it really seven?” she mumbled.
“Seven o’five,” the clock chirped. “Christmas Eve dinner at the Weasleys starts in twenty-five minutes! Don’t be late!”
Hermione frowned and ignored it. That clock was useful for appointment reminders, but sometimes it harped on too much. “I’m not leaving until I finish this, and you know that. Now hush!”
The clock made an indignant noise and went silent, only the second-hand ticking by.
There was a knock on the door. Hermione jumped; she hadn’t expected anyone else to be here. “Come in.”
The door swung open, and in stepped Kingsley.
“Sir!” Hermione straightened her back, as well as the sheets of parchment on her desk, randomly stacking them in front of her. “You’re here. I mean -- why are you here? I mean, it’s late.” She cleared her throat. She didn’t like to admit that she was one of those people who fancied their boss… but the truth was, she had always been taken by Kingsley, ever since she was a girl in the war. He had always been so strong, confident, and take-charge. He kept a cool head in a crisis. He was intelligent, he was brave… and his deep, smooth voice made her knees tremble slightly. Ever since she began working at the Ministry a year ago, Hermione tried to dampen her silly, girlish fantasies about him, but it was immensely difficult. Especially since they worked in such close proximity. They saw each other practically every day; and the times Kingsley was away fulfilling some Minister-ly duty or other, the day dragged by.
Kingsley walked toward her desk. “I know it’s late, Miss Granger, which is why I should be asking you the same question.”
“I don’t like leaving things unfinished.”
“I know that,” he said with a smile. “It’s partly why I hired you. There is no one who works quite as hard as you do.”
Hermione tried to stop the blush she felt blooming. “I just want to make sure I live up to that expectation.”
“You don’t need to try, Hermione. It’s who you are. You’re a brilliant witch.”
He rarely used her first name; he was rarely so informal with her. But when he was, it sent shivers up her arms.
“And what are you doing here so late?” she countered. “Don’t you have a celebration to go to?”
“I was invited to the Burrow tonight.”
She raised her eyebrows. No one had told her that.
“I believe we have to be there soon.” His eyes swung momentarily to the clock.
“Did you come to collect me?” she asked.
“Sort of… No one sent me, if that’s what you mean. But I suppose I am here to collect you, yes.”
She frowned. “I’m sorry, Minister, I’m not sure I understand.”
“I arrived at the Burrow earlier and I realized you weren’t there.”
“So you… you came back?”
“I wanted to make sure you were coming.” He stepped around the desk. Hermione saw the mistletoe from over his shoulder. It was grown thirty new leaves. She swallowed, clenching her legs together against the onslaught of heat that assaulted her. It traveled through her whole body and settled there, between her thighs. “Hermione,” he continued, coming closer, “you should leave that for next week and come back with me.”
“I was planning on coming,” she stammered. “Just in a little bit…”
“It’s Christmas Eve.”
“I’m aware of that, sir.”
“Call me Kingsley.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can.”
“But Minister --”
“I am telling you, you can.”
“The …” She pointed, and he turned around, spotting the mistletoe. When he turned back, he grinned. “Be careful, that’s been growing all night.”
“I think it’s telling us something.”
“It can’t be.”
“You don’t believe I could feel something for you, Hermione?”
There was no air in her office. The magic windows showed an idyllic snowy scene with twinkling lamps and falling snow. It looked cold and wintery, but inside her office it was burning hot. Or maybe that was just Hermione’s body in reaction to Kingsley's close proximity.
“If you don’t move soon,” she warned quietly, “it won’t let you, until…”
“...until we kiss.”
“Yes.” She looked at his lips.
He was so handsome. And tall.
His body called to her, so warm and comforting. Not for the first time, she wanted to to burrow into his strong arms and be held tightly.
“It’s done,” she said as she felt the tingling magic of the mistletoe surrounded them. “Now we have to.” She watched his mouth, wondering what it would feel like to kiss him.
Kingsley placed both hands on the arms of her chair, leaning down close to her, trapping her in her seat. Slowly, his eyes fell shut and he leaned in closer. Hermione’s breath hitched as her own eyes fluttered shut and their lips met. Everything else slipped away. The only thing she knew was the feeling of Kingsley’s kiss encompassing her in a sort of fever, making her whole body light with desire.
She made a needy noise, and he deepened the kiss.
She was kissing her boss.
She was kissing the Minister.
And she couldn’t stop.
Her arms found his shoulders, and she realized he was lifting her out of her seat and holding her around her waist. He sat her down on her desk, and Hermione parted her legs around him. She knew the magic of the mistletoe had snapped; they were free to go now if they wanted to. The magic had done its duty and now it was done. But she also knew she would not stop.
The fact that Kingsley wanted her back was astounding, and she wondered if this was real. Maybe it was a Christmas miracle.
They finally parted for air, both their chests rising and falling rapidly. Kingsley’s grin was bright.
“I think we might be late for dinner,” he said.
Hermione smiled back. “That’s all right, sir.”
