The Closet Relativity Theory

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at [Link]

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: F/M
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson,
Theodore Nott, Gregory Goyle, Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Padma Patil,
Daphne Greengrass, Luna Lovegood
Additional Tags: Comedy, Romance, Romantic Comedy, Smut, Lemon, Unresolved
Sexual Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Closets, Fingerfucking,
Oral Sex, Blow Jobs, Sex, Rough Sex, Dirty Talk, Hair-pulling, Biting,
Complete
Language: English
Stats: Published: 2016-09-28 Completed: 2016-10-14 Words: 29,671 Chapters:
3/3
 The Closet Relativity Theory
by MrBenzedrine89

Summary

Draco Malfoy gets locked a closet with Hermione Granger at a party. But is that all to the
story? Comedy, Romance, Mystery and so much smut to come. Dramione 3 part series. Rated
M FOR A REASON **WINNER: BEST MINI FIC 2017 Dramione Awards**

Notes

The Closet Relativity Theory

By Mr. Benzedrine
For LightofEvolution
Because, my beautiful, you deserve your time. And it will come. One setback will not let you
fall short of becoming what I know you will become. And you will be wonderful. And never
lose your hope. Because I haven't. (hearts)

Summary:
Draco Malfoy gets locked a closet with Hermione Granger at a party. But is that all to the
story? Comedy, Romance, Mystery and so much smut to come. Dramione 3 part series. Rated
M FOR A REASON.

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, and I will not make a profit from this story. Unless
you include friendships, because I'm rich in those.

As always, thank you to the wonderful waymay for proofing and feeding me plot bunnies to
sink my teeth into. Like Bunnicula. ;D Waymay has a new Dramione/Blamione titled
"Background" that I AM DYINGGGGGGG about. I love it so much, so, please, give it a
read! I've read it all the way through (hehe) and can attest it is quite an amazing story indeed.

Also, check out LightofEvolution's works "High on Magic" and "Branches".

~A.

This beautiful bit of work was inspired by LightofEvolution's writing prompt:

"Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for
an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity."
-Albert Einstein

I asked her if I could write her a one-shot, because she's been having some hurdles to
overcome lately. And she deserves her happy ending. ;D
See the end of the work for more notes
 An Unexpected Party

Image may contain: text

Part One: An Unexpected Party

I'm not a crybaby

I'm the crybaby
A caterpillar that got stuck
Mr. Moth come quick with any luck
A long walk to a dark ha-ha-house
A roman candle heart keep us far apart
I'm cocktail party doing all right
Hate me baby, maybe I'm a piece of art

Oh my friends all lie and say

They only want the best wishes from me
Oh 3-2-1, we go live
"Tiffany Blews" by Fall Out Boy

*(*)*

"Well… this is… a tad awkward."

"Wonderful deduction."

They stared at each other in the darkened closet; their only source of light peeked from
underneath the door, where their friends could be heard outside, sniggering. Draco watched
as Hermione Granger fidgeted nervously with her strapless dress, wriggling it up higher to
keep anything from popping out. Her brown ringlets fell loosely around her shoulders, caging
her face in a halo of bushy curls. Draco fidgeted with his tie, hooking his pointer finger
through the knot, loosening it, and then tightening it once more.

How had they ended up here?

It wasn't as if they were children. They were beyond infantile games. So, how in Salazar's
name had Draco Malfoy allowed his friends to convince him to play such a juvenile game as
spin-the-firewhiskey-bottle?

On second thought, he knew exactly how. Because his friends were snakes. Snakes in the
grass, looking to strike at anyone's weakness.

And Draco Malfoy's currently stared him down with a crease in her brow.
"Well, Malfoy. We're here. Now what?"

"Now what?" Draco quirked a dangerous eyebrow. "You sure you want me to answer that?"
He stepped forward, into her personal bubble, inhaling the scent of lavender and green tea.
He listened to her jagged breathing as he leaned in, dangerously close -could literally feel the
heat pulsating off her skin. He was tired of the games. The pretenses. Six months. Six bloody
months and not a word.

He dragged his lips over hers, testing -taunting.

"It's called seven minutes in heaven, right?" He rested the fingerpads of his left hand around
the curve of her arm, trailing them up her shoulder, the curve in her neck, brushing his thumb
against her jaw. "Personally, I think this is my very own Hell, made just for me."

She sighed airily, staring into his eyes. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Draco's smirk widened. "I think you and I both know the answer to that." His free hand
snaked its way down her side, resting gently on her hip.

Four Hours Ago

"Oh, come on, Zabini! That's expensive scotch, that is!" Draco grumbled loudly as he
watched his friend untuck a bottle of Lucius Malfoy's aged scotch from the wet bar in the
Parlor Room of the Malfoy Manor. To his disgruntlement, Blaise popped off the stopper and
poured out six glasses: one for himself, Draco, Goyle, Pansy, Daphne, and Theo. It was
supposed to be a small get together while his parents away.

So, when the magical chime echoed through the house, alerting them to visitors, it took
Draco Malfoy by surprise. He cocked his head in the direction of the front door, his eyebrow
already poised like a dragon ready to swoop in and fry up unwelcome guests in his den. He
crisply snatched the glass of scotch from his friend's hand before starting in the direction of
the hallway -Blaise cut him off.

"That'll be the caterer, most likely."

"Caterer?" Draco whipped his head back around. "I didn't order any food."

"I did," said Pansy simply, shrugging her delicate shoulders.

"You what?" His eyes narrowed. "Why would you do that?"

"Felt a bit peckish, I imagine." She crossed the floor and patted him on the cheek. "I'll just go
sort it out, then." She shot her friends a flirtatious wink and excused herself from the room.

It should have been his first clue, but Draco's mind wasn't focused today. His eyes kept
glancing over to the morning paper every few minutes or so, though he tried to resist it. Why
did he care if 'War Heroine returns from her six month stay overseas'? Pah. As if he would be
interested in hearing about it. She meant nothing to him. Nothing.
With Pansy gone, Blaise took the reins, yet again, and plucked up the morning edition of the
Daily Prophet. "Interesting turn of events, eh?"

"Hardly. Why does the Prophet feel the need to chime in about every detail of the Golden
Trio's life? Godric, it's ridiculous."

Blaise exchanged smirks with Theo. "I was talking about the Chudley Cannons winning
yesterday's match."

Embarrassment shrouded him, and Draco snorted into his glass of scotch in response.

Another chime.

Theodore Nott reached into his pockets, glanced at his timepiece, and smirked widely. "Right
on schedule."

"What's on schedule?"

"Hmm?" Theo flashed a set of pearly white teeth. "Oh, never you mind, Draco. I'll be back in
two ticks." He gave a sarcastically formal bow and took his leave.

Draco glanced between Blaise and Goyle, who were looking any which way but at him.
"Spill it. What's going-?"

A third chime echoed loudly through the Parlor.

Goyle gave an apologetic grin and muttered, "Decorations, I imagine," before he scurried off,
sniggering into hand.

Draco's eyes zoomed in on Blaise, who sipped leisurely from his glass of scotch while staring
up at a Malfoy family portrait. "They got your nose wrong, I think. Yours is a bit more
pointed."

"What's going on?"

"Going? Nothing. Coming…" Blaise grinned.

"What's coming, then?"

"You, if you're lucky."

"Zabini…" Draco growled. "I don't like being toyed with."

"It's a party, Draco. Relax." The Slytherin-alumnus threw his arm around his blond-haired
friend. "Think of it as… a reunion."

"A reunion?" Draco's mouth fell slack, and his eyes turned to slits. "I don't want a bloody
reunion. A reunion with whom?"
"With our Hogwarts alumni, of course!" Blaise withdrew his arm and clapped his hands
together excitedly. "Five years out the gate. Worth celebrating, isn't it?"

"No." The blond blinked. "Not really. -And besides, when were you going to let me in on this
little debauchery? Considering you decided to hold it in my home."

"Eh, semantics. So we're holding it in your home, so what? Your parents are out on holiday.
It's the perfect occasion to sow our oats and be wild!"

Draco looked unconvinced as he nursed his scotch. "One would think the Master of the home
would have some say in someone throwing a party in it…"

"And I'm telling you now." Blaise plucked his glass of scotch off the table and clinked it
against Draco's. "What do you say, Malfoy? Care for a bit of fun?"

"No."

"Well, too late! The guests will be arriving…" He turned around and glanced at the
grandfather clock near the fireplace. "Oh. In about an hour?"

"An hour?" Draco shook his head. "No. I won't have it."

"Why not?" Blaise looked at his friend with honest bewilderment. "I've never known you to
turn down a perfectly good party -especially one thrown in your honor."

"Yes, but it's not in my honor, is it? Why do I want to fraternize with a bunch of ex-
classmates I don't care about?"

"Why else do men do anything, Draco? For the clunge, that's why." Blaise shook his pointer
finger absentmindedly, lost in his imagination. "And there will be loads of it, I guarantee you.
Plenty of pretty ladies ripe for the picking, just waiting for us to get our immaculate mitts on
them. -I know you're a bit stingy in the cock-giving department-"

Draco flinched. "-Could you not talk like you're still fifteen with a walking erection
everywhere you go?"

"-But," Blaise continued, ignoring his friend, "I know just the snatch that'll make you rethink
the entire party in a new light." He snatched up the newspaper and thrust it in front of Draco's
face. "Her name rhymes with… well, I'm not sure what it could rhyme with, really…"

Draco grabbed the top of the newspaper and shoved it down, out of his eye line, his eyes
wide and horrified. "You're entirely off, Zabini."

"Am I?" Blaise turned the paper towards him and eyed over the picture of a certain curly-
haired brunette putting a hand up over her face to avoid the flash of a camera. "Oh, well, if
you aren't interested, maybe I should just sort her out myself."

In a blur, Draco snatched the paper away from Blaise and folded it gently under his arm. "As
if she would even consider a cur like you."
Blaise grinned ear to ear. "Look who suddenly got possessive."

"Not possessive. Simply realistic. She's not some sickle-store tramp who just finds herself in
cupboards with random blokes."

"Ah, but there will be alcohol -lots of it. And music. And, perhaps, just a bit more
deconstruction of inhibitions. A lot can change in five years. Or six months." Blaise's brown
eyes flickered down to the newspaper lodged between Draco's arm and side. "Let yourself
live a little. You're too serious. Just like your father."

"Thank you."

"That wasn't a compliment."

Suddenly, a small cough broke the two men from their bickering, and they turned their heads
to discover Daphne Greengrass, completely forgotten about in the corner of the room. She
narrowed her eyes, rose to stand from her small corner chair, and said, "No one ever
remembers me!" before storming off in the direction of thefloo.

A decorated ballroom, a live band, fifty pounds of food, and a shite load of obnoxious
Hogwarts-colored party decorations later, Draco stood in the corner of the party, nursing a
new glass (this time, of firewhiskey) and dressed in a fine charcoal blazer and onyx trousers.
Around his neck, he wore his favorite emerald tie. His hair was brushed back, out of his eyes,
though he fashioned it shorter on the sides these days. He was the spitting image of
perfection, yet his eyes wore dark circles of contempt as they gazed out at the party goers,
each dressed in a version of their house colors.

His Slytherin friends had done a number in the short amount of time allotted, and because all
of his friends were obnoxiously wealthy, the paid a great sum of money to put the finest
touches on the evening's festivities. Some newer, hipper version of a band, much like the
Weird Sisters, danced and thrashed on a stage at the far end of the grand hall. Most of the
guests were jumping and dancing to the upbeat sounds of guitar, bass, and drums, but not
Draco. No, he made sure to stay as far away as possible from the partygoers. Ever since the
War, he enjoyed keeping to himself, and only throwing parties when it was convenient for
him. This… this did none of that. Half of the room didn't give a flying-fuckaroo about him,
and about one-fourth wished him dead. The faded Dark Mark on his left forearm saw to that.
Sure, there was that remaining one-fourth who seemed to enjoy his presence, but Draco
trusted very few after the War, suspecting some to only enjoy him for his fame (or, to put it
better, infamy). Tonight's endeavours were supposed to be an intimate gathering of his closest
friends -now, he was forced to 'enjoy' their traitorous actions with crowds and a not-looking-
forward-to cleanup.

He removed his pocket watch from his pocket and checked the time. No, that couldn't be
right, could it? Thirty minutes? The party had only been going for thirty minutes? "Salazar's
testicles, could this night get any worse?"

As if the universe saw fit to answer him, he spotted a familiar color of red hair and freckles
flicker near the entryway, accompanied by raven-colored tresses and a shimmer of brunette.
Oh, fucking Merlin's hat, the Golden Trio were here. Wasn't that just peachy? He tried to pry
his eyes away to other, more important affairs, but they kept coming back to the witch tucked
between two obnoxious oafs Draco detested, and his heart gave a small leap as he realized-
she came. She actually came to this ridiculous, thrown together soiree. That any of the three
would dare step foot in his (parents') home after what they endured years ago… it took
courage. Gryffindor courage. Well, they were Gryffindors, weren't they?

He supposed he should say hello… this was, after all, his home they were intruding into.
Even if they were invited. Without his consent. Besides, what good was being in the presence
of a Weasley or a Potter if one couldn't have a bit of fun at their expense? She certainly had
nothing to do with his reason for pushing himself off the wall and sauntering his way through
the crowd, firewhiskey still tucked gingerly in his fingers, and weaving a path towards them.
At the last moment, he grasped a flute of champagne from a passing waiter's tray and carried
it along with him, right up to the trio.

It was Weasley to notice first, a skeptical eyebrow raised in Draco's presence. He nudged
Potter in the arm, whose green eyes looked over to his friend before taking notice of the
Slytherin-alumnus in his presence. She was the last one to see him, instead focused on staring
off into the crowd of dancing wizards and witches. But when Draco cleared his throat, she,
too, turned her gaze on him, blinking rapidly while brushing the hem of her dress skirting.

"Malfoy," Potter said curtly, but politely, nodding his head. "Erm… hello."

Draco couldn't help the smirk on his lips. Oh, but Scar-head made this too easy for him.
"Hello? Is that the way you greet all your hosts when you attend high-end parties? Then
again, I suppose you'd have to be invited to some cultured affairs to know how to conduct
yourself. For example…" He extended the hand, which held the champagne, out towards the
curly-headed witch, whose eyes widened as she reached out and took the glass. "I, as the host
of tonight's… reunion, welcome you." His eyes caught with hers -half a moment, but it was
enough to put a fire in his belly that the firewhiskey could never reproduce.

"How's this for a greeting? Piss off." Ron Weasley narrowed his eyes, grabbing the drink out
of his friend's hand. "Is this drugged or something?"

"Oh, Ron, honestly." For the first time in six months, Draco heard the sound of Hermione
Granger's voice. It was electrifying, like static gathered at the bottom of his socks, sending
jolts through his spine. "You're no better than he is if you stoop to his level." Her eyes found
his again, weighting his feet to the ground like cinder blocks. "Honestly, Malfoy, I'd have
thought you'd evolved a smidgen. In fact, I dare say the last time we met, you were a bit more
polite. Did you degenerate, somehow?"

Draco clammed up quicker than a child eating a sour lemon, his cheeks frosting with pink.
For half a moment, he couldn't speak. No matter how hard he tried, the words simply
wouldn't come. And then -they fell out all at once. "I suppose being in the presence of lesser
sorts can degenerate anyone given the opportunity." Fuck. Wait. That came out completely
wrong. Her soft, earth-toned eyes hardened, and she crisply took the champagne from
Weasley's hand, downed it all, and shoved it back into Draco's hand, empty.
"See? Not poisoned. Now, can we move on?" She glanced back at her counterparts, and then
over to Draco. "Pleasant seeing you again, Malfoy." And with that, she stomped away, Potter
and Weasley exchanging glances before following behind her.

Six months. He hadn't spoken a word to her in the six months since she left, and some of the
first words he said just had to find their way through his smartass filter. Brilliant. Bloody
brilliant.

He checked his pocket watch again. Five minutes? That was all the time that passed since
their arrival?

Fuck. This evening was going to take an eternity.

Alcohol. It was Draco's only saving grace for the evening as he watched on as his Manor was
savagely bombarded by those from his graduating year. He drank his fair share of
firewhiskey, butterbeer, and scotch as his eyes drifted around the ballroom, avoiding a
particular set of frizzy curls in the process. Until he realized she was avoiding his gaze. And
that didn't set right with the platinum-blond. Had six months turned her into someone who
couldn't stomach to look at him? Well, it wasn't as if he cared. Far from it. No, he just didn't
like the idea of being irresistible to anyone. He fidgeted nervously with his tie, adjusting and
readjusting as the alcohol began to prickle his ears with heat.

"The quim of your choice ignoring you this evening?" said a dry, amused voice from the side.
Draco turned his head and glared at Blaise, eyes turning to slits yet again.

"I haven't a clue what you mean."

"Right. Sure you don't. -You know," Blaise sidestepped closer, "I was chatting up Loony
Lovegood about ten minutes ago. Want to know what she told me?"

"That you have perrywinkles in your hair or something?" Draco drawled in response.

"She says Granger's single. Like, entirely single. Has been since she left."

"Fascinating." He rolled his eyes. "Have at her, then." He gestured out to the dance floor,
where Granger could be seen bouncing to the swift beat of a cheerful sounding song. "I'll
cheer you on as you crash and burn."

Blaise's eyes flickered between Draco and Granger. "Oh. She's ignoring you? Can't say I
blame her, much."

"You know, for a friend, you are almost at Potter level of annoyance."

"But not Weasley?"

"Oh, Godric no. No one can be on that level but the weasel himself."

Despite his disgruntlement, Draco found himself laughing right along with his friend.
"A few of us are meeting up in half an hour."

"Meeting up?" Draco quirked a curious eyebrow, gesturing to the grand ballroom filled with
at least two hundred gyrating wizards and witches. "This public display of obnoxiousness not
to your fancy anymore?"

"Chill, Draco," came the confident voice of Theo Nott. "When did you get such a right stick
up your arse?"

"Since you decided to let strangers into my home without my notice."

"Hardly strangers," Theo noted, "We all went to school together…"

Draco glanced down at his left arm, pensive. He stepped away from his friends, muttering
something about needing something better than the piss of alcohol they were serving, and
cleared his way through the crowds out into the hallway, where he ran smack-dab into Padma
Patil sucking face with -

"Oh, I did not need to see that on a weak stomach..." Draco pretended to grimace as Padma
and Ron Weasley broke away from eating each other's faces long enough to shoot agitated
glances in his direction.

"Bugger off, Malfoy. No one asked you to watch."

Draco glanced between the two and smirked. "It's my home, Weasley. And believe me, I
didn't want to watch- sort of like watching a trainwreck, isn't it? I'm surprised she has any
face left -you looked like you were trying to eat it." He folded his arms over his chest. "Patil,
I'd watch out for that one. He's a bit of a player, if memory serves."

Weasley scowled, but Draco didn't give him time to say much as he took off past them, in the
direction of the staircase leading up to the East Wing. He was just about to place his hand on
the banister when he caught sight of someone at the top - a tightness pressed against his
chest, and his fingers gripped around the wood of the banister with knuckle-whitening
strength. How had she gotten all the way out here in such a short amount of time? He could
have sworn she was just back there, still at the party…

Draco cleared his throat, not one to be run off by some bushy-haired ex-coworker. Even if
that woman had the softest, chocolate covered eyes this side of Britain…

The sound his throat made as he coughed caused her head to turn in his direction, and, once
again, their eyes met.

"Erm… hello," he said, nodding once. His foot stayed at the bottom step, poised to move, but
somehow unable to find the will to.

Granger stared down at him from the top of the stairs, tilting her head to the side ever so
slightly. "You're not being a very good host, are you?" Around her small frame, she wore a
burgundy strapless dress with pleated skirting, which was decorated with pencil thin gold
stripes. Gryffindor. Of course. Like the rest of the dolts back in the ballroom, she wore her
House colors. But Merlin… she wore them well. Somehow, she'd managed to climb the
staircase in a pair of black stilettos. Impressive.

"Excuse me?"

"Well," she said, taking a step down the staircase, hand poised on the railing, "You chastised
Harry to no end this evening, following up by a brag of being such a marvelous host."
Another step down the stairs. "And here you are, out here, not playing up to your Slytherin
charms of having to be the center of attention."

Draco smirked, meeting her step down the staircase with a step up of his own. "That hurt,
Granger. See?" He motioned to his perfectly angled cheekbone. "I'm fair skinned -that quip
might leave a bruise."

"Poor you." Another step down.

"Poor you." Another step up. "Let the papers have at you when they see what you've done to
my perfect face."

"If a face has a bruise, it's hardly perfect, is it?"

His smirk widened, impressed by her ability to quip back as he took another step towards her,
up the stairs. There were so many things he wanted to say -some of them sarcastic, some of
them entirely serious, but all-in-all, none of them conveyed the correct emotions. So, he
settled on silence. When they were but five steps away from each other, he halted, his
alcoholic intake picking this exact moment to make his head spin. He leaned against the
bannister with his side, smirk wiping away from his features like a dry-erase marker to a
whiteboard. The stairs… goddamn stairs. Why were there so many? Did the designer of this
house never take into account the elderly or disorderly drunken?

"Are you alright?" she asked, taking those five stairs in a matter of moments to stand beside
him. "You look a bit pale."

Snarkily, Draco closed his eyes and replied, "Hi. I'm a Malfoy."

"You know what I mean." She reached out, hand slipping up to his forehead. Touch. She was
touching him. And it only took six months. "You're not feverish…"

"I'm fine, Granger," he said, instinctively batting her hand away. Damn. But her touch had
felt so good. "Just a bit… poached."

"You've been drinking?"

"It's a party." He shook his head, attempting to stay alcohol's kiss. If he'd known he would be
talking to her, he wouldn't have drank so much. "In my room, there's some sobering tablets."
He gestured upwards, towards the upper halls. "Be a good little lion and fetch some for me?"

"Lions don't fetch," she said, scowling as he peeked at her through hooded slits.
"And yet," he said, ice in his tone, "I can already hear your little paws climbing that
staircase…" He rubbed his numb face and squeezed his eyes shut. Just because he was in her
presence didn't mean he would go easy on her. She didn't deserve it, in any case. Or maybe
she did. He was much too drunk to ponder on it. Granger's high heels could be heard
clomping up the staircase, and he just had to add, "You remember which one it is, yes? My
bedroom?"

She didn't answer him.

Time slithered on like an infant snake in the grass -slowly, gathering its bearings. Eventually,
she came back; her heeled pumps stomped down the staircase and approached him. He was
seated now, thanking his lucky stars no one else had decided to take a tour of the Manor the
way she had.

"Here." Granger thrust her hand out in front of his nose, revealing two glossy tablets. Draco
smirked in appreciation, muttered a thank you, and plucked them from her hand before
popping them into his mouth. They fizzed doing down his throat, and a swelling feeling in his
brain told him the tablets were, in fact, working. He blinked a few times, shook his head to
clear his thoughts, and opened his eyes completely to meet her withering stare.

Draco raised a cool eyebrow and sneered, "Yes? Something I can help you with?"

"Why are you acting this way?" she asked, crossing her arms. The golden flecks of her irises
danced in the light of the chandelier dangling from the high vaulted ceiling off to their side.

"Acting what way? Like I'm at a party?"

"Like an arse."

Both of his eyebrows raised this time, and he chuckled. "Oh. Oh, it's the arse part that bothers
you, does it? Funny. Last time we spoke, you didn't seem to mind it so much…"

Granger opened her pretty little lips to speak, but someone called up from the bottom of the
staircase. "Oy! Draco! You comin' or what?" Blaise. Of course. It was Blaise.

"Coming? You're going somewhere?" She raised a skeptical eyebrow between the two. Draco
pried his eyes down to Blaise, who grinned back up at him, deception and the devil's
intentions lodged in his brown orbs.

"You can come with us, Granger, if you'd like. We're just going somewhere a bit more
private. Draco hates crowds, as you know."

Oh, how Draco wished his eyes could cast Avadas, because Blaise would be dead twice -one
for each eye. How dare he make it sound like sneaking off from his own party was his idea?
How dare he ask her to tag along? How dare he?

"I don't think-"

"Loony's coming," Blaise offered. "And Potter."

"Harry?" She blinked twice. "Harry's joining you snakes in your pit?"

"Gee, you're just so original with your analogies," Draco drawled.

She shot daggers in his direction in the form of her glare. "And your little lion quip wasn't
overplayed?" Her head turned in the direction of Blaise. "Well, I'm beyond old house
rivalries. Sure. I'll join you." She stepped down the staircase and scooped up a clutch from
the bottom of the stairs. "Going to the powder room -be back in two shakes."

"Take your time," Blaise waved her off, and was surprised when he turned around to find
Draco down the staircase and glaring at him from only inches away. "What?"

"You invited her?"

"Well, yeah. You can't just throw a makeshift reunion together and then not invite the Golden
Trio, can you?"

"You know damn well what I mean."

"Oh? To the afterparty?" Blaise nearly sniggered into his hand. "You don't have to go, you
know." He looked rather amused with himself.

Draco snorted a sarcastic laugh and stared off in the direction Granger left. "Yeah, as if I'm
going to trust you not to drink everything in my father's liquor cabinet. I have to keep an eye
on you, Zabini. You're such a child."

"So, babysitter Malfoy, then?"

"Consider your arse watched." Wait. "That came out wrong."

The small 'afterparty' took place during the party consisted of about ten people, which, to
Draco, might have been worse than the 200-some-odd people having the time of their lives in
his parents' ballroom. She had nothing to do with his apprehension, of course. It had
everything to do with those in attendance: Blaise, Pansy, Potter, Padma, Weasley, Theo,
Luna, Draco (naturally), Daphne (somehow, she managed to be noticed), and… her. Once
again, Draco found himself looking everywhere but at the stunning brunette, who examined
family portraits on the wall of his father's study, which was now where they all currently
resided.

Blaise, like clockwork, went to Lucius's other stash of alcohol, tucked neatly away in the
large, mahogany desk towards the center of the room, just offset of the fireplace. Draco
stalked across the room in no time flat, snatching a bottle of expensive bourbon from Blaise's
prying fingers and settled, instead, on an older batch of expensive firewhiskey that he could
easily replace later. His friend gave him a disheartened look as Draco tucked the bourbon
back into the desk drawer, but settled on the firewhiskey with excitement.

Together, they conjured up enough shot glasses for everyone while Draco wondered just how
Blaise convinced Golden Boy and Golden Boy's sidekick to tag along in this escapade. He'd
witnessed Hermione's -oh, Merlin, that name did something to the inside of his stomach,
twisting it in knots - invitation, so perhaps he goaded the others by insisting she already
agreed to it as well? No doubt, it would be a very Slytherin thing to do. And if there was one
thing Slytherins took pride in, it was being cunning. Potter would show up to keep Hermione
out of harm's way, and Weasley would show up because he was a jealous hack, and she… she
showed up because her friends were promised to be in attendance.

Draco, secretly, wished it was for another reason.

"So we're slumming it this evening?" Pansy smirked, trailing her eyes over to the crowd of
mixed alumni. Not a single Hufflepuff in attendance. As per the usual. "Remind me again,
boys, why we're chumming it up with Gryffindors?"

"Oh, come on, Pans," Blaise cooed in her ear, "We're not at Hogwarts anymore. We're all
just… witches and wizards! Here to have a fun time and get a bit naughty." He flashed the
room a wink and, with a flick of his wand, levitated the shots of firewhiskey around the
room. "To drunken merriment!"

"To pantsing you when you're too tossed!" Theo chimed in.

Potter nearly choked on his shot as he brought the liquor to his lips, and said with a wry grin,
"I second that one!"

"Here, here!" Pansy snickered. "But only because Zabini without any pants on does sound
nice."

Everyone threw back their shots, Draco and Granger included. His eyes found their way to
her face to watch her kick back the alcohol and grimace at the burn in her slender throat.

"If you're planning on being pantsed, Blaise," Said Loony, drawing the attention in the room,
"I would recommend keeping a fair amount of sugar cubes in your pockets to drive away the
Boldermagigs."

"Alright, I'll bite," said Weasley, grinning, "What's a Boldermagig, Luna?"

"You don't know?" She smiled, her blue eyes glistening around the room, ever so eager to tell
them. "They are these little blue and pink goblins that come out at night and filch your
knickers while you're not looking. It's why I choose not to wear any, on most occasions."

Blaise and Theo dropped their jaws at the confession, while Potter glanced down at the floor,
ears tinged pink, and Weasley turned as red as a tomato. Draco chuckled into his shoulder.
Oh, how 'Loony' was such a fitting description for the witch.

"So… um... " Blaise cleared his throat. "I don't think that dress can hold sugar cubes, can it?"

The blonde glanced down to her small, navy blue jumper. "No. No pockets, you see." She
patted her hips delicately and smiled with innocence.

Blaise looked like he might cum in his pants right then and there as he bit the back of his
hand and cleared his throat. "Luna… tell me more about these Boldermag… er… what were
they called again?"

"Boldermagigs."

"Yes. Those." He slithered his way across the room and perched a spot next to her, primed
and leaning in with interest. "I want to hear all about them."

Draco rolled his eyes and noticed something -suddenly, there was a pair of brown eyes on
him. And she was approaching. Merlin, fuck. What should he do? Should he say something?
The last two times he'd spoken this evening, he'd botched it up pretty damn bad. Should he
remain silent? Would that be too obvious? Should he ignore her? He didn't want to…

"We meet again," she said, clinking her empty shot glass against his.

"Looks like it," he said dryly, his lips curling up nearly in a smile -but he caught himself last
moment and turned it into a smirk instead. "I'll be honest, this wasn't what I had in mind
when Blaise said he wanted to branch off, away from the party."

Granger nodded, looking out at the mixture of wizards and witches conversing. They stood in
silence, together, for a time. Minutes ticked on. Finally, she glanced back down at her shot
glass and offered it out to him. "Another, barkeep?"

"Do I look like a barkeep to you?" he smirked, glancing down at his attire, though he took the
glass all the same. She was speaking to him, and that was something, wasn't it? "What's your
poison?"

"Is there anything else besides the firewhiskey?" she asked. "It burns going down."

"All of it burns going down." He nudged for her to follow and walked back over to his
father's desk, careful in his movements as to not attract Blaise's attention back over to the
expensive alcohols tucked away. Luckily, Loony was a great distraction. Draco fished out a
small flask and offered it out to her.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"Fairy Ale. Tastes alright. Very rare." He grinned as he watched her unscrew the top, tilt it
back, and sip. Her eyes widened, and she swallowed three gulps full before prying her lips
from the flask. "Doth it pleaseth you?" He shot her a wry smirk.

"It's delicious…" She smiled. And then frowned. "Oh, and it must be very expensive." She
thrust the flask out between them. "Oh, I couldn't possibly.."

"But you've already," he noted, "And besides -I could hardly care less." He lied. His father
would be irate. But… somehow… right now, it didn't matter. He'd deal with the
consequences later.

It didn't take long for Blaise, however, to take notice, and he swooped in like a hawk between
the two. How'd he get to the desk so fast?
"Is… Is that... ?" Blaise glared at the flask. "Oh, come on, Draco! I've been begging you for
months to try that!"

"And I've been telling you for months to shove it."

Like a toddler throwing a fit, Blaise stomped a foot on the ground - the reverberation shook
the desk, and the empty bottle of firewhiskey, perched precariously on the edge, tipped over
and fell off. It landed with a plink to the floor below as it slowly spun around the room -
landing in front of Padma Patil.

She smiled. "You know what this reminds me of, Ron?" She looked to the room. "Oh come
on, surely someone must know."

It was Hermione to chime in. "Oh! Haha." She giggled into her hand. "Spin the bottle."

Potter chuckled. "Oh man, that brings back memories, doesn't it?"

"Excuse me," Pansy threw up a hand, "What is 'spin the bottle'?"

"You've never played?"

"No. Obviously."

"It's a muggle game," Hermione explained, "Everyone sits in the middle of the floor and you
spin a bottle in the center of the circle. Whoever spins and whoever the bottle lands on…
well, it gets a bit hazy, doesn't it?"

"Hazy?" Piped in Theo.

"Well, some people play to kiss… others go in closets and…" A brilliant shade of magenta
flourished over her cheeks. "It's silly, really."

"Hardly silly," said Blaise, exchanging glances with his Slytherin brethren. When his eyes
fell on the platinum-blond, Draco had a moment of panic, and his mouth fell open in a
dramatic, yet comical 'no!' -"I'm game if everyone else is."

No.

"How does it work, Granger?"

NO.

"Oh, um…" She blushed further, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear as she stepped forward,
the flask still clutched between her slender fingers. "Well, we'd need everyone in the center of
the room."

Blaise whipped his head around to the room. "Well? Come on. The lady says the center of the
room -get to it."
Draco cleared his throat, nervously approaching the circle of adults as they stood around his
father's expensive rug and formed a ring. Somehow, she ended up on the opposite side of
him, perfectly in his view and unable to escape it. Damn.

"And then everyone takes a seat, yes?" Pansy chirped. When Draco shot her a colorful glare,
she merely shrugged and bunched up the skirting of her dress before taking a seat and
beckoning everyone else to follow suit.

"This reminds me of that other game… what's it called? Seven minutes in heaven?" Padma
snapped her fingers in excitement. "Oh, let's combine the games, if we're playing!"

"Wait," Potter put a hand up, "I -well, no offence, but I'm not really keen on locking lips with
any of you." He glanced over to Hermione. "No offence, Mione."

"None taken, Harry." She smiled shyly.

Draco couldn't help but snigger, "Oh. Look at that. Potter's actually afraid of something."

"Am not." Potter narrowed his eyes. "Just… what if I land on a bloke or something. You want
to be stuck in a closet with me for seven minutes, Malfoy?"

Quirking an eyebrow, Draco smirked and replied, "You wish you could spend seven minutes
in a closet with me. Might learn a thing or two, Potter."

"I've never known Gryffindors to shy away from a challenge," Blaise was quick to respond,
trying to break up the fight, already eyeing Luna with feverish intent. There was no doubt in
Draco's mind why he wanted to play the game. "Why don't we make it interesting, then?"

"Interesting? How?" asked Weasley.

"We'll spell the bottle to only land on the opposite sex of the spinner. Sound fair? Nobody
says you have to do it, Weasley. But for those of us who are unafraid of a little face to face
time…" He eyed Padma over and pretended to feign interest. "I'm sure some of us would be
glad to take these beautiful ladies off your hands."

"Fuck it." Ron thrust his hand out. "Gimme the damn bottle."

"Haha," Pansy giggled, "Let's make it even more interesting."

"Oh no…" Draco grumbled. He noticed the way Granger's eyes danced over his direction, but
he set his eyes to the floor, determined not to look her in the face. Merlin, he felt seventeen
all over again. Only instead of playing Eros and Psyche, he was stuck playing a muggle
version of could-be-paired-up-with-potential-disaster. Opting out now, however, would brand
him a coward. He'd done enough cowardly things to sate his lifetime. So, Draco closed his
eyes and waited for Pansy to continue her suggestion.

"Oh yes." The Slytherin witch clapped her hands together excitedly. "While everyone else
waits outside for the 'couple in question' to finish, we should play truth or dare!"

"How old are you? Five?" asked Draco.

Pansy stuck out her tongue. "If you're not up for a challenge…"

Pah. "Don't flatter yourself, Pansy, into thinking any of this is 'challenging'. A bit juvenile…"

"So it's settled then." Blaise reached out and grabbed the bottle, turning it in a quick spin. "So
it just spins like this, yeah? And then…" He stopped it mid move, landing it on Luna. "It
lands on your partner…" He gave a flirtatious wink as he stood up and offered out his hand to
the blonde witch. "Something like this, yeah?"

"Hey, wait a moment…" Theo muttered.

"Yes," Luna smiled happily, extending her hand so that the wizard could pull her to her feet.

"Now… a closet… oh. This one here?"

"The game hasn't even started yet," said Theo, a bit louder. His mouth went slack as Blaise
dragged Loony off in the direction of a single door at the West end of the room. "Oy! I
thought you were showing us an example!"

"That's my father's potion closet!" Draco shouted, but it was too late -Blaise had tugged
Loony in and shut the door behind him. "Someone put a bloody timer on. You're never going
to convince him to come out of there otherwise."

Theo crossed his arms, thoroughly miffed.

It was Hermione to flick her wand, drawing a countdown clock in red, wispy smoke. With a
snap of her fingers, the 7:00 flicked down to 6:59, counting down the seconds until they
would, no doubt, need to pry Blaise off of Loony Lovegood.

Fuck, could this night get any worse?

"Right. So, truth or dare, yes?"

Ugh. Of course it could.

 A Woken Dragon
Chapter Notes

Eeee! I am so excited for all of the buzz surrounding this story! So many people love it,
and it warms my heart right down to the last blood vessel. Thank you, thank you, thank
you!

There's a surprise in here. If you keep up with my work, you'll probably put two and two
together pretty easily. XD

Again, this is dedicated to LightofEvolution. *Hearts* She has a cute Dramione / almost
Lumione out called Wanderlust. Please go give it a read! SO FUN.

Thanks, as always, to my best friend, waymay. We're going to Harry Potter World
together! That's right. We're dorksssss. XD But we are the best kind. The kind that write
smutty, lovey, intense, funny Dramione. ;D Thank you, waymay, for editing this chap for
me. All the love.

~A.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Part Two: A Woken Dragon

If you push me to the edge, I'll dig into you

If it's not right now, it will be soon
If you move too fast, I'll pretend I had to lose
I'll keep you right under me, I'll bury you

A desperate man, running out of time

He's a desperate man, he won't stop until you understand
I'm the only one for you
A heart of gold, a precious little boy with a heart of gold
He's gonna hold you 'til your blood runs cold
I'm the only one for you

"Paper Lion" by Barcelona

It was to Draco's relief when Theo suggested they needed more alcohol for this. Eagerly,
Draco volunteered for tribute. He scrambled up from his seated position on the floor, brushed
off his pants (to take more time) and started towards the door. If he could drag this moment
out, he might not need to answer any truth or dare questions at all.

"Oy, Draco! Take Weasley with you to carry the alcohol."

Fuck. No. Fuck. No.

"Why me?" Weasley scrambled out.

"Because you've got the longest arms -carry more alcohol."

"I can just levitate the damn alcohol, Nott," Draco grumbled.

"Oh, then take Granger. She's great at spells."

Sighing, the blond grumbled, "Come on, Weasley." The last thing he needed to do was be in a
room with Hermione Granger. Alone. Again.

The last time, things had ended dreadfully. And he didn't think he could stomach the thought
of another repeat.

Seven Months Ago

. "These are simply impressive, Malfoy," Granger said, looking over his patent proposal for a
new alchemy tool. Her hair, today, was tucked back in a ponytail, but there were still bits of
curls that escaped the hold and fell down the sides of her cheeks. Draco had to force himself
not to reach over the table and stroke them out of her face.

"Of course they are," he said in his most arrogant tone, sitting back in his chair to resist the
urge to inhale her scent a moment longer. "Do you think the Ministry will give me the go-
ahead?"

"It looks like you have all your ducks in a row," she said, nodding. Her eyebrows crinkled
together, much like they had in his dream the night before, and she swallowed a lump in her
throat. Something was wrong. Draco had spent enough time in an office going over papers
with Hermione Granger to recognize her distress signs. Carefully, he leaned his hands on the
table near hers, but not touching.

"Er… you alright there, Granger? You look a bit... " Her eyes darted over to his, angry, and
he said, a bit quieter, "Pale."

"I'm fine," she snapped, though an angry tear ran down her cheek.

"You don't look fine to me." He tried to put on his best, encouraging smirk. "Who's going to
get hexed?"

A soft smile, reluctantly, broke out across her lips, and she sighed, setting his patents down.
Her hand rested ever so close to his, now. "It's unprofessional to discuss my personal life."
"I asked," he said, raising an eyebrow as a challenge. "It would be unprofessional to sit there
with tears in your eyes and not divulge."

"I'm pretty sure that's not how professionalism works," she chided, sighing again. They sat in
silence for a time, until, finally, she said, "I'm just having a bit of trouble at home. Nothing
that has to do with you or your patents. So, maybe, we should get back to it, hmm?"

"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Granger. Just spill it. Or I'll tell your supervisor you were a puddle of
tears in this meeting."

"I'm not a bundle of tears!" She glared, but it looked as if she might actually turn into a
puddle of tears. "Oh, fine, Malfoy. Have it your way. You're only going to make fun of me."
She drew her arms up around herself and sighed. "Ron and I… we've decided to take a
break."

Draco's heart leapt in his chest. For months, he'd been dreaming of this moment, but was so
unsure how to proceed. Carefully, he asked, "A break?"

"Yes." Her eyes met his, before she looked back down at her hands. "Well, go on. I'm
waiting."

"For what?"

"For the quips. The insults. The degradations and told you so's." She wiped furiously at her
cheeks as a tear fell down. Draco Malfoy sat, stoic, afraid to move. His heart felt as if it might
explode.

Carefully, he decided, against his better judgement, to move his hand towards hers. He
watched her watch his hand as it dragged across the table, and, finally, folded over her own.
"Frankly, Hermione, if we're being completely honest with each other, you're too good for
Weasley. I'm surprised you didn't dump him sooner."

She stared down at his hand for some time before dragging her eyes up to his. "You called me
Hermione."

"I did."

"Why?"

He shrugged. "Seemed right."

A blush crawled up her cheeks. "Erm… th-thank you. For not making fun of me."

"We're not children anymore," he scolded, rolling his eyes. He made to move his hand away,
but her fingers came up, folding over his own and gave them a light squeeze.

"I mean it," she whispered. "I know we don't talk much, aside from these business
arrangements, but… it's nice of you not to be cruel."

Draco removed his hand and smirked, his confidence soaring. "Not a problem."
He watched her gather up her briefings and slide his paperwork into her briefcase. "I can send
these down to my administrator this afternoon. You should have your patents approved by
morning tomorrow." She smiled, stood, and started towards the door.

Draco took his chance. "Granger?"

"Hmm?" she stopped at the door, hand poised to turn the handle as she glanced over her
shoulder.

"If you're feeling up to it, and don't want to be alone… maybe we could grab drinks
sometime."

"Why am I carrying all the alcohol?" Ron Weasley grumbled, following Draco out of the
Parlor and back towards the Study. "You said we could levitate them."

"Because logic dictates that if I have a pack mule, I use the pack mule."

Weasley nearly threw down all of the alcohol -his arms drew up, but he caught himself last
moment and glared daggers at the back of Draco's head. "You're still as obnoxious as you
ever were in school."

"School was years ago, Weasley. Merlin's sake, let it go." Draco checked his pocket watch -
four minutes passed. Good. Only three more until the stupid 'truth or dare' edition of 'let's
make Draco Malfoy's life a living Hell' would cease. "But while I have you here…" He
stopped mid stride, forcing the redhead to halt on his haunches to keep from running smack
dab into Draco's back. The blond turned curtly and eyed Weasley up and down with mild
interest. "Why'd you do it?"

"Do what?" The oaf gave him an incredulous stare.

"I know you're a bit slow on the upkeep most of the time, but do keep up, Weaselbee." Draco
shoved his hands inside his pockets. "What you did to Granger."

A flush of red crawled up Ron Weasley's neck, then his jaw, and finally it tickled his cheeks
and ears. He gripped onto the alcohol in his clutches tighter; his arms shook in the process. "I
don't think that's any of your business, Malfoy."

Grey eyes rolled upwards towards the ceiling, but still his smirk remained as he replied,
"You're right. It really isn't. However…" He snapped his fingers within his pockets and, with
a little wandless magic, doubled the weight of the glasses of alcohol. Weasley barrelled
forward in a display of balance, scowling.

"You really want me to drop all this?" he grumbled.

"I don't really care if you do. You'll be the sod who made the first extremely large party foul
of the evening. Do you really want that label on you the rest of the night?"

Blue eyes narrowed into slits. "What went on between me and Hermione s'got nothing to do
with you."
Draco shrugged. "If you say so…"

The slits turned to round orbs, and eyebrows flew up a freckled face. "Just what are you
insinuating?"

Crossing the distance between them, Draco got right up in Weasley's obnoxious face and
whispered, "That's a large word coming from you. Did she teach you it? Hermione, I mean?"

"You keep her name out of your mouth."

"Ooh, touchy." He tilted his head and chuckled. "For the record, I'm not insinuating anything.
I'm saying it outright." Draco relished in the way Weasley's entire face turned tomato red in
that moment, and he spun on his heels, nearly knocking the other man off his access as he
crossed the hallway and snapped his fingers, weighing the bottles even more and causing
Weasley to wince. "Oh, Weaselbee! Do keep up, will you?"

He arrived at the Study doors and checked his watch again. One minute? That was it? Sweet
baby dragons, this night couldn't move any slower. The sooner he had everyone out of his
house, the better. Maybe he should check the Dark Artifacts collection in the dungeons?
Maybe there was a time turner he could scrounge up that would take him back in time and
whack his fellow Slytherins upside the head with a few confounding spells to prevent this
entire shindig from ever happening.

One step inside the door and a gaze at a dazzling, frizzy haired Gryffindor later, and the want
to do so was gone. Seeing her again, in any capacity… Draco hadn't known how much it
would mean to him until it happened. Maybe this night could last forever? Once it was gone,
she might disappear like a breath of hot air on a Winter's night.

"Where's the goods?" Theo asked.

"With the help." Draco smirked and shut the door on Ron Weasley's face just as he was about
to enter the room. A muffled 'Oof!' could be heard through the thick, wooden door. "Oops."
He sidestepped, turned the handle, and opened the door wide up. "My apologies, Weasley.
You're so pale I assumed you were a ghost and could float right through the walls."

Pansy sniggered into her hand as Weasley begrudgingly stepped into the room and made his
way over to the center, where the circle of mix-bagged witches and wizards were still seated.

"Just so all of you know," he said, carefully dumping the alcohol onto the floor. "Draco
Malfoy is a git. A royally arrogant prick."

"You flatter me," replied Draco, shutting the door and joining the circle. He glanced up at the
timer of smoke above their heads. One more minute. He could drag this out, couldn't he?
"Weasley, truth or dare?"

"What?"

"I thought the question was extremely self-explanatory."

"Don't be an arse." Ron took a seat between Padma and -oh, Daphne? She was still here? She
was such a wallflower. "Besides, it's not even your turn."

"Actually," said Hermione bashfully, "it is, Ron."

"Oh." Weasley looked thoroughly perturbed. "Erm… Truth? I guess?" He took one look at
Draco's eager smirk and shook his head. "Dare. I mean dare."

"Nope. You said truth." Theo glanced about the circle. "Everyone heard it, right?"

"Sorry, Ron," muttered Potter, "those are the rules."

"Fuck."

Draco attempted to hold back a series of laughter as he brought his pointer finger to his chin
and tapped it, pretending to ponder it over. "Hmm… what to ask…. Oh. I know." He raised
an eyebrow. "What was the reason you and Granger broke it off, again? My memory is a little
fuzzy."

The circle fell quiet. Draco purposefully avoided Hermione's gaze, Hell bent on not giving
her the satisfaction of non-verbally chastising him. She didn't get that option anymore. Not
after picking up her bags and walking away.

"It was mutual," Weasley muttered.

"Mutual? Is that what you call it?"

"Oh, look! Time's up," Hermione interjected purposefully, pointing to the red smoke numbers
as they blared 0:00.

"Granger, did you just bump up the clock?" he sneered accusingly at the witch.

She jumped up from her seat, raced over to the potion's closet, and rattled her fist on the door.
"Time is up! Come on you two! Clothes on, now!" She turned towards the group of
Slytherins and Gryffindors, face a pretty shade of cherry-pink. "I'm feeling a bit under the
weather. I think I'll head home." Her heels clacked against the floor as she went to fetch her
purse.

"Talk about the cowardly lion," muttered Theo, smirking.

"What was that?"

"Hmm. Oh. Nothing."

"He called you cowardly," Draco smirked right along with his friend, popping the top off a
bottle of vodka and tipping the spout back. He ignored the burn and chugged three good
swigs before he set it down and slid it over to Theo. "What?" he asked in reference to
Hermione's glare. "You asked."

"I won't be goaded into staying," she said definitively.

"Of course you won't. It's what you're good at, isn't it? Leaving in the middle of things you
volunteer yourself for?" He shot her a dastardly wink only she would see. "So go on,
Granger. Off you pop, now."

"Oh, for the love of house elves!" She slammed her purse back down on the coffee table and
sat back down in her spot amongst the circle just as Luna and Blaise emerged from the closet.
Luna's pretty jumper was on backwards, and Blaise's tie was wrapped around his head like a
bandana, the three bottom buttons of his shirt undone, as well as the zipper to his pants.

"Well," he grinned like a wolf, "Who's up next?"

The bottle sat in the middle of the circle, taunting all within reach of its sight, and Draco most
of all. Especially since Blaise made the grave mistake of sitting next to him in the circle, thus
cueing him up for next in line.

"Counterclockwise?" he suggested.

"Nice try, Malfoy." Potter grinned, enjoying the uneasiness set in Draco's tone. He pushed the
bottle a bit closer with his foot and crossed his arms.

Fuck. Alright. He'd managed to get out of truth or dare this round. So, the best he could hope
for right now was landing on someone like Pansy or -Oh, yeah. Daphne was here. He kept
forgetting about her. Maybe seven minutes in a closet with her would be like being in a closet
alone. Right. Hope for Daphne, he thought as he spun the bottle. Hope for anyone but…

The spout pointed directly at Hermione Granger. Fuck. What were the bloody odds?

Blaise chuckled, ribbing Draco in the side with his elbow. "You're up, lover boy."

"Piss off."

Hermione swallowed a hard lump in her throat as Potter leaned over and whispered
something in her ear. She shook her head, eyebrows furrowing, and muttered, "I'm fine,
Harry. Really." She turned her eyes back to the blond. "I still have my wand."

The two rose to stand, awkwardly, and exchanged nervous glances as they stayed rooted to
their spots. Fuck. Why was it so hot in here? Should he open a window? With a nervous tug,
Draco shrugged off his blazer and tossed it onto Blaise's head.

"I'll hold onto it," Luna offered, reaching over and plucking the clothing off of Blaise's face.
"I'll be sure to bless it with a Native American chant to keep the perigolds from unraveling
the seams."

"Fuck sakes…" Draco rolled his eyes and stomped over towards the broom closet.
"Coming?" With leaded feet, Hermione shuffled across the room, tucked a lock of hair
behind her ear, and allowed him to open the closet. "Ladies first."

He dragged his lips over hers, testing -taunting.

"It's called seven minutes in heaven, right?" He rested the fingerpads of his left hand around
the curve of her arm, trailing them up her shoulder, the curve in her neck, brushing his thumb
against her jaw. "Personally, I think this is my very own Hell, made just for me."

She sighed airily, staring into his eyes. "Why would you say such a thing?"

Draco's smirk widened. "I think you and I both know the answer to that." His free hand
snaked its way down her side, resting gently on her hip.

His nose trailed down the length of her neck, ghosting his breath along her skin as he tugged
her by the waist and drew her directly up to him, nearly chest to chest. He could hear the
small intakes of breaths she was making, though it meant nothing compared to the feeling of
her body heat shimmering against him like a dazzling sunbeam. "Just like old times, hmm?
Though, my bedroom was a bit roomier."

Small hands ran up the length of his abdomen and fit right against his sternum -and then she
pushed him off with startling force. Draco stumbled backwards, narrowing his eyes.

"Old time," she corrected, throwing a finger up. "I was in your bedroom once. Don't flatter
yourself into the illusion it was anything more."

With newfound confidence, Draco smirked and straightened his posture, stepping forward.
She stepped back. Forward. Back. Until her spine hit the cabinet behind her. That's when he
leaned forward and whispered, "I recall at least three different occasions in which you found
yourself beneath me."

"And none with our clothes off," she quipped, cheeks flushed.

"Clothing is optional…" His smirk dropped. "You truly despise me, don't you?"

"Why would you think that?" Her tone changed immediately, falling into an almost
concerned cadance.

"You left."

"I… I did."

"Without a word."

"I'm sorry for that."

"Sorry?" He snorted a laugh. "Not a word. Not a letter. Not a single ounce of explanation."

"As if you cared!"

"Maybe I did!"

They both stared evenly at each other, and then Draco took another chance, reaching up to
her chin to tilt her head up to meet his. "You broke me, Hermione Granger."
She shifted uncomfortably on her feet, searching his eyes. "Why tell me?"

"Because I want it to eat at your dazzling little soul." His entire body ached with the memory
of her -the kiss. The kiss was where it all went downhill. If he hadn't kissed her, she might
have stayed.

"Draco…"

The sound of his name on her tongue was torture; it reminded him what could have been.

"What happened between us," she continued, "It was lust. It was foolish lust, and we
shouldn't have acted on it."

"Is that what you think?"

"It isn't what I think. It's what I know."

"You want to know what I know, Hermione?" He used her name as a weapon as he reached
out and play with a loose strand of hair, wrapping it between his fingers with interest. "I
know you feel something for me. And I've been avoiding you all night because I thought,
perhaps, it was best to leave you alone, but…" He released the curl and moved his leg
forward, directly between her legs. Hermione made the mistake of scooting back because
there was nowhere to run, which only gave him the advantage to move his body right up
against hers and cage her frame with his long arms. His hands rested on a potion shelf at
about waist-level, and his nose pressed directly against hers. "I can't leave you alone. Not
until you tell me why."

"W-Why what?"

"Why you left." He tilted his face. "Why you couldn't have the decency to tell me it was
over."

"Draco-"

He nipped at her lower lip with his teeth, and she gently moaned in response.

Knock knock knock!

"Time's up!" came the desperate voice of Ronald Weasley from the other side of the door.
"You good in there, Mione?"

Draco smirked, licking a line up the apex of her lips. "Yes," he whispered, "Are you?"

Her eyes were closed, and Draco noted that her fingers were tucked in the waistband of his
slacks. She came to quickly, though, and released him at once, turning her face towards the
door. "I'm fine, Ron!" She stared into Draco's grey eyes and licked her lips absentmindedly,
which only confirmed his suspicions: she wasn't as over all of it as she appeared. "You want
to know why I left, Draco? Because you can't be trusted."

"What…?"
But it was too late -she brushed past him and was out of the closet within seconds -leaving
Draco alone, like she had before, sexually, emotionally, and spiritually fractured.

Six Months, Twenty Eight Days Ago

Draco Malfoy paced back and forth in front of his floo, counting down the minutes until it
would be appropriate to step through and meet her -for 'drinks'. Oh Merlin, what did 'drinks'
mean? Did it mean simply that? Drinks? Were they supposed to sit idly amongst each other's
company and chit-chat? Was 'drinks' taken as a code for a foolish romp between the sheets in
the form of a sweet-as-sugar quills rebound? Draco could handle being a rebound. He was
confident enough in his sexual conquests that if she were to give him one opportunity to bed
her, she would never be satisfied with anyone else, ever again. And what sort of drinks were
they to partake in? Shots? Sips of brandy? Wine? Wine seemed intimate, which is where he
wanted this to go, but it was far too soon for anything like that…

"You alright there, Draco?" asked Blaise, his flatmate. The blond nearly forgot his Slytherin
counterpart was here, seated across the living room on one of the three expensive sofas, legs
propped up on the coffee table as he read a Playwitch magazine. "You look… clean."

"I always look clean," he grumbled.

"Cleaner than usual, I mean. Like you literally washed behind your ears."

"Of course I did," Draco narrowed his eyes. "I'm not a barbarian."

Blaise rolled his eyes and pushed the magazine up to his eyeline. "Who's the lucky witch?"

"Who said anything about a witch?"

"You're dressed in your finest 'casual' clothes, pacing a floo, and you keep checking the time
until you can leave. You're either meeting up with a witch or you're anxious about… a
bloke?" Draco flicked his finger and, with a bit of magic, sent Blaise's skin-mag flying over
his head and behind the sofa. Blaise scowled but didn't move to retrieve it. "So a witch, then.
Why aren't you keen on telling me? I'm your best mate!"

"Hardly."

"We live together."

"Because I didn't see fit to live with my parents a moment longer, and your mother happened
to have this flat on the market through her realtor."

"You sure know how to make a guy feel special…" the dark-eyed wizard muttered. And then
he smirked. "Oh. Ohohohohohohoho ho!"

"You alright there, Saint Nicolas? Should I get you a candy cane and pair it with some
elves?"

"You're seeing her, aren't you?"

Panic struck through Draco, and he glanced away quickly, appearing nonchalant. "Who?"

"Granger! You're seeing Granger!"

"Why in the seven Hells would I be seeing Granger?"

"Because," Blaise's smirk turned into a smile that gleamed from ear-to-ear. "My friend works
in the same department at the Ministry that Granger does. And she might have let it slip the
other night after some… fun… that Weasley and Miss-priss split. And I never see you this
chirpy."

"Chirpy?"

"Chippy."

"I'm not chippy."

"No, you walk around like you have a chip on your shoulder, don't you?" Blaise rubbed his
chin thoughtfully, shrugging. "Fine, it's not Granger. Who is it then?"

Draco glancedto the clock -one minute till. A smirk trailed up his lips as he gathered up
thefloo powder, tossed some onto the hearth, and turned his head back towards his friend.
"Yeah, alright. It is Granger." But he didn't wait to see his friend's reaction -he stepped
through thefloo quickly and said at once, "Three Broomsticks!"

"Right. Who's next?" Blaise rubbed his hands together, thoroughly satisfied with his time in
the closet and eager to get someone else into it. He shot Luna a devilish wink which had
Theo popping open a top off a bottle of gin and chugging it down barbarically. The infamous
firewhiskey bottle, laid in the middle of the circle, now went in the order of Blaise, Draco,
Loony, Potter… Hermione… Padma, Weasley, Pansy, Theo, and -shite, why did he keep
forgetting about Daphne? Her sister, Astoria, wasn't nearly as forgettable.

"Luna, looks like you're up next," encouraged Potter, a small tinge of blush on his cheeks.

"Really, Potter, don't appear so eager," Pansy said, voicing what the other Slytherins were
thinking. "It just makes you appear desperate."

"Hey!" He pushed his glasses up his nose and glared over at the raven-haired witch. "I'm just
trying to get this over with so we can all get back to the party."

"No one's stopping you," Draco pointed out, reaching for his bottle of vodka that had been
passed around and currently resided with Granger. He snapped his fingers impatiently, and
she furrowed her brow as she handed it back. With a smirk on his face, Draco maintained full
eye contact with her as he took a sip and, this time, relished the delicious burn in his throat.
"Well, Loony. We're all waiting."

"Luna," she corrected, as if the fact that he basically called her crazy never flittered across
her mind. WIth a smile, she reached out, spun the bottle, and watched it go around in quick
circles. Everyone's breath caught, and, to everyone's shock, the bottle landed on Pansy.
"I thought the bottle was spelled to land on members of the opposite sex," said Hermione, a
crease between her brows.

"You hiding something between your legs we don't know about, Parkinson?" Weasley
smirked, to which Potter spit out his bourbon and laughed. The redhead's eyes turned to
Draco. "You dated her, didn't you? Had no idea you enjoyed a bit of wood between the
thighs."

"I am not a man!" Pansy shouted at once.

"Technically," said Theo, "when we spelled the bottle, we set it to the gender of choice."

Luna grinned from ear-to-ear as all eyes turned on her. "I enjoy everyone's company equally."
There wasn't a hint of humility on her face. Just joy and a dazed expression. But then again,
she always wore one of those.

"But I'm not interested in women," Pansy insisted, throwing her hand out as if the gesture
would solidify her words.

Theo smirked wider. "We never said you were, Pans. But the rules are the rules, and
Lovegood's landed on you." He leaned in and winked. "You lucky witch."

Pansy rolled her eyes, stood, and said in a superior tone, "Come on, Lovegood. You should
feel honored to be graced in my presence. At least you're a pureblood…"

Luna pushed herself up to stand and ran her hand over Blaise's head as if she were playing
hippogriff, hippogriff, dragon before following Pansy across the room and into the closet.

"Truth or dare?" Theo suggested, not waiting for a reply before adding, "Great. I say Blaise
goes first. Truth or dare, mate?"

"Er-"

"-Truth? Great." Theo smacked his palm down on the floor. "Just how far did you get with
Luna in that closet?" There was a definite agitation in his tone, peppered with desperation.

Blaise, in turn, smirked a smirk worthy of any Slytherin and shrugged nonchalantly. "Further
than you've ever gotten with her, that's for sure."

"Answer the question!"

"I did. You weren't specific enough." Zabini licked his lips. "Though, if you want all the
details, I can attest she has some perky mounds hidden underneath that sugarless jumper-"

"-You've answered the question," Hermione interrupted, throwing up her wand to set the
timer. "Would you, kindly, focus?"

"Yeah, I'll focus. Truth or dare, Theo?"

"Ha. Like I'd pick truth with you. Dare."

Draco snorted a laugh, gingerly sipping from his bottle between chortles.

"Should I give it to him?" Blaise asked.

"Please do," Draco replied.

"Fuck," Theo muttered.

"I dare you to strip down to your birthday suit and streak the entire ballroom downstairs,"
said Blaise, amused as Theo paled exponentially. "Call it penance for being a smug bastard
who thinks he can weasel in on my girl."

"She's not your girl," Weasley pointed out. "You made out in a closet with her."

"Well, it was a bit more than making out. Her ivory skin held against my ebony… well, I'll
just leave the rest to your imagination." Blaise smiled fondly at the memory, while Theo
whimpered audibly. "You have till the end of the timer, Theo. I'd start undressing. The Manor
is pretty large, and you can't Apparate."

"Fuck sakes…" Theo, begrudgingly, scrambled over to the door, kicking off his dress shoes
as he went while simultaneously pulling at his tie. "I'm just going to get naked out here, if it's
all the same." And with that, he pulled the door open, stepped through, and slammed it shut.

"Wait," said Hermione, "How will we know if he did it? Is someone going to accompany
him?"

"Oh, we'll know by the roar of laughter," Draco replied, shooting yet another wink in her
direction. Both their eyes glanced up to the timer -only one minute had passed.

"Truth or dare, Harry?" asked Padma.

"Oh. Um. Truth? I suppose…"

"Aren't you and Ginny dating?"

Potter's eyes turned down to the floor. "Yeah, um… not so much. She's with Wood now…"

"Oliver Wood?" Draco raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "I mean, it makes sense." The
Golden Boy shot him an incredulous glare. "What?"

"Don't worry, Harry. I've got this." Ron Weasley nodded once, and then turned his sights on
Draco. "Truth or dare, Malfoy?"

Shit. Draco thought about it. A dare by a Weasley sounded dangerous in comparison to a
truth. A truth he could manipulate. "Truth, then."

Weasley smiled confidently, setting a nervous bubble in Draco's stomach. He set a smirk on
his face to counter his sudden bout of nausea.

"What happened between you and Hermione?"

Numb. Draco went numb. His feet, his face, his hands, all blood traveled away from his
extremities as a chill set Draco's entire body frozen in place. All of that extra blood now
pumped tirelessly through his heart, making it work double time. Though he still wore that
smirk, a bead of sweat formed on his brow. That. Smug. Fucking. Shithead. Draco was going
to hex him into oblivion. He'd just need to make it look like an accident…

Six Months, Twenty-Eight Days ago… still.

Drinks, as it turned out, meant four rounds of butterbeer in a booth at the Three Broomsticks
and Hermione delving into her childhood fear of heights due to falling out of a tree when she
was nine years old. "It's when I began to show early signs of magic. The way I landed, I
should have broken my ribs. I landed on a boulder the size of your ego…"

Draco smirked, leaning his chin on his hand as he listened to her drabble on, uncaring if she
thought his ego was large. As long as she didn't assume anything on him was small, he could
hardly care less. How many times had he dreamt of this moment? How many restless sleeps
had he put up with before they actually became a reality? The dream he had earlier this week
-the one of her showing up on his doorstep crying only to beg him to help her forget about
her ex… it felt so vivid. Almost as vivid as her here, right now, across from him. Wait. Was
this a dream too?

Unexpectedly to her, Draco took his head out of his hand and pinched his arm. Ouch! No.
This was real. This was very, very real. "Thank Merlin…" he muttered.

"Come again?" she asked, raising an eyebrow while staring down at the slightly irritated skin
of his forearm.

"I… nothing." He smirked. "Continue."

"You weren't even listening to me."

"Was so." He drew circles on the table with his index finger as he recited, "Your mother said
you must have a guardian angel. Little did she know it was all logical." His smirk grew in
size. "See, Granger? I'm listening."

A hint of pink stained her cheeks as she sipped on her butterbeer. After setting it back down
on the table, she replied, "You're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Oh, you've no idea. "So…" He tried to think of the best way to approach the subject, which
had been on his mind for most of the evening. "You and Weasley are no longer sitting in a
tree?" She scowled, confused by his comment. "K.I.S.S.I.N.G.?"

"Oh." She managed to giggle behind her hand at the childhood rhyme, though her eyes were
a bit redder around the edges as she shook her head. "No. No trees. No kissing." She folded
her hands down on the table, though they were extended out towards the middle, where
Draco's rested. He wondered if he was looking too much into it. Probably. "We've been
having problems for some time now. I can't remember the last time we even held hands…"
She released an airless, bitter laugh, staring down at her hands almost accusingly. "This
'break' is more like the last nail in the coffin. I'm not sure I could go back…"

Draco Malfoy wasn't a brave man. Bravery never ran in his family -however, running
certainly did. Running away from every problem, every confrontation. Self-preserving that he
was, he had the sudden urge to reach over the table and overlap her hand with his own. And
then… he did. It was simple, unassuming, entirely comforting. To his amazement, her fingers
split apart, allowing his own to weave between them. There was silence. Comfortable silence.
Even if Draco's heart slammed against his chest like a horse forced to stay in a stable.

"Harry says I should forgive him," she said quietly, staring down at their hands. "Molly, Fred,
even Ginny… they all think-"

"-Who cares what they think?" He cut her off. There was a pang of jealousy he knew he
wasn't worthy of, but he shoved it deep down. Her eyes flickered up to his face, and he stirred
in his seat restlessly, still not willing to untangle their fingers. "All my life, I've been told how
to dress, how to think, who to date… It all gets a bit tedious, when you get down to it. I've
learned to make my own decisions in life. You should, too."

A faint smile graced her lips. "Is that why you asked me out for drinks?"

She almost sounded as if she were flirting with him. When he raised his gaze to hers, he
realized -she was. His serious expression settled into a confident smile. "Maybe."

*(*)*

His hands were in her hair as he trailed kiss after seductive kiss down the side of her neck,
leaning her back against her own sofa as he crawled on top of her. Drinks, it turned out,
weren't really drinks at all. They were a pretense to something far more exhilarating: being
invited back to Hermione Granger's flat. Never in a million years did Draco actually think
he'd make it this far in her doorway, let alone on top of her. He'd dreamed about such a
moment, but never thought it would happen. Their tongues met in a flurry of sighs and
moans, some of them Draco's. She tasted like butterbeer, chocolate, and magic. It was all so
delicious he couldn't help but weave his fingers through her curls and tug lightly at them -just
to ensure she was real. This was real.

He settled between her legs as she curled them around his waist, pulling him down on her so
that he practically had to turn them on their sides to keep from falling onto her. Hermione,
now pinned between the sofa and Draco, sighed contently into a slower, sultrier kiss. He
released her hair to cradle the side of his head with one hand while running the other down
the length of her body, tracing her shoulder, her stomach, her hip, her leg. There, he hooked it
up and pulled their pelvises tight to each other. The attention he bestowed to her was rare for
any Malfoy -his entire family was less physical when it came to showing adoration, but he
needed her to know this meant something to him. Unlike the dreams he had, which usually
paired with him calling her 'mudblood' (because, obviously his pureblood roots hadn't gotten
on board, yet, with the fact that he craved a muggleborn witch), the real Draco was much
more tender with his words as he broke away from a heated kiss to mumble, "Your hair looks
less like a poodle today... " Fuck. What? Well, that came out lamer than he intended.
Hermione twisted up an eyebrow and giggled. "Thank you?"

"Erm. I meant it looks nice."

"You might need to work," she captured his lower lip between her teeth, "on your
compliments."

He smirked. "Oh. Did you think I was trying to compliment you?" Draco brushed his nose
against hers. "I'd never do such a thing."

"You wouldn't would you?" Hermione's hand reached down and found his on her outer thigh,
bringing it between them to rest on her covered breast. He didn't need cueing as he began to
knead her through her shirt, delighted in the shiver that ran up her spine.

"Does this mean I call you Hermione now?"

She planted a gentle kiss on his lips. "Is that what you want?"

"Amongst other things…"

Her fingers caressed down his shirt, hitching in the waistband of his trousers. "Is this wrong?"
Her voice was contemplative. "What we're doing?"

"Does it feel wrong?"

"Not entirely."

"Then it isn't." He massaged her breast tenderly, causing her eyes to flutter closed. He looked
at the situation strategically and saw his in. "I've seen the way you look at me… around the
office." He brushed his lips down hers. "When you think I'm not looking. I notice, Hermione.
I see it all." She quivered as his hand snaked down her stomach and crawled beneath her
shirt, making a path up her smooth skin to her bra. Still, he noticed she didn't deny it.
Concentrating on throwing himself into the action, he tilted his head and kissed her
affectionately, all while slipping his fingers beneath her bra and cupping her bare breast. He
loved the way she arched her spine in response, pushing herself further into his hand,
practically begging for more contact. Merlin, if Blaise could see this, his jaw would surely
unhinge. No. Wait. The thought of Blaise watching him in any capacity fooling around with
Hermione Granger was revolting. Dear Circe, he really needed to work on his phrasing.

"Draco," he heard Hermione sigh, bringing his attention back around. Expertly, he rolled her
nipple between his thumb and forefinger, making her writhe beneath him. "Mmm…"

"Ooh, listen to that," he teased amusingly. "You said my name." Without hesitation, he
pushed himself further down on the sofa while hitching the hem of her shirt and bra up and
over her breasts, exposing them. He dipped his head forward and caught her left breast in his
mouth, lapping at it with his tongue leisurely to listen to her moan. There was a less than
graceful discarding of clothing as he peeled the material over her head and over the edge of
the sofa, followed by a shift in positions; Draco now rested comfortably on top of Hermione,
nestled between her thighs, one arm propped between her and the back cushions to keep
himself balanced. He leaned forward and flicked his tongue against her pebbled nipple before
whispering, "Feel free to use it as much as you like."

The blushing brunette responded with a dull moan, her fingers twisting gently into his
platinum-blond tresses. "Draco…" she whimpered, feeding into his carnal desires. Didn't she
deduce what his given name on her tongue did to his body? His mind? His very soul? He
wasn't sure when this near obsession with her first started. It could have been fourth year,
when she'd walked into the Yule Ball wearing that periwinkle blue dress on the arms of
Krum. It could have been the night he'd seen her bloody and near-broken that night at his
parents' Manor when they were teenagers. It could have been when they were thrown
together, yet again, a year ago, forced to work with each other in the patent department of the
Ministry. No matter what it was, it commanded his body now as he captured her nipple
delicately between his teeth. Her body responded with moans from her throat and thighs
squeezing around his abdomen.

He wasn't entirely sure how far he should take this -his body told him as far as he could get,
but his logic told him it would scare her off. He didn't want that. But he did want to leave a
lasting impression. So, as any good Slytherin man would, he snaked his kisses between her
breasts, taking them lower, down to her stomach, and even lower still, to the hem of her skirt.
Her reply included labored breathing and fingers grasping at his hair in wanton desperation.

"I'd love to taste you," he admitted in a sheepish tone, but his eyes blared all-wolf. He placed
a hand on each of her inner thighs and pushed outwards, spreading them wide. "May I?" His
proper manners were only a formality -he planned to do it unless she shoved him off -which,
at the moment, she was not. In fact, her hips bucked forward in earnest, and her eyes closed
as she bit down on her lower lip. A smirk crawled up his lips, and he bundled her skirt over
her thighs, exposing what lay beneath, clad in white, lacy underwear. Her skin was bare,
smooth, and flushed with pink. She wanted him. Bad. How could his cock be any harder?
Somehow, it still managed to stiffen more inside his pants. "You're wet." He let his eyes leave
between her legs for a moment to see her cheeks turn red. How adorable.

His right hand moved up her thigh at a snail's pace, drawing the moment out before he rested
his thumb against her covered clit and began to rub in small circles with just the right
pressure. Hermione groaned, arching her back and panting, eating up his ministrations like a
banquet. Speaking of banquets, Draco could hardly contain himself as he stared down at the
glorious, oh-so-tempting folds just begging to be uncovered and sampled. He looped his
thumb and tugged her underwear, slowly, down, exposing inch by sensual inch of her skin.
When he finally had a view of that delectable looking clit, he dived right in, licking gingerly
with attentive treatment.

"Ohhh…." she moaned above him, legs splaying further out in a subtle display of submission.
Draco wasted no time in tugging her underwear the rest of the way down, momentarily sitting
up so he could pull her legs above his shoulders and remove the damned things. With a
smirk, he kept her legs rested on his frame as he moved back down and fed her kisses along
her wet seam, parting it open with his tongue, enjoying the sweet and light taste that was
Hermione Granger.
He went slowly, taking his time, feeling her out with lighter, then heavier, pressure of his
tongue, seeing just what got her off. She appeared to enjoy all of it; her chest heaved with
fervor, and her eyes found their way open to watch him with lustful intention. It took
everything in Draco not to smirk as he ate her out. He found a steady rhythm with his tongue
against her clit, and to change things up, he moved his fingers against her opening teasingly.
She gasped as he slid his middle finger into her, curling oh-so-perfectly into her tight
passage. His tongue continued its task as he worked his finger inside of her, finding the
bundle of nerves which made her cry out in delight. Oh. Was she a screamer? He hoped so.

"D-Draco…" she moaned again, moving her hips in time with his finger. It made Draco's job
that much easier, resting his tongue against her clit as she stimulated herself with it, all whilst
he drove a second finger into her and made her mewl. "God, yes… like that." Hermione
sounded desperate for release -for his touch -for him. It was everything he ever dreamed of,
and so much more. Now he had been given a taste, figuratively and literally, he didn't think
he could put down his drug of choice: Hermione Jean Granger.

He picked up the pace with his fingers, still working them against the erogenous zone inside
of her while he kissed and nibbled and licked at her clit with excitement. She tightened
around him, and he took pleasure in knowing he was about to bring her over the edge in such
a short amount of time. He took it as a sign that he knew what he was doing, rather than the
other option: it'd been so long since someone pleasured her, so she responded to any
stimulation with joy. No, it was definitely his technique.

"Mmm… come for me, Hermione," he encouraged between caresses of his tongue. "Scream
while you do it."

And, just like that, she no longer held back her moans. They filled the room, along with
zealous screams and pants and wanton sighs. Her hips arched up to meet him, and Draco
slowed down his movements to carry her over the last hurdle, pulling out all of the sensual
stops, caressing her inner thigh with his free hand while simultaneously slipping his fingers
in and out of her with tenacity. Her thighs clenched up, unexpectedly, and her back arched
completely as she came undone, clenching around his fingers while shouting his name.
"Draco!"

A dastardly smirk found its way to his lips as he lapped at her juices, leaving no bit of her
untouched by his tongue as she rode out her orgasm. The scream turned to a moan, which
softened into a whimper, and when she rested still beneath him, he left one final kiss to her
pulsing bud and trailed kisses up her stomach, her chest, her neck, and, finally, to her lips.
She kissed him back with just as much passion behind her, fingers stroking gently up and
down his face and neck in the process. It took them several minutes to come down from the
high of kissing, but when they did, Draco leaned over to whisper in her ear, "Drinks next
Friday alright with you?"

He heard her express an airy laugh and felt her nod against him. "I could pencil it in."

"I haven't the foggiest clue what you mean," Draco replied, pretending to scratch his nose to
cover up the fact he wanted to use his fists to remodel Weasley's face. He glanced up at the
clock to notice there was still five minutes left. Fucking shame. He really would have to get
nasty to avoid answering with the whole truth.

"Oh, don't play the Saint card, Malfoy," The red-headed dolt sneered, scrunching his face up
in ways that made him resemble a shar-pei. "What was all that out in the hallway, then?"

"Hallway?" Hermione turned her face in Ron's direction, concerned.

"Malfoy, basically, said something went on between you two."

"Didn't you say I insinuated?" Draco smirked.

"And you said you were practically saying it outright."

"Alright, Weasley. I'll play your little game." He took a big swig from his vodka bottle, and
his eyebrows shot up momentarily as he blinked back the burn that traveled through his nose.
Fuck. That… was some strong stuff. "We went out for drinks. That satisfy your curiosity?"

"Not by a longshot."

"Why do you care, Ron?" Hermione snapped at once, startling both men. "You're with Padma
now. What goes on between me and other people is no longer your concern."

"Oh. So something did go on." Weasley eyed the two suspiciously. "What was it?"

Six Months, Twenty-One days ago

"Mmmm… Fuck, Hermione."

Draco found himself in the most erotic, and surprising, of positions that night. It was
supposed to be an official date. He'd brought her a single, red rose, taken her out to walk
about Hogsmeade, and then sat in a coffee shop with her for more than two hours talking
school, politics, and work. So how did he managed to find himself in a cozy alcove between
two buildings with Hermione tucked between his legs, fingers around his cock as she sucked
him off? This wasn't where he intended on this going this evening, but he wasn't going to
complain.

Instead, he twisted a lock of her hair around his finger and watched the witch take all of him
in. It was a glorious sight with her lips wrapped around the base of his cock as she lodged
him down her throat with skill. He was oh-so-tempted to close his eyes, but he didn't want to
miss a moment as she slurped her way up to the tip and licked along the tip gingerly. "You
like that?" she asked, her voice seductive.

Draco struggled to find a voice, but when he did, it came out husky, as if gravel were
grinding in his throat. "I never want you to stop."

They never broke their gaze into each other's eyes as he put a hand on the back of her head
and guided her forward, and she took him in again, widening her mouth to fit him all in.
There was a thrill between them at the thought of being caught, and with a smile traced
around her lips, she bobbed her head forwards and backwards, building up a pace as she
swallowed him again and again. Her tongue, between the movements, lapped hungrily
underneath his cock. Her hands, at the same time, tugged his trousers down further, freeing
his testicles. Hermione began to massage them carefully, her warm palm countering the cold
air.

"Oh, fuck," he gasped, throwing his head back into the wall. It hurt, but the way her mouth
and hands worked him made him forget all about the pain. All that mattered was her soft lips
putting themselves to good use (besides quipping with him). He slowly began to move his
hips, encouraging her to take him deeper, to which she did eagerly. Draco had no idea what
egged this one, but he was going to milk this -pun intended- for all it was worth. "Don't stop,
Mione. Fuck. Yeah. Like that…" The hand behind her head drifted up, resting it on top of her
curls in a show of submission to her. He let her take control, sucking him how it pleased her,
and took pleasure in knowing she wanted it. Like a kid in a candy store, he wasn't going to
complain with whatever he received. Just knowing there was something in her that wanted
him fed into his ego in exponential ways.

Her mouth began to work faster on him, adding much needed pressure, savoring his cock like
it was the last lolly-pop in the world. Concentrating, her pretty eyelashes splayed out along
her cheek as she pinched her eyes shut. Draco bit down on his lower lip, encouraging her
with his words. "Mmm… more… yes, fuck yes… Bet you love eating this cock, don't you,
Hermione?" He began to pant. She groaned in response. "Yeah, you're a cock hungry little
witch, aren't you? Ah… couldn't even -ohh… wait till we… ah… got back to your place…"

Her movements stopped almost immediately, and Draco whimpered in protest as she opened
her eyes and glanced up at him, completely serious. "Why my place?"

There was hardly any blood left in his brain, so it took him a moment to register her question.
"What…? Oh. Um. I have a roommate…" He shut his eyes tight, trying not to lash out and
say something about her sudden betrayal to not suck him off. "He's… he's a tosser."

"You don't live at the Manor?" she asked, her interest peaked. Draco was thoroughly irritated
the conversation turned this direction instead of on his cock.

"No." He shook his head, spouting out quickly, "I babysit the Manor when my parents are out
of the country, but otherwise no. -Can… can we get back to the part where your lips are
around me? Please?" He pried his eyes open and graced his hand down her cheek, coaxing
her. "Please." Though, this time, it wasn't a question. More of a demand. Hermione smiled up
at him and set back to work, slipping him into her mouth and nearly making him come right
then and there. The warmth of her quickly made up for any betrayal he felt earlier, and it
didn't take him long before he was thrusting his cock into her throat, her face buried in the
soft, trimmed curls of his pubic hair. And that's when he came, spilling his seed down her
throat, whispering her name in between a slur of groans and curse words. She took every bit
of hit, moaning against his cock, vibrating him in such a pleasurable way that he was sure he
could go for another round in twenty. Her throat contracted, swallowing his cum and
stimulating the already very sensitive organ in her mouth. Carefully, Draco slid out and down
her tongue, where she lapped at the tip and collected any remaining bits of cum that
remained. He released a satisfied chuckle, brushing the tip against her lips as he said, "You
enjoy that?"

"More than anything," she muttered, closing her eyes for half a moment as he caressed her
cheek with his fingers. "You?"

He downright laughed and nodded his head vigorously. "Ohhhhhh, yes." He smiled downto
her. "Exceeds Expectations rating. No, scratch that. Outstanding."

"None of your business is what it is," said Draco, deciding that playing into Weasley's
goading wasn't getting him anywhere. "It was just drinks." He stole a glance at Hermione -
saw the look in her eyes that said 'thank you for not going into detail'. Psh. As if he would.
He hadn't even told Blaise about any of it, so why would he care to let a bunch of party brats
in on the secret?

"That's not entirely true, is it?" said Potter, perking up in interest. "I vaguely recall seeing you
two out about six months ago…"

The tension in Draco's stomach moved all the way up to his throat, and he shot a quick glance
at Hermione, who was suddenly extremely fascinated by the skirting of her dress.

Oh, what a tangled web they weaved.

Six Months, One Day Ago

Draco Malfoy rubbed his hands together, attempting to warm them as a gust of evening air
hiked up the busy street and directly into his face. The last three dates, if he could call them
that, with Hermione Granger went splendidly. Sure, the first two times, there had been some..
Action. But he'd been a perfect gentleman on their last outing, treating her to the planetarium
to watch the stars twinkle. He even received a hefty makeout session at her front door, but
nothing else. And, to his surprise, Draco was fine with that. While he fantasized about
bending the witch in nearly every position under the sun (even one called the 'wheelbarrow')
he enjoyed simply spending time with her in any capacity.

Tonight, as he Apparated to her flat, he found her seated on her sofa, dressed in a seductively
low cut, ivory dress that complimented her skintone in just the right way. Her legs were
tucked up underneath her, and in her hands was a thick book. No surprise there. She glanced
up when she heard him Apparate and smiled warmly. "Hello."

A lopsided smile was his reply, followed by, "You look nice."

"Better than a poodle?" she chided.

He snorted a laugh. "Oh, I wouldn't go that far. -How was work?"

"Work was… work." She shrugged, setting the book down beside her on the coffee table
before patting the spot next to her. As Draco crossed the room and plopped down next to her,
she continued, "Although, I am up for a promotion."

He scooted closer, leaning forward to kiss along her exposed shoulder. "Look at you. Such a
workaholic."

She sighed breathlessly as his kisses became more passionate and trailed up her neck. A hand
came up and pushed against his chest, and he leaned upright, catching her gaze. It wasn't
adoring as per the usual -Hell, it wasn't even lustful. It was serious and carried weight.
"They'd want me to fly out to meet with a representative in America."

"America. Wow." He feigned an impressed tone, but inside his heart was slamming wildly.
"So you'd be gone… what? A week?"

"Longer," she admitted, tucking a curl behind her ear.

"Oh." He tried to hold back a frown, but failed miserably. "How long, then?"

"I'm not sure." She shook her head, blushing. "I mean… It's an amazing opportunity. I could
help a lot of people. My work with house-elf liberation would finally be taken seriously, and I
could construct new bylaws to prevent the mistreatment of magical creatures." Her eyes
searched his, and she blushed even more. "Of course, that's if I even accept the position."

"Will you?" he asked immediately. He cleared his throat, embarrassed, and said with less
firmness, "Will you, though? Accept the position? It… sounds like a great opportunity."

"It is." She nodded. "And I'm not sure. I… moving away from my friends? My family?
My…" Her voice trailed off as she averted her eyes. Her what? He wondered. "Well, it all
seems like a really big step. I have so much here, and yet… I don't, do I?" Her eyes swam
with thoughts, and she rambled off, "Harry is never around because he's a full time Auror.
And Ginny's off on Quidditch tour, and Ron…" She scowled. "Ron and I are... " Swallowing
a lump in her throat, she glanced up at Draco. "And you…"

"Me?" he asked, forgetting how to breathe.

"You're not at all the way you were in school."

He released a nervous chuckle and quirked an eyebrow. "I take it that's a good thing?"

"It's… an amazing thing, actually." She reached over and took his hand, weaving her fingers
together with his. "When I began as your patent lawyer, I had no idea you would be so…
this." She gestured with her free hand to him. "Thoughtful. Caring. Considerate."

"Sexy?" he offered with a smirk.

She rolled her eyes, but smiled anyway. "Perhaps that, as well."

"So…" He raised her hand up to his lips and kissed along the knuckles. "Don't think about it
right now. Let's just… go out. Have a nice evening. -My parents are out of town, and I
planned to show you the family library."
 Both of her eyebrows raised. "Your family has their own library?"

"Hundreds of rows of books, just ripe for the picking," he offered.

She nodded. "Alright." A grin spread across her face. "That sounds lovely, Draco. Thank
you."

It would be the last night he saw her -up until this evening. Draco took a swig of his vodka,
trying to remember where it all when horribly wrong.

The timer above their heads blared three minutes to go.

Fuck. This night would take for fucking ever. And all he wanted to do was get her back in the
closet again to figure out why she abandoned him like a worthless, frightenedkneazle on the
side of the street.

Chapter End Notes

And to those of you who are wondering, YES! This is a continuation/ stand-alone sequel
to A Touch of Bourbon! If you haven't read the one-shot, feel free to give it a go. XD
Both of these stories can stand on their own, or pair together. XD

Hope you love it, Light! XD One more chapter to go!

~A.

P.S. -Reviews, favorites, and follows are always welcome. :)

 There and Back Again
Chapter Notes

Here it is! The final installment of The Closet Relativity Theory. Once again, I would
like to give a big, warm shoutout to waymay for proofing this for me, even when she
isn't feeling her best. *hearts* Hope you love it, LightofEvolution!

All the answers. Here we go. XD

~A.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Part Three: There and Back Again

Nobody ever knows

Nobody ever sees
I left my soul
Back there now I'm too weak
Most nights I pray for you to come home
Praying to the Lord
Praying for my soul

Now please don't go

Most Nights I hardly sleep when I'm alone
Now Please Don't Go, oh no
I think of you whenever I'm alone
So please don't go

"Please Don't Go" by Joel Adams

There comes a time, in every new relationship, when a choice is made: whether to continue
and see it flourish, or call it off and watch it die. It's protocol, Draco thought to himself.
Common decency. But what she did to him was neither. There was no 'I think we should see
other people' or 'I see you as a friend' or 'I'm packing up all my shit and leaving you, you
worthless peice of Death Eater garbage.' Even that would have given him a door to slam shut.
As it were, she left all the doors to his heart swung wide open, and over the course of the last
six months, Draco wasn't sure whether to close them, leave them open, or burn the bloody
house down.
A roar of laughter erupted from downstairs, startling all in attendance and drawing attention
away from Hermione and Draco's uncomfortable predicament.

"Sounds like Nott did the job," said Blaise, impressed. "Daphne, it's your turn."

"What?" Weasley glared, annoyed. "He didn't answer my question."

"I did." Draco crossed his arms. "You don't like my answer, take it up with my foot. You'll
find it shoved up your obnoxious arse."

"Settle down, you bellends. All of you cock strutting over this prissy little bint." Gesturing to
Hermione, Blaise gave an incredulous smirk. "Draco answered the question. Weasley, get the
fuck over yourself. If Granger wants his cock, nothing you can do about it. Word around the
Ministry is you can't keep it in your pants, so why do you care what goes on in hers?"

"I don't need to take this from you," Weasley sneered back. "From any of you. You've got-"

"Stop it!"

The circle grew quiet as Hermione Granger slammed her hand down on the floor, her cheeks
as scarlet as Weasley's hair. "I'm right here, you know! -Zabini, you're about as loose as an
oversized condom! You are in no position to judge Ron. -And you, Ronald." Her voice
reverberated with furiosity, making the redhead blanch. "As much as I hate to admit it, Zabini
is correct! You have no say in what I do, who I see, or anything in between!" Then her eyes
fell on Draco, and he wasn't sure whether to be frightened or turned on by her smoldering
glare. "And you."

After a yawn, Draco replied, "Me?"

"I… I honestly have no idea what to say to you." She stood up from the circle, straightened
her skirting down her lap, and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "I'm going to go home."

Draco's heart withered miserably.

"Hermione-" began Potter, but she cut him off.

"-No. I'm leaving." Her heels clacked as she strutted to the door.

As she reached for the handle, Blaise nudged Draco in the side and whispered, "You're just
going to let her leave? Like that?"

He opened his mouth to speak, but the door was already swung open and then shut.

Much like the night she walked out on him.

Six months, one day ago

"Hermione?"
Draco cringed, seated in a corner booth of Madam Mystique's lounge, thoroughly convinced
he might be in another dream. Or rather, a nightmare, because it involved the irritating voice
of Harry Potter as he stepped up to the table, two martini glasses tucked in his hands, and a
look of confusion shrouding his face.

"Harry!" Hermione nearly jumped out of the booth, forgetting it wasn't a chair, but when her
knees hit the table, she was forced to sit back down. Good thing, too, because Draco's hand,
tucked precariously under her skirt while it played with her slick folds, managed to slip a
finger into her when she stilled once again. There was a tablecloth covering the obvious, so
there was another thing to be thankful for.

"Hey." Potter glanced between Hermione and her date, skeptical. "Everything alright?"

"Of course it is," sneered Draco, curling his finger inside of the brunette while
simultaneously sipping from his glass of scotch with his free hand. He smirked against the
glass as her legs clamped tight around his hand, perhaps in warning but most likely in
pleasure. "Why wouldn't it be?"

"I… Look, I know you two work together, I just…" The crease between Potter's eyebrows
was nothing short of entertaining. "This is a bit distasteful, isn't it?" Could he figure out what
was going on under the table by Hermione's face alone? "I mean, you and Ron just split up a
month ago…"

"Harry," she said, once again squeezing Draco's hand with her legs to still his movements
(momentarily). "Draco and I are just having drinks."

"Draco." He repeated the name, eyebrows forced together so they resembled a unibrow. "You
call him Draco now."

"It's called growing into adulthood, Potter," Draco smirked. "You should try it sometime."

"Malfoy, kindly, butt out. This doesn't concern you."

That caused a flare in Draco's stomach. He removed his fingers from Hermione's pulsing
center, resting it instead on her thigh, possessive. "Seeing as how the lady is here of her own
accord, and I'm the one who asked her here, I think it quite concerns me."

"Now she's a lady to you?" Potter's right eyebrow shot up. "What about all the years you
called her anything but?"

"I'm a grown adult, Harry. I can make my own decisions." Hermione's voice spoke with
confidence. "Right now, that involves drinks with Draco."

Potter looked between the two, sighed, and muttered, "Whatever. Ginny's never gonna
believe this…" He stomped away from the table, irritated beyond all reason.

Draco took another pull of his scotch. Hermione brushed her dress down her knees, flushing
magenta. She cleared her throat, took a sip from her wineglass, and stared down at the
chocolate cake split between them.
"So… your friends don't know about us." He gave a cold chuckle. "Surprise, surprise." His
chest tightened, and the tips of his fingers grew cold. He couldn't shake the feeling of a let
down.

"In my defense, that's the first time I've spoken to Harry face-to-face since before you and I
began... " Hermione folded her hands in front of her, on the edge of the table, finally meeting
his gaze. "Are you cross?"

"Should I be?" He mulled it over, asking himself more than her. "I'm not sure I have room to
be." But then, why was he? He wasn't much better. Although he did tell Blaise. Of course, he
lived with the sod, so it was damn near impossible to hide something like going out every
weekend. "Hermione. I like you. Despite myself, I like you."

"Oh, thank you," she drawled sarcastically as she sipped her wine, a slight smile at the corner
of her lips.

"I wasn't finished." He set his glass of scotch down at the table and took one of her hands,
rubbing his thumb over her knuckles thoughtfully. He wasn't sure how to word his feelings.
He didn't want to share too much too soon, but he wanted to get a few things straight with
her. He needed her to know something. "What we're doing… it means more to me than what I
lead on."

"Define more." She raised a curious eyebrow, her eyes twinkling.

"Well, I'm not seeing other witches," he admitted sheepishly, covering it up with his
aristocratic drawl.

"What luck. I'm not seeing other witches, either." She smirked.

He laughed. "Good. So we're both not seeing other witches. -I'd like to go on record saying
I'm also not seeing any wizards as well."

"That makes two of us." She leaned her chin in her hand and grinned. Draco's confidence
soared like a dragon in flight, whizzing around their heads as he leaned in and kissed her
chastely on the lips. And then again, more seductive.

*(*)*

Dinner and drinks, once again, turned into a pleasant make out session, this time canoodled
inside the library of the Malfoy Manor with Hermione's back pressed against a bookshelf of
nonfiction biographies from the Eighteenth century. Draco split the seam between her lips
with his tongue, encouraging her mouth open as a hand caressed her sensational backside and
pulled her ever so close to his tented trousers. His other hand braced the bookshelf for
support as he leaned forward, pressing his torso against hers. It was a bit awkward, because
doing so pinned his hand between her luscious ass and the shelf, but it was worth it to hear
the enticing whimper escape her lips as she drew back her face to search his eyes.

"This is a magnificent library," she said before reaching back, grabbing the back of his hair,
and driving his face forward into a clash of lips, tongue and teeth. The passion built up
behind her as she snaked her free hand around his hips and rested it inside his back pocket
forced him to tense his body in order to keep from ripping off her dress there and then.

Between a flurry of flustered kisses, Draco smirked and replied, "Glad you like it." He caught
her upper lip between his teeth and tugged slowly. "If you think this is impressive…" He
freed his hand from between the bookshelf and hitched her leg up around his hip, pooling the
skirting of her dress to her thigh. "-You should see my personal collection."

"Personal collection?"

"In my bedroom."

Hermione giggled between kisses, running her fingers up and down the back of his neck.
"Draco Malfoy. Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Trying? I'm fairly sure I already have," he shot her a wink before rubbing his nose against
hers. "I don't want to rush you, though." He paused his movements momentarily,
contemplating how to word his feelings. "I understand you have a lot on your mind at the
moment." He searched her eyes, looking for any tell that she was actually considering leaving
the country. There had been a panic built up in him the entire night, and each moment felt as
if it was slipping through his hands, like sand in an hourglass. Any second with her could be
his last. He didn't want this to end -not when he pined over the fantasy of her for so long.
Now, he had her in his sights, beneath his frame, and yet she still wasn't his. Not really. He
didn't know what he would do if she took that promotion. Crumble? It felt like the biggest
possibility.

"Even… if we did go… to your bedroom," she said, pausing as she thought it through, "We
don't have to… to take it further."

"No." He shook his head, delighted she would even consider it at all. "Although, I'll still have
to make a convincing case for it." His smirk paired with him moving her hand from his hips,
directly over his stiffened erection. She hitched a breath, raising a nearly impressed eyebrow.

"Pretty convincing."

"Isn't it?" He chuckled, pushing himself off the bookshelf, and, thus, away from her. He
offered out his hand, grey eyes glistening in the candlelight.

"Is this the part where you ask me to come up and look at your extensive chocolate frog card
collection?"

"I've offered you books, woman. You want cards, too?"

They laughed as he curled an arm around her and guided her out of the library with a pop of
Apparition. They landed at the top of a grand staircase of the East Wing.

"This way," he encouraged, backing away from her to loosen the top button of his shirt, all
whilst grinning seductively. He beckoned her, then, with an offer of his hand, and she took it,
eagerness etched in her eyes. Draco was quite sure this could be a dream from the compliance
she gave him, but he was far too nervous to pinch himself and see. He wanted this to be real.
The closer they were to his childhood bedroom, the more it solidified in his mind that this
was real. Time, while it had blinked by in the library, crawled to a dazzlingly slow speed in
the hallway -until, finally, his hand reached for the door handle. That's when her hand
squeezed in his, and time sped back up, reminding him she could be gone tomorrow. Never to
return. He'd make sure she never wanted to leave him- er, Britain.

The door creaked open, and he snapped his fingers, lighting a few candles up near the mantle
of his bedframe to illuminate the room. Hermione gasped when, at the same time, hundreds
of twinkling faux stars began to glisten on the ceiling.

"When I was a child," he explained, leading her in and shutting the door behind her. "I was
fascinated with stars. Astronomy has always been a… passion of mine."

The corners of Hermione's lips tugged up as she stared evenly at the ceiling. "Would your
name being crafted after the star constellation have anything to do with that?"

He chuckled. "Could be." Draco stepped up behind her, breath ghosting the back of her neck
while he slid a comfortable hand around her stomach and pulled her close. "It's not as
egotistical as it sounds."

"I, highly, doubt that," she mused, even as he leaned forward and began to trail soft kisses
down the length of her neck. Draco ignored the quip, concentrating on lining her shoulders
with the same affection he bestowed to her throat. A soft sigh was her reply to his
ministrations, along with a few muffled gasps as she placed her hand over her mouth to stifle
herself. He reached up, guided the hand down, and bit possessively into the crook of her
neck.

"No, no, Hermione. I want to be able hear you." His hand on her stomach slid further down to
the apex between her thighs, right over her pulsing warmth.

Her head leaned back against his chest, and her brown eyes caught his while he pet her in the
most intimate of places. "Can we talk?"

His hand stopped its movements, and he dragged it up her stomach, between her breasts, and
finally, cupped her face. "Those are the most daunting words you've ever spoken to me." He
curled her around to face him, and then led her to the edge of the bed. "Have a seat." His
voice wasn't demanding. It was very much a request. She did, and he sat down next to her,
giving them just enough space to breathe. "Alright. I've officially ceased my attempts to get
into your knickers. Pray tell, what would you like to speak of?" Though he had a feeling he
already knew…

"I've decided." She inhaled deeply, closing her eyes. Draco stared inquisitively at the
determination etched in her face, and his heart froze in his chest. "I'm not going to take the
position."

Draco swore fireworks went off inside his chest. "Truly?" He sounded much like a boy given
his first broomstick. "Why not?"
"Maybe there's more here for me than I thought." She leaned her face closer to his. "Am I
right?"

The door swung open, and Hermione flew back into the room, her frizzy curls standing on
end, resembling a porcupine. She was shoeless, holding one of her heels in her hand like a
weapon ready to jam into someone's face. Her face was the color of her dress, and her eyes
were as big as saucers. In a daze, she set her purse back down on the table she'd plucked it
from as a Theo came through the doorway, grinning ear to ear while zipping up his fly. "Get a
good gander, Granger?"

"If you ever want to have children, Nott," Hermione said, brandishing her shoe, "you'll stay
away from me."

Blaise grinned. "Back so soon?"

"Shut up." She threw her shoes down to the floor and glanced at the clock. Thirty seconds
left. "Nott wouldn't let me out of the hallway."

"I told you, all you had to do was kiss the merchandise."

"You're disgusting."

"Is anyone going to ask me my truth or dare?" came an irritated, high pitch voice. All eyes
turned on Daphne Greengrass, who sat stark still, arms crossed, anger blaring out her eyes
like sirens.

"Sorry," said Potter, "but… um… who are you?"

"Really, Potter? Daphne Greengrass! We sat together in Potions on multiple occasions!"

"Truth or dare, Daphne?" asked Theo sincerely, buttoning the cuffs of his shirt.

Daphne huffed. "Oh, does it really matter? None of you care about me. I don't know why I'm
friends with any of you. You're all such a bunch of whiny Slytherin brats!"

The timer above their heads flashed in a signal of completion, and it was Harry to leap up,
still taken aback by Daphne's outburst at him, and make his way over to the closet to retrieve
Pansy and Luna. Blaise exchanged glances with Theo, while Draco attempted to look
anywhere else but at Hermione. It was Loony to emerge from the closet first, her jumper
turned back around to its front, hair even messier, and an aloof grin on her face.

"That went quick!" she exclaimed happily, taking back her spot next to Blaise.

Pansy emerged next, perfectly kempt aside from a flourish of purple hickeys down her neck
and a flush on her cheeks. She tilted up her nose in an 'I'm better than all of you' fashion,
combed her bangs through with her fingers, and cleared her throat.

"How was it?" Theo asked excitedly.

"I haven't a clue what you mean," Pansy drawled, strolling back towards the circle. She
walked with a slight wobble to her step, as if her legs were made of jelly. She took Potter's
place in the circle, leaving him to begrudgingly sit between Theo and Daphne.

"Uh uh." Theo eyed the circle, staring at Pansy as she reached for the bottle. "No way. You're
not getting a turn this time."

She scowled at him. "Why ever not, Theodore?"

"Because you just came from the closet! And don't call me Theodore! I've told you before.
It's Theo."

"Luna got to spin after Blaise pulled her into a closet."

"Blaise wasn't actually playing, was he? He just took it upon himself to snatch up the kinkiest
witch in the room." He winked at Luna. "No offence, love."

She smiled and hummed, "None taken, Theodore."

"I like it when you call me that."

Draco looked at next in line should Pansy be eliminated. Oh. Hermione? He debated on
whose side he wanted to back -on the one hand, he desperately wanted to be back inside that
closet with her. Once he got her alone, he might be able to set a few things straight. But, on
the other hand, the likelihood of her landing on him was slim, at best. Fate wouldn't give
them a second go around. Not with the luck Draco possessed tonight. What if she landed on
Blaise? Or Potter? Or… Weasley? Six months separated, and the redhead still acted like her
personal lapdog, despite their past.

Was he the reason she left? Could it not have been Draco at all? Or rather, that Draco came
up dull in comparison to the one who broke her heart in the first place?

Six months, one evening ago. Roughly ten PM.

Draco had planned on bedding Hermione Granger tonight. It was his plan from the beginning
-to seal the deal in case she should stay. But after her decision of staying was solidified with
words, the desperation to move things quickly doused like a hot candle tossed in a bathtub
full of ice cold water.

She would stay. Stay for him. Stay for them. Was this real? He blinked rapidly, panic shooting
down his arms and legs.

"Pinch me."

She laughed, her eyebrows wrinkling. "What?"

"Just… do it." He added as an afterthought, "Please."

"I really do hope this isn't some sexual thing," she muttered, capturing the skin of his forearm
and pinching roughly.

Draco winced. "OWWWwww…." Instinctively, he glared and brought his arm up to his chest
to protect himself.

"Yes, it tends to hurt when you get pinched."

"Your fingers have the strength of an Amazonian."

"Are you calling me Wonder Woman?"

"Who?"

"Never mind." She smiled, tilting her head. "Our first night out together, you pinched
yourself then, too. Why?"

He rubbed at his sore skin, eyeing it over for bruising. "You'll laugh."

"Maybe. But not at you." She patted him on the leg. "With you."

"I won't be laughing." He smiled, though less confident now. He considered it, took a
moment to collect his thoughts, and admitted, "Sometimes… I have these… dreams." He
shrugged, as if this was just a passing thought in conversation.

"Dreams? Oh? Well, that's alright, isn't it? What are they about?"

"...You."

He thought she might laugh. Or be horrified. Or both. But, instead, she merely stared evenly
into his eyes and smirked. "Draco Malfoy dreams about someone other than himself?"

A chuckle escaped his lips. "Oh, I'm in them, too. Don't be mistaken." His chest felt
weighted, like a brick was trying to smash its way into his torso, but he ignored it. "Some
nights, I dream about… well…"

It didn't take her long to put two and two together. "Us. You dream about us."

"Erm… yes." He tugged at his collar -suddenly, it was much too hot in the room. He jumped
up off the bed to open a window. As he unhooked the latch and swung the window open, he
undid the cufflinks of his shirt, too. Merlin, it was scorching.

"What happens in your dreams?" she asked. Her voice held only curiosity, and… was he
imagining it, or was there… playfulness there, too? One look in her direction confirmed his
suspicions; she had scooted back on his bed, resting her back against the headboard, pinned
between two pillows.

"Lots of things," he answered, feeling a smirk crawl up his lips. The metaphorical brick
dropped to the floor, allowing him to breathe easy. "You usually end up right where you are
now, one way or another." He tucked his hands in his trouser pockets and drank in the sight of
Hermione Granger lying atop his bedspread, her dress skirting pooling precariously over her
thighs, and an innocent, yet not so innocent, smile perched atop her face.

"And then what?"

Great Salazar himself, was she trying to test his ability to remain still? Because he was sure if
she said anything else, or that dress moved up just one more inch, he'd be on her in an instant.
"There's less clothes involved as well."

She kicked off her heels and tossed them to the floor.

He took a step forward. "A bit more than that, Granger." No, no! He was trying to be 'chaste',
bloody damn it! He didn't need to rush this. He could handle himself. He could. Then why
did he reach up to his shirt and begin to thread the buttons out of their loops, revealing his
chest to her? Why did he continue to do so until his shirt was discarded like he would free all
the house elves in the Manor with it? His feet carried him to the edge of the bed, where he
shucked off his dress shoes clumsily all whilst Hermione watched. He climbed onto the bed,
crawling over to her, hooking a leg over her hip so that he pinned her with his weight.

She didn't seem to mind. Her coffee-colored eyes glistened playfully back at him, though she
kept her hands down at her sides. "What else?" she asked, biting on her lower lip.

Draco, like a wizard approaching a thestral, slowly raised his hand and cupped her cheek,
caressing his thumb along her cheekbone. "Sometimes we talk. Other times, you're crying."
There was something about her that made him tell the truth, though he knew better. "You
always ask me to help you forget."

"Forget?"

"Sometimes it's the war." His other hand came up, then, and held the other cheek just as
fragile. "Other times, it's Weasley. Once, it was about your mother's cooking." He watched
her smile at that.

"So you dream about my misfortune?" she teased.

He leaned forward while simultaneously guiding her face closer to his. "I think you have it
the other way around, Hermione. I dream about taking the pain away. I told you. I've watched
you," he tugged on her lower lip with his teeth. "You smile. You charm the room.-But I see it
in you, because it's in me, too." He closed his eyes and brushed his lips against hers, making
her gasp.

"What do you see?" she whispered.

"You're lost." He pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead, letting his lips remain there as he
spoke. "You're just another lost soul, trying to find their way in the world after being forced
to be a child soldier." He inhaled the smell of her hair, allowing his fingers to trail down her
neck, her shoulders, her arms, before he wrapped her in an embrace and held her tight against
him. Hermione, much to his happiness, slinked her arms around his frame and held him back.
Draco tucked her head under his chin, listening to the sound of her breathing.
"Is it that obvious?" she asked.

"Not to those that don't feel the same." He moved his face down to whisper into her ear, "I
think it's what drew me to you. You understand the sacrifices made. You've seen the worst in
me, and yet you still-"

"Shhhhh... Hold me."

And he did. He held her in his arms as he feared if he let go, she might disappear. He did
release her, once, to shimmy them both under the blankets before cradling her against his
chest and stroking lightly down her hair. The hand on the clock in the corner of his room
moved to two in the morning in the blink of an eye. Hermione fell asleep some time ago,
nuzzled into his chest, a leg tucked between his. Occasionally, she rubbed her cold feet
against his ankles for warmth, and he fought back the urge to move. He wanted to hold her
like this and remember it. If he fell asleep, she might be gone. Around four in the morning,
she stirred lazily from her snooze and untucked her head to peer up at him.

"Mmm… hi."

"Hello," he smiled.

She wiped a bit of drool from the side of her mouth. "That's not embarrassing at all…"

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?"

"Why did you and Weasley break it off?" It was something that remained on his mind ever
since their first outing. He hadn't wanted to bring it up in fear of reproach, but if she really
was staying… well, he needed to know.

She sighed, rubbing her fingers up and down his back. "If… if you must know… Ron… I
caught him fooling around with someone else."

It took Draco a moment to process the words. Someone else? "You mean it wasn't mutual?"

"I told everyone that to avoid the scandal." She chewed on the skin of her upper lip, refusing
to look him in the eyes. "Could you imagine what the papers would do if word got out?
They'd have a field day."

If Draco Malfoy got Ron Weasley alone in a dark corner, he'd have a field day. They'd be
cleaning Weasley off the cement for months to come… "I'd never do that to you," he stated,
slipping a finger beneath her chin to tilt her head up, forcing her to look at him. "You have
my word on that."

A single tear slid down her cheek. "You can't promise me something like that."

"Too late," he smirked. "I just did."

Draco's decision was set. "Pansy, you've already had your romp in the closet. Let someone
else have a bloody turn."

"Here, here," Theo shouted before taking a swig of his newly claimed bottle of Dragon
Barrell Brandy. "Listen to the man, Pans. You're a guest in his home."

"His parents' home," she shot back, but crossed her arms and huffed. "Fine. I suppose it's
Granger's turn, then."

Nine pairs of eyes found their way to the frizzy haired brunette, who looked more like a
frightened pygmypuff and less like the brightest witch of her generation. "I don't mind
skipping my turn. Honestly." Her eyes connected with Draco's momentarily before darting
elsewhere.

"Rules are rules, Granger," Blaise said, enjoying his position as ringleader amongst this group
of misfits. "Spin the bottle."

She rolled her eyes, leaned forward, and spun the bottle fiercely. Round and around it went as
everyone watched on, except for Theo, who scrunched his face up and sneezed. "ACHOO!"
Draco thought he could literally see bits of magic scatter from his fingertips as he swiped at
his nose. "Bloody Hell. Should have never run around starkers. I've probably caught a cold."

"Just drink some chicken soup, Nott," offered Hermione, absentmindedly, as the bottle
continued to spin, though it began to slow down. Draco watched in horror as it began it's
deceleration to a crawl.

It landed, spout pointed directly at Draco.

What were the bloody odds?

"Seriously?" Weasley gawked, slack jawed, between the two. "Oh, come on!"

Draco stared down at the bottle, a mixture of elation and bewilderment pumping through his
bloodstream. It landed on him. Again. What were the bloody odds? His eyes scanned around
to his Slytherin chums, who all looked a bit too relaxed. No… they wouldn't… would they?

"Well, go on you two," said Pansy, gesturing towards the closet. "The sooner you two go in,
the sooner we can all move on."

They both got to their feet, rather slowly, and made their way to the closet. Draco reached the
door first, turning the handle gracefully while, finally, meeting her gaze. He settled on a
smirk, followed by, "Apparently, the universe sees fit to put us together again."

She snorted indignantly and stepped inside, muttering, "Don't hold your breath."

And just like that, the elation Draco felt dispersed. In its place sat irritation. Aggravation.
Loneliness. Merlin, she could be such a cold witch. With a heavy arm, he slammed the door
shut as he stepped inside, knowing it would startle everyone and uncaring if it did. He lit up
the tip of his wand with a lumos, cast a silencing spell on the closet, and glared at her.
"Explain."
"What?"

"Explain it to me. How you can just stand there and act like you never cared about us."

"Ha! That's rich, coming from you." She poked him in the chest with her finger. "You have
some nerve, Draco Malfoy."

"I have some -it's I have some nerve, is it?" He took a step closer. "Don't stand there and
preach to me about the nerve of some people. I thought we had something!"

"I did, too!"

Silence filled the closet, suffocating them.

"Then why did you leave?" Draco asked desperately. He reached for her hand, but she
withdrew from him, once again smacking her back against the potions shelves.

"Don't ask idiotic questions. I'm pretty sure it's obvious why."

"Not to me." He shook his head. "I, quite literally, bared my soul to you that night. Was it too
soon? Was that it?" He watched her tear her eyes away from him, staring instead at a potions
vial next to her head. "If I scared you off, you could have told me."

"That wasn't it."

"Then what was it?" Hopelessly, he boxed her in with an arm rested next to each of her
shoulders. She tensed. He sighed. "I grow tired of asking the same question over and over.
Tell me."

"I know there was someone else."

That floored him. "What?"

"Don't play the fool, Draco. It isn't becoming of you."

"Hermione… there wasn't anyone else." His heart stammered in his chest, and his eyebrows
drew together, concerned. "I wanted you. Just you. I thought I made that obvious."

"It was obvious to me that was not the case when I overheard you and Zabini talking the next
morning."

Six months ago

Hermione Granger awoke to the dim faux starlight of a lavish, four poster bed, Her head
ached slightly as she wiped the side of her lip -she had begun to drool again. Glancing down,
she saw she still wore her dress from the night before, and her undergarments were still very
much intact.

She'd spent the night with Draco.

He'd held her. Comforted her. Confessed to dreaming about her, practically could have taken
advantage of her in her delicate situation, but… he hadn't. He'd tucked her in his bed and let
her drool on his arm.

But where was he now?

Hermione pulled herself out of bed when it dawned on her -she'd spent the night at the
Malfoy Manor. This was where she'd been tortured during the war. Well, not this room, per
say, but inside these walls. And yet, as she padded her way to the bathroom to freshen up, she
felt no nervous tension. Only… content.

After a trip to the loo and a spell to comb through her curls, she went in search of him.
Opening the bedroom door, the thick aroma of something foul hit her nostrils. Was there a
fire? She dashed down the staircase two steps at a time in search of the culprit. Heading
towards the front of the manor, she was surprised when she heard an exclaimed, "Shit!" erupt
from the kitchens. It was Draco. Definitely Draco.

All she had to do was follow her nose to the archway of the kitchen, but a second voice
caused her to pause just short of it and lean up against the wall.

"You want to tell her why you're not showing up, you tell her." Hermione had endured
enough run-ins at the Ministry to recognize the cool, aristocratic drawl of Blaise Zabini.

"I'm busy." And that was the quippish charmer, Draco.

"You're burning eggs. Just hop through the floo and-"

"I'm busy, Blaise! Or do you not see that?"

"Oh, yeah. I see. You're whipped." Whipped? Hermione wondered what Zabini could
possibly mean by that.

"I'm self-sufficient. -I really should have done that earlier."

"Admit it, Draco. The only reason you're trying to cook like some muggle is because you're
trying to impress Granger." Aww, Draco was trying to cook eggs? That was incredibly sweet!
And a disaster, if the smell had anything to do with it. Still, it was the thought!

"She's sleeping."

"All the more reason to escort Daphne out of our home." Daphne? Who was Daphne? "I'm
not going to be in charge of the women in your life. You don't want to see her today? Fine.
But I won't do your dirty work."

"Hmph. You just don't want to piss her off so you can get under Astoria's skirt."

"Maybe."

"I'll sort out Daphne later."

Sort out? What was there to sort out? Why was there a woman waiting for them back at his
flat?

"You want me to tell her why you're not coming?"

"Only if you want your balls hexed off. -Don't you dare breathe a word about...this. The last
thing I need is everyone having a good laugh at my expense." A laugh? What was so funny
about -he wasn't ashamed of her, was he? Ashamed of being associated with her? No, surely
not. He cared about her, didn't he? But then, why was this 'Daphne' at their house right now,
waiting on Draco?

"Little too late for that, don't you think?"

"Just tell the prissy swot I overslept. No need to go into details and run the risk of this getting
out to anyone."

A mixture of emotions stirred through Hermione's mind, but one image kept cropping up
again and again. Ron, in his office, with some secretary he hadn't even bothered to learn a
name from. She remembered her sprawled across his lap in his comfy office chair, and the
feeling of betrayal Hermione felt in that moment.

Whomever this Daphne was, she deserved so much better than this. And so did Hermione.
Damn it. She'd fallen for the biggest ploy -Draco wasn't after her heart. He was just another
snake in the grass looking for his next meal.

Tears welled in Hermione's eyes as she stepped away from the kitchens and tiptoed to the
edge of the staircase. "Accio shoes and bag," she whispered, and when she retrieved her
items, she found her way to the floo in the library.

"Stupid, Hermione!" She scolded herself, swiping at her tears with her knuckles. "Why would
you ever think he'd be any different?"

"So… you thought I was seeing Daphne? Daphne Greengrass? The woman outside this very
room who I keep forgetting is here?" Draco couldn't help it. He burst out into laughter. "You-
ahaha… you think I was sleeping with Daphne?"

"Stop laughing!" Hermione demanded at once, swatting him on the arm. It sobered him up
immediately; his face growing somber. "It isn't what I think, Draco Malfoy. I heard the whole
thing! I know!"

"No," he shook his head, smirking. Relieved. Relieved that it had all been some cosmic
misunderstanding. He tossed his glowing wand onto the cabinet behind her head and seized
her by the arms, pulling her flush against him. She struggled to move, but he kept her there
while maintaining that predatory smile. "You really don't, Hermione."

"Let me go!" She shouted. "Stop touching me! You have no right! No right at all!" Her fists
came up and slammed against chest, but Draco ignored it. He simply wrapped his arms
around her and yanked her into a hug, though it was a bit uncomfortable with her arms
between them.

"Hermione," he demanded, startling her still with the power of his voice, "Be quiet and
listen."

"Why should I?" she muttered against his shirt.

"Because… you have it all wrong."

Also, six months ago

"Damn it all!" The smell of burnt cooking filled the Manor's kitchen. Draco looked rather
silly wearing his mother's cooking apron and two oven mitts while he attempted to scramble
eggs on the stovetop in his dress slacks from the previous night. He hadn't bothered to take a
shower, afraid that the noise from the bathroom, connected to his bedroom, would make too
much noise and awake the sleeping beauty in his bed. He, now, regretted freeing all those
house elves a year back at her suggestion when they'd begun to work together. His parents
still held that against him to this day, and he was starting to understand why. Cooking for
himself… it was entirely overwhelming. Living with Blaise meant take away, left overs, and
bachelor food. And, usually, he cooked with magic. Why today, out of all the bloody days, he
thought he might try it the muggle way to impress her was beyond him.

He held out his skillet of his third failed attempt to cook eggs and dumped them into the
trashcan before scourgefying the pan clean.

A masculine voice caught him off guard as it said, "Oh, how the mighty fall, eh, Draco?"

Draco whipped around, skillet up above his head while he readied a dueling stance with the
wand in his other hand. He gave a relieved sigh when he saw that it was only Blaise, the
fucking sod. "I knew I forgot something last night."

"Shouldn't leave the floo open," Blaise nodded, smirking as he eyed Draco over. "Apron. Last
night's trousers. Tousled hair. Unhappy greeting toward your best friend… is Granger here?"

Draco smirked back. "You know me, Zabini. I don't kiss and tell. -And you're not my best
friend." He pointed the skillet at Blaise to add emphasis.

"Says you."

"Yeah. That's sort of the point of best friends… you both have to agree to it."

"Where is she?" Blaise glanced around the kitchen.

"In my room," Draco admitted proudly.

Blaise looked impressed. "So you finally got it in, did you? It's about bloody time." The
unwelcomed wizard strolled over to the kitchen counter and plucked up an apple from the
fruit bowl in the center. "How was she? Tight, I imagine."
"Unless you plan on shoving it up your arse, I suggest you put down the apple."

"You didn't answer the question."

"Because it isn't any of your business."

"Ah. I see. You didn't seal the deal. Shame. Isn't she due for that promotion?"

"How do you know these things?"

"You sleep around with enough Ministry staff, you tend to know all the best gossip." He
pointed to the skillet. "You want help with that?"

"No." Draco sounded like a two-year-old as he walked the skillet back to the stove top, sat it
on an unused burner, and began the difficult task of cracking eggs into a bowl. Again. "I have
this."

"Stubborn."

"Why are you here?"

"Daphne's at the flat."

"Daphne? Greengrass?"

"Do we know another Daphne?"

"I wish we did." Draco smirked. "What does she want?"

"You don't remember? You were supposed to meet her at eight."

Draco strained to remember. Oh… yeah… she was doing a dissertation on the theories of
alchemy mixed with certain potions and wanted to pick Draco's brain about an alchemy tool
he'd invented recently -and Hermione had helped patent approve. "What time is it?"

"Ten."

"Shit!" The exclamation worked both for the time as well as the fact that he cracked an egg
with a bit too much force and shattered some of the shell into his already soupy bowl of yolks
and egg whites. "Tell her I'm busy."

"Uh-uh. Don't throw this on me. I'm not going to be your errand boy. You want to tell her
why you're not showing up, you tell her."

"I'm busy."

"You're burning eggs. Just hop through the floo and-"

"I'm busy, Blaise! Or do you not see that?"

Blaise eyed Draco up and down, particularly the flower-embroidered apron with frills on the
sides. "Oh, yeah. I see. You're whipped."

"I'm self-sufficient." The blond said, brandishing a metal whisk. He glanced down at the
apron, waved his wand, and transfigured it into a simple black smock. "I really should have
done that earlier."

"Admit it, Draco. The only reason you're trying to cook like some muggle is because you're
trying to impress Granger."

"She's sleeping."

"All the more reason to escort Daphne out of our home. I'm not going to be in charge of the
women in your life. You don't want to see her today? Fine. But I won't do your dirty work."

"Hmph." Draco attempted to sort the egg shells out of the yolk with his wand. "You just don't
want to piss her off so you can get under Astoria's skirt."

"Maybe."

The men smirked at one another in understanding. Astoria Greengrass, while a bit frigid, was
certainly a sight to behold. Unlike her dull, older sister. "I'll sort out Daphne later."

"You want me to tell her why you're not coming?" Blaise challenged, pointing at the bowl of
eggs.

"Only if you want your balls hexed off. -Don't you dare breathe a word about…" Draco
gestured to the apron, "...this. The last thing I need is everyone having a good laugh at my
expense." Once he was sure all the shells were picked out, he walked back over to the skillet,
set it over the hot burner, and poured the eggs in.

"Little too late for that, don't you think?"

"Just tell the prissy swot I overslept. No need to go into details and run the risk of this getting
out to anyone." He gestured to the incredibly disorganized kitchen.

Blaise, despite Draco's best efforts to shoo him, stayed to watch Draco burn three more
batches of eggs before he finally stepped in and, skillfully, prepared a stunning display of
scrambled eggs, buttered toast, and bacon -all the muggle way.

"When did you learn how to cook?" Draco sneered, though it was half-hearted. He was rather
thankful.

"Not all of us were spoiled rotten, you know. My family might be rich, but that doesn't mean
my mother didn't teach me how to be… what was it you called it, mate? Self-sufficient?" He
smirked, handing over two prepared plates. "I'll see myself out, then. But, just so you know,
Daphne is right angry at you."

"Like I give a shit," Draco rolled his eyes. He removed his apron, glancing at the mess he
would have to clean up later, and took the plates gingerly. "Er… thanks."
"Anything to get my best mate's dick wet."

"We are not best mates." He started for the hallway.

"Ah, come on!" Blaise called to him. "I even helped you cook breakfast! What sort of man
does that if he isn't your best mate!"

"The used kind!"

Draco trotted up the staircase, careful not to spill the food. Halfway up, he realized he'd
forgotten drinks. Oh, well. He could just get them in a minute. His palms grew sweaty as he
approached his bedroom door, and he gripped the plates tighter, afraid of dropping them. He
nudged the slightly parted door with his hip, pushing it open the rest of the way, and entered.
The curtains were pulled back, allowing a steady stream of light to illuminate the once
darkened room.

The bed was empty.

Had she already woken up?

He set the plates on the nightstand closest to the door and glanced at the open bathroom door.
No one there, either.

His eyebrows furrowed. Where did she go? Surly she didn't… leave? Did she? He searched
the side the bed, where her heels had been discarded the night before. They were gone. Her
handbag -also gone. He left the bedroom, searching down the hall. Coldness filtered through
his bones. All the air was knocked out of Draco's chest as he came to a startling realization.

Hermione Granger had left without a word.

The closet was eerily quiet for a time as Draco waited for Hermione's reaction. After what
felt like an eternity, but was probably only a moment, she sniffled into his shirt, signaling
signs of life.

"You… you mean… you weren't ashamed of me?"

"Ashamed of you?" Draco was appalled, prying her out of his arms, reluctantly, to get a look
at her. The mascara under her eyes was splotched from where she was crying, and her lipstick
had all rubbed off onto his button down. It didn't matter. She was still the prettiest witch at
the party in his eyes. "Hermione... The only thing I'm ashamed of us that I can't cook a decent
set of scrambled eggs. I would never be ashamed of you." He dared reach up and wipe the
mascara with his fingers, making her look less like a raccoon. "And there wasn't anyone else.
There was just you. And me."

"Us," she suggested.

Draco smirked. "Us."

She scowled, suspicious. "How do I know you're telling the truth?"

Knock, knock, knock.

"Time's up!" came the protective voice of Harry Potter.

He knew just what he had to do. In a flurry of motions, Draco snatched Hermione's hand,
opened the closet door, and yanked the brunette into the bright light. Once his eyes adjusted,
he found the person he was looking for, still tugging on his witch's hand as he led her over to
the circle and in front of Daphne Greengrass.

"Daphne."

"Yes, Draco?" She looked rather startled he spoke to her.

"Have you and I ever fooled around?"

Hermione blushed scarlet beside him, but Draco didn't care.

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "Us? Fool around? Ha. No."

"And why not?"

"Well you barely remember I exist, do you?"

Draco grinned ear to ear. "Quite right you are."

Next, he dragged Hermione to the center of the circle, where he retrieved the firewhiskey
bottle and pointed the tip directly at the object of his desire. "Oops. It seems to have landed
on you again. Guess we need another seven minutes." He tossed it to the floor.

"Oy!" Ron, Blaise, and Theo shouted at the same time while the witches in the room giggled.
All of them except for Hermione, who could only look bewildered towards her friends as she
was led back to the closet and pushed inside.

With the door shut, she finally found her voice again. "What are you doing?"

Draco scanned his eyes over the various amounts of potions and spotted just the one. He
scooped it up, waved it in front of her face for half a moment, and then opened the stopper.

"Draco-"

But it was too late -he put three drops on his tongue while continuing to ignore as Potter
knock, knock, knocked on the door and said, "Ask me anything, Granger. I'm as open as the
books you love so much."

"What about Harry?"

"There's a silencing charm," Draco reminded her, snatching up his wand for half a moment to
place three locking charms on the door and tossing it back to the shelf. "And now we won't
be disturbed."
Hermione looked to the door with guilt, but then a playfulness spread across her face. "Truth
or dare, Malfoy?"

"Truth."

"Have you ever dated, slept with, or courted Daphne Greengrass?"

"No." He was ever so pleased to answer.

"How did you feel when I left?"

"Hurt. Angry. Like I was never going to feel whole again." A coldness crept across his
features as he relived his memories. "I drank away the pain. Pretended it didn't hurt, but it felt
like a knife was lodged in my chest. And I missed you like I've never missed anyone else. "

More guilt spread across her face. "How do you feel right now?"

"I'm pissed you couldn't have told me the reason you left. I'm angry it took getting you locked
in a closet with me to understand. I'm relieved you're speaking to me again. I'm turned on by
the way you look in that dress." Shit. He'd made a mistake with this. He hadn't thought this
plan through. He tried to hold back his words, but they came anyway. "And I'm beginning to
realize-" He clamped his hand over his mouth and muffled his next words.

"What was that?" she asked, attempting to pry his hand off.

Draco shook his head, trying to hold it back, but she lift off his hand just enough, and they
came again.

"-I'm in love with you!"

His eyes went wide as they could possibly go -bigger even, and he snapped his hand back
over his mouth, heart jammed up like a gear that wouldn't quite fit into socket. Shit. Shit shit
shit shit shit! Now he'd gone and done it. There was no recovering from that party foul. No
matter how much alcohol consumption, no matter how much Veritaserum, there was never an
excuse to profess love in a darkened closet after not seeing said love-interest for six bloody
months. She would never speak to him again. Any minute, she would tear out of this closet
after hexing his bits into oblivion.

"You… you love me?" She furrowed her brows.

Draco shook his head side to side, but his mouth muffled a, 'Yes!' through his hand. Though it
came out more of an, "Ess." Shit. He needed to get out of here. He needed to escape this
Hellish pit. Why did he think Veritaserum would be a good idea? Stupid Draco. He reached
for the handle of the door, forgetting it was locked, but Hermione's hands folded over his and
she shook her head.

"You're leaving?"

"I'm embarrassed," he confessed, further adding to his humiliation. Draco cleared his throat
as she guided his hands away from the handle and up to her face. "Now I'm confused."
"Ask me how I felt when I left."

"I don't want to," he said, "I'm afraid of what you'll say." Note to self: never try to be
romantic by taking Veritaserum ever again.

"Ask me." Her eyes held tender focus as she smiled. "Please."

"How did you feel?"

"I missed you." She kissed his palm as he allowed himself to stroke her cheek. "Despite
thinking you were loathsome, there wasn't a day gone by that I didn't think of you. I'm not
even entirely sure why I didn't confront you before leaving. I think… I was scared." Her arms
draped around his neck, pulling him closer. Draco wasn't going to complain. Being near her
made his insides squirm in a good way. "We'd only been seeing each other a short amount of
time. And right after Ron… there was a part of me that felt guilty because... you were right. I
did notice you around the office." Her nose brushed against his. "It frightened me."

"Because I'm a big, bad ex-Death Eater?" he quipped.

"Because you made me question myself." Her hands slipped up into his hair, massaging his
scalp in tender caresses. "I should have asked you about what I overheard. But I was afraid.
Afraid of being right. Afraid of being wrong. What if it was nothing? Were we just supposed
to progress and develop? So soon after Ron?"

"So leaving me was better?" he sneered quietly.

"No. No, it wasn't." She shook her head. "I regret everything, Draco. I'm so sorry. I should
have never left."

A smile inched its way up his face. "No. You shouldn't have."

And then his lips were on hers, soft and firm all at once. This time, she didn't fight it. In fact,
she kissed him back with just as much appreciation, fingers grasping his hair as she moaned
against his mouth. It was apparent to Draco: she missed this just as much as him. His hand
fumbled clumsily down her neck, shaking from a rush of adrenaline. The Malfoy hubris he
strutted around with on a regular basis retreated with its tail between its legs, conceding to
the nervous schoolboy within him who just wanted to love and be loved back. She didn't need
to love him now. Just her rebuilt trust in him was enough to keep him coming back for more.

Draco tried ever so hard to keep his hands to himself, but -who was he kidding? He was
locked in a closet with Hermione Granger, and she was kissing him. Kissing him. It was all he
needed. Their bodies reacted as if the last six months were mere hours, though they'd felt, in
fact, like a century. Before she could stop him, Draco down her shoulders and sides, then
around to her sensational backside before giving it a squeeze. She gasped between kisses, and
he took his moment, deepening the kiss. The velvety texture of her tongue only made him
crave her more, and he found himself bunching up the skirting of her dress until he found her
panty-clad ass cheeks. He slipped his fingers under the thin material and gripped her ass
possessively.
"Yesss…" She moaned as his fingers dug into her skin like claws. "Please don't stop."

"This?" he teased, repeating the motion, driving his nails deeper. Her fingers were already
making quick work of the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them with haste. "Are you trying
to get me naked, Miss Granger?"

"I thought it was obvious." she quipped back, a smile breaching her face.

"Then I think it's only fair I help you along as well." He released her ass, reluctantly, and
spun her around with a graceful turn of her body. There, he went to work on her dress,
making quick work of the interwoven corset backing, anxiously pulling at the ribbons until
they were loose against her frame. With a slow tug, he slipped the garment down over her
hips, drinking in the sight of her exposed shoulder blades and spine with fervent excitement.
Hermione inhaled sharply when the dress pooled at her feet, and then she moaned when
Draco captured the skin of her left shoulder with his teeth. He hooked a hand around her
stomach, relishing in the creamy texture of her skin while he pulled her back against him.
Mine, he thought, sucking and nipping at her shoulder to bruise it. He wanted to lay claim to
what he felt in his heart of hearts; Hermione Granger was his witch. It's why he hadn't made
any attempts to fool around with anyone after she left. He endured every tease and taunt by
Blaise and Theo for not sticking his dick in the numerous girls that threw themselves at him
in Hermione's absence, but he simply couldn't bring himself to. Because this is where he
belonged. She was his, and he was hers, if she'd have him.

He trailed abusive kisses up and down the length of her neck, purposefully leaving his mark
at each stopping point, determined to brand her so no glamour could hide them. With each
bite, he earned himself a gasp, a sigh, or a moan from her, depending on the degree of
pleasurable pain he inflicted.

Soft hands reached down to his one against her stomach and guided it upwards to her one of
her supple breasts. "Touch me," she begged, and he did. He allowed himself a handful of
beautiful tit before he began tweaking her nipple between his fingers, playing with the
hardening flesh, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. Her head fell back, and she tilted
her face so he could capture her mouth in another erotic kiss. His free hand traveled down her
navel to the skin just above her mons Venus. She encouraged him with a rolls of her hips, and
he took great pleasure in slipping his fingers underneath the hem of her panties to the smooth,
bare skin leading down to the object of his desire. Her panties were already soaked, and he
used her arousal to slick his fingers before running his middle finger over her clitoris. She
panted heavily as he rubbed her pebbled nipple with the same pressure as her sensitive button
between her legs

"Yes, Draco," she whimpered, "God, like that. I've missed this."

"I've missed this, too," he said, still very much under the influence of the Veritaserum. "I can't
wait to taste you again."

"Mmm…" was her reply, followed by a slur of breathless curse words when he sped up his
fingers, working in quick succession and making her legs nearly buckle. She leaned against
him, fully entranced by his magical touch and giving him the advantage he needed to slip his
finger just a bit lower into her wet slit.
"So wet for me," he noted, lubricating his finger with her juices. He traced her entrance with
his fingertip before giving her the satisfaction of slipping it in. He sheathed his finger all the
way to his knuckle, pumping in and out of her at a leisurely pace. "Who makes you this wet,
Hermione?"

"You do, Draco. Mmm… fuck," she all but bucked against him as he slid a second finger into
her tight passage, stretching her walls.

"Were there others?" he whispered seductively in her ear while fingering her. "In America?
Did you find yourself some tawdry American boy to satisfy you?" She tensed in his arms,
and he had his answer. It made him furiously jealous, and his fingers picked up their pace
while he continued, "How many others?"

"J-Just one…" she gasped while he twisted her nipple.

"Did he make you feel this good?" Draco knew he was being childish -how could he have
expected her to stay chaste simply for him? He hadn't a claim to her -especially when she'd
called it quits. Still, the idea of anyone else having their grimy mitts on her made him
carelessly, irrationally envious.

"No one else -ah -makes me feel like this."

Draco smirked, sliding his upper hand over to her opposite breast to knead softly. He could
feel her hips rocking in time with his fingers as the curled and pressed against the sensitive
bundle of spongy flesh inside her. She all but screamed in elation, and his smirk grew wider.
"Did he make you come, Hermione?"

"Draco..."

He rubbed his palm against her clit as it rocked against his hand while nibbling on her
earlobe. "Tell me," he hissed between his teeth."

"N-No…" Her breath came in pants, now, as heat radiated from her skin. "No, Draco. He
didn't. He was just someone to forget you…"

His hand stopped immediately, and she whimpered in protest, biting her lower lip in the
blissful agony of being denied release. She was so close to coming. Draco could tell by the
tightening around his fingers and the way she writhed under his touch.

"And did you forget me?"

She opened her eyes, then, reaching her hand back to stroke tenderly down his cheek. "No.
No, I couldn't."

The atmosphere between them changed, then. All of the jealousy sloughed off his shoulders
like he was a snake shedding new skin. All he wanted to do, in that moment, was tell her how
much she meant to him. Tell her he never forgot her, even for a moment. He let his fingers
back to work, though this time less hurried and more delicate. He dragged the pads of his
fingertips across her g-spot in time with her breathing. Every breath in, he pressed deeper.
Every breath out, he withdrew his digits. He wanted to make her feel good in ways he never
had before. He began to build her up again, torturously gentle this time. Every touch was
feather light and every kiss just as delicate. Much to his pleasure, she soaked his digits,
clearly aroused by this new approach. Draco had never fingered a woman this way, but he
enjoyed the soft mewling sounds she made, as well as how she moaned his name, like it was
a prayer on her lips.

"So close," she whispered desperately, "So close… gonna…" And then her pussy clenched
tight in waves as a gush of warm juices coated his fingers at the same time that she moaned
so loud it nearly wracked his eardrum. He, expertly, continued to pump her as she came,
purposefully pressing on the tender bundle of nerves inside her until she was thoroughly
spent. Then, and only then, did he remove his fingers from her passage and bring them up to
his lips to savor as he closed his eyes. Sweet baby dragons, she tasted divine. He licked at his
fingers like a ravenous wolf until there wasn't a trace left of her. When his eyes came back
open, he found her staring up at him, a blush on her cheeks.

To his surprise, she asked, in a tone that could only be described as bawdy, "Still the way you
remember?"

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "Better." They both laughed, and he turned her around to face him.
He traced her jaw with the tip of his index finger, tilting her head up to his. His erection
twitched in his pants, reminding him that he hadn't been satisfied, but he ignored it and kissed
her lovingly on the lips. She kissed him back, and, together, they stumbled back until she was
pressed against the shelves.

She reached for her underwear to slide them down, but he grabbed her wrists. "Say you'll
stay."

"I'll stay."

He released her wrists and helped her shimmy out of the wretched undergarments, leaving
her starkers. Draco paused, eyes sweeping down her form. It was the first time he'd ever been
presented her naked in all her glory. The subtle curve of her breasts, the pert nipples that
begged to be tweaked again, the lavish dip in her belly button that led down to those
breathtaking birthing hips and slender thighs… Oh, this closet wasn't Hell at all, was it? This
was Heaven, made just for him. Their seven minutes were up ages ago, but Draco didn't care.
He made the rules here. Time would no longer work out of his favor. He would tame it all to
keep her in his arms another moment.

Draco reached for his belt buckle, and Hermione set to work on his buttons again, until she
had his shirt completely undone while was able to free his cock from the confines of his
slacks. He watched her eye it hungrily before surprising him and curling a leg around his hip.
He tucked his hand just under her knee, keeping it in place, while he positioned himself
between her legs. No words needed to be spoken. This was something they both knew they
wanted -no, needed. He slid the tip of his cock up and down her slit, coating it with her
arousal before finding that blissful opening and sheathing himself inside.

She moaned. He gasped. The fingers cradling her leg dug in, and Draco Malfoy knew there
was no greater feeling than stuffing Hermione Granger's pussy with his cock. She was so
tight he had to press hard to fully fit inside of her, and when he finally did, he leaned forward
and kissed her.

They stayed that way, with him buried inside of her, for what felt like eternity. Not moving.
Simply savoring the delectable feeling of completion while their tongues wrestled for
dominance. Draco was victorious, of course, and finally, when he could take it no longer, he
withdrew his cock completely, smirking as she whimpered, before slamming back inside of
her.

"God!" Hermione cried out, throwing her head back and arching her spine. Draco found his
teeth against her throat as he gave her another good snap of his hips. Hermione began to meet
his thrusts with erotic hip rolls, plunging him deeper inside of her. The shelves began to rock
behind them, but neither cared, too caught up in the quickening pace of their mutual need to
fuck each other into abandon. Over and over again, Draco pistoned his hips, loving the
warmth of her cunt as it tightened around his dick. Her tits bounced in the light of his wand,
still sitting precariously on the shelf above, though it rolled back and forth each time he drove
her back into the shelving.

Her hands found their way to his back, and she raked her nails down his spine, making him
hiss in pleasure. "Fuck, yeah," he whispered, thrusts growing reckless and aggressive.
Viciously, he snaked a hand behind her neck and tugged at the nape of her curls, exposing her
throat to him as she screamed. He knew he should be gentle with her -knew this wasn't a way
to show her his love for her, but he was so desperate to pour every emotion into this, so he
continued his brutal pounding into her core. With each thrust, she moaned and gasped.

"Yes… Draco… harder… fuck…"

Hmm, maybe rough was the way to go. He kissed her violently before he removed himself
from her and demanded, "Bend over."

Hermione didn't seem to mind him barking commands at her. She eagerly moved past him,
leaning against the door and stretching her body like a cat, exposing her round ass to him, as
well as her swollen pussy. "Mmm… fuck me, Draco. Please."

Draco obliged as he slipped back into her, pressing as deep as he could go. She groaned,
backing her ass up against his pelvis, and, together, they rocked a steady rhythm that had her
bracing her arms against the door and screaming like a wild woman. His thrust were sharp,
quick, and precise, and he could already feel the pull in his lower abdomen that told him he
was ever so close to coming.

"Harder!" she moaned, slamming her first against the door. Good thing there was a silencing
charm, Draco thought.

He did as he was told, pinching his eyes shut to keep from releasing inside of her.

"Yes! Yes! Oh, God, Yes, Draco… fuck my pussy!"

He snapped his eyes open, surprised at her filthy language. It was so hot. Wait -was he
dreaming again? Fuck it, he didn't care if he was. He continued to pound into her, his balls
slapping against her clit, building her up.

"Don't stop!" she told him.

"I'm close," he warned her, but she care, because she began rocking her hips back against his.

"Fucking ride me till you come, Draco, please."

Damn it, he really hoped this wasn't a dream. Her dirty talk was the fantasy he'd always
hoped for in a woman. He fisted her hair back and began driving into her, smacking her ass,
making her scream over and over and over -she clenched around his cock, screaming his
name, and it drove him over the edge of sanity, as well as ecstasy. He came right along with
her, balls deep within her pulsing core, and filled her with his cum. Releasing himself within
her set off all his primal instincts, and he pulled at her hips, trying to wedge himself deeper
into her cum filled core. Hermione panted beneath him, her hair still fisted in his hand. Draco
leaned forward, releasing her as he came to his senses.

He rested his forehead between her shoulderblades, noting the sweat that glistened on her
skin. He licked a salty line up her spine before rubbing his nose against her shoulder and
muttering, "Pinch me."

She laughed, reaching her arm back and pinching his side.

"OWW." He hissed and swatted her hand away. "Good. You're real."

"Dream me is really that convincing?" she chided, then groaned when he withdrew himself.
Draco reached under her and helped her to stand upright. When she was sure on her feet, he
turned her around, settling his hands on her hips.

"Dream you doesn't hold a candle to the real you," he whispered, allowing himself to smile.
"How…. um… how are you feeling?" He quickly added, "Have any plans to disappear
again?"

She grinned back at him, shaking her head. "No, Draco. I'm right here."

"So am I."

"And I'm back in Britain. For good, this time."

"Does that mean your schedule is open?"

That depends," she replied coyly, "What did you have in mind?"

"Hmm…" He pretended to consider the options. "Drinks? Maybe a night out once a week?
Sex every other day? Or every day. I'm willing to move a few things around."

"What about a relationship?" Her eyes glimmered with boldness.

"I suppose I could fit it in." He mockingly rolled his eyes, then shot her a wink. "But only if
you're up for it."
"I am." She nodded, confident. Draco could have fist pumped the air, but she would witness
it, so he settled on his signature smirk instead.

"Bout time you two showed up," Blaise smirked when Draco and Hermione emerged from
the closet. The candles in the room were barely alive, burned down nearly to the base. The
entire room was empty, aside from Luna, who slept curled up on Blaise's lap on a nearby
chaise lounge, and Pansy, who lay next to a passed out Theo sprawled in the middle of the
floor, a bottle of brandy still clutched between his fingertips.

Hermione brushed down the skirting of her dress, cheeks dusted with pink, and asked shyly,
"Harry and Ron?"

"Weasley and Patil went to join the party once they realized they weren't getting a turn in that
closet. Potter… well… Potter made a new friend this evening."

Draco slipped a possessive arm around Hermione's waist and asked, "Who?" He did the math
in his head, and his eyes went wide. "No."

"Oh, yes. -Turns out someone finally noticed dear old Daphne."

"What time is it?" Hermione asked, yawning.

"Dunno. Party's still going on, if you two want to join in the fun." Blaise smirked.

Draco glanced down at the firewhiskey bottle on the floor and turned to Hermione. "Do you
have to go home?"

She smiled. "Not tonight. Meet you in your room in… say… ten?" She leaned up, kissed him
on the cheek, and strolled to the door.

"You remember which one it is, yes?" Draco smirked.

She simply rolled her eyes, though her smile remained as she left the room and shut the door
behind her. Draco stared at the door, her image still the only thing he saw.

"Does this mean you two are finally back together?" asked a yawning Blaise.

Draco retrieved the bottle and pointed it at Blaise. "This was your doing, wasn't it?"

His friend gave a mock gasp. "Why Draco, what ever do you mean?"

"You planned this. This party, inviting Granger, this… game." He tossed the bottle to the
floor, and Theo startled in his sleep, making a noise somewhere between a gasp and a snore.
His head shot up for half a moment before falling back against the floor, lost in sleep again.

"To be fair, I can't take all the credit," his Slytherin friend gestured to the pair on the floor.

"I don't know whether to be pissed off or to thank you."

"Just a confession that I am, in fact, your best mate will suffice."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Fine, Blaise. You're my best mate. Happy?"

"Much." Blaise shooed him with his hand. "Now go on! Go get your cock wet! It's a party,
after all."

That night, Draco was delighted to find Hermione curled up in his bed, sleeping. She had
already begun to drool on her pillow, just alittle, when he climbed into bed next to her and
pulled her against his chest. For the first time in a long time, Draco Malfoy slept a dreamless
sleep next to his favorite witch.

The morning sun beat against Draco's face like a violent punch to his psyche, rendering him
awake and horrified as his eyes came open. He sat up in his empty bed, glancing this way and
that. No Hermione.

"No." He jumped out of bed at once, running his fingers through his hair. "No, it couldn't
have…" He didn't want it to be a dream. It couldn't have been. He stumbled to the bathroom
and glanced at his reflection in the vanity mirror. His lips were puffy, his hair was extremely
disheveled, and his chest was riddled with scratches. He sighed. It hadn't been a dream, after
all. It was real, all of it.

But then it dawned on him -if it was real, then where was she?

She promised she wouldn't leave again. Draco didn't know what he'd do if she did. Didn't
know if his heart could take another devastating blow like that. He attempted to calm himself
as he shook out his arms and quickly slipped on a shirt. As he pulled open the bedroom door
to search for her, his nostrils were filled with the scent of home-cooked breakfast; of sausage
and potatoes and eggs. He took the stairs two at a time, leaping over the last three like when
he was a boy setting off for his first day at Hogwarts. When he arrived at the kitchens, he was
met with nine pairs of eyes, all seated around the kitchen island, plates of food in front of
them. Hermione wore a cooking smock over one of Draco's t-shirts and a pair of his lounge
pants, and held out a fresh skillet of scrambled eggs, toppling them onto a plate.

"There you are," she smiled. "I was just about to go wake you."

Quickly, Draco crossed the space between them and kissed her out in the open in front of
everyone. Hermione held the skillet out beside her to keep them from getting burned, but she
smiled happily into the kiss, despite Weasley's groan of protest and Potter's muttering of 'get a
room,' to which Daphne elbowed him in the side.

Draco looked around to the group from last night's 'after party' and narrowed his eyes.

"What are you lot still doing in my home?" he snipped.

"Well, Draco, darling, we all thought we might pitch in and help clean up," Pansy said,
pointing her fork at him. "But with that attitude, I'd say you're on your own."
 He retracted his statement quickly. "Oh. Erm. That's… that's nice of you. Thanks."

"More like she forced us," Weasley muttered.

Padma rolled her eyes. "You vomited in the loo sink, Ron. It's the least you can do."

"You what?" Draco snapped.

"Ah, come on, mate. That's how you know you threw a good party," offered Theo.

"In any case, we're here." Hermione patted Draco on the arm, stirring him from his anger.
"All of us."

"You're welcome," Blaise chuckled as the blond was forced into a kitchen stool beside his
'best mate'. Hermione slid a plate of food in front of him, kissed him on the cheek, and said,
"And we're not going anywhere. Tough it out. Need me to pinch you again?"

"I'm good." Draco smirked happily down at his plate, thinking of how time, though torturous,
was all relative. Those six months felt like distant memories now. Each day without
Hermione Granger had been a dull, slow orbit around the sun. Today, with her by his side, he
never wanted the day to end.

And thank Merlin, she could cook.

Chapter End Notes

I hope everyone enjoyed this story as much as I did! Again, if you missed it, this is a
stand-alone sequel to: A Touch of Bourbon. Find it on my author's page! Please feel free
to leave a review! It would mean the world to me. XD Also, favorites are welcome as
well.
~A.
End Notes

There's obviously a history here between our two main characters. But what is it!? Find out
next chapter! Also, look forward to some much deserved smut. XD Please leave a review
with your thoughts? It would mean the world to me, as well as a follow or a favorite! XD

Until next time.

~A.

Please drop by the Archive and comment to let the creator know if you enjoyed their work!