This is a first-time nc-17 fic attempt, so we hope it pleases. We are fanfic writers under other names, but are traveling
incognito for this nc-17 collaboration. *g* Please read and review when you're done *g* or send email to
two_honeybees@hotmail.com. Thanks!

A Night At The Movies

by Honeybees
 
 
 

“Waiter?”
“Yes, Madame.”
“Will you ask Ric if he’ll have a drink with us?”
“Madame, he never drinks with customers. Never. I have never seen it.”

Good. I only missed a few minutes, Draco thought, sighing with relief. He hated walking in after the movie started, but
he hadn’t expected to be catching a picture tonight. He was fully expecting to be cozied up next to his luscious, sumptuous
blonde date for the evening. Too bad she was also vapid, dull, and unable to form any words which contained more than
two syllables. A few years ago, it wouldn’t have mattered to him, but he wanted more from his companions now. He
wasn’t ready to settle down at the age of twenty-seven, but he had also grown tired of easy conquests and meaningless
encounters. He wanted a woman who could stimulate his mind and intellect as well as his body. He’d found the most
satisfying experiences with women had been when they turned him on with more than just their looks… but unfortunately,
those women usually ended up wanting more than he could give them. He’d started dating mindless women again to keep
his life uncomplicated, but he was so bored with the whole business of it all. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but every
woman he’d met had lacked something he desperately wanted. He just knew he’d see it when he found it.

So he’d taken Mia home early, fabricating a flimsy excuse that he had a very early breakfast meeting in the morning and
he needed his rest. She had been too dumb to see he was obviously lying. After a quick kiss on her doorstep, Draco had
started walking, just to clear his mind and maybe find a dark street to summon his driver to take him back to the Manor.
His feet led him down a series of Muggle streets in London, not far from the entrance to the Leaky Cauldron. A brightly
lit marquee of an old revival move theatre captured his attention immediately: “Casablanca” starring Humphrey Bogart
and Ingrid Bergman. He didn’t pause to think twice, making his way to the ticket counter. He handed over his Muggle money, bought some popcorn and a Pepsi, and made his way into the darkened theatre. It was a late showing of the film
classic and, as most people preferred the newer film releases, the theatre was not very full.

He walked down a side aisle and grabbed an end seat so he could stretch his long legs out. As he always did with old
Muggle movies, he got caught up in it quickly, munching on his popcorn and not bothering to look around at any of the
other theatre patrons. Then, at the scene where Ugarte gets shot by the police while trying to flee, Draco took notice of a
young woman sitting one row in front of him in the middle of the aisle. She had chin-length sleek hair, one side pushed
behind her ears, and a cool grace about her. He heard her choking back a few tears. She wasn’t sobbing, but he could
tell she was fighting it from the sorrowful sounds deep in her throat. Something about her looked familiar, but he couldn’t
put his finger on it. Then he watched as she thrust her head back proudly, wiping her tears away with a determined flick
of her hand, before crossing her arms in front of her as she stared at the screen. It was a simple act he’d seen thousands
of woman do, but he recognized her just the same. He leaned over to get a clearer look at her profile. He leaned back in
his chair, stunned for a few moments. The last person he’d ever expected to see tonight was Hermione Granger.

He chuckled to himself, then leaned over and whispered in his trademark drawl, “Honestly, Miss Granger. There’s
nothing to cry about. Ugarte knew those letters of transit were a dangerous item to have in Casablanca.” He couldn’t
hide his smirk, even though it was dark in the room.

Hermione turned abruptly in her seat, obviously startled to see Draco Malfoy sitting behind her. She spoke louder than
was customary for a movie theatre. “Good heavens. Malfoy, is that you? What are you doing here?” A barrage of hisses
from the few patrons quickly followed. Even in the dark, he could see the whites of her astonished eyes.

“It’s good to see you too, Granger,” he laughed softly. “You can close your mouth now, Hermione. It’s not like I’ve
risen from the dead or anything.”

More shushing from the crowd, and someone called out, “Quit your yapping!” So Draco did the only thing he could do.
He grabbed his corn and Pepsi and moved to the empty seat next to his old school mate, shocking her even further. He
held out his box of popcorn. “Want some?” he offered.

She shook her head silently as she stared open-mouthed at him. “Malfoy, is that really you?” she asked incredulously.

“Yes, it’s me” he answered impatiently, keeping his eyes on the large screen in front. “Now be quiet. It’s getting to the
good part. Ingrid’s coming on.”

He could feel her eyes on him, thunderstruck at his presence next to her in a Muggle theatre, but eventually she turned her
head around to face front again, getting wrapped up in the film once more. After a few minutes she even reached over to
take a few pieces of popcorn. He could sense her curiosity at what brought him here, and he admitted he enjoyed seeing
her squirm at not knowing the answer to something. That was half the fun.

He had made peace with Hermione and her Gryffindor friends while they were still at Hogwarts. Draco and a handful of
fellow Slytherins had turned away from the Dark Side during their fifth year and had fought against Voldemort and his
band of Death Eaters, often at the risk of serious personal injury. But in the end, the Good Side had triumphed, and
Draco Malfoy had played a major role in their victory, earning him the respect and admiration of many of the people who
had despised him – including Hermione and her friends. He had also discovered they weren’t the one-dimensional
caricatures he had always assumed them to be, but rather intelligent, ambitious, and driven individuals who were willing to
risk their lives for their convictions. They had earned his respect as well, and any animosity between them had vanished
with the end of the war.

He knew it was disconcerting for her to see him outside the wizarding realm. It would be to anyone who saw him outside
his world, because he so rarely ventured from it. Certainly he was world traveled, and in fact had been living in the
wizarding part of Vienna, Austria for the majority of the past three years; however, very few people knew he had
developed a taste of some of the finer aspects of Muggle living since graduating from Hogwarts. In particular, classic
movies like “Casablanca.” Humphrey Bogart was one of his favourite actors.

So sensing her initial confusion, then her gradual relaxation at his unforeseen presence next to him was an unexpected
treat to an otherwise dull evening. Any whispered conversation between them for the rest of the film was general
comments about what was happening in the movie or its characters. This turned out to be a good thing. The last time he
had seen Hermione Granger, they couldn’t have been more than twenty or twenty-one. It was at some charity function
for victims of the last Voldemort War. The Malfoy Foundation had sponsored it and Hermione had attended it with her
friends Harry and Ron. After that, she had gone to school in Scotland and he had begun traveling around on Foundation
business to set up offices around the globe. He kept up with her career sporadically, but for the most part, he was too
busy to think of what she might be doing in her life.

Now he was extremely curious. Were her legs this nice when we were seventeen? Did she always smell this good?
he wondered silently. Hogwarts robes covered just about every body part except a person’s head and hands, and they
didn’t exactly accentuate physiques in any way, so Draco had never gotten a good look at Hermione’s body. Before sixth
year, he had considered her nothing more than a Mudblood – the lowliest creature on earth – and after sixth year, he had
more pressing matters on his mind, like how to avoid being killed. He had never stopped to consider Hermione Granger
was also a girl. Now it was quite obvious she was a strikingly beautiful woman.

It was a warm June night, so she was wearing an above-the-knee skirt and a soft, lightweight knitted top. As his eyes
adjusted to the darkness, he couldn’t help but notice how toned and long her legs were, and since they were seated in
the middle of the row, his long legs – now cramped -- kept rubbing against hers.

As the credits rolled, he rose from his seat and stretched. He noted, “No matter how many times I see ‘Casablanca,’ it
never disappoints me.”

She picked up her empty Pepsi cup and her purse and looked at him expectantly. “Malfoy, now will you tell what you
are doing here?” She glanced and added in a whisper, “In a Muggle movie theatre.”

The lights had come on in the theatre, shining brightly on them. He grinned at her. The years had not dulled her curiosity.
He could see the inquisitiveness shining behind her cinnamon brown eyes, just as when she was Hogwarts brightest
student. She was more mature. A seasoned and confident aura surrounded her, radiating an inner strength and poise
Draco rarely saw in other twenty-seven year old witches. She had cut her long, dark brown wavy hair, and now wore it
just below her chin, and it had an auburn sheen to it. It suited her well. The emerald earrings in her ears sparkled as she
pushed her hair behind her ears, and he couldn’t help but notice they seemed quite expensive. Hermione Granger had
grown up. Draco surveyed the woman in front of him; he thought everything suited her well. “Is that all you have to say
to your dear old friend after six years?” he joked. “Not even a ‘good to see you,’ or ‘the years have not been kind to
you, old chap.’ Just a ‘what are you doing here?’ It’s nice to know you’ve missed me, Granger.” He grinned cheekily at
her. Ever since he was a boy, he loved to tease Hermione, because she was so easy to wind up. The difference was
before he did it to annoy her, now it seemed oddly nostalgic.

She stuck her chin out. “I thought a few years amongst the Austrians would have smacked some of that smugness out
of you, but I should have know better,” she commented wryly to him. “I guess that would be asking too much.”

He started walking out of their row. “Come on. Let’s get a drink and I’ll tell you all about it.” He had no idea why he
suggested it; it just came out before he realized what he was saying.

She hesitated uncertainly for the briefest of moments before accepting his invitation. He could tell her curiosity was
piqued. “All right. I don’t feel much like calling it a night yet either. I was out earlier with some friends, and I thought I
was tired and wanted to get some rest, but I saw this place as I was walking by and my feet just sort of steered me in.
Now seeing you here has completely seized hold of my curiosity.”

“I know the perfect place,” Draco replied. A few years back, while Draco was dating a Muggle model named Monique,
he had found a quiet little pub close to her flat called McGinty’s. They played good music, it had cozy tables in the back,
and a colourful clientele, with an odd, quirky set of regulars. Now, whenever he came to London on business, he tried to
stop by for a bit to unwind. The owner reminded Draco of his crazy old great uncle Everett. Even when Draco was in the
height of his spoiled, bratty, insolent phase – which shamefully lasted through most of his adolescence – Uncle Everett
could always make Draco laugh. At least until Lucius had forbid Narcissa to invite her beloved uncle to any more family
gatherings. The last time Draco had seen Everett was at his twelfth birthday party; Everett died several years after that
from a heart attack.

So being at McGinty’s made Draco feel a little closer to his uncle in any case. During their short walk to the pub, Draco
and Hermione talked about the movie, the numerous lines made famous by it, their favourite scenes, etc. She was quite
surprised to find out he was a very big Humphrey Bogart fan. “Are you kidding?” he argued. “Bogey is the epitome of
calm under pressure. I like all his movies. I have them all on mini-DVD.”

“You have a mini-DVD player?” she asked disbelievingly as he held McGinty’s door open for her. “I find that hard to
believe.” But she was not speaking with malice or disgust. He could see she genuinely did not know what to think of him.

“I’ll have you know I have one of the most comprehensive mini-DVD collections in England.” He added conspiratorially,
“Plus a fabulous entertainment centre with a few magically enhanced features you can’t buy from the factory.”

She started naming a slew of movie titles to see if he had them: A Streetcar Named Desire, The Godfather, Gone With The Wind, Breakfast at Tiffany’s, and all the other classics. To each one, he replied in the affirmative.

“You can’t have all those movies on DVD, Draco. Some of them aren’t even available on DVD.”

“There are no limits to what I can have if I want it bad enough.” She looked at him deeply, and he could see the wheels turning in her head of just how true that statement was. Before she could analyse it too much, he added, “Besides, you’re
asking me for easy ones. Any deserving movie buff has those in his collection. Pick a hard one.”

She stopped walking and turned to him. “All right. Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.” She grinned broadly, because
it was not exactly the kind of movie people would expect the refined, cultured, powerful Draco Malfoy to enjoy.

He still enjoyed besting her. “It’s one of my favourites,” he admitted to her, and her jaw dropped.

She arched her eyebrow at him, but before she could press him on it, a familiar voice called out. “Senor Dragon! How
nice of you to stop by.”

Both Hermione and Draco laughed at Jack McGinty’s nickname for Draco. When he’d met Jack several years ago, the
old pub owner just couldn’t get over Draco’s unique name and had taken to calling him Senor Dragon almost instantly.
Draco didn’t mind; his Uncle Everett used to think of funny little names as well. Draco waved to his friend. “Hello, Jack.
It’s good to see you. How have you been?”

Hermione walked with him to the bar where Jack gave her an appraising once over. She offered her hand as Draco
introduced her to the old Irishman. “Hermione Granger, I’d like you to meet Jack McGinty, the owner of this hallowed
establishment.”

“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. McGinty,” Hermione greeted. “I understand this is quite a place you’ve got here.”

He smiled warmly at her. “Call me Jack, love. And if you want to dump this hoity toity prat, I close up at two. We can
paint the town red.” He winked at her, as he took her proffered hand and kissed it sweetly. She blushed like the
schoolgirl Draco remembered. He couldn’t remember the last time he saw a woman blush at a compliment. It made her
seem more real, and oddly endearing.

“Settle down, big fella,” Draco teased. “Hermione and I went to school together. We met by chance at a late showing
of ‘Casablanca,’ and just came in for a few drinks to catch up.”

Jack picked up a towel and set to drying a glass. He sighed, “Ah, now that was an excellent picture. That Ingrid
Bergman –she was a classy lady. Not like these young girls they have in pictures now.” He stared off in the distance as
he thought of the former Hollywood beauty. “So, what’ll it be tonight, Senor Dragon?”

“I’ll just have a pint. Hermione, what would you like? It’s on me,” Draco offered.

“Oh I know it’s on you,” Hermione teased. “After how much you harassed me in school, I think the least you could do
is buy me a drink.” She looked at an impressed Jack. “I’ll just have a glass of white wine, thank you, Mr. McGinty.”

“Please. Call me Jack.”

“All right then, Jack,” she smiled back.

“Hermione, why don’t you grab a table back there? I’ll get the drinks and bring them over.” Draco pointed to the back
wall near the old jukebox Jack kept stocked with old music and jazz tunes.

He watched as she walked away, the way her hips swayed slightly from side to side, before turning back to a leering
Jack, who was noticing the young witch’s retreating backside as well. Draco slapped the older man lightly on the arm.
“Hey, she’s young enough to be your granddaughter, McGinty.”

He grinned broadly. “I like that one, Draco. She’s much better than those flakes you usually bring in here. If you’ve got
a brain locked somewhere under all that blond hair, you’ll hold onto that one,” he advised. “She’s got a spark in her.”

“Just get our drinks, and keep your bloody nose out of my love life,” Draco said, but there was no harshness in his tone.
“Besides I told you, she’s just an old school mate.”

“Right,” Jack nodded, completely unconvinced.

“I like your friend Jack,” Hermione beamed as Draco made his way over to the table. “And you seem taken with him,
too.” She shook her head in disbelief at him.

“What?” Draco asked, sliding into the seat next to her.

“If anyone had told me ten years ago that I’d be sitting in a pub having a drink with Draco Malfoy, I would have thought
they’d needed a long stay at St. Mungo’s,” she confessed.

“Right back at you, Hermione.” He watched her shiver as he spoke her name, since they’d always called each other by
their last names except for a few occasions after graduation. It was more personal and strangely intimate. But she didn’t
object to it. In fact, her lips curled upwards slightly before she hid them behind her wine glass. As she raised her glass, he
noticed some other fine pieces of jewelry on her hands: a delicate gold bracelet and several exquisite rings, including an
emerald one to match her earrings, a sapphire, and an antique pearl ring. “Where did you get that?” he asked pointing at
her hand.

She pointed at the emerald. “This one?” Her face tensed up questioningly.

“No, the other one,” he corrected.

She looked down at her hand, and played with the rings on her fingers. “The pearl belonged to my grandmother. My
grandfather gave it to her on their wedding day. I always begged her to let me see it when I was a girl, so she wanted
me to have it.” Hermione’s eyes misted over briefly.

“It’s a lovely piece,” Draco noted. “What about the other rings? Were they hers as well?”

“No. I got the sapphire from my parents when I graduated from Hogwarts, and I got the emerald from Ron the day I
graduated from Carlisle in Scotland.” She looked down at her hands, before taking a breath and taking another drink
from her glass.

Draco chortled, “Weasley bought that for you? How? I didn’t think he’d be able to tell the difference between an
emerald ring and a mood ring.”

She looked at him sternly, easily jumping to her best friend’s defense. “After everything he’s done for you, I can’t believe
you’d still badmouth him … and to me, of all people.” She started gathering her things together, obviously upset with him.

Draco rested his hand on top of hers conciliatorily. “I’m just kidding, Hermione. I made my peace with the Weasel a long
time ago.” When Hogwarts was attacked in the seventh year, Ron had stayed with an injured Draco in the Forbidden
Forest for two days until help had arrived, even though Ron could have easily made it back to safety on his own and left
Draco to fend for himself. Draco had finally caught a glimpse of how loyal Weasley could be, and after that, things were
much less tense between them. Now they riled each other out of habit, and just because they didn’t know how to relate
to each other in a different way. But it worked for them. “But that doesn’t mean he’s not still a proud, loud-mouthed,
quick-tempered git,” he remarked wryly.

She settled herself back in her seat, realizing Draco was just trying to get a rise out of her. “Hmmm. It sounds like
someone else I know,” she commented sardonically, taking another sip of her drink.

Draco took a drink from his glass and inquired, “Whatever happened to Carrot Top anyway? Did he ever convince any
meek little witches to marry him? From what I recall, he turned into quite a ladies’ man after the war.”

Hermione coughed a little as her hand reached to push her hair away from her eyes, searching his face for something
Draco couldn’t discern. He looked back uncalculatedly at her. Apparently satisfied with what she saw, she answered, “It
was just a phase he went through.” She raised her eyebrows at him. “A phase you still haven’t outgrown if the rumours
are true.” She grinned, “But, no. Ron’s not married yet. Harry is though. He got married about three years ago …”

Draco waved his hands at her. “I heard all about that. You couldn’t be in the farthest reaching corners of the globe and
not hear The Boy Who Lived had finally tied the knot with Fleur Delacour. That was front page news on every wizarding
newspaper on the big day.”

“He hates the publicity more than anybody else does, you know. He never asked for it.”

“That just makes them hungrier for more, which is why I avoid any society pages that don’t have me in them,” he
announced pompously, causing Hermione to grin at his audacity. “Basically, if I’m not doing it, then it’s not worth
reading about it. I have my assistants read the papers for me first thing in the morning and filter out the drivel these
newsrags see fit to print.”

She snickered, “Don’t you ever tired of being so pompous? Don’t you find it exhausting?”

He shot back, “Not really. It’s as easy as breathing for me. One of my many talents.” He took a brief pause, not sure
if he wanted to know the answer to his next question. He glanced surreptitiously at her hands. No diamonds, no gold
bands, so he inquired, “How about you? Is there a special wizard in your life? Or at least one brave enough to risk
facing your surrogate brothers Potter and Weasley?”

“They aren’t like that.”

He rolled his eyes. “They were always so overprotective of you at Hogwarts. If I even said the slightest thing to you,
they were both on me quicker than a kniffler to gold.”

Her mouth turned up. “That’s because you were usually calling me something horrible.”

“You had a few choice words to say about me too, or are you suffering from a case of selective memory?”

“Perhaps. But Harry and Ron were no more protective of me than I was of them. We’re still like that.”

He fished for the answer she was skillfully avoiding, “So how has your current beau handled the Wonder Twins?” He
took a long drink from his glass.

Hermione got a strange look on her face, a swirl of emotions swimming behind her eyes. She looked at him, words
forming on the tip of her tongue, but then she seemed to think better of it, and instead said, “You don’t want to hear
about my love life. Tell me what I’ve been waiting to hear all night from you. How did Draco Malfoy, King of Pureblood
Pride, become so enthralled by Muggle movies?”

He did not want to press her about the other subject; if she didn’t want to discuss any other men in her life, Draco was
fine with that. She was much more enchanting than he remembered, and he didn’t want to waste this perfect opportunity
to get to know this grown-up version of Hermione Granger by chatting about her male companions. Plus, Draco never
got tired of talking about himself. That was always an interesting subject.

So he told her about everything that had happened to him in the past few years. How he’d traveled to America for a
while after his father’s death to clear his mind and sort things out in his head. How it was easier to blend in with Muggles
because they had no knowledge of Malfoys or Death Eaters or Voldemort or anything like that. One night he had drifted
into a revival theatre where the Alfred Hitchcock classic “Vertigo” was playing, and Draco was hooked. Classic movies
became his passion, and a way for him to escape for a few brief hours.

They talked for a long time at their table. Occasionally, Jack would bring over fresh drinks for them, smiling and joking
amiably with them. On one of his trips back to the bar from their table, he paused at the jukebox and pushed a couple
of buttons. Draco blushed slightly at Jack’s not so subtle hint, and watched Hermione laugh at his discomfort when “As
Time Goes By” by Louis Armstrong began to play. Draco shot a half-hearted glare at the old pub owner, but Jack just
whistled along to the music as he sidled back to their table.

He grinned devilishly at the young couple, “This is a great song, isn’t it? I haven’t been able to get it out of my head since
you mentioned ‘Casablanca.’” He turned to Hermione. “I’d ask for a dance, love, but I’ve got customers to wait on.”
Hermione and Draco both looked at the bar, a few scattered customers, each with full drinks. “Draco, perhaps you
could fill in for me?”

Before he could say anything, Hermione had slid out from her side of the booth and held her hand out to him. “Senor
Dragon, would you care to dance?” Her eyes were dancing with humour at his nickname and, he suspected, from the
three glasses of wine she’d imbibed during their long talk.

“Miss Granger, I’d be delighted,” he responded, setting his hand in hers. It was warm, and he could feel her fingers
quiver slightly as his fingers wrapped around hers. He slid along the seat and stood up so he was standing directly in
front of her, their bodies only a few inches apart. Her eyes looked into his, mirroring his same sense of wonder at their
pleasant evening together. “Shall we?”

They moved to a dark corner of the dance floor, where a few other couples were moving to the romantic song. He
reached around her waist, pulling her close to him as she reached her arm around his shoulder. Slowly they began to
move, their bodies pressed together moving in sync to the melody. She leaned in close to him, her head resting against
his shoulder. She was wearing heels, but Draco was still taller than her. They danced together in silence for a short while,
just getting used to the idea of standing in such close proximity to each other. Her hair tickled his neck and he could smell
her perfume now that she was so close to him. It could have been the drinks he’d had, but Draco had never felt more
comfortable with another person than he did at that moment.

He knew he was not the same boy who spent years calling her a Mudblood and spouting vile, hurtful words at her. But
he also knew she had changed as well. They had both matured and learned from their experiences. But she hadn’t lost
her spirit or thirst for knowledge or confidence. If anything, those qualities had just enhanced with time. She was a
remarkable woman, and as they danced, Draco couldn’t help but wonder if their meeting at the theatre was serendipity.

She had pulled away from him and was looking strangely at him. “Am I really standing in an Irish pub dancing with Draco
Malfoy?”

He threw his head back and laughed. He flashed her one of his killer smiles. He couldn’t resist it. Somewhere during the
course of their talking, he’d realized this was the date he should have been on all night long. “Yes, you are. It is sort of
surreal isn’t it? I keep half expecting a group of Gryffindors to jump out from behind the tables and hex me.”

She giggled then turned her head downwards slightly, tilting her chin to him. She took a short breath and confessed,
“You know, I fancied you for a time back in school. I almost asked you to dance with me at our Graduation Ball, but
chickened out at the last minute.”

His eyes opened wide in surprise. “You did not.” He quickly recovered. “Not that I blame you, of course. I was quite
irresistible back then. Still am, in fact.”

She slapped him lightly on the arm. “And you’re still just as incorrigible as you were then.”

“But I’m even more devilishly handsome now.”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what possessed me to tell you that. Like your ego needs any more stroking.”

Their laughter died away and they got caught up once more in the soft music. He pulled her body closer; he could feel
her breasts rising and falling against him with each breath she took. His stomach lurched a bit at the sensations it stirred
in him to feel her so close. He leaned over and whispered gently in her ear, “It may have taken you ten years, but I’m
glad you finally asked me to dance, Hermione.”

She leaned slowly away from him, her eyes glazed with a myriad of emotions. She cleared her throat. “So am I.”

He noticed they had stopped moving. Now they were just standing in front of each other, looking deeply into each
other’s eyes, as if seeing each other for the first time. In many ways they were. Her breathing became shallower, but as
he reached his hand up to stroke her cheek, she leaned into it instead of pulling away. As he rubbed his thumb over her
bottom lip, she kissed it tenderly. As he reached his hand behind her neck to pull her face to his, she did not resist. He
licked his lips gently, then leaned in to touch her mouth with his. Even though she kept her eyes open, watching in
wonder, she jumped slightly when their lips made contact. He moved his mouth softly against hers, but she didn’t
respond right away. Finally her hand snaked up behind his head and she moved her lips against his, parting them slightly
so he could taste faint traces of the sweet wine on them.

He wrapped his arms around her tightly, and he could feel the tension leave her body with any lingering traces of
hesitation or doubt either of them had been feeling. Without breaking their kiss, her tongue reaching out tentatively
against his with soft, delicate strokes, which sent chills up and down his body. He opened his mouth to accept her
gently exploring tongue, amazed at how quickly he was responding to her curious touches. Her fingers tickled the
back of his neck, playing with the hairs there, causing him to moan softly into her mouth.

He pulled away briefly and gazed down at her beautiful face. “Is there anything you’re bad at?” he asked, knowing his
head was spinning from her expert kisses and not his beers. If she could make him start to feel breathless with a few
simple kisses, he imagined he’d probably pass out if things went any further.

As if reading his mind, daring to put his hypothesis to the test, she leaned in and kissed him again, this time more fervently
and hungrier than before. They stayed that way until the end of the song, tasting each other deeply, only pulling away to
take a few breaths before returning for more eager kisses.

“Draco,” he heard Hermione whimper against his lips. He moved his mouth down to kiss her below her ear, eliciting a
soft moan of pleasure in her throat.

“Hmmm,” he responded, not willing to remove his mouth from her skin for longer than one second.

“Draco,” she repeated a little more forcefully, her voice a tad anxious. “People are starting to stare at us.”

He untangled himself from her arms and cast a glance around the darkened room. Sure enough, their dancing and
passionate embraces had attracted more than a few pairs of curious eyes. Jack gave Draco a wink from his perch at
the bar. Draco turned his attention to Hermione. Her lips were red and swollen and his fingers had done a nice job of
mussing her soft, sleek hair. As she tried to control her breathing, chewing nervously on her lip, Draco was certain he
had never seen a sexier creature in his life. He leaned in for a quick kiss and rubbed his hands up and down her arms.
Her lack of resistance to him made him feel bolder. “We could always leave,” he suggested.

“And go where?” She reached up to brush some stray hairs away from his eyes. It made him want to crush her up
against the wall and ravish her right there, “Do you want to go get something to eat?” She paused and looked
meaningfully into his eyes, unblinking. “Or do you want to go someplace else?”

His heart stopped as he realized the even more surprising direction this night was heading in. he swallowed hard. “I
know where we can go see a private screening of Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure.”

After what seemed an eternity, she breathed out, “All right. Let’s go then.”

Draco didn’t move for a few seconds as the reality of what she agreed to processed in his head.

She broke the silence, “Let me just freshen up a bit.” She took his hand and gave it a firm squeeze as they headed back
to their table. “Where’s the loo?”

He pointed down a hallway. “Back there on the right.”

“I won’t be long. Why don’t you finish your drink?”

He knew he must have a dumbfounded expression plastered on his face, but he was genuinely shocked. Normally he
would have played this cool, but something about their dance and their kisses reached deep into Draco and touched
parts of him he’d never experienced. As it was giving him the most wonderful sensations, he decided not to question it.
Hermione had seen him at his worst, his absolute lowest, and she was not backing away.

He slid into the booth and downed the last of his beer, wanting to make sure they could leave as quickly as possible; it
was also in an effort to calm his growing nerves. As he watched the back hallway for any sign of an emerging Hermione,
he hadn’t noticed someone collapse into the seat across from him at the table.

A loud voice boomed in greeting, the voice slurred with much too much drink, “’ey thar, Dray-coh. I ‘aven’t seen yeh
much ‘round here lately. Whatcha bin up ta?”

It was one of McGinty’s regulars, Frank. He was a nice chap Draco had spent a fair amount of time chatting with, but
Frank liked his beer a little too much. When he started talking, it was impossible to shut him up. Bollocks! Of all nights,
Draco swore silently.

“Hello, Frank. It’s nice to see you,” Draco lied, but smiled pleasantly just the same.

“Who’s dat sexy lass you were with on the floor?” He leered, hiccupping in between his words.

“She’s a friend, Frank. Actually I’m just waiting for her. We’re going to be heading out.”

“I’d like to finish my wine first, if that’s all right, Draco.” Hermione had snuck up behind and laid her hand gently on
Draco’s shoulder as she spoke. ‘Besides, I enjoy talking with these new friends of yours. They’re much more interesting
than the people you normally associate with.”

Before Draco could voice any objections, Hermione slid in the booth to his left, leaning close against him. She reached
for her drink with her left hand, but rested her right hand on his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze. She moved even closer,
so Draco moved his left arm from its position on the table and put it on the back of the booth behind her, giving her more
room.

She looked back at Draco and winked at him before turning her attentions to his drunken friend. “So, Frank is it? How
long have you known Draco?”

At first, knowing a question like that could get Frank yapping for hours, but then Hermione started doing something
which made the wait much more pleasurable. As Frank slurred his way through a seemingly unending series of incoherent
stories, Hermione slowly started moving her hand up Draco’s thigh. He was startled, wondering if she even realized her
hand had slipped from its original position on his knee, but soon discovered she knew exactly what she was doing. And it
was driving him crazy. Her fingers trailed feather light caresses and gentle squeezes as it ascended to its destination,
leaving Draco essentially speechless.

But not Hermione. She listened attentively to Frank’s stories. Nodding to show she was paying attention or saying
“Mmmhmmm,” at appropriate spots. But the way she murmured them sounded more sensuous to Draco than Frank
could recognize. Not wanting Hermione to have all the fun, Draco slid his hand down to her lower back. Her light
sweater was not tucked into her skirt, so it was no effort for him to slip his hand underneath the soft fabric and slide his
hand up her back, rubbing his hands in small circles across her bare skin. As he eased his fingers underneath the clasp
of her bra, he heard her murmur her “Mmmhmmm” at Frank a little stronger than was warranted.

Draco could not dwell too much on his hands anymore, however, because just then her skillful fingers had reached their
prize, and with silky smooth strokes, her hand began rubbing him between his legs. Their kisses on the dance floor had
already stimulated him to a certain degree; now, her careful ministrations accelerated his aroused state. He leaned back
against the booth and closed his eyes, content to let her wandering hands have their fun while he rubbed the supple skin
along her back. It was a good thing Hermione seemed to be paying attention, because Draco was completely blocking
Frank’s voice out.

For a few moments, she seemed to halt her rubbing. Draco was about to open his eyes to see what was the matter when
he realized the cause for the delay. With careful movements, so as to not let on to anyone around them what she was
doing, Hermione slowly began to unzip Draco’s trousers under the table. That task completed, her delicate, fingers
snaked inside his boxers to grab hold of him properly.

Draco gasped at the feel of her warm hand sliding up and down in long, torturous strokes. He closed his eyes and let his
head fall back again. He heard her chuckle softly beside him, but then she proceeded to ask Frank yet another inane
question. It was maddening. Her thumb flicked out to tickle his head, swirling the precome as it inevitably escaped. Then
her nails ventured down to tickle the sensitive skin on his inner thigh, before returning to her heavenly caresses.

Finally, Draco couldn’t take it anymore. He sat up abruptly and stared directly at Frank across the table. “Hold that
thought,” he ordered, and he turned to a highly amused Hermione, reached a hand behind her head, and pulled her lips
to his in a possessive, hot, fiery kiss. She responded instantly, as she continued stroking him, only now her hand moved
more vigorously up and down, drawing low moans from him.

Regretfully, he pulled back, breathless from her, but he knew if he didn’t, he’d end up throwing her down on the table
right there in the middle of McGinty’s Pub. Though she might not mind, Jack might get a little upset. He looked deep into
her sparkling eyes, “Let’s get out of here. Now.”

She tossed back the last of her drink and rose quickly from the table as Draco tucked himself back inside his pants. She
smiled at a blank-faced Frank, who seemed completely unaware that Draco and Hermione had just snogged each other
senseless in the middle of one of his conversations. “It was nice to meet you, Frank,” Hermione graciously acknowledged.
“But it looks like we’re leaving now.”

Upon hearing that, Frank laid his head on the table and promptly passed out.

Draco shunted Hermione to the door, eager to escape without further interruptions. He set a few notes on the bar to pay
his tab. “Here you go, Jack. I’ll stop in the next time I’m in town.”

Jack winked at Draco. “It’s a good thing you’re leaving, Draco. I thought I was going to have to throw a bucket of water
on you two. And I hate mopping.”

“Good night, Jack,” Draco called back before heading out the door to get Hermione.

She was looking up and down the street, but for what, Draco didn’t know. It was a warm June night, but Hermione
hugged her body with her arms. He went up behind her and touched her gently on her arm. She started a bit at his touch
but relaxed as he leaned in close and whispered sexily into her ear, “Are you ready?”

She turned and greeted him with a gentle kiss, wrapping her arms tightly around him. He could feel himself hardening up
again at her close contact. She opened her glassy eyes. “Yes, I’m ready.”

He took her hand and started leading her down the street. A thought suddenly seemed to occur to her. “Wait. We’re not
going through the Leaky Cauldron, are we?” He eyed her quizzically, so she explained. “It’s just so far from here. Could
we Apparate to the Manor or do you have a Portkey?”

“No. I was going to call my driver. I’m not a big fan of the Leaky Cauldron either. Too many nosy busybodies.” Hermione breathed a sigh of relief.

She chuckled, “You have a driver?”

“Of course I do,” he answered with mock arrogance. “He’s been with our family for years. Every elitist prat like me has
their own driver.” He pulled her down a side street where he could call Lubby in private. He pulled his wand from his
pocket and was about to perform his Hailing Spell when Hermione grabbed him about the waist and dragged him toward
her, not bothering to hide her desire for him. Knowing her craving for him was just as strong as his heightened his need to
taste her and touch her again. She was not into playing games or trying to lure him into wanting her, which was the most
successful way he knew for a woman to get him.

He pushed her up against a wall and his hands roamed over her body, sliding underneath the front of her shirt so he could
squeeze and tease her firm, swollen breasts. Her hands reached around behind him, cupping his cheeks. She wrapped
one of her legs around his and pulled his hips closer to hers so that his hardened arousal was positioned directly in front of
her entrance. With slow, measured thrusts, she pushed her hips against his as she pushed him against her from behind with
her hands. He reached underneath her skirt, and rubbed his hands smoothly over her knickers. He could feel her tremble
as one finger maneuvered its way between the fabric and her skin. With careful strokes, he slid his finger inside her slowly
before easing it out partially again. He continued his slow torture while she moved her body back and forth to add to the
sensation. Wanting to add more fingers to the mix, but hindered by her undergarments, he decided the knickers had to go.
With a few well-chosen words, he snuck his wand under her skirt, and, like magic, her knickers vanished.

She giggled as a rush of summer air touched her more private parts. “Argh! I can’t believe you banished my knickers,” she said with a laugh.

“They were in the way, and besides …” he paused to suckle her neck. “You won’t be needing them anytime soon.”

She grabbed hold of his hair and wrenched his mouth down to hers. “Maybe you should call that driver of yours now,” she breathed out against his lips.

He didn’t need to be told twice. He seized his wand, murmured a few words, and a long, sleek limousine appeared in
the alley. Lubby got out to open the door, but Draco was already helping Hermione inside. “Thanks, Lubby. Just drive
us back to the Manor.”

“Yes sir, Master Malfoy,” the driver answered.

Inside the car, things picked up where Hermione and Draco left off in the alley. With concern in her voice, Hermione
asked, “Can he see what we’re doing?”

Moving to kiss her long, sleek neck, Draco answered between kisses. “No, he can’t see or hear anything when the glass
partition is there. And even if he did, he wouldn’t tell a soul. He’s one of the servants who actually liked me when I was
growing up. We understand each other.”

“Good,” Hermione smiled as she swung her leg over Draco so she was straddling him. Her skirt slid up her thighs, and
Draco used the opportunity to reach his hands around and rub her firm cheeks with his hands. With a devilish grin, she
leaned over and kissed him again, sucking and biting and devouring him.

In practically no time at all, the car had come to a complete stop. “We’re here,” Draco announced hoarsely. He pulled
away briefly and gazed up at her beautiful face.

When Hermione exited the car, she looked around her. She had been at Malfoy Manor before, but it was always during
the day for some benefit or luncheon. After Lucius’ death and the war, the Malfoys had become very philanthropic and
hosted a myriad of benefits in their home. Once Lucius was dead, Narcissa no longer had to fear her husband’s wrath
and she decided to spend his money to help those he had spent years oppressing. Malfoy Manor looked completely
different at night, with soft blue lights shining on it dimly from all directions, showcasing its old-school architecture and
gothic beauty.

She tugged lightly on his hand. “Draco, your mother isn’t around, is she? The introductions might be a little awkward.”

“I have my own tower with a secret entrance. Not even the servants use it,” Draco explained. “Being a Malfoy has its
perks.”

“Any others?”

“Mmmhmm,” he replied, stealing a long kiss. “Private elevator with really cool walls. They look like a starry night.” He
looked over his shoulder. “Thanks, Lubby.”

Once they were inside the elevator, Hermione turned around in amazement. It was huge, and it looked like they were in
outer space, with shooting stars zooming by and twinkling lights from constellations. When the doors closed behind them,
they too became part of the starry illusion. The only indications they were in an elevator were two bright green buttons.
One with an up arrow, one with a down. “Wow,” she gasped. “This is amazing.” She reached out to see if she could
catch one of the stars but it zoomed through her grasp.

Draco reached out to her and twined his fingers through hers. With their hands clasped together, he reached behind,
settling their hands behind her back. “So are you.” He leaned in slowly, watching her eyes stare into his, the light from
the stars reflected in her sparkling brown eyes. Now that they were alone and in no need of going any place else than
his tower, the reality of what he was about to do hit him. Although he did not have much time to muse over the dreamlike
situation, since Hermione had lifted his arms over his head and removed his shirt. She leaned in to kiss his chest, suckling
one nipple then moving to greet the other. She moved her steady hands once more to unzip his pants and free him from
their clothed prison. She pushed them off his hips. He was throbbing and incredibly hard with wanting her. She looked
down, and smiled appraisingly before giving him a playful stroke. They stood in the centre of the elevator, breathless with
anticipation. She slid a hand up his chest and brushed one of her fingers over his lips. He kissed it gently.

He knew it was going to be quick, and he could see in her eyes that she knew it too – and she wanted it just as badly as
he did. He took a step forward, kissing her and pushing her against the wall. He picked her up in his arms and she
wrapped her legs around his waist. She was so hot and wet; he wanted nothing more than to just enter her right then and
there. But the elevator slowed; they were at the top.

The doors opened and he carried her out, her legs hugging him tightly around his waist as she kissed him deeply, her
tongue invading as much of his mouth as it could find. He couldn’t wait, and she moaned, “Draco, please. I want you.”
It was the most erotic thing he’d ever heard in his life, to hear Hermione Granger moaning for him to fuck her.

The hell with the bedroom. Neither of them could wait that long. There was a small table to the left of the elevator in his
tower. He set her on it with her legs spread wide and entered her right there, slipping his arms beneath her knees. She
was already so slick from all their teasing, he met only sobs of pleasure from her, no restraint. Her hands reached around
his back and she cupped his behind, digging her nails in, thrusting him harder and harder into her but he didn’t care. She
squeezed herself so tightly around him, he was certain it was all going to end as quickly as it had started. As if sensing it,
she relaxed her grip on him a bit, and pushed his chest away from her so there was a small space between them.

“Look at me,” she gently ordered. “I want to watch your face when you see what you do to me.”

Before he could reply, she squeezed herself around him again and all coherent thoughts left his mind. She leaned her
forehead against his, holding her hand firmly behind his neck so he couldn’t turn away. Not that he would even want to.
All he wanted was to see the look of ecstasy building inside her. Her hands slipped from his neck down his back. She
pushed on his backside urged him to move faster, so he responded, pushing her knees even further up so he could get
as far in her as possible. No matter how far he reached, it wasn’t far enough. Their bodies could never be as close as
he needed them to be.

A thought floated into his head as he felt her moving with him: How did I live this long without feeling you around me?
Apparently he had spoken it out loud, because she responded by kissing him hungrily and adding, “If I’d have known
it would be like this, I would have asked you to dance sooner.”

Then her breathing changed. She was gasping for breath, her eyes still focused on his, and with one more push, she
screamed out in release in a way Draco had never heard another woman cry with him before. It was primal and feral
and from deep within her. It ignited an explosion inside him, and he emptied himself as far into her as he could. His
head swirled with dizziness, and his legs suddenly felt like they couldn’t support him anymore. He released her legs
and wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her tightly to his chest as he tried to control his ragged breathing.

Hermione leaned back against the wall, her eyes closed in apparent gratification. Draco leaned over and kissed her neck
tenderly. She murmured, “Mmm. That feels very nice.” Lightly she trailed her fingers on his arms. She opened her eyes
slowly, they twinkled with humour. “You know, I checked my ‘To Do’ list several times today, and not once did I see
anything like this on it.”

“Really?” Draco asked seriously. “This was at the top of my list. It said plain as day, ‘Number One: Hermione Granger –
on the table in the hallway.’” She laughed and hit him playfully on the chest. “I’m serious. Do you want to see it?” But she
grabbed him and kissed him thoroughly, wiping the smile off his face.

“So what other items were on this list?” she asked after pulling back, a naughty grin on her face.

He was still spent, but thinking of the other things he’d like to do with her was highly stimulating. “Hmmm, it’s probably
best if I do them instead of just telling you what they are. Because that way, I’ll be able to check each one off as being
completed.” He spoke matter-of-factly. “I hate leaving something undone.”

Hermione empathized, “I know exactly how you feel, Mr. Malfoy. I’m a firm believer in being thorough. I’ll help you get
through everything on your list, if that’s all right with you.”

“Why thank you, Miss Granger. How very selfless of you.”

“Think nothing of it. So what’s next?”

“Well, I’m supposed to kiss your neck like this… then your ear like so …” Each item on his list provoked wonderful
sounds and touches from Hermione. “Then tickle you behind your knees …”

Hermione squealed as his nimble fingers worked the back of her legs. She laughed, “Does it say on your list, we have
to all these things in your hallway?” He pulled away and smirked, and she added, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a lovely
hallway, but it might be nice to make better use of your tower’s other amenities.”

“What have you got against my hallway? It’s a fine hallway, with a nice sturdy table.”

“I’m not arguing that. In fact, if I had a hallway like this, I’d probably never leave my flat.”

“Mmm. That sounds like a wonderful idea, and since you’re here already, that means you can’t leave either.”

“Since it looks like I might be here for a while, is there any chance I could have a glass of water?” she asked coyly. “All
this activity has made me a little thirsty.”

He kissed the side of her head quickly. “That sounds like a good idea.” He placed his hands on her waist and helped her
slide off the table. As she straightened her skirt, he pulled his pants up so he could walk, but didn’t bother replacing his
shirt. He took his hand in hers and led her down the hallway into the living room. “Wait here while I get us something to
drink. Make yourself at home, and I’ll be right back. Don’t forget, we’ve got a lot of things to cross off that list.” As she
stepped into the room, he continued holding her hand in his, halting her progress. He smiled as he leaned in to place a
gentle kiss on her lips.

When he pulled away, he watched as she bit her bottom lip endearingly. “I’ve got a very good memory.”

Draco hurried to the kitchen. That had been the most incredible experience of his life. Sure, he’d had great sex with
other women before, but none of them were Hermione Granger. She wasn’t just any woman he’d fucked for the sake
of fucking. They had such a colourful history together, which made being with her that much more monumental. It wasn’t
just lust that had passed between them, although there was plenty of that; there was also, desire, need, and passion and
also some disbelief, rebelliousness, and old-fashioned wanting-to-feel-naughty. It was hot and sexy and, in a way,
forbidden just because of who they used to be.

She was nothing like he had thought she’d be. Draco had assumed Hermione Granger would be uptight and a cold fish
as far as shagging was concerned, but she was neither. She equaled his passion and was willing to be just as adventurous
as he. Her lack of inhibitions was exhilarating. And the night was far from over.

After he poured the two glasses of water, he went to his sitting room to find her. He almost called out before he got
there, but decided not to. He was glad he had changed his mind. Hermione was standing in front of the huge window,
which looked out over the large expanse of the Malfoy estate. A family of fairies lived in his mother’s garden, and at
night they flitted about, their lights twinkling all over. It was hypnotic and peaceful to watch, especially when a lot of
them were out. On warm nights like this, there could be hundreds. When Draco walked in, Hermione was staring
outside, mesmerized by the flurry of light and intricate patterns the fairies wove.

He stood for a few minutes watching her until she seemed to feel his eyes on her. She blushed under his intent gaze,
and he approached her, holding out the cool glass of water. She seemed embarrassed. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen so
many fairies in one place before.” As she took the glass from him, their fingers brushed, and Draco could feel the fire
slowly start to burn again.

“Really? I guess I’m sort of used to it since I grew up here. Even still, it is a beautiful thing to watch.” He moved over to
a soft leather chair which faced the window and sunk into it, watching as Hermione turned back to observe the dancing
lights again, lifting her glass occasionally to her mouth to drink some of the cold water. The view was breathtaking.

She sighed. “There are just so many colours, and they fly so fast. It’s like their wings make rainbows, which disappear
as soon as you see them. It’s just so incredible to see.”

A comfortable silence followed, both of them staring out the window, and at the lights of the frolicking fairies outside.

She set her glass down on the floor, and without looking at him asked, “Do you think anyone can see us through this
glass?” She turned and looked deeply into his eyes. He could feel the electricity building between them again, and he
swallowed hard. All he could do was shake his head. “That’s good,” she replied.

Her eyes still locked on his, she kicked off one shoe, then the other. Then, slowly, she reached for the bottom of her
top, lifting it carefully over her head, breaking their eye contact momentarily. It gave him an opportunity to admire the
supple, round breasts she’d been hiding under her top all evening. They were still hidden under a simple pale blue bra,
but not for long. She reached behind her back and effortlessly undid the hooks. But she did not let it fall away
immediately, instead looking down at him coyly from under her dark lashes, teasing him as she slid one strap down,
then the other. He could tell she was reading his reactions carefully, calculating her moves based on his expressions.
And she did everything right; her little striptease was thoroughly enticing. Finally she dropped her bra softly next to
her, revealing herself to him. All that was left was her skirt.

She took a step toward him, pouting. “You’re not going to make me do this all by myself, are you?”

“But you’re doing such a fine job. I don’t want you to think I feel you’re incapable of doing something on your own. I
remember how independent minded you were.” He smirked up at her as she stepped closer to him still. Just before she
reached his chair, she unzipped the back of her skirt and let it fall to the floor … pausing just long enough to make Draco squirm in his seat with his fast growing erection. She stepped forward again, leaving the skirt behind and stopped when
she reached the chair. She placed her right leg between his, and the left one on the outside. “Besides, this is closely tied
to Number Three on my list,” he remarked. He began rubbing his hands up and down her legs, causing goosebumps to
form in his fingers’ wake, taking special care as he moved them to her inner thighs. She twitched a little as his fingers
tickled a sensitive spot, and she gasped softly, but did not move away from him. Stealthily one of his fingers crept further
up until it rested just outside her opening. He met no resistance as he swirled his finger around the outside, caressing the
sensitive folds of skin with one finger at first, then two. She leaned her head to the side, looking down at him, her cheeks
flushed from his talented touches.

Leisurely, she moved her right leg to the outside as well, and lowered herself onto his legs, sliding back a bit toward his
knees. She placed her hand on either side of the chair as his hands moved inward to continue their stroking. As his fingers
rubbed firm circles at the tops of her thighs, his thumbs went to work, playing deftly with her warm, moist – and eager --
opening. All the while, he watched the animated expressions on her face. He could tell when he’d hit a good spot just by
the flicker in her eyes. It was like her body was an instrument he had been born to play.

She slid along his legs closer to him, so he leaned forward in his chair and slipped one of his hands behind her, sensuously
running it over her bare backside. With each squeeze, she bit her bottom lip, sending more jolts of pleasure through
Draco’s body. He watched as her breasts rose and fell with each impassioned breath, taunting him and teasing him with
their swollen perfection. She stretched her arms out and twined her fingers together behind his head as she leaned
forward to kiss his neck and his ear. She made sure to rub her bare breasts right against him. The feel of her bare skin
on his made his brain liquefy instantly. He shivered involuntarily, and his hands moved around front to touch her. With his
fingertips, he played gently with the erect nipples as her hand snaked down to playfully grasp at his hard arousal through
his pants.

He held back on kissing her breasts, even though he could tell she was aching for him to do it. He was having too much
fun watching the unguarded faces she made and the soft noises in her throat every time he touched her. But she had a
stronger will than him this time. When his mouth couldn’t wait any longer to enjoy the pleasures his hands had been
enjoying, he leaned in and sucked hungrily on her, amazed at how her body seemed to taste like mangoes and
strawberries. And they were so soft under his lips, he couldn’t help but let his teeth gently graze over them, to see how
she’d react. It was quite well indeed.

She whispered huskily, “So this was Number Three. I’m liking this list more and more.”

He corrected her, “No, this was just related to Number Three.”

She pulled back perplexed. “Then what’s Three?”

He announced, “Number Three: Taste Hermione Granger all over – from head to toe.”

She sighed in mock annoyance. “We did agree you needed to complete everything on your list. And who am I to get in
the way of your quest for organization?”

He smiled against her skin. “Now might be a good time to show you the rest of the tower. I don’t think you’ve seen the
bedroom yet.”

“No,” she agreed. “No, I haven’t. Shall we?”

“Most definitely.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Draco awoke, feeling exhausted but unquestionably satisfied. It took a few moments for the events of the previous night
to creep into his consciousness, and when they did, he let out a contented sigh as he stretched lazily in bed. He was an
early riser; always had been – even as a child. No matter what time he fell asleep, Draco always woke with the early
morning sun, and so he never had any need for Wake Up charms or Muggle alarm clocks.

He rolled languidly over in bed to watch his naked companion sleeping peacefully next to him, a sweet smile playing on
her lips. Hermione was still in a deep slumber, wrapped up in his silver and green sheets. Not that he could blame her.
Their nocturnal activities had been quite energetic and lengthy, and they had only ceased a few short hours ago. After
Draco spent an extraordinary amount of time exploring every crevice and taste on Hermione’s body, she reciprocated in
kind, which pleased Draco immensely. Memories of the way she moaned his name breathlessly over and over invaded
his thoughts. He had never heard anyone say it so sexily before, and it was not something he cared to forget. He didn’t
remember when it had happened, but at some time both of them must have drifted off to sleep, Hermione snuggled close
to his side.

He leaned over and kissed her shoulder tenderly before slithering out of the bed so as not to wake her. He could smell
the cigarettes and beer in his hair and skin from Jack’s pub and decided a quick shower was the first order of business.
When he emerged, wrapped in a large white bathrobe, he smiled as he saw Hermione had not budged one inch from her
position. She must be a heavy sleeper, he thought. He tossed his robe aside and slid on a pair of lightweight pyjama
bottoms before gathering up their clothes, which had ended up scattered in different rooms throughout his flat. He
figured after showering, Hermione would not want to put tobacco-soaked clothes back on. As he stooped to pick them
up by the window, he replayed in his mind just how she had come to be stripped of them. He didn’t bother to hide the
lascivious grin as it surfaced.

He summoned a house elf to clean her clothes directly with instructions to not mention it to anyone. With a soft pat on
the head, the house elf went to perform his task. Then Draco set to fixing up some coffee which the house elf had left on
a small table. Coffee was one of his favourite parts about mornings. He’d thought some of the sounds from his morning
bustling would have roused her from her sleep, but when he entered the bedroom, she still had not moved. She was too
luscious to leave alone. He was going berserk with want for her. Plus he hated being awake knowing she was right there,
and he wasn’t touching her. He needed to put his mouth somewhere on her, anywhere. He set his coffee down on the
nightstand. Crawling into bed behind her, he stretched out and wrapped his arm around her waist. The feel of her
smooth, milky back against his bare chest felt very nice indeed. He pushed her short hair aside and nuzzled against her,
planting soft kisses along her neck and the top of her back, as one of his hands snaked forward to caress her warm breast.

His antics were working. The lioness was stirring.

“Mmmm,” she purred, as she leaned in closer to him, wrapping herself in his warmth. “Is that coffee I smell?”

“Indeed it is,” he confirmed. “Would you like some of mine?”

At the sound of his voice, Hermione stiffened in his arms. He wasn’t surprised; it had taken a few moments for him to
remember who was sleeping beside him, too. He propped himself up on his elbow and tried to peer over her to see her
face. He watched as she moved her hand up to cover her eyes with one hand and the other gripped tightly to the green
sheets. He kissed her shoulder, letting his mouth linger, his tongue flickering out to tease her smooth skin. She jumped a
bit at his touch. Very slowly, she rolled onto her back, hand still over her eyes.

When he pulled it away, a smile dancing on his lips, he saw her eyes were squeezed shut as well. “Good morning, Miss
Granger,” he greeted silkily. “How do you feel this bright summer morning?” He knew he probably shouldn’t be enjoying
it so much, but her blushing made her even more adorable.

Very cautiously, she opened one eye, then the other, a flurry of emotions racing across her features. As she looked up
at him, the colour drained from her face. “Oh my God, last night wasn’t a dream, was it?” she exhaled in a rush.

“Hermione, if that was one of your dreams, I can only imagine how exhausted you must be in your real life,” he
responded playfully. She chuckled, but he could still sense her apprehension as she closed her eyes again and tried to
lift the covers over her head. He reached out to stop her from hiding, but somehow she managed to wiggle her way
under the covers again. He sighed and reached over to the nightstand. If humour wouldn’t work, there was always
bribery. “I have some rich, smooth, caffeine-enriched coffee right here,” he sing-songed, waving the cup slowly back
and forth to make sure the aroma wafted under the cover.

Carefully, a small, delicate hand reached out from beneath the tangle of green and silver bedding. He set the cup gently
into her hand and laughed as it disappeared into the sea of green. From underneath, he heard her muffled voice, “You
are truly evil, you know that? It’s not nice to tease me before I’ve had my coffee.”

“I’ve been called worse,” he smirked. “By you in fact.” He began rubbing his hand along her legs through the covers,
massaging them as he moved his way upwards. He could feel the tension slowly leaving her body, the coffee and his
caresses working their own special brand of magic. Finally, he reached his hand up and slid the sheet from her. She was
laying on her side, propped up on her elbow, cup in one hand, head resting in the other, trying to fight the grin which
desperately wanted to break free. With her hair all messed, sleep in her eyes, a groggy look still hanging over her body,
he was completely enthralled by the sight of her, and he could feel parts of his body reacting automatically to her.

She blushed embarrassedly again, “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you? And are you always so bloody peppy in the
morning?”

“Yes, on both counts,” he chuckled. “Do you think I could have a sip of my coffee?” he teased. She held it out to him,
and he took a drink from it, eyeing her interestedly over the rim of the cup. When he was through he leaned forward to
set it on the nightstand behind her, effectively making her lay down underneath him. He propped himself on his left
elbow, while his right hand trailed lightly up and down her bare arm. Seemingly with a mind of its own, his right leg
started rubbing against hers. He bit his bottom lip. “You are quote a sight to behold this morning, Miss Granger.”

She sunk further into the bed. “Argh. I can imagine. My hair’s a mess, I must look exhausted, my …”

“You look delicious,” he stated. “Just knowing the former Gryffindor Head Girl is lying naked in my bed, wrapped up
in Slytherin House’s colours …” he sighed, a heavenly look on his face. “… tempting me with your sultry smile and
perfect body … I can’t think of a better way to start a Saturday morning.”

The light which had been shining in her eyes as he complimented her vanished when he mentioned it was Saturday. A
dark, dreary veil descended instantly. “Bollocks!” She sat up in the bed, clutching the sheet to her chest, effectively
pushing Draco away from her. Before her face was out of his line of sight, he caught a glimpse of the confused,
melancholy woman he had spied last night in the darkened theatre, wiping silent tears from her eyes. It looked like the
tears might surface once more.

“What time is it?” she asked tonelessly.

He glanced at his clock on the wall. “About 7 AM.”

She swung her feet off the bed and hung them over the side. “7 AM! I’m sorry, Draco, but I should really go. I know
you have a lot to do today because of your meeting tonight, and places to go, so I won’t keep you.” She grabbed the
sheets around her and started to rise from the bed.

He reached his hand out and caught her before she could move away. “Hey, I thought we already decided neither of us
could leave the tower. Remember? With a hallway like that, we’re bound to stay holed up in here for a while. Besides,
it’s Saturday. It’s a day to relax.” He scooted over and began planting soft kisses on her exposed back. He could feel
her shivering at his touch, but she did not turn around. As he kissed his way up, she leaned her head to the side, exposing
her neck for him, so he could suckle and lick to his heart’s content.

He heard her sigh, almost at the point of giving in, but then she stood abruptly and turned around to face him, making
sure she was out of his reach. Her eyes looked around the room, but would not meet his gaze. “I need to go, Draco. I’ll
just get my clothes, then I’ll be out of your way.”

“That’s not possible,” he replied simply, sliding to sit on the edge of the bed. He did not reach out to touch her.

She shifted her weight to one hip. “And why not? They’re my clothes, and as I recall, you only made my underwear
disappear. The rest should be in your sitting room.” Her face flushed as she recalled the memory, as she fidgeted with
her emerald and pearl rings.

“They’re being cleaned right now,” he explained, keeping careful watch of her cinnamon eyes in the hopes of catching
them with his own. “They smelled from Jack’s last night, and I thought you wouldn’t like to put them back on until they
were cleaned after you were showered.” He rose to stand in front of her and rested his hands on her shoulders. She
shivered under his touch. “Hermione, what is it? You’re shaking.”

Some tears escaped. “It’s just … I don’t normally do things like this. I don’t think I’ve ever woken up in bed with a man
after a movie and a few drinks.”

He arched his eyebrows at her. “It’s not like we just met. I’ve known you for over half your life, Granger. And after all,
it was Casablanca. They don’t make more romantic movies than that.” She did not laugh. He touched her cheek gently
with his hand and he started to rub it slowly. “I’m glad you came back here with me.” She still wouldn’t look at him. He
turned her face up to his.

She closed her eyes. “I can’t believe I did this. This is awful.”

He looked at her questioningly. “It’s not like you were alone. I was there too, remember? And if memory serves me
correctly, you weren’t all that disappointed in what were doing. In fact, it took everything I had just to keep with you.”

“I know,” she groaned. “That’s what makes it so awful.”

His eyes shifted about. “Okay, now you’ve lost me.”

“This just isn’t like me,” she explained.

She walked to his window, looking down at the estate, watching the animals waking up to start their day. “There’s
something I should have told you last night, but at first I didn’t know how, and after a while … I didn’t want to. I never
imagined you could be so charming and intelligent.” She turned and finally looked into his eyes, and she smiled. “You
were always such a prat at Hogwarts.”

As she brought her fingers up to run them through her hair, he checked once more to make sure there were no gold
bands on her left hand. It was possible his eyes had played tricks on him in the dark pub and after a few pints. Nope.
No gold bands. Even if she was dating some bloke who didn’t deserve her, technically she was still free. And when
Draco Malfoy wanted something, he got it. Always. And he wanted Hermione Granger.

“I really need to get going. I have a lot of things I need to do today before …” He silenced her with a soft kiss, starting
out slowly, his hands by his side. At first she didn’t respond to him, but then slowly, her lips moved against his, eventually
parting her lips wide enough for her tongue to dart out and seek his. All the while, her hands held the sheet around body,
a flimsy defense against his wandering and determined hands.

As her kisses grew more intense, he reached up and brushed his fingertips lightly over the top of her breasts, which
dared to peek out from the sheet. “Whatever you have to do can wait,” he muttered against her mouth. “You’re here
with me now. Everything else is irrelevant.”

He could feel her surrender herself to the moment. She let go of her grip on the sheet and wrapped her arms around his
neck, letting the material flutter to the ground silently. She pressed her body tightly to his, like she was trying to crawl
inside him. It was raw, yet emotional. He took a couple steps back until he felt the back of his knees make contact with
the bed. He opened his eyes, surprised to find hers staring into his even as they kissed. He pulled back slowly. “What
is it?”

“I want this time to last,” she said simply.

He took her hands in his as he seated himself on the bed, pulling her forward in front of him. He said nothing, just leaned
forward to kiss her bare stomach, letting his tongue flick out over her naval as her fingers wound their way into his hair.
His hands moved in smooth circles on her hips.

Her hands slid from his hair to his neck. She pulled his face away from her stomach and lifted it up to her face. With
sincerity and emotion, she whispered, “Draco Malfoy, make love to me.”

In answer, he slid back along the bed, not breaking their eye contact, knowing this was going to be completely different
than what he had experienced just a few hours ago. He didn’t want to blink for fear he’d miss a look or a gesture, and
he wanted to imprint this memory forever in his mind. She moved on top of him, pressing her body into his as she kissed
him deeply, her fingers twisting through his hair again. Still her eyes were wide open, watching him as he watched her,
as if memorizing every look and touch. They were connected in a visceral way; focused intently on not breaking the
connection.

She moved her legs to the outside of his hips, straddling him as she pinned his arms to the bed, kissing him passionately.
He could feel his erection pressed against her exposed body, but his pjjamas formed an unwelcome barrier. Slowly she
began to rock against him, back and forth, moving herself tantalizingly, agonizingly over him. He moved his hips against
her, wanting to feel the glory of being surrounded by her again. She moved her head down to kiss his cheeks, then the
soft spot below his ear. As her mouth moved lower and lower, he gave himself over to the feeling of just letting her
explore him with her body.

He could feel her moving her breasts against his bare chest, enjoying the sensations it provoked in both of them. Her
hands moved slowly along his arms, pausing occasionally to feel the muscles between her fingers, not stopping until she
twined her fingers through his. Pushing herself up on their joined hands, she gazed down at him, her face flooded with
hundreds of emotions at once. She paused.

He couldn’t stop the words from coming out of his mouth. “No one’s ever touched me the way you do. No one’s ever
made me feel the way you do. Do you have any idea how terrifying that is?”

“Yes. You do the same thing to me.” She leaned in and kissed him tenderly before pulling back again. “Do you know
what scares me most of all?”

“What?”

“Knowing every time I close my eyes to go to sleep, your hands will be the ones I want touching me, your lips will be
the ones I want to feel on me. We’ve been together only one night, but I’m more certain of that than I am of anything
else in my life.”

He opened his mouth to reply that she didn’t have to be scared – he wanted the same thing. He knew that thought
should have terrified him, but instead he felt a sense of calm and serenity at conceding the truth. He really wanted her
like he never wanted another woman in his life. And not just her body, but all of her. She pressed her lips to his again
and murmured, “Shhh. Don’t say anything. Just kiss me.”

He moved his hands from her tight grip and moved them around to her back, hugging him tightly to her as he kissed
her, trying to infuse every feeling he was experiencing, trying to show her he felt the same way she did. She responded
by kissing his back just as desperately, resuming her rocking motions against him, heightening his desire and urge to
feel himself inside her.

They kissed like that for a long time, touching and holding each other so close he thought he might pass out from the
ecstasy of it all. The rolled about on the bed, taking advantage of its enormous size. The whole time, they watched each
other, eyes smiling or dancing at something the other did. Draco could have kissed her for days. He didn’t care that his
jaw was starting to ache or that he was thirstier than a camel in the desert. With every breath, she breathed new life into
him. He had forgotten how much fun kissing could be; exploring her mouth while his arms enveloped her. Though his
hands were as well-behaved as they could be in such close proximity to her succulent, naked body, he got to the point
where he could not hold back anymore. His throbbing hardness was aching for her body.

“Hermione …” he gasped, but he didn’t have to say another word. She understood exactly what he needed, because
he saw it reflected in her own eyes.

With a wicked smile dancing upon her swollen, red lips, she untied his pyjamas and slid her hands inside. As if knowing
one touch of her hand would send him over the edge, she quickly slid the pants down and pushed them off with her foot.
Cupping her hand behind him, she pushed him firmly into her. She was so wet with anticipation, he slid right in, and
gasped at the immense pleasure of feeling her close tightly around him.

For a few moments, neither of them moved. He reached up and brushed some strays hairs from her sweaty forehead.
She pulled his face down to hers and kissed one cheek, then moved to the other. He waited until he felt her hand push
him again from behind. When she did, he began moving slowly inside her, desperate to make it last for both of them. He
moved one of his hands between them, and while rocking in and out, he slipped one of his fingers inside her, eliciting a
deep moan of pleasure from Hermione. His finger massaged her gently as he pushed himself as far into her as he could
go. He watched as she rolled her eyes blissfully, eager to see more of those reactions from her. She giggled softly as his
wandering fingers hit a sensitive spot. He found by alternating fingers and touches and moving inside in circles, the most
incredible, awestruck looks would swim across her face, exciting both of them.

He’d already admitted to himself that he’d had the best sex of his life last night with this woman. But he had no way of
comparing what he was experiencing now with anything else; it was intimacy, pure and flawless, and the intensity of it
startled him. For the first time he could tell the difference between casual shagging and making love. As she stared deeply
into his eyes as he moved inside her, he found himself being drawn deeper and deeper into the warmth and beauty of her
soul. She was opening herself to him, and not just in body, but in mind. He was powerless against her, not that he would
have struggled much if he could. How would anyone turn away from such openness and joy?

As she clutched his back furiously, her breathing grew more and more ragged, and he could tell neither of them was
going to last much longer. He kissed her hard as he prepared to release them from their agony. “Hermione, I can’t …”

“I know,” she breathed. “Do it now, Draco.” She pulled her knees closer to her body, and he moved his arms behind
them, so he could push further into her. With equal intensity, he thrust himself as her hips rose to meet him. They moved
together, completely in sync, their bodies racing toward the same satiating goal. As their eyes locked in the final
moments, Hermione held her breath as he thrust inside her. When she exhaled, Draco felt her body’s release, like a
dam finally breaking. At the rush of her warm breath on his neck, he let go as well, releasing himself into her. Everything
went black as he relaxed onto her, his head swimming with ecstasy. When he opened them all he could see was
Hermione, panting and smiling up at him. Then she picked her head up and kissed him on the mouth, almost shyly.

He kissed her back tenderly, and took a few deep breaths. He opened his mouth to speak … but no words came out.
He just lay there, mouth gaping open.

Hermione laughed at him. “Draco, are you all right?”

After a few more breaths, he managed to say, “Never better.” He slid next to her and kissed the side of her head before
turning on his back. “I think every morning should start that way.”

She laughed again. “If I started every morning like that, I’d never leave the house.”

“It’s like the hallway. It’s all part of my evil plan to keep you here,” he cackled, leaning over to bite at her neck as he
tickled her sides.

When they settled down, Hermione stiffened beside him. She cleared her throat. “It’s getting late, and I should leave. I
know you have a lot to do before your meeting with Professor Snape about the new Potions Institute.” She sat up and
wrapped the sheet around her again. “My clothes should be back by now, so I’ll just get dressed and be on my way.”

He sat up, clutching a blanket around his waist. “I can always tell Snape to bugger off. I’d much rather spend the day
with you instead. Foundation business can wait. I thought maybe tonight we could …”

“I can’t tonight.”

“How about this afternoon?”

“I’m sorry. I can’t. I have a really busy day,” she called as she walked into the sitting room. When she walked back
in, she was carrying her newly pressed clothes over her arm. Just like when she’d first awoke, Hermione couldn’t look
him in the eye.

“But I have to go back to Vienna tomorrow evening. I don’t want this to be the last time I see you before I go. We
could always meet up at the Leaky Cauldron later or maybe even back at Jack’s. Then we could come back here, or
even your place.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and began nibbling her neck. “I’m more than a little curious
to see where Hermione Granger lets her hair down and unwinds.”

Blushing at his remarks, she stated, “I think you’ve already seen me as unwound as I get.” She freed herself from his
hold. “It’s pretty safe to say no one has ever seen me that unwound.”

His eyebrow shot up. “Really? Well I consider that quite a dubious honour. And one I plan on replicating many times
over.” He tried to lean in for a kiss, but she placed her hand on his chest to stop him.

“Draco, I can‘t get dressed with your arms around me.” He took the top from her hands and tossed it on the bed. He
kissed her sweetly. “When you do things like that it makes it harder for me to leave.”

“That’s exactly the point, Hermione. And here I thought you graduated at the top of your class.”

Surprising him, she pulled him tightly against her, giving him a deep kiss. He was starting to think he just may be
spending a beautiful summer day indoors, when she looked into his eyes. She stroked his cheek lovingly. “You really
are a beautiful man. No matter what happens after I leave here, I will never regret what happened between us.”

“Is that what this is about? Is that why you’re in such a rush to leave first? You think I’m going to regret this. Hermione,
I may be feeling lots of things right now, but regret is not one of them.”

“That’s not what I’m saying …”

“Then what is it?”

She took a deep breath, choosing her words carefully. “I have somewhere I have to be. That’s all.” She zipped up her
skirt, slipped into her bra, and pulled her sweater over her head. “Can I Apparate from somewhere inside the Manor
or do I have to go off the grounds?”

“You can Apparate from the kitchen,” he answered distractedly, waving his hands absently in the air. “Hold on, you
really want to leave – after last evening and this morning, you still want to go?”

“No. I have to go.” With one final goodbye kiss, she turned and walked out the door. “Goodbye, Draco.”

He turned around in shock. This didn’t go at all like he’d wanted it to. But he also wasn’t going to chase after like some
lovesick puppy. Hermione was much too smart and independent-minded to be won over easily. If she really did think
she was just going to end up as another one of his regrets, he’d have to prove otherwise. And since she never told him
where she lived or how to contact her, the first order of business would be to find her.

He dug a shirt from his dresser and a fresh pair of pants. There was much work to be done.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

That was much easier said than done; she truly valued her privacy. Draco realized fairly quickly that tracking her down
would not be so easy. He may have connections, but so did she. Before too long, he had to leave for Hogsmeade to
meet with the Hogwarts Potions Master professor to discuss some research he was starting for the Malfoy Foundation.
He set his things aside and Apparated to the entrance of the pub.

His mind still on Hermione, he’d practically walked straight past his former head of house, who was perched outside the
Three Broomsticks waiting for him. “Mr. Malfoy, I was wondering if you were intending to show up or not. You’re late.”

Draco checked his watch. “Only by a few minutes. My deepest apologies, sir. I confess my mind is preoccupied today.
A new project I’m working on.”

They began to head inside, Snape walking a bit slower than usual because of a severe injury he had received in the last
war. Draco opened the door to let Snape walk in first. Snape scoffed, “I had begun to think you had stopped off at the
big party down at the Hogsmeade Hall.” He pointed one of his long crooked fingers across the street at Hogsmeade’s
only banquet hall. Sure enough, there seemed to be quite a boisterous and lively party under way, with lots of loud music
and people loitering about the front, probably to get some fresh air from the overheated hall. Even for June, it was a
particularly warm evening. “But those people never knew how to do anything on a small scale.”

“What people?” Draco asked interestedly, but his question was answered almost instantly. There were way too many
red-headed people in the general vicinity than were natural. “Ah, what are the Weasleys’ celebrating today?”

Snape stopped abruptly and eyed him curiously. “You mean you don’t know? I guess they did try to keep it quiet.
Well... as quiet as you can imagine with the bunch of loud mouths in that family.” He paused. “Your old school chum
Ron Weasley got married this evening.”

He was just about to ask “To whom” when the bride stepped outside to talk with some guests. As if feeling his eyes
locked on hers, the bride turned toward him, her arm resting gently in the crook of her new husband’s arm. The sight
of her made his heart drop to his stomach. Hermione looked positively beautiful in her wedding robes.
 
 
 

We're working on a sequel!!!