No Copyright Infringement Intended

Chapter One

Mr. and Ms.

Glowing fairy lights floated near the high ceiling, soft elegant piano music emitted from the stone walls, and a large plain fountain in the center flowed golden glitters in the water.

The atrium of the Ministry of Magic was nearly unrecognizable for the charity event, with the exception of the blocked lifts. The fireplaces lined at the sides were the only things that remained untouched. People danced in beautiful gowns and dress robes on a square lit among the shiny black tile.

Draco Malfoy tried to remember why he came to this thing. He donated a large pile of Galleons that gave him an invitation of thanks, but by doing that and showing up didn't mean people's opinions were going to change. He was still viewed as a Death Eater even if his and his family allegiances had changed last minute. They were excused on Potter's request, but not their reputations. That was ruined.

An elderly lady in a fur cloak gave him a nasty stare. Draco sneered back at her and moved on straightening his new black robe. No, no one's stances were going to ease, he shouldn't have been mad enough to expect them to.

On his way to the bar he stopped in his tracks. He saw her, looking over her shoulder, her cinnamon hair sweeping her shoulders, a light blush on her cheeks from the violent pink drink in her hand. His heart skipped.

Hermione Granger was beautiful as always. It wasn't because her hair was slicked straight, or that she had bothered by putting on makeup. She was gorgeous without it. Her curves, her smarts, everything about her had captivated him the moment they met on the Hogwarts train.

He saw her, but she didn't see him. She was looking for someone else, and since it was plain that none of her friends were with her it was a good guess that she was looking for one of them.

If he had any chance to talk with her he had it then. There wasn't Potter or Weasley to stop him then. There was no war or blood status. She was alone and so was he. Fate had given him a second chance. Finally, he had the opportunity he looked to for so long. To win her trust, friendship, possibly her love if he played his cards right.

Either way, she would be his, the way she was supposed to be from the beginning if it weren't for the circumstances like war and blood that got in their paths. He loved her, that he was certain of, and because of his love for her and for himself and his family, he wasn't about to risk their lives. Not for a relationship that was doomed before it began.

He was a Wizard but he read Romeo and Juliet. Two star-crossed lovers. It was romantic, sure, but he read the ending as well. They died. He would rather live without her, than die with her. Romeo and Juliet were selfish people, more selfish than even Draco was.

It was ridiculous that he would think that she would be his, but didn't it make much more sense? They were both smart and attractive. They both had strength. They have both lied and fought. They were both stubborn in nature. The only difference was how they used those aspects of themselves.

Draco walked onward to sit next to her, to do what he should have done in the first place. Only this time, it was to make up for everything he did wrong then. He would make Hermione feel the same way about him if it was the last thing he did, and he didn't care by which means he had to go through to achieve it.

***

Hermione Granger felt hot and ridiculous. She spent two hours straightening her naturally frizzy hair until it was sleek and shiny over her shoulders, her lips and eyes lightly shimmering and her body sheathed in a violet dress. She felt like crying. She felt alone and stood up sitting at the bar by herself, but Ron wouldn't do that, not without a good reason. And he better have a good reason.

What if something happened? Was he hurt? Did he get bad news from someone? No, no, he could take care of himself. After all, he just went to mysteriously pick something up, something that would have only taken ten minutes. In that inscrutable scenario how many things could go wrong?

Ron promised he'd be there. It was a charity ball after all, and they donated a large portion, the same as Harry and Ginny, but they weren't there, they never was. Harry preferred to be out of public's eye, he didn't want the praise. Instead he stayed at home with Ginny. She wished she had stayed home too.

As she ordered her second drink, a pink concoction, a body slid into the seat next to her. She paid the person no mind, she didn't even glance. She knew Ron's scent, wood polish with a dash of something she couldn't point out, she would recognize his vivid red hair anywhere. This man smelled of musk, and his hair was not red.

"Ms. Hermione Granger," a drawling voice asked to her left. "Or is it Mrs. Weasley now?"

Hermione turned her head slightly to see a lanky man with slicked back blond hair. His thin lips pulled up in a smirk, his nose wrinkling turning into the sneer she was all too familiar with.

"Mr. Draco Malfoy," she said casually taking a sip of her drink. "For your information, it's still Granger."

He snorted taking his drink from the bartender. "Weasley's slow, isn't he?"

Her cheeks burned. "Ron is a great man, I'm sure he has a good excuse!"

He snorted again. "If I were your boyfriend, I would have sent you word why I was late."

She twisted in her seat to face him straight on, examining him closer. His silky hair grew out a little past his brows, his features remaining just as pale and pointed as they were in their school days at Hogwarts. He hadn't changed all that much... But he had. What was once a cold superior exterior was thawed. She heard the war sobered him... She approached the thought with caution and took another sip. Oh how she wished Ron would hurry up. She taught him to use the mobile she gave him last Christmas. Funny how his father picked up on it faster than him.

"I thought you had more tact, Granger."

She realized that she was still staring at him, and immediately she dropped her gaze, blushing. "Sorry! I'm sorry... I... Um..."

"Admiring my physique," he finished boastfully.

This time she was the one to snort. "Not likely, Malfoy." She finished the rest of her drink in one gulp, the fire proceeding down her throat, her senses burning.

Malfoy's stormy eyes grazed her body lingering over her chest and legs. "Mmm..." He moaned.

"Where is your tact?"

"Never had one."

"Not surprised," she spat, turning in her seat once more to face the dancers. Among the twirlers she didn't recognize one face. she looked to her dainty watch. He was an hour late.

Malfoy slyly leaned closer. "What would your Weasley say if he caught us together?"

"Curse you."

He guffawed. "So you would be with me?"

"Never," she spat cruelly. "I have taste."

His smile slid. He reached over deliberately touching her silver necklace tracing his long finger down the chain to the teardrop sapphire. Though he wasn't touching her, chills ran up every surface of her body, her heart skipping several beats. Why was her body reacting this way to his closeness? Why wasn't she finding it revolting? She was revolted at herself, and leaned a bit away.

"You have taste in jewelry."

She gulped.

He brushed her lips a fiery tingling starting at the point of contact, and she thought randomly of biting him. Why didn't she? "You have taste in drinks."

"Stop it," she told him softly barely moving her touched lips.

Instantly, he did and she instantly regretted it. She missed his touch. What was she thinking? It was Mafloy! Changed or not he was still Malfoy!

"Your taste in men, however..." He nodded towards the fireplace ahead of them where a tall lanky man in a sweeping black robe exited.

"You disgust me," she said hopping off her seat to greet her boyfriend. Her faithful and loyal boyfriend whom she loved. However, as she waved to catch Ron's attention she felt Malfoy's eyes on her, and even worse... She liked it.

When Ron's gaze fell on her, he smiled, but it was strained, forced. She could tell, and she stopped up short.

"What's wrong," she asked, feet in front of him.

His smile then became genuine, and he grasped her arms leaning down and pecking her lips. "Nothing's wrong, Hermione. Really. Nothing."

Consoled by his honesty (he was a terrible liar) she shrugged out of his hold and hugged him around his neck, his large hands at her back. "Why are you late? I waited an hour for you. I was getting worried!"

"I'm sorry! I received an owl from Kingsley..."

She released him, crossing her arms over her chest thinking of his mobile. "You could have called!"

His ears turned red, and he nervously ran his hand over the back of his neck. "I still haven't figured out how to use that phonetelly -"

"Telephone," she corrected him harshly. She waved her hand in dismissive, her stance relaxing. There were more important things, such as what the Minister of Magic wanted with one of their best Aurors. Ron was the best, aside from Harry. "What did Kingsley want?"

His ears went from red to scarlet. Something was wrong, something in her gut told her so. She learned to listen to that inner voice that Harry relied so much on. He didn't know it, but she learned as much from him as he did from her.

"Ron?"

"Well, um, you see, there's, er, this thing..."

"What?"

He dropped his hand to his side, almost like he was admitting defeat. "I have to go to Egypt. There's a bunch of tomb raiders trying to learn ancient dark arts, and they need everyone on this. I have to go, Hermione. Tonight."

"Why tonight? Why last minute?"

"They didn't think it was a big job..." He leaned forward whispering in her ear though no one was paying attention, everyone immersed in their dancing. "One of the tombs exploded... Tonight it killed fifty innocent Muggles that were under the Imperius curse."

She shuddered in thought. "How long are you going to be gone?"

"At least a month..."

She inhaled a shaky breath, her heart bottoming out to the floor. "We haven't been apart since -"

"Since you went to get your parents," he finished for her. "I know... It was hard that first week away, remember? I was so used to you being beside me... When you got back we went straight out to find ourselves a house. Mum had a fit about us not being married..." He flinched at the thought of her shrill yelling.

She did remember that week, rectifying her parents memories and bringing them back from Australia. Though she was glad to be with her parents again, without Ron it was a constant ache in her chest. She wasn't used to being without him for any length of time, not used to sleeping without his snore. When she got her parents settled in their house she went right over to the Burrow. The house they bought within the month (despite Molly's harping which Ron had pointed out was due to their not being married) was small, one story but very cozy, the lounge filled with ever-lasting roses that Ron delivered each day for the first week he came back from the office.

"What about Harry? Is he going too?"

He nodded, "he's telling Ginny now."

She could only imagine Ron's sister's reaction. The war having separated her and Harry, they were still making up for lost time. "I'm going to miss you..."

"I know, love. I'll miss you too." He kissed her sending a fever through his lips to her own. Then she was lost as he broke away, ducking into the fireplace.

Her watered eyes reflected the emerald green of the flames that enveloped him. He was gone. Him and Harry. She would have to go over to Ginny's later to see how she was holding up, but that thought was distracted by a warm presence on her back.

She cursed and spun coming face to face with the bouncing ferret. She scowled as he smiled. When did he start smiling at her like that? Where was the old sneer?

"My, my, Granger, where did you learn such language? It's not becoming."

She rolled her eyes. Truth was that she picked up the bad habit from Ron. Instead, she said, "none of your business." Indeed, it wasn't any of his business. "Now, if you don't mind, I prefer to be alone."

"Then why come to the party?"

"I gave a donation and I thought my boyfriend would be able to join me."

"Yes, I saw him leave you," he glimpsed to the fireplace, "quite rude to leave you, especially looking as you do."

She chuckled without humor. "Like a beaver?"

"No, not at all. You look like a goddess."

"What is with you, Malfoy?"

He cocked his head to the side raising his brows. "Don't like compliments?"

"I don't like you."

Slapping a hand to his chest he said, "ouch. That was harsh. Are you trying to wound me?"

"Excuse me," she pardoned in the politest way she could. Yet as she brushed the back of her hand against his arm in attempt to nudge him to the side, he grabbed clasped his own around it.

"No, excuse me. For my atrocious behavior in the past and my horrid behavior tonight. Lets start over, shall we? My name is Draco Malfoy, it is nice to meet you." He kissed her knuckles.

Caught off guard, her breath stolen, she temporarily forgot to push him from her and forgot her name. "Um, Hermione Granger."

"You look lovely tonight, Hermione Granger, and mind me asking, but will you dance with me? I am rather alone tonight as you can see."

"Um -"

"You should not let that outfit or this evening go to waste. You came here to have a good time, did you not?"

"Ummm..." Was that the only word she knew? She slid her hand out of his. "I was just leaving."

His features lost all pretext then, becoming pained. "I am sorry, Granger. For everything. I can't take it back but at least let me try to make up for it. I can't, but let me try."

She would have never believed Malfoy would say such things if she wasn't staring at him just then. He was serious, desperate. His reputation had been ruined, he received criticism for who he was and what he stood for, but he had to change. The old Malfoy would never be caught dead standing there talking to someone beneath his status. "Why? Why now?"

"Why not now?"

She didn't have an answer to that. Wasn't it better late than never? Didn't he deserve a chance as much as anyone else?

"If you won't dance with me, let me buy you a drink." He jutted out his elbow for her to take.

She giggled at the gesture. Yes, he deserved a chance. She looped her arm through his, and he led her back to the bar.

"You may have a boyfriend, Granger, but tonight, I'm your date."

She winced at the word date, Ron's angry freckled face coming into her mind. "It's not a real date, Malfoy. And this is only tonight."

"We are both dressed up at a ball, you're date left, I'm here without one -"

"Why is that," she asked curiously.

"Because I'm comfortable enough with myself to be at the bar to silently make fun of the awful dancers. Don't interrupt. Where was I? Oh, and we're both attractive and smart. We look good together, don't you think? If we gave a try at dancing we'd put them all to shame."

She knew there was an insult in there somewhere, disguised as compliments. When they reached the bar she glared at him. "You don't think Ron and I look good together?"

"You two look fine - we look better."

Furiously she opened her mouth to protest, but Malfoy intervened quickly.

"What would you like to drink?"

"I was going to say something! I thought you said not to interrupt?"

"You weren't saying anything, and anything you were about to say was going to be a correction on my statement. You were quick, I was quicker. So I ask again, what would you like to drink?"

"Pink Lady," she said shortly. Perhaps if she did take a drink she wouldn't worry about Harry and Ron so much. They both proved that they could take care of themselves, but she wasn't used to being so far away from them, not since they were adults. It was comforting to know they were near. She didn't have that now.

"I'm sure," he responded with a wink and bent over the counter to give his orders to the balding man in a white robe.

As their drinks were set in front of them, he tugged her down on the leather seats. "Come, have fun." He pointed to a large woman in a bright yellow dress. "Is that the sun?"

She gasped, "Malfoy, that's rude!"

He thrust the glass in her hand. "Lighten up. Fun, remember? Or do you ever recall having such? What does Potter and Weasley do with you?"

"I keep them in line."

"That's what I was afraid of." He jerked his head at a man in plum. "Try him. Go on."

The man was dancing alone, getting wilder by each beat. From waving his hands in the air, and then -

She snorted in her drink. "Oh goodness! Did he just -"

"He did," answered Malfoy in hysterics, doubled over.

"That was crude!"

"Say it was funny, Granger."

She tried to keep a straight face, her lips in thin lines, but she couldn't, she burst out laughing. "It was funny," she admitted.

Two drinks later she agreed to joke on the dancers, and that she did ("he looks like a pineapple with a twitch"). Three drinks later she agreed to join him on the dance floor, and that she did (he was a fantastic dancer). Her fourth - fifth - or was it sixth? Her sixth drink later...

"Marry me, Granger."

She giggled (she was doing that a lot), "You don't want to marry me. I can be bossy and vindictive. I'm a right handful."

"Yeah, I love that about you." He pressed his lips to her ear. "Please, Granger, be a Malfoy. Take my name."

And that she did.