She did it again. She hadn't meant to. In fact, she promised herself it wouldn't happen again, but this was one promise she just couldn't seem to keep. He passed her in the hall, and now she was on top of her desk with his hand on her thigh and his lips crushed against hers. No matter what she told herself, Hermione Granger just couldn't seem to stop ending up in compromising positions with Draco Malfoy, and she hated herself for it.

It had started almost a year ago at their department's Christmas party. She'd had a few too many butterbeers, and Malfoy had chosen the wrong, or maybe the right, time to comment on her sex life.

"Hey Granger, nice dress. Shame you don't have anyone to take it off of you."

"Should I take a page from your book and find the nearest pair of breasts to take to bed?" she snapped.

Malfoy smirked, "I didn't know you were a breast woman Granger. You could probably sell tickets to that. Potter's virtuous sidekick gets down and dirty with busty blondes!"

"You are truly repugnant."

"And you're a frigid bitch."

"Tosser."

"Cunt."

"Happy to see you never grew up Malfoy."

At that he stood and moved closer to her. She could smell the firewhiskey he had overindulged in. "Oh I grew up Granger… in all the right ways." He swept his eyes over her in a way that made Hermione fidget. "You did too. Not that you'd let anyone enjoy it."

"If I did, it wouldn't be any of your business."

"I wouldn't mind making it my business."

"In your dreams, Malfoy."

"Oh I do dream of it, and in those dreams, you always end up screaming my name." Hermione turned to leave without a response, but he was too fast. Malfoy's hand shot out and wrapped around her wrist. "Come on, Granger. How long has it been?"

Too long.

Instead she said, "Did you miss the part about it being none of your business?" She kept walking, but kept up with her. When they finally reached the empty corridor, he pulled her to a stop.

"I'll make it worth your while. I promise."

"Since when do your promises mean anything?" she shot back.

"Fine. A preview then," he whispered and covered her mouth with his.

Heat flooded Hermione's body, and she knew she should push him away. Instead she wrapped her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss. He pushed her against the wall, and she shivered slightly at the feeling of cold stone on her back. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and his hands gripped her thighs to support her. She pulled away.

"Not here," she gasped.

He grinned. "My place or yours?"

"Mine," she said and apparated them back to her flat.

Her flat was sparsely decorated. Every free space in the common area was piled with books with the noted exception of a worn sofa. It was onto this piece of furniture that the intertwined couple collapsed when they appeared in Hermione's living room. Malfoy divested her of her dress and assessed her appreciatively. Sadly, his admiration was cut short by a clawed ginger paw striking out at his head.

"Ah! Fucking cat!"

With a giggle, she led him back to her bedroom. He lost his shirt somewhere along the short walk. Suddenly his hands were everywhere. His mouth was on her neck. Her hands travelled across his chest and over his shoulders. She growled in frustration when the buttons on his pants wouldn't come undone easily.

He chuckled and helped her out. "Impatient are we?"

"Shut up. I didn't invite you back to talk." She pushed him onto his back and straddled his lap. Hermione reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. When she let it fall, she heard Malfoy's sharp intake of breath. He sat up, balancing her on his lap and took her nipple into his mouth. She let out a guttural moan which Draco decided to take as encouragement.

"Malfoy, I need you now."

Draco was happy to oblige. He thrust into her with a groan. She gave him no reprieve and immediately started to move rhythmically against him. He flipped her over and hovered just above her with his chest skimming the tips of her breasts. He moved inside of her until she could no longer form coherent words until finally he let out a wordless cry and collapsed on top of her. Her heartbeat slowed, and she became aware of just how heavy he was.

"Uh Malfoy. I can't breathe."

"Oh, uh, sorry," he said rolling off of her.

She got up as the post sex haze cleared and said, "I'm going to take a shower." He nodded, and she closed the loo door behind her. When she came out, he was gone.

"Why do you think this keeps happening?"

"No shower this time then?"

"I'll shower later. We both know you'll be gone when I get out, so I thought I might get my questions in first." It had become their ritual. Initially they'd get drunk, bicker, end up back at her place, and have wild sex. Then she'd get up to take her shower, and he'd be gone by the time she'd finished. They'd blame it on their impaired state and pretend it wouldn't happen again. Eventually they stopped caring about the alcohol. A lie that is repeatedly proven false loses its conviction after a while.

"I don't know why. Does it bother you?"

"No not really. It's just a bit surreal, isn't it?"

"Well I am quite good in bed, but I don't know if I'd say I'm surreal."

She laughed. "No I mean that you're even in my bed. Who would have thought Draco Malfoy, King of the Purebloods would sully himself with a filthy mudblood once, much less repeatedly?"

He frowned. "Do you seriously think I still believe that? After everything? After it nearly ruined my life?"

"Well it's not as if you've ever come out and said otherwise, and you still treat me like something unpleasant on the bottom of your shoe unless we're," she looked down, "well you know…"

"Fucking, Granger. If you're going to do it you should at least be able to say it." Color was rising on his cheeks, and he clenched his fists into the quilt her grandmother had painstakingly stitched together for her.

"Why are you getting so upset?"

"I don't know. Maybe it's because you refuse to grow up and move past Hogwarts. It doesn't matter if you're fucking me. I'm still just some would be Death Eater to you. I've turned my entire fucking life around, and you still can't see me as anything other than what I was when I was seventeen years old. I don't want to be your boyfriend, Granger, but even a modicum of respect for the changes I've made might be nice!"

He was yelling now. She hated yelling. Absolutely despised it. With a prim sniff she said, "You know I think I will take that shower now," and walked into her bathroom. A crash of shattering porcelain followed her, and she ran back to the bedroom in alarm. Malfoy sat cradling his bleeding hand, and her lamp was in shards on the floor.

"You broke my lamp!"

"You were being a bitch."

"So you break my lamp?"

"Well I wasn't really thinking!"

Hermione sighed, still angry. "Well let's look at the damage." She dragged him to the bathroom, and dug around for a rag to put pressure on the wound. His blood was falling onto her sink in gravid drops. She watched each globule collide with the clean, white basin. He sighed loudly. "Here. Put pressure on it to stop the bleeding. I'll find something to clean it and a bandage," she said and shoved the rag at him.

She healed him without complaint on his part. He seemed to know he was in the wrong, although he was loathe to admit it. Hermione suspected he never would. "All better. Now I'm going to take my shower. I expect you to be gone before I'm clean." He nodded and walked out, closing the door behind him.

The next morning there was a new lamp on the desk in her office. Attached to it was a handwritten note.

"Granger,

I'm sorry. I overreacted.

- M"

She smiled. Maybe she had been wrong about him after all.

"Granger?"

"Hmm?"

"What's your favorite book?"

"I don't have one. There are too many to choose from. Why do you ask?"

"Maybe I just want to know you better."

She hesitated before responding. He started staying the night last week, but she'd never expected this. "Do you?"

"We spend several nights a week together. It seems reasonable to know something about each other."

"I like lemons in almost anything. Dogs scare me, and I always wanted to live in a country cottage."

"Picturesque."

"I shared. Now it's your turn."

"What do you want to know?"

"I guess whatever you want to share."

"I have a dog." He smirked in her direction. "Sometimes I cook when I'm stressed, and I don't know how to swim."

"I can't see you with a dog."

"Why?"

"They're just so exuberant, and you seem so averse to being," she thought for a moment, "... mussed."

"Renny is very dignified, I'll have you know!"

"Renny?"

"Is there something wrong with his name?"

"No. I suppose there isn't. What's he like?"

"Typical terrier I suppose. Small, friendly, enjoys table scraps."

"Table scraps are bad for dogs."

"Ah, there's my Granger."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. When had she become his Granger? "Well," she sniffed, "I'm just concerned for Renny's well-being."

"I think you'd like him. Maybe you should meet him."

"I wasn't aware we'd moved to the meeting the family stage of the relationship."

"You're right," he sighed. "We should probably at least go for a couple of dates first."

She stared at him, "What?"

"Friday? At seven? Wear something nice."

It was all she could do to nod.

"You could have picked anyone, Hermione! Why did it have to be him?" Ron's yelling was slightly muffled due to the blood flowing from his nose. Draco was in the other room with a split lip. She was sure he could hear her conversation with Ron, but at that moment she had more important things to worry about.

"He's different when he's with me."

"He punched me, Hermione!"

"And that was wrong, but you provoked him. And you punched him back!" She added the last bit knowing it didn't make it right but hoping to persuade her friend anyways.

"He's a racist. He's cruel, and he's the opposite of everything you stand for. I just don't understand how you could choose him."

She floundered for a minute. "He has a dog. Anyone who loves a dog can't be all that bad."

"Stellar recommendation, Hermione. With that list of good qualities you better be sure to marry him now before someone else snatches him up."

"That's not fair!"

Ron didn't reply but instead walked out of her flat. Harry shook his head and followed him out. Hermione patched Draco up, and that night she cried after he fell asleep.

It was snowing the day he told her he loved her. She was surprised when he said it, so she said it back, and she thinks she meant it. Renny played in the small, frost-covered garden attached to the country cottage Draco never mentioned owning. It was the first time he'd taken her to his home, and she was surprised he lived in such a cozy place. Hermione never asked why he doesn't live at the Manor even though she was dying to know.

"Why don't you ever visit your parents?"

"I see you've decided to take the no pretense route for this conversation."

"It's a simple question, Draco. Don't get evasive on me."

"I don't visit my parents because they don't approve of you. I'm not welcome back while I'm with you. Are you happy now?"

"No."

"I see the gears turning in that brain of yours. Stop it. Don't overthink it."

"How can I not overthink it? Where is this relationship going? What happens in ten years when you miss your mother and we have a house and children?"

Draco refused to meet her eyes. "I hadn't really planned on having children with you," he muttered. The words slammed into her like a punch in the gut.

"When did you plan to tell me this?"

"I didn't. I can't inherit if I do."

"I sacrificed my friends for this relationship, and you can't even commit? I don't think I can do this anymore."

"Hermione, please. I love you."

"I have to go." She apparated to her flat. It was three days before she left again.

He slammed her against a wall and pushed her skirt up over her hips. Hermione knows she'd regret it as soon as the sweat dried. She regretted all the other encounters, but the threat of contrition wouldn't stop this. It felt too good. It had been this way in the months since their breakup. She had a date with Ron tomorrow. When he finished, Hermione told him it couldn't happen again.

"You say that every time, Granger."

"I mean it this time."

"You mean it every time."

His engagement was in the Prophet. She pretended it didn't hurt, but her chest ached. Rose kicked inside her. Maybe she felt her mother's loss. Hermione tried to believe this was right, that it was better this way.

The beginning of the school year is always difficult. She puts Rose and Hugo on the Hogwarts Express and waves goodbye until Christmas. She thinks Ron suspects that seeing Malfoy makes it worse. He clearly loves his son. She supposes it wasn't children he was opposed to; just children with her. That stings. Every year they greet each other with a nod and return to their families. This year is no different. A brief nod before Ron calls out to her. Then she joins her husband.