The fingers threading through his hair made him feel so good, smoothing the reminiscence of his headache away. They were soft hands, female hands. Massaging his throbbing temples and exerting exquisite pressure on his over-heated scalp. Long fingers through his hair, sliding down to exert the same lovely pressure on the nape of his neck. He groaned and let his head fall back in wordless pleasure. The soft cool thumbs were making circle on his nape, and moving down to the base of his neck. Then she added more fingers and pressed a little more, little pleasure points, those fingers were…he murmured his absolute ecstasy and let his eyes close. Who'd have thought a neck rub could be so blissful? The finger were now sliding lightly at the sides of his neck, forward on the hollow of his throat, while the thumb rubbed circles on the back…then a little more pressure. He was almost sleepy, in a world of afterglow without sex, till the pressure increased once more. He eyes opened, the glassy grey clearing. But before he could gain his bearings the exquisite hands became claws, and pressed into his wind-pipe, effectively cutting his wind-supply. His body thrashed violent as he tried to lift his hands, but to his horror, they were tied behind his back…the claws didn't loosen their vice-like grip until suddenly he opened his mouth to hear his raspy voice trying to scream. Nobody heard, nobody came in. Then suddenly he felt cool lips on the shell of his ear, he struggled more wildly. The lips slid down his ear till they reached the ear-flap. He heard the harsh breathing in his ear and then "die…"a hoarse whisper. He stilled.

"DIEEEEEEE!"

The man in the black suit put his parker down and massaged his sore neck, and read over the paragraph he'd just jotted down on the napkin. He wouldn't be able to say why he wrote like murderous depictions, on napkins and tablecloths and the underwear he sometimes left lying about. It was a pointless endeavor and yet it soothed him. He tried to imagine what his fellow uptight board partners would think if they found out he liked to write lame serial-killing murder mysteries with lots of hot sex. They'd probably try to boot him out of board meetings. But then again, they probably wouldn't dare…he did have a reputation as a cold and unapproachable bastard-that is, when he wasn't writing romantic murder mysteries on his underwear and tablecloths and…what not. It drove his house-keeper crazy.

"Please buckle your seat-belts" the smooth voice of the air-hostess, through the microphone, interrupted his thoughts "We will be landing in 5 minutes. Please buckle your seat-belts."

He buckled his seat-belt and smirked to himself, trying to imagine the reaction of his fellow class-mates and teachers to him flying in air-plane. He enjoyed it a lot, and frankly, in his line of work he had to. In the past ten years he'd flown so much that sometimes he thought he should be dangling form an air-plane. He'd even bought himself a jet, but this time he wanted to use a public air-line, for the sake of old times.

The pressure in the plane rose, as it lowered near the ground, still in a dive, then the wheels touched the ground with a mild jerk. He felt a moment of apprehension. He was returning to England after ten years, right after he had fled form his life…and his wife. And now she was calling him back, requesting his presence. He hadn't heard from her in ten years; heard of her, though. It'd be downright strange if he had not. After all she was one of the most renowned, brilliant and shrewd businesswomen in their time. She managed the entire the England division of his company and without his help or input at all. It was hers in all but name. He hadn't thought she'd be able to…As much as he believed in her ability and ambition and shit, managing a budding empire at the age of twenty and keeping it at the top of the market was exceptionally tough. There were times even he had felt like breaking down and crying very manly and utterly masculine tears because of his hell-sent uptight board partners. He'd signed it all over to her, the night he fled and taken control over the American division. He had been in a frenzy; she had been in utter shock. Even in those frantic moment when he was desperately trying to take control of his life, he'd enjoyed being able to shock her speechless. And he'd made the best decision of his life; they'd both been so young, life in utter chaos by their sudden marriage to each other. Twenty and married without a choice, definitely not the best situation in life.

The plane finally stopped on ground and he squished all his apprehensions, collected his luggage, and then he strolled down, feeling God-like and enjoying the potent adoring eyes of the air-hostesses (and some stewards too...). It was time, to finally face what he'd left behind. Hold your breaths….

Draco Malfoy was back.

88888888888888888

She stood in front of the glass doors of her office. The rain was violent; violent and perfect for the day…and unsurprisingly her mood. It was past mid-night and the office was alarmingly dark. The building was empty, save for herself and the only illumination was the occasional lightning outside. She should've been at the manor hours ago, but she hadn't wanted to go. Her office was her sanctuary, her comfort zone. It was truly pathetic that she considered her office as the 'me' zone of her life. It was even more pathetic that she was, being cowardly and hiding in said comfort zone so she wouldn't have to face HIM. The six foot one male atrocity also known as her husband, alias Draco Malfoy. She mentally shuddered.

Thank GOD she hadn't changed her last name…

The last time she had seen him, ten years ago, he'd been civil to her, but indifferent. They'd lived together for only the allotted six months' time and then he had fled. She had been shocked. Utterly. But after it had gone through her then-thick skull that he had left and left her the CEO of the company, she had been ABSOLUTELY ecstatic. But ten years was long time and now, she yearned for other things to do. To return to what she loved most: Research. There was nothing worth improving about Malfoy pharmaceuticals inc anymore. She'd brought it to its maximum potential, to its absolute pinnacle and for the lack of a better way to put it, she was bored now. She had new ideas. New ideas that were radical at best and and that's why she needed Malfoy's presence, even while she was avoiding it like the plague. These radical new ideas needed a radically scandalous amount of funds for research and even though she had full control over England division, she couldn't extract that much without at least letting Malfoy's opinion be heard. But that didn't mean she was happy about it. Besides the expansion ideas were very risqué with horrifying chances of failure.

Carrie Underwood's voice suddenly jostled her out of her musings. For a second, she glanced at her cell-phone, blankly. Then snatched it from the table, and looked at the number. It was from the manor, more specifically her house-keeper, Mara. She answered with a questioning "Hello?'

"Ma'am?"

She rolled her eyes "Obviously"

"Your husband has arrived ma'am"

Her countenance stilled and for ten second she remained quiet until Mara's esteemed "MA'AM?"

She winced, but otherwise didn't react to the very loud address.

"I'll be there in about half-an-hour. Give him whatever he requires. Tea or dinner or whatever,"

"Very well, ma'am"

She clicked her phone off and looked at the addicting muggle contraption. It was ridiculous, the amount of trouble she went to, to get her phone functioning in the Wizarding world.

Ahh…the basic necessities of life.

She walked to the closet connected to her office. She kept some clothes in her office, in case she needed a morale-boost on her down days, or in case she spend the night in her office…which was always a distinct possibility. An amused grin curled her lips. She knew for a fact Malfoy did the same thing.

She selected a red silk blouse to replace her peach one. Damn , the wonders red can do for my confidence.

From the brightness of that red, one thing was exceedingly clear. Hermione Granger really needed that morale-boost tonight…to face her own personal devil's spawn.