With a flick of his wand the office lights went out. His desk was cleaned up, everything ordered and in its place, prepared for his absence.
He never knew how long he would be gone; ranging from a couple of days to several weeks or even months everything was possible. He had been noticed about this new mission only a week ago and tomorrow morning at nine a port key would take him to an unknown location where he would await further instructions on what his task would be.
His last mission had led him to Chernivtsi, a city in southwestern Ukraine, near the border of Romania, where he helped to uncover an illegal trade of dragon eggs.
He was very effective. Within 10 days he had rounded up all involved parties and captured the backers of this venture. His knowledge of the workings of the dark side sure came in handy from time to time.
This hasn't been always an advantage though, especially in the beginning of his work at the law enforcement department in the Ministry of Magic he had to deal with a lot of suspicion from his colleagues. Thanks to his mother's action, or the refusal of it in his case, and of course Saint Potter they had been absolved of all charges. Only his father had been sent to Azkaban, where he passed away two years ago.
Glad to finally be able to close this chapter of his past Draco chose not to go to the funeral; - very much to the dismay of his mother though. He didn't care much about this either.
He could certainly not be envied for his parents, because although he never doubted that his mother loved him very much, this also never stopped her from sending her only son into the arms of the darkest wizard of all times, until it was almost too late. It was sheer luck that he not only survived Voldemort's reign and the following war but also the aftermath.
His chances of ending up exactly where his father has spent the last six years of his miserable existence had been quite high. Without the help of the boy who just wouldn't die his mother and he would have been lost after all.
He grabbed his robes and headed for the door, his girl would be already waiting and he had yet to tell her about his imminent departure.
Hermione never took it too well when he had to leave for his missions, so he decided not to tell her in advance this time. Anyway, he would be back before she could really notice he had been gone.
Telling her right away would have only prolonged her fretting. He didn't like her being nervous and worried; he liked her happy and smiling.
It hadn't been easy for them. When they started seeing each other a little over a year ago they first kept it a secret. Not only would the press have a field day upon hearing about ex-death-eater Draco Malfoy and the brain of the golden trio and war heroine Hermione Granger dating, it also wasn't as if her friends would have been delighted. Only when it had become clear that this wasn't just a fling, they had stepped out into the open.
Not that they were planning on marrying any time soon, mind you. Draco was comfortable as it was. They both had their own place to live, their jobs, their independence.
Well, to be honest, most of the week she would stay at his place and their weekends they would spend in her small cottage just outside London. Only the two of them; long, lazy Sundays in bed; hours of reading and love-making.
Bloody hell, he had become sappy. 'Hours of reading and love-making'? There was a time when all he did was fuck, when all THEY did was fuck – no fucking love-making. The first time he took her was in a janitor closet on a ministry function. It was rough and hot and bloody awesome. The memory of the way she looked against the wall, with her flimsy dress ridden up her thighs, all mussed up, unruly hair and fiercely beautiful, still never failed to make him rock hard.
He had been hard for her all night long and he'd cursed himself for choosing a modern cut suit instead of traditional robes that would have hidden all evidence of his arousal. He'd caught her at the bar, some sugary cocktail in hand and her eyes lingering on his.
They didn't work in the same department; she had just started a job as an advisor for the Department of Muggle Affairs and Foreign Policy and they met on a regular basis in the lift, exchanging glares and snide remarks; all to make this tension between them bearable.
What started in school as a rivalry of wits and insults, had developed into a weird, but undeniable strong, MUTUAL, and he was certain of this, attraction. After all he was Draco Malfoy, number one bachelor and Slytherin sex god (he would never tire of this label, loved it back in school, and still loved it now).
And since his prejudice against muggleborns had long since vanished, he saw no reason why he shouldn't act on it.
That is how he ended up hilt deep in the bushy haired Gryffindor Princess on a ministry function a little over a year ago. After that it had taken three snogging sessions in the lift and one shag in yet another janitor's closet for her to agree on having dinner with him.
After a while the sneaking around really became tiresome and they decided to give the press a field day and their friends a shock and make it official. It took a while, but finally the dust settled.
Somewhere between this first janitor's closet and the lazy Sunday morning love-making something had changed. It must have creeped up on them, uninvited and unexpected. He shook his head and closed the door to his office. It being Friday she would be probably already home, the cottage that is. For a moment he thought about bringing her some of the greasy Chinese food she loved so much from the small muggle restaurant near the ministry, but decided against it. She had probably already eaten and he didn't want to waste more time.
He apparated to her front door. She had taken her wards down for him three month into their relationship. The lights in the kitchen and the living room were on and he heard water running in the bath room. Loosening his tie he knocked on the bathroom door.
"Do you mind if I join you?" he asked, a smirk on his lips.
"Draco? You're early. Just a second, I'll be right out." came the muffled answer to the disappointment of the tall blond.
"So there is no chance of joining you under that hot steaming water? I had an idea or two to make it worth your while."
He heard the water stop and only a moment later a dripping wet Hermione opened the door, fastening a towel around her.
"Sorry sweetie, not gonna happen tonight." Hermione chimed standing up on her toes and giving him a peck on the lips. "I'm just about to head over to the burrow."
"The burrow?! What do you hope finding there?" His voice sounded quite annoyed.
This was not going according to his plans, which included some shagging (for starters preferably at this very moment in the shower), food (though that was not obligatory, provided the shagging was taken care of), and a good night of sleep next to his girl before he would head out to save the world the next morning, but most certainly no red-heads or any scar-headed associates of them. That wasn't too much to ask for, was it?
"Sorry, I meant to owl you earlier this afternoon to let you know. Molly asked me to come over; Ron will be there. The Canons are in town for training right now and she wants to have a family dinner, just like in the old times. You know, you could come along. Molly wouldn't mind, I'm sure."
He gave her a scathing look. "Is that so?" he sneered, his sarcasm evident in his voice.
"Don't be like that." She gave him scolding clap on the shoulder and walked past him towards her bedroom.
He followed her wet footprints into the room.
"I actually had other plans for the two of us tonight." he lured, refusing to let his building annoyance win over. But fuck, he was about to leave for Merlin knows how long in a couple of hours and she was about to go and see her Ex and to play happy family. He had every right to be annoyed by that. Well, at least if she had known of his imminent departure.
Right, that was what he had planned to tell her tonight, but got sidetracked by her bloody shower and the image of her up against the tiles that his brain so readily sent southwards.
Fuck! He needed to concentrate. Her discarding the towel and bending down to pick up her fallen bra didn't particularly help in that matter.
"Draco…" she started. "I haven't seen Ron in months, you know his crazy schedule. But I promise tomorrow night you will have me all to yourself. No, I not only promise, but I swear on the very handsome ass of my very handsome boyfriend and his all forgiving and generous nature, tomorrow night I will be all yours!"
She stood there stark naked, mimicking the posture of a witness in court, one hand over her heart. Merlin, she was beautiful! His heart ached to gather her into his arms, lock the world out and snog her senseless. He batted the notion down and took one step towards her.
Tugging a damp lock behind her ear he mumbled: "I'd sure love that, but …"
Her smiling eyes flickered and her grin hesitated. "What?"
His hand still lingered on her cheek, his thump wiping away some droplets of water running down her face. His stormy grey eyes found hers. "Hermione, I have to leave first thing in the morning."
"What do you mean? Another mission? But you've been barely back three weeks since your last trip!" her voice was rising now. Agitated she put on some fresh knickers.
"How can they even do this at such short notice? They would never dare pulling that trick on somebody who had family. You have to report this, they cannot treat you in that kind of manner only because you don't have a family yet!" She clasped her bra and pulled over a white t-shirt. "I mean this is outrageous! It's a weekend after all! Draco you…."
He reached out for her, his hand reclaiming its former place and stepped closer. "Hermione, they did tell me, they told me Thursday."
"Oh, they told you on Thursday, well that's of course something completely different. Giving you ONE day notice…" Her eyes were flaring and her voice still agitated. This wouldn't be going well.
"No, baby, I didn't mean yesterday, they told me last week."
"Last week? But why…" her voice sounded incredulous. A second later her anger was really flaring, her eyes sparked and with an angry swish she swatted his hand away.
"What do you mean 'They told you last week'?!"
"That I have known about the mission for a week, that's what it means." he countered, his voice now rising as well. He didn't like to be forced into explaining his actions.
"So, you mean to tell me that you have known about you fucking going on that bloody mission for a whole week and you never bothered on telling your fucking girlfriend."
Now she was yelling – and swearing. This was bad.
"No, I didn't, and apparently for good reason, seeing your reaction right now!" He shouted back.
She shot him a death glare, zipped her jeans and stormed off towards the bathroom again.
She was combing her dry conjured hair, when he entered.
He stood in the doorframe, arms crossed, looking at her in the mirror.
She refused to look back at him and instead started applying mascara and lip balm, as if she had no care in the world.
"What are you doing?" he asked in a dark whisper.
Her gaze shortly met his and turning back she explained in a calm voice: "I'm getting ready to meet my friends and family for a lovely dinner. You already know that."
The blood in his temple was pounding and he took a calming breath.
She adjusted her shirt, revealing more cleavage. "How do I look?" she asked batting her lashes. "Do you think Ron will like my outfit? Or should I rather wear a skirt?" She shot another proofing glance at herself in the mirror, successfully ignoring her now seizing boyfriend.
In one quick motion he stood towering over her. "You're not going anywhere, Hermione."
"Is that so?" she mimicked his sarcastic demeanor from before.
"I think that is where you're mistaken. Because how I see it, you have no saying in any of my business. That's how you prefer it yourself, isn't it darling? You live your life and I live mine. If this arrangement includes a convenient fuck from time to time, I surly don't mind, but you should owl me in advance next time so we can avoid unpleasant situations like this. If you would excuse me now, I'm sure you find your way out."
She made an attempt of stepping around him, but he caught her by her shoulders.
His eyes were dark and when he spoke it was through gritted teeth: "Like HELL I will."
Her casual demeanor made his blood boil and his throat go tight. His heart was racing and something close to panic settled onto his bones. How could she dismiss him so easily?
She should be yelling and shouting, not walking out on him with a casual shrug.
HE certainly felt like yelling and shouting right now at the way she blemished their relationship. Convenient fuck?! He was about to give her his thoughts about her behavior, but the expression on her face stopped him - there was none.
It seemed as if she had been waiting for this, had been prepared for it and was already ready to move on, leaving him behind, moving back into the Weasel's arms. As if she could dismiss this little episode with him in a blink of an eye and move on with her REAL life; back on track with her predestined redhead.
Only thinking about this scenario left him with a suffocating feeling and the wish to drink himself into oblivion.
She had every power over him and could choose to crush him at any given moment. Upon this realization, self-preservation kicked in and all reason left him. He let go of her and stepped back.
"Right, you go then. Maybe some distance is just what we need right now."
His eyes were on the floor, he could not bear looking at her in this moment. His hands were in tight fists, knuckles white, as he tried to prevent them from shaking.
He dared a short glance at her face. Her eyes seemed too bright and she was biting her lip. She swallowed hard.
"Okay, if that is what you want."
His first impulse was to yell: "No it is not! I want you to fucking stay with me tonight. I want to break Weasley's freckled nose for the distant possibility of him stealing you from me! You are mine! MINE! And I will not allow anything to come between us."
He said no such thing. All he mustered was a short nod, for his vocal chords seemed to have stopped functioning.
He turned around and left her in the bathroom.
She didn't follow him out.
At her front door he hesitated for a second. Slightly slumping, his right hand searched for support on the doorframe, his left shakily raking through his hair.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath; straightening up again he opened the door and stepped out into the night.