AN: This is the companion piece to The Side Witch & The Gift. Some moments may seem repetitive if you've already read it, but I thought they were necessary, I hope you agree.

As always...enjoy. *kisses*


My Witch & Her Gift


Alright listen, I'm only doing this once, so pay attention. I don't enjoy embracing the namby pamby side of relationships, and I doubt that's going to change. I hope you didn't come here expecting me to proclaim my everlasting love upon a sea of rose petals, surrounded by flickering candles and the gentle hum of violins. However, that's not a terrible idea, and I might store that bit away for the future. I'm sure you understand.

"Draco, you're taking too long." That, my dear readers, was my father. The formerly intimidating Death Eater.

"Father! You're the one that convinced me to do this in the first place, and now you're displeased with my ability to articulate?" I didn't hex him, but I'm not going to lie and say I wasn't tempted.

"Draco, for any story to be told properly, there must be more than one point of view. Your…wife has already shared hers, and I'm sure you fell under fire for your inability to express your…feelings." It amused me greatly to see my emotionally stunted father's lip curl, but, ugh, he wasn't wrong.

I couldn't believably say I had changed much over the years, but that's why I loved her. She didn't expect me too. Don't listen to her now though. She'd tell you all about how I was kind and loving and even affectionate. I beg to differ, and I can't have those sorts of rumours flouting about. I am a Malfoy and…

"Barely." For the love of Merlin, my father is just going to keep on with his snarky little comments. He can't help it. She's changed him a fair bit too, but that's another story I suppose.

"Go on then, get it off your chest." I tapped my toe, and valiantly tried to keep my temper in check. Lucius Malfoy has a tendency to grate on one's nerves when exposed to him for long periods of time.

"If it hadn't been for my intervention, my granddaughter would have been named Rose. My own son was willing to forego the traditions of his forefathers for his Muggle-born wife, and you dare say you haven't changed? Any Malfoy worth his weight in galleons would have boldly declared his way was the only wa…"

"LUCIUS!" That was my mother's bellow. How completely unbecoming of her. I smirked as I watched my father tuck his long hair behind his ear and walk briskly toward the door.

I could have asked him something facetious such as 'you were saying?' but there really wasn't a need to push the point further. He wasn't wrong, but he wasn't right either. I freely admit we had almost named our daughter Rose, but only because I was tired of arguing with her about it. Not once did I bring up the Malfoy traditions, which is what softened her heart. I suppose it worked to my advantage.

I have to admit, I was really pulling for my mother. I always was quite fond of the names Carina and Cassiopeia, but near the end, my opinion mattered the least. The moment I saw her, I didn't care what she was named. She was beautiful and she was my daughter.

"Daddy?" I'm never going to get a moments peace. I couldn't be angry with her. She looked incredibly petulant sticking out her bottom lip, with her pretty little pout, but I wasn't a fool. She was scheming as easily as she was breathing.

"Stella…my little star…does Mummy know you're up here?" Stella, my little curly headed blonde daughter, smirked at me and crinkled her nose.

"Not uh. I waked up." She toddled over carefully, mindful of her sleeping gown, and attempted to climb into my lap.

"Stella, love. You know you can't do that when I'm holding your brother." Did I not mention having two children? Well, in case I didn't, I do.

"Hmm. You tellin' a stowy?" She's only three, and she's got a bit of trouble with her r's, but she's getting there.

"Well, yes, I suppose I am. If you're very quiet, you can sit in our bed and listen until you fall asleep." I knew she wouldn't last long, she never did, therefore, I was completely confident in my ability to continue my little story without skipping out on the good bits.

I managed to gently rock my son while he slumbered as Stella climbed up into our four-poster bed. I had objected to the wooden stool Hermione had set near the foot of the bed, but I was overruled. Gods, no wonder my father said I was barely a Malfoy. I'm a disgrace.

I don't remember what I thought the first time I saw her…

"Daddy. Stowies stawt with once up on a time." I need a fucking drink.

"Once upon a time…"

Hermione Granger was a Muggleborn witch, and the best friend of Harry Potter. I saw her being Sorted, and thought her hair was frizzy, her teeth were monstrous, and didn't give her another thought. Of course, that was my mistake. She bested me in nearly every subject, except Potions, and I hated her. Now I realise, I hated her because it was expected of me, and because of her choice in companions.

She'd never done anything to me, well, besides that punch in third year, but I sort of deserved that. If you ever repeat that, I'll deny it. Eventually, she grew on me, but not in a good way. In a way that made me want to shake her a lot and watch her head flop on her shoulders, until the Yule Ball.

Yes, I'm aware it's terribly cliché and no, I didn't secretly fancy her or anything. I simply noticed that she was actually a girl. She wasn't hidden beneath robes that were too large. Her face wasn't buried in a book. She didn't have ink on her chin or a quill tucked behind her ear. She was pretty and it unnerved me a bit.

I didn't spend nearly as much time thinking about her as Blaise assumed I did. I don't know how it happened, or even when, but does it matter? I swear, everyone gets caught up in the nonsensical details rather than the heart of the story.

Some time after the War ended, I'd spend my evenings in a seedy little pub. The place where it all started, really.

The Leaky Cauldron was entirely too mainstream for me. I wanted to be left alone. She started to frequent my favourite seedy little spot in the entire world. I assumed it was after the disastrous ending of her relationship with the Weasel.

I had read about it in the Daily Prophet as I assume everyone else had as well. I sat in the corner, and watched. I was curious, I admit it. She wasn't half bad to look at after all.

She never drank more than a glass of wine. Her smile was always pinched, and never reached her eyes. She never noticed my presence, which suited me just fine. It was months before we spoke, and well, I suppose that's what they would call history.

I saw her out of the corner of my eye one evening, while I was huddled beneath my cloak. The little pub near what used to be Knockturn Alley was sparse with customers. I expected as much, considering Yule was quickly approaching. I didn't think she'd show. It had become a sort of weekend ritual to watch the door for her, but frankly, I thought she'd be spending the holidays with the Potters or some such Gryffindor nonsense.

She was a bit of a mess, honestly. I watched her drink a copious number of scotch and sodas, impressed her ability to hold her liquor. It was late, I was exceedingly tired, and decided it was time to leave. I pulled my cloak up over my ears, the way I always did, and passed her stool.

"Thanks, but I've got to go. It's late." She hiccupped and covered her mouth before sliding off her stool. She didn't see me, and I was distracted by the predatory shine in the barkeep's eyes. "Sorry!" She stumbled directly into my side, and her knees buckled.

I didn't even consider the ramifications, and caught her. She frowned heavily as she stared up at me, and suddenly, I was laughing. I don't know exactly why. Perhaps, it was due to the ridiculous expression on her face, or even the fact Hermione Granger wasn't balking at being in my arms.

It's funny. She tells everyone we closed down the pub, but that's not what happened at all. There wasn't a chance in Muggle Hell that I was going to spend another moment in that pub, not with the way Frank was eying her. I didn't like it. It made me uneasy, and perhaps it was innocent or perhaps he was up to something nefarious, but either way, I didn't wish to find out.

"Granger, you're completely pissed. You naughty little witch. Come on, let's get you home." I suppose there was something telling in my eyes, because she didn't argue with me. She nodded, waved to Frank the barkeep, and allowed me to escort her to the door.

"Thank you for that." She whispered the moment we stepped into the frigid air. "I didn't like the way Frank was looking at me, and I didn't want to be rude, but…"

"Granger, it's cold. Let's go then." It amused me to see her sputter, but her options were clearly limited.

She couldn't Apparate home, not if she wished to retain all of her limbs. She most definitely couldn't return to Frank's lingering gaze. She was stuck with me, and I didn't mind nearly as much as I probably should have.

It was easy enough to drag her down Diagon Alley. She didn't struggle or even prattle on about nonsense. She stumbled a bit, but I had a firm hold on her. I remember nodding to Tom, and then we were stepping through the Floo. I wasn't about to Apparate with her, that was entirely too intimate for my liking.

"Where did you take me?" I smirked because of course she was asking questions the moment she discerned her surroundings. I didn't expect anything less.

"No, I don't live at the Manor, before you even ask. I couldn't very well bring you home, considering I don't know where you live. We're in my flat, Granger. Why don't you sit before you topple over…again." There was something obscenely alluring about the way she bared her neck while toying with her hair.

She nervously made her way to the sofa my mother insisted I purchase. It was rich, black leather and terribly cold, which is probably why she liked it. I had covered the back with a heavy green caftan, but it didn't help much. Granger removed her cloak and she glared at me.

I realised I had hissed lightly, if you could call it that, through my teeth even. No wonder Frank had been eying her. Granger was sporting some red, shimmery, form clinging dress that would have made Salazar Slytherin sit up and beg.

"Maybe it would be better if I went home. I'm sure I can navigate the Floo and…"

"Don't be ridiculous. I'll set on the kettle." I wasn't remotely ready for her to leave. It had never even crossed my mind that Granger had a body.

I mean sure, I'd considered it when we were children, but she was definitely all grown up. It was more than a little difficult to keep my eyes off her, but I managed. The last thing I wanted was for her bolt because I was being a lecher.

I could hear her heels clipping across the hardwood floors while I occupied myself in the kitchen. Knowing her, she was rearranging my books, and picking up my cloak, and Merlin knows what else. I wasn't wrong.

When I returned with the tea service, she was hanging on my cloak in the front closet, and had slipped off her shoes. She paused upon hearing the clink of the teapot, and I pretended she hadn't done anything amiss.

"I'm surprised you don't have house elves for that." Granger was almost smiling as she barbed me, but as long as she stayed, it didn't matter.

"I do, but before you get your lacy little knickers in a bunch, they're free. You'd be pleased to learn my father freed them. He's been desperately trying to get into your good graces since the whole Wizengamot debacle. I informed him of your pet project while we were in Hogwarts. S.P.E.W. was discussed over many a dinner." I rolled my eyes and gestured toward the silver tea platter I'd placed on the coffee table.

I didn't want to discuss my father's obsession with her. It was unseemly for one, and for two, I didn't understand it. He'd always despised her and informed me at every opportunity that she was beneath us. I suppose her generosity had managed to make Lucius Malfoy do an about face. I don't know, I don't even care.

"Y-you…remembered…S.P.E.W.?" Well shit, I'd gone and impressed her. "Even Ron only managed to…"

I didn't want to listen to her talk about fucking Weasley. From the looks of it, she wasn't particularly fond of the idea either. I stopped listening, and led her to the sofa. The incredulity in her big brown eyes really was amusing.

"So Granger, did you finally come to your senses? I never imagined you as the sort of witch to fall for the likes of the dim-witted Weasley." I ignored her predictable outrage and poured her a cup of tea.

I liked that she didn't shy away from me. Our knees brushed while she added a swirl of honey to her tea, and eyed the plate of scones with a small blush on her cheeks.

"What does it matter, Malfoy? Do you wish to have a go?" Hermione Granger snorted at me, and plucked a lemon scone from the plate.

I waited until her hands were full. She balanced her teacup and saucer in her left hand and nibbled the scone in her right. She was so close, I could count the freckles on the bridge of her nose.

It was easy enough to push her hair to the side, and expose her ear. I watched the way she held her breath, but she didn't leap to her feet. She didn't move an inch, which suited me just fine.

"I think…" I inhaled deeply just behind her ear, "maybe…I do."

I wanted to kiss her. I really wanted to kiss her, but I didn't. I had never been one for kissing, but she was different. It didn't help matters that I could still hear my father's apathetic voice in my head.

"Draco, in the event you decide upon a witch to take to wife, then and only then, is it acceptable for a Malfoy to engage in amorous activities, specifically kissing. Of course, this is only applicable after you come of age. A Malfoy must practice until perfect after all."

I had practiced plenty, let me tell you, and nothing was as intimate as kissing. Faces incredibly close together, breath mingling before lips were compressed. Then, there was the tasting, and the tongues, and fuck, I wanted to kiss her. Instead, I licked her earlobe.

Granger's fingers slipped from the saucer, and it hit the floor, but I didn't care. Her eyes were closed, but she wasn't bolting. It was easy to segue to her throat, even the top of her exposed shoulder, but it was hell keeping my hands to myself.

I don't know how it happened, but I was vaguely aware of the fact Granger was in my lap. My right hand was tangled in her hair, but my left was busy with the zipper on her delightful red dress. I groaned my appreciation for her lack of brassiere when I touched the bare skin on her back, and she jumped.

"Wh-what are you doing, Malfoy?" Granger yanked her indecently short dress down to the tops of her knees, and I almost laughed, but decided against it.

"I'm fairly certain I'm seducing you, Granger."

She was always untouchable. I couldn't even pretend to entertain the idea of breaching her wards while we were children, and I didn't want too. She was the highly esteemed Hermione Granger, and I was Draco Malfoy, destined Death Eater. We might have cohabitated in the same Wizarding World, but we walked in different circles.

"You're Draco Malfoy." She shook her head, studying my face, which gave me ample opportunity to slip the thin straps of her dress down her arms.

"Yes, and you're Hermione Granger. I'm no longer a Death Eater, though it can be debated if I ever was one in the first place. You are no longer with the Weasel. I'm single, you're single, so what's the problem?" She barely noticed her breasts were completely exposed, but I noticed, and they were absolutely delectable.

"I'm not interested in being a one-off and my judgement is obviously flawed and…"

She was listing every reason not to fall into my bed. I'd never had that happen before, but I honestly didn't expect anything less. She was known for her analytical mind and it seemed even with the aid of spirits, her mind never stopped. It must have been exhausting to be her.

At the same time, it allowed me to cup one of her breasts and brush my thumb across a straining pink nipple. I liked the way Granger gasped, and I wanted to hear her do it again. She was going on and on about her friends and preconceived notions, so I ignored her and lowered my head. I nipped and suckled that rosy peak until she groaned.

"Oh Gods."

"Oh, you're done then? Good. Granger, I don't do one-offs, contrary to the rumours I'm sure you've heard. Actually, I'm a bit of a serial monogamist. Therefore, if I'm shagging you, I'm only shagging you."

My father was absolutely appalled by my serial monogamy, but it never bothered me much. I wasn't the least bit interested in becoming one of those horrid little wizards with numerous witches hidden in the shadows. I wasn't particularly interested in procuring a wife, but I didn't want to be a cad either.

While she contemplated my words, I kept myself busy. I varied between her heaving breasts and the lace of her knickers. Granger's thighs were pressed tightly together, but eventually, she relaxed, and I knew she was mine.

I'd tell you about the tawdry bits and described Granger's nude body with every glorious miniscule detail, but there's a certain little blonde girl frowning at me. I can't very well talk about her mother in such a fashion. Well, I can, but I'm going to wait until her pretty brown eyes droop closed, then it will be a completely different story. Promise.

Suffice it to say, I was the reason she was late for work Monday morning, and I wasn't the least bit sorry. She never once tried to kiss me. I wasn't sure how I felt about it. I was used to fending off women, but not her. She was always different, and I suppose that's why I wanted to keep her.

I didn't know I wanted to keep her, not right away. I was lulled into delusion that she was simply another witch to pass the time, but she wasn't. She never really was that sort of witch. She also wasn't the sort to acknowledge me in public, and that bothered me a fair bit.

I wasn't used to dealing with someone quite like her. Hell, I'd never met anyone like her. Granger never fawned over me. She never batted her eyes or made an excuse to approach me. She would simply gaze at me from afar, and I realise now, that only made me want her more.

I tried to entice her to want me, but that didn't work either. It really was frustrating, I mean, ridiculously frustrating. Granger didn't want to head to Bavaria for the weekend. She didn't want to travel anywhere. She didn't want a drawer for Merlin's sake, and I thought every witch wanted a drawer.

It took me two years to even consider broaching the subject with anyone. Two years of seeing her only on weekends, and only in the dead of night. Two years of plying her with gifts, she refused to wear. Two years of suggesting dinners, and she'd simply smile, kiss my cheek, and tell me we didn't do things like that, and leave. Two years of her leaving me for reasons I didn't even understand.

"Why did you tell me any of that?" Blaise Zabini actually made gagging noises while I was mumbling into my firewhiskey. I don't know why I chose him, but it's not like I had a lot of options. Could you imagine Lucius candidly listening while I lamented my pseudo relationship?

"Who the fuck else am I supposed to tell? Would you like me to invite Harry Potter to tea, and discuss his infuriating female friend? I doubt that would go over well. Would you like to me speak of this with my parents? My father would shudder and my mother would cry. I haven't anyone else, you wanker." I really was incredibly intoxicated, but it was only a Wednesday, so what did it matter? It's not like she was coming to see me. She never did during the week, and I had asked.

"You're pathetic. I'd laugh, but I don't want too, because of the drinks." Well, it seemed Blaise was completely pissed. "You like her. Draco Malfoy likes Hermione Granger. This amuses me because you're you…and she's…you know herself and all that. You more than like her actually, I remember when you sort of liked Pansy…"

"Shut up, please don't make me remember." I hated him. I should have kept every strange Hufflepuff feeling under lock and key.

"Whatever, you did for a hot minute. Fourth year or some shit like that, who even cares? You definitely didn't chase her for two years…"

"I'm not chasing her!"

"Well, you sort of are. I mean, you're inviting her out to dinner, and she's declining. You're giving her gifts, and she's not wearing them. What would you call it?" Blaise propped his stupid fat head on his fist, and his bleary black eyes were laughing at me.

"I don't like you." Fuck. He wasn't wrong. When had I become so pathetic? I was chasing Hermione Granger, and she was…she was…keeping me a secret. "Do you think she's…ashamed…of me?" I didn't particularly like the way that made me feel.

"I would be. I mean, if I were a Gryffindor witch secretly shagging the big bad former Death Eater, I would be ashamed…but, I'm not a Gryffindor. I'm a Slytherin and I'm ashamed of that, so don't take my word for it. Hermione Granger wandered Diagon Alley with Ron Weasley, so why not you?" Blaise hiccupped and refilled his tumbler, and I hated him just a little more.

"I don't want her to be ashamed of me." I whispered, and suddenly I felt very sober. Didn't much like the way that felt either.

"Then do something about it. I can't listen to this shit anymore. I'm going to Floo Pansy, I'm sure she'd be willing to listen."

Blaise wasn't wrong. I wasn't doing much of anything and maybe that embarrassed her. Granger made me feel insecure and I fucking hated that. I didn't want her to have that power over me. I wanted to be in control of my thoughts and feelings, but I wasn't, at least not where she was concerned.

It wasn't long before she was leaving me again. I should have expected it, but Granger always managed to blindside me. It was a special talent. I knew I was being particularly surly, not to mention withdrawn, but it wasn't because of her. It was me.

I couldn't recall a time in my life when I'd ever felt…the way she made me feel. I didn't know how to process it. I didn't know how to express it. I didn't know much of anything about it, but she knew something was amiss. I could see it in her eyes. I could see everything in her eyes.

"Malfoy, this isn't working." I don't know how she could do a bit of thinking with my hand up her skirt and my mouth on her breast, but Hermione Granger was special.

I ignored her, the way I always did when she broached the idea of ending our…affair. I didn't want to discuss all the things we didn't do, the things she didn't want to do. I wanted to explore her naked body, and listen to her breathy sighs.

"Granger, it's working just fine, you just don't want to admit it." It was a simple matter to tear off her knickers and stroke her weeping sex. She was moaning before I ever slipped a finger inside, just the way I liked it.

It was nary a moment before I was pulling her astride my thighs, and she was sinking onto my cock. It never got old. I expected it to, but it didn't. Every time was like the first time, which is exceedingly Hufflepuff of me, and I don't even care.

I wanted her. I always wanted her, but I was still too afraid to admit to such things, especially to her. Honestly, I thought she'd scoff at me and leave me, but it seemed she was leaving me anyway.

I loved to watch her abdomen contract while she flexed in my lap. I loved to watch her breasts bounce while my fingers dug into her hips. I loved the way her hair would fan out behind her, eventually clinging to the sweat on her back. Fuck, I might have even loved her, but how the hell was I supposed to know what love is anyway?

I remember watching a thin strand of sweat drip down between her breasts and pool in her navel. I remember the way Granger's head flung back, and I struggled to keep hold of her waist. I remember the way her lips parted as she ground her hips into me. I remember thrusting and grunting before latching onto her throat and sucking hard. Gods, I remember everything, but in the end, she was gone.

I worked my fingers to the bone for the next two years. My father was ridiculously proud of my accomplishments, but I didn't care about that. I thoroughly enjoyed being part of Research and Development at Malfoy Industries, and I excelled at it. I liked the way that felt. I liked putting in a long, hard day. I liked being proud of myself. I liked that, somewhere along the way, Granger and I segued into something…different.

She came back, she always came back. I'm not sure what I would have done if she hadn't, but regardless, I didn't tear off her clothes the moment I saw her. I didn't make lewd and lascivious comments to make her blush. There were evenings we simply sat before the fire, sipping perfectly aged wine, and discussing our work.

Granger liked it when I listened to her. I liked the way her eyes would widen and shine when I asked a question. It was obvious the bumbling idiots never showed the slightest bit of interest in her work. At least I knew she absolutely hated it. She hid it well, but I finally knew her.

I'd never taken the time to actually learn about a witch before. I knew she was always chilly in the late evening and preferred to cuddle with caftans than to put on a sweater. I knew how she took her tea and that she preferred buttered toast to porridge.

She chewed her lips when she was nervous, and everything she was feeling happened to shine in her eyes, whether she wanted it to or not. She twisted her hair when she was angry, and sighed for absolutely no reason at all. She always slept on her left side, and she slept better when I was beside her, but I couldn't.

It was fear, but you'll never hear me repeat that, not ever. I liked it. I liked it too much. I liked the way it felt to smell her in my bed. I liked finding stray Granger hairs on my pillow. I liked the way she sighed when I held her close, and I couldn't tell her.

It wasn't because it was showing weakness. I'd worked entirely too long to shed my father's Pureblood ideals to allow that miniscule teaching to hold me back. When it was convenient, and when I felt cornered, I hid behind it. I blamed my mother at times as well, because anything was better than the truth.

Granger talks in her sleep. She probably doesn't even realise that she does, and I'll never tell her. I wouldn't want to see the regret in her eyes. I wouldn't want to hear her stammering and apologies.

I had never managed to catch an entire sentence, just a few words here or there. I was forced to make up my own scenarios and they were dark. They were always dark, but you can't blame me.

'…love you…'
'…stop it…'
'…Ron.'

I didn't like any of those words, and I especially didn't like them together. I hated that she worked at the Ministry. Yes, I knew Weasley had left to pursue his dream of being an adult child, but that didn't make me feel better. He was best mates with Harry fucking Potter, I'm sure the ginger git was there all the bloody time.

"Father, I want you to give Hermione Granger a job." I hadn't been planning on asking my father for anything, but it wasn't the worst idea I'd ever had.

I could keep an eye on her. Perhaps, she'd allow me to take her to lunch. We could chat in the corridor like adults. Eventually, the clients and employees would be used to seeing us banter. Maybe, if Granger would allow it, we could become something real.

"How long have you been shagging her?" My oh so elegant father had a way with words, didn't he? He still does. Some things really don't change.

"Four years." There wasn't a point in lying. Lucius Malfoy always had a way about him to suss out the truth.

"Interesting." My father slowly paced the length of his extravagant office, and even managed not to pound his ridiculous cane on the stone. "I'm assuming you have a preferred position you'd like her to fill, besides the ones in your bedchamber?" He smirked at me. He bloody smirked at me, and there wasn't fuck all I could do about it.

"She's suitable as far as Potions are concerned, but she'd absolutely thrive in Research. I'm not suggesting you assign her to me. I'm suggesting, you reassign me, and offer her my position." I watched his eyes narrow, and held my breath.

I'd taken quite a bit of time contemplating the best way to present the idea to my father. It took planning and careful words and knowledge. Hermione Granger was absolutely brilliant during Hogwarts, and I knew there was nothing she loved as much as she loved her books. Not even me. Well, not that I knew she loved me, or anything, but even so…

"The Board would balk at the idea of having a Muggle-born witch head Research and Development, but I must admit, we are lagging behind. I'm sure Ms. Granger could bring…certain qualities…that would be most refreshing." Father's hair whipped across his face, and he stalked toward me quite quickly. "You are aware, you must observe the workings of the current Potions Head until such time as you're prepared to take over..."

"Yes, Father. I know. I know it's going to take time. I know it will probably take close to a year, but regardless of my…personal relationship with Granger, she's perfect for the job. Think of all the delightful press Malfoy Industries will receive for procuring her directly from the Ministry." I knew I had him then. Despite my father's cool demeanor, Lucius wanted nothing more than to regain the family name, as well as the prestige that came along with it.

"I'm almost impressed, Draco. I'm more than aware you have ulterior motives for your suggestion, but even so…impressive. Absolutely Slytherin of you, and I've had my doubts. There will be ground rules, of course. I can't even imagine the outrage and backlash if some unsuspecting intern discovered you shagging in a storage closet." He shuddered, but honestly, he was just giving me ideas. I hadn't thought of that. Of course, I was after he said it, but that's not my fault.

"I've been spending a few hours per day in the Potions Lab. Your current Potions Master refuses to consider the idea of requisitioning supplies from the current Herbology Professor. He believes it is beneath him to swallow his meager pride, considering he despises Neville Longbottom. Our Potions are no longer the best, due to the fact he has been procuring our ingredients through questionable means." I loved to watch my father silently simmer.

His anger quickly turned to fury, and yet the only telling sign was the tic in his cheek and the tightening of his jaw. It was only a matter of moments before his knuckles whitened considerably and the low hiss informed me it was best to leave, which I did posthaste. It was only a matter of time before the miserly Potions Master was replaced with none other than me.

I had a plan. I didn't know exactly where I was going with it, but I definitely had a plan. I knew I wanted to see Granger. I mean, I always wanted to see her, but I wanted to see her on a daily sort of basis. I wanted to move forward, but I wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

We had already been dancing for four years, and I knew there was a next step, but I'd never taken any steps. I really should have paid more attention to relationships before I was in the midst of one, but I could learn. On the other hand, I could take the easy way out, and ask Blaise and Pansy. I'm sure you can guess what I chose.

"You're in love with her." Pansy Parkinson sat primly on the edge of my leather sofa, quite pleased with herself.

"Shut up." She had a habit of making my ears bleed, and time hadn't changed that. "I don't even know what that means." I was rethinking the whole 'asking my friends' bit, but it was too late.

"Malfoy, she's not wrong." Blaise helped himself to my firewhiskey, but that wasn't anything new.

"Fine, go on then." I paced. It was something I did when I was anxious, and even hearing that pesky little word made me feel nervous.

Pansy smiled. I hated it when she smiled. She's the most Slytherin of any Slytherin and her smile meant someone was about to be decimated. I had a sneaking suspicion, it was going to be me. I wasn't wrong.

"I just want to make sure I've got everything right. I mean, from what Blaise has told me, you've been going on about her for years. You mentioned wishing to have a discussion with us months ago, therefore you've grappled with the idea. She's constantly on your mind, and suddenly you're not satisfied with weekend liaisons. You want more, but you're completely unsure what that actually means. Have I got that right, Draco?" She batted her long lashes, and I snarled at her. "I'll take that as a yes. From the state of your flat, you have allowed Hermione Granger to rearrange your books, and it's actually clean. You're leaving your position at Malfoy Industries in order to offer it to her. You'll see her on a daily basis and that pleases you. Draco Malfoy, you're smiling." Shit. Fine, I was smiling.

It wasn't something I did often, not then, but more so now. I had many reasons to smile now, but then was a different story. She made me smile, but I hid that tidbit. I hid most things, which was apparently detrimental.

I didn't like to think about those sorts of things, let alone feel them. I didn't ruminate on the way…no, I'm not going to tell you, not now anyway. Perhaps later, if I'm so inclined.

"She leaves you." Blaise interjected between loud slurps of my fucking firewhiskey and laughed at me.

"She comes back. She always comes back."

"One day, she's not going to come back, Draco. It's been years. You can't keep stringing her along, and expect her to keep coming back. She might be Hermione Granger, but she's still a woman." Pansy sighed dramatically, and reclined on my sofa.

"I know she's a woman!" I absolutely despised the idea of Granger leaving for me for good, but it was a distinct possibility. "What am I supposed to do then?"

"Imagine your life without her. Imagine how you would feel to know she'd moved on. Imagine how you would feel to learn she'd married and was having someone else's child. Imagine how…"

"Stop it." I didn't want to hear anymore. I didn't want to imagine any of those things. She's mine.

"That way you feel right now? Imagine feeling that way for the rest of your life, because you couldn't be a fucking man and tell the woman you love, that you actually love her. Now, do something about it you emotionally stunted child." Pansy crinkled her little pug nose at me, and marched directly into my Floo.

I stared at Blaise, but he only shrugged. I was on my own. I didn't want to be on my own. I didn't want to lose her. I didn't even want to entertain the idea of losing her, but at the same time, I was a Malfoy. I was taught from a young age to maintain a certain façade. I was taught emotions were weakness, that I was weak.

"Malfoy, channeling your father isn't going to help you out of this mess. You've managed to think for yourself the past few years, maybe do that instead." Blaise gently laid my tumbler on the side table, and soon enough he had left me to my own devices.

I knew what I needed to do, but I still wasn't positive I was ready. Pansy's little 'imagine' speech continuously flowed through my mind and I knew, I didn't have a choice. I needed her. I needed Hermione Granger, so I went to my vault.

It was three days prior to her birthday when I saw them. I had finally made a choice. I can't begin to tell you how many pieces of inappropriate jewelry were littered in the Malfoy Family Vault. Most of them were hideously ugly, and I almost gave up.

Strangely enough, it was my mother who aided me. I don't know how she knew I was there. I suppose one of those nasty little goblins informed her I was spending copious amounts of time browsing the family fortune. It doesn't matter, I didn't care then, and I still don't.

"There's a lovely piece in your Grandmother Black's vault. I've kept it separate since the beginning of the War. Just in case,…you defected. I wanted to make sure you were well taken care of, even then. I'm sure you could find something there." My mother, the great Narcissa Malfoy carefully led me down into the doldrums of Gringott's to aid me in choosing a ring for my witch.

"Mother…"

"I know, Draco. I've known for years. Did you think I was blind? Did you think I haven't observed my own son?" My mother smiled at me. She smiled. I didn't know she was capable, yet there she was. I was thankful she hadn't hugged me, I might have just died.

"But she…I mean…"

"I can't say she is what I would have chosen for you, though I can see the appeal." She sniffed, and I braced myself for some nauseatingly long monologue about the history of her family and Pureblood lines, that never came. "Even your father is intrigued by her, and if that man can alter his perceptions, then I suppose I can as well."

She handed me a small black box and arched her eyebrow, waiting for me to open it. I half thought it was a trick, until she scoffed with her Narcissa irritation, and snatched it from my fingers. She pried it open with reverence and held it aloft.

It wasn't some gaudy bauble surrounded with gems the size of my head. It was tasteful, surprisingly, and completely understated when compared to the jewelry I had been perusing. It was perfect.

"How did you know?" I admit I was afraid to touch it. Somehow, holding it would make it real and I was still vacillating.

"Oh Draco, you really are your father's son." My mother shook her head slightly, and gazed at the rough ceiling of her mother's vault. "Hermione Granger is not a wealthy Pureblood witch. She has not been groomed since birth to expect the very best, and as such has simple tastes. She has always been completely understated…oh don't look at me like that. While I can't say I was ever particularly fond of her, I do have eyes. Here, take it and do what you will." She left me there, with the little black box in my hand.

It really was a beautiful piece. It was platinum, even I knew that much, and the gems were emeralds, which was expected. I quite liked it, and immediately I pictured it sparkling on her finger. Apparently, I wasn't vacillating anymore. I had made a decision, but nothing goes the way you think it will.

I wandered Diagon Alley, my pocket feeling exceedingly heavy while it carried my secret. For a moment, I considered venturing into my little pub for some liquid courage, but I heard her laughter. It was easy enough to step into a darkened doorstep and observe her.

She was walking the cobblestone, arm and arm with that fucking Weasley. I didn't know they had remained friends. She never really spoke of him, besides the time I had asked. I didn't know much of anything where Granger and the Weasel were concerned, and that bothered me a fair bit.

"Do ya ever regret…us?" The ginger git was smiling at my witch, and I hated him.

"Yes and no, I suppose. We were friends first, and I always valued that, but…" Gods, she was beautiful. The sun was low in the sky and it highlighted the multitude of colours in her hair. "You want someone like your mum and I…don't want to be that someone."

I held my breath and they passed so closely, I could have easily snatched her arm. I could have pressed her against the cobblestone and snogged her senseless in front of everyone, but I didn't. I didn't want to make her acknowledge me, and I suppose that was pretty telling in and of itself.

"I should have just accepted you the way you are. I think I could now, if given the chance…" I saw the way he was leaning toward her, and she didn't even see it coming. I couldn't watch anymore. I Disapparated with a pop, seething with fury.

She's mine. She can't go back to that undeserving bastard. She's been mine for years, and Harry Potter's Sidekick thinks he can just waltz back into her life? Fuck.

"Draco?" I had gone home, my childhood home. In my blinding, seething anger, I had returned to my mother. Shut up.

"Mother, didn't you mention the Greengrass family was returning?" Ever the Slytherin, I was already plotting and planning. I was angry. I was hurt. I didn't want to admit I was hurt, therefore the only course of action was to retaliate.

Narcissa Malfoy dragged my unwilling father into the sitting room, and glowered at me. She pushed at my father and gestured toward me, with her lips pressed firmly together. I can't remember a time when my mother was literally speechless, and I wanted to revel in it for a moment, but then my father was smacking me about the head.

"What the ever-loving fuck?!" That was definitely the wrong thing to say. I realise that now in retrospect, but it was done.

Eventually they calmed. Who knew they were so attached to the idea of Hermione Granger as their daughter-in-law? I was barely cognizant of the fact I wanted to marry her, and here my parents had me ensconced in the Manor with enough children to rival the Weasleys. They are a peculiar pair.

I didn't really want to court a Greengrass. Neither of them was particularly appealing, but Astoria and I were semi-friendly. She was a cute little thing, and more like that annoying sibling than anything, but I wanted…well, I don't know what I wanted. It didn't seem to matter either, as magically there was going to be some sort of welcome home dinner and I was to escort Astoria.

I imagined being on the front page of the Daily Prophet. I imagined the whispers of impending engagements. I imagined the anger on Granger's face, and thought perhaps this wasn't the best recourse, but my mother said it was too late. She's also a liar, in case you were wondering.

When we stepped into some strange French nouveau sort of place, I wanted to leave immediately. Astoria had been chattering in my ear nonstop for hours, and I wished I were deaf. Apparently, her mother had suggested the idea of a match between us, and it pleased her. It didn't please me, not in the least, but my darling mother said something akin to, you made your bed, now suffer in it. I'm fairly certain that is not the phrase, but I didn't wish to be smacked again.

It was our day. It was one of our days. I wanted to see her, Granger I mean. I wanted to give her the pretty little box. I wanted to apologise for the Daily Prophet doing what it did. I wanted to see her face when she opened the gift, but suddenly she was there.

My throat went dry, and I'd never had such a time controlling my features as I did then. She was wearing my gifts. From the looks of it, she was wearing all of them. I couldn't stop staring at her, and even Astoria knew something was amiss as she clutched my arm in a vise grip.

My father swiftly moved toward my witch and then, they were conversing. I hated him. I didn't want him speaking with her. I wanted to speak with her. I also wanted to tear that delectable green dress from her body, and ravish her against the wall.

I don't know what they were saying, but my father was bloody tapping Granger's chin as her mouth was gaped open. He glanced over his shoulder, and frowned at me. I suppose I was giving the wrong impression by allowing Astoria to cling to me, but what was I supposed to do? Was I supposed to shove her away and watch her tumble to the ground?

The Greengrass family was making their way toward the door, my mother quickly followed with a scowl on her lips, especially for me. Lucius swept from the room without a glance, and here was my chance. I couldn't leave in silence. I had to say something.

I don't know how I moved across the room with the tiny irritating witch stuck to my side, but I managed. Granger was close enough to touch, but I refrained. I drank in every exposed inch of her skin. I wanted to taste her from head to toe, but I couldn't think about that now without impeding my ability to walk.

"Granger." She was holding her breath. I liked that I had that effect on her, but stupid Astoria was pulling on my robes. "Go with my mother, I'll be along shortly." At least Astoria had enough sense to be polite. She bobbed her head and smiled slightly, which is better than nothing.

"Malfoy." Granger's voice was low and breathy. I swear she did that on purpose, and my cock twitched. The ginger Potter made some strangled cat noise, and left us in peace.

Fuck, I wanted to touch her. Instead, I leaned in. I wasn't afraid of her entourage. She could explain our interactions. It was something she should have done years ago.

I licked her ear. That's right, I licked Hermione Granger's earlobe in front of Harry Potter and everyone else glaring at me from across the room. She hissed, which only made me feel powerful. I told her to come to my flat at eleven, and I even kissed her cheek.

"I don't take well to demands." Oh shit, she was doing it again.

I should have been used to it, you'd think I would be, but this time was different. This time I had plans dammit. I was going to say words that I'd never said before, to anyone. I was going to…well, I hadn't figured it all out yet, but even so.

"What are you doing?" She was hurting me, and it was difficult to keep my composure.

I can't recall everything that was said, but then the ginger Potter was there, sneering at me. I remember rolling my eyes at her casual use of the word boyfriend. Boyfriend, no, it was much more than that, and then Granger sliced through me.

"No. Not a boyfriend. Not even a little, not even at all." My Granger was capable of being cruel, and I couldn't help but to stare at her exposed back as she retreated.

It took every ounce of willpower to keep from following her. I wanted to shout at her. I wanted to air our business in front of everyone. I wanted to say fuck propriety, but I didn't. I deserted my parents and Astoria in order to hide away in my flat.

"She's going to leave me." I spent many an hour mumbling to myself, nursing a tumbler of watered down firewhiskey while watching the minutes tick by on the wall clock.

When my Floo roared to life at half past ten, my heart surged. I wasn't greeted with an indignant Hermione Granger encased in a slinky emerald green dress. Instead, I was face to face with a wide-eyed Astoria Greengrass.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" I didn't have time to deal with her. I still had high hopes my Granger would come.

"You're still so rude. Look. I spoke with your mother. I know you're not interested, and I wanted to apologise for practically throwing myself at you over dinner. My mother is still completely deluded, and my father wasn't the least bit of help either." Astoria was in the process of doing all sorts of annoying things. She walked. She talked. She touched my things, and then she was disrobing.

"What the fuck are you doing? I didn't invite you here. I don't want you here, and I definitely don't want you to remove your fucking clothes." I was completely aghast. I mean, on one hand, she was apologising, and on the other, she was getting naked. How do these things even happen?

"Draco, come on now. I know you're not going to marry me, and that's fine. My sister said you were always good for a quick shag…and I thought…" A tentative knock interrupted Astoria's little speech, and I was thankful she stopped removing her clothes as well. "Who would be calling on you this late? Bollocks. You've already got someone. Merlin, I'm such a fool…" Astoria was struggling into…whatever the fuck she was wearing, but I was already out the door.

I knew it was Granger. I knew she would come, and there was no doubt she heard Astoria.

"Fuck." I ran my hand through my hair, and then I was chasing her.

I realised it was stupid and simply Apparated to the alley. It was the only Apparition point nearby, and Granger was moving surprisingly fast in those silver heels. I watched her remove her wand from the strap on her thigh, but I wasn't going to simply let her leave.

I grasped her hand, and shoved her into the brick. She didn't struggle, not even when I pressed against her. My chest was heaving, but it wasn't from running. I didn't do much of that, no, it was from her close proximity. I couldn't explain it, even if I wanted too.

"You're late, Granger." She was staring at the ground, and the stubborn set of her jaw alerted me to her anger and probably her hurt.

"I-I was delayed." Ah, there was my little spitfire. She was absolutely furious, and I liked it. It was the first time she'd really shown any emotion as far as I was concerned.

I told her the partial truth. I hadn't thought she was coming, but I had hoped. I didn't want her to know about my hope, not yet. I ran my fingers through my hair, and sighed. I didn't know what to say.

We bantered a bit, but what really struck me, was the redness of her eyes. She was Granger, and Granger didn't cry. She just didn't, especially where I was concerned. Her vulnerability was as alluring as it was disconcerting. She kept going on about Astoria. I mean, who the fuck cared about that bint? I certainly didn't, but Granger must have thought something was amiss, and I didn't blame her. I couldn't.

"Granger, just go to your flat. I'll be there momentarily." I didn't even wait for her to argue with me. I didn't have time.

Knowing her the way I did, I'm sure Granger was fretting over the little things, like how I even knew where her flat was in the first place. I'm sure she was angry with herself for not saying every thought spinning through her pretty little head. That's just the way she was, the way she'd always been, the way I loved her best. Shit. I do love her.

"Astoria, get out." The bint at least had enough sense to be dressed. Part of me expected to find her reclined in my bed.

"I'm sorry. I really am. I hope I didn't ruin anything…"

"Please, just go." I gestured toward the Floo hurriedly.

I didn't want to give Granger too much time on her own. Merlin knows that woman was capable of riling herself up faster than anyone I'd ever met. She was obviously upset, I mean, really upset, and I didn't know if it was from speculation on her part or something I had done, but I needed to get to her.

It was a simple matter to discover the whereabouts of her flat. The Wizarding World is a tight knit community. I suspected she wasn't living amongst Muggles, and even if she was, Hermione Granger wasn't going to live without the Floo Network. Fine, I bribed a few Ministry officials, and they were perfectly willing to divulge the information. Are you happy now?

Granger didn't even hear the roar of her Floo. She was simply standing there, gnawing her lip, and guzzling what I knew to be scotch and soda. I wondered how long it would take her to realise I was there, but decided to intervene in the end.

"You really should consider switching to water. I can't imagine you'll be able to deliver your rousing speak otherwise." She screamed, and her glass went flying over her head.

I resisted the urge to laugh at her. Her eyes were squeezed shut and one day, she was going to have to explain to me why she did that. She looked absolutely smashing, but there was a subtle cuteness in her flustered state, and I commented on it.

Granger backed away from me, her silver heels scraping across the hardwood, and it was terribly easy to box her in. I took a moment to study her, I mean really look at her. It made me nervous, anxious even as this flood of emotion throbbed in my chest. I swallowed hard, because suddenly, I was afraid of her rejection.

"I know what you're going to say." I did. I knew exactly what she was going to say, but I didn't want to hear it. "You're not wrong, but you're not right either." I wanted to kiss her, and I probably should have.

I watched the way her eyes constantly flicked to my lips, and realised she thought much the same. I wondered if she wanted me to kiss her, but she made no move forward and, well, neither did I.

"I don't want to argue with you, I'm tired." Her shoulders slumped, and damned if my Granger didn't look completely defeated. I hated it a little.

"Then…don't." I couldn't resist her.

There was something so completely captivating simply seeing her unruly curls cling to the side of her neck. I breathed in her scent and felt the gooseflesh rise along the surface of my skin. It wasn't a moment later and my lips were traveling along her exposed skin.

Granger didn't put up a fuss, and allowed me to traverse her miniscule flat. It really was the smallest flat I'd ever seen, but at the same time, it suited her. It was a simple matter to discover the whereabouts of her bedchamber, and then I was removing her dress.

I perused her with new eyes. I drank in her almost flawless skin, my gaze lingering on those delicious garters and even the freckles along her shoulder. I resisted the smirk tugging at my lips when the light blush on her cheeks spread across her chest, and removed her knickers. I made quick work of her shoes and her brasserie, but I left those garters in place.

"Perfect." I barely remembered removing my own clothes, but none of that mattered.

I didn't want to launch headlong into a quick tumble. I wanted it to be different. I felt different. I wasn't resisting the idea of loving her. I wasn't resisting the emotions that had plagued me for years. I wanted to love her. I wanted to keep her. I wanted to show her.

Everything was in slow motion. It might not have been, but it sure felt that way. I kept my eyes locked on hers. I'd never done that before, and I didn't hate it. I liked the way her eyes widened, and her lips parted. I liked the little noises she made while I investigated every inch of her skin.

I couldn't stop touching her. It wasn't simply erotic, it was completely mind numbing and satisfying all at the same time. The way Granger's back arched when I stroked across her ribs. The breathy little sigh when I tasted the hardened dusky peaks tempting me. The way her knees parted when I teased her, until her teeth were firmly embedded in her bottom lip.

When I finally eased my way between her thighs, hilt deep no less, I felt complete. I had always thought it was a sappy sort of connotation. I didn't know men were capable of such depth of emotion. I rocked into her, against her, pushing, and pulling. I felt my witch clenching around me, her fingernails digging into my sweat slicked skin.

I was groaning, while the air was filled with her moans and sighs. It really was absolutely perfect. I couldn't have asked for more, but then again, that wasn't true at all. I kept the pace achingly slow, I was struggling to maintain control, and then she was mumbling into my chest. It spurred me on, and she was literally crying, but I don't know if it was with sadness or relief, as I spilled into her.

I wasn't going to wait any longer. Normally, I'd simply collapse and make some snarky sort of remark. I didn't do that. I fucking kissed her.

Gods, what the fuck had taken me so long to do it? I don't even know. I should have done it years ago. I probably would have figured out exactly how I felt the moment my lips touched hers. I was absolutely positive she could see it in my face, read it in my eyes, and I wanted her too. I wanted her to know.

Her lips were soft and willing. Her surprise only afforded me access when she gasped. It was a spiritual experience. It was everything I'd ever hoped it would be, and more. I nibbled her lip, and sucked her tongue. I tasted her, and desperately clutched her to me. I didn't ever want to stop, and I didn't, for more than awhile.

I held her face in my hands, pulling back slightly to gently peck at her cheeks. Granger had finally closed her eyes, whimpering as I sighed into her hair. I rolled to my side and brought her with me, unwilling to let her go. I cursed my stubbornness. I cursed my emotional immaturity.

She fit perfectly in my arms, did I ever tell you that? She did. Her body molded to mine, and my hands never stopped moving. I slid my thigh between hers, grasped her hip, stroked her back, and just breathed her in. My lips were swollen, and I was sure hers were as well, but I didn't stop, I couldn't, until she started to cry…again.

I didn't know what to do. I'd never comforted a crying witch, let alone my witch. Why was she crying? Was I supposed to ask? Was I supposed to just hold her tighter? I was absolute shit with that sort of thing, so I kissed her again.

"Happy Birthday." Maybe that would fix it. What the fuck did I know? Nope, not that. Saying that was apparently the wrong move. Fantastic.

Granger pushed and shoved at me, until I was forced to release her. She scrambled from her bed and tossed on her dressing gown. I just laid there, waiting. She told me I needed to go. I didn't want to fucking go. I couldn't even pretend to understand, what the fuck was happening.

"Granger." I touched her shoulder, but that didn't help me any. She flinched away from me and leapt to her feet.

Granger went into this long sort of speech, I suppose you could say. I was really confused. She kept going on about the things she wanted, and what I was unwilling to do, but she had it all wrong. She was the one who refused my invitations. She was the one who refused to tell her friends about us.

"…because I wasted my life with a man, who would never lower himself to give me those things." What even?

She was absolutely insane. I wanted to give her all of those things, but she wasn't listening. Granger had practiced her little speech until it was memorised and perfect. This was that moment I had dreaded. She was leaving me, and she wasn't coming back. It didn't matter what I said, her mind was made up, and I felt like someone had died.

I got angry and perhaps a little snarky, but my little witch came right back at me. She shouted at me. She actually thought I was going to marry Astoria. Gods, she is as brilliant as she is stupid. She was killing me. Granger was taking the heart I had only just discovered existed, and smashing it to bits.

"Fine, I won't touch you either. Here." I had moved forward, stupidly thinking I could change her mind with all the affection I'd been withholding. Instead, She retreated and I slammed that fucking box onto her bureau. "I know you're not going to open it today. When you do…come find me."

There was a dark cloud hanging over my head, akin to the soul squeezing sadness encompassed by a Dementor. She looked so angry, sad, and broken, all at once, and I knew my sentiments were mirrored in my eyes. I reached for her, but then rethought it, and shoved my hand into my pocket.

She stepped toward me, and I held my breath. I wanted to cry, but I wasn't quite sure how to do that either. My tiny little witch stretched onto her toes, and stroked my hair off my forehead. She kissed my cheek, and stepped away.

I couldn't look at her anymore. There was fire and ice pricking the corner of my eyes. I was going to fucking cry. I didn't even know I knew how to cry anymore. I left without a backward glance. I couldn't chance it. I cringed hearing her whisper of goodbye, and willed myself home.

I am Draco Malfoy. I do not cry over women. I cry when Harry Potters hex me in lavatories, and almost kill me. I cry when psychotic wizards demand I murder other wizards. I don't cry over women, especially not Hermione Granger.

Except I was, and I did, which only made me angry. Furiously angry. Practically rabid, which only made me cry more. I resorted to destruction. I smashed tumblers, vases, and armchairs, but it didn't help. She was everywhere. I couldn't breathe without feeling her crackle in the air.

I did the only thing I could do.

"Incendio."