Disclaimer: I own nothing!

Thanks everyone for all the interest, it's greatly appreciated! ^^

Chapter 2:

Hermione's heels clicked seductively as she walked, no, slunk, towards the man on the dance floor. Shadows obstructed his face, but there was a distinct familiarity in his build of broad shoulders and slim waist. Hermione felt herself drawn towards him, and when she was close enough to touch him, his own hands reached forward to grasp her waist and pull her flush to his firm body. Smoothly, he glided her across the dance floor, her clicking shoes tapping in time with the music…

"Tap, tap, tap."

Hermione awoke with a start, springing up from her cramped position assumed as she slept on her kitchen table. At a repeat of the tapping noise, Hermione swung around violently in her chair, knocking a full cup of cold tea over in the process. Behind her, determinedly pecking at her window, was a snow white owl.

"My god, Hedwig!" Hermione rushed over to open her window, allowing the owl to swoop in and land on her table. Hedwig stuck out her leg upon which a small scroll was attached. As Hermione unfurled the parchment, she tossed a piece of stale toast at the grateful owl. She read quickly, as was her nature:

Hermione,

Knowing you, as we so very well do, Harry and I have come to the conclusion that you stayed up all bloody night working on that stupid report after we specifically told you not to. If you hadn't noticed, it's past noon…Harry has covered for you but we were meant to do reconnaissance this afternoon together. Owl back, as soon as possible, to tell us whether you want us to go without you.

Ron

Hermione groaned as she checked her watch and realized that it was indeed, afternoon. Twelve thirty, to be exact. She threw Ron's note on the table, and rushed into her bedroom to get ready. It wasn't until she dashed into her bathroom that she realized she was still completely decked out in the dress Draco transfigured for her. In an act of incredible magical skill, Hermione transfigured her auror uniform back to normal while simultaneously brushing her teeth and getting a brush stuck in her hair. Finally, just as she was about to rush out of the house, another bout of loud tapping sounded at the window.

"What the hell?" Hermione rushed into the kitchen to see a large eagle owl with piercing orange eyes attacking her window. Confused enough to forget about going to work momentarily, Hermione walked over to the window and let the large bird in. It gracefully stepped through the window and glided to land on her kitchen table. When Hermione didn't move, the owl stuck its leg out with a distinct look of disdain that Hermione didn't realize owls could make. Shaking her head, she reached for the roll of parchment and unfurled it.

Granger,

If you aren't busy tonight, Blaise Zabini is throwing an intimate dinner party at his Manor and has invited you. (Don't worry, he knows all about our…situation.) Owl back if you can make it. Would pick you up at 8:00 PM. Dress robes, masks, that sort of thing.

M.

Hermione sat down at her kitchen table, Draco's owl looking at her expectantly. Hermione shook her head and stuffed the parchment unceremoniously into her robe pocket. Only vaguely aware of her actions, Hermione gave Draco's fearsome looking owl the remainder of Hedwig's toast and locked the window in an open position so he could get out. Ignoring the owls offended hoots as she left without replying, Hermione apparated away in a swirl of black ministry issue robes.

"Hermione, where the hell have you been?" came an annoyed voice from somewhere in front of her. She looked up from the paper work on her desk to see her two best friends standing in front of her, arms crossed and foreboding looks on their faces. She knew she would have to deal with them sometime.

"I slept in," she shrugged, attempting to appear off hand, yet apologetic, "considerably. I promise it won't happen again. Honestly." She fancied Ron's gaze softened slightly, but Harry was still on the offensive.

"Hermione, we have been telling you time and time again that you have to take some time off. All this stress is doing a real number on your health. You're looking peaky as ever today." He gestured toward the mirror mounted on her office wall for her to take a look for herself. Frankly, Hermione didn't think she looked so horrible; sure, her hair was frizzier than usual, and she had dark circles under her eyes. Her robe was wrinkled, and stained with ink and blood, and probably tea, though she reasoned her lack of cleanliness was due to her being rushed. Actually, she thought as she studied herself closer, she was looking horribly pale and slightly green from certain angles. Her skin was dry and her lips cracked. She must have made a pretty picture as Draco's wife the previous night.

"Anyways," apparently Harry had been talking as Hermione studied herself in the mirror, "both Ron and I have talked it over with the boss and we all agree that an extra two week vacation effective immediately is well overdue." Hermione nodded vaguely until she fully realized what Harry had said.

"A vacation? You can't force me to go on a bloody vacation I don't need! We're swamped in the office right now! You need me!" She jumped up from her chair, hair cackling with electricity. It was a testament to Harry and Ron's courage that they stood their ground. Harry raised one eyebrow at her shocked face.

"Hermione, you have no choice. This is an official intervention, and we are taking you home whether you like it or not. I think we can manage the office for a couple of weeks without you." Hermione sent him an I-dare-you-to-try look, but Harry shook his head.

"I know that you are the smartest witch of our time, believe me, I do. But do you really think that after defeating Voldemort, I won't be able to force you to take a measly, two week vacation?" Hermione deflated slightly. Ron began packing up her bag as she stood dumbfounded at her desk.

"Hermione, I know that you will come to agree with us," he said, sternly, "After a few days, you'll be grateful for the rest."

Feeling as though she had lost all her senses, Hermione blandly followed Harry and Ron out of her office and down to one of the many fireplaces in the Ministry's lobby. Looking woefully out at the numerous people walking through the lobby, Hermione considered making a run for it. However, as she looked at Harry and Ron's concerned and determined faces, Hermione realized she was feeling a little sleepy. Perhaps if she went home today and caught up on some sleep, she'd be well enough to convince her well meaning friends that she could come back to work. Besides, she thought as her stomach gave an ungainly rumble, she was rather hungry. A one day break would be perfectly acceptable, especially since she had missed the majority of the day anyways.

Waving goodbye to Harry and Ron, she threw a handful of floo powder into the fire. In a matter of moments, she found herself standing in her living room, with the clock on the mantle chiming a woeful one o'clock. Hermione threw her bag and cloak on the floor and kicked off her shoes in the general direction of the closet. Heading towards the bedroom, she was surprised to hear a series of sharp hoots. Walking into her kitchen, Hermione found Draco's strange owl still sitting on her table with a surly look on his face.

"I suppose the git told you to wait for a reply, didn't he?" she said, to which the owl responded with a loyal hoot.

"Fine," Hermione pulled Draco's crumpled letter fully intending to respond with a firm negative. However, looking at her watch, a traitorous voice in her head told her that she could sleep for six hours and still have an hour to get ready for the party. She shook her head, trying to force herself to decline as she grabbed a quill and a new piece of parchment. Yet, somehow, as her quill touched the smooth parchment, her brain went into that funny state of absolute senselessness that she had so often seen displayed by the likes of Lavender and Parvati from her Hogwarts days.

I'll be ready.

Six and a bit hours later, Hermione was well rested, showered and currently standing in front of her closet with no idea what to wear. As she sifted through the numerous sets of wizarding robes in an assortment of cuts and colours, Hermione cogitated on what exactly an intimate dinner party entailed. Best case scenario: an assortment of worldly and culturally varied individuals possessing cascades of knowledge which they were eager to share and debate. She'd barely have time to talk to Draco at all. More likely, she'd be the laughing stock of a room full of ex-Slytherins. However, by some means, she didn't think even Malfoy would go that far for a laugh.

Reflecting on Malfoys in general, as she laid three potential candidates on her bed to review, she realized that this entire escapade was probably the craziest, most idiotic thing she had ever done. Since when do you start going to fancy parties pretending to be your enemy's new wife? As far as she knew, you didn't.

"Perhaps," she pondered out loud to herself with a hysterical sort of laugh, "I am overworked."

Sighing, she fingered the edge on one of the dress robes laid out across her mattress. It was a set of dress robes in a deep sparkly blue. Harry and Ginny (but mostly Ginny) had gotten them for her one Christmas. Somehow, she felt wearing their gift to a party hosted by former Slytherins as Malfoy's date would be disrespectful. Therefore, with a loving smile, she took it off the bed and hung it back in her closet. Just as she went to chose between some ivory summer robes, and some in a conservative black, a knock sounded at her door.

Frantically, Hermione checked her watch, worried that it might already be eight. It was however, only seven twenty. Surely Malfoy couldn't be here yet. Clutching her towel tightly to her chest she scampered into the hallway and called through the door.

"Who is it?" A disgruntled sigh resounded from the other side.

"It's me, Granger," said Draco, in an exasperated drawl. Irritated at his gall, Hermione swung open the door, forgetting she was dressed in merely a bottle green bath towel. Malfoy, however, noticed almost immediately.

"Dressing a little too casual, aren't we?" he said smirking. Hermione huffed, and pulled her towel tighter around her.

"You're forty minutes early," she hissed, "I'm not ready yet." Draco pushed past her and walked around her tiny flat.

"Very nice, Granger," he chuckled, fingering her knitting magazines and avoiding the multiple stacks of books balanced precariously around the room. Hermione was not so easily distracted.

"Why are you here forty minutes early?"

Draco held out a paper wrapped package. "I figured you might not have dress robes to fit the occasion."

Hermione stuck her nose up at the package. "I'll have you know that I have plenty of appropriate robes, fit for the occasion." She spun on her heel and stalked back into her room. She didn't really have anything appropriate, but Malfoy didn't need to know about that. Unfortunately, a smirking Draco followed her into her bedroom.

Practically sizzling with irritation, Hermione stepped into her bathroom and put on a thick dressing gown. Draco stood in front of her closet, surveying the damage she had done while trying to find some clothes. When Hermione returned, he held the package out to her again.

"Just try it, Granger. They're perfect," he almost smiled, but Hermione figured it fell more to the side of a smirk. Still, she wrenched the package from his grip and stomped into the bathroom to change.

The dress robes were really marvelous, actually. In a dark, garnet red, the light, sparkly, fabric fell in pools at her feet. The sleeves started thin at the shoulder and ended with a large bell at the wrist. The front neck line was low; slightly lower than Hermione was comfortable with, to be frank. However, the back came up high, resolving with a stiff collar fitting around the back of her neck. Hermione reached into the package and pulled out a gold masquerade mask. Beautifully crafted, from what Hermione suspected was real gold, Hermione placed it on her face, somewhat surprised at seeing her own large brown eyes peering through holes the shape of cats eyes. The detailed edges were carved so thin the gold looked like lace. Smirking to herself, Hermione noticed a garnet eyed snake climbing up one side. Leave it to Malfoy to make everything a little bit Slytherin. Smiling to herself, Hermione did a little twirl in front of the mirror and bent down to affix a pair of strappy gold sandals to her feet.

"Granger, did you slip and die in there?" Inexplicably, the magic of the moment was broken. Mask in hand, Hermione tramped into the living room where Draco was lounging on her sofa reading The Daily Prophet.

"Where did you get these robes?" Hermione asked coldly. Draco looked up and smiled.

"Ah, see! I told you they were perfect. Put your mask on," he stepped towards her and slid the mask from her hand.

"Spin," he commanded softly, gripping her shoulder and spinning her in a half turn. Desperately trying not to blush, Hermione felt him reach around her and place the mask lightly on her face. Using gold spun ties on either side, he tied a small bow at the back of her head, over her monstrously voluminous brown hair.

"It's very light," she commented, at a loss for anything else to say. She really must be overworked, she thought. Draco spun her back to face him.

"It's charmed to be nearly weightless. It was my mother's mask," he cleared his throat, "Should help with the whole, 'you're my wife' charade."

Hermione, desperate to look anywhere besides Draco's face (though she couldn't understand for the life of her why…must be the unadulterated loathing she felt for him) glanced at the clock on her wall. It read nearly five to eight.

"Well," she said in a falsely cheery voice reminding her of Lavender, "I guess we had better get going. What time are we expected?" Draco seemed to be shaken from a revere. He grabbed his top hat from the table where he had left it.

"We have just enough time to apparate over to the carriages," he said, checking his pocket watch. Hermione, though confused by his statement, went to retrieve her cloak. When she returned, Draco held out his arm to her and mock bowed.

"M'lady," he said silkily. Hermione rolled her eyes and grasped his arm. In the next moment, she felt the familiar tug of apparition before landing unsteadily on a cobbled road. All around her wizards in matching blue robes led couples into large carriages led by huge white horses with wings. Tall light posts illuminated the area. Draco raised the brim of his hat to a man who walked past them and motioned to one of the wizards in blue.

"The usual carriage, Mr. Malfoy?" asked the man hurriedly, as he dodged a carriage that was taking flight. Draco held onto his hat as the rapidly rising carriage sent a huge gust of wind in their direction.

"Yes please," said Draco, in the nicest voice Hermione had ever heard him speak. Hermione was still staring at her surroundings in awe when Draco tugged at her arm to get her to follow the man in blue. Soon they were at the door of a dark wood carriage accented with silver. A team of four white, winged stallions waited patiently hooked to the carriage. The man in blue opened the carriage door and Draco held out a hand to help Hermione into its roomy enclosure.

The inside of the carriage was even more opulent that the outside. Dark green velvet seats blended perfectly into silver walls. Curtains in the same dark green hung on either side of clear glass windows. Candles mounted in large silver brackets illuminated the interior. By the time Hermione had finished taking in all the glamour of the cabin, Draco had casually arranged himself in the seat across from her, a smirk gracing his features.

"Like what you see, Granger?" he idly inspected his manicured fingernails before pulling on a pair of white gloves. Hermione turned a glowering face on him; however, she was so amazed she could hardly arrange her face in a glare.

"Please," she scoffed unconvincingly, "I'd been impressed if it wasn't so disgustingly Slytherin. Why though, "she couldn't help relieving her curiosity "is everyone taking a carriage to the party when they could just apparate?"

"Because it's vogue to arrive in a carriage, and nobody would dare to arrive any differently."

"Well, I for one have never arrived to an intimate dinner party via horse and carriage," said Hermione, as she pulled back one of the curtains to peer into the darkness outside.

"Right," coughed Draco into a white gloved hand, "when I wrote intimate dinner party, I wasn't being so absolutely truthful." He broke off, expecting a tirade of angry remarks, but Hermione looked at him as though it was obvious.

"I began to wonder, Malfoy, with the masquerade masks and flying horse drawn carriages," she smirked at his blank face, "Where is your mask, by the way?" Draco reached into his cloak pocket and pulled out a red mask with a long pointed nose that matched perfectly with the colour of Hermione's robes. He took of his hat, and tied the mask on his face, somehow managing not to let a single blonde hair fall out of place.

"How do I look?" he said dashingly as he put his top hat back on. Hermione had to admit that she had never seen Malfoy look quite as handsome as he did today. She smiled in response, her reply cut short by the graceful descend of the carriage. Hermione peered out the window and saw a huge mansion lit up with candles so that it absolutely glowed in the darkness. As soon as Hermione felt the carriage stop, the door swung open, and the same man dressed in blue stuck out his hand to help her out of the carriage. Staring in awe up at the house, to which hundreds of beautifully dressed, masked figures were now walking towards, Hermione felt Draco's presence behind her, and his arm held out to her side.

"Ready, Mrs. Malfoy?" She grasped his arm with her hand and smiled.

"Ready."