Chapter 2

Ginny was frantically trying to tidy up the room, telling her it was alright that she came by. Hermione couldn't believe she was back here so soon. Although they were still the best of friends, Ginny, Harry and herself, their busy lives minimized visits to Godric's Hollow to just once a month. Those Sundays were spent sitting in the garden or kitchen, depending on the season, with a good cuppa. The rest of the time they would Floo, send owls, or meet in Diagon Ally. But today was Saturday and here she was, sitting on the Potter's settee, feeling miserable.

It should have made her laugh, really, to see that Ginny was not as tidy as she was always led to believe. Apparently she cleaned up when she expected guests. And she certainly did not expect any today, judging by the mess in the living room. But, in all honesty, it felt like she had no funny bone left in her body anymore, so she just sat there.

She took another sip of her tea and sighed and thought back at the events of the last week or so. Ginny called it her sixth sense, knowing when something was wrong; she had inherited it from her mother, she told her, when she appeared in her flat a week ago. At the time Hermione had called it a damn nuisance.

She had just wanted to find a nice rock, crawl under it and die. Now she grudgingly had to admit, she was glad Ginny had floo'ed when she did. Sobbing on her living room floor, curled up as tight as she could, hoping the world would make sense again when she opened her eyes.

Not very conductive. Or realistic. She knew that, of course she knew that, she wasn't stupid! Well, at least that was the going consensus. At this point in time she really did not know if she could agree with that statement of her being "the brightest witch of her age" anymore.

Hermione looked outside; the leaves were a lovely green and the sun was shining shyly through some fluffy clouds. Spring was in the air and she contemplated silencio'ing all the birds in the vicinity. The bloody happy twittering was getting on her nerves. There was no bloody reason in the world to be happy - none whatsoever - so if they would all please just shut it!

As she closed her eyes, she remembered everything again. Without a warning, Ginny had just stepped through the Floo. How the redhead managed to break through the extensive wards, she still had to ask. Probably Harry's doing.

She hadn't been very coherent. Sobbing, sniffing and babbling, she'd told Ginny about the fight with Gil. Ginny was relieved, she'd told her, that it wasn't something more serious. She had glared at her friend and if looks could've killed, Ginny would've been very, very dead. While practically pulling her to bed, Ginny had apologized profusely. Yeah, well, she just wasn't in the mood to be magnanimous.

She'd slept for a day and a half. Waking up, sometimes she'd forgotten what had happened, but unfortunately that never lasted long. Harry had been there a couple of times, but mostly it was Ginny who came around. Both tried to feed her broth and orange juice. Thank god they didn't ask anything, or said anything other than that she looked better rested. Harry had called her in sick at the Ministry. She'd never been sick before- they would want to know precisely what had happened. What in the world would she tell them? Not the truth, that was for sure. This thought still kept creeping into her mind at all times. It was the weekend now, thankfully.

But on Monday she'd have a lot of explaining to do, because really, what illness could she have had? Common flu or food poisoning was easily curable in the wizarding world. And more serious conditions would have resulted in a visit to St. Mungo's, where she obviously hadn't been.

Ginny was finished with the emergency clean-up and was now listening to Hermione moaning about What to tell her boss?

'You could of course just tell them the truth,' Ginny suggested. 'It's not like your break-up will stay secret for ever. And, let's face it,

'Mione, even though you like to pretend otherwise, you're just as human as the rest of us, love.'

Ginny was right, of course, Hermione realised. But that didn't mean she liked it.

'Monsieur Malfoy. May I take your cloak?'

Draco looked down his nose at the butler. Why in the world his great-grandmother insisted on having human help was beyond him. But it was de rigueur in France nowadays, she had confided in him at his last visit. But that was over a year ago and he had hoped she had grown out of that already.

The parlour he walked into oozed of ostentation. It dripped from the vaulted ceilings to the silken, golden wall covering onto the Louis XIV furniture, which he knew, had stood there since the reign of the aforementioned Sun King. In the middle of the room, ramrod straight, sat his paternal great-grandmother, looking the quintessential pure-blood witch. He took her frail hand in his and kissed her lace covered knuckles. He would spend some time with her, before retiring to his quarters.

He'd tell her about his life in London, mother and of course, the company. Under his leadership, Malfoy Enterprises was growing steadily and expanding into new branches, amongst others Muggle inventions. Not many were aware of all the businesses ME had its hooks in and he meant to keep it that way. His job was to let ME rise to never reached heights, how he was doing this, was no-one's concern but his. Just as his late father had done. Only, his father had chosen the opposite side of the spectrum to achieve this goal. And just look what that had brought the family; what it had brought Lucius Malfoy!

No, he had decided at the moment that he became the director of ME, that things were going to change, just like all of wizarding England had to change, at the end of the Second War. And this time, the Malfoys were going to take the legal route. This didn't mean that the company wasn't going to make any profit, though.

The butler was serving afternoon tea. One of the few things Madam Malfoy had incorporated after her son married an English woman. She still called them the British, as if it was a curse chuckled; prejudice didn't just include blood in his extensive family. No, his grandmother had had her fair share of discrimination from his French side of the family, for nothing other then being a witch who came from generations of careful pure-blood breeding, but English breeding and not French. And when great-grandmother's son had decided to remain in England after the binding ceremony that wed them, it had meant a rift that hadn't been repaired for many years. But finally it had and afternoon tea served at the French Château Malfoy was the result of the mended family ties after the birth of his father.

'Arrière-grand-mère, I hope you're well?' he asked between sipping his tea.

'Bien sûr, Draco. Bien sûr.'

He schooled his features not to show his boredom at these conversation games she kept playing. 'And has the weather been agreeable?'

'Bien sûr. Draco. Bien sûr.'

He knew she was pissed off at the fact that he didn't visit more often, but did she have to do this every bloody time he was here? And besides, she never visited Malfoy Manor more than once per annum.

'I hope the weather will keep for the summer. I have planned to visit the Château regularly the coming months.' This should get him a reaction other than "Bien sûr, Draco"! And, as he expected, the mask of indifference slid from his great-grandmother's face and her eyes lit up with a smile that played around her mouth.

'Ah Draco, c'est magnifique! We will have parties and you can meet tout le monde.'

Yep, she was happy, he concluded. And meeting everyone was exactly what he wanted. Perfect!

Parties at Château Malfoy were a sight to behold. Because of the season, the orangerie had been transformed to a tropical ballroom, complete with exotic birds and butterflies. The man-servants had been traded in for traditional house-elves, Draco was relieved to see. He accepted a flute of champagne from one of them and took another turn about the room. Finally, he spotted the person he had been waiting for.

'Henri. Finally you show up, ami.' He slapped the blond man's shoulder. 'It has been too long!'

'Draco, finally, I was looking for you, but I got distracted.' With a grin he turned to point Draco in the direction of his distraction: a group of witches in elegant, although rather revealing, robes.

Draco couldn't say he knew any of them personally, but he certainly recognized one of them. 'You know them, Henri?' he queried. He got a affirmative nod from his friend.

'Then you must introduce me to them! It is my party, after all.'

The five witches were already waiting for them as they swaggered across the room. He could feel their eyes roaming his body and why shouldn't they? He was a Malfoy, after all, eye candy and filthy rich to boot. Henri made the introductions, calling him his childhood friend and heir to the Malfoy fortune. As if he needed an introduction. The women were all pleasant to look at, he concluded, as he shook and kissed all of their hands. The last hand that was presented to him belonged to a svelte blonde.

'Draco, may I present Mademoiselle Delphine Palindrône. Mademoiselle Palindrône, Monsieur Malfoy.'

Draco kissed her knuckles whilst bending somewhat at the waist.

'Enchanté, Mademoiselle.' He looked boldly into her eyes and continued, 'Would you do me the honour of joining me for a waltz?' He noticed her eyebrow rising ever so slightly, but she acquiesced.

'Are you always this forward in your conduct around women, Monsieur Malfoy?'

He could hear the challenge in her voice, although she tried to pretend to be affronted at his lack of social decorum.'I tend to forget proper etiquette when presented with such an example of all that a pure-blood witch should be. Please forgive me for my impertinence,' he countered.

After some time, she continued. 'And do you seem to find yourself in situations like these very often?'

He chuckled. 'Luckily for my reputation, very little. Although in admitting this, I am yet again lacking in the proper respect any pure-blood witch might expect of me, since it forces me to admit that there are few, if any, who can hold a candle to you.' Draco let his eyes glide over her stature quickly, underlining his statement. The blush that crept up her cheek was charming, although he doubted it was a sincere one.

'Mon Dieu, Monsieur Malfoy! Are all you British so candid in you conduct with women?' She could not hide the laughter in her voice.

'Not at all, ma petite, not at all.' After this answer, he swirled her through a series of mind boggling turns. When they returned to dancing in a more relaxed manner, she looked at him with a glitter in her eyes and cheeks coloured from the exertion.

'Monsieur Malfoy, you sure know how to show a witch a good time,' she told him saucily, panting slightly.

'I like giving a witch a good work out, of course, but they never complain afterwards, I can assure you, Mademoiselle Palindrône.' With this last statement, he led them back to where their friends were waiting. He kissed her knuckles again, bowed and turned to a tall brunette, offering his hand as an invite to the next dance. The rest of the evening he danced with all the witches present, some twice, but he avoided dancing with Mademoiselle Palindrône again. Let her wonder, he decided.

The next occasion he had the chance to reacquaint himself with Mademoiselle Palindrône, was at a garden party he had made sure Henri would get them invited to. Henri had been somewhat surprised at his tenacity to convince him that they should attend. But his friend had to admit, in the end, that it was of course an ideal opportunity for meeting witches. The older ladies would remain at the patio, enjoying the shade, whilst most men would retreat to the billiards room. That left the younger ladies to wander the gardens, without chaperone.

They ended up in the enclosed courtyard, in the middle of the formal garden at Château l'Armicourt, entertaining the four ladies by conjuring up fireworks and butterflies, and transfiguring flowers into puppies and kittens. Delphine looked lovely in a buttery yellow summer dress. Her creamy legs seemed to go on forever and her blond hair swayed as she ran away from one of the puppies. Draco quickly calculated his possibilities and muttered Avis Insequi, whilst pointing his obscured wand at her.

A flock of yellow birds buzzed towards a now shrieking Delphine, who started to run away in earnest. He directed the birds to steer Delphine into the maze at the end of the lane. Leisurely, he followed her. He hadn't any trouble locating her; he just followed the trail of yellow feathers to find her cornered by the frantic birds. With exaggerated movements, he swished his wand from its holster and cast a Finite Incantatum.

Then he stalked on, approaching a dishevelled looking Delphine, keeping his eyes firmly fixed on hers. He saw her shiver and in his mind he smirked, but outwardly he kept his features passive. His aggressive stance made her lean further back, but the hedge prevented her from retreating. He had her precisely where he wanted her. His hand stroked the blushing skin of her face and his thumb trailed the outline of her lips, before pressing his own to hers. He couldn't say she tasted specifically like anything, but it was nice altogether.

On her own accord, she opened up her mouth further to him and he grabbed her hips, pulling her tightly to him, whilst intensifying the kiss. She was good, this was not a quivering virgin. Thank the gods for that!

She moaned softly and he grinned at the sound. He revelled in the effect he had on women. Delphine's hands followed his spine and grabbed at his behind in order to obtain more friction onto her pelvis. She knew what she wanted. This was going to be easier than he had anticipated.

At the sound of voices, he broke their embrace and looked down on the small woman standing so close to him. Her hair had escaped her ponytail, her cheeks and lips were fiery red and the dress hung strangely on her form. A quick swish and flick sorted that out and they looked innocently enough when the rest of the party caught up with them.

'Go out with me Saturday, I have tickets to a performance of the Swan Lake at l'Opera,' he whispered in her ear when they were walking back out of the maze. She nodded.

Hermione pushed back another cuticle. She really should get a manicure. Her nails looked terrible. So many frayed edges. They were full of discolouration, too, in positively all colours of the rainbow, thanks to potions and ingredients she worked with every day. And her cuticles were growing onto her nails as well.

Where was Ginny? She peeked another look at the entrance of Madam Brew's Tearoom.

'Would you like another cup of tea, Miss?' The little elf, she guessed it was female, looked at her with big, marble-like green eyes.

So now she was sipping at her second cup of tea. She felt slightly soothed by the warm liquid. She should relax. What on earth could happen to her here? They chance she would be jumped on by paparazzi was minute. And besides, since when did she hide? She was Hermione Granger. Potion Mistress. War hero. Smartest witch of her age! She couldn't live under her duvet cover for the rest of her life, but the idea had been tempting this last week. But she wouldn't hide. Not because of Gil Stone, not because anybody. She clanked the cup back down on the saucer with a bit too much force, drawing attention from the rest of the clientele. She smiled shyly. Gods, where was Ginny?

After crying about Groping Gil – as Ginny had dubbed him – for an hour, she was never going to talk about him ever again. Actually, she was through with all

men!

'I have had enough of men. My heart has been broken three times. It's enough,' she had grunted into her cup. They had switched from tea, to hot chocolate. After three of those delicious cups of warm, alcohol infused goodness, she decided it was time to share thoughts on her pathetic love life with Ginny.

From across the coffee table, Ginny gave her a puzzled look. The alcohol fog slowed her friends thought process down somewhat. 'What do you mean - three?' Ginny slurred at her.

'Well.' Hermione took another sip, 'you know about three, don't you? It comes after two and before four.' Hermione clumsily used her fingers to illustrate her explanation.

'Don't be ridiculous. Of course I know about three.' Ginny put her cup down and frowned, as if thinking hurt her head. 'I meant: how did you get your heart broken three times?'

'Painfully, that's how!'

Ginny disregarded Hermione's last remark. 'Hey, was there another one between that idiot brother of mine and Groping Gil?'

Hermione laughed at Ginny's puzzled face. 'No, no,' she giggled. 'No one. Gil came right after Ron. He picked up the pieces when I submerged from the dungeons again, remember?'

'Yeah,' Ginny muttered. 'But, you and Gil have just broken up. Have you already...?'

'Ugh, Ginny, of course I didn't get my heart broken twice in such a short time. Not even I'm that pathetic!' Hermione scolded.

It had been quiet for some minutes after this statement before suddenly something dawned in Ginny's mind. 'You had a crush before Ron. At Hogwarts!' she cried out triumphantly. 'Gods, I thought it was always Ron for you at Hogwarts. But, who broke your heart then?'

'Bugger!' Hermione mumbled. Drinking and confessions were a bad, bad mix. She tried to flee to the bathroom, hoping Ginny would have forgotten about this when she came back.

'Oh no you don't, young lady!' Ginny giggled and stood up with startling agility, pushing Hermione back on the settee. 'I want to know! Who can it be?'

Whilst keeping her seated, Ginny started talking to herself. Crossing off all of the boys she could think of that were in Hermione's year and in Gryffindor. Seamus and Neville were disregarded. Soon the other boys as well. Then Ginny suddenly seemed to realise something, and she shouted out that the mystery boy probably wasn't in Hermione's year. Was he older than she was, Ginny wondered.

In her mind, Hermione laughed. Ginny was so barking up the wrong tree. Unfortunately, Hermione's tipsy state prevented her from masking her thoughts sufficiently and Ginny caught on. So, her friend concluded, the boy was in the same year, but he must have been from another house.

At this point, the blood disappeared from Hermione's face and she tried to stifle a groan. Ginny wouldn't give up until she had her answer. As a smoke screen, she had desperately tried to convince Ginny that Gilderoy Lockhart was responsible for the heartbreak.

'Oh, don't be daft. That was just an unrealistic infatuation, I'm not buying that. No, I bet he was a...Slytherin!' She pointed her finger at Hermione's nose and cried out, ha! I'm right - you're turning completely red.' With a finger in her mouth, looking quite pensive, she appeared to be mentally going down the list of eligible candidates. 'It's either Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott or Draco Malfoy,' she reasoned.

At that point, Hermione had forced Ginny off of her and escaped to the safety of the bathroom. When Ginny wouldn't go away she started to protest, that this notion was absurd, that she most certainly did not have a crush on a Slytherin. No, not even when she was just twelve and didn't know any better, thank you very much! And no, it was most certainly not that little bouncing ferret!

'"The Lady doth protest too much, methinks", Hermione!' Ginny gleefully exclaimed through the closed door.

'Actually, that is from Hamlet and protest in that context means proclaim and not argue against, so-'

Ginny cut her off. 'I don't care what you make of it, but you had a crush on Draco Malfoy!'

'I'm so sorry.' Ginny stumbled into her chair, bags and parcels flinging around her, almost knocking the tea service that appeared immediately, off the table.

Hermione couldn't keep the grin back at the sight of her best friend.

'Just as I was on my way out, mum floo'ed, and when I told her I was going into town, she - of course - gave me an extensive list,' at this she made a gesture at all the shopping, 'of things she and Fleur absolutely needed. Gods, I do not want to know what will happen when Fleur is even further along. Poor dad!'

Hermione agreed. 'And poor Bill.'

'Poor Bill?' Ginny exclaimed. 'He chose to marry her! Dad didn't ask for them to stay at The Burrow while Shell Cottage is being remodelled.'

'Well, I can hardly believe your mother would have invited her son and very pregnant wife to stay without your dad's consent.' Hermione interjected.

'Pfft. Well, anyway, how are you? What did your boss say? Actually, what did you say? The truth, I hope?'

Yes, she had told the truth, tentatively. But thank goodness for her boss, Potions Master Vane. He turned out to be the father of three girls and grandfather of numerous granddaughters and he had been very understanding. He had told her all about the drama he experienced with all his girls. She had known he was related to Romilda, but now it was clear that he was her grandfather and the stories he could tell about that girl! At the end of the meeting, she had been laughing again for the first time since the break-up. Ginny was elated that it all had worked out so well.

'You see. The truth is always your best option!'

'Don't you look so smug, Mrs. Potter,' Hermione reprimanded.

'Well, it's not everyday I get to give you such solid advice,' Ginny told her, squaring her shoulders back and looking rather proud. They both giggled.

It was just a short distance from his office to the tearoom where he was to meet his mother. The draw-back of his mini holiday was that things tended to accumulate, which resulted in working on Saturdays. But now he was done and the weather was nice, so Draco decided he'd rather walk than apparate. His mind was still not fully back in England after a fortnight in France. He hoped the walk would clear his head sufficiently.

The last Saturday had gone splendidly. The ballet had been nice. The dancers were beautiful; their movements elegant and the music hypnotic. But he had kept his eye on Delphine who was sitting next to him in the private box he had booked. She looked the part. Her hair was swept up in an intricate pattern of loops and her make-up was subtle. She smelled of lavender and the dress was of a matching colour. They were nearing the break, when he decided he had seen enough of the ballet.

He successfully persuaded her to leave and they had apparated to a dark alley close to Rue de Presbourg. Delphine had removed the top layer of her dress, shrunk it and had put it in her evening bag. The lavender gown was now nothing more than some strategically placed patches of fabric on her body. She looked ravishing.

With three strides he had his hands around her waist and was kissing her. Again, she had reacted with passion, kissing him back, tongues wrestling between their mouths. She had moaned his name in that tantalizing French accent and had ground into him wantonly. His hand had slipped further down her body until he felt the skin of her thigh. On his way back up, he somehow wasn't surprised that he didn't encounter any underwear, just the humid curls that covered her sex. It had been hard to keep from taking her there, with her orgasm induced shrieks still echoing in his ears. But a dark, Parisian alley was not what he had in mind for Delphine.

The rest of the night was spent dancing in L'étoille, sipping on champagne and snogging. Around five in the morning he had escorted her back to her flat on Avenue Montaigne. He had declined the invite to join her upstairs, even though he was pressing uncomfortably against his trousers. After a kiss and the promise to return next weekend, he had returned to his quarters.

Maybe thinking about last weekend wasn't the best tactic, because he was feeling rather constricted again. He let some disgusting thoughts pass through his mind. Potter naked. Potter and his idiot brother-in-law naked, doing unspeakable things. He sighed. That was better!

'Ginny! Hermione!'

Both of them were so engrossed in their conversation, they were thoroughly startled by the dreamy voice which belonged to Luna Lovegood.

'How nice to see you both again. I'm so sorry I was unable to attend Harry's party.' She turned to Ginny. 'But you see, I was accompanying Neville on a very exiting excursion in the Peruvian rainforest. It was very successful, you know. I took some pictures of Corksnurfs and Wallygibbs. Those are going to be very handy for the book I'm writing about magical creatures of the rainforests. And of course, Neville found his Sparkling Orchidtree. It is really lovely and sparkly, although it doesn't smell very nice. Can I have a seat?'

Hermione snickered and Ginny joined in. Luna could really cheer up your day. They talked about their work, the party Luna and Neville had missed and Neville's grandmother, who seemed to live forever.

'You know, Hermione, I never liked that Stone boy. No.' Luna stopped talking for a bit as if she needed to think hard about something important. 'He had nice hair. Chestnut. A warm colour, like his eyes. Brown, right?' Hermione nodded, dumbfounded at Luna's remarks. 'Well, you know what? Sometimes people with the warmest disposition are the coldest at heart. And icy exteriors sometimes hide the most compassionate of souls,' Luna told them determinately.

Luna received puzzled looks from the other occupants of the small table. They stayed quiet for a bit, Hermione at loss what to say and Ginny probably as well, when Luna started talking again.

'This really was very nice. But I have to get to Flourish and Blotts. Don't want to be late to pick up Neville's book.' Hermione took a look at her watch. It was three o'clock, hardly any chance of being late, but she rose and placed a kiss on Luna's cheek nonetheless.

'What do you think that was all about? Icy exteriors and compassionate souls?' Hermione questioned Ginny whilst looking at Luna who was dancing towards the exit.

As he entered Madam Brew's Tearoom he could just see Luna Lovegood saying her goodbyes to Ginny and Granger. He hadn't thought about either since the party, but seeing them brought back the memories of Granger's departure at the Potters that night. He wondered how everything was between her and Stone.

She looked rather nice today, he noticed. The light pink dress she was wearing suited her complexion. Mrs Potter looked stunning, like she always did and Lovegood, he chuckled, really, what was she wearing?

'Ladies,' he drawled. 'How lovely to see you again.' Ginny greeted him kindly, but Granger just muttered something under her breath.'Well Granger, I see the years haven't aided your eloquence.' He flashed a brilliant smile her way. This only seemed to darken her gaze more. 'I hate to hit and run, but I have a date waiting. Good day.' At that, he bowed and left.

'Mother.' He leaned over to place a kiss on her cheek. She looked at him lovingly and grabbed his hand to press it tightly to her mouth.

'Draco. I'm so glad you're here. How was France?'

'It was, let's say, satisfactory to a point,' he said. Damn his meddling great-grandmother!

She looked at him, puzzled.

'Of course great-grandmother just had to play the game.' Now his mother grimaced; she too was all too acquainted with the game.

'But after I told her about my plans for this summer, she was quite pleased. She even threw me a party that weekend.'

'And your plans are what exactly? I believe in her letter she mentioned there was a nice ball.' She looked at him hopefully. He knew she wanted him to settle down, get married and produce an heir. Produce bi-weekly dinner guests, was more like it. He had no choice, he would have to confide in his mother…somewhat. With an obscured motion, he cast a muffliato charm around their table.

'Mother, I'm not there for pleasure, but for business.' Her eyes held a glint of hope. 'And I don't mean ME business, mother, you know what I speak of.' She knew indeed and a worried look appeared on his mother's face.

'Mother, you know it has...

'I know, Draco. It has to be done.' She looked so defeated and he hated it. 'When will it be enough, Draco? When will you consider the Malfoy name sufficiently restored? And at what cost?

He sighed and was never more grateful to the house-elves' timing, as a particularly strange one materialized at their table to enquire after their wishes. His mother switched into Madam Malfoy as she snapped at the poor elf and subsequently ordered for the both of them.

After Malfoy left, her mood did not improve. Ginny wasn't helping any; she kept going on and on. Wasn't Draco courteous? Wasn't Draco looking handsome in those slate-coloured robes? Didn't he treat his mother well? Because apparently that was who his mystery date was. Ginny kept cooing and Hermione started to wonder why it was Draco all of a sudden, instead of Malfoy, the name she used to refer to him.

She poured another cup of tea and stuffed a scone in her mouth. Maybe she should stuff one in Ginny's mouth, who was now going on about Draco's lovely hands.

'Look at those fingers, 'Mione!' Ginny exclaimed. The most annoying thing was, that since Malfoy was sort of sitting in her line of sight, she couldn't stop seeing him in her peripheral vision. So she shifted her chair slightly until she was sitting with her back to Malfoy and his mother. She felt better already.

'Hermione! Hey. 'Mione. Pay attention, will you!' Ginny was looking amused. 'Where is your mind wandering?' She laughed saucily. 'I bet you're thinking about what those hands can do to a body, right?'

Hermione looked back, annoyed. She was most certainly not thinking about what those hands could do to a body. Her body. No! No body. No hands. Though, she had to admit, if she was being honest, he did have lovely hands with long, dexterous fingers. But that was just from a professional point of view. Long fingers and agility of those fingers were highly sought after in her line of work. But Ginny went on and on. Finally, Hermione had had enough.

'I bloody well don't care what Draco Malfoy can or cannot do with those fingers on a body, or my body for that matter. I do not want to have sex with that bloody bouncing ferret and I didn't have crush on him either. So give it a rest!' Hermione hissed, leaning across the table facing Ginny.

'And stop talking about how sexy he is. I don't want anybody to hear this kind of conversation!'

Before she even heard his voice, she felt an icy feeling travelling from the base of her skull down along her spine.

'Granger. I'm astounded at you! Speaking about my sexual prowess in public and in a ladies tearoom, no less. What would Stone say? Tut-tut.' He purred behind her. She felt the increase in heat in her body as he leaned further towards her and he whispered in her ear.

'But believe me, Granger, my fingers, they can perform magic on a woman's body. Maybe one day...'

He left this promise lingering in the air as he walked past them, heading to the restroom.

Hermione couldn't move. Her eyes were opened wide and her face was deadly pale, except for her red cheeks. She felt like she was burning up from shame. She didn't dare to look around to find out who had seen or heard what. It was only until Ginny told her that she was attracting attention with her rigid pose that she relaxed.

Draco managed to reach the restroom before he burst out in laughter, startling two elderly men who were occupying the room. He had noticed the eyes of both Ginny and Granger following him as he joined his mother. Ginny, who was more or less facing him, kept talking in an animatedly fashion to Granger. Again, he wished he could read lips, but interpreting their body language, he had surmised that he was the topic of discussion. After a while, had noticed Granger getting increasingly agitated; so much so that she moved her chair. Her attempt at doing this without attracting attention had failed. At that moment he knew he had the perfect opportunity to get under her skin. He remembered her self righteous attitude at the Potters and that had taken him way back to their years at Hogwarts.

She'd always been aloof, so distant. It annoyed him then, but now he saw it for what it really was. She wanted to keep everyone from seeing what she really was: insecure.

As he had stalked nearer, he hadn't been sure if Potter's vixen of a wife had spotted him or not. Somehow, he almost thought she had, and was setting her friend up. But he didn't care. Especially when he heard Granger finally responding to Ginny's flattering description of his skills and attributes. He wished he could have seen her face as he spoke to her back, but he was content when he saw her body react to his voice and presence.

As he looked around the partition wall he could just see both women getting ready to leave. Granger's face was a brilliant shade of red and she fidgeted non-stop with the black robe she was now wearing over her dress. When Ginny finally had rounded up all the bags and parcels, Hermione literally dragged her out of the tearoom.

Gods, he thought, that Granger is a handful. But I bet she's worth it. Let's hope Stone realises this.

He waited a bit longer, to make sure he wouldn't run into them, before exiting the restroom and joining his mother once again.