A/N: Okay, this was supposed to be a one-shot and then y'all let me know that it was a bit abrupt and the idea could use more playing out. Apparently, I'm easily swayed by reviews. Who knew! There will be one more chapter in this story, and I think that will give us all closure. So please keep reviewing, and if you like my style check out Bad Ideas, because it's my baby right now.

Heads up: I hate when my favorite characters don't read like themselves. But this bit is really from Draco's POV and I don't think Draco sees the anxious, neurotic side of Hermione. I tried to write how I think he sees her.


Three Months after the Battle of Hogwarts

Draco Malfoy had been dreading the day the Ministry would come to destroy Malfoy Manor. They were due to arrive at 9 sharp, so the letter from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement had detailed. They were to take anything that appeared dangerous or important to the persecution of current or former Death Eaters. That morning he had eaten breakfast in the Grand Dining Room, which he had never done before because it was, in fact, improper to do so for such a casual meal. Still, he had wanted the opportunity to take notice of the ancient decor, and to briefly treasure the air of dignity his home had clung to despite it's dark purposes over the last year.

Draco wasn't stupid; he knew that they would take, or break, anything they liked. The Aurors they would send would all have fought for or quietly sided with the Order of the Phoenix, and the last few months hadn't healed many wounds. He took a stroll around the house, biding it a bittersweet farewell.

It had never felt like his home. Perhaps it had felt like his father's, but he doubted it. Malfoy Manor was much like the family itself; you didn't live there, you were simply a part of it. There was hardly any room in a dynasty for individuality or empathy. For the first fifteen years of his life, Draco had been perfectly content with this lifestyle. From birth, he had no doubt as to what he deserved, what was right and wrong, and how to behave in every circumstance. So many of the questions that he now struggled with on a daily basis used to have simple answers.

His father's disciplining system may not have been Draco's choice, but he had known that it was what was done in the family. Why question it when his father shared the same scars? Thus, when his father had requested an additional scar, the one he still wore on his left arm, how was he supposed to know that "no" was even a viable answer?

Draco strolled around the Manor staring at the dark artifacts that were also family heirlooms. He supposed everyone became an adult when they learned a very hard truth and this was his: there was no purity or integrity here. Not in this house, not in this family, not in him.

It was around the second library that Draco found he could not stare at his ancestor's emotional baggage any longer and retired to his room. The admittedly palatial and luxurious bedroom was no different. He saw the childhood toys that looked more like statuettes and priceless antiques than something a three-year-old would enjoy holding. His precious Slytherin banner, which he had waved at any match he wasn't playing in, had not been allowed on the walls, and so he pulled it out of a drawer to for nostalgia's sake.

When the Ministry officials arrived, Malfoy was ready for them. The idiot Auror who knocked on the door asked for the mistress or master of the house, then quickly realized the 17-year-old was the only member of his family still in Britain. Malfoy simply rolled his eyes and opened the door.

He really had thought he was done resenting his father; really, he had. Yet here he was, sitting in the stiff leather arm chair in his bedroom listening to Aurors take apart everything he called home. What got under his skin was the way they were doing it. If they "accidentally" broke a four-hundred-year-old plate or a tea set, it didn't seem to bother them at all. It shouldn't have been Draco's job to stop this. No one had taught him how to be the man of the house. Draco knew without a doubt that if his father, not the shell of an acolyte that he had become but his full, confident, fierce father had been there, that he would have stopped the senseless destruction. Draco couldn't bring himself to do anything. Fuck the dishes. Besides, he had somewhere to be in a few minutes, so he sat back in the chair and relaxed.


A Few Minutes Later

Draco had only known to go to Hogwarts, so when he found himself in the Slytherin common room, he was surprised. Looking around, he had to chuckle when he realized it was certainly a dark, green-tinted room, but not the one he had lived in for six years. She had tried though. Going over the details in his memory, he solved the problem, then inwardly smiled and sat on one of the lush, jade-colored velvet chaises scattered across the room. She had chosen the place, so where was she?

He stared out at the lake from the bay windows that lined much of the room. The water lapped against the lower half of them, magic keeping the glass clean and clear despite the murky water. The sky above it was a cool gray mixed with pale pinks and white, streamlined clouds. It certainly wasn't a Scottish sunset, but it was scintillating against the dark aqua of the lake. He could feel the calmness slowing down his heart rate. He hadn't even realized how agitated he had been all morning until he wasn't anymore. He let his eyes drift shut.

"Hey you" came a soft, female voice. "You look very handsome all asleep like that, but you're going to waste our time."

Draco squinted his eyes against the light, hoping and knowing he would see what he wanted to see. He held back a happy sigh. Hermione (goddamn) Granger, squeezed into the little leftover space in front of him on the chaise, her legs tucked under her, sitting on her heels. His eyes opened all the way when he saw that she was wearing a large dark gray t-shirt…and not much else. This was why he had started adding the "goddamn" to her name whenever he thought of her. This was why he thought of her more often then he liked to admit.

Her hair was down and had grown long since May, how had he not noticed that before now? Her brown skin glowed as though she had finally made it outside. Everything about her looked…good. It was a dramatic comparison to the things he had seen at his home that morning. Draco wanted to lay her over him like a blanket, so he did. All he had to do was reach out his arms to her and slip them around her ribs and gently pull and she crawled the rest of the way, her dark legs stretching out behind her, her curves pressing into him as she made her way to his face. When her body was lined up as closely as possible to his (with their height difference her feet landed somewhere along his calves) he finally spoke. "Hello."

Her smile had roots in an innocence that he couldn't believe she had maintained after everything she had seen and been through, yet here it was, stretching across her lips at him. She reached up and pulled his slightly-too long bangs out of his eyes. He needed a haircut. He needed a mother, really, but that was neither here nor there. "I'm so glad you're awake." She replied.

He raised an eyebrow. "Yeah?" Draco woke up just a little bit more.

She breathed a laugh and it gave him goosebumps. "Definitely." Then she pulled him in- God he loved it when she did that- and pressed her full pink lips onto his thin ones. She pressed mildly, without nervousness or urgency or passion, and simultaneously applied the same pressure with her entire body. He could feel her everywhere, and the weight of her made him feel both safe and turned on. Draco let out a quiet moan.

After a few more minutes of this very pleasant greeting, Hermione sighed contentedly and laid her head on his chest. He reached up to play with her inane curls. "Granger."

"Mm?"

"Why are we here?"

Hermione raised her head and looked at him sideways. "I wanted to see what it looked like. I read about it, obviously, but could never understand how it would be a pleasant place to be."

"But you got it wrong."

She grinned guiltily and bit her lower lip. His lower extremities noticed. "I knew you would fix it."

Draco rolled his eyes to make a point.

Hermione put her head back down on his chest. "It is quite lovely, actually." Draco chuckled and she felt his chest move. "Though very dark."

A second later she popped her head up again, this time joined by her upper body. "Aghhhh" The shift in weight as both of her hands pressed onto his chest surprised him.

"I changed my mind!" Draco looked closely at Hermione's eyes. Her sudden excitement had lit them up. Their rich brown reminded him of bare trees in winter, the deep gold ring around them making them shine. "We're going outside. To the lake!"

She struggled to get off of him and he sat up straight, still on the couch and a little groggy. Once she was standing she held out her hand to grab his but he stopped her. "Granger! You're not wearing any clothes." Draco was sure that he was making a mistake in letting her leave their comfortable, pants-optional couch. Ignoring her hand, he grabbed her waist, pulling her onto his lap. She didn't fight the movement.

Straddling him, Hermione wiggled her hips. She made it look as though she was just getting comfortable, but he suspected she knew exactly what she was doing. In fact, three months of…daydreams…gave him fairly solid evidence. He was clenching nearly everything, resisting what his body really, really wanted to do. "Granger…" he growled. To his astonishment, she whined softly in response, grinding into him harder. He pulled her closer, sitting up from the couch and holding onto her back. Leaning in, the dark, deep tone his voice took on in moments like these asked "Is this me, controlling this? I thought today you were…"

Without moving her head, Hermione answered. "Malfoy. Really, does it matter?"

He groaned again, then bit her earlobe, because it was there. Her shocked squeak made him smirk and he continued to bite his way down her neck and to her collarbone. His bites got harder every time she made a sound, either of pleasure, or surprise, or even light pain. When he stopped, she took a deep breath. "Malfoy…"

He grinned, and didn't say what he was thinking: I wish I could leave a mark on you. Instead, as he neared her lips, he teased her. "You said something about going outside?"

Draco blinked and found himself on a soft quilt laid on the grass near the lake. The sky was still in its slow gray sunset, fading gently into the warm air. But Hermione was not next to him. The blunt change from being seconds away from the deep kiss he craved to being alone shook him.

He looked around, vaguely concerned. They could both do this, though neither had figured out exactly how. The spell had a strange set of rules they were still learning. A few weeks ago, they realized they could sort of encourage or influence each other's choices, but if both of them just happened to imagine the same thing, it doubled in intensity. Hermione had imagined a beautiful sky for them tonight, but if he had also thought to create a sunset, it would have been brilliant. When they were...together, it happened more naturally.

So sure, she had moved him outside and left herself inside. Or gone somewhere else entirely. Draco laid back on the quilt, resting on his arms, and closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze and the warmth. He could take control and go where he pleased, but today was hers. He had promised her total control…though neither of them fully believed him. He almost smiled at the thought. A different girl would have believed him. A different girl may not have demanded they rotate having control, to keep things sane rather than have them fighting to construct fantasies that didn't overlap. A different girl wouldn't have done research on the supposedly simple spell that was everything he lived for in the dreary life in which he was stuck. A different girl wouldn't have been the only person to make sure he was alright that day in the Great Hall.

Malfoy could barely remember the Hermione Granger he had known in school. Not only had they each been drastically changed by the war, but now that he knew her- even this daydream version of her- he desperately tried not to remember how they had treated one another back then. No, he preferred to live in the daydreams they constructed.

"You're somewhere else today." Malfoy opened his eyes to see the small, dark girl standing over him. Still. Not. Wearing. Pants. His eyes went wide and his jaw dropped before he could stop it. She laughed, her head falling back, carefree.

He reached up and pulled her down to him, making her laugh more. "You are terrible." His growl returned.

She laid on her side, her legs tucked under her and her left arm on his stomach, she looked up at him, faking innocence. "I think you mean amazing." She smiled, and he thought it could have lit up any dark common room.

"Miss Granger, it is not proper for you to be out on Hogwarts grounds without trousers or a school robe." She tsk'd, slapping the top of her own hand, then lay down next to him, giggling all the way.

Draco propped himself up so that he was hovering over her. He saw her breath catch, her pupils widen, her laughter gradually cease, her lips return to the small grin she got whenever she thought he was going to kiss her. He made his own breath heavy-which wasn't difficult, with her underneath him- and he felt his own eyelids grow heavy with the burden of staring at her and not touching her. Lowering himself, he brought his face just an inch above hers. He prepared to kiss her. She closed her eyes and parted her lips. But instead, he whispered, "I'm going to have to take points away for that." Her eyes popped open and there, again, miraculously, was the laughter. His kiss interrupted it.

Draco let his body cover hers just as she had done to him. Balancing some of his weight on one of his knees dropped to the left of her so that he wouldn't crush her, he laid himself down so that he could feel every part of her again. He had no idea how long it had been since he had felt her like this in the common room, but it had been too long. Her body pressed up against his in eager response.

Their kiss took its time getting to the place that he knew it would. They could kiss in a hundred ways, he had discovered, but eventually they always reached the point where he couldn't figure out whose lips belonged to whom, or when they had last taken a break to catch their breath. The kind of kiss that spread freckles of flame across his skin and made him realize that food was a waste and his mouth was actually made for this.

He could feel her wanting him. Underneath the shirt, her nipples had grown hard, and being able to feel them through both of their clothes was driving him wild. Separating her legs with one knee, he brought it to her and found the heat he had expected. Pushing his knee hard into that warmth, he received the moan that had been his goal.

He couldn't hold himself up much longer. Still kissing her with everything he had, he rolled them over. Her ability to let out a squeak of surprise that was also a moan all without leaving his lips impressed the hell out of him. Now he had her where he wanted her. She was straddled over him just as they had been inside. Only now, the part of her hovering over him where it matters was warm and damp. He couldn't resist a smirk against her mouth. He considered taking their clothes off, but he quite liked her how she was and instead slipped his own cool hands underneath her soft shirt, feeling all of her curves he tweaked and twisted and smoothed as she ground against him.

Draco realized that he wasn't controlling the magical dream at all when he pulled his lips away to take off his own shirt. She ran her nails down his chest, doing her own tweaking and twisting and smoothing and making him absolutely desperate for her. "Malfoy…" her moan was the least of his problems as her hands moved to the back of his neck and she ran her fingernails through his hair. "Take us back inside."

He kissed her as hard as he could, then pulled away, leaving her wanting and breathy. "You're in control, remember?"


Draco had no idea how long it had been, but he didn't care. He came back to the reality of a ransacked and empty Manor, an exiled family, and friends who were dead, prisoners, or in situations similar to his and just as desperate. He called for a house elf before remembering that he had freed the few that hadn't chosen to join his parents in their life-long house arrest on a cold island.

So he stood, packed anything that he cared about, and walked around Malfoy Manor one last time. It will make a great haunted house one day, he thought, haunted by a family who made the wrong choices until it was too late. When he left, he tried very hard to convince himself that he wouldn't miss it.


Eek! Please let me know what you think and I'll have the last installment up soon. :)