Disclaimer- I do not own Harry Potter© or any of the concepts derived from the book series. The book series is the soul property of J.K. Rowling.

This and Here

Chapter Three

Vanilla


Hermione would never forgive Ginny for this.

Of course, after having diligently scrubbed at her upper lip for a good hour or so, the marker-drawn mustache had come off, but the last thing she wanted Draco thinking when he saw her was-- Oh god, Hermione's got a 'stache. Because she didn't. Honestly.

Her first mistake had probably been letting Ginny come over to help her "mentally prepare" for dinner with Draco. Her second mistake had been agreeing to play Ginny's made-up drinking game to "We Didn't Start the Fire". For every line they missed, they had to take a shot of tequila, and since that song rivaled perhaps only the encyclopedia as a resource for everything that had ever happened to the human species since the beginning of time, Hermione and Ginny were smashed by the first chorus. In all their drunken happiness, they'd decided it would be absolutely brilliant if they drew mustaches on all the bug eyed prepubescent looking models in Hermione's Witch Weekly-- which was where Ginny had picked up the tidbit about vanilla being an aphrodisiac. And also where Ginny got the funny idea to draw a mustache on Hermione while she slept on the bathroom floor.

As a peace gesture, Ginny had left her a cup of her hangover pick-me-up that smelled like ass and looked like vomit. But it definitely worked wonders because Hermione had woken up just an hour ago, an hour that she'd spent that rubbing at her face, and Draco was supposed to arrive in just about twenty minutes. Er.. make that nineteen.

Hermione jumped into the shower, leaving her alcohol soaked clothes on the bathroom floor, and tried to rinse the smell of tequila out of her hair as best as she could. She didn't even know why she was concerned about being clean for Draco. It wasn't like she was trying to impress him or anything with her hygiene. It was Draco Malfoy for Merlin's sake. He would probably show up wearing jorts and a fannypack.

Oh god, no he wouldn't. He would probably be wearing something tailored and snug and complimentary to every aspect of his body because he always managed to pull off looking good despite actually being an asshole. She wiped the condensation off her mirror and with her wand, began to tug and tease and straighten her hair until it looked somewhat decent, which was more than Draco deserved. How had she ever let herself get caught in this mess? Knowing Draco, this couldn't possibly turn out well.

Just as she'd pulled on a pair of straight leg jeans and a white tunic top, she heard him knocking on her door. Of course, he was exactly on time. She snatched her purse and green cardigan from her bed and slipped on her leather sandals, then looked herself over in her bedroom mirror one last time. Okay. She looked good. She looked more than good. Ugh... which just proved that she was actually concerned about how she looked-- which definitely was not what she wanted to be worrying about when preparing to go on a date with Draco. She quickly fixed her mascara, then headed to the front door but not before catching sight of the bottle of vanilla oil on her kitchen counter.

"Rub it on what your mother gave you," she read the post-it out loud. It was signed, Ginny. With a stupid little heart. Right... so she just needed to rub this oil on her eyeballs and her hair. She crumpled up the note and threw it into the wastebasket, but couldn't keep from eying the vanilla. Well, it certainly wasn't a crime to want to smell good. She sniffed, then unscrewed the cap and proceeded to dab it profusely across her chest.

What the hell was she doing? She hated that just the mere thought of him made her get so nervous. She put the lid back onto the bottle, then threw it into the wastebasket along with Ginny's note. This was just getting ridiculous. It was one date. No, not even a date. A discussion. A purely professional discussion about their future ambitions and their stances on government policies. She tried to imagine Draco as Ron's dad. Oh god, and she nearly threw up in her mouth.

This was just Draco. Draco Malfoy. The Draco that used to tell people her name was "Hermaphrodite". Ooh, she'd nearly forgotten about that, that little fucker. She bent over, then flipped her hair over her head, primped it a little, and opened the door.

Oh Merlin, she was in trouble.

xXx


Thank goodness for Ms. Addly. Draco might not have even known for sure whether Hermione was expecting him had he not called her regularly to request she bake Hermione fruit cakes in an effort to engage her in conversation. Ms. Addly had gladly obliged, as Draco had been so charming and so helpful the first time they'd met. According to Ms. Addly, when she'd asked what Hermione was doing Saturday night, Hermione had calmly replied that she was having a business dinner with a co-worker. How Hermione-like of her. Well, to be fair, she hadn't exactly said yes. She'd said no, plenty of times and in multiple variations, a curse word here, a 'fuck you' there, but not a single yes. But he had his answer now, and she'd cleared her schedule for him so that was enough.

Standing outside her apartment, waiting for her to answer her door, he casually glanced over at his reflection in the window at the end of the hall. He was so used to wearing suits all the time that he'd almost forgotten what one was supposed to wear on a date. Okay, actually, he'd gone on plenty of dates recently, but not with any woman that he had wanted to impress... not like he was trying to impress Hermione or anything. He'd had to dig a little into his closet to find the wide-brimmed black wool coat that had fit spectacularly the first time he tried it on. He simply hadn't found an occasion to wear it since then, but today-- today was different.

She was really taking her time, wasn't she? He tried to angle his body more suggestively, propped his arm up against the door frame with his thumb hooked in his mouth like those models in the fashion ads. He still hadn't decided what he wanted out of this. Still wasn't quite sure whether or not it was worth it, if all this anger she'd been directing at him these past few days were any indication of her true sentiments. At least when they hadn't been talking, he could lie to himself. But again, this was all fairly indefinite because once he acknowledged it as truth.. well, he'd already gone over that. And speaking of virtues like honesty and trust and truth and what not-- he had one card still left up his sleeve. One serum-y card that would make or break the image he had of his future.

He heard her moving around the front door--probably grabbing her purse, fixing her face, that kind of womanly thing. He took a deep breath as the door finally opened.

And immediately released it at the sight of her.

God, he'd never seen her in anything but her work clothes, and even then he'd thought she looked... well, breath-taking. And now, here she was, standing in front of him with her eyes a little wider than he remembered and her chest sort of heaving beneath her white top, in jeans and sandals, and still sucking the breath out of his lungs. At least he wasn't the only one who'd been caught slightly off guard. Realizing he was staring, he took a step back and held out his hand.

"Shall we?" he asked.

She locked her door and dropped her keys into her purse, then turned to look at him with her brow raised in suspicion. For fuck's sake, couldn't she just relax for five minutes?

"Where are we going?" she asked, her hands on her hips.

"Damn it Hermione," he groaned, then grabbed her hand and with a BOOM, they were gone.

xXx


Oh god, he had to be kidding her. His family's mansion in Wiltshire? Really?

She recognized the front of it from the pictures the Daily Snitch had published the day after Lucius had been arrested and dragged shouting from his home. She turned to look at Draco who'd released her hand as soon as they'd successfully apparated to the doorstep, and he was already bounding up to the main doors. Jeez. Her hand suddenly felt lonely.

She looked up towards the sky and saw thunder clouds drifting overhead. No wonder he'd worn that coat. That incredible coat that did incredible things for his gray eyes and his bright blonde hair. She shook the image of him leaning against her door frame out of her head. Remember. She was here to talk business, not sex. She wrapped her cardigan around her a little more tightly and ran to catch up with him.

"Why are we here, Draco?" she asked as she slid up beside him. He banged the door with the giant brass knocker, then turned to look at her.

"Well, you wanted privacy and I haven't been back to this place in nine years. The last place anyone would expect to see us together would be--"

The doors flew open and like some ridiculously glitzy vision from a Miss Universe pageant, Narcissa Malfoy stood in front of them wearing a skinny glittering silver shower curtain. Her blonde hair, as light as Draco's, was pulled back tightly in a pin straight ponytail that went halfway down her back. Hermione had seen Narcissa from afar hundreds of times at Hogwarts, and since then, she'd occasionally seen her picture in the paper. But god, she was so much more alien-like up close and in person.

And what had Draco said about not being back here in nine years? Why the hell had they let him back? She would ask him later, out of earshot of his lemur of a mother.

"Welcome," she said, her smile sickeningly wide, "I'm Narcissa, Draco's mother."

She held out a hand to Hermione. Hermione had never wanted this moment to come. She'd never wanted to meet Malfoy's weird parents with their weird rituals, with their mistreatment of house elves and their hatred of all things un-pureblood. She was surprised Narcissa wasn't being any less polite in meeting her. Clearly, she had to know who she was. Hermione shook her hand politely.

"It's a pleasure, Narcissa. I'm—"

"Draco's already told me so much about you," Narcissa interrupted, gesturing for the two of them to enter.

Hermione's mouth was still hanging open, her name still hanging on her lips, when Narcissa turned and walked off down the main hall. Good god, she hoped they weren't eating dinner with her. If that was the case, well, Draco certainly had a way with the ladies, what with this surprise meeting with the parents on the first date and getting chaperoned at dinner and such. Draco took her hand and led her down the hall after his mother. Hermione felt her hand go numb and her heart speed up... probably from the exercise.

"Draco was preparing something before he left to go pick you up since you are apparently an adamant supporter of House Elf rights," she said, not even bothering to disguise her sneer, "So enjoy your dinner. And do be sure to not touch anything."

With a sniff, Narcissa snapped her fingers and apparated off somewhere with a BOOM that echoed in the gigantic hallway.

Hermione swallowed her anger because Narcissa had been surprisingly nicer than Hermione had expected. And it wasn't as though she would've felt comfortable with Narcissa hanging around for very much longer any ways. She'd only heard stories about Narcissa. About her crazy vendettas with the Ministry and Azkaban. Perhaps that was why Draco had left nine years ago, and why he hadn't been back until... apparently today. She didn't know whether to feel flattered that he'd gone out of his way to bring her here, or to feel uncomfortable that she was breathing the same air as that bug-eyed corn stalk Narcissa.

Then he was tugging on her hand again, pulling her down the hall so that they were both sort of running, sort of speed-walking.

"Draco--" she started to protest.

"The faster we get to the kitchen, the faster we get away from my mother," he quickly explained, and she immediately picked up her pace. So help her, if this got them as far away from Narcissa as possible, she would fucking shoot flames out her ass if it meant they would get there faster.

xXx


There was an explanation for the simplicity of the meal.

As a child, Draco had only ever eaten healthy gourmet dishes for his meals. His snacks had consisted of vegetables and fruits. His desserts had been sugar-free. He hadn't drank a sip of anything with carbonation, too much processed juices or alcohol until he'd started attending Hogwarts. The night after he'd drank his first full can of soda, he'd nearly jumped naked out of one of the castle turrets.

Thus, the very simple but somehow very complex grilled cheese sandwich had eluded him for years. It wasn't exactly unhealthy, but it wasn't exactly gourmet either. He'd ordered it out of curiosity at a muggle cafe for lunch years ago, and knowing that Hermione had been raised with muggle parents, well... he thought this was something she would be able to appreciate.

When he'd whipped the cloth off the plate of sandwiches after they'd walked into the kitchen, she'd laughed. But then seeing the extreme seriousness of his face, realized that he hadn't been joking. This was what they were having for dinner, and she probably decided to keep her mouth shut because if she'd complained, he would have called up the house elves and had them prepare something.

They decided to eat in the kitchen, since the dining room was ridiculously shiny and distracting. And plus, the five thousand spoons and forks would only get in the way while they were eating their sandwiches with their hands.

Draco leaned against the kitchen counter as Hermione roosted on a bar stool next to him. Her cardigan and his coat were laying across the island.

"Why did you decide to make grilled cheese sandwiches?" she asked, wiping her hands off with a napkin as she finished her sandwich. Apparently, he hadn't done half bad with this grilling and cheesing thing.

"I thought it was a muggle thing and figured you'd like it," he said with a shrug, reaching for another sandwich, "Split it with me?"

She obliged, pulled on the other side of the sandwich till it broke in half and cheese oozed out the cut.

"It's very..." she struggled to find the right word.

"Normal?" he asked.

"Well, I was going to say 'human'. But 'normal' works too," she said with a laugh.

She didn't even flinch away when he looked at her. This was turning out to be much better than he'd hoped. She wasn't yelling at him, she wasn't trying to pick a fight, and best of all, she wasn't threatening to chop his dick off. For the first time since they'd spoken to each other in the coffee lounge, she looked like she was legitimately enjoying herself.

"You said something earlier-- about not having been back here in nine years. That meant you left right after Hogwarts... why'd you leave?" she asked, crossing her legs while pulling pieces off the sandwich and popping them into her mouth.

He'd forgotten he'd mentioned that. It wasn't particularly something he loved talking about, but it wasn't some horrible secret either. He just didn't like dwelling on the past.

"Ah-- my parents weren't really supportive of my decision to join the Ministry," he replied, taking a long drink from his glass of, yes, milk. She eyed him down, waiting for a more elaborate explanation.

"What?" he challenged, setting the remains of his sandwich down on his plate.

"Oh come on, there's got to be more than that," she pressed, setting down her sandwich as well.

"No," he shook his head, pursed his lips, "That's... really about it."

She scoffed and folded her arms across her chest. Oh god, he didn't want her getting all moody again. He sighed and slumped a little lower against the counter. He really, really hated talking about things like this.

"You remember how it was back then.. well, you know, way back at the beginning. The Ministry and Death Eaters. Well, my father wasn't exactly excited to see me running off to help the Ministry build a case against him," he explained, "So I wasn't welcome back. And after a while, I didn't want to come back. Especially after Lucius was arrested."

"But... we're here, so something must have happened, right?"

Ha! If only she knew why Narcissa had been so eager to have Hermione over. Even if she'd bolted within the first thirty seconds of meeting her.

"Well, my parents have changed over the years," he replied, trying to get in a dig about change and time and all those grand notions they'd argued about over Chinese food the other night, "All of us have changed."

She didn't respond, so he took her silence as submission. God, maybe she was finally getting the picture. Not wanting to press is luck, he quickly tried to change the subject.

"You know what's so strange about these ones?" he said, waving his half of the sandwich around, "They smell a little like vanilla."

Hermione suddenly began to flush a rosy pink. What the? Was she hot or something? He turned away and continued eating his sandwich. But then stopped halfway through.

"Do you-- do you need some air or something?"

She pressed her hands to her cheeks and let out her breath in a slow hiss, like some sort of balloon. Maybe she'd had some sort of allergic reaction to the food. He set down the rest of his sandwich and dusted his hands off on his jeans. Then grabbed his coat from the island, and handed her her cardigan.

"Come on, let's go. I'll show you my mother's gardens," he said, gesturing with a nod of his head towards the French doors at the back of the kitchen.

He held her cardigan out for her as she slid her arms into the sleeves, then unconsciously ran his hands down her arms. God, she felt so soft. She felt so-- perfect. When she turned her head to look up at him, he immediately pulled his hands away. But surprisingly enough, she wasn't even looking at him in anger. She was just sort of... looking. Weird. And slightly tingly too. He suppressed his smile and turned his face away from hers.

Sliding his coat on, he strode to the doors to the balcony and held them open for her.

"Thanks, Draco," she said as she walked past, brushing up against him and making his stomach do all sorts of acrobatic things. For some reason, he thought holding his breath would make it easier to control his body, but instead it just made his heart beat faster.

"For what?" he asked, closing the door behind them as they walked out onto the balcony.

"For dinner. It was... surprisingly thoughtful of you," she said with a nod and a smirk.

Thoughtful. That was a new one. He smiled back. Yeah, he could be pretty thoughtful when he wanted to be.

xXx


Hermione was thoroughly impressed.

The grilled-cheese sandwiches had been a little unexpected. But in a good way. The look on Draco's face when he'd whipped off the sandwich covering had been so entirely innocent that every fear and every doubt she'd had about his intentions for the date had flown out the window. After all, what kind of man tries to seduce a woman with a grilled cheese sandwich? Mm, yeah baby, this melted cheese feels so good on this crispy toasted bread in my mouth. Fail.

Knowing Draco and knowing how he'd been raised, grilled-cheese had probably never been apart of his diet. It must've taken him hours to realize that he was supposed to melt the cheese with the bread. Not separately.

And now they were walking through the Malfoy's private gardens down a long gravel and seashell encrusted walkway that had to be at least a mile long. Every hedge they passed bloomed with all sorts of flowers--some that talked, some that sang, and even some that tried to be fresh and get all up in Hermione's business. But she hadn't even really minded that much, because thank Merlin they'd left the kitchen when they had or else Draco would have realized that the vanilla smell had been coming from her boobs-- not the sandwiches.

"Your mother did all of this?" she asked a little skeptically. She couldn't imagine Narcissa doing any sort of manual labor, especially if it was out in nature.

Draco shrugged.

"I don't remember it being this big... she must have added to it after I left," he explained, "But, from what I remember, yeah, she'd planted all of it. With the help of magic, of course."

Of course, of course.

She folded her arms across her chest as she walked, tugging her cardigan a little closer around her. God it was cold. And any second now it'd start pouring, judging from the clouds looming over them. But the last thing she wanted was to go back inside and have him sniffing around her again, getting all... aroused or something.

"Here," he said. And then she felt a weight on her shoulders and his hands on her arms again, and her mouth went dry. Just his coat. Nothing to freak out about.

She tried to wriggled it off of her shoulders but he keep his hands there.

"This is stupid, you're going to get cold," she argued.

He loosened his shoulders and stretched his arms out. God, that green v-neck sweater fit so nicely-- she could see just the right amount of outline of his torso.

"Then let's switch. Would your cardigan go well with my eyes?" he teased. She didn't want to, but she laughed, and in protest of--well, herself, for laughing at him-- she stalked as far to the other side of the path as she could.

"Oh, come on Hermione. I'll be fine, I've got a sweater on... And it's my fault any ways-- I should've told you where we were going so you could've brought a heavier jacket. Consider this my punishment for... myself," he explained as he followed her beeline across the path.

Ugh, why did he have to be so... so... endearing? She tried to conceal her smile, but clearly failed because when she turned to look at him, he was grinning from ear to ear.

"You know, I've always wanted to know something about you," he asked.

If this was some stupid question about virtues and values and morals again...

"What happened between you and Weasley?"

She stopped walking. Not because she was angry. More because she was confused. She was actually enjoying talking to Draco, but this-- this was a different sort of threshold all together. What did he want to be? Friends or something? And god, if he did want that... well, it just came so natural to be on the defensive with him that even after the grilled cheese and the funny jokes and the nice conversations, she couldn't just open herself up to him. She wasn't even sure what she wanted from him yet.

UGH. Why was she thinking so hard about this? It was just Draco. Draco, who had proved that he could be attractive and charming and giving and kind and just... really really thoughtful. When it came down to it, he'd already told her about his past. Maybe it was just fair that she told him a little about hers too.

Draco tucked his hands into his pockets and dipped his head down in front of hers to check her reaction. She sighed and rolled her eyes, swatted him away.

"We just didn't have time for each other," she said as she started walking again. He followed, nodding his head and rubbing his chin like he knew what she was talking about.

"I meant-- how did it happen?"

She tilted her head. "What do you mean?"

"You know, how did it start? I just, I don't know, I read about the engagement in the paper and was... surprised. I thought it would've happened sooner," he said, turning away from her.

What the hell was he talking about? She and Ron had been dating for two years before getting engaged. Was that so unnatural these days?

"Why's that?" she asked.

She turned around when she realized he'd stopped walking behind her. He was looking at his shoes, his shoulders slack, his arms folded across is chest. She took a few steps back towards him, positioned herself so she was standing in front of him. What the hell. Now wasn't exactly the best time to meditate.

Then he abruptly turned his head back up to look at her with a weirdly pensive smile. She pulled his coat tighter around her. His face then lit up and he lifted his arms in front of him.

"I think it was just the general public consensus that Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, two thirds of the Golden Trio--" he made dramatic gestures in the air, framing their names on an imaginary theater marquee, "--would be married right out of Hogwarts."

She laughed in an effort to lighten the mood, but it came out in a sort of choking gasping way. Yeah, of course she knew what people had expected of her and Ron. That was half the reason she finally gave in that one night, let him kiss her after that fifth shot, said yes when he got down on one knee and asked her to marry him in front of his entire Quidditch team and the hundred thousand spectators after winning the Quidditch World Cup.

But geez, getting married right out of Hogwarts? She'd been too... just too-- GOD, just too stuck on other things to have even thought about dating Ron, much less marrying him.

"Coming out of Hogwarts, Ron was the last person I saw myself with," she grimaced.

"Who was the first?" he immediately replied.

She laughed in that choky-gaspy way again.

"What are you talking about?"

He took a step towards her.

"Who was the first person you saw yourself with?"

And all of a sudden he was very, very close. Close enough that she could see the little flecks in his eyes as they darted across her face. She could see his arms moving inch by inch towards hers. When she ran her tongue over her unexpectedly dry lips, he moved his head even closer. Her breath came out in a slow hiss.

This was exactly what she'd been so scared of. She should never have talked about this to him because now she was tempted to tell him, and god, it would be so enlightening, so absolutely satisfying to just say it. Especially with him so close. Close enough to...

Fuck, his hands were on her arms and now her heart was beating all erratically. So erratically. She should tell him. No. She shouldn't. She should. Okay, she should.

But then where would she be? What the hell was she supposed to say?

"I--" she began. Then stopped when she saw Draco's face.

"Are you crying?" she asked skeptically.

"What?" he replied, then brought his hand to his face and touched the wet trail on his cheek. But then another appeared on his forehead. And another on the tip of his nose.

"Ah shit," he groaned, "It's starting to rain. Let's get back inside."

She wanted to praise every deity possible that had pooled their resources together to save her from making perhaps a horrible horrible mistake.

The rain started to come down heavier now, heavy enough that she could feel it wetting her hair. This would feel so much better if it weren't so cold. Draco grabbed her hand and pulled her along back towards the house.

"God damn this walkway's long," he said with a laugh as he turned around to check how she was doing with the sheets of rain kamikaze-ing into her face.

She was hanging onto his coat for dear life with one hand while he pulled her along with the other. Oh god, her clothes were all wet. She could feel them sticking to her skin. It was a doubly good thing that she'd brought a cardigan and taken his coat, as her top had been white-- had been, seeing as that it was now probably the color of... naked.

She smiled at him in response, because yes, the walkway was ridiculously long and in sandals, it was a struggle running this fucking marathon back to the Manor.

Still staring at her, Draco failed to see the large puddle in front of him and ran right through it, splashing water all along his pants. She had to stop as the laughter racked her body, and also, a little because her lungs were half-filled with rain water.

"Oh, that's funny?" he asked, smirking. The wind was doing all sorts of wonderful things to his blonde hair, flicking it around his face this way and that so he looked like some sort of hot mountain man, but without the facial hair. Oh god, where did these images come from?

Then he was lunging at her and lifting her over his shoulder. She immediately began screaming and beating the back of his body with her fists. THIS was completely inappropriate. But at the same time, she couldn't keep herself from enjoying it. It was actually pretty fun.

"You twat! Put me down! So help me, I'll zap warts on your ass if you don't--"

Before she could get out the rest of her threat, her feet were back on solid ground again. He had his hands on her hips and she was somehow a little taller than him. His face was crinkled up in laughter, and covered in water, and his clothes were completely soaked through.

Even with the cold rain, the wind, the fact that they were at Malfoy Manor-- it felt so right. She wanted to hold his face to her chest, she wanted to run her hands through his wet hair, and most of all, she wanted to go somewhere warm and lay there with him, wrapped up in his body. Oh god, these thoughts were getting out of hand. When she moved to take a step away from him, his eyes grew wide and he lunged after her--

And she landed ass-first in a fountain. Draco nearly landed on top of her, but he managed to roll himself to the side, splashing up more water as he went. She could hear him laughing through the pitter-patter of the rain.

"Ouch," she muttered before standing up and giving him a helping hand. MERLIN her tits were going to freeze off. She wrapped his wet coat tighter around her. Oh fuck, like that would really help.

"Sorry about that-- I suppose I should have warned you," he apologized as they made their way back into the kitchen. She shrugged. She was just thankful that a fire was already crackling in the kitchen fireplace.

"Thanks for the coat," she said. It was soaked through now and hanging limply around her shoulders. He pulled it off of her, shook it a little, then hung it by the door to dry. A puddle of water started to form beneath it. She considered taking off the rest of her clothes, but realized that that would leave her naked. And she was still at Malfoy Manor. And Narcissa would probably glide in like some sort of fucking bat and make some crude comment about cottage cheese thunder thighs or mosquito bite boobs.

Instead, she opted to huddle by the fire, her teeth chattering so loudly that she didn't hear Draco offer her a towel until he was directly behind her, holding it over her shoulders.

When she turned to thank him, he was already changing out of his wet clothes, pulling off his sweater and undoing the belt buckle of his pants. Her breath caught in her throat.

"What are you doing?" she asked. He looked up, just as his pants had dropped to the floor, and without even the smallest hint of modesty, stood up to his full height and walked towards her in just his briefs.

Oh god oh god oh god. He was absolutely perfect.

Not too Ron-bulky, not too Harry-scrawny. Abso-fucking-lutely perfect. The perfectly broad shoulders, the perfectly narrow waist, the perfectly formed torso and arms, the perfectly-- her breath caught in her throat as she felt her head grow extremely light. She sharply sucked in a breath of air, then turned away. God, what was wrong with her?

"Getting out of my wet clothes," he replied, breaking her out of her reverie, "Didn't your mother ever teach you anything about hypothermia, pneumonia, all those thousands of other deathly medical ailments?"

Oh, right, of course. Hypothermia, pneumonia, perfect excuses to get naked. She pulled her towel tighter around her when he approached her. But instead of touching her or doing anything similarly gooey, he reached around her and yanked his towel down from the mantle where he'd left it to warm up.

"For Merlin's sake, Hermione. Just calm down. I'm not going to throw you over my shoulder and have my way with you if you take off your clothes..." he said.

As he wrapped the towel around his waist, he smiled cheekily, "Certainly not without your permission."

She groaned and started to take off her cardigan, being sure to keep her back faced towards him.

"I didn't remember seeing raping and pillaging on the agenda for the evening," she countered, pulling her top over her head.

She heard him laughing, and quickly unzipped her pants and slid them down her legs, still not sure if he was facing towards her or away from her.

"Like I said Hermione... not without your permission."

Finally done taking off her wet clothes, save her underwear of course, she wrapped the comfortably plush and large towel around her and turned to face him. Surprisingly enough, his back was facing towards her and he was staring out the French doors to the balcony. Huh. Interesting.

"You can turn around now, Draco," she said, already beginning to feel much warmer.

He glanced over his shoulder to check first, as if she would lie to him about something like this, then fully turned around and set his hands down on the counter.

"Thank you for the towel," she said, watching him as he slowly made his way around the counter towards her.

"My pleasure."

He came to a stop in front of her, leaned against the counter with his arms folded across his chest and with his legs crossed at the ankles.

"Is it warm enough in here?" he asked, genuinely concerned. She nodded, then in a highly un-Hermione move as she was still riding the high of having just gotten almost naked in front of Draco Malfoy, shifted towards where he was resting against the counter to lean against it beside him.

As soon as her arm brushed up against his, she flinched away.

"You're still cold!" she cried.

And that might as well have been a siren's call because Draco abruptly pushed away from the counter, spun around, and with his arms on either side of her, pressed his crotch dangerously close against her.

"So warm me up," he said.


Author's Note: 5.29.08

Bam. And another chapter... finito. I changed everything in this. Except for two lines of dialogue. Now I can sleep at night.