Chapter 4

The next few weeks passed similarly. Draco spent three days each week training at the studio for his Dragon level exam, and then spent each Saturday at the open level class paired with Hermione, followed by a few rounds at the pub. They had since abandoned the practice of letting the loser pay for drinks, as besides Disarming spells, Hermione was woefully inexperienced and rusty. Besides, he was one of the richest wizards in Great Britain; he might as well buy drinks for an attractive lady once a week.

An attractive lady. Some of the raw sexual tension had eased between them as time passed since the groundwork class. He supposed that rolling around on the ground with a good looking woman would make anyone a bit on edge in that department, but the flirtation was still there and the conversations were entertaining and stimulating so long as they stayed away from certain subjects, though occasionally they strayed onto dangerous territory by accident.

"It's just been lonely," said Hermione. "This is the first year both the kids have been gone to Hogwarts, and I miss them so much it hurts. Don't you wonder how our parents could stand letting us leave for so long?"

Draco scoffed.

"My parents could not have cared less," he said.

Hermione paused, as if she had forgotten momentarily to whom she spoke.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"For?"

"For bringing it up. For your parents not caring," she said honestly.

Draco's jaw tightened. He did not like it when their conversations took these kinds of turns. He motioned to the bartender for another drink and they sat in silence for a minute. His mind was focused on Scorpius, how much he truly did miss his son. He understood exactly what Hermione meant when she spoke of missing her children. The thing was, he never really knew how to say so. Malfoys didn't express their emotions. That was something that had been drilled into him from a very young age.

"What level test do you think I could pass now?" asked Hermione, easing the tension.

Draco laughed out loud.

"I don't know, field mouse?" he said.

She slapped him half heartedly on the arm.

"Seriously!"

"I am serious!" he said.

"There's no field mouse ranking," said Hermione.

"They'd create one for you," he replied.

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a sip of wine.

((()))

The dueling club curriculum was a rotating cycle in the open level class. Each week they focused on a different set of skills, ranging from Disarming to hexes to curses to counter-curses. Eventually they circled back around to the beginning, and it was on her 8th class that the instructor once again said they would be covering groundwork. Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach at the thought. She and Malfoy had become rather close over the past few weeks. She had found herself distracted at work during the week, thinking about a funny thing he'd said or a new skill she'd learned in class, though lately she hadn't been thinking as much about the sexual aspect of the man. Those thoughts had strayed from her mind, but at the thought of wrestling around on the floor with him once again, the feelings rushed back to her all at once.

Today they would be learning a slightly different skill. As the standard participant for demonstrations, Malfoy straddled the instructor and leaned back as the instructor showed the rest of the class how he used one elbow to get Malfoy's wand arm out of the way, then a hand on his opponent's hip to push him away while simultaneously twisting underneath to pull himself away from the attacker.

Hermione already felt hot underneath her collar. Malfoy returned to Hermione's side and quirked an eyebrow.

"Ready?"

She nodded. He got on his back and Hermione straddled him, sinking down fully and silently chastising herself for trying to feel for any reaction in Malfoy. None as of yet, but when she felt his hands on her hips, a jolt of electricity shot up her spine. Dear Merlin.

She couldn't quite make out his words as he described the techniques he was using, wasn't even paying attention as he suddenly twisted his hips underneath her, pushing her backward as he shot away and leapt to his feet, ready in a fighting stance.

"Just like that," said Malfoy, his voice just a bit huskier than usual.

Hermione got on the ground and felt her breath quicken when he straddled on top of her. She would remain professional. She would.

"Right hand on my hip," said Malfoy.

She cautiously placed her hand there.

"Use your left elbow to knock out my wand arm. Then you'll push backward and twist underneath me, just like the demonstration," he said.

She tried. The first attempt didn't quite free her from his grasp. He was, after all, quite heavier and bigger than she was. She ended up with her legs a bit tangled in his with him still hovering over her. Hermione smiled weakly at him.

"Guess I need practice," she said.

"You do," said Malfoy. "But what if you were in this position? What if I were really attacking you?"

I'd let you do whatever the hell you wanted, she wanted to say, the heat and sexual tension that she'd thought had dissipated rushing back.

"Come on, Granger. How would you fight back?"pressed Malfoy.

She thought quickly and performed a faux jab to his crotch. Malfoy played the part well, acting as though he were incapacitated as she wriggled away and reached for her wand, training it on him as soon as she was on her feet.

"Very nice," the instructor commented. "You're improving, Ms. Granger."

Malfoy seemed rather pleased with himself in his ability to teach.

"Again," said Malfoy. "And see it through this time. I won't be letting you away so easily."

They went through the practice again and again. Hermione was panting, though she wasn't entirely sure it was just from the physical exertion. Malfoy took his place on top of her. The wrestling match moved fast. Hermione knocked Malfoy's wand away from her face, pushing herself backward and ending up halfway on her stomach as she twisted away from him, but rather than pausing to allow her to figure out what to do next, Malfoy quickly pinned her wrists above her head, flipping her onto her stomach and straddling her, his hips pressing directly onto her arse, and Merlin if she couldn't feel his arousal now.

"Now what would you do, Granger?" he whispered hoarsely.

Without really thinking it through, Hermione bucked her arse up into his hips, and whether it was because of her wrestling skill or because of the inherent sexual nature of that particular move, his grip on her wrists loosened, allowing her to twist underneath him. He recovered quickly and now had her pinned beneath him once again, though this time she was on her back. In a moment, she grabbed one of his wrists and used the technique she remembered from the first day of class, using momentum to roll him over and in the shuffle, grasp his wand. She ended up on top of him, straddling his hips and pointing his wand, Manticore engraving at all, directly at his face.

"Well done," he said, his grey eyes dark.

But a Manticore level fighter would not be bested that easily, for as soon as he'd said it, Malfoy had kicked her legs out from under her and spun her over once again, pinning her wand arm with his hand and holding her body to the ground with heavy pressure from his hips, her legs wrapped around his back. She could feel his hardness pressing against her.

The instructor was telling the students that class was over, but Hermione remained pinned below her partner for a moment.

"What do you say we move that drink to my place today?" whispered Malfoy, his voice husky.

Hermione could only nod. He stood and faced the only non-mirrored wall for a moment as he adjusted himself, and Hermione felt a wave of heat wash over her as she thought of his hard erection inside his loose workout clothes.

He turned to leave the room and motioned for her to follow, holding out his hand. As soon as they stepped outside the warded studio, she felt a tug in her navel and was Apparated to a trendy looking foyer in what appeared to be Malfoy's flat.

"Home from the play fighting group again?" called out a snide, drawling voice. "Still been out sullying the Malfoy name with your frippery?"

"Frippery?" said Malfoy, and Hermione turned in circles, trying to orient herself and see where the voice was coming from.

They walked into the living room and Hermione saw that the snide comments were coming from a portrait of a man that shared the platinum hair but few of Malfoy's features.

"Hermione, this is my great grandfather, Marius," he said.

"Ah," said the portrait. "Skipped dueling class today?"

"No, she's in the class with me," Malfoy replied.

The portrait huffed and refused to speak further. Hermione followed Malfoy into the kitchen, admiring the expensive looking furniture, complete with various sofas and chairs that seemed to have never been sat on. Malfoy used a Summoning charm and a bottle of red wine appeared.

"This all right?" he asked, holding up the bottle.

Hermione nodded, suddenly very aware that her relationship with Malfoy had taken a distinctly new turn. She wasn't at a pub buying him a round after he'd bested her at a duel. It had been very easy to agree to a drink at his house when she was pinned beneath him, breath heaving and body aching for more, but now that she was actually here, she found herself a bit nervous.

Malfoy shoved a drink into her hand and she took a sip, hoping to drown the feeling of discomfort. He guided her into the sitting room. She sat down on the sofa, and he sank down next to her, far enough to be proper, but close enough to make her pulse race. Malfoy heaved a sigh.

"Cheers," he said.

((()))

How did one go about seduce a woman again? Draco found that he'd completely forgotten. Casual flirtation at the pub was easy enough, and seduction didn't even require effort when they were rolling around on the floor, hips pressed together through thin workout clothes. But now with Hermione on his sofa drinking wine, he was woefully unprepared for how to proceed. It had been sixteen years since he'd had to do this.

Her eyes darted up to meet his. Clearly she was just as nervous as he was, but being the wizard in the relationship, he knew it would be on him to make the first move. The first move! On Hermione Granger! What had the world come to? Marius Malfoy would never shut up if he knew what was happening. He could hear it now . . . blood traitor, abomination, embarrassment to the Malfoy name, on and on. Things he himself used to say before the war made those kinds of sentiments ostracizing.

A lock of curly brown hair has escaped her messy bun, so he took it upon himself to reach over and tuck the strand behind her ear. She leaned into his hand, her eyes closing half shut, and he froze. Her eyes peeked open again. They were both unsure of their next move. He knew she wanted him to move forward, to kiss her. He was dying to do it himself, desperate to feel those soft pink lips against his. Just when he thought he'd gotten the courage, her eyes opened, as if she'd grown impatient. He dropped his hand from her face and looked away. The moment had passed.

((()))

The entire next week at work, Hermione found she couldn't concentrate. After Malfoy had almost kissed her, they'd spent the rest of the evening sipping their drinks and conversing a bit awkwardly, trying to ignore the interjections that Marius Malfoy occasionally tossed their way. Malfoy had gone on to explain the various skills required to pass each level in the dueling club, listing off everything he would have to demonstrate for his Dragon level exam. She was impressed with what he told her he could already do. He was clearly holding back quite a bit of skill when he worked with her, letting her feel that she was actually improving even though he could obviously take control at any time.

She was finishing up shelving books at the Ministry library. She'd somehow found herself in the library section that held books on dueling and fighting skills, quite by accident (which was a filthy lie, she knew. She had been very keen to take this particular stack of books from one of her coworkers). Hermione found herself opening the books just to make sure there wasn't any damage (another blatant lie to herself). Animated pictures of duels that progressed a lightning fast speeds enthralled her. Hermione snapped the book shut and replaced it on the shelf, immediately heading for the office where she could grab her things before she left work. But instead of Apparating home, Hermione went straight to the dueling club where she knew the Ashwinder and Manticore level classes were being held, only because she'd casually glanced at the schedule once to see if there were any other classes for fighters at her own level (lie).

When she Apparated to the entrance of the dueling club, Hermione very quietly snuck inside. She sat against the back wall where a few other spectators had gathered. The duels were mesmerizing. There were a dozen fighters in the room, six different pairs engaged in intense combat with wands moving so fast she almost couldn't see them. Their bodies moved with elegance and grace. Their spells hit with precision; not one of them ever bounced off and hit someone or something else.

Duelists sweated and panted; it seemed as though none of the fighters ever got a moment to relax as they were pelted with spell after spell, returning each hex with a curse or jinx of their own. The duels went on for long, lengthy minutes with no apparent winners. But in the middle of all the action was Draco Malfoy, who looked perfectly cool and comfortable as he faced his opponent.

The motions of his wand were flawless, his jinxes perfected. His opponent was scrambling to keep up, always half a step behind. Malfoy's lips hardly moved, his eyes were grey and piercing as he clearly used Legilimency on his attacker to discern which curse would come next. Malfoy's duel was the first to end, his opponent sprawled on the floor unmoving.

Malfoy immediately knelt beside his opponent and muttered a quick spell to reanimate him. His partner shook his head to clear it and shook Malfoy's hand, nodding in what seemed to be awe. The instructor moved to Malfoy's side and clapped him on the back. Then, Malfoy turned and scanned the room, his eyes pausing instantly when they landed on her. He spoke a few words to the instructor.

When he started walking in her direction, stepping around the various pairs that were still dueling frantically, she nearly began to tremble.

"Enjoy the show?" he asked.

Hermione just nodded. He stood in front of her, searching her expression.

"I'm about to go up against the owner of the club," he added. "What'll you do for me if I win?"

Hermione felt her insides turn to jelly.

"A drink?" she offered nervously.

"A drink?" he scoffed. "I get a drink from you once a week."

Suddenly, memories of having him above her, pinning her to the mat with her legs wrapped around him, flooded her mind, and she felt her Gryffindor courage bubble up in her chest. Hermione took a deep breath and looked straight into his piercing grey eyes.

"A kiss," she said quietly.

Malfoy looked momentarily stunned but he covered his emotions quickly. He gave her a curt nod before he turned and walked back to his instructor who was waiting with wand in hand.

They bowed to one another, as is proper in a formal wizarding duel, and after that, the duel moved so fast she could hardly tell what was happening. This was totally unlike the duel she'd witnessed between Snape and Lockhart in 2nd year, unlike Dumbledore's Army, unlike the fights she'd witnessed at the Battle of Hogwarts, even. This was not a battle between a clumsy Death Eater and a well-intentioned but inexperienced Order Member. This was a battle between two professionals, and it showed.

Hermione thought Dumbledore himself would be a bit unwilling to go up against Draco Malfoy in a duel.

But unlike Malfoy's duel against the wizard with the Ashwinder engraved upon his wand, this duel actually seemed to require some concentration from the blond haired wizard. He wasn't poised and flawless, he was truly working for every hex that he threw. He wasn't able to anticipate his instructor's every move the way he had his previous opponent. It seemed that the instructor's currently expressionless eyes indicated he was quite skilled at Occlumency.

The instructor was clearly working for every advance as well. Most of his hexes bounced harmlessly off of Malfoy's shield charm, and any that passed it were dodged or dissolved with a Counter-curse at the last possible second. Hermione found her heart racing at the action-packed duel, and indeed, all the other duelers had paused to watch.

The instructor began to taunt Malfoy.

"You fight like a girl," he said, making Hermione bristle a bit.

Apparently Malfoy didn't particularly agree with the sentiment either.

"I'll be sure to pass the sentiment onto my Aunt Bellatrix when I see her in hell," spat Malfoy.

That retort sent the instructor reeling a bit and Malfoy was able to gain some ground. The instructor was quick to go on the offensive, however, and continued his taunting.

"What about your pretty Muggleborn standing over there watching?" he asked.

Hermione was astonished when she realized the instructor was talking about her. He wasn't using a vicious tone, very lighthearted and obviously just trying to cause Malfoy to make a mistake. Hermione was only slightly offended.

"How does she fight?" taunted the instructor, waggling his eyebrows in a way that was clearly implying more than just the dueling club.

Hermione was torn between feeling affronted and flattered. Malfoy's gaze for the briefest, quickest millisecond flicked over to her, and that was all that the instructor needed. Malfoy was hit with a curse that Disarmed him and landed him flat on his back, the instructor feigned a killing blow to end the duel.

Malfoy was breathing heavily and looking at his instructor with fury in his grey eyes.

"You cheated!" he snapped.

The instructor rolled his eyes.

"Oh, yes, that is what you'll say to the next Dark Wizard who uses an Unforgivable on you," the instructor mocked. "You cheated!"

The instructor's eyes were full of playful laughter, however, and when he extended a hand, Malfoy begrudgingly took it and stood. The pair walked over to Hermione as the rest of the class resumed their duels.

"Hope you know I didn't intend any offense," said the instructor. "Just trying to get a rise out of Romeo here."

Hermione blushed.

"It clearly worked," she said.

The instructor moved on to help the other students.

"Who's Romeo?" Malfoy asked her.

Hermione just waved her hand dismissively. She looked up at him and saw the sting of a defeat lingering in his eyes, along with a bit of embarrassment. She lifted up on her toes and planted a quick, chaste kiss on his cheek. Malfoy's expression shifted very slightly, so that you'd really have to know him to notice, and Hermione was a bit surprised that she had.

"I didn't win," he said.

"It was a good effort," she replied with a shrug.

"It doesn't matter," said Malfoy. "I didn't win."

"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Hermione said with a grin and a twinkle in her eye.

Malfoy almost smiled but stopped himself. He ran a hand through his hair and huffed a breath.

"I'm finished here," he said. "Just have to grab my things and . . ."

Hermione gazed at him, waiting for him to continue. It seemed as though he'd just decided something. He looked into her eyes with all the flawless composure and confidence he displayed when he dueled.

"Would you like to come over?" he said with that silky smooth drawl.

For that voice, Hermione felt she'd do anything.