A/N: The advent of the M requirement. Though no D/Hr action yet L... That's coming in the next update, I promise.

BAFTA British equivalent of an Emmy award

For a peek at what a cheongsam dress is please check any of these links after removing spaces: (No, I don't know who they are. This is purely so you know what I'm talking about below, as even I didn't know this dress was called a cheongsam! I'd earlier called it kimono style, which it isn't apparently.)

ancientmoods . com is a style that is close to what I had in mind for Hermione's date

ancientmoods . com/ ?cat339&showallY is pictures of different styles of cheongsam dresses.

Disclaimer: If I owned this world, I'd have much better things to do than write fanfic. Evidently I don't, and there are few stars brighter in my days than fanfic right now. Chapter title from Roxette's song.

Crash Boom Bang

The month flew by in a haze. When not juggling between the ministry, the charity and the paper, Hermione spent a considerable amount of time over at Harry and Ginny's. She spent much time with James, reading to him her favorite childhood books, talking to him about muggles, taking him to the park or out for a treat, even taking him out for animated/ children muggle movies. Even though he was getting less attention from his parents than he was used to, he evidently loved his little sister tremendously and seemed quite protective of her. Sibling rivalry had not yet raised its inconvenient head.

The empath theory had proved itself valid. Liliana would immediately conform to the mood of the adult holding her. She blew raspberries when Ginny was happy, scowled when Harry was tired from a long day at work, slept peacefully in Ron's arms and always laughed most mischievously when Fred or George were holding her. Harry, afraid that the little soul was going through the complex emotional rainbow of complicated adults, requested Snape to blend a potion to safely block her empath powers. Snape assured him it would be ready in a few weeks, for the interim, he recommended a safe spell to block out other people's emotions- a watered down version of occlumency.

That was a relief for Hermione too, as she could not help but think of Draco every time she picked up Liliana. And then, Liliana picked up on her moods at a stupendous speed, biting her lip and looking more pensive than a 20-day old baby ought ever look. She knew the empath was picking up on her fretful uncertainty regarding Draco's hair-brained scheme.

She wondered if he remembered about it. She wondered if he'd meant it as a cruel joke. She wondered if he now regretted his impulsive proposition, and wanted to renege. And most of all she wondered, if he meant to go through with it, did he propose to do so in the test-tube way or the more traditional method. Of that, she was most wary.

Hermione wasn't a virgin. There had been a phase in fact, whence she had roamed muggle bars, unbeknownst to her wizard friends, in search of substitutes that would make her forget the ashen hair and smoky eyes of a certain playboy. While she wasn't proud of the 3 months when she lashed out in incredibly self-destructive behavior, she recognized it for the psychological tool of self-preservation that it had been.

Draco, at the time, had been going around with a blue-blooded, emerald-eyed, femme fatale, trading tycoon from Italy; and the tabloids had termed them 'serious'. They had been together for 4 months already; the longest relationship Draco had been in since school. Hermione had recognized that there was a chance Draco had met his match, while she was nowhere near over him. In a crazed attempt to 'get over' she'd launched into a quarter year's worth of copulating, like she had never indulged in before or since. She'd slept with brunettes, red heads, blonds, blue-eyed doctors, brown–eyed journalists, gray-eyed actors and black-eyed gypsies. While none of the men had been objectionable in the slightest, none of them had done anything for her heart. She'd always slinked off in the middle of the night, feeling guilty and dirty. She'd reached home, taken a scalding hot shower and cried herself to sleep.

One night she'd been out on a date with a wizard… an exception she was starting to make, out of a sense of urgency. Maybe she'd meet someone here that she couldn't meet in the muggle world? Troy was an infant-healer at St Mungo's and she'd met him a few months ago when she'd gone for one of Jame's regular appointments with Ginny, when Harry was out of town. James' birth may have also triggered some of Hermione's body-clock urgings at the time, but Hermione didn't want to dissect those emotions.

Hermione had not jumped into bed with Troy, as she had a reputation to maintain in the wizard world. They seemed to have a good time together and this was their 3rd date. That evening, they'd chosen a classy restaurant and Hermione had been wearing a forest green, cheongsam style, brocade creation that covered her neck to toe and gave her a very "earth mother" appeal. It was a well-fitting one-piece, with a mandarin collar, short sleeves, silver embroidery and frog buttons that ran all the way down the front, on her right side, to a slit in the skirt just over her right knee. Light make-up and sharp, silver chopsticks holding her hair up in a tight bun completed the look. Under the conservative, but classy attire, she wore the most provocative satin green lingerie; she fully anticipated spending the night at Troy's place. She never brought the men home.

They'd been sitting close together in the restaurant's booth, chatting and laughing over little things, both expecting the evening to go the same way. In an uncharacteristic display, Hermione had just popped a strawberry into Troy's mouth and he was licking her finger, when she felt the hair stand up on the back of her neck.

She turned around, to catch the cold steel of Draco Malfoy's eyes, as he entered the restaurant with the Italian temptress on his arms. At once, Hermione felt goose bumps at the excitement of seeing him unexpectedly; and the heartbreak, of seeing him with Adalina.

She hadn't even known he was in town! His team was currently touring France. As always, she remained stoic. Troy craned his neck to look around her, to check what had caught and held her attention and was happy to see Draco. They had met at various hospital charities where Draco had been amongst the chief contributors. Before Hermione could stop him, Troy waved them over.

Hermione had met Adalina on several social occasions where Draco had escorted her, and honestly, there was nothing to dislike. Adalina was intelligent, sensible and seemed like a genuinely nice person, if slightly more aggressive than Hermione was used to. Being a business mogul, Hermione conceded, she needed to be shrewd and aggressive. There was no criticism to be found in Adalina's behavior and no slutty labels to be slandered her way. No, they were a perfect match. Bold, intelligent, sly, charming, pure-blooded, independent, aristocratic and composed. Snooty, spoilt and demanding they both might be, but even had they not been born into it, they would probably have earned it.

As the couple approached their table, Hermione and Troy stood up to greet them, with Hermione's composure determinedly in place. Draco was smirking at Hermione as if amused at the unexpected antic of a naughty child, and came to stand by her chair. "Granger, interesting seeing you here. Mettle, a surprise, pleasant, I'm sure."

To anyone else, it would have seemed a normal greeting, but Hermione recognized Draco's underlying sarcasm. The 'interesting' was for the display he'd witnessed and the 'surprise' was his way of letting Hermione know his opinion about the coupling.

She cringed defensively, "Ah Draco, the surprise is all mine. What bade you descend to these pastures? I'm sure the desserts offered in Parisian cafes far outshine any fare this watering-hole could provide for your discerning tastes."

Troy was a little surprised at Hermione's hostility; he knew her to possess a warm, even temperament and had borne witness to the friendly banter that flowed between the war heroes at various occasions. He had noticed sarcasm fly high whenever Draco entered the picture, so he brushed it aside, figuring it to be a norm. Besides, Hermione and Adalina greeted each other warmly enough.

"Had we gone anywhere else, look what we'd have missed. Love that dress Granger, you surprise me every time. Slytherin colors from a devout Gryffindor? Don't let Red and Four-Eyes catch you in that, they may consider it borderline blasphemy." He touched the chopsticks in her hair and proceeded to pull one out, causing her hair to fall around her shoulder in waves. "Accessories that could kill… how very Slytherin of you…I'd be careful if I were you, Mettle."

Hermione was mortified, at his audacity, at her cascading hair, but mostly at the startling observations. She'd loved this dress the moment she'd seen it in the window of a fancy boutique in Diagon alley. The colors seemed to soothe her, yet entice some earthy passions. Had it subconsciously been about Draco all along?

"And I'd be careful if I were you Draco. The familiarities you assume with other women do not extend to me. I suggest we say goodnight if you don't want your date to see you amputated, poisoned or at the very least, jinxed."

Adalina chuckled and Draco smirked, while Hermione checked her temper with infinite control. Draco placed a quick peck on her reddening cheeks, bid them goodnight and proceeded towards his table by the gorgeous bay windows.

There they sat, happily flirting, while Hermione's evening was ruined. Determined to salvage what she could from it, Hermione put on an act worthy of a BAFTA, ordered some more dessert wine, flung it down and left the restaurant to give Troy, what he was to remember as the wildest night in recent memory.

She used Troy shamelessly that night, while an image of Draco stayed inexorably holographed in her mind. She used Troy to lash out, to avail a temporary release from her subverted frustrations. As Troy fondled her pert breasts, she saw Draco's long, adept hands molding Adalina's full bosom. As Troy entered her, she saw Draco sink into Adalina's moist depths. Hermione turned them around, to be on top and pounded into him as she saw Draco drive Adalina into oblivion. As Troy shouted his release, she heard Draco's sigh of pleasure. A few minutes after Troy hugged her and went off to sleep, Hermione gathered her clothes and apparated home. The evening had convinced Hermione that nothing on her part could help rid her of her fixation with Draco. Nothing non-magical anyway. She took her shower, flagrated the dress, brewed and then drank a modified version of the Tree draught. The draught was a nervine that was administered to emotionally disturbed patients to calm them down; it anesthetized the drinker from extremes of emotions, lending them an unfeeling sanctuary that they couldn't find on their own. She didn't cry that night.

The next morning she got an owl from Draco.

How was it, my Slytherin temptress?

She drank more draught and never cried again about him after that. She also didn't feel the need to sleep around any more. There wasn't any point. She figured her feelings for him were an extremely long, extremely idiotic phase that would pass once she found the right person.

A week or so later, she saw Adalina's photo in the Daily Prophet's society pages with another man, a fashion designer from Italy. She assumed a break up, but didn't feel much, as the draught had become a part of her routine. She gently refused all further invitations to see Troy again, which flummoxed him no little. A few weeks later, at Ginny's constant questioning and mounting concern over Hermione's lack of excitement over anything, she recognized her dependency on the draught and weaned off slowly. She was fine with herself now. She was sure she would find someone that she could fall in love with, when the time was right. If not, perhaps she would be the next McGonagall after all. Not for the first time, she wondered if McGonagall had a broken heart hidden under the strict demeanor. Perhaps she's lost someone in the previous war?

That reminded her of all the people in the world less fortunate than her. She had her parents, amazing friends, a successful career and a good life. She needed to contribute to the world more. The idea of the war orphan's charity was born and who better to approach than the richest man the wizarding world knew?

After that, Hermione devoted herself and all pent up energies into the charity, slightly ashamed that she hadn't thought of it any sooner. It had been a full two years since the war and the children of Death eater and victims had been languishing in ill-supplied orphanages. All living together without adequate counseling. Some too young to know, but older children still harboring the resentment of parents lost to the other side. Innocent victims to the crimes of adults. She set about organizing an institution to rectify these mistakes, as best as they could. She connived Draco into being the biggest contributor and brought the sorry conditions of the children into the light so it got the resources it deserved.

Around December she always felt a little edgy so she allowed herself some draught then for the first few years. Then she figured she was over him, emotionally at least, and didn't need any.

Perhaps she shouldn't have stopped the draught. Now would be an excellent time to down a bottle. She felt extremes of emotions that she hadn't felt in years. She wanted Draco Malfoy and she wanted his baby. He'd seemed interested in the baby part, had almost coaxed her into it. She wasn't sure if the arrangement involved sex. That exhilarated her and terrified her. She'd barely saved herself from serious instability in the past. She didn't want to risk it again.

Draco would just have to get his heir the test tube way, or from someone else.

I wanna know what you honestly think.