Draco awoke violently, groaning in pain.

What in Merlin's name had happened to him? Where was he? Why did it feel like his whole body had been trampled by a hippogriff? He knew what a hangover felt like, but this didn't feel like a normal one that he could recall.

He lay face down, on his right arm for an undetermined amount of time; therefore, it felt as it if it had fallen off completely. His mouth was so dry that his lips felt like parchment when he ran his tongue across them. As he tried to get up, he found his muscles were devoid of strength. He tried to move his leg, but something—or rather someone—was lying across it.

He turned his head to the other side of the bed, and what he saw made his heart nearly stop from shock. Astoria was sprawled out across his king size bed, perpendicular to him. Her eyes were closed, her face was as pail as her hair, and she was very much naked. "Fuck!"

His gray eyes traveled across her body and took in the many bruises, which marred her otherwise perfect skin. He reached his left hand towards her cautiously to press his fingers against one such bruise located on her upper arm. It matched the shape and length of his fingers perfectly. That explained why he felt so sore. The other bruises across her waist and neck suggested their sexual encounter was extremely rough. Draco winced as pain traveled to his shoulder, where a huge bruise had formed overnight.

He frowned in confusion. What had occurred? Why couldn't he remember taking her to his bed? All clues led him to believe he had shagged her and it hadn't been consensual. And that scared him. He didn't want to wake her, but he wanted away from her immediately, before he threw up all over himself. He loosened his leg from under her body, and she stirred slightly. He froze immediately. She blinked awake, and her blue eyes searched the ceiling for a moment, discerning her environment before she turned to him.

"Would you mind terribly, removing your vile self from my person?" Draco spat. She didn't move for a moment, and he became noticeably angrier. "Did you hear me? I said va te faire enculer!"* Draco kicked at her with his other leg, trying not to puke all over himself.

She tilted her head in confusion for a second before she willed her body up off the mattress with a groan. When Draco was free, he immediately leapt off the bed, and entered his adjoining bathroom (limping from the pain it caused his legs to finally move), locking himself in.

After spilling the contents of stomach, he felt content to lie on the tile floor for the remainder of the day. However, fate had other plans for him.

"Draco, are you all right?" Astoria called from behind his bathroom door.

"What do you think, you bloody morceau de merde?" Draco growled at her. "You had better be gone by the time I'm done showering, if you know what's good for you."

She didn't respond, but he heard her leave the doorway, and there was silence once more. He shakily stood, and stumbled to the sink to splash water onto his face. He looked into the mirror, and noticed for the first time that his eyebrow was cut and dried blood was plastered to his forehead. He ran his fingers gingerly across his cut, trying to remember what had given him such a wound.

Unable to come up with any answers without his head feeling like it would explode from the effort, he cleaned off the blood on his face, and went to start the shower.

The scorching water did much to alleviate the pain in his muscles, but little to quiet his mind. He thought really hard on what he remembered from last night. He remembered bits and pieces of the party. He remembered his mother's watchful eyes upon him. He remembered speaking to Mr. Rousseau and Pansy. He remembered Blaise's murderous glares.

But nothing else; nothing to explain how he had ended up in bed with Astoria. He must have been extremely drunk in order to find this a good idea (or Obliviated). That's the only conclusion that he had come to as he stepped out of the shower, and wrapped a towel around his waist.

He dripped all the way to his nightstand, where he found his wand. He dried his hair, and summoned his robes. Once dressed, he finally had the opportunity to take in the condition of his bedroom. His silk sheets were all the way on the other side of the room. Two of his favorite pillows were in shredded heaps of feathers across his bed. The century old mirror that hung on the wall near the door was now tiny sparkly shards of glass littering the floor. (Which explained his cut face). The curtains covering the entrance to his private balcony had fallen down.

Two scenarios came to mind as he did a 360-degree turn about the room: the first was that perhaps he had been fighting Astoria as she forced him to submit to her (which wasn't likely if he were drunk, unless she had taken his wand), and the second was that she had fought him the entire way (Which again, didn't seem likely).

"Fuck," he cursed out loud. "What in the name of Merlin has that cow done to me?" He could quite literally spit fire right at this moment. Someone was going to pay for this.

XXX

Narcissa Malfoy paced the east wing drawing room anxiously. "Let me get this straight, then. So you thought to poison Draco's drink with a love potion in hopes of what exactly? Didn't you learn in Hogwarts that true love cannot be produced through artificial means? Love potions only cause temporary obsession, at the very least, when brewed exactly right."

Astoria sat in a primrose colored chair in Mrs. Malfoy's private drawing room in the east wing, looking deeply guilty. "Yes, of course I knew. But I only meant to get him to want me, otherwise, he'd never have gone to bed with me. But the potion backfired for some reason. He became drowsy and then extremely capricious. He was angry and then he was submissive." She pointed out the bruises on her arms as if they alone could describe just how violent it had become.

"What did you put in that potion?" Narcissa looked at her accusingly. "Merlin knows you probably added in a bit of wrong ingredients, which resulted in a catastrophe of epic proportions!"

Astoria looked a little frightened at Narcissa's outburst. "Good heavens! No wonder! I must have gotten the potion wrong. Snape always told me to pay more attention in potions!" She pretended to be interested in her skirt for a moment. "This morning he looked disgusted at what he had done, what are we to do now?"

Narcissa put her hands on her hips and looked sternly at her future daughter-in-law. "We? There is no we, my dear. You're to henceforth cease any attempts at forcing my son to fall in love with you. Leave it to me, and me alone. Do you understand?" Astoria nodded her head vigorously. "Good, now, I don't think he remembers anything; otherwise he'd have done more than cast you out of his bed. We can play it off as if he simply drank too much last night. I shall attest to seeing him drinking heavily, and leaving with you from the party. You need to make yourself scarce for a while. If there's one thing I know about my son, it's that he will come to his own conclusions about what happened last night, and most definitely be angry with what he determines."

XXX

One good thing about the holidays, in Hermione's opinion, is that the Ministry employees get a long holiday. Today was her first day off. She smiled at herself in the mirror as she brushed her teeth. Today was going to be a good day, she could feel it.

The weather was less harsh today as it had been in weeks previous. The sun was actually out this morning, and the effect it had on the street below her flat was breath taking. The snow covering the ground like a frozen blanket glistened in the sunlight, transforming all she could see from her bedroom window, into a winter wonderland.

She felt like doing something today. Perhaps she'd visit Ginny and Harry, if they weren't too busy. She immediately sat down to a steaming cup of tea, and a piece of parchment and quill to send a letter to her two best friends in hopes of their company sometime soon.

Mid-day she received a reply. It read as follows,

"Hermione,

So good to hear from you! Believe it or not, I was just about to write you myself! Harry and I have news to share with you. If it's all right, we'll be over around four-thirty. Send your reply as soon as you can.

Can't wait to see you, Mione!

Ginny"

Hermione wasted no time in replying that she would expect them around 4:30 this afternoon. She wondered what news Ginny wanted to share with her. She briefly pondered if Harry had proposed finally. No, but she would have been the first to know, wouldn't she? It was no use trying to determine their news, soon enough she'd know.

She spent the hour leading up to Ginny and Harry's arrival cleaning up her flat and making teacakes. Finally, her two best friends burst through her fireplace amidst green flames.

Ginny enveloped her in a small hug, which was so different from her brother's bear hugs. It was then that she noticed Harry looked almost giddy. But nothing compared to Ginny's delighted glee. She found herself even more anxious to learn the reasons behind such joy.

She ushered them into her kitchen, and offered them teacakes, before she sat down beside Ginny awaiting the announcement. Several seconds ticked by and Hermione started to get impatient.

"So, you had some news?" She prodded.

Ginny couldn't suppress a grin, "Well, Mione, you're our best friend, and Harry and I wanted you to be one of the first to know," Ginny flashed Harry a smile. "Harry and I are to be married!" She finally blurted.

Hermione and Ginny broke out into delightful screams, and hugged each other tightly. "Oh, Ginny! I'm so happy for you! And Harry! I cannot begin to explain my happiness! Congratulations! If anyone deserves to be happy, it's you two!" Hermione exclaimed as she hugged Harry as well.

Ginny turned her left hand down to show off the ring, and Hermione immediately gushed over how pretty it is. After some more hugging, and a few tears of joy, they finally calmed down. "So how did it happen? I want to hear all about it!" Hermione queried.

Ginny gave Harry a look that tugged at Hermione's heart. She could tell that this was the happiest day of their lives, and all Hermione could think is, 'finally'.

Harry and Ginny shared a love like no other, but Harry was nothing if not traditional. He wanted a permanent place at the Ministry to shape the world into a place he could raise a family, before he made any decisions about their future.

Watching her best friends happily recite the fateful evening in which Harry had proposed, Hermione couldn't help but be reminded of another engagement that weighed heavily on her mind lately.

She wondered if Draco's proposal was anywhere near as romantic and sincere as Harry's had been. She wondered if Astoria had cried as she accepted his offer of combining their souls for all eternity. Did Astoria worry about being the wife he deserved? Did she fret over what kind of husband he'd be? No, Hermione couldn't bring herself to see Draco and Astoria's engagement as anything but fake and dramatic.

She felt pity for them both. To have an arranged marriage certainly didn't mean an unhappy marriage in every case, but this one seemed doomed from the beginning. He had been sleeping with nearly any woman he could get, and she assumed Astoria knew nothing of this. A marriage based on decomposing foundations was always messy in the end. Unless, she was mistaken entirely, and Draco did feel something for Astoria after all.

She shook her head to clear the thoughts from her mind, and instead put on a smile for her two best friends, whom she invited to dinner tomorrow night to celebrate. They were headed to the Burrow, and the Weasley's would want the couple over tonight for dinner, so Hermione had to wait until the next night. For the next hour, the three of them drank tea and nibbled on teacakes while drudging up old happy memories from their Hogwarts days. It was enough to make Hermione feel both chipper and gloomy at the same time.

XXX

"So I'm to believe that I simply got so drunk that I took Astoria back to my room and shagged her to ribbons?" Draco fought the urge to scream at his mother as she described the scene in which Astoria helped him from the ballroom in a state of inebriated confusion. "And that's why I cannot remember any of it."

Narcissa was plenty used to her son's detailed explanations of his sex life, but the tone he used was new. Her statuesque face emitted no feelings as she watched her son pace the drawing room. She had called him in a moment ago after hearing from Teeny that his room was in shambles, and his behavior had turned violent. "Now how am I to know what happened after you two left? And do spare me the details, as I'd rather not have to picture my only son shagging anything to ribbons. Won't you sit down so we can figure this out?" She demanded in a gentle tone that she saved for when his moods became volatile.

"No, mother, je ne vais pas m'asseoir! She has done something to me, and I demand to know what it is! Now call her up here so she can explain exactly what happened last night!" Draco shrieked at her. His mother raised a cynical eyebrow at his attitude. He always began alternating between French and English whenever he was angry.

"Darling, Astoria has already explained to me what she knows, albeit in a much more discreet manner than you have. I've already told you everything she said. I don't understand why you're so worked up over this? Surely this isn't the first time you've lost recollection of an intoxicated tryst?" His mother looked unconcerned, and it excited his anger further.

"I refuse to believe that I screwed her because I drank too much!" His mother's face turned to a frown at his filthy mouth. "I'm telling you this wasn't a simple drunken lapse of reason! This was a premeditated, calculated violation, and I won't stand for it!"

Draco headed for the door now, but Narcissa wouldn't allow it. She aimed her wand at the door and locked him in. "I'm afraid I can't allow you to seek Astoria out about this." He stopped abruptly, and turned back around to face her. His face was alight with malicious intent. How dare his mother treat him this way?

The look on his Narcissa's face wasn't easy to discern if you didn't know her as well as Draco did. But being that it was his mother, he could see that she wasn't upset or surprised in the slightest by this entire situation. Thoughts were churning in his mind, and all of them warned him that his mother had more to do with this than he had originally assumed.

The more he looked into her gray eyes, the more he began to shed light on the matter. Astoria, as dim-witted as she is, wouldn't have been able to do something to him and get away with it. But his mother certainly could, and he'd never suspect anything. His fiancé had been the first person he suspected upon waking up next to her, simply because she had seemingly gotten what she wanted. And also because she was stupid enough to try something like this. But now, he could correctly deduce where his mother fit into the conclusion. She had agendas as well as Astoria, and they were of one mind.

"Mother, you don't seem surprised about this," Draco started to walk back to where his mother sat with his usual stoic demeanor firmly back in place. "Now, why would that be, I wonder?"

She didn't seem the least interested in his question, in fact, she looked almost bored as she sat on the edge of her seat with her legs crossed primly at the ankles. "Now, Draco, I don't like what you're insinuating," she chided. "What would I possibly benefit by getting Astoria into your bed?" She lifted a blonde brow as she awaited his reply.

"You tell me," Draco shrugged. In reality he knew exactly why she'd want Astoria in his bed. If only he could remember!

She gracefully stood from her seat, and walked to where he stood to try and intimidate him. His mother was even better at intimidation than Madeye Moody ever was, and that's saying something, considering he scared the pants off Draco in fourth year. "I will not stand for your allegations," she crossed her arms over her chest, and glared at him. "If anything, you shouldn't feel nearly as slighted about bedding your fiancé as you are. Why, I daresay it's a step in the right direction. What with your dalliances with mudbloods recently."

Draco looked affronted for but a moment before he was all arrogance again. And that answered his question. She all but admitted guilt with her petty insult. Draco was clever, he knew this tactic. Narcissa was misdirection galore.

"Whomever I chose to have sex with is at my discretion, and not dependent on blood status. And given the opportunity, I'd do it again," Draco smirked when he made his admission. It had the desired effect. His mother was now back to glaring, for she knew he was dead serious.

"What have you become, my son?" She shook her head sadly.

"What you made me to be," he replied coolly as he headed towards the door again, knowing this time, his mother wouldn't bar his exit.

XXX

Hermione found herself almost wishing she had work to do. Leisure time wasn't fun or relaxing to her; she found that it made her less relaxed. Her whole life she'd been doing something or another, and being able to sit down alone in peace and quiet didn't elicit the repose in which a holiday intended. Instead, she felt antsy, and boxed in.

She'd finished everything on her to-do list and it was only the fifth day of her two-week holiday. She'd finished Christmas shopping months ago, so that was out. Perhaps she could go to Hogsmeade today? Hogwarts students were sure to be home with their families for the holidays, and that meant that Hogsmeade would be less crowded than Diagon Alley would be this time of year. And she had a craving for a licorice wand like nobody's business.

She changed out of her pajamas, and wrapped herself in her black jumper, and red and gold scarf that Ginny had gotten her years ago. She then pulled on a black wool peacoat to match, and snow boots. After she was sure she'd make it more than five minutes in this weather, she apparated to Hogsmeade.

Scotland was much, much colder than London. She forgot how unbearable it could be in the winter. She rushed through the snow towards the Three Broomsticks. Once inside the front door, she shook off the snow that had fallen onto her coat and head.

She went to sit at the back table, which was the only one vacant. She looked around the inn, and noticed it was crowded with people. This surprised her since she assumed everyone would be home for the holidays, what with it being so close to Christmas and all.

Madam Rosmerta bounded over to her with a big smile on her face, carrying a warm butterbeer. Every time Hermione came to the Three Broomsticks, Madam Rosmerta would never charge her for her drinks. She always tried to pay for them though, in which Madam Rosmerta would kindly turn her down.

As she sipped her butterbeer, her insides warmed slightly, and she felt much better. She looked around the old inn with a smile on her face. All of the days she used to spend here brought fond memories. She singled out the table, which Hagrid would frequently sit at, and then her mind traveled all of a sudden to memories of a jinxed Katie Bell, and then ultimately to Draco Malfoy.

She dashed those thoughts away; she wouldn't dwell on him. He was a lost cause. A one-night fling.

Then, as if God really did have a nasty sense of humor, the one and only prince of Slytherin casually descended the stairs leading up to the rooms above. He pushed his fringe out of his face once he reached the bottom, and she sunk lower into her seat, praying he wouldn't notice her.

But as if he sensed her eyes upon him, he turned directly in her direction. The guarded look on his face turned mildly surprised as he sauntered towards her table, his robes billowing ominously. She felt, at that moment, that she was a frightened child, whose parent was coming to punish her.

He didn't bother to ask for an invitation to sit down, nor did he seem inclined to inquire about her health. He sat beside her silently, as if he was supposed to meet her here all along. She could feel the tension coming off him in invisible waves like a muggle-repelling charm.

Hermione felt her anxiety ascending to new and abysmal heights while she waited for him to speak. He didn't make her wait long.

"It seems so long since you and I were at Hogwarts together," he began. "Did you ever think we'd live to see the day when you and I could sit together at the Three Broomsticks without killing each other?"

She was so surprised by his easy tone, that it took her a few moments before she could wrap her mind around what he was saying. As if I don't want to kill you! She wanted to say. But for the sake of seeing where he was going, "honestly, I didn't think we'd survive long enough to see the next day, let alone the Three Broomsticks again."

"Do you miss it?" He asked her. When their eyes met, his didn't carry the usual arrogance, and she softened a bit.

"Hogwarts? Or us trying to kill one another?" Hermione questioned.

"Aren't they one in the same?" He sounded wistful, but didn't give her a chance to reply. "There used to be a time when I couldn't bear your presence long enough to make it through potions class," he divulged.

She bristled, "and now you can?"

He shrugged, "I admit you're not as bad as I thought, Granger."

She shook her head, and frowned. That was probably the closest thing to a compliment as she'd get from him.

"You know, you shouldn't be over here. If the Daily Prophet gets word of this, your fiancé won't be very happy," she pointed out while taking a sip of butterbeer to look casual.

Draco's face flashed with sudden volatile fury, for but a moment, and then he looked pensive.

"Let me ask you something," he said, looking directly into her eyes. "If you could go back, to that night in my library, would you have done it?"

She knew precisely what he meant, but couldn't bring herself to answer him. "Would you?"

A second passed, then two, then three, and Hermione thought he might not answer her, and then, "Out of every woman I've ever been with, you were the only one I've ever felt inclined to see again," he admitted with a trademark smirk firmly planted on his perfect face.

Hermione felt her heart rate spike at his admission, and found it difficult to think. "Why?" Was all she could muster.

He pondered that question for a moment, looking as if he didn't quite know himself. "I don't feel quite as alone when I'm with you." He looked at her with an unreadable expression.

Hermione wasn't surprised that he felt this way. She already knew he was lonely, but hearing him admit that he was less lonely when he was with her, surprised her like nothing else. She couldn't help but feel as if Draco Malfoy had just admitted something that he had never disclosed to anyone else. She started to feel an emotion that she had no place to associate with Draco Malfoy: longing.

While she was having a mini emotional breakdown, Draco had said something that caught her attention again.

"I guess fate sometimes brings us to places we ought not to be," his quicksilver eyes were glued to her face as he drawled each syllable.

"Yes, perhaps. But sometimes, it brings us where we would have never ventured otherwise," Hermione proposed.

He smiled at her then, and he caught her off guard. How unbelievably different his face looked when he was smiling. He looked genuinely happy for a few moments, and then, "Well, I guess I'll see you around, Granger. Hopefully sooner more than later." She watched Draco grab her hand off the table and kiss it gently. As he walked directly out in the harsh winter weather, she found herself pondering over his words.

What had he meant by this? Why did it feel as if he had just put the proverbial ball into her court? Surely this was a goodbye, was it not? But then why did it feel like a beginning?

XXX

Hermione casted a warming charm to her peacoat as she trudged through the snow towards Honeydukes, completely lost in thought. It was now that she wondered what Draco had been doing in the Three Broomsticks anyways. Was he staying there? Or perhaps he had met a woman there?

Something across the way, made her doubt her theory. Astoria Greengrass was hurrying towards the direction of the Shrieking Shack, alone. Hermione looked around thinking that Malfoy wouldn't be too far away, but no one else was in her vicinity. Hermione frowned. Why did it appear that Astoria was up to something? Maybe it was the way she looked back and forth anxiously. Or maybe it was the way she stuck to the shadows. Either way, something about this situation made Hermione suspicious.

Her curiosity got the better of her, and she followed further behind Astoria as she headed down the snow-covered path.

When at last Astoria stopped, Hermione backed up into a small crevice to remain hidden as she watched the blonde witch step into an abandoned shop nearby the Shrieking Shack. She waited until the coast was clear, and then she tried for a closer look. When she deduced that she couldn't see anything inside the dirty front windows, she continued to wait outside the abandoned shop for several minutes. At last, someone exited. It wasn't Astoria. It was a cloaked shadow at least six feet tall, and Hermione could tell by the way he walked that it wasn't Draco.

As her eyes followed the hooded figure out of sight, Astoria then exited the shop, and silently made her way across the path back to where she had come from. Hermione didn't know what she should do. She decided to head back to Honeydukes. It was none of her business what Malfoy's fiancé did with her free time.

But she couldn't help but feel like something had just gone down in that abandoned shop that Draco had no idea about. Yet, wasn't she just thinking Draco had been having similar secret meetings in the Three Broomsticks? Hermione frowned despite herself. Their relationship was definitely not an honest one, that's for sure.

She hurried through the snow and into Honeydukes where she was instantly warmed. Hermione loosened her scarf, and lifted her hood. As she was smoothing out her hair that had become unruly underneath the hood, her elbow came in contact with someone's shoulder.

"I'm sorry," she immediately turned to whomever she just had assaulted.

"Hermione?" came a deep, amused voice from beside her.

She stared into blue eyes that seemed so familiar to her, yet she couldn't place them. The way his eyes sparkled with self-confidence triggered instant awareness. "Cormac?"

He seemed sincerely pleased at being remembered. "Wow, Hermione, long time no see," he looked surprised and delighted at the same time. The emotions took over his face as he smiled warmly at her. She smiled back, genuinely shocked to see him.

He looked the same as she remembered, on further inspection, and she couldn't help but wonder what it was about him that she hadn't figured out who he was immediately. He still towered over her, and looked as hard as steel with all those muscles. But he looked older. That must be it. But the years had done nothing to diminish his strikingly handsome features. If anything, they heightened them to a degree that he looked absolutely sexy these days. Hermione couldn't help feeling an instant attraction between them.

"It has been a while, McLaggen," Hermione muttered as he enveloped her in a warm hug. His embrace brought back memories of a time in sixth year when he had gone with her to the Slug Club Christmas party, and had been a bit too forward in his advances towards her. But right now, his hug didn't seem in the least bit forward, just more or less friendly.

"So what brings you to Hogsmeade?" Cormac wondered after he let her go.

"Um…" She began, forgetting momentarily why she had come. "Honeydukes." She said finally as if stating the obvious. He nodded in understanding.

"Always find myself craving a licorice wand every now and then, and have to stop by good ole Honeydukes." Hermione looked shocked.

"You like licorice wands?" She queried.

"Yes, they're my weakness," he admitted sheepishly as if liking licorice wands was a crime.

"Mine too," she insisted.

"Well I'll be Merlin's uncle," Cormac gave her a winning smile. They started to peruse the aisles of Honeydukes together. "So I haven't seen you since the war, what have you been up to?" He asked her casually.

She gave him a sidelong glance. Had he really just inquired about her in some way? This was definitely not the Cormac McLaggen she knew in Hogwarts who cared only about himself. The fact that he had asked her about what she had been doing was inconceivable. It took her a moment to recover from shock, "I have been working for the Ministry."

"Oh, that's wonderful," he said as he pulled down two boxes of Licorice Wands. As he handed her one, his fingers brushed hers, and she suddenly felt a shiver run through her, like an electric current. She brushed it away easily. "How's Potter and Weasley these days?"

His blue eyes held no sarcasm or annoyance when mentioning Harry and Ron, and Hermione couldn't help shaking her head in confusion. "Um, Harry just got engaged recently."

Cormac gave her a pleasant smile, "that's wonderful. Tell him I said congratulations. And I'm sure the lucky lady is Ginny Weasley?" Hermione nodded her head. "And you and Weasley shacked up I assume?" Hermione looked away from him, and he immediately understood. "Oh, I see. But surely you aren't single? A beautiful, talented woman like you? I bet the guys fall all over you."

Hermione couldn't help the blush that spread across her face at his praise. "Actually, I am single," she shrugged. "I guess I'm not that great." She joked, immediately feeling awkward.

He turned serious for a moment, "I always thought you were great." She looked into his eyes, which regarded her seriously.

She felt inclined to change the subject quickly, "And what about you? What have you been up to these days?" She walked along the aisle pretending to be interested in the chocolate frogs.

He continued to follow behind her. "Well, I have actually been out of the country for the past five years. Just came back a few days ago for the holidays."

She stopped, to turn back to him. "Out of the country?" She wondered out loud.

"Yes. Believe it or not, I started on the Woolongong Warriors. With Adrian Pucey of all people. Him and I moved to Australia together," Cormac divulged happily.

So he had become a professional Quidditch player after all, she thought. "Congrats. It's what you've always wanted." At least now she knew why he was oblivious to what happened two years ago with Ron, he was in Australia at the time.

He nodded his head in approval. Then they paid for their sweets, and walked out of Honeydukes and into the frosty weather. Hermione tucked her scarf into her coat, and charmed it to emit a little heat. Cormac did the same beside her.

"Well, it was good to see you, Hermione." McLaggen gave her a sincere look, and Hermione couldn't help but smiling and nodding in the affirmative. It had been good to see McLaggen. He wasn't anything like he had been at Hogwarts, and it pleasantly surprised her. This Cormac she could see herself getting to know.

As if he read her mind, "I was just about to have a drink at the Three Broomsticks. Would you care to join me? That is, if you don't have any other pressing matters to attend to?" He looked sheepishly at her, and Hermione gave in. Why not? She thought. What's the worst that could happen?

XXX

Draco had hoped to avoid being seen at the Three Broomsticks, but Hermione had thoroughly squashed that plan by sitting at the back table looking so unbelievably adorable.

After realizing that his mother and fiancé had it out for him, he accepted that the only way to avoid them was to stay somewhere else entirely. Of course he could have stayed at a friend's house, but that was a sure-fire way to be discovered. At least at the Three Broomsticks, Draco could elude detection for at least a while. So he braved his parent's wrath, and left immediately after discovering his mother's treachery.

His mother had gone too far this time. He knew for certain that she had, in the very least, knew about this, thus allowing it to happen; or instigated it in some way. Therefore, it got him thinking-seriously thinking-about what this meant for him in the future.

Either he could allow his parents and fiancé to rule his life forever, or he could pull the proverbial rug out from under them and go his separate way. The first obvious problem with this was the money. He knew with absolute certainty that his father would disinherit him quicker than Granger could recall Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. The second problem was that he would have nowhere to go, nowhere to live, no means of supplication whatsoever.

All this and more were the principal reasons why Draco had put up with his parent's ultimate reign over him for so long. They knew he'd never be able to live on his own. Was this enough of a reason to forfeit everything he has ever known?

The more he thought about it, the more he came to a resolute no. But then, marrying Astoria was a means to an end. He had to get married in order to continue to enjoy his lifestyle of being rich and powerful, but what would he have to give up in return?

So his choices were to either marry Astoria and surrender his entire life to her and his parent's and be unhappy, or live a life of poverty and struggle the rest of his life to make ends meet, and ultimately be unhappy.

The upside to being on his own was that he was free to pursue a relationship with anyone he wished, which if he were being honest, was someone he'd never have even thought about being with before. And eventually would have led to his demise anyways, since his parents would've seen it as an excuse to disinherit him as well.

Draco dwelled on this positive thought as he sat in his grungy inn room. Madam Rosmerta had promised him that this was her best room, but Draco wouldn't kid himself into believing she had forgotten about him imperiusing her back in sixth year.

Before long he found himself feeling anxious. Being in such a little room with no one to keep him company, beside a family of Puffskeins under the bed, made him frantic to leave the room. Maybe he would find something to eat?

He put on his cloak, and went out into the dim hallway. From there he traveled down a few flights of stairs until he could hear the noise of the patrons of the Three Broomsticks. Draco tried not to look at anyone as he headed down the stairs towards the bar. Anyone that noticed him would merely sum it up to an evening tryst with an undisclosed witch of ill breeding.

Speaking of witches with ill breeding, Hermione Granger was seated a few tables from the bar with a man Draco didn't recognize from the back. He watched Hermione as she smiled at the man, and laughed at something he said. He titled his head in confusion. Was he witnessing a date? Perhaps that's why Granger was here?

He couldn't help himself, so he got closer; he was now only a few meters away, seated at a table hidden by a few burly men at the table beside him. Hermione was doing the thing she did when she was recalling Hogwarts memories: she would smile fondly, but Draco could see the underlying sadness to it that no one else could see. Since when did I know such intimate things about Granger? He asked himself.

Finally the man turned towards the bar, and Draco caught a glimpse of his face. Oh, I know him. He looks so familiar. Who is he? Draco tried to recall where he had seen this wizard previously.

At the moment he figured out who the wizard was beside Hermione, she spotted him from her table. He shifted his eyes to hers, which held an expression that was full of suspicion and assumption.

He tried to look away but he couldn't. After Granger had glared daggers at him from the table for a few seconds, he stood up—feeling extremely irritable—and went back to his room. How dare she tempt him when she was seeing the irritating Gryffindor? What did she see in that stupid prat anyways? He always had a feeling Hermione fell for muscular Quidditch player types. But what does that matter? He asked himself irritably as he slammed his door to his room shut, and bolted it with a wave of his wand.

XXX

What was Malfoy doing at the Three Broomsticks again? Following her, obviously. Either that or he was staying here. But why would he leave his fiancé to stay at a cheap inn? Nothing made sense to Hermione anymore.

Cormac was a great distraction for a while. She felt so comfortable around him as they passed the time talking about their Hogwarts days before the war had changed them all.

After about an hour, Hermione told him that it was getting late. He agreed, and offered her an invitation to get together before he set off to Australia again. She acquiesced, and they went their separate ways.

Cormac ventured out into the Scotland snow, but Hermione stayed in the pub until Cormac was out of sight completely.

She knew she couldn't leave without knowing what Malfoy was up to. So she went to the bar to find Madam Rosmerta busy filling glasses of mulled mead.

"Madam, Draco Malfoy is staying here? Is he not?" She asked her in a hushed voice when she had Madam Rosmerta's attention.

The old witch gave her a suspicious look. "He is, indeed."

"I'm here on official business from the Ministry. Can you please tell me which room he's staying in?" Hermione lied easily.

After a few seconds of silence, Madam Rosmerta conceded, "first floor, room 18."

Without hesitation, Hermione thanked Madam Rosmerta and went straight upstairs in search of room 18. She walked quietly down the hallway, checking each number on every door. She found it easily.

Before she lost her nerve, she knocked twice firmly, and waited for Draco to answer.

He opened the door slowly, and when she finally saw his face, he didn't look surprised to see her at all. After checking behind her to see that no one was with her, he stepped aside for her to enter.

Before Hermione could get a single word out, he had begun in an assuming tone, "Well, well, well, you've found me. Come for another taste of heaven, have you Granger?"

She crossed her arms across her chest defiantly. "Actually, I came to ask you why you felt the need to spy on me earlier?"

He turned and walked over to the small table beside the bed, and took out two glass tumblers and a bottle of firewhiskey. He fluently poured the liquid into each tumbler with a practiced hand, before turning back to face her. He handed her the second glass, which she took reluctantly. After giving it a delicate sniff, she took a sip.

He laughed quietly, "Something wrong, Granger?" He asked as he sat down in the armchair beside the window, crossing his legs casually.

She ignored his question. "You haven't answered my question, Malfoy."

"So I haven't," He replied cryptically. "When were you going to tell me you were dating McLaggen?"

She snorted, "You're one to talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're engaged, and sleeping with Merlin knows how many women on the side. You aren't exactly in any position to criticize me about cheating."

He smirked but otherwise looked calm. "Is that jealousy I detect, Granger?"

She scoffed and took a long sip from the tumbler. "As if." Draco watched her with amusement from his chair as she continued to drink the firewhiskey and try to hide her dislike for it. "I saw Astoria this afternoon," She disclosed.

"Indeed?"

"She met someone in an abandoned shop near the Shrieking Shack. Watched some wizard come out a little while later. Didn't recognize him though."

Draco didn't seem interested in the slightest, in fact, he looked bored. "Enough of this talk about my fiancé, why don't you tell me why you really came here?"

She frowned at his audacity, "I already told you, I wanted to ask you why—,"

"We both know that isn't why, Granger," Draco interrupted looking impatient. He downed the rest of the firewhiskey, and in one fluent motion, got up off of the armchair to head in her direction. He never took his mercurial eyes off of her as he silently stalked forward.

Hermione felt like she was a small animal about to become a tiger's prey as she watched his approach. His beauty had her completely frozen, knowing at any moment he'd strike, yet he had totally mesmerized her somewhere in the time of a heartbeat. She knew he was coming closer and closer, but she remained rooted to the spot, anxiously waiting for what he'd do next.

He stopped just a few centimeters away from where she was rooted, his eyes boring into hers. She could feel the warmth coming off of him; smell his cologne, as he took a deep breath, inhaling her scent. She waited with baited breath as he leaned his mouth towards hers. She knew that any second and she'd be lost, yet she also realized that it was one step closer to heaven.

He closed the distance between them. Before Hermione knew what was happening, his arms went around her waist, and he pulled her closer to him. His warm tongue parted her lips as she melted against him, unable to resist.

Hermione felt him pulling the buttons of her coat with a steady hand, and then sliding it off her shoulders to pool at her feet. For a moment, she felt him stop and break the kiss, but only to lift her shirt over her head. He looked in her eyes, silently asking her if she wanted him to continue down a path that she knew the outcome. A volatile and heavenly outcome.

In affirmation, she took off her jeans and boots, and undid her bra. He watched her with a hungry look on his darkened face. When she was undressed, he kissed her some more, undressing himself in the process of nudging her towards the bed. Draco kept willing his brain to work, trying to focus on something other than Granger's supple breasts or velvety skin. But the more he tried, the more he failed.

As she fell back onto the mattress, he quickly covered her body with his. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist tightly as he kissed down her neck. He counted to ten in his head, gritting his teeth in frustration. Since when did he become an inexperienced lover? He'd been with countless women before, sculpting him into a sex machine. He knew exactly what they wanted, and how to leave them begging for more.

Granger was different though. He tried to slow down; tried to make it the best she'd ever had. Yet, his brain demanded that he take her, claim her. It's like he had reverted into a caveman, where his only instincts were to grab the back of her head and make her scream.

Hermione ran her fingers down his bare forearms. His muscles were clenched and firm. She could feel his body shaking above her. She kissed his bare forearm lightly, and looked into his stormy eyes, willing him to continue. But he looked to be fighting himself.

"We can't keep doing this," he admonished.

She put a finger to his lips to silence him, and then kissed his mouth again. This time he complied with her wishes.

They became lost in each other's arms, neither one thinking about anything aside from the present. Neither one wanting to admit what they became when they were enthralled in passion, even though eventually, they'd have to accept that they were experiencing something other than the normal feelings evoked during sex.

Their spiritual dance ended in a decrescendo like at the end of a symphony. Each one feeling more satisfied than after their previous encounter, except somehow, more conflicted than ever before.

A/N: *French translations:

va te faire enculer: Bugger off!

morceau de merde: Piece of shit

Je ne vais pas m'asseoir!: I will not sit down!