I stood on black sand staring into a rainstorm blowing in off the North Atlantic. Puffins screamed on the basalt cliffs. Waves whipped almost white by the wind lashed the sea stacks and sheeted across the beach leaving the dark sand glistening like onyx.

"It's fucking cold." Malfoy complained. Evidently an anorak, beanie, jeans, hiking boots and a Warming Charm were insufficient for his delicacy. He'd bitched about the polar breeze until I corrected him with a reminder that Iceland was below the Arctic Circle. He didn't care.

"It's not even freezing." I shouted, jumping over a narrow rivulet in the sand. I laughed and channelling my inner child hopped into the water, kicking and splashing.

"I could be ravishing you in hot springs right now." He stuffed his gloved hands into the pockets of his Muggle coat, hiding his grin in the puffy collar. But I notice his mouth. The air here was perfect. Clean and wild. I was drunk on it.

It had taken the better part of a week to organise this trip. The actual booking of it was done in a few hours of courtesy of the internet and a visit to a travel agent. The rest of the time was spent dealing with wizarding bureaucracy and wizards themselves. Two specifically; Harry and Ron

It galled Malfoy that I wanted my friends involved in what they'd taken to calling 'Ferret's Little Problem'. I had stuck to my promise to keep our privacy. I hadn't mentioned my control of him. But my privy circle included my best friends.

I'd invited them over for dinner, just we three and Malfoy. I had secured his good behaviour by allowing him to choose my underwear. The initial offer had got snide remarks on white cotton bloomers until I showed him my naughty knicker collection.

As part of my return to normality, I'd treated myself to some new clothes. I'd frankly needed new underwear badly. Instead of replacing my virginal six-in-a-pack pants, I had bought some lingerie. Quite a bit of lingerie.

A drawer full of scanties I'd not been brave enough to wear for anyone but me. Malfoy had a marvellous time with the silk and lace. I was getting a bit worried when he held up a satin thong I'd bought on the principle that I might need a G-string. Apparently women do, for some reason.

He picked a retro teddy with ribbon straps. It was green. Of course it was green. But I wore it and he was astonishingly well behaved. Ron needled him, no surprise. To get anything done, I ended up banishing Malfoy to a corner to read while Harry, Ron and I talked under a Muffliato.

There had been some shouting. Unavoidable, really. I didn't like it. Had to admit to myself that neither did my best friend or my boyfriend. So I was honest with my expectations of success. I emphasised 'long-term'. Ron suggested the pregnancy option again but I could tell he didn't like the idea of just having a baby to solve a problem. He'll be a great dad when he's ready. That's not now, though.

I showed them everything Percy had found and walked them through my conclusions. I hadn't told Malfoy any of this. If he wanted to manage his condition, he could do the damn research too. My biggest concern with the inbred recombinant Veela traits were they didn't come as a whole package. Mixed in with human DNA, they could express in odd ways. We needed to tailor the therapy to Malfoy.

Ron suggested gelding him. Harry had looked torn between laughter and masculine revulsion. I pointed out my only exit strategy was to foist him onto a pure-blood bride. There was general sympathy for the poor unnamed witch.

We hammered out a collective strategy. I would housebreak Malfoy. Harry would keep the Ministry off my back and head off any officious match-making. Ron would fend off his mother plus reassuring his family that the three of us had it under control. And he wouldn't wait for me.

That caused a lot of shouting. I explained that this situation was hard enough on me without him suffering too. I didn't want him sitting at home worrying. We deserved some fun. That sentiment struck home with both Harry and Ron. We'd lost our teen years to war. A few months of moderate bacchanal wouldn't hurt. If we didn't do it now, recharge ourselves and live a little, when would we?

We hugged. We three.

When they left I felt terribly alone. I didn't want to turn to Malfoy and do something foolish to make myself feel better so I went upstairs and started to pack. I had given my parents memories of donating most of their belongings. We'd moved often enough to discourage accumulating whatnots and clutter. Most of what remained behind was mine or of me; photos I couldn't bear changing or sentimental stuff.

I shrunk things, stacking them like doll house furniture in my school trunk. The realtor would know if I needed to repaint or some such. Mostly I wanted to make myself leave. Hanging on, seeing my mum and dad in every room, hurt too much. I might regret not having a place to be a Muggle but I still had physical ties to my parents. I'd never forget them.

"You never just give up, do you, Granger?" Malfoy asked from the doorway of the guest room.

"Force of habit." I replied, pulling blankets off the bed. "I'm going to clear the house and go to the damn sea-side and drink fruity drinks with paper umbrellas in them." I'd try a few for the sake of it. Mostly I wanted some air.

Which is why I was in Vik, Iceland. The travel agent had booked accommodation for us and visas, and had looked at me funny when I had said we'd shop around for airfare. We'd taken a Portkey to Nattfaravik, the only magical settlement in Iceland, on the north coast of the island before heading to Reykjavik to rent a car to drive the Ring Road.

Malfoy was not happy with the Muggle vehicle. For about twenty minutes. Then we left the city and I pushed the blue sedan to 90kmh. That got a sniff because it wasn't as fast as a broom. But he was quiet after that. I enjoyed the scenery. Then we got to the beach and I nearly danced on the sand.

"If anyone sees you cavorting they'll think you're mad." Malfoy groused as I took deep lungfuls of the cold, salty air and felt the mental cobwebs blow away. I was making progress again. Slightly sideways because of the 'little problem' but I was out of my doldrums.

"They'll think I'm a tourist." I grinned at the rugged up blonde, crunching over to him in my hiking boots with the Gryffindor red laces. I leaned close to him and cast another Warming Charm. "This weather smells like you. To me, at least. I'm enjoying myself."

I kissed him because there was no way he would take off any of his clothes in this wind. He clung to me, pulling the heat from me. Metaphorically and literally. I'd done some shopping by myself in London before we left. And quite a bit of reading I would never admit to. I was in control.

"Coquette." Malfoy groaned when I stopped.

"Not at all. I plan to do a little experimenting tonight. I'd like you in the proper frame of mind." The hint of intimacy was enough to widen his pupils dramatically. I was going to use that response to gauge his involvement in our activities. Eyes are the windows of the soul, and I think a better judge of interest than an erection given the Veela urges.

We went back to the car. Malfoy gladly got in out of the wind. I lingered, wrestling out of my padded jacket. The kiss and the exhilaration had warmed me. I didn't want to get into an enclosed space with my bete noire before I cooled myself off. I'd need a quick dip in the ocean to court hypothermia to break my fever. He stared hungrily at me while I drove to the Bed and Breakfast.

It was early in the season so I'd got a good price on a room with a sea view. Malfoy carried our bags with a martyred expression. Wizards were allergic to manual labour. Once the door clicked shut, a flick of a wand unpacked our belongings except for a black silk bag I had charmed. I didn't want it's contents brought to light before I was ready.

I locked the door and cast a Muggle Repelling Charm , not brazen enough to risk being interrupted. We sat down to discuss our want, will, won't lists. I explained the concept, especially the 'will' versus 'want' so Malfoy understood I had made my own list and he didn't need to agree to everything just to get me to touch him.

"Because we want to keep this private, we need to set some boundaries." I didn't want to leap out of my comfort zone immediately so I began with the basics. "We need a code phrase for you to tell me you need to leave a situation. Sticking it out until you have a panic attack is masochism not courage."

"You don't need to pander to my weakness, Granger." He snapped, very much his old self.

"Positive reinforcement, Malfoy." I snapped back. "We're building trust and a framework for you to live with the Veela urges. Being joined at the hip with you isn't part of my life plan." That was a bit more abrupt than I wanted. I shucked my boots and sat down on the bed. "We can make the futures we want for ourselves. We don't have to surrender."

"Gryffindor." Malfoy muttered but he mimicked me, sitting on the other twin bed.

"So a code phrase for public." I returned to the lecture. I have urges too. "If you were Muggle-born, we could use the traffic light colours as a safe word but you're not so we'll need something else." I thought about House colours. "Though maybe that would work. For Muggles, green is go, amber is wait and red is stop."

"Slytherin. Hufflepuff. Gryffindor." He smirked. I would've been able to see that smirk in the pitch dark. Thinking about behavioural conditioning, I left him to write his list while I changed and primped in the bathroom.

I hadn't been game enough to wear any of my fancy knickers for the trip. Most itched. But I had packed a few in the silk bag. Some cosmetic charms later, I stared at myself in the mirror in the green satin teddy and resisted rolling my eyes. The woman I saw wasn't me. But maybe it would be fun to pretend for a while.

I transfigured my socks into a pair of spiky heels then covered myself with a bathrobe before I lost my nerve. I swanked my best swank out of the bathroom. Malfoy looked up from his writing and stared, eyes going wide. I tweaked his list out of his hand.

His was conventional, slightly more conservative than mine, which I pulled out of the bag for him to read as I minced to the window. One of his 'wills' was 'public affection', which he probably meant as holding hands or a kiss on the cheek. I pulled the curtains wide. Sedge grass, road, beach then ten thousand miles of ocean.

I cherished the idea of making love on the soft grass in an orchard, apple blossoms drifting onto bare skin. I had never done so but the pink romantic fantasy made me sigh. No inclination to strip off and streak, just fond memories of warm sun on my skin and sweet kisses.

"Anyone on the road will be able to see us." Malfoy objected. I tapped the glass with my wand. It rippled and would show from the outside the image of an empty room. I put my hand on the curtain then looked at him.

"Slytherin." He said after a moment watching the distant dark sea. We could both feel the power in the weather, the magic just waiting to be tapped. The same energy crackled between us.

"In this room, you will call me Mistress." I said, using my code phrase to initiate intimacy. I had written it on my list.

"In this room, you will call me supplicant." He drew the last word out on a hiss. I didn't want a slave and Malfoy would never serve. But he might beseech. He stood, awaiting orders. I turned, untying the belt of the robe to shrug it off.

"Undress. Every last stitch, supplicant." I enunciated the words carefully and kept my eyes on him as he hurriedly pulled his clothes off. He was already hard and I felt a flash of sympathy for him. The Veela lust was riding him like a nightmare. If I'd been cruel, I could have turned him into a pet.

I walked slowly over to him, because balancing in heels on carpet was tricky and I wanted to keep eye contact. I took his hands, placing them on his erection. I could feel the heat of his skin. Sweat prickled on mine.

"Kneel and offer a libation." I ordered and really hoped I didn't have to explain.

"Yes, Mistress." He complied, dropping to his knees and stroking himself as I watched. My gaze never left his face. I'd read about active listening, about investing in paying attention like it was a physical activity. I concentrated on him. His eyes, the planes of his cheeks, the line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth. His hands were busy, I knew, but my focus never wavered. It was exhausting.

He came on my feet, the hot liquid startling me out of my fixation. I staggered back dizzily as the connection between us snapped. I stumbled against one of the beds and sat, nearly missing. My magic coiled back into me, my aura separating from his like static electricity.

Malfoy stayed on his knees waiting for me to recover. I nodded eventually and he got up, tidying as I closed my eyes and waited for the room to stop spinning. Intense. Damn me. I was only half aware when he pulled the coverlet back, guiding me into bed and tucking the blankets around me.

I dozed, waking hungry. Malfoy was fully dressed in a dark suit and polished shoes. The concept of holiday clearly meant something different to him. He was reading so I enrobed myself and took a change of underwear into the bathroom where I had left my clothes.

I felt not too shabby. Roses in my cheeks and a spring to my step, mostly because my socks had reverted to comfy. I touched myself intimately to discover my body's response and while I was well lubricated I wasn't sensitive or aching. Was this the sort of heightened state of awareness Tantric rites were supposed to grant? More research for me.

"My mother thinks you will neglect me." Malfoy informed me after I made my bed. I made a huffing noise, which was a good, all purpose comment without resorting to casual blasphemy. "Don't scoff. She could petition the Wizengamot to enforce a bonding."

"Her precious boy to a Mudblood?" I verbally raised an eyebrow as I pulled a metal cube from the beaded bag that I couldn't shake carrying. I got agitated when I didn't have it, the same as my wand. So I had made a little deal with myself. The bag would live in a bowl on the hall table with my keys and if I forgot it then c'est la vie. I had got to the stage where I didn't notice if I didn't have it, which was progress.

The metal cube was cold to the touch and expanded into the magical equivalent of a fridge. I had another one with a stasis charm on it that acted like a freezer, which I had left with Fleur and Bill with the contents of my chest freezer so they wouldn't have to cook when the baby came. I made myself a sandwich.

"My mother would do anything for me." Malfoy's eyes narrowed as I spread mayonnaise. "Are you paying attention?"

"Absolutely." I confirmed, adding roast chicken. "Tell your mother that you will marry a nice girl she picks out for you when we get the contact you need from me down to about once a week." I dug salad out of the bowl and piled it on top of the chicken before squishing it down with the second piece of bread. "The unfortunate bride will have to accept you may never fully sake the Veela instincts."

"And do you think Weasley will accept you and me being intimate?" He watched me slice my sandwich. "You packed cutlery as well?"

"I put drawers in the cube. There's one for utensils. Would you like something?" I asked before I packed everything away. His head shake conveyed I was a barbarian for not waiting until dinner. "I don't know how Ron will cope. That's something he and I will have to sort out between us. I do know I'm not going to have a baby with him just to stave you off."

"There is no guarantee the mating urge won't return after you have the child. I'm not a true Veela." He watched me eat as though I was doing something erotic.

"I'd thought of that." I had plenty of other things to worry about but I had kept coming back to the dread prospect of becoming Hermione Malfoy. "I'm going to get those damn creature laws changed too. Then I can had you, your money and your mother to some other witch.

"You could simply give in." Malfoy shifted tensely in his chair.

"Lie back and think of England? Not a chance." That wasn't me. I resented noticing how he moved, the way the light made a nimbus around him as though he were seraphic. He fidgeted again as I stared. "You can't be keen for another go already?"

"For fuck's sake, Granger!" He exploded. "I touched your magic. When you watched me it was like you were staring into my soul! I couldn't have felt more of you if I'd been balls deep in you!"

"There's no damn need to be so vulgar!" I snarled, fortunately not with a mouth full of sandwich. He got up and lunged for me and we ended up on the floor with the table and my snack crashing down with us.

He bit me.

On the soft part of my shoulder near the base of my neck. Sunk his blunt teeth in hard. When I felt pain and wetness there I thought he had drawn blood. I grabbed two fistfuls of his hair and hauled his head away from me. To see his tears. Running down his face like silver.

"I felt your soul and you want to send me away." Malfoy choked, abject and angry. "You fucking bitch." He hissed, his chest heaving for breath. "I hate you."