"Good evening Potter," Draco's silky tones said. "May I come in?"

"By all means Malfoy," Harry sourly acquiesced, stepping aside so Draco could enter his house, "we were just talking about you."

"All bad things I hope," Draco mocked. He carefully stepped past Harry, eyeing Harry's wand with obvious distrust.

Harry noticed Draco's look and quickly pocketed his wand.

"Do come through," Harry bitingly offered, "the girls are in the kitchen."

"Draco," Hermione snapped as soon as he entered the kitchen, "what are you doing here?"

"I came to check on you," Draco replied and just for a second Hermione swore there was a flash of concern in his grey eyes. "Mrs Potter," Draco said and politely inclined his head to Ginny.

"Malfoy," Ginny greeted, her ruddy eyebrows raised in a challenging arc. "Would you care to tell me how you managed to get Hermione to see past your ferret like nature and agree to marry you?"

"Well," Draco addressed Ginny, but his gaze lingered on Hermione's pensive face, "I'd love to show you, but I think Potter might object."

"I hope you are not talking about what I think you are," Harry cautioned, placing a hand on his wife's slim shoulder.

"I do apologise," Draco smoothed, "Hermione's presence hasn't ironed out all the flaws in my character…yet."

Harry grunted. "Tea Malfoy?"

"Why yes," Draco cheerily accepted.

Draco slunk down into the chair beside Hermione and casually looped his arm over her tense shoulders. Ginny watched his action and clicked her tongue reproachfully, like a mother hen.

"I presume Hermione has been filling you in on all the details," Draco said to Ginny.

"Not all of them," Ginny piped. "But she did manage to cover that your both getting married on Monday."

"I know, very quick and all that," Draco said. He took Hermione's spoon out of her hand and dipped it in her ice cream.

"What flavour, love?" He asked Hermione.

Hermione was floored for a second by Draco referring to her as 'love', but managed to reply: "Mango."

Hermione watched, in fascination, as he slid the spoon into his mouth. His eyes closed slight as he licked the spoon clean. His pink tongue thrust out and stroked his bottom lip, catching the remaining cream. As Draco's tongue languidly brushed the corner of his mouth, Hermione let out a shaky breath she wasn't aware she'd been holding.

Ginny gave a small interfering cough.

"Try and keep it in your pants, the pair of you," the red head scolded.

Hermione blushed at Ginny's comment. Her eye's left Draco's face and she concentrated on the wooden grain of the table top.

"I can't help it Mrs Potter," Draco said, and Hermione could hear the smirk in his tone, "I have a weakness for ice-cream."

"My ice-cream isn't that good Malfoy," Ginny chided. "I'd be a rich woman if it was," she muttered.

Before Draco could riposte, Harry noisily dropped a mug of tea in front of Malfoy, the brown liquid sloshed over the sides and pooled around the base of the cup.

Draco tilted his head to examine the dripping mug. Hermione watched his eyebrows raise and a glint of mischief enter his eye. Printed on the side of the cup was a photograph of Harry and Ginny on their wedding day. The Potter's smiling faces shone in the kitchen light, their youthful happiness apparent even in the low quality of the photograph.

Harry's displeasure at having Malfoy in his home was obvious in his possessive choice of porcelain.

"I never thought the day would come when I'd be drinking out of your face Potter," Draco suggestively said and delicately picked up the sopping cup.

Harry groaned and grabbed the mug out of Draco's hand.

"Why do you have to make everything filthy?" Harry cried.

Harry carried the mug to the sink and picking up one of the tea cups, from the set that Hermione had given him, Harry deposited Malfoy's milky tea into the new vessel.

"Here," Harry said, thrusting the new cup under Draco's nose. "Drink and get out."

Draco took a cautious sip of the tea, grimacing at the taste.

"Potter, you make an appalling cup of tea. Has anyone ever told you that?" Draco asked, lowing the teacup onto the table.

Harry looked affronted.

"Now listen here Malfoy-" Harry started to say, when Ginny, unexpectedly, cut him off.

"I'm sorry Harry, but I have to agree with him. You have many fine qualities, but your tea making isn't one of them," Ginny confessed.

"Do you all feel this way?" Harry asked, his mouth open in shock.

"Sorry Harry," Hermione said, gesturing to her barely drunk tea.

Draco rose from his chair and walked over to Harry.

"Come on Potter," Draco amicably said, patting Harry on the back, "I'll teach you how to brew a cup of tea that will have your wife swooning."

Ginny and Hermione watched appreciatively, as Draco taught Harry how to correctly brew tea.

"Do you have a tea strainer?" Draco asked as he swirled fresh boiling water round the teapot.

"A what?" Harry asked, bewildered.

Draco sighed and pulled out his wand.

"Accio tea strainer."

A drawer on the far side of the kitchen banged open and a small tea strainer floated across the room and landed in Draco's outstretched hand.

"Oh, that's what a tea strainer is," Harry said, "I thought that was something for cooking fish?"

"Cooking fish!" Draco yelled, "You'd better wash this," he waved the metal strainer at Harry, "I am not going to be drinking fishy tasting tea."

"This is odd," Ginny muttered to Hermione.

"Tell me about it," Hermione agreed, her eyes never leaving the fairer of the two men. "I mean Malfoy actually knows how to make proper British tea?"

Ginny threw her a funny look.

"No, what I'm finding more strange is that no one has ended up in St Mungo's."

"Why did you throw away that water," Harry yelled at Draco, "it was fine as it was, in the teapot!"

"Oh Merlin Potter," Draco yelled back, exasperated, "You have to warm and swill the pot before you put the fresh tea in."

"I won't deny," Ginny continued, "I would be grateful if Malfoy does teach Harry how to make tea. Harry's cups always taste like a combination of socks and-"

"Dishwater," Hermione finished.

"Now, once we have warmed and cleaned the pot, what do you do next?" Draco lectured Harry.

"Put more water in?"

"No. We add the tea leaves before the boiling water."

"Then pour."

"We leave it to brew for three minutes. Only pour it now if you want it to taste like sewage," Draco corrected. "Really Potter," Draco said, astounded, "how did you get through tea leaves in Divination?"

"Ron was my partner," Harry said, and then added a tad begrudgingly, "he never complained about my tea."

"This explains many things," Draco lamented.

"You know, they look quite good standing there," Ginny conspiratorially commented to Hermione. "We've got an excellent view from here." She nodded, appreciatively, at her husband's arse.

"That's my best friend!"

"What?" Ginny coyly asked. "I've been watching you Hermione Granger. Your eyes keep straying down to Malfoy's bu-"

"Gin!"

"Don't be such a prude," chided Ginny, "you must have seen Malfoy naked by now?'

"No I haven't," Hermione blurted.

"Now that, I find hard to believe. Draco 'I'm going to whore myself about all of London' Malfoy hasn't got you into bed."

"It wasn't all of London," Hermione hotly defended.

"Fine, all of London a part from you."

"Some of us hold ourselves to higher values," Hermione primly said.

"Ah, that explains the sexual chemistry then," Ginny said, tapping her chin with her index finger.

"What sexual chemistry? There is no sexual anything."

"You can't kid me. I'm a married woman. I can tell these things," Ginny confidently quoted. "Anyway," she fixed Hermione with a piercing stare, "there's nothing wrong with you and Malfoy having sexual chemistry. You're getting married; desire should be there."

"Oh, yes," Hermione mumbled, her face heating up from the blunder she'd made, "you're right, of course."

Hermione got the impression that Ginny would have questioned her further, if at that moment, Draco hadn't placed two cups of steamy tea before them.

"Ladies," Draco smarmed, "tea is served."

"Take me to bed lover," Ginny dramatically said to Harry once she'd finished her tea, "I do believe I'm swooning." Harry's chest perceptively puffed with pride.

Hermione smiled behind the rim of her cup. Ginny was right: it really had been an excellent cup of tea.

"See Potter, if you get the art of tea right then the world is your oyster," Draco said, taking a sip from his own cup.

"I never thought the day would come," Ginny announced, "but thank you Malfoy."

"You're very welcome Mrs Potter." Draco winked at Ginny.

"Malfoy, stop flirting with my wife," Harry commanded, but there was no animosity in his tone.

"Habitual tendency," Draco excused.

"Just as long as my wife doesn't experience anymore of your 'tendencies' then we're alright," Harry stiffly replied.

"I think you'd better take Malfoy home," Ginny said, giggling, to Hermione.

Ginny got up and walked towards Harry. She placed her hand on his chest and whispered something into his ear, causing him to smile.

From the hushed mummers of Ginny and the glazed expression taking over Harry's face, Hermione could tell that she and Malfoy had been quite forgotten.

"We should head off," Malfoy said, watching the Potter's with considerable amusement.

Hermione mutely nodded. Her chest felt heavy and she didn't think she could speak, not even to rebuke Malfoy. The loving interactions of Harry and Ginny often took her breath away, leaving her feeling paradoxically hollow and weighty at the same time. She gave a shiver, as if she'd stepped out into a chill breeze without her coat.

"Come on Granger" Draco rallied, taking her arm and coaxing her to stand, "we ought to get our beauty sleep. We have a busy day tomorrow."

Hermione turned her back on the otherwise engaged Ginny and Harry.

"I don't know what your planning," Hermione quietly said to Draco, as he helped her into her outer robe. "But I'm going to work in the morning."

"And now you're spending the day with me," Draco corrected.

"I need to run my business."

"Hire someone."

She took his arm and dragged him into the entrance hall of the Potter's house.

"I can't afford an employee," she whispered, checking that Harry and Ginny were out of sight.

"Yes you can. I'll give you an advance on the money I promised," Draco said, and opened the front door. "You'll be getting it in a few days anyhow."

She was tempted. Having an extra pair of hands round the place would be incredibly useful, especially as Malfoy seemed set on monopolising all her time.

"How can I hire someone for tomorrow?" she said, trying to find a snag in his plan,

Draco left the front door open, but moved to the Potter's small writing desk in the entrance hall. He took hold of a quill, that was lying forlornly on the table, and scribbled a quick note on a scrap of parchment.

"Got a couple of Galleons?" he asked her as he twisted the parchment into a scroll.

She fished out two grubby coins.

"Good," Draco said, shoving the discs into the paper scroll. "Now we'll just borrow Potter's owl and send this over to The Daily Prophet. They can have an advert in the morning edition."

"But-"

"Hey Potter," Draco yelled, "can Hermione borrow your owl?"

There was a muffled giggle from the kitchen and the crash of the chair being knocked over.

"Sounds like Potter is a bit busy," Draco dry commented. "We'll borrow the owl anyway. I'm sure he won't have a problem. Not with the night he's in for."

Draco briskly took her arm and lead her outside. He left her to shut the door, as he made his way over to the small owlary Harry had built by the garden gate.

"Hey birdy," Draco cooed to Harry's owl, a light coloured Tawny. "Up for a quickie?"

"Draco are you seriously using a chat up line on an owl?" Hermione asked, stomping over to him.

"I flirt with everything Granger," Draco muttered. "Nice girl," he said to the owl, as she lifted her leg and allowed him to tie on the scroll. She hopped onto Draco's outstretched arm and he launched her into the sky.

Hermione was left wondering why every female Draco encountered seemed totally comfortable getting her leg over him.

"All sorted," he said, watching the owl vanish into the night. "They'll be breaking down your door to work with The Hermione Granger."

"I highly doubt that."

"Your face is splashed over every magazine and publication," Draco reminded. "Mine is too, of course; but the public is much less interested in me. You'll have plenty of applicants to choose from." He rubbed his hands together. "How about we get to bed?"

"I'm going to my own bed, alone" Hermione firmly said.

"Absolutely."

"We'll be going alone to our respective beds," she clarified, frowning at his mischievous expression. There was something familiar in arguing with Malfoy; the ease of their bickering swept gloomy thoughts from her head, like a mental spring cleaning.

"Wouldn't have it any other way." He smirked.

In the moonlight Draco's hair was even whiter; platinum blonde streaked with silver threads. His sharp cheek bones stood more pronounced, as the shallow light cut shadows under his cheeks and jaw.

"I don't suppose," Draco casually began, "you fancy getting a drink? While tea was fine, I could do with something stronger. I also want you to fill me in on this evening's events with Mr and Mrs Potter. It went far too smoothly for my peace of mind."

He saw the indecision on her face.

"What about bed?"

"If you insist Granger."

"You know what I mean."

"On my wand," he said, resting his hand on his chest, "I shall deliver you home safe and sound."

Hermione looked past Draco and up into the sky. The moon hung, full and low; the pearly planes reminding her of a crystal ball. Hermione disliked all forms of fortune telling, but right now she could do with a little insight into her own foggy future.

She looked into Draco's almost hopeful expression and felt herself relenting…It wasn't that late after all.

"Fine," she caved. "But don't surprise me with The Ritz like last time."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Hermione angled her body and reached down to retrieved her wand from her thigh garter. The holster was made of black lace and snuggly fitted against her mid thigh; she'd adapted it from a Muggle garter. She thought nothing of it as she slipped her robes up her leg to reach for the wand, but she paused when she heard Draco gasp.

"What's the matter?" she anxiously asked, straightening and flourishing the length of wood into the night. She peered into the milky darkness, but she couldn't see anyone or anything.

"I wish you'd warn me," he breathily moaned.

"Warn you about what?" she asked, annoyed. She lowered her wand, sure that there was no impending danger.

"When you're going to-" he gestured to her wand. "Oh nothing," Draco said with a resigned sigh.

"Harry has fairly strong apparation wards," Hermione said, ignoring Draco's weird behaviour, "but if we walk two-hundred yards it should be out of range and able to appara-"

"We're not going to apparate," Draco asserted. He shook his head, his blond hair falling in front of his eyes like yellow ribbons fluttering in the wind.

"But how else shall we get there? The pub's floo is closed and Harry is-"

"Otherwise occupied," Draco finished. "Yes I know."

"Then how?"

"Have a little faith Granger," Draco said and suddenly snatched Hermione's wand from her hand. He twirled the wood like a cheerleaders baton.

"Malfoy! Give me back my wand!" she yelled and immediately rushed towards him, her arms outstretched.

Draco quickly hid her wand in the recesses of his dark robes.

"You're very welcome to come and search me for your wand," he evocatively challenged. "But I warn you, I may get very excited."

Hermione paused, a hare's breath away from Malfoy's chest. Draco was still staring down at her, his blonde eyebrows flecked in an alarmingly seductive way. She lowered her arms and swung them back and forth in a frustrated manner.

"Don't worry about your wand Granger." Draco relented and wrapped an arm round her waist. "We can fly."

"Fly!"

"On a broom," Draco spelt out. He pointed to a sleek looking broom that was leaning against the wooden fence.

"You planned this didn't you?" She angrily prodded him in the chest.

"How else was I going to get you on my broom?"

"I should snap your wand, you lying cad."

"Oh Granger, I'd rather you did other things to my wand."

"You!"

She open and closed her hands, her finger's itching for the familiar feel of her wand. Or to strangle Malfoy's pale neck.

"Yell at me later."

Draco grasped his broom and swung his leg over.

"Hop on," he said with an encouraging smile. "Unless you want to knock on the Potter's door and interrupt them?"

Hermione winced. No, she certainly didn't want to interrupt the them now. She felt her eyesight might not ever recover.

Draco's mouth broke into a broad grin as Hermione reluctantly slid onto the broom behind him.

"Put your hands around me," he advised her. "As you know, I'm not a slow rider."

Draco gunned the magic and the broom levitated upwards. Without stopping to think, Hermione wrapped her arms round his torso.

"I hate you Draco Malfoy, I hope you know that," she coarsely whispered in his ear.

Draco chuckled as he urged the broom higher into the night sky.

...

Draco and Hermione's Author Note:

Draco stood in front of the shop's mirror, surveying his striking figure.

"You know," he said to the author, "I think tartan suits me."

"I whole heartedly agree," the author said, also admiring Draco's form in Scottish Highland dress.

His broad shoulders were snuggly fitted into a double breasted jacket, around his trim waist was a tartan kilt the pleated length of which ended just above his knees.

"But what is this thing?" Draco reached down to his groin area and lifted a small fur bag.

"A sporran. It's a kind of bag."

"A bag?" Draco repeated, "So I have a furry bag resting against my groin?"

"I imagine you've had much worse things your groin Malfoy."

"Touché."

"Even the socks suit you," the author admitted, watching as the knee high socks tightened around Draco's flexing calf muscles.

"I could get used to this," Draco said, brushing his large hands down the side of the kilt, "It is ever so roomy around my private pa-"

"Too much information."

He grinned and lowered a hand to the sporran and opened it. He pulled out a piece of paper.

"I'm sure the dear readers wouldn't mind finding out what's under the kilt," Draco drawled.

The author gulped.

"Anyway, let me get on with the important bit: the thanks. I asked and I received. Mòran taing for your enthusiastic response," he drawled. Draco unfolded the paper and scanned the page. "My, my," he said, his voice raspy and deep, "you all deserve such praise. Thank you: 90, BelleBelles, AccioPemberly, mega700201, , Tetrona, CheshyreGrin, kathia05, Calindy, BookLover1670, risa, pgoodrichboggs, Guest, DuchessWondershel, viola1701e, Snowflake Dazzle, ForsakenKalika, Keke Koormine, Ruthy4vrSmoaked, ndavis77, and Whit96 for their 3 reviews." Draco lowered the paper and surveyed the readers. "It is certainly a case of the more the merrier. Feel free to show your appreciate in anyway way you...desire. Until next time."