Author's notes: The title of this chapter was taken from a song of the same name by John Mayer.

Chapter Ten: Slow dancing in a burning room

My beloved son,
I miss you.

I think about you every day. I worry that you are lonely without us.
Bella says that your father is still at work far away.
I hope he is safe and doing well. I miss him so.
I hope you think of him often too.
Bella is taking good care of me.

My headache seems to be getting better lately.
I hope you have been courting Lady Antonette's beautiful daughter well.
She would be a wonderful addition to our family.
Please visit sometime. I want to hold my dear boy again.

Thinking of you always,
Mother

It was not long past seven when Hermione arrived at the Malfoy Manor's door. She was half an hour early to the agreed time.

Knock knock knock.

There was no movement for a while. Maybe I came too early, she thought to herself. She had been so nervous all day that she was dressed up way before she needed to. After sitting about and reading academic articles all afternoon to calm her nerves (her idea of a light reading), Hermione decided she could not wait any longer. And here she was, at Malfoy's door, without an answer.

As she began to consider taking a walk and returning in time, the door creaked open just very slightly.

"Master?" asked Symon, poking half his head out of the tiny crack he let open. He looked worried at first when he saw the hem of Hermione's dress, and then he looked up, only to look visibly relieved.

"Mistress... Mistress Granger!" he exclaimed.

"Hello, Symon," she greeted him with a smile.

Symon hastily pushed the main entrance wide open. He was such a nervous wreck, it made Hermione feel bad for surprising him.

Hermione thanked him and apologized for arriving too soon. "I hope I'm not causing any trouble here."

Symon shook his head fiercely, "No, Mistress Granger! I am sorry young master is not home yet..." his voice trailed off.

Hermione took off her shoes once Symon closed the door behind them. He skittered to her feet and neatly lined up her shoes, and then he proceeded to help her with hanging up her shawl.

"Thank you, Symon. You're very kind."

Symon beamed, "It is my pleasure, Mistress Granger." He guided her down the hallway.

Hermione followed him, and then suddenly realizing something, she said to Symon, "And by the way, Symon. You can call me Hermione."

Symon stopped in his jittery footsteps and turned to her, a look of awe on his face.

"But I can't! I shouldn't!" he squeaked, "Not even Master calls you by your first name!"

Hermione chuckled, "Well, I guess we'll just have to change that."

Symon looked intrigued by her proposition, he continued to take her through the house to the guest lounge.

As soon as they reached the room, Symon guided her to a comfortable looking couch and asked her to sit down. Before Symon can go and get her refreshments, Hermione asked in curiosity, "So Symon, where did Malfoy go?"

It was a good time to make more conversation with the house elf before Malfoy returned.

Symon fumbled his claw-like fingers, obviously wondering how much he should be disclosing to her.

"I cannot say, Mistress Her...Hermione," He tried to start getting used to calling her by her first name.

Hermione was disappointed with his answer but smiled approvingly. It would take a while to have him call her without the honorific, but this was a start.

And then he quickly added, "But Master really likes you! But don't tell Master that Symon said that... Symon doesn't think he is supposed to tell."

Hermione had no idea what Malfoy liking her had to do with him not being home yet. She chuckled, "Why did you tell me then?"

Symon fumbled again, and then after a deep breath, he said, "Because Master needs Mistress Hermione... even though he does not know... And Master will protect Mistress Hermione. Even if it causes him his life, he will."

"His life? Malfoy's?" Hermione was shocked how suddenly the conversation went from something rather light to death.

Symon looked nervous, "I... I...! Master will not die, Mistress Hermione. Symon was just... exaggerating..." his voice trailed off, and he disapparated, hurriedly saying that he would bring her some refreshments.

She was so confused.

It did not take very long before Symon returned with a glass of wine. He came close to her, placing the glass on the counter next to the couch's arm, where Hermione was sitting close to. As he skittered off the counter back onto the carpeted floor, Hermione noticed a few recent-looking curse scars on Symon's belly.

She gasped.

Symon looked up in puzzlement.

"Who did this to you, Symon? Who tortured you?" she came close to him in concern. Symon, realizing what she was pointing at, instinctively hid the scars.

"Oh Mistress Hermione! I am sorry. Symon is sorry for being indecent!" he squealed and curled up into a ball, visibly upset.

"I'm sorry Symon, I didn't mean to upset you..." Hermione apologized with a sad frown, "Could these be... could Malfoy..." She did not want to say the rest.

Symon's ears bolted up and he quickly turned to her again, "No. NO NO NO! Young master would never NEVER do this to Symon... Master has a short temper... but Master NEVER hits! That time... last time... that was a mistake. Master is good to Symon... he is not like her... he is good to Symon..." Symon rocked back and forth in distress.

Hermione tried to comfort him, she felt bad for Symon for being so apologetic for someone else. It was so ingrained into a house elf's life to be on their master's side. But then, she also felt that Symon genuinely cared for Malfoy. He sincerely did not want Hermione to misunderstand his master.

A thought struck Hermione then.

"Symon, you said Malfoy 'is not like her'... who is she?"

Symon's eyes went wide. He realized he had spilled more than he should have. After banging his head on the ground repeatedly despite Hermione's plea for him to stop, he finally said under his breath, moving exceptionally close to Hermione's face, "Please PLEASE MISTRESS HERMIONE, don't mention this to the young master... Master does not know. Master should not know. Master cannot... Cannot..."

Hermione was flabbergasted.

It was then that the front door creaked. Symon immediately turned around and disapparated. Apparently he had apparated to the front door. Hermione could hear Malfoy's conversation with him.

"I'm home, is Granger here yet?" Malfoy's voice sounded tired.

"Yes, Master," Symon said laconically, hiding his excitement from earlier on very well. If Malfoy noticed anything strange, he did not sound like he showed it.

Hermione heard Malfoy's footsteps coming towards the lounge, "She's in here?"

Malfoy did not wait for Symon's response. Hermione stood up in anticipation; the door opened and the young blonde man walked in. It had only been a few days since Hermione had seen Malfoy, but she found herself already feeling that release of heartache when one has missed someone for a long time and finally gets to see him or her. Again she noted to herself how that was an inappropriate feeling to have for Malfoy, and yet... it was impossible to lie to herself. She had missed him in the short time they had not seen each other.

You're insane, Hermione, she thought to herself. As always, Malfoy looked composed and unaffected. Why am I the only one here being so neurotic? She was sure her conversation with Symon only a few minutes ago had something to do with her state of mind.

But really, freezing up and not being able to take my eyes away from him? This is too much.

Malfoy on the other hand, still felt a little uptight and nervous, though his upbringing had trained him to hide it pretty well. He had a very long day... a day he'd rather forget. As a host he knew he should be saying something nice and welcoming by now, but all he could bring himself to say was, "Would you like to move to the dining room?"

He gestured to Symon, who opened the door wide.

She nodded and followed them out of the lounging area. Malfoy recomposed himself with a short cough and took a peek at the woman beside him as they walked down the long corridor to his inner dining room. There was nothing too extravagant to what Hermione was wearing, just a simple wine-red dress with thin straps on the shoulders and a dark scarf twisted into a hair-do on the back of her head. Malfoy found the simple elegance of the way she dressed even more attractive than how she had dressed that night at the opera house. Strands of wavy hair adorned the contour of her face as always, hiding her reflecting eyes just slightly from the side. It was alluring.

"It's good to see you, Granger," Malfoy said in sincerity. It felt so strange how he felt so relaxed just by being next to her. He was stressed out just a moment ago.

A small smile crept onto Hermione's lips, "Thank you for having me," she responded, turning to him slightly to look into his eyes with a smile.

Their eyes met, and Malfoy smiled too. Her graceful disposition was calming. Such a strange woman, Malfoy thought to himself. One day she is this emotional creature who speaks her mind like no other; next time you see her, she dances around the meadow like a little girl, and tonight... tonight she's the most elegant lady I know.

As they reached the dining room, Hermione stopped short of the door. Malfoy turned around and looked at her, wondering what she was up to. She scanned him up and down quickly and said, "Did you dress up for tonight's dinner, Malfoy? Or was this from today? I feel underdressed."

Hermione noted the expensive-looking attire he was wearing. Malfoy looked at his garbs briefly and then looked at her, "Well, this was when I was meeting with my fiance earlier today... anyway, it doesn't matter," he stopped short in the description of his day and instead asked her, "Would you rather if I changed?"

Symon poked his head out from behind Malfoy, looking as if he were checking whether Hermione was still happy. So this was what Symon was talking about. He thought she would be jealous if she found out who Malfoy was meeting. Possibly Symon did not know that Hermione was married already. Oh how scandalous all this would be if Hermione was jealous. In fact, she was, just a little bit. She would never admit to it though.

"I'd rather spend time with a comfortable Malfoy than one who's stiff in a suit and tired. It's your call though."

The idea was strange to Malfoy, but he chuckled and said "Alright, I'll get changed right away. Symon, will you show Granger to her seat?"

Symon complied and led Hermione to one end of a long dinner table.

"Mistress Hermione..." he began as soon as Malfoy was out of ear shot.

Hermione nodded in understanding, "Don't worry, I won't mention it."

Symon looked at her with such grateful eyes.

"Thank you, Mistress Hermione... Symon does not like it when Master is upset..." he said with such sadness, his head drooped down.

She looked at him sympathetically.

She then looked around at the dinner table, another set of utensils were laid down at the other end. She looked down at Symon, "Symon, is it okay if we moved my seat to the other end of the table?"

Symon didn't seem to comprehend so she explained, "I just think this is too prim, I think Malfoy would enjoy a more personable meal," she smiled encouragingly.

Symon beamed, quickly rearranging the dinner table. Whatever it was that led Malfoy to treat Symon coldly at times, Hermione felt the little house elf's undying devotion to his master. He was the one who was seriously injured, and yet he only spoke of his master's feelings...

Over in his own bedroom, Malfoy was taking off his suit and changing into something 'more comfortable'.

I'd rather spend time with a comfortable Malfoy, she had said.

He couldn't figure her out. Never had a woman said such a thing to him, every one of them preferred nice outfits, cologne and expensive meals. Hermione Granger, this woman. She just managed to throw him off every time. And also, what is comfortable attire in the presence of a guest anyway? He looked in his wardrobe. A Malfoy only owned two kinds of clothing. The formal ones for public places, and the bathrobes and nightgowns for private time. Surely she did not mean for him to have dinner with her in his bathrobe, did she?

He picked out a black button-up shirt with fine silver stripes.

I guess I won't wear a tie.

When he walked back into the dining room he was taken aback again, this time by where Hermione was sitting. She was not where he expected her to be. She had made herself comfortable next to his usual seat.

"What happened here?" Malfoy asked, puzzled as he sat down at his seat.

Hermione chuckled as she and Symon gave each other sneaky looks, "We just thought dinner can be more relaxing this way."

Malfoy rolled his eyes. He'd never sat this close to another person at his house's dinner table unless it was necessary, namingly having at least twenty guests at a time. Though then he remembered that his family used to bring out the larger longer dinner table when such an occasion arose. No, he had never sat this close to someone else having a meal at home. Symon began serving the appetizers. Hermione looked pleased with their first dish, she looked comfortable alright. But Malfoy still wasn't sure if this was his idea of being comfortable.

x x x

"So where is Hermione tonight?" Ron asked after he had chugged his fifth can of beer down.

Harry and Layla looked at each other meaningfully. Harry did not respond and took a quick shot of whiskey. Layla lowered her eyes, sipping at her drink.

"What, is it a secret or something?"

Neither responded.

"Oh come on guys, I thought secrets were just from the two of you!" Ron threw his arms in the air in defiance, "I understand that you guys can't talk about work, and trust me I'd rather you not. But Hermione? She's just on sabbatical, doing research! Please don't tell me she's working so late into the night."

Ron pictured a hard-working Hermione, exactly like how she was at Hogwarts, studiously doing homework.

"On second thought... I can completely see her writing and reading right now. She should come out here more often though, don't you think?"

Layla tried to change the topic, "Yea, I'm sure she's just busy... Hey Ron, you want to check out the pool table? I've become an expert in the past few weeks!"

"You're joking," Ron didn't seem convinced, quickly challenging her to a playoff. He seemed to have forgotten about Hermione already.

Harry rubbed his hair and sighed, his head sinking into his folded arms. His friends left him alone for a while and he thought he may fall asleep, but not long after, Layla came waltzing across the room.

"Harry, stop being a poopy head," Layla said, kicking his chair with her high heels just enough to give him a wake up shake, "You need to cheer up."

Harry grunted, still not looking at her, "Leave me alone, Layla. My wife is having fun with some rich ferret. Let me mull over it."

"You sound unbelievably drunk for only having had two shots of whiskey, Harry," Layla teased him.

"I'm sorry I'm bitter," Harry apologized sarcastically.

This time Layla really kicked his chair hard, "HEY."

It got Harry to turn around to look at her directly.

"What."

"I'm not allowed to be stressed out in my off time, and neither are you. I thought we agreed on that."

They had, long time ago when Layla had just started working as an Auror. It was Harry's way of encouraging her to keep a bright outlook on life despite the nature of her work.

Harry smiled for the first time that night, albeit a partially sarcastic smile.

"Fine, Layla. You win," he got off his seat, hands up in the air, "Show me your pool table skills."

Layla winked at him with a cheeky smile, "Oh you bet I'll show you."

x x x

The close proximity at dinner surprisingly did not bother Malfoy at all after a while. In fact, he started to enjoy it quite a bit. Hermione constantly taunted Malfoy over their meal, saying that Symon definitely favored her over him because she got a larger portion of food each time. Malfoy pointed out that Symon had in fact specially prepared his favorite garnish for him at his request, and hearing so Hermione reached out and stole a piece off his plate. Malfoy retaliated by smudging Hermione's nose with a blob of whip cream during dessert. She squealed like a little girl, which mildly amused Malfoy. Then when Hermione did not give in and returned the favor, Malfoy could not help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. A food fight, he would have never even imagined having one at his family's dinner table.

The two of them ended up laughing so hard that they felt a little faint. They had a lot to eat for dinner.

"Oh dear... I feel so stuffed right now. Laughing really hurts," Hermione said between gasps of breath.

"I don't think I've ever had anything close to a food fight before, Granger," Malfoy chuckled, trying to regain his composure. He never thought sitting just a few seats closer made such a huge difference. Then again, this was Granger he was spending time with.

Hermione calmed down and then looked at him wonderingly, "Really? Never?"

"Nope," Malfoy said as he handed her his handkerchief, "and Granger, you've got a spot on your cheek."

Hermione wiped the spot of cream off her cheek and chuckled, "You know, you still call me Granger."

Malfoy paused for a moment and thought about it. Right, she was a Potter now.

"Well, what do you prefer me to call you? I wouldn't want to call you Potter as well... it reminds me too much of your wretched other half," he snickered.

"Hey, be respectful. He's my husband," she protested, though it was more so in jest than actual offense.

Malfoy smirked, "Well, I mean. What's your choice? I can call you Potty, or call you Granger like always. Though Potty reminds me of how annoying you were at Hogwarts, and seeing you in public could become a problem with the latter. We wouldn't want people to think I'm flirting with a married woman, now do we?"

Hermione chuckled. As if you weren't already flirting with me when we met at the opera house. She thought about it, and said "Well... I guess you can call me by my name."

Call her by her name?

"What... like... Hermione?" Draco stammered, while trying to keep his cool. The sound of her name on his lips sounded strange. It felt too intimate, like he was crossing a dangerous line.

"Yea," Hermione responded, her cheeks blushing just a little, suddenly regretting bringing it up. But is it possible? Malfoy's cheeks seemed a little pink... too.

Symon watched all this from a corner of the table with a sparkle in his eye. Quickly he disapparated without either of them noticing.

Malfoy coughed uneasily, "Well um, I guess I could call you that... only if you do the same for me too." He didn't want to be the only one feeling embarassed.

Hermione blushed more, and nodded.

"Well?" Malfoy said, expecting her to try it.

"...Draco," she said in barely a whisper, instantly blushing at the words. In all the years they had known each other, Hermione had never said his name before. She was thankful that the lights were dim in the room. Oh dear god if he can see how burned up I am right now...

They sat there in silence for a while, the crazy fun they had a moment ago forgotten.

Malfoy felt the need to change topic and move on, "So... what do you do for a living nowadays?" It was a curious question. He knew Potter was an Auror, but he had no idea what Hermione did, "You don't seem like the housewife type." he teased.

Hermione chuckled, she certainly wasn't. And then she thought about what she should say for a moment and responded, "Actually... I am kind of an at-home wife right now... I worked at Hogwarts as a visiting scholar for a few years until not long ago. I'm on sabbatical right now."

It wasn't entirely a lie. She was at Hogwarts until not long ago - not until the Ministry called for her and moved her back to Diagon Alley.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow, "Hogwarts? Teaching there?" that was interesting.

"Oh yes, well... mostly I was doing research there. But I also replaced Professor Binns when he finally realized... well... that he was dead."

Professor Cuthbert Binns was the History of Magic professor at Hogwarts, he had been a ghost for a long time while teaching, not noticing that he had passed away long ago.

"Professor Binns?" Malfoy was surprised, he had almost forgotten the ghost professor, "He must had been devastated."

"Oh yea... he spent many months hiding in his office. Other professors have spoken of hearing him sobbing in there for a long time." Hermione recalled the gossips among the professors as she swirled the red wine in her glass, "Eventually though, he got over it and now he's back to teaching. I think the revelation was good for him. I found him to be... more lively ever since."

Malfoy was very amused by the irony, "Who would have guessed..."

It was then that Hermione noticed music playing from a different room, she looked up from her glass of wine. Malfoy seemed to have noticed as well; his eyebrows raised a little. He knew whose doing it was.

That sneaky little house elf...

Hermione seemed to have realized as well. She briefly looked at Malfoy and looked away again, pretending she did not notice. It was too late, Malfoy saw her glancing at him. A smirk crept onto his lips. He stood up and faced her.

"Would you like to dance?" he bowed slightly, offering her his hand like a gent.

Hermione glanced at the hand he had offered her. she felt a rush of blood to her cheeks as she found herself taking his hand before she could think carefully, and followed him to the living room.

The lights were dim too in the living room. The fire was small and the curtains were open. Only thin translucent drapes veiled the soft moonlight shining in. A lively slightly upbeat music surrounded them as Malfoy guided her to a spot in the room, now taking her other hand and placing it on his shoulder. Hermione's mind went blank as Malfoy pulled her close around the waist, his eyes looking into hers deeply. With him looking directly at her right now, she knew her rosy cheeks were clearly visible.

"Mal..Malfoy, I don't really know how to dance," she confessed, trying to look away from his handsome face. So nervous she was, she forgot that she had just promised to call Malfoy by his first name.

She can barely remember the last time she had danced. She did fine at the Yule Ball back in her fourth year, but that was so long ago, and Hermione wouldn't say she was as bold as she was on the dance floor when she was fourteen anymore.

Malfoy smirked as he watched her blush, "Relax... I've got you," he guided her smoothly with gentle cues, drawing her in and pushing her out. At first Hermione was nervous and stiff, but as she realized she moved effortlessly when she let Malfoy do the guiding, dancing with him became so natural... it felt like second nature. It felt good.

The music reached a climax and Hermione found herself twirling across the room freely, which made her panic briefly only for her to find Malfoy magically appearing next to her again, pulling her in close and tipping her. They both laughed as Malfoy pulled her up straight again, holding her hands.

"That was really fun," Hermione said in between giggles.

Malfoy smiled. The music had changed into one with a sweet mellower melody. Still taking her hands, he placed them each on his shoulders and pulled her close by taking her around her waist. He leaned into her ear.

"Now I'll teach you how to slow dance ...Hermione," he whispered.

His breath on her ear sent shivers up her spine. The way he said her name, she could have melted in his arms then and there.

They gently swayed around the room in silence, his eyes on her soft supple neckline and her cheek against his chest as she bashfully kept her eyes away from his face. Only the silvery music encircled them.

She was so warm and soothing in his arms, Malfoy thought in the back of his mind as he held her.

It always ends up like this.

They were suspicious of each other. She was an important person to his enemy. Even though she might not realize who he had become in the past years they hadn't seen each other, he was sure that she felt it too. His alliance. The shadows lurking behind him. And yet, when he was with her... he felt it. That strange sense of calmness, that feeling that nothing else mattered but having her in his arms.

I feel you letting your guard down. And what scares me most, is that I'm letting mine down too.

Hermione felt her tense body relaxing slowly as they rocked in each other's arms slowly around the room. Her heart suddenly filled with emptiness, holding Malfoy so close. She had wanted this to happen one day, long ago when they became friends in their last year of Hogwarts. She had imagined one day, holding him close and drowning in his warmth. Never did she think, that several years from then, she would actually be dancing with him, feeling his soft breath on her neck and his strong hands holding her close. It felt so good, too good. I shouldn't be dancing with him like this, she thought in the back of her mind. She felt his grip tightened just a little as the music slowly died down. He wanted her. She realized it then. She turned her head towards him slightly to find him gazing at her intently. Her heartbeat rang in her ears. They could feel each other's soft breath on each other's faces. Hermione couldn't think anymore. She closed her eyes and Malfoy leaned in closer. His lips grazed hers ever so slightly, before he changed his mind and kissed her on the cheek. Hermione let out a soft gasp, just barely audible to either of them.

She opened her eyes to find him staring at her tenderly, sadly. He gently let go.

"It's late, ...Granger. I'll send you off."

Hermione nodded. She should go home.