"It's so pretty!" Luna smiled dreamily at her vibrantly pink cocktail. "Exactly the same color as the Humdinger's tail feathers!"
Ginny Potter morosely twirled the umbrella in her non-alcoholic tropical drink. "It just doesn't taste the same without the rum," she complained.
"Sorry, Gin," Hermione commiserated. "Another month and then I'll bring the rum to St. Mungo's for a celebration. We can sneak you a little tipple then."
"More like six weeks. Every Weasley in the history of Weasleys has been born late." Ginny rubbed her belly. "I'm not expecting this brat until December. Was Reg early or late?"
"Early. I thought he'd be a March baby."
"Well, I can always hope!" Ginny said brightly.
Hermione took a generous sip of her own fruity drink (in her case, with alcohol) before changing the subject. She hated thinking about the dark, desperate day when Reg had been born. "Are you sure you're up for taking him when I go to New York in November? He's a handful for me, and I'm not nine months pregnant."
Ginny waved away her concerns. "It's fine. Mum or Andromeda will wear him out during the day, and Harry and I will get him supper and put him to bed at night. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, we'll consider it good practice for when James Albus arrives." The redhead grinned at Hermione. "If I really need a break, I can call on a certain blond Ferret who likes to play daddy."
"Ferrets are very social animals. They make excellent parents," Luna noted.
Hermione looked grim. "Sorry to disappoint, but Malfoy's month is up the day after I leave for New York."
"Reg will miss him a lot," Ginny observed.
"It's only been a month. He'll get over it," Hermione said defensively.
"You won't change your mind?" Ginny asked.
The brunette witch shook her head, mouth set in a stubborn line. "Malfoy will lose interest in Reg once he sees the results of whatever pure-blood paternity potion he and his mother have concocted."
"I can't believe I'm defending the Ferret after he just reamed me out at the Leaky, but he's been excellent with Reg. He really cares about him." Ginny sighed as she continued. "Look, I know you're sick of Harry's guilt trip, and tired of me saying this, but as someone with six brothers, I can tell you that little boys need a father figure in their life. Malfoy's connected with Reg in a way that Ron and Harry haven't been able to do."
"You didn't hear him under Veritaserum, Ginny. He sees Reg as a possession, a little mini-Draco he can train up and show off."
"If you want to get the right anwers with Veritaserum, you need to ask the right questions." Luna looked at Hermione with owl-like eyes. "Are you sure you did?"
Hermione said nothing.
Ginny looked thoughtful at the brunette witch's lack of response and pushed on. "Most fathers are like that with their sons, at least a little bit. Do you know Harry made a mobile for the baby out of all the Snitches he ever caught? He's already talking about how James will play Seeker for Gryffindor!" she laughed. "Even my dad was always trying to get the boys to help him with his Muggle gadgets."
"The Malfoys take it to a dangerous extreme, Gin."
Ginny could be nearly as hard-headed as Hermione. "Just because Lucius did doesn't mean Draco will."
"You're usually a very fair person, Hermione," Luna commented softly. "I don't think you'd judge anyone except Draco based on what his father had done."
"Believe me, Malfoy's done quite enough on his own." Hermione signaled the bartender for another drink. "Can we change the subject, please? Let's talk about something else."
"Anything else?" Luna asked.
"Sure, it's your birthday." Hermione resigned herself to a discussion of Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and other creatures that existed only in Luna's imagination.
"How did you and Draco get together?" Luna looked at Hermione with wide, slightly vacant blue eyes.
"We were never together," Hermione snapped, feeling blindsided.
"But you had sex, didn't you?" Luna innocently persisted. "You must have, for Draco to think that he's Reg's father."
"Once," Hermione grudgingly conceded.
Luna just looked at her expectantly, head cocked to one side. "From everything I overheard in the girls' bathroom, I expect that it would be very nice to have sex with Draco Malfoy."
Ginny grinned. "I heard the same rumors, though I don't think 'nice' quite describes getting shagged into the mattress by the Slytherin sex god. Parvati told me she literally saw stars."
Hermione looked down at her drink, not responding.
"But Hermione doesn't seem to have liked it," Luna observed. "Maybe that's why she is being so unfair to Draco, even though he's a much kinder person than he was at school."
Ginny suddenly looked horrified. "Oh, Merlin, Hermione! I never thought - Did Malfoy - Were you unwilling?"
"No, I was willing. Extremely willing, and trusting, and stupid, and naive," Hermione told them, angry at Malfoy and at herself for how foolish she'd been at seventeen.
She sighed. Maybe she would feel better getting this out in the open. It certainly something she would never confide in Harry or Ron.
"Look, I'll tell you what happened, but I want you both to promise this goes no further."
The other two witches nodded solemnly.
"And I want you to stop nagging me about keeping Malfoy in my life or Reg's life."
Ginny nodded again, reluctantly this time.
Hermione took a deep breath and spoke quickly, like pulling off a sticky plaster. "Early on in sixth year, Professor Vector asked me to tutor Malfoy in Arithmancy. Neither of us were particularly happy about the situation, but I hoped it would help my chances of becoming Head Girl and Snape browbeat Malfoy into accepting my help with some minimal level of civility."
She fiddled with her drink. "There was definitely . . . attraction, I suppose. One day we acted on it and kissed. It was around the time that Ron hooked up with Lavender. And after that, whenever Malfoy and I met, we'd study and then we'd snog. The last time, we shagged."
Hermione looked up, worried she would see condemnation in Ginny's eyes following her bare-bones recital of the facts. The redhead instead smiled with understanding.
"I don't blame you in the slightest, Hermione. Malfoy's attitude was absolutely vile at Hogwarts, but there's no denying he was - and still is - a sexy snake."
"Vipers are usually the most attractive species of reptile," Luna offered.
Hermione smiled weakly. "I thought having sex with him was my idea - after all, what else could I get as a birthday gift for a boy who had everything? And Malfoy was . . . he was sweet, if you can imagine such a thing. He even brought champagne."
"Forget about sweet," Ginny grinned. "Was the shagging hot?"
Hermione made a face at her incorrigible friend. "I can verify the rumors are true. I enjoyed myself tremendously, even if it did hurt a bit. He set a very, very high bar for anyone to match."
"I'm not going to ask for details, if only because I don't want to hear an unflattering comparison to any of my brothers, but what happened? Other than the obvious that Malfoy let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, but if Harry could forgive him for that, with how close he was to Dumbledore, I don't see why you wouldn't."
"He used me, Ginny, in a way that was much more personal than anything he ever did to Harry."
"Used you for sex?" Ginny questioned.
"It wasn't that, or at least wasn't just that," Hermione shook her head. "I was tutoring him in Arithmancy," she stressed.
The other two witches looked at her blankly, not appreciating why that was significant.
Hermione's voice took on a faintly pedantic note. "Arithmancy formulas and calculations provide the underpinnings for all forms of magical transportation: broomsticks, Portkeys, even Vanishing Cabinets. During sixth year, I learned how to make Portkeys, just in case the Department of Magical Transportation was ever co-opted by Death Eaters. I also unwittingly helped Malfoy figure out the formulas he needed to fix the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement."
She gave a brittle laugh. "You know I've always helped Ron and Harry with homework, and I thought Malfoy was so appreciative in contrast. He told me I was saving his life, which I didn't realize was literally true until after Professor Dumbledore was dead."
Luna and Ginny stayed silent, sensing that Hermione needed to unburden herself.
"Ironic, isn't it, that a pure-blood Death Eater had to rely on a Muggle-born witch to complete his mission?" she asked rhetorically. "I suppose I could forgive him for that, knowing now his mother's life and his own life were at stake, but I can't accept that he never stopped thinking of me as something inferior."
"Why do you say that?" Luna asked gently.
"It's all part and parcel with the rest of what happened the night Professor Dumbledore died. Malfoy hadn't used that word for months. I really thought he had changed, had realized that blood status has nothing to do with magical ability. But when I slept with him . . . " Hermione looked down at her drink, seeking the right words. "Towards the end, he got a little rough and when he . . . when he climaxed, he called me a Mudblood."
"Ugh, that's disgusting." Ginny looked troubled. "Merlin forbid that I give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt, but is it possible he just got carried away? Some wizards like talking dirty during sex, and Malfoy's vocabulary isn't the cleanest to start."
Luna's sweet face was serene. "Isn't there a Muggle saying? 'Sticks and stones may break my bones, but names will never hurt me?'" she asked.
"Not physically," Hermione muttered. "And he didn't just get carried away, Gin. You know me - I wouldn't let something like that just pass without asking about it."
Grimly, she went on. "As soon as he'd calmed down a bit, I called him on it." Hermione stared blankly ahead, remembering how Malfoy had looked like a dissipated angel, with his hair mussed and cheeks flushed. She had never felt so vulnerable in her life, lying naked next to him, with her blood and his cum still sticky on the inside of her thighs.
"He looked at me like I was speaking Mermish. And then he told me he didn't see what the problem was, because I was a Mudblood, but not to worry." She laughed mirthlessly. "Malfoy said the Dark Lord had no objection to Mudbloods in their proper place - on their backs or on their knees. And since I'd just proven my worth in both positions, he would take care of me after Voldemort won."
Ginny looked horrified. Luna's face was impassive as she twirled the umbrella in her drink.
"It got even uglier after that, if you can believe it," Hermione grimaced. "The worst of it is that he had some sick Death Eater notion that sex gave him some kind of claim over me. He admitted that last month under Veritaserum."
"What a sickening sack of dragon shite! No wonder you want nothing to do with him!" Ginny was fired up, eyes flashing and face red.
"I hope you feel better, Hermione. Like lancing a boil." Luna patted her hand sympathetically.
Then the blonde's gaze grew unexpectedly penetrating. "Do you know that Voldemort used Legilemency on all of his Death Eaters? Quite a few of them had to spend time in the dungeons at Malfoy Manor when I was there because he didn't like what he saw in their minds. But Legilemency only shows an image of what someone did and said. It doesn't show what someone felt."
Hermione nodded. Indeed, it had been Malfoy who taught her about that particular weakness and how to exploit it.
"Draco grew up with a father as a Death Eater. He knew Voldemort would have access to his mind." Luna spoke persuasively. "I believe he feared Voldemort would see his memories and consider him a traitor for what took place between the two of you - unless Draco made it seem as though he'd seduced you for selfish reasons and because he wanted to humiliate Harry Potter's Muggleborn best friend. What Draco said was horrible, but it did effectively protect both of you."
"I hate to say it," Ginny grumbled, "but that sort of makes sense. Especially from a Malfoy. Their family motto may as well be 'the ends justify the means.'"
"It's actually 'Sanctimonia Vincet Semper,'" Hermione corrected automatically.
"Ginny's motto seems more fitting," Luna said seriously. "Draco hasn't really adhered to the other one, but he's shown he'll do just about anything short of murder to protect someone he cares about."
"I think Draco really cared about you, Hermione, despite what he said back then," Luna went on relentlessly. "And I think he still does. I thought it was really sweet how he held your hand and kissed you good night."
Ginny was aghast. "Wait, when did the Ferret kiss you? I noticed you two couldn't keep your hands off each other at the Leaky, but how did I miss a lip lock?"
"It was just a quick kiss goodnight when we left. You were too busy flirting outrageously with Zabini to notice," Hermione told her, half-smiling. She turned to Luna. "Malfoy just wants to get me in bed again," she declared cynically.
Luna pursed her lips in thought. "I think he does," she agreed. "But I think he also wants to talk with you, and make you happy, and protect you. And from what I saw, you may be starting to feel the same way about him again. Why not give him a chance?"
X X X
Last call at the Leaky Cauldron was at midnight, so the crowd had already thinned out by the time Ginny Potter led her two giggling friends into the pub from Muggle London, steering them directly to the fireplace. Hermione in particular had imbibed a few too many tropical drinks to Apparate safely, taking full advantage of Andromeda's offer to have Reg sleep over with Teddy so she could enjoy a girls' night out.
"Make sure to enunciate," the redhead cautioned.
"Cresswell Cottage," Hermione said carefully, throwing a pinch of the complimentary Floo powder provided by the Leaky Cauldron on the fire. She gave both of her friends a quick, grateful hug before stepping into the green flames. She tripped exiting through the fireplace in her living room, but caught herself with a steadying hand on the mantel. The first order of business, she decided, was to remove Ginny's overly high-heeled scarlet sandals.
The first came off easily enough, but the left shoe proved to be troublesome. "Bugger," she muttered, struggling with the buckle. Not wanting to risk snapping the delicate straps, Hermione let go of the mantel to devote both hands to the task, but nearly pitched face-first onto the rug with the loss of support. She squeaked as a pair of strong hands grasped her upper arms and pulled her upright.
"Salazar's rod, you are completely and utterly sloshed," commented a laughing voice in her ear.
She turned around and blinked up at a pair of surprisingly warm grey eyes. "Malfoy? What are you doing here?"
X X X
Draco was dozing on Granger's comfortable overstuffed couch when the Floo activated and Granger stumbled through. For the next minute or so, he watched with unholy amusement as the brightest witch of their age attempted, with limited success, to take off her strappy sandals while clinging to the fireplace and hopping about.
He intervened when Granger, with one shoe off and one shoe on, finally lost her precarious balance. Draco half-expected her to go for her wand when he grabbed her arms from behind. However, once she swiveled around to face him, she merely seemed puzzled that he was in her home in the wee hours of the morning. Looking down at her flushed cheeks, mussed curls and wide eyes, he realized that Granger made a rather adorable drunk.
Draco guided the tipsy witch to the couch and sat her down. "To answer your question, I'm here because Teddy is sickening with something. My aunt didn't want Reg to catch whatever it is, so she gave me access to your house through her Floo. He's asleep now upstairs in his room."
As he spoke, he deftly unbuckled the remaining sandal and slid it off her foot, not without a tinge of regret and stealthy caress of her ankle. Ever since she had shown up at the Leaky Cauldron at the start of the evening, he had been entertaining naughty fantasies about Granger bent over a bed, wearing nothing but those sexy red shoes. However, with the number of drinks she'd had, Draco decided the only thing Granger should be doing in her bed tonight was sleeping it off.
"Reg is here?" she asked worriedly, oblivious to the lustful thoughts dancing through his head. "Malfoy, you need to use a Sobriety Charm on me right now."
He shook his head. "Sorry, can't help you. I'm absolute pants when it comes to that particular charm. You're more likely to find yourself still drunk and with a splitting headache."
"Malfoy, please," she begged. "What if he wakes up in the middle of the night and needs me?"
"Relax, Granger," he soothed. "Reg wore himself out at the Quidditch match. He fell asleep in transit to Andy's and didn't even stir when I brought him through the Floo. I guarantee he'll sleep soundly. And if he does wake up, the two of us together amount to one sober, responsible adult."
As he hoped, that somewhat reassured her. "You're staying?" she asked.
"I'll sleep here on the couch," Draco confirmed.
"Thanks, Malfoy. I owe you." She smiled at him, rather hazily, and stretched, heedless of how that made her skirt rise up her thighs.
With an effort, Draco dragged his eyes back up to her face. "Don't you worry, I'll be sure to collect," he promised.
In an effort to distract himself, he Summoned a glass from the kitchen. "Aguamenti," he recited, before handing the now-full glass to Granger. "Drink it," he directed. "You'll feel better for it in the morning."
Granger obediently drained the glass, protesting only when he refilled it. "Malfoy, I can't drink this much water. I'll get sick!"
"Just sip it, then," he instructed, assessing her level of inebriation with a practiced eye. "I'll get you a hangover potion from the Manor in the morning, but you probably won't need it."
She leaned her head on his shoulder, eyes closed. "I really appreciate it, Malfoy."
Hesitantly, he put his arm around her, relishing the perfect fit as she snuggled against him. It hadn't escaped his notice that Granger consistently drew away whenever he touched her, even something so casual as a light tap on the arm, so he had tried hard to resist that temptation. But tonight had been different. Not only had she accepted his touch at the Leaky, she had even reciprocated, with a lovely neck and spine massage that reminded him of the many little ways she had kept him sane during his horrific sixth year at Hogwarts.
From her even breathing, he thought she had fallen asleep. After a few minutes, though, she spoke. "Malfoy?"
"Yes, Granger?"
"I have something to tell you." She raised her head and looked at him with serious brown eyes, so close that he could pick out each individual fleck of gold and amber. Draco recognized the hallmarks of an alcohol-induced confidence, and debated whether he should, as a matter of good conscience, advise Granger to hold her tongue, at least until she sobered up. Still, if it had to do with Reg . . .
"Do tell," he invited.
"I want to forgive you."
He blinked in surprise. "For everything?" he hazarded, recalling just how much he had asked her to forgive.
She bit her lip, mulling it over. "I think so."
"What's stopping you?" he asked.
Rather than answering immediately, she traced the line of his cheek and jaw, the refined bone structure of the House of Black overlaying the more rugged facial features he saw repeatedly in the portraits of his Malfoy ancestors. Involuntarily, he closed his eyes to savor the feather-light caresses, his imagination offering any number of other ways she could put her slender, skilled fingers to use stroking his body. She had too much to drink, he reminded himself. She'll regret it in the morning.
"What if you turn out to be like Lucius?"
That snapped his eyes open, dousing his contented mood as effectively as a bucket of icy water. Granger had evidently found some sort of wisdom in a bottle, to unerringly ask the same question that so often woke him in the middle of the night. She must have felt his jaw clench, because she recoiled slightly and removed her hand. Or perhaps some emotion darker than shock had played across his face, because Granger was now regarding him with wariness.
He sighed and gently tugged her to her feet. "Come on, mignonne. Let's get you to bed." While her question about his father deserved an answer, it was too late at night to drag that particular demon out into the light. She followed him docilely down the hallway, neither demanding an answer nor objecting to his steadying arm around her waist.
He stopped outside her bedroom door, not wanting to court temptation by crossing the threshold. "Goodnight, Granger," he told her, rather stiffly.
"G'night, Malfoy," she echoed, her words slightly slurred. She tipped her face up to his. "I'd like a goodnight kiss," she stated, running a fingertip along his lower lip.
Draco tensed. He would like nothing more than to accede to her request, but he could picture quite vividly how that would unfold. Granger's mouth would open under his, his tongue would tangle with hers as he pressed her back against the doorframe, and he would fist one hand in her hair while his other hand unzipped her dress and shoved it off her shoulders. After that, he would unclasp her bra and lavish her breasts with attention from his mouth and hands.
Granger probably would fumble with his belt, but he would help her. They would both push her dress and knickers down to her feet, his hands over hers, and he would deposit her, naked, in the middle of the bed and shuck off his clothes. In mere minutes, he would be thrusting between her thighs while she moaned beneath him. And it would be completely, utterly wrong to take advantage of her in that way, to once again leave her feeling in the afters that he had used her body and abused her trust.
Granger leaned into him, a pretty pout on her pink lips. "Please, Malfoy?" she prompted him, the shy glance from beneath her eyelashes at odds with her bold behavior.
"I already gave you a kiss at the Leaky," he reminded her, stalling for time.
"I know you can do better than that," she challenged.
"I can and I shall," he smirked, maneuvering her into the bedroom, "but not tonight." He dropped a quick kiss on her forehead. "You'll thank me in the morning, Granger," he said, stepping quickly out of the room and closing the door firmly behind him.