A/N: First off I would love to thank all of my followers, reviewers, and people who have favorited this crazy mess I call a story. Each of you brightens my day every single time I see a new addition to anything and smiles wreathe my face and make me look insane. *grins like a maniac* Now, obviously, you can tell by the title of this chapter what you can expect but I couldn't name it anything else, dammit! I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed pecking it out and checking it over (and over and over again) Also, a special shout-out to: dawn1899 (I wanna see where it goes, as well) IGOTEAMEDWARD (I feel like you may be my own personal cheerleader!), PeculiarDollx (because your review made me giggle) and Ditte3 (because um Ziva)...*much nodding ensues* I can say with an absolutely serious expression that every review has made me smile...and I appreciate the hell out of the kind words.

Okay then: All standard disclaimers apply and on with the story!


Hermione did not allow herself time to think. Instead, after a quick shower and some time spent on fixing the atrocity most people called hair, she floo'd to the Leaky Cauldron so that she could send a quick note to the Malfoy heir inviting him to lunch at her place. Since she didn't own an owl, she decided to use one of the postal owls to deliver the missive and this, of course, required her to be in Diagon Alley.

She hadn't made it far when a deep voice, no TWO, caught her attention with a call of "Granger!" After a momentary hesitation in which her hand immediately found her wand, she turned, only to be faced with Zabini and...Goyle. The young woman wished for a private spot so that she could hex the hulking figure with the shock of deep brown hair and hazel eyes into oblivion. Alas, in the center of the High Street was neither the place nor the time. With a sigh, she tried for politeness.

"Gentlemen. To what do I owe the," She paused as she searched for a word. "Pleasure." Of course, that was not the word she wanted to use and both men, one dark the other fair, understood that, implicitly.

It was Blaise who took up the conversation from that point, his smooth, lightly accented baritone hesitant as he looked into the sparkling dark orbs of the fierce witch before him. "We wanted to know if we could have a moment of your time. It seems that our matches would like to meet for dinner this evening and we are at a loss."

Hermione nodded and turned toward a small tea shop located only a few yards away. "Fine. Come with me."

She did not wait, merely shoved her hands into her jacket pockets and strode off. The young men followed behind her, exchanging worried glances. Moments later, the trio was settled at a small table, their tea orders placed. The young woman glanced at the two before her and waved a languid hand, obviously telling the young man (or men) to continue.

It was Goyle who spoke next. His voice was low, rough. It sounded, to her, as if he hadn't spoken in a long while, his tone almost rusty with disuse. "Um. I am sure you've heard about the matches for your friends." She nodded and he continued. "They invited us to this place called," He darted his eyes to the other man who answered.

"They told us to meet them at Whispers, the place just beside Gringott's," Blaise supplied.

Goyle continued, his large hand rising to brush at the short dark hair that covered his head. "We were wondering if you knew why they would choose to do it together."

Hermione shrugged. "I told them the way Harry and I met Draco and Pansy. I suggested, so that my friends felt safe, that they offer to meet with you two in a place that felt comfortable to them. A way for them to keep control of the situation." She glanced at the dark-skinned young man. "I am not too worried about Luna, you know. She never told me about you messing with her. It was Nott sometimes or Daphne Greengrass, hell even Pansy but not you. However," Here her dark eyes snapped toward Goyle's hazel gaze. "I do know that you put Ginny under Pomfrey's care three different times due to your enjoyment of the Cruciatus curse." She blinked. "I offered to end you for her but somehow you seem better to her than McLaggen."

Hermione drew in a deep breath. "So the idea was for the girls to meet with you and see if they ever felt comfortable enough to meet with you separately." Again her gaze found Goyle. "I am unsure if Ginny will be able to move quickly past your last interactions. I still have trouble dealing with Draco and he never physically hurt me."

Their drinks arrived and Hermione quieted herself long enough to take a long sip, the heat of the tea a balm to her nerves as they snapped beneath her skin. Finally, Goyle broke the silence, his voice tight with some unexplained emotion.

"Do you, do you have any advice for us," he queried, uneasily.

Hermione glanced at the young men and pondered briefly. Finally, she said, her own voice soft. "Apologize and mean it. I advised the girls to look at you as you are now, not as they remember you. I am advising you two to do the same. They are my friends, and I warn both of you that if either Luna or Ginny contacts me to tell me anything negative? I will find you and I will end you. It may not be physical, you are both big men, but I guarantee you will remember my retribution for the rest of your miserable lives."

Goyle smiled and almost without thought, he replied: "As if I would have to fear a mudblood."

Hermione grinned, all teeth, more a snarl than a smile. She looked feral enough that both men leaned back. "I knew you were stupid, you husky fuck, but I didn't expect to see it so quickly. Anytime, and I do mean anytime, you feel the urge to have at me, I invite you to do just that. I have taken on werewolves, your stupid Dark Lord, things you could never imagine. I have proven to myself, and countless others, that I am not weak or stupid. I survived torture, you disgusting pig of a boy. Do you honestly think you can do anything to me?" She sat back and grinned some more, her eyes flashing with anger. "Did you know, you sloppy, illiterate, disgusting excuse for a human that I've had my wand drawn on you and aimed right at your tiny excuse for a dick ever since we sat down? Please, I beg you, try me."

She could see his Adam's apple bob as he swallowed but it was Blaise's laughter that drew a halt to the tension which had encapsulated their table. "Oh, Greg, what in the hell were you thinking? This is Hermione Granger, one of the very few Gryffindors that could easily take you on. Stop being a prick and let her help us, you dumb arse."

"Sorry," the husky young man whispered. "My mouth still gets away from me when I get angry. I try to control it but sometimes I say things without thinking them through."

Hermione nodded and settled the hand which had been holding her wand on the table. Of course, her wand was still in it but the boys could easily see the threat now and work to avoid it. She then took a final sip of her tea and spoke. "If you can apologize to the girls, just like that, then you may be off to a good start. I can tell you that Luna forgives very easily. If you are sorry and mean it, things will eventually work out." She glanced at Goyle. "Ginny will take time. She has the exact same issue as you, the inability to be angry and control her words, her tone. My friend can be vicious. However, in my opinion, what you get from her temperament wise is what you give to her. Don't give her cause to hate you more than she has in the past. If you want to work on the relationship the way it stands, you are going to have to let her come to you."

She finally stood up. "I was on my way to owl Draco, to see if he'd like to have lunch with me so we could talk. It's already eleven and I have yet to start cooking. If you will excuse me?"

Goyle rose to his feet and gave a slight bow but Blaise said, "We were on our way to see Drake. If you want to, you can give me the note and I can make sure he gets it. I do know he's at work and doesn't usually take lunch until after one."

Hermione gave thought to the offer and then nodded, wordlessly casting a privacy spell on the parchment in case either of the men got nosy. She handed the rolled scroll to the dark young man with a quick grin. "Thanks. I guess I can head back to the Leaky and home then. My food does not cook itself."

It wasn't until the snarly, tiny, caramel-hued female left the tea shop that Blaise turned to Greg with a smirk and said, "She's a very scary witch."

The other young man nodded and agreed, "Fuck yeah she is. I feel sorry for Drake if he pisses her off."

Draco's Office

Blaise and Greg met with Draco slightly before noon and the darker young man had immediately offered the note to his hand.

"Who's it from," the blond asked, his eyes narrowed.

"Granger. Something about lunch," Blaise answered.

Greg continued, "We ran into her on her way to send it to you. We had questions about Lovegood and Weasley. So we stopped her and talked to her for about half an hour."

"Yeah and then she threatened to blow Greg's bollocks off. Ah, it was amazing," Blaise laughed. his eyes sparkling gleefully.

"Shut up, Zabini." Greg glanced at Draco. "I got mad, said something rude. She um...handled it. How the hell are you gonna deal with her temper, mate? She's hellish."

Draco smirked and unrolled the parchment, his gray eyes trained on the words before him. The note was short and to the point.

Draco;

I would like to meet for lunch at my place.
I know you've never been but I will open the floo for you.
I will be cooking so it won't be ready until close to one.

Hermione

His smirk shifted into a brief smile before he glanced toward his friends. "She asked me to come to her place. Do you know this is the first time she and I will be alone?"

Blaise quirked a dark eyebrow. "Really? Then she must know what she's talking about when it comes to her friends." He paused. "You gonna go?"

The blond nodded. "Yes. I don't think she'll poison me."

There was laughter after that and soon enough, the conversation turned to other things.

1:15 Hermione's apartment

Hermione had decided on a pot roast with small potatoes, fresh green beans, and carrots. Since she had a relatively small one (Not even 2 pounds) she figured it would only take an hour or so, especially if she precooked the vegetables. By noon, the whole of it was in the oven, covered with foil and filling the apartment with the amazing scent of garlic, thyme, and rosemary.

Once that was out of the way, she had cleaned her used dishes (Thank Merlin for cleaning charms!) before she turned her attention to the rest of her apartment. Bookshelves were straightened, things were dusted, and she ran a vacuum, all before one. Of course, by then, her hair was a frizzy wreck but she soon righted it, using a hefty amount of Sleakeazy's hair potion so that her curls fell with wild abandon around her elfin features.

She did not bother to pull it back.

It was while she was pulling out the roast to rest that she heard the roar of the Floo and a husky tenor call out, "Hermione?"

The diminutive young woman took a deep breath and called in return, "I'm in the kitchen Draco. I hope you like pot roast."

She turned just as he entered and gave him a quick once over. The blond was dressed in a well-cut, muggle suit in black, his shirt the only color, a brilliant green. Broad shouldered and slim-hipped, the clothes showed him to good advantage and she felt completely underdressed and (if she dared to admit it to herself) undesirable. How could he even find someone so different from him, attractive? Was it a waste of time to try?

Draco, on the other hand, thought she looked edible in her tight jeans and soft brown and green cropped sweater with her curls flowing over her shoulders in wild abandon. Her skin, that lovely shade of golden brown, would look delicious next to his own, he thought, and her arse was amazing. He'd never cared for tits all that much but a good pair of legs and a plump bum had always gotten his attention. Even when he had loathed that uppity witch before him, he'd always liked those particular attributes of her's.

With a jerk of his head, he tore his gaze from her body and glanced into the whiskey colored pools of her eyes. He could see a hint of discomfort there, maybe a touch of worry but just like him, she hid it behind a mask. Only her eyes gave her away. He wondered, and not for the first time, why he'd never paid attention before.

"So do you like pot roast." she queried, her voice hesitant and husky.

Draco nodded. "Sure. Mum doesn't enjoy it much but if it's well done, I always get seconds."

"Good, have a seat and I will plate you up."

Half an hour later, they had finished the food which (in Hermione's opinion) had come out wonderfully and were in the living room. There was a desultory conversation, soft laughter, an almost ease between them and Draco thought that if they could do this every day, he'd be pleased. Finally, they both noted the time, well after two, and decided that lunch was over. Hermione stood up then, to offer him a hug (The first ever!) but Draco, being himself, had opted to feel her plush lips with his own.

The hug would have been quick but he prolonged it and he felt her still, her body held with a sort of stiffness that spoke of worry, discomfort. He leaned forward, his head tilted down so that he could whisper against her ear, "I would like to kiss you, Hermione. Will you allow it?" He heard her intake of air, almost a gasp, but she only said yes before tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

Whiskey eyes met storm cloud gaze and it was only then that he pulled her closer and lifted her slightly so that he could slide his lips against hers, the merest caress, barely there. When she opened her lips on a sigh, he skillfully deepened it, teeth tugging at her lower lip before the tight pink muscle of his tongue swept inside the warmth of her mouth, there to taste every single crevice.

Somehow, he heard her whimper, a husky sound, desire, and it was that which caused him to slow down, to stop, to allow her feet to find the floor beneath her. He held her close for another long moment before he released her, his eyes fixed on hers. "I would like that whenever we part, Hermione. Can you give me that?"

She nodded, lips slightly kiss swollen and answered with "I can try, Draco."

He smiled. "Good. I would like to take you to dinner Thursday night."

"Okay."

"Leave your hair down when I see you," he all but ordered. "I like it that way. Reminds me of you in school." Then, he leaned close enough to press a kiss to her cheek before he retreated to the floo and was gone with a call of "Malfoy's office" and a whoosh of green flame.

Hermione flopped back onto her couch with a whispered "Fuck me..." and stared at the flicker of the flames in her fireplace. If that was the sort of chemistry they could have, she didn't know how she'd survive the wedding night.