A/N: Having been sent home from a friend's last night with the commandment to write chapter 11, I did very nearly make it a two-chapter weekend. Hope this will see you through the next couple of days!

Usual disclaimer, Potter - Rowling, Othello - Shakespeare.

I love reading your reviews, thank you for coming back!

Hermione awoke in the dim light before dawn to a faint tapping sound. For a moment she wasn't sure where she was, then she shifted and Draco's arms tightened around her, holding her close in the crescent of his warmth. Hermione smiled, stroking his arm, remembering how he'd caught her wrist last night as she made to leave, and whispered – half asleep – "Stay."

Now, feeling her move, he made a low sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh. "It's far too early for you to be awake, Granger."

She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could the tapping came again. This time it was clear that it was at the window. Draco lifted his head from where it had been buried in the back of Hermione's neck and scowled at the curtains. "Bloody owls. " He pulled his arm gently from beneath her shoulders and reached behind the dark green fabric to open the casement.

Hermione heard a hoot, and the flutter of wings, and then Draco was drawing his arm back inside, a creamy envelope clutched in his hand. He sat up to read it, frowning slightly.

Hermione took the opportunity to study his unguarded face. He was so utterly unlike the Draco Malfoy that she had known at school, and yet so familiar. She knew that she had pushed him away for fear of falling, but now that it had happened the speed and intensity didn't feel alarming, but inevitable. It was as though he had been waiting at the edge of her life, distorting everything with his curious gravity, throwing her off-balance. Now however, the sharp, jagged edges of him matched up to something rough and incomplete within her. She felt the calm certainty of it; the poised perfection; and she lay there, savouring the knowing.

Draco reached the end of the letter and sighed. Hermione propped herself up on one elbow, "Something wrong?" Blithe, no trace of the way her heart skipped when he breathed in her general vicinity.

He blinked the frown from his face, before scrunching the parchment in his fist and throwing it on the floor. "One of my business associates wants to bring forward our meeting today. Bit of a pain, but there we are."

Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, "Business associates? I thought you said you were disinherited?"

Draco smiled slyly, "From my father's estate, yes. But my mother had the foresight to move most of the Malfoy assets into my name after the first wizarding war. For insurance purposes. And then of course there's the matter of her Black inheritance."

Hermione blinked, having forgotten for a moment that Grimmauld Place was an anomaly, and that most of Sirius's family wealth would of course have come to Narcissa as the last surviving Black who hadn't been blasted off the family tree. "So, you've still got more money than God?"

Draco laughed, "That's such a muggle thing to say, Granger. I've got more gold than Midas, it's true, and without the unfortunate curse to go with it." He smiled fondly at her, making strange and lovely things happen low in her stomach.

"I guess you need to get on then, if they're owling you this early?"

Draco checked the clock beside his bed, where the planets moved in a complex arithmantic pattern. "I think I could probably spare, say, half an hour or so."

He smirked at her, and Hermione looked at him in feigned puzzlement. "Half an hour? Whatever for?"

Draco's smile turned feral and he shifted so that he was braced above her, dipping his head to kiss the hollow below her ear, the spot between her clavicles, then flicking his tongue across one nipple. "I think," he pressed his lips to the flat plane of her stomach, "It would be easiest if I showed you, no?" He gave her a mischievous smile before dipping his head between her legs, and Hermione cried out as he put his wicked tongue to work.

It turned out he could spare considerably more than half an hour.

McGonagall steepled her fingers and shot a penetrating look across them. "You're certain that the archives are clear?"

Draco leant back in his chair, trying not to get distracted by the snow swirling outside the window of the Hogwarts Headmistress's office. "I think 'certain' would be an exaggeration. I can't detect anything else at the moment, but as Tuesday night showed there may well be things that I've missed."

McGonagall nodded briskly, "I guess that we shall just have to continue to be vigilant." She peered over her square-framed spectacles at him, "Has Miss Granger recovered fully from her ordeal?"

Draco's mind flashed to Hermione in his bed that morning, and he couldn't stop the small smile that ghosted across his lips. "She seems to be holding up alright."

His old professor's spectacles flashed as she continued to regard him closely, and she pursed her lips, "Without wanting to pry - "

"Then don't." Draco was surprised by the vehemence of his tone. He hadn't snapped at McGonagall like that since the first few days following Voldemort's defeat. By the way she drew back and stiffened her shoulders he could tell that he had surprised and offended her, and cursed his own defensiveness. He sighed, and pressed his hands to his face.

When he looked up again McGonagall's expression had softened. She tapped her wand on the desk and a tray of tea things appeared. "Have a biscuit, Malfoy."

Draco complied wordlessly, having been treated to McGonagall's particular brand of compassion a number of times in the past eighteen months. She poured them each a cup of tea, then sat back as the steam rose between them and simply waited for him to talk.

He took a sip of scalding tea, and then replaced his cup on its saucer, thumbing the porcelain and wondering where to start. "It's been a long time since I let myself really want something," he finally blurted.

McGonagall nodded, teacup poised in her hand, "Go on."

He sighed, "I'm good at dark magic. And I know that's why you and Shacklebolt have me doing what I'm doing but I've also done bad things." He looked up, expression lost and frightened, "What if I don't deserve her? What if I can't?"

McGonagall huffed, "Don't be ridiculous." She held up a hand to stop his protest, "Now, I don't know what has happened since Tuesday, but it must be significant or you wouldn't be panicking. What I can tell you is this: Miss Granger is a smart witch, and she has excellent instincts. You said she saw your Patronus?" Draco nodded wordlessly, and McGonagall went on, "Well then, if she has decided to trust you, she has good grounds to." She gave him a small smile, "You are not irredeemable Draco. You know that."

It was strange, he thought, because he did know it, could cast a bloody corporeal Patronus for fuck's sake, and yet hearing McGonagall say it made it real. He swirled his tea thoughtfully, watching the leaves dance in the water. McGonagall's gaze was warm, and her eyes twinkled as she watched him, "Seeking your future?"

Draco smirked and set the cup on the table. "I don't think Divination is the answer, somehow."

McGonagall's smile faded, gaze turning thoughtful. "Have you told Miss Granger about the terms of your parole?"

He shook his head, "It hasn't felt like the right time yet."

She dipped her chin, eyes piercing into his. "A fair assertion. But she deserves to know."

Hermione emerged from Draco's bedroom at around ten, shrugging one of his deliciously soft and slouchy grey jumpers on over her jeans. She was greeted by the sight of Blaise, ensconced in the armchair facing Draco's door, and grinning evilly, "I KNEW you were in there."

Hermione yawned grandly and rolled her neck. "Congratulations. You win taking me for coffee."

Blaise's smile threatened to split his face in two, "Oh-HO, out STRUMPET! Did someone not get enough sleep last night?" He waggled his eyebrows suggestively, "Have you and Draco been making the beast with two backs, eh?" Hermione sent a half-hearted stinging hex in his direction, which he dodged with a laugh, "Come ooooon, Hermione, give me something here."

She smiled, pulling on her coat and winding her scarf around her neck to hide her faint blush, "Well, husband, let's just say that he may have done your office twixt the sheets."

Blaise let out a crow of triumph, as he pulled her out of the room "YES! My man! My lovely lady-wife!" He leant in and pecked her on the cheek, "Let me buy you that coffee. You've just made my day."

They stopped at Taylors on the High Street, where Blaise bought black coffees and pastries. Hermione accepted her share of the spoils gratefully, and they mooched along the in the direction of Magdalen Bridge, chewing and blowing out steaming breaths. When she finished her croissant Hermione turned to Blaise, "I meant to ask, did you get Caroline home OK?"

"Ugh, yes." Blaise gave a little shudder and leant on the parapet. "Eventually. She went into a sort of fugue state after the apparition, which gave me time for a little Apstergeo charm." His face twisted in distaste, "Why is it that the spell for removing drunkenness is so hard to perform when drunk?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Did you manage to erase her memory?"

Blaise widened his eyes in mock offence, "How dare you! Of course I did. She'll be wondering why she blacked out after the curry but hey," he grinned sardonically, "alcohol does weird things to your memory."

Hermione felt a little knot of worry inside her unclench in relief and she leaned beside him, resting her head on his shoulder and watching the punts bobbing gently. "Glad to hear it. Poor Caro."

She was about to ask Blaise when he wanted to run the death scene again when she felt her pocket grow warm. Setting her coffee down on the wall, she pulled a glowing Galleon from her pocket. As the pair of them watched, the letters and numbers around the edge shimmered and reformed: G 1300 YOUR PLACE. Blaise gazed at it in fascination, before looking up at her. "Is that a Protean charm, Granger?"

Hermione nodded, "Much more discreet than having owls flying around everywhere." She checked her wrist, then realised she must have left her watch on Draco's bedside table. "What time is it?"

Blaise fished a pocket-watch from somewhere in the depths of his coat, smirking at her expression of disbelief, "Nearly half eleven. Who are you meeting?"

Hermione was already turning and starting back in the direction of Merton, "Ginny Weasley," she glanced sideways at him as he caught her up, "Probably best that you and Draco don't come calling this afternoon."

Blaise eyed her, "Fair enough. But Hermione," He caught her arm, forcing her to stop and look him in the eye, "You're serious about this thing with Draco, right?"

She frowned, confused and a little worried by his sudden seriousness, "Yes, of course I am. Okay?"

He nodded and let go of her. "Okay. Just checking." He let the humour creep back into his voice, "You run along now and have fun with the Ginger Princ – ow!" He rubbed his arm where Hermione had thumped him. She could hear him laughing as she carried on up the street. "Take a joke, Granger!" he yelled after her, and Hermione couldn't help but smile to herself. It would be wonderful to see Ginny after so long, even if she wasn't quite sure how she was going to tell her all her news.

A/N: Not much play in this bit - don't worry, there will be plenty more. Hope you like the *intrigue* & please leave a review if you have time :)