Disclaimer: We all know the drill now after 12 chapters or so I would hope.

A/N: Ok...so this chapter perhaps isn't quite as refined as I would want it to be as my computer has decided to take a trip to the land of Oz and has abandoned me to the mercies of an internet-less land. Hopefully, it'll be fixed in the next fortnight but I'm not making promises. Currently, I'm actually using dad's computer and we all know that's not such a wise idea.

Enjoy because the plot is coming together really quickly now!


It was with a good deal of waving and gesturing that Blaise Zabini stood before Draco Malfoy and explained his predicament.

"Gnomes?" The blond asked slowly, his left eyebrow twitching as Draco tried to control his sarcasm.

"And of course, the entire ground level of my house is flooded!"

"Of course."

"Well?!" Blaise demanded, his hair sticking up every which way from the repetitive frustrated ministrations of its owner.

Draco shrugged negligently in his wing tipped armchair, the aged leather creaking as he shifted position.

"You're rich enough to take up residence at some penthouse suite in a hotel…in fact; don't you own a hotel, or several hotels?"

Blaise gave his best friend an incredulous look. "What sort of best friend are you?"

Draco smirked and shrugged again. "The only one you have, take it or leave it."

A sneer curled the Italian's lips as he gestured for Draco's house elves to come forward with several suitcases of rather expensive luggage. "I'm taking up residence here."

Huffing with indignant pride, Blaise marched up the winding staircase, the burdened house elves, struggling along behind him as he swore and cursed in Italian, stubbing his toe and inciting another spree of prolific and creative insults, this time, directed at the manor house itself.

"That wasn't very nice, Draco." Narcissa frowned down at him from her superior vantage point. "I raised you better than that."

Draco's lips widened in a winning smile that never failed to appease his doting mother. "You most certainly did. I was only teasing and as you can see, Zabini understood. He's terrorising my household as we speak."

Narcissa nodded succinctly. "Such a sense of humour, from your father's side of the family no doubt."

"No doubt." Draco agreed stiffly, any reference to his father being something of a sore spot for him. "If you'll excuse me…"

"When is Hermione coming for dinner, dear? I haven't had any female company for some time."

A nervous hum began in the back of Malfoy's mind as he smiled tightly at Narcissa.

"I'm still redecorating the master bedroom and I'm afraid all the bustle will make Hermione suspicious. I think it should remain something of surprise, don't you?"

Narcissa clapped her hands gleefully in full anticipation of when the bliss of the newly weds would permeate the house. It had been sometime since the manor had seen any sort of happiness and the marriage of her only child was an event to be celebrated; so naturally, she enthusiastically agreed.

Excusing himself, Draco followed in Blaise's footsteps and raced up the staircase, however, instead of heading towards the guest bedrooms to see how Zabini had settled in, Draco ventured deeper into the manor and found himself standing before the double paned doors of the master bedroom.

They creaked open as a house-elf emerged, bowed deeply and sidled away, leaving Draco alone in the eerie glow of candlelight which emitted from the bedroom. As he stepped through the doors, Draco carefully inspected the progress done to the room and nodded in grim satisfaction. To an ordinary observer, nothing had been done to the room; the floorboards remained unbuffed, the walls remained patchy with age and it was still completely devoid of furniture.

However, as Draco leant down, he could see, despite the flickering candlelight, that the floor was covered in small carefully carved hollows, each contributing to the circular pattern which covered nearly every inch of the floor.

This was only the first step to casting the full binding spell, Draco knew, but even these little markings brought comfort to the bitter cold in his chest. Hermione was one step closer to becoming completely his. The walls and ceilings needed to be covered in the symbols of old magic, but the house elves would soon begin the works on that and all Draco needed to do was to add his blood to the mix.

A grim smile flickered on his face, the shifting light casting him in a ghostly manner. With a flick of his wrist, a plain silver dagger flashed into his hand.

Draco calmly folded his left sleeve back, admiring the pale, flawless skin as he made an unflinching downstroke, opening the vein which rested so close to the surface. The slow ebb of deep red blood flowed down the length of his wrist and dripped silently onto the hardwood floor.

He waited a moment as the blood settled and without warning soaked into the floor seamlessly. The grim smile widened as he crouched, balancing on the balls of his feet. Leaning forward slightly, he held his wrist over a hollow, allowing the flow to fill the small indent and moving onto the next, one by one. Eerily, the small hollows filled with blood solidified and became dark patches almost synchronous with the colour of the wood.

"Malfoy?! Draco?! Where are you?"

The blond straightened, an annoyed expression marring his handsome features. With a quick swipe of his wand, Draco sealed the wound on his wrist and stomped out of the master bedroom, ensuring the doors were locked behind him.

As he emerged in the hallway, he spotted Blaise heading towards him, his arms held out in a questioning gesture.

"Do you get fed in this place or do Malfoys think eating is too common?" He asked curiously.

A forced laugh was all Draco could muster as the anger over being interrupted seethed in his veins. He held out a hand and courteously gestured for Blaise to precede him down the stairs but instead of moving, the other wizard stared resolutely at his outstretched arm.

"There's blood on your sleeve, mate." His tone was guarded.

Draco's eyes darted to the crisp white cuff and sure enough, there was a small spot of blood, bright as a flashing beacon, sitting there, almost mocking him for his carelessness.

For a moment, his heart froze in his chest. He couldn't be discovered; this manner of old magic was illegal and carried heavy penalties. While Draco didn't fear Zabini betraying him to the authorities, there was a cold feeling that his bleeding heart best friend would tell Hermione and then it would all be over…no questions asked.

"It's my own, Blaise. No need to call in the aurors yet." He replied lightly, adding what he hoped was a good-humoured smile.

Blaise seemed to accept it and nothing more was said on the matter, the discussion over dinner casual, lingering on their Hogwarts memories and the old gang.

"Goyle is returning to England, did you know?" Zabini said casually as he lifted a forkful of perfectly steamed vegetables to his mouth.

Draco gave him a curious look. "Isn't he still being hunted by the aurors? Last I heard, he was still lurking on the outskirts of the Russian border, living a miserable existence." Even as the casual words left Draco's mouth, a tinge of worry stained his mind. While his war crimes were unproven, Draco knew Goyle had more than a finger dipped in the corrupt pie and if Crabbe had been part of the dark army, than Goyle had undoubtedly been part of it too.

A shrug answered his question as Blaise continued to chew lazily, courteously smoothing the linen napkin over his lips. "The ministry is getting desperate for studs and fillies and unproven war crime allegations aren't going to hold them back from bringing another mini-Goyle into this world."

The blond frowned at his friend's crudeness, the worry increasing. His world was already a tangle of complications and he had a sinking feeling that Goyle was about to add to the mess.

"How do you know that he's coming back? Would he really risk it?"

Blaise shrugged again; picking up his cutlery before slicing neatly through the fillet mignon. "He owled me to ask for a place to stay, apparently the ministry has refused to reinstate his family fortune and the Goyle mansion is currently home to several hundred new magical army recruits."

Draco snorted inelegantly as he took another bite of the exquisite meal, wishing the anxiety with which he viewed the situation would stop turning the tender meat into bitter ashes in his mouth.

"What did you tell him?" He asked casually, disguising the tension thrumming in his body.

"Said yes." Ignoring the hostile look Draco shot him, Blaise continued to eat. "For old times sake. He's had it bad for the past few years, Malfoy. Goyle may have been in exile like us, but he certainly wasn't languishing in luxury like us. I think he's been punished for whatever miscellany he committed under the iron thumb of the so-called dark lord; the least we could do for him is give him a roof over his head until the sodding ministry stops abusing his family wealth."

"We?" Draco hissed from between clenched teeth.

Blaise awarded him with a long-suffering look. "Yes. We. Since my manor is…out of commission until further notice, he should stay here, with us."

Draco snarled angrily, shoving the delicate china plate away, the beautifully prepared tenderloin now completely unpalatable as he snatched up the antique crystal glass and threw back a gulp of fine white wine.

"You presume too much, Zabini."

The Italian's eyes flashed angrily. "No, I don't. I allowed you to seek refuge in my home after the Dumbledore fiasco even though I knew you were on the run from the law, even though I knew that by harbouring you, a known conspirator in the death of one of the greatest wizards of our time, I would be implicating myself in the crime too. But I did, because you are my friend, because we are brothers of Slytherin's house. I never thought twice about it and all I'm asking now is that you give Goyle the same fucking second chance I gave you."

Malfoy hissed angrily. "I knew you'd reclaim that debt."

"Naturally." Blaise sipped his wine delicately, rolling the sharp flavour across his tongue as he swallowed in pleasure. "I'm not a bloody Gryffindor."

"I don't like this." Draco muttered.

"You don't have to, Malfoy. You have my word that if Gregory puts so much as a toe out of line, I shall help your house elves toss him out on his wide behind."

Draco gave him a conciliatory nod and pushed back his chair warily as he allowed his body to slide until he slouched as comfortably as the padding would allow. Jerkily, he snatched the napkin from his lap and threw it onto the table as he allowed his head to fall back against the back rest.

"When does he arrive?" Draco asked tiredly.

An edgy silence followed his question and Blaise answered in a hasty snap.

"What?!" Draco bellowed as he shot forward from his relaxed posture; Blaise's answer ringing in his ears.

"Tonight." Blaise repeated through clenched teeth. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but I wasn't expecting my house to be uninhabitable when Gregory arrived and I had been hoping to talk you into some sort of truce before I told you that he was back."

Draco's eyes resembled to grey ice-chips; so cold was his look. Lips pressed into a firm line, his fingers gripped the edge of the dining table in a white knuckled grip. For several tense moments, he stared at his best friend until the man squirmed uncomfortably and looked away, wary of looking back.

"Fine," Came the terse answer as Draco relaxed his tense pose. "But if he so much as looks at me funny, he's gone, understand?"

"Very well, but you might not want to bring Granger here until Gregory leaves. There's no knowing how he'll respond to her presence." Blaise said grimly.

Draco's burst of bitter laughter sliced through the tension of the room. "I'm more worried about how Hermione will react to Goyle. I'd be damn surprised if she doesn't blast him to kingdom come."

Blaise smiled vaguely; glad to have the grim mood alleviated. As they finished the meal and Blaise savoured the last melting mouthful of Crème Brûlée, Draco stood and stretched lazily, his profile highlighted against the classic décor. Pacing slightly as he stretched his legs, the blond yawned lightly and cracked his knuckles out of habit.

"He should be here any minute, Draco. There's no need to fidget. He'll be gone within the month."

Malfoy's look voiced his scepticism as loud as any vocal objection. "It's unlikely that the ministry will clear him of all wrong doing and unfreeze his assets in four weeks time. You know how the Minister of Magic likes to enjoy the privileges from the seized property of purebloods." Draco's voice was bitter with anger as he recalled the liberal embezzlement of Malfoy funds while he had been in Italy with Blaise. The only thing that had stopped those political sods from colonising the manor was that they couldn't get past the wards. Though the ministry had been forced to pay back every bitter knut later on, Draco couldn't help but wonder if the interest from all that stolen money had funded Minister Towridge's lovely little summer house in Madrid in which he housed his latest barely legal-aged mistress.

"I'm sure my manor will be repaired by then, so Goyle can come with me."

Nodding stiffly, Draco watched the head house-elf, Binky, approach and offer a deep respectful bow. Unlike his fellow elves, Binky was in possession of deep, rumbling voice laced with a little authority. Merlin only knew how long this particular elf had served the Malfoy family but he was still loyal and formal to a fault.

"Your guest has arrived, master. He awaits your presence in the entry hall."

Dismissing him with a casual wave, Draco sighed and gave Blaise a belligerent look, his lips curled in a half-hearted sneer.

"Shall we go greet the prodigal son?"

Blaise rose slowly and nodded.

The sight that greeted them was nothing short of a surprise. Gregory Goyle was a shadow of what he had been in their Hogwarts days. Still as tall as Draco, Gregory's wide frame had lost much of its former bulky frame. He had lost so much weight that he now seemed lanky even should he stand next to one of the Weasley boys. His rag tag clothing hung off his stiff, hunched frame and his face held all the signs of a man who had aged beyond his years. Exile had obviously mistreated their former housemate.

Stepping forward, Blaise offered the man a one-armed hug, pulling his thin body in with a strength which belied his emotion.

"Good to see you mate." He offered gruffly as the skeletal man gave him an answering nod. Grimly, Draco met the eyes of his former friend, noting the deep tired shadows underneath and the deep furrows around the corners of his eyes.

"Goyle." He offered, not budging from his stiff stance. "Still alive, then?"

"Unfortunately." Gregory's voice was oddly distorted, as if he hadn't spoken for years and had forgotten how.

A tense silence followed as Draco gestured for a house-elf to take the single suitcase at his former friend's side. With a slight glance, the hunched man forfeited the almost empty case and turned a listless gaze towards a point just beyond Draco's shoulder.

"Malfoy, I appreciate your hospitality." Again that distorted voice said.

Nodding stiffly, Draco looked away, unwilling to be reminded of how perilously close he had come to becoming exactly this skeletal figure before him.

Blaise stepped forward, offering the hospitality that Draco would not.

"Why don't you have something to eat and then we'll get you settled in one of Malfoy's guest bedrooms? Then in the morning we can go secure a solicitor to help you lodge an appeal to reclaim your inheritance."

Goyle's eyes stayed on Draco as he answered; his expression unchanging. "I already have a solicitor. Mr. Carabrum will be handling all the matters."

As Blaise slapped a friendly hand against Gregory's back, leading him from the entrance hall and into the recesses of the house, Draco watched with a weary eye as the hunched figure looked away from his eyes and fixed his gaze instead on his shuffling feet as he walked past.

Some cold instinct told Draco to watch the retreating back of his former friend and he wearily noted the clenched fists coiled at the other man's side, almost concealed by the black cloak that Goyle wore.

Gregory Goyle had changed; not only in physical appearance but also in personality. In Hogwarts, there had been a childish, belligerent air about him but now there seemed to be nothing but a chasm of emptiness perhaps tinged with the bitterness of a lost war. Something told Draco not to trust him, something which hissed in his mind about the danger that this wasted figure posed.

Determined, Draco strode towards his private study. He was going to have one of his most trusted employees do some digging on Goyle. He couldn't trust the man, that was for sure, but the question that needed answering was what Goyle's intention was in returning to England; Draco seriously doubted he was eager to be forced to submit to the marriage law. It was the first principle when Draco had been sorted into Slytherin.

Trust no one.


There is such a thing in muggle psychology called the Cinderella complex. While a shallow interpretation of the concept theorises about a woman's fear of independence, an in-depth elucidation refers more to the motivation behind people staying in a dysfunctional relationship.

Hermione had contemplated this often since the days after her break-up with Ron. For so many years, she had obediently remained in a relationship which made her neither happy nor unhappy. Why? Fear, habit, expectation? It was difficult to say, perhaps a combination of all three. For the briefest moment, it occurred to her that she might have been jumping into a relationship for all the wrong reasons with Draco Malfoy but it was instantly dismissed. She hardly feared him, he was certainly no habit and there was absolutely no expectation from her friends to date him…so why not?

"Why not indeed…" Hermione muttered to herself as she sat under the radiant morning sunshine on the balcony of her apartment, sipping coffee as she sparsely scanned both the muggle and magical morning newspapers. Nothing of particular interest had occurred excepting the small announcement in the social section of the Daily prophet announcing the return of Gregory Goyle but Hermione paid little attention to it as she doubted their paths would cross.

Smiling vaguely, Hermione wondered what Draco was doing this time of morning. He had owled her frequently after their sojourn to the orphanage and she was now willing to admit that she enjoyed his attentions. No man had ever made her feel quite as desirable as he did; not only her body, but her mind too.

Shifting in her seat, Hermione tried to ignore the tingling between her thighs and instead tried to concentrate on the steaming mug in her hands. As usual, after another one of those unfathomable dreams, she failed miserably. The sand man had seen fit to bless her with another intensely sexual vision last night and lately her mystery lover had taken a more solid form, Draco's face swimming in her consciousness even as the details of the dream slipped away. Sometimes, these dreams would be so real; Hermione would wake in the morning with his taste still lingering in her mouth and the imprint of his body still pulsing with scorching heat inside her throbbing centre.

"I need a cold shower." She said to herself laughingly, shaking away the night's dreaming as she blinked rapidly. Pulling her robe closed as a cool wind ruffled the newspapers; Hermione stood and gathered her things to go inside. Taking one last look at the brilliant day outside, she turned and stepped into the warm interior; placing the cooling coffee on the kitchen bench, Hermione turned her head as a knock sounded.

Frowning, she searched her mind for who could be visiting her now. She was about to dress and visit Pansy and Harry in St. Mungo's. They had owled her to tell her that Pansy had safely delivered Lily Mariah Potter into the world and Hermione was eager to see the little bundle of joy which had made her father's normally horrendous handwriting into a near illegible scrawl of what could've been hieroglyphs for all Hermione knew.

As she yanked open the door, Hermione rolled her eyes and nearly slammed it shut again.

"What do you want Ronald?"

The red head gave her a slight smile and gestured towards the interior of the apartment.

"Can I come in?"

Out of pure courtesy, Hermione stepped aside and let him pass. As he did, Ron brushed his hand casually against hers, ignoring the flinch which Hermione made no effort to disguise.

"Don't make me ask you again Ronald, what do you want?"

Ron smiled at her brightly, as if they were still best friends. "I thought we could head over to visit little Lily together. Get a teddy bear and some flowers on the way."

A resigned sort of frustration welled up in Hermione as she shrugged. "Where's Triska?"

"I wouldn't know. I broke up with her straight after I saw you the other night." He stepped in front of Hermione; his hands grasped her upper arms gently. "I realised that I couldn't leave you vulnerable to Malfoy while I dated someone else just to spite you. It put too big of a wedge between us."

Hermione awarded him with an incredulous look. "Really?" She asked disbelievingly. "Whatever made you think that?" Shrugging off his hands, Hermione sidestepped him and headed towards her bedroom.

Pausing, she spoke over her shoulder. "I'm not vulnerable to Draco and you put that wedge between us the moment you decided to cheat on me. It's done, we're done. You've crossed the bridge and set it alight behind you, now get out so I can get dressed and visit the Potters on my own."

"Hermione. Don't be like this. I've apologised hundreds of times, I've never regretted anything so much in my life and all I want is for you to give me another chance." Ron pleaded, following as she tried to shut her bedroom door against his pushing hands.

"You've succeeded, for God's sake! You made me so jealous and angry that I couldn't think straight. You've made your point! Please Mione, please, just…just give me one more chance. Come back to me!"

Hermione watched as tears seemed to mist in his eyes. She shook her head as her mind wandered to Draco. She shook her head; she couldn't do this again.

"What do you want me to do?" Ron asked desperately. "Beg?! Is that it?!"

With a thump, he dropped to his knees and threw eager arms around her bare legs. "I swear on my life, Mione, I'll never do anything to hurt you ever again. I'll love you like you deserve and I'll never look twice at another women ever again! I swear! I'll marry you right now to prove it!" His cornflower blue eyes stared at her beseechingly as he tightened his grip. "Malfoy may appear charming now, but think Mione, think about what he's done to you, the power he'll have over you in the future if you do marry him!" His teeth clenched. "If you marry me, you'll have mom, dad and all my brothers and Harry there for you. A nice big family to protect you. How can you be certain Malfoy has truly changed?"

A whisper of doubt curled around Hermione's heart and she tried to fight the rising anxiety over Draco. God but Ron was right on so many aspects. Wizarding marriage was a daunting thing…no separation, no divorce…no escape. If she married Ron, then even if she were unhappy in the marriage, she would always be closely surrounded by the closest thing she had to family.

With Draco she would have no safety net, no assurance or promise of security. If she jumped, she jumped blindly into a dark unknown chasm. Oh Harry would visit now and then, but the warmth of the Weasleys would be forever beyond her reach, Merlin knew Draco had no family left.

"Come back to me Hermione. Remember what we had…we were so happy."

Hermione's eyes closed. Oh they were happy then, those glorious euphoric days after the end of the war. She had thought that she would never be happier and oh how right she had been. She never was happier.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

"That was then, Ron. People change and we fall out of love all the time. I wasn't truly happy with you for those last few years and I stayed because…well…because I was used to it. You felt it too Ron. I had my work to distract me…you had your…ego. The past isn't the future."

Ron seemed to lose much of his fight as he slumped, his arms loosening around her legs as he looked down.

"So you're saying no?"

"I think we both knew what was coming." She replied grimly, trying to shake him off.

"You're really going to give me up, for – for that MALFOY BASTARD!" Ron's voice rose with each word, scrambling up as Hermione stepped away.

"YOU'LL REGRET IT! HE'LL TREAT YOU JUST THE SAME AS I DID!"

Hermione paled. "What are you saying?"

Ron sneered. "Oh please. You think he's faithful? You think that a rich pureblood isn't sneaking around behind your back, getting some on the side? Have you even slept with him yet?" Ron answered his own question with a bitter twist of his lips. "Probably not, you were always such a prig…unless of course you're afraid that he'll ditch you're pathetic bookworm ass when he finds out that all you do during sex is lie there and repeat the books you know verbatim. You're a fucking lousy shag, Hermione Granger and you…"

"GET OUT!" She screamed, scrambling for her wand which lay on her bedside table. "YOU ARROGANT GIT, GET OUT!"

Stalking towards her, Ron smiled coolly, pleased that he had finally managed to crack her calm exterior.

"Well? Have you slept with him yet?"

Hermione's silence said it all.

"Of course not. Gee…Draco Malfoy, Slytherin sex god hasn't gotten you off yet has he? Probably finds the task too distasteful even when he's trying to trick you into falling in love with him. He'll probably leave you at the alter and give the Prophet an exclusive interview all about you and you know what I'll do, I'll laugh…because you deserve to be laughed at for being so fucking gullible. He doesn't want you Mione; no one else will ever want you!"


A/N: Hope that was worth the wait. Oh...and I'm sorry to everyone to whom I have not replied to if they asked me a question in their review, I'm afraid I've been run off my feet. (Especially Platey...sorry darlz, ask me again and I'll try to respond).

Please Review!

Always,

Twilight to Midnight