Author's Note: Sorry lovelies, I'm shorting you a bit here. I'm suffering from end of term chaos and apparently, strep throat. Please take this pittance as an expression of my undying gratitude. This is probably the last truly peaceful chapter for a while, so enjoy.

Chapter 14

When Draco awoke Wednesday morning, he found himself distinctly aware that her side of the bed was cold. There were two parts of that awareness he committed himself to considering later: the awareness of her, and the distinction of sides. The 'For Consideration' list was getting quite long.

The next moment of awareness greeted him in a rather tilted fashion, vividly flashing a memory of the last time he had woken to a curly haired witch watching him from the foot of the bed. Thankfully 'curly haired witch' might be the only way to compare Aunt Bella and Hermione, and rather than feeling honest terror rack his frame, he only felt…. Well, he was a little terrified of the current witch, but mostly it was amusement.

"I've been thinking," she pronounced, after he had spent almost a full minute blinking up at her.

"Shocking revelation to start the day off on, Granger." His voice was gruff with sleep, and he saw her twitch at the sound of it. Was she afraid of him? Or was the scene from last night not purely fueled by alcohol? Maybe she was twitchy from what smelled to be more of Theo's obsession in the mug clutched between her hands. The entire line of thinking was added to The List.

"Why me?" Typical Gryffindor bravado, pushing past Slytherin snark.

"Why not?" He sat up and reached for her cup, inwardly feeling very well satisfied with her responding huff and release. He saw the faint smudges of where she had sipped earlier on the rim of the cup and for reasons he couldn't quite explain, he chose there to place his own mouth. The liquid was almost instantly invigorating. Muggles had really found a special magic in the potion they called coffee. After a moment of enjoying the drink, he realized she was still waiting for an actual answer.

"You're the last witch I was photographed with." He shrugged. "After that, it wouldn't make much sense to bring someone else."

"The photograph wasn't suggestive of anything other than our being in the same location at the same time." She shifted her weight to the other hip, and he felt his gaze lingering on it remembering the way it had felt in his hands last night. Before she could see the hunger he knew was on his face, he stood and walked toward the closet.

"I disagree," Draco spoke over his shoulder, searching for a garment suitable to the day's plans. "We were on opposite sides of a war, very famously so. Being photographed in a private rooftop conversation insinuates quite a bit, especially when you factor in our less than causal proximity to each other."

He exited the closet to find her right where he left her, staring thoughtfully toward the bed. After a beat, she turned the gaze on him. Draco found himself preening a bit when her eyes caught on his naked torso, and he allowed himself a shameless amount of enjoyment when those hazel orbs traced down his abdomen to the low slung swimwear he had put on.

There were several prized Malfoy heirlooms he would give to have another part of her tracing that path. But instead of offering, he settled a knowing smirk on his face and waited for her to come out of her haze.

When she realized herself, an adorable little gasps escapes her rosy lips. Adorable? Rosy? Really? That thought was added to The List as well. Before he lost himself in the line of thinking, Draco extended the hand from behind his back, the one holding the bikini he'd had Pansy select earlier in the week.

Her bright pink face paled almost instantly, and he tried very hard not to mourn the loss.

"Do you think we can continue this investigation poolside? I fancy a swim."

xxxxx

While she changed, he checked the post. Despite the light conversation with Theo, Draco was concerned. The angle of that photograph meant the photographer had to have been directly across from them in that alley, and Draco was sure they had been alone last night. While he had quite a bit to drink himself, it wasn't as if the scars of war had faded. Even in his most inebriated states he was always aware, how many steps to the exit, how many threats around him. He could recall with perfect clarity where almost every person in the dance-hall last night had kept their wand sheathed. He was always aware, nothing escaped his notice.

So how did he miss a body just a few meters away? A small voice pointed out how he had been a bit preoccupied with the body that had been just a breath away. He had to put down his wand at that thought, before the overwhelming urge to Crucio the mental traitor became too much.

xxxxx

In the end, Hermione didn't end up joining him. They had almost made it to the lift when Pansy's voice had caught them.

He wasn't sure how, but Draco swore pureblood woman had magic in their voices that had the power to physically stop bodies. His mother could call his name and he could feel her hands on his cheeks holding him still. Daphne could speak in the softest tones and he'd feel her hands on his arms, encouraging him to stay put. But Pansy, Pansy's voice could feel like a hand around his neck, challenging him to just give her a reason. While rationally he knew Pansy would never, the effect was still slightly panic inducing.

"Where are you taking her?" Pansy's voice cut through his irritation. While the tone was cool and collected, he could hear the barest shreds of anxiety. Combined with his own rising agitation, it had him unconsciously shifting into an offensive position. It was the barest of movements, and in mirroring Pansy's body language it felt correct. But had Severus been there he would have accused them of gross over-dramatics, he was sure. Taking a deep breath, Draco calmed his racing thoughts, and addressed the problem at hand.

"Volcanic Spelunking, obviously." When Pansy's worry lines deepened fractionally, he dropped the snark. "What's wrong, Pans?"

"Granger's been invited to Hen Night." It was at that point he realized in his posturing he had somehow moved in front of Hermione. As he mentally added his body language was added to the list, Draco found he wasn't entirely excited to review why she inspired some of the points on it.

"Why? I don't even-" Hermione had finally decided to speak, and her voice rang with a dismissal that would have made him laugh, if not for his deep understanding of the problem at hand.

"Why isn't as important as the what. As in what we're going to do about this." At that point Pansy let a hand wave so casually at Hermione that he could see the bookworm's brain trying to sort out if it had been a personal attack or just a conversational gesture.

"Pansy, I know how to make my way through a Hen Night. I can drink creamed shots and wear willy necklaces with the best of them." At Hermione's pronouncement his head swiveled towards her with full focus, peripherally he could see Pansy had reacted the same way.

"Beg pardon, what kind of necklaces?" While it was unlikely both he and Pansy had overheard, benefit of the doubt was something he liked to try on every once in a while. Annually, once a decade.

"Willy necklaces? Necklaces… with… willies? Is that not something done in the wizarding world? Susan had them so I assumed-" Her voice cut off when she realized her audience was turning green.

"Muggles put male genitalia on string and we're the bad guys? Barbarians." Pansy looked entirely disgusted, and had he not been as well, he would have reveled in her bare emotionalism.

"Well they're not real-" Hermione started again, huffing at those irritating curls. He briefly thought about cutting them off in her sleep, but the thought escorted in an urge to crucio himself again. That reaction, plus the swot's ability to inspire self-flagellation were added to The List.

"Granger, no genitalia of any kind will be on display tonight. I think that properly exemplifies why we need to get ready." Pansy's proclamation tore a chuckle from him, one she met with an icy glare. She always got rather, well, pureblooded when stressed. The last time he could remember her using the word 'Exemplifies' was when she was in marriage negotiations with the Zabini family.

Before the empathy could seep in, Pansy had caught Hermione's arm and was dragging her back into the recesses of the suite. Without his entertainment for the day - wait, what? - Draco resigned himself to a morning poolside alone, The List unscrolling through his mind like spilt parchment.