AUTHOR'S NOTE:

A lot of fleshed-out material in this chapter compared to version 1.0 to round out the characters and set the stage for what's next. Hope you enjoy!

Please review!

Chapter Twenty-six: Making Love

Hogsmeade Village, Scotland

& Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry, Scotland

November 16-17, 1996 (Hermione Granger's sixth year)

Hermione spooned with Draco on the couch in the afterglow, still naked after having made love, talking in whispers. It was nice to be wrapped up in his arms, staring at the fire, sharing secrets, and feeling his hard body against her back.

"So, you have three middle names: Lucius Cygnus Abraxas?" she asked, a tad astonished. "Is that tradition in your family?"

"Not exactly," her lover replied, running his fingers very lightly over the skin of her bare arm, his warm breath tickling the nape of her neck. "Every Malfoy heir is given his father and his paternal grandfather's names for his middle. I'm the first to have three names, as far as I know. 'Cygnus' was my mother's father. I guess she decided she wanted the Black family traditions carried forward, too… or something like that." His lips touched down against the curve of her throat. "Where does your middle name, 'Jean,' come from? Is it your mother's name?"

She shook her head. "My father's grandmother. My mum gave me my first name – her grandmother's, so dad picked my middle."

"Are they common Muggle names then?" he asked, and she knew he wasn't being offensive, just sincerely curious.

"Not really. 'Hermione' was the name of Helen of Troy's only daughter in Greek mythology. I was told I was named for her. See, mum was a student of ancient religions, and her family is originally from Greece. They moved to England after the Great War in 1914 and she was born here, but I suppose she wanted to pass on some of her heritage to her only child," she explained, smoothing circles over the hip he'd throw over her legs. "As for 'Jean'… it's not very common today – very old fashioned, in fact."

"What are they like – your parents?"

She described them as she knew them: of good stock, rather conservative in their beliefs, supportive of scholarly pursuit, intelligent, and fair-minded. Further, she expressed her admiration for her mother's natural beauty and for her father's occasional, witty humor. "They're both very British," she joked with a chuckle, "but they love and respect each other very much. I see it in the way they touch and kiss. And when they fight, they never raise their voices, but always talk it out."

Draco was quiet for a bit. "Sounds… idyllic," he finally murmured, and she detected a slight note of bitterness to his tone.

Hesitantly, she asked about his parents. He was reticent to discuss his father at all, and it was clear there was a serious strain between the Malfoy men. Instead, he spent the majority of his praise on his mother.

To her surprise, Hermione learned that many of her preconceived notions about Lady Malfoy – based upon their one-time run-in at Diagon Alley this past August, as well as her assumptions based upon what she knew of the woman's husband and son – were false. It seemed Narcissa Black Malfoy was a woman who wore many masks, and was adept at switching them out to best suit the current situation. Underneath it all, however, Draco painted her as a strong, loving woman who would go to any length necessary to protect her family – even pretending to serve the Dark Lord in public and private, and tolerate an abusive husband and a mad sister in her home.

"I-I assumed-" she stammered, trying to find the right words to convey her amazement. "That is to say I believed her public performance in Madam Malkin's that one day to reflect her true nature."

There was no need to elaborate; they both knew which day she was talking about this past August.

Her lover's arms tightened a bit around her in a hug. "I'm sorry," he murmured against her throat. "I said some awful things. Mother did, too. I'd take it all back if I could."

"I know." She nodded in acceptance of his apology and snuggled back into him, reminding her heart again that Draco was different now. He'd admitted his guilt for his past transgressions and had asked for her forgiveness. Although it was difficult to give it considering how much he'd hurt her and her friends over the years, she knew that she needed to if she wanted this new relationship to succeed between them. "I know you would, and that you mean it," she reiterated.

He turned her cheek so that she was looking over her shoulder at him, and captured her lips in a sweet kiss that melted her insides. She adjusted the angle of her body so that she could move into his mouth's caress, aware of their heated skin shifting against each other as she twisted around. He was already erect against her outer thigh, and her breasts were heavy with anticipation. Their tongues stroked in lazy, slow draws, and his kisses were both drugging and dizzying at the same time.

Like before, he had only to do this much to her, and Hermione's self-control was destroyed. "More," she whispered her plea, hungry for his touch, arching into his palm as it slid over her abdomen, smoothing upwards. Cupping one of her breasts, he gave into her demands, lightly pinching and massaging the nipple. She whimpered and dug her nails into the cushions under her as heated pleasure raced through her veins. "God, Draco! I need you again," she gasped, as magical red fire roared to life behind her closed lids and ignited her blood.

With light pressure, he flipped her totally onto her back. "Want you, too," he moaned as he leaned over, took a tender bud between his lips, and began suckling. His tongue stroked with bold confidence over and around her areola, and his teeth nipped ever-so-gently over her tight, hard points until he had her insides quaking and her throat emitting little keening mewls of delight. "I like those little sounds you make," he murmured with hot breath against her ear as he raised his head from his teasing attentions.

Drawing a slow line down her stomach, he toyed with the damp curls between her legs before dipping into her slick, wet folds. Hermione shuddered and exhaled shaky breaths as he stroked her clit in slow, torturous circles. When he plunged two fingers into her, she let out an unrestrained moan that was loud in the hushed room.

"You should see how pretty you look right now." His cloud grey eyes reflected the same heat and wonder as his tone carried. "You're so sweet, Granger… in every way."

"I want to touch you," she told him, and reached her hand up to tentatively wrap her fingers around his steely length, learning for the first time what a man felt like. The flesh outside was soft to the touch, but with a core of iron. It was taut with need. He was long and thick, heavy in her palm, and as she glanced down to take him all in, she noted that there was a bead of clear moisture on the dark pink, flared tip. She skimmed across it, feeling the stickiness flow over her hand and across him as she pumped slowly up and down, unsure of her grip, but knowing from the way his breath hitched that she was doing it right.

Now, it was Draco's turn to groan. The sound was a rumbling need from deep in his throat that had her body tightening in response. "You make me desperate for you," he whispered the truth against her lips, as he leaned down to capture them once more.

They both knew where this was headed, so when he shifted to lay atop her and pressed her deep into the cushions, supporting his weight on his arms and knees, Hermione widened her legs and cradled him between without being asked. His hips shifted, and there was that insistent pressure at the opening to her body as his crown sought entrance. Then, with a slight push, he was sliding into her once more.

Being filled by him an inch at a time, in slow increments, was an amazing feeling – so pleasurable, so relieving, as if she were regaining a lost part of herself. It was beautiful. "Ooh!" she breathlessly gasped as he parted the tight channel of her body until he'd married their hips together at last, and was fully buried within her.

"Christ, so tight," he groaned, letting out a trembling exhale. "Hold onto me," he bade, and she wrapped her arms around his neck as he bent and stole her breath again with sweet, loving pulls of lips.

Setting a slow pace, he took his time withdrawing and returning in gentle, sliding surges of velvet heat, his rhythm as unhurried as his kisses had been earlier. "All right?" he asked, his mouth trailing over her cheek to her throat, pressing light pecks upon the skin.

"Yes," she lightly panted, feeling the hungry, throbbing sensation in her womb build with each forging stroke. "Oh, yes, don't stop!"

He pulled his head back and intently watched her as with those beautiful grey eyes of his, his teeth bared as he fought to maintain a tight control. "Won't," he promised, panting. "Wrap your legs around my waist."

She did as he wanted, locking her ankles around the small of his back. The pressure inside increased as all of her muscles tightened around him. The adjustment had him clipping her tiny, swollen nub of flesh with every jerk and roll of his hips. The sensation shattered her, and she cried out for her lover, as the feeling of tumbling free and soaring into the sky unexpectedly overpowered her. Her womb pulsed, and little red sunbeams flashed behind her eyelids. Her body let out one long, pleasurable shudder that continued for what seemed an eternity.

When she returned from her state of rapturous bliss, it was to feel Draco's arms gather her up and pull her tight into him. Every muscle in his body was taut, and the cadence of his hips hastened. "Tell me you love me," he begged, plunging hard into her wet depths, preparing to find his release. "Tell me!"

She spoke the words with fervent honesty and clung to him with sincere devotion as they pressed cheek-to-cheek. "I love you, Draco. I do! I love you!"

He groaned into her mouth as he turned his head and pressed in for an impassioned kiss. With a few more fiery thrusts, he unraveled with a euphoric cry, spilling his seed deep inside the tight, moist heart of her.

He remained inside of her for a long while after, growing soft, his cheek pressed to her breasts. He was heavy, but Hermione didn't mind. She ran her fingernails through his hair, and he sighed with contentment along with her.

Later, around sunset, Madam Rosmerta arrived, and laid a tray of food outside their door. With cracking joints, Draco got up and retrieved it, and they decided to sit at the table together, next to each other, to eat. For pudding, he hand fed her truffles from the gift box he'd given her earlier, and this time, she returned the favor, discovering that he secretly loved chocolate as much as she did. They were covered in the sticky, sweet confection, laughing and smiling at each other's silly antics.

By then, Hermione had become comfortable with their nudity; she especially liked that they could both reach across the short distance between them at any time and stroke any part of the other's body without being hindered by clothes. Draco, of course, took full advantage of that opportunity as often as possible, his warm fingers touching her cheek, her shoulder, the bend of her elbow, even behind her knee. As he caressed her, she had the distinct feeling that he was memorizing her at the same time as discovering her, and Hermione couldn't help but feel a little sadness creep into her heart.

She engaged him in conversation again, not wanting to taint their wonderful evening together with gloomy thoughts. "What one thing do you want to know about me?" she asked.

Her lover stared at her in silence for a moment in contemplation, his wintery gaze unfathomable. "Tell me a favorite memory from childhood," he finally requested.

She considered it, deciding on the holiday trip she'd taken with her parents to Saltburn-by-the-Sea in North Yorkshire when she was seven years old. She recounted in great detail the weekend they'd spent at the pier: taking the forest walk to the Valley Gardens, touring the Smuggler's Museum, and walking along the beach with their shoes off. She told him of the Funicular Railway, which had particularly terrified her with its sharp slope; she swore it would tip over and drop them to their deaths on the way down. She shook her head at the memory of her insistence that they all ride the railway together, despite her terror, and how after they'd reached the bottom she'd crazily insisted they go on it again. Thankfully, she related, her parents had deflected her with a candied apple instead.

Draco laughed at her story, and she decided that she rather liked the sound, and his smile.

"Your turn," she encouraged, but her lover grew suddenly somber, as if he couldn't find a happy memory to convey. Instead, like her parents had long ago, he deterred her by shoving a sweet - another truffle - into her mouth, then kissing her. The chocolate melted between them, coating their lips and they took turns licking it off each other.

Right in the middle of it, to her mortification, she yawned. "Merlin, I'm sorry!" she pulled back, feeling the flush of embarrassment run hot over her cheeks. "That was completely unintended, I swear!"

"Wore you out, did I?" Draco snarked, an arrogant smirk curling up his left cheek.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione laughed. "I hate to admit it, but yes, you did. I'm thoroughly exhausted." She placed a hand over her abdomen and rubbed it once. "And quite full, too. It's making me sleepy."

Taking her hand and pulling her to her feet, Draco led her to the King-sized bed. "Come on, then, let's rest. We've got all night to play, if we want."

They huddled under the covers together, facing each other, settling into a comfortable position for them both. His fingers twined in her hair, while the other hand smoothed over the delicate bones of her collar and down, over a naked breast. She tilted her head up to chastise his insistent naughtiness, but closed her mouth when she noted that rather than rousing trouble, he was instead quickly falling to sleep. Eyes closed, a small smile upon his face, he looked almost angelic in repose. The touch, obviously, had little to do with inflaming another round of desire, and more to do with simply taking comfort and pleasure from her body pressed against his.

Relaxing, she snuggled closer, placing her hand above his heart. His smile widened, and he lifted his left arm up to cover hers. The movement exposed his inner forearm, and her eyes were unwittingly drawn to the one thing she'd been willfully avoiding looking at all day long: the Dark Mark. The black, sinister skull imprinted on his pale flesh grinned at her as it spat out a writhing serpent from between its teeth. Hermione couldn't help but stiffen up and shudder in revulsion at the sight.

Her reaction had a domino effect on her partner's mood. Draco went rigid against her, and he opened his eyes to follow her gaze. Realization dawned across his features as he noted what had captured her attention, and shame etched its pain into the angles and curves of his face. He moved his arm, laying it back down by his side, turning his head away at the same time.

In just one second, the magic of this afternoon had shifted from something wonderful into something ugly, and a gaping abyss opened between them, pulling them apart. Doubts, once more, crept into her mind.

He was the enemy.

He was the boy she loved.

The two ideas couldn't reconcile.

Clearly struggling with the conflict as well, Draco loosened his hold, and began scooting out and away from her, making to leave the bed. Hermione knew that if she let him leave now, that it would be over between them.

Should she let him go? Could she?

"…if anyone can turn Malfoy from his family's legacy, it's you."

"…if it's real between you two, you can overcome anything, even Voldemort's hate!"

"No misunderstandings this time, Granger. If you want me, then just say it."

The ribbon in her hair, still tangled up with her messy curls, glowed a brilliant aura in her peripheral vision. The light of its fire warmed her right up, reminding her not to give into the darkness of her doubts and fears - reminding her to be brave in the face of impossible odds. She was Gryffindor, after all, and flinching from a difficult challenge wasn't her way.

Gathering her courage, she lunged for Draco, throwing her arms about his waist, pressing her cheek to his back. "I want you!" she dared, throwing herself off the proverbial cliff. "You said if I wanted you, then to just say it. Well, I do! I want this!"

She felt him hesitate. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse with emotion. "Tell me the truth: did you mean it when you said you loved me, Granger?"

There was no hesitation on her part. "Yes."

"Can you trust me?"

"I can try." It was as honest an answer as she could give. "I am trying, Draco. I know there's a lot between us – our past, this war, your service to… him – but I think we can win against it, if we try. Do you… do you want us that much, too?"

He let out a deep, shuddering breath, turned, and drew her into his arms once more, burying his nose in her sex-messy hair. "Yes. That's why… I won't let him hurt you," he vowed, his voice growing stronger, more assured with every word.

Who was 'him'? Surely, he must have meant Lord Voldemort, right?

They kissed for a bit to make up the fight, and soon after were back in the bed, the covers pulled up around their snuggling, warm bodies. Hermione drifted off to sleep to the sound of Draco's steady heartbeat, and his fingers softly petting the ribbon in her hair.

X~~~~~X

Sometime just before dawn, Hermione was awakened by a series of temperature differences that had her simultaneously shivering with cold and working up a sweat.

The covers had been stripped from her body, and she was lying on her back, naked in the middle of the mattress. The air in the room was chilly in comparison to being under blankets. Draco was between her legs, brushing his velvet tongue through the folds of her swollen, wet core, causing her whole body to burn with need.

When he bit with stinging pressure against her clit and roughly thrust two fingers up and into her, she gasped in shock from the pleasure-pain that followed. The sensations shot up her womb, jolting her hips off the bed, and causing her head to kick back into the pillow. "Ah, Draco!" she cried out in protest, and looked down the length of her body at him with surprise. "Gentle. Not so rough."

The magically lit, crackling hearth behind him cast him into shadow, making his eyes seem darker than usual in this light – a charcoal color - and the planes and angles of his cheeks were sharper. The intensity of his stare was both predatory and hungry. "Sorry," he replied, licking straight up through the seam of her lower lips in apology. "Better?"

Something about the way he was speaking to her… it seemed 'off' in a way she couldn't explain. "Just… please remember that I'm new to this." She felt a blush rouge her cheeks. "You're my first and only."

The smirk he gave her at that reminder was wicked and arrogant – more belonging to the boy he'd been prior to this year, rather than the man he was developing into. "Lay back, baby," he instructed her, placing kisses over the drenched curls surrounding her mons, "and just enjoy what I do to you."

Trusting him, as she'd earlier professed to want to try to do, she lay back into the bed and let him have his way with her. He bent his head to the task of orally pleasuring her, kissing and laving over her like he was enjoying a feast. His hands gripped her inner thighs with possessiveness, spreading them wide, opening her fully up. Turning her head in embarrassment, she tried to focus on the pleasurable sensations rather than on how vulnerable she felt just then. It was difficult however, and unconsciously, her hand reached for the ribbon in her hair to give her courage…

…only to find it gone. A quick glance down towards the foot of the bed found it lying there. Had Draco removed it, or had her natural squirming around in her sleep dislodged it? How odd that it would end up that far away from her.

Her attention was diverted when Draco suddenly rose up and mounted her. His cheeks and chin were glistening with her juices as he stared down at her with reckless desire. "I want you on top this time, riding me."

Before she could protest that she'd never actually been in such a position before, and would need guidance, he rolled them so that he was on his back and he sat her atop his hips. "Take me in your hand," he required of her, and when she did, he indicated with taps on her knees that she was to rise and position him at her entrance. With inexperienced, trembling fingers, she did as he wished.

"Sit on me." His eyes glittered with anticipation.

Slowly, she lowered her body, feeling him pressing up into her, stretching her open once again. The sensation was much more intimate in this position and made her feel powerful. For the first time, she was controlling their love making – the speed, the force. She stared down at him with the dawning understanding that she was, in a way, dictating his pleasure this time. He'd already given her his heart, and now she would own his body as well.

"You're mine," she whispered, remembering how he'd claimed her as such during their first time together, and fully comprehending what that meant only in this moment.

His smile was pure sin. "And you're mine, Princess."

Impaled upon his full length at last, they rested for only a moment, giving them both time to adjust and enjoy the feeling of this new position, and then he taught her how to move on him, using his hands as a guide. It took some fine-tuning to find the right angle and what type of penetration worked best for both of them – her bouncing up and down versus sliding her hips forwards and back - but when they found their rhythm, she regained her confidence. The exquisite feeling of him frantically surging up into her at the same time as she slammed down and forward onto him had her gasping for breath in no time. Her orgasm built fast as once more, he stimulated all the right spots.

As she reached the cusp, he stilled her quite unexpectedly and suddenly by gripping her hips and holding her down on top of him. "Say again that you love me," he implored her, panting with exertion and shaking with need. The sheen of sweet upon his face was highlighted by the orange-gold flames from the hearth, and his eyes were no longer haunted by darkness, but now reflected a frantic need for her acceptance.

"I love you," she promised, touching his cheek with a reverent stroke. "I'll still love you tomorrow, and forever, if you want."

As if her words had quelled whatever insecurities and doubts had been chasing him, he gave her a sweet smile, reached up, and pulled her mouth down to his. His blazing, passionate kiss served as an affirmation of her choice. Yes, she wanted him, no matter the reason behind their coming together - whether it was the result of a strange enchantment, or just circumstance – and no matter the consequence. This was her decision: she wanted Draco Malfoy, to love, and to be loved by him for as long as possible.

Sliding his hands down her body, touching every inch along the journey, he eventually grabbed onto her hips and began moving them again. The craving to finish together swept them both away in moments, as he pumped up into her to a wild rhythm. Very fast, her orgasm bloomed and expanded within her centre, burning hot. The pressure tightened, her insides throbbed. Stroking once across her clit, the pleasure reached its zenith, and her climax slammed into her with violent, storm-like intensity. She held onto his shoulders for dear life as she flung her head back and arched her breasts to the ceiling with a cry of his name.

Within the core of her, shudder after shudder raced, tightening and releasing around his thick length. With a gasp, Draco grabbed her waist, pressed her as far down on him as she could get, and arched his back and neck off the bed. A warm flare of pleasure shot into her, and another, and another as he released into her depths. "I love you, Hermione!" he shouted, totally consumed by the rapture.

She realized in the afters, as she lay sated and boneless across the length of his body, that this last round was the first time Draco had actually said the phrase, "I love you," to her that whole day.

Exhausted, they fell into slumber within minutes of each other, he still inside her, she lying atop him, their arms about each other.

X~~~~~X

Hermione awoke sometime the next morning sore all over and feeling as if she'd had one too many Butterbeers. She blinked, rubbed at her eyes, and looked around the room.

Draco was gone.

Panic set in. Had something happened to him?

As she rolled towards the edge of the mattress to get up, two entwined objects on the bedside table caught her eye and gave her pause: her red ribbon was neatly draped over a small, cream-colored note card with her name on it.

The moment she reached out and her fingers caressed her favorite gift, red flame engulfed her hand, warming her and providing comfort. Touching the ribbon was like coming home after a long time lost in a storm: calming, soothing. It didn't emit seductive or illusionary feelings like an item bespelled with a lust enchantment should (at least according to the books she'd read on the subject of love charms and potions). Instead, it felt like good magic - like it was imbued with the promise of protection and shelter. She found that she wanted to wear it.

She opened the card next and read it:

The room is yours for the day, if you want.
There's food on the table.
See you back at the castle later.
I love you.

There was no signature, but there was also no doubt in her mind who'd written the note.

Re-reading the last line, a tremendous weight was lifted from Hermione's shoulders. She'd been a little concerned that the events of yesterday and last night might have been chalked up to one big, unflattering mistake on Malfoy's part in the light of the new day. If he'd changed his mind about them this morning, she'd have been positively crushed.

Yes, all right, she'd said she wanted to trust him, and she was truly trying to do so, but if she had to be completely honest, she had good reasons for her fears. First, her self-esteem wasn't at an all-time high this year, and it had recently taken a serious hit from one Mister Ron Weasley, a.k.a. Captain Insensitive. So, she was finding it a bit hard to believe that someone like Draco – an attractive, intelligent young man with a very luscious backside - actually found her interesting and sexy. Second, she still secretly harbored some small doubts about the longevity of the abrupt change in her lover's attitude, particularly as pertaining to her, a Muggle-born whose best friends were on just about every Slytherin's "hit list". Third, she was a terrible realist, and was quite aware that she and Malfoy were both still teenagers, clearly hot and heavy about their first romance (she assumed it was such for him, as it was for her – which brought up the question of how many girls had he been with anyway, as clearly he was no novice in bed?). What would happen to them once the "new" was 'rubbed off' of their relationship, however? The range of possibilities left her positively uneasy.

Still, she'd promised to try to learn to trust him, and so far, he hadn't done anything to hurt her. She had to believe that he'd meant every word he'd said yesterday, and that he wanted them to be together as much as she did.

On that note, she folded and tucked her fears away for the time being, and got up to search for her wand. She was badly in need of a good cleaning and refreshing spell, as well as a healing charm for her sore muscles.

After eating, redressing, and tying her frizzy hair up with the ribbon, she headed back to the castle, taking a Thestral-drawn carriage for the drive home. When she arrived back at the Gryffindor common room later that afternoon, Ginny immediately ambushed her. Her friend started up out of her cozy chair as soon as Hermione's foot stepped through the portrait, grabbed her wrist in a firm hold, and tugged her through the room without so much as a, "hello - how are you?" The two made a beeline straight to Hermione's dorm room. When they got there, her redheaded friend checked to make sure no one else was around, shut the door behind her, and spelled it for privacy.

"Talk," she demanded. "And don't leave anything out. I want all the juicy details!"

Once more hidden behind her bed curtains with even more privacy spells (in case someone walked in, as Gin hadn't locked the door, merely shut it), Hermione related the events of yesterday and today. Her BFF's eyes were like saucers throughout the telling, and several times, she'd actually squealed in delight. When she'd finished, she noticed that the other witch had standing tears in her eyes.

"Merlin, Malfoy actually does love you!" Gin seemed quite awed by that fact.

Hermione blushed, putting her hands to her cheeks in embarrassment. "Yes, it's so odd, isn't it? I mean, I never thought this could happen to me - especially not with him."

"You realize that you're going to need more of those pills?" Leave it to her friend to quickly point out the practical aspects of sexual intercourse in between the gushing. "I've got a few more I can give you, but you're going to have to take a trip to Slug & Jiggers Apothecary and pick us up some more soon."

"I didn't know they sold… well, you know… that kind of thing there!" Hermione was actually surprised to learn that one of her favorite potions vendors sold alternative birth control options alongside vials of Flobberworm mucus and jars of Scurvy grass.

Ginny nodded, her long hair swaying in beat with the motion. "They're in the back, behind the counter. You have to ask for them."

"Oh," she replied in a small voice, feeling very naïve. Well, of course an Apothecary would carry health-related potions, pills, and spell components. It made perfect sense in the wizarding world. "Um, so how 'soon' is 'soon'? How many pills have you got left?" she asked.

Her girl friend considered it. "Six or seven - certainly enough for you for the week, but not for the both of us."

"But I thought you said-"

Ginny grinned impishly, that knowing look back in her eyes. "I've been dating Dean since Michael and I broke up. What do you think we've been doing?"

Hermione blinked, her cheeks coloring again. After the conversation they'd had the other day at The Three Broomsticks, she'd just assumed that Ginny's love life was pretty awful. She hadn't considered that Dean might actually be the girl's new lover. "Oh," was all she could think to say.

"You're a funny one, 'Mione!" Ginny chuckled, clucking her on the shoulder. "When do you think you can go?" she asked, getting back down to business.

At seventeen, Hermione knew that she was now considered an adult in the wizarding world. Her age, coupled with her Prefect's status, her proven track record of responsibility (aside from dealing with Harry's various antics over the years, that was), and her excellent rapport with the staff, gave her an extra allowance to visit Hogsmeade for supplies when necessary while school was in session. Disapparating to Diagon Alley once she was outside the gates of Hogwarts would be an easy thing to accomplish. It would also be untraced, and she could easily dismiss the visit as an extra supply run (especially if she stopped over at Flourish and Blotts before coming back, a new Potions book for Harry in hand).

She considered her schedule. Monday was booked with classes all day, but she only had Potions Lecture for three hours in the morning on Tuesday. She'd be done by noon. "Tuesday afternoon," she decided.

"Great!" her companion cheered, unfolding her legs and preparing to return to her room. "I'll get you what pills I have left from my stash. I won't be seeing Dean until Wednesday evening, so I won't need them. Besides, I'm sure you won't be able to keep your hands off of Malfoy now that you've tasted his 'forbidden fruit'." She giggled. "You're going to need them more than me, I think."

Hermione sighed, but did not dispute the charge, knowing Ginny was right.

TO BE CONTINUED…

AUTHOR'S NOTES FOR CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX:

Obviously for the sake of this fic, the edict that Hogsmeade weekends are cancelled after Katie Bell's cursed necklace incident has been suspended.

Also, for the sake of this fic, I have decided that a Floo is located inside the Owl Post Office in Hogsmeade. It's never mentioned one way or the other, so it's not really breaking canon (technically) to add one here. After all, you'd think someone in Hogsmeade would be connected up to the Floo Network, yeah?

Recommended Music selection for this chapter:

"Everything (Acoustic version)" by Tiesto & JES (Hermione's thoughts about Draco)