A/N: I'm immensely sorry about the delay in updating. Still struggling with thyroid problems and whatnot, and I spend more time being tired than getting anything done. Still, I've cranked out a reasonable number of words for this chapter, so I hope you'll forgive me and enjoy.

There's some very pale Dramione lemon in this chapter – actually, I don't know much about the Rule of Lemon (if someone can enlighten me, that would be great). Is second base worth a lemon mention?

"We'll give it a try," Draco said.

Transylvania, Romania

The road to the castle was narrow, treacherous and hella steep. Draco wasn't concerned; the thestrals pulling the carriage were sure-footed enough to know their way up the steep, winding incline. At least, he presumed they did – the carriage and accompanying thestrals were owned by his good mate's family - they who owned the castle at the top of this almost impossibly-passable road.

However, Hermione wasn't prepared to put her faith in the invisible clip-cloppers, and it eventually dawned on Draco that it wasn't a coincidence that each time a segment of crumbly road broke off and sailed merrily down the mountainous cliff, Hermione visibly flinched.

"You okay?" he asked.

Hermione glared at him. Then she threw her pride down the cliff and flung herself into his arms. She was shaking, to his surprise.

"Not a fan of heights, then?"

Her curls bounced around his face as she shook her head with vehemence.

His arms wrapped snugly around her waist. "I've done this trip before," he soothed. "And I'm still alive. See?"

She huffed, rather weakly, and didn't let go.

"Well, while you're visiting this part of the carriage," he suggested, "would you care to make out? You know, for distraction's sake?"

"No!" came the blunt response.

Draco didn't mind. She was clasped tight in his arms, after all.

At last, their carriage pulled up at the imposing entrance of a magnificent Gothic castle, with towers and turrets so tall the tops of them disappeared into the low-lying clouds that successfully hid the mini citadel from the view of intrepid, Hollywood-vampire-seeking Muggle tourists.

Draco's Slytherin dorm mate, Oleksandr Tkachenko, heir apparent to this colossal pile, was waiting at the entrance and greeted Draco with a smile, a hug and kisses on each cheek. He was even happier to spy a shaky but lovely young woman grip Draco's hand tightly as she did her best to descend from the carriage without vomiting or sinking to the gravelled ground in desperate, grateful relief.

"Who 'dis?" Olek telegraphed Draco with his eyebrows over Hermione's hair as she put one foot carefully in front of the other and took a cautious deep breath.

"Fuck off!" Draco eyebrowed back.

Olek allowed himself a slight roll of the eyes. Trust Malfoy to snag the most gorgeous women. Pity. He could have done with a gorgeous young lady about now. In fact, Olek's desperate need for a companionable companion was the reason why Malfoy and this vision of currently-queasy loveliness were parked outside his door.

"Mademoiselle!" he cheered, grasping a surprised Hermione by the upper arms and impressing upon her the traditional greeting of his people. "Welcome to Castle Mikónescu!* I trust your journey was horrific? I'm so sorry about the state of the access road. It's to keep the Muggle tourists away."

Hermione stared at the cocky, curly, dark-haired young man with twinkling black eyes and very good teeth. "Um, it wasn't as bad as all that," she lied.

Olek laughed. "Please, there is no need to be polite with me! Any friend of Malfoy's is a friend of mine. I hope."

Hermione giggled, which had Draco narrowing his eyes.

Olek ignored him. "You two make such a stunning couple, I must say," he said to Hermione. "I must know: where did you meet? How long have you been together? A poor singleton like me must live vicariously through the likes of my old school chum, here."

"Hermione is my business partner," Draco snapped. "And by the way, Hermione went to the same school as us. Gryffindor House."

Olek's jaw dropped. "No way! I really wish I hadn't listened to Snape's bullshit about not giving Gryffindors the time of day at school." He turned to Hermione. "Just think, you and I could have been happily married by now! I believe I shall sue Snape for false representation."

This time, Hermione laughed out loud. She couldn't help it. Olek was a joker, through and through.

Draco seethed behind the pair as they entered the castle.

Inside Draco's bedroom

Draco surveyed his sumptuous bedroom (complete with dramatic four-poster bed and wall sconces on huge stone walls) with a pout. "Separate bedrooms?" he grizzled.

Hermione didn't look up from examining the ornate wash-stand in a corner of the room. "You told Olek we were business partners," she pointed out. "Business partners don't normally share a bed."

Oh, so it was his fault? Hmph. Figures. He leaned against the bedroom door. "What if I have a nightmare?"

"I can hardly see how I could help, even if I was asleep next to you."

"What if I get lost in the middle of the night?"

Hermione held up her wand. "Lumos," she sing-songed.

Draco strode forward and scooped Hermione up in his arms. He headed to the bed and dropped her among the luxurious silken bedspreads and furs (real ones, I'm sorry to say. It gets jolly cold at night up there). She landed with a squeak, then Draco followed, draping himself all over her body.

"What if I desperately need to feel your body writhing against mine?" he murmured, centimetres away from her lips.

With pink cheeks, Hermione conceded that she could possibly help in that particular instance.

"Besides - just because we have two bedrooms doesn't mean we have to use both bedrooms, right?" Draco cajoled.

Hermione flexed her pelvis, and felt it move against something long and hard. Draco whimpered, and the sound drove her –

"Agreed," she whispered, and pulled his head down for her kiss.

Later

Hermione was flushed, trembling, and not quite herself at all. Their kiss on the bed led to some of this, a bit of that, and fair bit of removed clothing. She didn't feel at all embarrassed, even though she was lying on a Transylvanian castle four-poster with her shirt and bra removed, not to mention the buttons and zip of her jeans undone. Draco removed each garment gently and solemnly, looking into her eyes for the slightest sign of hesitation.

He removed his shirt, too, to even things out a bit. How strange, though! Hermione had seen his bare chest plenty when they went swimming, but now, his body seemed so new. Like the way his collarbones shifted under his skin. And how he had a small cluster of freckles underneath his left pectoral muscle that looked like a meteor shower. The hair on his skin felt wiry and warm...

When Draco pulled the bra away from Hermione's body, he stilled; then muttered a word so softly she couldn't hear it. Before she even thought about freezing and demanding to know what he said, he put his lips to a dusky pink nipple and suckled it.

Ye gods! Hermione almost torqued off the bed. Omigods, how could that feel so damn good?

"Again!" she gritted, writhing against his groin for all she was worth and not even registering what she was doing.

Above her, Draco smiled, then kissed her deeply. "As you wish," he winked, and plied her other nipple with his lips and tongue.

Hermione moaned and gripped his head with her hands. She was wildly turned on. At least, she presumed she was, having not really experienced this sort of thing before. In such circumstances, anyway. She wanted more of his touch, more of his mouth and hands on her body. She wanted all of her skin to touch his. She wanted to make him feel the way he was making her feel. Her very molecules felt like they were thrumming inside her body.

"Draco" – she gasped, writhing.

"Yes, love?" he whispered, watching her flushed and beautiful face, his breath laboured.

"I want" –

But what Hermione wanted, Draco, sadly, never got to find out, because just at that critically romantic moment, the bedroom door burst open and an eleven-year-old girl sailed through, calling "Draco! Draco! Olek told me you were here at last!"

...and everything kind of ground to a halt after that.

Hermione shrieked and dove towards her clothes.

Draco sighed and reached for his shirt. "Iulia Tkachenko," he gritted, "it's not good manners to barge in through a door unannounced."

Dark-haired, bright-eyed Iulia, craning her neck to see who was hiding behind Draco, shrugged. "If you didn't want people entering your room, you should have locked it."

Draco's jaw dropped. Bested in logic by an eleven-year-old, for Slytherin's sake!

He hopped off the bed and headed to the excitable girl, leaning down and kissing her on the cheeks before giving her a hug. "Are you sure you're not part beanstalk? You've shot up since I last saw you."

Iulia giggled, then strode confidently over to the bed and held out her hand to a flushed and dishevelled Hermione. "I'm Iulia Tkachenko," she said formally, in accented English.

Still humiliated, Hermione nonetheless took Iulia's hand. "Hermione Granger," she replied with the little dignity she had left.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," Iulia solemnly replied. Then, throwing formality to the four winds, added "Are you Draco's wife?"

"Uh – n-no, I'm Draco's business partner," Hermione replied lamely, wishing she knew the area well enough to disapparate somewhere.

"Oh!" Iulia replied, surprised. "Is it a kissing business?"

"Right, that's enough!" Draco said, heading over to the four-poster to nip this particular conversation in the bud. "How are you finding Hogwarts, then? Hermione used to go there, too."

"Really?" Iulia dimpled. "It's a smashing place! It's a little smaller than this castle, but that's okay. I'm learning loads of new things, and I've made lots of friends, and I'm the best of my year already in flying, thanks to you and Olek, even better than the boys, and" –

"What House were you sorted into?" Draco interrupted, knowing that once Iulia got started on a monologue, it was almost impossible for her to stop.

Iulia rolled her eyes. "Slytherin, of course," she admonished. Then she turned to Hermione. "Were you in Slytherin, too?"

"No," Hermione replied, starting to like this bright, quicksilver girl who didn't seem to mind in the least that she caught her brother's friend and some random woman making out. "I was in Gryffindor."

Iulia's eyes rounded and she glanced at Draco. "Really?" she asked. She thought for a moment, then said "Actually, I have a boyfriend – you're not to tell Olek or my parents, Draco! – and he's in Gryffindor. We met on the train." Then her face drooped. "But we have to keep it a secret because Slytherins aren't supposed to associate with Gryffindors. Or with any of the other Houses, come to think of it. But when I asked Professor Snape why, he just glared and sent me to detention for asking silly questions. And then I got into trouble with my parents for being sent to detention."

Draco sighed. "Sounds like nothing's changed."

Hermione, meanwhile, was thinking. "In my job – actually, my previous job," she corrected, stealing a look at Draco, "I used to correspond with Professor McGonagall on archiving matters. We developed a good rapport. Now that she's Headmistress of Hogwarts, maybe I could write her a carefully-worded letter about making sure inter-House unity is promoted in all of the Houses, as per Ministry of Magic requirements?"

Now, Iulia's eyes shone like stars. "Could you really?" she breathed.

"Sure," Hermione smiled. "Professor McGonagall is a very smart witch. Once she gets an idea of what's really going on in Slytherin House, I'm sure she'll come up with a way to get Professor Snape on side." Or needle his scrawny arse so much about it he'll ditch his snobbery just to get some peace, Hermione thought, but she didn't say that bit out loud.

"Your Dad's still on the Hogwarts school board, isn't he?" Iulia asked Draco. "I think I've seen his curtain of white hair whipping around a corridor or two."

"He is," Draco said cheerfully, "and he'll hate it, therefore I support Hermione's resolution one hundred percent!"

Hermione's smile and blush made Draco's heart thump in a funny way.

Pleased, Iulia changed the subject. "Are you looking forward to the Ball tonight?" she asked the pair. "I'm only allowed to go for a short time." She sulked. "It's such a pain being young! I'm always missing out on the fun stuff!"

"What's the Ball in aid of?" Hermione asked.

Draco smirked. "It's a match-making Ball for Olek," he said. "His mama is getting a little tired of his play-wizard ways."

"Oh!" Hermione exclaimed. "Poor bloke."

"I wouldn't grin so much if I were you," Iulia warned Draco. "Surely your time to marry is fast approaching."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Please don't remind me. Why families like ours can't leave their children to fall in love with someone beats the hell out of me."

"Well, I'm marrying for love," Iulia declared stoutly. "So this arranged marriage crap had better be out of fashion by the time I become of age!"

"Language, Iulia," Draco murmured, but he couldn't argue with her rhetoric.

What a scarily logical child.

A/N: The Ball is in swing next chapter. Will it end in smiles or tears?

Thanks again for your patience.

*I just made the name up. I have no idea if it means anything.