Guess who's back!

Me haha

I am actually committed to finishing this baby believe it or not so prepare for some updates comin at ya, I'm thinking also of posting this on AO3 as I might want to move over to that platform if I write anything else in the future (so if u see someone posting this its me heh)

Don't forget to tell me what you're thinking in the reviews and ALSO please feel free to bully me about typos I re-edited the last two chapters (all posted) and found some and it pissed me off! So it is probably pissing you off too! Let me know about em, I'm stupid and miss them because I am a lazy proofreader so please be mean to me about them xx

Anyways enjoy this baby we've got some sneaky goings on and some dominant Hermione so it's a banger if I do say so myself!

Lots of love xx

Previously...

The image of Hermione, bloodied and terrified on the ground, whispering that he had killed her flashed before Draco's eyes and he shuddered.

"There are better ways of torturing a person." He muttered, still not meeting his mother's eyes.

"I'm not sure about that Draco," She said quietly, "The way you were screaming… I have not heard pain like that in years."

He leapt up from his seat, knocking his mug to the ground and barely noticing as the hot liquid seeped into the cream rug.

He was about to storm out but his mother had lost her patience it seemed.

"That's quite enough of that Draco I am not trying to critique you." She snapped, her angered gaze stopping him in his tracks. Narcissa Malfoy so rarely lost her temper.

"If you fear losing that girl more than anything else in the world, I certainly hope you have told her that fact." She said, glaring at him as he reached for his cloak and made for the floo powder.

"I don't have time for this mother, I need to find out who has been invading our fucking homes and threatening us." He replied through gritted teeth.

He paused a moment, waiting for her reply, and when none came he lifted the box of powder and prepared to throw a handful into the fireplace.

"You need to realise that living only to survive is not living at all." His mother said coldly from her chair as he threw the green powder and headed back to his cottage.

Chapter 29: The Notes

Hermione watched her blonde colleague conspicuously as Padma chattered away beside her, still under the impression that she held her friend's undivided attention.

They were sat in the library that late afternoon, basically running down the clock at that point as it was past four pm on a Wednesday and everyone was exhausted. She and Padma were trawling through muggle analysis on law and memory while the boys sat a few tables away from them. Blaise and Theo appeared to be playing improvised checkers with scrunched up pieces of paper while Draco was slumped over a text of some kind.

There was something going on with Malfoy, it was blindingly obvious, and it was starting to concern her.

He had been different ever since the lunch the previous week – he hadn't so much as tried to irritate Theo or start another office fight which of course pleased her immensely, but he also hadn't attempted to liaise with her though he had initially been so eager to do.

She had realised after a few days that for some reason or another this was annoying her. She often found herself staring into space, thinking dreamily of how it had felt to have his lithe form pressed against her, his tongue on the soft skin of her thigh. Was there a reason he didn't seem interested in a repeat of that night?

"And that was when I realised the reason she had been hanging around him so much was because she's his wife – not his twin sister." Padma's exclamation interrupted her dangerous thoughts, and Hermione flushed as though she had been speaking them aloud.

Daphne had joined the two of them and was watching Padma with a wry expression, her pale green eyes twinkling as the other woman spoke animatedly.

"So does this mean your attempts to woo him are over then darling?" She drawled, smirking as Padma flushed and crossed her arms over her chest.

"Well, of course it does. I'm a lot of things but a homewrecker is not one them." She blew a stray strand of inky black hair from her eyes. "Besides, I suppose I shouldn't mix business and pleasure anyway, that always gets dangerous."

Hermione flinched ever so slightly and realised that Daphne was frowning. She hoped that she wasn't that obvious.

"I would argue that depends on the person and the situation." Daphne said coolly, before turning to Hermione. "So what of you and Draco then?"

Hermione spluttered on thin air and knew that she had gone red in the face. She avoided Padma's inquisitive stare and focused on defusing the situation.

"What do you mean? There's nothing going on between us, you know that."

A small smile was playing about Daphne's lips as she examined the flustered witch before her. Out of the corner of her eye Hermione realised that Malfoy too, was smirking as he pretended to be engrossed in his parchment, clearly listening in.

"I wasn't meaning that Hermione, I was simply wondering how the two of you are finding your case? You know, what we work on five days a week?"

She felt herself flush an even deeper shade of red, and was sure she could hear him chuckle from a few seats over. God he was so infuriating.

"Yes of course. Well it's coming along, although I could use more time with my partner to figure out some of these details, he seems to be a little too busy to actually liaise with me, sadly." She replied, resolutely not looking anywhere in his direction.

Unfortunately this did not dispel Draco from interrupting in his usual fashion. In a strange way, Hermione felt relieved he was once again meddling in her affairs and making things awkward. It was like the week of relative silence had never happened. Had she really become that dependent on his attention?

"Of course you do Granger, you wouldn't be the first woman who's unable to resist me." He said slyly, leaning back in his chair and steadfastly avoiding Theo's piercing gaze. "One on one time with me is always in high demand, women simply can't help themselves."

Hermione squared her shoulders and looked up at him coolly.

"Alright then, why don't we meet to discuss our work later. Your place or mine?" She quipped, so caught up in a moment of uncharacteristic confidence that she barely registered Padma tittering.

Draco looked as though she had spat directly into his face he was so surprised by her response, and Hermione began to wonder if she had made a mistake, but then his features resumed their usual smirk and he shrugged.

"Mine. What shall we say, eight o'clock?" He was regarding her as though he were levelling a bet he knew she wouldn't take, and Hermione couldn't help herself.

She knew that this was ridiculous – openly flirting in front of all her co-workers (including an ex-sort-of-boyfriend), but at the same time she was frustrated he thought he could one-up her, annoyed that he had barely spoken to her a for a week and slightly concerned he was just playing a convoluted game.

If he wanted to play games, she could at least throw him some curve balls.

"Sounds good to me, I believe I already have your address so I will see you there." She said, not breaking eye contact so she could register and relish the flare of shock in his grey irises.

He nodded curtly and returned to his seat, clearly confused by her responses.

Hermione smirked slightly to herself and looked back down at the book in her hands, totally oblivious in that moment to the four pairs of eyes that were staring at her incredulously.

"What the fuck was that?!" Padma said eventually, breaking the spell and voicing what all of them had been thinking.

Hermione looked up at her and fought off her embarrassment when she noted that the other boys were looking at her in complete shock. Confusion and hurt flashed in Theo's gaze.

She shrugged, not wanting to make the situation into any more of a display.

"I need to clarify some things with him and I'm not going to be put off by his… silly games." She muttered, hoping that the men couldn't hear what she was saying.

Daphne let out a cackle and shook her head in delight.

"Brilliant Hermione," She grinned, a devious glint in her eyes, "Give him hell."

Memento Mori

Draco didn't have to think back to his pre-Hogwarts Latin lessons with his mother to know what the small note sat neatly on his mantlepiece meant.

It was written on smooth cream parchment, the handwriting neater than the note that had been forged to look as though it was from his mother, but still quite erratic and looping.

With a sigh, he reached for the small locked chest he kept on his side table and picked up the scrap of paper, readying to place it inside with the other clues he had collected from his anonymous enemy. The damaged photograph – the small ghostly boy who had no eyes still lopping in and out of frame on his broom – the note that had come with it and now two more. Had he been in a better mental state the previous week at his mother's, he might have thought to search her sitting room for evidence. No doubt their provocateur had left something for him to find along with the boggart, perhaps they had even been lurking in the shadows, watching the pathetic scene unfurl.

As it was, he had barely made it out of there with his sanity intact and had not bothered to contact Narcissa since, too ashamed of his display in front of the Boggart to speak to her. So his measly evidence consisted of three cryptic notes, a photograph and the shards of seemingly cursed glass from the picture frame.

He had tried his best to ignore all of it the past week or so, not speaking to Hermione except when discussing their work, keeping up appearances at the office. He had a sick, dark pit within himself that had been stewing away from the moment he had clasped her dying form in his arms in the manor, it had felt as though a part of him had been ripped from his chest. It was the sort of pit that only came with a bleak revelation, and Draco had realised two things: the first was that he was falling in love with her. In fact, maybe he was already in love with her – had been for a while. He couldn't be completely sure as until he had been faced with the bloody, death rattling truth he had been pushing it away.

But all this was negated by the second truth. Whatever it was that was stalking him, whoever was threatening him and his mother would come after her if they had any idea what she meant to him. The Boggart may have been relaying him his greatest fear, a mirage, but that didn't mean it had no truth. If this person was serious about hurting him and those who he cared about, he needed to distance himself from her so that she couldn't be caught in the crossfire.

He had also realised, much to his own discomfort, that caring this much about someone was an incredible nuisance. Of course Draco had loved before, he loved his mother and his friends (when they weren't being complete buffoons), but this was different. The way his knees had given out, bile had risen in his throat, his entire body had gone cold upon seeing her lying there on the floor – it was nothing he had ever experienced. Scrap irritating, love was fucking terrifying. He had been able to use this as a motivator whenever pesky thoughts of her had plagued him that week, a way of keeping her at arms length when he could.

Then she had started that fucking sparring match with him at the office and he hadn't been able to resist, of course he couldn't have just sat it out and let her win. He had risen to her, spoken to her more than he had all week, gone back on his own promise to limit their contact despite his attempts to avoid her being for her own bloody safety.

All this apparently culminated in inviting her over to his house for an evening of 'hard work'. He ran a hand through his already tousled blonde locks and glanced at the grandfather's clock in the corner of the room. He still had a little while before she arrived, some time to think of a valid reason for cancelling perhaps.

He almost managed a smirk at that thought – of course he wasn't going to tell her not to come. Aside from the fact it would surely serve to make her even more persistent towards him, he had been craving her for what felt like months, though it had only been a few days. His skin felt cooler all the time he was apart from her, as though the blood pumping through her veins was enough to supply them both.

He missed how her hair always smelled faintly of wildflowers, the freckles that peppered her honeyed skin made him understand the term 'sun kissed' for the very first time, and her deep brown eyes were more precious to him now than the pantheon of jewels that remained in the locked Malfoy vault in Gringotts.

Draco realised suddenly that he had been staring wistfully out of the window for several minutes thinking of her and cursed his infatuated mind. No, there was no way he would be turning her away that evening. He only hoped that he could continue to at least maintain the pretence of not caring for her, he was certain Hermione Granger wasn't one to hang around men who treated her like a cheap shag.

At first this had all been a matter of pride. He had felt some sort of attraction towards Hermione which had shocked and embarrassed him so much he couldn't bare the thought of anyone knowing – let alone the girl herself. But now it was more than that, past his own ego and arrogance, it didn't matter what she felt for him or how she saw him anymore, what mattered was keeping her far enough from him that whoever was threatening him wouldn't think to involve her at all.

Yet again his lust and need for her had gotten the best of him. If only he had been selfless enough to avoid her completely.

Hermione had rushed home after work, thanking Merlin over and over that Pansy had decided to head out with Ron and so wouldn't be able to question her about where she was going.

She realised as she slung her briefcase onto the sofa and kicked off her patent leather court shoes that someone probably did need to question her actions at that point in time – she was behaving incredibly unlike herself.

Of course, Hermione was not a robot, she had wants and desires like any other woman and Draco steadfastly avoiding her after he had promised they would rendezvous once again had slowly driven her to distraction. Yes she would certainly regret behaving so brazenly in front of her co-workers (in particular Theo whom she suspected she was still on thin ice with), but sometimes one needed to just throw caution to the wind.

She stripped off her clothes and hopped into the shower, humming with anticipation as she felt excitement building in her lower stomach. She didn't know what it was about him, what made her feel as though she had been electrocuted but at a very low level, but she didn't want to deprive herself of such feelings any longer.

After showering, Hermione hastily ran over her work from the previous few days. Though she distinctly hoped that she and Malfoy wouldn't be sat at a desk pouring over papers all evening, it wouldn't do to appear completely unprepared.

By the time the clock started to near eight, she was dressed and ready, practically trembling with nerves and excitement. She had briefly considered wearing a dress or something quite nice but had decided once again to err on the side of caution on the off chance he wasn't actually interested in her anymore, she didn't want to appear too keen.

Dressed in her favourite pair of blue jeans and a cream V-neck she let her brown curls fall lose around her shoulders, pleased to note that for once her hair seemed to be behaving and wasn't already a mass of frizz.

Packing up some of her papers and a loose biro into her briefcase, Hermione took a deep breath and checked the time and felt her pulse start to race.

She grabbed a cloak from the coat rack even though she hoped she wouldn't be spending any time outside, and hurried to the fireplace, inwardly praying she wasn't making a terrible mistake as she threw a handful of floo powder into the grate and whispered Draco Malfoy's address.

Malfoy had positioned himself in a carefully curated 'relaxed' pose not too close to the fireplace, mug of coffee in hand steadily cooling and one foot propped on an ottoman as he tried his best to look blasé. It was two minutes past eight when the fireplace crackled, and he quickly looked to the open book on the table beside him in an attempt to stop himself from staring at her as she walked in.

As it turned out, his efforts to appear unaffected by her presence were completely useless. The moment he chanced a glance towards Hermione Granger as she stumbled into his living room and threw her coat onto his settee, he felt his jaw slacken.

She looked more comfortable and real than he had ever seen her. There was something so different about looking upon her now in such relaxed attire – not the smart office wear or occasional party dress he had seen her in before. It was like seeing her naked and vulnerable, a beautiful vision of her true, comfortable self. He watched her loop her soft brown curls into a ponytail as she regarded him curiously from a safe distance away.

Her gaze was probing and a little anxious, and he realised suddenly that it must have been odd to walk into someone's house only to be stared at silently by the host. He put his cold coffee on the table and stood, moving to catch her hand as it continued to fuss with her auburn locks.

He lifted it gently and brushed her knuckles with his lips, smirking slightly at the complete surprise she exhibited at his actions.

"You look gorgeous this evening, Hermione." He said softly, not breaking eye contact as he closed the gap in between them and reached with his other hand to untie her hair, letting it fall back into the loose curls she had arrived with.

"Oh, um, thank you?" She replied, stumbling over her words as she looked up into his handsome face. It was, as always, impossible to tell what his motivations were in that moment. She had been sure that he was intent only on conquering her, having her and then ignoring her as he had done the past week. But the way he had spoken, and now how he was staring into her eyes…

She boldly reached her hand up and clasped the back of his neck, pulling his lips down to meet hers in an effort to quiet her frazzled mind. He could play mind games all he wanted, but she was going to get what she had come for. She felt him relax against her almost instantly, one of his hands moved to pull her hips towards him, closing the gap between them even more.

He revelled in the all encompassing scent of her, tendrils of chocolate hair brushing softly against his fingers as he reached up to push the loose strands from her cheeks. He could feel her pressing against him harder, and when he allowed himself a cautious moan she slipped her tongue into his mouth.

He wasn't used to her behaving so directly, taking control so unabashedly. He wondered briefly if this was because of him annoying her in front of their colleagues earlier, and was about to consider how to provoke a similar reaction in the future when her hand slipped underneath his shirt, her fingers skimming the skin above his waistband, and every coherent thought evaporated from his mind.

Hermione felt the familiar aching desire course through her as he gasped almost weakly in response to her advances. She had planned initially to toy with him for a little longer, try and test the waters to see what it was he truly wanted from her, but from the moment his lips had brushed against her hand she knew where the evening was headed.

She skimmed her fingers in a feather-light touch along the sliver of exposed skin just above his trousers, feeling him shiver at her touch. Hermione decided she was enjoying the control she had over him at that moment, pulling back and meeting his hooded eyes as the two of them breathed heavily. Without breaking eye contact, she placed a hand on his chest and pushed him back into the armchair he had vacated a few minutes before. Her heart hammering with anticipation and nerves, she straddled him, grinding herself into him a little before lowering her lips to his.

His hands were suddenly everywhere, cupping her ass, stroking her sides, then teasing the hem of her shirt as she moved against him feverishly.

"God Hermione…" He mumbled in between the not-so-gentle nips he was peppering along her collarbone. "You drive me insane."

Hermione giggled breathily, letting her head fall back to give him access to the delicate skin of her throat. She closed her eyes as he sucked and bit, hardly thinking of the marks that would be blindingly obvious by the following morning.

She tugged impatiently at the buttons on his shirt, fumbling with them as he captured her lips in a kiss once again. She could already feel his arousal pressing against her, and was becoming more and more desperate to feel him inside her once again. The week had been far too long.

After what seemed like an age she freed the last button of his shirt and tugged it eagerly away causing him to smirk against her.

Once his Oxford was abandoned on the floor Hermione wasted no time in removing her own top, hopeful that the rather scandalous brassiere she had decided to don would excite him further. In her enthusiasm, she flung the garment a little harder than was necessary, and winced as she heard something clatter to the ground.

She had been about to turn and quickly survey the damage, hoping whatever had fallen from the side table wasn't an irreplaceable Pureblood heirloom or something ridiculously expensive, but her lusty haze was fractured further as she felt Malfoy stiffen (and not in the good way) beneath her.

Concerned, Hermione turned back to face him and was shocked to see that his skin had gone even paler than usual, his eyes fixed on the spot on the carpet where what at first glance appeared to be a small trinket box of rubbish had fallen, spilling its contents onto the floor.

"I'm so sorry Draco," Hermione mumbled, assuming the worst and awkwardly pulling herself off of him, hoping that the damage was salvageable and wouldn't obstruct their entire evening. She stood and went to examine the contents, but barely had the time to bend down before he was basically on top of her, hurriedly sweeping the objects back into the box.

"Don't worry about it Granger it's just some old shit I need to get rid of." He muttered, but in his haste Draco caught his hand on a shard of the picture frame he had for some godforsaken reason decided to keep, the cursed glass opening a gash on his hand that seemed to sizzle with the contact.

He hissed sharply, dropping the box once again and clasping his palm as crimson began to leak from the sharp incision.

The box itself momentarily forgotten, Hermione gasped and jumped to attention. She spun around to her discarded cloak and fumbled for her wand, pushing her hair into a hasty bun and leaning in to survey the damage.

"It's nothing, I can heal it myself." Draco spat.

It was all so unfair, his brain still felt as though it were operating on half speed thanks to her wanton seduction tactics, and of course once she had mended his wounds she'd be investigating the items that had caused him to quite literally jump out of his seat, she wasn't stupid. He had wanted to badly to keep it all from her, to deal with the danger himself so that she wouldn't worry or get herself too involved.

Or separate herself from you entirely for her own safety, the traitorous logical part of his mind mused.

Hermione shot him a look that quite clearly said she thought he was being an immature prat and gently tugged his bleeding hand towards her. He tried not to stare at her as she worked, her head bent in concentration, swollen lips murmuring incantations as she gently sealed his injury.

"Well this is far too familiar." He murmured in a gentler tone, catching her gaze as she finished up and moving closer towards her, hoping to distract her from the box of threats currently spilled across his living room floor.

Unfortunately, though Hermione was sensitive, she was also no fool. She offered him a slight smile before her brow furrowed in confusion.

"If you're quite done being the damsel in distress you can just let me help you." She scolded, returning to the floor to collect the evidence he had been hiding from her for the past week.

Deciding there was no point in trying to cover his ass any longer, Draco Malfoy simply sighed and sat back in his armchair, letting his head fall into his newly mended hand.

Hermione ignored him, her interest piqued by his dramatic reaction to the box being knocked over. She mumbled a scourgify to take care of the splotches of blood on the carpet and surveyed the items.

It took all of thirty seconds for her to round on him.

"Draco… what on earth is all this?"

It had been several years since he had set foot in the place. Since the war actually, when support on the dastardly island had been needed more than ever before, loading up and imprisoning the hundreds of fiendish individuals captured after the fall of the Dark Lord.

He had used the borrowed identity card along with a few simple facial modifications to get past the guards at the entrance. It wasn't like security was particularly tight at Azkaban anyway – those who entered not in chains were few and far between.

He made his way down the dank stone corridor – if one could even call the ravaged stone pathway that – his heart pounding in his chest. This was a terrible idea. He had known that from the moment he had unfurled the first note. But curiosity had eventually gotten the better of him – he needed to know how the man was able to communicate with the outside, what he knew, if any of it was even real.

He rounded the corner after passing numerous empty cells, their occupants long gone, and came to a halt in front of the person he had been summoned to visit.

"Lestrange." He spoke, watching as the man masquerading as a pile of filthy rags shifted in the corner of his cell and shuffled into an upright position. "You wanted to speak with me."

OOooHOOh mysterious! I'm very excited for this new little development I've got coming along.. especially because I already have two more complete chapters done ! WHAT yes that's correct I have actually got stuff written so prepare for some updaties

Lots of love xxx