After the public and the press had spotted them, Hermione removed herself from Malfoy's car and left without a word. She could have been swallowed up and simply died out of embarrassment. Needing to be alone as soon as possible, she even found the nearest Apparition spot and went straight home. She was mortified at how quickly Draco had seduced her and made her lose control, and the fact that all of it was on video was the worst part.

Fortunately, through the windshield's angle, they only filmed Hermione's back, and didn't show her face. Plus, they really only seemed to be heavily snogging, with some movement.

Once she got back to her apartment, she remembered Harry and Ginny wouldn't be home the rest of the day. So, she decided to take an ice bath to ward off muscle soreness and tried not to stare at her phone, waiting for Draco to text her. But, she promised herself she wouldn't cave first.

So, because of her pride, was met with a silent, black screen most of the night. Draco decided to give her space as he wasn't sure she even thought he was worth the trouble. And to make it even worse, she was entirely in her own head and freaking out about the entire encounter.

The next morning, Hermione was anxiously pacing the length of Harry and Ginny's bedroom, which was strange because neither of them were actually out of bed yet. ""Mione!" Ginny lovingly sang to her as she sat up in bed. "Calm down, friend. He is totally just being weird too and doesn't know what to say!" It was 7am, and Hermione couldn't go another minute without talking to someone about what happened.

Now, Hermione expected Harry to be disgusted by her relationship, or whatever it was, with Malfoy, but he'd been kept updated enough to be sympathetic. After all, he was Hermione's best friend. The last time Hermione had talked about the Draco-debacle with Harry directly, which admittedly she had a hard time talking to Harry about anything sexual at all, he had cheerfully said, "Yeah, I mean, I think he's gone through some pretty fucked up shit. Still wanna beat his ass in Quidditch, though." And that was that from Harry Potter.

"Honestly I'm just so surprised it was that good," Ginny said like a grade schooler. "I can't believe he just straight up kissed you!"

Harry groaned out of sheer fatigue at the hour. He dramatically placed a pillow over his face. "Can you guys just go talk about this somewhere else where I don't have to hear it," he said, muffled through the pillow.

In the kitchen, Hermione stirred her tea thoughtfully,while Ginny's tea was stirring itself. As Hermione constantly was raking her hand through her hair, its volume had reached epic proportions. "Like, do you think he's kind of...like thinks I'm a weird loser because I came that fast? And do you think we're going to be all over the internet?"

"He thinks it's so fucking hot, I promise." Ginny reassured her. "And look," she said, holding up her phone of the video that was indeed leaking all over the internet, "you can't even prove that it's you. It's some brown-haired girl chick making out with him. No big deal."

Hermione sighed in relief. "Okay, thanks. I think you're right."

Feeling a little guilty for lying, Ginny glanced at her phone, seeing about fourteen texts from other Gryffindor girls all discussing whether it was Hermione kissing Malfoy in the video going around online.

"Everyone is saying it's her," Parvati Patil just added to the text chat.

Katie Bell added a series of eggplant and raindrop emojis, followed by, "get that dick, granger!"

Ginny ignored it for now, knowing that if she didn't confirm or deny it, they'd all assume she was staying quiet to protect Hermione. She ignored the urge to indulge in all the gossip that was swirling around her mess of a friend.


Truth be told, Draco was unpacking yesterday's events with his roommate as well.

Now, Zabini didn't like labels about his sexuality, but during seventh year, there was several rumors going around that he had had sex with a centaur who lived in the Forbidden Forest, a mermaid who lived in the lake, and a Veela who resided in Hogsmeade...all within one week. And regardless of whether Zabini did it or not, the point was that people truly believed he actually had.

For some more liberal wizards and witches, since there were inter-species relationships with other humanoid creatures, the culture was much more fluid and open regarding sexuality or gender-expression. In other words, Zabini was open to fucking anything.

He was so open about sex so it was easy for Draco to talk to him about any unclothed or risque encounters, but on the flip side, he was so experienced that any story Draco told felt pretty unextraordinary and lame in comparison.

For example, when Draco lost his virginity to Pansy in the Quidditch locker room during sixth year, he had told him about it that night as they lay in beds ten feet apart. Blaise had replied, "That's super cool for you, Drake, but Pans and I been fuckin' since fourth year."

As a stressed-out Draco recounted yesterday's events that led up to Granger reciprocating his advances (including her grinding on him rather enthusiastically, then wordlessly leaving his car,) he felt admittedly like this wasn't a remarkable happenstance for Zabini.

But he surprisingly had the reaction Draco was hoping for.

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" Zabini squealed, his voice going full falsetto, punching him in the arm. "Granger?!" he laughed in disbelief. "She did not actually dry hump you in the Superleggera until she came. God, I'm in love with her too, Drake, watch out."

He felt prickly and uncomfortable at the thought of Hermione spending time with Zabini. He already had had one love triangle with Blaise-Pansy, of course-they didn't need to have another. Plus, while Zabini's family was also (supposedly) pureblood, he did have a fetish for Muggle women (and all Muggles, gender unimportant), and he had dated enough of them to understand their esoteric references. Maybe, and this thought had sent Draco into a terrible mood, Granger and Zabini would actually be incredibly compatible with each other.

Zabini's dark, smooth skin glowed with blue light as he stared at his phone, still grinning.

"I can't believe this is her," he said, turning his phone so Draco could see the video of Hermione's back-clad in her sports bra and running shorts- moving rhythmically on top of someone. When she moved her head from his mouth to his neck, Draco's silver-blond hair was unmistakable. Then, the video zoomed out revealing Draco's iconic car.

And that was why Draco was stressed...and why his phone was blowing up and his agent had called four times. Not to mention, his father had sent him his family's owl, which was followed by another owl from his mother. Fuck Merlin, he hated being an only child sometimes, having no one else's fuck-ups to compare to.

The two eagle owls were hopping around the foyer of the apartment, admiring their reflection in the mirrors hanging on the wall. Draco didn't want to read their letters' contents, but he knew the owls wouldn't leave until he did. He missed having an eagle owl; he had let his live in the Owlery seventh year when he was barely keeping himself healthy.

He was avoiding his phone as well, admittedly finding the Muggle technology to be the most efficient form of communication in either world. There were two-way mirrors-which phones could essentially be, and all of the various enchanted text-messaging items you could use, such as objects that looked like phones to avoid Muggle detection (and were essentially the same thing as fucking phones), and analog watches, which were extremely trendy and popular among wizards, but mostly as an accessory. So, the magical world just got onboard with Muggle phones. A point for Muggles.

He'd take the loss over the existence of Apparition and the Floo Network and Portkeys. Humans just couldn't figure out with their math and physics how to move matter around., needing to use airplanes. And, truth be told, magic could really fuck it up too if the spellcaster wasn't careful.

But then, the most sacred of communication frontiers was the existence of Legilimency, and its counter, Occlumency. And not all magical people could even practice the difficult art of mind-reading and memory-pulling, but Muggles had no idea that their thoughts and memories were vulnerable. Even though his aunt Bellatrix was truly an evil and wicked woman, he was thankful that she had introduced it to him, as the practice was not something you could learn in a textbook or online. And, it was heavily regulated and mostly illegal. While Voldemort was the most skilled Legilimens to ever live, being able to wandlessly and wordlessly enter people's minds, Draco felt like he could surpass him. He just required his wand to do so.

That being said, it made most Muggles he encountered vastly uninteresting-their thoughts usually about trivial concerns or their body image or something just so unbearably dull that he thought his efforts to master the difficult skill might have been a waste.

It was easy for Draco to fetishize, even romanticize (if he was feeling extra sappy), how it would feel to have sex with someone he loved who was also a Legilimens.

He hadn't ever had sex with someone who he trusted fully except for Astoria. But, Astoria had completely lacked the talent, unfortunately, and this fact had always frustrated her, causing a rift between them. The thought of effortlessly, instantaneously communicating with someone through thoughts during intercourse...and being vulnerable enough with someone to completely open up to them, that was literally the hottest thing he could imagine, and that was what Draco Malfoy ultimately fantasized about.

Returning from his train of thought to the kitchen, Pansy joined them from Zabini's room. Ugh, Draco forgot that they were obviously fucking, and she was living here. She got some coffee, her vibrant, pink hair woven the same braided hairstyle as Hermione's during the race. Her baggy cargo pants hung low on her exposed hips and a pair of manga eyes on her white crop-top stared at him while he appraised today's look..

When Pansy made eye contact with him, she just burst out laughing. "Sorry," she said. "I just can't believe you. Acting like a Muggle teenager. Getting off in a car," she choked out, barely breathing because she was laughing too hard. "Fuck, Drake, what are you doing?" she cackled, grabbing a piece of toast off of Zabini's plate to feed to the owls. Her long nails gently scratched the top of their round, feathered heads.

Draco groaned, his head beginning to ache. "Why is your hair like that?" he asked.

"Who, me?" she asked with a knowing smile. "Didn't think you'd notice. Of course, mine isn't as hot as Granger's, right?"

Zabini and Pansy laughed together, delighting in Draco's outward misery.

Of course, he didn't regret anything-oh no. Just the opposite, in fact. He couldn't stop thinking about how hot Granger had been, truly living out a dream of his. But, he worried that the Muggle-media's obsession with him was going to scare her off, plus the magical media's craze about them possibly as a couple. Hermione was still famous in wizard circles, although Draco hadn't heard her name come up in years.

Ignoring all of the notifications, he typed a quick text to his assistant in London. "Get the fucking windshield tinted."

He looked up and Pansy was holding out the present she had left on the counter a few days ago. "You never opened my present," she said in a sing-song voice.

"He hates presents, Pans," Zabini commented, then swore as one of the owls nipped his hand when he tried to take the letter tied to its foot.

"What is it?" Malfoy groaned, taking it from her palm.

"Something to take your mind off of Granger."

He opened the holographic wrapping paper, revealing a heavy glass jar with a bright purplish pink powder inside. "Seriously?" he asked, feeling a mixture of intrigue and trepidation, like he felt with any mind-altering drug.

"Got it in Knockturn last week, and wanted to try it myself beforehand-just to make sure it was alright," Pansy explained, eyes grazing over Blaise's pajama pants and shirtless state. "'Twas an easy ride and had no side effects, and the lady who sold it promised it was non-habit forming. And it's extremely rare and expensive." she added, with a wicked smile. ,

'Rare and expensive' meant it was a sure bet that the magical drug was probably illegal. Draco was an expert in Potions, which meant he was an expert in magical, illegal drugs. He wondered what the drug could be made of… unicorn dust? Thestral ash? He opened the jar and took a whiff. Immediately, the mere scent of the drug transported his mind to the Slytherin common room, 7th year, except there was no battle or Voldemort or anything. It was just as things should've been. He felt actually happy, 17 years old and surrounded by friends. No dark magic talk, just OWLs and girls and Quidditch. The hallucination was so real, it felt like he was in a long lucid dream.

"Whoa," he said, shaking his head as the moment faded away and reality returned. The pain of nostalgia made him feel sick with longing, and being back to reality felt sobering. "This stuff is strong."

"It's a thank-you present for letting me stay here." Pansy said, approaching him and giving him a kiss on the cheek. She smelled like Honeydukes-sugary and sweet.

"Well, I'm grateful. This will be fun," Malfoy told her, but wasn't sure how he felt. He hadn't done any wizard-drugs in forever, since Astoria was alive. His father actually advised that he avoid them-telling them it would be easy to become dependent on mood enhancers to cope with her loss...making him dependent on them forever to want to live.

Well, fine, he had done them once-the powerful mushroom hallucinogen had brought him back to times when she was alive and they were together. When the trip was over, he fell into a depression, calling his therapist every night for a week to drunkenly ramble at her. He just didn't want to be in a reality that didn't have Astoria.

So, Draco planned to store Pansy's gift for a rainy day. For now, he'd stick to weed. It certainly made his work more interesting-managing real estate properties and finances were actually fairly boring to him when he was sober. It made him a terrible Legilimens and affected his Occlumency skills as well, so he felt more vulnerable.

"Hey man," Zabini said as one of the owls pooped on the kitchen counter. "Get these owls out of here?" Not ideal.

He sighed, not ready to face his parents' thoughts on recent events. The owl obediently stuck out its foot to him as he approached. As he opened the letter's thick parchment, he silently used a summoning charm to feed the bird some sushi from the fridge, along with a small glass of water.

He saw Lucius Malfoy's signature stationery-thick emerald green paper with silvery, metallic ink.

In an elegant scrawl, it read,

"D,

She'll only bring trouble.

Have some fun, but…

don't get attached.

-LM"

Well, he certainly didn't expect a "Love, Dad," at the end, but he knew his father well enough to recognize the unmistakable warning in the last three words. Lucius made it clear that there would be grave consequences if Granger meant more to him than someone who he was hooking up with in his car in public.

Growing up, his mom had been gentler to him, always given him whatever he wanted, perhaps to his own detriment. The second letter was on normal parchment and he read his mother's endearing cursive.

"Dearest Draconis,

Please avoid further tarnishing the Black and Malfoy family name. Although we have come so far, we need to always strive for our best, no matter what temptations we may face. I've written for Daphne to come visit at the Manor at two o'clock this upcoming Saturday. Please don't be late.

Love,

Your Mother"

Zabini watched Draco's expression to get an accurate read on the situation. "Everything okay, 'Draconis'?" he asked teasingly, referring to his full name that only his mother called him. He hated hearing it out of anyone's mouth except for Narcissa's. Draco nodded, sliding the letters into his pocket. "Still pushing me toward Daphne," he said, a little annoyed.

"Typical," Pans scoffed. "Our families can't get enough of arranged marriages."

Zabini nodded in agreement. "Right...but Daph, fuck, she ain't bad. For one, she's fine as hell, for two, she's actually really funny," he said.

"Oh yeah? You shagged her too?" Draco muttered, then wishing they hadn't heard him. The owls sticking out their feet for him to attach a return letter. "Sorry, guys," he said to them, scratching the tops of their heads, and they eventually flew out of the window, off into the Tokyo skyline.

Pansy made a noise of surprise as she recalled something. "Well, sixth year, you did, right?" Pansy said pointedly to Draco, who had been hoping neither of them knew about that.

"Well, well, well!" Blaise said, amused at this new information. He looked at the screen of Draco's phone as it buzzed with yet another phone call. "How'd you get with both of the Greengrasses? I thought one was hard to pin down, as it is."

Draco liked when his friends referenced Astoria without reverence. Just because she had died didn't make it so that she was off-limits as a person who'd lived a full life before that. And, it made it more okay that she had been such a massive part of his life post-Hogwarts. If he always had to have an air of sadness when he talked or thought about her, he felt a little like he was going insane.

Later, he'd learn that it was a sign of healing-to be able to talk about Astoria without feeling the need to pay respects to her.

"Come with me to the Manor on Saturday, Daph'll be there," Draco said to Blaise, hoping he'd jump at the opportunity.

"Can't, mate, I got tickets to a match that day with Flint."

"Damn it," Draco replies. "Fuck, Zabini, why do you even have other friends or plans that don't revolve around my existence?" he replied, fake-seriously while opening his phone with reluctance.

Without reading any of the demanding texts, voicemails, or seeing who called him about his latest media escapade, he simply closed all notifications and pretended like nothing had happened. Now, to see if Granger had posted anything on her Muggle social media…


Hermione, Ginny, and Harry were going out for drinks that night. Hermione decided to fake sick on Monday because she didn't think she could face Draco yet. This was also a test run of how being in public would fare for her.

So, it was the Leaky Cauldron to start. The brewery made their own ales, and one of their pints was enough to guarantee an interesting evening. However, the Potters just sipped alcoholic Butterbeer, maybe wanting an early evening-but Hermione had ordered two pints of the ale just for herself. She wanted to get absolutely pissed and she didn't care what she felt like tomorrow. She was going to be irresponsible because, after all, the entire fucking world thought she was a slut, and Malfoy thought she was easy and not to mention desperate for getting off that quickly! She took a long draw of ale at this thought.

Harry raised his eyebrows at Ginny, who gave Hermione a worried look. "Maybe take it easy, 'Mione," he said gently. "You barely can have like, three beers normally."

"Do you hate me?" she asked Harry point-blank. "He's like your lifelong nemesis."

Harry's face broke into a huge grin at the drama of the word 'nemesis'. "Archrival, more like it," he said. "Besides, it's been 10 years. He had a shitty life when Voldemort was around, probably doesn't like to dwell on it. I say we just let it all be in the past."

Hermione's mouth nearly fell open at the reasonableness of her best friend's words. "I...yes, I couldn't agree more. But the unfortunate thing is I don't know if Draco truly like gets me. Harry, you understand, you kind of grew up with Muggles, even though yours really sucked. Like for me, magic is a hard thing to accept, and I just feel so much more myself in the Muggle-world now."

Both Harry and Ginny nodded in solemn unison. They knew that Hermione had gone through some rough times after the Battle of Hogwarts, and then with Ron cheating and leaving too. While she was back on her feet now, Hermione had it harder than anyone else they knew. She attempted to get her life back to the way it was...but magic had made it a mess.

Some time passed, and Hermione was on her third drink. They were joking about the Chudley Cannons actually thinking Marcus Flint was talented in the minor leagues, picking him up for a stupid amount of money. Harry always disliked Flint, he cheated in games and had poor basic sportsmanship. "At least he now has enough money to get his teeth fixed," he said. Ginny giggled.

"Let's go to the next bar," Hermione said, tired of the Leaky Cauldron's beer-only selection. She wanted rum. Ginny whined in protest as she just ordered pumpkin pasties. So, she got them to-go as they apparated out of Diagon Alley to the next bar, decidedly The Three Broomsticks. Harry and Ginny wanted to catch up with other professors while on summer holiday.

Hermione ordered a red currant rum, while the Potters ordered pear ciders. They chatted with Neville, who happened to be there with Hannah on a weekend retreat away from their kids. The Longbottoms quietly avoided Hermione's eye, unsure and awkward of how to react to the video circulating. Hermione exchanged pleasantries, but kept the drinks coming. She glanced around the warm, crowded bar for nearby wizards she could talk to instead of being stuck with all these fucking couples.

She raised her glass to herself. "Kampai," she said weakly, downing it, knowing she was now getting a little sloshy.

Ginny easily summoned Hermione's phone out of her bag, then typed in her passcode. Quickly, she found her current text message to Draco, and began to type.

After some time, they parted ways from Neville. "Can't wait to see those baby first years," Neville said sincerely. He taught Herbology, while Hannah was one of the Aurors stationed at the school for protection.

The second they were gone, Ginny turned to Hermione, beaming. "Last bar. Your favorite." She shot Harry a knowing smile, and he took a deep breath in anticipation.

Hermione took a dramatic gasp. "You'd really go to a Muggle bar for me?"

Ginny shrugged like it was no big deal. "Sure, Muggle bars are tight."


The cocktail lounge was near the entrance to the Ministry of Magic, and it frequented everyone-magical or not. It was also a popular spot for tourists and foreigners, being close to the Ministry and London government offices. Hermione loved it for the posh atmosphere and sophisticated, creative drinks. Though, she felt too drunk to be here-like everyone else needed to catch up.

"Grab a seat at the bar, Hermione, we'll be right there," Harry said, both of them heading towards the lavatories.

Hermione's surroundings were a little unsteady, but she could manage that well enough. People glanced up at her from their various chairs and couches, their judgmental faces lit by soft candlelight, making the room look like an oil painting. Hermione hated that her cheeks started flushing at their attention. They tried to place shame on her, but she did her best to shake it off. With some liquid courage, she realized that this bullshit was beneath her, and she wasn't going to let it waste any more of her bloody time.

Feeling incredibly feminine and even so far to say downright sexy, Hermione looked up through her eyelashes at the familiar bartender to order a drink.

He saw her, his eyes firmly on her breasts. "Miss Granger, looking like a fox tonight," he purred. "The usual?"

"No thanks, Will, I'll actually take a cocktail mixed with whatever that is," she said, and points to an intricate, green glass bottle of liquor in the shape of a coiled snake.

As she waited, she was glad for what she was wearing, for once. In the previous pubs, she had felt overdressed, too try-hard, wearing a cardigan over her dress to hide herself. But this lounge was elegant and refined, a jazz singer softly singing, a clean bar lit by candlelight with cloth napkins. The bright green dress was more revealing than she was used to, with a slit up her thigh and deep v-neck, but she just felt like she had to wear it tonight. Admittedly, she sensed the magic surrounding it, and she answered the call.

It had been untouched since she wore it out once with Ron, after she had found out he was cheating, but before he had left her. In her bathroom mirror, she had marveled how good her body looked with it on, feeling like she hadn't actually looked this good in years...maybe ever.

She sipped the strong drink, sinking into the jazz singer's words, feeling dizzy and drunk and wanting to be seen...and wanted. She felt someone touch her back, on her clothing-and the broad, tall figure took the empty seat on her right side, away from the stage. Faintly, she smelled the same, familiar cologne that had been on Draco's letter jacket. It reminded her of new parchment.

"Draco?" she said, for a moment not believing this was real and he was here.

She looked up at his silver-blond hair, not understanding how he could be there. "Granger," his voice so low, he growled her name. "Did you wear that for me? You look exquisite in green." He leaned in toward her, and Hermione froze-unsure if he was actually going to kiss her on the mouth. She wouldn't have protested. But like a formal greeting that the French and purebloods do, he kissed her cheek, but then whispered in her ear, "Are you trying to make me throw myself at you in public again?"

The alcohol made her less anxious as she normally would have been, but she still couldn't figure out what she should do or say to him. She felt frozen to her seat, truly and simply shocked to see him here, in her world again. The alcohol made her feelings more intense, her words more jumbled. She was scared to say anything at all.

So she would have been somewhat disappointed to know if Draco was thinking about where he could fuck her nearby-the lavatory? Backstage? A broom closet?

"Draco?" Hermione asked him softly, using his first name. She moved into him so her body was now between his thighs, and she touched his leg, eyes searching for something in his own, and he stopped his sexual train of thought, looking intently back at her. Such warm, brown eyes, thoughtful and powerful. He never realized what magic her gaze held-truly a witch of formidable strength: he was unable to look away.

Her lips parted to ask him, "What do you think about me?"

Her question caught him totally off guard, which she relished seeing in the brief moment he allowed. She was desperate to know him when he was completely vulnerable. She wanted to access him without his usual filter so badly that it hurt.

She recalled, never before realizing it: he was the only person at Hogwarts who was actually her intellectual equal.

Draco opened his mouth to speak, to tell her that … that what? How did he feel about Granger? He closed his mouth, somehow tearing his eyes away from her in green, to brooding at his drink in silence as he thought.

It was a complicated question. He knew, with certainty, that he wanted to keep getting to know her...both sides of her, every part of her body, and every facet of her mind. Muggle and witch, he wanted to be intimate with all of it.

Then, his stomach dropped when he felt a familiar sensation, a spell being cast on him.. Hermione was silently and wandlessly performing a Legilimency spell on him, attempting to read his thoughts. He couldn't believe Hermione fucking Granger was a Legillmens like him. He could somewhat control the thoughts she had access to.

He stared at her, not believing that she was real and casting the spell. Was she that drunk, that she didn't recognize she was doing it? That had to be it.

He immediately felt the breathtaking strength and skill of her spell, and he instinctually touched his wand strapped to his outer thigh to wordlessly counter with Occlumens. Though she was intensely powerful, he was a master at shutting down corridors to his thoughts that a Legilimens could find. Trained by Lestrange, and had been forced to close off his mind to the Dark Lord, he could easily compartmentalize his emotions behind layers of inaccessible doors.

Fine, he gave her, knowing she could hear these thoughts, You can have this one, if you want it that badly.

When he started mentally talking to her, Hermione's eyes widened, realizing that she unintentionally, drunkenly cast a highly-illegal, incredibly intrusive spell in public. It was the alcohol that had removed her inhibition. Then again, it wasn't the first time she had wanted something so bad that her magical sense of self just went ahead and made it happen.

She tried to pull away from his thoughts, but Malfoy proved himself to be skilled at the intersection of Legilimens and Occlumens. Hermione realized that he was trapping her there in his mind, both of them present in a non-physical space. He resisted the strong urge to show her exactly how we wanted to fuck her, fearing she was seeking more than just physical intimacy from him at the moment. Then, he lead her mind down a mental corridor, to a room where he wanted her to go. There, her initial search had found its result, the honest answer: He wanted to know her fully, body and mind, witch and Muggle.

The other honest answers he quietly and carefully hid from her were that he wanted to completely dominate her, please her, and make her worship him, as well. Those were minor, impertinent details at the moment.

He freed her from their mental embrace. Like she had come up to the surface from being underwater, she breathed in deeply and shakily. She looked at him unsteadily and without certainty. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to, I was just so curious to what you were thinking," she said, slurring her words a bit.

Draco looked at her, still in awe of the Legilimens charm she had accidentally cast on him. Was she really that powerful? A more skilled Legilimens than...Voldemort himself?

With a pang of lust and loneliness, Draco thought about his fantasy...pure connection, between two minds and bodies.

"I can't believe how powerful you are, Granger," he whispered, heart racing. This changed things. This...was getting him attached, like his father warned him.

Hermione was a little pleased with herself that Draco was so impressed. He was practically drooling over her in the moment, his guard fully removed, just pure desire in his eyes. For the record, she was not surprised at his talents. She was fully aware of Draco's level of skill. After all, he held Rosmerta under the Imperius curse for eight months during seventh year. And, often she thought about how he was probably familiar with a lot of dark magic, like forbidden hexes, blood magic, and... sexual spells, which were rumoredly passed down in Slytherin house only, like a house secret. The kind of spells privy to the more Knockturn side of Diagon Alley, the darker side of the moral line, she had no idea about. And that forbidden knowledge he had access to...it turned her on like no other.

Her drunken, witch self was obviously a little repressed. Casting the Legilimens spell reminded her of when she discovered her magic as a child... craving something so badly that her inherent magic delivered it.

Draco couldn't help be slightly obsessed with her in his moment, needing to convince her to let him access her mind so he could read her thoughts while he kissed her, moving exactly like she wanted, taking it as far as she wanted to go. But, that's a little too forward for the, what, third date?

He at a strict minimum needed to kiss her in this moment. The silk, green fabric of her dress looked like it could just slip off her smooth, soft skin. He couldn't believe she wore green for him, a sign that she was his.

Then, a broad, tall, huge man came up to them, ruining the moment, and it wasn't Potter, who Draco had secretly hoped he'd see tonight.

When Draco recognized him, it could've been a fucking boggart who interrupted their date. Or perhaps rather a dementor, as all of his happiness and joy was sucked out of him with the man's presence. Viktor fucking Krum was here, and Draco watched Hermione's face lit up like she was fourteen when she saw him, a lovely mixture of surprise and lust and bloody history. Draco downed the rest of his drink.