Here we are - at last, another chapter! Not much to say about this one other than I hope you enjoy. As always, comments and messages are LIFE and encourage me to keep writing.

Chapter 6

This is a terrible idea, Astoria repeated to herself for the dozenth time. Her heels made echoing clicks that rang through an empty Berkeley Square. She pulled the neck of her dark wool coat tightly over her scarf and kept her eyes out for Charles Street.

Astoria had wandered through the posh Mayfair neighbourhood before during her secret city jaunts, never realizing anyone from the Wizarding world might live in the thick of it all. Especially not the Malfoys.

"Come" he'd said. He didn't mean NOW, she argued with herself. How obsessed are you with him? And how do you know he'll be alone?

She was in front of the narrow slice of carved limestone before she had logicked herself out of anything. Besides, didn't he tell you to look before leaping once in a while? she argued with herself.

You're certifiably mad, she retorted. To herself. She really needed to pull it together.

She lifted her hand to the knocker, and after only a moment's hesitation, tapped it twice against the thick wood. And then waited, as her running internal monologue continued to try to talk her in and out of it.

Far sooner than she'd expected, the door opened and the cool drink of water that was Draco Malfoy stared out at her, his expression unreadable.

"Can't sleep?" she offered tentatively.

He said nothing, but stepped back and gestured that she enter. She stepped past him, and smelled him in passing - that natural perfume of warm sand, vanilla, and cedar. Amazing how a scent could plant itself in one's brain. Her gut did somersaults.

She turned around to face him as the door shut again and had just opened her mouth for what she was sure would have been another pitiful attempt at levity when he pressed her against the door with the length of his entire body and shut her up with his lips.

The voices in her head were silenced. It was just sensation again, raw sensation that overwhelmed her system and buckled her knees. She held on to him for dear life and gave as good as she got.

With a sharp inhale, he pulled his head back. Only his head; the rest of him was pressed firmly against her.

Now do I speak? Try to break the tension with… no, a joke or witty comment wouldn't be enough. She'd need a Scottish claymore to cut through the thickness here. So she stared at him instead, waiting for him to explain what exactly she was doing here.

"You constantly surprise me, Astoria." The phantom of a smile played at the corner of his mouth. It was such a well-formed mouth too, Astoria thought. She hoped he'd put it on her again soon.

Her heavy breathing pushed her breasts against his chest for a few delicious seconds, and then he stepped away from her. Astoria was rather glad there was a solid wood door behind her.

"Would you like some tea?" he asked as he took her coat and hung it on a nearby coatstand. He didn't wait for a reply before he headed past the stairs to the room beyond.

"Yes, thank you." She grasped at the civility like a lifeline while she collected what remained of her thoroughly exploded sensibilities from the entryway. It was an impressive entry, now that she had a moment to look at it. They were in a dark vestibule opening onto an expansive front hall with impressively interlocked hardwood below, and a chandelier-accented vaulted ceiling above. To her left was a wide quartet of stairs leading up to stained glass pocket doors. The stairs wrapped around to the main staircase ahead of her, leading up into the upper floors. She imagined that with the pocket doors open, the whole space would open up and you'd never know you were in a narrow London rowhouse. The Malfoys have never been subtle, she mused. Particularly with first impressions.

"Are you coming?" his voice called from in front of her. She followed it into the kitchen, which hid behind the stairs. Draco was pouring a second cup of tea.

Tea. Of course. Of course that's why I'm here. Merlin's beard.

He pushed the cup and saucer towards her, and then paused. "How do you take it?" he asked.

"Do you have lemon?" she asked.

"No, I don't think so."

"Then this is perfect, thank you." She watched him watching her carefully over her cup as she took a sip. Good grief, you could walk on it! But as expected of a well-bred Greengrass, he saw no reaction to it other than a polite smile.

They simply stood there, near the hearth, tea cups and saucers in hand. This is ridiculous, she thought as she sipped. The kitchen was full with anticipation-filled silence. She knew if she opened her mouth, she'd begin babbling about why she shouldn't have come, and it was too late for that. So again she waited for him to make the first move.

"It's your turn to ask, you know." He lifted his cup and downed half the contents.

"Pardon me?"

"I commanded you to come, and here you are. As it's now my turn, I choose Command."

We're still playing games, are we? She instantly felt better, realizing that she knew how to play by these rules. "I'd be glad to give you one. But I don't suppose there's a room in this tiny little townhouse where we could sit down?"

Draco gave a full smirk this time. "I'm sure that could be arranged. Perhaps you'd follow me."

He led her through a door at the end of the kitchen that opened into an intimate little parlour. "I'm sure this will do," he stated instead of queried.

"I suppose it must," she cast back at him and sat down on a slipper chair. And just like that, she felt as at ease around him as she had anyone. Bring on the games. He sat down on the chair's twin beside her.

"It doesn't seem as though anyone else is home," she fished. He seemed to enjoy the game of not asking questions as much as she did, and she really was curious about his living here. She was also trying to buy time to think of a good Command.

"That's because no one is. I have the place to myself. Not even a house elf," he added with a slight bite. She wasn't sure what was behind that, but she could only imagine how constantly pampered Draco Malfoy was managing without service.

"That sounds liberating, if you ask me." She took another sip of her tea, and continued when Draco didn't respond. "To think, having a whole townhouse in London to ones' self, without ears or eyes to spy on you. Utter bliss."

"It's also freezing, dusty, and the pantry bare as a bone." Draco's tone was almost petulant, but Astoria detected something that almost sounded like resignation.

"Those are all problems that can be fixed," she said dismissively. "But I doubt that I was invited here to be your house elf." I better not have been, she thought angrily.

"As if you know how to fix any of those problems," he spat, definitely riled now. "You're as coddled as I was. Fletcher, wasn't that the name of your House Elf? Daphne used to tell stories about him to Pansy."

Astoria blinked. What stories would she have told? Fletcher was old, yes, but he wasn't incompetent. And he didn't always come right when called, but she'd seen that as somewhat of a blessing and confirmation of his lack of interest in the intimate details of her life.

"Tell me why I'm here," she ordered him. "And by Circe, if I'm here to wait on you hand and foot, you've got another thing coming."

Draco shot back the remainder of his tea like a shot of firewhiskey and stared back at her sullenly. "I don't know," he finally managed.

She was not amused. She'd come all this way for this? "I'm sorry, you don't know?"

"Look, I didn't plan this. I'm not you, I don't always think things through eighteen steps in advance. I couldn't sleep, and it was too bloody quiet in here."

"So you wrote me an owl at half-past two in the morning."

"Yes. I did. And look, here you are." He gestured flippantly. "Why did you come?" he shot back.

Astoria gaped for just a moment. "I… I'm not sure." She looked up to an expression of triumph.

"I'm sorry, you're not sure," he parroted smugly.

"You know that I -am- the type to plan anything out in eighteen or whatever steps. So who the hell knows why, in the middle of the night, I let an owl into my bedroom to tell me that Draco Malfoy has invited me to his townhouse in London." She set the cup and saucer down on the side table between them. "Or why I bloody decided to come. Without knowing who was here, whether you were awake, or why you wanted me to come. So no, I'm not sure. It defies all logic."

He'd been watching her outburst with undisguised pleasure.

"And yet, here you are."

"Here we are," she amended.

They sat there, looking at each other with puzzlement and anticipation, trying to digest each others' words. When Astoria reached out for her teacup again, Draco's hand shot out and covered hers.

"I'm glad you came tonight," he spoke softly, and then added "as positively mental an idea as it was."

"Yes, well, I've been managing a lot of mental things lately. Bad influences, you know."

She smiled at him, and he returned it. "Question or Command, Draco?"

"Question, then. Let's get all those mental thoughts of yours out of your bloody head."

She made a face. "Ha ha. As if they aren't all there because of you." She lifted her thumb ever so slightly to stroke the hand that covered hers. "If I hadn't have come, what would you have done?"

Draco sat back, obviously more at ease than before. "That's easy. I'd have gone out flying."

"What, in the middle of the night? In London?"

Draco's face lit up. "Precisely. The city's the best at night. And with a well-cast Disillusionment charm, no one's going to see anything."

She was shaking her head in disapproval. "Even still…"

"Come on," he interrupted. "You can't mean to tell me that someone who obviously likes Quidditch as much as you can't appreciate a good bout of flying to clear one's head."

She shifted uncomfortably, aware of where this questioning was leading. "It just sounds dangerous. You might get caught. Anyway," she changed the subject quickly. "My turn. I choose Question." Draco had a gleam in his eyes that she did not like.

"And I sense that we're not done with the topic. Haven't you ever flown where you might be seen?"

Astoria pulled her hand out of his. "Never mind, Command."

Draco's grin split his face. "Fly around London with me. Right now. I have a spare broom somewhere."

She looked up in shock. "No." It was all she could think to say.

"Somewhere else, then. A middle-of-nowhere field in Wales, or off the coast of Cornwall."

She set her teacup and saucer down with more force than she intended. "I... can't."

He knew he'd struck gold. "Then tell me why."

"It's… I…" Draco watched her carefully, patiently. She felt as though he were peeling her away layer by layer, and she felt more naked than she'd ever been before him. She had known that this silly game would get to a point where she'd need to confess some secrets. She just didn't think it'd be so quickly.

"I've… never been on a broom before." There. She'd said it.

Draco looked at her as though she'd said she was actually a merperson. "That's preposterous."

Astoria shrugged, resentful at his discovery. "It's true."

"How can it be true? Every Hogwarts student takes Flying classes their first year."

"Well, not me. I took Healing classes with Madam Pomfrey instead."

Draco was obviously having difficulties processing what she was saying, because he kept shaking his head in denial. "Madam Pomfrey doesn't offer Healing classes."

"She does in special circumstances." Shut up, shut up, shut up! You've already said enough. "Question or Command?"

But Draco wasn't letting it go. "You've never been on a broom… ever?! How can you possibly understand or appreciate Quidditch fully?"

Astoria sighed hard. "Question or Command, Draco?"

"Fine, Question." Dammit, she thought. She'd been hoping he'd say Command so she could force him not to talk about flying anymore. So what could she ask that would force him to change to Command?

"What's your greatest regret?"

"Not being able to Command you into a flying excursion with me." He said it with a straight face, but Astoria could tell he was as excited as a niffler with a galleon.

"You're supposed to tell me the truth. Unless you'd like to switch to Command."

"Nice try, you. You've got to know I'm smarter than that."

"Fine, then greatest regret."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "I can't say I've ever ranked my regrets before. Will you settle for one of my greatest regrets?"

Astoria really didn't want to give him any leeway. But if she was being asked to compromise, what could she get out of it in return?

"That's fine," she nodded. "But you also need to explain why you regret it. No listing something and then declaring it's my turn." There, she thought. Maybe explaining it will get him to drop the flying thing.

Draco actually smirked. "You're starting to sound more Slytherin every time we play this game." He rolled his shoulders as if preparing to lift something heavy. "Fine, then. One of my greatest regrets, and why. I regret going all in with the Death Eaters. I should have had an exit strategy." His expression had turned to stone.

Astoria didn't know quite how to take that. "Your regret is that you didn't outwit You-Know-Who?"

Draco was watching her, obviously trying to read her reaction. "Yes," he admitted.

"You were what, sixteen at the time, and you believed you could actually get away with plotting against You-Know-Who?" She was gaping now. She had, of course, known that Draco had an ego the size of Spain, but this was beyond reason. "Have you ever heard of a thing called hubris?"

Draco's face grew flintier. "I outwitted Dumbledore." His words had an edge and a weight to them that told Astoria he was being completely serious. And yet she couldn't help the laugh of disbelief that escaped from her mouth.

"How do you figure that?" She sat up straighter in her chair and held onto his gaze, challenging him to keep talking.

"I smuggled Death Eaters into Hogwarts at the end of my last year at Hogwarts. Dumbledore even admitted to me himself that he thought it impossible."

Astoria didn't know what to say. She couldn't tell if Draco was appalled or proud of what he'd done. She could admit that Dumbledore telling anyone that they'd achieved something he believed was impossible was… a lot. But DEATH EATERS, her conscience screamed.

What was she doing here, with him?

"Draco," she began, without know where she would end. "I'm… it's…"

"Just say it," he snapped. "It's what everyone else is thinking when they talk to me. I'm a terrible person who made stupid, evil choices. And I don't even regret half of them."

"You don't regret letting Death Eaters into Hogwarts?" she threw back at him with more anger than she thought she was feeling.

"Hogwarts! What's so great about it? It's just a place. And Death Eaters ended up there the next year anyway."

Thoughts of the Carrows flashed through Astoria's head, and she felt her gut clench painfully in response. She squeezed her eyes closed. "You don't know what it was like…"

"...to be surrounded by Death Eaters?" Draco interrupted. "I do, actually. So, yes, I regret getting into a situation where I had no control and no escape plan which led to my smuggling Death Eaters into school. But do I regret my being able to outwit the 'omnipotent and omniscient' Albus Dumbledore? Sorry, but I don't. Take it or leave it."

They both sat in the silence, the air charged between them. I guess my plan worked, Astoria thought. They weren't talking about flying anymore. We're not talking at all, actually. Great job, Astoria.

"Question," she said softly.

"What?" Draco seemed completely taken back by her statement.

"I choose question," she repeated.

"You want to keep going?"

He was looking at her with a curious expression, and she felt as though she were under a microscope.

"I asked because I wanted to know. And now I do." She met his eyes dead-on, and forced a half-smile. "And thank you for such an easy question. Question or Command?"

Draco looked disgusted - with her or with himself, she wasn't quite sure. But the tension in the room had lessened a bit.

"Command." No surprise there, she thought.

"Show me the townhouse," she ordered. And got to her feet.

It had been the perfect Command for the moment. The game was put aside briefly as Draco walked her through each room in the house. As they saw more and more rooms, Draco became more open in describing them.

The townhouse had been acquired by the Malfoys in the early 1920s and had been designed with the sole purpose of showing off. With the ministry office so close, Abraxas Malfoy had made it into the place to be for after-office dinners and meetings with the Minister, visiting delegates, and other important witches and wizards. It was overwhelmingly luxurious, from the prolific use of gold and gilded decorations to the hand-painted wallpapers and embroidered textiles.

"When was the last time anyone lived here?" Astoria asked as Draco showed her a billiards room on the third floor.

"Grandfather died when I was seven, and I remember visiting him here only a handful of times. We've stayed here a few times to visit Diagon Alley and Borgin and Burkes, but it hasn't really been lived in since." He led her up yet another flight of stairs to a black door.

"And this is my room," he said nonchalantly. It was as if the earlier outburst hadn't happened, and he was back to being Prince Draco, only son of a legacy line. Astoria wanted to roll her eyes at his affected bored expression, if only to poke a hole in that huge head of his.

"This little space? How cramped," she quipped.

The room wasn't exactly little, though it was smaller than her room. Other than a large black four-poster bed, a chair, and a side table, it was completely empty. Nothing on the walls, nothing on the table even. Astoria wondered if Draco was a secret minimalist or pushing back against the excess of the rest of the house.

"It's sufficient," he said plainly. "I don't use the room much."

Ah, she thought, understanding now. "I have a hard time sleeping too."

"You do, do you?" He was looking at her in a way that made her cheeks warm.

"You don't have the monopoly on insomnia, Draco." She walked over to the unmade bed, straightened and tucked the sheets in perfectly with a flick of her wand, and then stretched out on it.

Draco walked slowly towards her. "I have a question." His eyes had a glint of humour in them. "Where did you learn to make a bed like that?" The mattress shifted as he sat down beside her.

"I told you - I took Healing lessons. Are we back to playing the game?" Her breathing quickened slightly as he ran a finger up her forearm.

"No." His voice was soft, but curt. "No more games tonight."

Her breath hitched. His fingers plucked the wand from her hand and put it on the table. Then his fingers were back, running up over the sleeve of her dress, up to her exposed collar bone. Following the edge of the fabric, he traced down between her breasts to her hip.

She'd thrown on the wrap dress because it was quick to put on. And take off. But he didn't seem to be in a rush to unwrap her. In fact, he pulled his hand back when it reached the tie.

"You're sure you want this?" With me, she thought he meant. She did want it though. It always comes back to this, doesn't it? The liquid pull of lust that she felt anytime she was around him. Maybe it was safer to leave now. Maybe it was smarter to not get involved with a hot mess like Draco Malfoy. But something about this beautiful, broken boy had gripped her. She'd never understood why all the young women in the Greek myths fell for Zeus - the egotistical, self-absorbed playboy of Olympus. It had been a point of pride to her that Asteria, her mythical namesake, had escaped the clutches of the randy King of the Pantheon. But that pride was long gone; if Zeus's lovers had felt anything like this, she could understand it all.

"Yes, I'm sure." She ran her own fingers up his outstretched arm, clasping the muscles above the elbow. They were like carved marble, resisting her light squeeze.

He pulled the tie keeping the dress front closed, and the whisper of the rubbing fabric sounded deafeningly loud in the quiet room. Almost as loud as her inhale. Her hand reached his broad shoulder and continued down his back. He pulled back the tie and laid her open.

She hadn't put anything on under the dress.

Draco's eyes were hungry. She came here wanting this, he thought. And she's still here, even after everything she heard. He'd been hoping partly that his words would scare her off, would stop this uncontrollable train wreck before it got complicated. He'd been convinced that one dose of reality of who he was and what he'd done would be enough to dissuade her. He'd been wrong, and now she was in his bed and offering herself to him.

"Wait," she breathed. "Before this goes further…"

Here it comes, he thought.

"Prevention potion. I haven't had time to make another one."

He actually laughed. She looked slightly taken aback by his reaction. Who knew what she must be thinking about him now?

"It isn't funny."

"I have the ingredients downstairs. I'll make you one first thing tomorrow."

"You know how to make Prevention Potions?"

Draco smirked. "I'll have you know that I was one of the top students in Potions in my year. And I've made them before."

Now came Astoria's time to laugh. "But you can't manage tea?"

Question period came to an abrupt end when his lips cut her off mid-laugh. His hand formed around her exposed breast and clenched it hard; she moaned and all thoughts ran right out of her head.

The rest of the dress was off before Astoria had got halfway down Draco's shirt. Draco stood up briefly, setting aside his wand, shirt, trousers and briefs as quickly as he could, then lowered himself on top of her.

Like before, their lengths lined up perfectly. Astoria drank in the heady scent that was Draco and revelled in the feeling of his body against hers. Draco's hand flitted between them momentarily and guided himself into her.

She felt her hunger immediately sated, as if she'd been starving without him inside her. The feeling of completeness made her feel whole somehow, like mortar filling the cracks. They were kissing each other with silent questions and commands: Take this. Do you like that? Give me more of everything. How about now? Draco rocked relentlessly into her, seemingly unfatigable. Every time he pressed into her, she would moan encouragingly at the exquisite pressure. More, she urged him with her lips. He pulled back and straightened up, shifting the angle. His hand ran down her side, along her calf, and then, clasping at her ankle, he pulled her leg over his shoulder. He pushed deeper and split through her as if she were a ripe peach. She couldn't help crying out with the ecstasy of it all.

All she could think was 'keep doing this'. Keep doing this until the stars fall, and the seas dry up, and I never have to think again.

He continued pounding into her, with no signs of tiring, both of them reveling in shared oblivion. His hands had captured her wrists and pressed her down, but not with malice. It actually worked her up further, feeling 'captured' by him. He growled slightly and let go of one wrist to clench her thigh tighter around him. She sensed somehow that he was nearing his end and wanted to help him on. Allowing her instincts to take over, she began to clench lightly. He caught her eyes and smirked in his wickedest way.

"Having fun?" he quipped, still thrusting. She nodded and smiled back. I'll take that to mean he likes it. As if reading her mind, his smirk widened and he drew even nearer to her, gripping her other leg up and wrapping it around him.

"You are incredibly sexy, do you know that?" The breath from his words warmed her curving lips. Then he thrust hard and cried out against her.

She felt him tense and twitch as his breathing tore the air by her cheek. He stayed there, suspended over her for what felt like a full minute, as their breathing slowed to a normal rhythm. And then he rolled off of her.

The room was incredibly dark and still. Sounds of London's darkest hours - sirens and revving engines - came in muted bursts through the window, reminding Astoria that she was nowhere near home.

Now what? Her logical brain had restarted, and began to whir with thought and analysis. But before it got very far, she felt Draco's hand interlace with hers. Just the touch of him silenced her mind, and she felt a strange lightness - as if she did in fact get a flying lesson after all.

"Please don't leave," she heard him murmur. She tightened her hand in his in response. With fingers intertwined, they found sleep at last.