(A/N: This chapter has sexual content. You have been warned!)

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Every night for a week, Draco and Hermione went down to the unicorn enclosure. Always they would sit under the same tree; Draco leaning against the trunk, Hermione leaning against Draco, and always when she read aloud or sang softly, the unicorns would come. On the third night, and each night thereafter, they actually found the animals standing clustered about the tree, as if eagerly awaiting their arrival.

Every night, in the pasture, Hermione cried tears of joy.

She no longer cried any other kind, or at any other time.

Harry and Ron were the first, other than Draco, to notice the change in her; but before the week was out, nearly all the students and faculty had. She held her head up high again; she made eye contact with everyone she passed in the halls; her hand could be seen once again in the air during class; hesitant at first, but quickly gaining in confidence, to the delight of all her teachers, even Snape- though he would never have deigned to admit it. She smiled more often and more widely, and by the end of the week she had even been heard to laugh on two or three different occasions. Gone was the silent, preoccupied, and rather skittish girl that had been Hermione Granger for so long. She was finally coming out of her shell.

It was all a result of her interaction with the unicorns, though absolutely no one besides Draco, and of course Hermione herself, knew this. The only people forward enough to actually ask about the change that had come over her were close friends; Ron, Harry, and Ginny all mentioned it to her, but she didn't reveal the secret of the unicorns to any of them. She considered it to be an intensely private matter, for her and Draco alone.

On the following Saturday evening, a week and a day after their first visit to unicorns, Draco noticed that she was behaving somewhat oddly as they headed down to the enclosure. They were later than usual, because there had been a Hogsmeade visit that day, and they had dallied in the quaint little town until the very last possible moment before curfew set in. (Draco, in particular, was feeling rather smug about a certain purchase he had made in secret while Hermione had been lingering over butterbeers in the Three Broomsticks with Harry and Ron.) Then, upon their arrival back, as head boy and girl, they had been faced with the extremely unpleasant task of going over the sign-in sheets with Filch to make sure that all of the towngoers were back in the castle, safe and accounted for.

So after such a full day, he thought at first that the change in her demeanor could be explained by simple physical weariness. By the time they had reached the enclosure, though, he was definitely sensing that it was something more. She seemed- not sad, exactly, but… solemn. Yes, that was it- there was an air of gravity about her that had not been present on any of their previous visits.

When they reached their designated tree, Draco prepared to sit down as usual, but Hermione stopped him with a word. She went down on one knee and rummaged briefly through the Hosmeade shopping bag she had been carrying. When she stood again a moment later, she was holding her major purchase of the day; a brand-new wizarding camera. She walked over to Draco and thrust the camera into his hands.

"You can't sit down with me yet," she said, and smiled somewhat nervously. "I want you to take a couple of pictures first. You know- of me with all the unicorns. I want-" her voice and expression were suddenly wistful; bittersweet- "I want something to remember this by."

Draco was thoroughly puzzled. "Hermione, you're acting like this is the last night we'll ever come down here. The unicorns will be here for the rest of the term- you know that."

"Yes, I know that," she replied, "and we'll still come down here sometimes, but this IS the last night they'll ever sleep in my lap, and so I want to remember it." She fell silent, watching his face intently, waiting for her words to sink in. Then-

"Wait a minute," Draco said slowly, his pale eyes widening.

Knowing that he had caught her meaning, she reached up and pulled him down into a deep, slow kiss.

"Hermione," he sputtered, when she released him, "you- you-"

She smiled up at him. She couldn't remember ever seeing him flustered before. It was completely out of character. It was also, she thought, utterly endearing. "What's the matter, Malfoy?" she teased. "Cat got your tongue?"

Draco shook his head. "I- you-" he trailed off, looking shell-shocked. Then, running a hand distractedly through his silvery hair; "are you sure? I mean, absolutely sure?"

"As sure as I've ever been about anything," she whispered. "I don't want to be afraid of it anymore. I love you and I trust you and I want you to show me that it can be good." Then her brow furrowed and she looked suddenly anxious. "It- it CAN be good…right?"

"Well- yeah," Draco said, still sounding stunned. "Hell YEAH, it can be good."

"Then I want you to teach me. I'm ready to learn."

Draco surprised her then by suddenly bursting into laughter. "Trust you to make this about learning," he said. "What is this, your new research project?"

"It IS about learning," she replied, in a tone of exaggerated hurt, though a tiny smile was playing about her lips. "And if you'd rather I find someone else to help me with my research-"

"Don't even THINK it," he growled, and pulled her hard against him, into another kiss, this one far more breathless and urgent than the last.

They parted a moment later, gasping for air, and Hermione stepped back quickly, looking startled. Her eyes flew down to a point low on Draco's lean body, where something large and hard had pressed urgently into her stomach during the kiss.

"Draco Malfoy!" she exclaimed, sounding thoroughly scandalized, though her eyes were positively dancing with mirth, "control yourself, sir! I still have a date with the unicorns before- before I will require your assistance with my research!"

"Sorry," said Draco, looking away. He had the grace to appear embarrassed, but a grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth. He suddenly became very interested in fiddling with Hermione's new camera. "Let's get on with those unicorns then, shall we? I suddenly find myself growing rather-" he shot her a quick, rakish look from the corners of his pale eyes- a brief flash of silver in the dark- "impatient."

Hermione gave a most unladylike snort ("don't ruin the mood!" Draco complained) and promptly settled herself beneath the tree.

The unicorns, seeming to sense that there was something different- special- about this night, were quite patient with the little photography session that ensued; they were not at all skittish about the camera's flash, as Hermione had feared they might be.

After he finished playing photographer, Draco, not wanting to disturb the unicorns from Hermione's lap, made no attempt to slide into his usual position behind her. Rather, he sat against the side of the tree at a right angle from Hermione and, leaning his head back against the cool, smooth trunk, reached around and captured her hand in his.

They sat that way for a long time, first as Hermione sang the unicorns to sleep, and then in silence, both their heads tilted back against the tree trunk, gazing up at the crystalline stars. Though she sat utterly still so as not to disturb the slumbering animals, Hermione's thoughts were in a whirl. She was about to finally, after having been together for over a year, give herself up to the man she loved. And oh, she did love him. She did trust him. He said it could be good; she believed him. She was ready. She was elated. She was also, despite her earlier calm words, absolutely terrified. How could she not be, her one previous sexual experience being what it was? By the time the unicorns roused themselves and cantered away, her heart was pounding so loudly in her ears that she half-wondered if that was what had awakened them.

When Draco gave her a hand up, her legs felt like jelly. She clung to him as they made their way in silence back toward the enclosure gate, leaning against his side, his arm wrapped snugly, possessively, around her waist. With each step, she felt her panic rise. She attempted to calm herself through the use of logic; it had rarely failed her before. Draco loved her. He might not say it in so many words, but nevertheless, she knew deep-down that it was true. Therefore, he would never hurt her. And she was sick to death of living in fear of what should be an act of love. She had said she was sure she wanted this, and she was- but oh God- she couldn't help it- she was so scared.

Her thoughts were diverted from this track, however, as they came in sight of the gate. Beside her, Draco drew in a breath which indicated that he was as surprised as she by the sight that met their eyes- for there, standing directly in front of the gate, barring their way out of the enclosure, was the stallion, majestic in the moonlight.

They approached him slowly, wondering if he would step aside as they drew nearer, but he did not. He hardly moved at all; he looked like a statue standing there; a perfect sculpture of a unicorn in shimmering white marble. They stopped, uncertain, about ten feet away, glancing quickly at each other in perplexity before returning their attention to the magnificent animal before them, wondering what on Earth was going on. None of the unicorns had ever positioned themselves by the gate before.

Just as Hermione was readying herself to speak- to Draco or to the unicorn, she didn't fully know- the stallion tossed his head, and walked straight up to her, taking slow, high, prancing steps. Reaching her, he immediately bowed his magnificent head and laid it upon her shoulder, then whickered softly into her ear, causing her eyes, wide and startled, to fly once again to Draco's.

The unicorn held that pose, his head resting on Hermione's shoulder, his warm breath gently stirring her hair, for a full minute before he pulled away and danced back a few steps, turning his attention to Draco. He captured Draco's eyes in a long, steady gaze, then, very slowly, with great dignity and solemnity, he lowered his head and touched his horn first to Draco's right shoulder, then his left, and finally his right again, exactly like a king performing a knighting ceremony. This done, he backed away a few more steps, looked lingeringly once more from Draco to Hermione, then abruptly reared back on his hind legs, whinnied, and cantered away, leaving them staring after him, dumbfounded.

"Bugger," Draco said, with feeling.

"He knows," Hermione breathed; "Draco, he knows what we're about to do."

"More than that," Draco said; "he approves. I reckon he was giving us his blessing." After a long, thoughtful moment, he added, "holy shit."

"Draco Malfoy, I ought to wash your mouth out with soap!"

As they let themselves out of the gate and headed back across the grounds toward the castle, Hermione found that her fear had vanished, pushed out of her mind by the wonderment of their encounter with the unicorn. All that remained was a nervous, tingling sort of anticipation, and a feeling that she was floating, rather than walking, back toward the school, toward Gryffindor Tower, toward her room and her bed- with Draco. After all, if the stallion had intuited what they were about to do and had approved, had offered them his blessing, then it must be good; it must be right. She smiled and, without breaking stride, snuggled closer against her boyfriend- her soon-to-be-lover.

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Draco carried her over the threshold of her bedroom, and deposited her on the bed as though she were made of crystal; as though she were the most precious thing on the face of the Earth.

He dipped his head, his soft, silver hair falling about her face, and claimed her lips in a fierce kiss; it was not in his nature to kiss slowly or gently, even though his hands were the very epitome of tenderness as they roamed her body, caressing her through her clothes, awakening a need that she had never known before; never dreamed existed within her.

Finally tearing his mouth from hers, leaving her gasping for breath, he began unbuttoning her blouse slowly, slowly, planting a kiss on each new inch of flesh he exposed, until she was bare from the waist up, but for her plain white bra. Reaching a hand beneath her, he fumbled for a moment with the clasp, but to no avail (he was woefully out of practice with the bloody things).

"Damn it," he swore in frustration, causing her to giggle, and, grabbing his wand off the nightstand, vanished the offending bra with a flick of his wrist. Her laughter trailed off as she suddenly blushed deeply and looked away, bashful. She felt incredibly vulnerable all of a sudden; no one had ever seen her like this before.

"Hey." He caught her face in both his hands and turned it gently, yet inexorably, back up toward him. "Don't be shy, Hermione. You're the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. You're perfect- a goddess." He bent and kissed her again, then, "You know I mean it, right? I always mean what I say."

She nodded; it was true. By and large, Draco was a man of few words, and when he spoke, he spoke with conviction. He wouldn't have told her she was beautiful if he didn't truly believe it to be so.

Then all conscious thought was driven from her mind, her back arching clear off the bed as his hand found one of her breasts; his mouth the other.

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It was a long time before Draco was positioned over her, ready to finally consummate their love in the most intimate way. Hours of foreplay and exploration had passed- it was nearly dawn- and he still wasn't sure she was ready for this- he just couldn't stand it if he hurt her.

"Are you SURE?" he asked, for what had to be the hundredth time that night.

"Yes!" she cried, nearly sobbing with desire. "I want- I need- I don't KNOW what I need, but I know you can give it to me- Draco, please! I'm ready."

He lowered his head so that their noses were nearly touching. "You say the word and I'll stop. You know that, right?" She nodded. "Okay then- if you're sure- tell me something. When you're about to go swimming on a hot day, and you know the water will be cold- so cold it may be a shock at first, but will feel nice once you get used to it- do you ease in slowly, or do you jump?"

She stared up at him for a moment, puzzlement written all over her face, clearly not comprehending the implications of his question. That was all right. He didn't need her to understand per se; he only needed her answer, to tell him how to proceed.

"I- I'm a Gryffindor," she whispered, with a sudden, almost defiant tilt to her chin. "I jump."

That was all he needed to know. A smile touched his lips for just a fraction of a second; then he kissed her deeply and, at the same time, plunged into her, filling her completely with one swift thrust.

Her body jerked beneath his and she gave a startled cry; a cry that traveled directly from her mouth into his and was lost. And Draco found himself suddenly and inextricably caught between pleasure such as he had never known (none of the other girls he had dallied with over the years had felt like this- she must truly be a goddess, he thought fleetingly; no ordinary woman could feel this good) and a stabbing, blinding pang of guilt, for he must be hurting her, he must be- her entire body was stiff and trembling, back arched, hands clenched into fists and pushing against his shoulders.

Ah God, it felt so good; he didn't want to stop.

But he had to. He had to.

He broke the kiss and looked down at her. Her head was thrown back, her face scrunched up; eyes shut, jaw tight and breath coming in shallow bursts through clenched teeth.

"Hey," he whispered, hearing his voice break, his heart right along with it, at the thought that he had caused her pain, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, love, I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'm gonna pull out now, okay? It'll be over in a second- just hang on…hang on." And slowly, so as not to cause her more pain, he started to withdraw.

And then she did something that absolutely floored him; flinging her arms about him, she held on tight and, still through clenched teeth, cried out, "No! Don't- Draco, don't go."

He stopped instantly and stared down at her in amazement. "Hermione- I'm hurting you."

She opened her eyes and he could see tears standing in them, but she shook her head. "No. Just give- give me a minute." She let her eyes fall shut again, her warm, sweet breath bursting against his face in shallow, rapid pants, and then gave a tiny thrust upwards with her hips; a tentative, exploratory movement. Draco, who had managed to withdraw about halfway, found himself suddenly buried fully within her again.

They both gasped. Then a groan was wrenched from Draco, who was now in the throes of pleasure so intense it was very nearly pain. "Hermione," he ground out, his face just as strained as hers, "you are making it very difficult for me to stop."

"Don't…want you to stop. Just- just in shock. Like you said. I un-understand now. I just…have to get used to it. You s-said…it'll feel nice…once I'm used to it. Right?"

"Yes," Draco said in a tight voice, as he fought to maintain his self control, because at this point he was very close to being unable to stop even if she should beg him to. "Yes, but- God, Hermione, I can't stand hurting you like this!"

"Doesn't hurt…too bad," she whispered, but, belying her words, the tears in her eyes spilled over, trickling down her face.

It was as if each tear were a bucket of ice water that had been thrown over him. "That's it," he said decidedly, and tensed to withdraw again, but before he could, she had wrapped both her legs around him too.

"Oh God," he cried, "SHIT, Hermione!"

"It's okay," she said, her eyes locking onto his. "I just…feel…really, really full, that's all." She wriggled deliciously beneath him, causing him to groan yet again, and he saw the faintest hint of a smile touch her lips; probably, he thought, as it began to dawn on her just how much power she had over him in this situation. He hadn't cried out when Potter had stabbed him; hadn't made a sound under Voldemort's Cruciatus Curse; but she could reduce him to moaning like bloody Myrtle with the smallest motion in bed.

It's all over, he thought, as he smiled back ruefully. She bloody well owns me now. (As if she didn't before, whispered a corner of his mind.)

"It feels like we're one person," she breathed, and he saw that the pain in her eyes was slowly diminishing, to be replaced by an almost childlike wonderment.

Even now, she's so innocent, he thought- so wholesome, so pure- so damn far out of my league! I don't deserve to even be here; I don't deserve to the one who's joined to this amazing creature- but I'll take it; by God, I'll take it and be grateful.

"We are one person," he replied; "for right now, we are." And he bent his head and kissed her again, staying perfectly still, letting her adjust.

A long moment later, she broke the kiss and grinned up at him roguishly. "It doesn't hurt anymore," she whispered, gyrating her hips gently, causing his breath to catch in his throat; "now you can show me the pleasant part."

And he did.

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They slept far into the morning and awoke naked under the scarlet sheets, still tangled in one another's embrace. It was Draco who woke first and, gathering Hermione even closer to him, kissed her lightly on the forehead, then the tip of her nose.

Her dark eyes blinked open slowly, and she smiled sleepily, then nuzzled her head into the hollow at the base of his throat.

"Hey, bookworm," he said, his voice husky with sleep, "how you feeling?" His brow suddenly creased with concern and he added, "was it really all right? I didn't hurt you too bad?"

She shook her head against his chest, then, pulling back a little so as to look him in the eye, said, "it was amazing. I can't believe I was so scared of something so wonderful." Reaching up, she traced his sharp facial features with her hand, then ran it through his silky hair. "Thank you for showing me," she whispered, then- "I love you."

Instead of answering, he caught her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, holding her against him as though he never intended to let her go. It was only an urgent need to breathe that compelled him to finally break the kiss. Grinning down at her, he murmured, "you know you're mine forever now, don't you? My brown eyed girl."

And was puzzled when she burst into laughter.

"What's funny, Granger?" he asked, his brows knitting into a frown. He had never much liked being laughed at when he wasn't specifically going out of his way to be funny. And he hadn't intended his remark to be funny at all, seeing as it was, for all its loving tenderness, basically a declaration of ownership.

So her amusement chafed him.

Still chuckling, she explained, "it's just that it's an old Muggle song- Brown Eyed Girl. You wouldn't have known, of course. And it just seemed funny, those words coming from you, given your innate dislike of all things Muggle."

"Well," Draco said, his expression softening, "not ALL things Muggle. I like THIS brown eyed girl just fine. So, are you going to sing it for me?"

She shook her head. "I don't know all the words. And I wouldn't even if I did. Singing isn't my strong suit- I should think you would know that by now! I'm honestly surprised the unicorns never ran away from my singing voice; Ron once told me I sounded like a scalded cat…in heat."

"Remind me to sucker punch Weasley for that tomorrow," Draco said thoughtfully. Then a wicked gleam came into his eyes. "Well, if you're not going to sing me the song, Granger," he drawled, "you'd better be prepared to put your mouth to a different use!"

He captured her lips in another demanding kiss; one which led, inevitably, to other things.

They didn't leave her room until dinner time, and then it was only their voracious hunger, born of an afternoon of wildly energetic lovemaking, that drove them out.

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The next morning at breakfast, if the head boy and girl seemed once again unusually subdued, it was not this time the result of nightmares, but of a lack of sleep on both their parts, brought on, far more pleasantly, by their continued exploration of one another's bodies throughout the night. And if Harry and Ron seemed rather surly and out of sorts, that was only because their repeated knocks at Hermione's door had gone unanswered and they had been unable, therefore, to procure her assistance with their homework.

Though they made a point of grumbling about it, there were no truly hard feelings, especially once Hermione explained regretfully that she had placed a silencing spell at her door in order to catch up on lost sleep from the weekend, and as a way of making amends, promised to proof read their assignments before class.

Harry, catching the faint blush that tinged Hermione's face as she explained, and the even fainter ghost of a smirk that flitted across Draco's face at her words, suddenly found himself nursing a pretty strong suspicion about what had really been going on- and found, somewhat to his own surprise, that he was happy for her. True, he felt a faint twinge of envy born of his earlier feelings for Hermione, but he had long since resigned himself to her relationship with Draco, and had to admit that Malfoy's intentions toward his cherished friend seemed honorable, and that they made a well-matched couple. So yes, if Malfoy had finally succeeded in showing her that sex was not an act she need live in mortal fear of- (and judging from the glow of happiness and contentment that surrounded her this morning like an aura, he had, and how-) Harry was indeed happy for his friend.

Ron, on the other hand, who had never been quite as observant as Harry, sensed nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever. Thank God. He would NOT have taken Harry's altruistic view of the situation.