Title: A Friendly Game of Poker
Rating: R
Pairing: D/Hr
Summary: A boys' poker game leads to interesting revelations.
Disclaimer: Don't own a damn thing. Can you tell I am bitter? The characters belong to JK Rowling.

Author's Note: Yeah, so sorry for not updating but I was out of the country, enjoying my summer. It seems that there is now, after this, one more part left. Yippee.

Part Three: Confronting the Prat (and Past)

"You unbelievably enormous GIT!"

Draco straightened and turned around to face the screeching banshee currently standing in the middle of his living room in the form of one Hermione Granger.

And smiled. Pleasantly.

"Well, it took you long enough."

"I'm going to fucking kill you!" she yelled as she whipped out her wand and pointed it at him, her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. He found himself quite turned on. "I've killed before so don't think I will hesitate to annihilate your pathetic arse from this world!"

"Tsk, tsk, Granger," he stated as he took a step forward and casually pushed the wand aimed at his chest out of the way. Right at his heart; the symbolism was not lost on him. "Is that anyway to greet a lover?"

"We are not lovers!" she answered through gritted teeth, dropping her wand on the ground as she took a step forward, waving a finger in his face. "We shagged once, ONCE, almost eight years ago and you went and told the entire world! You bloody bastard! Forget the wand; I'll kill you with my bare hands."

"Such violence, such anger," Draco commented, remaining calm. A lesser man (or him, back in third year) would have trembled in the face of her wrath. But he was not thirteen. Or a lesser man. "There are places to go for that, Granger. I could recommend a terrific Muggle psychwhathisface. Did wonders with me and my…issues. Lovely chap."

"Psychiatrist," she corrected without hesitation and then winced. "I do not need therapy! I have every reason to be pissed. You told Ron and Harry! You told them!"

He crossed his arms over his chest, amused to no end. "They asked me. They said, "Draco, best shag you've ever had?" I had to answer. What was I supposed to do?"

"Um, hello, LIE!"

He made a shocked face, checking the urge to grin at her murderous expression. Oh how he missed this. "I couldn't possibly do that. I'm a Good Person, now. Good People don't lie to their friends. Frankly Hermione, I am a little offended that you'd suggest such a thing."

"Come off it, Malfoy," she hissed, poking a finger into his chest. "We agreed that no one had to know. We had a deal!"

"Oh how our memory fails us, my little Gryffindor," he mocked, pushing her finger out of the way, just as he had pushed her wand away. He took a step closer, reveled in the way her eyes widened half in fear and half in awareness of how close he was standing. "You decided no one had to know. Just as soon as your feet hit the ground, you ran away like the brave, righteous girl you are. And yes, I admit, I let you. But we made no such deal. Be very clear about this. I had every intention of a repeat performance. I still do."

She decided it was better to ignore the threat. Yes, Draco Malfoy always made seduction sound like a threat. "I thought we understood that that…night was a fluke, a…a thing that happened in the heat of the moment and that it was done with."

Oh, now she had crossed a line. Of course, he'd been pushing her there all along but still, there was no turning back.

"Listen here, Granger, because I will only say this once," he stated, his tone taking on a steely edge. "I won't be some Muggleborn Know-It-All's unpleasant business that is to be swept under the rug. We played it your way, little girl." His reached out to grab her; his fingers curled around her upper arm with just the slightest amount of pressure. His eyes remained on hers, amused and not the least bit vindictive. A beatific smile adorned his face. "Now it's my turn."

Hermione blinked and suddenly, the reason why dating Draco Malfoy was a Bad Idea flashed crystal clear in her head: he had, with all probability, the personality of a sociopath.

"So that's it then?" she asked, trying to tug her arm free but he had a remarkably strong grasp. That she remembered very well. "When you decide that it's time to bring back the past you can just do so at your whim and I shall just fall obligingly in line with it, then?"

"Well, obligingly would be ideal I suppose but I like it when you fight back," he replied good-naturedly, loosening his grip a little as his other hand settled on her shoulder and played with a loose strand of the ridiculously tempting hair.

"You're sick." She tried to sound disgusted but the heat rolling between their almost touching bodies was making her a little…heady. "What makes you think I rather care to oblige or fight you, Malfoy? What makes you think I care what your intentions are?"

He smirked, the hand on her shoulder skimming down her arm and pushing the material of her robe with it. The heat of his hand went through the thin cotton of her sensible blouse and had her shivering, unwillingly. "A valiant effort, love. Truly. You lie almost as well as a Slytherin."

"I am not lying." Yes, her voice quavered but that didn't make her statement less true. Right? Riiiight.

Draco lowered his head slightly, brushed his lips across her temple. "Now let's be honest. After all, that is what you go about preaching to every poor sod you meet, love. Honesty and morals and all that lot. Why don't we try it for ourselves?"

"Malfoy, I -" she tried to say but her words were cut off as he closed his forefinger and thumb over her lips, sealing them together.

"Hush," he stated with a disapproving look. "Now can you honestly tell me, Granger that you didn't have fun that night we…what's that term Muggle teenagers use these days? Oh yes, 'hooked up'? And can you say with a doubt that ever since that night there has never been a man to give you such utter pleasure as I did that fateful night?" Hermione snorted and he applied the slightest hint of pressure to her lips. "Remember, 'Mione, we're telling the truth now."

She continued staring at him, unable to speak because his fingers were still sealing her lips together. Desperately, she tried yelling. "Mmm! Mmm!"

"What's that, Granger? I can't understand what you're saying." Rolling her eyes, Hermione grabbed his wrist and wrenched his hand away from her lips before opening her mouth and biting down on his forefinger. Malfoy yelped in pain and jumped away from the brunette witch. "Ow! Fuck! Granger!"

"Never do that again!"

Malfoy's upper lip curled as his finger still throbbed. "Bitch!"

Hermione smiled smugly and put her hands on her hips. "Fuckwit."

"Need I remind you who started it that night, Hermione?" he asked, folding his arms over his chest. "If I recall correctly, it was a rather memorable moment."

They stood there, both panting slightly, and staring at each other with utter disdain. And suddenly, eight years vanished and the memory of their night in Snape's office sparked clearly in their minds.

"You're such a bitch, Granger," a drunken Draco muttered as she followed her into his Head of House's office. "Bossing everyone around. Self righteous little twit. I hate you."

"Then why are you following me, fuckwit?" she asked him primly. She had downed enough Fire Whiskey to make her tipsy and uninhibited enough to break into Snape's office without the slightest bit of fear or guilt. When Malfoy had caught her sneaking out of the Graduation celebrations, she had simply suggested he come along or leave her alone, she didn't care. That, for eighteen-year-old Hermione Granger, Head Girl extraordinaire was a foreign yet dizzyingly addictive concept: not caring.

"Because you happen to be breaking into my godfather's office," he replied testily.

"Oh come off it!" she exclaimed and then charmed the candles scattered around the office to light up. "S'not like you don't want to know what Snape is hiding. Where's your sense of adventure?"

"Why sneak off on your adventures alone, Granger? Why aren't Scarhead and Weasel accompanying you? Bloody bastards."

It seemed alcohol had loosened Hermione's tongue a bit. "Scarhead is off sulking and damning the world for his lot in life. Weasel is making out with fucking Luna Lovegood in a dark and seedy corner."

Despite his earlier declaration of hatred, he admired the girl's spirit and use of derogatory words. In his current state, it turned him on quite a bit. He smirked. "Well, good for them. Now, tell me pet, what exactly do you plan on doing now that you're here?"

Hermione circled Snape's desk and tapped on the wood before looking up at Draco and shrugging. "Something crazy and/or stupid."

"Good call," he answered as he sat down in Snape's chair, behind the desk and watched Hermione pilfer through his drawers. "May I ask why?"

"Why not?" she replied with another shrug and then hoisted herself up on the desk, facing him, her lavender dress robes settling down around her. "S'not like they can suspend me, I've graduated. No more responsible, prickly, stickler-for-the-rules Hermione Granger. They can't touch me."

"So you've gotten a big head now, have you?" he asked, raising his eyebrow. The effects of the alcohol were waning off a bit and through the intoxicated haze in his brain; he could muster up enough thought to know that this was not a terribly good idea. "Oh wait…that was always there. Snape can still cause you harm if he finds you here. Why risk your squeaky clean image?"

"Then I'm taking you down with me, Malfoy. 'Sides it's not the first time I'll be in trouble with dear old Severus." She leaned back on her arms, one palm flat against the top of the desk. She took a swig of Fire Whiskey from the bottle in her free hand. "Now, Malfoy, when are you going to quite talking and start stripping?"

Draco's eyes bugged out. How the hell did Granger know those were the words he'd had been dying to hear from her lips all year? This wasn't another one of his drunken fantasies now was it? "Excuse me?"

Hermione giggled drunkenly as she parted her legs slightly; lavender silk riding up her legs as she did so. "Don't be daft, Malfoy. I want you to shag me senseless right here on Snape's desk. It'll be the craziest and/or stupidest thing I'll ever do. Come on now, fuck me, Malfoy."

He tried to open his mouth and say something, anything, to stop the madness. But with Granger looking all soft and pretty and well, tipsy, beckoning him to do nefarious things to her body…who was he deny her such wonders?

Grinning like a fool, he stood up, stepping between the V of her legs. Leaning forward, he traced his lips against her earlobes and whispered, "I thought you'd never ask."

To Be Continued…