I awoke, not with the gradual coming into being that usually accompanies the act of letting oneself sleep until waking, but with a sudden and low-grade panic of the 'where the fuck am I' variety.

I'd been dreaming of being eaten. More specifically, being swallowed head first by an enormous python, while it's coils choked the life out of me, and woken tangled in the lavender scented linen of hotel sheets.

The Freudian symbolism was not lost on me.

Also, it was pretty obvious that my little therapy session was not the answer to the disturbing dreams issue.

Big yawn, then a glance at the alarm on the night stand… which was still blinking 8:00 am because I'd apparently forgotten to finish setting it last night. Lovely.

Well after 8, then, I thought, and a glance at the wall clock across the room confirmed it. 9:15, it read, and I felt my panic shit from 'where the fuck am I,' to 'I'm so fucking late,' before it occurred to me that I didn't really have anything to be late for.

I wouldn't be given another assignment for the next few days…

By now I was out of bed, operating on some primal impulse to fulfill my daily caffeine requirement, and had already emptied a packet of hotel coffee into a hotel filter, and was currently filling the reservoir of a hotel coffee maker with hotel tap water. There was something nagging at the back of my head, something I needed to do this morning, but I'd slept so badly last night that I couldn't quite get my mind to focus on whatever it was. I was hopeful that the coffee would help.

I brewed the first few ounces directly into the mug, and downed the super strong sludge as quickly as its temperature would allow. The effects were nearly instantaneous.

Gremlins, I remembered, as my vaporous thoughts condensed into something like cognition, and a meeting with a French gremlin expert that I was planning to have today regarding the behavioral oddities of the Ridgeback gremlins.

I smiled, more and more like myself every moment. Caffeine was a beautiful thing.

But I'd initially intended to meet him at 10, and that meant I needed to hurry. I downed the rest of my coffee and earned myself a burned tongue for my trouble… at least I'd be conscious at the meeting, though.

I set about getting ready. As much as it pained me to do so, I chose to forgo my shower in favor of getting to Monsieur de Carvier's office on time. I was a good thing that Malfoy'd convinced me to stay in Paris last night, or there was no way I'd have time to be ready.

Oh bugger.

Thinking about him made me realize that I'd been actively trying not to think about him all morning.

Malfoy.

It was instantly disturbing to me the frequency with which his name had become a paragraph in my vocabulary.

It occurred to me that I gave him far too much thought.

And speaking of thought, what the hell had he been thinking last night? I mean… he… he had…

Closed mouth. Barely more than a whisper of a touch.

I couldn't help the shiver that worked its way up my spine at the memory… and my immediate reaction? Retreat.

Malfoy.

There was that paragraph again.

Perhaps, I comforted myself, he was simply drunk, and randy, and not thinking too clearly. Perhaps any woman who'd come along would have done the trick (this wasn't nearly as comforting as I'd thought it would be.) He'd probably just as soon forget it had ever happened, now that he was sober, and thinking clearly (this was even less of a comfort.)

I should have been angry at the violation (when had I ever given him any indication that I'd be interested) or offended at his presumption (who did he think I was, some sort of floozy?) The truth was really scary. The truth was… I didn't know how I felt about that kiss.

And for the first time in my life, I didn't know how I felt about Draco Malfoy.

One thing I did know was that I was in no hurry to see him after last night's fiasco. I was in no hurry to see him again until I could be absolutely positive of my ability to hate him. It was just so much less confusing that way. And the last thing I needed was the complication of not hating Malfoy, not hating Malfoy was the sort of thing that could tilt the world on its axis.

Okay, so there was really no way of getting around the fact that I no longer hated him, no matter how much I protested it, but I still found him irritating, self-centered, arrogant, and rude… surely that counted for something… surely…

I stopped myself right there. I didn't have time for this… see that was why it was so much easier to hate Malfoy, hate was much simpler than this grudging respect/irritation/whatever else thing I felt now, and I was in far too big a hurry to have time to analyze it. I still had to get out of here and meet M. De Carvier and as I'd intended to go home, I hadn't bothered to bring a change of clothes.

I needed that energy I was expending on Malfoy in order to focus. I had never been any good with fashion, and alteration spells were lost on me. I managed to shorten my dress into a fashionable top, but the pants I transfigured from the bed linens were more serviceable than fashionable.

A glance at the mirror confirmed that, while certainly not ideal the ensemble would do. And then I was out the door, and down the hall as quickly as my legs could carry me. Naturally, there were apparition wards all over this hotel, and I needed to get to the lobby and an apparition zone if I wanted to make it to my meeting on time.

I was down the hall so fast, that I didn't even see Malfoy leaning against his door, so it came as a complete surprise when a call of "Granger!" reached my ears.

I froze mid-step, with my back to him, and even realizing how dangerous it was to have my back to a Slytherin, I couldn't bring myself to turn around. Hadn't I just gotten through thinking that I didn't have the energy to deal with him after last night? When did I get so damned lucky?

"What?" If the word were tangible, it would have been made of solid ice.

And it was returned with a chuckle.

"For Christ's sake, Granger, turn around."

It occurred to me how silly it was for me not to. I mean, what had I to be afraid of? I complied.

He was leaning one shoulder against the door, his wine colored shirt bunching where it met the wood, one hand shoved into black trousers, while the other ran through shower-damp hair. And no visible signs of the hangover he so richly deserved.

I hated that he managed to look so impeccable. And made looking that way look so easy.

Lucky bastard.

"Thought you'd slip away without having to see me?" he questioned with a sly smile.

My stomach did a quick roll and dip to the right. Was I that transparent?

But more importantly, why was I letting him get to me?

A brush, like the flutter of a butterfly's wing. Warm, soft lips…

I gave myself a mental shake. This wasn't as big a deal as I was making it, surely. Malfoy must have kissed thousands of women, certainly last night wasn't special. And I… well, I'd been kissed better and by people I liked a hell of a lot more. This was nothing and I sure as hell wasn't going to let it turn into something.

"Actually," and I was quite proud of the clipped, uncaring tone of my voice, "I was on my way to an appointment."

His brow quirked, "oh, and what appointment is that?"

"Gremlin expert." I reminded him.

"Ah, yes… how very like you."

What was that supposed to mean?

"Malfoy, I have work to be doing," I said with a sniff, and would have turned on my heel, if he hadn't moved so fast.

He closed the distance between us in and instant, and kept me turned toward him with a firm hand on my shoulder. His smile attempted harmless, and failed miserably. "relax Granger. Don't get so huffy. I only meant that it was like you to wake up and Paris and immediately think of work." He turned me now, throwing his arm over my shoulder in a chummy manner, and walking me toward the lift. "I suppose," he continued, his grin leaving off harmless in favor of devilish, "that I should be damned glad you work for me."

"You're awfully chipper this morning," I grumbled, throwing off his arm, though continuing to walk beside him.

Now he was positively grinning, "I can't help it," he said, as we drew to a stop outside the lift, and he pressed the call button. As we waited for it to arrive, he turned his grin to me, "I slept well."

Good thing one of us did.

I wondered if his peaceful night had had anything to do with the activity I'd caught him engaged in… and felt the instant and powerful urge to wash my brain.

God, I hoped he didn't notice my blush.

It seemed forever before the elevator arrived, and I was more than a little irritated at Malfoy's insistence on accompanying me to the lobby.

I couldn't apparate out soon enough.

(iiiiiIiiiiii)

I'm back every one! More to come later. I thought I'd get the difficult 'dealing with the kiss' thing over and done with, and then move the plot along.

Sorry for the long absence, by the way… I was incredibly bogged down at school, plus I was having the sort of roommate issues that kept me awake at night. Let's just say that it wasn't the sort of environment that was conducive to creativity, and leave it at that. Now I'm out for the summer, and can't wait to get back to this story… I hope that this will be enough for now…

And tippietoes, I'm holding you to that!