Last Time:

"Can we go somewhere else to talk?"

The blonde was about to refuse and demand every answer, when he noticed the pleading in her voice and eyes.

Draco was worried. He looked at his mate and saw a girl he had never met. She was shy and fidgety, and worried about something. She took a deep breath.

"Ask me."

"What?" She was so straightforward it was bamboozling.

"I said, ask me," Roanoke repeated bravely, and tilted her chin up.

"Ask you what?"

"A moment ago you had so many questions, now I am ready to give answers."

They had been standing just inside the door of his beautiful room, decked out in green and silver and black. Very sophisticated, very Slytherin. Draco suddenly decided that maybe they should sit down for such a serious talk. There were things he needed to know. The blonde pulled his wand from his robes and waved it, doing a complex light spell. Roanoke blinked in surprise and turned to him before following him to his equivalent of a common room.

The room into which she had allowed herself to be lead was warm and homey, despite the coloring. It seemed that Draco either was, or had a very good home designer. The pale beauty giggled, guessing that it was the latter. The blonde Adonis turned to her, his silver orbs probing her face, but she merely dismissed his unspoken question with a wave of her hand. Finishing her laughing fit, Roanoke peered into the next room as Draco started the fire with a wave of his wand, behind her.

The area that the plump girl found herself inspecting happened to be Draco's bedroom. It was impeccably cleaned, like the rest of his not-so-humble-abode. Seeing this, and a large, comfortable-looking bed, Roanoke ran in.

­­­­­­­­­­­When Draco had finished primping his living space so it was, well, inhabitable, he turned to find his mate – gone. He had called her name a good five times in his feverish panic, when he eventually heard a contented humming coming from his bedroom.

Although he was worried sick about the girl who had mysteriously disappeared, not only because she was missing in action, but also because of her earlier actions. She had been acting strangely ever since they had met up with the Boy-Who-Wouldn't-Die. The silver-eyed demi-god peered around the doorframe with every possible caution. This was quickly put at ease by the sight that met his eyes. There, flung across his bed, was Roanoke, sleeping. She hummed as she slept, though he was unsure how. He remembered once, when he was a child, he had seen a muggle boy and girl use the same tone to get a Periwinkle to come out of it's shell while down at the beach. It was a comforting tone, and his fingers itched to touch its source.

The Slytherin toed off his shoes and walked across the plush carpet, thinking back on their past conversation about shoes, wondering where she got that stuff. Draco could walk stealthily as a cat when he needed to, but it seemed around her, even whilst she slept, he was loud and clumsy and inarticulate. These qualities were not helpful when trying to keep from waking a sleeping person. The blonde soon discovered though, that Roanoke could probably sleep through a bomb (as she would admit later to have done). This knowledge was only revealed, unfortunately, after the usually graceful boy had tripped over both of his shoes, his own pant leg and a chair, making a nice racket.

After an eternity (or so it seemed to Draco), the molten-eyed boy sat on the bed next to his mate. Before he knew what he was doing, Draco had reached out and placed a piece of Roanoke's fiery hair behind an ear, where it so rightfully belonged. He so wanted to touch her, to kiss her, to take her, but he knew better. She would never be his if he didn't let her take her own time. Sighing, Draco cupped her cheek in one hand and placed a soft kiss on her forehead. When the Slytherin pulled away, he saw two stormy gray eyes staring up at him, but not protesting, never protesting.

"Ow," the girl said simply, her eyebrows knitted together.

"What?" The confused boy asked, expecting some sort of romantics, "Did I hurt you?"

"No, but a warning to you," she replied, sitting up, "Never, never fall asleep with contacts in."

Draco's mate rushed off to the Slytherin's personal bath, pulling out some sort of case as she went. The Veela just sat there, pulled his legs up and crossed them under his bottom and wondered, "What's a contact?"

When Draco heard Roanoke begin to speak to herself and other inanimate objects, as well as the 'contacts', he decided to peek in and see what exactly she was fighting against. Peering into the much to brightly lit bathroom, Draco found himself staring at a very strange scene indeed. This included one girl, one mirror, one contact in its case, one finger poking around one eye, and one contact behind Roanoke's eye.

"Argh!" The girl grumbled, her left eye closed and the other squinting in pain. She began to stomp about, muttering angrily about 'damn contacts', 'stupid eyes' and 'fricking beds' that induced 'fricking sleep'. Draco almost began to laugh. Almost, being a key word, because it was really rather frightening.

It was a good ten minutes later, and quite a few cusses later as well. Draco had eventually managed to accio the contact out of Roanoke's eye, much to her displeasure, because, from what he gathered, it felt 'ewwy'. Now the girl was reclining on Draco's bed, her contacts both in their case, and her glasses safely on her face. He was next to her, but carefully not touching her, as he didn't want to get... let's just say, out of control. The pale girl rolled over on the huge bed, turning toward the Veela.

"Do you still want to ask?" Roanoke inquired nervously.

"Do you still want to tell me?" The gray-eyed boy asked back, trying to mask his need for information.

"Yes," she looked at her toes, "You deserve to know."

Draco looked at the uneasy girl expectantly, but when she wasn't forthcoming with information, he, daringly, placed two fingers beneath her chin and forced her to stare him down.

"Do you want to tell me?" The Prince of Slytherin asked again.

Roanoke made no answer, but didn't look away either. Instead, she bit her lip in an innocent, but enticing gesture. This tiny thing nearly drove Draco crazy; it was almost physically difficult to resist the urge to touch her skin, shining in the moonlight from his spelled window in the Dungeons. Finally, with a deep, unsure breath, she captured his lips in a kiss. It was chaste and sweet, but the part-Veela was overcome with passion and love and quickly deepened the kiss. After a moment, Roanoke reluctantly pulled away, leaving a disappointed Draco half-sitting, half-lying next to her. Roanoke took yet another deep breath and squeezed her eyes shut.

"I'm a muggle."

YAY! secret is out!
How will Draco take it!