AN: Wow. I'm humbled by the response to the last chapter, and I hope you guys enjoy this one just as much. Thanks so much for reading. I know a work in progress can be a big undertaking and I appreciate every one of you. Extra, double, mondo thanks to my alpha reader: LaDeeDaa and my beta reader: astrangefan. They are the heroes of this story.


Of All the Gin Joints

Hermione's mind was, for once, not on the work. Every time she tried to skim the book in her hands, her mind wandered to the few short hours prior when Draco Malfoy's hands and lips had been on her - devouring her. Her knickers still wet from the encounter, keeping her mind on the task in front of her was an exercise in futility.

She'd kissed him. She'd kissed him. And, Merlin, did he kiss her back. She could still feel his fingers in her hair, at the nape of her neck, tangling, pulling.

I need a cold shower.

She tossed the book aside and sighed in frustration. She didn't really need to read any more about the blood rites. It was very clear that most of them either killed or severely debilitated the blood-letter. What she needed to do was figure out how to counter that loss of blood.

Blood Replenishing potions could help but they would not be the answer to this dilemma, particularly if Voldemort had required a whole offering - and she very much suspected the psychotic monster had. The magic of the spell would recognize the magic potion and it would require more and more blood. Besides, a Blood Replenishing potion couldn't bring someone back from total exsanguination. It could only speed up the creation of new blood cells that already existed. That's why it often took a day or two to recover from blood loss even with the use of the potion.

No, she needed to prepare for a Muggle procedure - an Exchange Transfusion. That opened up another round of issues. She'd need Muggle technology - something she'd have to find a workaround for at Hogwarts. She'd also need Padma and Madam Pomfrey meticulously briefed on the procedure. Finally, she'd need at least 5,000 ml of type specific blood for each ritual.

Blood Transfusions were nearly unheard of in the Wizarding World. In fact, the only instance she'd ever read about them was some tests a few Muggleborn Healers in Geneva were doing to help enhance outcomes beyond what the Blood Replenishing potions could accomplish. Most of what she'd need, she'd need to get from a Muggle Hospital. They weren't known for just loaning out equipment - and especially not blood.

One bit of luck was that Hermione knew her blood type - had done since she was a little girl. B negative. Her father used to tell her it was ironic given her optimistic nature as a child. She'd have to wait for Padma to find out just how familiar the former Ravenclaw was with Muggle medicine and go from there.

She stretched her arms over her head letting the bones in her back crack satisfyingly before pulling herself from her chair. She'd put off checking on the guys for too long. It was time for their evening vitals and to test out the cannabis potion. Theo would, hopefully, make a nice buffer for any awkward, post kiss tension.

She was surprised, however, when she walked into their room and found that Theo was holding the evening copy of the Sunday evening Daily Prophet and he and Draco exchanged an uneasy glance with one another.

"Oh, Merlin," she sighed. "What is it now?"

"Why don't you sit down, Hermione," Theo said, his voice calm and steady as if he were trying to diffuse a bomb with only his voice.

This can't be good.

She eyed the paper in his hand, and she could already see the distinct shape of her hair whipping back and forth on the cover photo. "What's it say?" she asked, swallowing. She could handle it. Whatever that disgusting rag had written up now, she'd be fine. She would not fall to pieces again.

You've got this.

"Here," Draco said, patting the bed next to him. "Sit."

Mechanically, she did as he asked and, for the first time in hours, the thought of their kiss was completely gone from her mind. She held her hand out and motioned for Theo to hand her the paper.

"Before you read it," Theo said, licking his lips nervously, "just remember it's rubbish and it doesn't matter. The Prophet doesn't make policy. They don't have any control over you."

"Let me have it, Theo," she said, more forcefully this time. He reluctantly handed her the paper.

She unfolded it slowly, taking in the picture first. It was, of course, not her best angle. It was an older picture - maybe a year or two old - of her coming out of the Ministry in a rush. Her hair was a tangled mess, and she was clearly busy. To be honest she looked like she had a case of resting bitch face in her focused haste. Obviously, she didn't remember the cause or why she looked so harried, but it didn't matter. The Daily Prophet was taking its opportunity to portray her as the killjoy bitch they so often liked to utilise as a punching bag.

Hermione Granger Oversteps Again

According to sources inside Azkaban Prison, Hermione Granger has not only sought to undermine the authority of the acting Warden, utilising her personal relationship with the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, to throw around toothless but alarming threats, she has now removed known Death Eaters from the prison.

The news comes as a shock given that Death Eaters were rumoured to have been imbued with untold powers by You-Know-Who before his death. While the Minister refused to speak with The Daily Prophet about this matter, other sources within the Wizengamot were not so tight-lipped.

Tracy Davis, senior page with the Wizengamot and former classmate of Hermione Granger said this, 'She did always think she was above the rules. She and her friends walked around Hogwarts as if they were untouchable. Now, as an Unspeakable, she gets to work in a Department where she has unchecked resources and power. Suits her. But this is serious business. We can't have Death Eaters on the loose, even if Hermione Granger thinks she knows best.'

Official comment by the Wizengamot has not been circulated, but an anonymous source inside the legislative body has spoken to Prophet reporters. This source indicates that there is a strong feeling inside the Wizengamot that the Minister has allowed the 'Golden Trio' and the children who fought in the Second War too much leeway as a way of apologizing for dragging them into the war in the first place. It is time for the government to take back its role in keeping and maintaining order. Oversight of the Unspeakables might be a necessary step.

Which Death Eaters Hermione may have set free and where they are being kept is, as of now, unknown.

Hermione took a deep breath.

Fuck.

She felt Draco's hand slide into hers and hold tight. "Breathe," he said.

"I'll be fine," she assured, but her voice was tighter than she'd hoped as she said it.

"Hermione, if you need us to go back," Theo started, but she cut him off with a look that could kill.

"No," she said. "I promised you that you'd never go back there and I meant it."

"Fuck," she said aloud. This threw everything off kilter. She wasn't acting outside of the law, but this article might change that. They might demand she return Draco and Theo - something she would not do. They might shut down her case before she'd finished - something she would not comply with. Would McGonagall allow her the venue to try? Would Harry and Ron still help her - risking their careers?

"Goddamnit," she said, uttering a Muggle curse for the first time in years. She felt Draco's hand squeeze hers and she looked up at him, his concerned gaze penetrating her bubble of panic.

"First of all," Draco said, "if anyone believes a word that bint Tracy Davis says, they are an imbecile. She's hated you since the moment she laid eyes on you - jealous twat. And she only got the job at the Wizengamot because her father put her there. She can barely spell her name."

"It's true," said Theo, nodding seriously. "Tracy was near obsessed with you at Hogwarts, and I'll never know how she passed a single OWL, let alone the NEWTS."

Hermione appreciated their efforts, but Tracy Davis was the least of her worries at the moment.

"I need a drink," she finally said, standing up. "Let me ready your potion, and then I'm drinking."

"Do you think that's a good idea?" Theo asked, his tone cautious.

"Let her be," Draco said, letting her hand go, finally. "You'd want to drink too."

"Fair," Theo replied with a shrug.

Theo was still awake, though barely. That was enough to call the potion a success over smoking the cannabis. Usually, about twenty minutes after a spliff, Theo was sleeping like a baby. Draco could usually stay awake but drowsy. Hermione noticed he was more alert, though he was still relaxed enough to forget his breeding and slouch.

Hermione had polished off a glass of wine and was working on her second as she flipped channels on the telly. She was sitting between the two beds, having pulled her desk chair back, using Draco's side table as her own personal bar.

Responsible to a fault, Hermione sent off notes to all the most important people via her Ministry-loaned Owl letting them know she was fine but feeling 'under the weather' and would be staying in and taking a much-needed break from work for the rest of the evening. Rilla had told her to ignore the rubbish in The Prophet and take the night for herself. It was well deserved. Harry attempted to Floo call her, but she told him there was no need - and to inform Ron likewise. She wanted to be alone. Well, not entirely alone.

Oddly enough, Theo and Draco calmed her. They didn't tell her that she was being silly, or that everything was going to be fine. When she'd made the choice to get well and truly drunk, they helped her pick out her parents' best vintage and forged on, endeavouring not to mention the Ministry or The Prophet in any capacity for the rest of the night if they could help it.

"Well, this is rubbish," she finally said, throwing the remote at Draco. "Nothing on."

"I don't know," he said, casually picking up the remote and giving it a go. "I quite enjoyed that show where the three blokes try to convince the girl to date them from behind the screen. It's usually on here somewhere about now…"

Hermione nearly spit out her wine as she cackled. "Blind Date? Merlin, if you'd told me during school Draco Malfoy would be sitting in my room scrolling for dating reality shows…"

He shrugged, still looking for a show to watch. "It's entertaining. The girl almost never picks the right fellow. Usually, the guy she ends up with looks like the kind of guy you'll read about in ten years having Avada'd half the women in a small town and burying them under his floorboards, but I like their questions. 'Bachelor Number Three, what is your favourite fantasy involving an automobile?'" Draco cooed in a girly voice.

Hermione nearly choked on her laughter.

"'Oh, I can't wait to introduce you to my stick thingy'," he mocked.

Hermione sputtered as she almost inhaled her wine. "Stick shift," she corrected with a giggle.

"Same thing," Draco pressed on, unperturbed. "I'd even say that Muggle men are hopeless in wooing women, but I've seen wizards pure as the driven snow utilise even less impressive lines."

"That is true," Hermione nodded sagely. "When it comes to cocking up flirtation and dating, men really do have a handle on it - magical or otherwise."

"Is that so?" Draco challenged, a flash of something dangerously sexy in his eyes.

"Well, not all men," she amended, sitting up straighter and taking a large gulp from her glass. "For instance," she said turning to a sleepy Theo, "I'll bet our Theo here could woo any witch he wanted."

"Probably," Draco conceded, smirking as his best mate blushed near scarlet. "Sadly, he's been in love with Pansy Parkinson since they were in diapers and she was too bloody blind to notice."

"Well," Hermione said, hoping to bring some light to Theo's night - her head was getting light and she was beginning to feel the familiar liquid energy of a good buzz – "it just so happens that Parkinson accosted me in the street the other day demanding to know if the two of you were safe."

That made Theo perk up a bit. "She what?" he demanded.

"She's back in England and demanded to know what was going on with you," Hermione clarified further.

Theo's eyes twinkled a moment, a soft smile playing at his drowsy features. "Merlin, I wish I could see her."

"Soon," Hermione promised. "Soon."

Draco finally found something that caught his eye on the television, though it was not Blind Date. It was an old movie. He'd wondered why it was not in colour the way everything else he'd seen had been.

"Oh, yes!" Hermione gushed. "This is one of my all-time favourite movies and it's just started. Do you mind?"

He shook his head, tossing the remote onto the table between them. "It's just started, honestly. All you need for context is that this guy, Rick, owns this nightclub in Morocco in the middle of World War II - do you remember anything about that from the Wizarding War that coincided with the fall of Grindelwald?"

"Yes, I'm somewhat familiar. The Germans were behind that one, right?"

Hermione pushed past the desire to explain in great detail what exactly had happened and nodded. "Basically. So, German troops, Vichy French who were friendly with the Germans, as well as people looking to make their way through Morocco to the States all end up frequenting this place. Rick claims to be impartial but well, you'll see."

Draco nodded, getting the gist of what he'd missed and turned his attention back to the movie, a bit more interested. Hermione decided to do their vitals one more time before she was so pissed she couldn't properly assess them. Theo had already passed out by the time she finished with him. He was doing well - no major pain spikes all day.

If I can just get them through this ritual.

She turned off his bedside light leaving only Draco's and the TV lighting the room. Draco's vitals, too, were perfectly stable so she set her wand on the table and just as she was about to sit down in her chair, Draco moved to his left making room for her on the bed and patted the empty space beside him. "I promise not to bite," he said with a lazy grin.

She knew better than to get in bed with him. She was about to finish off her second glass of wine and intended to finish the whole bottle. She wasn't thinking clearly. They were watching one of her favourite romantic movies. But she'd had just enough wine to be reckless so, with a bit of difficulty she pulled herself up, swallowed the last of her glass and grabbed the whole bottle before plopping down on the bed right beside Draco.

He smiled warmly at her before clicking off his own light and turning back to the screen. The warm tingling feeling in her limbs as well as the blurred sense of propriety from the wine shut off the part of her brain that warned her of the danger of this position.

Too close.

Don't care.

After several minutes it became clear neither of them could focus on the movie. They inched closer and closer, Hermione nearly holding her breath as she anticipated his every move, every twitch. She'd have to force it on him another time when he wasn't high, and she wasn't halfway to drunk. Casablanca deserved one's full attention.

Still, they sat in silence and pretended to watch the movie. Theo snored in his sleep and flopped over onto his stomach as he often did, and Hermione chuckled. "Out like a light."

"Like magic," Draco said. "You are so worried about me becoming addicted to the Dreamless Sleeping Draught, but I might be addicted to cannabis. It's the only way I can sleep at this point."

Hermione tipped the wine bottle back and took a long chug before placing it back on the side table and rolling over on her side to face Draco. He immediately did the same, the movie only existing to cast an eerie blue light on them as they stared at each other. She propped her cheek on her hand as she leaned against his extra pillow and watched as he swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing.

Nervous.

Hermione wondered how she'd gotten better at reading him under the haze of alcohol. His left hand - his Marked hand - reached out to push a piece of her hair behind her ear and she saw the black webbing was dormant for the moment.

"If you become addicted to cannabis it's much less debilitating," she informed him. Though her mind was hardly on the nuances of addiction. She almost moaned at the light touch of his fingers against her forehead.

Pathetic control, Hermione.

"It's not the only addiction I'll have acquired by the time I leave here," Draco said, his tone husky and it, alone, threatened to ruin her knickers. Looking at her like that should have been illegal. He had to know the effect he had on her.

"Draco," she warned. "If you don't want me, you can't say things like that." Sober Hermione would never have been so forthright. Sober Hermione was prepared to put their kiss behind them and pretend she didn't think about it every waking moment. Buzzed Hermione was a brat.

"You know very well that I do want you," Draco said, his tone almost pained. "I can't have you."

"You know, you put me in a frustrating position, Draco," Hermione said matter-of-factly, letting her own hand reach up and brush his hair out of his beautiful, intense, grey eyes. "I know that I shouldn't kiss you. I shouldn't want to kiss you. It's inappropriate. It's wrong. It's not fair to you. But then you say rubbish things like that and I want to prove to you just how wrong you are."

"Do you think it is any easier for me?" he asked, though his tone was amused rather than accusatory. "All I can think about for days is fucking you into this mattress. I watch you flit around this house, and I want to own you, claim you, bring you down to my level and keep you there - forever. But I can't do that. It's not fair to you. I'm Marked. Whatever happens I'll always be Marked. It's not just with this," he held up his left forearm.

"Undo the curse, remove it forever, get me pardoned by the Wizengamot, do whatever you think you can do - it won't change anything. I'm Marked because I deserve it, because I asked for it. If my penance is having to watch you walk away and be with someone who deserves you - it's no less than I deserve."

"Draco…" she breathed again, her eyes getting misty as she placed a tentative hand on his chest. "You make this so, so hard…"

"You're impossible," he breathed as they moved in closer. His right arm snaked under her and pulled her closer to him by the waist. "How drunk are you?" he asked, searching her eyes intensely.

"Just enough to…" she stopped talking as her lips reached his, wrapping her arm around his neck as she pulled herself flush against his body.

He hissed in pain and she immediately unhanded him. "No, don't stop," he pleaded, pulling her back, his hands fisting her shirt as he held onto her like a lifeline. His lips were on hers again, but only for a moment. He quickly kissed a path along her cheek and down to her neck where he licked and nipped at her overheated flesh.

Hermione sighed, fingers carding through Draco's hair as his mouth attacked her neck. She hiked her leg over his hip trying to pull him as close to her as possible and his hand immediately gripped her thigh and held her there. "Fuck," he muttered against her, nipping at her collarbone as he worked his way back up to her mouth.

The kiss was not as violent as their first. It wasn't a battle of two people fighting desperately to ignore their attraction. It was intense but slow, meticulous, thorough. Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever been as thoroughly snogged in her life. Draco wanted to taste every inch of her, and she felt like she wanted to swallow him whole, let him inside, let him be part of her and her a part of him.

She didn't know where to touch, but she wanted more of him. She avoided his left arm as she moved her hands down to wrap around his waist as well, letting her fingers tease the skin exposed by his shirt. He was soft and hard all at once and she leveraged her leg that was already hooked around his to angle her body to rub against his thigh trying to ease the tension growing between her legs.

Fuck. Yes.

She moaned and he gripped her hips before flipping them over so that he was cradled between her thighs. He held himself up with his left hand while his other roamed down the front of her body, never stopping until it reached its destination. "I have to know…" he breathed against her mouth. "I have to know if you are as wet as I am hard."

Hermione shuddered against him, as he pushed aside her shorts and knickers with two fingers and dipped them inside her. Her legs spread wider, and she choked out a moan against his shoulder.

"Merlin," he sighed against her.

"It's Hermione actually," she joked though it took some effort forming the words, but she was rewarded with a deep chuckle, then his fingers swept gently past her clit, interrupting her ability to speak at all.

"This is torture," he breathed against her lips. "You are so wet, so warm, so tight. This is my punishment. You are here, offering me everything I want, and I can't take it."

"Why can't you?" Hermione boldly asked, rolling her hips against his fingers.

"Because the only thing worse than not having you would be to selfishly take you," He answered, nipping at her bottom lip.

"Can't take what you are given," she moaned, widening her thighs farther to try and feel more of him, his hard length was achingly close and yet not quite there.

"Hermione…" he moaned, and the tone sounded pained. She pulled back instantly to check that he was not hurt. His eyes were screwed shut; his right hand instantly left her wet core as he leaned down to rest his forehead against her chest.

"Draco," she said, pushing the haze of lust from her brain and trying to hold on to the last shreds of her sobriety. "Draco, I don't know what is happening, I don't know why I feel the way I do, but I have seen you. I know you, and you are not the monster you think you are."

"The thing is, Hermione," Draco said, twisting his head to the side to rest his cheek against her breast, "and I mean this with all the respect - the fact that you don't think I'm a monster doesn't make me feel better. You, annoyingly, see the good in the worst people."

"I'm not as purehearted as you and Harry accuse," Hermione huffed. "Compassion and empathy don't mean I ignore the bad or that I think every murderer is just a misunderstood victim. I don't go around trying to rehabilitate rapists. I have a lot of hate in my heart, Draco. I hate people. I wake up to nightmares of torture, starvation, chilly cold wind against my wet, shivering skin, a cursed locket around my neck and thoughts that still haunt me."

Draco squeezed her tighter but didn't lift his head from her chest. She reached up and ran a gentle hand through his hair. "I know what you've done. I know what harm your actions have caused people - some of whom I care a great deal about." She thought of Bill who was mauled by Greyback whom Draco let into Hogwarts, Madam Rosmerta who'd never really recovered from the Imperio Draco had used on her, and Katie Bell whom he'd cursed. Ron. Hell, she'd nearly forgotten he'd technically poisoned Ron. She quickly reminded herself to give her red-headed best friend a hug for his extremely patient treatment of Draco over the last week.

"I'm not absolving you of your deeds, Draco. I'm not making excuses with your age. But you were a boy. You were a boy put in an impossible situation. Yes, you were a blood purist git. Yes, you wanted the glory, and your ego was massive. I went to Hogwarts with you, remember? I saw you sentence a Hippogriff to death for wounding your pride. I saw you pick on people weaker than you. But I also saw - even then - the change that real danger, real evil made in you.

"I should have cared more after the War. I should have made an effort to attend the trials and make sure justice was done. I knew better. The Ministry has never been trustworthy - and populism even less so. But I didn't. I feel that guilt…"

Draco let out a sharp breath. "I hate that. I hate that you feel guilty for me. Nothing I've ever done has earned me the right to your feelings of guilt. I'm only alive because of you."

"And I'm only alive because of you," Hermione said, waving her left forearm in front of his face. "You have to face it. Whether you think you are worthy or not, I think you are worthy. You are worthy of redemption, Draco. You can be a good man if you are given the chance."

"I don't know about that," Draco said with a sigh. "You say you aren't naive, but let's be really honest about things. I'm the sum of the parts that have created me. I'd die for Theo and mum. I'd die for…you. But I'm not anywhere close to being the altruistic man you are describing."

Hermione felt her heart skip a beat when he admitted how deep his feelings went - in his own way. "Draco, I don't want you to die for me. I want you to try to live. And after I remove your Mark, get rid of the Dark Energy at Hogwarts, and get the Ministry to reevaluate your case in the light of day I want you to believe you have a right to live."

"Even if you do all of that," Draco sounded sceptical, his fingers toying with the edge of her t-shirt, "I'll still not be worthy of you."

Hermione tutted. "I'm not a goddess. Don't put me on a pedestal. Let me decide what I deserve."

He said nothing but hummed against her chest. And they both lay wrapped in each other's arms for several long, comfortable moments.

"I don't want you to go," he finally admitted.

"I'll stay for a little while," Hermione replied.

"FUCK!" Hermione was jolted awake with a shove as she tumbled out of the bed and onto her arse.

She heard a snort of amusement along with a hiss of pain as her pounding head tried to take in the scene around her.

It's so bright. Ouch.

Rubbing her eyes vigorously, she finally opened them again and realised she'd been nearly catapulted from Draco's bed. "Hermione! Are you okay?" Draco's pained and muffled voice could be heard before she saw him peek over the side of the bed and pierce her with a worried look.

Hermione giggled. Theo must have taken that as his sign that he was allowed to find the situation funny, and he let out a cackle from the far side of the room by the bookshelf.

"I'm fine," Hermione said. "I just hadn't expected to wake up with a hang-over, being thrown from the bed."

"I'm sorry," Draco said, his voice sounding far too worried for such a minor thing. Hermione had figured that she'd accidentally brushed up against his Mark while they slept which is why he shoved her on instinct. He tried to explain as much, but she waved him off.

"It's fine," She said, rubbing her bum as she pulled herself up. "My arse is probably bruised, but I'll live." Draco didn't look convinced.

"While we are on the topic…" Theo said, leafing through one of her books casually, "Should I start sleeping in the other room."

At that, Hermione blushed crimson. The shock of the morning had made her forget what a compromising position Theo must have found them in when he awoke.

"No," Hermione answered quickly. Last night had been helped along by wine and cannabis. Everything she'd told Draco was true and it was a conversation they needed to have, but it wouldn't become a habit.

Besides, I have my room.

She shut that thought down. Better not to go there. "Sorry, I slept in here last night. I was more tired than I thought."

"Right," said Theo with a smirk. She wanted to smack him.

Git.

"Are you sure you are okay?" Draco asked, getting up from the bed and stretching.

"Nothing a hang-over potion won't fix," Hermione assured him. Before she could even go to the potions cabinet, she saw he had it in his hand and was passing it off to her.

"Drink up," he said.

"Thanks."

She gulped down the horrid concoction and set the vial aside for later cleaning. "If the two of you can handle breakfast, I'm going to call on Padma to talk about our plan for the counter curse." She noticed Draco's jaw clenched but he didn't say anything. He was going to have to let her save him whether he liked it or not, she'd decided. "I'm hoping we can work out the plan today, get the materials by tomorrow, and remove your Marks Wednesday."

Theo nodded his approval and went back to the book he was pursuing. Draco followed Hermione out of the room. "Wait," he said, reaching out for her arm. She stopped and turned back to him, a tentative smile on her lips as their fingers interlocked. He looked serious.

"No more serious talks," she declared before he could start. "Last night was a lot. Let's just get through this and after you are on the mend, we'll give the conversation another go."

He looked conflicted for a moment but finally nodded, raising his finger to her face and rubbing the back of his knuckles across her cheek. "Okay," he finally said and a tentative smile crossed his lips. The butterflies in Hermione's stomach tap danced about as she made her way down to the Floo.