Hermione and Draco are still trying to find out what's going on. They get a bit closer doing so, too ;).

I'd like to express my heartfelt gratitude to all readers and especially those who take their time to leave favourites and comments! It really means a lot to me and it's very encouraging to get all that feedback 3. It makes me write more faster!

A big thank you to Kyonomiko for her wonderful alpha work, and to Riptide who is always a fantastic beta-reader helping me with my writing :). Especially in this chapter, you've made so many important comments, and they definitely improved my story! 3

This story is cross-posted from AO3 where it's usually updated one or two days earlier than ffn. My username over there is sarena.

Disclaimer: All rights belong to JK Rowling and her publishers. I just borrow the characters and the world for a bit; the plot (as little as there is) is mine, though. This is a non-profit work, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Edited due to minor issues April 2020

Draco looked up at the insistent tapping on the window which indicated the arrival of his old but trusted eagle owl. He walked to the window and let Aures in. She presented her leg and the small strip of paper which must've been Granger's answer. The witch didn't seem to be the type to perfume her correspondence, but he put the paper to his nose anyway, just not to be sure if he'd smelled anything or if it was just his imagination. He traced her seal with his fingertips before he broke it; the image of an open book with her initials was an excellent mirror of her personality.

Malfoy,

I won't be able to make it until 8. I'll apparate to the spot outside the manor.

HG

It had taken no longer than three quite frustrating days to make him cave and send her a message requesting a meeting. It certainly wasn't too early to invite her over again. They needed to stay in close contact to establish a prolific working relationship, after all. And her presence was kind of pleasant, too, not just because the last one of their meetings had provided him with so much inspiration for his lonely nights, so the proposed dinner was just a logical step.

He really didn't want to analyse too deeply why he was still making up all kind of logical explanations for his eagerness to be with her. He also didn't want to analyse why his blood started to boil when he imagined what she might've done after her departure last Saturday night.

Looking at the pile of journals across the big desk in the library and the list of possible references he'd made in the few days passed since their tea and their heated kiss, he got up and stretched his back. Those hours spent bowed over his grandfather's journals took their toll, and still, he was glad for them as they did bring a bit of light into this mess. Some of the observations he'd made himself were described in Abraxas' notes, as well, further cementing the hypothesis of the hereditary nature of his condition.

The sheet with his own notes in his hand, he went to the library's section on genealogical magic. He definitely hoped Granger had been able to modify her searching charm for words in books. Growing up with the steadily extending library, he had a vague idea of what he would find where, but he couldn't remember every detail he'd ever read, and there might've been conclusive material in the rest of the documents from the Malfoy vault, too. That spell would be a significant simplification of the whole process.

He browsed through a few shelves and then settled on a distinctive rack. The titles of the stories seemed promising. Magic and Money—How to Preserve Both. Heirloom through the Changing Ages. Keeping Your Magic Pure—You and Your Heirs. Seeing the authors, Draco couldn't shake off a certain feeling of discomfort. He was quite sure that Granger wouldn't approve of some of those books, with the ugly blood supremacy especially the latter of them likely spewed.

Draco threw a glance back at the desk and the piles of documents still under the conservation charm. He hadn't had much time to go through them in detail, but he ordered them by type and age, leaving the familial connections disregarded for now. Sorting them by topic might have been better, though, and he put that on the mental list he wanted to discuss with Granger. Thank Salazar, the vast majority of those notes and journals were not written in ancient runes and similar dead languages requiring years of study.

"Master Draco, has you decided on dinner for the young Mistress?"

He whipped his head to the elf, not having heard her apparition at all. "Wompy, do make yourself better known in the future, will you?" Draco steadied his heartbeat, fingers relaxing their grip on his wand, but at the elf's crestfallen face, he added quickly, "I'm not angry, just surprised. How did you fare with your enquiries regarding Muggle cuisine?"

"Good, Master. Muggles fancies Italian food, especially a simple dish calls pizzazz." The elf lowered her voice in a conspiratorial tone. "Everyone loves it."

His eyebrows twitched up at the unexpected response, but he settled for saying, "All right. Please prepare it tonight. Miss Granger has announced her arrival for eight o'clock, so I expect us to eat by eight-thirty."

"Of course, Master Draco."

Draco shook his head at the repeatedly soundless apparition of the elf, and then pulled out the books he wanted to have a look at, levitating them to the already full desk. He might have to ask Wompy to bring in another one, so they could keep the piles separate. Having another look at his notes, he chose Heirloom through the Ages and marked down the chapters which seemed the most promising.

He kept filling a handful of pages in his own notebook until the set alarm went off with a chime. Relieving the tautness, especially in his arm and back muscles, felt good after prolonged times in the same position, and he shortly contemplated a change of clothes. But he didn't want to seem too keen, so he just spelled the wrinkles out of his blue shirt and grey trousers, and decided to walk the few metres to the apparition point.

The gardens were in full bloom after the rainy days had changed to warm and sunny, the air filled with floral scents and the noises of little critters. Draco admired the onset of a colourful sunset, and thought about the best way through the green to show it off to Granger. He was sure she'd appreciate the flawless efforts of his mother to shape the landscape and flowers to resemble a lush and welcoming showpiece of the new Malfoys.

Two minutes before eight o'clock he arrived at the apparition point, raking his fingers through his hair. His mental preparations for the evening turned out to have been for nought when he realised that he didn't even know how to greet her. Would she expect professional distance? Or would she welcome a lingering touch, maybe a soft kiss on her cheek, or even a long embrace? Draco opened the top button of his shirt and lifted it a bit off his chest to cool his warm skin. He hoped his appendages wouldn't make an appearance the second she made hers. It was embarrassing enough that Granger knew they'd grow when he was angry or the moment he couldn't see straight anymore because she aroused him beyond sanity.

His musings were disrupted by a soft plop, and Granger and Wompy appeared hand-in-hand at the apparition point. He looked at his watch—one minute past eight—and then at Granger's red face.

"I'm so sorry, Mal—Draco. I don't know how that happened. I concentrated on the point here, and I ended up in your library! I apologise for the mishap. It really wasn't on purpose."

Wompy shook her hand a little and Granger let loose of her white-knuckled grip, throwing an apologetic look at the elf who winced almost indiscernibly. The witch was in a dark blue dress with a low v-neck, and he himself looked positively peasant next to her spectacular self. It was probably best to rid them both of all clothes to be on equal footing again. Slowly, of course. With a lot of tongue and nips on his part. He groaned inwardly, and wondered why he spent so much time on wanking when a little swell of sweet skin brought his libido back to high levels again, anyway. Grasping for much-needed distraction, he looked at his home through the massive entrance gates and the path leading back to it, and tried to remember the manners his mother still hadn't given up attempting to drill into him.

"Welcome back, Hermione. At least you didn't splinch yourself, if I observe correctly? I wanted to take a short stroll through the gardens with you, if you'd like to. They are magnificent around this time of the year." He lifted his arm for her to take, and stubbornly refused to lick the small gathering of sweat off his upper lip. His nerves calmed when she smiled at him, and put her hand on his arm. The matter of welcoming was settled, but definitely not as he'd have expected or maybe would've hoped for.

"Your mother's work?" Hermione flourished her arm at the scenery in front of them.

"Yes. She likes everything with colour and a nice scent. She also likes what she calls organised wilds, so her aim is not only to plant flowers but to integrate them into the existing landscape of trees and paths, only changing a little each time. The basic layout of the gardens had been arranged shortly after the Malfois came to Britain, and single trees still stem back from that time. Literally. It would feel like a sacrilege to fell one of them just for aesthetic purposes."

He was rambling. Merlin, was he rambling, but for the cunning of Salazar, he couldn't make himself slow down his speaking for fear of a pause he couldn't figure out how to fill.

She hummed, and took a deep breath of air, her chest expanding and her fingers slightly curling around his arm. He liked to think she enjoyed their contact. From the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a pale line vanishing in her cleavage. He swallowed his dry throat away, thinking of his own scars, and lowered his glance at the forearm next to his. There was a special scar inside of it, he knew. Doubly-abhorrent because it had come from his aunt, and now here he was, feeling immeasurably attracted to somebody who would understandably rather keep her distance from him and his family.

"Do you know their names?"

Draco jerked out of his reverie and looked at her with a slightly creased forehead. They passed the fountain, the sun playing little rainbows in the drops of water.

"The flowers. Do you know their names?" She repeated with a delicate lifting of the corners of her lips.

"Apart from the simplicity of rose, tulip, dandelion? No. You'd have to talk to Mother about that. She could tell you the story of all of them, I'm sure."

Hermione shrugged her shoulders slightly. "Perhaps one day."

He had a sudden urge to put his arm around her shoulder. "Perhaps. I'm sure I could talk to her. She's proud of it, and you know what they say about proud Slytherins." He winked at her. "They like to talk about their accomplishments."

"And what have you accomplished in the past few days then?" she asked with a laugh.

He grinned. "You'll see after dinner."

"Where did the peacocks go?"

"So, about dinner tonight..."

"What?!" She shot him a shocked look, and he snickered.

"They were always mean and bite-y—" He paused for effect, enjoying her big round eyes on him, even if it was in slight horror. "No, I gave them to the Salisbury Zoo."

She looked relieved and he was, too, largely because he didn't have to deal with the white menaces anymore.

They took the few steps up to the terrace and Draco opened the patio door for her in time with her removing her hand from his forearm.

Hermione gasped, and put her hand on his on the door handle instead. "Look!" She pointed at the setting sun, standing close enough to him that he could've kissed her if he'd have taken merely one step forward. He gave a cursory glance at the blaze of colours on the horizon, set off by the dark little forest framing a part of the gardens, then he focused back on her.

"Beautiful," he whispered, her distinct scent in his nose making him all tingly, and he settled his free hand on her hip, stroking it lightly. He wasn't really talking about the sunset. Emboldened by her content sigh, he was just about to pull her closer when the bloody elf cleared her throat. They both jumped away from each other like teenagers caught in flagrante.

"Dinner be ready to serve, Master."

"Right… Thank you." Facing Hermione, he tilted his head towards the set table, decorated with flowers and candles flickering in the breeze from the terrace, before he took her cooler hand, and led her to her place. She had a lovely rosy hue on her skin which expanded further down her neck but he refrained himself from having that kind of closer look down her neckline when he pushed the chair in for her. He wasn't sure he could hold himself back when confronted with such a delicious sight of her tits, but he did run his index from her upper arm to her shoulder. She shivered, and he felt his appendages get restless under his skin.

No. No, not now, he pleaded with his body, and prayed to Merlin that his half-hard cock wouldn't be obvious. He coughed a little to free himself of the lump in his throat, and said, "I was told this is a Muggle favourite. Wompy prepared pizzazz for us." Draco took a seat and looked expectantly at Hermione who eyed the house-elf with a squint, but then she snorted in a vain attempt to stifle her laugh.

"Pizzazz?"

He frowned at his plate. "Yes? Don't you like it?"

A giggle escaped her, and while he counted it as a small victory that he could make her laugh, he didn't quite like the fact that it was at his expense. And that he didn't know why.

"I do, in fact," she said, flashing him a genuine grin, still full of mirth.

"What is it, then?"

She started to laugh again. "Sorry, Draco," she threw in between gasps for air. "It's just… it's called pizza. Pizzazz is something completely different."

Pouting his lips, he looked at the dish Wompy had served in the meantime. She added a carafe of clear water and glasses to the table after Granger had declined the wine,and then vanished as soundlessly as she had earlier. "Oh." The flat bread-like thing occupying his plate was staring back at him. "I was not aware." Fidgeting a little, he picked up his fork and poked the crust. It smelled good but it also looked like it wasn't eaten in that manner. He looked at her.

Hermione reached her hand across the table, breasts spilling dangerously against the neckline of her dress. His eyes were caught by the crease between them and only the squeeze on his free hand pulled him out of his suddenly emerging fantasy. "I appreciate it, and the pizza looks fantastic. Just leave the teaching of all things Muggle to me, okay?" She started to cut across the food. "Pizza is an Italian dish deriving from the poorer parts of Italy, basically serving as a cheap but filling meal. Stop looking like that. It's tasty. Pizzazz means something has a certain sparkle to it. For example, you can add some pizzazz to your life by pursuing certain activities. I also know people who like to add pizzazz to their speaking by adding a lot of swear words."

He assumed the latter was true for himself, too, and looked down at his own food with a minor amount of guilt, starting to imitate her cutting pattern. His eyes almost fell out of his head when she picked up a slice with her hand. She bit into it, closing her eyes and humming around the bite.

"This is really good," she said and licked a little bit of tomato sauce from the corner of her mouth, taking another bite immediately.

"You eat it with your hands?!"

Swallowing her bite down, she fixated him with a look. "You can use cutlery when the company is that kind of polite. But for the real experience? Eat it with your hands. Just don't burn your gum. The topping is hot."

His mind began to race as he watched her tongue catching the bending tip of another slice before she bit a piece off. Her tongue looked nimble, and a wonderful pink, too. It would certainly star in a few fantasies tonight. He took a hasty slug of cold water and then tried eating the pizza like she did.

She'd been correct. Of course she'd been. Brightest witch and all that. It had been quite some time since he'd tasted something new which was so good.

Clearing her throat, she made him look at her. "Will there be dessert?"

He almost choked on the bite he had in his mouth. Oh Merlin, yes. He so hoped there would be dessert.

Before he could swallow down, she continued, "It's good but it's also filling, and if there's cake or anything, I'll probably opt for that."

Oh! That was a bit discouraging to the plans he'd just developed in the past two seconds. Quite elaborate plans, if he might say so himself, despite the short notice.

"We usually have a piece of cake or some trifle with dinner." He wasn't quite able to keep the disappointment out of his voice, not even when her eyes lit up at his words. "But we could have that later, while we're comparing notes."

"Great." She watched him finishing his pizza, playing with her glass and taking a few sips.

He dabbed his lips on the napkin, and then got up and walked around he pull her chair out.

"You don't have to do that." She gestured at the chair.

"Mother would have my hide if I didn't."

"Ah. Well, I like your hide where it is, so we can't let that happen, can we?"

He presented his arm, and she put her hand on it. "Miss Granger, I believe you've just paid me a compliment."

"Mr Malfoy, just don't let it go to your head." She slapped him lightly on his forearm, and then moved her hand a little closer to his, stroking the skin just above the cuff with her thumb. "Shall we?"

Too distracted by the skin-to-skin contact, he could only nod.

The library was just three doors down the hallway, and Hermione felt like a noblewoman strolling past other rooms and the paintings hanging in-between. The various inhabitants observed her curiously and much friendlier than on her first evening at the manor, giving off an air of ease in her presence. Wondering in passing what brought the unexpected change in demeanour, Hermione slapped her hand against her forehead when she realised her thoughtlessness.

"The portrait, Draco! Where is your grandpa's portrait?" She fully stopped, and forced him to halt his steps, too. "Why have I missed that? Let's just ask your grandpa's portrait." She gripped his arm tighter and bounced on the balls of her toes.

"Granger, it's— I'll show you." He kept a carefully neutral expression. "It's in a different wing, stowed away in an unused room. You'll see why."

Suddenly subdued by his lack of excitement, she agreed with a small nod and followed his lead, wandering along tastefully decorated hallways and connecting rooms after they'd reached the first floor up a broad stairway. She took in the welcoming atmosphere the whole house seemed to have adopted within a couple of days. Maybe people were right when they claimed that good food and good company turned the lowest shed into a loving home. Not that Malfoy Manor was a lowly hut, dignified and expensively decorated as it was, but it had also made a cool and unapproachable impression to her.

Malfoy finally stopped in front of a door which looked just like all the others in this part of the estate. He unlocked it with a spell and pushed the door open before he lit the magical lights in the room with a clear, "Lumos."

Hermione took an instinctive step back at the sight in front of her. "Is that—" she started and made a distinctive pause. "These things look like the leftovers of a rampage by vandals."

He closed his eyes for a long second and chewed on the inside of his cheek. "For a while, my family didn't have appropriate control over what was exactly happening in our home."

A quiet, disconcerted sound raised in her throat as she took in the scene. Every item in the room was meticulously placed, but each piece was a husk of its former self, as though the room had been utterly destroyed and then pieced back together by hand. It was obvious that these were items of personal interest because there was no reason to keep them otherwise. Paintings and moving pictures, books, tapestries, and the odd piece of furniture were massed in their respective heaps, each object destroyed in varying degrees.

"I think, Grandfather's portrait is somewhere in this pile," Draco said and moved to a stack of frames. He tilted two or three away from the rest, and then lifted one up. The painting was done tastefully, or at least she liked the style. But where the ancestor's mouth would've been, a square of missing canvas gaped, showing only the old wood which supported the frame.

Hermione felt pinned motionless by the appraising scrutiny of the same type of grey eyes which seemed to be a dominant Malfoy trait. She squirmed involuntarily under the taxing stare, and only relaxed a little when the deep wrinkles in the corners of the elder Malfoy's eyes smoothed, and then he gave Draco a nod.

"What just—?" she muttered.

Draco whispered back, "I haven't the foggiest."

She stared back at Abraxas Malfoy for a minute but the man on canvas wouldn't react at all, just answering her glare with one she couldn't decipher without seeing the most expressive part of a face. He might've been smiling, he might've been frowning; she couldn't tell. She sighed and said, "There goes my brilliant idea."

Malfoy put the portrait back between the other ones and shrugged one shoulder. "His journals will have to do. How many were you able to go through in the past few days?"

"I didn't have much time to read more than two of them."

"Oh yes, your date. That would keep you busy, of course." He closed the door behind them with a yank, and didn't offer his arm this time.

Stuck between annoyance at his obvious displeasure and smugness exactly because he didn't like her alternative in evening entertainment, Hermione only lifted her chin a little and didn't spare him too much attention while she followed him back to the ground floor. "I couldn't find much of interest in those two journals. He mentioned his father a few times, but only in connection with a lot of politics, and a new sub-species of shrivelfig he tried in a potion but which didn't enhance his recipe, as he stated. Other than that, he reported detailed progress with the control of his appendages, saying that he could grow them on command but not make them retract in the same manner. You?"

"I compiled his observations and compared them to mine. A certain enhancement of senses, elevated body heat, increased dexterity and strength, not only with the appendages but also with the rest of his body. A shorter temper, and yes, an increased… ehm, sexual activity. Which, by the way, wasn't reflected in the amount of children. My father was an only child."

"Mistresses?" Hermione shot out without further thought. "He seemed quite smitten with his wife in my journals, though."

"No. He was faithful, according to his own accounts."

"But your mother told you that he—"

"That was after my grandmother's passing. Other than that, he referenced a book on obscure curses and, in one of the later journals, a list of ancestors. All of them firstborns on the Malfoy side, by the way. And separated by one generation."

Opening the door to the library he let her step through it first. The room was lit with a slightly different combination of candles and magic-attuned electric lighting, giving it a much homier feeling tonight than the previous times. Hermione smiled at the sight of neat piles of books and parchments, and then steered directly to the side table where the teapot was set on a warmer. To her immense glee, it was accompanied by two pieces of the same chocolate cake they'd had at their dinner with Mrs Malfoy. The two armchairs where occupied by books, and she took a seat on the small couch and started to pour the tea into a cup and then held it out to Draco.

He stared at her, focusing first on her hand and then her face before he shook his head imperceptibly, and took a seat next to her. Taking the cup and saucer out of her hand, he said, "You said you'd adjust a spell you've created. Did it work?"

Hermione nodded frantically, and set her own teacup on the table. "Yes. It does give false positive results sometimes but I think it catches all of the words you use. I tested it with Hogwarts: A History."

Malfoy chuckled into his tea. "Your obsession with that book even reached the Slytherin dorms."

"Just because nobody else is interested in the history of the school doesn't mean it's not full of valuable information," she huffed. "Even if it's biased on a lot of topics."

"Granger, I did read it. Once. Not thirty-seven times." At her incredulous look, he added, "Mother made me in first year."

Hermione grinned. The elevated body temperature he'd mentioned reached the skin on her uncovered arm and thigh, making her want to move closer and touch him. She smelled a whiff of his aftershave and reached forward for her tea, letting her crossed knees graze the side of his thigh. "Do you want to try the spell?" she asked, sipping a little of the fragrant liquid, and increased the pressure.

He took a sudden too-hot gulp of tea and winced a bit. "Sure."

It was time to get to work. She drew Abraxas' runes on a piece of parchment and pointed the tip of her wand on them. "I called it the Reperius spell, Latin for to search. Reperio," she incanted, painting a flurry of waves in the direction of one of the piles of books on the armchairs. One of the scrolls glowed, and then shot towards her faster than expected.

"Protego!"

Hermione took a reflexive inhale; she hadn't even seen Draco pull his wand out before the shield already existed. The scroll bumped against the magical barrier and hovered in front of them. She slowly exhaled and put her hand on his. He didn't tremble at all, but he slowly lowered his arm and let the barrier fall. "Draco," she said carefully, her hand still on his, "It would've stopped in time."

"I—" he began. "Of course." He let his head fall a little, and she stroked a soothing touch over the back of his hand before she pulled hers away, and plucked the scroll out of the air.

"That was exceptional." At his lack of reaction, she added, "I don't think I've ever seen anybody cast a shield spell that fast."

He didn't look her in the eyes, but instead spun his wand between his fingers. "We may add decreased reaction time to the list, I assume."

"I assume you're right about that." She inspected him for a couple of seconds, took in the blotches of red on his face and the faint sheen of moisture on his forehead, both showing his heightened state of distress. The slight weight of the scroll in her hand reminded her of the task at hand, though, and she put her emerging questions and theories on hold. "The spell not only transports the document or book to you, it also highlights the phrase you're looking for." She unrolled the parchment and pointed at the glowing runes. "Ta-daa."

He perked up, his lips forming a smile. "Amazing. Maybe they were right with brightest witch and all that. Show me the wand movement again."

She was pleased, and repeated the movement without the spell, showing him the required details to make it work. Correcting the frequency of the waves a bit, she leaned slightly to him before she put her fingers around his grip on the wand, and said, "You've almost got it. Just a little less swing." She directed his hand only with half concentration, breathing in his scent instead. A quick glance at him revealed his stare into her cleavage, and she suddenly was very aware of the long scar across her chest. She drew back and moved the one hand she'd placed on his to cover the skin above her neckline.

He picked it up after a few uncomfortable seconds and brushed her knuckles with the pad of his thumb. "I have scars, too. And not only the mark on my arm, either."

Her posture relaxed infinitesimally as she whispered, "Let me see."

He swallowed, and she thought he would decline, but he released her hand, and then opened the cufflink on his left arm. Looking at her, he slowly rolled his sleeve up until the entirety of the faded mark was visible. Hermione slowly extended her arm and brushed the tips of her fingers over the raised flesh. He shivered.

"You've got a glamour on your arm, don't you?" His voice was rough.

The clearing of her throat sounded harsh, and she moistened her dry lips with a swift lick of her tongue. "Do you want to—"

He nodded quickly, and she fumbled for her wand. Cancelling the charm, she observed the expression on his face, dreading the expected revulsion. It didn't come. Instead, his eyes focused on the insult carved into her skin, then they moved to the pale line on her cleavage, and, finally, to her eyes. His hand stroked over her shoulder and upper arm down to the inner side of her forearm, covering the scars with his hot palm. Goosebumps ran over her skin, but they were the pleasant kind.

"Do you want to—" His voice hitched a little, and he cleared his throat gently. "—see Potter's handiwork, too?"

She wanted to, and at the same time didn't. Offering him a chance to retreat but save face, she answered, "Only if it's alright with you."

"Believe me, Granger, I can imagine more erotic occasions to get undressed in front of a stunning woman."

Hermione felt the red warming her cheeks, half because of the compliment and half because she wouldn't mind seeing him undressed at all, and she averted her eyes a bit before they flickered to his and then the button facing. He opened it with sure fingers, revealing pale skin and scattered blond hair. She gripped her wand just a little tighter, not sure if she'd have to cast the Ice Wind soon, even if it seemed to be more for her convenience. Malfoy pulled the shirt open and breathed out slowly, daring her with his steely gaze.

His scar was a broad, white line cleaving through the few hairs and almost dissecting one of his nipples. She started to trace its path with the tip of her index before she consciously realised she did so, and looked at him to ask his consent without words. He nodded, the muscles beneath the otherwise smooth skin trembling, and he stroked one hand from the back of her neck a little further down, fiddling with the neckline there. Hermione felt that content purr inside of her again. She followed the Z-shape to his belly button, and then hesitated to continue, not sure if she would actually want to stop when she'd reached his waistband.

"Granger," he hissed, and she saw his appendages slither free. His crotch was partly covered by the edge of one half of his shirt, but the bulge was undeniable. Before she could pull back, she felt some of his appendages wrap around her torso and the back of her head, vanishing in her curls. They felt nice on her, just like they had last time, and how she'd remembered them so frequently when she'd touched herself, and when he tilted her head by her chin, she slightly opened her lips in anticipation. She wasn't disappointed, his lips a little chapped but hot on hers, increasing the pressure when she slipped her tongue into his mouth. He tasted like sweet tea. Hermione moaned a little and he started nibbling on her lips and moved to the edge of her jaw while she put her arms around his neck, burying the one without wand in his hair and exploring his horns. She could feel them grow under her touch, and he interrupted his tantalising suckles on her neck with a grunt when she stroked them between her fingers. Like his appendages, they were slightly vibrating with energy, and she wondered what kind of outlet for this abundance of magic was needed. One of the possible answers had her needy core clench around—unfortunately—nothing.

His hands grabbed her hips, more tentacles moving around her upper body and her arms, and he flipped them both, so he was on top of her. Her legs lied a little crooked off of the sofa, but she wasn't ashamed to admit that she would grind her damp core against him if he'd been between her thighs. And she definitely wouldn't mind him pushing the skirt of her dress up. He kissed his way down her neck and across her cleavage until he reached the start of her scar and pressed his lips on it reverently. More appendages snaked down her legs and drew little circles on her skin, leaving that pleasant tingle where ever they touched, and the ones in her hair started to massage her scalp. Her eyes fluttered closed at the arousing sensation.

"If you don't cast the Ice Wind right now, Hermione, I will ravish you," he panted against her skin and licked down her scar until the cloth of her dress stopped him. His hands stroked from her hips up her sides, and settled just below her breasts for a few moments.

"Why do I always have to be the sensible one?" she whined and pressed his head against her chest. He spluttered a little when he tried to say something, but he also moved his hands finally, finally onto her breasts and squeezed. She groaned and spoke the spell, and an instant wave of coldness and dampened intentions washed over her.

Draco relaxed against her, still panting heavily and his hard cock pressing up the side of her thigh. His thumbs grazed her stiff nipples but it was more affectionate than frantic, not that it did anything to ease her lust, and she raked her fingers through his hair. He sniffed a little and then inhaled deeply, and closed his lips around one hard but still clothed peak. She arched her back against him with a deep moan as the appendages on her thigh wandered higher, playing with the hem of her dress and then slithering underneath it. She spread her legs like it was the most natural reaction, well aware of the wet spot on the lace of her underwear.

Clinging onto some shreds of consciousness, she cast the Ice Wind again, putting more power into her words, and they both shuddered under its effect.

"Fuck, Hermione." He moved up and kissed her softly, then nuzzled his face into her neck. "You're so bloody irresistible," he murmured and eased his grip on her but still kept full contact. A smile played her lips, still eager for more but also somewhat content, and she untangled her fingers from the mess of his hair and wrapped her arms around his back. She enjoyed the low groan she elicited with a final tweak on his horns.

"How do you feel?" she asked and cast another Ice Wind. "We really should get some work done or we'll never find the root of all of it."

"I'm aware," he said, propping himself up onto his hands and looking down on her. His tentacles retreated slowly from their places on her body, the ones on the inside of her thigh dragging leisurely along the sensitive skin until she couldn't stifle her moan anymore. She swore she could feel the heat of his cock through all the layers of cloth. "But it's getting late for you, I assume. Unless you'll be off tomorrow? Or want to stay overnight?" Not the smoothest line she'd ever heard but his hopeful look was quite endearing.

"Unfortunately, I'm not." She checked her wristwatch. "Maybe another twenty minutes or so. Uninterrupted twenty minutes. And maybe I should cast more often?" She spoke the spell and they both shivered a little. It didn't seem to have that much of an effect anymore. "Did you notice any direct effects on your spell casting?"

"Except the previously noted speed? Not really, but everything is faster, stronger, harder..." His voice tapered off, and he sat upright, breaking the contact of his hard length with her thigh and helping her to get up, too, but avoiding her eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have put it that plainly."

She snickered a little while she pulled her dress right again. "I'm a big girl, I can handle it. It just seems that my enhanced magic already lost its power. Lumos."

The tip of her wand sparked a lightning-hot white, causing the rest of the lights in the room to pick the brightness up and drowning the room in a blaze of light.

He yelped and smacked a hand over his eyes. "Fuck, Hermione, are you trying to blind me?!"

"Or not," she deadpanned, and quickly toned the intensity down to normal levels with her eyes firmly pressed shut. "I'm sorry. That didn't go as intended."

"Obviously," he said in the same tone and carefully blinked his eyes open. "Your silhouette is still burned onto my retinas."

"What a lovely compliment."

"Weren't we supposed to do some work?"

"We were, and we've already covered some aspects. Anything else you'd like to contribute?"

"Gosh, Granger, you put it like you were doing all the work, when in reality you spent your evenings Salazar-knows-where while I was reading half of our library."

She blinked, anger and frustration rolling through her at his sudden display of annoyance. "Now, what exactly are you trying to tell me here, Malfoy?"

"Just the truth. That you were cavorting when I was trying to find the cause." His fingers clenched into fists and his tentacles looked irritated with their wild flailing.

"Cavorting? What do you mean by cavorting? I have a fucking job, Malfoy. Unlike you, I can't sit around and drink tea all day, and read a little when I feel like it. I actually have to earn my living!" She felt her hair take up energy from her barely restrained magic, fizzling little sparks at the ends of her hairs. The little hot ball in her lower belly was from her anger. She deliberately ignored the continued throbbing a little further down, and how the content feeling inside had changed into a growl.

He grit his teeth, his extra limbs looking stronger and thicker, like pure power held on a too short leash. "Do you need compensation for your work? Take long holidays or a sabbatical. I'll pay you twice as much as you make now."

"What? No!"

"Why not? Is it the salary? That's negotiable."

"I have responsibilities." She hesitated a bit. "People to train, curses to break…"

"Are you the only one at Gringotts' doing that?"

"Of course not. But—"

"You could solve the Malfoy mystery, instead."

She sighed, the anger draining out of her as Draco got calmer with another cast of the Ice Wind, too. "Look, Draco, I've worked hard to get to where I am now. I'm not going to compromise that."

He actually looked a bit contrite at her words. "I'm not trying to convince you to give it up completely. Just take a break. Imagine the progress we could make if we both work full-time on it."

It was tempting but she was also ambitious about her career. "No. This—" She gestured at their surroundings. "Is a temporary project. It'll be over at some point, and then I'll have lost my accomplishments at Gringotts because it's convenient for people to forget achievements of others, and will have to start at the beginning again. But I could try to come over one or two evenings during the week. Provided you take care of dinner."

His deep frown changed in an instant, and before he could take up a more neutral expression, she saw something flickering across it. Delight, maybe, or gratification. "I just might be able to do that."

"I might expect you to cook yourself," she said smugly. "And not Wompy."

"Expect to eat a lot of toast with various spreads for the next couple of weeks, then."

She laughed.

ETA: I'm very sorry for forgetting to add this last night: The pizza scene was inspired by Kyonomiko's Dramione story Muggles and Mortgages (available on FFN). When you read that passage, you'll exactly know why ;). I strongly recommend it, if you haven't already. It's hilarious :D.

Please let me know what you think! Praise and constructive criticism is very welcome :). If you find a mistake, please don't hesitate to contact me on tumblr: o0sarena0o and I'll try to fix it as soon as I can.