Chapter 2

Next month:

Hermione stood in front of the mirror and waved her wand over her hair for the third time. You would think by adulthood her hair would've gotten the memo and tamed itself over the years, but it seemed to have gotten even more wild. She sighed angrily and tossed her wand in the sink, picking up a jar of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. She didn't even know why she was bothering with her hair in the first place. It's not like the other months meeting up and playing George's dating game were any different. She glanced at the jar in her hand, made the decision and placed it back on the counter. Her hair looked fine. A little more outrageous than normal, but fine.

Based on everyone's attitudes the previous months, she was sure she would get an owl from Malfoy asking to meet with her again in two weeks, but apparently their two other meetings had been satisfactory because she hadn't heard a thing from him. Not that she had even wanted to hear anything from him. She had had a stressful month at work and wouldn't have had time to meet with him about a silly game anyway.

She took one last look in the mirror, adjusted her jumper, reprimanded herself for adjusting her jumper and made her way to the fireplace.

George's living room was practically empty, save for Ron and George having a whispered conversation in the corner. Once she stepped through the hearth, they barely glanced at her and waved her into the kitchen. Ginny and Sarah were preparing snacks for everyone, having a whispered conversation of their own, Harry sitting quietly at the table.

Hermione took the seat next to Harry and poured a drink for herself from the bottle of Firewhisky on the table.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry mumbled into his glass.

"Hi, Harry. What's everyone whispering about?"

Harry took a quick look around and leaned toward her, "Ron came into my office today to tell me he's thinking of leaving the DMLE."

The glass paused halfway to Hermione's mouth and she turned to gape at Harry. "What? Why would he do that?"

Harry shrugged and took another sip. "He didn't give me much reason, but said we would all find out tonight."

The sound of fire roared from the other room, followed shortly by George's booming voice, "Oi, you lot come out from the kitchen. We're all here now."

Hermione had barely made it into the room before her path was blocked by a towering force. She had just made out the blond hair before hands were gripping her face and Malfoy lowered his face into her view.

"Granger, tonight is our night, I can feel it. We can do this," he spoke quiet enthusiasm with enough confidence that it radiated from him.

Hermione blinked at his sudden closeness. Callused hands lightly brushed her cheeks, causing heat to rush to them. She didn't know where to look, so she cycled between both his eyes. His eyes quickly dropped to her lips, so quickly she almost didn't catch it. Then as if realizing how close he was to her, he pulled away and stalked to their chair.

Dazed from what just happened, Hermione gave herself a few moments to collect herself before shaking her head and taking her place on the floor by Malfoy's feet. The tip of his shoe lightly touched her knee before it moved away.

Once everyone was seated, including George, Sarah and Ron stood to face the group.

"We have an announcement we'd like to make, everyone," Sarah said, twisting the hem of her shirt in her hands.

Ron slid his hand behind her waist and pulled her closer. Sarah looked up to smile at her husband, her face lighting up when he returned the smile. They could be so sweet together. Hermione only wished she could find love like that one day.

Sarah cleared her throat and turned to the group again. "I'm pregnant!" She announced abruptly.

Everyone stared in shock before leaping to their feet and crowding around the couple.

"Oh my goodness I'm so happy for you!" Hermione said, pulling Sarah into a tight hug.

"Way to go," Harry said, patting Ron on the shoulder. "Ready to tell me why you quit then? I assume they're related."

"You quit?" Ginny frowned.

Malfoy, who stood a few feet back from everyone, shrugged and responded. "Makes sense."

Hermione turned toward him and quirked a brow. Like he could understand Ron's reasoning for leaving his job when his wife just became pregnant. But of course he would, he doesn't necessarily have to work for money. He could quit his job today if he wanted and never have to worry about being fed.

"Yes they are," Ron answered Harry's question. His voice made Hermione turn back from Malfoy. "Being an Auror can be quite dangerous, so I'm going to take a much easier job that doesn't threaten my life every day."

George stepped forward and placed his hand on Ron's shoulder, pulling him closer to his side. "Little Ronikins is going to come work for me at the shop. Can you believe it?" He looked down at his little brother, a look of pride taking over his features. He had been working alone since Fred's death and the success of the shop was finally getting too much for him to handle, but he would've never asked for help, so it had to have been Ron's idea. George seemed pleased as punch about the idea though.

"That's wonderful," Hermione gushed, embracing Ron. Ron smiled when she pulled away, red splotching his cheeks.

"Thanks, 'Mione."

"Alright enough with the gushy stuff. Can we play already?" Malfoy interrupted. He really did know how to kill the mood. Hermione turned and frowned at him. He simply shrugged his shoulders in response.

Used to his antics, the group agreed and with one last congratulations, took their seats to begin the game.

"Now," George said with a clap of his hands. "In celebration we have a special edition of the game we've been playing."

A few people groaned, including Ginny who leaned forward in her seat, clearly disappointed in the turn of events. "What? We're not playing the regular game? We were doing so well!"

George gave her a cheeky smile in response. "Well you might do even better than everyone else in this version, because it is an adult version." Sarah and Ron exchanged a humored look, while Hermione tried to hide her horror. "And based on some of the questions, you've been a couple the longest, Gin, so there's hope for you."

Satisfied, Ginny clapped her hands and leaned back on the sofa.

The tip of the shoe was back against Hermione's knee, this time tapping to gain her attention. When she didn't respond to the tapping, she felt Malfoy shift in the chair, his leg pushed hard against her shoulder and his fingers brushed her shoulder.

"Damn. I wasn't prepared for this," he whispered close to her ear, his breath tickling her cheek.

She made an agreeable noise and nodded her head. She could practically hear him snickering when he leaned back in the chair, his leg still pressed hard against her. Normally she would move her arm, but for some reason she couldn't bring herself to do it. Instead she sat quietly and tried to ignore the warmth radiating from his leg.

"Right, this time we'll start with some of the easier stuff, but next month it'll be a little more risqué." George flipped through a few piles of parchment on the table in front of him. Once he found the page he was looking for, he set about casting the charms over everyone's heads.

Hermione's heart rate had doubled in the last few moments. What kind of questions was George planning on asking? Did she want to know some of these things about Malfoy? The answer to that was easy; no. Absolutely not. She couldn't help her eyes flickering over to him every few seconds. Once she realized what she was doing, she closed them and took a deep breath. Get a hold of yourself, Granger she thought to herself.

"Okay, Sarah. First question. Which side of the bed does Ron sleep on?"

Sarah answered correctly and Ron's hair glowed green. This didn't seem to be too intense of a question— nothing too personal. Ginny answered the left and Harry's hair glowed green. Once the question was posed to Hermione, she sat thinking. She had a 50/50, but whether she got the question right or wrong she'd still know what side of the bed Malfoy slept on, and she didn't know if she even wanted to know that.

Just then a thought occurred to her that would solve her problem and perhaps be a more logical answer. "Well, seeing as how he isn't actually married, I'm going to say he sleeps in the center of the bed. Since he doesn't have to share."

Her eyes flicked up to Malfoy's head to see his hair glow red.

Ginny snorted out a laugh. "Now that's surprising! Malfoy actually sharing something. Hilarious."

"Piss off, Ginny," Malfoy snapped back.

George had moved onto the next question when breath tickled her cheek again. "For the record, I sleep on the left side." Malfoy whispered in her ear. Hermione cringed and jerked her head away. Of course he had to make sure she knew.

The rest of the questions George had chosen weren't too intrusive after all, but most of them were related to living with the other person, which obviously Malfoy and Hermione were not doing. As predicted, Ginny and Harry were winning, but somehow Hermione and Malfoy found themselves in second place.

"Who was your spouse's first kiss?" George asked while he wiggled his eyebrows.

Malfoy leaned forward, his elbows on his knees and his fingers on his chin. "Hm. That's a tough one. Granger wasn't really drawing in gentlemen company at Hogwarts so I have to assume it was after." He leaned forward even more to catch her gaze. All she could do was raise her brows and await his response. He smirked back at her and without turning his gaze from hers he answered, "I'm going to say it was Weasley. You two were sickly sweet to each other back in the day."

Looking past his shoulder, Hermione caught the slow small smiles on Ginny, Harry and Ron's faces. She directed her vision back to Malfoy just as she spotted the red reflection in his eyes.

Suddenly Malfoy's face was gone and he was on his feet, his hands thrown in the air in disbelief. "Not Weasley? Who the fuck else would it have been?"

Ginny snorted and he whipped his head toward her. "Does the name Viktor Krum mean anything to you?"

Malfoy turned back to Hermione, mouth comically agape, eyes wide in surprise. "Krum? Viktor fucking Krum? Famous quidditch player? Catcher of the snitch in the 1994 World Cup? That Viktor Krum?" Hermione smiled in response and gave a small nod. "How the fuck did you manage that, Granger?"

Hermione shrugged with a touch of modesty. "He was fond of me."

Malfoy plopped into the chair and ran his fingers through his hair and gave a soft chuckle under his breath. "He was fond of you. How incredibly humble of you."

"It was quite cute really," Ginny piped up from her seat on the sofa. "He would follow her around the school like a little pigmy puff and would just watch her read for hours. It was very interesting to see."

Malfoy leaned back in his seat and shook his head against the chair cushion. "I don't even know what to say. Well done, Granger, I guess?" Without looking at her, he pressed his leg back into her arm. She sniggered and directed her attention to George, his leg still firmly pressed against her arm.

George cackled into his cards for a moment before collecting himself and glancing back at his notes in his hand.

Several questions later, Malfoy finally composed himself enough to lean forward and whisper into Hermione's ear. "I am quite impressed with your ability to bag Krum. However, these questions are becoming more and more difficult, I think we may need to meet again this coming week."

Hermione nodded and tried to ignore the pressure she felt from his hand pressing between her shoulder blades. She turned her head slightly toward him, his lips accidentally touching the shell of her ear from her motion. She really tried to ignore the slight spike in his hot breath in her ear at the contact. "Sounds good," she said with about as much confidence as she could muster.

Although she had turned to face the loveseat as Ron answered where Sarah kept her wand at night, she could feel Malfoy lingering for a moment too long before leaning back into the seat again.

As soon as George announced Harry and Ginny the winners and the time for their next meeting was decided, Hermione raced to the fireplace with a lame excuse about an early appointment.

She had barely poured a large glass of wine when an owl pecked politely at her window. She opened the window and took the slip of parchment from the owl's leg.

Are we still married, Granger? Because I request the presence of my wife on Tuesday evening. Be ready by 7. I will come fetch you.

The letter wasn't signed but there was only one person who could have sent it. Apparently he assumed she would be ready and willing to join him, because the owl didn't wait for a response and flew away as soon as the scroll left it's leg.

Hermione sighed, letting the parchment fall to her counter and swallowing half of her glass. It was very cryptic of him to not tell her where they were headed so that she could prepare or at least have an escape route.

It was for the game. He was very competitive. Only for the game. She repeated the words like a mantra as she got ready for bed. Nothing suspicious behind his invitation. He wanted to win and trained for excellence and expected her to as well.

She pulled her quilt over her head and snuggled into her pillows, sleep far from attainment. She let out another deep sigh, dragging it out to try and control her breathing.

It was for the game. Nothing suspicious. It was for the game. Nothing suspicious.

Sleep did not come easy that night.

…..

Tuesday evening

Hermione analyzed her hair in the mirror. It was behaving surprisingly well today— curls tumbled down her back, brown ringlets perfectly coiled, not a hair out of place. She grinned to her reflection and pinched her cheeks lightly, hoping to bring some life into her sleep deprived face.

Malfoy hadn't given her much direction as to their destination so she had settled on a nice pair of tight black jeans and a lovely purple blouse. She looked relaxed enough for a casual place, but dressy enough that she wouldn't stand out like a sore thumb at a nice establishment. Not that she assumed Malfoy would take her to a fancy restaurant, because he never had before, but he had also never picked her up before. He was changing their usual status quo and she just wanted to be prepared.

The roar of a fire echoed from the other room, signaling his arrival. With one last approving glance in the mirror, she stepped into the living room to greet him.

He was dressed in casual enough clothes as well— if black slacks and a white button up was considered casual to anyone but Malfoy. He was sans jacket though and his sleeves were rolled up, a clear sign to Hermione that they weren't heading anywhere fancy.

He was looking down and brushing soot from his shirt as he mumbled under his breath about soot repelling spells. Once his eyes lifted at her emergence, his monologue caught in his throat, his hands pausing in midair.

"Granger, you look- " he sputtered.

"Well I wasn't sure where you were planning on taking me," she sputtered out fairly quickly at the same time he finished his sentence.

"- wonderful."

"Oh."

"I'm starting to rethink my previous plans and take you somewhere much nicer looking like you do."

Hermione cheeks suddenly felt very hot. "Oh. Well that's okay, Malfoy. I'm sure what you planned before is just fine."

He nodded absently as he began to walk slowly toward her. He stopped a few feet in front of her and held out his hand. Curious, Hermione furrowed her brow, but took his offered hand anyway. Without another word to each other, she felt the familiar tug in her stomach and watched her living room spiral away.

With a soft pop, the two of them landed steadily on their feet. The first thing that hit her was the smell of fresh bread wafting in from the next room. After a deep inhale of the marvelously gluten scent, she looked around to take in the room around her.

It was a small sitting room, with only one dark sofa and armchair in the way of furniture. The rest of the room was covered floor to ceiling with bookshelves packed to the brim. And where there was space on the floor, there were books piled there as well. The fireplace took up the majority of the wall across the furnishings, a solid stone design with a hefty beam as the mantle, which held a single picture; a young blond boy with his mother.

Hermione turned to Malfoy, their hands still intwined. "Do you live here?"

Malfoy's lips lifted on one side. "Not exclusively, but I do visit quite a lot. We're on the East side of Sussex on the coast."

"Some fancy Malfoy estate?"

He shook his head slowly. "No. A small cottage I purchased last summer. I've grown quite fond of smaller properties as of late."

Hermione lifted a brow. "Really?"

"Yes. Come see the kitchen," he said animatedly, pulling on her hand for her to follow.

The kitchen was just as quaint as the last room. It was large enough to accommodate four people at the small wood table in the center of the room, but that was it. The cabinets wrapped around the perimeter, all a light sage, rich wood counters complimenting them. The table was set for two, a small pot in the center, steam pouring from the lid.

"Malfoy, it's-" she struggled for the right word. If she could afford to hire a designer and have anything she wanted, this was exactly how she would want her home. Cozy and warm, but still stylish and minimalistic. "Great," she finally settled on. Her voice didn't sound all that convincing.

Malfoy nodded toward the table. "I hope you don't mind beef stew. It's about the only thing I know how to make."

Hermione turned from the kitchen to the man at her side. "You cooked?" She was sure she looked completely unattractive with her mouth hanging open.

Malfoy shuffled his feet and looked at her sheepishly from the corner of his eye. "Like I said it's the only thing I know how to make, so it was just the one thing."

"What about the bread?" She was certain it was bread she was smelling from the oven.

"Ah shit," he raced to the oven and with a flick of his wand, directed the pan to float to the table. "I almost forgot about the rolls. Thank fuck I didn't burn them."

"You made rolls?!"

"Close your mouth, Granger. It's highly unattractive. As is your obvious shock and amazement. I can do normal things."

Hermione snorted and took a spot at the table. "Sure."

Suddenly hot breath tickled her ear sending a shiver down her spine.

"It's not nice to underestimate your husband, Hermione," he whispered in her ear.

Just as quickly he was up and around the table, taking his spot across from her. She took a deep breath, held it for 5, and released it, trying to regain some of her composure. Malfoy on the other hand was filling his bowl, oblivious to her inner struggle.

Once Hermione sorted herself out, the two of them had a very compatible meal together, leaning more to the chummy side of things. They spoke about anything and everything save for the questions for George's game. Malfoy stated very clearly that they were to 'deal with that rubbish after he had something to eat' and Hermione full heartedly agreed, knowing full well the questions they were about to ask each other.

After the meal they sat on short sofa— so short that if Hermione were to unwind her foot from under herself, her leg would most definitely touch him even though they sat on opposite ends of the couch. They had a pile of compiled questions between them, each choosing a question at random and tossing the parchment on the floor when they were finished.

Malfoy also seemed somewhat uncomfortable with the depth of the questions as he started with questions that were easy for her to digest. The last few had been much more telling, however and neither of them recovered in time before the next question was asked. There was an unspoken agreement to get through the questions as quickly as possible, with hardly any follow up questions, so they could just be done with it.

"What's in your nightstand drawer?" Malfoy asked quickly, cringing slightly to himself as he braced for the answer.

"Three books I haven't gotten around to reading yet and a red sleep mask."

Malfoy's eyes moved from the parchment to her face painfully slow. "Granger," he drawled out. "That has to be the most dull answer I have ever heard."

Hermione snatched a question from the pile, swatting at his in the process. "You wanted to know the answer and there it is. Sorry for not having a titillating enough answer for you."

Malfoy snorted and let his asked question drift to the floor beside the sofa. "Get on with it then."

"What-," she cut herself short as she fully read the question to herself. Heat immediately rushed to her cheeks and she quickly started to grab another question from the pile. A warm hand grabbed her wrist.

"Oh no you don't. With a response like that I have to hear this question now."

Hermione glanced up to find Malfoy's face glowing with amusement. He raised his brows and gave a small nod of encouragement. Somehow her already hot cheeks got even hotter. She lowered her eyes back to the paper- there was no way she was looking him in the face when she asked the question.

"What's your favorite position?" The question came out in a rush.

When he didn't respond, she risked a quick look to his face. He didn't look the least bit embarrassed by the question, he just looked up at the ceiling in thought, while she sat sweating from awkwardness.

Finally he chuckled lightly under his breath. "Probably with the woman right in my lap."

Hermione blinked and cleared her throat. "Right. Well alright, next question."

Malfoy leaned forward and slowly dragged the new parchment she had grabbed from her fingers. "Tsk tsk, dear Granger. That's not how this works." Somewhere between this question and the last, he happened to gain much more confidence than she thought possible. Was it the question itself? She painfully hoped that weren't true.

Her face got even more hot- surely she had to be resembling a lobster more than a human now. She mumbled so quickly under her breath, she was surprised he heard her make a noise at all.

"Come again?"

"From-behind-most-times-can-we-move-on-now-please?" She said all in one breath.

Laughter exploded from the other side of the couch. "You'd think you had never had sex before." He was still laughing out loud at her response. "But yes, we can move on."

"Thank Merlin."

For the most part, that was the most salacious question they had to ask each other. Unfortunately, the other questions gave her more knowledge about Malfoy's private life. She know knew that he wore boxer briefs and that on hot summer nights he likes to sleep in the nude with only a sheet. He also told her that he enjoys showers as hot as they will go and horribly that he will fantasize under the water every so often.

Even more unfortunately she had to give up some information on her own. He knew now that she slept in a silk sleep set with skinny straps and shorts and that she enjoyed nighttime baths with the windows open. She even had to let loose that she enjoys to cuddle at length after sex.

Malfoy flew through every question with an efficiency that she envied, completely unaffected. She, on the other hand, was getting far too uncomfortable sitting so close to him. She knew far too much intimate information about him—information that she didn't think she ever wanted to know, but now found herself wanting to know more.

In the last few months of playing this game with him, Hermione had learned that Malfoy was not as much of a pain in the arse as she had originally thought. Once she got passed his insistent teasing, he could be quite kind and witty.

What she had a problem with though, was that she was beginning to see him in a whole other light. A light she never thought she'd see Draco Malfoy in and possibly never wanted to see him in. She began to notice the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and how his fingers twirled around the skinny parchment pieces while he thought. How his fingers tapped lightly on his knee while he waited for her answer. How the muscles in his arm tensed when he was embarrassed or hesitated to ask a question. How his eyes glittered with mirth when she said something humorous. How his lips parted when she laid out another fact about her "personal" life.

She needed to get a hold of herself or she would ruin everything.

She wiggled in her seat again, unable to get comfortable with the constant reminder of the way his answers were effecting her residing between her legs. It was just a game, she reminded herself. There was no reason to get so worked up.

While arguing with herself, she didn't notice the pale hand reach forward and grab her knee. The hand continued to untangle her legs and pulled them across his lap. "Granger, if your knees are bothering you that much, you could've just stretched out your legs. I don't mind." He hadn't looked up from his pile of questions, but placed his free hand on her shins.

She couldn't remember what his question was. How could she when his fingers danced lightly across her jean cladded legs. She forced out an automatic answer, eyes glued to his hand.

"Granger," he said, fingers pausing on her leg, gripping her knee. "If you're too tired to continue, we can stop."

Before she could stop herself, she sputtered, "No, don't stop." She cringed at her outburst and cleared her thoughts. "I… I mean we don't have to stop. I'm fine. Go ahead."

He lifted a brow at her, but thought better of it as he shook his head and glanced at a new question. "Oh here we go. Where is the most memorable place you had sex?"

His hand had started it's movements again so she took a moment to register the question. Once it repeated through her head, she almost choked on her saliva. "I'm sorry, what?"

"Most memorable place you-"

"I heard the question, Malfoy," she snapped. "Just trying to process it."

He nodded slowly. "Okay. Well I'll go first then while you process." His hand drifted from her ankle to her shin, fingers lightly pressing into the denim. "I once did it," —fingers now reaching the knee— ", on a bridge at the Manor." His fingers were know past her knee and drifting further up her thigh. She sucked in a breath, holding it, waiting. Once the tip of his index finger reached just below her hip, it pivoted and drifted back down her leg.

She released her breath and drifted her eyes to his face. He was watching her very carefully, eyes searching her face for a reaction. Finally she cleared her throat and responded, "I did it once in a library."

Malfoy threw his head back and howled with laughter, his head bouncing off the back of the sofa. "Of course you did, Granger. That doesn't surprise me one bit."

Her cheeks heated up and she gave him a small smile. "Yes, well it was a private library so I'm not sure how steamy that really is."

His fingers now began to flit up her leg again, much quicker now, reaching the spot below her hip again in record time. "I think it's plenty steamy, Granger," he replied, his voice low.

Hermione shifted in her seat, unsure of how to respond to that. After a few silent moments, she made a show of yawning and clambering to her feet. "Well I best be getting home soon. I have a meeting in the morning and it's- blimey it's late." After glancing at her watch, she practically jumped from the sofa, not having realized she had been there for almost five hours and she really did have an early meeting.

"Right. Well it's been… enlightening, as always, Granger. Let's say we meet here again next week? Same time?"

Hermione nodded in agreement, already grabbing a fistful of Floo powder from the mantle and climbing inside. "Yep, well see you later, Malfoy."

As the room around her swirled away, she saw a look of… disappointment on his face? Couldn't be. He barely tolerated her presence and simply wanted her around to win against her friends.

Once she had stumbled back into her living room, despite having that early meeting tomorrow, she stalked into the kitchen and poured herself a large glass of wine. It was going to be a long night.

….

Next week:

Hermione steadied her feet as she stepped out of the fireplace. After a quick look around, she realized that she had beaten Malfoy to the cottage. Not sure how long she had to wait, she started to peruse through the bookshelves in the sitting room. The books ranged from potion books, old historical tomes, to even muggle classics. Hermione grabbed a book at random and took a seat on the sofa while she waited.

Fifteen minutes later there was a soft pop from the other room, followed by some irritated grumbling. Malfoy appeared in the doorway, hair falling onto his forehead, eyes looking frantic. Once he noticed her on the couch, his shoulders visibly relaxed and he narrowed his eyes.

"Granger," he grunted, "I was supposed to pick you up."

Hermione closed her book and placed it beside her. "You just said we were to meet here again. You didn't say anything about you picking me up."

"It was implied!" He snapped. He sighed and leaned heavily against the doorway. "You make my life very stressful."

Hermione snorted and went back to her book. "You brought the stress on yourself, I'm not sure why I'm the cause."

Malfoy ran his hands through his hair, closing his eyes with a sigh. He mumbled something under his breath that sounded remotely close to her not understanding and turned into the kitchen.

Pots and pans clanged from the other room. Water ran on and off and several curse words flowed from the room. Only after a massive bang sounded, causing Hermione to jump in her seat, did she question what he was doing.

"Trying to find something for dinner, but it doesn't seem to be working. I'm ordering something, I'll be back." Without another word he Disapparated, silence falling over the cottage. He was in such an odd mood tonight.

Hermione was setting the table when he appeared again, this time with two paper bags. The smell of fried food drifted from the bag making her mouth water.

"I hope you don't mind pub food. It was really all I could find on such short notice," he said, setting the bags on the table and pulling boxes from within.

"Fine by me. I've been craving some lately actually." She filled her plate with chips and fried chicken. She turned to smile at him. "Great minds think alike I guess."

His response was an agreeable grunt.

After what felt like hours of eating in silence, Hermione finally gave in. "Did something happen today, Malfoy?"

He continued to eat, but moved his eyes up to her face. Since his mouth was full all he could do was raise a questioning brow.

"You just seem a little… off today is all," she said with a shrug.

Swallowing his food, he took a quick sip of water and lowered his fork to the table. "I'm just a little distracted is all. It's been a long day."

Hermione nodded as she stood and carried her empty plate to the sink. Without house elves to clean for him, she had to wonder if Malfoy washed his own dishes. It was an absurd thought— Malfoy had to have enough knowledge to at least wash his own dishes. She turned back to face him and now saw the dark circles under his eyes and the way he was twirling his fork around his plate, simply pushing around the food before him. Clearly he was in no mood to practice for the next game night— they would have to just reschedule.

She cleared her throat and made her way to the door, walking behind his chair as she did so. "Well, I think it might be best if I go home then. You're obviously tired and in no mood to go over questions. We can resc-"

Without turning around, Malfoy had shot his hand behind himself to grab ahold of her wrist. Still staring at his plate he muttered quietly, "No, please stay. I need some company after my partially shitty day."

Hermione placed her hand over the one attached to her wrist. She patted it twice and then squeezed tightly. "Okay, I'll stay. Can we go to the living room though? These chairs are hurting my bum."

Malfoy huffed out a laugh and stood from his chair, towering over her suddenly. "Sure thing, wife." He looked down at her, the smile fading from his lips, his eyes suddenly intensely serious, the grey in them darkening until they were almost black.

She looked down at her feet, realizing how close they really were—the tips of their shoes pressed together. She glanced back up, eyes suddenly locked back to his, unable to look away. He lifted the hand not still attached to her wrist and pushed a stray curl behind her ear, his fingers sliding down the back of her ear and lingering on the lobe. She drew in a shaky breath and just watched, her body frozen. His fingertips left her ear and drifted across her jaw with a barely there touch. When he got to her chin, he paused, his thumb coming up and touching her bottom lip lightly—stroking back and forth, just feeling the skin there. Her breathing was coming out much quicker now and there was no doubt that he didn't feel that as she was practically panting onto his thumb.

She blinked twice and her head cleared, the fog lifting—not by much, but enough for her to gain some of her composure and form words. "Do-," her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and tried again, "Do you have anything to drink?" If this was the way their evening intended to go then she most definitely needed some alcohol in her system.

"Yes," he whispered in response. His fingers didn't stop though and he didn't step away. He continued to rub his thumb across her lips, now moving to her top lip.

"I think I'd like some," she breathed against his thumb.

"Okay," he said, still not pausing. His eyes were glued to her lips, just as hers were glued to his face, both anticipating what the other might do. Finally he tapped his thumb twice to her lips and stepped back. His eyes moved up to hers and without breaking contact, grabbed his wand from his back pocket and twirled it in the air.

Behind him, two glasses flew from the cabinet, a bottle from above the refrigerator. They met in the center of the room, the bottle filled both glasses and returned to it's home above the fridge. The glasses moved quick, wine sloshing up the sides, barely staying in the glasses. Once their hands were occupied with their drinks did they finally move to the other room.

Instead of the spots they took on the couch last week, Malfoy opted for the chair while Hermione stretched her legs across the sofa, her back pressed against the arm, facing Malfoy.

"Right, let's get started," she said with mock enthusiasm. She grabbed a parchment from the pile on the table and began to read. "What is your favorite thing your spouse wears? Oh that's tough."

Malfoy snorted, his attention directed to the fire. "Easy."

She moved her head up to glance at him, eyes wide and eyebrows furrowed in surprise. "It is?"

He moved his eyes to her face quickly before moving them back to the fire. "Yes. Your black dress with the V in the front and back."

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "How could you possibly remember that? I haven't worn that in two years."

Malfoy took a sip of his wine and rested the glass on the arm of the chair. "Because it was the best thing you've worn. You should wear it more. Your turn." Typical Malfoy, just spewing out facts that caused her to reel and then demand she move on.

"Uh," she thought out loud. It was a hard question to answer. He wore a lot of black slacks and button-ups, along with his Auror uniform. While he did look good in those, she wouldn't necessarily call it her favorite.

He turned toward her, a smirk on his lips. "Having a hard time coming up with something, Granger?"

She waved her hands at him, staring at the corner of the mantle. "Shh, I'm thinking." She went through all the moments they had seen each other throughout the years. They had been to balls,—dress robes were nice but not her favorite—, dinners—still the typical slacks and button-up, but accompanied with a jacket—, even the beach—while he did look great in his swim trunks, again still not her favorite. When the answer suddenly came to her, her cheeks flared with heat and she averted her eyes to the floor.

Out of the corner of her eye she could see Malfoy sit up in his chair and lean forward. "Oh you have an answer. This ought to be good." She shook her head quickly. "Oh come on, Granger. If you want to win, you have to be honest."

You are a Gryffindor, she said quickly to herself.

"Your pajamas," the words rushed out at once.

"My… my pajamas?" He asked with a chuckle. "Why my pajamas?"

"Not your fancy silk ones that I'm sure you wear regularly," she said, her face getting even hotter. "But the flannel ones with just a white t-shirt. You wore it last year when we all went to Greece."

When he didn't reply, she looked up to find his chin in his hand looking at her intently. "I remember. Why those though? Out of all the fancy robes I've worn."

She shifted her eyes to the fire, still unable to meet his gaze while she spoke. "You just looked so… normal. And when you came down to the kitchen in the morning, your hair was all tousled and you had sleep patterns on your face. It was very…," -she moved her hand around trying to think of the right word-, "endearing." She shrugged her shoulders quickly.

"That's quite the assessment, Granger."

She grabbed another paper and launched it toward him. "Can we move on please?"

He chuckled and opened the parchment. "Fine. What is something your partner does that turns you on?"

Hermione whipped her head to stare at him. "There is no way George is going to ask that!"

Malfoy lifted his shoulders. "He might. He said the questions were going to be more risqué next time."

Hermione turned her mouth down and crossed her arms across her chest. "I am not answering that."

Malfoy looked up and frowned back at her. "Don't be a sour puss. Okay let's see here." He tapped his finger to his lips and looked up at the ceiling like he had to think hard on his answer.

"Don't think too hard, don't want you bursting a blood vessel," she spat.

"Oh har har," he mocked. "Let's see. Oh yes. You do this thing when you're thinking. You bite your lip and twirl one of your curls around your finger. You're so focused on what you're doing, you don't even notice you're doing it half the time. There!" He pointed at her from across the room. "You're doing it right now."

She stopped moving her finger and whipped it from her hair as she removed her lip from between her teeth and scowled at him. "Was not."

He nodded his head quickly. "Was to. Okay you're turn!" He wiggled in his seat, giddy for her answer.

She rolled her eyes and tucked her hand back into her arms, to keep it from twirling into her hair. "Fine, if you really must know, you have a really great smile and laugh when you think something is really funny and it catches you off guard, so there," she said the whole thing in one breath in straight monotone.

Malfoy threw his head back and laughed, smiling that smile that she just told him about. "You'd think someone had a wand to your head. It's okay to be honest, Granger. Especially with your husband." He wiggled his brows as if he really were her husband.

She grabbed a few papers from the pile and tossed them at his head. "Oh whatever, you git."

Malfoy's day seemed to have turned around and he was in a much lighter mood than he had been when he first arrived. After another hour of questions—personal, but not too intense— Hermione was fighting to keep her eyes open and she could tell that Malfoy was on the verge of sleep too.

"Malfoy?"

"Hm?"

"I think it's time to call it a night, before either one of us falls asleep here," she said with an air of authority, but not bothering to move from her incredibly comfortable position on the couch.

"My sofa not good enough for you?" He grumbled, his head leaned back and eyes closed.

"It's fine, just not as comfortable as my bed."

He grunted in response.

"I'm leaving now."

"Okay."

"I mean it."

"No one's stopping you."

Hermione snorted. "The sofa seems to be. Okay here I go." She still laid in her spot on the couch.

"Up you go, Granger," he said, his eyes still closed.

"Okay this is ridiculous," she huffed. With her last ounce of energy, she hoisted herself off the cushions and made her way to the fireplace, grabbing her bag from the hook by the kitchen on her way. "Okay, I am truly leaving now."

He raised his arm and flapped his hand flippantly. "Be gone with you, Granger." He looked like he had no intention of leaving himself, the only thing that moved on his person was his arm, which he had now lowered back to the chair.

Hermione laughed and passed his chair on her way to the fireplace. "I'm going, I'm going."

Before she fully passed his chair, he had reached out and grabbed her wrist for the second time that evening. Confused, she looked down to see his grey eyes staring up at her.

"Thank you for staying," he said quietly.

"Sure thing," she croaked.

They stared at each other for a few more moments before he squeezed her wrist and released it. "Best be off then, Granger."

She nodded and creeped her way to the fireplace. Definitely not giving him time to change her mind— or for her to change her own mind. She stepped over the hearth and before she threw the powder down around her feet, she spoke to the blond in the chair, "Goodnight, Malfoy."

She didn't see much before the room spun around her, but she could swear she heard him say, "Goodnight, Hermione."