A/N:: So I had a stupid moment the chapter before this and accidentally put magic cruise. No, this is a muggle cruise liner. Sorry, I had a slip up and didn't catch that so I'm glad one of my readers did.

Also. Someone asked about why they have to pretend to be in love. I've touched on it a bit before, but perhaps I left out too much? Well, hopefully I'll fill in those gaps in this chapter. Hokay? On with the last chapter of the honey moon.


Chapter 12:: Last Night Sailing, First Night Failing…

Hermione tossed and turned in her bed, not able to get comfortable at all. This was their last night in paradise and neither of them had had a real "honey moon" experience. Topping that, as even more punishment for her almost-tryst with the three men—as if leaving her the way he did wasn't punishment enough, Draco took away her balcony bed. She couldn't sleep feeling shoved in the corner.

Hermione heaved a sigh and let her eyes lift to her husband's sleeping form. His chest rose and fell rhythmically with his shallow breaths; his breathing was quiet and practically unnoticeable if you weren't looking right at him. 'He's a very still sleeper,' Hermione noted in her head. At least she knew that if they ever had to sleep in the same bed other than to produce an heir, though she was hoping that would not be the case, he wouldn't roll over on her and flatten her small form.

She never liked it when guys considered her a fragile porcelain doll; but she would not deny that she had a rather smallish frame and it would be rather uncomfortable to have a man nearly twice her weight roll onto her. A small smile played at her lips as she thought about this. She would just kick him in the family heirlooms if he smothered her.

Hermione shifted again, rolling onto her left side, before she heaved a light sigh. Tomorrow—well, today—consisted of a two hour stop on a small island for souvenirs (though Draco never stepped foot off the liner), poetry in the lounge, a small volleyball tournament (which Hermione signed herself up for, though Draco said he would only watch from the side), then couples split up for their pampering before the romantic candlelit dinner. Then everyone would exit the cruise.

Hermione was actually looking forward to her time alone. Draco wouldn't admit it, but ever since the attempted gang rape on her, he had not let her out of his sight; even when she went on her own to do something, he watched her carefully from a distance. It slightly unnerved her, but oddly enough it made her feel just a little bit safer. Her time alone, however, would give her just the type of relaxation she's been wanting this entire trip.


Couples split up and the females got to go to the spa for a three hour treatment. Deep skin massages, manicures and pedicures, facials, waxing, along with getting her thick curls tamed and professionally done. She was never one for being a girly girl, but she wanted to look and feel good for once.

She smiled down at the perfectly manicured, shiny nails. Her toes were also neatly done, cleaned and polished. The only significant difference was that her toes were painted a brilliant, deep red while her fingernails had squared, white French tips. I wonder how long these will maintain their shine.

She didn't have high hopes for what life at the manor would be like. Honestly, she didn't want to imagine it. They'd probably turn me into a scullery maid that works under their house elves. A frown flittered across her face for just a moment before she shook it off. They would do no such thing as long as she was Hermione; she would make damn sure of that.

Draco was already sitting at the table, a bored frown gracing his features, as Hermione walked in with the other women. The men looked up expectantly to their wives and girlfriends, appreciating the great work spent on them, but Hermione couldn't push down the disappointment when Draco's eyes never once lifted to hers.

He knew she was there, that was all he needed to know. It didn't matter what she looked like, it didn't matter what she was wearing; she would always just be Hermione, his mud-blood wife.

She slumped in the chair across from him, resting her small bag on the chair. He never once lifted his eyes to hers as he spoke evenly and calmly, "Sit up straight. It's bad manners to slouch at the table." She couldn't believe this. She had come into the room feeling beautiful, radiant, confident; and all of that was gone without a single ounce of effort from her husband.

She sat up slightly and turned her head out the window, sighing slightly. She would have to return to this sham tonight. She was almost certain that when they crossed the magic barrier back to their world, reporters would be flashing away at them again and they would once again put on fake smiles and kisses for the show. It felt odd to be going back to that. This cruise had allowed her a bit of freedom, a chance to express her normal feelings for her husband; instead of having to mask them behind a false love. Not once on this cruise had either of them made any effort for affection, just as Malfoy had said in the beginning of this mess, save for the night she was nearly raped.

When they were alone, Draco didn't speak at all to her; he only laid on his back staring at the ceiling. Several times his eyes would shift and catch her staring at him; but he wouldn't say anything, he'd only move his eyes back to the ceiling. Tonight though, they were in the dining hall wearing formal attire and the atmosphere was romantic. Even with all of this, he still wouldn't speak to her conversationally. Would this be a nightly thing? Or would they fall into a somewhat comfortable relationship together?

"What's got you sighing like that?" His question was quiet but unexpected, scaring her out of her thoughts.

"Huh?"

"You're sighing and looking out the window longingly."

"Just wondering what it's going to be like from here. We have to go back tonight."

Draco nodded silently before resting his eyes on the empty place mat in front of him. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before speaking. "We'll go back to the manor; the public will see us as every bit the loving couple we expect them to see us as; you'll continue working, as agreed—though mother really hates this idea as does father and myself; you'll have your own room, your own wing of the manor if you'd rather…" He seemed to trail off before his eyes met hers. "It's your home now as well, and there's nothing I, nor my father can do about this; so lighten up, you're safe in the manor."

"I don't feel like I'm in danger there; that was never the issue."

"Then what is the problem now?"

"You honestly can't tell me you're okay with things how they are?"

"What things? The whole forced marriage or the being married to you part?"

"Everything." Hermione's voice got quiet and their conversation stopped as the waiter brought a bowl of soup for each of them and a bottle of champagne. As the waiter left, she made to continue but Draco cut her off.

"Here's the deal. We're going to argue forever if you continue bringing this up. It's over and done with. I will discuss this with you now, but after we step off this ship, I never want to hear about this marriage and how miserable you are being forced to be married to me." Draco waited for her solemn nod before he continued. "I don't like this, but obviously we're both still alive so it hasn't killed us yet. Even more so, stop being so amazed that I'm taking this so well. I've known since I was born that I wouldn't get to choose who I married. Growing up with that knowledge, this isn't really too big a difference for me; either scenario I have, there's a mutual arrangement absent of emotion."

Hermione looked down. He was right; either way this went he would have had a marriage that did not allow him to know what falling in love really felt like. Hermione suddenly found herself wondering whether he had ever fallen in love before, or if he even knew what real love was.

"Before you ask, and it's all over your face; no, I never wasted my time on love before. A Malfoy doesn't need such trivial emotions because they will only hurt us in the end. I'm only ever going to say this once, Hermione, so you better listen really damn carefully and engrave it in your mind. Honestly, marrying you is not the worst that could have happened. I am thankful that you have a useful, working brain in that head of yours, even if your damn stubbornness and pride, and your dying need to know every little fact, annoy the hell out of me; out of all the birds I've ever been engaged with, you're by far the most intelligent and honest of them all."

Hermione was dumbstruck, and at a total loss for words—Malfoy seemed to have that effect on her recently—as her mouth opened and closed repeatedly. He gave an amused smirk as one pale blonde eyebrow rose questioningly. He appeared to be ready to tease her but their waiter returned with a side salad as he ushered the small, now empty, soup bowls away.

"Draco…" Hermione said sometime later, after the two had been silently picking at their salads.

"Hm?"

"I'm sorry." His interest snapped to her apology causing him to look at her, his eyes meeting hers again.

"When one apologizes, one usually admits what they are apologizing for within their apology." He smirks slightly at her blush. She cursed him silently; the arse was going to make her say things she didn't want to say. But he had been honest with her, hadn't he? Actually, he'd pretty much always been honest with her; not necessarily always nice, but he was always honest.

"I'm sorry for being so insufferable. I think we should try to work together. After all, if we're at least civil and somewhat friendly, it won't be as bad."

The corner of his lip twitched in a rather oddly amused smile, an expression Hermione had rarely seen and she couldn't recall him ever directing a genuine smile at her.

"Granger,"

"Hermione. We're married now and I took your last name, Draco. We can't just keep using surnames."

"I know, but here no one knows…"

"But if you slip back in wizarding London…"

"yes yes…" Draco waved his hand impatiently. "The world will know that we're not really in love and shame and tarnish and hate will befall us all."

Hermione tilted her head slightly; her lips puckered a little as she thought. "Hey, Draco? Why are we faking being in love?"

Draco stared at her incredulously. "You're joking with me right? There's so much riding on us being in real love that being forced into this mess would complicate everything."

"Well, I mean, with the marriage law passed and all isn't it obvious that we aren't in love?"

"We've got to make it seem different. We may have been assigned to one another, but remember, the story is that decided to quietly work out our differences and in the three months since we were assigned we've fallen so madly in love with each other."

"I know the story." Hermione let an annoyed glare shoot to him before continuing. "What I mean is, why is it such a bad thing for us if everyone else has to go through this too?"

"One, my family really needs the image boost." He ignored Hermione's annoyed look at his family's selfish motives. "Two, your job relies on being able to fight the law. With you to be forced into marrying your childhood tormentor who you hate and vice versa, it looks very unprofessional. It looks like you've given up your resolve to fight for justice and equality and freedom and all that other stuff you protect." She couldn't deny his good point, it did make her look like a door mat to just lay down and take marrying her former enemy. "Three, would you really want your parents, who are blissfully ignorant to what's been going on with all this, to know that you were forced into marriage? We both know that you want them to think you've found your dream guy. They would possibly even consider making you leave magic if they knew, wouldn't they?" Hermione nodded again, they probably would make her come home. "And lastly, if your friends knew that you had to marry me and that you were miserable with me, can you imagine the chaos? Your friends are barking mad."

Draco paused as the waiter took their salad plates away and brought out the roasted chicken and mashed potatoes, green beans and a roll, and a side dish of gravy. They both took a moment to savor a few bites in silence before he continued.

"As for what I was saying, think about it a little more. Your friends know what happened between us that time, right?" Hermione nodded, confirming what he already knew to be true. "If they knew you were miserable with me, they would have you taken away. Not too big a deal, right? After all, we didn't want to be married to begin with, right? But you'd be reassigned and the second person on your list is Weasley." Hermione tensed up and Draco wasn't touching her, but he could feel her tension clear down into his own bones.

"This is a touchy subject for you, but I think it needs to be dealt with before we get off this ship." His eyes met hers confidently, determined and set. "I know that you see me as nothing more than the rapist that stole your virginity or whatever, and I hate to say this, but if you don't consent we're going to have to have a repeat again within six months." Hermione's eyes grew wide as she clasped her hands together in an attempt to hide their nervous shaking. "What happened between us before was unfortunate, and I wish I could have done anything to change those circumstances; but if you don't want a repeat there's got to be a choice. Either one, you can be with me willingly—and I can assure you it won't be more than necessary to produce the heir—or you can let your friends pull you and you can leave. I'm not going to force you to stay in miserable captivity. I think we've both had enough of that."

Hermione couldn't meet his eyes. What should she even say? She didn't want to willingly give her body to Draco, but she didn't want Draco to pass her off to Ron. She couldn't go back to Ron; she wouldn't.

"I don't expect an answer tonight, of course. That's too much on us right now. But I'll expect a decision from you by the fourth month."

"But the deadline is the sixth month!"

"I don't want to wait around forever or for you to make last-minute choices with me that you'll regret later, just because you have to stay married to me. I'm not a shield you can use to protect yourself from Weasley. Don't get me wrong, as long as you are my wife, he will never harm you; but I refuse to let you stay with me just to stay away from him." Draco's eyes pierced her own; the intensity of his scared her slightly as she pushed her empty plate away from her, making to get up from the table. "Don't think you can just get up and walk away from this conversation, Hermione." He didn't command her to sit back down, nor did he command her to stay; but oddly, she felt compelled to seat herself back into her chair.

"So, by the fourth month, make your decision. I will make my visit then."

"When in the fourth month."

"Give it the tenth night." Draco stood and held out his hand for Hermione to take, leading her away from the crowded room towards their guest room.

"What all are you expecting from me that night?"

"That depends on your decision, doesn't it? But don't make this anymore absurdly complex than it needs to be." He closed the door behind him, loosening his tie as he moved into their room. "If you're willing on that night, we'll go from there. If you're not, then I'll turn right around and tell the minister it isn't working and we need a reassignment." Hermione paled at his words.

Damn him…

"Draco, this almost sounds like you're blackmailing me into sleeping with you. It feels so wrong." Hermione's eyes went downcast; though she was angry, she knew that he wasn't really at fault for the law's stupidity.

"I'm sorry you feel that way, but it's one or the other and those aren't my conditions. Let's just take this time to get comfortable and let you adjust to life as a Malfoy. It may not be as terrible as you think." Draco gave her a soft smile as the room service brought up a somewhat large plate of ice cream cake with hot fudge and caramel drizzled over it and a sliced strawberry on the side. He placed two spoons beside the dish and backed away politely, leaving them to share their surprise dessert.

Hermione never pictured Draco for a sweets boy, but he took to the chocolate quickly and she was entranced at the polite table manners that presented themselves. She felt oddly out of place sitting next to him, he was refined and proper, sitting up straight, eating small bites and patting his lips after every so few bites. He was the perfect emblem of aristocratic. She was very well-mannered and lady-like, her mother had taught her manners of course, but sitting next to him made her feel awkward and insecure; as if sitting in his refined, radiating aura, she appeared to be as barbaric and ill-mannered as Ron to the other passengers.

The voice over the intercom announced that all couples should share a private romantic dance together even if they were in their rooms; shortly after, soft music came on and Draco shrugged to himself before taking Hermione's hand and leading her out into the open floor of their room. Merlin, did this boy have a tutor for ball room dancing as well? Hermione felt horribly uncoordinated as she tried to keep up with Draco's form; but he moved her flawlessly, experienced in leading inexperienced girls like Pansy around a dance floor. Hermione flushed a deep tinge of red as she hopped quickly to avoid stepping on his feet in the middle of a turn; she couldn't tell if it was her imagination, but she could have sworn she felt a chuckle vibrate in Draco's chest.

His hands gently grasped her waist a little firmer as he pulled her in closer to him. "What are you thinking about?" His whisper was low, his breath tickled her ear; but his thumbs were drawing distracting, lazy circles on her hips.

"About how sad I am to be leaving. I don't want to live as a fake Hermione. I feel like here, away from everyone, I can just be myself."

"Like I said earlier… life at the Manor may not be the most loving environment you can be in; but we all understand what you're going through and as long as you don't throw a selfish temper tantrum, we'll do our best to make sure you're comfortable." Draco let one finger stroke her cheek. "I don't want you miserable. I honestly and truly don't. I think it's time the misery for both of us stopped."

"Draco… There's something I've kind of been meaning to bring up these two weeks…"

"What?"

"Well, the Weasley's always have a summer cookout to gather friends and family and they invited us… I kind of told Mrs. Weasley we'd be there."

"You what?" He didn't stop their dancing, but his eyes went straight into hers.

"I know I should have spoken with you about it first, and if you don't want to go I completely understand—"

"Of course I don't want to go. Why would you possibly think I would?"

"I didn't think you would… but we are married, and I always go. It's a tradition that I've been invited to for nearly every year since third year. I have to go, whether you accompany me or not. I just figured that as my husband you would want to accompany me even if you don't like them, but I won't force you to go with me."

"I don't think I want you going at all…"

"Draco, you can't possibly keep me cooped up in the Manor all the time." Hermione stopped moving, crossing her arms over her chest.

"I know, it's not a prison to lock you up; but what if Weasley tries to hurt you again?" Hermione relaxed her figure a little. He was worried, about her?

"Just… just think about it, please. It's in a week. Plenty of time for me to let Molly know if you are going to join me or not." Hermione stepped back and quickly ran towards the exit of the room, going to get her things as the cruise was soon going to be ready to eject them back into their real world of false selves and deceitful facades.


"Welcome back, you two! How was the honeymoon?" Narcissa threw her arms around Draco and Hermione each as they entered the manor, Hermione's new permanent home. "Was the sex good? I always heard angry sex was the best! Was there a lot? What am I saying, you two must have been at it frequently with Draco's reputation. Are we expecting any wonderful additions so soon?" She excitedly looked from Hermione's quickly reddening face to Draco's slightly greenish face.

"Mother, it's a little soon. We have six months to worry about those kinds of relations, and those are for the two of us to work out; you will not be hearing about any sexual excursions between the two of us so don't ask." If I get my way, there won't be many of those. Narcissa's face fell at Draco's spoken words which made him smirk. She always did want another child in the manor. "We do promise, however, that when the time does come and any heir happens along, you'll be the first to know." He kissed his mother's cheek as her smile returned with his words.

"Pipsy!" Draco called for a small house elf, which came forward timidly, her long crooked nose nearly touching the floor in her bow.

"How is the Pipsy can be helping the Master?"

"Pipsy, this is Hermione, my wife. She is to be taken to the West Cordial room." Pipsy looked confusedly from him to Hermione for a moment before shaking her head slowly.

"Pipsy is cannot be doing that for the Master's the Misses."

Draco stared at the creature as if he had just been backhanded. He had never once been told no by a servant and in his own home no less. What was this thing playing at? "What did you say?"

"Pipsy is being very sorries; Pipsy is, Pipsy is. But The Lady said the Master and the Master's the Misses must room together on the Lady's order." Draco turned to give his mother an incredulous stare, but she had already left, leaving the three in the room alone.

"Pipsy, take Hermione's stuff to whatever room my mother told you too for now, but be prepared to need to move them again." Pipsy bowed lightly and popped away with his and Hermione's baggage.

Draco took Hermione's hand and sort of half pulled her, half dragged her to the drawing room. "Mother!"

"Yes, Draco?"

"What is the meaning of this?"

"What do you mean?" She was playing coy, Hermione appreciated the woman's straight face and calm demeanor and now knew where Draco got it from, when it suited his favor.

"The Lady said the Master and the Master's the Misses must room together on the Lady's order?" Draco quoted the creature angrily, taking a hostile step towards her.

"The meaning is quite simple. I told Pipsy that you two were to room together on my order."

"I know what Pipsy meant! I want to know WHY!"

"Do not shout at me, young man." His mother stayed calm, her demeanor not giving way to any emotion under her mask.

"Why would you do this, mother?"

"I decided that as a couple you two needed to spend a lot of time together, but with your pasts, you're going to avoid each other. With a shared room and bed you have to at least sleep together. Besides, you're married, there's no shame in sleeping with your wife, Draco. It's not like you haven't slept with other women before."

"That is in a whole different context, mother."

"You'll do it and that's that. Be happy I'm letting you stay in the West wing. I could force you to the East wing where your father and I are. But I figured you were responsible enough that we wouldn't have to babysit you. We're just going to send the house elves to make sure that you're not sneaking into any other rooms; so don't even bother trying that one."

Hermione looked about ready to pass out at the words that were coming from her mother-in-law's lips. Her stomach dropped a moment later when she saw Draco's shoulders slump, defeated, and he turned back to her. "I'm turning in for the night. Follow me if you don't want to spend all night searching for your bed."


She followed him silently through the many twists and turns, up stair cases and down hallways, through doors and more doors. Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever remember the path back out and was beginning to contemplate asking Draco if she could possibly relocate for the sake of familiarizing herself with the damnable floor plan of this place when he stopped abruptly in front of a large set of ebony double doors.

He growled quietly as his fingers traced the silver engraving on the door. Where his door once read Draco Malfoy, it now read Draco and Hermione Malfoy. He was definitely going to need to kill something tomorrow and Hermione would be lucky to survive the night if she could keep her mouth shut. His hands gripped the door handles tightly and shoved the doors open widely, exposing his room for Hermione to see.

Despite being slightly angry with the whole situation, he couldn't help but smirk smugly at the shocked gasp that escaped his smaller, new roommate. Her eyes lit up at the site of the expansive room. The walls were a light creamy beige color with deeper beige tribal swirls highlighting it every now and then, and the soft, plushy carpet was a deep creamy beige color.

There were two bay windows, accented by sheer, black curtains on the sides and a silver shade, with black seats and silver accent cushions on the right wall, and two inward-swinging, large, ebony rimmed, glass doors, with sheer black curtains attached to the wall above, leading to a large balcony that over looked the gardens and the lake on the estate; a small, black, plush seating area was to the left of the room that included a love seat and two small recliners all circled around a glass coffee table. Against the left wall, a few feet from the open side of the sitting area was a large, decorative bookcase full with many large books; some of which appeared to be very old and some very rare.

Against the far wall were three polished, ebony doors, one in the center and one on each far end. Small, silver plaques labeled each one. Two large, ebony dressers were against the far wall, one on each side of the center door, and each had a large mirror hung on the wall above it. Hermione's bags from earlier were resting against the dresser on the right.

In the center of the entire room was a large, four poster, super king bed. The comforter was black and the main pillows were beige, but there were two large, black, and four small, silver accent pillows on top of the bed. The frame was polished ebony like all his other furniture, but Hermione was just thankful it wasn't green. She loved green, don't get her wrong—secretly it had been her favorite color since she was eight—, but Slytherins overdid their green fetish and the thought of having to sleep in an emerald room made her skin crawl.

"Well are you going to come into the room or are you going to stand out in the hallway all night?" Draco's voice was teasing, but she couldn't detect any malice in his tone. She took a few timid steps into the room, relishing the feel of the carpet on her sandal clad toes. Draco gave a smirk and went to close the doors before gently gripping her waist.

"This is my closet, my dresser, our bathroom, your dresser, and your closet. Go ahead and put your things away. I'm going to shower then you can have it." Hermione nodded uncomfortably, suddenly worlds more nervous at their close proximity and situation.


Draco had showered and came out of the bathroom draped in a deep green bath robe. Hermione had to force herself to not roll her eyes as she shut herself into the bathroom to shower. She had pulled on her short black gym shorts and an over sized T-shirt that Harry had inherited from Dudley back in their younger days. She dried her hair via wand and stepped out of the steamy bathroom feeling fresh and clean, despite the crappy situation.

"Uh…" She had come out and found Draco laying on top of the bed, wearing only a pair of silky black pajama pants—she didn't dare allow herself to wonder if there were any undergarments on the man—and his arm thrown carelessly over his face, the bridge of his nose resting in the crook of his elbow. He looked hollow, solemn and down; but Hermione continued to stare, awkwardly shifting her weight from leg to leg occasionally.

"Where… where do I sleep?" She tried not to sound nervous or frightened, but it was there regardless of her attempts. For a moment, a humored smirk fell on his lips before he managed to make them unreadable once more.

"Wherever you find yourself comfortable, I guess. I, however, will be enjoying a comfortable bed."

"Aren't you going to tell me I'm not fit to sleep in the same bed as you? And that I belong on the rug at your feet?"

"If that's where you want to sleep, be my guest. All the more room for me to relax in. I bet you're a bed hog." She couldn't see much of his nose, but she could make out that he had scrunched it up in distaste.

Hermione rolled her eyes before proceeding to the other side of the bed and grabbing a pillow then walking to the linen closet for a blanket, all the while she was oblivious that he had moved his arm just enough to peer at her.

"Hermione, I was just messing with you. Of course you sleep in the bed. It's plenty big enough."

"I think I find that the couch looks more appealing than sharing a bed with a pig like you." She dropped her pillow to the couch but before she could plop down, Draco was by her side grabbing her wrist tightly.

"Can the bitch act, Miss High-and-Mighty. If I recall, you're my wife now; should I really be taking such crap from you? I've gone out of my fucking way to be generous and this is the thanks I get?" His voice had never wavered, never raised in volume, nor did it speak with malice or discontent; his eyes, held all the fire his body needed to show for her to know how angry he was.

"Do you want me to sleep in your bed?" Her eyes met his defiantly, challenging his outburst. That's the drawback to her Gryffindor self, her pride wouldn't let her just back down and get in the bed. No, she would challenge him, piss him off more, and then wind up sleeping on the couch regardless; but she'd have the satisfaction of knowing she didn't give in.

"I couldn't care less where you slept. Go sleep at the bottom of the lake for all I care. I just think it's rather selfish and childish of you to insult me after I've gone out of my way to be so courteous." Draco muttered something about ungrateful and pain in the ass as he released her wrist and stormed out of the room onto the balcony.

Hermione watched him go for a second as he grudgingly looked at the ring on his finger. She didn't want to tell him this, but sleeping in the same bed with him would bring back too many painful memories; the very same painful memories she had been suppressing so well without him being near her. She sat on the couch and pulled her knees in to her chest, resting her chin on her knee-caps. She wasn't sure how long she sat like that, but she was sure she began to doze because Draco had come over and lightly shook her shoulder.

"Come on." He put his hand down for her to accept. When she did, still in her half-asleep euphoria, Draco began leading her to the bed.

"Draco! I really don't…" She stopped abruptly when she knew where he was taking her. He turned back to her, his eyes narrowing once more. How was he supposed to be civil and cooperate with this mess when she wouldn't even lie in the damned bed? It's not like he was going to try and consummate the marriage… tonight; but he knew sleeping in the same damn bed—thanks mother dearest—he was certain he would be trying. After all, he was a man, and men had needs; but he couldn't just have a morning hand-shag with her right. there. That was insane. She would be so offended; if she caught him… but who was he kidding, she would always catch him.

So the only logical explanation is, of course, bed his wife. It's not that bad is it? They ARE married… and she is kind of pretty… ok, she's downright faptastic and shaggable in every sense; but he would never resort to going to her. No, he would make her come to him; in due time. But for now, he had to get her in that damned bed.


A/N::

Hey guys! I've been MIA for soo long. I had four tests in one week. I had to study like there's no tomorrow. Wanna know how serious that shit got? I was studying greek philosophers so much for origins of psychology and learning theories (had to cover Plato, Aristotle, and a little Socrates for Child Psych, Adolescent Psych, and Learning Theories tests), and my friend and I were in the library talking about Cleopatra and Julius Cesar and I was like… "Who wrote Julius Cesar?" and my friend replied, "At the moment I can't remember…" Mind you we are BOTH college students here that graduated high school in 2007… we covered Julius Cesar in the 05-06 school year (USA system)… I actually said "Maybe it was Socrates? Though it might have been Sophocles, he did write Antigone…" and my friend replied with "I actually think that second one is right, because as you said, he did write Antigone…"

Do you know how badly I wanted to crawl in a hole and die when I realized it was Shakespear? D: We actually had to look it up online too! That's how bad this studying crap has been for me (though so far I've gotten two A's and one B :D I'm still waiting for Adolescent Psych)

But I hope you guys forgive me with the somewhat extra long chapter? Will He get her in his bed :D maybe! Check in next time to find out!