Songs - Dirty Paws by Of Monsters and Men, Pieces by Andrew Belle, and Nothing But You by Bob Moses

Chapter Four: The Assignment

Hermione was late. Swearing under her breath, she sprinted towards the conference room she should have been in five minutes ago, her hair flying wildly behind her as she maneuvered around the crowded hallway. Kingsley had called an early Monday morning meeting with the Aurors and other ranking members of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to which she belonged, and despite arriving at her office much earlier than normal that morning, she had lost track of time thinking about the same person who had been on her mind all weekend.

Fucking, Malfoy.

Her delicate blouse and tight, dark green pencil skirt weren't exactly well-suited to running, or any physical activity for that matter, but run she did, the clang of her favorite black heels echoing off the walls. While she wanted to berate herself for wearing something so ridiculously out of character to work, especially now that she found herself running awkwardly down the hallway trying not to fall flat on her face, she knew exactly why she had done it. And who she had done it for.

As she rounded the last corner, she glanced at her watch, hoping she hadn't lost too much time daydreaming in her office, and ran headfirst into something solid and warm.

"Ouch, Granger," the object spoke.

"Shit, I- I'm so-" she looked up and saw Malfoy's pale face staring back at her.

Why is it always him?

"Sorry?" he offered with a grin.

"Yes, right. Sorry," she breathed, clinging tightly to the papers in her hand as if they would help keep her upright.

"After you," Draco said, his arm pushing the door open to let her through.

The meeting hadn't started yet, but it seemed that the two of them were the last of the audience to arrive. Hermione eyed the two remaining unoccupied chairs which were crammed next to each other in the back corner of the room, and sighed. Just what I need, she thought. She made her way to the first chair, tucking a hand under her legs to smooth the underside of her before sitting down, and felt Draco brush past her as he settled into the second.

It wasn't totally clear whether her still elevated heartbeat was due to her mad dash down the hallway or her run-in and subsequent interaction with Malfoy, and she wasn't entirely sure if she wanted for the answer. What was clear, however, was that the man next to her was as thoroughly distracted as she was by the closeness of their bodies. Without needing to turn her head, she could feel a pair of steely, gray eyes on her – on her legs specifically – and she had to fight the urge to smile. Crossing one leg over the other, she turned her knees slightly in Malfoy's direction, dangling a high heeled foot so that it was almost touching his leg, and plopped her pile of papers in her lap. She turned her head slightly, trying to catch another glimpse of the hard lines of his face without him noticing, but was interrupted when Kingsley and Harry entered the room.

Harry spoke first, stepping up to the small podium at the front of the room. "Thank you everyone for coming," he began, the room quickly quieting at the sound of his voice. "Some of you are already aware what this meeting is about, but for those who you have not already been briefed, I want to emphasize that everything communicated with you here today cannot be discussed with anyone outside of this room."

He paused, looking around the room as people nodded in understanding.

"Two weeks ago, a young muggle boy was found near death on the side of a busy road," he continued, raising a hand to adjust his glasses. "The boy was conscious, but unable to respond to simple questions and commands. The muggle doctors who treated him believed he was in shock. Unfortunately, when they attempted to treat the boy, he began screaming and tried to claw his way out of his room. They were able to sedate him with muggle drugs but could not determine the cause of his violent behavior nor could they keep it from re-emerging when the drugs wore off. By complete chance, a Healer from St. Mungo's was visiting a relative being treated in the room next door to the boy. She witnessed one of the boy's episodes and noticed some striking similarities between the boy's behavior and that of a patient who had been subjected to magical torture. While the Healer wasn't able to examine the boy, she immediately alerted the Ministry."

"One of our Aurors managed to gain access to the boy's room later that night and used Legilimency to try to determine if a curse had been used on him. The boy's mind was mostly blank, as if all of his memories had been wiped away, but before the Auror released the spell an image of a figure appeared and casted an unknown curse, one with effects similar to the Cruciatus Curse."

Audible gasps rang out across the audience, and although Hermione couldn't see anyone's face from her position in the back of the room, she could sense people's horror. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see that Draco's hands were clinging to his legs, his fingers digging into the tops of his knees. She lifted a hand to comfort him, but she caught herself, the tips of her fingers only inches away from the top of his hand, and quickly moved her hand to tuck her curls behind her ear. Luckily, he didn't seem to notice.

Hermione knew what was coming next in the story, but it didn't lessen the anger she felt rising from deep inside as she refocused her attention to the front of the room. Only a truly evil person could torture a defenseless, innocent boy, and it made her blood boil.

Harry inhaled deeply. "The person who cast the curse was Rodolphus Lestrange."

The gasps around the room were even louder this time, and Kingsley took the opportunity to replace Harry at the podium, raising his hand to quiet the room.

"The boy has been moved to St. Mungo's and is under our protection," he explained calmly. "I think it goes without saying but finding Rodolphus will take precedence over any assignments people in this room are currently working on. If he is really back in Britain, we need to do everything in our power to capture him before he hurts anyone else," Kingsley paused, his eyes scanning the room. "The Auror office has been interrogating Death Eaters in Azkaban and searching some of the old hideouts, but we have no new leads. Each of you in this room has been selected for a particular task to aid in the Aurors' search and assignments will be waiting for you on your desk when you return to your offices."

Except for the sound of people shifting nervously in their seats, the room was silent, but Hermione could feel it ready to erupt in questions. Kingsley seemed to sense the same thing and added, "I ask you to please hold your questions until you have read your assignments. Should you still have any inquiries, please direct them to Harry."

Kingsley gave Harry a nod, and then stepped aside to let him continue.

Harry cleared his throat. "We are hoping to catch Rodolphus off guard," he said, his eyes falling briefly on Hermione before drifting to another location in the room. "We think that the curse cast at the boy was meant to torture and kill him, so it is possible that Rodolphus is unaware that the boy survived. The quicker we can decipher the boy's memories, the less likely news of our involvement will reach him, and the easier it will be to catch him."

Harry continued speaking, but Hermione's mind wandered. She already knew the details; Kingsley had told her the story shortly after the boy was admitted to St. Mungo's, and it still horrified her. This kind of violence was supposed to have disappeared with Voldemort, and while she never expected things to be perfect after the war, this was a particularly hard pill to swallow. Rodolphus had been exceptionally brutal during the war, responsible for as much bloody torture and disfigurement as his own psychotic wife, and it appeared he hadn't changed a bit.

Hermione's eyes glazed over, and when she finally dragged herself out of her thoughts, she realized that Harry had ended the meeting and people were filing out of the room. She stood up to join the crowd, knowing that she likely had a tower of tasks waiting for her on her desk, but paused when she saw Harry maneuvering his way toward her position in the back of the room, his hand lifted in the air to get her attention. As she waited, she noticed Draco was still seated next to her, his eyes following Harry's movement across the room.

"Draco. Hermione. I need to speak with you both," Harry said quietly when he reached them.

Draco nodded quickly, his eyes focused awkwardly on the ceiling, while Hermione mumbled a quick "okay." She wasn't sure why Harry needed to see both of them at the same time, but she was going to have to find a way to hold it together.

Harry smiled and motioned for them to follow him out of the conference room. He led them down the long hallway to an unoccupied room and ushered them inside, locking the door behind him before he turned to address them, his face painted with apprehension.

"I need you both to visit the boy at St. Mungo's and attempt to repair his memories," Harry explained, his eyes lingering nervously on Hermione as he spoke.

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Harry silenced her with a wave of his hand.

"Hermione, you know more about memory charms than anyone in the Ministry," he continued, clearly prepared for her objections. "Just because you haven't been successful with your parents, doesn't mean you won't be helpful here."

Hermione could feel Draco's eyes on her as Harry spoke, but she didn't dare look at him. Instead, she chewed nervously at her lip.

"With Draco's skill in Legilimency, you two are the best hope we have at uncovering any of the boy's memories," Harry finished, shifting his attention to Draco who had positioned himself against the wall near the door.

Hermione's eyes widened in surprise, and she finally risked a glance at Draco, who had (thankfully) shifted his dangerously perceptive eyes from her to the ground.

So, he had been the one to search the boy's memories.

"Are both of you willing to do this?" Harry asked, his eyes traveling nervously between the pair.

Having already agreed to the assignment, Draco nodded silently before casting his gaze back toward Hermione, who was rocking slightly on her feet.

Hermione hesitated, but she knew that she would never be able to turn the assignment down. "Yes, of course," she responded quietly.

Harry exhaled deeply and smiled.

"Thank you, Hermione," he said softly. "St. Mungo's has been informed of your visit," he added, turning to Draco and handing him a small piece of parchment. "I trust you two can figure out the details?" he finished.

"We're not children anymore, Harry," Hermione said a little too harshly.

Harry sighed, shaking his head slightly, and Draco, whose thoughts had been inscrutable throughout the entire conversation, raised an eyebrow slightly in surprise.

"We'll be fine," she revised, brushing a curl out of her face.

Behave, Harry mouthed at her to which she rolled her eyes.

Draco wasn't sure if her tone was a response to being forced to work with him or if it was a response to being asked to accomplish something that she hadn't been able to do for her own parents, but he hoped it was the latter. For some reason – okay, lots of reasons – he couldn't stand the idea of Hermione not wanting to be around him.

"Send an owl if you need me," Harry added, seemingly satisfied that the outbursts had been kept to a minimum. He nodded at Draco as if to wish him luck, before opening the door and leaving the pair alone in the room together.

"Excited to work with me I see, Granger," Draco said as he leaned against the wall, studying her. She looked anxious, but then again, that wasn't entirely new behavior for her, and he wasn't really sure how to approach her today.

"I didn't know you were a Legilimens," Hermione said softly, choosing to ignore his snarky comment. It was one thing to flirt with him in the hallways, but she was already nervous about their assignment and didn't want to steer them in the wrong direction.

"Bella– my aunt taught me," he responded, averting his eyes from her gaze when he caught his mistake.

"Oh, right," she replied quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Imbecile, Draco thought, berating himself for his slip-up. You literally could have said anything else.

He opened his mouth to apologize but caught the disturbed look on Hermione's face and decided it wasn't the best time. If there was any chance of recovering the boy's memories, she was going to need to focus, and talking about what Bellatrix had done to her during the war, even if just to tell her he was sorry for his part, was undoubtedly the last thing she needed right now. His apology could wait.

"As much as I would love to stand here quietly with you, we should probably get going," Draco said finally, pushing his tall frame off the wall.

"Yes, right," Hermione muttered, clutching her papers against her chest as she lifted her eyes. "I just need to grab a book from my office first."

Of course she does, Draco thought.

They landed outside of St. Mungo's ten minutes later, having Apparated from the Ministry, and Draco led the way through the window of the condemned department building which concealed the hospital. As they entered, Hermione glanced around at the people waiting. Two healers on her right were attending to a small wizard who appeared to be holding the dismembered fingers of his left hand. On her left, there was a young girl covered in boils, an older woman trying to comfort her as they sat waiting. Despite it likely being no different than any other day in the waiting room of a wizarding hospital, Hermione shivered. She didn't like hospitals; they reminded her too much of the war. Trying to shake the sickening feeling in her stomach, she quickly refocused her attention to the desk near the middle of the room.

Draco walked up to the receptionist, a petite, brown-haired woman dressed in all-white, and passed her the small piece of parchment Harry had handed him earlier. The young woman bashed her eyelashes at him after reading the note and gave him a room number on the fourth floor before attempting to engage him in conversation. Draco, who apparently had no patience for small talk, tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter in front of him, and it was only when he stepped slightly to the side in agitation that the receptionist noticed Hermione standing behind him. The woman paused, flashing what Hermione could only assume was her most menacing smile, but frowned when Draco took the opportunity to politely disengage. Despite the overwhelming urge she felt to slap the woman as she turned to follow him, Hermione managed to restrain herself, and followed Draco as he quickly sped down the hallway to the stairway.

As they climbed the last set of stairs and entered the hallway where the boy was being kept, Hermione nervously twirled one of her curls around her finger as they walked through the halls. What if she couldn't help the boy? What if, like her parents, he never remembered?

They stopped outside a guarded door, and Draco spoke a few words to the guard, who nodded and then stepped aside to let them pass into the boy's room. Most of the furniture had been removed from the room, leaving only a single bed, on which the boy was laying, and a small bedside table, next to which a Healer was organizing a collection of potions. After closing the door behind her, Hermione moved farther into the room and let out a small gasp when she saw how small the boy was. He couldn't be more than six years old. The boy's limbs were strapped to the bed, his head placed delicately on a pillow, and his eyes were closed, but she could see his eyes moving furiously behind his lids. Her hands began to shake as the gravity of her task finally hit her, but she relaxed slightly when she felt Draco's presence next to her. At least she wasn't going to have to do this alone.

"You must be from the team from the Ministry," the Healer said, looking up from the potions. When her eyes fell on Draco, she tilted her head slightly and smiled, her hands nervously smoothing her lime green robes. "I'm Healer Larson, but please just call me Edda," she added happily, her eyes so busy studying Draco that didn't even glance at Hermione as she introduced herself.

"How is he?" Draco asked, not bothering to offer his or Hermione's name.

"Much the same," Edda replied, surprised at his curtness. "We've had to keep him on a large dose of sleeping draught to prevent him from hurting himself and others, but he's stable for now."

"Has he said anything since he was brought here?" Hermione inquired as she walked up the side of the boy's bed.

"Nothing," Edda began, her eyes darkening. "When he's conscious he doesn't speak. If he's conscious for too long, well… He starts screaming." She wasn't smiling anymore.

"Where are his parents?" Hermione asked quietly.

"We haven't been able to locate them," Edda responded sadly. "I was informed you're here to try to recover his memories."

Hermione nodded.

"Perhaps, you'll be able to help us find them then," Edda said hopefully.

"We'll certainly try," Hermione offered with a weak smile.

"I think it's best that we get to work," Draco said suddenly, prying his eyes away from the boy.

"Very well," Edda said, her eyes still lingering on Draco as she spoke. "He just received another dose of sleeping draught, so he should sleep peacefully for the next few hours. I'll leave you two alone with him, but if you need anything, I'll be in my office down the hallway," she added before walking briskly out of the room, her robes flying behind her.

Draco walked over to Hermione and sighed.

"What do you think, Granger?" he asked, resisting the urge to place a hand on her shoulder.

Honestly, she didn't know what to think. She wasn't really sure what to do. The book she was holding in her hand contained plenty of information on memory charms, but very little on reversing them. She didn't know why she had bothered bringing it along; it definitely wasn't going to provide her with step-by-step instructions to complete the task Harry had given them.

"It will be difficult to reverse the memory charm, if we don't know exactly how it was cast," Hermione said finally, placing her book on the table next to the bed. "Are you sure you didn't see any other memories when you entered his mind before?"

"Yes, I'm sure," Draco said flatly. "But I didn't linger after I saw Rodolphus' face, so it's entirely possible that I missed something later in the memory," he added, knowing what would be asked of him next.

"I think it would be best if you try again before I attempt any counter spells," Hermione decided, her eyes locking nervously with his as she spoke.

Draco's jaw tightened, but he nodded in agreement. With their limited amount of information, it was the most logical course of action, and whether he was excited about it or not, he had been mentally preparing himself for the inevitability of searching the boy's memories again all weekend.

"Listen," he said after a moment, realizing that he needed to warn her before they went any further. "After I managed to pull myself away from the memory last time, my body almost went into shock," he paused, shivering slightly before continuing. "Muscle memory, I think, from all the times I was tortured when I was a Death Eater. Just- just be prepared when I pull away, okay?"

If Hermione hadn't seen the flicker of fear in his eyes as he spoke, she might have thought he was kidding, but it was clear something had happened to him last time, and she didn't argue. He certainly didn't have to elaborate about what it felt like to be tortured with dark magic.

"I'll be ready," she promised, swallowing heavily.

Draco repositioned himself near the boy's head, inhaling deeply, and raised his wand.

"Legilimens."

He was surrounded by blinding whiteness. There was nothing. No emotions. No memories. The boy's mind was as strange and empty as it had been the first time, and that wasn't comforting. Draco began working his way toward the edges of the boy's mind, for the moment avoiding the corner where he knew the memory of Rodolphus waited, looking for anything that had escaped his first search. But after a few minutes of searching, he reluctantly conceded that there was nothing new.

Knowing what he needed to do next, he dove quickly into the memory he'd been avoiding before he could change his mind, before the knowledge of what happened last time kept him from doing his job. Rodolphus' form appeared, and Draco watched as the curse hit the boy's body and, just like it had happened before, he was immediately overcome with pain. He frantically searched the memory for any clues, any marker that could lead them to Rodolphus, but the longer he stayed in the memory, the more difficult it became for him to focus. Everything hurt, his insides felt like they were on fire, and he knew that if he didn't pull himself from the memory soon, he might not be able to recover.

As he struggled against the pain, he thought he could hear someone calling to him, someone touching him, someone telling him to come back, and with his last coherent thought he realized that he needed to leave the memory. It was then, when he somehow finally found the energy to release the spell, that he noticed something new. There, behind Rodolphus, was a strange black tree humming with magic.

Draco was whimpering and thrashing on the ground in pain, but as long as he stayed in the boy's memory, Hermione wasn't sure she could help him. Unable to watch him suffer alone, she dropped to her knees and placed his head in her lap, her right hand gripping her wand tightly, desperately trying to think of any spell that could help him, but everything she tried seemed to have no effect. He continued to shake in her lap as tears began to fall down his porcelain check, and she stroked his forehead, promising him that it was going to be okay, that it would be over soon. Come back to me, she repeated over and over. Please, Draco.

Suddenly his body stilled, and his eyes blinked open.

"Draco!" Hermione cried out. She choked back a sob when she caught the tortured look in his eyes. "Draco, thank Merlin," she breathed, her hands shaking as she brushed the hair away from his eyes.

He reached a shaky hand up to her face as if to touch her, but then pulled it away.

"Black tree," Draco mumbled so softly that she almost couldn't hear. "I saw a black tree."

Hermione was furious.

"You knew!" she yelled, her cheeks flushed with anger. "You knew what happened the first time he entered the boy's memory, but you still sent him off to try again without any protection! Without warning me!"

"Hermione-"

"No! Harry, what the bloody hell were you thinking? It could have destroyed him!"

"Yes, but- "

"What kind of monster knowingly sends someone to be tortured!?"

"Hermione-"

"He could have died!"

"But he-"

"Since when did you start withholding vital information from people?" she interrupted again, her voice cracking, and her hands shaking uncontrollably at her sides. "Since when did you stop caring about people's well-being?"

"That's not-"

"The memory tortured him! And you let it happen! Twice!"

Hermione wasn't sure how long she'd been yelling at him, but it definitely didn't seem like long enough, and she paused trying to think of what else she could say to get it through Harry's thick skull that what he had done was most definitely not okay.

"Hermione, calm down," Harry finally managed to say. "Draco volunteered for the job, and he wasn't alone. He had you."

Harry was used to Hermione's angry outbursts, but they hadn't been directed at him in years, and it was obvious that he was out of practice. Unfortunately for him, there was no question whether he deserved her wrath this time or not. He undoubtedly did.

The fact that Draco had been so affected by the boy's memory was still a mystery. Neither Kingsley nor any of the Aurors had heard of a memory affecting someone the way it had affected Draco, and they had all known it was a gamble to send him back to the boy, but then again, it would have been a gamble to send anyone in his stead. At least this time, it had happened at St. Mungo's.

"I will not calm down!" Hermione responded, her voice hitting Harry's eardrums with surprising force. "You can't possibly tell me that you think it's okay what happened to him, what you sent him to do despite knowing what would happen."

Barely able to look him in the eye, Hermione stood in front of Harry, breathing heavily. She didn't think he was taking this seriously enough. Watching Draco fall to the ground and writhe in pain had been hard enough, but the fact that Harry hadn't warned her, given her time to prepare, was infuriating. She would have tried to figure out a way to protect Draco, to shield him from the pain. While she had agreed to try to help recover the young boy's memories, she had not agreed to watch helplessly as another person was tortured in the process, and she was going to make damn sure that Harry never, ever made that mistake again.

"Hermione?" Harry began, standing up from his desk and moving next to her. "Draco knew the risks," he continued, putting an arm around her, hoping that she would refrain from slapping him. "I originally planned to have another Auror attempt to read the boy's memories, but Draco refused to allow it. He said it would take too long to train someone to do what needed to be done."

Hermione was quiet for a moment, her mind racing.

"If you ever put me in that position again," she said firmly, pausing to shove Harry away, "if you ever make him do that again, I will make sure you vomit slugs for a month."

He didn't doubt she was serious.

"Where is he now?" Hermione demanded, her chest still heaving as Harry moved back toward his desk.

"He's resting in the infirmary," he told her, removing his glasses and rubbing his temples. "Hermione, you did everything you could. He's going to be alright."

Without another word, she grunted and stomped out of Harry's office, her curls flying angrily behind her.

Harry watched her go, rubbing his temples with his fingers before falling back into his chair. He knew it was a risk not telling her about what happened the first time Draco attempted to look into the boy's mind, but he had been hopeful that he wouldn't need to revisit the memory so soon.

He sighed. So much for that.

When Hermione reached the entrance to the Ministry's infirmary, she paused. The whole ordeal had been terrifying. Despite a group of Healers quickly rushing to Draco's aid after her shouts alerted the guard standing outside the door, she was afraid that the memory had caused permanent damage. Harry had run into the room while she was speaking with one of the Healers, and Draco's presence, even as out of it as he was propped against the wall as the Healers checked his vitals, had been the only thing that kept her from marching across the room and punching her oldest friend directly in the face.

She really didn't want to bother Draco, she knew he was likely exhausted and needed to sleep off the pain he had just been put through, but she had to know if he was alright. Taking a deep breath, she hastily pulled her curls into a bun on top of her head and walked through the door.

Draco was laying on the bed closest to the charmed window. She couldn't tell if he was awake, so she approached him quietly. He looks so peaceful now, she thought, her eyes drinking in his still form. His head was turned slightly to the side and one muscled arm was draped over his head on the pillow, while his other was folded over his abdomen. The blanket had been kicked to the end of his bed, where his bare feet were sprawled haphazardly over the tangled pile of cloth.

Hermione sat down and watched his chest rise and fall under his white shirt for a few minutes before she realized how strange it would look for someone to find her watching over him like this. He probably didn't even want her there anyways.

She stood up to leave, but was stopped by a low, groggy voice.

"Stay," Draco said, his tone registering somewhere between a plea and a demand.

Hermione sat back down, moving her hands nervously to her lap.

"Thank you," he added, turning his head to look at her.

"I didn't do anything," she mumbled, her eyes glued to his despite her embarrassment at being caught lingering at his bedside. "I couldn't do anything to stop it."

Draco slowly shifted his body into a semi-upright position, ignoring the dull pain in the back of his head, and reached for her hand.

"If you hadn't been there talking to me, I'm not sure I would have come back to myself," he admitted seriously.

His face was so often impossible to read, but Hermione could see that he was begging her to believe him, and it was almost too much to handle. Blushing, she looked down at their hands.

And Draco wasn't lying. Her voice had called him back to reality just when he thought he might succumb to the pain in the memory. She had been there comforting him when he opened his eyes, and he would never forget it.

"Hermione," he said softly, trying to coax her eyes back to his.

Her eyes snapped back to his face when she heard him say her name. Not Granger. Hermione.

Draco swallowed heavily when he saw the tears in her eyes. Fucking hell, they were for him. Without letting go of her hands, he turned so that his feet touched the ground next to the bed, his upper body leaning toward her. He could feel her trembling, and without a second thought, he pulled her into him and held her tightly, letting out a sigh as he felt her melt against him.

"It's alright," he told her, resting his chin softly above her head. "I'm okay."

"I couldn't bear it. I knew you were in so much pain- and I- I couldn't help you," she muttered, burying her face against his warm chest, embarrassed that he was the one comforting her after everything he had just gone through.

"You did help me," Draco asserted, rubbing her back softly. "Last time I experienced the memory, I was alone. Last time, I didn't have anyone to pull me away, but this time I had you."

His words calmed her as she leaned against him. Her cheek was resting on his chest, his heart beating steadily below it, and she realized that she didn't want to let go. She didn't want him to ever stop touching her.

Draco inhaled deeply. Vanilla. When Hermione finally turned her head to look at him, he almost forgot to breathe, his chest tightening as he stared into her eyes. She was beautiful, and her eyes – he just wanted to get lost in them. He brushed a curl behind her ear, and she let out a small mewl, the sound reverberating down his entire spine. Her eyes were sparkling, threatening to consume him, and he couldn't look away. They were so close; he could almost taste her.

"Draco-"

Unable to resist any longer, he threw his lips against hers and wrapped his hands gently around the backside of her neck. She moved her hands to his chest, and for a second, he thought she might push him away, but instead, she grabbed his shirt, bunching it up in her fists and pulled him closer. In response, he deepened their kiss, relishing in the taste of her on his tongue, and his entire body tingled as she moaned into his mouth. He couldn't remember the last time he'd felt like this, or if he'd ever felt like this, and he had to fight back his more carnal desires as her hands traveled under the soft fabric of his shirt.

Hermione's hands explored Draco's bare skin, taking in every scar and dimple. She could feel his muscles tensing under her touch and it triggered heat to erupt deep within her belly. His hands were resting on either side of her neck, his thumbs sweeping softly across her cheeks, while his tongue continued to clash elegantly against hers. It was intoxicating being with him like this, in a place anyone could just walk in, and she had to fight the urge to rip his clothes off.

Suddenly, Draco pulled away from the kiss and looked at her lustfully. The sight of her kiss-swollen lips and flushed skin almost sent him over the edge. He wanted her, needed to feel her hands all over his body.

Hermione stared up at Draco's beautiful stormy eyes, her breathing ragged. She wanted more; she needed to feel every inch of his body against hers.

But just as she was about to grab Draco and pull him back in, the door to the infirmary opened and voices carried across the room. Without hesitating, she jumped out of his arms and began adjusting her clothes. Draco swiveled his legs back on the bed and tried to flatten his wrinkled shirt. Hermione half expected it to be Harry, but she didn't recognize the two men who walked in. One was limping, while the other was supporting his friend's weight. They were both laughing about something.

She turned back toward Draco, a smile of relief on her lips. He smiled back, his pale cheeks flushed with color. She knew she should have felt embarrassed for almost being caught, but she didn't. Something about what they had just done felt… right.

Laughter erupted again from the other side of the room.

"How are you feeling?" she asked, licking her lips.

"You're really asking me how I'm feeling, Granger?" he challenged, his mouth bent into a perfectly stupid smirk.

They both laughed.

"Yes, I suppose I am."

She was blushing again. The memory of what just happened still swimming in her head, and her lips tingling just at the thought of kissing him again.

"I think I'm all better now," Draco said with a smile, pulling himself up off the bed. He brushed the back of his hand lightly against Hermione's cheek. "Do you think anyone will miss us if we sneak out for dinner?"

"Is Draco Malfoy asking me out on a date?"

"Yes, I suppose I am."

Hermione's heart fluttered.

a/n: Thank you everyone for reading! It seems that I've settled on a Tues/Fri posting schedule for now - that may change as we get toward the end of the story, but I promise to warn you if it does. Right now, it looks like this story will be about 30 chapters long.

Oh and this was never going to be a slow burn, so my previous smut warning stands. GIRD. YOUR. LOINS. (insert Stanley Tucci from The Devil Wears Prada)