If you are trying to access chapter 5 while FFN is having issues with updates, try the FFN app or you can find me on AO3 as In_Dreams. Thanks!

Pansy stirred, and despite the distant throbbing in the back of her skull, a smile curled her lips at the feel of strong arms wrapped around her.

Potter seemed the type that would let the night before complicate the situation between them―and if Pansy was entirely honest, she wasn't certain it hadn't complicated things for her as well.

She had only known the man in this capacity for a little over a week, but already she felt an unfamiliar stirring within her stomach. Rolling towards him, she stared at his sleeping face for a moment, the slight furrow to his brow and downturn to his lips.

A little voice niggled in the back of her mind: maybe a little complication was a good thing.

Unwilling to disturb Potter when he looked so peaceful―and completely out of it―she rose from the bed and dressed as silently as she could manage before venturing into the kitchen and setting Granger's kettle on.

As she sipped a warm cup of tea, she gazed out the window into the lush greenery beyond.

She found it almost surreal that she was so close to home, but yet…

Pansy wasn't certain she was ready to face England. Maybe she never would be, if she was honest. So many years had passed that her parents had stopped owling her to return home. They rarely owled her at all, anymore.

Draco went home a couple times a year to visit his own mother, and even he hadn't asked her to come along in two years.

But in the span of a little over a week, her thoughts on the matter had begun to twist and blur. What was she still running from, when it came down to it?

For years, she had buried her shame. Shame over the way her fear and uncertainty had seized her, that day in the Great Hall at Hogwarts, when she had offered Potter up to the Dark Lord.

It wasn't even what she had wanted at the time. She had only wanted for everything to end.

Potter didn't hate her―not even close, if the night before had been any indication. A smile tugged at her lips at the thought, heat flaring beneath her skin as she remembered the feel of his hands on her bare skin.

She didn't particularly miss her parents, having grown up in a cold relationship with both of them. Everything she had sought as a youth had been because of what her parents wanted for her―and her time in New York had been about developing a life for herself beyond those expectations.

Idly, she dragged one of her sketchbooks closer, chewing on the end of her pen for a moment before setting it to the page.

By the time Potter found her an hour later, her tea was cold. She flexed her hand as he wrapped his arms around her from behind, ducking down to press a kiss to her temple. Pansy allowed herself a moment of indulgence in his embrace, her eyes fluttering shut.

Whether or not he had been serious the night before about visiting her in New York―numerous drinks in as they had been―she knew she would struggle to leave him behind.

It was the most inconceivable thing that had come from her trip. Even more so than the idea of Draco and Granger spending time together.

"Good morning," he murmured against her skin, the rumble of his voice sending a shiver down her spine.

"Hi," she breathed, drawing herself out of the moment. "How did you sleep?"

He hummed against her skin. "Excellent." Flipping through her drawings from that morning, he said, "These are amazing, Pansy."

Her stomach churned at the honesty in his voice, and she smiled at one of the drawings. "Do you have to work today?"

"Not until tonight." He dragged his hands along her arms, his fingertips raising gooseflesh to her skin. "I have a problem though."

A hint of a smile curled her lips at his tone. "What's that?"

His lips grazed her jaw, igniting heat within her as he said, "I woke up and you weren't in bed with me."

Her smile grew wicked as she allowed him to drag her back to the bedroom.

Hermione gazed into the massive wall of clothing that made up Pansy's closet, a lump settling in the pit of her stomach. She had sent Pansy a message via her home network exchange device to ask whether the woman minded if she borrowed another outfit; Pansy had been surprisingly amenable.

Idly, Hermione wondered whether Harry and Pansy had seen one another again, but she hadn't wanted to pry.

She wasn't one to judge.

But still, nerves lingered with the tightness in her chest. Draco had invited her to come over that night and his offer had been drifting through the back of her mind ever since the night he had taken her to the fashion show.

Hermione only had four days left in New York before the home exchange would come to an end, and while the situation with Draco had only grown blurrier as the days passed, she had found herself increasingly willing to go along with it and see how it played out. She had no idea if they would even get along beyond the initial sparks between them.

But if nothing else, there were Portkeys and other methods of International travel.

Snagging her bottom lip between her teeth, Hermione flicked through the endless row of dresses. She had already donned a new purchase of her own―a black lace lingerie set that both bolstered her confidence and terrified her. But when Pansy had demanded to know what she would be wearing underneath, and Hermione had sent a photo via the communication device, Pansy's only response had been YES.

Then the woman had sent through a description of a dress, and Hermione's stomach twisted as she spotted it hanging on one of the colour-coordinated rails.

The dress was a deep forest green, form fitting with lace and ribbon detailing, and landing above the knee. Smoothing the material beneath her fingers, Hermione blew out a breath.

According to Pansy, if she wore that dress, Draco would die.

And while Hermione certainly didn't want him to die, she did want to make an impression.

She had never been one for fashion over function, but when Hermione slipped into the dress, she felt a frisson of excitement chase through her. Borrowing some of the enchantments Draco had cast several nights prior, she fixed her hair and make-up, and finished the look with some of Pansy's jewellery.

Hermione skimmed the note he had given her with his address―despite that she had already memorised it―and shrugged on a coat. Steeling her nerves with a deep breath, she Disapparated.

"Hi." The secretive smile that broke across Draco's lips when he swung open the door elicited heat below the surface of her skin, and she slipped through the door, feeling his stare on her all the while.

"Hello," she offered, her mouth dry.

He had a studio loft as well, although she knew a large portion was occupied by a photo studio for his freelance work. Hermione forced herself to hold his stare through the ambush of nerves when she slipped her coat off.

His grey eyes flashed, tongue flicking out to moisten his bottom lip, and she watched his throat move with a swallow as he took her coat and blindly reached back to hang it by the door. Voice low, he said, "You look beautiful."

"Thank you," she breathed, casting her gaze over him. He'd had to work late that evening and he wore a collared shirt, the sleeves pushed to his elbows and baring the muscles of his forearms. "You look quite sharp yourself."

But Draco only stared at her, his lips parted as if he didn't quite know what to say.

So Hermione stepped closer, lacing a hand into his hair as she brushed her lips against his. Draco's hands came to her back, tugging her closer as he deepened the kiss, warmth and desire pooling below her stomach.

She forced herself to pull away, meeting his gaze before she said, "I thought, if you still wanted to take some photos―"

"Yes," he cut her off before she could finish, releasing a long exhale. "I'd like that."

Merlin, the fire in his stare would surely set her aflame.

Her face flushed with warmth, but his smile only grew teasing as he tugged her hand into his and led her towards the studio. Hermione peered at the equipment as he set up his camera and tripod, feeling nerves spike within her once more. But he only bit down on his bottom lip as he stared at her out of the corner of his eye.

Clenching her hands together, she said quietly, "You're going to have to tell me what to do."

"I will." His eyes were darker than she had ever seen them; his face faltered for a moment before he added, "I appreciate this. And for the record you can relax. I feel like you might snap in two from a rogue breeze." He offered a crooked grin.

Fixing a smile in return, Hermione let some of the tension fall from her shoulders. "Okay."

She had flung herself far out of her comfort zone to indulge this whim, but she had come to know him better than to believe that's all it was. And she trusted him; the rest didn't matter beyond the look in his eye as he gazed at her over the top of his camera.

Finishing up with his equipment, he echoed, "Okay." He stared at her for another long moment, heat from his eyes searing right through her before he smirked. "Let's begin."

It only took Hermione a few minutes to realise Draco was a consummate professional. Even with the heated lust in his eyes, he was polite in his directions, carefully adjusting her, his touches feather light against her skin as he guided her from one pose to the next.

Furthermore, she hadn't anticipated the experience to be so sensual.

Every nerve, every fibre of her being was alive with awareness.

Ten minutes in, he had tugged off his tie and slipped the top few buttons of his shirt with a wry grin, the only indication that he was as affected as she was.

He snapped photos in an almost continuous stream, his hands deft as he adjusted the controls of his camera, leading her through the session with a fluidity that left no surprise as to why he was so sought after on the New York fashion scene.

When finally he paused and lifted his gaze to meet hers, tongue darting out, Hermione felt exhilarated.

But he only dragged a hand along his jaw and asked, "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." The word slipped through her lips before she even had time to consider her answer. As if noticing the same, a smile crept across his face. He stepped up behind her, sweeping his hands carefully over her bare shoulders.

His breath was warm against her ear. "Stop me if it's too much."

A shiver wracked her spine when he pulled the zip of her dress down, his touch a gentle caress as he pushed the dress from her shoulders. The pads of his fingers grazed her spine and Hermione huffed a breath, her head pitching forwards.

She stood still, pliant in his reverent hold as he pushed the dress from her form, letting it pool at her feet. With a wave of his hand the dress vanished, reappearing on a hanger across the room.

A harsh breath escaped his lips and he muttered, "I swear you're going to fucking kill me."

Hermione smiled, tilting her neck to the side as he dragged a hand up her throat, and his lips brushed the curve of her jaw. Breathless, she murmured, "I hope not."

"It'll be your fault," he said, a smirk curling his lips as he trailed idle kisses along her skin towards her mouth. But he didn't kiss her on the lips, drawing back before rounding to the front to take her in with a heated sweep of his eyes.

She might have felt self-conscious standing before him in her bra and knickers―and Pansy's borrowed heels―if not for the look in his eye. Instead, she felt empowered.

Draco dragged a hand through his hair, his breathing shallow, before he pressed his eyes shut briefly. When he opened them again, his voice was hoarse as he toyed with the strap of her bra. "This is really nice."

"Thank you," Hermione whispered, smiling at his apparent struggle to keep his hands to himself. She lifted her hands to his chest, slipping loose the rest of the buttons on his shirt. He only watched her, wary, as she said, "You're overdressed."

Then a wicked smirk dragged across his face and he waited as she pushed the shirt from his defined shoulders, leaving him bare from the waist up, his jeans slung low on his hips.

She could see the flush in his cheeks as he wrapped a hand around her hip with a squeeze, then trailed a hand up along her ribcage, palming one of her breasts and flicking his thumb against her nipple through the lace.

Desire swelled within her, pulsing in her core. A heavy exhale chased from her lips.

But he only said, "Turn around," backing towards his camera again, "but face me." When she fired him a look over her shoulder he whispered, "Good girl."

Hermione didn't know how she hadn't simply combusted. She felt on fire under Draco's heated perusal, every drawled direction and miniscule touch enough to undo her entirely as warmth pooled between her legs.

But still, her heart raced with exhilaration as he clicked an endless stream of photos.

He walked up beside her, shifting her into a different pose, and his palm lingered against her arse with a brief squeeze.

She wondered if the situation was getting to him as much as it was her.

Whether he was going to push them both to the absolute edge.

Shifting back into the touch, she smiled when he groaned, pressing his temple against her own. Then she ground back against him, so slight her arse just grazed his front, but she felt the insistent evidence of his arousal as he snagged her earlobe between his teeth.

Draco dragged one hand up along the flat of her stomach towards her breast as the other gripped her thigh, his fingers teasing towards the apex between her legs. A breath caught in her throat, the ache in her core so acute she found herself shifting into his hand, desperate for his touch.

But he whispered, "We're almost through," and released her.

Her eyes narrowed. Tease.

He knew exactly what he was doing.

So as he bent to snap another photo, her back facing him, Hermione reached one hand up along her spine and released the clasp of her bra with a deft flick, letting the lace fall to the floor.

Gaping at her, he froze and choked a hoarse, "Fuck."

She could feel his stare lingering on her, and she was distantly aware of the click of his camera, but she only slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her knickers, meeting his gaze with a smirk as she slowly began to inch them down.

His eyes flashed.

Then he was in front of her, kissing her, his hands everywhere, and in contrast with the caution he had displayed all night, he grasped her hip as he slammed her against the wall, hitching her legs around his waist.

As if he had wholly snapped.

Hermione groaned into his mouth as she tugged at his hair, grinding against him and fully abandoning herself to the way he had reduced her to little more than a pool of desire and need.

Her breathing was ragged, head dropping back against the wall as he sucked her nipple between his teeth, one hand slipping between her legs. He thrust two fingers between her folds, his thumb brushing her clit as a cry tore from her lips.

Unable to get enough of him, Hermione fumbled with his jeans, releasing the closure and shoving a hand into his pants.

Draco cursed against her chest, tugging her face towards his as he kissed her again, his fingers setting a torturous rhythm inside her as she wrapped a hand around his cock. With her other hand, Hermione pushed his jeans from his hips, and he toed them the rest of the way to the floor.

Dropping her legs from his hips, Draco stepped back only long enough to tug her knickers down her arse, bending down to trail a line of searing kisses to her thigh as he tossed the fabric aside, leaving her fully nude to his reverent stare.

As he kneeled between her legs, his eyes flashed up to find hers. His lips dragged up into a smirk.

A sharp exhale chased from her lips as he positioned her leg over his shoulder, the heel of her stiletto landing on his back as he ducked in and his mouth latched onto her clit.

With a cry, she laced her hands into his hair, his fingers and mouth working to bring her towards the edge as she grew delirious under his touch, gasping his name.

Between his ministrations and the way he had teased her all night, Hermione found herself rapidly closing in on her release. Her orgasm crashed over her, heart spiking as adrenaline chased through her veins.

Chest heaving, Hermione gazed at him while he licked her juices from his lips, her desire already blooming once more as a palpable, living thing. He pressed a lingering kiss to her inner thigh before rising to his feet once more.

For a long moment Draco only stared at her, his tight gaze searching her own as her breathing settled.

Then she slid a hand back into his hair, kissing him slower than before; she could taste herself on his tongue but she only deepened the kiss. She sank into him as he wrapped his arms around her, bringing her flush against him.

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she whispered against his mouth, "Are we doing this against the wall?"

"Fuck no," he muttered, his lips curving up against hers. Then he hitched her legs around him again, hauling her across the loft and into the bedroom.

His kisses were meticulous, indolent, as he dropped her into the plush covers, his hands covetous as they roamed her bare skin and raised gooseflesh despite the heat between them.

Draco pushed his pants down, his skin warm against hers as he followed her into the bed.

But his attention shifted to her throat and collarbone, up towards her ear. "Are you sure about this?"

Even with the desire for him throbbing between her legs, urging her onwards, Hermione heard the deeper insecurities in his words. The questions he didn't dare ask. She would be returning home in four days, and if there wasn't anything between them worth exploring―

"Absolutely," she whispered, taking his hard length in her hand again and giving the silken flesh several pumps. He groaned in her ear, nipping the lobe.

His stormy eyes flashed as they sought hers once more, and he aligned himself with her entrance before burying himself to the hilt.

Hermione's eyes fluttered shut as she bit down hard on her lower lip, growing accustomed to the feel of his thickness inside her. As his tongue flicked out he kissed her again, then began to move.

Not once before the past week had she ever considered the thought of having sex with Draco Malfoy, but with him deep inside her, she found herself overwhelmed by it. He was pure paradox, from his wicked grin to the careful reverence with which he touched her.

She couldn't wrap her head around it, but not everything needed tying up in a tidy, logical bow. And any time she sought to dwell on the thought of leaving him, she didn't know what to make of the way she felt about it.

So Hermione surrendered herself to the feel of him moving inside her, the touch of his hands, the warmth of his breath mingling with hers.

Arching from the bed, urging him deeper still, she clutched him closer.

And when he thrust into her harder, the feel of him sending her spiralling towards that peak once more―when he kissed her as if he would never let her go―Hermione couldn't make any sense of the way her heart clenched in her chest.

Her nails grazed his shoulder blades as, with a cry, her release crashed over her like a wave. Moments later he followed her over the edge with a quiet exhalation of her name before he stilled, gazing down upon her.

Finally Draco withdrew from inside her, sinking into the covers, his chest heaving.

His stormy eyes only held hers for a moment, and Hermione wondered if he recognised the same strange shift between them. He cast a contraceptive spell on her, and a cleaning spell on both of them, before pulling the covers up.

She feared to say anything in the aftermath that might ruin the unexpected peace that warmed her chest. So she shifted into his hold and he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to her forehead, wrapping his arms around her.

Draco stared at her again, his eyelids heavy and a sleepy smile tugged at his lips.

Her heart still swelled with everything that had happened, a smile of her own stretching across her face as she whispered, "Thanks for having me over."

He released a quiet laugh, offering a genuine grin as he said, "No, thank you."

Hermione shifted closer, her bare legs tangling with his, and pressed one last kiss to his lips.

And all of her concerns, her questions, her fears, lingered on the tip of her tongue, unspoken as she drifted into a deep, comfortable slumber in his embrace.

Hermione awoke to heavily-lidded grey eyes on her. As her own eyes fluttered open, Draco offered her a sleepy smile.

All at once, the night before rushed back to her and she glanced away, feeling shame and vulnerability roil within her at the thought of everything she had done. She wasn't typically one to feel self-conscious, but something about him left her on edge. The way they had danced around one another, how she had exposed herself to his camera.

His expression faltered as he said, "Good morning?"

"Is it?" she asked, lips twitching at the question in his voice. Then she softened into the bed again with a quiet, "Good morning."

One of his arms was slung loosely over her hip, and he propped his head up with the other. "Are you alright?" His eyes searched hers in that way that left her feeling like he could see right through her.

"Yes," she whispered.

His gaze narrowed, his arm around her tightening and teasing along her spine. "I hope last night didn't make you uncomfortable." He hesitated, a hint of a smirk ghosting his lips. "If it helps, I've never had a shoot like that."

A laugh slipped free. "It helps a little."

But he sobered all the same, his lips brushing hers. "Is this weird? With you going home so soon?"

"Sort of weird."

Whether he saw something in her face, or by reading her countenance, he dragged her closer into his chest. Hermione felt her eyes flutter.

"Tell me about Dublin," he murmured into her hair. "About your job."

Hermione snickered, her eyes darting up just enough to meet his. "I'm sure you wouldn't find it all that interesting. It's a lot of dealing with cursed old objects that will kill me if I'm not careful."

The blood drained from his face. Brow furrowing, he muttered, "No wonder you needed some time away." But then he added, "I do find it interesting. I looked into Curse-breaking at one point before I moved here."

"Really?"

"Yeah." He tugged one of her rogue curls between his fingers before sweeping it behind her ear. "Don't forget―I grew up in a Manor filled with cursed artefacts."

"I suppose you did." The thought brought a smile to her lips. "I think it's been easy to forget so many things from the past in such a different place."

His returning smile was impossibly sad. "Why do you think it was so appealing to move here five years ago?" They both fell silent, and he twisted his mouth to the side in contemplation. "I had too many things I wanted to forget at the time. New York was a completely fresh start. And I've been able to make a name for myself that doesn't involve being a Death Eater."

She swallowed as she held his stare, tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips as she dared to ask. "Do you ever go home?"

"Sometimes." His eyelids fluttered briefly at her touch. "My father's still in Azkaban, but I visit Mother every so often."

Hermione couldn't help the sudden swell of hope within her. But just as quickly it faded away. They lived polar opposite lives in completely different worlds.

As if he read the sentiment in her reaction, he frowned. "I'm not going to be in New York forever, you know."

"I don't know what to make of any of this," she admitted quietly, feeling raw in releasing the emotion between them. She had never expected any of this. Hadn't expected to come to New York and have her heart rocked in such a significant way. "It feels like we haven't had enough time to figure anything out. And… I don't want to leave just yet."

"Then don't," he breathed, his grey eyes vulnerable. But then he added, "You have to get back to work I suppose."

Hermione snagged her lower lip with a nod.

Draco stared at her, a knit forming between his brows. "I could come visit you."

"We live across the world from each other," she whispered. "Even Portkeys aren't that efficient. We'd have separate lives."

He released a great sigh, as if recognising the many obstacles that would stand in the way of even an effort at something. And Hermione didn't know that she wanted to give up the idea of it―but maybe it had been impractical from the start.

He opened his mouth as if to say something else, but closed it once more and rolled onto his back instead, tugging her with him. Hermione laid her head on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart beneath her face as he absently carded his fingers through her hair.

Finally he pressed a kiss to her forehead; Hermione felt tears sting at the corners of her eyes until he said, "Let's get up. I want to show you something."

Hermione cast Draco a look of consternation as he nudged her through an interior door beyond his studio, but he only gestured towards another door. She could barely make out the smirk on his lips in the darkness.

Beyond the second door was a small room, a dim light casting a muted red glow upon everything, and a gasp caught in her throat. Draco sidled in alongside her, folding his arms as he leaned against the wall.

"Most of my work is digital since I work with a lot of Muggles," he explained, "but I still like to work with film sometimes. And you can't animate digital photographs." He brandished his camera, flipping a hatch open and carefully withdrawing a roll of film. "I wanted to capture you on film."

The small room was indeed a darkroom, trays laid out in rows along the surfaces, and she could see a potions cabinet along the far wall.

"You're going to animate the photos from last night?" she asked, her brows lifting.

"Some of them," he said with a smirk. "Like that one where you flashed me your arse."

She bit back a smile on the memory of it; the playfulness and desire that had flooded through her. "Can I see?"

"Of course." He peered at the roll of film, slipping on a pair of stylish frames as he strode into the room towards the workbench. "I have to develop the photos first―but the animation is only an extra step from there."

"Your potion skills must come in useful," she mused, scanning the contents of the cabinet.

He shot her a wink. "Enough to keep my brewing sharp, at any rate." He duplicated his stool, sliding the other beside him. "Come on. I'll show you how it's done."

Hermione slipped into the seat, her knee brushing his as she leaned closer to watch the process, and she couldn't stop her smile when his eyes caught hers. He dropped a hand to her knee, his thumb grazing her skin.

She could dissect the situation as much as she wanted―but she only had three days left in New York. Now, more than ever, she felt a desperate need to make the most of them.

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! xoxo