Author's Note: *Peaks out from around the corner...Flings out chapter and screams apologies*

I want to thank you all for being so patient with this update! My life has been uprooted by COVID-19 - in two weeks I've had to become an online teacher. It's been a wild ride that was harder and stranger than expected, and it took all of my energy. I'm wishing you each safety and health.

I CAN'T THANK YOU ENOUGH FOR YOUR SUPPORT AND REVIEWS. They complete me and bring me unending happiness. So thank you. Seriously. As always - reviews, comments, critiques, cries of anger and everything in between are appreciated. Follow me on Tumblr (EndlessMoonChild) for some fun aesthetics and updates.

NOW to the good part. This chapter kicked my ass, and I'm sorry about the length, but it's done and I hope it brings you joy. I'm really really really REALLY excited for Chapter 5, and it should be out late next week (fingers crossed!)

Until next time
-EndlessMoonChild

Secrets of the Moon
Chapter 4

Draco apparated onto Hermione's front lawn fifteen minutes earlier than their scheduled meeting time. He bounded up the porch stairs and inhaled deeply; Hermione's inviting scent was steeped into the property like a deliciously aged wine barrel. The tension that had pulled at his ribs since their last meeting instantly settled to a dull ache.

The cabin was quaint - a stacked log exterior with red shutters - barely visible under the ancient canopy of dying autumn leaves. It was a far cry from the modern law office in London, but he preferred this. Draco breathed in the enticing scent again and felt peace lull his pounding heart.

Imagine being wrapped in this delicious-He could no longer distinguish his wolf's whispered desires from his own. He swallowed a gulp of air as he loosened the collar of his shirt.

Before he could knock on the door, it swung open, revealing a petite woman with pursed lips and wild curls that cascaded over her shoulder.

"You're early." Hermione folded her arms stiffly across her chest, a flush creeping up her neck.

Draco dragged his stare over her peculiar attire - a thin, oversized shirt covered in paint stains, and flannel bottoms. A smirk threatened his lips. "Not that early."

"I'm only running a few minutes behind," she muttered, craning her neck to peek around his broad chest. She frowned at the empty dirt driveway. "How did you get here?"

"Magic," Draco arrogantly drawled, barely containing his mirth.

When her eyes caught his again, he could nearly read the questions collecting in her mind. His eyes lingered on her parted lips and exhaled shock.

The girl craves you too, his wolf cooed. Draco held his breath in an attempt to stop the assault of her scent on his subconscious.

The silence stretched thin between them, and he cleared his throat. "Would you like me to wait outside while you finish getting ready...unless that's what you're wearing?"

"No, no," she said with a bashful shake of her head. "Please come in, I'll only be a few more moments."

Seeing the alluring glow of her cheeks, and hearing the quivering of her heart, Draco had to slow his impatient legs from chasing her over the threshold.

The inside of the cabin felt like an extension of the woods; cluttered yet calming. Mismatched furniture was haphazardly strewn across the living area, and no surface lacked a stack of books or several. Plants adorned the space in all forms; hanging vines stretched across windows, and sleepy willows spilled out of painted clay pots. It was all at once distinctly cozy in its madness, yet clean.

Hermione fidgeted, wringing her hands as she silently observed his roaming eyes, darkened and animalistic, which eventually landed back upon her.

"Your home is different than I imagined."

"What were you expecting?"

Draco leaned against a wooden beam that divided the living room and tilted his head in contemplation. He took pleasure in the languid way her eyes traveled the length of his body. "Your office is ordered, pristine...much like how you portray yourself," he analyzed. "Yet this," his hand waved haphazardly toward the overgrowth of plants and books, "is uncontained. It's warm and alive."

She shifted her weight, a lovely flush inching up her neckline. "It's the only place I've ever felt at home."

The admission was soft, yet bitter around the edges as it swept into Draco's consciousness. Whatever emotion she saw leak onto his face made her wince; her expressive features suddenly became aloof, and she squared her shoulders. In a room full of such life, she'd managed to go dead cold.

She's a natural Occlumens, his subconscious groaned. See how annoying that is?

Draco swallowed his wolf's growl and fought the urge to roll his eyes. Not nearly as annoying as you.

From the sight of her rigid posture and hardened eyes, he knew he'd get no more from her. "You should finish getting dressed," he dryly commanded.

Once she had left the room, he took the opportunity to look at each book on her many shelves -history, thrillers, old muggle literature - and to gaze out upon the uninhibited view of the woods behind her cabin. The scent by the oversized windows was stronger than anywhere else, and he pictured her curled up on the sill with a book, bathing in the moonlight as it filtered through the trees. His fingers traced the sill and he took one final breath before turning to take a seat on the worn couch in the middle of the room.

Laid out on the coffee table was a small letter, neatly printed in black ink. Draco picked up the oddly placed note.

To whoever reads this note,

On Thursday, October the 4th, I, Hermione Granger, am attending a meeting with my client, one Mr. Draco Malfoy of Wiltshire, at his private residence. Should I not return…

Draco scanned it, keeping a finger pressed to his lips to contain the laugh that threatened to escape. As if a note could lead anyone to him if he wanted to hide her away for himself. Silly woman.

Hermione interrupted a moment later, looking decidedly flustered. His cool eyes heated as they traveled over the simple black dress that hugged her body and left her neck exposed. Draco determined he had a new appreciation for muggle clothing; Her shoulders were draped in a long grey sweater that grazed her knees and she wore heeled grey boots that cut off at her ankles.

"So," Hermione said stiffly, breaking his gaze from where it had landed on her exposed legs, "how do we get to your Manor."

He stood from the couch, note in hand.

Draco relished the way her eyes widened at the sight of the letter, and her cheeks turned fiery red. "Is this supposed to deter me from kidnapping you?"

Hermione walked over and snatched the letter from his fingers. "I'm a lawyer. I'd be considered an absolute idiot if I vanished without a trace."

He could no longer contain his amusement, and his pale brows lifted in condescension. "Yes, because being considered an idiot should be your greatest concern in that scenario."

"I'm being cautious," she said tartly.

"There's nothing to fear - I have no choice but to return you home. My mother would be absolutely furious if I kidnapped a woman out of wedlock."

Hermione rolled her eyes at his sarcasm, and carefully placed the note back upon the table. "You haven't told me how we're getting to your home yet."

Reaching into his pocket, Draco produced a velvet bag. "This is floo powder. It helps wizards travel between fireplaces. All you need to do is throw the powder into your hearth, shout out your destination and," he snapped his fingers, "you'll be transported wherever your heart desires."

"Like...teleporting?" Hermione uttered in disbelief.

Draco smirked to mask his laugh. "Err, not quite. Don't concern yourself with the how yet."

She stared tentatively at her fireplace. It looked unassuming, a plain wooden hearth covered in fresh soot. "You mean to tell me that all this time I could have traveled anywhere I wanted...using my fireplace?"

Draco could not hide the second chuckle as he leaned in closer. "Sadly, no. I'm fortunate to have a useful contact on the Floo Regulation Board. She's a family pack member who owes me a favor and she is going to ignore this unregulated connection for the time being, until I can figure out a way to make it more permanent. It will make travel between us more efficient while you learn how to use your magic."

Hermione ran her tongue along her teeth from beneath pursed lips and crossed her arms. "That's assuming I agree to learn magic."

He ignored her, making a show of vanishing the soot in her fireplace and opening the Floo. Once or twice he caught her wide-eyed and jaw slackened, and he was barely able to keep his wolf at bay. Had he known her better he would have made a rude comment about the way her eyes were mesmerized by his wand, or how he wished it was his lip between her teeth.

With the floo prepared, Draco unleashed a wicked smile and approached her. He bent his mouth to her ear, as though sharing a great secret. "Of course you'll learn. You're much too curious." Barely grazing her skin, he tilted her chin up so their eyes were forced to lock; copper and ice hunting for something in one another. "I'm the only person you know who has the answers you need."

Hermione broke his gaze after a long moment and looked at the fireplace distrustfully. "Curiosity is going to get me killed."

"Curiosity kills cats, not wolves." He grinned mischievously. "Are you ready to go?"

Fresh adrenaline flooded the air. A storm appeared on Hermione's face as she put distance between them.

She's afraid, his wolf sniffed in disdain.

Draco assessed the fear she was having trouble concealing. Her nails dug into the palm of her hands, and he could smell the blood pooling beneath her claws. If he commanded her to follow, she would. He was an alpha, after all. One look, a sharp order growled against her neck and she'd go wherever he demanded.

But her weary eyes made him hesitate. He needed her trust. He was not about to let her slip through his fingers. Not again.

Instead, Draco ran a hand through his hair and asked, "Why are you scared?"

Her eyes flashed. "I'm not."

The alpha within him bristled. "You can't lie to me, I can smell it."

She shuddered and cautiously peeked at the fireplace again. "You're right about my being insatiably curious. I'm afraid that if I follow you, there is no returning from this path."

"You always have a choice," he murmured words of wisdom heard in a past life, words he once should have followed.

"It'll be difficult to live in this world once I see it can be so much more."

"You've already been living in that world." He opened the small velvet bag and poured the powder into his palm. "All you're deciding now is whether you want it to remain that way."

Draco saw the war in her clenched jaw, the gears in her mind frantically cranking out scenarios and weighing her options. But the indecision still remained behind her uneasy gaze.

Convince her, his wolf decried between his ears.

"Once you learn control, magic is yours to choose what you wish with it; you can use it or not. That's the real beauty of it."

Her eyes softened ever so slightly.

Just a bit further.

"You'll be safe with me," Draco promised. "But, I understand if you want me to leave."

The sweet smell of desire finally overpowered the lingering fear. Her tense jaw eased in response to his gentle words.

"I don't know which will kill me first, you or the magic," Hermione begrudgingly muttered.

He barked a hearty laugh and offered his arm, pleased with his victory. "It will most certainly be the magic."

Her tentative touch warmed every fiber in his body as they stepped toward the hearth.

"Don't let go. Don't fidget. Keep your elbows tucked. Close your eyes. And whatever you do, don't panic," he demanded sternly.

Small fingers tightened around his arm and she anxiously pressed her body into his side. The banging of her heart ceased to be heard as she held her breath.

He threw the powder down by their feet and shouted, "To Malfoy Manor!"

At some point during the dizzying transport, Hermione wrapped her body around Draco's and clung to him like her life depended upon it.

What Hermione did not know was that this would make their landing nearly impossible.

They were thrown out of the fire with force, limbs tangled, wild curls choking them, all while Draco tried to right their bodies. He only partly succeeded; he landed on his arse with her strewn clumsily across his lap.

"You panicked," Draco grumbled in her ear, pushing himself out from under her as gracefully as their position allowed. Still, his hand brushed the soft skin behind her knee, and his neck was so close that Hermione could smell his minty aftershave and the musky scent of pinewood.

Her eyes were squeezed shut, fingers still trembling as they released his sturdy arm. She blew air through pursed lips. "I don't think I like magic."

Even without seeing, she could feel the aura of Draco's confident smirk as he lifted her off the floor in a show of his effortless strength. She breathed in and was enveloped by his intoxicating scent. The warmth of his fingertips lingered well after he released her.

Steadying herself, she finally opened her eyes. The air in her lungs left her chest with a gasp.

"This is where you live?" Hermione stuttered, looking up at the copper-plated ceiling and grandiose chandelier.

The walls were covered in dark green wallpaper, overlaid with a faint gold filigree. A luxurious Persian carpet covered black wood floors. Most shocking were the…well, she didn't know what to call them exactly. On his desk lay a series of peculiar objects; one was a gold spinning top, another a round mirror where shadows lurked instead of reflections. Kept in the many glass cabinets hung ornate masks, some shifting expressions on their own, and the skulls of animals she could not identify. A lizard with fangs? Perhaps a snake?

Everywhere she turned there was more to discover. Her impulsive journey around the room was marked by her gasps of intrigue, but he never interrupted, despite how invasive her prodding became. No trinket was left unobserved and she'd nearly forgotten his presence at the sight of his bookshelves.

"Are there more rooms like this?" She asked in bewilderment.

"Yes. We're in my wing of the Manor. This is my private study." Draco smirked at the sight of her parted lips. "The Malfoy family is well established. We can be traced back to some of the first wizards in history, and we've accumulated many precious artefacts in that time."

"I see." Hermione bent her face down next to a crystal ball, startled when it suddenly turned bright red.

Draco rolled up his sleeves and walked over to his desk. "I imagine you have questions."

She dragged herself away from the books, following him. "A great many. I don't think you thought through the consequences of bringing a lawyer here."

Draco grinned. "On the contrary, I've thought about it a lot."

Despite the flip in her stomach at his jest, she chose to ignore the hidden intensity behind his words. Instead, she focused on watching him rifle through his desk drawers, removing parchments and scrolls.

On the pale skin of his wrist, she noticed what looked to be a faded brand. "What's that?" she nudged his arm, curious about the malicious looking black skull.

The muscles of his face tightened so that the sharp angles of his jaw became prominent. "A mistake," he harshly whispered without looking up from the map he was unfurling.

"I didn't take you for the tattoo type," she attempted to joke, confused by his sudden shift in mood.

"I'm not." His tone indicated he would say no more on the matter. "These are the original boundaries of our property. We've expanded over the years. "

He passed her a piece of parchment that she recognized as a nearly ancient deed.

"To keep muggles from becoming aware of our presence, we have protective magic surrounding the property, but it's still difficult to hide on a map given how many hectares the land spans."

Hermione looked at the dates scrawled on the deeds and compared it to the map. "Shit," she muttered. "You weren't lying when you said you had been here a long time."

There was a lingering hardness to his eyes, but he nodded lightly. His gaze turned toward the map before them.

"Here are the Malfoy family burial grounds." She followed his gaze a few inches lower. "That's the Nott family property, and," his long finger skimmed across the yellowing paper, "here is where you live. You're quite close to both of our lands. It's a mystery how no one found you sooner."

Hermione frowned. "My parents moved us to the city when I was twelve. I only had the chance to run in these woods during summer holidays."

Grey eyes descended upon her face."Why would they move you away from a safe place to shift?"

Because they didn't know, her wolf reared her sass. Because you're too much of a coward to tell-

"It's complicated," Hermione muttered, cutting off her inner monologue. It was a fight that happened often between herself and her animal conscience. But, her decision was final. If she were to ever be truly alone in this world, she didn't know how she would cope. Better to have people to love and be loved by, than live an even lonelier existence.

Draco stopped fiddling with the edges of the map and simply stared at her. His piercing eyes could see through her. She was certain. And, in the building tension of their awkward silence, she unwittingly felt the urge to spill her secrets.

"They don't worry about my shifting because they don't know," Hermione whispered. She gave him a sharp look. "And it will remain that way."

"How is that even possible?" He replied in astonishment.

She shrugged. "I'd wait until the middle of the night and escape into the forest. I didn't have much control back then." A coy smile pulled at her lips, thinking of all the secret trouble she'd gotten into. "I didn't shift much in my teenage years."

"But that's when you're supposed to!" Draco sputtered. "How do you have a relationship with yourself if you force more than half of it into hiding?"

He's right, her wolf insisted scornfully. The man is smarter than y-

"Are there other packs?" She shifted her gaze back down to the map.

A dark chuckle passed his lips. "I was raised in the art of changing subjects, you're not going to avoid this easily," he taunted.

"You'll learn there is nothing that will get me to answer your question if I don't want to," she said haughtily.

"Your stubbornness won't stop me. I'll find out eventually," Draco warned, and he released a frustrated sigh. "To answer your question, there are other packs. Ours is made up of ancient wizarding families who have passed down the lycanthropy virus for generations, manipulating it and fine-tuning out undesirable traits. Because of this, many see us as a superior kind of werewolf. We're better able to retain our humanity and have control when we turn."

"So," Hermione paused in thought, "there are werewolves who have less control?"

"Precisely. The lycanthropy virus is typically passed when a witch or wizard is bitten by a werewolf during the full moon. The original strain of the virus is unpredictable. There is almost no control over the beast inside, and leading up to the transformation each month, most feel ill and weak."

She chewed her lip in contemplation. "So, your pack is bitten by someone with a superior strain of the virus?"

"Members of the Wiltshire pack aren't bitten, we're injected with our families unique strain. The Malfoy strain is only passed to those who share our blood. Each family differs slightly in potency, but the level of control is essentially the same. It's why it was shocking for me to see you...an in control werewolf of unknown origin, roaming alone." One side of his lip quirked upward. "And female no less."

She sucked her teeth to keep from wincing."There aren't female werewolves?"

She noticed his features become sharp again, pinched in an icy stillness that gave off an air of animalistic elegance. "Amongst the Wiltshire pack it is very rare. The only female wolf I ever knew of was my aunt. In our society, being a werewolf is considered a man's duty."

Just one more thing that's abnormal about me, Hermione thought bitterly. She trained her face to remain impassive. "Are there female werewolves outside of the Wiltshire pack?"

"Some." Unaware of her discomfort, Draco pointed to another area on the map. "Most other werewolves live here. Wizarding society considers them as lesser breeds, due to their unpredictable nature. They keep to themselves and wizards and witches maintain distance, for fear of getting the virus."

She gnashed her teeth."That's unjust."

"They're dangerous."

Straightening her shoulders, she proclaimed, "We can be just as deadly, I'm sure. It's not equitable for an entire society to group werewolves into tiers based on what happens one night a month."

"No, I suppose not," he admitted begrudgingly. "It's the way things have always been."

"That doesn't make it fair." She sighed, looking back down at the maps. There were so many other questions she had, but where to start? Sifting through the aged documents, her stomach released a groan.

Draco's lips turned downward. "You're hungry," he said gravely at the sound of her rumbling stomach.

At his severe tone, she laughed, unable to keep her lips from turning into a smile that met the corners of her eyes. "You say that like I'm about to drop dead. I'm fine, really."

"I'll call for dinner," he said firmly. "I promised to take care of you. We'll eat in my study for tonight. It's more private than the dining room."

"I'm not too hungry," she countered, running her fingers longingly over the map. "I want to keep learning. What about the land divisions? How was that decided?"

"You know I can't teach you everything in one night," Draco deadpanned.

She shot him a scathing look. The night was far from over, and dinner could wait if it meant prolonging her acquisition of knowledge.

"Tibly!" Draco called gently, ignoring her glare.

A small creature appeared, with ears far too large for her frame, wearing a tutu and socks. She smiled fondly up at Draco. "Yes, Master Draco?"

"Oh!" Hermione squeaked in surprise. Crouching down to face the odd-looking creature, she grinned. "I'm Hermione Granger, it's a pleasure."

Eagerly, she stuck out her hand.

Tibly merely considered it with narrowed, cautious eyes. "Er, hello Miss. I'm Tibly. Master-"

"Tibly, please send up dinner," Draco interrupted. "Our guest is hungry."

"Yes, sir!" With a snap of her fingers and a loud pop, she was gone.

Hermione, still crouched, was unable to form words. "What was… is she… Master?"

Just then the feast appeared on the table. Every assortment of fresh greens and cooked meats - perfectly rare, as werewolves prefer - were elegantly presented. A bottle of wine, considerably older than any she had seen before, sat between two burning candles.

Her jaw dropped ungracefully. She blinked her eyes, once, then twice, just to be sure she was actually seeing correctly.

A deep laugh broke her stupor and she turned to Draco seeking answers. She was struck by the radiance of his playful gaze, which until then she had never seen. This lighthearted side of the Draco, the one whose eyes were crinkled with uncontained joy, gave her pause. Like herself, she realized he wore a cool mask, strategically placed so as to be hidden in plain view.

What does he have to hide, she wondered, surrounded by extravagance and magic as he was.

He placed a sturdy hand on the small of her back, eyes still shining magnificently, and guided her forward. "Questions?"

After dinner, which included a rather heated debate about Tibly's use of the word 'Master', Draco conceded to giving Hermione a quick tour of his wing of the manor halls; her questions had been voracious, one after another after another, and he'd barely gotten a bite of food in.

Showing Hermione his home, he learned that her wonder was contagious. The mansion, usually cast in darkness, seemed brighter through her inquisitive gaze. His wolf took pride in each whisper of awe he tempted from her mouth, devouring every new expression she fed him.

She was most enamored by the moving paintings, many of which he secretly silenced, for fear their disdainful frowns would speak ill to his guest. When she reached out to touch the painting of his pure-blood fanatic great-Aunt Mildred, his fingers darted to wrap around hers and he protectively pulled her toward his chest.

"You really don't want to do that," he whispered into her hair. Draco felt the shiver of her skin and the increase of her pulse. So close to the full moon as it were, he nearly groaned at how responsive she felt beneath his fingers and he had trouble letting go of her dainty wrist.

When at last their tour brought them back to his study, Draco walked over to one of the bookshelves with a knowing smile.

"I saved the best for last," he said in a low tone that stoked the flame of her curiosity.

Pointing his wand at the shelves he muttered, Revelio.

The books rearranged themselves slowly, like blocks, turning and twisting until finally, an iron door was visible.

"Open it," he commanded.

Hermione reached for the handle of the door without hesitation. Her ensuing gasp as she walked through the passage was one he was certain he'd hear again in his dreams tonight.

The hidden library that existed in his study was one of his most precious possessions. Barely anyone in his life had actually seen it. Even fewer knew of its existence. It was all his; a place he learned his love for reading, a place he practiced charms in secret while on summer holiday from Hogwarts, a place he cried when he learned he was to be a Death Eater, a place he sheltered himself when the Dark Lord was living in his house. It was pure electricity in his veins to see her walk into a place that was so intimately his.

Hermione boldly walked toward the stacks, like a caged bird released after a long winter. As soon as her fingers delicately connected with the first book, she let out a melodic laugh.

"Draco, this is exquisite," she breathed. When she looked back at him, her eyes were molten, bright and glowing.

Rarely, if ever, did Draco feel the muscles of his face pull upward so strongly that the skin around his eyes crinkled and his pearly teeth showed. But, seeing her ardor, he felt the unfamiliar stretch of his lips.

Draco leaned against the shelves, watching the sinful dance of her fingers across the spine of each book. The way her scent mixed with his and filled the study made his stomach tighten in pleasure.

"I recommend this one." He pulled on a rather large book and gently eased it off the shelf. "It'll teach you some of the history of shifters. They were notoriously mysterious, so there isn't much information, but this is a start."

He held it out to her, expecting her to take it, but the spark in her eyes abruptly faded.

The lip caught between her teeth was practically bleeding by the time Draco asked, "You don't want it?"

Hermione sighed and turned toward the books filled with wonders she had never known existed; A whole world ready to be devoured and explored, if only she'd let go of her reservations.

"I..." she groaned and her eyebrows pulled downward. "I want to learn."

"Then what's the problem?" He asked impatiently.

Draco saw the small hairs on her arms rise in time to the increased pounding in her chest. The scent of fear bled into the room.

"It's dangerous," she whispered.

"Aren't all the best things in life?" He smirked, but her face remained stern. "Why are you drawing the line here, with this book? You've spent all night asking every question imaginable."

"There are no shifters left, and while I don't know much, I know that doesn't just happen by accident. I've always wanted to understand myself, but you must realize the danger."

Draco tilted his head in thought. "That's why you ran the night I found you."

"I'd never met another werewolf and you were larger, commanding." Hermione shivered. He reminded himself that her words were not to be used as a boost to his ego.

"The only guidance I've ever had is from my biological mother. She wrote me a note before she left me at the orphanage. It warns I should remain hidden, so that's what I've always done. Taking your books, actually practicing magic, it feels like betrayal, and... I just..." Her wavering voice trailed off, and she shook her head sadly.

"You can't live like this forever. It's a half-life. It's unsafe to have so little control over your power."

"I have control," she said harshly.

"Until you don't, and books are flying in your anger," Draco argued.

Hermione flushed. "That doesn't happen often."

Draco removed his wand from his pocket and held it out to her. "I want you to feel something. Grab my wand."

Her lips pursed in surprise, and her cheeks turned rosy. "Excuse me?"

He rolled his eyes. "Humor me for a moment."

With apprehension, she reached for the wand, fingers hovering a moment before they clasped the unassuming piece of wood.

The air immediately turned electric, and Hermione's eyes widened. He heard her blood humming in fervor.

"Can't you feel it? You're more powerful than you realize. You must let me teach you," Draco begged.

"I don't know," she murmured, but her eyes never left the wand between her fingers.

"There is a man who works at the Ministry of Magic-" he saw her face fill with questions and he was again caught off guard by just how much she didn't know. "The Ministry of Magic is the structure that regulates the wizarding world."

She nodded in understanding and he continued. "Anyway, I believe a man who works there, Harry Potter, will help you secure a wand without revealing your identity yet."

Her face tightened with concern."And you trust this… Harry fellow?"

"To be honest we have a complicated history," he winced, "which is exactly why I trust him. He's infuriatingly drawn to doing the right thing at all costs, and he's an honest man. He's helped me in the past," Draco finished tartly, watching the glow of curiosity light Hermione's face. "I am asking your permission to set a meeting with him."

"And he'll give me a wand?"

"Something like that," he muttered. Seeing Olivander was going to be another challenge he'd have to sort out, but she needn't be aware of the details quite yet.

"Why can't I just learn with yours?" She innocently asked, twirling his wand between her fingers.

The sight made his stomach flip, and he nearly forgot how to speak. "A wand chooses a witch or wizard. It bonds with you, in a way. You'd be hindered by mine."

He took his wand from her, brushing her palm with his fingers as he did so. "You know what you want to do."

When he saw the small nod of her head in agreement, he grinned. "I'll contact Harry. In the meantime," he reached around her, "there are some books I want you to begin reading."

She followed him around the library as he grabbed for books, some rich and leather-bound, others dusty and unassuming. With each added tome, her eyes grew hungrier. Soon, her arms were filled.

As they stepped into the fireplace, his fingers wrapped around her arm, Draco suddenly felt his own tinge of fear.

Though Hermione had spoken of her reservations about following a path with no return, it was he who suddenly worried; his life would no longer be enough without her in it. His wolf craved her- a disastrous reality given his father had practically forbidden him from pursuing her.

But there was no return for him. That much he knew.

Even worse, with her introduction to wizarding society - her insatiable need to consume information - she'd eventually learn about the dark side of magic; the wars fought over blood purity, fanatics and Death Eaters alike.

He threw the floo powder at his feet.

Will she stay, once she learns who I am?