A/N: This is my second favourite chapter! I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I'm only so creative, unfortunately, not creative enough to think of Harry Potter first. Therefore, to punish my ineptitude, I've not monetized this.

CHAPTER SEVEN

All Hermione wanted to do the next morning was Floo to that bastard's flat and scream at him until her face turned purple. How could he be such an incorrigible git?! Because he's Draco sodding Malfoy and you let him in. Of all the people to let in and entertain the idea of being a paramour, you picked a fucking Malfoy. The same one who stood aside while you were carved up and tortured.

"... What else did you and your friends take from my vault?"

Hermione shut her eyes tight and squeezed her teacup as hard as she could. She couldn't forget that vile witch's breath on her face or the joyed expression she wore as she gouged her blade into Hermione's forearm. Lest she forget the feeling of the Cruciatus curse ripping its way through her nerves and bones. When she sat still too long sometimes she could still feel it lingering in her body. The burning of Dark Magic never seemed to have left her.

She hurled the delicate teacup across the room with a frenzied shriek and condemned Malfoy for making her relive her worst memories after years of learning to shut them out. She hadn't felt this unhinged since before Hannah and it made her feel weak. Disgusted in herself that she let someone so insignificant to her set her back.

Eying her Floo, she made her decision.

Maybe I took it too far.

Draco worriedly thought the next morning as he pulled on a white t-shirt and dark Muggle jeans. The game with the knickers was how he'd see who was be worthy of joining him in bed. He found it to be a good method of sifting out any prudes or boring types. But he had never pulled the plug that prematurely. He used to love riling Granger up and apparently he still did. When he left the ballroom he had caught a glimpse of the expression she wore and it was nothing short of murderous. The memory brought a grin to his face.

Although angry Granger was fun, Thank Merlin Granger was now an uncaring nutter or else he'd have the wards changed on his flat for fear of his life. No, this new Granger seemed to be more of the cut and run variety.

Still, the guilt had settled in his gut once he returned home last night. He took a potion for Dreamless Sleep for fear of what this guilt would conjure in the way of nightmares. That was indicator enough that he knew what he did to her last night hadn't been okay.

He shrugged, there wasn't much he could do about it now and she certainly wouldn't want to hear from him so soon. Perhaps he'd give her some flowers before the Ministry's Yule celebration, which he still fully intended on attending. He darkly chuckled to himself as he prepared himself a pot of tea when he heard his Floo roar.

He grabbed his wand and forced a face of indifference as he peeked his head down the hall to see a furious Granger coming at him, wand in hand. "Care for a cup, Granger?" He drawled as she entered the kitchen. His stomach twisted in anticipation. New Granger was apparently unpredictable.

With a shocking amount of physical force she pushed him back up against his refrigerator and stabbed her wand into his throat, "Why?" She asked dangerously.

Draco could feel his heart racing so hard it ached, his clenched fists shook violently but he made no attempt to retaliate. If she ended him then and there it would be the poetic justice she deserved. I definitely went too far, he concluded. He kept his tone bored, "Because I've just made a pot for myself and didn't want to be rude."

She was having none of his shite and she made that clear by removing her wand and punching him hard below his ribs. He bent at the waist and let out a surprised howl. She pushed him back upright and stood on her tiptoes to yell in his face, "Why are you fucking with me? Why did you make me go out with you just to humiliate me? Did the War do nothing to change you, you pathetic waste of space."

He met her blazing golden eyes, still holding his middle. Giving nothing away with his eyes, he jerked his head towards the living room, "Want to get pissed about it?"

Slowly backing away from Malfoy, she felt her anger recede slightly. Getting pissed sounded like a good way to avoid her problems of the day. No matter how Malfoy answered her questions she would still have to return to her flat and her newly unearthed memories.

She turned on her heel and stalked back to the living room. She uncorked the gin she had sampled last night and filled a tumbler to the brim. She sat a black leather chair in the corner of the room, careful to avoid the sofa Malfoy had felt her up on only hours ago.

Malfoy walked in rubbing his ribs in discomfort. "I can tell you you're getting your money's worth from those Muggle boxing classes. Merlin, Granger. I'm lucky you weren't this strong in third year." He filled his own tumbler with an amber liquor, still wincing as he rubbed his ribs with his left hand.

Hermione snorted and drank deeply from the crystal glass. If she wanted to get sloshed she might as well get on with it. She grimaced at the alcoholic burn, "Are you going to answer my questions?"

Sucking air through his teeth as he finished off his glass, Malfoy met her eyes with a blank stare, "No. Are you going to answer mine from last night?"

"Not a chance," she raised her glass in a mock toast and he tilted his in her direction, then drained it.

"Right. So what do you propose we do while we get tossed? I have a fun physical activity in mind but something tells me you'll shoot that down," he teased as he filled his cup again.

Hermione flipped him two fingers and finished her own cup before holding it out to him to top up, "Tell me about your conquests. I'm curious if The Daily Prophet is even remotely accurate."

Malfoy handed her full tumbler back to her and he drank from his own, "Okay. What do you want to know?" He took his seat at the end of the groping sofa on the cushion closest to her. Their knees about 30 centimetres away from touching.

Feeling the swim of gin in her brain already, "How many women have you actually been with? I saw an article that said over one hundred." She wickedly snickered into her cup.

Malfoy scoffed with her at the ludacrisity of the claim, "I have to say I'm surprised you're reading that rubbish, Granger."

"I'm a bookshop owner, Malfoy, I can't help it if my customers want to indulge in that minging tabloid," Hermione scoffed.

"Touché," he smiled as he sipped from his cup, clearly thinking of his response. "Women? I'd say… fifteen?"

Hermione caught the distinction and her interested piqued, "And men?"

"I've only been with men during group sex, ménage à trois, larger groups, that sort of thing. I believe there have only been three," Malfoy replied casually. Watching her to gauge her reaction.

She wasn't wholly surprised about the gender of some of his partners. After finding out herself that both men and women have pleasure to offer she was happy to hear other people explored that avenue as well. What did surprise her was his number. "Hmm. Eighteen? I would've thought…"

"Listen Granger, I'll admit I'm a slag, but I'm quite particular about what I expect from my partners. I haven't the foggiest idea why The Prophet thought I've shagged scores of women," he answered, slightly bemused. "And you?" He took a sip from his nearly empty glass.

A smile creeped its way onto her face. She was definitely tipsy thanks to her empty stomach. Hermione noted the rosiness splotching Malfoy's cheeks. She also noticed for the first time this morning, the slightest shadow of dark blond stubble all over the lower half of his face. "You look nice with some facial hair. You're not so…" failing to find the words she spread her hands in the air and stuck her tongue out of her open mouth, "baahh. You know?"

Malfoy amusedly raised his eyebrows and chuckled, "'Baahh?' Is my bare face alarming to you?"

"No, but it makes you look less like your …" Hermione clapped her mouth shut. She knew better than to bring up Lucius Malfoy. If she recalled correctly Lucius died in Azkaban from exposure shortly after being incarcerated after the War. "Sorry." She muttered glancing over at him.

"It's fine. But thanks for the fashion advice" He emptied his glass and sat it on the mahogany coffee table in front of them. "Now back to the topic at hand. Where do you rank on the slag scale?"

Hermione's smile came back at his crassness. She snorted, "I don't know, I didn't keep count." She held out her hand and started counting off outloud, "Well there was Viktor, obviously, in the summer of fifth year. Adam, my childhood Muggle neighbour shortly thereafter, Hannah… And one, two, three… six people collectively from my Greek vacations and my current partner." Hermione placed her empty cup on the table next to Malfoy's, feeling pleasantly sloshed.

"My money's on Potter being your current shag," Malfoy accused, pointedly learning forward over the sofa arm with a challenging smile on his face.

Her gin logged brain couldn't think of a quick enough response. She hadn't been directly asked about the nature of her and Harry's relationship since they began shagging. The tabloids hadn't asked about them after the War because Harry had been with Ginny publically and he was their saviour, afterall. "No… I, uh..."

Those few beats of silence was all Malfoy needed as confirmation and his challenging smile turned to smug and knowing.

Hermione loudly huffed in frustration, "Don't say anything. No one except you knows." She angrily rubbed her forehead.

"Well since I'm the only one who knows, I assume you haven't talked about it with anyone. So, tell me."

Her anger flared at him for pulling her secret out of her, "Why? So you can humiliate me more? I don't trust you, I don't know why you think I would tell you something so personal!"

"I didn't let you come at the celebration because I love to rile you up," His grey eyes fixed on the wall across from him. "I forgot how fun you are when you're angry. I wanted to know if that part of you was lost along with your other emotions." His eyes now boring into hers.

"You can't just manipulate me like that! I'm not for you to toy with!" She stood and yelled over him. "How dare you use me for your own pleasure?"

Malfoy stared up back at her, "You don't like it when I use you for my own pleasure?"

She angrily rolled her eyes at the innuendo and he reached out for her hand. He pulled her to the sofa to sit next to him.

"I'm not sorry I did it, but I'm sorry I made you feel used. I won't do that again. Tell me about Potter." His expression was blank, unreadable.

She sat and mulled over his apology. When she deemed it acceptable (really, she just didn't want to spend her day of drinking angry) she pulled on leg up onto the sofa, tucked it under her other thigh and turned to face him. "I don't know what there is to tell. We've been shagging on and off since Ron left us while we were hunting Horcruxes. We stop whenever the other is seeing someone else and we've never had any inclination for a romantic relationship, so works well for our current situations."

"All the way back then? Is that why you and Weasley didn't get together?"

Hermione sputtered through tight lips before laughing, "No. Harry wasn't why we didn't get together. I'd had sex with three men up until that point, the first two I'd lusted after for a while and I never felt that way with Ron. At least Harry had some sense about him when it came to being an attentive lover. I didn't see that in Ron."

"Huh. Gross," Malfoy proclaimed.

Hermione batted him on the arm gently. "Sod off, Malfoy. I didn't make fun of your partners." She fell silent then wondered out loud, "Have you shagged Pansy or Theo?"

The question gave Malfoy pause, as if he was unsure how to answer her. "Theo no. He's solely into blokes and I need at least one bird in the mix." He seemed extremely apprehensive to discuss Pansy.

"Hey, I told you about Harry," Hermione reminded him. "Plus, it's not like you two were discreet in sixth year. Anyone with eyes saw that you were shagging."

"Yes but Potter doesn't want to run for Minister of Magic. Pansy does. But yes, Pansy and I did hook up on and off throughout sixth year."

Hermione could sense that wasn't where the story ended. Through her swimming consciousness, she reached out her hand and placed it on his, which was rested on his thigh, "You don't have to tell me but it might help to get it out." She gave him a small smile.

It wouldn't be until much later that Hermione would recognise her shift in temperament towards another person's feelings. But Draco noticed.

Draco looked down at the small hand that covered his, bewildered. He didn't think he'd ever be on the receiving end of Granger's compassion. He certainly didn't deserve to be. It must be the gin, he thought as his own brain was swimming from the scotch. He cursed himself for drinking on an empty stomach. He would pay for it later that evening when the hangover hit. "I haven't eaten yet and I don't know about you but I'm already somewhat pissed."

Hermione retracted her hand and smiled wider, "Yeah, me too. What do you have?" She got up and made for the kitchen.

He watched her denim clad hips as she skipped to his kitchen. Thank Merlin he chose jeans to wear today or his growing erection would be harder to hide if he were wearing his normal trousers. Draco stood, pulled his jeans to adjust himself and followed her.

She was opening and looking through his cabinets as he leaned against the doorframe to watch her. "Looking for anything in particular?"

"Do you have any crisps? Or maybe some biscuits?"

Draco scoffed and crossed the room to open the refrigerator, "Yes, but I think something more substantial would help our inevitable hangovers. How about some sausage rolls, carrots and chips? I haven't been to the grocery yet this week."

"That sounds fine, but I'm taking these as well," Granger replied holding a box of Peek Freans Fruit Cremes.

Draco chortled, "Alright. Plates are to your right and dining room is across the hall. I'll bring the actual food."

They ate their odd breakfast in silence as Draco contemplated how truthful he should be with Granger. "It's not that I don't want to tell you about Pansy. " He said finally breaking the silence, "It could really hurt her chances at becoming Minister of Magic and after everything… I couldn't do that to her."

Granger just sat and stared at him with that familiar deep in thought look. "Two years ago I was mugged in London. I was about to Apparate home from Muay Thai - that Muggle boxing class I take - but I decided to stop at a shop to buy a new tea blend. I knew my wand was tucked into my purse because I brushed it when I pulled out my wallet to pay for the tea. It was dark by the time I stepped out and I walked down an alley to Apparate. A man came up behind me and smashed my face into the building wall. He pinned my arms behind my back and pushed his leg up between mine. His mate or whatever grabbed my purse and made to run off with it but I was able to break free from his hold. I broke the nose of the man who held me and punched the windpipe of the man with my bag. The one who held me ran away. I must've struck the other man's throat too hard because he was making these awful gurgling sounds like he was trying to talk but couldn't. I knew I could've healed him but I couldn't be bothered to care or do it. I Apparated home from there. I don't know if he's alive or not."

Salazar's fucking bollocks.

She straightened and wiped any emotion that may've been lingering on her face, "So there you are. You know the worst thing I've done since the War."

Draco was at a loss for words. This was so clearly not the Granger he knew from Hogwarts. If the Sorting Hat were to sit atop her head today, she'd probably be put in Slytherin.

He sighed and looked at the biscuit he was holding in his hands. He internally cringed at the soft twat drinking was turning him into. With Granger, of all people. "After the War, a lot of Slytherins who didn't take the Dark Mark, like Pansy, weren't subjected to a trial. Pansy said she and most of Slytherin were locked in the dungeons for most of the battle, actually. But as you know, Fenrir Greyback evaded capture for a while. He… He kidnapped Pansy and a few other Slytherin girls. It was only for a month but it was long enough to fuck all those girls up. He didn't kill or turn them so you can imagine what he did do. Pansy wouldn't go into detail about it. The Ministry kept the kidnapping quiet at the request of all the girls. They weren't found for that long because most of their parents were either dead or in Azkaban for being Death Eaters." Draco took a deep breath and continued, "Pansy took to drinking to help her cope with it all. The Ministry set her up with a job as a Secretary in Magical Law Enforcement and since then she's worked her way up to the head of the department, but the job didn't stop her from getting hammered every night. Some nights she'd have me over and I'd get tossed too because she was a fun drunk. Other nights she'd have loads of people over… But to answer your question, yeah, I've shagged Pansy since sixth year. Some of the times I don't remember and I'm sure there are times neither of us remember. My stupid twenty year old brain was just excited to be done with Voldemort and being scared all the time. I took advantage of my best friend when she was at her lowest point. That went on for three years." Draco hung his head in self pity. "She's been sober for three years now and has said there's nothing to apologise for but my guilty conscience is a force to be reckoned with these days."

He glanced up to see her reaction, it was still impassive and unreadable. She put her hand on his shoulder, "I agree with Pansy. You shouldn't feel guilty anymore. It sounds like she's already forgiven you of whatever pain you may have caused her. Stop wasting your time feeling guilty over things you can't fix."

Draco bit out a laugh, "I should make you an honorary Slytherin. You're sounding more and more like us."

Granger squeezed his shoulder before releasing it, "Maybe you lot had the right idea with this sort of thing." She stood and started towards the living room, "Let's get another drink and you can show me around this place. It's a lot smaller than the Manor."

They spent the rest of the day wandering in and out of rooms of Draco's flat discussing classical wizard literature. He admitted he'd been interested in reading Muggle literature but his work schedule dictated most of his reading time. She recommended a story called, "To Kill A Mockingbird". She enquired about his choice to not employ a House Elf full time. He "nattered on" as Granger put it, about his current Quidditch season. She showed him some self defense maneuvers before they wound up back on the sofa in his living room.

Sat right up against him, Granger leaned her head against Draco's bicep, being too short to reach his shoulder. "Good idea to start day drinking. It made me significantly less mad at you, but now I'm knackered." Granger teased and yawned.

"Yeah well, Granger, that's my second move. The first is to embarrass the woman in front of all my employees, and third is to talk about the worst things I've done since the War." He turned his head to smirk at her.

She snorted a laugh and closed her eyes before she whispered, "Can I ask you something?"

Draco's head was resting on the back of the sofa with his own eyes closed. He felt remarkably relaxed with Granger's head against his arm. Day drinking was a very good idea, it turned out she was quite good company. "You just asked me something, you dolt."

She pinched his forearm that rested between their thighs. "Prick."

He smirked, "What is it?"

"Why do you feel so guilty about things? What changed?" she whispered.

Draco stiffened. He wasn't expecting her to care, let alone ask. He straightened his neck to face the wall in front of them and opened his eyes. "Like I said, Granger. I grew up. I can see past my own situation now and I know what I did… I know that I'm the reason the War started. I let evil into a school for bloody children." He took a deep breath. "I've worked hard to not be a blithering mess about it. But with the sales of my potions, people have actually thanked me as if I've helped them. As if they don't remember what I did. I know I will never forget it."

Granger was quiet for a long time and Draco waited, still tensed, waiting to see if he had destroyed the fun and potentially promising day they'd had together.

"Sometimes I wish it hadn't had to be us. That the fate of the world hadn't rested on the shoulders of a bunch of seventeen year olds. But someone had to fight and better us than some child's parents," she whispered, her eyes squeezed closed.

"There's that bleeding Gryffindor heart. I thought that had shrivelled up and died," Draco taunted and he poked her knee.

Her eyes relaxed but remained closed as her grimace turned to a small smile. He relaxed at the sight.

"And your fourth?" She questioned after some time.

"Hm?" He looked down at her now open eyes, which were glued to his mouth.

"What's your fourth move?"

His adrenaline spiked and he leaned down to gingerly press his lips against hers. Draco didn't feel drunk anymore, but he didn't want to push it if she was. He pulled back, "Are you still drunk?"

She shook her head.

With force, he took her mouth and steered her to straddle his lap. She let out a breathy sigh and braced her arms on the back of the sofa around his head. Draco grasped her hips and pulled her body closer to his. She was crushing her mouth hard onto his and started grinding her pelvis against his lap. He groaned and wrapped one arm fully around her middle and grabbed her head with the other. They continued snogging and grinding until she suddenly pulled away breathless with a wicked smile.

"I'll see you in a week," and backed into the Floo before he had a chance to stop her.

He leaned his head back on the sofa, ran both hands through his disheveled hair and laughed out loud to no one.