Ack! I forgot today was Friday and I'm so, so, so sorry! Luckily this update is extra long and one of my favorites, so I hope this makes up for it! Sending you all so much love! This chapter does include some direct lines from The Ugly Truth, so if you recognize them, that would be why!

Chapter 8: Dinner Disaster

Hermione was wrapped up in a nice warm embrace, arms crisscrossing her middle as she stretched languidly. A contented smile curling across her lips, Hermione arched backwards in a stretch, and a deep laugh rumbled through her as she slotted her head in the space between her cuddler's shoulder and neck. When he began to trail lazy kisses over her neck and shoulder, she smiled, eyes still closed as long hair brushed teasingly over her collarbone.

Toes curling, she peeled her eyes open and turned in the embrace, a choked gasp escaping her when the sunlight illuminated white-blond hair tousled haphazardly from sleep.

Malfoy?!

Hermione bolted upright in bed, heart pounding as she kicked her legs. Sleep still clung to her, but she whipped her head side to side, searching for the wizard who had invaded her dreams.

When she reassured herself that Malfoy had not, in fact, slipped into her room in the middle of the night and curled around her like a second skin, she flopped back on the bed, hair fanning out around her as she stared up at the ceiling.

Why in Merlin's name was she dreaming about Malfoy?

Kicking her feet out of the blankets and swinging them over the side of the bed, Hermione busied herself with her morning routine, trying to push him to the back of her mind.

Brush her teeth. Wonder about Malfoy's motivations with Witch Weekly. She brushed harder, scrubbing in tight circles as though she could scrub him from her mind, but the thoughts kept creeping in the more she tried to avoid it.

By the time she yanked a pair of pre-Malfoy skinny jeans over her hips and fastened them, she was positively fuming. The framed photos on the wall shook as she stomped down the hallway, spooking Crooks from his perch within the stack of boxes she'd yet to send for recycling.

Gusting a deep sigh, she knelt, gathering the boxes with an apologetic grimace towards Crooks' shadowed form on one of the kitchen chairs. "Sorry, Crooks. Not a great morning." Talking to her cat was soothing even though some might call it crazy, but she tilted her head at him as she turned, infusing a high coo into her voice that she reserved only for him. "Why don't we get a snack, yeah?" He tipped his head in the shadows, slinking forward enough that the light caught his baleful yellow eyes. "Will a treat make up for it?"

Merrow. Finally, the furry menace leapt down from the chair, curling himself around her ankles as she walked to his cabinet, the one filled to bursting with his treats and the myriad toys she'd bought but not yet given him. The crinkle of the wrapper was all the kneazle needed to arch upright, paws landing on her knee to begin a gentle kneading.

Sucker.

Though it was already clean, Hermione focused her frustrated energy on the kitchen, wiping down each surface carefully to ensure that any wayward crumbs were eliminated. By the time she made it to the stretch of the counter containing her coffee pot and, subsequently, Malfoy's article, she'd calmed down.

It was just a dream. No need to be getting worked up over it. It didn't matter that she'd yet to have a dream about Theo or that she was beginning to wonder where the sparks had gone.

Absolutely not.

Waving her wrist in a wide arc, she watched in satisfaction as a cup smoothly floated off the cabinet and deposited itself on the countertop. Another flick sent the coffee pot through the air. Coffee in hand and article under elbow, she retired to her sitting room, settling comfortably in her armchair with a sigh of relief.

Until she flipped over the first page of Malfoy's article.

He'd started with dating, a topic that was no doubt part of his prowess, given her own successful date with Theo. Though she expected the pages to be filled with nothing but misogynistic drivel, she was pleasantly surprised to find that though it contained half-serious comments regarding the superior nature of men, it was also peppered with self-deprecating jabs that nearly came off as endearing.

Nearly.

She flipped to the second page, eyes scanning as she relaxed deeper into the cushions, the waning frustration leaving her boneless in her exhaustion. Despite her reservations, the article was good given the target audience, and it wouldn't take too much to revise into something she'd feel comfortable publishing in Witch Weekly.

Turning to the last page, her gaze snagged on the second to last paragraph, slowing her skim to a true read.

Been on the market for too long and not catching anyone's eye? You could be looking in all the wrong places; I know I certainly was. Your ideal woman isn't always who you think she is.

That was… strangely insightful coming from Malfoy, and a flutter of reluctant respect started for him in her stomach.

But then again, women never know what they want, so you're better off showing them anyway.

And there was the Malfoy she'd come to know.

With a sigh and a final pat to Crooks' back, Hermione summoned her bag and coffee cup, and strode to her fireplace, Flooing to the Witch Weekly building.

Hermione bustled into her office, coffee cup in hand, humming to herself. Despite how terribly Malfoy's article had started, there were some good points in there—hidden beneath the misogyny he used for humour. It shouldn't take him too long to revise it, and it would be suitable for publication in short order.

It was only slightly disarming to think that Malfoy may well be a decent man; he was a diamond in the rough, certainly, but he might make some witch happy someday.

She halted at her desk, shaking her head. If Harry could see her now…

Waving her wand, Hermione flipped the calendar on her desk, checking her obligations for the week. Thankfully the week was relatively light: one conference with the print team on Wednesday, a quarterly review with the newest set of interns, and she'd have to skip lunch tomorrow to discuss content for the new year with Daphne. Flipping a few pages forward, she eyed the date she'd circled three times over.

Davison had sent a certified owl over when she'd been gone the last week, requesting a meeting with the senior staff and—the part that had rankled her the most—Malfoy.

It wasn't that she didn't appreciate having Malfoy's help. She wanted the magazine to last, and his introductory article had been well-received. What she didn't appreciate was having to give up any sort of control over Witch Weekly's direction to Malfoy.

Sighing, Hermione dropped into her chair and eyed the framed awards on the wall. She'd worked so hard to get Witch Weekly out from under the thumb of pureblood ideals, and as hard as it had been, she was proud of how far it had come. Young witches and wizards could read the magazine for detailed, thought-provoking articles that encouraged them to think outside of the prejudices with which they'd been raised.

Daphne was different; she always had been. Though she'd been raised in the pureblood dogma, she'd never subscribed to it, and Hermione had always admired her at Hogwarts. Her friend was forward-thinking and kind, and many of the ideas that Hermione had about pureblood life had been corrected by her friend. Giving part of that control back over to Malfoy, though... That was different.

The intercom on her desk crackled, startling her from her thoughts, and Hermione turned, eyeing it quizzically. Finally, Daphne's voice came through. "Um, Hermione?"

"What is it, Daph?" Hermione settled her elbows on her desk, waiting for her friend's response.

It came shortly, prefaced by the static of the intercom again. "Malfoy has a visitor?" A pause. "A young visitor."

Hermione's brow furrowed, and just before she responded, she heard the lift ding. The unmistakable sound of young adult laughter filtered through the intercom, followed by Malfoy's deep tenor. "I've got him. Thanks, Daph."

The intercom fell silent, but Hermione didn't have to wait long. Malfoy swept through the door, a bright teal-haired preteen in his wake. Hermione had to blink a couple of times before she realised her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. "Teddy?"

"Hi, Missus Granger!" He cracked a smarmy smile, too close to Malfoy's own for her comfort, and Hermione swung her gaze to her employee with a weak hello.

Shrugging, Malfoy dragged the other chair closer, gesturing for Teddy to settle into it while Malfoy perched on his own. "I've been spending time with Aunt Andromeda; since Teddy is my cousin, we've become close."

Oh. Oh. Hermione had forgotten that they were related, and she leaned back, digesting the information. After a moment of awkward silence, Hermione directed a smile at Teddy. "It's good to see you! Surprising, but good. Aren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts?"

Teddy nodded, but he tipped his head at Hermione. As he moved, his hair shifted, the curly teal locks straightening as it faded to a bright silver-blond. When he looked back at her, his normally dark brown eyes matched the grey of Malfoy's. "I should be, but McGonagall instituted a new program that allows us to visit jobs that we're interested in working."

Frowning, Hermione crossed her arms. "I thought you wanted to be an Auror."

"I do," Teddy answered. He flit his eyes at Malfoy with a sly smile. "When I read Uncle Draco's article a couple weeks ago, I asked for a second trip to compare other fields of interest." He snickered and added under his breath, "Uncle Draco said the girls here were babes; he was not wrong."

Malfoy paled, shooting upright as he avoided Hermione's gaze. "Alright, Ted, let's go see if you can get a glimpse of the printing room." Eyebrows settling somewhere around his hairline, he forced the preteen around by the shoulder, gesturing for Hermione to do something.

Stifling her own snicker, Hermione pressed the intercom button. "Daph?"

After a moment of silence, Daphne's voice came through. "Yeah?"

Glee lit up Teddy's features at Hermione's next words. "Why don't you take Teddy to tour the print office and walk him through the way printing the magazine works."

"Er, are you sure, Hermione? We've got a lot to get done this week." Uncertainty laced her words, but Hermione pressed on.

"I know, Daph, but Malfoy and I need to finish his article and get it to print." Silence and then, "I'll owe you another one."

When Daphne came back on, Hermione could hear her resignation. "Send him out."

Hermione huffed in relief. "Thanks, Daph. We'll come grab him in an hour. Malfoy and I have to work through some problems with his article that aren't suited for—" She paused, glancing at Teddy, who was chattering away to a distracted Malfoy. "—Hogwarts-aged ears."

Her friend didn't answer, but Hermione waved her hand, opening the door silently. "Teddy, Daphne will show you around the office. If you've got any legitimate questions, you can ask her."

The smirk eerily reminiscent of Malfoy's twisted the corners of his lips again. "And if they're not legitimate?"

"Ted." Draco's voice contained a world of warning, and the younger boy wilted. "Behave yourself. We've talked about this."

There was an authority to his tone that Hermione hadn't heard before, and she was taken aback for a moment as she studied their interaction. Teddy clearly respected Malfoy and wanted him to think highly of him, but the realization only served to further divorce the Malfoy she knew now from the Malfoy of her youth. Unable to reconcile the two, she watched as Malfoy walked Teddy to the door.

When the younger boy slipped out to the hallway, Malfoy turned around, shoulders sagging as he turned to Hermione. "Sorry about that."

Nodding, Hermione tracked his return across the room. "You're clearly close."

Malfoy shrugged. "He doesn't have a father figure. Most of his family was killed in the war." He stared down at the table, weighing his words before he continued. "Maybe it's guilt, I can't rightly say, but I like the kid. He's spunky."

The rare honesty from him shed another layer of the cynicism he wrapped himself in, and Hermione found herself appreciating this new side of him. "He's hard not to like. He reminds me of Harry in a lot of ways."

Stiffening, Malfoy glared at her. "Take it back."

Hermione giggled, retrieving his article from the bag she'd settled beside her feet. "It's true; both of them lost their parents young. They're looking for a familial connection." She shrugged as she arranged the parchment before her, aligning it exactly ten centimetres from the upper right corner of the desk. "It's cute."

Those were the words that pushed Malfoy over the edge. "It's not cute, Granger. It's what family does." He fumed for a moment. "And he's not like Potter."

Shrugging, Hermione dipped the nib of her quill in the red ink. "Well, Harry is his godfather. It's to be expected that they're somewhat alike."

Delight raced up her spine as Malfoy grumbled under his breath, scooting his chair forward in a most undignified manner. "Whatever. What matters is that Teddy is more like me than Potter." He tilted his chin up in the air with a petulant downturn of his lips, and Hermione couldn't contain her titter. Apparently old rivalries died hard. "What notes do you have?"

The rapid change in conversation threw Hermione off kilter, but she frowned down at the notes, skimming through them before she started. After a moment, she flipped the parchment, indicating the notes she'd left in the margins. "It's good. Or at least it's a good start."

Malfoy's brows leapt up, and he waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he prompted, "But?"

She drew her lip in between her teeth to contain her laugh. "But it's a little much for Witch Weekly."

Nodding to himself, Malfoy glanced over the article. "Was it the amount of 'fucks'?"

A laugh huffed out of her, but Hermione nodded. "Partly, yes. I've taken the liberty of marking a few out or suggesting more reader friendly versions."

Malfoy quickly scanned the rest of the article. "Most of this is just phrasing changes." He looked up at her, a furrow between his brows. "What's the catch?"

Hermione had expected the question, so she extended her hand, wiggling her fingers for the parchment. When he handed it back to her, she pointed at the first paragraph. "There's not one; it just works." She frowned a bit at the more crass phrasing and hoped he'd acquiesce to her suggested changes, but she pointed to a spot. "See here, it's a little unrefined, but we want our readers to know that they should approach situations authentically."

Malfoy craned his neck, trying to read the page, but he shoved his chair backwards, coming around the back of her chair to lean over her. "Here?"

His shoulder brushed hers as he leaned over her. Sandalwood and the faint scent of a warm-smelling cologne washed over her, quite different from Theo's overly clean smell. It distracted her for a moment, but she blinked, reading the passage he was pointing to. "Yes. The message of this section is more 'be a dick and women will like you' than what we're going for."

When he didn't respond, Hermione peered up, watching as his eyes flew over the page. After a moment, he shrugged, picked up the article, and began pacing the room. Hermione tapped her quill against the desk, watching Malfoy scan through the rest of the parchment. He chewed on his lip as he jotted notes in the margin, a small smirk turning the corner of them up as he read her notes and countered with a suggestion of his own before he summoned a glass of water.

The ticking of the clock on her wall comfortably punctuated the silence, and Hermione leaned back in her chair, marvelling that she would ever consider quiet time with Malfoy comfortable. "Theo wants to come over again tonight."

Malfoy flicked his gaze up at her for half a second before he resumed his writing. "That's nice."

Bristling slightly at his tone, Hermione set her quill on the table, making a show of studying her nails so he wouldn't see how much his tone bothered her. A thrill of mischief ran through her as Malfoy reached for his water. "How long do you think I should wait to sleep with him?"

The sound that Malfoy made was something between a snort and a cough, his eyes bulging as he choked on his water while trying to swallow. After coughing harshly twice, he glared at her. "A warning would be nice, Granger."

Shrugging, she said, "Well, you're the self-proclaimed expert in this. I didn't think you needed preparation."

"Hmm," Malfoy answered noncommittally. "You've been out of practice for a while, yeah?"

Embarrassed heat rushed up Hermione's cheeks, her stomach twisting in knots at the waggle of his brows. "I'm not out of practice, Malfoy. It's like riding a bi— a broom," she amended, tailoring the reference for his benefit. "You don't just forget how to do it."

Dipping his head in a slight acquiescence, Malfoy slid the parchment back over the paper to her and continued, "So when was the last time you… y'know?" Malfoy tossed a handful of popped corn in his mouth, eyeing her carefully over the table as she read through his revised article.

The question felt like a trap, so she laid her quill down with a huff, eyeing him critically. "When was the last time I what, Malfoy?" She gestured to the paper before her, lifting a brow. "Clearly being discreet is not one of your strong suits, so you may as well come out with it."

A salacious grin unfurled on Malfoy's face, and he shrugged, leaning over the table until he could see the notes she'd left in the margins. With a frown and a quick wave, the ink shifted, accepting her changes before he spoke. "When was the last time you got off?"

Her jaw popped open, disbelief rolling off her in waves. "I beg your pardon?"

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy leaned back and crossed his arms behind his head. "When was the last time you orgasmed, Granger? Flicked the bean, you know?"

Red-hot embarrassment seared up her cheeks as she spluttered. "That's—that is none of your business." She snatched another article for review on her desk, eyes scanning over the parchment without seeing the words before her. "And that's what you call it?"

Malfoy shrugged, tapping the article with the tip of his wand. The parchment rolled tightly into a scroll, and it zipped out of the office. "No, I call it masturbating, but I assumed it might be a more comfortable reference for your delicate Muggle sensibilities."

Hermione scoffed, turning away from him with a sharp sniff and trying to steer the conversation away from herself. "Well how often do you… I don't know, polish the broom handle?"

A sharp, genuine laugh burst out of Malfoy. "Me?" Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw a sly smirk unfurl on his lips. When she turned to face him, his eyes glinted molten. "You just want to know so you can think about me polishing mine while you flick yours."

An uncomfortable warmth settled in Hermione's stomach; she tore her eyes away, waving her wand to gather the materials she'd need to finish editing at home. "That's ridiculous." She looked away, muttering under her breath, "I don't need to think about anyone when I do that."

Malfoy either didn't hear her comment or chose to ignore it, a strange pinching to his features as he gathered his own material. "You can sleep with him whenever you want, Granger, but the longer you make him wait, the more he'll want you."

Walking out the office door, she tried to ignore the butterflies dancing with her pulse.

The next few weeks passed in a blur. Malfoy's article was, of course, a hit among men, and perhaps featuring him on the cover hadn't been as bad of an idea as she'd thought it was. Sales had risen exponentially once his cover went live, but Hermione couldn't help but wonder what the catch would be as she sat at her table going over the numbers before Theo arrived for their date.

The Floo roared to life, and a familiar head popped through. "Hermione?" Theo's voice was far louder than necessary in the limited space, but she'd begun to realise that was how Theo carried himself when he got to know someone.

Not that there was anything wrong with that, she reasoned. Ron had been the same way. It was just… a lot.

Stopping herself from wincing, Hermione called back, "In the kitchen!"

He ambled through, whistling lowly and carrying another blasted bouquet of carnations in his hand. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate the flowers—she did, immensely. It was lovely that he thought of her, truly, but she'd already had to vanish six bouquets in the past few weeks from the myriad of dates he'd taken her on, lest she go into anaphylactic shock in her own flat.

Theo rounded the corner, carnations in hand, and pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before he summoned the vase from the top of her cabinets. As he made quick work on the stems, he said, "Y'know, you might be able to keep these alive longer if you used a stasis charm instead of insisting on doing this the Muggle way."

Hermione forced a half-hearted shrug as she turned away, trying to hide the lie as it slipped from her lips with false brightness. "I'll get it one of these days."

Theo laughed behind her, his warmth enveloping her as he wrapped his arms around her waist and pressed a kiss to the underside of her jaw. "I missed you."

As it always did, the comfort of his embrace drove out the guilt insistent in the back of her head, and she leaned back, pressing her lips to his in greeting. "I missed you too. How was work?"

Groaning, Theo dropped his head back and released her from his grip. "Rubbish. We had another wave of Coma Caramels takers. If parents just read the labels of the products they bought their kids, my job would be so much easier."

With a noncommittal sigh, Hermione lifted the vase of flowers from the countertop and deposited them on her kitchen table. "You know George; it's a blight to Fred's memory to make anything easy on people who try to stop the fun. They adapted some aspect of the Marauder's Map to make the label impossible to read."

"The Marauder's Map? George?" Confusion was evident in Theo's tone as he followed Hermione, his gaze insistent on her as she picked up her purse and summoned the contents she'd need to take with them for their date.

Bugger, she'd forgotten—not for the first time and it likely wouldn't be the last—that Theo didn't know what or who that was. "It's a Hogwarts thing, honestly. A map that Harry used to carry with him; it kind of lives in infamy in Hogwarts. It's a map of Hogwarts that can only be used if you know the password. Fred and George are—well, Fred was and George is one of Ron's brothers." She looked up from tucking her wallet into the handbag at Theo's incredulous laugh, irritation flaring to life within her. "What?"

Theo shook his head with a chuckle. "It sounds a bit juvenile, needing a password."

Though she mostly agreed, Hermione couldn't help the urge to defend Harry. "I mean, it was quite useful when we needed to get around Hogwarts without being detected." She sniffed, trying to contain her sudden irrational flash of anger. Quickly smoothing the wrinkled front of her dress where Theo had gripped her, she spun around to lift a brow at him, trying to change the subject. "What's the plan for tonight?"

Theo shrugged, reaching for her hand when the Floo sounded in the sitting room. "Who would be—"

"Granger!" Malfoy's lazy drawl issued forth from the green flames as she approached it. When Hermione knelt before it, Malfoy's exasperated sigh met her. "Do you always take ages to answer your Floo?"

Despite the dramatics of his tone, an easy grin lilted his lips and her own answered it. "Only when I'm avoiding annoying gits who happen to pop in unexpected."

The comment only served to widen his smile, and he rolled his eyes. "Ah, your healer stopped by again unannounced? Merlin, that wizard has lost the plot over you."

Wincing, Hermione raised her hand to gesture behind her, but Theo beat her, ambling up behind her and resting his hands on her shoulders with a light squeeze. "Healer here."

Malfoy abruptly stopped talking, a funny twist to his lips as he stared between them for a minute. "Ah, well—" Malfoy disappeared from the grate, and Hermione frowned, but then he returned, stepping entirely through the flames until he stood before her. "About time I introduce myself then." He leaned forward, extending his hand to Theo. "Draco Malfoy, pain in her arse and newest contributor to Witch Weekly."

Theo cracked a grin, sliding his hand into Draco's. "Theodore Nott. Just started at St. Mungo's and Hermione's boyfriend."

Hermione prided herself on her observational skills—partly a result of how thoroughly she liked to document every interaction—so when Malfoy's eyes tightened minutely, she had to stop her frown from deepening. But as quickly as it appeared, the look smoothed and Malfoy retracted his hand. "Pleased to meet you."

Awkward silence fell between them, so Hermione nodded, raising a brow at Malfoy. "What are you doing here? We're not supposed to meet until tomorrow night for the dinner with Davison."

Malfoy sucked air between his teeth, a deep furrow forming between his brows. "Hate to break it to you, Granger, but plans have changed. Davison wants to meet tonight. He got reservations at Le Bec-Fin, Delacour's new restaurant. I haven't even been able to get a table, so you're stuck."

Heart plummeting into her stomach, Hermione groaned, pacing to her breakfast bar. Petulance laced her tone at the thought of spending one of her Saturday evenings with that git. "It has to be tonight? Theo and I have plans tonight, and—"

"Sure, why don't you ring our largest financier and tell him you've got a date and can't make it to his business meeting? And Merlin help me, I actually enjoy working with you, so if we could not blow this opportunity, that'd be great." Malfoy sighed, slipping his hands into his pockets, and Hermione finally noticed the stark contrast to his usual attire. He was in pressed trousers, an open-button shirt in a deep emerald paired neatly with a grey suit jacket overtop. He'd styled his hair again, an effortless sweep that highlighted his high cheekbones and sharp grey eyes.

It wasn't that he looked bad at other times—no, Hermione was well aware that Malfoy was a good looking man. But seeing him dressed up like this was a testament to how much he actually cared about the publication; he didn't even dress up for himself anymore. She turned to Theo, raising her shoulder with a regretful frown. "I guess we'll have to—"

But Theo stepped into her space, slipping his hand into hers. "The magazine is important to you; we can have a date another night." His eyes twinkled with the smile that lifted one side of his lips. "As much as I was hoping to get you alone tonight, I suppose I can share you for the night."

Her stomach swooped at his unwitting implication; she couldn't help when her eyes flicked to Malfoy, who discreetly checked the wristwatch hidden beneath the sleeve of his suit coat while she canoodled with Theo. "Are you sure? We've had this planned all week; I hate to cancel on you for work."

He squeezed her hand tightly, understanding in his eyes. "This is your livelihood, 'Mione. I don't want to stand in the way of that. You go and change; I'll walk you out when you're ready to go."

Clearing her throat, she took a step back with a nod, hands settling on her stomach to calm the sudden nerves racing through her. "Well, alright then. I suppose I ought to change into something more suitable." A quick peck to Theo's cheek followed her statement, and she turned, making for the hallway.

"Granger, where's your loo?" Malfoy followed her down the hall.

Hermione frowned at the question—he knew exactly where the loo was. What was he playing at? "To the left…?" She gestured, and with a glance behind him, Malfoy pulled the door shut, quickly shooing her down the hall.

Once he pushed her inside, disregarding her hushed protests, he navigated her towards the bed. When she was arranged to his liking, he stepped back.

With a wave of his wand, a carefully wrapped bag appeared in his hand. For half a moment, she was impressed by the disillusionment spell he'd managed to maintain carefully hidden away from her and Theo, but then an unexplainable wave of dreams washed over her. "What's that?"

Instead of answering her, Malfoy dropped onto the bed, gesturing impatiently at the box, and with a huff, she pulled the bow loose.

Within the wrapping, a nondescript box was nestled. The plain brown packaging gave her no indication of what lay within, so she carefully opened it, peeling each layer carefully away. When she finally revealed the contents, she flicked her gaze up at Malfoy with confusion. "I'm going to regret asking this, but what is it?"

A terribly self-satisfied smile lifted the corner of Malfoy's lips. "The woman in the shop said it was their top-selling device."

Device? Hermione's frown deepened, and despite her reservations, she rested the box in her lap, prodding the little black piece of plastic. It felt sturdy, sure, and it was no longer than a few centimeters, but she couldn't place it until she peeled back one remaining piece of parchment, on which were the words User Manual.

Naturally, she picked up the parchment, carefully reading through each line as her eyes grew rounder with each word.

Welcome to Magic Bullet! We're honoured and excited to have you along for the ride.

The Magic Bullet is the optimal toy for adventurous witches who want to spice up their sex lives. Small and unobtrusive, the Magic Bullet can be used at home for an exciting bout of foreplay or in public for the witch who likes to get a bit risqué with her pleasure.

Beside her, Malfoy rumbled, "I took the liberty of preprogramming activation charms." When she jerked her head to stare at him with wide eyes and mouth agape, he shrugged. "Gryffindor to activate the lowest setting. Hufflepuff to pulse. Ravenclaw to move to medium." If possible, his smug grin grew larger as he winked and told her the last. "Slytherin for the highest setting, pulsing included for your ultimate pleasure." He said the words as though he'd memorised them from the pamphlet, and she turned, dumbfounded, to read the final paragraph.

Each toy can be custom programmed with your choice of activation charms. To work, simply speak the word and twist your wrist once in a counter-clockwise manner. Levels range from a mild vibration on low, pulsing for variation, and high with pulsing for your ultimate pleasure.

Heat rushed up her cheeks as she stared at the unassuming little object. When she finally looked at Malfoy again, the cheshire grin on his face had only gotten larger. "Draco Lucius Malfoy, what the bloody hell do you think you're doing buying me sex toys?!" Though she tried to keep her voice low, it grew shriller with each word.

But while she'd read the parchment, Malfoy had stood up and crept to the door, and he flashed her another grin as he ducked out. "Thank me later, Granger." The door shut with a quiet click.

Words failed her as she listened to Malfoy retreat, the quiet sound of the toilet flushing in the loo followed by a much more obvious door-opening. Seconds later, she heard Malfoy begin speaking to Theo.

What in Merlin's name had just happened?

Raucous laughter sounded from the sitting room, and it kicked her into action. Ducking into her closet, she surveyed the clothing she'd collected from Pansy's line. Inexplicably, she'd gone to visit the witch again, and they'd spent an hour in slightly tense but mostly amicable silence, and Hermione had come home with three more dresses.

The friendship was a strange one, but Hermione found she'd come to appreciate the witch.

Now, she slid the clothes aside, selecting a comfortable cream linen dress. Shrugging off the slinkier number she'd chosen for her date with Theo, she slid the other one on, exchanging her black heels for a more modest nude pair.

As she exited her closet, she summoned her hand bag, ensuring she had everything she'd need for a business dinner. Once she'd ensure it was all there, she marched across her bed, turning her nose up at the box Malfoy had given her.

But she paused, hand on the door knob, gnawing on her lip as she cast her gaze over her shoulder.

It was a rather nice present, despite the unconventional nature of it. And she had been meaning to try out other implements to branch out a bit. Surely those words wouldn't come up over dinner. And if she was going to use it, she might as well get used to how it felt discreetly. And if she wasn't going to have a date tonight...

Maybe it couldn't hurt.

With a decisive nod, she spun on her shoulder, grabbing the box and hurrying into her closet before she had a chance to second think.

Once the device was settled in place, a foreign weight in her core that she tried to ignore, Hermione raced to the door and down the hall.

Both men looked up, halting their conversation. Theo's eyes rounded in appreciation. Hermione didn't miss the way Malfoy's gaze slid over her too, and she paused, hand on hip as she summoned her bag. "All set, Malfoy?" She crossed the room, taking Theo's hand with a gentle squeeze and murmured, "I'll walk you out, yeah?"

But Theo stopped, tossing an oblivious smile over his shoulder. "Actually, Draco invited me along. Something about getting to know one of his coworker's significant other and making you more comfortable."

All the blood drained from Hermione's face as she turned, bullet shifting within her. "He did?" Her frantic brows shot up, trying to communicate that Malfoy needed to retract the offer, and quickly, but Malfoy aimed another large grin at her, gesturing to the fireplace. With a pinch of Floo powder, he was gone, and Hermione had no choice but to follow him, anxious nerves tossing in her stomach.

Shite.

Davison was late, but it didn't surprise Hermione. What did surprise her was that when he showed up, he had his arm wrapped around the tiny waist of a dark auburn-haired girl who appeared to be barely out of Hogwarts.

Even Malfoy raised a brow at his choice in date, but Hermione stilled her mouth with a deep pull of her cabernet. After swallowing it, she stood, plastering a fake smile to her face as the man approached. "Nyles, so good to see you again. And so soon." She extended her hand, grimacing when his sweaty palm dwarfed her own.

"Miss Granger, glad to see you've got on board with changing our approach to Witch Weekly." Tipping his head at Draco, Davison pulled out his chair and plopped into it, entirely ignoring Theo's outstretched hand. "I'll need a waiter immediately," he bellowed, stomach shaking with the voracity of his shout. When the timid young woman approached, he rattled off an order, demanding a cheap wine for him and his date. Jotting it carefully on her pad, the woman nodded and retreated. Hermione wished she could do the same. "So, Granger, how are the numbers doing?"

Daphne leaned forward, settling a spreadsheet on the table before her. "By all accounts, Malfoy's article was well-received. Numbers are up in most categories, and we received several owls congratulating Witch Weekly on our inclusivity."

Inclusivity. The word made Hermione's blood boil, and her ire must have been plain on her face because Malfoy leaned forward, settling an inconspicuous hand along the back of her chair and squeezing her shoulder once. "I'm glad to see my insight is proving useful." He directed his words to Davison, and Hermione wasn't sure if he was preening at his own work or trying to draw the attention from the magic that crackled in the tips of her hair. "Though I'll admit that Granger had some rather useful advice of her own. It's a mutually beneficial partnership."

Crowing, Davison leaned forward, beating his meaty fist against the table. "What did I tell you? All you needed was a bit of male perspective."

But Daphne frowned. "But Hermione took a risk on changing this—given that Witch Weekly has always had a target demographic towards women." Her friend aimed a tense smile at her, sensing just how close Hermione was to the edge, continuing on with a twist of her wrist at the spreadsheet. "I dare say a lot of the credit should be given to her Gryffindor tenacity for finding a way to marry the two ideas: women in the wizarding…"

Daphne's words continued, but Hermione froze.

No. Nonononono, this could not be happening.

But it was. A subtle vibrating had started in her core at Daphne's words, the slight twist of her wrist and invocation of her Hogwarts house triggering the Magic Bullet.

Squirming, Hermione gripped the edge of the table, warmth crawling up her cheeks at the low roil of pleasure that assaulted her. Gods this was the worst possible time for this to happen, but Merlin's pants it felt sinful. Rolling her hips forward in an attempt to quiet the discreet buzzing and disseminate some of the pleasure, she bit her lip.

Daphne still prattled on, her expression pulling taut to fill the awkward silence as the table turned to look at Hermione, watching her as she squirmed uncomfortably. "Of course, it doesn't hurt that we've brought all the Hogwarts houses in. Who knew all we needed were a couple of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws to round us out."

The settings jumped rapidly, the sudden changes forcing a squeak out of her.

"Hermione, is everything okay?" Daphne flicked her brows up, mouthing at her across the table, What's going on?

Forcing a cringing smile onto her face, Hermione squeaked, "Oh, I'm just so happy to have everything work out the way it has. Malfoy has been a great addition to the team, and I'm looking forward to the work we see from him in the coming months."

Davison crowed, leaning forward with a creepily conspiratorial smile on his face. "Ratings going up, more money in my pocket. What did I say, Granger?"

A wave of pleasure rolled through Hermione's core, a shiver crawling up her spine that wrung a wobbling smile out of her. She crossed her legs tightly beneath the table and shot a frantic look at Malfoy, who appeared as confused as everyone else. "That you did, Davison. Witch Weekly and young witches and wizards everywhere thank you for your insight." The last word hitched higher, ending on a falsetto as a tremour roiled through her. "Malfoy, a moment please?"

When he didn't respond, Hermione grabbed a handful of his oxford collar and yanked him beneath the linen tablecloth. "How do you shut it off?"

"Granger, what are you—" His eyes grew round, and then his shoulders began to shake with quiet laughter. "You didn't wear it to dinner, did you?"

Hermione huffed, trying to ignore the murmuring overhead, their dinner companions wondering what was going on. "I thought tonight would be a good time to get used to the feel in case Theo and I wanted to try it out sometime."

Mirth lit Malfoy's gaze. "Well, you didn't happen to read the packaging, did you?"

Oh Merlin. Dread settled in her core, rivaled only by the warmth of the impending orgasm that had begun to spread out along her limbs. "What do you mean did I read the packaging? Of course I did!"

But the little smirk that pulled up one side of Malfoy's lips only deepened the foreboding she was drowning in. "But the fine print. Did you read that?" When she shook her head once, he simply said, "It won't shut off until you finish, Granger. Good luck!" With that, he shoved his chair backward and shot upright, rejoining the rest of their dinner party.

Oh gods, this could not be happening. Shiteshiteshite, why couldn't they have kept it at Gryffindor so she could slip away to the loo and carefully remove and dispose of the bloody piece of shite. She bit down on her lip as a particularly potent wave of warmth flooded through her, making her knees knock together. The loo was definitely out of the question.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Hermione attempted to steel herself. She could do this. Just ignore it, grit her teeth through the pleasure and paint an absent little smile on her face. Fake it until she makes it.

Gripping her thighs to bolster herself, Hermione slowly pushed her chair back and slowly sat upright, grimacing as her movement put tantalising pressure on her clit. You can do this, she reminded herself.

She avoided the strange looks everyone aimed at her and settled her hand on Theo's knee, praying to every deity that happened to be listening that he couldn't feel her shaking or the sweat that coated her hand and soaked into his expensive trousers. Theo leaned over, worry pinching his features, and brushed her hair over her shoulder. Even the tiny movement sent tremours through her, heightening when his lips brushed against her ears. "You okay?"

All she could manage was a tight-lipped smile, and Theo leaned back, training his attention on the Daphne. "So you noted that you had a Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw." The bullet rapidly sped through the settings, and her hand tightened on Theo's leg, who, mistaking it as a request to hold hands, slipped his fingers through hers. "Who's the Slytherin?"

Draco choked on his wine beside her, for which Hermione was minutely grateful for, given it masked the sound of the guttural moan that left her at the ridiculously high vibrating of the bullet. Clearing his throat, he answered, "That would be Daphne and myself."

Oh gods, maybe if she just closed her eyes and clenched her thighs together.

"Oh, Merlin," Hermione moaned, hands flying up to clap over her mouth mere nanoseconds afterward as her eyes rounded. Taking a shaky breath, she tried to recover. "Merlin I'm just so glad for the both of you." Her voice had taken a ridiculous breathy tone, and she could feel the swath of red that coloured her cheeks and chest. If she wasn't mistaken, a sheen of sweat had broken out on her forehead. "Without the hard work of Draco and Daphne, I'm really not sure where the magazine would be."

Davison nodded, though he watched her with a hungry glint in his eyes that was nearly enough for Hermione to ignore the coiling low in her belly. "Why don't you tell us about the new column you proposed?"

The new column? Oh, yes, the one she hadn't had a chance to tell Malfoy about. Right, that one. "Draco is going to head up a dating section—since his first article was so well-received." She bit down on her lip, squeezing her eyes shut again as another tremour passed through her. "And it was quite well-received— oh gods, yes it was a good one." The warmth grew stronger and she rocked forward again, stars dancing behind her closed eyes. "Mmm, yeah, and it will—"

Her knees knocked together as she shifted, somehow jolting the bullet further, and she pounded her fist down on the table as sparks burst behind her eyelids and her orgasm crested over her with a low moan. "Shite!" Her eyes flew open, and she choked out a breath. "That was— yes. That was wonderful. The article, I mean!"

Silence. No one at the table spoke, and even though she was coming down from one of the most intense orgasms she'd ever had, Hermione couldn't help but notice it. Finally, Draco cleared his throat, laughter clear in his words. "I'm glad you're looking forward to it as much as I am, Granger." Clearing his throat again, he reached for his wine glass, holding it up in the centre of the table and gesturing to everyone else. "To the continued success of Witch Weekly."

Everyone around the table followed suit, Hermione included through her shame.

The rest of the evening had gone smoothly enough, though Hermione couldn't shake the blush that stained her cheeks, nor could she meet anyone's gaze. Finally, the meal had ended and Theo had offered to Floo her home, but Hermione had declined, making a flimsy excuse to stop by the office. She'd stalled for as long as she could, trying to give him plenty of time to make it home, before she Apparated to the end of her street. To her surprise, Malfoy was waiting for her.

Pulling her handbag higher on her shoulder, Hermione strode past him, averting her face so he wouldn't see her lingering blush. "I suppose you find this whole thing funny?" Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him shove his hands in his pockets and open his mouth to answer. "Rhetorical question, Malfoy. If you know what's good for you, you will not answer."

The clack of her heels was too loud even in the open space, and she paused, ripping one off with a frustrated sigh. "I have never been so embarrassed in my life."

Shrugging, Draco gripped her arm when she teetered. "It wasn't that bad; at least Theo knows you like to have fun now."

She snorted a self-deprecating laugh as she pulled the other heel off, righting herself and continuing down the path toward her flat. "Right, and so does my staff and my sole funder. Not exactly how I pictured the evening going." Arriving at her stoop, Hermione marched up the steps, finally turning over her shoulder to reluctantly meet his gaze. "Thanks for checking on me, though. Probably my lowest point in a while, but hopefully everyone will laugh it off."

Draco guffawed, the genuine mirth in his eyes illuminating his entire face. "Well, it may be a low point for you, but you certainly know how to end a meeting on a climax."

With a groan of disbelief, Hermione aimed a leer at him. "Prat."

Hopping down the steps, Draco turned on his heel. "It's why the ladies love me. Oh, and Granger?"

She lifted an eyebrow, already half-turned to unward the door to her flat, but before she could stop him, he lifted his hand, twisting it once with a wicked grin. "Slytherin."

Immediately, the device roared to life, the vibrations sending her knees to jelly. "Malfoy!"

Her enraged shout echoed down the walk, but he was gone already, Disapparating with a pop! With a groan of fury and renewed tension, Hermione hurried into her flat and down the hall, flopping into bed to drown in her shame.

A/N: Shout out to my husband for helping me name the Weasley product that puts the kids into St. Mungos. It was certainly an interesting conversation on the six-hour drive across Kansas lol P.S. this fic is complete. Once I get through final edits, I'll be bumping my update schedule up! So expect to see more chapters quicker. Another gift from me to you! xx Alpha creds to LadyKenz347 and mcal Beta creds to In Dreams!