Get ready, y'all. It's time.
It's time to crank up the rating on this fic.
*Smut ahead*

-Suggested listening for 2nd half of this chapter: Galway Girl by Ed Sheeran-

Kyonomiko - It's tragic, I know! But all the characters have difficult choices to make in DH.

mhcalamas - My goodness! You read the whole fic up til this point and reviewed each time! Thank you! I feel like angst and fluff is a good descriptor for this story.

HeartOfAspen - Thank you! Pacing is hard, and I'm trying to find the right balance.

MarySueDraco - You are honestly a lifesaver. I thought I properly labeled the characters and was incredibly wrong. Thank you!

Over the next several days, Mrs. Weasley kept everyone up to their eyeballs in wedding preparations. Given the Weasley matriarch's worry about their impeding journey into the dangerous unknown, Hermione wasn't surprised when she did her best to keep her, Ron, and Harry apart. Though she lamented the loss of time she could have spent better preparing for the horcrux hunt, she found she didn't have any objections when Mrs. Weasley paired her with Draco for any number of tasks.

The two of them spent their time preparing trays of hors d'oeuvres (which Hermione placed under a stasis charm), setting tables, and generally trying to avoid an overly-flustered Mrs. Weasley when possible. Hermione supposed she had been paired with Draco because she was deemed most suitable to spend time with him. Anyone else might have "accidentally" de-gnomed him instead of the ugly buggers that crept about the garden.

No, Hermione had no desire to chuck Draco across the meadow. She liked to talk with him too much. As much as she loved Ron and Harry, neither of them could really keep up with her in a mental spar. Draco, on the other hand, never hesitated to fire back a nuanced response to her claims about the moral ambiguities of human transfiguration or the implications of the deconstruction of healing potions.

"I'm telling you," he argued as they unfolded what felt like the thousandth tablecloth, "when you separate the bark of the willow tree from the spider venom it has the potential to cure spell damage in ways we've never seen before."

Hermione scoffed, giving her end of the table cloth a flick to straighten it. "Do you know how difficult it would be to siphon every drop of venom from a nearly-dissolved bit of bark? You're crazy, you know?"

"Not the first time I've heard that. But I'm determined to test the theory if I ever get a chance."

The scoff on her face turned to a smile. Draco somehow never ceased to surprise her. She may disagree with what he was positing, but she had never seen such determination apart from her own.

"You'd make a good healer, you know," she suggested, smoothing the wrinkles on the pale pink table runner she had just placed. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Draco look up at her, a pink flush spread on his cheeks and his jaw slack. The breeze blowing in from the gorgeous day ruffled his hair a bit as he stood stock still.

"You really think so?" His voice rang with uncertainty.

"Well, you've got a good intuition for potions, you've got natural curiosity, drive, and believe it or not, in the deep recesses of your heart I believe there's some empathy buried somewhere. So yes," she grinned in his direction, "I do think you'd do St. Mungo's or anywhere else proud if you decided to pursue healing."

Hermione could feel the weight of her own words pressing down on them. Healing would only be a potential career for Draco if they made it out alive from the war. If they even won the war. If Draco wasn't convicted for the Dark Mark residing on his left forearm. Too many ifs. She didn't want to dwell on that downward spiral of a conversation, so she quickly changed the subject.

"When I was a little girl, I wanted to be an astronaut, actually."

"What's an astronaut?"

"It's a person who goes to outer space to explore. Very dangerous, but incredibly fascinating and rewarding."

"Exploring outer space? That's ridiculous. You can't get up there on a broom or any other way."

"Of course you can. Muggles invented special ships to go to space. I wouldn't be surprised if in our lifetime they travel to Mars. It's suspected that Mars once harbored life, you know."

Draco's eyes shot wide open. "Mars? What are they expecting to find there? Strange animals or something miraculous like that?"

Hermione chuckled. "No. Definitely not. Mostly they want to collect rocks for samples to test. It's more for curiosity more than for anything really practical."

Draco barked a single laugh as he finished placing the forks on their table. "Impractical, dangerous, and rewarding. Sounds entirely up your alley, Miss Gryffindor."

Hermione found herself chuckling along with her companion. "I suppose you're right to a degree. I gave up on my dream when I found out how much physical training would be required of me if I actually wanted to go up there. I'd rather stay grounded these days."

"Seeing as you have zero talent for flying, that doesn't surprise me."

Hermione stuck her tongue out at him, and he grinned, turning to face the rest of the tent. "Just a couple more tables and we'll be done. Finally."

"Come on, then. There are more tablecloths in the linen closet."

The two of them walked side-by-side back into The Burrow. Ginny and Ron were helping their mother peel potatoes in the kitchen, and Hermione offered them a small smile and wave as she passed. Harry wasn't there, but he was presumably working alongside another Weasley sibling somewhere else. The two non-Weasleys made their way up the stairs to the landing where Mrs. Weasley kept all the family towels, blankets, and other linens. She had expanded the seemingly-tiny closet with an undetectable extension charm to make the small space just large enough so both Hermione and Draco could slip inside. The door swung inward, so Draco closed it behind them to grant a few extra inches of space as they hunted for the pink cloth on the shelf-lined walls.

"I swear, Molly Weasley is a hoarder," Draco said as he sifted through a pile of moth-eaten throws. "What does she need so many blankets for?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, she has seven children. Of course she needs plenty of blankets."

"Yes. Right." Draco cleared his throat and turned around. He was now chest-to-chest with her between the shelves. "Budge up, will you?" He reached over her head to search the shelves above. This new position brought her nose right to his shoulder level, and she could smell his musky scent with every breath she took. Her throat grew dry and her eyes widened as his body shifted before her. Draco Malfoy was less than an inch from her, and suddenly her mind was full of nothing but him. How had she never noticed how good he smelled before now? Surely, this was the scent of heaven – her own personal Amortentia.

With Draco's musk infiltrating her nostrils, her mind seemed to stall, and without a single forethought, Hermione placed her hands on his chest. Yes – this was the first step to move around him and escape toward clearer thoughts. She must have not thought her actions all the way through, however, because the moment her hand made contact with Draco's chest, a ripple flew through her body, spreading to the top of her head and all the way to her toes. Her hair stood on end. Her heart raced. Her whole body became a livewire.

It seemed as though Draco might have felt something as well, because he bent his head down, his eyes searching for her own. If her mouth had been dry before, it was now the Sahara. She tried to swallow, but her breath hitched instead. Draco was watching her with an expression she only saw on boys' faces in her dreams. His eyes were caught somewhere between curiosity and wonder. It actually reminded Hermione of how she felt whenever she was doing research and had made a new discovery in one of her books.

If that was the case, and if she had identified that honest look in his eyes, then that meant…but, no. Was she his new discovery? Her face burned with the realization.

"Bit cramped in here," Hermione managed to choke out.

"Is it? I hadn't noticed," Draco responded in a whisper. He shifted his hands so they sat at either side of her head. His grey eyes pierced her own, his pupils shifting slightly. "Granger…Hermione…" He tried to speak, but his voice faded as he clearly continued to search for the right words.

Suddenly, the ripple her body had felt earlier returned, following an opposite path back up from her toes, through her chest and flowing to her hands. Almost as if she knew what to do – as if it were the most natural thing in the world, she moved her hands from Draco's chest and cradled his face. He leaned into the touch, his eyes closing for a moment, and Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Grey eyes opened, and she saw them filled for the very first time with an expression she was very familiar with: admiration.

She tilted her head, encouraging him to continue whatever he was trying to say.

"How did I never notice you, Hermione Granger?"

Hermione breathed a small laugh from her nose. "How indeed, Draco Malfoy? Who knew you were actually charming?"

He raised an eyebrow at her with a smirk.

"You think I'm charming, do you Granger?" He waggled his eyebrows, clearly trying to egg her on and make her blush more.

Hermione decided in that moment, eyes fixed on the one boy she never thought would make her heart flutter, that she didn't want to dance around anymore.

"And if I did?"

The smirk fell away in an instant, that same wonder-filled expression returning. He took a step closer.

"Hermione…" Draco breathed. He was so close. Just one more inch, and their budding friendship would be forever altered. It was so complicated, but so deliciously enticing, and the moment was just dangling in front of them for the taking.

He kissed her.

In an instant, the world and all its messy complications melted away. Nothing existed outside this blissful state. Draco's lips were soft and warm, and his scent enveloped her. He kept his body from pressing up against her own, but the space between them had grown scarce. After what might have been only seconds or perhaps minutes – she wasn't really sure – Hermione began to move her mouth against his, and Draco wrapped his arms around her. She felt the soft pressure of his tongue against her own, and she sighed in delight.

After a short while – too short, in her opinion – Draco pulled away with a dazed look in his eyes, as though he was awakening from a particularly pleasant dream.

Then, to her great surprise, the one and only Draco Malfoy blushed. His whole face turned a soft pink, and Hermione had to stifle a giggle.

"That was…nice," Draco choked out.

"It was lovely," Hermione leaned in and pecked his lips. She wasn't sure how she was so coherent at this moment. In fact, she was positive that sometime later, she would scream into her pillow and dance around Ginny's room in private. But for now, it felt like something within her had clicked into place.

Kissing Draco had somehow felt…right. Oh, how her younger self would be shocked if she could see this moment in time. Over Draco's shoulder, she spotted a stack of pink cloth. Hermione stood on her tiptoes and reached past him to grab the elusive tablecloths. She waved them a bit and noticed with a smile that Draco's face now matched the fabric.

"We should probably get the tablecloths out to the tent," she suggested.

Draco nodded, clearing his throat. "I suppose so."

"Come on, then."

The two of them traipsed back downstairs and past the kitchen. Ron and Ginny remained unmoved. Ginny seemed to be sulking about something and didn't look up as they passed, but Ron grinned as she passed.

Even as Hermione returned the smile, a voice in her brain seemed to nag her. Aren't you in love with Ron Weasley? Why did you just go and kiss Draco Malfoy, then? Her heart, which had felt lighter than air up until that very moment, grew suddenly heavy. What about Ron? What about the years of pining she had done? She was fairly sure Ron returned her feelings, even if he hadn't said anything. Ron was steadfast, loyal, and could be kind and thoughtful when he put his mind to it. She trusted Ron implicitly. Her heart would be safe in his hands.

Hermione had never known Draco to be any of those things during their time together at Hogwarts; he seemed to know little of loyalty or of kindness. At least not before this summer.

Summer Draco was kinder and more thoughtful. He was an excellent conversation partner and confidante. This Draco was willing to be vulnerable – more vulnerable than she had ever seen Ron or Harry, even after years of friendship. His smile clenched her heart and his touch set her ablaze.

So where did that leave her?

Draco wasn't sure if he had gone mad or if he had died and gone to heaven. Or perhaps both. He had kissed Hermione Granger in a closet. And he had liked it. Sure, he had kissed girls before – he had, in fact, spent a lot of time kissing Pansy during his fifth year. But the pressures of this past year had driven girls from his mind.

His sixth year had been so goddamn awful that he never bothered to correct the rumors floating around that he had bedded several girls when he had, in fact, bedded none. Those types of ridiculous rumors acted as a nice façade for the true goings on in his life. The true, shitty goings on.

This summer was the first time in a long while that he had been able to just…be. Being out of reach of the Dark Lord, Death Eaters, and – as much as he hated to admit it – his own father, had allowed him to relax and be more himself than he had in recent memory. Spending time with Hermione Granger brought him joy such as he hadn't felt in years, and that scared him shitless.

Kissing her? Terrifying. Thrilling. Wonderful.

Thoughts of her kept negative ones from creeping in. Whenever his thoughts wandered to his parents, he tried to think of her kind eyes. If he worried about the Dark Lord's growing strength, he tried to focus on her soothing words.

And from now on, whenever his Mark burned, he would try to think of her sweet lips on his own.

Draco's thoughts were filled with Hermione all that afternoon and into the evening. Even the thought of attending precious Potter's birthday bash couldn't dampen his spirits.

Several hours after he had kissed Hermione, guests had begun to gather for the event. Several Order members had arrived, and it appeared they had called for an impromptu meeting. To his utter disbelief, Draco was called to attend as well.

He sat at the Weasley's long kitchen table, surrounded once more by the eclectic Order of the Phoenix. Hermione sat to his left and Charlie Weasley to his right.

"Right, you lot," Arthur Weasley called out, causing the chatter to die down. "I know we've got a delicious birthday supper awaiting all of us outside, but some intelligence has come out that we would like to confirm, and there's only one person in this room who has any chance of being able to confirm it. Draco?"

Draco's ears perked up at the sudden mention of his name. What on earth was he supposed to know that the Order didn't?

"Yes sir?"

"Do you have any idea where You-Know-Who's headquarters might be?"

Draco's stomach bottomed out. With all eyes on him, he didn't have the chance to think of Hermione before dread filled every inch of him. He looked down at the table rather than face everyone's stares. "Yes, I do. It's at Malfoy Manor, sir."

He heard several gasps from around the table as well as a handful of swears.

Lupin spoke next. "Seeing as the headquarters are located in your family's home, can you give us any information? Do you have any sense of what they're planning?"

Draco swallowed. He recalled harsh whispers by firelight and the mad shouting of his aunt, often followed by the cruel voice of the Dark Lord himself. To picture all those awful people in his childhood home sent shivers up his spine. At this very moment, they might be desecrating the only house he had ever known with blood and terror. He could see his mother in his mind's eye, her normally bright eyes gaunt with despair as the home she had spent years building came crashing around her.

If she was still alive, that was. Draco didn't want to be ambushed and questioned. He wanted to run; to be sick; to be doing anything but discussing the Dark Lord's presence in Malfoy Manor. A lump grew in his throat and he closed his eyes. He would not show those emotions in front of this lot. He would not.

Below the table, he felt a hand grasp his own. Draco almost jumped at the contact, but immediately relaxed when he realized who was holding his hand: Hermione. She wasn't looking at him, but her steadfast grip somehow kept him from getting bogged down by those awful thoughts – like she was his anchor. Strength radiated from their hands, and he found his voice.

"I don't know what they're planning, in all honesty. What I do know is that my parents did not wish the Dark Lord to use their home. My father, as...repulsive as his actions may be, did not – does not – want to mix his time as a Death Eater with his home life. If I know my parents, they would be quite disturbed to find their home sullied by the stench of murder." Draco took a deep breath and Hermione squeezed his hand. He continued, "My defection may have caused my parents to fall out of favor with the Dark Lord. I…do not know if they are still alive, and if they are, what state they are in. If they have died, then headquarters may have changed. The wards would not allow for inhabitation of the manor by a non-Malfoy."

Draco heard himself say these words, but it was as though they were someone else's words. How could he be speaking so candidly…so apathetically about his parents? He put on a sour expression to stop the tension in his jaw from growing into angry tears. Not even Hermione's thumb caressing the back of his hand could stop the negative thoughts flowing through his brain now.

"Very well. Thank you for sharing, Draco," Arthur Weasley nodded in his direction. "Your information is very much appreciated. That's exactly the intel we wanted to confirm." The Weasley patriarch clapped his hands together and smiled. "Well then, all, out to the garden with you. It's time for a certain young man's birthday party!"

Those around Potter clapped him on the back and he gave a grin that didn't quite reach his eyes. Draco caught it, though. He knew all about those looks. Pretty much the only real smiles on his face in the last year had been the ones from this summer when it was just him and Hermione. In that moment, she let go of his hand and stood. He felt an immediate coolness wash over him. Hermione motioned for him to follow her outside, and they traipsed together out to the garden.

As a child, whenever Draco had pictured turning seventeen, it had been an elaborate affair in his mind – a soiree at the manor with only the most elite of guests, champagne for everyone (a firewhisky for himself), and a girl on his arm – a girl from an excellent family who he might just one day call his wife. A younger Draco would have looked at this homespun dinner birthday celebration and scoffed. But seeing as he had been too preoccupied with the Dark Lord's task that he had hardly noticed his coming-of-age come and go, he couldn't help but feel a little envious of Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived stood, surrounded by a crowd of people who loved him and would go out of their way, even in the middle of a war, to celebrate with him.

Damn Potter.

Celebrations were about to begin when a Patronus interrupted to inform them of the impending arrival of the Minister of Magic. Lupin and Tonks departed almost immediately and with a squeak, Mrs. Weasley shooed him into the house and told him to stay upstairs until the Minster was gone. "No one knows you're here, Draco dear. We don't want Rufus Scrimgeour of all people to find out," she patted him on the back before he found himself alone in Charlie's bedroom once more.

So much for Potter's perfect birthday party.

Draco flopped onto the bed and watched the sun sink lower in the sky. What in the world did Rufus Scrimgeour want with Potter? Clearly, there was no other reason for him to visit this house. Shadows on the wall grew longer as the meeting downstairs dragged on. He could hear the murmurings of talking from below, but he didn't feel much like eavesdropping. The meeting with the Order had put him out for now.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Mrs. Weasley was knocking on his door again. "The Minister's gone, dear. Come along and have some supper with us," she smiled a half-hearted smile and led him back to the garden.

"What was that all about?" Draco asked as they walked toward the kitchen door.

"Never you mind, Draco. From what I've gathered, you've had enough trouble." Mrs. Weasley squeezed his shoulder.

Feeling a little annoyed, Draco sat between Bill and Fred at dinner. Everyone ate rather quickly, and before it could even be called a party in his mind, it was over, and everyone was heading toward bed. Mrs. Weasley shooed everyone inside, reminding them multiple times that they all had to be up early for the final wedding preparations. Draco trudged up the stairs with the rest of the Weasley siblings, Potter, and Hermione. The latter shot him a smile in front of Charlie's bedroom as she continued up another flight of stairs.

What must have been a couple hours later, Draco woke with a start to find Hermione, once again, perched on his bedside. It seems she had exchanged her pyjamas for…what in Merlin's name was she wearing? She was dressed in muggle jeans and a white shirt that was delightfully revealing, showing off parts of her shoulders and chest that he wasn't even sure had existed before this summer.

"Going somewhere, Granger?" he rubbed his eyes and leaned on his elbows.

"Yeah, I thought we could," she answered, tucking a stray bit of hair behind her ear.

"Are you serious? We? What time is it?" Draco groped around for his watch.

"It's close to eleven. Everyone's asleep and I just thought…you deserve to have some fun, don't you? We do – both of us, together. If that sounds all right with you…" Hermione rambled, her eye contact wavering between his face and her hands.

Draco sat straight up. Feeling bold, he leaned forward and kissed Hermione's cheek. "Fun sounds nice," he whispered in her ear and felt her shiver.

"Right then," Hermione stood, clearly trying to pull herself together. "Get dressed – muggle jeans and a T-shirt. Maybe a jacket. I'll wait outside."

As Hermione slipped from the room, Draco obeyed and threw on the requested clothes after digging them out of his bag. Luckily, he had folded them so they weren't wrinkly. What kind of fun was Hermione talking about? Images of her writhing beneath him with considerably fewer clothes on flashed in his mind, and he tried to drive them away. Surely, that wasn't what she had planned. They had kissed only once, and he had a feeling Hermione wasn't the type of girl to be impulsive about those kinds of actions.

When he finished throwing the leather jacket they had found at a vintage shop near Hermione's house over his shoulders, he stepped into the hallway, making sure to close the door as silently as he could. She was waiting, still looking gorgeous as she leaned against the wall.

"Ready?" she whispered.

Draco nodded and Hermione tapped her wand over his head. She then tapped it over her own. Immediately, her brown curls turned a sandy color.

"You've been working on your glamours," Draco noted as they passed by a mirror in the sitting room. His hair had darkened and turned curly and his eyes a dark blue.

"Yes, well, they're dead useful. No one will recognize us this way. Come on, then,"

Hermione led them out of the house and into the garden. She waved her wand and transfigured two large rocks into bicycles. "No one will recognize us? Hang on, Granger, where are we going?"

She swung her leg over the bicycle and Draco once again got a fantastic view of her arse. "Into town. We need to de-stress."

Off she went, sending up dust as she rode down the dirt road. Draco shook his head and began to pedal. He caught up to her easily and they rode side by side into Ottery St. Catchpole. As he watched Hermione's hair fly behind her, a smile dancing on her lips, the weight of the last few days seemed to float away. No, it was as though they were back in their safe space together, just the two of them. He heard himself laugh as they flew down a hill and his heart swelled.

Hermione pulled ahead of him and pedaled toward a crowded-looking building.

"Come on, let's go inside."

"What is this place?" Draco raised his eyebrows. The grey stone building buzzed with voices and flashes of color lit up the windows. A heavy sound pulsed from the inside and Draco thought he recognized it a bit from the muggle radio in Hermione's room.

"It's just a pub," Hermione laughed. "I figured we could use a pint and a bit of dancing."

Draco wouldn't be surprised if his eyebrows had disappeared into his hairline.

"Granger, are you suggesting that we get drunk on the eve of the oh-so-important Weasley wedding?"

Hermione chuckled and dismounted her bike. "I'm not suggesting we get completely drunk, but I could do with something to relax me."

"Who are you and what have you done with Hermione Granger?"

Hermione winked and seized his hand, pulling him into throng of people at the door. It was no secret that Draco was not a fan of crowds, particularly these kinds of crowds. And he didn't mean muggles. To his own surprise, he found he didn't mind muggle crowds. He meant loud, rude, drunken crowds of people dancing to…was that considered music?

Hermione ordered them both ales at the counter and passed a pint of amber liquid to him when it arrived. They squeezed their way through the other patrons and found a standing table in the corner. As they sipped their drinks, Draco watched Hermione sway to the music that seemed to reverberate throughout his body. She actually liked this? He was used to music that was a bit more…dignified. These muggles in the pub weren't really dancing in a way he could identify with. Whereas he had taken proper dancing lessons from a young age, these people looked as though they had never learned their left foot from their right. No, they were just shaking their bodies like imbeciles.

However, watching Hermione, it seemed as though she wanted to be one of those imbeciles. She was drinking her ale at an alarming rate, and her whole body was now bouncing to the beat, which Draco had to admit, was a bit catchy. He looked down to discover his foot was tapping.

Damn.

He took two more gulps of his drink and saw that Hermione had finished hers. Her cheeks were tinted pink and she was gazing at him with a determined look in her eye. Draco felt his heart speed up and his pants tighten.

"Dance with me?" she asked, lifting one eyebrow, her tone of voice suggesting that she was actually flirting with him.

"No thanks, Granger. This music isn't really my style."

She pouted for a moment. "Fine, suit yourself." She fished into her bag and drew out a few bills, slapping them onto the table. "Grab another drink if you like and come find me when you change your mind." Hermione turned on her heel and danced her way toward the crowd, her hands thrown in the air and her hips swaying back and forth. Within moments, she was engulfed in the throng of bodies bopping to the music. Draco could only make her out by her bushy head. Even with her glamoured appearance, he could pick her out of a crowd in an instant, it seemed.

Draco drained his glass and headed back to the bar. Getting a drink for himself couldn't be that hard in the muggle world. As he placed his order with the barkeep, he turned back to the dance floor and swept the crowd with his eyes. In a moment, he felt his stomach bottom out. There she was, right where he saw her last, still dancing away. But now a carnivorous-looking man had moved in, hovering predatorially as he danced beside her. Draco's jaw tensed as he watched the foul beast swoop down on her and place his hands on her waist, and felt the bile rise in his throat when he watched the unbridled joy evaporate from her face in an instant.

Without a backward glance at his ale, Draco stalked toward the middle of the dance floor, his hands balled in fists. He pushed muggles aside, and as he approached he forced himself to remain calm, breathing so forcefully that he could feel his nostrils flaring. Never mind now the pulsating music or the throng of gyrating bodies around him. The moment he was beside her, he slipped himself between Hermione and the parasite.

Hermione snapped around, relief flooding her face the moment they made eye contact. Draco did all he could to send reassurance with his momentary gaze before turning to face the man he had nudged away.

"Oi! What are you playing at, moving in when I was already here?" the man spat.

"You'll find that I'm not playing, especially since it's my girlfriend you were practically molesting." It was all Draco could do to keep his tone even, let alone reach into his pocket for a non-existent wand that could hex boils onto very unpleasant places.

Hermione seemed to understand his thoughts as she reached down to squeeze his hand. Her grip became his rock.

The man sniffed as he looked the two of them up and down, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Whatever," he mumbled, shuffling away.

When he was out of sight, Draco sighed with relief. Hermione leaned into his arms, wrapping her own around his neck.

"Thank you," she spoke into his ear. Draco felt her breath tickle his cheek and his chest tightened. He placed his hands on her shoulders and held her at arm's length. Hermione sighed and shook her head.

"I'm sorry that's happened to you," a girl to Hermione's left said. "Blokes around this place can be awful – even if that's kind of the point of this pub."

"I'm sorry, what's the point of this pub?" Hermione tilted her head in confusion. "Sorry – we're from out of town."

"All the singles come here to pick people up. That's the reputation, anyway." Draco almost laughed at the surprised expression on Hermione's face. This girl must have noticed as well, because she began speaking again. "You know, if you're looking for a nicer spot for a date, I'd recommend the pub down the road. Much more of a friendly atmosphere – and they've got live music as well."

"Really?" Hermione's smile returned, and Draco could tell she was intrigued. "Is it relaxing? That's what we really need."

"Oh yeah," the girl yelled – the abominable music had increased in volume again and Draco rather thought he was going to have a headache from all this so-called fun. "They've got darts and lots of sofas and the music is an Irish band tonight, I think."

Almost immediately, Hermione's eyes began to sparkle. "We've got to go, Draco! That sounds perfect."

If it had been up to him, he'd have liked to pack it in and call it a night, but he could feel her buzzing with excitement. "Yeah, all right," he heard himself saying. Merlin, what was he turning into?

"Thanks!" Hermione called back to the girl on the dance floor as she grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the door. The cool night air kissed them as they emerged onto the street and Draco couldn't help smiling at the excitement in Hermione's face. "Let's take our bikes," she said, and he was immediately rewarded with another spectacular of her jean-clad arse.

Just like the girl had suggested, another pub with a brighter atmosphere was just up the road. From the moment they walked in, Draco knew he much preferred this place. The pub was packed, but not to an absurd degree. A band lined the side wall, the twangs of an Irish tune filling the room. Some folks were dancing along in the middle while others admired from comfy-looking sofas and armchairs scattered around the place.

"What can I get for ye?" a woman from the bar called.

"A pint each of whatever ale you suggest, please," Hermione answered as she began to clap along. Draco could feel her relaxing from the moment they stepped in. "Now this is what I meant by a pint and a bit of dancing, honestly."

"This seems like it's a bit more your speed," Draco responded.

"Yeah. Sorry about that last place. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable." Draco blanched as Hermione's lovely face turned red. How could she possibly be apologizing?

"Hermione, you have no reason to be sorry. It's that awful bloke who should be apologizing. Now come on, let's grab our drinks and sit."

Hermione nodded and gave a slightly watery smile as the barkeep returned with their pints.

"You've snagged yourself a handsome one, lass," the barkeep said with a wink.

"I have, haven't I?" Hermione shot him the loveliest of smiles and Draco felt his heart flutter. "It's our first date, you know," she said as she took the ales in hand.

"Your first date, eh? Well then drinks are on the house. Have a lovely time, you two!"

Hermione beamed and said her thanks before leading Draco over to an empty sofa across from the band. Draco drank in the sights around him and found himself smiling. He could hardly believe where he found himself at present – could hardly believe he was spending time in a muggle pub surrounded by actual muggles and sitting next to the most beautiful witch he had ever seen, who happened to be a muggleborn. And better yet, he actually felt happiness, even if he knew it was fleeting. Tomorrow would come with its troubles, but for now, he only knew joy. The band finished playing a number and everyone stopped talking to clap.

"So this is our first date?" Draco smirked.

"I'd say so, wouldn't you?" Hermione took a gulp of her ale and then squealed as the band started up again. "Ooh! I love this song. I took Irish dancing lessons when I was little, you know. We danced to this song at recitals a few times. I think I may still remember the steps…"

"I didn't ever picture you a dancer, Granger." Draco sipped his own drink. "Show me, won't you?" He lifted a single eyebrow as she once again downed her drink.

"You know, I think I will."

Draco's eyebrows shot up as Hermione stood and walked to the center of the room. She was definitely drunk off of one and a half pints. Gods, this woman and her Gryffindor boldness…

And then she started to dance. Her hair flew behind her as she tapped and kicked in time with the music, a few others joining her. Draco tapped his foot in time to the beat, a warmth blooming in his chest as he watched the joy etched in her face with every step she took. As she whirled around, she tossed him a most out-of-character wink and couldn't help it – a grin split his face ear to ear. He couldn't remember the last time he felt so joyful…so relaxed. It was as though Hermione knew exactly what he needed. With all the pain and secrecy surrounding this war, a bit of time surrounded by all these blissfully oblivious muggles was pure delight. And to see his Hermione this happy, if even for a few moments? Heaven.

His Hermione. For the second time that day, he wondered how he had ever overlooked this beautiful witch.

The song ended and Hermione walked back over, a bit breathless, and took a long drink from her glass. Even flushed and a bit sweaty, she was marvelous – so very real and soft looking. Another song began and this time, a larger crowd flooded the dance floor to twirl about.

"Care to dance with me, Granger?" he asked, standing up.

Hermione flushed and nodded. Draco extended his hand and they began to – and Draco couldn't believe he was actually doing this willingly – skip about. Hermione intertwined her arm with his and she began to turn them in circles. As the tempo of the fiddle and tin whistle began to pick up, they twirled faster, Draco's arm planted firmly around her waist. Hermione was still flushed, a great grin spread from ear to ear on her gorgeous face.

Their bodies were so close, and he could feel the pressure of her fingers on his back, her soft breasts pressed to his chest. It was all he could do to stop himself from shoving this woman against a wall and kissing her until she forgot her own name. But no…surely she wanted to just dance and have a good time.

That's what he thought, of course, until the song ended and Hermione looked up at him. Her eyes were like melted chocolate, smooth and luscious.

They were also full of lust.

He had been so focused on not wanting to push her that he just now began noticing how she was arching into him, her hand grasping at the fabric on the back of his jacket.

"Draco," she whispered. "I think I'm ready to go someplace a bit quieter if you like."

The hair on his neck stood up and he immediately grabbed her hand with a growl.

The moment they were back outside, Hermione grabbed the lapels of Draco's jacket and dragged him into the alley beside the pub. He didn't have a moment to even get a word in before her lips were on his and he found himself the one being pushed up against a wall.

Her lips were perfect in their size…their shape…their warmth. Draco closed his eyes in bliss as Hermione nudged his legs apart to stand between them, her hands resting on his chest. Kissing her wasn't like kissing any other girl. Sure, kissing other girls had felt nice, but no other girl had made his heart pound and his stomach flip like this. Hermione moaned as he detached himself from her mouth and began attacking her neck. She tilted her head back for easier access and Draco took the moment to flip them around so Hermione was now pinned deliciously to the bricks.

She seemed to have lost all inhibition and Draco felt himself becoming lost in her beauty. The little moans she breathed into his ear as she dragged her fingers through his hair would surely be burned into his memory. She smelled like some kind of enchanting flower and he drank in her scent as his lips returned to recapture her mouth.

Hermione moaned again and Draco felt himself harden. These muggle pants were not ideal for this situation and if Granger continued to wriggle in his grasp much longer, he wasn't sure he was going to last.

And then, without warning, her hips bucked against his and she gave an audible gasp. Her thigh had brushed his erection. Draco hissed with pleasure and felt his own hips move involuntarily. Draco opened his eyes to find Hermione blinking up at him. Oh bollocks, he'd just gone and messed this all up. Surely she'd pull away and turn purple and run away. He cursed internally. He doubted whether Hermione had never done this sort of thing and they'd only just kissed for the first time this morning in a broom cupboard. He'd just royally screwed up, hadn't he?

But Hermione didn't pull away, turn purple, or run away. Instead, her eyes blazed as she grabbed hold of his right hand and brought it up to her left breast, leaving it there.

Sweet Merlin. If his pants weren't tight before, they were now. Taking his cue from her, he quickly brought up his other hand to her right breast and squeezed gently. Hermione moaned again and he knew at that exact moment that he was a goner.

"So fucking perfect," he mumbled just before he kissed her again.

Suddenly, a loud wolf whistle interrupted what was turning out to be one of the best moments of Draco's life. He looked to his right to see a group of young men and women cheering them on as they exited the pub.

Only then did Hermione turn purple. Draco grinned wolfishly.

"Come on. Let's get back to The Burrow," he suggested, tugging Hermione past the crowd of onlookers toward their bicycles.

The ride back to The Burrow was quiet. Draco's mind was racing too quickly to focus on the path ahead of him. He followed just behind her, and the lights of Ottery St. Catchpole grew dimmer as they reached the countryside where The Burrow was tucked away. On the edge of the property, Hermione suddenly hopped off her bike and leaned it onto a large oak tree. Draco did the same, his eyes trained on his woman as he moved. With a flick of her wand, her hair was restored to a beautiful chestnut brown, the glamour removed. Another, and he assumed he had returned to normal as well. She stared back without so much as a blink. The warm summer air suddenly seemed thick and heavy with anticipation.

"It seems, Miss Granger," Draco whispered, "that you want something. Is that right?"

"Quite so."

And she smirked. She goddamn smirked and Draco lost it. He crossed the four feet that separated them and covered her lips with his own once more. The fire that had filled his veins in the pub alley doubled as his knees shook with the effort it took to stay on his feet. Draco's hands returned to Hermione's breasts and her moans returned in full form. He began to walk them backwards toward the oak tree, shoving the bicycles out of the way with his feet.

The moment he felt Hermione's back hit the tree, she wrapped a leg around his waist and he grunted. Her center was pressed against his own and pressure began to coil. He wanted – no, he needed – to feel more, and reached behind Hermione to grab that lovely arse he had stared at so often. Her reaction was instantaneous, and her other leg immediately wrapped around him, lifting her into the air and pushing their bodies flush against each other.

Pure rapture.

Draco attacked her throat once more and Hermione let out a sound that he was positive no other man had ever heard her make. That thought only acted as a catalyst, sending his hips pistoning forward into an exquisite friction near the apex of her thighs. Oh gods, if they didn't stop soon…

And then her hips drove forward to meet his and Draco scrunched his eyes as he saw stars, the coil that had been growing tighter and tighter suddenly releasing. He must have made some sort of sound, because Hermione was looking at him with light worry on her face, her eyebrows knitted together in concern.

Oh dear Merlin. He'd cum in his pants like a bloody fourteen-year-old. Now it was his turn to go purple in the face.

"Is everything all right, Draco? Did you just…?" Her question seemed to trail off as though she already knew the answer. And he didn't know if his vocal chords would start working again to answer her. So instead, he let out a half-cough and let Hermione back onto her feet before turning around.

"May I…?" Oh gods, how was he to do this? "May I borrow your wand? I need to…erm…clean up."

The dreaded silence that followed was the longest of his life. And then…giggles? He glanced over his shoulder to see Hermione doubled over, hands on her knees and her face alight with a laugh so deep there were tears in her eyes.

"Oi! It's not funny!" he cried as he became ever more aware of the stickiness at the front of his legs.

"I think you'll find that it is," Hermione chuckled, reaching for her wand and pointing it at his groin. Draco flinched before she cast Scourgify. He immediately felt the mess clear up. "Come on, Draco. It's time we go to bed. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

Hermione transfigured the bicycles back into rocks and grabbed Draco's hand, lacing their fingers together. She squeezed. He squeezed back. At the top of the stairs near his room, Hermione gave him a chaste kiss on the lips and whispered in his ear, "Thanks for tonight, Draco."

She turned to leave, but something about the way her hand felt in his made him hold on. He didn't want to lose her warmth. He didn't want to be alone, didn't want thoughts of the war and his parents to come flooding in once more.

Hermione turned back, a question lingering in her eyes.

"Stay," he whispered.

And she did.

*fans self* The heat is FINALLY turning up. I feel like this fic doesn't qualify as a slow burn. It's a lovely medium burn, and I hope you are here for it. Next chapter is going to be the wedding and you better believe things are going to happen.

This week has been crazy with the big reveal of the SD Valentine's Day Fest. It was my first time writing smut and my first fest participation. If you want to read my piece, it's called Exposure, and it's rather delightful and lemony.

Let me know what you think, lovelies!