Eros & Psyche Chapter 3C: Draco & Hermione, a harry potter fanfic

CONTEST WINNER THIS CHAPTER: User "SUN_NEVER_RISES" recommended the song, "Unusual You" by Britney Spears for Hermione & Draco this go around. It perfectly reflects Hermione's thoughts here. So, this chapter is dedicated to SUN_NEVER_RISES - congratulations! Lyrics for that song appear at the bottom of this chapter. Hope you'll find this song somehow and give it a listen.

Version 1.0 – 2010 (beta'd by Unseenlibrarian)

Revision 2.0 – 27 December, 2017

CHAPTER THREE (#3): Draco & Hermione

By the time Hermione had caught up to Draco's longer, faster strides and entered their private room, the interior had changed. Gone was the blindingly white décor and in its place was a beach scene, complete with a fake, glimmering ocean and a full moon in the background, and a layer of flattened white sand upon the floor.

It was the setting for a romantic dinner for two.

Her heart beat a little faster at the thought.

In the centre of the room a table had been laid out with an elegant flair, a set of burning candles and a small exotic flower arrangement garnishing its surface. Circling the table, set into the sand at even intervals, were a series of golden candle lanterns that glowed and a few steps beyond that ring, a series of lit Tiki torches, each tied with a pink Hibiscus. The sound effect of ocean waves lapping gently upon a shore was piped in from somewhere above, and the ceiling was charmed to look like the night sky.

Apparently, Malfoy had taken her confession last action round and had decided to give her a fantasy come true…or as much as possible, given the limitations of the room.

How thoughtful and charming!

How obvious.

He was trying to win his way into her bed by wooing her, since he'd realised that last round was a fluke and that she wouldn't be such an easy mark. As if one candlelit dinner under a false skyline filled with stars would be enough to get her to throw her knickers at him. Pah! Was he in for a disappointment!

"Are you going to stand in the doorway all night?" Malfoy teased her with an arrogant smirk that made her insides do funny, happy flips.

He really did have a sexy set of lips on him…and hands. Damn him for having such good genetics!

"That would be an awful reason to forfeit at this point, especially given the treat awaiting you this round," he told her and recited his card for her from memory.

DEED: Order and share your favorite meal with your partner. Explain to them why you like every part.

Explain-?

So he was going to do the confessing and sharing this round, it seemed. That sounded more than fair, considering everything she'd given up to his last round.

Snapping to, Hermione stepped into the room, and instantly realized the impracticality of her heels in the sand. "Tamer than I'd expected for this game," she said as she bent, balancing one hand against the wall just inside the door and removing her sandals. "I wonder who thought that one up."

Bending to remove his own shoes and socks as well, he answered, "In a guess: Potter or Brown."

"No, our team read each other's cards before we turned them in," she told him, setting her shoes to the left of the door, out of the way. The sand under her feet felt wonderful, and she wiggled her toes through it to enjoy the soft, warm sensation. "It has to be someone from Slytherin. I don't know her well, but given what little I've seen and heard tonight, this one feels like it might be from Tracey Davis."

Malfoy was staring at her with an amusement that sent off warning flares in her head.

"You shared cards with your teammates?" he asked. "So you're admitting to cheating."

How was it he could get her hackles up with just a word or two? "It's not cheating," she said, a touch defensive. "I don't recall any rule in the replicated booklet you gave to Harry that said we couldn't show each other our cards in advance. At most, it's a loophole I exploited." She waved him off as his smirk only widened. "Besides, I prefer to think of it as necessary preparation. After all, we were going into a game with a bunch of Slytherins. 'Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends.'"

Draco tossed his head back and laughed, and she couldn't help but notice the attractive line of his throat as he did so.

"You say that like it's a bad thing," he noted. "As if you didn't use a little cunning yourself to get around the game's rules. Sounds to me like you've got a little Slytherin in you, too, love."

Hermione growled at him and turned away, not wanting to have that discussion. There were some secrets even she didn't want revealed, especially where the Sorting Hat and her House affiliation were concerned.

Her stomach took that moment to make a similar sound at her, reminding her that she'd hardly eaten a bite at dinner tonight. She made her way over to the table, noting the colorful and unique array of haute cuisine dishes already laid out around the centerpiece, all kept warm under mini glass domes on fancy plates. There were also two full settings arranged, signaling that she and Malfoy would share each portion.

"How lovely," she said, taken aback by the rich variety before her. "It all smells so delicious, too."

Before she could take a seat, her partner was suddenly behind her, tucking her into her chair with an old-fashioned chivalry she hadn't expected. He even laid her napkin out on her lap before circling around and taking the seat across from her. From a silver ice bucket at his side, he pulled out a chilled white wine. It had recently been uncorked and was waiting to be poured. With expert handling, Draco filled her glass goblet halfway, twirled it to aerate, and then handed it to her by the stem, as was proper. He measured out an equal amount for his own glass, and then set the wine bottle back down to remain at a cool temperature.

Raising his glass in a toast, he stared at her evenly, his face an unreadable mask which, for some unfathomable reason, seemed even more dangerous to her than the smirks he'd been tossing her way all evening.

"To the game," he saluted. "May the next twenty-four hours be unforgettable for both of us, Granger."

As she stared at him and his carefully blanked expression, a terrible suspicion began overtaking her: what if this whole scheme wasn't just about getting her to give 'it' up to him so he could brag that he'd had sex with her to the whole school and humiliate her that way, but to get her to let her guard down and to actually fall for the act? To fall for him...so he could crush her heart, too.

Using sex to win her affection, as the mythological Eros had attempted—and succeeded—in doing to Psyche.

It was a good plan for a man hellbent on revenge against the one witch he'd always felt was beneath him, and yet who always managed to outscore him in their classes. It had started to work, too. She'd caved a bit there last action round, she hated to admit. In her defense, he'd been very good at disarming her by pretending to listen and care...and that cologne had definitely done a number on her libido, which had gone a long way to getting her to drop her shields, too.

She'd made a grave tactical error. Malfoy was far better at this whole seduction thing than she'd given him credit for, honestly.

All men are untrustworthy.

She wasn't sure where that thought came from, but it fed into her doubts like an insidious whisper in her ear.

"Not going to raise your glass?" he asked, his expression sincerely curious.

The act was a good one, she had to admit.

Hermione plastered a fake smile on her lips and toasted him in return, clinking glasses. "To the game," she replied and sipped at her wine, amazed with its smooth, melting flavour as it rolled across her tongue and down her throat. There was no bite, denoting the wine was of a good reserve and age. "You seem coached in the etiquette of fine dining, Malfoy," she wryly noted. "But then, I suppose with your family's wealth, this sort of meal would be a regular staple at the Manor House."

He watched her carefully over the lip of his glass, drinking half in one tilt of his head, and putting it back down on the table.

Rather than reply, as she'd expected, he reached out and removed the lid on one of the dishes. "Black mission figs with Serrano ham," he explained, using the small fork that rested on the plate to serve her a few pieces of each. "While you were sunbathing like some sort of sea goddess on a Greek beach the summer before third year, we were having dinner with the family of one of my father's friends in Barcelona. The wizard had a daughter named Alara. She was a year older than me...and she played a wicked game of footsy under the table when the adults weren't paying attention." He smirked and shook his head with the memory, putting the appetizer plate back down and reaching for his own napkin, laying it across his lap. "She gave me my first kiss. Snogged me senseless for over an hour under one of her father's fig trees in the far back end of the orchard on the estate. After, we ate the figs right off the branch and returned to the house holding hands." Picking up his appetizer fork, he poked at one of the sliced fruit portions, spearing it, and bringing it to his lips. "I asked her to be my first girlfriend."

Hermione nearly dropped her fork into the sand at that last bit.

Up until that point, she'd been half-listening, trying to decide on a course of action to take now that she knew he intended on using this game as a weapon. However, at the mention of Malfoy falling hard for a girl, a child's fancy much as she'd felt for Viktor not a year later, she completely tuned-in to his story, curious at the very idea that he actually had a heart and had put it on the line for a girl.

"What happened?" she asked, conjecturing that they weren't together anymore by the fact that he'd dated Pansy a few years back...and a whole peck of girls since.

As soon as the words left her mouth, she wanted to bite off her tongue and swallow it, realizing that she shouldn't care a fig for Malfoy's personal life. Instead, she shoved a piece of the dark-purplish fruit in her mouth, tasting the fresh, sweet ripeness of it from the first chomp, chasing it down with a small slice of ham. The bit of wine she'd sipped earlier didn't detract at all from the flavour, thankfully, allowing her the full experience of the combination.

"The other visiting family at the time had a son the same age. Turns out he liked figs, too."

Hermione's gut instinct was to instantly sympathize; she felt a small, sharp pain for the cynicism reflected in his wintry grey eyes. A first heartbreak was never something you forgot, and it was never easy to swallow. "That's...awful," she mumbled, because it was the only thing to say. "Sorry."

He shrugged, as if it was a non-issue. "It was five years ago. It's behind me."

Clearly, it wasn't, as he'd picked his first revelation to discuss it.

Or was that the ploy: to begin by eliciting sympathy with a sad tale of young love rejected in the worst sort of way?

She chewed and carefully considered that as he asked, "What do you think of the meal?"

"It was wonderful, actually," she told him as she daintily wiped her lips with her napkin after swallowing down the last bit. Goodness, she'd eaten the whole thing! "The fig was sweet and nutty, but not too juicy. That particular style of ham was just the perfect complement too, a tad smoky to balance out the sweet. Had it been thin-sliced prosciutto instead, I don't believe it would have been as enjoyable. Much too chewy, and the additional curation it undergoes would have created too pungent an odor, unbalancing the presentation. These two in combination was just right."

Malfoy was clearly intrigued by her assessment.

"And what did you think of the wine?"

Lifting her glass again to her nose, she closed her eyes and inhaled, letting the aroma fill her up. "Notes of Anjou pear, fresh vanilla bean, and a hint of roasted almonds." She took a sip, letting it rest upon the back of her pallet before swallowing. "Very nicely aged, smooth. Barrel-fermented in French oak?"

Her partner's mouth literally dropped open. "Colour me surprised, Granger: who'd have guessed you're secretly a food connoisseur?"

She felt her whole body flush with embarrassment and quickly put the wine glass back down. "My mother's family is Greek. Food and wine is a big part of their culture."

"Well, that explains the wild Amazon hair," he said, smirking again. "So you were visiting them on that Greek island where you were sunbathing in the nude?"

"It wasn't in the nude," she growled at him. "And yes, Mykonos was where we all holiday'd together. My grandmother lives there with two of my aunts and their families. And there's nothing wrong with my hair!"

"Topless then, and yes there is. Your hair is feral, Granger."

She smoothed a hand down her carefully arranged curls. Lavender had spent hours helping her get it ready for tonight's game. "A bikini halter is not topless. And I prefer to think of it as...untamed, like it's owner."

His smile bloomed until it was a full-blown grin, and it was only then that she realised she'd actually revealed to him the very information he'd wanted last round—information she'd haughtily pronounced he'd never pull out of her.

That slimy, slippery snake! He'd tricked her!

"Careful, beautiful. Some men might find that last statement to be an irresistible challenge," he warned her.

Feeling sulky because she'd been outwitted, Hermione sniffed and turned her nose up at him, refusing to say anything else that might incriminate her or otherwise be used as fodder later by the man sitting across from her.

They sat that like, in silence, as the clock ticked down. Sheer stubbornness was all that held her tongue in check.

When the stalemate stretched into its fifth minute, though, Hermione thought that maybe she was behaving a bit childish, and decided to let go of the fact that he'd fooled her again. Really, it wasn't anything she should be surprised by when dealing with Malfoy, anyway. He was Slytherin, after all.

Besides, continuing to delay this round could come back to bite her, as the game might count her out for not having performed her card in the allotted time. Best get back to it if she didn't want to be disqualified.

A quick glance over the white hydrangea and orchids adorning the centre of the table found her the target of Draco's intense focus, however. "What?" she demanded, not liking the fact that he'd already unnerved her somewhat, and they'd only been in the room for about fifteen minutes.

"The way you dissected that meal... Is that why you're a snap at Potions?" he finally asked. "Can you smell the ingredients well enough to know what goes into each concoction?"

Hermione considered it. "I suppose. I've never compared the making of a draught to the process of making a meal, but I can separate out the tastes when I ingest an elixir."

Malfoy seemed to mull over her answer for another few moments, before turning to the next menu item without a reply. Lifting the lid, he slid one of the two shelled lobster claws onto her plate, and scooped on top some of the buttery sauce. He then added some side greens on top. "Christmas, sixth year, my parents took me to Boston. We dined at a fine establishment in the wizarding part of the city. I ordered this dish. My father abhors seafood, and made a comment to such an effect as the server brought our appetizers to the table. I spent the rest of the meal trying to convince him to try the dish. He eventually gave in, just to shut me up. He orders lobster now." He had been slicing his meat up as he spoke and now took a bit, chewing it and shutting his eyes in pleasure. When he finished, he took another sip of his wine. "It was the first time I'd actually been able to sway my father on any issue."

Hermione listened, finding her curiosity piqued again, as she tried the appetizer. The moment the lobster crossed her tongue, she was unable to prevent the moan of pleasure from passing her lips. "It's delicious! Buttery soft meat, with a hint of garlic and parsley that explodes the flavour in your mouth!"

"Both are finely chopped to ensure that," her partner admitted. "Try the greens with it."

The combination of crisp butter lettuce with the meat was succulent. She smiled and nodded in approval.

"So, do you have a 'lobster story' to share, Granger?"

She swallowed and dabbed her lips again with her napkin. "Or a 'fig' one?"

He nodded. "Either."

Hermione pondered for a moment how much to share as she reached for the next dish: some sort of dark, roasted meat covered with cooked, sliced cherries. It smelled of cinnamon and sweet wine; she inhaled as he ladled out a heaping spoonful onto her plate.

What would it hurt to tell him of things that had no consequence in her life really, she wondered. It wasn't as if he'd ever meet most of the people she spoke of, and nothing she'd share would be any life-altering secrets—like the bikini thing; in retrospect, who really cared if he knew that, as it had no real bearing on her life. And maybe in telling him meaningless trivia now he wouldn't attempt to pry from her the deeply personal things later, if the game required it.

Trading a Knut for a Sickle, and hoping he wouldn't notice, was a gamble, but...

"I shared a plum pudding with my nine-year-old neighbor named Adam," she admitted with a fond smile at the silly memory. "He and I were the best of friends growing up. I'd fancied him from practically the start of our relationship, but he'd never seemed to notice. I thought that if we shared the dessert, he might decide to like me back." She chuffed at the reminder of how things had worked out. "He'd stuffed his face on most of it himself, and then ran off to play in the snow, leaving me to clean up the mess. I was so angry with him that I walked outside with the pudding plate and dumped the last of it on his head. I refused to talk to him again until he apologised. He came groveling back a week later, with the recipe for making a plum pudding folded up in his pocket. He handed it to me with an apology and we were best friends again after that." She laughed and shook her head. "I live a very exciting life."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed the moment she'd mentioned Adam, she noticed.

"Whatever happened to him?" he asked. "Your Muggle neighbour."

"We still see each other on occasion," she told him, swirling the last of her wine around, preparing it for the final swig. "On breaks when I go home. He only lives a few doors down from my parents, and its tradition to have a dinner with them around the winter holidays. He doesn't know a thing about me being a witch, though. Professor McGonagall made it clear when she delivered my Hogwarts letter that being a practitioner of magic was a secret we couldn't share with anyone outside of our immediate family, unless they already knew. Now that I understand the history around the Statute of Secrecy and why it must remain in place, especially after reading about the lunatic, Gellert Grindewald, I know I can never tell Adam about this." She indicated the room all around them, implying the magic that made it all possible.

As casually as possible, her companion reached for a bottle from a non-chilled bucket to the side. This one contained a red wine. He uncorked it and sniffed, then poured half a glass into her empty goblet. "Unless you marry him, of course," he pointed out the obvious.

Hermione sipped at her wine and laughed at the idea.

"Not going to happen."

"Why not? You fancied him once," Malfoy pointed out. "What, did he grow up to be as ugly as a Skrewt?"

She stared into the heart of the red wine, swirling it to aerate.

"Let's just say that I'm not his type and leave it at that."

That damnable smirk was back again, pointed right at her like a dart aiming for the board. "Ah, a man who fears challenges, then," he teased. "Face it, Granger, you're too much woman for him."

He didn't know the half of it!

Shrugging the matter off, she took another healthy swig of her wine. The stuff was starting to go to her head, but both the last vintage and this one tasted too fine to waste. They were a well-paired extension of the food thus far.

"I like that you dumped the pudding on the tosser," Malfoy continued. "He deserved it."

Hermione's heart sped up as he took her side. In all the years since that incident and in all its various telling to others, he was the only one who had ever agreed with her sense of justice. Most people censured her for behaving so 'overly-dramatic'.

"You've deserved a plate of gooey cake over your head more than once, too, you know," she pointed out.

"I'm sure I have," he conceded, giving her a smoldering grin that had her heart palpitating for an entirely different reason now. "For the record, does your food fetish continue in the bedroom, perchance?"

"Certainly not!"

"Ever try it?"

No, she hadn't. She certainly wasn't going to admit that much to him, though, knowing he'd probably use it to build a case against her 'vanilla' tendencies during sex...as if that was a bad thing.

With cheeks as hot as a stove top at winter, Hermione attempted a quick deflection. "What about this dish?" she asked, pointing to the dark meat with the cherries on her plate. "What's this one?"

Malfoy chuckled at her obvious ploy. Of course he'd know what she was doing; deflection was a Slytherin's favourite tactic, after all. "This is the dish I was enjoying during the Easter break this year, when I had my revelation about my future. My parents and I had traveled to Argentina with the Parkinsons. Yes, Pansy was included. They were trying to establish an open dialogue about marriage entanglements between our families, as we were close to finishing up at Hogwarts." As he talked, he filled his own goblet with the red wine and swirled it around, before diving in for a taste. "I'd just taken a bite of my dinner when I realized that if I didn't speak up in defense of my own wants, tell them I was against the prearranged marriage the adults in the room were determining for me and Pansy, I was going to end up just like the rabbit we were eating: a tasty morsel for others to enjoy. My life would be over." He shrugged. "So, I spoke up, made it clear I wanted a future of my own making, not one designed for me. Just like that, I was free...like a rabbit is supposed to be."

A cold horror raced up Hermione's spine.

"Prearranged marriage? You're joking!"

"Not at all," he assured her, taking a bite out of the meal before him. "Its the custom for pure-blood families to have their marriages decided by their parents, and to consider marriage at such a young age."

"Why?"

"Are you asking why do the parents decide, or why do they insist we get married at seventeen and eighteen?"

"Both."

He brought his fork up to his face, but didn't eat the cherry that was currently stuck to the tines. Instead, he stared at it, as if that small image represented the whole of his life. "Political alliances and purity of stock, to answer your first question. To ensure there are enough years to beget an heir and one to spare, to answer the second. I already said, it's an old tradition."

"It's outlandish! This isn't the Dark Ages, Malfoy! You mean to tell me that you parents would really have foisted Parkinson off on you if hadn't said anything? Why would they think they could have that kind of power over you? You're an adult, legally-speaking."

Draco's expression twisted with bitterness. "I still rely upon the goodwill of my family's inheritance and the protections allotted the Malfoy name to establish myself in the world, though, don't I?" He took another sip of his dark, ruby-coloured wine. "Regardless of what you may believe, Granger, there is a wizarding elite and they move in circles that half-bloods and Muggle-borns don't have a clue exist. Those circles open doors that are normally closed to others, so it would be foolish to jeopardize those connections."

"But that's just what you did!" she pointed out. "You defied them!"

"It wasn't really all that dramatic. I was pretty confident that, as the only heir, my parents wouldn't go that far."

"But what if you'd gambled wrong and they'd disinherited you for what you did?" she asked, wide-eyed at the thought. Her parents would never consider interfering in her life in such a fashion, much less writing her off if she didn't follow their advice. She thought her relationship with them was such that even if they disagreed with her on major life choices, they would always have her back. Apparently, she was lucky in that regard, as not everyone had the same rapport with their parents. "You took a rather large risk, don't you think?"

Malfoy shrugged, as if what he'd done was not one of the most audacious things she'd ever heard...and completely unexpected coming from him.

"Better to be eaten by the sharks then to sink with the ship," he replied.

Hermione was simply floored.

Her impression of Draco was heaving and listing under the weight of this new revelation into his personality.

"That took serious courage, Malfoy. I admit that I'm decidedly impressed that you could do such a thing, knowing that you could have lost everything you hold dear. It was a very…Gryffindor-ish…thing you did, standing up for your dreams like that."

His smirk was positively wolfish as he chuckled again and shook his head.

"Don't paint me so daring, Granger. My mother has a way of making my father agree with her, and I'm her baby boy. I banked on her sympathy and support to sway his opinion, honestly. It took five days of her not speaking a peep to him afterwards to relent." He nudged his jaw towards her plate. "Are you going to try it, or are rabbits like house elves: too innocent and cute for the roasting pan?"

Laughter bubbled up inside her.

"You are absolutely…incorrigible!"

He waggled his eyebrows at her in a most provocative manner.

"At least you're finally noticing."

With a shake of her head in exasperation, Hermione hooked a piece of the juicy-looking meat onto her fork and popped it into her mouth. The rabbit was definitely a more gamey taste than typical store-bought meats, but it was a delicate flavour, having been tenderly braised. The spices and garnishments were a perfect combination to bring out the meat's wilder essence. When she'd finished sampling the first bite, she took a sip of the red wine. It was the ideal counterpart to the meal.

"Delicious!" she concurred. "The cherries and cinnamon make the meat pop, and the wine adds the bite needed to wash it all down. This truly is a wonderful meal!"

To her astonishment, Malfoy was smiling at her when she glanced over at him. Not smirking, but an actual, warm smile that curled his lips in a decidedly attractive manner.

"I'm glad you're enjoying it," he murmured, his voice low and husky.

As it had been when she'd been overwhelmingly attracted to his cologne last round, once more she felt that hot breath of desire racing through her. It's just sexual attraction, she reminded herself. She'd felt it before for others. It meant nothing. Still, her fast-beating heart was pounding loudly enough in her ears to tell her this was quite a bit stronger an interest than any she'd previously felt.

"There's still dessert," he offered, reaching for the final plate on the table that had remained untouched.

He lifted the lid to reveal a slice of a moist lemon-coloured cake, topped with what looked to be a fresh cream sauce. On the side was a scoop of what appeared to be vanilla bean ice cream, and beside that, a mini, round tower of solidified custard. Decorating the plate was some sort of caramel sauce, a vanilla stick, and some thinly-sliced fried fruit—an apple and a banana.

It was a pleasing presentation, certainly, and just enough for them to share.

With a thought, the other plates all disappeared from the table, both of them having finished eating the main meal. All that remained were the desserts, two forks, and their glasses of wine, his nearly a quarter full, hers less than half.

"Please," he offered, indicating she was to try a sample first.

The dessert was too tempting to pass up, so she picked up her fork and made ready. "Where do you recommend to start?" she asked, trying to keep things polite and cordial, backing off from the earlier familiarity to give her heart and mind some space.

Picking up on the changed vibe, Malfoy paused and threw her a concerned look. "The panna cotta cake," he recommended.

Hermione dove in to keep them from deviating away from completing his card...and answering any uncomfortable questions. As she took the first bite, allowing the texture and taste to roll across her tongue, he began explaining the history to the choice of this dessert.

"I was fourteen, it was two days before New Year's, and we were in Italy at the Zabini's manor house for Blaise's grandmother's seventieth birthday. This was the cake they served. One of the cousins in attendance, Leila, simply appeared at my side while I was enjoying it and took a bite off my plate without asking. She was seventeen, blonde, green eyes, and very pretty. We talked for a bit after that. I lost my virginity to her in an empty bedroom upstairs later that night while everyone else was downstairs at the party."

She nearly choked on the cake at that reveal.

Malfoy patiently waited out the coughing fit while she regained her composure.

"I apologize for the interruption," she finally said when her throat stopped convulsing. She wiped the tears from her eyes and waved him on. "Continue."

"Try the apple custard flan next," he nudged her while going in to finish off the panna cotta.

She scraped a bit of the custard onto her fork and asked, "Will you wait to spring the next story on me until after I've swallowed, at least?"

Draco barked a laugh, and it was such an infectious sound that Hermione couldn't help but snicker and smile in return.

"This story isn't quite so shocking or scandalous," he promised her. "The flan was one of my favorites from Kyoto, when we went there during Easter break in fifth year. We stopped in a small café in their wizarding alley and I ordered it. Out the window, across the street, there was one of the oddest apothecary ingredients I've ever seen: a talking purple flower. The thing sounded like it was bemoaning sitting in a pot outside the shop, because it kept calling and turning towards passersby, acting like it wanted to go home with one of them. I couldn't understand a word it said, but it was bloody hilarious to watch." He wiped a bit of powdered sugar off his top lip with his napkin, while she tried out the custard. "I'd never seen anything like it before, and realized that we were missing a lot of the Eastern cultural traditions here in Europe, because we didn't have access to their unique plants and herbs."

Hermione swallowed the mouthful of appetizing flan, loving the sweet-sour combination that reminded her of a Granny Smith apple, and hummed in pleasure. "Mmm, I suspect you saw a Singing Dog's Tooth Violet, as they're said to be melodramatic and temperamental." She scooped out another dollop of the apple custard. "They're quite rare, you know. Endemic to Japan."

When Malfoy didn't reply immediately, she looked over at him.

He was watching her with that same inquisitive glint in his eye as before. It made her decidedly uncomfortable.

"What do you use them for?" he asked. "The Singing Dog's Tooth Violet."

She shrugged, recalling the information she'd read in Kampo Medicines for the Treatment of Common Diseases as part of her extra-credit work in Herbology during sixth year. "Their roots were once ground up and used as a binding and thickening agent in beauty-products," she explained, "but in the 19th century, potato starch became the predominant ingredient for such things because it was cheaper to reproduce and didn't talk your ear off when preparing it."

Gently placing his fork on the edge of the plate to indicate he was done eating, Malfoy wiped his mouth again and folded his napkin, putting it on the table next to the fork. He finished off his wine in one swallow.

"No wonder you're the top of the class," he said. "I formally concede; you utterly deserved the spot, Granger. You're twice the brain I am."

Hermione's jaw nearly fell open at the unexpected praise. "T-there's a book on it in the library-" she explained, feeling a bit self-conscious at having been complimented on her intellectual aptitude. It was one thing to have a professor or a friend or family member laud her, quite another to have the boy who had teased and tormented her for years over her 'swottiness', as he'd always deemed it, suddenly do an about-face on the matter. She wasn't quite sure what to make of it, honestly.

"Of course there is," he replied with a playful smile. "One you've read cover to cover, no doubt."

She looked down, feeling a familiar hot shame roll through her. "I hate it when you do that," she murmured, putting her fork down and sitting back in her chair. "You make fun of me because I enjoy learning new things. I like reading and I like sharing information with others. So, why is that so wrong? At least I can carry on a conversation that isn't exclusively centered on the week's 'Dear Tabitha' column in Witch Weekly."

Malfoy was quiet in the face of her censure, and the sound of the ocean waves returned to help balm her raw feelings.

"I didn't mean it as an insult, Hermione."

Shocked that he'd used her first name again, as if they were friends or something more intimate, she glanced up at him.

"You really are the brightest practitioner in our class. Most likely in the whole school, excluding a few of the professors," he continued. "I'm just still amazed every time I witness it, and...I admit, I'm a tad jealous."

"Only a tad?" she asked before she could stop herself.

His lips lifted and crooked at her in a way that had her breath catching and her toes curling.

"Perhaps a bit more than that," he confessed after a significant pause where there eyes met and there was no question that sparks flew.

She dropped her gaze to the last dessert.

Alright, fine, he might not have meant it in the way she'd assumed, and he certainly seemed genuine in attempting to explain and make up for her misunderstanding...

Reclaiming her fork, she poked at the melting ice cream scoop. "And this?" she asked, wanting this action round to end sooner, rather than later. There were too many conflicting things that had been said and done over the last twenty minutes that had her reconsidering her earlier resolution about Malfoy, and she needed time away to process.

"This one reminds me of Indonesia, a few days after my eleventh birthday, when I received my Hogwarts letter. My mother wanted to treat me to something exotic, so my father Apparated us all three together to a small café in Jakarta's small wizarding hub and we gorged on the local cuisine. This was my favorite part of the meal, though: the banana-vanilla bean ice cream. It was made fresh, and was already melting by the time the bowl arrived to the table. The fried banana slice on top was coated in caramelized sugar, just the same."

He smiled, reached for his fork and took a small dollop into the end of the tines, bringing it to his lips. As he chewed it down, he sighed in pleasure.

Hermione indulged as Draco continued talking, enjoying the rich flavor of banana combining with vanilla and cream across her tongue.

"My father had wanted me to go to Durmstrang, but my mother wouldn't have it," he explained. "Too far for her tastes. I was pleased, actually, because I'd wanted to go to Hogwarts since I found out my father had gone there. I wanted to get into Slytherin to please him, to follow in his footsteps so he'd be proud of me." His smile suddenly and unexpectedly dropped, and his gaze unfocused, turning inward. "It seems I've disappointed him once too often lately."

Hermione was almost afraid to ask, but for some reason, felt compelled to know more; to know what it was that had made Draco Malfoy frown with some measure of pain as he was just then.

"How could you possibly have disappointed him? You're perfect at everything you do, and every girl in school trips all over herself to get your attention!"

His attention returned to her. "Not every girl."

Finishing off the final bit of ice cream, scraping it through the caramel sauce, she put her fork down for the final time, wiped her mouth with her napkin, and folded it the same as Malfoy had earlier. She also finished off her glass of wine, feeling the alcohol shoot straight to her brain, emboldening her in a way she was sure she would regret later.

Picking her card up off the table, where she'd laid it when taking her seat, she read it aloud to him:

FORFEIT: Tell your partner a frightening secret about yourself. Explain it in detail. Answer their questions about it.

Staring into Malfoy's eyes, she knew exactly what secret she was being compelled to tell him, thanks to the card, and felt a micro-second's fear that once it was out, she'd be made a laughingstock.

Taking a deep breath, she confessed, "I've secretly fancied you all this year."

Malfoy's eyes widened and a tension built in his shoulders that had his arms flexing.

"It's just a small interest, so don't make it a bigger deal than that," she hastened to add, "but…there you have it: every girl in school finds you attractive enough to snog."

"To snog? You want to snog me? Really?"

Here it came...the snickering and smirking, that shame-inducing look of triumph in his slate-grey eyes...

"Why?"

She threw him a mocking glance. "Why? Were you not listening last round? I've already told you that I find you handsome, and your intelligence and ambition are compelling traits. It's your mouth I don't care for. If you weren't such an unbelievable prat most of the time, I think I could actually like you more."

To her surprise, he didn't ridicule her at all. Instead, he gave her a look that conveyed his desire to tear her clothes off, to lay her out on the table and to make a banquet of her instead.

Hermione groaned.

Another secret would have been a better choice to share. Any other one, really. Now the power balance between them had shifted in his favour once more, putting her at a distinct disadvantage.

Bloody, randy alcohol!

Bloody, awful card!

Bloody, stupid game!

With a thought, the table and all its accessories before them was banished into the nether-sphere, as were the table-side wine buckets. Hermione tried to scramble to her feet to make a hasty get-away, just as Malfoy stood to his full six foot-one inch height and loomed over her. His hands shot out and gripped the back of her chair, effectively trapping her between as he leaned down, his face mere inches from her own.

Gads, she'd forgotten how fast he really was, thanks to his Quidditch training!

"Clarify something about your answer for me, Granger," he said, staring her down. "Before tonight, have you ever thought about me in a sexual manner? Does your secret fancy of me include sexual fantasizing of us together?"

Quelling the riotous pixies fluttering around in her stomach and threatening to turn her into a ninny-mouth, Hermione did her best to instead affect a bored look. "As I said, every girl wants to snog you," she replied with a casual shrug. "I'm sure I've done the same."

It wasn't a lie, and it did answer his question in a manner of speaking...

His smirk became positively wicked as he moved in, swooping towards her ear at the last moment. Hermione hadn't been worried he'd actually kiss her, because he'd have needed her permission to do so or he'd have violated the rules and would have had to forfeit the game...and she didn't think he was that careless, honestly. As a Slytherin, everything he did was well-calculated.

"You didn't answer that question completely, did you?" he asked her in a whisper that made her spine tingle. "Tell me the truth: in these...snogging...daydreams you have of me, have ever touched yourself and made yourself come?"

She clenched her jaw, tried not to answer, but the stupid spell on the cards was going to force her. She could feel its compulsion to give him what he wanted, and since she'd foolishly opened this can of worms in picking this specific secret to reveal, now she had no choice but to do as the card required and answer all of his inquiries about it as truthfully as possible.

"Yes. I've masturbated to thoughts of us together."

He hummed in approval. "How often?"

"Often enough," she said with a growl, as she was obliged to speak the truth. "At least once a week since October last year."

"Only since October? What changed your mind about me then?"

"I saw you in your Quidditch robes after a game, and you were sweaty and-" She closed her eyes and fought the card's enforcement of the truth, but it was like fighting off one of Umbridge's Veritaserum-laced teas. Thankfully, Hermione had only been under that sort of influence the one time, and then only at the very beginning of the woman's tenure at the school, so she hadn't given away anything really important that had come later that year. It was the same feeling of having her throat close and her brain ache. "-you were kissing some sixth year witch up against the wall, and it...just hit me, out of the blue."

"What did?"

"L-lust." Just saying the word aloud nearly had her tongue turning itself inside-out. It was a foreign word, really. She'd only felt it a few times in her life, and it felt too bold to admit such a thing to someone who wasn't a friend, especially someone she could admit she was attracted to in a dangerous way. "I...I'd never thought of you like that, until then."

"Ever think of anyone else like that?"

She turned her head and met his eye. "That's not part of this card's secret, so I don't need to tell you that."

"Tell me anyway," he practically begged her.

"You'll use it against me."

"I won't."

"You will."

"What can I say to convince you?"

"Nothing."

He stared at her through a narrowed gaze, and in its depths she could read him turning the problem over in his head, looking for a means to get what he wanted while there was still time on the clock.

Really, his Slytherin sneakiness was exhausting!

She sighed, just wanting this round to be over already.

"Fine, I suppose it's not really all that shocking," she caved. "Viktor Krum, Theodore Nott, and my friend, Adam. There, now will you stop asking me questions already?"

Purposefully, she'd omitted one specific name from that list, but for good reason: Ron didn't know about it, and she really didn't want him ever finding out. It had only been the one time, anyway, and long after she and Ron had called it quits. Still, it wouldn't be a kindness to him to learn the truth.

Malfoy looked like she'd just kicked him in the gut, hard. "Not the Weasel King, Ronald?" he asked. "I thought you were, at one time, love birds."

He was going to pursue this to the ends of the earth, wasn't he?

"We did date last year, but it was more a case of a friendship confused as a deeper emotion, but more comfortable, not...lust."

"Like me and Pans," he murmured, and it was clear he hadn't meant for her to hear that.

Hermione shrugged. "I suppose. I don't know the details there."

"But you lusted after Krum, his hero."

She kept her mouth closed on that one. This wasn't part of her secret, and so it was up to her how much she wanted to divulge, and any discussion of Viktor Krum was one of those things it was better off not talking about to other men, she knew from experience. Her Bulgarian friend's stardom had a way of intimidating other men.

"And Theo."

Stubbornly silent, she could be when she wanted, and this was another one of those times. What she and Teddy had done was really best left in the past, forgotten. It certainly hadn't been one of her finer decision-making moments. She blamed it on hormones.

"Fine, but I thought you said you weren't interested in your childhood boy toy," Draco pointed out, sounding a touch bitter.

"No, I said he wasn't interested in me," she corrected him. "You're more his type, actually."

Malfoy slowly straightened, and she glimpsed a moment where his face contorted with... Yes, no doubt about it this time. That was jealousy.

A second later, the look was replaced with a bland politeness.

He stepped back and held a hand out to her, volunteering to help her stand. Almost against her better judgment, she reached out and accepted the proffered help. "Thank you," she said with a civil tongue, hoping that was the end of the questions.

At the door, she slipped her heels back onto her feet, adjusting the straps, and reached for the door handle just as the chimes rang out to announce their time was up.

Malfoy's hand and the weight of his arm pushing on the door kept her from opening it, however. "You might want to reconsider, Theo," he advised her. "He's got a...darker side to him, Granger. There's a part of him that seeks out pain, both physical and emotional. He'll hurt you."

"And you wouldn't?" she shot back at him.

Very tentatively, he reached for her, but stopped just shy of touching her to prevent a rules violation. His eyes were molten silver, like starlight mirrored upon a tempestuous ocean as they stared straight into her soul, however, scorching her with the heat of his desire for her.

"No, beautiful, I'd much rather make you cry out in pleasure."

He eased off the door and she fled, from his provocative comment, from the heated look in his eyes, and from the fact that she was incredibly attracted to him and could no longer deny it.

As she took her seat back on the couch, Hermione did her best to ignore the way her body had answered unspoken call of Malfoy's need. How was it the sly, pratty Prince of Slytherin House could turn her around as no other man had ever managed to do? Why was she both frightened of and drawn to him?

What was it about him that called to the deepest, darkest parts of her and made her both wary and excited?

TO BE CONTINUED...

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

'Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends': The Sorting Hat's song about Slytherin's attributes.

"Better to be eaten by the sharks then to sink with the ship" = Meaning, it is better for a person to fight with their last breath and let the sharks at the surface of the water line get at you (in the hopes that you'll be rescued before that point or at least have made every effort to survive for as long as you could), than to allow yourself to give up and simply let the water take you under when the ship sinks beneath your feet.

Dog's Tooth Violet – (a.k.a. Katakuri Lily; Erythronium japonicum) Not a violet at all, but a member of the lily family. Endemic to Japan's islands. Each plant of the Japanese species has a pair of leaves, and bears a single mauve flower, with backward-flaring petals. Although it hangs its head downward, insects are quickly attracted to the nectar by following the eye-catching marks on the petals. In this fic, I simply made the flower a singing variety for fun.

Musical Selection for this Chapter: "Unusual You" by Britney Spears. Lyrics are as follows…

Nothin' about you is typical.
Nothin' about you is predictable.
You got me all twisted and confused.
(It's so you.)
Up 'til now, I thought I knew love
Nothin' to lose and it's damaged 'cause,
Pattern to fall as quick as I do.
(But now…)

Bridges are burnin',
Baby, I'm learnin',
A new way of thinking now.
Love, I can see
Nothing will be
Just like it was.
Is that because…?

Baby, you're so unusual.
Didn't anyone tell you, you're supposed to
Break my heart, I expect you to…
So why haven't you?
Maybe you're not even human 'cause,
Only an angel could be so unusual.
Sweet surprise I could get used to…
Unusual you.

Been so many things when I was someone else…
Boxer in the ring, tryin' to defend myself,
And the private eye to see what's goin' on.
(That's long gone.)
When I'm with you, I can just be myself.
You're always where you say you will be.
Shocking, 'cause I never knew love like this
Could exist.

Tables are turnin',
My heart is soarin',
You'll never let me down.
Answer my call,
Here after all.
Never met anyone
Like you.

Can't believe that I
Almost didn't try
When you called my name.
Now everything is changed.