A/N. You all know I love sharing my interests with you guys – my favorite music, books, TV shows… Well, today, for you manga-readers, I want to recommend "Immortal Rain" by Kaori Ozaki! It was the manga that got me into manga and I absolutely fell in love! It's a fantastic adventure, the perfect blend of shonen and shoujo (which basically means girly and boy-ish)! The story is just so engaging and it really blew me away when I first read it. Message me if you're interested in getting the links! If you like it we can fangirl together!

So this chapter has a little bit of plot, a little bit of fluff, but for the most part it's a filler. Things will be happening soon, so I wanted to kind of have a bridge between them.

…~oOo~…

Chapter Eleven: In Which They Discuss Cake

"She's humming," Adam said whispered to Chelsea in class a few days later. Miss Hermione's back was to them as she wrote the word "Grindelwald" on the chalkboard and underlined it and then began writing notes beneath it. As she did this, she hummed very quietly under her breath.

"She's been humming for two days now," Adam said, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "But why?"

Chelsea wasn't sure, but she couldn't help but smile a little at her teacher's noticeably improved mood. It was a relief to see that the Professor wasn't so stressed. While she wasn't sure what had brought about the change, she was hoping it would keep her happy for a while.

"Mr. Malfoy came over the other day," Adam said, seeming to be in the middle of a deep thought. "I wonder if they patched things up."

Chelsea frowned. "Why does it have to be a boy that makes her happy?" she said before she could stop herself. Normally she wouldn't voice her opinion on the seemingly unorthodox nature of her professor and Mr. Malfoy's relationship. She would let Adam jabber and would listen while silently thinking otherwise.

Arching an eyebrow at her, Adam said, "Why can't it be a boy?"

Just shrugging, Chelsea went back to copying the details from the chalkboard. Adam was obviously not thrilled with being ignored, but when their professor turned around and started her lecture, he knew it was time to stop talking. Making sure Miss Hermione wasn't looking his was, he used a spare bit of parchment to scribble a note for Chelsea. Instead of reading it, though, she ripped it in half and put it in her pocket.

He wondered what exactly had put her in such a foul mood.

…~oOo~…

"What flavor of cake would you prefer?"

Draco hated lunches where Astoria just popped by his office. He had hoped to chase her off with the excuse that he had work to do and didn't have to time to go out, but she had responded by bringing food to him. It was meant to be a romantic gesture, he supposed, but it was just an annoyance. He had politely kissed her when he arrived and focused solely on his paperwork while she went on about wedding details.

Sighing inwardly, Draco said, "It doesn't matter to me."

"Are you sure? Your mother said you had quite the sweet tooth as a little boy," Astoria said, too sweetly. If he was being frank, Astoria was a sweet, good creature who simply ran in the wrong circles. She was often at Snow's parties, often spoke of the superiorities of pureblood, and before her engagement to Draco, was known to indulge in what the younger Death Eaters had to offer physically. She had a naughty streak, but at her core was a nice girl.

Which, honestly, annoyed Draco more than anything.

"I said it doesn't matter," Draco said dismissively, never looking up from some bill about vampires. There was so much hype about the vampires lately and there were a thousand and one ideas, a dozen propositions for new laws, and none of them really solved the problem. And there were many problems to be solved. Snow had left this matter up to him and it was giving him a damned headache.

"We'll go to a tasting and decide then," Astoria said, writing something on her notepad. "What about the entrees?"

"I don't care about the food," Draco said snappishly.

"I was thinking salmon. Do you like fish?"

Putting down his quill and taking a very deep breath, Draco pinched the bridge of his nose. "I am running out of ways to express how little I care, Astoria."

"Well, you should!" Astoria snapped, her voice getting even higher pitched. "It will be our wedding day and it should be absolutely perfect!"

"A perfect day as a prelude to an imperfect marriage? Sounds redundant to me."

"Every marriage is imperfect. That doesn't mean our wedding day and our lives can't be happy."

"Happiness has nothing to do with it," Draco said firmly. "This is a business merger, nothing more. I don't know what I've ever said to make you believe otherwise, but I can only apologize for the miscommunication. It all boils down to this: Your father is in debt to my father – what for, I'm not sure – but you are a bartering chip meant to be thrown my way to prevent me from doing something monumentally stupid or possibly scandalous because my father doesn't trust me to behave."

Astoria's lower lip was wobbling and her eyes were angry. "You've got it all wrong," she hissed. "My father owes you nothing. It's Lucius who is indebted to my father."

Draco blinked. He certainly hadn't been expecting that. "What do you know of it?"

"Everything, of course," Astoria said with attitude. "My father knows Lucius ran before the end of the Battle of Hogwarts. Father has had that little tidbit of treachery in his back pocket for a while now but once you were made Undersecretary, Father saw how valuable it would be to have – how did you put it? – a merger with a powerful political figure. So Father told Lucius that if he didn't see to it that his son – you – chose me as his bride, he would be going to the Dark Lord with the information."

On the outside, Draco remained cool and collected. On the inside, he was plotting his father's murder. Draco had just assumed when his father had said he had a deal with Greengrass that it would work in Lucius's favor and not the other way around. But Lucius was the one who needed this to work.

Draco's wedding had just become a live or die situation.

"You had no clue then," Astoria said, rolling her eyes. "Typical Lucius."

A wave of rage swept up inside Draco said he said, "My father is twice the man yours will ever be. Blackmail is low, even for Garrick Greengrass. Lucky for him, though, he will have his wedding, but he's dreaming if he thinks he'll have any political weight after this." He stood up and walked around the side of his desk towards the door. "You tell your father that blackmail is punishable by imprisonment and, as he knows, I am a very powerful man. It is his word against mine and he should not forget that next time he thinks about toying with my father. Now, out." He swung the door open and gestured for her to leave.

Looking vaguely hurt, but mostly angry, Astoria rose from her chair with her chin in the air and made her way out. She stopped in the threshold, though, and turned to look Draco in the eyes. "You said you never did anything to make me believe we could be happy. But you're wrong. The paper-folded birds…" Her voice trailed off as she saw his eyes harden.

Stiffly, he said, "They weren't for you."

Astoria closed her eyes for a moment, pushing back the tears, and walked out.

Slamming the door shut after he saw Astoria leave the office – and his assistant and other secretaries stare as she marched out – Draco went to his desk and angrily shredded the stupidest proposal for the vampire situation before writing his father a letter. He ended up shredding that too. Before he knew it, he was stomping out of his office towards the nearest Floo and he was on his way to Hogwarts.

…~oOo~…

"Are you going to talk about it or just brood?"

"I hadn't realized I was 'brooding'," Draco said, his nose wrinkling.

"You're brooding so loudly that I can't even close my eyes," Hermione said with a smirk, curled up on her side and facing Draco while he'd been staring at the ceiling, lying like a plank of wood flat on his back.

"I'm sorry," he said, looking over at her. Looking at her made it worse, though. Made everything rise to the surface, everything he was feeling and suppressing. She was so pretty, so soft. All he wanted was to bury his face in those wild curls – she said sex hair didn't suit her, but he kind of liked it – and forget about everything else. "Should I get going so you can sleep?" he offered, reaching out to run his knuckles down her flushed cheek.

"No, you should get going because you have a life outside these four walls," Hermione said, biting her lip. "Don't you have people to see? Meetings? A business dinner?"

Draco shook his head. "I put my father in his place today, so he won't want to see me tonight. Nor would my mother. I reported to McGonagall. I angered Astoria, so she'll be giving me the silent treatment for a few days and Snow and I had breakfast. Everyone with any weight in my life I've already dealt with."

"What happened with your father?" Hermione asked, easily picking up on the change in his tone.

He said nothing for a moment. "He's a very stupid man," he finally settled on.

"I could have told you that."

"Cowardly," he added. "Manipulative. Selfish."

"And you aren't manipulative?"

"I am," Draco admitted. "But I'm not a coward. Not anymore." He looked over at her again and pointedly glanced at the space of mattress between them. "You're awfully far away." He curled his hand around her bare hip and pulled her close. She easily gave into the embrace, resting her hand around the back of his neck. Her fingers played with the hair on his nape.

"So… are you going to talk about it?" she asked again.

"I'm not sure I want to."

"When you saw your father, is that how this happened?" she asked, touching her fingertips lightly to the split in his lip. "You said you got in a scuffle with another Death Eater, but I don't think I believe you."

"He looks worse than I do," Draco said on a sigh, his tongue probing the split spot on his mouth. "He's getting old. His reflexes aren't what they used to be. Then again, he always did go for the face – he knew how vain I was. Probably because he too is vain. A pretty face can be a curse in itself."

"You are vain," Hermione said, sounding slightly amused. "Did your father hit you a lot growing up?"

"Not really," Draco said. "The occasional smack in the mouth, usually, or a slap over the head. Sometimes he'd hit my calves with that godforsaken walking stick. Grab my arm and squeeze tightly. We never really got into real rows until I was older."

"That isn't right," Hermione said firmly.

"Didn't your parents discipline you?"

"Not like that. I'd been known to get soap in my mouth or be spanked. For serious offense, a wooden spoon came out."

"Wooden spoon?" Draco inquired, the concept sounding foreign. "What on earth did they do to you with a wood spoon?"

Hermione chuckled. "Mostly hit me on my bum."

"Muggles are strange," Draco said, his eyes narrowing in thought. "A spoon… Very strange, indeed. And the soap in the mouth?"

"For when I swore or talked back," Hermione explained. "To wash out my mouth. Get it?"

"Ahh," Draco said in understanding. "That is clever."

"I went through a bit of a naughty streak when I was about five. When they put soap in my mouth, I used to taunt them and say it tasted good," she shook her head, laughing to herself. "I was such a brat."

"Hermione Granger with a naughty streak?" Draco said in mock awe. "I cannot imagine."

"I did bad things," Hermione said defensively. "All through school I was breaking rules."

"For the greater good," he said cynically. "It hardly counts if you have unselfish motives."

"It doesn't count that I set Professor Snape's robes on fire?" Hermione challenged.

"No," Draco said in disbelief. "There is no way that was you."

"It was too!" Hermione insisted, sitting up a bit to look him in the eyes. "I thought he was hexing Harry's broomstick, so I set his robes on fire to break his concentration!"

"Wow," Draco said. "Do I really even know you?"

"I also stole from his private stores. I robbed a bank and I stole a dragon. I can be bad," she said determinedly.

"Hmm," Draco mused. "You're right, Miss Granger. You are quite naughty. I think… you need a spanking."

It dawned on Hermione exactly what he meant as he playfully flipped her onto her stomach and she squealed, barely withholding her laughter as she said, "Draco, you better not – ahh!" And she could barely breathe from how hard she was laughing.

Draco was chuckling himself and only swatted her twice before bending down to kiss the freckle right between her shoulder blades.

"You are lovely," Draco murmured as he admired the smooth, pale curve of her back and her now-rosy bottom. The light spattering of freckles on her shoulders, the barely-there dimples on her lower back, even the tiny scar at her waist that he vaguely wondered how she got.

"I would tell you the same if you didn't already know it," Hermione said. He wasn't wrong in what he said earlier – he really did have a pretty face. But maybe pretty was the wrong word. His features were too sharp and precise to be pretty. A jawline that could cut glass. A very aristocratic, straight nose. His eyes were a sharp grey that glinted silver.

"Are you really going to stay?" Hermione asked, not quite believing it. Their relationship, if one could call it that, was still very new. Raw. Only a week had passed and on each day they'd only stolen an hour together. Most of that hour being spent in absolute bliss, of course. It seemed risky for him to stay. "What if someone goes looking for you at your apartment?"

"If they need me, I'll be summoned," he said, tapping his forearm.

"And Margot? She can't be left alone," Hermione said.

"Before I found you, I saw her and told her she could stay here for the evening," Draco told her. "She was happy to have a sleepover with Chelsea, apparently."

"So…you're sure?" Hermione said, looking nervous.

"Well, unless you'd like me to leave," Draco said slowly. "I won't say it won't hurt my pride, but I will go if you like."

"No! Not at all, it's just… well… it's kind of hard to explain."

"What?" Draco said, quirking an eyebrow at her.

"I've never spent the night with anyone," Hermione said quietly. "I mean, besides from camping in close quarters with two boys."

"Didn't you have a stint with Weasley?"

Hermione blushed and scowled. "Never spent the night. We were always too busy. We had things to do in the morning usually or we didn't want his mother barging in to wake him for breakfast only to find me there with him."

"Those are lousy excuses."

"I suppose. But the point remains. I've never spent the night with someone, so how am I to know if I snore or not? Or if I move or kick or talk? What if I can't sleep-cuddle correctly and what if I accidently roll over and suffocate you?"

Wide-eyed, Draco said, "I cannot believe those are the things you're worrying about."

"I'm a worrier, it's what I do," Hermione grumbled.

"Suffocate me? Honestly?"

"Shut up, Malfoy."

"I may have a solution," Draco said. "We could just, you know, not sleep."

Rolling her eyes, Hermione said, "As magnificent as you are in bed, Draco, I doubt you could go literally all night."

"You wound me, woman."

"You think a lot of yourself if you think you have the stamina for eight hours of lovemaking," Hermione said, chuckling. "I certainly couldn't."

"We never know if we don't try. What happened to the Hermione Granger who needs to collect data and do research before coming to a conclusion?"

Hermione considered this and then wrapped her arms around his neck. "You make a very good point."

…

As it found out, after a few rounds, exhaustion won and the lovers enjoyed the heavy fog of sleepiness and satisfaction. Lying half on his chest, Hermione's cheek rested on his collarbone while he idly drew shapes and patterns on her back with his fingertips, the motions getting slower and lazier as time passed. He breathed heavily as if he was dreaming already, but his hands still moved.

"I've found perfection," he said, his words mumbled and lazy.

"Pretty damned close," Hermione whispered, resting her hand over his, the one that'd been resting on his stomach. "Go to sleep. You're exhausted."

"I don't want to," Draco said, but it lacked conviction.

"Why is that?"

"If I sleep, I'll have to wake up."

"That's usually how it goes, yes," Hermione said, smirking in amusement.

"If I wake up, I'll have to leave," he explained, his words becoming more run together. "A new day means… leaving this…perfection."

"Shh," Hermione soothed, nuzzling him gently. "Sleep, Draco."

"I told you, I can't…"

"You can. Just think of the sea."

"Mmm? Sea?"

"Mhmm," Hermione answered in her own tiredness. "A beach. Crystal blue water. The tropics. Somewhere like…"

"Fiji," Draco supplied, a small smile playing at his mouth while his eyes remained closed.

"Yes, imagine a beach Fiji. Can you see it?" Hermione said, seeing the white sand clear as day behind her eyelids.

"I'll…take you to Fiji," Draco promised. "And we won't have to imagine it anymore." A few moments later, his breathing deepened and she was sure he was asleep. She followed close behind.

…~oOo~…

"Good morning, Herm…" Harry's voice trailed off as he entered the kitchen to not find Hermione brewing a fresh pot of coffee like he'd thought. Standing at the counter by the coffee pot with a piece of toast and a newspaper was none other than Draco Malfoy. "Malfoy," Harry said in surprise.

"Potter," Draco answered glibly.

"You're here awfully early," Harry said suspiciously. "Do you need anything? Looking for Hermione?"

"What I need is coffee," Draco said. "And Hermione is sleeping. I'll be leaving soon."

Harry took in Draco's appearance. His white Oxford shirt was wrinkled and his pants had folding creases in them as if they'd sat on top of a dresser all night. He was unshaven, his jaw darkened by blonde stubble, and his hair was obviously brushed by fingers instead of a comb.

"Did you…stay over?" Harry said, putting it all together slowly.

"No, Potter, I always go into work this untidy," Draco said curtly, giving him a blunt look before pouring himself a cup of coffee. "Of course I stayed over. Have you got a problem with that?"

"Not really," Harry said, confused by the entire situation. "A little, perhaps, maybe…"

"Make up your mind, Potter," Draco said, rolling his eyes and eating the last of his toast. "Care or not, it doesn't matter." He looked at his watch. "I should be leaving soon."

"You know…" Harry said, seeming to be putting the pieces of a puzzle in place. "You've been here a lot this past week or so… What's that about?"

Neither of them heard the padding of bare feet enter the room. But they both looked over when Hermione yawned. She was wearing a pair of cotton shorts and a camisole. Her hair was everywhere and her scratching the back of her head didn't help it. She still looked half asleep.

"Good morning, Draco. Harry," she said around a second yawn. She walked over to the coffee but stopped to straighten Draco's collar. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"You need your sleep," Draco said simply, adjusting the falling strap of her camisole before Potter could catch an eyeful.

"And you don't?" Hermione shot back. "Snow is out of the country, you could have easily just gone in a little late." She reached up on her toes for a mug out of the cabinet and not quite making it so Draco snatched it effortlessly off the shelf and handed it to her.

"My secretary has this idea in her head that when I'm not around she can play Supreme Undersecretary," Draco said dryly. "The Ministry would be in shambles if I went in ten minutes late."

"Maybe you should hire a new secretary, then, one with less mutinous tendencies."

"But she's finally mastered fixing my coffee exactly how I like it," Draco said.

"Poor boy," Hermione mockingly lamented. "I suppose you'll have to suffer then."

Then, on an epiphany, Harry exclaimed after just watching on, "Sweet Merlin, you two are sleeping together!" He looked like he'd been hit across the face with a canoe paddle.

"Now, Potter," Draco said, "I know for a fact not all Gryffindors are idiots, so you can't use your House as an excuse for your obliviousness this time."

"It isn't as if we've been hiding it," Hermione said on a sigh. "Except for from the kids, of course. It wouldn't be appropriate."

"I'm going to vomit," Harry said, feeling a gag coming on. He braced himself on the kitchen table and waited for the nausea to subside.

"And that's my cue to leave," Draco said, bending to the press a kiss to Hermione's cheek. "Have fun cleaning up Potter Puke."

"Thanks," Hermione said sarcastically as she watching him leave out the back door. Turning her attention to Harry, she said, "Don't make a big deal out of this."

"But… but it is a big deal!"

"Not if you don't make it one," Hermione said, rubbing her eyes while she fetched the sugar bowl. "Please, Harry, every other adult in the house has worked it out already. Neville, Luna, even Krum."

"No wonder Krum's been in such a foul mood," Harry reflected.

"It took Fred and George two minutes at the meeting two days ago to put it together," Hermione told him. "I'm a little disappointed it's taken you so long, Harry."

"Why didn't you tell me?" Harry demanded.

"It's private," Hermione said stiffly.

"Oh, yes, that's why," Harry said, figuring it out for himself. "Because of what I told you in the library a few weeks back."

"Harry, you knew how I felt about him then," Hermione said. "Is this really that big of a shock?"

"Yes! I thought you'd come to your senses," Harry said, throwing himself onto a stool and huffing. "I thought it'd at the very least take a bit longer." He rubbed his eyelids with his thumb and forefinger.

After a stretch of silence, Hermione said, "If you want an apology, I won't say I'm sorry. Not for this."

"I don't want you to say sorry," Harry groaned. "I want you to stay away from him."

"Don't start that," Hermione said, warning in her tone. "I am a big girl, now, Harry. You may have missed three years, but they still happened and I've grown up. I've learned a lot about myself and this world we live in. Trust me, Harry. Please, just…trust me."

With a deep breath, Harry looked up at Hermione in defeat and said, "Always."

…~oOo~…

~ So Long And Thanks For All The Fish ~