A/N: Here's a quickie.

If his intentions with me weren't clear, I hadn't realized it.

I walked with Draco from the Port Key, deep into the forest where the Nott Family Manor was situated; hidden from plain sight and protected by ancient magic. It was no secret to me that Theodore Nott Sr. had been a Death Eater — at least during the First Wizarding War and Voldemort's uprising. To my knowledge, he had been too old and too much of a liability to join the second time around, but he did lend what little support he could to the Death Eaters.

His son was different.

I thought distantly about the first time I'd met Nott. It was in Second Year, after we were paired to work together on a Potions assignment. Being that we were both young and strongly divided by our rival houses, we kept it business only and refrained from speaking more than we had to. Even then, I could tell there was something different about him — about the only Slytherin in school who didn't have it out for me and my friends.

Draco noticed the smile on my face and suggested we take a breather, as we'd been walking for the past hour. It seemed none of the pureblood families allowed Apparition within their grounds — to our great dismay.

"You care a lot about him," he commented. "It's plain as day."

I turned to the fair-haired wizard, perplexed. "Of course, I do. We're best friends."

His smirk was legendary. "I wasn't born yesterday, Granger."

"What are you implying?"

"You're in love with him," he answered, casual, still smirking. "Arse over elbow in love, with a cherry on top."

I narrowed my eyes. "Just because I'm not jumping at the opportunity to sleep with you, doesn't mean I'm interested in someone else."

His smirk deepened. "Oh? So you're still interested in me…"

"What?" I blurted, face contorting. "Now you're putting words into my mouth."

From there, we kept moving, though I could feel him toss the odd look at me. It was preposterous, for him to suggest I was in love with Nott. I mean, sure, things between us had changed in the last couple weeks, but that didn't mean I was in love with the man. Granted…he was a good man…kind, thoughtful, honest, strong, smart, punctual, charming, pleasurable, neat, attractive, warm…very, very warm…but that wasn't the point!

"I'm not in love with him," I mumbled under my breath — stomping ahead, in an attempt to keep a fair distance between myself and my accomplice.

Our walk would probably have gone faster, had we brought broomsticks or another form of transportation, but Draco insisted on walking — to which I didn't object seeing as I hated flying. Even so, the journey was cumbersome. I felt my legs begin to give out about ten minutes later, after which I grasped one of the nearby trees and struggled to stand.

"What…What's going on?" I demanded, having walked longer distances at faster speeds numerous times. "What is this…? What's happening…?"

Draco found my side and helped me upright, with an arm under my shoulders. "It must be some sort of weakening magic against Muggles and Muggle-borns," he thought aloud. "Nott Sr. was a bit of a dick that way."

"The man is dead," I hissed. "Mind your tongue."

"The man also disowned his only son because he wouldn't become a Death Eater," Draco retorted, swift in his response. "Lay down a moment. I'll see if I have any Revive Potion."

I felt my consciousness begin to fade, as I slumped against the base of the tree. It was strange to me that I hadn't read or heard about any such magic, exclusive to Muggles and Muggle-borns, but those thoughts were no more, as my surroundings swirled with the skies, in rhythm with the moment darkness took over.

Two Hours Later

In the dead of night, my eyes fluttered open.

It appeared Draco had been unable to find Revive Potion — shocker — as the next moment, there were no trees around me, nor grass between my fingers. I passed out in the forest and arose on an enormous canopy bed — with soft linens beneath me and sheer white coverings cascading from the antique framing. It was nice, though I didn't dwell long on the bedding and decoration.

Nott was there, seated at the foot of the bed with his back turned to me. It appeared he had fallen asleep, leaning against one of the bed posts. I thought to let him rest, but the moment I shifted, his eyes flickered open and he inhaled, unaware that he'd fallen asleep and at first, startled to find me awake.

"Granger," he breathed, blinking fast. "You're okay…"

I smiled, knowing there was much to discuss and that we would probably disagree on more than a few matters, but I couldn't help the relief that coursed through me, knowing he was alive and well.

"I — I'm sorry to drop in like this…"

"Please don't apologize," he told me. "I should've told you, I know I should've, but I didn't want to involve you in this mess."

"It's not a mess."

He craned his attention down, to the bedcovers. "It's always a mess where father is concerned."

I fell silent, knowing there was tension between him and his namesake. Draco shed light on some details, including the fact that Nott had been disowned for his choice to remain in neutral in the war. His choice didn't surprise me, but the fact that his own father disowned him did. To my knowledge, those who opposed Voldemort in any way, shape or form were hunted down and brutalized for all to bare witness. I knew that to be the reason Draco and his mother joined the Death Eaters. But there Nott was, sitting in front of me, alive.

"Listen…" I started, waiting as he turned to me, noticing the light stubble on his face and the fact that his hair was rather unkempt. "…I'll spare you the formalities and move straight on to the important bit."

"What are you talking about?"

I lifted the bedcovers from my body, realizing the dirt and leaves had been cleaned from my clothes, and moved to his side of the bed. "When my grandmother died, do you want to know what I did?"

"…made out with that cheeky cousin of yours…?" he guessed, tossing me a wink.

"First of all, that was one time —" I argued, whacking him across the chest, after which he laughed and shielded himself with both arms. "Second, no."

"Okay, okay, okay!" he begged, holding his hands up in surrender, smiling in such a way that told me he hadn't for a long, long time. "What did you do?"

I paused a moment, recalling the time in question. It was about three years prior to then, before I had reconnected with him at the Harvest Moon Party, and before my life had turned into a soap opera.

"I got really, really, really drunk, had an absolute shit hangover at the funeral and all the proceedings, and then I woke up the next day feeling liberated and cleansed and free from all the grieving and heartache."

There was a prominent arch in his brow. "Are you suggesting we get pissed up the night before my father's funeral?"

"No," I countered. "I'm suggesting we get obliterated."

"Isn't that the opposite of what you should be saying?"

"Probably, but sitting alone and sulking about has never done anyone any good."

For a moment, he narrowed his eyes at me, questioning whether or not those words had actually come from my mouth.

"You're serious?" he asked.

I nodded, smiling something sinister. "Absolutely."

Midnight

It was enormous, his house. It reminded of Malfoy Manor, in that it was decorated with snake statues and with loads of silver and green — only bigger and older, in a strange sense. Part of me hadn't realized the Nott's had wealth. I was aware of their blood status and prominence in the pureblood community, but I had not imagined a home so grand and filled with such priceless artifacts. It was apparent to me, within moments of the tour, that Nott Sr. had been a bit of a hoarder and that none of the Nott's, including my roommate, liked having their portrait painted. That was another difference between their home and the Malfoy's home. No portraits. Not a single trace that this home had been passed down the same bloodline for centuries — apart from the furniture and the fact that the corridors carried the distinct smell of aged mahogany.

But the more time passed, the less I could focus on those details.

In the moments that followed, we were outside, near the fountain that decorated the courtyard. I followed Nott there, and sat with him along the ledge, aware that there was a full basin of cold, crisp water behind us — and that we'd been drinking for about an hour.

It was like old times again.

"…and then," he continued, telling me about the time Astoria came onto him. "…we went back to the hotel, where she pinned me down and straddled me before the door so much as closed behind us."

I burst out laughing, handing him the firewhiskey for safe measure. "I'll give it to that Astoria. She knows what she wants."

He nodded, laughing with me. "What about you?"

"Mmm?"

"Wildest night you've had," he prompted, taking a swig from the bottle. "Excluding the one with me."

I rolled my eyes at him, still smiling. "Do you really need to ask?"

For a moment, it appeared he had no idea about the memory I had in mind — but his blank look faded as soon as he realized. "Right! Balcony sex at the wedding of the century," he voiced, suppressing the chuckles. "How could I forget."

"You weren't even there," I scoffed, snatching the bottle from him.

Nott grimaced. "I had school…"

"Nerrrrrrrrd."

"I'll take that as a compliment coming from you," he winked, snatching the bottle before I had the chance to drink from it. "By the way, do you still talk to Oliver?"

I shrugged, thinking back. "We tried for a couple weeks after the wedding, but he was busy with Quidditch and I was busy with super top secret Auror missions and things."

"Paperwork?"

"Yes, sir."

From there, we continued our discussion and regaled several more sexual exploits before landing on one I had cleverly left out until that last moment. But Nott knew better than to assume nothing had happened between myself and Draco. I had no doubt in my mind that he was fully aware of what transpired the night of the Harvest Moon party, even before I'd told him.

"It wasn't very memorable," I lied, drowning the truth with more alcohol. "Normal sex. Nothing spectacular or noteworthy."

Nott scoffed at this. "You're as transparent as cling film."

"Nice analogy."

"Shut up," he retorted, still not convinced. "Tell it true, Granger."

I breathed out, frustrated over the fact that he knew me so well. "Why do you even care about my sex life?"

"Because we're best friends, and best friends share these things."

"Yes, but we've also slept together, which makes discussing sexual things with you intensely awkward."

"Does it?" he asked, eyeing me as he had another drink from our third bottle.

I nodded, aware that my temperature was burning hot, despite the cold. "You were my first."

Around that time, the atmosphere changed a little, adding to the blush that crept up on Nott's face. It was the first time I'd seen him genuinely react to any reference made about our one night together. Before then, it was all jokes and light teasing, but the colour on his cheeks combined with the manner in which his arm brushed up against mine made this moment all the more sobering.

"Being someone's first is important," he started to say, avoiding eye contact. "But being someone's last…that's something."

I agreed.

It's what I used to tell myself during mine and Ron's relationship, in an attempt to push back the guilt that tugged at my heartstrings, whenever I remembered I had lost my virginity to someone else. I was convinced our relationship would last and that Ron would be the man I would marry and grow old with — but that was not the case.

Nott looked at me then. "Do you ever think about it?"

"About what?"

"What happened in that broom closet."

I returned his look, masking the feelings in my chest with nonchalance. "Do you?"

He smiled. "I asked you first."

"What if I don't want to answer?"

"Then I'll have no choice but to assume you think about what happened between us every night and on occasion, about what it would feel like to have another go," he added, wearing the same indiscernible look from the night we went out to the pub. " — because lord knows I do."

A/N: Naughty boy! What do we think?

Cheers

xo.