all characters belong to JKR

Day Six

Thursday 9:43 am:

The snow was falling freely, blanketing the earth with a thick layer of white. The windowpanes of their little flat were crystallized with frost. There was a general chill to the air. No matter how many layers of clothing, or how many fires were lit, Draco could not feel warm. He was cold. Perhaps colder than he had ever felt.

He was sitting alone on the couch reading his paper. Hermione was still in bed. They arrived late last night from their party and too much wine, song and dance was a heavy burden to bear, thus the reason Hermione was still asleep. Draco, however, had been awake for hours. He was cold, alone, and somewhat sad. He knew that if he was going to confront Hermione, he must do it today or tomorrow for their wedding day was less than two days away. If there was even going to be a wedding.

He had to tell her. Maybe he should wait until tomorrow. Just have fun today. Their last day of fun before either marriage or hatred came into their lives. Yes, tomorrow would be a good day. Tomorrow.

He got up and stoked the fire. He went to put the kettle on and he fed the cat. He looked in on Hermione and she was still snug in their bed, with slumber her only guise. He made a cup of tea and went back to the couch. He picked up his paper and began to read. A moment later, he heard Hermione in the bathroom. A moment after that he saw her tiptoe to the couch and rest her body along its length, with her head on his thigh.

He stroked her hair and said, "Good morning, sleepy head."

She merely grunted a reply. Draco bent down and kissed the top of her head. He neatly folded his paper and said, "What do you want to do today?"

She did not respond for a minute, but then she asked, "Do we have any more wedding preparations that need our attention?"

"What is this 'we' business?" he wondered aloud. "I have been doing all the preparations myself. Me, myself and I, and, I must say, I am very impressed with myself, for I have everything under control. Therefore, today is a free day, since tomorrow is the rehearsal, rehearsal dinner, and then Saturday morning is the big day. Dum, Dum, Dum, Dum," he sang the wedding march.

She sat up, but snuggled closer to him, and put her head on his shoulder. He wrapped both arms around her. "We could go to a museum today," she declared.

Draco knitted his brows and spelled out the word, "Y-A-W-N; in case you aren't aware, Granger, that spells out 'NO'."

"We could go to the Library," she said with a smile, not looking up at him.

"I would rather go to the museum," he said with indifference. "When you can come up with a serious suggestion, Granger, just let me know."

She scooted away from him, reclined on the other end of the couch, and put her cold feet on his lap. He took both her feet in his hands and tucked them under his shirt to keep them warm. Finally, she said, "You decide, Malfoy, I'm too tired."

"We could stay in all day and have wild passionate sex," he said, while letting his fingers creep up under the leg of her pajama pants. "Something involving whipped crème and leather comes to mind."

"No, we will wait until Saturday night, minus the whipped crème and leather," she said and she kicked his hand away. He grabbed her ankle, and pulled, and she was soon closer to him. He bent over and started to tickle her ribs. She screamed and said, "Stop it, Malfoy!" through her laughter.

He was now almost on top of her, still tickling her ribs, but she put her knees up and pushed him away. He rolled off her and rolled onto the floor. "No fair, Granger, you always resort to physical abuse." As he lay on the floor by the couch, she looked down at him and put her hand on his face.

"Hey, Malfoy, are we going to call each other 'Granger' and 'Malfoy' even after we're married?" she asked.

"I have to admit, I've never given it a thought. I mean, you will be a Malfoy by then as well, but we can't both be called Malfoy, because that would be confusing. Anyway, I call you Hermione sometimes," he told her. At least he thought he did, didn't he?

"Yes, you call me Hermione during sex and sometimes when you're angry," she told him, as she looked down at him, as he was still on the floor.

He took her hand and pulled her down on top of him. "You don't exactly call me Draco that often either and it's a perfectly good name, unlike Hermione."

She sat up on him, straddling his hips, and said, "Hermione is a perfectly good name too, Malfoy! It's from Greek mythology, and a Shakespeare play!"

He looked at her with a mix of humour and pity and said, "I just don't know what you did to your parents when you were still in the womb to make them hate you so much that they would saddle you with a name like that, but it must have been pretty severe. I mean you probably couldn't even spell it until you were twelve."

She hit him in the chest and said, "Oh yes, DRACO, your name is so much better. It sounds like a bathroom cleaner." She hit him once more and made to get off him, but he rolled her over and he straddled her.

"Draco is a wonderful name, HERMIONE," he said her name exaggerated, the way she had said his seconds before. "It is means Dragon, and it's also the name of a constellation, and I happen to think it's a distinguished name."

"Please get off me, Dragon," she sighed. Then she added, "Have you gained weight? You seem heavier." He stood up from her, took a pillow from the couch, and threw it down on her face. When she made to get up, he threw another pillow; then he threw both sofa pillows from the back of the sofa and put them on top of her. As a last resort, he took the quilt that was on the back of the sofa, put it over her, and lay back down on top of her and on top of the pile of pillows and covers.

Then he said, "I haven't gained weight, little girl. This is all muscle."

"Get off!" she said, with her voice muffled underneath the pillows and quilt.

"Say you're sorry," he yelled, while leaning on her and pressing more of his weight on her.

"I can't breathe, you prat!" she said under the covers. He stayed on top of the pile, and was about to demand another apology, when she cried out, "Please, I really can't breathe!" He pulled the covers off her and helped her up. She was out of breath. He put both hands on her face and he seemed mildly concerned. Suddenly, she bent over, and was really having trouble breathing. She was hyperventilating. He took her by her arms and shook her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, now not only concerned, but also terrified. He leaned over, looked in her face. Still bent over, she was breathing heavily. He didn't know what to do. He went to go get a paper bag. He ran back to her, sat her on the couch, and told her to breathe in through her nose and out her mouth, into the paper bag.

After just a few moments, her hyperventilation ceased. She handed him back the bag and he sat beside her on the couch.

"Gee, Granger, I didn't mean to actually suffocate you," he said harshly, angry with himself, not her.

"It wasn't that," she said, still breathless, "I think I was having an anxiety attack. I don't like being confined like that. I felt trapped, being unable to move, and with you on top of me. That's all." She was feeling much better.

"If you really wanted to go to the museum that bad, all you had to do was beg, you didn't have to hold your breath to get your way," he smirked. He climbed back beside her on the couch and held her close.

He continued to stroke her hair, when all of the sudden she sat upright, turned to face him and said, "I know, let's go to the zoo!"

"The zoo?" he asked. Did he hear her right? "Isn't it a little cold for the zoo, Granger?"

"It's not that cold, and besides, they have a lot of indoor exhibitions as well. It'll be fun. Have you even ever been to a Muggle zoo, Malfoy?" she asked.

"Yes, my father took me to a Muggle zoo when I was a child," he said in all seriousness.

"Really?" she asked with surprise. "Your father took you to a MUGGLE zoo?" she quizzed him.

"Yes," he said with disdain, "and actually it was kind of nice. I liked seeing all the Muggles in their natural habitat, and the more dangerous ones were in cages, so I felt safe the whole time." He turned to look at her and her eyes were as wide as saucers.

She got up, threw a pillow back at him, and said, more to her self than to him, "Why do I even try. I should know better by now, but no, I guess I don't." She shook her head incredulously and before she had left the room, he bounded for her, picked her up, and swung her around.

"You looked so funny, Granger. Were you picturing my father and me looking at all the little Muggles in their cages? Feeding them treats between the bars?" He was laughing. "You're so gullible, and once again, Granger, you show you have no sense of humour at all!" He swung her until they were both dizzy and then he actually dropped to the floor with her on top. She hit him on the chest again, tried to stand, but was too dizzy, and sat back on the floor.

"When will you realize that I just don't think you are humourous!" she yelled down at his face. She pushed against his chest to stand and once she was standing stepped on his hand for good measure. She sauntered to the bathroom and shut the door.

"You love me, Granger!" he yelled. Then, while still on the floor, he said to himself, "I know she loves me."

Thursday, 1:13 pm:

They were both reading in the living room. They had showered, dressed, and ate lunch, pretty much in silence. He put his book down and frowned. As if sensing his disdain, she put her book down as well, and looked at him from across the room.

"I just thought of something, Granger," he stated.

"Well, don't think too hard, your head might cave in," she retorted.

He ignored her rude comment and walked out of the room. 'Where was he going?' She wondered. He walked back in the room, holding a rather large pile of parchments. Now very interested, she asked, "What do you have there?"

"A pre-nuptial agreement. It was owled to me by my family's estate lawyer Tuesday night," he said. He handed it to her, and she took it, and looked up at him in shock.

"You expect me to sign a pre-nuptial agreement?" she asked with a mix of anger and surprise.

"Well, you should read it first, but then, yes, I do." He sat down on the arm of her chair. She read the lengthy document and after about 30 minutes, she looked up at him and said, "Go get me a quill." He jumped off the chair and returned with a quill. She signed the parchment, handed it back to him, and then picked up her book again. That was too easy, he thought. He hadn't really forgotten about the document. He had just dreaded giving to her.

"Granger, do you have a fever?" he asked as he felt her head.

Looking up from her book, she asked, "What?" He put the document on the mantel, sat back on the arm of her chair, and felt her cheeks.

"A fever; do you have a fever? Are you unwell?" he asked.

"I'm fine. Stop being a prat." She hit his hands away.

"It's just, I didn't think you would want to sign the pre-nuptial agreement, that's all," he told her truthfully.

"Listen, Malfoy, I'm a smart girl. That pre-nuptial was a smart thing for you to do. I can appreciate that. Anyhow, did you read it?" she asked him.

Truthfully, he did not. "No."

"Well, if you had you would have seen that if I divorce you, I get half of all your money, and if you die, I get it all. See, it's a win-win situation for me." She picked her book back up. Did it really say that? He picked it back up off the mantel and read the whole thing. Damn. That lawyer should be fired. Oh well.

"I'm not worried. I have no plans of ever divorcing you or dying, so my money is safe," he laughed. He stood back up, put the pre-nuptial back on the mantle, picked her up off her chair and sat down with her on his lap. "Have you gained weight, Granger?" he mocked her, asking her what she asked him earlier.

"Yes, I have actually," she answered, with her nose still in her book. "Women tend to gain weight when they're pregnant."

"WHAT?" he yelled while standing, knocking her off his lap. She started to roll on the floor with laughter.

"Talk about seeing the look on someone's face," more laughter, "you should see your face right now, Malfoy!" Laughter and snort. She stood up, brushed herself off and said, "Thank goodness I'm not really pregnant, the way you've been throwing me around today."

"You're mean," he said plaintively.

"No, I'm not. You're the mean one," she said back.

"If I didn't love you so much, I would truly hate you," he said in conclusion. He sat back down and she sat back on his lap. She put both hands on his face and stroked his cheeks. She smiled at him and linked her hands behind his head. She leaned in and kissed his lips so softly, he was not sure if it was a kiss or just his imagination.

She then kissed one cheek, then the other. She ran her tongue around his ear and sucked slowly on the earlobe. One of his hands went under the back of her shirt and the other went to her neck. They started kissing. She tasted like fruit from the gods. He pushed her slightly away from him, looked at her sternly and said, "Don't start something you don't intend to finish, Granger. If you truly want to wait until Saturday night, then I suggestion you get off my lap this instant, otherwise, I won't be responsible for my actions." He held her gaze for a moment longer and she leaned toward him again, kissed him quickly on the lips and got off his lap.

He stood as well, and said, "Let's go to the damn zoo." He took her hand, led her to the hallway, threw her coat at her, put on his, and stormed out the front door.

Thursday, afternoon:

They walked down the street, holding hands, and they looked like any other couple on a stroll on a cold December afternoon, except for one thing: Draco was practically pulling Hermione down the street. She looked more like his hostage, or his captive, then his fiancée. He came to a complete stop and said, "How do we get to this damn zoo?"

"Draco, please stop for a moment," Hermione said, pulling her hand out of his grasp, "It's probably too late to go to the zoo now, anyway, why are we walking so fast?"

"I thought you wanted to go to the zoo?" he asked in all sincerity.

"Not particularly," she answered, "let's just walk." She walked back up to his side and put her arm around his waist. He put his arm around her shoulders and they continued to walk. After several minutes had past she said, "When are we going to move to the new house? Right after the ceremony?"

Draco hadn't even thought of that. Since he told Hermione he had everything under control, perhaps he should act otherwise. "I thought we would spend our wedding night back at the flat and then move to the house after a couple of days."

"I think we should spend our wedding night at the new house. That would be kind of nice, don't you think?" she stated back to him.

He pulled her closed, and merely said, "Yes." That would be nice, very nice indeed.

They continued on their stroll, with the winter wind whipping around them. Next, she asked him, "Where are we going on our honeymoon?"

'Goodness, Granger!' he thought. He had not thought of that yet. He thought he had everything planned, and everything under control. Should he admit that he forgot to plan the honeymoon, or should he fudge his way around the topic? "Don't be annoyed, but I forgot to plan the honeymoon," he said, as he decided to tell her the truth.

"Maybe I can come up with something," she suggested. The truth was she wanted them to go back to her parent's cabin by the sea. "You know, we could go back to the cabin. I would like to show you all the places I used to go as a child, and it's fairly secluded, so we won't be bothered by anyone," she said as she stopped walking and looked up at him. He smiled and squeezed her shoulder.

"That sounds like a fantastic idea, Granger. I'm glad I forgot to plan the honeymoon. To your cabin we will go. In fact, we should just go there for the wedding night, instead of the new house. It seems like as good of place as any to shag you till you can't see straight," Draco told her with enthusiasm. She playfully knocked him into a shop window. He pushed her back.

They were approaching a little restaurant, when Draco asked Hermione if she wanted to go in and have dinner. She nodded in affirmation, and they walked in and sat down. The waitress came and took their order, and they sat in the booth, with him holding both of her hands and he started to ask her a question about her cabin when he was interrupted by a loud booming voice.

"Draco Malfoy! Of all people, to find you in this type of little restaurant. What are you doing here?" A tall, black haired man approached their table. It took Draco a few minutes to recognize the man. It was Marcus Flint. He was several years ahead of Hermione and Draco in school, and he was in Slytherin with Draco.

Draco stood up, not happy to see the man since he never really like him, and shook his hand. "Hello, Flint, I could ask you the same question."

"Oh, I like to mingle with the little people occasionally. Are you going to introduce me to your friend?" Marcus turned to Hermione, raised his eyebrows, and extended his hand to her. She took his hand and he put her hand up to his mouth and kissed her knuckles.

Draco frowned as he said, "This is my fiancée. We're getting married the day after tomorrow." Draco was still standing. Marcus still had Hermione's hand. If he didn't release her hand in one more second, Draco would probably punch the man soundly in the jaw. Sensing Draco's annoyance, Hermione pulled her hand from the other man's grip.

"Does your fiancée have a name?" Marcus questioned with a leer.

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione spoke, since it appeared Draco forgot how to speak.

"You're kidding?" Marcus seemed filled with glee and Hermione's face showed she was dejected. "Draco Malfoy is marrying the most famous Mudblood around, aye?" He started laughing, but before he could utter another world, Draco let his earlier urge to strike the man become a reality, and the man fell on the floor with a thud. "What the hell, Malfoy?" he yelled from the floor.

Hermione didn't know what to think or say. Draco stood over the man and then decided to help him up, but not out of kindness. Draco picked the man up by his collar, stood him up, and said, "Get the hell out of here, Flint."

"Same old Malfoy," Flint goaded, "You still think you own the world. No matter, defend your little Mudblood's honour, but we both know the truth, do we not, Malfoy? Does she?" He pointed to Hermione. "I mean nobody thought you would marry a Mudblood. You were only meant to marry a witch of less than pureblood heritage, but of course, you always had to show everyone else up. Do you know the real reason he's marry you, Mudblood?" He turned to Hermione. "Ask him; I'm sure he'll tell you. Of course, he could be marrying you for love, but Malfoy doesn't strike me as the type to fall in love. Maybe he offered you a lot of money, is that it Mudblood?" Marcus spat on the floor and walked away from their table. Everyone in the restaurant looked shocked at the retreating man, for the offensive word he kept repeating. Hermione sat there stunned and disconcerted. She looked over to Draco.

Draco sat back down and he so angry that he was shaking. He didn't want her to hear any of that. That was not how he wanted to have 'this' conversation with her, but now there was no choice in the matter. That damn Flint created unnecessary complications. He looked back at Hermione, but she now had her hands in her lap and her eyes downcast. He didn't know if he should wait for her to speak or if he should speak first.

Their waitress brought their food. Hermione started eating and had yet to comment on what Flint had told her. Draco took her lead and started eating as well.

The fact was, Hermione didn't know what to say to Draco. Now was not the time or place to ask him what Flint meant, even though she already knew deep in her heart what he meant. She was correct in her assumption that the Ministry imposed all pureblood wizards to marry women who were not. That much she knew in her heart was true, but she would wait and see if Draco would tell her. She didn't want to be the one to confront him. She suddenly didn't feel hungry at all. She put her fork down and excused herself to the bathroom.

Draco was frantic. He didn't think now was the time or place to tell her anything. He was going to tell her tomorrow anyway. That was what he had planned earlier and he certainly would have been more delicate approaching the subject, then that damn Flint had been. He put his fork down also, called the waitress over, and asked for their bill. He knew that neither of them would be able to eat now.

He stood outside the lady's room door, to wait for Hermione. She had been in there for a while. Maybe she disapparated, and went home, or somewhere else. He had just made up his mind to go in and find her when she walked out the door. Her eyes were red. Had she been crying? He held her coat for her and she slipped it on her shoulders. Apparently, they were leaving, she thought. They walked out of the restaurant, and when out of instinct he reached for her hand, she slipped both hands in her coat pockets. They started walking back toward the flat and he made to pull one of her hands out of her coat pocket, for him to hold. She stuffed them deeper in her pockets and started walking slightly ahead.

He pulled her arm, to slow her down, and she broke out in a run. He was faster so he caught up in no time. Now they were both running down the street, side by side. They must look ridiculous, Malfoy thought. When they rounded a corner, Malfoy collided into a bench and toppled over, head first, on to the sidewalk. Hermione slowed down and looked back. He was on the ground, clutching his knee. She walked back over, and without a word, pulled his hand away and looked at the tear in his trousers. Under the tear, there was a nasty gash on his skin. She reached inside her coat, pulled out her wand, and healed his cut. He looked up from the ground, and held on to her hand with the wand. All he said was, "Hermione".

She pulled her hand from his and started walking again. He stood up as quickly as he could and made his strides follow hers. This time, she reached down for his hand, and laced her fingers in his. He pulled her hand up to his lips and gave the hand a small kiss. When they reached their building, she started down the alley, to reach their stairs. He pulled her back and said, "We have to talk."

She stared up at him, and asked, "May I just ask one question?" He nodded. "Is this a conversation that can wait until tomorrow, because I'm too tired and hungry right now for a deep heart to heart?" Was she serious? The fact was that she was serious. She really did not want to argue with him tonight. Let it wait until tomorrow. She was not even sure she wanted to know the truth.

"Hermione, I just need to say two things. First, I love you with all my heart, and all my soul, and my entire mind, and every fiber of my being. Second, I was planning to talk to you about something very important tomorrow, anyway, so yes, I would like for this to wait until tomorrow, like I had originally planned." She gave him a weak, halfhearted smile, and led them up to their apartment.

He hung up their coats. She went to the kitchen to prepare something for them to eat. He paced back and forth in the living room. Damn Flint! If Malfoy had the ability to hex the man from the living room, he would do so. The encounter in the restaurant changed everything. Hermione was going to be all sad and distant all night and now he was entering into this discussion at a disadvantage, because he would have to start the whole thing differently. Now instead of just explaining everything to her, he would have to defend himself to her. He would have to acknowledge what Flint said first, and that would make everything else take on a different light. Hermione called from the kitchen, "Food's ready." He walked into the kitchen and sat opposite her.

He was right. She was silent and distant. They had been at the table for ten minutes, and they had yet to speak two words to each other. Not even, 'pass the butter' or 'May I have the salt?' He didn't know that she was sitting there, thinking the same thing. She was thinking that the awkward silence was almost deafening. She thought it was her fault. She thought he was still angry about what happened with Flint. She stood up to clear the table and he said, "I'll do it." She nodded her head yes and went to their bedroom.

Thursday, evening, in their bedroom:

She sat on the bed. Her attention was drawn to her mother's wedding dress, which hung on a hook in a dress bag, on the back of the door. She locked the bedroom door, and took the dress bag off the hook. She placed the bag on the bed and unzipped it to reveal the dress. She pulled the dress out and it looked as white, new, and beautiful as she imagined it looked the day her mother wore it at her wedding. She slipped out of her clothes and put on the dress. She examined her reflection in the mirror. She didn't know if she looked beautiful or not, but she felt beautiful. She hoped she would get a chance to wear it. She hoped he was still going to marry her. She promised him she wouldn't leave him at the altar and she intended to keep her promise, no matter what he told her tomorrow.

Draco turned the bedroom doorknob. The door was locked. He leaned his face next to the cold wood and said, "Is everything all right in there?"

"Yes, I'm just trying on my dress," she answered in return.

"May I see?" he inquired.

"Its bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress before the wedding," she answered back. She walked up to the door and put her hand on the wood. He had his hand on the exact same spot on the other side. "Draco, you know, no matter what you want to talk to me about tomorrow, I still plan on marrying you. You know that, don't you?"

Well, if he did not know it before, he knew it now. "Granger, let me in," he begged.

"Let me take this off first," she answered. She removed her wedding dress, for that was now what it was. It was no longer her mum's wedding dress…it was Hermione's dress. She zipped it back in the bag and placed the bag back on the hook on the door. She put on her nightgown. It was still early, but she was tired, and wanted to be comfortable. She opened the door and he slipped inside. He smiled at her. It was a smile, which was more than just an affirmation of his feelings for her, but also a smile that held a question. A question that was asking, "Are we okay?" She smiled back at him. They were okay.

He pulled her in his arms and held her tight. No matter what, she was his, he was hers, and they were going to get married on Saturday morning. He let her go for a second and she went to get under the covers. He said, "Are you tired, Granger? A bit early, isn't it?"

She patted the space beside her, and he went to lie down on top of the covers next to her. She put her head on this chest and his arms wrapped around her, offering her their eternal protection. "Hey, Malfoy, you know the other day at lunch when Harry and Ron interrupted our little game, I had just asked you a question, and you never got a chance to answer. Will you answer now?" She lifted her head up from his shoulder, leaned on her elbow, and with her hand on his chest and his arms still around her, she asked, "Would you rather be poor, but in love, or rich and married, and not in love?"

"Does it matter?" he asked, with his eyes closed. He would rather not look at her that was what he would rather.

"It matters to me," she said, putting her head on his chest once more.

"I would rather be married, in love, and rich," he said with a true smile and then a little laugh.

She cocked her head to look at him again and smiled as well. "Answer the question," she said, hitting him hard on the chest.

"My god woman, must you always get so physically abusive?" he joked. She went back up on her elbow, lying on her side, and he did the same, mirroring her position. "Fine, fine, let me answer your bloody question." He tried to act as if he was in a light mood, but he actually was feeling quite the opposite. "I would rather be poor and in love, but I still don't see why I can't be rich, in love, and married. That's what I am really going to be, so why can't that be my answer?"

"Because that wasn't one of the options," she told him plaintively, while stroking his face.

"I have another one for you, Granger," he stated.

"Yes, I know, I never answered your one question, either. Fine, I would rather have sex with Hagrid, are you happy?" She was smiling.

"You're strange, and that's not what I was going to ask, but that disturbs me quite a bit. No, what I was going to ask was, would you rather be poor and NOT be in love, or rich and in love?" he asked.

She lay on her back and looked at the ceiling. "Well, now you are just being a bloody fool. Of course I would rather be rich and in love. Who wants to be poor and alone?" she responded.

He bent over and kissed her. "Do you think if you had never started dating me you would have been poor and alone?" he asked.

"Well, Mister Ego, I suppose sometime in my life, someone might have wanted me, so I might not have been alone forever, although the poor part might have been true." She looked at him again and this time she kissed him. "Same question, Malfoy, would you have been rich and alone, if you hadn't started dating me, or would you have just married someone else?"

"I can't see myself with anyone but you, Granger. You make everyone else seem plain and boring," he said with a laugh, but she saw sincerity in his eyes. "I'm going to go take a bath. I don't suppose you would like to join me?" he asked, with a smirk.

"Not until our wedding night," she said, turning her back to him. He put his hand on her hip and pulled her back to her back. He climbed on top of her and kissed her slowly and surely. He pressed his body into hers and kissed her all over. When he got up he said, "Just a small preview, my dear, of what you'll get on our wedding night." He walked out of the bedroom and went to draw his bath.

She sat up in bed, tore off the covers, and went running to the bathroom. He was standing beside the tub, in only a towel. He turned to her, taken aback, and she rose on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. He put both arms around her, to hold her up against him. She knew what he intended. He deepened the kiss and moaned. She loved the sweet taste of him and hungered for his embrace. With his eyes closed, he heard her ragged breathing and he thought his need for her would overtake his body.

She growled at the taste of him. The feel of his tongue on hers and his arms around her body was her reward. To have all those wonderful muscles pressed up against her small frame. Yes, that was love. That was what she wanted, but not tonight.

With hesitancy, she pulled away from him, and said, "Now that's what you call a preview, Malfoy." Then she smiled and ran out of the bathroom. Damn woman. Now he would need a cold shower, instead of the warm bath he was intending to take.

(End of Day 6)