Theretofore on GG:

Draco watched as she lifted the corner of the glue puddle and ripped the rest off in one clean motion like a sticking plaster. A crater was left behind where the skin had adhered to the glue and had been shed along with it, but Hermione did not seem bothered. "Not too bad," she stated softly, throwing the little slice of skin and glue into the trash can in the corner of the room. With a smile at Draco, who returned it promptly, she soaped up in the sink and returned to his side smelling of generic disinfectant. He kissed her instantaneously.

-----------------------------------

Chapter 6: Stitches and Knots

Hermione led Draco from the preparation room and into the main lobby of the funeral parlor, fingers laced loosely in his. She was glowing, unable to keep the smile from lighting her face, and walked with an air of carefree confidence. She was by far the most relaxed Draco had ever seen her and, he admitted, she had never looked more appetizing. He could nary keep his eyes off her, losing himself in her hushed whispers while absorbing none of the things she had said. As they reached the front door, Hermione stopped at the reference desk to fill out her time card and take her coat from its place on a hat stand. She laughed softly as she returned to his side, slipping into her sleeves and pulling a throng of tendrils from her collar.

"Have you heard a word I've said?" she asked him, raising an eyebrow and waving a hand in front of his face. Draco blinked, focusing his attention, and gave her half a smile, muttering apologies. Hermione grinned, happy in wake of his unexpected approval of her everyday life, and introduced another of the sweet lovebird kisses they had trademarked.

 They broke apart quickly as footsteps fell into the room. Hermione spun to meet the intruder and grinned at her boss, who looked momentarily surprised before casting a sentimental look across his crinkled face.

"Aw, don't mind an old man," Emory said, smiling tiredly at them. "Just passing through; go on about your business." Hermione cast an arch smile to her boyfriend, linking their hands discreetly between them.

"Emory," she called after the old man, who had passed through the lobby and started for the showing room, brandishing a wand and whispering to himself. "It is all right if I break for lunch, isn't it?" He turned back to her, smiling toothily.

"Of course, dear; I'm apt to follow once I move the bombshell outta this showcase. Ms. Applegate's decided she wants that copper one for the boy instead of the steel. Says it looks too industrial. Well, I don't know about that, but I've enough trouble moving it out, I'm not moving another back in until she's absolutely sure copper isn't too shiny, or some codswallow," he complained, but in a cheery voice, still smiling dreamily. Hermione frowned, giving Draco a feeble  He turned back to her, smiling toothily.

 started for the showing room, brandishing a wand andlook, before stepping forward to save her elderly boss.

"Why don't I do that, Emory? You've enough trouble with all her finance changes; let me help with the hands-on," she offered, nearly pleading him, and Emory sighed gratefully, nodding.

"Thank you, Wednesday. I wasn't quite sure if I could manage; I'm a bit rusty with a levitation," he praised, and Hermione gave him a pointed look.

"I thought I told you not to call me that," she scolded half heartedly, and his eyes filled with mirth.

"Why don't you take an extra hour for lunch, love? You've finished half your work already, and it needn't be done until Thursday. You'll outwork Lurch before you know it."

Hermione laughed at his joke and bid her employer good noon before squeezing Draco's hand and leading him into the show room, where a closed silver casket rested eerily against the wall, being the only furniture in the room. Hermione dug her wand from her pocket and projected a charm in its direction, causing the box to lift from its curtained console. She turned then to Draco, who had watched her interaction with a polite smile, absorbing the aura of which she still leaked.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I've just got to run next door with this. It's a little creepy over there; you don't have to come." Draco grinned and kissed her forehead.

"On the contrary, I think that would be wonderful," he stated, lifting himself once onto the balls of his feet. Hermione laughed at the authoritative and overweening smirk on his face, and spared him possession of her right hand while she directed the coffin with her left. She led them down a hidden flight of stairs, just off the show room, and through a long tunnel with marble flooring and whitewashed walls. It had the lingering smell of disinfectant, not unlike that of a hospital, and Draco found himself wrinkling his nose against it. Hermione seemed not to pay mind, striding purposefully down the alleyway and dashing up the short set of stairs that greeted her at its end. Draco then realized that they had been traveling underground between the parlor and the home across the drive.

Hermione opened the door at the top of the stairs to display a room full of caskets, categorized and displayed with similar models to assure optimal viewing of the array of choices before making executive decision. She left him then, opening a door he had assumed was some sort of closet. Inside was a wall of little drawers, marked and noted with words and symbols foreign to Draco. Hermione chanted a spell to make the steel cradle shrink to a tenth its original size and carefully directed it into a box before closing off the closet and pocketing her wand. With an accomplished sigh, Hermione returned to Draco's side and raised an eyebrow at the awed look marking his usually pristine face.

"We can go now, Draco," she said softly, lying a hand on his arm. "I'm finished here."

"Do we have to?" he asked, eyeing the nearest box with a flicker of curiosity in his eye. Hermione smiled softly, surprised at his reaction, and shook her head.

"No, we don't. No one comes in here without business; Emory said he'd be taking lunch. May I ask why you want to stay?" she asked him, mirth tangled in her speech. Draco turned to her for a fleeting moment, casting a genuine smile before breaking away and moving toward the corner, where a display of cherry caskets sat for show, all fit to no more than a toddler. As Hermione followed, he lifted a hand to run along the seam of the padded cotton interior, which draped over the side to make the box seem more inviting. "Draco?" Hermione asked softly, confused by his quiet vigilance.

"This is amazing," he said below his breath, lifting the doily-thin skirt to better view the rim of wood. "It's perfect. Look, see how they sanded with the grain? And this finish is brilliant; it must be foreign, I've never seen anything like it. The knots, all placed randomly... perfectly. Cor, it's a masterpiece."

Hermione, looking childlike in wake of his unorthodox observations, tentatively reached to brush her fingers along the soft finish, feeling the subtle contours of the wood. She saw nothing of the exquisiteness Draco had seen, but kept herself open-minded. He knew a thing or two more about wood than she did.

"The inside, though," he said, sounding disappointed. "Spell sewn." Hermione glanced up at him, fingers still pressed to the cherry finish, and drew her eyebrows. "It's clean cut that way, yes... but it seems more industrial. The fabric doesn't help either; it's nothing if not generic." Draco sighed. "I'd be honored to rest in this casket, but my last wish would be the millstone of refinishing it." his quiet vigilance.

aped over the side to make the box seem more inviting. "Draco?" shHermione paused a moment, face rested in a thoughtful frown, then smiled, taking Draco's hand from the lace of the coffin and holding it firmly between her palms. He turned to her, smiling in sheer intrigue.

"Draco," Hermione said, sounding as if about to break important news. "You are by far the strangest man I have ever met." He frowned slightly, lifting an eyebrow at her, and quickly pulled his hand from its exploratory position on the quilted interior. Hermione laughed softly and released his other limb, bringing her hands to hold the sides of his face and keep contact with his eyes. "I am so glad I found you." She stood on the balls of her feet and pulled him into a slouch, introducing an intimate kiss. He reciprocated, moving one hand to her waist and the other into her hair, pulling her closer and becoming more involved.

"Come on," Draco said as they broke apart, pulling her toward the empty space between the mahogany and steel sections of the room. "Sit with me; we should talk." Hermione frowned, stopping just feet away from their destination and allowing him to go on ahead of her, copping a squat on the plush carpet. He was grinning, patting the space beside him, and Hermione approached tentatively; it certainly didn't look like he had planned a talk.

She sat down beside him and Draco placed an innocent hand on her upper thigh, kissing her cheek. Hermione forced a smile for his benefit and cuddled up to him, burying her face into his chest so he would not see her trembling chin. Surprised but inspirited, Draco lifted his arm instead to rest over her shoulders, lodging fingers in her hair. He was quiet, and Hermione balled a fist of his shirt in anticipation, breathing rapid puffs of air onto the fabric.

"You said you wanted to... talk about something?" she prodded after a few moments of silence, unable to bear the tension she felt, but which Draco did not seem to notice. He tilted his head back toward the wall, shrugging his shoulders, and continued to meddle idly in her loose locks.

"No rush, really," he said passively. "I just wanted to be filled in a bit." Hermione loosened her grip on his sweater.

"Filled in?" she asked and he shrugged again, growing more relaxed with each breath.

"For instance, why did Emory call you Wednesday, and who's Lurch?" he asked and Hermione physically relaxed, feeling herself slouch in his embrace. "All right?" Draco wondered, noticing her behavior, and she sighed, nodding.

"Mmm," she mumbled in reply. "Lurch is the embalmer; his real name is Tim, but Emory thinks it's funny to pretend we really are the Addams family. So, therefore, I am Wednesday, and he is Lurch. We call Emory Fester in confidence, but it seems to unease him when we do it in front of other people."

"I figured as much," Draco admitted and sighed in content, peering up at the sky-lit ceiling and smiling at the rain. "I used to tell myself when I was younger that I'd have a room like this when I grew up. I wanted it big and empty, so you could lie on the floor and just watch the storms. And I'd move somewhere that it didn't snow, so I could always see, no matter when I wanted to; France, or Spain even. Maybe the States; it's supposed to rain a lot on the west coast."

"Did your fantasy involve a pretty girl and a cascade of deathboxes?" Hermione asked, eyes closed, and Draco chuckled, hugging her fleetingly.

"No," he admitted. "But I was a stupid kid; you know that." Hermione laughed softly, and reinstated the quiet; this time much more relaxed.

"How's Faye?" she asked finally, as if her mind had just then thought of her best mate, and she lifted her head slightly up, eyes now open and explorative of his face. "You must have had a trip on her if she told you where I worked." Draco chuckled.

"Yes; that said, note that I did nothing but emotional damage. She's probably home biting her nails, waiting for you to storm in and hex her to death. She's very paranoid; you're her friend, suggest counsel." Hiding her smile in his shirt, Hermione jammed a finger in his ribs as punishment for his words, and Draco overenthusiastically moaned in pain.

"You know," Hermione said softly once he had calmed his playful taunts. "I probably would have if you'd left me." At this, Draco frowned, tilting his head to kiss her crown.

"Hermione..." he said warningly, and she nodded, looking up at him.

"I know," she said. "I know better now. The fact of the matter is, Draco, you wouldn't be the first. Nor the second, nor the third. Never has anyone been so unbothered as you are; you almost seem intrigued. I'm beginning to think you're putting on show."

"I wouldn't," he told her, shaking his head. "Not when I know how much it means to you. I'm here for you now, Hermione; you don't have to think about those other idiots. It was their loss and I wish them luck in finding half your substitute, because more would be impossible." Hermione grinned up at him, her eyes shining with adoration. Draco watched her with a smile, still running nimble fingers over the gush of curls flowing over her shoulder. Hermione's heart swelled, and she allowed herself to grow with it, pushing up to steal a fiery kiss from Draco. She pushed him down to the floor and expertly swung one leg over his hips to straddle him. He enjoyed her for the time she was timid, but broke the kiss with a laugh as she started to pull his undershirt from where it was tucked into his trousers. "What are you doing?" he asked her, smiling, and Hermione returned it.

"I told you I'd make it up to you, last night," she reminded him. "I happen to have two and a quarter hours, give or take." Draco returned the next kiss she placed upon his swelling lips, and laughed softly as they broke again.

"Are you sure? I'm all for new experiences, but this is a bit... odd, don't you think?"

"We are not normal people, Draco," Hermione told him, smirking playfully. "I find joy in corpses, and you are mesmerized by knotholes. Somehow, I see this as fitting." He returned her mischievous guise.

"And I could never disagree."

-x- -x- -x-

Hermione entered her apartment mechanically and went about the task of removing her shoes and hanging her coat. She groaned softly, leaning backward in a stretch, and shuffled toward the kitchen, expecting Faye to be dining over her textbook. The room was empty of person, but full of food; evidently, Faye had taken the fall and had made a trip to the superette, as the open cupboards were filled with more than a week's worth of groceries and the countertops were littered with receipts and a balance sheet. Faye enjoyed knowing exactly how much money was in their shared bank account at all times, and would balance her checkbook at least once a day.

On the breakfast bar, a Styrofoam container harbored warming Chinese waited patiently for Hermione to consume it. She smiled softly at Faye's thought, as she most certainly did not feel like cooking, and popped a spoonful of rice into her mouth before making her way toward the bathroom. It did not occur to her until after her ritualistic shower that Faye had not pounced on her the moment she had entered the door, wanting details and biting back an 'I told you so'.

With her damp hair twisted into a bun atop her head, to ensure flowing waves as opposed to bushy curls, Hermione strode purposefully down the hall to Faye's room, listening through the wood to make sure her flatmate was alone before knocking softly on the door.

"Faye?" she asked softly, hoping not to wake her if she were for some reason asleep. "Are you all right?" There was no answer to her calls, and Hermione began to wonder if her flatmate was even at home. She turned the door knob slowly and cracked the slab open to peer into the room. Faye was sitting cross-legged on her bed, a marked book resting near her knee. She looked up with a devastating frown as Hermione appeared.

"I'm sorry," Faye stated without provocation, dropping her head into her hands. "I didn't mean to. He... he just makes me so mad, I don't think and... Blimey, Manny, I'm sorry." Hermione grinned and pushed the door open, entering the room and taking a seat on the edge of her friend's bed.

"It's all right, Faye; really."

"No, it's not all right; now you really will be a spinster with a thousand cats and it's my fault," she moaned, shaking her head, and Hermione laughed aloud. Faye looked up, startled.

"I mean it, Faye. It's okay; I'm okay, Draco's okay... we're okay. He didn't care, Faye. He more than didn't care; he touched me, while I was working. Before I'd even washed my hands." The blonde let her jaw drop as she stared at her friend.

"Really?" she asked, voice hushed in awe, and Hermione nodded. "Cor, you must be soul-mates." Hermione squealed.

"I know; isn't it amazing? I'd never have thought... even my mother hates me for this. He said it just makes me more interesting," she spouted, falling backward on the bed. Faye straightened, as if a thought had recently impacted her mind frame.

"Well?" she asked. "Now that I can stop wallowing in my misery over losing for you the man of your dreams, I do get details, do I not? What happened last night?" Hermione laughed softly and sighed.

"Not much, honestly. I tutored Marin, as I said... I'm really beginning to worry about her. I think she needs to open up to someone and I hate to say it, but if it can't be me I don't think it's going to happen. I'm all she really has; her father isn't one and her mother is practically comatose," she trailed off, frowning. Faye rolled her eyes.

"That's all terrible and sad, but I was talking about with Blondie."

"Oh, right," Hermione recalled, smiling. "Well, we watched the game and I fell asleep. The Deuces won, unfortunately. Then, we had a wonderful snog... until I had to break it off because I had to bloody work in the morning. He convinced me to stay, but nothing happened. We went to sleep and I left before he woke up."

"Aw, well that's disappointing," Faye said, slumping, and Hermione nodded in agreement, swinging her feet off the side of the cot. "What about this afternoon?" Hermione grinned wickedly.

"Much more interesting," she stated illusively, spiking Faye's attention. "He came in and I thought for sure it was the end of it, and I told him to leave and get it over with... but he stayed and, oh God, Faye, he was so sweet about everything. I didn't know what to make of it. He came to take me for lunch, and eventually we did go, but it was a little rushed." Faye lifted an eyebrow.

"What does that mean?" she wondered suggestively, and Hermione smirked.

"Well, in payment for an extra hour added to my lunch, I brought a casket to the warehouse for Emory, and Draco wanted to go with me," she said, staring dreamily at the ceiling. Faye anticipated her continuance. "He fell in love with a certain cherry wood model type Legacy, and we had a conversation concerning spell stitching and the placement of wood knots. After a while, we left and went to lunch. Then, he went home and I went back to Emory."

"Wait, wait, wait," Faye interrupted, trying to get her figures straight. "You said Emory gave you an extra hour for lunch, correct?"

"Mm-hm," Hermione agreed, nodding and swinging her feet.

"So you had a two and a half hour conversation about stitches and wood? Give or take for a quote 'rushed lunch'?"

"No," she said passively. "Only about fifteen minutes." Faye stared for a moment and realization dawned on her face.

"You didn't," she stated, and Hermione tried to look innocent. "You did! Hermione, you minx!" A sly smile forced itself onto Hermione's face and Faye squealed. "How was it?" Hermione groaned and rolled onto her side, drawing herself into a fetal position.

"Amazing," she praised, falling into memories. "Especially after my four year sexual sabbatical. The carpet was scratchy, though." Pausing in the indulgence of the imbrued fabrications which played through her mind, Faye pondered Hermione's afterthought. Merely a moment later, she gasped.

"You did it in the death house? Ugh, I think I'm going to lose my chicken chow mein."

"Shut your gob; I think it's romantic, if creepily so. I won't be able to see a casket now without thinking about it."

"Oh, and that's a wonderful memento, I would agree," Faye noted sarcastically and Hermione sighed, shaking her head.

"You'd have to feel it, Faye. You couldn't possibly understand."

"Hey," she scolded, pointing a finger. "I told you once he's not my type." With a disgusted moan, she placed a hand over her stomach. "And I've never been more sure."

-x- -x- -x-

A/N: Yes, a little shorter than normal, but there is a time change sequence coming right now that happens to involve a whole lot of explanation. Next chapter will hopefully be the end of Part 1 (I don't know if anyone noticed, but there are multiple parts to this story; they'll all be under Green Glass. We're still in part one). So it seemed only obvious to stop here.

Emory is not gay. I was planning to make him gay, but I changed my mind as I really didn't have reason to make him that way; it was a spur of the moment sort of idea. So, now he's just an old grandpa-like figure. I did change that part in the last chapter about him calling Draco 'cute'. Now he calls him 'Laddy' :oD Review; I think it's fixed now! Oh, and sorry to anyone who got a thousand updates for TUB9... it wasn't my fault. Common belief seemed to have been that I reposted my chapter over and over and over... but I don't' know why, because that would be stupid. Thank you for your concern though. I didn't, it was bloody ff.net.