*Tears* Oh my goodness! Is Bond over already? My heart! My HEART! I love this chapter, by the way, and I usually hate my work. This one has so much heart and soul. I hope it touches you in the way it touched me.

Thank you Waymay for sticking with this, adoring it, and believing in this story (and me) when I didn't. I couldn't have done this without you, so take a bow, my friend. XD

Also, there's a few references to Empire by Waymay and LightofEvolution's High on Magic. Can you find them? EASTER EGGS. THEY ARE MY THING. I'd like to think all the Dramiones I write/am in involved with are just alternate universes. Earth One. Earth Two. That's why I always put Easter Eggs.

Ready to find out Draco's secrets?

If you love, please leave a review and a favorite in your wake.
~A.


A/N: During Draco and Hermione's dance, please go to Youtube and turn on "Cold" by Jorge Mendez
It's what I imagine them dancing to, and it sets a tone for what transpires as Draco talks.


"Give Me Everything" by Pitbull Ft Neyo, Afrojack & Nayer


The green satin that the mask rested on, it turned out, was a folded Grecian style backless dress with mermaid skirting at the bottom, emerald green and obviously expensive. Hermione stared at it as it hung at the top of her closet door on a coat hook as she debated on whether or not to wear it. The dress was breathtaking, for sure, but she was still hurting from the elevator incident, not to mention her last conversation with him at Bond, and… well, she wanted to stick it to him, even if it would be saying no to the most gorgeous dress Hermione ever laid eyes on. To wear it meant to represent him, and could she do that in good conscience?

She wrote to Luna two days before the masquerade to ask if she would attend as well, and received a response the same day; Luna had been asked by Jez, the bartender, and yes, she would most definitely be attending. Luna also noted that she hadn't seen Hermione in a few weeks, and asked if everything was alright. Hermione replied promptly stating everything was just fine, and that she would love to have a drink with her at Bond during the masquerade.

The rain slapped heavily against the windows of her flat come evening, and Hermione knew she wouldn't receive a reply from Luna until morning, when the rain let up and owls could continue their postal delivery. Still pondering over whether or not to wear the dress, Hermione made herself a nice cup of hot tea and curled up on her sofa with a book, 'It's All Business' by Vivian Brown. She'd read the novel three times already, but she simply couldn't put it down. Another thing she could never admit to Ginny: Hermione Granger enjoyed snarky romance novels, and this one was quite entertaining. A man, struggling to build his empire from the ground up, and a beautiful, successful partner who helped to keep his businesses from going under. Not to mention, all of the juicy sexy bits.

She was just finding her favorite chapter to re-read when someone knocked softly on her front door. Hermione narrowed her eyes. No one bothered to come to the front door anymore. They always used the floo. She stood at once, carefully tucking her book under a cushion, and walked across the room. She pressed her ear to the door and said, in her most pleasant voice, "Who is it?"

" 'Mione…" The soft, drunken drawl of one Ronald Bilius Weasley could be heard from the other side.

"Ron?" Hermione unlocked the door and pried it open; before her, sopping wet from head to toe, was her ex-husband, his red hair dripping in sheets off of his head and his wand in plain view from the hallway as he clutched it within his hands. "Ron! What are you- get in here – oh, for heaven's sake…" She pulled him in at once and fetched a towel from the linen closet, wrapping it around his shoulders before escorting him to the sofa to sit down. Ron hiccupped, thanked her, and began to towel off his hair.

Hermione took a seat next to him with a smaller towel and began to dab at his rain covered face and neck. "Did you Apparate to my front door?" she asked, scolding. He distinctly smelled of alcohol.

Ron hiccupped again, nodding. "Your floo was shut off."

"Oh." Hermione looked over to her fireplace, realizing she had closed it down nearly every night this week, just in case a certain blonde decided to try to show up at her place, unannounced. "I… I'd forgotten." She patted his ear with the towel, affectionate in her ministrations. "Ron, why are you here?"

Ron hiccupped a third time, rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve, and said, "I kissed someone, Mione. I kissed a woman tonight."

"Well… well, that's good, isn't it?" Hermione frowned, unsure of how the act of Ron kissing someone sparked him to show up at her doorstep in the middle of a rainstorm.

"Is it?" Ron sighed, casting his eyes to the floor. "I haven't kissed anyone else, before tonight. Not since you." He hugged the towel around himself, and Hermione softened her expression, understanding. Even though their marriage was over, it still was something else to move on entirely. She'd felt that, too, the night she'd fallen into Draco's lap.

"Ron," she said gently, "It's alright to move on."

He nodded, slowly, prying his eyes up to hers. "I know. -And I know that, I really do, but…" His eyebrows furrowed, and he let the faintest of smiles creep across his face. "It's just… weird. You know? It's like it confirmed that we were over. And… I felt guilty, because…"

"Because you liked it?" Hermione offered. Ron nodded. "I know what you mean."

"You do?" his voice went up an octave, and a protective stance formed in his shoulders. "You've kissed someone else, then?"

She didn't want to skirt around the issue- especially since Ron was so forthcoming in his actions. "I have." She gave a nod. "I would have told you, but we haven't been on the best speaking terms as of late."

"No, I know. And I'm sorry about that." Ron pulled his eyes from hers and stared down at his hands, which were folded in his lap. "I just needed time. To move on."

"I did, too. I'm not cross about it."

They both sat in silence, mulling over the other's words. Finally, Ron spoke again. "I don't know why I felt I needed to come over here and tell you about it. Wasn't tryin' to gloat or anything. I just…"

"It's alright," Hermione placed her hand on his shoulder. "I understand. We're still friends, even after everything. And you were being sensitive of my feelings. I appreciate that."

"You do?"

"I do." She hugged his shoulders and kissed him on the forehead. "Would you like some tea?"

"Yeah." Ron nodded, smiling. "Tea sounds great. -Got any of those crumpets your Mum sends you around the holidays left over? Those are wicked awesome…"

"I'll see what I can scrounge up."

Hermione made her way to the kitchen, fixed Ron a piping hot cup of herbal grey, and found her secret tin stashed on top of the fridge full of her mother's homemade goodies. She brought a plate of crumpets, jam, and then went back for the tea before sitting down and enjoying some of the baked goods with him. They sat in silence, occasionally smiling as they chewed, until the entire plate was void of food. Then, Ron leaned back on the sofa and said, "I miss this, sometimes."

"The food?"

"The friendship. -Merlin, Hermione. I never meant for us to stop talking when all this was done." He rubbed the back of his head, thinking. "We were always good friends, you know?"

"I know exactly what you mean." She nodded. "But I want you to know, it is perfectly alright with me to move on with your life. I want you to be happy, Ron. You deserve it."

"So do you," he said with a smile, reaching over to give her hand a squeeze. "So… erm…" He cleared his throat. "This man you're seeing. He got a name? Anyone I know?"

"Oh, um…" Hermione chose over her words carefully. "It's not exclusive. Just a couple of evenings out. I believe you've heard his name come up between our social circles before…"

"Who is he?"

"Who is she?" Hermione poked him in the chest with a finger. "An eye for an eye, Ronald Weasley."

Ron laughed. "Yeah, alright. I met her through Neville. She was a couple of years younger than us in school. Name's Millie. -Who's your bloke, then?"

Hermione scrunched her face. "I'm… I'm not sure I'm allowed to tell you."

"Allowed?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

"No, I don't mean… I'm allowed, I suppose, to say anything I want to. He's… he just got out of a pretty nasty divorce, and I'm not even sure if it'll work out, in the end…"

"Does he make you happy?" Ron asked, putting his finger underneath her chin to tilt her head up to his. "Honestly, Mione? Does he?"

Hermione thought it over. "Yes. When I'm with him… it's easier. It doesn't hurt as much."

"That's how I feel about Millie," Ron agreed. He smiled, removing his hand back into his lap. "As long as he treats you right, you have my support."

"Same to you." Hermione smiled back. "With Millie."

She watched him give a hearty stretch and stand, pulling her up with him to fold his arms around her in a warm, caring hug. "You'll always be my best friend. I want to be able to tell you things."

"Then stop being such a stranger," she teased, poking him in the chest again when he released her. "I expect you to treat Millie nice, as well. Give her all the respect she deserves and all that."

Ron stuck his tongue out at her and slopped the towel from his shoulders onto her head, making Hermione scream. "Serves you right," he laughed as she ripped the towel off and threw it to the floor. "Harry and I are grabbing dinner Friday night, if you wanna come."

Hermione's eyes glanced over to the box sitting on her kitchen counter, where the masquerade mask resided. "As tempting as the offer sounds," she said, "I'm going to have to take a raincheck."

"Your mystery man?" Ron teased.

Hermione shoved him in the shoulder. "Something like that."

"Right, well… don't be a stranger, Mione."

"I won't, as long as you promise not to."

"It's a promise, then." He smiled and walked to the door. "Thanks for the talk."

"Don't you want to use the floo?" Hermione asked, gesturing to the fireplace.

Ron shook his head, laughing. "Nah. I think a walk in the rain is just what I need. Love you, Mione."

And even though Hermione knew it meant something different, it still put a flutter in her heart. Not because she wanted him to love her like a husband again- on the contrary. She much rather enjoyed this side of Ron -a best friend. A confidant. Someone she could lean a shoulder on. That kind of love, reserved for friendship, was something special indeed. "Love you too, Ronald. Get going, now, and stop by Millie's on the way home."

"Maybe I will," he said, opened the door, and stepped across the threshold. The click of the door shutting made Hermione's chest tighten. What was the old saying? One door closes as another door opens?

She snatched up her book, curled back on the sofa, and fantasized about Draco Malfoy being the downtrodden businessman in her book. One thing was for sure; Hermione Granger would go to drinks with Draco Malfoy. And she would give him every opportunity to step through the door she opened for him.


The dress Hermione settled on was still, in essence, the dress he'd picked out for her -except, in a bold act of rebellion, she'd changed the color to gold. As she stared at herself in the mirror, with the dress glimmering in the reflection, she couldn't help but be in pure awe of who stared back. She managed to tuck her hair up into a bun, straightened by three different hair solutions and a few anti-frizz spells in her arsenal. She'd written to Draco yesterday to invite him over before drinks, and, also, so that she could get a few things straight. If tonight ended up being a disaster, she wanted it to be on her terms. Not his.

She glanced at the clock hanging above her fireplace: 7:45. He'd arrive any moment now, and she nervously played with a fallen lock of hair, trying to get it to tuck back into place under a bobby pin near the top of the bun. The fire behind her lit to life in green flames, but Hermione was too nervous to turn around immediately when he stepped through. She continued to fidget with the strand of hair, opting to glancing up through the mirror as he approached her from behind.

"Hello," she said, trying her best to sound casual as she finally got the strand underneath the cursed pin. His eyes caught with hers in the mirror, and he stopped his approach, cautious. "Found your way alright, I take it?"

Draco nodded, running his hands down the sides of his onyx dress slacks. "You're not wearing the dress I bought for you."

Hermione straightened her posture, inhaled, and turned around to face him. His eyes were darker than normal -smoldering as he took in the breathtaking sight of her. "No, this is the dress," she assured him.

"But you changed the color?" he perched an eyebrow, tucking his arms behind his back as he made the rest of his way to her, standing only a foot away now. "Not that it isn't pretty… but why?"

"Because you don't deserve to see me in your favorite color," she said bitterly and watched as his other eyebrow shot up. A now matching set rested in the middle of his forehead, and he pursed his lips.

"You're still cross with me."

"You're damn right I am," she said, folding her arms. "Did you think I wouldn't be, after what transpired in the elevator earlier this week?"

Draco withdrew his eyes from hers, resting them down at his shoes, instead. Unlike the commanding, dominating man he could be in Bond, the Draco Malfoy that stood before her was reserved. Careful. He crossed his arms, mirroring her, and muttered, "I apologize."

Hermione had anticipated quips -angry, saucy remarks. This version of Draco, so cool and quiet… it made her uneasy. She'd been prepared for shouting. For domination. For him to tell her what for. Instead, she felt like she was chastising a boy. It didn't make her feel big -it made her feel quite small.

She redirected her anger into quieter, gentler words. "Why didn't you acknowledge me? At all?"

"I couldn't," he said, raising his head back up to meet hers. "Don't give me that look, Hermione. I mean it. There's a lot you don't understand, and I'm trying to make that up to you, tonight."

"So do it," she told him. "Explain."

"I will." He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat. "But you're going to have to let me explain my way. Alright? Demanding from me won't do anything but set me off. You're going to have to trust me, and let me explain over the course of the evening. Can you do that?" There were hints of demand in his voice, along with subtle undertones of desperation. Maybe she misjudged his cool, quiet demeanor. He wasn't being timid; he was holding back. Keeping his emotions in check. How very peculiar.

"I can," she replied. "As long as you promise to explain everything. No more secrets."

He uncrossed his arms and reached out, trailing his fingers down her shoulder, her arm, her wrist, until finally intertwining her fingers with his. "No more secrets," he agreed, nodding. He allowed his eyes to skim over hers, hunger building behind them. "You look marvelous, pet. Even if you won't wear it green, the dress looks dazzling on you."

Hermione, in spite of her heart that hurt so much these last few weeks, blushed bright scarlet at the compliment and swallowed a nervous lump in her throat. "Th-thank you."

The faintest glimmer of a smirk brushed across his mouth. "Drinks, then?"

"Drinks," she nodded, thankful that the tension between them lessened, even if ever so slightly.

Draco pulled her hand laced with his up to his lips and kissed it chastely. The comment to follow was not so innocent. "Might I enquire as to your choice in undergarments this evening?"

"You may not," she quipped back humorously.

His eyes turned up to the clock on her mantle and back to her. "We still ten minutes before our reservations… I could always take that dress off you."

"Don't you dare. It took me forever to get into it." She rolled her eyes. "Besides, you haven't earned the right to know -after what you've put me through."

"Oh? It's what I've put you through, is it?" Draco carefully used his free hand to trail feather-like touches down the open back of her dress along her spine before drawing her closer with a gentle nudge to the sway in her back. "If you think, for a moment, I haven't been in torment these last three weeks, you're sorely mistaken." He pulled her close, cheek to cheek, and whispered, "I haven't been able to think straight since you walked out that night. My entire world shifted without you."

"You're very capable with words," she chided, attempting to stay in control of her feelings. It was difficult when she was in such a close proximity to him. "But how well can you match those words up with actions, I wonder?"

"Don't tempt me to." He licked along the shell of her ear. "You've no idea how much I want to forget this evening's festivities and-"

"-And we should get going, shouldn't we?"

"Of course." Draco kissed her cheek sensually before withdrawing his face from hers and kissing her hand a second time. "Side-Apparation alright with you, pet?"

"Sure."

He scooped his arm around her side, kissed her cheek, and smirked. "Lovely. Grab your mask, then."


Madam Mystique was bustling this Friday evening with elitist wizards and witches -Hermione could hardly believe Draco was able to get them such a lavish table out on the balcony to themselves, but then, given some thought, she could. He was a spoiled, rich heir with more inheritance than he knew what to do with. All he had to do was shake his arm and thousands of galleons would fall out as pocket change.

The table they sat at was simply decorated; a black table cloth, one candle that never seemed to go out, despite the warm breeze, Hermione's masquerade mask, and a single red rose tucked in a stemmed vase. And wine. A large bottle sat between them, already half-way down despite the short duration of time that passed since their arrival. Hermione tried to let the conversation flow naturally -even though she wanted to push the subject of his secret, she knew when to let things simmer. So, instead, she brought up the other touchy subject on the agenda for the evening; Astoria Greengrass.

Somewhere between Draco pouring her a third glass of wine and the arrival of a slice of white chocolate cake for them to split, Hermione asked, in her most casual tone, "So, I couldn't help but notice that you and Astoria had business at the Ministry this week." She watched Draco's eyes snap up to hers as he set the wine bottle back on the tabletop. "But I don't think it had anything to do with your divorce proceedings."

"What makes you say that?"

"The floor you chose. Department of International Magical Cooperation."

"You're observant."

"It's the floor below mine. Sort of hard to miss."

"Clearly."

"So… what brought you two to the D.O.I.M.C.?"

"Business."

"Business?" Hermione could hear the skepticism in her own voice. "What sort of business?"

"International, apparently." Draco smirked.

"Yes, but that floor is mainly reserved for businesses. So was your business a business?"

"Merlin, you're perceptive. -More perceptive than Astoria would have ever been."

Hermione, to do something, reached for her fork and gently stabbed a piece of cake. "She's pretty." She didn't let her eyes rise to his. She couldn't bring herself to. The subject hurt.

Draco's hand reached out across the table, beside the plate, and his fingers wrapped around her wrist, catching it before she could pull away. "You're prettier."

She gave a snarky laugh. "Hardly." Staring down at his fingers, she muttered, "Why did you ignore me in the elevator that day?"

Draco gave a heavy sigh, released her wrist, and withdrew his hand into his lap. The wind picked up, blowing his hair this way and that. It only added to his charm. "Astoria and I have been over for a very, very long time." He raised his gaze, catching hers as she dared look up from the plate. When their eyes connected, it was like time shifted. She'd spend an eternity here if it meant she could stare into those opals of slate gray that melted her heart like chocolate on a stovetop. "But, we have a lot of investments together. Had. It's done now. We split our assets – that's what we were doing in the D.O.I.M.C. -Astoria's still extremely jealous, even though she was the one that tore our marriage apart. If she knew I were seeing someone-"

"-she wouldn't have signed the paperwork to split your assets."

"Precisely." A bit braver, he raised his wineglass to her, prompting her to do the same. When she did, they clinked the glasses together and sipped gingerly at the alcohol. Hermione looked down at the wine in her glass, but did not sip.

"You still could have said 'hello'."

"You don't know Astoria."

"You're right. I don't. But I, apparently, don't know you as well. -You're completely different outside of Bond."

"Am I?"

"You're not… well, dominating."

Draco chuckled, taking another swig of his wine. "Can't be that way all the time, pet. There are levels of… appearance to keep."

"So which is the real you?"

"Both." He shrugged. "Does that bother you?"

Hermione thought about it then shook her head. "I don't think so. So, this you right now. The one seated across the table from me. This is you? The real you and not an act?"

"Why would you think it was?"

"Because I've seen you, Draco. -The real you. And it isn't like this at all."

He perched an eyebrow. "Isn't it?"

"You're… gentle."

He scoffed. "Hardly."

"You are." Hermione placed the napkin from her lap on the table and stood. Draco sat his newly emptied wine glass down on the table and followed suit. They stared each other down, until, finally, Hermione stepped around the table and, when she was sure no waiter or waitress would disturb them, she leaned up on her tip toes and kissed him gently under the jaw, just where he liked it. Draco inhaled softly, a satisfied moan of approval escaping his lips. He coiled his fingers around both her wrists and gripped them as he attempted to keep steady on his feet. Hermione pulled away lightly, meeting his gentle stare. "There you are."

His eyes narrowed, and he tried desperately to slip the domination on his features, but it didn't settle. He only looked bewildered and frustrated as he released her wrists and took a step back. "Stop it."

"Stop what?" she whispered, closing the space between them while simultaneously gracing her fingers down the side of his cheek.

"That." He fought the urge to close his eyes at her touch and swatted her hand away with a brush of his own fingers. "Quit trying to tame me."

"It's alright, you know." She said her words carefully. "To be vulnerable around me. It's alright."

Draco snorted another laugh and turned his face away, overlooking the balcony. "Vulnerability is something I don't possess."

"Everyone is vulnerable to something. -Why can't your something be me?"

He still stared off, but his voice was softer when he said, "You'd want to be my vulnerability, Hermione? Well, fine. You have it. You're my goddamn weakness. That what you want to hear?" He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, crossing his arms.

"If it's the truth," she replied.

"Hmph." Once again, he tried to shift into his dominant personality, squaring his shoulders and tensing his features in foreboding ways. It came easier to him, this time, and he uncrossed his arms, instead cupping her cheek with one of his hands and rubbing the pad of his thumb against her lower lip. "I'd rather be your weakness."

"You are," she admitted. Draco blinked. Then his eyebrows crinkled. And then his other hand was on her face, settling her jaw in his palms.

"Am I?"

Hermione kissed his thumb gently as it grazed over her mouth. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"You are."

"You can be vulnerable and still be in control." She leaned into his left palm, closing her eyes. "If this means something to you, that is."

"You think it doesn't?"

"We meet in a club. Friday nights. And fool around. That hardly constitutes as something more." She opened her eyes, bravery shrouding them. "I can understand if that's all you want." Though she knew it would break her heart.

"What do you want?" he asked slowly.

"I suppose… that depends on your secret."

Draco rolled his eyes and released her face at once. Hermione stumbled ever so slightly, taken aback by the lack of control she now felt. "I told you, I'll tell you in my own time."

She sighed and brushed her hands on her dress in nervousness. "Well, excuse me for trying."

"We should go," he told her.

"You're just going to shut me out? Just like that?"

"I'm not shutting you out, Hermione," he said, reproachful. "You're simply impatient. -You want my secret? You'll have it. All of it."

"Really?"

"Yes. Really." He tapped his foot. "Well? Get your mask. I can't very well give you your bloody answers with you twiddling your thumbs, can I?"

Hermione grabbed her mask off of the table and grinned ear-to-ear. "Lead the way, then."


The Apparition Point in front of Bond twinkled like starlight as they arrived. Hermione's eyes took a moment to adjust, but when they did, she realized candles hovered in the air at different intervals of height, leading a path to Bond's entrance. It was startling, and beautiful, and Hermione couldn't help but cover her mouth and gasp. "Oh, wow."

"Pretty, isn't it?"

"It's beautiful." The arm she laced around his tightened, and she felt a tightening in her chest. This was it. She was only moments away from his secret, and it frightened her. What if it was something scandalous? What if it broke her heart a thousand ways till Sunday? -But what if it didn't? What if it was something she could tolerate? Then, she thought, she'd need to make a decision on where she stood with Draco Malfoy, where she wanted to be, and if their two paths would cross again, knowing what was in her heart.

"Put your mask on, pet," Draco whispered in her ear, commanding. Hermione unwrapped her arm from around him, allowed him to hand her the mask (which he held in his hands as they Apparated) and, with a careful motion, slid it over her face and positioned the band behind her head. Once again, she felt the magic do the rest, settling the mask to fit her features in all the right ways. She could see it glimmer back in his eyes; green. Then gold. "Merlin," he muttered, dragging his finger along her jaw seductively as he tilted her head upwards. "It's perfect on you."

Hermione focused everything she had on finding a reply as she melted over the gravel in his voice. "Where's your mask?"

"Inside," he retorted simply, stepping forward, and, by default, leading her down the cobblestone pathway towards the front door.

"Wait. What?" Hermione furrowed her eyebrows as she stepped alongside him. "You just left your mask in Bond?"

"With the bartender, yes."

"And they didn't mind?"

Draco chuckled. "Didn't seem to." He guided her all the way to the front door, clasped his hand around the knocker, and tapped one, two, three-four. The door opened to the 'dark hallway' glamour, and Draco smirked at Hermione, his confidence building with each passing second. Bond brought it out of him. Truly, he felt at ease here, and Hermione wondered why exactly. Why did he feel so happy here when he didn't do things with anyone else but Hermione? What did he get out of it before she came along? A night out with his friends? She doubted Draco Malfoy cared that much for his friends. Or anything, for that matter. So why was it here that she saw his bravado?

Together, they stepped through the glamour, and Hermione all but had the breath knocked out of her by the extraordinary transformation Bond took tonight.

Instead of flashing club lights and bodies gyrating together across a sex-driven dance crowd, Bond took a turn for the intimate, playing soft, classical music in updated, contemporary ways. Gone were the strobe lights, and in their place were more candles floating like those outside. Every attendant was dressed at least semi-casual, with more still who opted to wear, like Draco and Hermione, more traditional, upscale couture. There wasn't a single person in attendance who didn't adorn a masquerade mask of some sort, though, Hermione thought to herself, none of them were near as glamorous as the one she wore. Draco must have spent a fortune on this dress… and mask… oh, Lord. Why did she wear it? What if it tore? What if she couldn't squeeze back out and he needed to cut it off of her? Tempting thought but she didn't want to ruin this stunning dress! 'Well, you already did. You changed the color, you stubborn-headed witch!' she inwardly scolded herself.

Piano and violins strummed her eardrums as Draco led them to the bar, where he tapped on the bar top once, startling Jez, the bartender, from her crouched position beneath the bar. She sprang up, a basin of lemons in her hands, and sighed when she realized it wasn't a sinister foe. "Goddamn it, Mister Malfoy. You scare the Hell out of me every time you do that."

"Poor you," Draco chided, pulling Hermione against him as he kissed her cheek.

Jez gave Hermione an approving once over.

"Well, you clean up nice." Her tone was short. "Right. I expect you'll be wanting your mask, then?" she asked Draco, who nodded in response. Jez set her basin of lemons on the bar top, strolled down to the end, poured a patron a shot, and retrieved a small, black box from a drawer beneath the counter. Most of the attendees were dancing amongst the dance floor while staff in white dress robes served fluted glasses of champagne. "Here you go." Jez set the box in front of Draco, nodding curtly.

Hermione watched as Draco opened the box, and she expected to find his black domino mask. Instead, Draco cradled a mask much similar to hers in his fingertips, though it did not slant at the tips the way hers did. It was stunning, and masculine, and delicate all at once. Much the way Draco was.

"You really made that poor witch watch your mask for you?" she scolded.

"Of course I did," Draco replied, slipping the mask on his face. The spell did the rest, conforming it to his sharp features. The mask was bright, yet subtly so, and offset his dark blazer and white button down shirt in the most flattering of ways. "After all," he added, straightening the mask ever so slightly, "Jez works for me. She had to do it, if she wanted to keep her job. Isn't that right, Jezebelle?"

MHermione blinked once. Twice. Three times. She watched Jez stick out her tongue, give Draco the finger, and saunter away down to the other end of the bar. Watched as Draco reached over the counter, pulled up a bottle of scotch and two glasses, and set them down idly. Watched as he poured the drinks, a smirk creeping up his lips.

"You alright there, pet?"

"You… own Bond?" she said at last, grasping the counter for support as her knees threatened to go out from underneath her. Draco nodded in response, setting a glass of scotch in her hand.

"Drink," he told her, "It'll help warm you up to the idea."

Hermione cleared her throat before tipping back the liquor and downing it whole. It burned, and her throat ached, but she swallowed it until there was no more.

"Scotch is meant to be sipped," he muttered.

She slammed the glass down on the bar top. "You own Bond." This time, it wasn't a question.

"I do." His stare was even as he sipped from his own drink.

Hermione gave a small, chirpy laugh. "You own Bond." The more she said it, the less ridiculous it sounded. Of course, he owned Bond. How else did he know the rooms so well without having used them? How else did he always manage to have the best seats in the house? How else did he always manage to have alcohol at his disposal whenever desired? "…Is this your secret?" she asked, eyebrows drawing together in realization as she stared into those icy, metallic orbs he called eyes.

"Partially," he said quietly, taking another pull of his alcohol.

Nodding, Hermione picked up her glass and shoved it into his free hand. "Another drink, then, barkeep."

"I'm the owner, not the bloody… fine." He rolled his eyes and poured her another. She plucked it up immediately and began to 'sip' (though it was rather more a slurp) until her nerves finally were quenched in alcohol's kiss. She began to ponder how she hadn't come up with the idea before. He'd even mentioned investors being a key reason he played nice with Astoria. Damn it all! Hermione should have figured this out sooner. Her alcohol nearly downed, again, she inhaled sharply and cleared her throat.

"Take me to Tier Three, then."

It was Draco's turn to down his drink, and he hissed at the fire in his throat. "First, let me catch you up on a few key things." He wiped his lips with his fingers and looked her once over. "Merlin, I never wanted it to come to this."

"Come to what?"

"To admit it all to you," he mumbled, reaching out to cup her face. "But… Hell, if I don't, you'll leave again, won't you?"

"Yes." Hermione nodded. She couldn't deny it -if she were shut in the dark any more, she'd be gone, even if it hurt her more than anything else. "So fess up."

"Dance with me?"

They both glanced out at the floor as a calm, peaceful song took wing, breaking out amongst gentle piano caresses and melancholy violins. "Alright," she said. "And you'll explain everything?"

"I will." Draco took her hand and led her away from their glasses of scotch, to the center of the dance floor, where he placed a hand delicately on her side and another in her hand. Hermione was impressed; he held his stance with such poise. Gently, she rested her free hand on his shoulder, and he led her in a side step, beginning their dance. Draco pressed his cheek against hers, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered, "I own Bond, Hermione. I've owned it in its entirety, since the beginning. However… I didn't do it by myself…"


Draco watched Astoria stare out the window of their bedroom, wondering to himself what she stared at when she got this way. She didn't speak to him- didn't even acknowledge his existence on most days since the suggestion. It hurt him, more than anything, to admit to himself that he might have screwed up his marriage by suggesting with six little words: 'I want to try something different.'

"Tori," he started, hooking his feet over the bed while simultaneously setting his book down. Astoria still did not look at him, staring at whatever it is she stared at. "Tori, would you look at me, please?"

Astoria's eyebrows crinkled together. "Why don't you like what we do?"

"It's not that I don't," he said, "But… you have to admit… there's other ways of exploring each other's bodies. More intimacy."

"Intimacy," Astoria scoffed quietly. "Is that what you call wanting to control me?"

"I'd let you control me. Hell, I'd let you control everything we do, if we could just… try something different." He sneered the words, knowing it hurt her. "A bloke's got to have more than just missionary, Astoria. I just want to be able to… to show you what you mean to me."

"And you think that's done by tying me up? Don't make me laugh, Draco Malfoy. You simply want control, same as you ever wanted."

"You're looking at it all wrong," he told her. "There's so much intimacy in letting go. In giving in to someone else. I'm not the only one in the world who thinks the way I do, you know. There's loads of others out there who-"

"-Who what?" She finally turned to look at him, disdain written in her eyes.

Draco's eyes darkened. "Who know that sex can be more. It can be so much more, Astoria, if you let it." He crossed the room and took a seat on the floor, kneeling at her feet. There, he kissed her hands folded in her lap and ran his fingers up her legs. "Let me show you."

Astoria scoffed again, louder this time. "I highly doubt anyone else sees your depravity."

"Bet on it?" he challenged.


"Wait," Hermione stopped him. "You opened Bond on a bet?"

"More like a dare," he replied, guiding them gently around the floor, his feet sure and steady. "And Astoria, being the strong-willed woman she was, -still is- took the bait. She's much more accepted in the business world than myself… being… well, to put it plainly, an Ex-Death Eater and all." She could literally hear the flinch in his tone. "She gathered investors; I put together the funds. Together, we built an empire from the ground up."

"The rooms… they're your ideas?"

"Most of them, yes. Your friend, Loony, offered up some ideas when she heard about the business. She came on to the development team and worked on evolving some of the more magical aspects of the establishment."

Hermione took a beat to process. "Luna helped develop Bond? How did that happen?"

"She and Astoria's older sister, Daphne, go way back. It's all about who you know, you know?"

"Yeah…" she muttered, inwardly cursing Luna for not dishing out this secret she was so obviously in on. "The name, Bond…"

"I wanted to name it something fitting. Something that would reestablish the intimacy lost between couples like Astoria and I. Bloody good that did me…"

"You're a romantic."

"Don't sully my good name with that word."

"You are, though. You built an entire industry because you wanted to save your marriage? Draco, I don't know anyone else who would go so far."

He scoffed with a small laugh. "It didn't work, though. Or maybe, it worked too well…"


"You want to what?" Draco stood in the empty dance room at four in the afternoon, staring at his wife.

"You said it yourself. We should try new things," Astoria told him, crossing her arms.

"I meant positions and equipment. Not -this." He gestured to the black domino masks, at least fifty to count, sitting on a nearby table. "Encouraging people to swing? You think that's really a good idea?"

"It's not encouraging. But those who want to should know what they're getting into. There should be some establishment of those who are taken from those who aren't -no mixed feelings and all that."

Draco scowled, looking from the masks to Astoria. "And do you expect us to wear these as well?"

"We're taken, aren't we? Married. To each other."

"Obviously." He began to pace. "But… I don't want anyone else, Astoria. I want you. That's it. If you put that mask on, you're basically saying you'll swing."

"Do you want me to be happy, Draco? Isn't that want you've wanted? Since opening Bond?"

"Of course I do. But we've barely tried out any of the rooms, and now you want couples to blatantly show off their status? It's asking for trouble."

"Nonsense. It'll be fun." Astoria strolled over to the table, plucked up two masks, and offered one out to him. "Come on, Draco. For me?" She looked at him sweetly, practically begging him with her eyes. Draco was torn. In his head and in his heart. But he didn't want to let his wife down. Not when she looked at him with such adoration.

"Alright, Astoria. We'll give it a try."


"Anonymity is a powerful magic," Draco told Hermione. "It can make even the tamest of witches into another being. Astoria… she liked being someone else. Who she was behind the mask- it was different. She could be anyone she wanted to. She didn't have to be Draco Malfoy's wife, or an heir to the Greengrass estate… that kind of power is consuming. And by the time I realized what happened, I barely recognized the woman she'd become."


"A third tier? What's wrong with the two we have now?"

Astoria brushed her hair in the mirror, glancing back at Draco through the reflection. "I think it would be good for business."

"You think it would be good for you to go knocking boots with other men. That's what it is, Astoria." Draco clenched and unclenched his fists, trying to steady his heart rate as it pattered against his chest like a hailstorm. "I don't want a third tier. I don't want a bawdy house in Bond, or you anywhere near one. I want my wife back."

Astoria merely shrugged and continued to brush her hair. "You were the one who wanted 'different', Draco. Now you'll deny me that?"

Draco's hands shook violently, and, with an unexpected flare of magic, the vase next to Astoria's seat shattered. Water dripped down the vanity, splattering against the mirror and altering her reflection as she glared back at him.

"I will not stand for this," he seethed in a whisper.

"I've already put a construction contract out. And, seeing as how I'm the primary owner, you really don't have much of a say in it at all."

"I did that as a gift to you. Now you're going to do this? To us? To our marriage?"

Astoria swiveled around in her chair. "What marriage?" she asked coldly.


"-No matter how much I begged, or pleaded, Astoria did not budge an inch. She built her little playhouse on the third floor and whored herself out to willing clientele." His voice was bitter, angry even. Still, he managed to guide Hermione gracefully in his arms as he danced with her. "I created Bond as a way to become more intimate with her, and come to find out -it wasn't the adventure she didn't care for. It was me." He slowed them for half a moment, pensive. "That's why I never want to take you to the Third Tier." He brushed his lips against her ear. "I meant it when I said I never wanted to share you with anyone else."

Hermione closed her eyes, tears threatening the corners. Hearing Draco's story… it stirred a sense of sadness deep within her heart. What her and Ron went through… it was nothing compared to Draco's downfall of marriage. That cold, calloused woman. Hermione wanted to rip her elegant throat out. "I had no idea…"

"No one does. Blaise and Pansy… they know a bit. Not all of it, but enough."

"So when you wear the domino mask," Hermione said, trying to fit the pieces together, "You do it because your heart still hurts, and you don't want to become emotionally attached to anyone. Besides being 'married' to the public, it's your way of guarding yourself."

"Something like that," he admitted, dipping her suddenly. Hermione gasped, not expecting the fall, but she found Draco's arm a steady brace. Slowly, he dipped his head low until their noses touched, the colors of their masks shifting in unison now; silver, red, green, gold. He drew the moment out, searching her eyes for something, but she didn't know what. Then, carefully, he brought her upright to stand, reached up, and pried the mask up to his hairline. "But I'm tired of hiding," he said, smiling at her. He was the only one, in a crowded room, whose face could be seen clearly. They'd stopped dancing, but no one paid them any mind. So they stood there, in each other's arms, while Draco cupped Hermione's face thoughtfully. "I meant it when I said I was glad you fell into my lap that night, Hermione." He beckoned her with his soft touch to draw closer, and she did, finding them, once again, nose-to-nose. "I… I've wanted to tell you… for a long time… that-"

Large, masculine hands came out of nowhere and rested on both of their shoulders, startling them out of their trances as a voice boomed, "There you two are! Been lookin' everywhere for you!"

"Blaise! Goddamn it!" Draco snapped at once, spinning his head towards the shave-headed man adorned in a green, feathery mask.

"I told you to leave them alone," said Pansy, pushing her way directly between two lovers about to kiss and shoving them out of the way to make a beeline for her husband. Her mask was an exact copy of Blaise's, but with far more feathers. "I bet he hasn't even told her yet!"

"I was getting to it," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. Hermione couldn't help but laugh -of course, they'd be interrupted. Fate wouldn't have it any other way. She watched him give a rough sigh and rub his fingers down his face comically. "Before Blaise ruins it, I might as well get it out in the open. -The masquerade tonight is my way of celebrating."

"Celebrating?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows. They could barely be seen behind the translucent glow of her mask.

"The reason I was in the D.O.I.M.C. -It was because Astoria, finally, agreed to sign Bond over to me. All of it." He tilted his head, smirking. "You're looking at the proud, sole owner of Bond. Tier Three will no longer be Astoria's little playground. It's been shut down. Permanently."

Hermione's eyes widened, and she looked between Blaise and Pansy for confirmation. They nodded enthusiastically. She looked back to Draco, astonished, and said, "How did you manage that?"

"We've been working on it for months," Blaise said at once, nearly stepping between the two as he explained. "Sabotaging Astoria's investors."

"You mean sleeping with them," Pansy smirked. "Blaise and I were a double team of charm. It was fairly easy blackmailing a few investors. Especially since they didn't want their spouses knowing about their extramarital affairs."

"Too many people wanted to pull out of the company for Astoria to keep her talons in," Draco chimed in, grinning ear-to-ear. "And I refused to back up any more funding. Without investors, the business would have gone under. So, I promised Astoria I'd let her keep her lifestyle here if she signed the company over to me." He brought Hermione's hand up to his lips and kissed her knuckles. "Do you understand now, pet? Why I couldn't acknowledge you outright? If Astoria had any inkling she still wasn't the center of my pining heart, as overly jealous as she is, she would have refused to sign the company over. As it were…" He side-shouldered Blaise out of the way, scooped Hermione into his arms, and brushed his lips across hers. "As soon as the documents were signed and stamped by the Ministry, I told her all about you and I. And permanently disbarred her from Bond."

"You -you did what?" she gasped, trying to hold back the laughter. It was all so overwhelming, and yet touching. Hermione's heart beat a mile a minute as she curled her arms around his neck and kissed him full on the mouth. She didn't know exactly why – but it felt right. Everything about Draco Malfoy felt like coming home after a long day and crawling into bed with the warm covers draped over her head. He felt like that feeling she got when waking up from a rested nap. He felt right. And it didn't hurt that he'd told Astoria Greengrass about her and how she could shove it.

"Lookie there, Draco. I think she approves," Pansy quipped as the two came up for air.

"Room." Hermione grabbed Draco up by the scruff of his blazer and kissed him again. "Now."

"Erm -yeah. Alright." The excitement in his voice could hardly be missed as she began to drag him across the floor, determination in her stride. Pansy and Blaise could be seen exchanging entertained glances, but Hermione was too far gone to care. What Draco said -it resonated with her in a big way. Sure, their entire interaction with each other since the beginning was obscure, untraditional, and above all else highly immoral, but… knowing it was only for her that he broke free of his shackles and allowed himself to feel again… It was for her that he removed the mask from his face, and his heart… it was everything.

Damn it all if Hermione Granger didn't have deep-seeded feelings sprouting in her heart for Draco Malfoy.

It wasn't until they were up the staircases and through the bright red door labeled Tier Two that Hermione removed her wand from the loop on her dress. Draco looked about the room, and upon noticing no one else resided in the lounge, he cleared his throat and said, "Alright, look, if you're going to hex me-"

"-Hex you?" She pushed the mask up her face to her forehead, revealing herself completely; she tried very hard not to laugh as she said, "I'm not going to hex you, you silly man." She waved her wand over the length of her dress and dropped the color glamour, changing it back to its original green. Draco blinked once, twice, three times before settling on a devilish smirk.

"Oh." He chuckled. "That's much more fitting…" he reached out and drew a line down the side of her stomach with his fingers, all the way to her hip. "Do you have any idea what you in that color makes me want to do to you?"

She shrugged, holstering her wand. "Pick a room."

Draco raised an eyebrow, glancing about the different doors around them. Here, in front of her, he let his real self shine through. Playful. Kind. Still a bit arrogant and bossy, but what did she expect from him? To be perfect? Ha. "It's the last room," he said, finding her eyes again. "I think you should pick."

Yes. The last room before… Hermione didn't need to be told twice. There was one more thing she needed to address, and only one way she knew how to go about it. Slowly, she placed her hand in his and guided him over to the door with a lowercase t and two dots at the bottom.

Draco looked to the door, to her, to the door again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." She nodded. "I'm sure."

He released an anxious breath and flexed his hands as excitement washed over his fine features. "Bondage room it is, pet."


Hermione knew Draco enjoyed being in control. His dominant personality shined through this evening as he leaned back across the lounge, one leg on the floor, the other extended transversely on the chaise, and an arm across the back as he drank in the sight of her chained to the wall across from him. Her dress lay neatly folded along the back of the lounge, and Draco ran his fingers over it every few seconds while his eyes raked over her naked body. "I'm very proud of you tonight."

Hermione stood on her tiptoes, arms extended far above her head in a Y shape and manacled around her wrists. In her mouth: a ball gag. Wrapped intricately around her body: a karada harness. It gripped around her curves in all the right ways, from the curvature of her breasts to the dip between her thighs, and back around to her ass where it cupped each cheek. The rope was soft, green, and tight; Draco would have made an excellent Scout by his knot skills. It impressed her, even now, how he created such an intricate design around her frame from a single rope. He'd looped the end of it through a single, leather collar around her neck before trying it off, so every time she took a deep breath in, she could feel the choker tug. She'd been nervous, at first, giving up her control to him. But Draco had been gentle every step of the way, praising her, encouraging her, cooing gentle words in her ear when she let him take it further. Somehow, he'd even managed to convince her to let him slap her lightly across the cheek a few times. He was very convincing.

Hermione wondered how long she would stay here, hanging from the wall. It felt like eons ago since he'd finished his work and retired to the lounge, but he hadn't given her a timetable, and she didn't want to disappoint him. Their masks sat between them, on the floor, glowing like a bonfire in the dimly lit room.

Draco shifted on the lounge unexpectedly, and Hermione's heart gave a leap -would he finally touch her? She whimpered against the gag, attempting to coax him to cross the space between them and do something. Anything. Her body tingled in anticipation.

"Something you want, pet?" he teased in a playful tone. She nodded. "Speak up. Can't hear you." Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Oh, that's right. You can't say a word, can you? Poor, poor Granger. You seem a bit tied up at the moment. Should I come back later?" He rose from the lounge and took a step towards the door. Hermione jerked against the restraints, catching his attention as his lips pulled back in a smirk. "Then again… It's not every day I get to have you completely at my mercy." His dress shoes clacked against the floor as he walked past their masks and directly to her, resting a hand against her throat. "So beautiful," he whispered, "And all mine. Isn't that right?"

Hermione nodded, shifting on her toes as her calves burned from standing in the position too long. She nearly lost her footing as she attempted to move closer to him, but Draco's hand around her throat kept her in place.

"I suppose…" he drawled, leaning his face in to brush his lips against hers. "You deserve a reward. After all," his other hand snaked down her stomach and between her legs, petting her in soft strokes against her wet folds, "You complied to my demand and didn't wear underwear this evening."

Sighing softly at his touch, Hermione's hips moved in response to his fingers. She felt a finger brush against her entrance, but he didn't allow her the sweet release of slipping it in. Instead, he strummed his fingers along her clit, baiting her. Against her will, a desperate moan found its way up her throat. Everything about this was torture -but in the most exquisite way. It felt as if she was dreaming- a euphoric high from being tied up and dressed down to nothing more than ropes and skin. This was, in so many ways, much more intimate than anything Hermione had ever experienced before. Especially since she now knew where she stood with the man who stood in front of her; there was an admitted connection -something more than sex. He'd told Astoria about them. He'd taken her out for drinks for the world to see. He'd admitted to caring for her. So allowing him to tie her up… it didn't frighten her. She trusted him, and that's perhaps what Draco knew all along about this process. Trust, when earned and given, meant being able to give yourself up completely. Physically and emotionally compromised, Hermione closed her eyes and let herself be controlled.

The hand around her throat released, and she felt the loosening of the strap behind her head attached to the gag. As Draco removed the gag, she flexed her jaw to circulate the blood flow back to it. But she didn't get too much before soft lips pressed against hers, sending her body into a chorus of joy. He kissed her so gently, so full of care that she forgot herself and spoke out of turn. "Please, Draco. I need you."

Her eyes fluttered open to meet his own, and he smirked. "Do you, Hermione?"

She nodded. "Yes."

"How do you need me?"

"Inside me." She kissed him. "Beside me." Another kiss. "In my life."

She could see it written across his face; it was everything he wanted to hear. "Of course," he told her, eyes smoldering in desire as he reached for his belt buckle. "I'll do anything to please you, pet. Anything." The belt was pulled through the circlets of his trousers folded into a loop in his hand. "So long as you obey me, I'll give you the world."

Hermione swallowed hard, gathering up enough courage to reply, "It's alright to give up control, you know."

Draco eyed her, from her (now messy) bun on her head to the karada roping to the way she still perched on her toes. With a chuckle, he raised a precocious eyebrow. "And you're doing an excellent job of it."

"I meant you." She purposefully inhaled deeply, pushing her breasts further out to entice him. Licking his lips, he caressed the strap against her skin, up her stomach and higher still to her breasts, until the leather brushed against her nipples. Hermione's eyes fell closed momentarily as she took in the sensation. "I know why you need control."

"Do you?" His voice was seductive, and yet tense, as he trailed the belt back down her body before resting it just above her mons Venus. "Do tell."

She brought her eyes back open and wiggled against the restraints, testing them. Damn, they were strong. "You think if you aren't in control, you'll be taken advantage of again. The way she took advantage of you."

The muscles around his eyes tensed, but other than that, he remained expressionless, dragging the belt lower still until it rested against her clit. "Don't analyze me, pet. I'm not a book for you to find subtle metaphors in."

Her heart sped up when he gently tapped the belt against her -it didn't hurt. It felt… good. Damn it. There he was doing that thing again where he distracted her with his touch. She needed to focus. She needed to understand -to make him understand.

"I won't hurt you," she whispered, staring into his eyes. "I don't mind giving up control. But you need to know I would never hurt you, Draco." He withdrew his eyes away from her gaze and settled them on her body, protecting himself from becoming emotionally compromised. But Hermione continued anyway. "I… I care about you, too. I want this. I want us-"

"-Stop talking," he commanded, and she did. Her mouth fell closed once more, and she waited for him to draw his eyes back to hers. "How do you do it? Hmm, Hermione? How do you give up all control you have to someone else? To me?" He grazed his free hand over her hips and dug his fingers into her pelvis. She winced, but stayed perfectly still. "I could hurt you. I could do so many things to you, and you'd have no say at all…" His fingers lessened their grip, and he gently stroked them down to her thighs, parting her legs further apart. Hermione's breathing hitched, and she felt her legs shake as she struggled to stay on her toes. The belt patted against her clit again. Softly. "Yet here you are. Why is that?"

"I trust you," she breathed out, having to control her breathing to maintain balance. "You won't hurt me."

"I could."

"But you won't." She was so close to falling over- if there could be a breeze in the room, it would knock her off her axis. She'd be left dangling by her arms, entirely at Draco's mercy. But wasn't she already? "You care about me. And I care about you. And-" She was shut up with a firm, intoxicating kiss as Draco tossed the belt to the floor. His hands caressed up and down her frame, pulling her up off her feet momentarily so that she could bring her toes back to center. The ache in her legs lessened, and she kissed him back just as passionately, finding it to be as natural as breathing. Draco was her own, personal drug, and she was the ever-so-willing junkie feeding off of his high. What they had wasn't simply physical -it was emotional. It was magic. Magic that she could get high on again and again.

Fingers tweaked her nipples, causing her to gasp and break the euphoric kiss that sent heat waves through her core. Draco smirked, playing with both her breasts now as he told her, "This round will be rough. I want you to know that right now. But what will follow, later…" He released her nipples and kneaded her breasts erotically. "…will be the best goddamn sensual love making experience of your entire life."

"Mmm…" Hermione's breathing became erratic, and she chewed her lower lip as she begged him. "Take me, then. I need it."

Draco chuckled, discarding one piece of clothing at a time; a blazer, his button down, next the dress shoes and socks… he left the onyx dress slacks on, toying with her as he reached down and undid the button at the top. "What do you need, Hermione?"

"You."

"How should you address me, pet?"

"Master."

"Good girl."

"I need you, Master. Please. Fuck me, Master."

Draco slid the zipper down painfully slow, and as his trousers loosened around his frame, she could make out the delectable V of his pelvic bones all the way down to… "Is this what you want, pet?" He withdrew his cock, already hard and leaking precum from the tip. "You want my cock inside you?"

"More than anything," she groaned, moving against the restraints as she forgot herself. She ran her tongue across the apex of her lips to entice him. "Please, Master. I've been so good."

"Have you?"

"I've let you tie me up. I've done everything you've asked." Hermione fed him line after line, playing her part well. The sub in her was ever so willing to come out and play, especially against Draco's dom.

"But have you been good enough?" He tormented her, stroking his fingers down his shaft and back up the velvety muscle. She imagined how wonderful it would feel inside of her, and a low, guttural sound erupted from her throat -was that a growl? She wasn't aware she did that…

"Fuck me," she demanded, fighting the manacles around her wrists. "God, Draco. I can't wait any longer. This is torture."

He smirked, stepping up to her and hiking one of her legs up around his hip. "Well, well, well. Look who has a demanding side, too?" Draco played with her, sliding the head of his prick up and down the wetness between her legs but not giving her want she wanted. "Beg nicely, Hermione." She could tell he was trying so hard not to chuckle.

She fought back the urge to snarl something mean and played to his weakness- leaning forward and kissing tenderly under his jaw, beneath the ear.

"Mmm…fuck…" he moaned quietly. His hips automatically rolled in response, and he pressed the tip into her ever so slightly. Hermione maintained her presence on his neck, kissing and nibbling and biting until he sheathed himself inside of her completely, lost in her ministrations. Once he realized his mistake, he gripped her thigh hard and yanked her off the floor, wrapping both of her legs around his hips. "Brave move, pet. It'll cost you." He thrust into her harshly as his nails dug into her hips. Hermione screamed, arching her back, still not fully stretched around him before he withdrew himself and shoved back in.

"God!" she gasped as she was thrown up against the wall, legs still around his pelvis as he pistoned in and out of her, rough and dominating. Her head fell back and smacked against the wall. She didn't care. Though she was off the floor, Draco kept her the appropriate height to still feel the manacles brace her wrists, even if they were a bit looser now. She wanted to reach down, to run her fingers through his hair, to hold his shoulders as he took her, but all she could do was lean back against the wall and be taken like the subordinate pet she was. She understood it, now, why he called her pet. And he had been right before -it wasn't meant in some perverse way. It was his way of telling her she belonged to him. With him. Familiars. Confidants. Friends. Lovers. Together.

"Harder," she groaned, feeling her back scrape against the wall behind her. She welcomed the pain mixed with the pleasure of him filling her up again and again. Draco gave a pleased sound somewhere between a sigh and a groan, scraping his nails down her legs in a show of unbridled possession. His teeth sunk down against her throat. He fed her his cock until she screamed, but, even then, she wanted more. Hermione discovered she rather enjoyed pain as he left love bites down her neck and shoulder, marking her. 'This woman is mine.'

When he was satisfied with his initial branding on her, he began rocking into her slower, but with more force. He pulled out to the tip before slamming back inside of her dripping warmth repeatedly, coaxing the screams from her throat. "That's it, Hermione," he whispered against her collarbone. "Fucking scream for me." Skin slapped against skin. Mouths met in heated fury. More screams. Even more sighs. "Good girl," he said against her throat as he slammed mercilessly inside of her, "My good girl. Taking this cock… like the princess you are…" He lowered his mouth on her nipples, gingerly kissing and nibbling -a complete opposite of the way he pounded into her. His carnal desires lit to life as he took her, until, finally, he slowed his advances and, without warning, withdrew himself and set her down to the floor.

Hermione groaned in protest. "Don't stop.. don't.. please…"

Draco grabbed her hips and spun her around, crossing her arms over her head as they still held her in place. There, he stroked down her back with his fingers before drawing one of her legs up into his hands and positioning himself. "You're going to come like this, pet. Even if it takes all night. We're not stopping until your pussy is dripping. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she sighed, satisfied when he sheathed himself within her again. Draco curled his free hand around her stomach and down to her clit, where he began to trace delicate circles while fucking her. From this angle, Hermione could feel every inch of his cock inside of her, and she moaned incoherently as he built her up like a stack of dominos. It wasn't long until she tightened around his cock and came in a stream of obscenities and unhinged moans. The first one was intense. The second time he made her come, it was gentler. The third time, an hour later, after bringing her to the edge over and over simply to deny her, was sweeter than frosting off of a cake. Sweat glistened off her forehead. Her hair had come down long before, and it now draped over her shoulders as Draco rocked her against the wall, facing him now, having released her arms so that she could fold them around his neck. They were still bound, but not having to keep them above her head was all that Hermione needed as he sent her into a simmering orgasm that forced her eyes shut and her to mewl against his neck. Draco Malfoy came shortly after her, this time burying his face in her hair and whispering her name, followed by a question.

"Come home with me tonight?"

Hermione blinked back tears, overwhelmed by the euphoric energy of her orgasm mixed with the tenderness in which he asked those words. Still with her face in the crook of his neck, she mumbled out, "What… about… Astoria?" It was asked between pants.

"She's gone," he told her, kissing her softly along the pulse in her throat. "Moved out the moment I told her about us."

The grip around his neck tightened as Hermione pulled their bodies together in an affectionate hug. She leaned her face up and kissed him against his cheek. "Yes. I want to go home with you."

She heard him give an anxious sigh of relief. "You should know, before you do…" His arms tensed as he held her against him, but he mumbled it anyway, "I'm falling for you."

Hermione laughed, pulling her face back so that she could look him clearly in the eyes. They were worn, confused, and slightly bitter at her laughter until she shook her head and smiled. "I've already fallen."

Draco's lips slowly pulled back in a smirk, and he chuckled along with her. "Don't expect me to catch you, then. I hope you fall hard. Straight on your ass." To emphasize his teasing, he pretended to drop her, but catching her mid-motion and laughing.

"You're the ass." She stuck out her tongue.

"A sexy ass," he retorted immediately, waggling his eyebrows. "And yours, I'll remind you. I'm your ass."

"Which you've wished me to fall hard onto."

He shrugged. "You can fall on me anytime you want. Especially a certain appendage…" They both laughed as Draco set her carefully on her feet. Hermione braced against the wall for support as her legs wiggled like jelly, and he retrieved his wand from the chaise lounge, spelling the ropes and bindings away. He brushed his hand down her neck and gave her an apologetic grin. "You might need a few glamours for work come Monday. Those won't be going away any time soon."

"Good." She leaned forward, up on her toes, and kissed his lips chastely.

"Can you walk straight?"

"Not sure yet. I'll let you know when I can feel my toes again."

"When you do… care for a dance or two?" He tilted his head and smiled.

Hermione nodded. "Once I'm right on my feet again. I've never been so properly shagged in my life. Please, keep it up. I don't mind."

Draco laughed. "Have I mentioned I'm falling for you?"


Once dressed, and two glamour spells later, Hermione and Draco made their way back down to Tier One. They danced until their feet were sore. They drank until they both were tipsy. They played a round of wizard's chess in the back corner with Pansy and Blaise, occasionally necking and displaying their affections for one another. Not once did they put their masks back on.


As the evening wore down, and most couples retired to Tier Two, Draco took Hermione by the hand and walked them out to the Apparition Point, curling an arm around her waist while whispering, "I'm so very glad you fell into my lap."

"Me too," she whispered back.


The rest of the night was spent in discarded clothing, soft whispering, and gentle caresses. They took their time, feeling each other out, loving the way their bodies melded into one another's. This time, Draco did not control, nor did Hermione. They built each other up as a team with diligent, careful touches and soft rocking of their hips. They made love in Draco's bed until the sun peaked over the horizon, and even then, just a bit more.

When they were finally spent, Hermione fell asleep a pair of warm arms wrapped around her and the gentle caress of his voice as he told her, "I love you."

Right before sleep took her completely, she whispered, out of the corner of her mouth, "I love you, too."


*(*)*


"Come on, Harry! Luna said this will be fun!" Ginny tugged at her husband's arm as she led them down the cobblestone steps towards the black brick building known as Bond. Harry looked between Ginny and his friend Luna, who smiled warmly and nodded. Harry wasn't convinced.

"Gin, you know what kind of place this is- I hardly think we belong-"

"Everyone belongs," Luna said in a sing-song voice as she knocked on the brass knocker once, twice, with two quick knocks to follow. She led the pair inside, and Ginny's eyes lit up at the dance floor, in full swing.

"Oh, look Harry! Dancing! Oh, come on. Have a bit of fun. Don't look at me that way."

Harry looked about to the crowded dance floor and shook his head, disbelieving. "I need a drink," he muttered, making his way to the bar. Luna and Ginny followed him, taking a seat on either side as they found three stools at the end.

Luna winked at the bartender -some pretty thing with short hair, and said, "A round of shots for my friends, Jez. Oh, don't give me that look. They're married and straight."

Harry cast his eyes around at the guests in Bond, taking in the gyrating bodies on the dance floor, and even further out, to the corner lounge set up against the far wall, where a pair of four toasted with glasses of champagne.

"Luna," Harry said, pointing over to the couples; two wore black domino masks, two wore white. "What's with the masks?"

"Oh." Luna patted Harry gently on the arm. "The black masks means swingers."

"Swing –Swingers?" Harry gasped, scrunching his eyebrows together and groaning. "Damn it, Luna. What have you brought Ginny and I into?"

"It's alright, Harry. You and Ginny can take some white masks instead. It was the owner's wife's idea -they're for the taken couples. The ones that don't want to share."

"Oh, can we, Harry?" Ginny squealed excitedly from her stool. "Come on. It'll be fun!"

Harry glanced over at the couple in white masks. They looked rather familiar, even though he couldn't make out their faces. The man had white blonde hair, a lot like Malfoy… and the woman's hair was so curly it nearly resembled…

Nah. Couldn't be. They wouldn't be caught dead in a place like this.

He looked over to his wife, knocked back his shot, and sighed. "Alright, Gin. Just the once. What the Hell, right?"


~FIN~
What did you think? XD
~A.