Author's Note: I own no person, no place, no thing – except the plot! If you recognize it, it probably belongs to Ms. Rowling or some other awesome super-human.

Chapter 11 Better Living Through Chemistry

When Draco had gotten home from Hermione's it had only been 4:30. He'd taken a very, very fucking cold shower, found some comfortable jeans and a t-shirt to wear, and set to work on his laundry before his new education left his brain. Now, two hours later, he heard the buzzing sound of his clothes dryer. Draco retrieved the massive load of pants and vests from the dryer and set to folding and hanging. It really was rather thrilling to know he now had free access to nearly instantaneous clean, decent smelling clothing, without the use of magic or outside assistance. Working for the Order for two years meant that Draco had gotten somewhat used to a quick scourgify to keep his clothing clean enough, and of course his life at the Manor or at Hogwarts had never included the handling of his own laundry, or even thoughts of its scent. But this… Draco smelled the trousers he was folding onto a hanger… this scent was similar to the heather meadows in Springtime in the north fields at the Manor. Fresh and somewhat earthy, but lovely.

Draco smirked. He sounded like a laundry soap commercial now. But he had to hand it to the Muggles, they knew how to make clean clothing smell good.

"Better living through chemistry," he remembered Hermione saying that the other night while she was running through the instructions for using his household cleaning products. Having no magic had forced Muggles to find a way to maintain high standards of cleanliness through the research and development of natural and Muggle-made chemical combinations to cleanse, sterilize, mask unpleasant odors and create pleasant scents for the variety of accoutrements that they surrounded themselves with.

Draco had seen this in the hospital. The nurses and doctors were meticulous about their use of gloves and masks, and they were constantly wiping down or throwing away in special containers any objects that came into contact with Draco's body or the surfaces around him. Draco had been highly insulted at first, they were treating him like he had some bloody disease, but then he'd realized that the staff was protecting Draco from disease as much as they were protecting themselves. Without magic, Muggles had to work so much harder to keep sickness and disease from spreading like wildfire through their population, and by God, they seemed to have perfected their methods.

This flew in the face of everything Draco's upbringing had raised him to believe. Muggles were barbarians. Disease carrying, filth spreading, savages who must be kept separate from magical communities so as to not taint the magical population. But in the past three months, between working with, living around, being healed by, and reading about Muggles, the only barbarians he'd encountered had been the men who'd mugged him for his money – and by Hermione's count that had been partially Draco's own fault.

Draco considered what his Father would think about Draco's current thought process. He snorted. Lucius Malfoy would probably Avada his own son, not just for his current thoughts, but for his last two years on the side of the Order, for accepting his punishment and exile instead of paying off the Ministry like any other self-respecting Malfoy would have done, and of course then there was that little Muggle-born girl who lived down the street and liked to hold his hand…

Suddenly Draco was enormously grateful that Hermione had created a Fortress to hide away in. Lucius Malfoy might be spending the rest of his life in Azkaban, but he still wielded enormous influence in the unsavory underground of Wizarding England and a great deal of Europe. Draco considered, for the first time, that he might need to take a cue from Hermione and erect some privacy and security for himself as well.

Maybe he'd talk to her about that tomorrow evening.

/…../

Early the next morning Draco pulled one of his freshly self-laundered pairs of trousers from a hanger, and then stood looking into his closet. Hmm… What did one wear to a Muggle wedding? At the Library he typically wore trousers and an oxford, with the addition of either a tie, jumper or vest. Yesterday morning he'd basically done the same thing when he'd accompanied the lovely and delectable Ms. Granger to church. From the magazines he'd seen in the Library, Muggle weddings seemed to entail the wearing of billowy white gowns and black and white tuxedo suits. But Hermione and Renny had said this was a theme wedding. An outdoor, country wedding theme. What in the world did that even mean? Like cowboys and horses and pistols? Draco couldn't imagine Hermione in a fluffy white gown. Actually, he couldn't imagine her in a dress at all, outside of that luscious periwinkle number she'd worn at the Yule Ball fourth year. Her school uniform skirts were one thing, but he just couldn't imagine Hermione tolerating impractical clothing, even for a formal event like a wedding. But then, cowboy clothes? That was just as unimaginable as the fluffy white stuff.

Well, he'd just have to ask her this afternoon, in case he needed time to produce some kind of costume – or in the worst case scenario, make his excuses and leave the country for the day. Draco had several suits, of course, but it would be rather uncomfortable in this warm autumn weather to wear any of his heavy wool jackets. He frowned, then a smile spread across his face as he imagined Hermione standing in his bedroom, not five feet from his bed, looking through his closet and commanding him to take his current clothes off to try something different on, but then getting totally distracted...

'No, bad Draco! There's time for that later. Friends first, sex second!' Draco gave himself a firm talking to, and several minutes later gave himself a firm handling in the shower, to try and purge some of his re-awakening lust from his body before he went to work.

/…../

It was almost four in the afternoon on Monday, and Hermione had just finished folding her pile of clean socks and underthings, and was about to put everything away in her bureau when she heard a loud buzzing. She walked out of her bedroom and realized the sound was coming from the speaker at her door. Someone was ringing her doorbell! Her heart thumped in her chest. Oh cripes, was it a reporter? A Death Eater? RON? She shivered in horror, dreading what was awaiting her outside. Who had found her? She peeked out the window down onto the street and saw blond hair, almost in a buzz cut.

Draco!

Hermione's heart thumped again in her chest, but this time in anticipation. He was here! She was supposed to meet him at the Library in an hour, but instead he was here! Hermione grabbed her key-ring and dashed down the stairs. By the time she yanked open the front door to the street she was slightly breathless from a combination of anticipation of seeing Draco again and from racing down two flights of stairs in her stocking feet.

He smiled rather ruefully at her as she stepped out to greet him.

"I got out of work early today, there didn't seem to be that much work to do, so I thought I'd come by and save you the trip. I had no idea how to contact you to let you know, which begs the question: how do I contact you? Which in turn leads me to a series of questions. Like how do I get a telephone? Do you have one? What are the pro's and con's of a household phone versus a mobile phone? What does one wear to a Muggle wedding? Will you give me your telephone number so I can call you and tell you when I'm getting out of work early? Do you realize that I just took a cab ride over here to ask you what I'm supposed to wear to a Muggle wedding?"

He had his hands in his pockets, and his shoulders were hunched a little defensively, and he looked so damned appealing in reluctant helplessness, that Hermione couldn't help but launch herself at him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed his surprised mouth.

His dark gray eyes widened slightly as he caught her in his arms, steadying them around her to keep from falling over. Her soft little lips were molded so sweetly against his, and he couldn't contain the joy that swept through him at her obvious happiness to have him at her doorstep. Draco smiled against her mouth. This was so much more than he'd anticipated, but he relished having Hermione's body wrapped around his. He felt the loneliness of the past few months, and really, his whole life, slipping away as Hermione playfully licked his upper lip.

She was really, absolutely adorable.

Hermione realized she was snogging Draco in the street in front of an assortment of neighbors and passers-by for the second time in two days, and tried to put a damper on her enthusiasm. Not that it seemed to be hurting Draco's feelings to be attacked by her, but it was rather undignified. She broke away from him and felt a blush rise on her cheeks as she smiled up at him.

"Hi," she said shyly.

"Hi yourself, Little Girl," Draco grinned down at her. He tucked his hands into her thick wavy hair and kissed her mouth gently.

"Now that we've established that you're incredibly happy to see me and obviously missed me tremendously, I'd like to discuss wedding fashion and telephone correspondence. Oh, and dinner. Would you like to join me?" Draco stood back and caught her hand in his, tangling their fingers together.

Hermione gathered her senses. Clothes, phones, dinner. Okay… She mentally shook her head to clear the fuzz that had overtaken her mind, and began at the simplest point.

"Well, I typically wear slacks and a blouse to weddings unless they're black-tie, but I haven't been to one like that since I was little, so I guess really you could do the same thing. Not the blouse though, that would stand out badly." Hermione grinned up at Draco as she thought about it further.

"Really, Draco, I think what you're wearing today or even yesterday to church would be about right for this wedding, dress-code wise. A lot of people will even wear jeans and trainers or boots, since it's outdoors. I plan to dress marginally nicer because I'll be standing on the stage so I want to look more professional." Hermione mentally evaluated her own wardrobe choice for the wedding, then continued. "Just don't wear a blue blouse with brown slacks and high heeled boots, please," she said as she tugged on his hand to encourage him to come inside with her.

"And why not? It's a good damn thing I asked. No blouse, no boots, no brown slacks. You have a lot of demands on my wardrobe for this wedding, Little Girl." Draco happily allowed himself to be dragged up the stairs, through her multiple locks and back into her Fortress.

"Because that's what I'm wearing, obviously. It would look ridiculous if we matched," she said as she keyed the code and popped open her flat door. She was about to retreat to her bedroom to find her shoes when she found herself spinning around and suddenly pinned to her door, with two strong arms around her.

Draco bent his head to hers, and started what she'd left off on the street below. Her lips were slightly puffy, from just downstairs and possibly still from yesterday, and he couldn't resist sucking on her bottom lip, hoping to cause it to swell even more. His hands skimmed down her sides and met the bottom hem of her shirt, and without thinking, he snuck his fingers under them hem to skim across her belly and back. Hermione shuddered under his touch, and broke away with a gasp.

"Whoa! Hey now, Malfoy. I thought we were going to get to know each other better first?" She tugged her shirt down, pushing his hands out in the process, but she also rested her forehead against his chest as she tried to get her heart rate under control, not wanting to part contact with him entirely just yet.

"Yeh, sorry. It wasn't me, it was my hands. They're curious about you," he said jokingly as he struggled to straighten his mind out.

"I'm curious about you too. I missed you today," she confessed.

Draco chuckled. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?"

"What do you mean?"

"I almost fell to my death today because I was too busy thinking about yesterday and this afternoon, and forgot I was standing on top of a ten foot ladder."

"Oh no!"

"Oh yes. Luckily I was alone and no one else saw me nearly kill myself. Ah, the joys of life without magic: near death experiences at least once a week." Draco backed up to let her move around him. He rubbed his hands together as he looked around her flat. Besides the furnishings and books, she really had no personal affects lying around. No art, no pictures, no homey touches that identified the place as her own. Much like his own flat, he supposed. But Hermione's place was like an empty gallery, whereas his was like an empty cell.

Hermione's voice floated back to him from somewhere behind the sheetrock wall. "I don't know what world you grew up in, but this past month is the longest I've gone without being nearly killed every day. Didn't we go to the same school?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about. Our school was the safest place in the world. I only nearly died there maybe half a dozen times."

"A week?"

"Of course not. All right, maybe half a dozen times every school year, but no more than that."

"Wow you did have it easy. I think that's why I sympathize so much with your displacement now, you know? Life in the castle was tough for me. All laws of nature thrown out the window, half the school population either hating me or flat out wanting me dead." Hermione strolled out of one doorway, fingers weaving her hair into a braid as she spoke. She looked up at Draco to find him staring down at her, white faced and distressed.

"Hey, are you all right?" she asked.

"I'm sorry!" he gasped. Hundreds of images of Hermione as a little girl, falling prey to one wicked prank or hex after another flitted through his mind. Not all of it had been him, but a lot of it had been. How could she possibly have forgiven him?

"Hey, Draco, relax. I'm sorry too. It's okay now, right? Besides, I forgave you ages ago for all that crap from school." Hermione touched his chest as she spoke, and when he didn't jump away she wrapped her arms around him.

"How? Why? When?" he asked as he hugged her in return.

"The first time you saved my life, idiot. I'm not completely ungrateful, you know," Hermione leaned back to look up at him, and he smiled wanly down at her. He opened his mouth to say something, but she cut him off by reaching up to quickly kiss him. Draco cradled her face in his hands, treasuring her warmth and comfort and softness, and reveled in her gratitude and forgiveness.

Hermione opened her eyes and touched his face with her hands as well, and watched as Draco opened his eyes to gaze at her. They stood there for a moment, just looking at each other, and then Hermione smiled at him.

"How about we ignore the heavy shit for the rest of the afternoon and talk about food instead?" she asked as she grabbed his hand and led him towards her bookshelves.

"All right," he replied as she dragged him down to the floor next to her while she started pulling a handful of books from the lowest shelf.

"Now these are all part of my Mum's collection of cook books, but they should serve as a good starting point for us. First thing we need to determine is what kind of food you like to eat, and how easily you'll pick up on reading recipes and working from them."

For the next hour or so, Hermione and Draco discussed the basics of cooking, the similarities between food preparation and potion brewing, and the Muggle necessity of germ control around food. Later on, armed with a fairly extensive grocery list, Hermione took Draco on a trip to the grocer that left them exhausted and half-starved by the time they arrived at Draco's flat. Three hundred Pounds worth of food and food prep supplies were unceremonially pushed into refrigerator and cupboard, and then the two ran down the steps to the street to peruse the restaurants across the street from Draco's flat.

/…../

"Oh Gods, Granger, that was amazing." Draco groaned, wrapping his arms around the most wonderful girl he knew.

"Draco, you are a complete pig." Hermione said, resting her head against Draco's chest.

"Couldn't help myself, it was just so good," he moaned. "All this wasted time! I've been missing out on so much!"

"Well that's what you get for not being more adventurous when you're on your own. You're probably going to regret it later though." Hermione chuckled. She and Draco had spent the past couple hours in a Tapas bar just down the street from his flat, and Draco had tried EVERYTHING. Hermione presumed his uncharacteristic hunger had to do with a combination of his head being in the clouds while he'd been at work – he'd forgotten to eat lunch – and spending the afternoon with her talking about food, and then shopping for food.

Food, food, food. It was a good thing she was going running with Sue tomorrow, she could see that spending too many meals with Draco could be hazardous to her figure. Hermione poked him in the belly, which caused Draco to wince.

"It's probably a good thing you hadn't found that restaurant before, or I'd probably be calling you Porkette," Hermione grinned at him as he tugged her towards his flat.

"Nonsense, Malfoy's don't get fat. And in any case, it would be Porky, not Porkette. I am most assuredly male, Little Girl." Draco stopped suddenly, his eyes catching on a neon shape in a shop window.

"Hermione, do you remember what I was saying about phones? Do you have one?" he asked as he read the name of the shop.

"Oh, actually no I don't. I've been meaning to get one for emergencies, but it really hasn't been a priority yet," she said as she followed his gaze across the street. It was a store that sold mobile phones and service plans.

"Excellent. Let's go shopping," he said, and with that, pulled her into the mobile phone store.

Half an hour later, Hermione was still puzzling over the differences in cost and features in some of the more generic phones when suddenly Draco plopped a large blue smartphone in her hand.

"Oh, Draco, I don't need one like this. Just a simple phone will work. Look, this one has a camera!" Hermione held out a small flip phone, but Draco pushed the blue phone into her hand again. It was nearly as large as her entire hand, and quite heavy compared to the little flip phone.

"Blackberry has the most secure network. You can send and receive email on this without having to worry about your privacy being compromised. It's like your Fortress for your communication needs, yeh? Besides, my family holds a great deal of stock in this company. See this?" Draco pointed to the RIM logo.

"Yes?" Hermione asked blankly.

"That doesn't stand for Research In Motion – it actually stands for Really Impressive Malfoys," he said, winking at her.

Hermione giggled, then sobered. "Wait, your family owns stock in a Muggle telecommunications company?"

"Yes, ironic isn't it?"

"Incredibly."

"Come on now dear, put down the toy phone and step up to high tech. This is the latest thing, you know." Draco waved the bulky blue phone at her.

"How do you know that?" she asked doubtfully.

"It says so right over there on that poster," Draco said as he pointed across the store.

"But Draco, it's huge! It won't even fit in my pocket!" Hermione protested.

"Please, Little Girl. You don't go anywhere without your bag. Is there some reason why a mobile phone wouldn't be accepted by your ten books, lotion, hairbrush, house keys and assortment of highlighters?"

"Ugh, Draco, I don't even know how to use email!" Hermione was whining at this point, but Draco resolutely dragged her to the sales agent and got them both set up with, in Hermione's opinion, unnecessarily large and expensive mobile phones with far too many functions to suit her more modest sensibilities. The sales agent had shown Draco through the steps of setting up their email accounts, and voila! She was the proud new owner of a Blueberry.

"It's not a blue berry, Little Girl, it's a Blackberry," Draco said as they walked out of the shop.

"But Draco, it's BLUE."

"It's not actually a fruit, Hermione. It's a phone."

"Yes I know this, Oh High Lord Draco of Amazing Snarkiness," Hermione said as she fiddled with the new device.

Draco sighed. "Hermione, Hermione. It's Oh High Lord Draco of Amazing Awesomeness. Or, if you want to email me, it's bibliophile1."

"Hey, about that…"

"What? About my choice in selecting our brilliant email addresses?"

"Sort of. How come you're number one and I'm number two?"

"Don't be obtuse, Little Girl. I'm male, you're female. I'm dominant, you're submissive. I'm the Master, you're th-" Draco was cut off by Hermione's elbow in his still-full belly.

"You do not want to finish that sentence, Mr. Malfoy," she threatened, but she was smiling as he led her up the steps to his flat.

"No not really, no matter how funny it was, I like my body parts in working order. Okay, how about this? I'm bigger than you, I'm a Librarian, and I saved you from the embarrassment of owning a mobile phone that looked like it was built by Ellie and Rosie." Draco unlocked his flat and led Hermione inside.

"But I'm older, I'm the more experienced Muggle, and I'm by far the more well-read of the two of us," Hermione protested, but by then Draco had already dragged Hermione to his bedroom and had pulled her day-bag to the floor, along with her jacket, and tumbled her onto his bed.

He didn't kiss her though, instead Draco settled himself next to her supine form, and tugged her close to him until they were facing each other, laying sideways on top of the covers with their heads on his pillows. They lay there for a few minutes, watching each other. Finally Hermione raised an eyebrow. Draco lifted one finger, indicating she should wait a moment, then pulled out his new mobile and clicked away at it for a few seconds. Then he watched her and waited.

"Ping!" Hermione's previously silent day-bag made a new noise. She rolled her eyes and scrambled away from Draco to lean over the bed and fish her new mobile out of her bag.

To: bibliophile2

From: bibliophile1

Subject: Slumber Party

Ms. Granger,

Can I interest you in a night-cap?

Yours Truly,

DAM

Hermione giggled, and clicked to reply to his message.

To: bibliophile1

From: bibliophile2

Subject: Re: Slumber Party

Mr. Malfoy,

I always get a kick out of people's initials that spell words, and find it particularly amusing that yours only lacks one letter to be a popular curse word. Sure, I'll accept a nightcap, but I don't know about a slumber party. How do I know you're not trying to get me intoxicated so you can take advantage of me while I sleep?

Not as Desperate as I Must Look,

HJG

Draco snorted, and started clicking away at his keypad as soon as he received her message. Once Draco finished his message and hit send, he climbed off the bed and headed towards his kitchen, where Hermione heard him rummaging in the cupboards and drawers.

To: bibliophile2

From: bibliophile1

Subject: Re: Re: Slumber Party

Ms. Iron Knickers Granger,

Far be it for me to attempt to besmirch your honor. I was actually suggesting an evening of toenail painting and gossip.

Red or white?

Almost as lecherous as I look, but not quite,

DAM

She read his message and laughed out loud. Then she set her mobile down as well and, pushing off her shoes and socks, padded silently out to the kitchen. There she found Draco standing with his back to her, next to a selection of wine bottles, cork screw in one hand and two wine glasses in another.

"Iron Knickers, really?" she asked playfully as she wrapped her arms around his midsection. Draco smiled as he felt Hermione press her small body against his, and set the glasses and cork screw down so that he could turn to fold her in his arms. He bent down and pressed a kiss to her mouth.

"Hey, I didn't come up with it. Honestly I thought one of your Gryffindork friends invented that one," Draco said as he smoothed his hands up and down her back.

"Mmm, I wouldn't be surprised. Harry was pretty set on defending my virtue. Honestly, he couldn't have done a better job if my parents had paid him to do it. I think the only reason he let me go out with Viktor was because he had a bit of a man-crush on him. God knows Ronald did." Hermione laughed, and even Draco chuckled.

"Oh yes, I remember that. Ah, the good ol' days. That was rather the last gasp before the plunge, eh? The Yule Ball, the Quidditch World Cup, and that Great Cluster-fuck of a Triwizard Tournament."

"You have no idea," Hermione said, and rolled her eyes in memory of the long days and nights spent desperately trying to research Harry's Triwizard Clues, and getting stuck in a trance to wait at the bottom of Black Lake for a duck-footed Bulgarian boy who'd barely spoken a dozen sentences to her.

"I'd like to, you know. Come on, Hermione, tell me a story," Draco whispered as he kissed his way from her cheek to her nose to her lips.

"Mmm, you mean like a bedtime story?" Hermione asked as Draco shifted her closer against him and pulled her hair to the side so he could kiss her neck.

"Yes, a bedtime story would be delightful, Little Girl. I promise I'm not trying to get into your knickers. I just, well, I'd like you to stay." Draco tried to casually shrug a shoulder, but Hermione saw the hope and near-desperation in his eyes. She smiled. Hermione knew what he meant. It was nice to have someone around at night to keep the bad dreams away. She hadn't slept well in months, not since Harry had died. And it wasn't like she couldn't handle Draco if he decided to pull a Sutton and try to get aggressively frisky with her.

"You know, I am rather sleepy. How about you pour the red and I'll think of a good bedtime story," Hermione said as she extracted herself from Draco's arms.

And so she did. Hermione lay next to Draco and told him the whole tale of their Fourth Year, from the time she and the boys ran into Draco and his parents at the Quidditch World Cup to their ride home on the Hogwarts Express at the end of the year.

"Did you know we were in St. Mungo's for two weeks after that shit-pile of curses you lot set on us? My parents were ready to have you all expelled and have your wands taken, but the spells were so mixed up there was no way to tell who'd done what – that and there was some unfortunate recorded evidence that I'd started it." Draco sighed. Hermione took his hand as the sun was peeking over the horizon.

"We are different creatures now, you and I." Hermione tried to say softly, not wanting him to get too maudlin. Draco's scoff caused her to sit up and look at him.

"Hermione, I have no idea what you're talking about. I was young, brilliant, incredibly good looking and ridiculously wealthy then. That has not changed in the slightest."

"Nonsense Draco. Look at how much more modest you are now!" Hermione said.

"That's so true, Love. Must be why you're so wildly attracted to me now." Draco said as Hermione giggled.

To Be Continued.