I don't own Harry Potter, it's all J.K.'s, and I'm making not getting paid in anything but your devoted love.

AN: Ta-da! *chortles gleefully and dances away*

Lucius' birthday didn't go quite as she'd planned, but even as he was polishing off the rest of a lopsided piece of yellow cake, Lucius assured Hermione he was content.

"I haven't had someone throw me a birthday party, let alone one I was aware for, in years, Hermione. This will do nicely. Has done nicely. Thank you."

"Not to mention you didn't have to throw him one," Draco pointed out as he covered the cake.

Lucius looked disgruntled, but amused. "Yes, thank you, Draco, I was about to mention that myself."

"No need to thank me, Dad, just being helpful," Draco replied snarkily, but he patted the older man on the shoulder as he walked past him and even leaned over to kiss his cheek. "Happy birthday, Dad. I promise we'll have loads of parties once we're on our own."

"That sounds incredibly dull," Lucius replied, but he was smiling.

Hermione leaned on the table and propped her chin on her hand. "I think it sounds lovely. I wish I could be there for them," she said impulsively and Draco paused on his way out the door, but didn't turn around. Lucius gave her a questioning glance and set down his fork.

"Do you really? Are you that starved for company, that having two interlopers like ourselves is better than nothing?"

Hermione shrugged, slightly startled by the question, and wiped at some invisible crumbs on the table.

"It's not that, exactly. I have everything I need out here, after all. Although things will be more lonely with you gone. I canceled all my classes for the entire summer since I thought you two would be here longer."

Lucius gave her a steady look. "You teach your friend Miss Weasley. You've tried to teach Draco. Why don't you run a stable for the magical community in the off months?"

Hermione gave a light shiver. "And have all that magic around me, day in and day out? Risk the horses that way? No, thank you. I'm ready for plenty of things- changes- but that is not one of them. Not yet."

"So, it's the being lonely? Or the keeping busy?"

"For what?" Hermione asked.

"For why you wish you could attend our future birthday parties."

"Not just birthdays," she said suddenly, wistfully. "Christmas, Halloween, Valenti-" She stopped short and flushed, ran a hand over the back of her neck. The other hand picked at more invisible crumbs. "It isn't just the keeping busy I'll miss. I admit, Lucius, I never thought I'd say this, but I rather think I'm a bit fond of the both of you."

"Perhaps you've grown accustomed to our faces?" Lucius offered and Hermione glowered at him.

"That was quite unnecessary." Her gaze turned suspicious. "How'd you know about that anyhow?"

Lucius smirked. "Not many people knew, but Narcissa loved musicals. She insisted I take her to a show at least once a year. There was a particular theater she liked to attend in the city…and she would insist that we stop at a little shop before every show to purchase sweets for the intermission. I still have no idea where she picked up the habit, but it was most endearing." His face turned sad. "I teased her about hosting a secret love of quaint muggle culture."

Hermione smiled gently. "I apologize for asking…"

"No, it's better to talk about her. It keeps the memories I have of her enjoying life fresh, as opposed to- well, that's all."

"What was the shop?" Hermione asked, trying to bring him back to the moment. It was his birthday, after all. He should have happy memories.

He quirked a brow at her. "A chemist shop. Boots."

Hermione's smile broadened. "Narcissa Malfoy, buying sweets at a Boots? Imagine that. A woman after my own heart."

"She was, rather," he responded softly. "She was. I see her, in you." He leaned forward and reached out, took the hand still picking at nonexistent crumbs. "You're a strong witch, Hermione. That hasn't changed, underneath. And you're good for-"

The door behind them opened. "Am I interrupting?" Draco asked and Lucius smiled at Hermione, tilted his head in defeat. He squeezed her hand lightly and then released it.

"Not at all, Draco," he said. "I was just sharing memories."

"Yeah?" Draco sat down with them. "About what?"

"Your mother," Lucius admitted. "She had a soft spot for a muggle chemist shop."

Draco's brow cleared and he grinned. "Boots?"

"That's the one."

"So that's why…" Draco leaned back and looked at his father. "I never knew that."

"There are many things you never knew, Draco."

"Well, why don't you tell me, then?"

Hermione pushed back from the table and gathered the extra plates and forks. "Would you like me to leave?"

"No, Hermione," Lucius said, lifting a hand. "Please, stay. Perhaps you'd like to hear as well."

Hermione glanced back at him and then bustled at the sink some. There was an invitation in Lucius' eyes, but it was strictly friendly. Paternal. As opposed to the invitation in Draco's eyes, which was anything but platonic. And which was, right about now, also a little hostile, considering that it had been a day since they'd kissed- quite deliberately- for the second time and neither had said anything to the other.

Honestly, Hermione kind of expected Draco to be the one to bring it up. She didn't want to force any sort of discussion on him, after all, not with her technically being the one in charge of them. Then again, little did she know that Draco expected her to say something, since she was the one who'd had men remove her choices; and he wasn't about to force her to talk about anything she didn't want to. Under normal circumstances he would never let the lady make the first move, call the shots that way. If he wanted to know how she felt, he would tell her how he felt and then ask her what she wanted. But there were three problems.

One, he still didn't know exactly how he felt. Two, he was leaving in three weeks, anyway, never to have contact with her again. Three, these were definitely not normal circumstances.

A fork clattered from Hermione's hand into the sink and the noise startled them both from their thoughts. Hermione finished the dishes quickly and turned back to the table. She smiled at Lucius and avoided looking at Draco.

"I'd like to hear them," she finally replied.

Lucius smiled in return and gestured to her abandoned seat. "Then please, come back. Now, this is going to take some thinking on my part…"

"Oh, I know, Dad- start with those awful pearls she wore every year at Easter."

"Your great great grandmother's pearls?"

"They were hideous! I never knew why she wore them."

"They were costume," Lucius responded, smirking. "And your great great grandfather gave them to his wife before they were even married. Your mother received them from her mother, and so on, and they were quite awful, weren't they, all scuffed and scratched…"

His voice drifted on the stillness of the night air, punctuated by bursts of laughter from all three of them. Outside, the crickets began to chirp and another peaceful evening drew to a close.

Much later that evening, Draco was creeping down the stairs and back towards the kitchen when he saw a light streaming from under the door. He pushed it open slowly and peeked around the edge to find Hermione standing up, leaning against the island, a cup of tea in her hands. She gave him a startled look and straightened up, prepared to leave; but relaxed again a second later after glancing about- as if she'd been looking for a means of escape and, upon finding none, decided it was easier to stay.

He nodded to her and walked over to the kettle. He gave it a shake to check for water and then poured his own tea. Leaning back against the counter, he took a few sips and finally glanced up at her again. She wasn't watching him, but her cheeks were slightly flushed.

"Why are you up?" he asked and she darted her eyes to his, shrugged.

"Just thinking."

"Ah," he murmured and sipped his tea some more.

After several seconds she sighed.

"And why are you up?"

"Same."

"Ah," she replied and that time her voice was definitely snarky. He gave her a small grin.

"Lots of memories to consider tonight," he elucidated and she nodded.

"I understand."

"I know you do," he responded. He felt slightly emboldened…or hopeful. She was making conversation, at least, and she wasn't faking the sympathy upon her face.

"Hermione, we should talk."

"Yesterday," she clarified and looked up. He raised his brows, tilted his head.

Drank more bloody tea.

Hermione broke the renewed silence first, after a short debate with herself. He was right, after all, they did need to talk. No matter what the outcome. If it was another argument, if it was to acknowledge whatever crazy attraction was going on…they needed to have it out. She cleared her throat and glanced at him again. He was studying her and she flushed and looked away. One of her hands went to her face automatically and she ran her fingers along her scars. When he looked at her that way…she almost felt herself again. Almost…pretty.

It was highly unsettling.

"Draco, I don't know what's the matter with me," she began, letting her hand drop. "I shouldn't have encouraged that, yesterday. Any of it. I know I thanked you for the first…kiss," she forced herself to say, "but that didn't mean I thought we should do it again." She sighed. "We really can't afford to indulge in that sort of irresponsible behavior right now, not with everything else that's going on. Not with your escape coming up. We need to stay focused on getting you out of here safely."

He paled. It wasn't that he hadn't been expecting her to say something like that; it was more that he'd hoped…he stared at the floor angrily and felt like a fool. Hadn't he been telling himself all along that it was better this way? For them to be friendly and nothing more, for their last weeks together to be free of pesky arguments and unwanted feelings?

His mouth betrayed him anyway.

"So being attracted to one another is irresponsible," he said. She gave him a weary look.

"You know it is."

"No, I don't," he replied, feeling belligerent. "The only thing I know right now is that I like kissing you. I have no idea what the hell it means- and trust me, I've been asking myself for days. Am I simply deprived after years on the run and in prison, and you're just the first witch in a long time who's let me kiss her, so I can't help but find you attractive-" he paused for a breath and plowed on before she could respond, "or does it mean I like you, Merlin help me. Or maybe it means all the kindnesses and humanity that other wizards take for granted make you seem like the most fucking beautiful witch I've ever seen and so I can't keep my hands off you."

"Draco…" Hermione was shaking her head and her voice was soft. "Don't."

"Why not? Perhaps you can make more sense of it than I can," he said and his voice held a pleading note. "But don't try for one second to tell me that it's all in my head. My mind's been unbearable to live with for the last week and I can't, I won't, stand here and have you tell me that I'm wrong. That you're not beautiful, that I'm clinging to you just because you're taking care of me, treating me humanely. That it's fucking transference, or whatever the hell you therapists call it."

"But that's-"

"Don't," he said, his voice suddenly harsh. "It's my turn to tell you that. Don't you dare say it. Whatever I'm feeling for you is real enough at the moment and they're my feelings, which are about all I have left to call my own in this world. So don't try and take them away from me. You're not that cruel, Hermione," he finished softly. He set his cup down and leaned against the counter for a minute, staring out the window. A light on the outside of the barn lit it up in the distance and he gazed towards it, every line on his face tired, his eyes sad.

That was where Hermione's heart lay, anymore. She had eyes only for her horses and the past, no matter how well she was, now. She always will and nothing I say or do can change that, he thought bitterly.

She was silent, as if absorbing everything he'd said, and he spoke again after a few minutes.

"You know one of your barn cats is expecting?"

She glanced up at him. "That would be Dolores. She's a complete slag." She smiled after a minute. "But yeah, I knew."

"Dolores?" Draco murmured and turned back to her. "As in…"

Hermione smirked and set her own cup down, too. She crossed her arms.

"That's right."

Draco felt the corners of his mouth tilting upward and rolled his eyes. "Very nice."

"I thought so." They were quiet for a few more seconds and then Hermione spoke again. "Draco, I may not like everything you had to say, but I'll accept it. You're right, I shouldn't try and tell you how you're feeling. If they're real to you, that's all that matters."

He felt his shoulders relax some. "Thank you."

She looked up at him and found his eyes on her. She longed to touch her face again, but kept her arms firmly crossed. She really had no idea whether it was transference, or not. That would certainly make her life easier, after all. And she had kissed his father, too…but that genuinely had been a mistake, no matter how handsome she secretly thought Lucius was. Draco was pretty damned handsome, too, in his own way. All lean frame and shaggy blond hair that kept falling in his eyes…

Without realizing she'd moved towards him, lifted a hand to brush said hair away. Draco made a small noise and she came to herself, hand outstretched, and her eyes darted about, as if looking for the mind she'd so clearly lost seconds before.

Draco grabbed her hand, arresting her retreat, and she looked back at him.

"Draco-"

"You feel it, too," he murmured.

Hermione shook her head and stared hard at the countertop, avoiding his eyes.

"It's not that," she whispered. "I know myself. This is just…I'm only reacting to your being here at all. I did the same thing with Harry, the few times he wanted it, too," she ended miserably.

Draco abruptly dropped her hand and she finished backing away and leaned on the opposite counter again.

"Potter? You're seriously comparing me to Potter."

"I know what's going on here, Draco," she tried again. "I told you. You're a…good looking man and you're available and I'm so lonely some nights it aches."

Draco stared at her, a look of stark understanding on his face.

"But you are attracted to me."

"I don't know what I am, outside of desperate to be held," she shot back. "The same as you."

"I already told you, Hermione, you can't dictate what I feel."

"We could be anyone right now. Any two people in a similar situation, and we'd react the same way," she whispered, clinging to some semblance of control. Because she couldn't actually be attracted to him for his own sake, could she? It was too wrong. He was in her care, she needed to think of his safety, his well-being. She needed to…think…her eyes darted up to him and she realized he was moving towards her and then he was gripping her shoulders, looking down at her.

He'd clearly arrived at some sort of decision, because his face was hard, his jaw set. She felt herself begin to tremble.

"I'm not Potter, Hermione," he hissed. "But if it makes you feel better to tell yourself those things, that's fucking alright with me. If you honestly believe we could be anyone right now…" He paused, struggled for the words. "Then fine. Let me be anyone. For tonight, for these last few weeks. Damn it all, Hermione," he said, giving her a small shake. "If you'd rather have anybody but me, ok. I can be whomever the hell you like."

Heaven help her, when he followed his words by kissing her for the third time, she didn't struggle. Didn't try to pull away, didn't fight him. Instead, she molded her lips to his and hooked her fingers into his t-shirt, pulling him closer. And when his arms moved across her back, pressing her to his chest, their hips meeting, she merely gave a contented moan; and slid one hand up and around the back of his neck, drawing him further down to her.

All the things they'd said to one another moments before were true. Transference, attraction, loneliness. She knew each item shared a part of the blame, but god help her, she didn't care. She didn't want to care. So this was irresponsible and stupid. So there were a million reasons they should stop. It wasn't love, neither of them were pretending it was anything other than need in that instant, and that was suddenly alright with her. Besides, there would be no chance for regret. He was leaving in three weeks.

Three weeks wasn't such a long time. And by the time it was up, he'd probably be tired of this game, anyway. And so would she.

She moaned into his mouth again and dragged her lips from his suddenly.

"Draco- you have to promise me something," she gasped and his arms tightened.

"What?" he asked raggedly.

"Promise me you won't pretend this is anything other than…"

"Casual kissing?" he supplied and his voice was simultaneously amused and hurt. She met his eyes and he pressed his forehead to hers.

She licked her lips and then corrected him.

"Casual sex," she said breathlessly.

His eyes widened briefly and then he squeezed them shut before suddenly releasing her. Dear god, this wasn't what he wanted, was it? He stumbled back and put one hand on the counter for support, covering his eyes with the other.

Hermione watched him carefully, breath still shallow. She wasn't sure if she was pleased or hurt. So, he wasn't up for it, after all. He really couldn't quantify what he was feeling, and he wasn't willing to take any stupid chances. That was fine with her…wasn't it? She didn't need him anymore than he apparently needed her…

Her heart ached just a little. It had been a long time, after all, since she'd put herself out there that way. Since she'd even felt ready to share herself with a man. And here he'd come along, he and his father, and they'd awoken something in her and now she was prepared to take Draco, at least, up on the offer and he couldn't even make up his bloody mind.

She flushed and felt her trembling increase.

"Never mind," she said, and her voice sounded loud in the silence of the kitchen. "I…it was foolish. Completely stupid. I was only…" Her breath came faster and she headed for the door. "I don't know what's wrong with me. I'm going to bed. Let's just pretend this never happened, shall we?"

She turned her head to find Draco watching her again, a look of desperation on his face.

"Hermione-"

"Forget it," she said hastily. "Do turn out the lights here when you're finished. Goodnight, Draco." Then she shoved out of the kitchen, leaving him staring after her.

She stopped halfway across the darkened living room and collapsed into an armchair, burying her burning face in her hands. She pressed her fingers across her eyes, trying to staunch the sudden tears. What in hell had she just allowed to happen? To almost happen? How stupid could she have been, to even think of suggesting…she felt sick just thinking about it. She covered her mouth and forced herself to take deep breaths.

The door to the living room opened slowly after a few minutes and Draco looked out.

"Hermione?" he called softly and quiet, shaky breathing met his ears. He flipped off the kitchen light, casting them further into darkness, and then made his way out to her slowly, following the sounds.

"Hermione, I'm sorry."

"I really, really, fucking hate that goddamned word," she managed to hiss.

"I don't care anymore what you hate," he replied and crept over to kneel in front of her. "And I am sorry. I was…I wasn't thinking, either."

"Clearly," she muttered around several loud sniffs. He could just make out her wiping her cheeks. He reached up and took her face in his hands again.

"Let me make it up to you," he whispered.

"You can't. Except by putting me out of my humiliating misery." She tried to pull free, but he held her head still between his slender fingers. "I'm so fucking ashamed," she breathed and closed her eyes, so she wouldn't have to see the glint of his eyes shining up at her.

"I'm sorry," he murmured, and leaned forward, placing a chaste kiss over one eye. "I'm sorry," he said again, this time kissing the other eye. His voice was breathless and he continued to land feather light kisses over her face, punctuated by fervent apologies. She shook.

"Please, forgive me," he finally breathed and then covered her trembling lips with his.

Hermione tried not to respond, tried to hold herself still against the gentleness of his actions, but she found it impossible. Draco Malfoy was on his knees, lacing her with the sweetest kisses she'd ever received in the last eight years; and he was pleading with her for forgiveness.

She was in no state to deny him. Not even her moral fiber could hold up under such an assault. She leaned into the kiss and when he broke it off a second later, she was the one pressing her forehead to his.

"We shouldn't do this," she murmured. He drew his fingers along her scars so tenderly it pained her heart to feel it.

"You're probably right," he admitted.

She swallowed hard. "Are we…are we going to anyway?"

The room was lit only by cloud covered moonlight, but she could feel the tension, knew his face was solemn.

Merlin take it, he wanted it badly enough that he would accept whatever she was offering him. Casual sex, illicit kisses, feelings he'd have to forget had ever existed in another three weeks…he'd risk his heart for those things, if they were all she could give him. He searched out her eyes in the shadows, gave her a smile she couldn't see.

"I promise not to make anything more of it."

"It's terribly illegal," she reminded him- reminded them both, really. He took her face in his hands again.

"I don't care."

"And bad for us both."

"Hermione, let me at least pretend to make love to you," he muttered and his grip tightened. Her eyes went wide, then shut tightly; and he took the response as her consent and reached up, covering her lips with his yet again.

This time, neither pulled away.

AN: This is the part where things will get hot as all fuck. I hope you're ready for it. Normally, I'd let myself do the "…" thing and have some nicely placed innuendo about moonlight and shut doors and they'd just wake in each other's arms the next morning, but I'm rather looking forward to writing this lemon. ;)