All characters belong to JKR

Chapter 23: Regret:

"True love never dies, but lives on through the people we love."

"What?" Draco asked.

Hermione was standing in the gift shoppe of the old cathedral, among the cards, sweets, key chains, postcards, and other things, which seemed dreadfully out of place, and she held up a small plaque. She walked over to him and reread it aloud. "True love never dies, but lives on through the people we love."

"That could be your epitaph someday," he said. She looked up at him, with a confused look and he took the small, wooden plaque from her hands and placed it back on a shelf. He said, "Sentimental rubbish, that's what that is." He held up a postcard and said, "Look, how strange, it doesn't move." Then he put it close to her nose, and said, "I can make it move without magic," and he moved it forward, pulled it back, moved it forward, and pulled it back. She finally swatted his hand. He put the postcard back in its holder and said, "Muggle pictures are weird."

"You're weird," she decided.

"Yes, but if you truly love me, and you die, your love will live on through me, so that's a nice thought, isn't it?" he mused, picking up the plaque again and putting IT in front of her face.

"You're insane," she decided. She took the plaque this time and placed it on another shelf.

She grabbed two postcards and a book on the history of the cathedral and took them up to the cashier to pay. Draco pushed her slightly to the side, and took out his wallet, and to her surprise, he paid for them with a credit card. She leaned over to him and whispered, "Another handy Muggle invention: plastic money, also known as credit cards."

He looked down at her with a smile and he put his arm around her and then kissed the top of her head. She took the bag from the cashier and they walked toward the exit.

"Did you have a nice time?" he asked, his arm going around her shoulders.

"You know, I did. It was beautiful, although the gift shoppe is a bit out of place, but I don't begrudge them raising money however they can," she answered. They walked out into the bright sun and she added, "I'm starving. It's after three, and we didn't eat lunch."

"Do you want to go somewhere here in the village to eat?" he asked.

"Can we just go back to the resort and eat in my room?" she asked back.

He tweaked her side, which caused her to squeal and he asked, "Does your room have a bed?"

"Why, are you hungry for a mattress?" she asked as a joke.

"I'm hungry for you," he answered succinctly.

She took his hand, which warmed his heart, and said, "Well, I haven't been sleeping on a chair, so yes, it has a bed, but I merely thought we could eat out on my patio, a late, late lunch, and then we could take a nap."

"A nap?" he asked, shocked. They had reached the edge of the car park and he said, "Are you eighty years old? Do you need a nap?"

"I'm thirty, and yes, I need a nap," she answered back. "I didn't sleep much last night you know, and we both got up so early this morning."

"Will I be joining you in your nap, and more importantly, will the nap at least take place on a bed?" he asked, with a lecherous look.

"I like to nap on the couch," she revealed. He rolled his eyes.

As they walked through the car park, Hermione felt peace and happiness, with her hand in his. She felt relief that she found a solution to her problem, but now she had to find a way to tell him. He was leaving tomorrow morning now (originally he was to leave Sunday night, but he decided to wait until Monday morning), and she was leaving the day after, and come Tuesday she would do something dreadful so that he would fire her, and then they could date with relative ease.

Actually, the whole plan was flawed, she realized. She had been fretting and worrying about it since she thought it up, but once on the tour, and walking among the old church, with Draco by her side, whispering to her, touching her, kissing her hand, making jokes, both lewd and amusing, she soon forgot about those flaws. Thus, the peace and happiness that she had felt just moments ago.

Now, back out in the bright sun, heading toward the little lane that would take them to the car, the peace and happiness she had felt was quickly being overshadowed by fear and regret. She didn't want to be fired. Still, it was a solution.

Silently, they trudge along, still holding hands. He took her bag from her and put it under his arm. She liked this. She liked holding hands with him, and walking in silence, and having it not feel awkward. Who knew that when she came here for the weekend, and for a stupid blind date, she would find love?

There, she admitted it. She was probably falling in love with him. She looked over at him quickly and then turned her gaze just as quickly back to the ground. She was wavering from her earlier decision to be fired so they could date. First, she had never failed at anything in her entire life, except back in school when she had to learn to ride a broom, and divination, but she didn't count those as failures, but more as things she didn't care for, so she didn't care to excel. However, she had never been fired from a job. She liked her job, even though she wasn't completely sure what it was yet. She wanted to work there, even though she had only worked there a week. She was excited to start that internship program. She was excited to try new things, and to see things that she implemented come to fruition, and mean something.

Second, there was a nagging voice in the back of her mind telling her that if she got fired, just so she could date him, and if she kept that large severance package, then that would made her no better than a mistress, a kept woman. Hadn't he suggested that very thing to her, and she rebuked the whole idea? He had told her that he would give her money and she could start her own business or something, and they would be free to date, and in a year's time, she would be open to find other employment.

She told him that would make her a 'kept woman', i.e. prostitute. How was her solution any different from that? Just because she thought of it? Just because she would have the self-satisfaction of believing that, she was the one that made the sacrifice for him.

He could sense that she was pensive. They reached the car and he threw her small bag in the backseat. He pushed her up against the closed door and said, "What's wrong all of the sudden, and don't say nothing? I know you better than that."

She held her hand over the top of her eyes, to block the afternoon sun. He moved her slightly to the side, so that the light no longer blinded her. He questioned her again, "Really, what's wrong?"

She stared at him and wondered if she could really make this type of sacrifice for him, for them. Her friends, her family, and any prospective employers would perceive her being fired in a very poor light. Even if she told her family and friends the reason, that it was because she was a moron and signed a contract without reading it, then started a fling with the boss, they would still see it as a bad thing. Moreover, it was right that they should. Even if she did nothing truly neglectful to be fired, it would still cast her in a poor light, and her reputation was important to her.

It wouldn't hurt to have a lawyer still look at the contract to see if she could get out of it before she did anything rash, right? Padma Patil was a lawyer. She would try to get out of the contract first. Then, if she couldn't have the contract revoked, she might, no, she would, settle for being fired. Maybe.

"If I quit, I wouldn't get the severance package, right?" she asked, in reference to his question, although her question didn't answer his.

"What are you talking about, Granger?" He had opened her car door, but then shut it again and said, "Wait, is that your solution to our dating? Are you planning on quitting?"

"No," she answered honestly, although she might change her mind.

He glared at her, pointed his finger in her face, and said, "Quitting won't solve our problem! Besides, I thought you didn't want to quit. I thought you wanted to keep working with me." He took her hand, dragged her across the street, and sat her down at a little table at an outdoor bistro. The waiter approached, but Draco immediately rebuffed the man. He pulled his chair directly in front of her, grabbed her hands and said, "Talk."

"Why did you fire my predecessors?"

He shook his head, looked up to the sky for help, found none, and then said, "Adrian fired all of them."

"But what did they do?"

"Oh sweetheart," he said, misunderstanding. He kept her hands in one of his while his free hand stroked her hair. "I promise I didn't have an affair with any of them, if that's what you think they did to get fired. Besides, a couple of them were men."

She almost laughed, but instead she took her hands from his and said, "No I mean, tell me what specifically they did to get fired."

"They were mostly incompetent, or stupid, or annoying. You don't have to worry about being fired, because you're none of the above," he explained. He motioned for the waiter and said, "Let's just eat here, and then you can nap on the drive back to the resort."

She felt like she was being dismissed, but then again, he didn't know why she was asking these things. He ordered for them both, and then he turned his attention back to her. She was staring off in the distance. "What now?" he asked slightly concerned.

"What did they do to get fired?" she asked again.

"Oh, Merlin, Granger, but you are relentless. I hope you're like this in bed, too." The waiter set down their water glasses and snickered. Draco ignored the man and said, "Fine, the one fellow took four hour lunches. The one stupid hag almost cried every time I asked her to explain her ideas to me. The one bint was a bit too enthusiastic, giggling all the time, just overall annoying. The one did have a pimply face, just like Adrian said in the elevator that first day, but we fired him because he stole some information and sold it to my father's company."

Hermione could never do any of those things! "What else?"

"I don't know." He was just beginning to understand her line of questioning, and he wasn't pleased. "The one woman never bathed, and she stunk up the whole floor." He made that up. "Oh, yes, and one man we fired because he slept all day long, he was a right lazy git." He was trying to think of terrible things, knowing that she could never do any of them, even if she did suddenly want him to fire her.

"Besides," he added, "Adrian does all the hiring and firing. He would probably only fire you if you kept seeing me, or something. Yes, I know that is the only way Adrian would fire you, if you slept with me, and continued to date me." He was manipulating her, and he didn't have an ounce of regret about it.

All she said was, "oh."

She barely ate. They barely talked. She went to the restroom, so she could have some time alone to read the last note. She had just taken it out of her purse when he opened the door. "This is a woman's toilet, Malfoy," she explained as she stood by the sink.

He knew that. He also knew that she was probably in the restroom to read the last note, and he suddenly didn't want her to read it, at least, not yet. He looked at the symbol on the door, as he propped it open, and said, "Is that what that little round ball on top of the triangle means?"

Hermione pointed to the triangle and said, "The round ball is a head, and the triangle represents a dress."

He saw that she had his note in her hand. "Do you want to know what that triangle represents?" He pointed to the note.

"What?"

"A way for you to keep working, for us to keep dating, and we don't even have to get married…yet. But, don't read it yet, please."

She slipped it back in her purse and promised, "I'll read it later."

"You won't ever do anything to get fired, you know," he said to her as she was walking out of the toilet. He pulled on the back of her pretty dress and she stopped walking. "That's your plan, isn't it?"

"It was a half-arsed plan, at best," she admitted. "So, we're back to the beginning, but I don't want to think about it right now. It's boring me to tears. Everything will work out." She didn't really think so, but it didn't hurt to say it aloud.

They drove back to the resort and once she was out of the car, he told her he had to return it to its rightful owner, because he was too damn pretty for prison. He leaned toward her and kissed the tip of her nose and said, "Go have your nap, and then we'll do something nice before our late dinner. I have something bloody fab planned as your birthday present later." He reached around her waist and patted her bum.

"Hey!" she proclaimed, annoyed that he did so in public.

"A pat on the bum is tradition for a birthday," he defended. She walked in the resort, glanced back once, but he was already jogging down the stairs, and soon he was in the car and out of sight.

She went up to her room, changed into a cotton sundress, before she lay down on her stomach on the bed. Before she knew it, she was drifting off to sleep. She woke up when she felt the bed dip beside her. She felt a feathery, soft kiss on her neck. Draco placed his hands in her hair, starting at her forehead, and he stroked her hair all the way down her head, to her back, threading his fingers through her curls. She still had her eyes closed, and she moved from her stomach to her side, facing away from him.

He stroked her hair two more times before he leaned forward to kiss her. He kissed her exposed neck, her shoulder, down her arm, the whole time his hand was still in her hair. She knew that he knew that she was now awake, because she made a sort of mewing sound. She opened her eyes and the room was rather dark. She wondered how long she had slept. She didn't have time to ask, because at that exact moment he was doing something fabulous to her. Her back was pulled up to his chest, his leg was slightly over hers, and his hand was on her stomach, and he was kissing her neck and it was a glorious, wonderful feeling.

Her dressed hitched up slightly, and as he continued to kiss and nip at her neck and jaw line, the hand that pressed against her belly went to her leg and pulled the thin material of her summer dress up higher, so that her thigh was exposed. His fingertips scraped lightly over her skin, from her thigh to her now bare hip. His hand grasped her hip, his fingers indenting her skin, and pulled her closer to him. He bit down on the sensitive juncture where her neck met her shoulder, and she sighed.

She took a moment to glance at his hand, which was now on her bare stomach, under her dress, and was moving ever upwards. She moved so she was on her back. His leg was still draped over hers, and she felt how much he wanted her against her hipbone. She looked up at him as his hand stopped moving, right below her bare breast. He stopped kissing her neck and he said, "Nice nap?"

"Nice wake up, actually," she said back. "How long have I slept?"

"Three hours."

"WHAT?" She tried to sit up, but his hand on her stomach wouldn't allow it. He kept her pressed down on the mattress.

"Its fine," he mumbled, his mouth moving across her face, over her eyes, cheeks, nose and chin. "Dinner is almost ready in the private dining room in my suite." His face was close to hers, his breath warm on her cheek. He placed a welcomed kiss on her lips, one that was warm, moist, and meaningful. She trembled slightly in his arms, and he knew that if he wanted her, she would be his, possibly forever. The air around them was thick and filled with a desire that was so tangible they could both feel it seeping into their skin, into their muscles, and through every fiber and nerve ending.

Hermione knew in her heart she couldn't kiss someone with this much passion if she didn't love them. This kiss had the power to influence her, reach inside her, and manipulate her, she didn't want it to end, and she found that she had no regret about that, either. His mouth moved over hers, warm tongue on tongue, pressing forward, not holding back, which caused her to want to open up and receive him in any way that she could.

He held back for a moment, lifted his head and looked at her, leaving her lips wanting more. His hand on her belly moved slowly upward to caress one breasts under the smooth cotton of her dress. She grasped his shoulders tightly, for if she let go, she feared she might drown. He bent his head and kissed her nipple over the barrier of her cotton dress, just a fleeting, warm kiss, which opened a dam of longing in her.

He lifted his head and said, "Do you want your birthday present now or later?"

"Are you my birthday present?" she asked.

To which he smiled and said…

A/N: HA! HA! HA! I have missed cliffhangers so much. Remember when I used to use them all the time in my stories? Remember when all the readers would threaten me with bodily injury? Remember how I still used them, even after being threatened, because I'm on this side of the computer, and you are all on that side? Oh yes, fond memories, indeed. I think this story will only have eight more chapters, because I certainly don't want to drag it out, and have it go around in circles and meander. THANKS!