Who do you need?
Who do you love?
When you come undone.

CHAPTER TWO

Hermione walked into the modest apartment, sparsely decorated. She had meant for it to be only a temporary apartment when she had gotten her job at the Ministry. However, she had come to love it and didn't even mind the view of the garbage dumpster from her bedroom window anymore like she had before. Of course, her friends thought she had horrible taste. Draco, especially had a strong aversion to her apartment and frequently reminded her. It was tiny and cozy. She had a nice small kitchen with magically altered appliances. She had living room with four bookshelves and a small couch and table and there was her bedroom with the bathroom inside of it.

Her cellphone buzzed and she opened her purse, retrieving it and looking at the screen.

Still at the party? Hermione smiled. She had convinced Draco to get a cellphone. She, of course was his only contact but he had happily adapted to the cellphone even claiming that Muggles were brilliant. No, I am home now. She replied. She waited for a response but didn't get one immediately, so opted for some reading material.

Today's edition of the Daily Prophet lay unread on her coffee table. She had rushed to work in the morning and hadn't had the time to read it.

'MALFOY ACQUIRES PUDDLEMERE UNITED' blazed the the headline, accompanied by a picture of Draco, along with some Quidditch players smiling and waving, standing in front of a giant flag of the Puddlemere United Quidditch team. Hermione was used to seeing Draco's face on the front page of the Daily Prophet every month or so, announcing his latest business merger or acquisition. She skimmed the three page story, not surprised to see that the article had included a biography of Draco and listed her as his girlfriend.

The media fascination of their relationship was unsettling but the public was devouring it as pictures of Draco and Hermione together sold record amounts of gossip magazines. She skimmed the entire newspaper leaving the sports section. She looked at the front page again looking at the beautiful face of Draco Malfoy. As always, just the sight of him gave her a inner jolt. His was face was like a painting of some fallen angel, all beautiful hard angles framed by all that rich blond hair. The sheer beauty of it was always a surprise to her. Of course, her seventeen-year old self had always thought him to be handsome subconsciously, she would of course never admit it to anyone or even herself. But now, she wondered just how many girls at Hogwarts had had crushes on him...

She averted her eyes from the picture and looked at the smaller headlines. In miniscule font, she read: Ron Weasley chosen as Keeper for Cannons. It was ridiculously small font compared to Draco's headline. She opened the sports section only to see more about Draco and Puddlemere United. On the last page of the section, there was a quarter page article about Ron and every other sentence was about how he was good friends with Harry Potter. She felt something akin to pity for Ron. Draco had 'stole his thunder' so to speak. She wondered for a brief moment if Draco had done this on purpose, to coincide the announcement of his acquisition with the signing of Ron Weasley. Heavens knew Ron loved attention and hated it when it was stolen from him. Perhaps, that is why Ron had lashed out at her, over anger of Draco stealing his thunder?

There she was making excuses for Ron again...not that it was a particularly good excuse if it indeed was true.

Her phone vibrated and she quickly opened Draco's text message. I missed the last portkey to London. Ill see you tomorrow. Hermione was surprised to discover that she was sort of disappointed. Was she seriously becoming addicted to sex? Her phone buzzed again. I have missed you.. She smiled, she had just seen him yesterday for lunch, sometimes he could be such a sap.

...

She was having the best dream ever, she was eleven years old and on the beach with her parents. Australia, she reckoned due to the fact there was a kangaroo and Steve Irwin lounging beside her. She was eating a hotdog her mother had made her, it had too much mustard but she liked it. The kanagroo started licking her face...

She shifted on her bed, dragging her bedsheets with her. She was in that state between dream and wakefulness now, that beautiful relaxing state of purgatory... There was a warmth against her neck, the sound of breathing. She realized with a start that she wasn't alone on the bed. She listened intently to the sound of breathing. It was Draco. He was kissing her face, her nose, her chin and his lips were creeping down her neck.

"Mmmm, yeah just like that Dean," she murmured sleepily. She felt him stiffen against her.

"Relax," she chuckled. "I know it's you." He relaxed, resuming his kissing. "I would bloody well hope so," he muttered darkly, biting her ear. She chuckled. "What time is it?"

"Time for you to get up," Draco replied, "we are going for breakfast."

Hermione sighed. "But I am so sleepy. Can we just lay in bed all day? Wouldn't that be fun?" she asked, propping herself on her elbow to look at him. He looked immaculate as always, he was already showered and dressed, in his casual weekend clothes that he rarely wore. He gave a whole new meaning to the word workaholic.

He was looking at her strangely. "What?" she asked, smiling at him.

"Are you trying to seduce me, Granger?" he asked. Hermione laughed.

"Is it working?" she asked, reaching to touch his lips.

He grabbed her wrist quickly placed her arm above her head. "Yes," he replied huskily before taking her lips with his. He licked her bottom lip trying to get her part her lips so he could slip his tongue in. But Hermione was not going to let him, she knew for a fact that she had terrible morning breath. And she was awfully insecure about it.

"What?" he asked annoyed that she wasn't letting him deepen the kiss.

"Let's go to breakfast first," she said quickly, freeing herself and leaping out of the bed. Draco fell back disappointed. "Cruel," he muttered. Hermione ignored him and walked to the bathroom. "I'm having a shower," she said, looking back at him sprawled across her bed with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

"You are welcome to join me," she added. He looked up at her, his face changing and a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Would love to."

...

Hermione joined Draco in the living room after finally deciding what to wear. "Finally, do you always take this long in the morning?," Draco said, putting down the Daily Prophet and looking up at her. Usually, she just threw whatever was nearest on but she always had a difficult time choosing what to wear when she going out with Draco. Not that she would ever confess to that to anyone, least of all, him. Hermione grunted.

"Where are we going?" she asked, glancing at the paper he had discarded. There was a full page article about Ron on the front page. She didn't know if she was happy about that. She was pretty angry over last night but nonetheless, she surprised herself when she wrung the newspaper several feet. She guessed she was more angry at Ron than happy for him. Draco raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"It's nothing," she muttered lowly.

"It's obviously something," Draco pried looking at her. "

Nothing," Hermione repeated, exasperated. Why did he want to know everything?

"Are we going or what?" She walked towards the door of her flat. Draco stood up quickly and grabbed her arm tightly.

"We are apparating," he said before she was sucked into the vortex and her breath was stunned out of her.

She landed with a thud, dizzy and disoriented, clutching Draco's arm like a vice. "Don't ever, ever do that again," she breathed shakily at Draco, who stood completely composed with not a hair out of place. He smirked.

"It's only polite to give a bit of a warning before you side-apparate someone, you prat" she said, glaring at him and letting go of his arm. "I could of been splinched," she grumbled.

"I wouldn't have let you get splinched, Hermione," Draco said, annoyed. She believed him but glared at him anyway. She looked around her familiar surroundings. He reached for her hand and pulled her beside him as he started walking at a brisk pace. They had never been to Diagon Alley together before, there was just too many crowds and too many people who stared at them or worse, took pictures.

"I need to ran an errand here," Draco explained.

It was an early Sunday morning though, and the street and shops were almost deserted, except for the popular breakfast spots. Draco led them to one. "Draco Malfoy," Draco said to the man in the front. "A breakfast place with reservations? This ought to be good," Hermione whispered to him. "It's the best," he said grinning. If Draco Malfoy thought it was the best, it probably was.

...

They finished eating and Draco had paid the bill, (Hermione had insisted on paying but he had cast a quick binding spell so she couldn't reach in her purse). This irritated her and she threatened to go home and catch up on paperwork, but Draco promised to go to the bookstore with her after he ran his errand. He knew she couldn't resist a trip to Flourish and Blotts since they were already in Diagon Alley and he was willing to accompany her. Unfortunately, the sun had risen in the sky now and the streets were being packed with the noon rush. An especially large crowd was gathered in front of Quality Quidditch Supplies.

"Isn't he handsome, he's certainly giving Oliver Wood a run for his money" she heard a young witch say to her group of friends who erupted in giggles. "Maybe Chudley Cannons will actually win a game this year," she heard an older man say loudly.

"I wouldn't bet on it," Draco told him. The man looked at him startled. Dozens of other people who heard the remark turned around too. Hermione punched him lightly in the arm. He had just alerted everyone of their presence and here she was hoping to have a quiet, uneventful Sunday. The girls who had been giggling stopped to look at her and Draco before launching into a whispering discussion.

She couldn't imagine what they had to discuss, but damn, if she wasn't curious. It was enough to drive her mad.

"Let's leave," she said sharply, pulling Draco's arm, trying to lead him away from the increasing crowd.

"Hermione, is that you?"

She met Percy's eyes in the crowd, he was wearing a Chudley Cannons toque and was holding several Chudley Cannon posters in his right hand emblazoned by the words 17: Ronald Weasley. Hermione realized with a jolt that this must be the autograph signing she had heard Ron telling Harry about yesterday night. "

Good morning Percy."

"Morning to you too, I was just wondering if you got my memo about the Ministry's new emergency code." She had in fact received the memo early yesterday morning which contained tedious details about what to do in event of a fire. The memo had been the joke of the office and Dean Thomas had sent an edited copy of the memo to the staff that simply read: Cast an Aguamenti.

Percy, the Ministry's emergency specialist took his job very seriously and enjoyed spamming everyone with memos every other day.

"Yes, it was quite informative, thank you," Hermione lied.

"Glad to hear it," Percy said, a smug smile across his face. His entire demeanour changed almost comically when he spotted Draco standing beside her. "I-I got to get going," he stammered, giving her a hasty wave and turning back into the crowd.

"Well that was rude," Draco said, pretending to be hurt. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let's get the hell out of here."

"Don't you want Weasel boy's autograph?"

Hermione punched him again.

"Where are we going?" she asked him, desperately trying to manoeuvre through the large crowd that had trapped them.

"Amanuensis Quills."

"You need to buy a quill? That's your errand?" she looked at him in disbelief.

He nodded in affirmation. He seemed distracted by someone in the crowd and had picked up his pace so that she had to almost jog to keep up with his long strides.

"I have several spare quills at home," she muttered wanting nothing more than to get out of Diagon Alley at that moment. She had ran into a woman carrying a child who had shot her the dirtiest glare ever. She needed that woman to give her lessons.

...

"Why, pray tell, do you require the use of an eight-hundred galleon quill? Does it write in liquid gold?" Hermione asked, tapping her foot impatiently. They had been in the quill shop for nearly thirty minutes and Draco had yet to make a decision. He huffed impatiently in reply, testing another quill on the parchment the shopkeeper handed to him. "Your handwriting is amazing," Hermione complimented.
"I know," Draco replied cockily. Hermione rolled her eyes, looking out the window. That was a mistake. The flashes went off. Draco jerked up. "Can I please spell these windows opaque?" he asked the shopkeeper. The shopkeeper glanced at the photographers and back at Draco nervously. "Be my guest, Mr. Malfoy." He took his wand out of his pocket and cast a quick silent spell, and turned to Hermione. "How long were there?" "Don't know, I only just saw them," Hermione muttered. She was awfully glad that Draco had had the hindsight to tell the shopkeeper close the shop for him and allow him some privacy or it would not have been good. The photographers were getting more and more fearless and made an errand at Diagon Alley nearly impossible to do without having it be scrutinized in the tabloids the next morning.

Hermione's cell phone buzzed. Sorry about last night, Ron was drunk. You know he didn't mean it. He asks for your forgiveness. She knew Harry would be the one to first talk to her about last night. Ron never ever made the effort to apologize without Harry's assistance.

Ok whatever. I forgive him, she replied. And she did. Her anger from the morning had wore off now. Her Ron would never change, who would she to blame him for being himself. And he had been drunk of course. Of course.

R/R. Fun stuff coming up...