7 June, 2010 (Monday)

Their success retrieving Persephone's mirror from the Underworld –a four month long research and retrieval endeavour– garnered Hermione and Malfoy a bonus of five-hundred Galleons each and a two-week holiday from their very pleased boss.

The extravagant bonus was mostly meant as a bribe, she knew; Bill generously rewarded them at the end of every mission as a carrot to prevent her and/or Malfoy from straying or considering opening up their own rival Curse-Breaking operation. However, regardless of the reason, she'd take whatever Bill wanted to throw her way without complaint.

"So, where do you plan to head for your break?" Draco asked her as they left Bill's office and headed down the hallway together towards the exit.

Hermione shrugged. "Back to Greece, I suppose. My cousin has been writing lately, asking me to come so she and the rest of the clan can show me around my mother's ancestral country." She negligently waved her hand through the air. "It's a ruse, of course. They're all in league with my mum in attempting to marry me off to some swarthy Greek male before my thirties have come and gone."

Draco twirled his wand in his hand with practised ease and nimble fingers. "You're partial to blonds," he pointed out that rather uncomfortably true fact, "so unless they introduce you to Apollo, himself, I doubt you'll be saying, 'I do' to anyone from Greece." He stretched his arms wide and grinned big. "I, on the other hand, am in the right market for a ravishing dark-haired, dark-eyed beauty. Are your cousins female, and how old are they?"

She huffed with annoyance. "Forget it. They're Muggles."

"Since when has that been a problem for me?"

He was right, but she'd grasped at the first, obvious flaw to try to throw him off the trail. The truth was she didn't want him leering at her female cousins, who were all quite lovely and younger than she. A pang of jealousy passed through her at the thought of him hooking up with one of them, especially Rhachel, her favourite cousin of the bunch.

"I said forget it. You're not coming with me. Go find your own entertainment for the next two weeks."

As they hit Gringotts' front door, Draco held it open for her, allowing her to go first, his old-world chivalry once more rearing its charming head. "And pass up a chance to take blackmail pictures of you roaring drunk in some bouzoukia and dancing your wild hair into limp submission? Do you even realise what you're asking me to give up?"

She glared up at him, shielding her eyes from the bright afternoon sun. "I said no, and I mean it." Truthfully, she needed to get away from Draco. Their four-month-long assignment this time had brought them dangerously close to crossing lines that would have jeopardized their working relationship, and she was feeling a little too sex-starved to trust herself around him at the moment.

She needed a shag, badly. No deeper, conflicting emotions, no past history to muck things up. Just fun, no strings... and just until she could get the vision of Malfoy, half-naked with a towel around his hips, out of her head.

She turned away from him, intending to go to Magical Menagerie to pick up some owl treats, as she was out at home (no thanks to Ron's continual letter-sending begging her to take him back... again). "Go visit Blaise," she instructed. "I'm sure his villa in Milan is still party-central for every Playwitch-of-the-month model. You're bound to find what you're looking for in companionship needs there."

Draco's long-legged stride easily caught up with her within a few steps. "Maybe I'll take that offer. What do you think about that?"

Truthfully, she tried not to, because the lump in her chest, in the area just over her heart, became as heavy as concrete when she did.

It was bad enough that her perfect ability for visual recall was like a looping film in her head whenever she gave any thought to the few times she'd accidentally walked in on him with other witches. The sight of him rising and falling over some other woman's silhouetted form in a well-recognizable rhythm, of his long, thick length sinking between someone else's thighs and hearing him moan in pleasure was both incredibly hurtful and inappropriately erotic. Imagining things that hadn't actually happened was sure to drive her spare.

Hermione took a deep breath. "I think... I need a good, long break from you."

He stopped in the middle of the alley, as if her words shocked him, but she firmly planted one foot in front of the other and kept walking, trying very hard not to feel guilty for speaking the truth.

X~~~~~X

8 June, 2010 (Tuesday)

Hermione left for Greece that morning after contacting her mother's sister, Aunt Eumelia, and making arrangements to come stay at her home in Nafplio for the next two weeks. She figured by then, she'd be sunned and shagged enough to be moderately relaxed upon returning to England... certainly ready to face Malfoy again.

As she approached her Floo, she reached up and patted the wooden box that held Crookshanks' ashes, as she did every time she left her house. "Keep a watch out for me again, Crooks, will you?" she requested of her long-gone, beloved familiar.

A moment later, Crookshanks' ghostly form stretched its way out of the box and sauntered across the open space between them to touch noses with her and meow in agreement to her request. The ethereal cold of the dead prickled her skin for a split second as they connected, and then he pulled away and was strolling over to the cottage's window and looking out. His long tail swished slowly back and forth in lazy enjoyment as he watched a hummingbird flutter in to inspect the honeysuckle blooms in her garden.

Secretly, Hermione knew her cat loved being called upon to rejoin the land of the living to act as guardian of their home while she was away, as it gave him the opportunity to stalk and frighten the bejeezers out of the squirrels that loved crossing her front fence.

Holding to her Muggle suitcase in one hand, she grabbed some green, sparkling Floo powder in her other and stepped into the cottage's large fireplace. Calling out the Greek Ministry of Magic's main lobby address –the closest Floo to her Aunt's address that she knew of in Greece– she tossed down the powder and was transported away with a sickening tug.

TO BE CONTINUED...

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

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Here's a preview of chapter four for you:

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The bar was packed with bodies, all clamouring for their first or next drink, even while the house trance played on in the background.

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Hermione quickly scanned the area, moving between levels, and finally spotted her cousin-

-dancing closely with a very familiar blond.

Jaw falling to the level of her kneecaps and heart sinking into the floor, Hermione could only watch as Rhachel and Draco Malfoy –who should have been thousands of miles away just then– got rather familiar with some serious bump-and-grind action on the dance floor.

What the bloody hell was he doing there? Hadn't she expressly told him to stay away?