Some graphic sexy bits at the end... skip it if you want to! I wouldn't. Too fun!

She checked her watch again. Again. Again—she was going to smack herself. She forced her hand back down by her side next to her and Draco's bags. It was just shy of 5AM and she was shivering.

Thank goodness the potion he'd made her had definitely done the trick. She'd managed to sleep for a full ten hours before she woke up to get a glass of water and had seen his note up on her refrigerator (which he had magicked on, since he clearly was not about to get interested in the muggle concept of 'magnets') which told her that he had gone home to grab a few extra things and his broomstick and that the safest course of action was for them to fly.

She was not excited about this.

She hadn't been on a broomstick in a very long time for a very long list of reasons… the very least of which was her nausea. There weren't enough potions in the entire world to make her WANT to get back on one, no matter how "safe" of a rider he thought he was—and she knew first hand that it wasn't even true. She'd watched the bugger fall off in Quidditch!

She sighed. Something must be holding him up.

She leaned against the handle of her suitcase. Then, she saw it. It was dropping low like a crow circling for its breakfast. He descended upon the deserted London street corner like he wasn't worried about a human in sight. He landed, stepped off, and pushed his hair out of his face. He wore a crisp leather jacket and thick gloves on his hands. He eyed her.

"Is that the warmest coat you have?"

"It's been charmed against the cold, don't worry."

"Right." He had a lightweight bag strapped over his shoulder. "Here, hand me your stuff." She did. He laid it flat on the ground and pointed his wand at it.

"Reducio." It shrunk to fit in the palm of his hand and he lifted it, placed it in his shoulder bag and zipped it back up.

"In the middle of the street?" she asked him, rolling her eyes. "I understand showing off for a lady, but not for all of her muggle neighbors."

He smiled that genuine smile of his that made her weak in the knees. She blushed and looked away.

"What?" she asked him.

"You knew I was showing off; didn't try to play it off like it was some kind of game of mine- some trick I was playing. I like it."

She rolled her eyes. "Doesn't change the fact of the matter that we may not be the only two people in the bloody world, Malfoy. Better safe than sorry."

"Actually, you're wrong about that."

"We're not the only people in the world?"

"As far as any nearby muggles are concerned, we are. Or at least, I am. You, they can still see. He wound his wand around her starting at her head and moving it around her neck and shoulders like a coiled rope.

"Abscondite Patet!" White light sprinkled out of the wand tip and fell around her body. She didn't feel a thing—maybe a slight cooling sensation, but she couldn't accurately read that with the wintery air blowing her hair off her neck.

"Disillusionment charm?"

"Only toward muggles. It's on the broomstick as well. They won't see us flying overhead, which means we won't have to fly so high that you pass out and fall off."

Her brow furrowed and she felt more warmth creeping into her cheeks discoloring her neck.

"You… remembered I don't like flying?"

He paused. "You must have mentioned—"

"I didn't."

"Surely you—"

"Nope."

"Well. Obviously I'm simply recalling the humorous event of you nearly passing out when you finally managed to hover your broomstick—on maybe the tenth week of flying lessons—a mere foot off the ground and then requiring a trip to the library for the rest of the session?"

She looked away.

"…Too much?" he asked. He was smirking again, she realized. She shrugged it off.

"Not at all. But now you are playing games with me." She stretched onto tip-toes and kissed him on the cheek.

"Don't know why you held onto that memory," she said, inches from him, "but thanks."

He swallowed hard, his eyes darting back and forth between hers. He slowly dropped his head as if to kiss her… seconds passed… he cleared his throat, pulling back, scratching the back of his neck. She sighed.

"We should get going."

"Right," she said.

He mounted the broom and she walked toward it, slinging her leg over it behind him.

"Kinda wish you could fly. This would be much more interesting if you were in front."

She chuckled in spite of herself.

"He's afraid to honestly kiss me, but has no problem having sex with me in midair."

"I am truly an individual."

"Of course you are, dear."

He kicked off, and they flew into the dawn.

Draco was bloody tired. It had been a long night of no sleep, and it was going to be an even longer flight into Egypt… he deduced it would have been much faster to take one of those muggle air-o-planes, but aside from the time it would have taken to get his hands on muggle money, figure out how to buy a muggle plane ticket, and then the horrifying nature of actually boarding a muggle plane, and being stuck with them all in a hot, sweaty, small space for almost five hours… ultimately, he would rather walk… until he reached the Mediterranean sea, that is, when he would, of course, swim.

Plus, now he got the outstanding pleasure of Hermione Granger sleeping peacefully against his back. Small side effect of the anti-nausea potion for the fetus: for the next six weeks, she'd sleep like the dead whenever the ugly feelings reared their little heads. Small price for him to pay, however, to have her thinking rationally and pain free even if it meant she slept more often. When she was awake, she'd be lucid and every bit as bright as she'd ever been.

Perhaps even moreso, he figured. His traipsing behind her during her test of self may have numbed some of the less painful memories from surfacing and forced the big ones to show themselves early, but they must have strengthened her. She was connected to him now in ways she hadn't been before—and confident. He was enjoying the confidence. Always had. It was one of her only bearable traits that he could recall from school.

That and her passion. But he didn't want to think about that right now. Thoughts like that would become very sore up against a hard broomstick for another eight hours.

The 12 hour trip was starting to wear on him and it had only been four hours. He could tell he was probably going to need to stop, stretch his legs, and probably get something to eat… and if he understood biology correctly, Hermione was going to need to relieve herself and eat about her weight in food- and have absolutely no idea why. For that, they'd need to find wizards because he hadn't had the time to get any real muggle money and he wagered that she may not have brought any either, but for all he knew, she had. She was like a bloody 'Boy Scout of America' in that way: always buggering prepared.

Still though, he'd really rather see some wizards. Ordering from muggles that couldn't see them seemed a little severe. He wasn't sure of the counter-spell for the disillusionment charm. No one really was when it came to these things… loads of times they just wore off after a certain amount of time—usually years. He would find a counter spell before then if he needed to… but where they were going, they didn't need for muggles to see them. They wouldn't be seeing any muggles, themselves.

So a Wizarding restaurant it was going to have to be, then. He knew of a good one in Italy. As soon as they crossed France, he'd be able to land them, climb down, and find it. He still had a few more hours to go.

"Why aren't we apparating?"

He'd had no idea she'd woken until she spoke.

"What?"

"Apparating. We were going to apparate as close to Egypt as we could before we—"

"Is my flying bothering you?"

She paused. "Why don't you want to answer me?"

"I changed my mind because I know these people and they're tapped into magicks beyond the simple ministry. I didn't want to take the chance that they'd hide their location from us if they knew we were coming. The kings summoned us, so it makes sense to think they might be expecting us. I don't want to give them any extra reason to see us coming."

She seemed to accept his answer and resettled against him.

"I hate flying," she said, finally. He sighed.

"We can stop, soon. You want something to eat?"

"How did you know? I could eat an entire city. Which, judging by the view… oh I should not have looked down."

"Nauseated?"

"No, shockingly. What you gave me was certainly some stuff."

"And don't you forget it." She rolled her eyes.

They landed very close to the border between Italy and France. Hermione spoke French, but not Italian, so she'd asked him to pull off early so she could talk to the wizards and get them something they found edible- despite his plea that even though he didn't speak Italian, a busty witch in Italy had given his father and him "a hell of a deal" a few years back. She was starving out of her mind. Her body had finally realized how little she'd been giving it, it seemed, and now she had to give it double the love. It was definitely for her own good, though. She didn't want to lose any more weight.

"So," he said, folding the map and putting it back in his pocket. "I did the locator spell and it seems like we've got two reputable restaurants in the area. One down that street, and the other around the block. Funny how they're so close to one another… bit random."

"Not really," she said. "Lots of wizarding communities settle into one area so they can raise their kids together, see their friends, and establish businesses. They're probably just cute little "Mom and Pop" places."

"That how Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade came to be?"

"Sort of. Diagon Alley was built more for… what are we doing right now?"

She stopped walking. He noticed and crawled to a stop ahead of her. He turned to face her, brows raised.

"We're… on our way to—"

"Are we having a conversation?"

He shook his head, eyes rolling, and started walking again.

"Keep up if you want to eat!" she heard him yell. Her brow furrowed but she chased after him.

"We are!" she said. He kept shaking his head. A smirk was playing on his face.

"Do you… do you like me, Draco Malfoy?"

He was chuckling, not looking at her.

"If I did," he started, directing them around the corner toward the bakery they were headed toward, "what are the chances I would answer a direct question about it?"

She sighed, looked away, decided it wasn't really worth the mind game. She looked to him again. "But you do… whether or not you're ready to tell me."

He nodded. "There it is," he said.

She reached for the door and held it out for him. He smirked. "How gentlemanly of you," he said. She waved him off.

A rosy, round witch in a brown and orange apron approached her, arms raised to greet them.

"Bonjour! Bienvenue à Magpies!" Hermione smiled to her.

"Merci. Devrions-nous nous asseoir?"

"Ah, oui," she answered. She nodded toward and empty table and Hermione lead Draco toward it.

"What did you say?" he asked. She glanced at him.

"Maybe I like this, not telling you what I'm saying to her thing." He shrugged, smiled at her.

"Maybe I like this, 'leaving you here in France' thing."

"Shut up," she said. She reached for a folded menu on the side of the table and opened it up to read. "Not going to take a look?"

"Doesn't matter. I can't read French."

She flipped her menu toward him, open. "There are pictures."

"Those are drawings. Anything you can cook, you can make look appetizing with a bloody drawing."

"Fine, fine," she said, looking it over, herself. The witch approached her looking excitedly over a small blank notebook.

"Oui, madame?"

"Nous aurons la special, s'il vous plait."

"Oui, oui, choix excellent"

"Merci!"

She hurried away. She folded the menu and placed it back in the side container. He was looking at her, brows raised.

"What?" she asked.

"What are we having?"

"Don't you trust me?"

He looked away. He didn't, she knew. But… this was just lunch. He was going to have to start somewhere. It might as well have been French cuisine!

Before she had much time to wonder about whether or not she was going to need to explain the choices to him and let him make his own decision, the witch was hurrying back over with a heaping plate of roasted goat cheese and thyme. Her stomach rumbled.

"Et pour le déjeuner?" she asked Hermione as slid the plate of steaming cheese onto the table. Her drool was threatening to spill over.

"Le saumon et riz," she said. The witch smiled, nodded, and walked away.

"Salmon and rice," Hermione said to Draco. He was staring at the goat cheese.

"What is that?" he asked. She giggled.

"It's goat cheese," she said.

"It's CHEESE?! You want to sit here and eat a brick of cheese?"

"Calling me fat?"

"Calling you bizarre."

"Taste it," she said, a forkful already in her mouth. She was so happy.

Like a petulant child he shrunk down in his seat. She rolled her eyes.

"You'll never experience happiness if you keep choose to keep reliving misery over and over, butthead. Try the cheese."

"Thank you, Doctor, for addressing the deepest causes of my woes in just one sentence." She waggled a piece of cheese at him on her fork.

"Eat the cheese!"

He sat up, lifted a fork and cut off a chunk. He popped it into his mouth, chewed and swallowed. He looked away. Her face cracked open with a wide grin.

"You love it," she said.

"It'll do," he answered. She was giggling like a fiend.

"You're still a butthead," she added. He shrugged.

"I'm a sexy butthead."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"Speaking of sleeping… we're going to need to spend the night in Egypt in a reasonable place before we go off to parts unknown. I booked us a room at a muggle hotel. I had to… I didn't have any muggle money so… don't get all sodding perfect on me, but I—"

"You obliviated them. I understand."

Did being pregnant make her less regal? More reasonable? He could only hope one of those two things was true.

"You don't… mind?"

"No, I mean, it was a last minute thing. It won't hurt them. I've had to do it."

"What about equality and no abuse of our powers? Muggle rights and all that?"

"See, that's the difference between us, I guess. I wouldn't hesitate to do it to a wizard either, under the right circumstances. At the end of the day, I was born with magical essence, and muggles aren't. Some muggles can do things I can't do. Life is what it is, fair or not. I understand making a sacrifice. What I don't understand… is your sense of guilt."

He stared at her. "When did you grow feelings?" she asked.

When did he grow feelings, he wondered… must have been recently. Not long ago he wouldn't have blinked an eye and he never would have bothered to tell her he'd done it. She was changing him. It was uncomfortable.

The fat witch arrived again with two plates of what looked like fish and rice. He could deal with that. She placed them down in front of them both and Hermione spoke to her again. It was steaming in front of him. Hermione was already tearing into it. He laughed at her in spite of himself… she didn't even notice. He took a bite and had to admit, it was pretty damn good.

He looked up from bliss to see her making an obscure face.

"You okay?"

"Yeah… I'm… I don't like this."

He chuckled again. "Why'd you order it?"

"I love salmon."

"Oh. Maybe you—"

"No, I… it's like I just… un-acquired a taste for it."

He swallowed hard. He knew that was a possibility. Without thinking he switched their plates, moved her fish onto his plate and gave her his rice.

"Probably just don't like the way they cooked it. Have my rice."

She looked down at her plate. Shit, it wasn't going to be enough, he realized. This was the inception. It was going to plant like a seed in her brain and before they were finished—perhaps even before they made it to Egypt, she'd have it figured out.

"We should get going soon," he said to her, trying to distract. She nodded.

"How much time is left?"

"About eight hours," he said.

"I'll probably sleep," she said. "I'm tired again, already."

He waved for the check, but the witch had already brought it over. He put enough money down for double the orders. He stood up.

"Let's get going."

Hermione woke up somewhere over the Mediterranean Sea and went right back to pondering what was going on inside of her. The test had revealed lots of things to her, it was true… but what were all these side effects no one had failed to mention? And every time she succumbed to one, Draco could barely look at her. Was it guilt? He definitely seemed to be feeling it, lately. She wondered, but she didn't quite want to know the answer. If he DIDN'T know what was wrong with her… if it was something else altogether… her head was spinning. It was a bad idea for her to be thinking of this in midair, she knew. She needed to push it aside. He was taking care of her, at least… of course that also gave proof to his guilt.

"See the tall reeds by the edge of the water?" she heard him ask, breaking her from her thoughts.

"That's where we're going?"

"That's Egypt. We're here," he said. He was pulling the broom into a landing. There was a big hotel at the edge of the water. She smiled.

"It's gorgeous," she said.

"We'll have to go the rest of the way on foot," he said, standing, letting his broom stand next to him. Her legs wobbled a little as they found solid ground.

Together, they started off for the hotel.

"I'll give you some time to freshen up, find some food and bring it up for us. I'm sure you'll wanna sleep for six or seven more days before we start heading for Giza."

She chuckled. "Sounds good to me. But I'd rather have our answers than a good night's sleep."

"I'll give you both," he said as they neared the entrance of the hotel. "Just… not six or seven days of them."

Hermione looked around the hotel room. Alone at last, she needed some time to let her head froth over all the knowledge she'd been accumulating over the last few months.

She dropped down on the bed. It was fluffy and nice. She lay back on it and let her hair spread out around her… too soon, she thought.

She rose and walked to the bathroom.

She popped the light on and stood face to face with a gorgeous floor to ceiling mirror behind a lovely clawfoot-sink and adjoining tub. She was not marveling at the beauty of the bathroom, however… but at herself.

She stepped forward, looking into the mirror, her hands rising to feel her cheeks. She felt firm, young, and supple. She looked healthy—healthier than she had in years. Her skin was tan, and dewey. Her hair was larger than life, but in a windblown, modelesque sort of way. She swallowed.

She let her jacket fall onto the ground behind her and pulled her shirt up over her head. She stared at herself in the mirror. Her waist was nicely defined… her hips were rounded instead of sharp and angular… her breasts were firm, practically sitting up on her chest, straining against her bra. She slid it off and looked at herself. She let her jeans fall away. She walked toward the tub and spun the dial, letting the water stream down into the basin. Steam began to roll around the air in the bathroom. She looked back into the mirror, in only the pair of panties she'd stepped into before dashing out the door.

She wondered how long she'd been beautiful. Ron had never told her. He'd complimented her loads of times, of course… he'd never been abusive in any way… but he'd never told her she was beautiful. She felt beautiful, like this… with him.

A blush crawled into her cheeks. She hopped into the tub, stepping out of her panties. She felt her hair absorbing the water eagerly like a sponge. It was heavy and hung long and wet down her back, nearly reaching her butt. She drank in a bit of the water, and pushed it back out of her mouth, letting it run down her chin and chest.

She turned so her back was to the wall and opened her eyes. She could see herself in the mirror, still. She swallowed. He was changing her, she realized… things felt stronger… more alive… more vivid. She saw herself… or, she saw less of the things she didn't like… she couldn't tell which.

The door opened. It didn't even occur to her to cover herself. She wasn't embarrassed. She was bloody perfect.

Draco was in the doorway, no jacket, bags in his hands. He cocked his head, drinking her in. He stashed the bags on the bedroom dresser and closed the bathroom door behind him, striding into the room. He tossed his tee shirt on the floor. His hair was already clingy with steam.

"I think you did that on purpose," he accused her. She looked him over with heavily lidded eyes.

"When did you become so…" she couldn't find the words—quite unlike her. He was sliding off his belt. His jeans were slightly loose on his hips. He let them fall away. He had on black silk boxers.

"You're one to talk," she said, nodding to his shorts. "You don't wear underwear like that unless you're planning on someone else seeing them," she stated. He walked toward her, letting his arms pose himself on either side of her head. She was looking up to meet his eyes. His hair was falling into them.

"We're sharing a bed, love. There's just about every chance that you'll be seeing them… or the lack thereof."

His lips closed around her bottom lip and she uttered a small sigh. She let her arms come up to circle him around his back. He worked his magic, standing between her legs while the hot water pushed them further down the path. He was sucking on her throat, the delicate space between her collarbone and where the water had collected. She shuddered.

She felt him lifting her legs by the back of her knees and she crossed them behind her back. As soon as she did, he carried her out of the bathroom and dropped her on the bed. He climbed on top of her and restored his mouth to hers. She was electric, sensation coursing through every muscle, every nerve. Her hands curled around his shoulders. He lifted them off, pinned them behind her head. His wand was next to her on the bed. He reached for it, used the tip of it to wrap around her wrists, and both of the bedposts. She felt her arms going stiff next to her. She looked from one to the other. She was wholly out of breath and a little confused.

"S&M is for couples who trust one another, Draco," she said.

"True," he said, planting kisses on her neck, her collarbone, between her breasts… "But for some reason… I seem to recall you wanting nothing more than—"

"Draco—"

"For me to tie you down… so you couldn't get away…" he was trailing his tongue over her navel. Her eyes rolled back. She gasped.

"I don't know that I want—"

"Do yourself a favor," he said slowly, his hands on her knees, pushing them apart, running them up to her thighs, his tongue tickling her innermost thigh. "Let me prove you wrong."

He lowered his head and she couldn't breathe. It was like nothing she'd ever experienced. She was so hot his tongue felt almost cold to her, and it was fast and raking over her. It was teasing her clit and darting in and out of her and she was shaking with it. She was swearing, she could hear somewhere off in space. Her whole body was stiff and she was growing steadily louder, and it wasn't just her she realized. He was moaning into her, against her, all around her. He was getting off on her. She exploded against him, and almost as soon as it started, he was inside her with his full length, pushing into her, driving her even higher. The next ten minutes were the longest and shortest she'd ever experienced. Her whole body was on fire, tensed, shaking, and she was screaming with his every thrust. She was drenched in sweat. He was lifting her legs, driving himself in deeper. Suddenly, she felt his seed hot inside her, filling her, expanding out and for a final time, she came again.

He collapsed on top of her and her vision went fuzzy as she closed her eyes. She thought her head was spinning before, it was nothing compared to now. Her hands lay on top of her stomach, between them, feeling her breath rise and fall. She thought of her magical essence… so feminine in location… everything that made her a woman was located in the same area… gender, sexuality… energy… it all made sense. She opened her eyes. He was looking at her, smirking, his eyes following the gentle curves of her body.

"What?" she asked him.

"First time?" he asked her. She rolled her eyes.

"I could lie and say 'Yes' if that would help to feed your starving ego."

"Actually, 'No' feeds it a little better. Cause that was definitely the best you've ever had," he said.

"How do you know?" she asked.

"Call it a hunch," He said. She rolled over. He hugged her from behind. She stiffened a little, then relaxed.

"If I asked you a direct question… would you consider giving me a direct answer?"

He spread the blanket over the two of them. It felt cold and nice against her hot, wet skin.

"I'd consider it," he said.

"Was it your first time?" she asked. For a moment, he said nothing, tracing his fingers over her hipbone. Then suddenly, he bent low and kissed her earlobe. She smiled.

"Sky's the limit, then," she said.