A/N: I need this Friday so much. Like... I worked much more than I liked this week and didn't get much writimg or reading to do. And the next week is going to be the same. Ugh. Moped enough, your support makes me so very happy!

Also thank you to my awesome beta for this story, niffizzle!

Hermione spent the rest of the day buried in work - the exact thing she had hoped to avoid over the holidays. But at least, between teaching and counselling, she didn't have to think about smirks and grey eyes and other similarly distracting features. Until they knocked on her door.

She knew just one person who had such an annoyingly precise and accurate knock if such a thing existed.

Hermione opened the door a fraction, and of course, she had been right with her assumption. It was indeed Draco, standing in front of her quarters, holding a ribboned parcel in his hands.

"Oh, you've come to apologise?"

Draco looked at the parcel, confused. "No?" he had the nerve to say.

Colossal idiot. She closed the door again but was not entirely successful because Draco had put a foot in it.

"Wait! I don't really have any idea what I need to apologise for!" he said, and there was a cluelessness in his voice that inclined her to believe him. Nevertheless, she gave him her best glare. "You already know I'm an idiot," he played along. And then, he gave her a puppy eyes look, all large and grey and- Hermione felt her expression soften because damn, this tactic never failed to work on her.

"That you are," Hermione said, stopping herself from falling too victim to that irresistible look. "Now be good and get your sorry present and yourself in my rooms."

Sheepishly, he rubbed his neck with his hand, handing her the parcel with the other. "I'm afraid this isn't even my present…"

"What?" The glare was back.

"An owl apparently misplaced it. It's from a C.W."

"Oh…" was what she answered. Charlie. After removing the ribbon and wrapping paper, Hermione held a book and a short note in her hand. 'Soft and Hard: Erotic Massages With or Without a Wand', she read the book's title to herself, refraining from opening it in front of the present company. The note itself was enough to make her blush deeply anyway: 'Sorry, but I can't come. The Welsh Green is in the middle of hatching season. Maybe this book can help you prepare for when we meet again?'

"A special friend, this C.W.?" Draco, knowing his way around her kitchen by now, took two wine glasses from her cupboard. "Never heard you talking about him, but he must be when a book and a note make you blush like that."

Hermione felt her cheeks heat up even more. "Oh, but you have. Charlie Weasley? Dragon tamer, heavily muscled, and tattooed?" Why did it feel so good to rub that in Draco's face?

"Ah," came the qualified reaction. His eyes remained on his hand that poured them a summerly rosé.

"I invited him, but he can't come. Hatching season for the Welsh Green," she stated, trying to sound casual but feeling a bit coy at the same time.

Draco rounded her kitchen counter, handing her a glass and finally looking at her. "And is he?"

"What?" Hermione could hear her voice had turned a bit breathless upon the intensity in his eyes.

"A special friend of yours?"

"What if he were?" she smiled, now definitely coy.

"Then he is an idiot for neglecting you for the Welsh Green."

Hermione felt a shiver of something sinful travel through her body. And she wanted more.

He cleared his throat and continued, a bit awkwardly, "Well, it was a pity you didn't join us yesterday. They all asked about you."

At the mention of his friends, the charged atmosphere dissolved quickly."About that -"

He continued, ignoring her attempt to say something, "I probably should have made it clearer that you would've been welcome. We just wanted to spend a relaxed evening together."

"So you didn't want to pair me off with Blaise?"

Draco's head snapped up. "Pardon me?" Judging by the confusion in his expression, he really didn't know.

Even intelligent men like Draco Malfoy could be so oblivious. "Well, that's what you made it sound like," she explained. "With Theo and Daphne, and you and Astoria, it made sense to me that you'd wanted me to 'bond' with Blaise."

He chuckled. "Salazar, no! First of all, you'd chase me to the Founder's days and back if I paired you off with Blaise. He's my friend, but he's also a bit of a slag. Secondly, about Astoria - "

"Yes?" She could have bitten her tongue over how eager that sounded.

"Let's say we certainly don't 'bond', as I've come to realise recently."

Hermione had some difficulties reacting to this. She settled for, "So, you've finished your round for tonight?"

"Yes, indeed. The boys are sleeping in their beds like the little angels they are." He smiled confidently, already making himself comfortable on her couch.

"Well, Mr. Perfect Pureblood, let me introduce you to one of the best and worst menaces of Muggle-kind - the DVD player." Hermione swished her wand and the previously ignored device switched to life.

"I thought those devices won't work here?"

"Typically no, but I get inventive when left alone, so I made my player work." It hadn't been as easy as she made it sound, but she wasn't called 'The Brains of the Golden Trio' for nothing.

"Something tells me I shouldn't say that this is the perfect reason to leave you alone more often."

She smacked his shoulder but plopped down next to him. "Be careful what you wish for, my Preciousss," she teased and pressed play, starting 'The Lord of the Rings'.

Draco woke up to drama. At least that was what the music coming from the DVD-player was suggesting. That, and the man on screen with a dozen or more arrows in his body.

Taking in his surroundings, he realised he had fallen asleep while watching the movie, and he wasn't alone. Curled up into his side, her head settled comfortably into the crook of his neck, was his brunette colleague, still fast asleep in his arms.

Draco smiled at that. It wasn't the first time they had fallen asleep during their evening visits, but it was the first time they had gotten so cozy. Not that he minded. In fact, he battled the very un-Slytherin impulse to tighten his arms around her and go back to sleep.

However, a knock on the door destroyed his plans. A very loud, unrelenting knock. Groaning at the interruption, Draco carefully untangled himself from Hermione, wondrously managing it without waking her.

"Who's dying?" were the words he opened the door to Hermione's quarters with.

"Professor Grang-" an obviously agitated Deborah Stevens took in the sight of him, then looked back at the door, checking to see if she had knocked on the right door. "Professor Malfoy… uhhmmm… it's actually a good thing to see you. We might need help from both of you."

Groaning again because this couldn't possibly mean anything good, Draco pressured, "Out with it, Stevens. What happened?" A sleepy Malfoy was no joy to be around, but despite being still half asleep, he quickly fell into his teacher role.

"You see, there was a small gathering in the Slytherin common room, and Fiona had nicked some Scotch, and someone had firewhisky - "

"Enough. I get it," he waved her off. Turning back to the living room, he said, "Give me two minutes to wake up Her- Professor Granger, and we'll come post haste." He closed the door without waiting for Stevens' reaction.

Gently, he shook Hermione's shoulder, who had stirred upon the interruption but wasn't fully awake yet. "Hermione, I'm afraid you have to get up. Our delightful company got pissed."

When Draco and Hermione entered the Slytherin common room, they were met with a picture of destruction and chaos. In short: the older students had engaged in a roaring party with all that came with it.

"Apart from the obvious amount of rule breaking, why did you call us?" Hermione, who still wore her comfortable yoga pants and a washed out t-shirt with the logo of the Natural History Museum in London, demanded.

An unmistakable, retching noise brought the answer.

"Oliver can't stop vomiting!" Stevens pointed at where Masters heaved into the fireplace. "He said Muggle alcohol isn't as potent as wizard one, so Fiona challenged him to a drinking game."

"And how's Wood?" asked Hermione, hoping the girl wasn't in the same situation.

"I'm here, Professors." Fiona waved from one of the sofas, playing cards and not even tipsy.

"How much did he imbue?" Hermione asked, tilting her head in Masters' direction.

"Two healthy whisky glasses - about what my grandmother has before dinner. And she's 115," the girl answered.

Draco walked over to Masters who was still making ugly noises. "And he's vomiting like this?" Clapping the boy on the back, he added, more quietly, "Didn't inherit the purebloods' ability to hold their liquor, eh?"

He turned back to his colleague who was in the process of reprimanding Thomas Prewett and Justine Miller who had been involved in a heavy round of snogging right next to her. "How sick is he, Granger?"

Hermione muttered under her breath how she was, "A professor, not a physician, Jim," but ran some diagnostic charms over Masters. "He's fine. Should stop vomiting in a bit. I recommend a Sobering Potion and a lot of water."

"No," Draco stated.

"No?"

His lips curled into a smirk. "Wasn't it you who told me that pupils learn best when they have a hands-on learning experience?" Hermione nodded, catching his train of thoughts easily. "Consider this such an experience. No Pain Potion tomorrow either. And go to your dorm now."

Masters groaned at Draco's orders, but that only deepened the professor's smirk. Hermione summoned a glass of water and cast a Health Monitoring Charm on him, so she would be alerted in case the student's condition worsened overnight.

"And off to bed for the rest of you!" Hermione hollered, accepting the scandalised reactions from the students with a shrug. "Kindly take your underwear with you, Isabel!" she yelled after a girl who retrieved her bra from behind an armchair with an embarrassed squeak.

Once all the students had disappeared either up the stairwells or out the door, Draco turned to Hermione. "They all got the talk about the birds and bees, didn't they?" he chuckled, vanishing the bottles of firewhisky with a flourish of his wand.

"I seriously hope so!" Hermione frowned. "That doesn't exactly fall into my field of teaching expertise…"

"Remember that awkward week with Madam Pomfrey in fourth year? And that horrible potions lesson where Severus explained to us how to brew a Contraceptive Potion?" Draco remembered.

"Oh no, don't remind me… 'Perfect potion before swift satisfaction, always remember that, you hormonal fools!'" she laughed at her own imitation of the Potions master.

Draco laughed along, slinging an arm around Hermione's shoulders on an impulse while leading her out of the Slytherin common room. "I doubt Severus knows about the difference between 'swift satisfaction' and 'good satisfaction'."

"But you do?" Hermione challenged, and he was almost certain that there was a flirty undertone.

Instead of replying with, "Do you like me to prove it to you, hands-on?" like he wanted for two milliseconds, he said, puffing his chest, "Look at me! I'm irresistible!"

It was a good thing the castle was so empty or Hermione's joyous laugh would've woken them all. But Draco - he longed to make her laugh like that more often, especially with his arms around her.

Since the next day was a Saturday, and Draco, just like most students, had a habit of sleeping in, he greeted Hermione with a, "Please, tell me Potter and Weasley managed to de-age themselves in a tragic accident," when he found that the witch was not alone at the High Table.

Hermione, one toddler on every knee, smiled at him. "I'm sorry to disappoint you, but here you see the next generation of Potters and Weasleys. This is James," she nodded at the black-haired, giggling boy on her right leg, "and this is Leo." Unsurprisingly, Ron's son was busy stuffing his face with breakfast.

"And their parents left them with you? I knew they were irresponsible."

Because he was obviously teasing, Hermione would have liked to smack him playfully, but she had her hands full of godchildren, so she settled for a falsely sweet smile. "No, they are merely having a little tour around the castle and will be back soon."

"How delightful," said Draco and he poured the two of them each a coffee, thoughtfully placing the cups away from the toddlers' reach.

Just when Hermione was about to reply, a student appeared in front of their table.

"Good morning, Matthews," they greeted him.

"Good morning, Professors. Whose children are these?"

Patiently, because pupils were nothing if curious, she explained, "These are my godchildren, James Potter and Leo Weasley. They came to visit me today, along with their parents."

The child's eyes widened at the names. "Don't forget to breathe, Matthews," Draco instructed the star-struck student drily.

"Harry Potter is in Hogwarts? Himself? But he-"

"But he's only Potter. Not a big deal." And with that, he brushed Matthews away, dismissing him back to the students' table.

Hermione, having heard her friends approaching from behind, started laughing at Draco's grumpy expression that changed into one of indescribable discomfort when a hand fell on his shoulder.

"As I'm only Potter," Harry addressed Draco with a grin, "it shouldn't be such a hard thing for you to win a friendly round of Quidditch, right?"

Hermione could see the cogs in the blond's head turning. Of course, he didn't want to lose his face in front of the students, on the other hand, he was as aware of their Quidditch record as Harry was, and that didn't bode well for Draco.

"Are you challenging me?"

"Come on, Malfoy. You aren't half bad as a Seeker," Ginny interjected teasingly, taking James from Hermione's lap. "Or have you grown rusty in your comfortable professor life?"

"Hey, it's not that comfortable!" Hermione said, a bit ruffled. "It's hard work. And Malfoy will prove it." Inwardly, she knew she manipulated him a bit. Only a tad. "You're going to play, aren't you, Draco?" She looked into his eyes with a layer of pleading, deliberately using his first name which she rarely did in public. And when she saw his expression soften, she knew she had him. She simply wanted to see him on a broom.

"Yes, of course. Anything for my favourite colleague, right?" And then he smiled at her. That was the moment Hermione almost forgot that it wasn't only the two of them in the Great Hall. Even though a wary voice inside her head whispered that he only did this for show in front of her friends.

No matter how the game came to be, Hermione really enjoyed watching. It was a bit of a trip down memory lane for her. But without Voldemort. Without war.

With Draco and Harry playing Seekers and Ron Keeper, they had stocked up the rest of their teams with members of the student body, which resulted in a colourful mix of houses. Lavender had left for a visit in Hogsmeade, and Hermione was a bit grateful for that because she still had problems finding topics to talk about with Ron's wife. They seemed to live in different spheres of existence, really. That left Hermione and Ginny, who had made themselves comfortable with a blanket next to the Quidditch pitch, Leo and James napping between them, protected by sun screens.

"Why aren't you playing, Ginny?" Hermione asked, curious.

"That wouldn't be fair, would it? Besides, my healer says I rather shouldn't."

"Ginny, are you pregnant again?!"

"Merlin, no!" her friend exclaimed. "James is only two. We want to wait a bit before we try for another child. It's just that my healer said my shoulder isn't as well as it should be."

Hermione nodded in understanding. Ginny had been pushed off her broom when the Harpies had played against the Chudley Cannons, and her shoulder had been severely crushed and damaged.

A bit sorrowful, Ginny added, "And as it's probably never going to heal completely, I have decided to retire from Quidditch and start as a sports journalist for the British Quidditch section of the Prophet."

"Oh, Gin! That's great!" Hermione was excited for her friend, knowing professional Quidditch wasn't something one did for decades.

Ginny shrugged but smiled now. "I guess. I'm going to have much more time for James. And, you know," she winked suggestively, "more adult time for Harry and me."

"Ginny! There are students around!"

"Yes, and they're all captivated by the Quidditch game." Indeed, all present students intensely stared up to the players. Faintly, the women could see the two Seekers circling high above. "And I can't help it if my husband is so talented with his wand," Ginny laughed, enjoying how Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"I really don't want to hear that!"

"That I have sex? Merlin, it's fun, you should try it some time!" Ginny teased her.

"That's what I invited Charlie over for, you hussy, but he couldn't come," Hermione countered, her voice a bit more quiet than her friend's. "Other than that, my options are more than limited here!"

Exactly in that moment, Draco flew by, his body pressed to his broomstick and hair perfectly windswept. Hermione felt her heart accelerating. Draco Malfoy on a broomstick in Quidditch gear was a marvelous sight. And then, he winked at her.

She must have made some noise as a reaction to that, for Ginny playfully nudged her and conspirationally whispered, "Maybe not as limited as you think."

Prying her eyes from him, Hermione warned, "Ginny…"

"What? I am married, not dead. He is painfully handsome, and from what I've heard, almost as smart as you," the redhead supplied helpfully.

"That may be, but we're just colleagues. Friends, even," Hermione waved her off.

"Mhmm," was Ginny's not-so-wordy reaction.

"And he is so stubborn."

"Mhmm."

"And we have a history." That was a legitimate argument, wasn't it?

"If you say so."

"We're working so well together. I don't want to risk that."

"Yes, yes." Ginny copied her mother perfectly now.

"He's still an arrogant git."

"Surprise."

"You don't believe me one word, right?" Hermione finished, a bit embarrassed.

Ginny laughed. "I'm just saying that denial isn't just a river in Egypt." She pointed at the green and silver clad Seeker. "And girl, have you seen that bum?"

Of course Hermione had.

Hermione supposed, judging by Draco's broad smile and the Snitch decorating the High Table for dinner, that his team had won. Harry and Ron's surly faces when they said goodbye merely supported that theory. Her thoughts, however, circulated around her conversation with Ginny.

Was it only an innocent summer flirt, if at all, between Draco and her? How deep was her attraction, physical and mental, towards her colleague? Was it enough to risk a friendship she valued over it?

"See? It was only Potter, after all," he said, cheeks still pink from exertion and eyes a bright grey. "What a glorious day, don't you agree, Hermione?"

Maybe it was the use of her first name, or maybe it was the way he looked at her, so carefree and elated, but suddenly, she knew: she was screwed when it came to Draco. And if they ever had the chance to become more than friends, she'd take it.