3's to all of you guys who read and reviewed the very night I updated :-D

Responses:

Stend: I have, in fact, noticed you've reviewed. Hi Megan! See, you set a good example for other people. That is a sensible random fact: your name. And I'll tell you a secret, random fact about me...my name isn't really Ginger! But I didn't say that out loud, right? Hehehe, anyway, I especially appreciate the comment about my story being believable. It annoys me when people go way off the plot, so I'm sticking to it amap, but adding my own special twist, so thanks. :-) Hope you like this chapter!

Rob-girl: I know, Ginny can be a bit intolerant. In most stories I've read Harry and Ron are the objectors, and Ginny takes Hermione's side, but I wanted to do mine differently, so Ginny's as much against Draco as Ron, while Harry is the one Hermione can open up to...and will, at some point in the future. Oh, wait, I didn't say that. What are you talking about? :-P. Thanks for reviewing!

HPGW4eva: Love? I wouldn't exactly call it love. Love is a very strong word, and I don't throw it around lightly. But that's beside the point. Thank you. Of course they're excited! Wouldn't you be if you found a hot new boyfriend (ish person) who loved to make out with you nonstop? That's what I thought you'd say. And yeah, it's annoying that they have to keep it a secret. Then again, that's part of the fun! Thanks for the review. I appreciate it :-)

MysteryShadow101: Did I mention I love your show name? It's pretty awesome. Thanks, I liked the title too. The idea was just so funny, when I wrote it I actually laughed out loud, so it was a good candidate. Yes, Blaise is staying at Hogwarts—mostly because his home life SUX right now. I didn't directly mention it only because it wasn't of the utmost importance and I figured it would become clear in due time. I have in fact seen She's The Man. I enjoy Gouda. Hehe. Actually, that is one of my random facts on my profile. However, since you gave me a random fact, I owe you one (good thing I have so many random facts up my sleeve, or I'd be worried I'm going to go out of business soon). Love Song by Sara Bareilles is my favorite song ever. I even learned how to play it on the piano and will hopefully be performing it in my school's Junior Variety Show. Hmmmmm, that was, in fact, many facts. I guess you'll just owe me a bunch in your next review :-D. PS – you get a gold star for coolest review yet. It sounds like the kind I would leave. You should write a story just so I can write a weird review for it.

Sadistic pale one: I did that on purpose. It's not even clear at the beginning of this chapter, but you'll get it soon enough. Enjoy!

Nightcrawlerfw: I know, it's difficult to be sworn to secrecy to oneself. Hahaha, I am addicted as well, though I usually only stay up until 12:30 at most. It has been increasingly distracting. Meh. Well...I guess that was a random fact for me, so thanks for the review and I hope you like this chapter.

Mr. Fix-it: Awwww, thank you! I appreciate your review immensely. It puts to bed all of my worries about the pace and the realism and writing skills and...just thanks. *hugs*

Seriyah: you already got my response. I just couldn't wait with that one. But you're here simply because I wanted to thank you publicly for being awesome.

Wow, those are some really long responses. Sorry, people, I don't mean to go on like that, but it's nice to have a conversation with someone. Right? Of course right. You didn't have to read them, after all. You could have, but whatever, do what you want. I always do—unless my parents interfere—which is a lot of the time *looks up and growls at ceiling*. Silly parental units, trix are for kids...as are fanfictions. Hehehe. My mom can officially no longer read my fanfiction ever since the...events...of chapter 12. I told her so. She was dying of curiosity. Well that's TOO BAD. She's my mother for goodness sake! That's just...wrong. She can't know I write things like that.

Alright! Fine, I'll shut up now. Responding to cool reviewers puts me in a very good, albeit talkative mood. Just go and read, wenches! Stop listening to my pointless blathering!

Chapter 14: To Cake or Not to Cake

"Hey, you. Wake up, sleepy! What are you doing in bed at this hour? Get ready! We're going Christmas shopping today, remember!"

Hermione groaned and rolled over, putting a hand up to cover her eyes. "Why is it so bright in here? And do you have to be so bloody loud, Gin?"

Ginny looked concerned. "You ok, 'Mione?"

"I hate when you call me that," she mumbled.

"Are you okay, Hermione?" she teased.

"No"

Ginny kneeled beside Hermione's bed to get a better look at her. Hermione scrunched her eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Migraine," she moaned.

"Oh, you poor thing. How bad is it?"

"Well, it's a migraine Gin, what do you expect?" she said irritably. "All this light is really hurting. My head is throbbing fit to burst. It's bloody painful."

"Hey, you want me to get you some medicine?"

"Nah, I'll just sleep it off."

"No, I should get you a Headache Potion.'

"I don't need it, Gin."

"If it's this bad, you do." She paused, then sighed, "alright, how about I bring it to you and leave it on the table here. You can drink it or not, but at least then you'll have it."

Hermione nodded and Ginny left the room for a few minutes before coming back in with a small vial. "Here it is. Why do you think you've got a headache anyway?"

"It's one of those period things with me—every month I get one of these," and a wince crossed her face.

"Ouch. So I guess you're not coming to Diagon Alley with us?"

"No…but this usually doesn't last too long. When I'm feeling better I'll let you guys know and floo to the Leaky Cauldron."

"Alright, I'll tell mum what's happened." Ginny placed one hand on Hermione's exposed temple, and gave it an affectionate rub. Then she got up and walked to the doorway, turning around before she left. "Feel better, Hermione."

Guilt welled up in Hermione's chest, but she smiled at her friend and closed her eyes. Ginny turned off the lights as she left.

Hermione waited a long while until, finally, she heard the whooshing sound of the floo multiple times, floors below, and then the house was silent.

She sighed inwardly, then pushed off the covers and stood up. She left her room slowly, making sure there really was no one in the house anymore, and made her way downstairs. The kitchen and living room were empty.

Hermione sighed again, audibly this time, and made her way toward the kitchen. Pausing just inside the doorway for a moment, she moved around getting things out of various cupboards and the refrigerator and setting them on an empty counter, thinking.

Hermione had spent some time in the last day or two trying to think of how she could get the kitchen to herself for a few hours and make her present for Draco. Finally, she came up with the idea of faking sickness the day they were to go to Diagon Alley to shop. Hermione had debated it for a while, but decided it would only take an hour or two and she could always fake recuperation too and rejoin them in the middle of the day.

It was only 8:30 in the morning but the sun was already up somewhat, and the windows on the East side of the kitchen (since it was in a corner of the house) were filtering in light across the refrigerator and onto the floor. Hermione stood in front of the window, leaning on the counter, looking out at the sun.

She frowned. Hermione felt bad about ditching her friends. She really did want to spend the day with them, but this was her own Christmas shopping, in a way, and the kind that no one could know about. She fought the guilt rising in her chest, and finally subdued it with the though of Draco's face when he got her present.

Turning back into the kitchen, she set to work, beating the butter and sugar and eggs, sifting the flour and baking soda, adding chocolate powder, melting the semisweet chocolate, and finally combining all of her carefully memorized and measured mixtures together to make the batter, pouring it into 2 buttered cake pans and sticking them in the heated oven. She took the chicken-shaped timer that Mrs. Weasley kept in her kitchen and set it, so she would know when the cake layers were ready.

Afterwards, she started making the icing, taking out more butter and sugar, along with some instant coffee in the back of the Weasleys' refrigerator.

Once she was done with that, Hermione set aside the icing and went to cleaning the kitchen. No one could know what she was really doing home alone, so she made sure that everything was washed and dried and put back where it belonged. She even sponged down the counters she had gotten messy. When she was done, Hermione was pleased to see everything looked exactly the same, except for the oven which was on, and the bowl of icing on the table.

Satisfied, Hermione turned from the kitchen and jogged upstairs to get a quill and some parchment. She almost sat down right there to write her letter, but remembered she had to be able to hear the timer go off for the cake. Bringing the items down to the living room, she sat at the couch, leaning over the coffee table, and began to write.

Draco,

Happy Christmas!

Surprised? I would hope so. I was thinking of you the other night, and how you asked about the things I could cook. I mentioned this cake, if you recall—the chocolate one with mocha icing? Anyway, it's one of my favorites, and I thought you would enjoy it, so there it is.

I miss you. I know it's silly, since it's been less than a week, but I miss our nightly chats. I looked forward to them every day, and now, even surrounded by all these people, there are moments I wish you were here. And then of course there are some other things I'm missing too...

Well would you look at me, I'm blushing. It's odd—I usually never do something so forward or spontaneous, but I had the idea and couldn't help myself. I guess you just have that affect on me.

Sorry I'm sending this a bit early for Christmas. I figured all the owls would be taken by that time, and besides, I didn't want to have to explain to anyone why I needed to borrow their owl for some mysterious present. Hopefully Harry will think Hedwig is just out hunting.

By the way, you should really be thanking me profusely. I faked an illness this morning so I could get the house to myself and make this for you while everyone else is out shopping in Diagon Alley. I know, it's very Slytherin of me, isn't it? Don't worry, once I send this, I'll pretend I've gotten all better and join them, so you didn't ruin my whole day.

Anyway, my vacation has been nice so far. The entire Weasley family is here, of course, along with Harry and myself. Well, everyone except Fred, but George is—

Hermione paused, quill in the air, and realized the folly in her words. She didn't want to bring up the war, now of all times! She dipped into her ink again and crossed out the previous sentence.

Harry and myself. Mrs. Weasley, as I've told you, is a wonderful cook, and I've been helping her out in the kitchen when I can. Soon, you'll be able to vouch for my fantastic skills, right? We've also been playing Quidditch out in the backyard. Well, Ginny and Harry and Ron and George and Bill and Charlie have. Percy and I choose to stay safely on the ground. Have I ever mentioned I hate flying? I haven't? Alright then, I hate flying. Now you know. Never let me near a broom.

How are your holidays so far? How's your mother? What've you been doing? Write me back as soon as you can.

Hermione paused. Love? No. From? Of course not. Sincerely? Nah. Oh...

Yours,

Hermione

Satisfied, Hermione put down her quill and read through the letter again smiling to herself. Yes, it was a nice, friendly, interesting letter. She hoped he would like it.

Hermione had thought about addressing him by his last name, but this was a letter after all. It was different from being in front of him, exchanging witty banter.

Hermione jumped when she heard the ding from the kitchen, signaling that the cake was done. She walked in briskly and opened the oven, pulling out a cake tester at the same time. Poking the metal stick into the cake, she realized it needed another minute or two. This she thought is culinary instinct, not just reading from a recipe. Hermione smiled to herself in pride and closed the oven again, going back to the living room.

She folded up the parchment after reading it yet again and slipped it in the envelope she had brought down. She put a stopper in her inkwell, but refrained from going upstairs to put her things away or retrieve Hedwig, just in case the cake was done before she got back downstairs.

Hermione began to pace the living room, thinking about Draco. She was doing this wonderful, sweet thing for him. She wondered what he would do in return. Would he think that she was only trying to get a nice present from him? Had he thought of getting her a present? Had he thought about her at all? Hermione bit her lip, but chose to ignore the worry she felt at that thought.

Sensing that the cake was done, she went back into the kitchen and checked it. She was, of course, right, and pulled it out of the oven to set the two layers gently on the stove top to let them cool.

Leaning against the opposite counter, Hermione settled back into her thoughts. She liked to be alone. She loved her friends enormously, but everyone needs time to themselves, and cooking was helping her mood even more. Hermione was extremely content at the moment, and didn't try and stop her mind from drifting back to Draco.

She remembered the way he had caught her off guard that night in the common room by kissing her in the middle of a tirade. She remembered how he had completely taken her over. Hermione shivered at the memory of his strong kiss, and how she seemed to melt at his touch.

Hermione thought about what might happen when she got back. Would he have forgotten about her? Would he remember what they shared? Would he have had second thoughts? Or would he hold her close as if he would never let her go? Would he push her up against a wall and kiss her feverishly?

She let a scene play out in her head. Draco would come into their common room, after not having seen her in 2 weeks, and he would cross to where she stood, leaning against the back of the sofa, waiting for him. He would take her by the hips and push himself against her before claiming her lips with a bruising kiss. He would let his hands move across her stomach and back and waist as his tongue did battle with hers. He would push her up to sit precariously on the top of the couch, and she would open her knees so he could step between them. Then he would pull away from her mouth and scatter his kisses lower, his soft lips coming into contact with the line of her jaw down to the junction at her ear. He would bite her ear lobe lightly and she would moan. He would trail kisses lower, creating a line of them down her neck and onto the exposed part of her shoulder. Then he would drag his hand up from her waist and bring it to the shoulder of her shirt, pulling it down—

Hermione awoke sharply as if from a deep sleep with her right hand half covered in icing. She realized with a shock that she had moved it behind her to give herself more support, and that her other hand was on her neck. Hermione felt her face go red when she realized heat was pounding between her thighs.

She stood straighter and mentally scolded herself as she began to lick the icing off of her hand (she wasn't just going to waste it). Part of her asked, what's wrong with imagining? But the common sense overwhelmed it, saying in a strong voice, there's no need to be indecent. Hermione let out an audible 'Hmph' and set about laying out the cake and icing one layer, before putting the other on top and lathering the rest with icing.

Finally, having calmed down, Hermione went to find a box to put the cake in.

What is wrong with you?

There's nothing wrong with me. I'm simply putting my under-used imagination to work.

Yeah, well, you should watch out for that.

And why should I?

Why?! You should be ashamed of yourself—thinking those thoughts about some boy...

A boy I've known for months! A boy I've learned to like...a lot! I'm 18, for God's sakes, am I not allowed to have fantasies?!

But you have to admit, he's distracting you.

Of course not! What are you talking about?

You just ditched your friends to bake him a cake. What is that called except a distraction?

Yeah, well...I wanted to be alone anyway. Besides, I'm going to join them in a few minutes. No harm, no foul, right?

And you just zoned out completely for 5 minutes and imagined him possessing you.

What?! How dare you! I had no such thoughts.

If your hand hadn't slipped into the icing, we both know you'd still be standing there, imagining things much more X rated.

That's ridiculous, I—

Don't deny it, you know it's true

And what's so bad about that, huh? We're both adults. I can choose who I want. So what if I want to shag him?

Having found a box, Hermione had just put the cake inside and said a spell to keep it from moving around when the argument in her head came to this. She clapped a hand over her mouth and stared, unseeing, out the window. Did she really?

The sides of her brain had stopped yelling at each other, and for some reason, even though she was extremely confused at the moment, the idea of voices arguing in her head suddenly amused her. Before she knew it, Hermione was double over laughing.

She went into the bathroom after a minute, still chuckling and looked in the mirror at herself.

"Hermione Granger, there is something seriously wrong with you."

She stared at herself in amusement, hands on hips, for a moment longer before turning and leaving the bathroom again.

Gathering herself together, she brought the remaining parchment and ink, along with her quill, back up to her room. She then walked to Harry and Ron's room to find Hedwig. The snowy owl hooted as she entered and jumped to the edge of her open cage.

"Hey there, Hedwig. I've got something for you to deliver," she said, holding out her arm.

Hedwig jumped to Hermione's arm, obviously happy to have a job to do. Hermione walked back downstairs with Hedwig and set her down on the windowsill, scratching her head. Putting the envelope on top of the box, Hermione tied it so it wouldn't open and the letter wouldn't fly away, then brought it over to where Hedwig stood waiting.

"Do you think you can handle this? It's going to Draco's house. Draco Malfoy? You know him, right? It's a bit heavy, but you don't have to take it especially far...I think." Hermione had never thought about where Draco lived. Even when she had been to the Manor last year—Hermione shuddered at the memory—they had apparated. She didn't know where it was. And maybe they had moved somewhere else now. But Hedwig was the brightest bird she knew, and could find anyone, no matter where they were.

Hedwig jumped down from the sill and eyed the large box warily. But Hermione knew how to manipulate the owl.

"I could always get Pig to help you."

Hedwig looked up at her again and hooted indignantly, sticking out her leg.

There was less rivalry now between the two birds, ever since Pig had become an official adult (in age at least) and turned less...well, psychotic was the best word Hermione could think of. But Hedwig still felt superior to the small owl and jumped at any chance to do better than him.

Hermione tied the box to her foot and watched as Hedwig jumped out the window, falling a bit before flapping her wings heavily and gaining height. She hoped the snowy owl would be able to handle the large package, and silently wished her luck, watching as she turned left and flew out of sight.

Once the owl was gone, Hermione took her wand from her pocket and said "expecto patronum." The silver otter appeared in front of her easier than usual. Hermione had always had trouble with this spell, but it was less difficult when she thought about Draco and the evening before their departure. That was the memory Hermione chose.

She murmured a message to the glowing animal and told it to find Ginny, then watched as it flew out of sight, strangely similar to having just watched Hedwig do the same thing, though the two animals had gone in different directions.

Hermione turned back into the kitchen and washed the rest of the dishes, until a silver horse came galloping into the room.

In Ginny's voice, it spoke. "Go on ahead to the Leaky Cauldron. I'll be there in a few minutes."

Sadly, the beautiful horse evaporated after it spoke, and Hermione walked to the door of the kitchen. She turned around and scanned the room, making sure everything looked normal, before entering the living room and crossing to the fireplace.

Taking a pinch of floo powder from the mantelpiece, Hermione threw it into the flames, which turned green. Stepping into them, she said calmly, "The Leaky Cauldron." She was gone in a puff of smoke.

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Draco was wearing a warm cloak against the cold evening. He was outside raking some leaves. Of course, it would have been easier to just take out his wand, but Draco liked the manual labor. And, even though he would never tell anyone, Draco had a thing for gardening. It was an odd habit that he had never mentioned to his friends, but something about being outside in the dirt with a rake or a hose or a shovel calmed him. It let his mind wander. And wander it did.

As usual, Draco was thinking about Hermione. For the thousandth time, he asked himself, why can't I stop? She's so addictive. Draco, you need to get your head checked. But even when he thought this, he couldn't help but smile at himself. She was just...herself. How could he stop himself?

He wondered what he would do if she showed up on his doorstep, randomly. He probably wouldn't give her time to say hello before jumping her—Draco laughed out loud as Blaise's words came back to him. He would show her around the small house he and his mother had moved into sometime over the summer—there were too many painful memories from the Manor. It was too big for the both of them anyhow.

And Narcissa...Draco wondered how she would react to Hermione. Having a quiet secluded life was doing her good, as far as Draco could tell. She had welcomed him from the train and actually given him a hug. This was a rare occurrence in the Malfoy family, but when he had confronted her about it she had said simply, "well, there wasn't enough of that before." Draco was more than happy at this turn of events.

But at the same time, there were still moments when he could sense she was not altogether healed. She became quiet for hours at a time and would retreat to her room, or start cleaning. Draco knew, despite what he had done, she missed Lucius, even if it was only for companionships' sake. After all, he had been her husband for decades. Draco knew the drastic change in lifestyle was hard for her at times.

However, holding onto her husband's memory wasn't doing either of them any good. He was gone, off to Azkaban, might as well be dead as far as Draco was concerned. Lucius had not been sad and scared at the end of the war because he had had a change of heart. No, Draco knew it was only because he had found out he was on the loosing side, and that disgusted Draco.

Draco's thoughts were momentarily interrupted with a flap of wings above him. A snowy owl was flying low with a large package under its feet. Figuring it was another Owl-Post purchase that his mother usually got this time of year, he went back to work.

Anyway, Draco was unsure of how much resentment his mother still retained by this time—whether she had fully given up the old values or was simply hiding them. If she knew the way he felt about Hermione—a know-it-all, a muggleborn, a member of the golden trio—would she respect her son's wishes or turn against him, as so many had for various reasons, and tear him down? Narcissa could be vicious when she wanted to. She knew what buttons to push. Hopefully, though, she would see past her previous ideals, if such a circumstance arose, and accept Hermione.

It was at that thought that Draco finally finished raking. He sighed and, seeing his breath materialize in front of him, realized how cold he was. Stowing the rake in a small shed, he walked briskly to the backdoor of his mother's house.

Draco walked in and hung his coat on the back of a chair before sitting down to await dinner.

In the process he didn't notice Narcissa close the refrigerator door quickly and slip a note into the pocket of her robes.

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You're probably saying 'NO WAY'. Well I'm here to tell you, yes way. It's unnerving, I know, but that's the way it is. You'll find out her reaction soon enough...well, next week anyway.

Alright, 2 things I wanted to discuss in my A/N:

1 – I apologize for my review responses being so long, I really do. It's just that I enjoy getting feedback, and want to let people know what I think. But to reduce your suffering, maybe I should just respond directly. I mean, if you all don't mind them, then it's all right. But it can be boring if you do read them (the ones that aren't yours in some cases) and confusing when you want to jump only to the A/N after the responses. Review to inform me of your vote.

2 – What did you think of Hermione's whole fantasy thing? I didn't really mean for that to happen. I was just in that general sort of mood and started writing and couldn't help myself. I think it's ok generally, but I don't want this to seem all porno on you guys, like I'm adding sex because I can (and because it's sex—I mean, come on) and that it doesn't have much to do with the story itself. Anyway, let me know if I should sex it down a bit.

Seems I'm asking a lot of questions from you guys. Well...maybe that's just an excuse to get reviews *wiggles eyebrows*. Ok, so it's not, but it can be an excuse for you to *give* reviews. Right? Of course right.

Don't forget, random fact about yourself! And I mean, really, who doesn't like to talk about themselves? Precisely.

I hate techno music!

-Ginger