One of the things that I want to say just aren't coming out right
I'm tripping on words
You've got my head spinning
I don't know where to go from here

'Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do
Nothing to prove
And it's you and me and all other people
And I don't know why, I can't keep my eyes off of you
- You and Me, Lifehouse

The one time I finally get something right, someone comes along to ruin it.

Presently, my mother and I are sitting outside on Cerisier's terrace, alone. Hermione agreed to let me talk to her by my lonesome once she came to, and she is now trying to tough it out inside with freaking Jean-Pierre and my new grandparents.

How horribly awkward is that? That girl is a saint.

Someone actually came up to her and had the audacity to ask her about what happened for the Evening Prophet, god knows why someone else English is here. She declined a response, and the staff forced him out before snapping a shot, thank god. Can you imagine Potter and Weasley finding out about this via social media?

Why the hell did my mother have to be so melodramatic? Fainting? I mean, this is not how I wanted to meet my new family, and this is not how I wanted my mother to find out about Granger and I. They've never had a pleasant interaction together before, and I know my mother was rude to Potter, so she's going to remember that.

Just fucking fuck. Of course, of course, of all the places in France to eat lunch, they had to come from the south of the country to here.

"Are you alright, then?" I ask my mother, insincerely, as she darts a million looks around to see if anyone is watching.

"That was the most embarrassing moment I've ever had in public," she says, folding her hands on the tabletop, fixing her immaculate bun.

"That? You fainting? Surely, father's trial was worse," I respond meanly. Right now, I'm too flustered to feel like being polite.

She gives me a look, and I stare right back, stone faced.

"Look, Draco, I am very sorry you were locked out of the manor. My instructions to Peoni were to let nobody foreign into the house, but clearly she waived the bloodline charm that allows any resident, or Malfoy, to enter it. I didn't get your owl, it was coming cross country. There's no need to be overly wicked."

"Me? Overly wicked, when you disproved of my date in front of her face? Me? When you lie to me for a year, hide secrets about loving another man that you want to betroth? You didn't let me in to a serious relationship that you were starting. Is that why I haven't been allowed to see Lucius at all? Because he knew? He would've told me, right? I can't even believe you right now. Why are you even here, mother? I thought you were supposed to be gallivanting in Cannes."

She looks at me surprised, obvious hurt in her eyes. And I don't care.

"This is the Malfoy's trademark spot for dinning, darling, obviously you remember that." She begins, no emotion in her voice. "I wanted to show Jean's parents some English hospitality without being too outlandish. So what about you? You are supposed to be at home, or else studying. You lied to me about where you were and you could've hurt yourself. I never would've known that you weren't with the Bulstrode's. Draco, I can't apologize anymore for hiding this from you, I just thought you would never accept it, and if I had told you weeks before the ceremony, you wouldn't have much time to try and break it off for me. Jean is already upset he has made such a bad first impression on you. It's a very delicate situation we're in, it's nearly impossible to get things right. And I've never stopped you from going to see your father, I didn't think you'd want to because you never asked."

"Of course I want to," I reply angrily. "Just because I'm mad at him, doesn't mean I don't worry."

God, she's acting like such a victim. I did ask her plenty of times!

"Well, we'll go one day soon, then. Perhaps before you go back to Hogwarts. Right now, however, we're in a much bigger predicament. I've been trying for 3 days to accommodate these people, his parents, but they are the most snobbish people I've ever met, and now this happened. What in the world possessed you to chase after this Granger girl?"

Yes, my father rotting in prison and cheating is far less an important task at hand than who I'm kissing.

I sigh. "I like her, mother. She's nice, and she's smart. She isn't snobby, arrogant or vapid like every single other girl I've ever met in this social circle we revolve in."

"But Draco…are you delusional? She was captive in our home last year. You always talked about how much you hated her just a few years ago. She's Harry Potter's best friend, who you know has a vendetta against us. She's not pureblood. My word, what happened? Do you know what people are going to say?"

"God! Frankly, I don't care." I reply angrily. "Mother, don't you see? You and she are exactly the same! You're both trying to impress people that think they're better than you. You are divorcing dad, and remarrying the richest wizard in France. If anyone finds out about this before you want it to, you're going to look like a gold digger, and you know it. You should be thanking Hermione that she pushed the stupid paparazzi away. If anyone finds out, they're going to victimize her, and say she's too good for me, I guess I'll just have to prove them wrong. Why are you so worried about me starting a relationship with somebody highly valued in the public eye when you have already?"

"A gold digger?" She's now clenching her teeth, trying not to get angry with me. "And what is she doing with you? If you think she's too good for you, why doesn't she?"

"Because she's not a bitch, she's willing to give me a chance." She makes a frustrated internal noise.

"And another thing, how would you know if he's the richest wizard in France?"

"News travels fast, I don't want people to talk about us, about you, anymore. I may have accidentally let Paisley Parkinson know about you and he, when I didn't know a thing about him –"

I hear a massive intake of breath.

"WHAT? You told that vile woman?"

"What else was I supposed to do faced with being trapped outside my own home? She knew about him where I hadn't a clue, thanks to you! I had just been to Hermione's house, and that was a wild experience in itself, I didn't want to have to go somewhere else once I found out I was locked out. Even though I resorted to going to Diagon freaking Alley..."

"Draco, manners. Why did Paisley let you in only to let you out again?"

I roll my eyes. "Mother, I was saved by Pansy. Because I explained to her what had happened between you and father, she became interested more than sympathetic. She was not pleased to see me, neither was Paisley, until she found out about it. And then when I stayed over, she tried to get back together with me, after going on a date to get me to propose. Like, fuck that! This is why I am so sick of dealing with these people. This is why I like Hermione, mother. Because she doesn't give a damn about how much money we have, and obviously can get over our past discrepincies, so why can't you let it go?"

Narcissa looks as if she's about to explode and I know I've exposed a nerve somewhere. She is the fancy girl I just described, she's Pansy; she can't even help it. I know she loves Jean-Pierre because of how she acts around him, he obviously has something going on that I don't see, but she probably wouldn't have said 'yes' to a ring if he hadn't been a millionaire.

"Draco, getting into it with her will be exceptionally difficult. You're going to be rejected by everyone she knows, anyone she's friends with. She's going to make everyone uncomfortable at our parties, because everyone knows her name and who she is. Social gatherings will be a pain for her, which in turn will make her resent us and she'll never be okay with us fully."

"You don't know that for sure, though, you're assuming this based on what's happened in the past. Nobody is a Death Eater anymore, mother, nobody has a secret side. And deep down, I know you never took a side, that you hated it. Or you wouldn't have done what you did for me, when you lied to the Dark Lord himself." I choke on those last few words, anticipating the reaction. What have I just said?

Her eyes become saucers of blue, but I stare at her intently, with a knowing look.

"H-how-?" She can't finish. She's breathing heavily, almost hyperventilating.

"Hermione and I got in an argument. Somehow the fact that you asked about my state of health to Potter when he was playing dead, and said yes for the chance to find me, came up. That is why I know." Fuck, how can I hate her and love her at the same time.

Merlin, no, I feel tears.

"I know you're a good person, mother. I know you've suffered through hell and back, but you have to understand that I have too. And it's not that my pain is more important than yours, but you're reverting to what you were like before the times got tough. Don't be that woman. Don't be the woman full of spite before you know people, based on blood or what you read. I'm trying too, it's fucking difficult. If you need a fresh start, lord, move to France. Leave everything behind and become yourself again. And I'm asking you now, please, to just let me be too. It's enough that I'm lamenting the fact that I'm going to have a dad in jail and another man I have to impress with you, that I can't even pick who I want to be with like you have done. Sometimes you reach a breaking point, and I don't want to revisit that, and I don't want you there, either."

I resume my gaze into my mother's, and she's crying with dignity; no show, just real tears. I grab her balled up hands, and she looks down at our entwined fingers, then back up at me once more. I continue.

"I know you're worried about me being around Muggles, but I'm fine. The ones I met were exactly the same as you or I, and pleasant. You're going to have to accept at some time or another than I'm not a little boy anymore," I say, and she smiles if only for a moment. "I am my own person, and I can't hold on to the past, I can't afford to. I can afford to open my mind a little."

I wait a moment for her reply, she's all choked up, and in between grinning and frowning. "I understand that, Draco," her voice cracks. "I only wish I could keep you forever like that, as my only baby boy. I know it's not a healthy thing." She picks up the napkin keeping the cutlery in place, and dabs her eyes with it.

"You've just grown up so much, and it scares me. I don't know how I raised such a mature young man." I suppress the overwhelming urge to laugh, because Merlin knows I'm anything but. "I just am having such a difficult time trying to rid myself of this constant guilt by allowing myself to do what I please for once. I need to be away from Lucius, for good. But I fear I've hurt him too much, his actions have scorned me, and you, more than I can say. Though that doesn't justify anything. I hate seeing you so upset."

"Well I'm going to be upset for a while, regardless. You have to accept that, and if I know you know it, I'll vent about it to a third party, mother. If you want to keep me angry, then keep me away from Hermione. Talking to her makes me feel the sanest I've been in a long time. You know, I've been eating. And it might be the change in environment too, but I don't feel so depressed all the time."

"Really?" she asks quietly, and I nod. "If you're dead set on trying to woo this girl, I'll – I shall try my best to be kind to her, obliging."

I'm happy to see that my words affect her. A happy Draco means something that's happening is being done right.

"It isn't that I hate her, Draco. You have to comprehend how strange this is though, for me, after who hurt her in the house and why. About our past interactions. I'm not solely out to get her for her bloodline, though it's difficult for me to let it go. I have a feeling she won't take kindly to me. You know adults never stop being afraid of rejection. it's not an easy emotional fear to get rid of."

At the display of weakness from my mother, the fact she can admit she isn't unafraid, one of the strongest people I know, I allow my own wall to crumble a bit, and a tear falls down my face.

"I love you, mother. Please don't forget it, even when I'm cross," I say gentle as possible. She sniffs loudly, and stifles more sobbing by standing up.

"I love you too, Draco." She pauses. "I hate to ruin this heart to heart, but I'm sure everyone inside is as uncomfortable as they were when we came in. How do you suggest we diffuse the situation?"

I push out my chair, as she squeezes my hand; this is her way of trying to make amends. By asking me my opinion.

"Well, we should go in if you're that concerned about face. The patrons will see it was a blip in the radar for you instead of something truly crippling to your social standing if you pretend like nothing's wrong. And Jean's parents will forgive you for having an outburst if you explain yourself. We properly introduce ourselves, Hermione and I can stay for a while, we still have to pay though, and then go on our merry way."

"Payment is not a problem, just put it on the family account. Your 'merry way', is my issue. Where is your merry way? I can use the Floo Network to go to the manor with you and let you in…?"'

"We still have to work on our project, and doubtless she's going to budge on going to the house, but we could Apparate from the Manor, just so we know I can go in." Her expression is still mangled about me getting to downtown London in one piece, but she simply nods, and grabs my arm, looping hers in it, and walks back into the restaurant by my side.

"Just as a side question, darling…what on earth are you wearing?" She's surveying my Muggle-y pants, and boots made from calfskin, not dragon. Oh god.

"Trust me, the full outfit was far worse for your tastes. Mr. Fassbender is crazy, not eccentric."

"From Twilfit and Tattings?" she asks incredulously.

"I think he's been hanging out with Muggle fashion designers for too long not to want a test drive, but I was the first pureblood clientele willing to be the test dummy."

"Well it looks good," she says with a strained look on her face.

"Thank, but nice try."

"Okay, fine, it looks sloppy, and you would do better to be wearing a nice tie with a darker dress robe for a date. Girls almost always looks nice, but boys, no. One can never overdo a date."

Ah, classic judgemental Narcissa. She'll be alright.

One more bullet dodged.

This is a very awkward circumstance to be caught in.

I mean, I'm glad that it isn't something violent or life-threatening, but Draco's new family are sitting whispering in French, staring at me on and off.

Draco is sitting outside talking about god knows what, and his mother probably hates me, or else is dramatically uncomfortable with the aspect of getting to know me because of a) I'm not up to par with the people she hangs out with, or b) because of what has transpired when I was in her presence. I don't particularly like her either, to be quite honest, but I also barely know her.

The furthest interaction we've had is her talking snidely to Ron and Harry, because Malfoy quipped about, well, me. They had drawn wands towards Draco, so I can understand why she would be defensive, but her comments were rather rude. But she was just protecting her baby, and I can't hate her for that.

And thinking about his relationship with his mother, I realize that like them, my parents and I are extremely close too. Narcissa is so concerned about her child, she seems reluctant to let anybody into his life that could hurt him if she can control it because she probably feels a failure about having Voldemort so present in his life, basically due to her husband.

My dad however, is more like Narcissa than my mom. Almost overprotective, I would say. Draco is going to have to work to be accepted in my family, like I'll have to work to get into his. If it comes to that, anyways.

I think it'll be more difficult for our friends to get along, though Draco doesn't seem to have many…I hope this isn't too hard to master, but I imagine this will be 100X harder than NEWT's. I hope I'm up for the challenge.

I see Draco finally, walking with his mother out of the corner of my eye, arm in arm over to the table, and I breathe a sigh of relief. I wish I could talk to Draco about how he feels about this whole situation, but I don't think he's quite ready for that in depth of a conversation.

Draco pulls out a chair and takes a spot next to me. He gives me a little look and squeezes my hand before placing it back in front of him. Narcissa however, who has sat next to her fiancée, has kept a hold of his grasp, while he places a kiss on her cheek and whispers to ask if she's ok en francais.

"Gaston, Marie, ceci est mon fils, Draco, et son –ahem – copine, Hermione." Narcissa introduces us to her future in-laws. I notice Draco give a little grunt of disapproval to his mother, and is flushing red, though I don't know why.

"Hermione," she resumes, with a tight smile while addressing me, "this is my fiancée Jean-Pierre Du Pont, and his mother and father, Gaston and Marie. Jean, this is Draco's girlfriend, Hermione Granger."

Oh.

I'm his 'girlfriend'. Did he tell her I was, or did she just assume, or?

I look to my left for some confirmation, and Draco slides a palm to his face and shakes his head, 'no' in horror.

"Mama, c'est notre premiere rendrevue," Draco says sharply, in a low voice to his mother, and she looks lightly embarrassed, though not thoroughly affected. I think Draco underestimates my French ability, because I most certainly know that he just told her it was our first 'official' date.

Jean bites his lip, feeling how awkward this is, while I notice Marie whispering furiously to Gaston. Jean decides to make a break in tension:

"I 'ave read much about, you 'Ermione. In ze Prophet mostly, and your friend Mistere Potter's book. I am very impressed by your, how you say, legend?"

What?

Draco looks just as flabbergasted as me.

"Merci beaucoup," I say, unsure of what else I could add.

"I didn't know you could speak English, Jean-Pierre," Draco says evenly, though his face gives away a flicker of annoyance.

Jean looks at him dead in the eye and smiles. "Oui, I do, Draco. Mais, only un petit-peu. My parents are actually a leetle bit more proficient than me at speaking ze language." Once again, Draco is taken aback by the kindness.

I don't think he realizes Jean wants to make an effort to be liked. It's always the new parent that has to woo the child, never the other way around. It was a mistake not to have introduced Jean right away, to rush into the relationship. Obviously, Narcissa must have told Jean about the delicate situation they're in, and probably about what Draco has faced. It's not like England is the only place to have heeded the wrath of Voldemort. But still.

"Vraiment?" Narcissa asks. "J'ai n'en aucune idee, Marie. Gaston." She looks almost accusingly at her parents-in-law for not revealing their bilingualism.

Marie, a very grand woman with grey hair and sapphire robes, merely gives a tight, un-amused grin, while her husband, debonair and distinguished in tweed, nods. Jean is a fairly decent looking man, I note, a bit of both genes combined. Thin, Draco's kind of thin; he has a pleasant face, neat brown hair, with a nicely made grey suit on.

"Oh yes, we 'ave learned to parlais Anglais," Marie responds snarkily. "Gaston 'as many a business deal in Great Britain. We vacation zere, we also discuss work. But when in Rome, we do as ze Romans do. We are in France, we shall speak en francais." Ooh, frosty woman, isn't she.

"Now, now, Marie. Perhapz 'Ermione does not speak french very well. I alzo, have read your friend 'Arry Potter's book. We 'ave 'eard a great deal about 'im in the past couple years, and our conclusion is that we are impressed by what 'e 'as done," Gaston says. Oh, mon dieu.

"Oui, oui . We thought that it must 'ave been you, we 'ave seen your photographs in ze book, and in numerous paperes. Narcissa, I am glad to zee your zon 'as some good taste. I do not know why we did not meet him when we first met you." The combination of her heavy French accent, and the way she phrases her sentences makes Marie seem a little, well, bitchy. Like a demure kitten; catty yet pretty.

Narcissa takes a deep breath, but says nothing.

"Ainsi, Marie, Hermione et j'ai un projet scolaire. Nous sommes des partenaires. C'était tout simplement trop important pour moi de réellement dépenser mes vacances relaxants," Draco explains our school situation in french, impeccably charming, albeit a bit forced compared to how he was talking to me earlier.

That reminds me, we have a lot of work to do and time is wasting. I still don't know what he did with my iPod. All well, now is not the time.

Marie looks pleasantly surprised at how adept her new grandson is at speaking her language, Gaston too. Jean is unsure of the development, thus far, and I don't know whether or not I should even say anything.

"Tu parlais tres bon francais, jeune home!" Gaston exclaims, and I can't help but give a small smile from Draco and my conversation about how to correctly say that phrase. I look at Draco for a lingering second, and he reads my mind, and returns my grin.

"Ah, you two look at each other like a couple of lovebirds," Gaston continues. We both blush at the same time.

"Yes, it eez nice zat Draco can dizmiss pretty zings like blood and past rivalries, clearly Jean 'ere will be a much bettere influence on ze boy, zan shall we say, 'is past role models. Jean 'as never been bothered with where you 'ave come from or 'ow much money you possess," Marie says, fixing her hair.

I can see balled fists from my date, but he sets his jaw and will not rebut Marie's statement.

"Mama, s'il vous plait," Jean says, getting angry.

"I am merely saying zat Draco 'asn't had very good moral lessons given what 'as 'appened in ze past few years. Clearly, Narcissa 'asn't 'ad a very good 'andle on Draco's well-being up until now. She 'adn't even told him about you, Jean, until a week ago. And 'e 'as been locked out of his own 'ome!"

"Now wait just a minute!"

Everyone turns from Marie to Draco, whose teeth are bared, brows furrowed, fists on the tablecloth. He takes a deep breath to level his anger, and tries to speak evenly.

"It isn't my mother's fault that anything happened negatively in my life. Often, she's been the only person who actually cares about my feelings. It is my father's fault for getting involved in something bad from the get-go, and not getting out when he should have. If anything, I'm to blame too, I'm not a saint or anything either." At this, he makes a point of covering his left forearm with his right, and I had up until this point completely forgotten he had the mark. "She's just trying to do what she feels is right, nobody's perfect. We both are attempting to be better people, and clearly she is a lot happier than ever with Jean, alright, so if you please, stop insulting her."

The pregnant pause that follows is unbearable. Draco is sitting back in his seat, arms crossed, looking away from everyone, Jean is unsure of where to look or what to do, while Narcissa has the faintest of smiles on her face, sipping her wine. Marie is trying to seem unfazed, though she's fiddling with her gloves, and Gaston sits with wide eyes and a churlish grin.

"I suppose I 'ave been a bit 'ard on you," Marie says finally after an eternity.

"I know you're just trying to make sure that Jean is making a good decision in marrying me, but I've spent this entire weekend trying to be friendly and accommodating, and I've received nothing in return," Narcissa says, calmly. Coldly.

"Now, Draco and Hermione have prior engagements, I'm afraid. They need to work, right dear?"

"Yes. C'était bien vous rencontrer. Je m'excuse si j'ai offensé que vous, mais j'ai besoin de protéger ma famille, comme vous voulez le faire," Draco stands up and takes out my chair for me, then goes over to shake Gaston and Jeans hands, and kisses Marie's.

"You're going to use the Floo Network?" Draco nods to his mother's question. "Well, I''ll walk you over."

I simply wave at the three uncomfortable people still residing at the table, and say, "Au revoir. Bonne journee."

Draco takes my hand as he strides over to the ornate fireplace by the entrance. He leaves me to stand there, giving me the 'one moment' hand signal, and goes to thank Maurice, conversing in French and laughing, probably apologizing for everything.

Narcissa follows his lead, and touches Maurice's arm, who is evidently charmed immensely by the pair. I wish I could do that, I'd be able to get away with anything! But I suppose the Malfoy's are still a big deal, if they're allowed in here no fuss no muss.

Francois is standing next to the fireplace holding a Floo powder cup. I smile at him and he blushes.

Draco turns away from Maurice, and his cheery grin fades into a frown, and he rolls his eyes. As he reaches me, his mother is talking behind him.

"…so when you come home tonight, everything will be safe for you to enter, okay? I'll just go after lunch to tell Peoni to change who can come past the gate."

"Yes, yes, that's fine," Draco replies, waving her arm away. "I am so sorry," he says to me.

"Don't worry, don't worry," I say gently, taking his hand.

"Let's get out of here?" he whispers.

"Please," I reply, and he laughs. Then he turns to mummy.

"Well, bye mother. I'll see you soon?" he inquires to her.

"Yes, I promised a week, but I don't know if I can handle 4 more days after that. Now give us a kiss good bye." Draco leans in to kiss her cheek, but Narcissa pulls him in closer, to hug him.

"Oh, mum."

"Thank you for standing up for me sweetheart," she murmurs into his ear as she ruffles his fair hair. His stiff gait softens a bit, and he squeezes her back.

"You're welcome."

It's a very adorable moment, I just feel awkward watching it transpire like it's some distant film noir movie. This whole afternoon has been a surreal fairy-tale.

"Bye love," Narcissa says, finally letting him go. He's flushed as he returns to me, embarrassed by the public displays of affection.

"Bye Mum." He nods to Francois as he moves into the fireplace, pulling me along with him. Francois holds out the red pot of powder, and Draco and I each grab a handful.

"Merci, Francois," I say, and he grins nervously, stepping away from us.

"Ready?"

"Yes. Good bye, er, Mrs. Malfoy," I attempt to be polite in our last moments in France.

Narcissa raises her eyebrows and nods.

"Good bye," she replies to nobody in particular, walking away from us and back to the table. Draco looks at me and I just shrug.

He shrugs too, and holds out his palm. "Okay – 1, 2, 3,"

I join him, then in unison we say: "22 Parkhill Drive, Camden."

The green flames engulf us, and a sliding minute later, we're in my living room, slightly dusty.

"Oh my fucking Merlin, that was awful."

"I am so sorry, so, so, so sorry you had to witness that."

God, why does my mother insist on associating with these people?

I'm pacing round Granger's kitchen, restless, and angry that those people are my new relatives. Hermione is simply leaning against the couch, letting me vent my frustrations.

"They're just so goddamn pretentious, I mean, how that vile woman could say things about my mother in front of her face. While her husband just stood there, acting like she was a precocious toddler rather than a bitch: AGH. Ruined the afternoon for me, probably for you, too."

"Yes, she was a bit catty….but it's alright, you couldn't help it. It wasn't ruined for me, it was just awkward, really. And Jean at least didn't seem too bad…your mother, too," Hermione adds as an afterthought.

I sigh. "Yes I suppose he was rather nice. I hate that."

"Draco," she says, lightly chuckling. I look up at her, and she's simply surveying me. It's weird when she isn't so, so, bossy and fussy. It's rather nice, if I'm honest.

I finally settle against the kitchen sink, elbows rested on the edge of it, trying to ponder. "You know, he sort of intervened when Marie went too far, I guess I can't despise him, especially because he was embarrassed by it."

"Well, I thought you handled everything amazingly well given what went on. And you stood up for your mother against somebody you don't even know. I would be so afraid of making a wrong impression especially if it's my, er…future grandma. Sorry, that made it sound bad." I can't help but smirk.

"Well, you're right anyways. She probablement despises moi! All well, I don't give two shits."

"You should. But I aim to please, rather than, well, so. Opposite viewpoints, anyways, if you don't mind me asking, what were your mother and yourself discussing outside? And where is my iPod, hmm?" She's slowly sidled up close to me, standing at the big white box thing. I can tell by her calculated casualness she's been itching to ask me these questions for a while.

"If you must know, your iPod was left on Pansy Parkinson's floor in a rush to exit the building. I will be buying you a new one as soon as possible. And as for – hey, don't interrupt me," I say, knowing she was about to protest or else inquire further by her open mouth and midair hand. "As for my mother and I, I told her about what you told me….you know with Potter and all. I told her not to judge you for she was being judged by Marie, and now she knows how it feels, it's not so great ain't it? I told her I was unhappy she didn't tell me about Jean sooner and that I, ahem, miss my own father. So I'm going to go see him sometime soon. Should be a fun trip," I finish sarcastically.

Before I even have time to pay attention, Granger's wrapped her arms around my torso; she's hugging me. Against a sink, but still. We've never been closer.

Quickly she realizes what she's doing and softens the grip, but I put my arms around her shoulders and realize I can rest my chin on her head.

"You know, you have a real knack for emanating sympathy," she says. And then, "Does this feel weird to you?"

"Hugging? Oddly, no. I mean, when I stop and think it's freaking Hermione Granger, a bit. But only a little bit."

"Yeah me too. That's why I find it weird, the fact that it doesn't feel weird. We've never been closer, have we?"

I smile into her hair, and rest my head on top of hers. "I was just thinking the same. And no."

She snuggles in closer to me, and I can't catch my breath. I can feel her warm skin from her chest and exposed arms on my body. Her breasts are pushed right above my belly button, and she's in between my legs.

"Feels nice."

"Mm," I murmur, closing my eyes.

"If you ever need to talk about, you know, family stuff, I'm here to listen. You don't have to ask for advice or anything, you can just vent."

I don't think I've ever actually had somebody just 'be there' for me. At this realization, I start to feel intense emotions I do not want. So I take a deep breath and simply squeeze Hermione tighter.

She gives a little audible 'ah', and I want to stay like this forever.

"You're not buying me a new iPod by the way," she murmurs into my neck.

"I am. When we go out tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" she asks, and she pulls away a bit so I can face her. Aw.

"Er…unless you've had enough of me for a bit," I try tactfully.

"No, no, we can, I mean I'm alone here, right? Andrea is working day and night, her next issue deadline is soon. I suppose I should go see Harry and Ron, I'm the only one who can Apparate well between them – by the look on your face, that greatly displeases you."

I notice I'm snarling at the prospect of her seeing Weasley. Potter I don't care, but he can't be there.

"They are your friends, I know they," I add grudgingly, "mean a lot to you. I simply am not that partial to you spending time with the Weasel."

"Well, it's sort of inevitable, I'm afraid. Harry or Ron sent me a letter this morning, that's why I had to rush upstairs."

I move my arms loosely to her lower back and push her gently a few inches from me. "Oh, shit. Well what did it say?"

"I don't know," she admits, giving me a nervous smile.

"You don't know?"

"Ginny also sent me one, and I was responding to hers. Harry is at the Burrow too, the Weasley's home, rather. I was a bit of a coward and didn't want to hear what the other one had to say, so I sent back one reply."

"No doubt it'll be chock full of slandering the hideous Draco Malfoy, right?"

"Probably, maybe I should go read it just in case. What time is it anyways? 4:30? Oh that reminds me!"

She lets me go and cranes her neck, on her tiptoes, to scan the clock by her front door. Then she rushes to the staircase and grabs a little pink device, flipping it open, and staring at the screen.

She smiles and looks to be pressing little buttons on it.

I walk over to her, curiosity getting the best of me. "What is that?"

"A cell phone, or telephone," she replies, still in the midst of whatever she's doing. I walk behind her and place my hands on her shoulders, trying to see what she's doing.

"You use it to call people, kind of like a patronus or an owl, but instant. Right now I'm texting Andrea, which is where you type down a message; hey, remember from our computer lesson?" she says with a laugh in her voice. "And you send it to them. Kind of like passing notes, but they receive it on their phone wherever they are."

"Ah," I say. "I really am an ignorant sod aren't I?"

"A bit," she says, laughing, returning her phone to its designated spot. "But plenty of wizards have no idea about these things either."

"I guess you'll just have to teach me your ways, senorita," I say, grabbing her hand and twirling her around like we're salsa dancing.

I stop spinning her when she faces me, and she's giggling. She puts a hand to her mouth and grins.

"I guess so. In the meantime, is there anything you wanted to actually do today for our project? I'm not trying to be a stick in the mud but we need to get cracking on it. I'm not horribly worried about writing about them. You see, I ordered that book on them and it should be available tomorrow, Monday. It's the performance I'm terrified about."

"Well, mademoiselle, when we go out tomorrow, assuming we are, we can stop to get you a new listening device and pick up the book. You'll have to guide the way of course, and I'll make unpleasant commentary along the way about superiority of wizard living, wherein you'll have a Muggle rebuttal ready and probably school me."

"That's very charming and dandy. But it doesn't answer my question," she says, pointing her index onto my nose.

"I'm getting there," I reply, grabbing her finger and kissing the tip. She blushes and I release her hand, smirking. "If you're dead-set on performing that orchestral movement you were talking about earlier, well I need to listen to it first, because I probably heard it but can't remember, but we can start transposing it, I'll just have to go get my piano. We can figure out what key, what arrangement, what tempo, and if there's lyrics, oh god, who will sing them or maybe just leave them out."

"I'm not dead set, but I'd like there to be common interest in the works…Undisclosed Desires has no piano…it doesn't actually say in the instructions that we have to play our assigned instrument, but it would be foolish not to have us playing…" Now she's inner monologue-ing but, out loud.

"We can have a listening date!" she says suddenly.

"A listening date?"

"Yes! Why not? We can just listen to the whole discography together, relax? It'll take your mind off things. They have 5 albums, should take a while."

That sounds like a dream.

"Well time is a wasting isn't it? Race you!" I weave around her and climb the staircase semi-fast.

"Hey! You cheated!" I hear her scrambling up and I quicken my pace. As I reach the top of the staircase, I'm about to proclaim my victory, but Hermione grabs my foot.

'Oof.'

I stumble over the top floor landing, my legs still on the steps, Granger laughing mercilessly at her 'clever' scheme. I roll over onto my elbows to look up at her hanging over me and pout.

"That's not very nice, Miss Granger. I could've hurted myself."

She bends down, grasps my shoulders and gives me a big, tender kiss. If I wasn't already lying down, I'd want to be.

"Well I kissed it better, didn't I?" she says, now using my smirk, and walks into her room.

"You're not as innocent as you let on, are you?" I tell her, as I make my way into the door and onto her bed.

She walks to her desk, and grabs an unopened letter, along with her laptop thing. She moves to what looks like speakers and uses an odd wire to plug into a slot on her computer. She bends over to asjust something, and I get a nice view, making me feel hot around the collar, and elsewhere.

God, no. Fuck her stupid body, so normal, but perfect. Thin, but not too thin, nice ass and tits. Warm smile, cute little freckles, and beautiful eyes. Her unruly hair just makes her that much more endearing, and I have a sudden vision of me grabbing her roughly, ripping off our clothes and fucking her like an animal.

Grr.

But no, I have to wait for her to be ready, be a gentleman, and that's going to take a while, considering we'll be in school with accusing eyes, and slander for a long while before summer. That's probably the most realistic time to get it on, and that's assuming she is ready in 8 or 9 months.

And assuming she doesn't hate me by then.

Suddenly, a chord of a guitar fills the room, and Muse is in the air. As she sits beside me, I watch the curve of her lips quiver with anxiety, as she silently opens her envelope.

"Did you want me to leave for a bit…?"

"No, just. Lay back on the pillows and let the music saturate your senses. This'll only take a moment."

I comply, not responding due to her mechanical, concentrated response, and rest my head on a golden pillowcased cushion, unable to relax. I watch Hermione's posture, very stiff, and notice she's gripping the parchment quite tightly.

She makes a small scoffing noise, and I want to ask why, but refrain.

I can't pay attention to the music, only her.

"It appears," she says maliciously after what feels like hours, though it's been 2 songs, "that Ron and Harry feel the need to check up on me. Tomorrow."

"Check up on you?" What are they? The mafia?

"'Hermione, Ron is really upset about you having to deal with Malfoy, and I am as well, he's just more vocal about it. I can't force you to come out here, I know you had high hopes for your family this break, but I think Ron's going to explode if he doesn't know anything, and you don't want that wrath to go back to school with us. So we're going to your house on Monday morning, just to see you. I miss you, anyways, I know Ginny does, but your project is more important. She got stuck with Michael Corner, and so I've made him come over here to keep eye on him while they work, you know how I can be. We won't bother you,' blah blah BLAH!" she yells, making me jump. "How do they even know where to go? They've never been here. Why they don't think I can handle myself…augh."

She throws the letter in a trash bin, and flings herself back onto the pillows next to me, crossing her arms.

"They're just worried about you, though not asking permission is pretty…well, stupid. They probably think I've been a slimeball. And that I've corrupted you, though I guess I have kind of."

"Because you've been amazing to me? Yeah, real slimeball corrosive slag, you've been." I laugh nervously, she's really upset.

"I'll just leave tonight, and Apparate back here at around 2 pm?"

"No, make it noon, I'll tell them I'm meeting you then whether they like it or not." She turns onto her left side, away from me completely.

Tentatively, I rub her upper arm. "Granger…Hermione, are you okay?"

She heaves a great sigh, but doesn't move. "I'm fine. I'm just not ready to tell them."

"About us?"

"Yeah. I mean what are we, anyways? We went out today for the first time. But it feels so…."

"Feels like we've been secretly dating forever? I know. Because it's a forbidden combo, us together. All I know, Hermione, is that I really like you. And you do not have to tell them anything if you aren't ready, I won't be offended, I know I have been a complacent asshole."

She's turned around at this point and she's shaking her head and gaping. "You think that too? You don't mind? I want to tell them…and you actually freely admit to being a jerk?"

"Yeah, I mean, Potter hasn't been a saint either, but I kind of started it. I don't think we'll ever like each other, but if we can get along it's a start. Weasley is another story, he's gunning for you and I want you while I can, for as long as I can. That's why I'm willing to apologize, raise the flag."

"Draco." She puts her hand over mine on her body.

"Look, I don't want to lie to you. I don't really want to be friendly with them, but it's for your sake."

"I know," she sighs. "They'll probably say and do the same."

"Well, try not to worry about it right now. Just play it by ear, and you can tell m what happens when I get here, okay?"

"Okay," she says, and she lies back closing her eyes. I know she's overthinking the pending scenario that's going to take place tomorrow, but she won't speak of it anymore so I won't worry. She's a freaking saint on earth.

Today's been crazy, but I find myself forgetting about everything that happened, and I focus on our group of choice, listening to the instruments and our collective steady breaths, just Hermione and I.

We lay in her bed together for hours on end, and though we barely touch or move, I feel an oddly strained connection pulling me towards her, as if somehow our psyche has merged into one resting soul.

At certain times, the lyrics hit me like a wave, and I find I have dozens of potential songs I'd love to perform. And every time I hear a new song, I dub it as the best so far, until another comes along. The lyrics are what hit me the most, and I don't even know half the songs names.

They all hit home. Like this song;

Fear and panic in the air, I want to be free of desolation and despair.
And I feel, like everything I sow, has been swept away, well I refuse to let you go.
I can't get it right, since I met you.
Loneliness be over. When will this loneliness be over?

And then this one, about Granger:

Everything about you pains my envying, your soul can't hate anything.
Everything about you is so easy to love, they're watching you from above.
Give me all that peace and joy in your mind.

Then Hermione comes back after a few minutes with tea and biscuits, telling me its 'the song'.

Let's start over again, why can't we start it over again
Just let us start it over again; And we'll be good
This time we'll get it, get it right
It's our last chance to forgive ourselves

God, it's almost like they met me and based their songs off of my experiences, though I suppose many have felt like this before.

All I know is that I'm a weepy child by the end of the night, and Hermione hasn't been tactless enough to say anything, but begins to hold my hand.

She comes in a bit closer to me, as the final song, Hysteria, rounds to a close.

And I want you now, I want you now; I feel my heart implode.
And I'm breaking out, escaping now, I feel my faith erode.

"Draco, please don't cry," she whispers as the silence overwhelms us, and shadows dance on the wall. It's dark, and the moon and streetlamps tickle the edges of her room, providing enough light for me to see the outline of her worried face. I roll onto my side to look at her, and hold her hands together, wondering if ever I had met a kinder human being.

"You're beautiful," I say, staring straight into her sepia eyes, wherein she contorts her expression.

"T-thank you, but how –"

"I mean you're a beautiful person, Hermione. You make sure I'm okay, and you have chosen to forget my past discretions. You've given me a place to be. And somebody to talk to. And you gave me a chance where nobody else would, and I wouldn't have blamed them."

"Draco," she breathes, embarrassed. "I-"

"You have the most mesmerizing eyes, you know?" I reach over and trace my index across an eyebrow before resting it on her cheekbone.

Before she has time to say anything else, I move my hand to grab her waist, pulling her into me, and gently, I part her lips with mine, craving the sensation of a deep kiss. I use the arm I'm lying on to wrap it around her body and run my fingertips through her hair to bring her head closer to mine, which is pleasantly softer than I imagined.

I hear her intake breath sharply, but she doth not protest too much, and mimics my movement, wrapping both her arms instead of one around me, and fiddling with my own golden locks.

I've never felt such intensity in the kisses that follow, and they only serve to turn me on, and force me to get a bit more aggressive. I dart my tongue inside Granger's mouth just slightly, and she suppresses a little moan, but I still hear it. It sends me over the edge. I pull her on top of me, as we've made it to full blown making out now, and I'm getting harder by the minute.

Time itself has ceased to exist, and all I feel is lips, and back and hair. I go to peck her neck, catching a bit of breath, and wrap a leg around her thighs, slowly pushing into her, wanting her as close as possible to me.

"Draco," she pants. "Draco….Draco."

She pushes herself off of me gracefully, kneeling in between my spread legs. She's heavily breathing in between stealing glances at my half-hard cock, and I'm breathless, just staring up at the goddess before me.

"Too soon?" I ask, apologetically.

"Too fast," she agrees, going to lie next to me, wrapping my arm around her.

"I'm sorry. I just…you really get me going," I choose to say, and through the dark I can see her blushing.

"So do you," she admits. "That's almost the farthest I've ever been with anyone," she adds, in a small voice.

Oh, shit.

"I forgot, I didn't mean to push you," I say, suddenly exhausted.

"It's okay, if I hadn't wanted it, I'd have pushed you away. It just so happens that you, also, er, get me going."

"Really?" I ask, dragging her closer to me, smiling.

"Yes," she laughs, and suddenly she gets under her blankets leaving me on top of them and returns to snuggling me.

"Did you want me to leave? It must be 11 by now," I say, unable to read the time on Granger's wall clock.

"No, no," she yawns. "We'll get up and I'll walk you to the door. Stay with me for a bit longer?"

Shit well how can I say no?

"Of course, madam."

I move in a bit closer to this lovely lady beside me, absorbing her warmth, and before I know it, I can barely keep my eyes open. An hour or two must have passed since we last spoke.

I should probably get up…

"DRACO. DRACO! Wake up, wake up, wake, up! They're here, oh Merlin, they're here!'