She had likely never felt as good or as bad simultaneously in her life. Hermoine cracked one eye open reluctantly, moaning as horrible light accosted her. She heard a chuckle, and a bottle was tilted to her lips. She drank obediently and sighed as the worst of the hangover was immediately alleviated.

"Better?" she nodded, carefully opening both eyes to see Draco leaned over her, shirtless and looking decidedly too chipper for the amount of alcohol he had imbibed the night before. He was also incredibly sexy, which excused his good mood. Giving in to impulse, and figuring after what she had enthusiastically done with him not once, not twice but at least three times the previous night, she ran a hand into his blond hair, then down his chest. His open smile was her reward for letting him know she had no regrets.

"You look far better than you have a right to," she said huskily, wincing at a rawness in her throat. He held up a purple potion and swung it in front of her eyes.

"One of these and two hangover potions, it's damn near miraculous. You want one?"

"Healing potion?" he shrugged.

"Of a sort. It's my own creation, has a lot of the same properties, but has an added kick. You would probably do well to try it." She attempted to sit up and winced.

"Yeah, I think you're right, Merlin, I feel like I've been run over by a truck." She swigged the potion down and shuddered at the strange crawling sensation though her body. Then her eyes widened.

"That's amazing! I feel, well, fabulous." He winked.

"Now you know my secret. Hungry?" She smiled and his eyes went from open and amused to predatory in a few seconds. She caught her breath, thoughts going from breakfast to something else in seconds flat. He pulled away with a chuckle.

"Oh no, woman, you get no more of that until I get fed. I have to keep my strength up if I'm to be mauled by a witch with the drive of an overstimulated veela." He laughed at her outraged gasp and turned to saunter into the kitchen. "Now, after breakfast on the other hand…" By the time she exited the shower he had a breakfast ready that would easily feed a small army, and was savoring a cup of coffee.

"You are very fortunate that I am so ingrained in manners that I waited for you, or you might not get a bite," he said, handing her a cup and starting to pile his plate. "I thought I might pass into the hereafter waiting for you." He waited until they were both partway through the loaded plates before speaking again.

"You do realize there is no going back after this." It was a statement. He seemed to enjoy doing that to her, making pronouncements, not allowing her an opening to argue. It was the only tack to forestall an argument, and he used it shamelessly. "And I don't want to. I've made no secret of the fact that I want you, and now I've had you it's going to become an addiction."

"This is not conducive to our plans. I'm not sorry, far from it." Her smile was smug, and he couldn't restrain a smirk. "But we're going to have to rethink our plans."

"Not substantially. Your entire objection to our becoming intimate, if I recall correctly, was that you thought I would, at some point, need to acquire a suitable wife to advance our political agenda. Odd how I wasn't given much of a choice in that particular matter." She had he grace to somewhat chagrined. "But it will work out for the best. Now that we have seen how compatible we are in many significant ways, and many more thoroughly pleasurable ones, it seems only logical that you become that ever so suitable wife." He watched, keeping his amusement in check as her face paled.

"You have to be joking." He bent back to his food with gusto, ignoring her tone.

"Not at all. You knew at the outset that this hairbrained scheme of yours was going to require years of careful handling. I think you believed that you would effectively aim me like a missile at the political arena and after you made sure the trajectory was correct, you would simply fade out into happy obscurity, secure in the knowledge that I would be addicted enough to the power and influence that I would have no objection to having my life so thoroughly, managed."

"I didn't think of it that way." He chuckled.

"Gods, Moine, you really would have made a fine Slytherin. No, I dare say you thought it would work out fabulously well for all concerned, but that was still the essence of the concept behind the actions. Your devious mind is delightful, and will make you a perfect politicians wife, especially once I teach you a bit about the art of influence. No, you're not getting out of this plot as unscathed as you think, but I believe we will deal incredibly well. I find myself quite pleased with this outcome."

"A bit cold blooded, don't you think?" she was pushing her food around her plate now, and he was glad he had waited to make certain that she had some food in her before informing her of the change in plans. He might have felt guilty at turning the tables on her so effectively if he was not who and what he was, but he had never been too concerned at manipulating people, especially when he was right. They would deal incredibly well together; he knew that. He had decided months ago that she belonged to him, but bided his time until he could begin to bind her to him, now there was plenty of time for her to realize it as well. He decided to address her question after another moment.

"I don't think that there is much of anything between the two of us that could be termed cold blooded in the least," he said simply. "Will it be more difficult? Yes. Will it take more time than you first thought? Likely. But," he caught her eyes, and there was an intensity in his gaze that made her insides shiver. "I have no intention of letting you run from me, Hermoine. And if you're honest, I don't think you want to."

"Damn your arrogance." She picked up her fork again, and managed another bite of eggs. He decided that was the only sort of acknowledgement he was likely to get this soon, and was willing to accept it, at least for now. He saluted her with his coffee cup, already wondering how to spin the story when it came out that the newest Mrs. Malfoy was going to be not only a mudblood, but also one of the most infamous in the last century. He wished for a moment that his father was still alive simply so he could rub the bastards nose in it.