A/N: Thanks to my beta, murtagh799, for this! You should thank her too, folks. Any mistakes left in here are completely mine that I forgot to fix. Enjoy; I have quite a bit of the next chapter written as well, so I will TRY my hardest to update quickly. However, school comes first!

Word count: about 7,300 words.

Wednesday

7:45 AM

(Vedette Rossi' P.O.V)

She had been slumbering in her frame when Draco burst into what she liked to call her room.

She awoke to find a lit wand not two inches from her painted face. "Really, Draco," she drawled, trying to gauge his mood. "Why are you here at this ungodly hour?"

Draco's wand did not waver. "Where is she?"

Vedette feigned ignorance. She had been expecting a confrontation between the two Malfoys for quite some time; however, she'd thought Draco would perform. "If you wish to speak to her, come back when you have composed yourself."

To her surprise, his face suddenly relaxed into a predatory smile, and he winked at her conspiratorially. "I am quite composed, Vedette, I'm sure you understand."

He was clever, she had to give him that. In fact, Vedette was considering changing her allegiance. She was fond of Narcissa, really, she was, but Vedette also knew that the older woman would be just fine. It was Draco that needed her support and her advice, not Narcissa. Hadn't she just told Vedette that Sulia Zabini had spoken to her? She was doing quite excellently on her own.

"Oh, I do," Vedette answered smoothly and was gratified to see his face return to his previous expression of impulsive anger. "She's in the living room on the first floor."

He flashed her a small smile. "Thanks, Vedette."

She followed him through the various portraits, ducking behind chairs and people. Draco nearly sauntered at first, but Vedette had to hide a smirk when, approaching the room, he began to step faster and harder, sounding for all intents and purposes like a boy about to have a melt-down.

Just before he entered the room, Vedette watched Draco visibly slow his steps and take deep breaths. He really was a superb actor, she had to admit. She ducked into a portrait in the living room and hid behind a large bowl of fruit as Draco entered without knocking.

"Really, Draco," Narcissa commented idly, flipping through pages of a magazine. She was lounging on a chaise couch, looking entirely careless. "What has you in a mood?"

Vedette watched with sharp eyes as Draco replied, "Mother, look me in the eye and tell me you haven't done something wrong to Sleeping Dragon."

She froze. Dear Merlin, Vedette thought, staring at Narcissa. Don't let this be true.

Narcissa laughed and didn't raise her eyes from her magazine. "Draco, really. I haven't done anything to your company."

"You sure about that?" Draco's voice was dangerous, and Vedette mentally flinched. This wasn't good. Not at all.

(Earlier on Wednesday)

4:45 AM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

He had been pouring over documents for hours.

This business with Granger had set him behind, very behind. He'd been delegating a lot of responsibility to his team, and while it had paid off, it meant that they deserved extra money...and Draco didn't particularly like that idea. At all.

When the order form had sailed into his office this morning around three AM - he was used to getting orders at strange times from different time zones - Draco had foolishly decided he could complete it himself. In truth, it wasn't that difficult. The lady he'd run into at his mother's press conference, Barbara Allian, had commissioned a vacation house for her and her husband. It wasn't a particularly difficult assignment, but as Draco began mentally mapping out what he wanted it to look like, his mind kept wandering to the missing money.

It absurd that we haven't found it yet, he thought angrily as his hands sketched out a loose approximation of a wide porch similar to the one he'd given to Mrs. Allian's daughter. He'd meet with his client later that day to discuss preliminary details, but Draco liked to have some ideas to present to her, a rough model. How difficult can it be?

Originally, Draco had believed the missing money incident as a case of employees gone wild with their budgets, but when he checked the numbers carefully, only a few people had exceeded their limit. That brought the missing fees down to 2,500 galleons, give or take a few, which was still a worrying sum.

He looked down at his sketch and cursed, erasing a couple curvy lines with his wand before drawing them much straighter. He added tall pillars, thinking it suited Mrs. Allian, but decided they were too heavy for the porch and instead drew steps coming off the side with a large wooden arch flanking them. He could grow flowers over the edge...

Somebody must have taken the money, he decided. Even Magnook had warned Draco that he believed it to be a case of fraud or embezzlement. Draco was reasonably sure none of his employees had stolen money; those with the talent to pull it off were the same ones loyal to him, and anyway, he paid them quite handsomely. No, Draco was sure that he hadn't hired anyone with the inclinations to steal from the company.

Then, who? Unbidden, the thought of Daphne floated into his mind, but he immediately shook it off. Sure, Daphne was being immature and childish and latching herself onto Blaise Zabini in a futile effort to snub her nose at Draco, but she wouldn't steal. He was sure of that. Theo had also assured Draco that he'd set the ball rolling, so to speak, and that Daphne would contact him by Thursday. Daph was also quite comfortably well off on her own; she had no motive.

Theo...well, Draco hated to view his friend with suspicion, but he mused it over anyway. Everyone was a suspect, until proven innocent. Theo certainly could pull it off; but he had no motive at all. Why would he want to steal from a company that paid him? Never mind that Dragon was practically co-owned by him.

As he erased the front door he'd drawn and replaced it with double doors, Draco's mind was hard at work. Anybody that benefited from the profits was out for now, he decided. It had to be somebody who had a grudge with Draco, Theo or Daphne, and was probably doing it for attention. Either that, or they were doing it as a metaphorical fuck you to whichever member of the trio had slighted them.

Draco shook his head and returned drawing, and it was only a half hour later that he finally accepted the inevitable.

Mother.

She fit the bill. She was most likely doing it both for attention and to inform Draco that she was capable of manipulating him through his company, no matter how hard he tried to escape her grasp. It made perfect sense, yet Draco had to keep asking himself, why?

(Back in the present)

7:59 AM

Draco glared at his mother, trying to simultaneously control his accidental magic and make it look like he was upset enough to lose control. It was quite difficult, actually.

Despite his show with Vedette, he was as angry as he seemed. The more he'd mulled it over, the more his eyes narrowed and his jaw had set. He couldn't believe Narcissa had the gall to steal from him! It rankled him. His mother was sabotaging his company, all the while smiling sadly at him and telling him that she wanted to be a part of his life, that she loved him, was so proud of his success, etc. It was sickening.

"I know you stole money," he said, straight out. Confronted with the accusation, not veiled in insult or hidden beneath meaningless chatter, Narcissa was shocked and, for a brief yet lingering second, couldn't respond.

And then she regained her senses, quite visibly, and put down her magazine. "Really, Draco," she began loftily, and he clenched his fist. How dare she look so affronted, like he'd done her a personal wrong? "I haven't stolen anything."

"Did you buy a nice pair of shoes with that money?" Draco continued, not caring for her excuses. With his mother, she thrived on subtle exchanges much as he did, but when coming against pure Gryffindor anger, she was thrown. It was a purely Slytherin move, to use enemy tactics to confuse one of his own. "Perhaps a set of robes?"

Narcissa frowned at him. "Really, Draco," she repeated, and he barely suppressed his anger. He hated those two words with a passion. "I promise you I haven't stolen a thing. What are you talking about, son?"

He changed his tactics completely as he'd planned, trying to throw her off. He smiled coldly at her, all hints of uncontrollable rage disappearing in an instant. "Really, Mother," he mocked. "Did you think I wouldn't find out? Stealing money is bad enough, but taking from the Dragon? It's beneath you."

She looked shocked, perfectly puzzled, genuinely taken aback, but Draco wasn't buying it. Any Slytherin worth his expensively imported salts could fake surprise. "I didn't take a thing from your company!"

He was about to respond when a pang of...of...concern rang through him. It was obviously from Granger, and it made Draco calm down just a bit and put a lid on his emotions. Granger. She was undoubtedly feeling anger and betrayal, but why would she be concerned? They hated each other!

"Prove it," he spit out, calling her bluff...

...but to his surprise, she raised her chin defiantly and held out her wand. "I swear on my magic I haven't stolen or taken anything from my son or his company."

He deflated instantly, although he made sure his posture remained stiff and his face cool. He felt the sudden influx of magic, saw the swirling of magic, and knew it to be true. She hadn't stolen anything. How could he have been so wrong?

Wednesday

8:15 AM

(Narcissa Malfoy's P.O.V)

She watched her son try to hide his embarrassment with a mental sigh. She wasn't that insulted by the declaration. In truth, she probably deserved it. She was quite similar to her son, and she could follow the path his mind must have taken quite easily.

"Draco," she said softly, her face for once open and free of masks. "Sit down, will you?"

He sat heavily on her sofa and stared at the floor, once again a child preparing himself for chastisement.

"Can you explain the situation to me?" She continued, her mind whirring. "Perhaps I can come up with some suspects."

He did, sullenly, and Narcissa leaned back in her seat as the realization washed over her. It was obvious, once she thought about. Hadn't someone visited her lately, saying they needed money and Draco? Wasn't that same person's son getting quite close to someone that was practically a co-founder of Draco's company?

"Sulia Zabini," she said, and her voice was nearly a hiss. Draco looked up, for once not looking at her with hatred or distrust. She fought a flare of excitement. Could this possibly be the opening she was looking for? A way to make Draco trust her again? Or, at the very least, accept her a little more?

Draco spun his wand around his fingers, mouth twisted in an ugly scowl. "Blaise, the bastard."

She reprimanded him gently for language and he apologized absently. Mother and son were on the same page, both thinking of the members of the Zabini family they hated.

Narcissa leaned forward, smirking conspiratorially. "Draco, I think I have an idea."

He waved his hand at her to continue, still obviously thinking about Blaise.

"Sulia Zabini approached me a few days ago," she said. "Proposing a marriage and partnership of sorts between you and her torrid daughter, Deteria, thus uniting our two families."

This snapped him back to life and to his earlier dislike, and he sneered at her openly. "Really, Mother, selling your only son off to regain a place in the high society?"

She bristled. "For your information," she said acerbically, "I never considered it." This wasn't strictly true, but he didn't need to know that. She wasn't going to do it and that was all that mattered. "However, this could prove to be an opening. Just as Blaise got close to Daphne to get at you - "

" - I can get close to Deteria to prove they stole from us," Draco completed, and unknown to him, his face soon mirrored his mother's in terms of satisfaction. "Granger won't be very happy about this."

A voice came from the walls. "She'll understand," it said, and Vedette stepped into view. "Hello, Narcissa, Draco. I couldn't help but overhear."

She excused her ancestor and looked up at her painted figure. "What do you propose?"

Vedette, who was in the portrait of a large, elegant study, sat in the padded leather chair behind the desk. "I think the first move would be to tell your friend Daphne," she said musingly, in her accented voice. "She'll be upset at first, but I believe that you and Theodore can sway her."

Narcissa nodded thoughtfully. "I could get close to Sulia," she offered, her nose wrinkling delicately.

Draco shot her a smirk and said, "Mother, you'll murder her within an hour," before he realized that he was being entirely too friendly and shut his face off.

"Will not," she snapped back, but her voice held no annoyance. She had been so close! "I can hold out for at least two, Draco."

He laughed without humor and stood to go. "I'll contact you about details of this plan," he said, and his voice was purely professional. "Vedette, nice to see you again."

Narcissa opened her mouth to ask Draco to stay but then she snapped it shut once more. She wasn't about to beg. "Goodbye, Draco," she said coolly, and picked up her copy of Witch Weekly. She flipped through the glossy pages again, pretending to be completely absorbed in them until she looked up to find that her son was gone.

She let the magazine flutter to the floor. This business with Draco was getting out of hand.

Wednesday

12:01 PM

(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)

Her lip was drawn between her teeth, her brow was furrowed, and she breathed deeply. She was in full concentration mode, reading her edited version of Malfoy's contract. The prick thought he could get away with conning her and she was not inclined to let that happen. He was trying to base the amount of money he paid her off a highly complicated mathematical formula that had something to do with dividing the amount of time spent by the total facts accumulated. It was ridiculous that he thought he could rip her off.

She used a pen to scratch out a sentence and flinched violently as there was knocking on the door. "Who is it?"

"The love of your life," yelled the intruder - Ginny. Merlin. "Open this goddamned door or I'll hex you until your ear hair is longer than that bush on your head!"

Hermione drew a diagram in the air and whispered a password keyed directly to the front door. A couple minutes later, Ginny barrelled into the room. "Did you spend all night thinking of that insult, Gin?" Hermione asked, rolling her eyes. "There's ice cream in the freezer. Please be quiet."

"Why do you always assume I want ice cream?" Ginny grouched, walking into her kitchen.

"Because Harry doesn't let you eat ice cream."

She tried to concentrate on the contract, but the banging coming from the kitchen as well as drawers being opened with more force than necessary, distracted her. "Merlin, Gin, being quiet does not mean break all of my drawers."

The short, curvy redhead appeared in her doorway holding a bowl of chocolate fudge ice cream. "They're crappy as hell, you should probably get new ones. I hear IKEA is having a sale. What are you working on so hard?"

"A contract." Hermione resumed reading. 'In the case of emergency, H.G. will only contact D.M between the hours of 8:00 AM and 5:00 PM, and only if - '

Ginny slid into the one other seat in the room. "Really? Is it for ASAP?"

Hermione inhaled deeply and replied, "Nah." 'And only if it involves dire injuries - '

"What else would you have a contract for? Are you starting something new, Mione?"

'Dire injuries and/or threats to either party.' "Not exactly."

"Hermione! I haven't spoken to you since that day when Malfoy approached us. Padma hasn't spoken to you since that day we had lunch. What's happening?"

"Gin, I'm busy."

Ginny sighed in frustration and ran her hand through her hair. "Merlin, Mione! When was the last time you spoke to Ron? Harry? The fuck?"

"Ginny!" Hermione put the contract down and massaged her temples. "Gin. I'm sorry. It's about twelve, isn't it? Tonight, six o'clock, invite the whole crew and we'll go to drinks."

"Fine," she said, her spoon clinking against the bowl. "But I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what's been happening in your life."

Wednesday

6:01 PM

(Harry Potter's P.O.V)

The club was throbbing with energy, and he couldn't help but wonder why Mione had picked this place. It wasn't really her thing, he mused. His wife leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Isn't this place fabulous? Hermione needed a bit of convincing, but I thought it would be good for her."

He smiled and wrapped his arm around her waist. Even though he was fairly certain Mione would have preferred a quieter place to perk herself up, Ginny meant well. "Who's coming?"

"Well..." Ginny smiled mischievously at him and he mentally groaned. He knew that look. He only appreciated that look when it involved a bedroom. "She said, and I quote! 'Invite the whole crew.' What else was I supposed to do?"

"Ginny..."

"What? I invited Dean, but I couldn't invite him and not Seamus or he'd think I was interested in him. Which I'm not, Harry, don't give me that look. And if Seamus was invited, then Parvati had to come, but I knew Padma would be a little uncomfortable with that so I invited Su Ling from her year in Ravenclaw and her husband, and then I got Lavender to come, but then I realized she'd spend the whole night hitting on ew, Ron, so then I invited Alicia..."

Harry tuned out her chatter and simply kept urging his wife on into the club. They'd hired a babysitter and Harry wasn't keen on wasting that money. They threaded their way through the club. Ginny led him past the throngs of dancers and into a corner where a large circular table was crammed with people.

Harry instantly sought out Hermione. She was sitting near the back, cradling a caramel colored drink, a smile on her face. He rolled his eyes, pecked Ginny on the cheek, and went over to his oldest friend. "Hey, Mione."

"Hey, Harry." She raised her gaze to meet his, but otherwise her expression didn't change.

She appeared to be cheerful, relaxing, a girl out for a night with all her friends after a stressful day. Harry slid into the seat next to her and shook his head. "Mione, cut the shit."

Instantly, her smile disappeared. Harry watched as she took a lingering sip through her straw and closed her eyes. "Oh, Harry," she whispered. "I don't need this right now."

He nodded even though she couldn't see him and stole her drink. "Coca-Cola, right?" Harry asked, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid. "Of course. Not like you're gonna get smashed any time soon, huh?"

"Harry! Stop that. Get your own," she said, and he was pleased to see a hint of a smile - an actual one, dammit, not the plastic one she wore so often - playing on the side of her lips. She took the drink right back from him and very pointedly cleaned the straw with her wand.

Ginny appeared behind him and leaned down, her hair brushing her face. The smell of her flowery perfume, part of a set that he'd given her for their anniversary last year, wafted over him as she said cheerfully, "I'm going to go dance, Harry."

He looked up. "With who?"

"Parvati, Padma and Su Ling, Mr. Jealous," said his wife playfully and swatted him on his shoulder. "Don't worry. I'm not about to cheat on you."

He twisted his head around sharply at that as she sashayed away. What had that comment been about?

"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly from next to him. He turned back to her to see her shaking her head slowly. "You're so clueless."

"Am not!"

"She wanted you to dance with her," she said, giving him a nudge on the shoulder. "Go."

Harry frowned and looked down at the table. "I'm here to cheer you up, Mione," he said and raised his gaze to meet hers. "I haven't spoken to you in weeks."

Hermione leaned back in her chair and took another sip of Coke. She set the glass down on the table and played with the straw, taking it out of the glass with her thumb on the tip, effectively keeping some brown liquid inside it. Harry watched the movement carefully. "That's a total lie, Harry. I saw you a couple days ago, I'm sure."

"Bullshit! The last time I saw you was when you kept blushing and looking funny. What was that about, anyway?"

She sighed and released her thumb, letting the Coke fall and hit her glass. "Look, there's Dean," she said, completely changing the subject. "Near Parvati, see?"

He looked and was instantly distracted by the sight of his wife's ex-boyfriend and Seamus coming entirely too close to Ginny. Well, Seamus was flirting with Parvati, but Ginny had stopped dancing and was leaning in to talk to Dean.

Harry knew Ginny would never cheat on him. He knew this with finality, like he knew that Hermione would never abandon their friendship. Despite this, he still felt a quick flare of anger when he saw the pair whispering. "What's she doing?" Harry muttered, mostly to himself.

"Poor Dean," Hermione muttered, pursing her lips sadly.

What? Poor Dean? The bastard was coming on to his wife! "I knew he'd never gotten over her..." Harry muttered darkly.

Hermione looked over at him with an amused smile. "Cool it, caveman. You're jealous of Dean? Dean, as in sweet-artist Dean? Dean, as in the man who's been in love with Seamus for the past three years?"

He spluttered.

There was nothing in his mouth but still he felt as he'd managed to spray the table with liquid. "Dean?" He gasped, shaking his head. "And - and Seamus? The hell?"

Hermione's face was perfectly composed, but as Harry looked at her with confusion, he had a sneaking suspicion she was amused. "It's all perfectly tragic," she said, and he was sure he saw her lips twitching. "Dean's gay, obviously, and in love with his best friend, but Seamus is straighter than a ruler and head over heels for Parvati. Really, Head Auror, how did you not pick up on this? It was blatantly obvious. Ginny just teases you to make you jealous."

Harry groaned.

He had nothing against gay people, per say, but the knowledge that he'd been jealous of a guy in love with another guy made him just a little weirded out. "Mione," he whined. "Why'd you have to tell me?"

She grinned, and he mentally cheered. Okay, so he was embarrassed as hell, but at least his best friend was smiling. "Merlin, Harry, just doing you a favor."

Wednesday

7:45 PM

(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)

Harry and she were nearly the only ones left at the table when Ron, grinning and flushed from a bout of dancing with Alicia, made his way over to join them. "Harry!" The red-head exclaimed, setting down his drink, and the two of them did that strange back-slap display of man-love that only best friends in a 'bromance' were allowed to do. "And Herms, out from her cave! Hey, Hermione."

"Hello, Ron," Hermione said, slightly icily. "I was not in a cave."

He grinned at her, unaffected, and took a sip of the Firewhiskey in his glass. Coughing slightly, he wiped his mouth and slung himself in the seat next to her. "Whatever floats your boat, Herms. What's up, anyway? Why've you been ignoring Harry and me? He's been going mental, you know." He gave her a lazy smirk and imitating Harry's voice in a tone that any observer would have believed was a mockery of a girl. "Ooh! Ron! Where's Mi, Ron? Do you think she's mad at us, Ron? Owl her, will you, Ron? I went to her flat yesterday but she changed the wards!"

She giggled, and it turned into a full-fledged laugh when she saw Harry reddening. "Shut up, Ron," he mumbled, reaching around Hermione to shove him. "I did not do that."

"It's okay, Harry," Hermione said, swallowing her smile. "I'm glad somebody was a little concerned."

He smiled at her and her gaze flicked to his wrist. The small mark there was hidden by a glamour, she noticed, but that was okay because hers was too. Harry had protested at first, but she'd convinced him that if the press caught wind of the two of them being Blood Bonded they'd never be able to live it down. She knew Ginny would never forgive him, no matter how many times they explained it was a declaration of family.

Neither Ron nor Ginny could really understand Harry and Hermione's desperate need for family. He was an orphan with a dreadful aunt, uncle and cousin, and she had never been close with her family. She only saw her parents for a few months a year, and she had no brothers or sisters or any cousins she was close with. She'd found a brother in Harry and he a sister in her. She understood, he understood, but they hardly expected anyone else to understand.

Ron took another swig of his drink and nudged her. "So? Really, what's been going on?"

Damn. Shit. She had to say something. As Hermione let her gaze wander from Ron's friendly, open face and Harry's concerned one, she realized how much she wanted advice. Sure, she'd told Ginny and Padma, but the former was always going on about the sexual aspect, and the latter hadn't said another word about the issue.

"If I tell you two something that only Ginny and Padma know," she began carefully, her heart racing, "will you keep it a secret?"

Harry nodded instantly. She turned to her right and was surprised to see Ron nodding as enthusiastically. Still, she cast a few privacy spells before the words escaped her mouth.

"I'm a Veela's mate."

To her surprise, nothing happened.

Ron snickered and said, "Who's the unlucky bastard, then?" Harry, on the other hand, was looking at her oddly.

"Um, Mione..." Harry bit his lip. "That's impossible."

"Excuse me?" Not the response she had been looking for. Where was the outraged shouting?

"There isn't any such thing as a male Veela," he said, taking her hand. "Unless you, erm...prefer woman?"

Ron's expression turned a bit dreamy. Perhaps imagining a lesbian affair with me and his beloved Alicia, Hermione thought angrily.

A pulse went through her suddenly, and she froze. That was Malfoy. Shit. She could feel his curiosity, no doubt sensing her scared-but-angry emotions. Much as she'd sent concern earlier that day when his emotions had been close to boiling over with betrayal and angst, he was now sending his curiosity.

No concern, but I didn't expect it, was her first thought.

Bloody hell, this is weird as hell, was her second.

"I assure you it's true," Hermione said, trying to remain calm, if only not to give Malfoy anything to work with. "I've researched it and confirmed it."

Harry didn't look like he believed her, but he shrugged and said, "Who is it, then?"

"Draco Malfoy?"

Wednesday

8:00 PM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

What the fuck was happening with Granger?

She felt...overwhelmed. Angry. Nervous. Worried. What was going on? It was beyond stress or PMS. He closed his eyes, inhaled, accessed his Occlumency shields and dove through their bond. Draco had done this once before when he'd learned she was Blood Bonded with the Potty Prat, and he wasn't too surprised to see Weaselbee and Pothead standing and yelling.

Of course it was them. Of course.

It looked like she'd just told them about him, and he looked curiously, noting with surprise that he couldn't hear anything. That was strange. Perhaps the connection worked differently than he'd thought?

Anyway, he watched in amusement as Weasley yelled something at her, and Potter echoed it. Granger looked lost for a second before her eyes narrowed, she grabbed hold of their wrists, and Apparated away.

Go Granger! He felt a bit of disorientation as his vision swam, but when it cleared he saw her shouting at the two boys in her ratty little apartment. He wasted a second eyeing it with distaste, before a hex whizzing by shocked him back into reality. Merlin, Granger was getting fierce. Potter and Weasley cowered away and he smirked as he imagined what she was saying. He'd always known she was the balls in that relationship, and it was awfully pleasing to see Potter flinch as she hit his arm.

An idea formed in his head and, smirking wickedly, he Apparated out as well. Time to add some fire to the mix. Oh, this would be fun.

He appeared in the war zone in time to catch Granger in the middle of her rant: "...can't believe you would be so insensitive? Can't you forget your hatred and help me? I'm bonded to a mother-fucking prat I've hated since I was eleven! Merlin, Harry, Ron, it's not all about you!"

Granger was swearing? Oh, this was priceless. (Draco ignored the insult; he was used to them). She'd provided him with the perfect opening line as well. He discretely drew his wand and said, "True that, Granger. I'd say a fair bit of it was about me, yeah?"

She spun around, as did her sidekicks. A second later, he was treated to three wands pointing his way. Pathetic. He'd been confronted with worse. Once, after the Dark Lord was particularly displeased with him, he'd dispatched Draco into the middle of a trap - him versus nine Death Eaters convinced that he was a traitor. He'd won with only a broken leg and a bleeding side as injuries. The Golden Trio was nothing.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Granger hollered at him, her wand lit. "Get the fuck out of my apartment!"

"I've noticed you get a dirty mouth when you're particularly...excited," Draco said, throwing her a leering look. "I rather like that side of you."

"Merlin, Mione, he lives in your flat?" Potter yelled, his face contorted in disgust. "No wonder you haven't been to see us lately!"

"Probably fucking him every chance you get," Weasley threw in. Draco cringed. This wouldn't end well.

He was proved right as Granger turned her ire on Weasley. "Ron! You know I wouldn't go near him with a ten foot - ten foot...a ten foot pole!"

He could feel her outrage through the bond but he leaned against the wall, entirely unconcerned. This was proving to be quite fun. "Aw, Granger, don't tell me you've forgotten the night when we consummated the bond, now." He winked at her as Potty and Weasel's jaws dropped in anger. "I still have scratches on my back, tiger. Was she like that with you, Weasley?"

"You slept with him!" Surprisingly, it wasn't Weasley who exploded into a high pitched whine. No, it was Potter, who was looking at Granger with supreme betrayal. Interesting...perhaps Potter held a torch for his mate? That would certainly explain their little Blood Bond...

He felt pleading through his bond, and, startled, he met her eyes. She was looking at him in desperation, and he considered telling them it was the bond that made her. Hell, he decided after musing it over. She's never done anything for me. "It was hot, too," he commented instead.

She gasped and slashed her wand through the air to hex him, but he stepped out of the way. The hex burned an ugly streak through her already ugly wall, and he eyed it with snobbish consideration. "Actually," he said, turning up his nose. "It adds something, some decor to this god-awful room, Granger. I think you should do that to all your walls. Start a trend, you know."

"You prat!" Weasley barreled at him, but he flicked his wand and he crashed to the floor, Petrified.

"Hey!" Potter charged him, but met the same fate as Weasley.

Granger gave him a dirty look and knelt next to the boys. "Ron, Harry," she said softly, their eyes following her. "Let's talk tomorrow. Go back to the club. Dance. Forget about this. Remember, don't tell anyone - if you do, a place very close to you will suffer the same fate as Marietta Edgecombe!"

He winced.

She looked around absently and waved her wand. A small piece of string flew through the air and landed next to her. "Portus," she said, her wand creating a complex pattern. She weaved it through their fingers and stood back. Ten seconds late, they were gone.

"Crafty," he commented.

She whirled around as if she'd forgotten he was there. "Merlin, Malfoy, do you have to be such an asshole?"

"It's in the job description," he said in all seriousness.

"Argh!"

Wednesday

8:10 PM

(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)

She glared at him angrily. The nerve! He was such a bloody bastard! "I can't believe you did that!"

He shrugged and left the room. She stared after him in bewilderment for a split second - what the hell was he doing? - before she followed him. When she finally managed to land a hex on him, he'd wish he was never born!

She found him in the study, reading over the revised edition of the contract. "Nice," he said, nodding his head. "I agree. How about we sign it here and start tomorrow? It's getting late, I have work to do."

She gaped. The insolence of that man! "I still have a day," Hermione said, finding her tongue. "You'll get it on Thursday as I promised."

Malfoy sighed and looked up at her. A small smile played on his lips, and she was suddenly distracted by those lips...oh, those lips...

Hermione Granger, control yourself.

"And here I thought you were an overachiever," he sighed mournfully and shot her a side smirk. "Pity."

She made a noise of annoyance and flicked her wand. A smile of satisfaction crossed her face as, a second later, he crashed to the ground and she primly took the seat. Ignoring his muttered curse, she picked up her pen and very pointedly wrote, 'D.M will not harass H.G in any way.'

"It's not harassment if you like it, love," he said, hoisting himself back on the desk.

"What," she said heatedly, "is that like saying 'it's not rape if it's consensual,' Malfoy?"

His brow furrowed, obviously not recognizing the expression. "Granger, hate to break it to you, but...if it's consensual it's not rape."

She groaned. "Malfoy, this counts as harassment."

"What, you don't love my charming company?" He smirked at her and rolled up the sleeves of his button down shirt. How was it possible that a man so awful could be so goddamned attractive? "Granger, don't lie."

"I hate your company."

Wednesday

8:15 PM

(Draco Malfoy's P.O.V)

He wasn't sure when he'd decided to maybe-sort-of flirt with her, but he found it was much more enjoyable than fighting with her. He remembered what Vedette had told him before he'd left Malfoy Manor that morning - a reminder that he'd never live happily if him and Granger couldn't at least get along - and decided that flirting led to sex, and he was perfectly fine with that.

After all, he'd much rather fuck Granger than fight her. And, who knows, she might even fall in love with him! He doubted he'd ever love her, but it would make things easier if she loved him. He gave her his most attractive smile and said, "Now, now, don't forget that I can feel your emotions, love." Draco didn't know where the nickname came from, but it made her blush, and he sensed her defenses weakening just slightly. "You don't hate me."

"Fine," she said loftily, continuing to scratch away at the contract. "I don't hate you. I despise you. I abhor you. I detest you. I loathe you. I'm disgusted by you. I abominate you. I - "

"Spend entirely too much time with a thesaurus?" Draco offered, and gently slid the contract away. "I expect that on my desk by the three o'clock PM tomorrow, Granger. For today, though, do something different. Relax."

"I'm not about to relax when you're here."

He leaned down and smirked at her. "Oh, really? Granger, please. You're itching to jump me and be ravished. Now, the jumping may result in injury, but I'm entirely open to the ravishing. Which, incidentally, goes along with relax."

Her cheeks flushed red. "I am not itching to...to...be ravished!"

He smiled at her, hoping the appearance of an actual smile would shock her into submission. She did seem a little taken back, but the determination she was currently harboring didn't lessen.

He'd have to work a little harder, then. The idea of making Hermione Granger fall in love with him was growing rapidly on him. How ironic would that be, the Princess of Gryffindor falling hard for the Prince of Slytherin?

Perfect.

"Well, Granger, that sure is a pity," he drawled, shaking his head so that a few locks fell in his eyes. "I was prepared to offer my services for said ravishing."

She tilted her chin up as to further enhance her glare, but all that did was put her lips in close proximity to Draco's. "You already did," she said snottily, but he hardly noticed; he was busy eyeing those lips. If he leaned down a few more inches...

Well, his father always told him to act upon an opportunity if his opponent was foolish enough to offer one. "Let me try to convince you," he said, before mentally cringing - what an awful line! Merlin! He saw an amused smile start to cross those damn lips. He could do nothing else but simply lean down to kiss her.

Holy fucking Merlin with a baggy left testicle!

The lust hit him in a single, unforgiving moment of pure brilliancy before he found himself crashing against the opposite wall, Granger's wand trained firmly on his chest. Damn! How did she not feel that? It wasn't like she was all that great of a kisser; honestly, she could use some practice, but there was something shooting through the bond that made her dry, unmoving lips quite frankly intoxicating.

Draco wasn't stupid. He didn't think that Granger was a fantastic kisser because of some true love bullshit. He knew perfectly well that the bond was manipulating him; after all, Veelas were known for having many, many children, if only to further the line. He was sure the curse was trying to get him to view Granger as desirable so that they could continue the tradition.

Still, he'd reluctantly accept the manipulation if it meant he could get in Granger's chastity belt. Yet she seemed to be impervious to it; how was that even possible? He felt her longing. He sensed it. He knew it was there. Still, she managed to curse him in the middle of that! How was it possible?

Draco resolved to practice resisting the lust. It was an embarrassing weakness. He should be the one in control, not her.

Wednesday

8:34 PM

(Hermione Granger's P.O.V)

Hot damn that kiss had been good.

It had only lasted for a split second, but Hermione had felt her inhibitions dissolving. If it had lasted a minute longer, she would have been discarding her clothes and, as he'd said earlier, begging to be ravished. Lucky for her that while she may not be able to control her emotions like Mr. Masked over there, when it came to passion, Hermione was perfectly capable to taking a mental step back and evaluating the situation.

She had fast come to the conclusion that the kiss equaled bad things. Without even thinking about it, she'd raised her wand and blasted him away with the first spell that came to mind. After all, Tonks had taught her and Ginny quite a few things about warding off horny Death Eaters during the war, and Hermione never forgot a lesson.

She watched him with equal parts anger and curiosity as he simply sat there on the floor, back against the wall, thinking with a little smirk on his face. She could feel a bit of irritation coming off of him, as well as the desire - that she tried to ignore - but she couldn't tell exactly where his irritation was stemming from.

He raised himself slightly and grinned lopsidedly at her. Why was he doing this? Why was he flirting with her and smiling at her and not acting like the affronted prat he was? It was infuriating! She preferred Bastard Malfoy, not Flirty Malfoy, and Hermione wasn't sure how to get the former back. "Aw, Granger," he said lazily. "You felt it too. Don't deny it."

Okay, so what if she'd wanted to shag him? It was the bond. "Yes," she answered sharply, "Pity that the curse is so manipulative."

A very small, secretive smile crossed his lips, as if he was laughing at some private joke. "Pity." She opened her mouth to rant at how inappropriate his advances were when he stood in a fluid motion and saluted her. "If you're done blasting me against walls, I'll be taking my leave - important work to do an all that. Ciao, Granger, it's been awful fun."

"Get back here!" she yelled as he prepared to spin away. How dare he leave her like that?

He paused. "Granger, you want me to stay? I'm flattered."

Wait, what? She furrowed her brow as she realized that he was using reverse psychology on her. "I just wanted to do something," she said, and quickly fired off a stinging hex directed at his, well, lower parts.

He raised an eyebrow at her and Apparated out a second before the hex hit him. She shrieked in frustration as yet another burn mark was imprinted into the wall. "Fuck you, Malfoy!" Hermione yelled at the mark, "Fuck you!"

A/N2: aww, isn't it cute how much they rile each other up? I was a little uncertain about the appearance of Flirty!Draco. If you like him, drop me a line. If you hate him, drop me a line. If you don't really care, drop me a line. Feedback is the main reason I post on this site!

Oh - I was having a tough weekend, and I wrote a short, sort of depressing one shot called "A Thin Railing." It's written in second person, from Hermione's view, in a world where, after the war, she has become depressed. She's visiting the Astrology tower one late and lonely night when, of course, she runs into Draco! Check it out? (yep, this is shameless self promotion)