Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Depressing, but true.

Uh... It must be said. You guys are HILARIOUS. And there are so many of you! Where were you hiding? Seriously, thank you for coming out to review - you actually took me by surprise. Since you asked (okay, begged) so nicely, here's the early update I promised. TEAMWORK! (And I'm actually posting on Saturday instead of Sunday because my best friend had a baby about an HOUR AGO (OMFG!) and I have a feeling I'm going to be away from the computer a lot tomorrow! AAAAAAAHHHH! Sorry, excited.)

Please keep your comments coming! I love all the speculation on what's going to happen to Hermione's hair. As you're about to see, though, we have some bigger things to worry about. You know I like a good twist, and things are about to get twisty. And maybe a little wet, if you catch my drift. Let's get started, shall we? xo (See you here Monday!)

The smell of cedar and aftershave was so strong she could almost taste it. Arms were wrapped protectively around her. She smiled. If this was a dream, she never wanted it to end.

"Granger!"

Hermione eyes snapped open. She was lying on the cold floor with an angry Draco hovering over her. Ah. Damn.

"That's it, woman," he growled. "I'm taking you to the hospital and leaving you there. I think you spend more time unconscious around me than you do awake, you know that?"

"Wait!" she said, scrambling to take stock of the strange feeling that was building inside of her. "Wait… Something's changed."

"Yeah, you're on the ground instead of standing up!" he said, irately. "You nearly gave me a heart attack! Not that giving me a heart attack is anything new. I think I've had about five since you came back into my life. Are you trying to kill me with worry? Because I'll tell you something – "

"The addiction's gone," she said, in awe. That was it. That little voice in the back of her head that always pushed her towards the pills. That shadow in her body that made her yearn for a crutch when things went wrong. The dependency.

Gone.

Like it had been plucked out of her. Like it had never been there.

How was that even possible?

What the hell was that potion?

"Excuse me?" he said.

"I drank that little vile of liquid," she said, dazedly, pointing to her desk. "I thought you left it for me, but I think now it might have been from someone else..."

"You did what?" he said, in shock. "You drank a mystery vile of liquid? Do you have a fucking death wish? Merlin's balls, Hermione!"

"I thought it was from you!" she protested, sitting up. "Because of the message, I thought it was from you."

Draco glared and stood up abruptly, stomping over to where the vile lay tipped over on her desk. He read the note and examined the handwriting. His expression changed dramatically.

"What the fuck…" he whispered.

"Do you recognize it?" she asked, standing up. "The handwriting I mean?"

Draco didn't answer, pocketing the vial and turning back, looking alarmed to see her upright.

"You should be sitting down," he snapped.

"You should stop giving me orders," she replied, annoyed. "Look, I wouldn't have taken it if I didn't think it was from you. At first glance, I thought it was your handwriting, so I trusted it."

Draco clenched his jaw. It was hard to argue with her when she said things like that, even if her subsequent actions were bloody idiotic.

"You would seriously just drink some random potion if it came from me? Without any indication as to what it might be?"

"You're not out to harm me, Draco," she said. "So yes, I suppose I would. Why is it so hard to believe that I trust you?"

"I don't know!" he said, exasperated. "Maybe because trust is a fairly new thing in our long and sordid history?"

"In case you haven't noticed, times have changed," she said, sternly. "I'm afraid you'll just have to get used to it."

Draco gritted his teeth. She had that determined look on her face again. Blast, he was never going to win this argument.

He had come here in a great mood, convinced that his emotions were simply confused, that maybe he just had a crush after all. It was a silly word, a silly idea, frankly, but it would have to do. After all, Hermione couldn't possibly be his mate. Not only was the concept was laughable, but there was no conceivable way her hair would ever be anything but bushy and brown. That meant the Gregales trait was gone from the equation, even if it would have explained some of the strange emotions that had been holding him hostage lately.

So he had returned to work with a smile, relieved that he could strike a mysterious family oddity off his list of potential threats to his sanity. That smile stayed on for approximately one minute until he found Hermione passed out on the ground.

Instant panic.

The beast in his chest woke up and started pacing.

All his good feelings evaporated.

And now, here she was telling him that her addiction was miraculously gone. After having drank an unknown potion. A potion with a note in what looked suspiciously like his mother's handwriting.

This day was going to kill him.

Draco groaned, and covered his face with his hands, pressing his palms into his skin, frustrated and shaken. What happened to that cold and restrained version of himself that had been his default for so long? It felt like a lifetime ago. Now he was governed by her. Always her. A few short days and she had gotten into his very blood.

Inhale. Exhale. Try to think.

No, thinking was a bad idea. Lately all he could think about was the object of his frustration.

"Draco?" she said in an expectant tone.

He ignored her, feeling petulant. Maybe if he didn't respond, she would give up and walk away, taking her magnolia scent with her, her funny little mannerisms, her witty responses.

Except that he really liked all those things. He didn't want her to walk away.

It was a conundrum.

Suddenly, Hermione's warm hands were covering his, her fingers gently grasping his own, intertwining each digit with deliberate care. His breath caught in his throat, an odd purring taking root in his chest. Slowly, she pulled his hands away from his face. He looked at her with trepidation, aware that her touch was somehow melting away the stress that had invaded his body only seconds earlier. He fought to hold on to his control, but it was slipping under her the feeling of her hands. Her eyes were shining with excitement.

"Draco, I don't know if you heard me or not, but my addiction is gone. Whatever that potion was got rid of it. I don't feel dependent on the pills at all. My shakes are gone… My nausea too… My vision is clear… I haven't felt this way since school! I've got control of myself again!"

He heard what she was saying, but he was so distracted by the fact that she was holding his hands, all he could do was nod.

"Aren't you excited?" she said. "I'm better!"

"Yes, yes, excited," he murmured. Her fingers were extremely soft. How did she get them like that?

"I need to find out who left me that bottle," she said, familiar determination in her voice.

He came crashing down to earth.

"I have a theory," he said, pulling his hands out of her grasp and turning away from her to hide the colour that was rising in his cheeks. Her touch had done something peculiar to him. Everything tingled. He started walking away. "Let me look into it."

"Who?" she asked, following closely. "Draco, I need to know."

"You don't need to know," he snapped, starting to feel angry again. She was always putting herself in danger. Couldn't she see that he needed her to be safe? "You're better, and that's peachy, but I have some research to do before I can be sure. The rest isn't your concern."

"It is very much my concern," she retorted. "This person helped me tremendously, and on the other hand, nobody was supposed to now about my condition. I need to find out how they learned what was going on."

You and me both, he thought. His mother had run errands after she had visited the office, hadn't she? He was willing to bet money she had been snooping where she had no business doing so. Fuck, why did she have to stick her nose into this? He was looking after Hermione just fine without his mother's help.

"Are you even listening to me?" she said, frustrated. "Draco, this is important!"

"I hear you!" he growled, his temper rising. "Jesus Hermione, it's impossible to block you out!"

"Well it would help if you replied every now and then!" she said, exasperated. "All you do is snap at me!"

"That's because all you do is make me worry about you!" he yelled, picking up a model broom and chucking angrily across the room. It hit the pile of papers on Blaise's desk and knocked everything off in a big crash. Something rolled onto the ground.

Hermione went quiet, staring at the object. Draco felt the shift in her mood and eyed her warily.

"Hermione?" he said, suddenly concerned. "Sorry about the broom… I lost my temper."

"How long have you had that?" she said, pointing at the floor. Her voice was eerily calm, and it made Draco uneasy. He looked to where she was pointing. There lay the ugly toy with the bulging eyes and the lolly, the toy that shouted out "You're a sucker!" at every turn.

"That thing? For years. It belongs to Blaise."

Hermione walked over and picked up the object. She turned it over in her hands, and Draco could see her jaw tensing.

"And where did Blaise get it from?"

Draco frowned and examined her face. She looked like she was ready to explode.

"From Weasley," he said.

"Bastard," she seethed. "I'm going to fucking kill him."

"She says it's some sort of recording device," said Draco to Blaise, his voice tired and cracked. "Based on a Muggle thing, I guess. Sends information back to the owner."

They were sitting in Draco's apartment after Hermione kicked Draco out of the office, saying she had some serious work to do and that she wanted zero distractions. Predictably, she didn't accept Draco's arguments to stay, and he owled Blaise to come meet him despite Blaise's big plans for the day. After all, this was the sheer definition of an emergency... Wasn't it?

"I don't understand," Blaise sighed, clearly annoyed that he was not currently sandwiched between two women. "I thought it was just a dumb toy. Ron said it was some tester thing from his brothers."

"It was – a tester for gathering information. Weasley was spying on us, mate," Draco said. "All these years. We couldn't figure out how the press knew everything we were up to, and it's because Weasley was privy to a large chunk of our discussions. That blasted toy was never far away."

Blaise's expression darkened. "Our other businesses…"

"Our broom plans," Draco nodded. "All stolen and sold. Now we know how that bitch Stacey McLorrow got her hands on them. He's been shagging her for years."

"But why? Why fuck us over like that? That's not some low level prank… We were close to living on the streets! The constant bad press drove us to poverty!"

"I don't know why he did it," Draco muttered. "But you can bet Hermione's going to find out. I've never seen her this angry. She had no idea what he was up to, even when they were engaged."

"Well, I'm glad it's Hermione looking into this, because if it was up to me, I'd just hunt Ron down and murder the fucker," Blaise growled. "I wasn't crazy about him, but I didn't think he was that calculating. I didn't think he actually hated me."

"It wasn't you, Blaise," Draco said. "He was trying to get to me. I'm sure of it. I think he was just using you to bring me down."

"Nobody uses me, especially not to fuck you over!" Blaise said, clearly furious, making to stand up. "Screw waiting; I'm going to find him myself and teach him a lesson."

"Don't," Draco said, shaking his head and pulling Blaise back down by the sleeve. "Look, I empathize, clearly, but you didn't see Hermione's face. She got kind of... Scary. We need to stay out of her way until she's done."

"Seriously mate? Surely she wouldn't begrudge me a little - "

"No."

With a reluctant sigh, Blaise nodded, and settled back into his chair. "You're probably right. Don't really fancy an angry Granger on my arse. Speaking of which, at least one thing's gone right out of all this nonsense." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a folded copy of the Prophet for Draco to see.

"Merlin, I completely forgot about this," Draco said, opening it up. "How did the papers spin that giant failure of a press conference?"

"I'll put it this way: you'd never know it was a failure. Actually, you'd never know you two were platonic either." He coughed the last words into his sleeve.

Draco glared, and then looked at the front page. A huge photo of Draco with his arm around Hermione was splashed across the space, their eyes locked, him leaning in, their faces unusually close together. It was an extremely intimate pose, and it was extremely misleading.

"I was holding her up!" Draco cried, aghast. "They make it look like we're romantically involved or something! I was trying to stop her from collapsing - I whispered something to her. That's why I was leaning in... That's why I've got my arm around her!"

"Sure mate. Whatever you say," Blaise smirked. "Article's hugely positive, by the way, practically drooling over what they imagine is a simmering romance between you two. Now look at the article underneath. It's a work of art, especially given what we've just learned."

Draco's eyes widened.

"Are people actually throwing tomatoes at the Weasel?" he asked in awe as he looked at the accompanying picture. "I didn't think that happened in real life. This article is scathing!"

"Yes indeed," said Blaise. "Honestly, it's like the press read Hermione's mind and then sent it to print. Tears a strip off him, and doesn't have nice things to say about McLorrow either. Points out that she has a history of being totally unbalanced and cruel."

"Amazing," Draco said. "I don't know how Hermione manages this stuff, but it's bloody brilliant. She's got them eating out of her hand."

"I agree, which brings me to my next question," Blaise said, leaning back in his chair and putting his feet on the table, much to Draco's distaste. "When are you going to start dating again?"

"What?" said Draco, grimacing. "Where did that come from? What does that have to do with anything?"

Blaise gave him a calculating look. "Think about it. The business is finally redeemed. Your reputation is better than it's ever been. You're not broke any longer. You've been hard up for a fuck for... Oh... Five years? When did Pansy leave again?"

"That's not important," Draco said uncomfortably. It was true that he was itching to let off some steam, tired of relying on his hand every time he needed release. The problem was that he was repulsed at the thought of doing so with some random witch. Truly, physically repulsed. He'd once wanted nothing more than to shag every willing female with a decent bloodline, and now the idea left him nauseated.

As for the reasons why he felt that way... Well... He didn't particularly want to examine them right now.

"Not important?" Blaise scoffed. "Mate, sex is like breathing. You've been suffocating for too long. I'm telling you, it's time."

"I'll date eventually," he said. "I just don't want to think about it now. I've got too much going on."

"Too much for a quick shag?" Blaise pressed.

"Yeah, too much for a quick shag," he snapped. Why was Blaise pushing this? Couldn't he see that it was a non-starter? Draco cracked his knuckles agitatedly.

"Fine," Blaise said, dropping the issue surprisingly fast. In fact, he almost looked amused. "So out of curiosity, with all these things going on, what's the top thing on your mind right now?"

"Well, other than the fact that Granger's probably gearing up to murder Weasely, I also have to bring her to the Manor tomorrow."

"Come again?"

"My mother wants to meet her... Officially, you know. Preferably in a context that doesn't involve torture. I suppose my father will have to meet her too. So I'm bringing her for lunch. Not really sure how that will go."

"I see. So the issues that you're preoccupied with right now are Granger's plans for Weasley, and Granger's reaction to officially meeting your parents."

Draco nodded, missing the pointed look he was getting from his friend.

"Anything else?"

"No," he lied. He was also thinking about the potion Hermione drank, about whether or not her addiction was truly gone. Would things change between them now that she was clean? Would she still need him? Would he still have the instinct to protect her? And how was his mother involved in all of this?

No point in telling Blaise any of that. He might get the wrong impression.

Blaise rolled his eyes as Draco gazed out the window. He wasn't sure what was funnier: the fact that Draco was absolutely heartsick over the girl, or the fact that he was completely in denial about it.

Hermione looked up at her ceiling and marvelled at the amazing feelings coursing through her. Sobriety was incredible. Was this really how it felt to have dependency ripped out of your system? While it was true that her pre-drug days were a bit of a blur, she had difficulty remembering ever experiencing this unusual humming in her chest. It felt almost primal.

Then, of course, there was the heat.

Another surge of feeling raced through her blood and she gasped at the sheer power of it, back arched, fingers grasping the sheets on either side of her. The bed was damp with sweat. Clothes were discarded in a pile on the floor in a futile attempt to cool off. She was down to her knickers now, but by gods, she burned.

After she kicked Draco out of the office, Hermione had let her newfound clarity guide her. The drugs had monopolized her thoughts for so long that being able to focus on a single mission was exciting and liberating. Besides, this funny instinct humming inside of her demanded retribution. Ron had been spying on Draco practically since the War ended. He had sold the information to the press, given it to his mistresses and Merlin knew who else. He had put Draco in a desperate position after trying to make good for so long.

He was going to pay.

But first, Hermione decided that she owed it to herself to be rational. For some reason she wanted to track Ron down and do something violently out of character. Even in this new headspace, she could tell that was a bad idea. So she developed a rational, legal, absolutely vicious form of payback and spent the afternoon seeing it through, all the while conscious of the surging hum that was swirling around inside of her. She blamed it on the potion and tried to put it out of her mind. After being dependent on pharmaceuticals for so long, this sort of reaction must be normal. It must.

It had been hard to focus, though, her thoughts always sliding back to Draco. Wondering where he had gone to. Hoping he wasn't getting himself into trouble. Fighting her brain to get back on track. Once the sun had set, she gave up and trudged back home, starting to feel dizzy from this blooming heat in her stomach and chest.

And now here she was, cresting at the peak of something she couldn't explain.

With a grunt, Hermione tore off her knickers, panting. What the hell was going on? It was becoming more and more clear that these odd feelings weren't the cheerful hum of sobriety after all. This was too much. Consumed by thoughts of Draco, starkers on her bed, seriously considering taking a cold shower just to get it under control.

Something occurred to her. I wonder... Timidly, she slid her fingers in between her legs and gasped.

Absolutely, completely drenched with arousal.

"What the fuck...?" she whimpered, especially conflicted because the thought of taking her hand away from where it lay now seemed cruel. Her sex drive had died an awful death with the pills, and engaging in a quick romp with Ron had always required absolute, drug-induced numbness. Now though? She felt like she could come with a few well-placed strokes.

Should she try?

Oh, why the hell not.

One quick swipe of her fingers sent pleasure shooting up her core, and she groaned as Draco's face flashed across her eyelids.

A second swipe made her body hum so strongly she felt it in her bones.

Would it really only take three?

Picturing Draco's mouth, those lips that so often curled into a sarcastic smirk, she slid her fingers inside of her, pressing against her clit with the heel of her hand.

A mere two seconds of pressure, and the orgasm that followed was like a bomb, bringing his name to her lips in a cry that almost sounded like a sob, her body trembling with the aftershocks.

With a groan, eyes wide and panting, Hermione looked up at the ceiling in amazement.

What. The fuck. Was that.

That had never happened before. Ever. She'd never come that quickly and that hard for anyone. What did it mean? And why was it happening now?

Dopey as her heart rate started to slow, her eyes began to flicker shut, her thoughts spinning, she fell into a deep sleep, her entire body covered with a sheen of sweat, her fingers glistening, her chest humming happily.

Several floors down, Draco jolted out of bed with a gasp. Sliding to the edge of his bed, he fought to catch his breath, his bare chest slick with heat.

"Why the fuck did I just dream about that?" he whispered.