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

Hi sugars! I'm back, as promised. Glad you enjoyed that last instalment. I've determined from your reviews that approximately 98% are smut fans. Good to know!

I'll be spending the rest of the day writing like a nutcase (in between kissing babies and snuggling my dog) because I've got to finish this story before I run out of chapters. That's the only problem with posting as often as I do - there's no slacking on the writing! Ah well, you guys keep up your end of the bargain by reviewing, so I'm not going to sweat it.

Now I know how this chapter looks on the hair front, but don't jump to any wild and crazy conclusions. As with everything, I have a plan. Woot! xo

Blaise looked quizzically at Hermione as she scratched away on the parchment with her quill, her brow furrowed with concentration while she chewed ruthlessly on her lip. She had been writing that way for two hours, from the moment she stepped into the office until now. Blaise knew there was work to do, but he wondered how it was possible for anyone to be that busy so early in the day.

Then again, Draco was doing exactly the same thing.

Moments earlier, when Blaise had stopped by his friend's desk to drop off a file, he found Draco with his nose buried in a stack of documents, reading with a fervor Blaise hadn't seen since… Ever. Draco only grunted his acknowledgement of the delivery, not even raising his eyes from the page lest he miss a word.

It was all very weird, and it reeked of avoidance. Draco and Hermione hadn't gone near each other all morning, and the air was so thick with tension Blaise felt like he was walking through pudding. Had he missed something? When he spoke with Draco yesterday, everything seemed fine. Well, as fine as things could be, what with the discovery of Ron's Trojan horse of a toy and Hermione's subsequent crazed mission for retribution. She had yet to give them the details on that, come to think of it. Although it was fairly clear that there were some unresolved emotions floating between his two office mates, the reason behind this new awkwardness was a bit of a mystery. In theory, it shouldn't be any more awkward than normal. And yet it was. Very.

A crinkling sound drew Blaise out of his thoughts, and he looked up. Hermione was starting in on yet another fresh page of parchment, still as concentrated as ever. Her pile of completed papers was teetering to her left, and was bound to tip over at any moment. She remained oblivious, nibbling steadfastly on her lip. Blaise rolled his eyes. There was no point in staying here to watch these two work themselves into the ground. Might as well go pick up something for lunch.

"Hermione?" he said, noticing with amusement that she actually jumped at the sound of his voice, her eyes darting briefly towards Draco's door.

"Hm?" she said.

"I'm going to grab a bite. Want anything?"

"No thank you," she said, hurriedly. "Going to the Manor for lunch today."

"Right, of course," he said. The infamous Manor lunch, where poor Hermione would have to contend with a passive-agressive Lucius and a frigid Narcissa, all the while trying not to mention that the last time she was in their humble abode, she was tortured. With an apologetic smile, he stood up and strode into Draco's office.

"Mate? Want anything from the café?"

Draco shook his head, not lifting his eyes from the precious stack of papers in front of him. Blaise frowned. This routine was getting tiresome. Somebody was going to talk, and since he was more comfortable harassing Draco, the decision was made for him. He walked over to Draco's door and closed it, dropping himself into the chair across from his friend with deliberate force.

"You're going to tell me what's going on," he stated in a way that left no room for bargaining.

Draco sighed irritably and looked up. "What makes you think something's going on?"

"Drake, I hate to burst your bubble, but even a blind dwarf with bad hearing would be able to tell there's something going on here. So what is it? Did something change since last night that I should know about? You're acting like you had a drunken one night stand with our dearest Hermione over there."

"Nonsense," Draco scoffed, but without much conviction. "Just didn't sleep well."

"Why's that?" Blaise asked, determined to get some sort of explanation.

"Dreams," Draco muttered. "Distracting dreams."

"Okay," Blaise sighed. "So you didn't sleep well. But that still doesn't really explain why you and our pretty friend are acting so weird."

"Don't call her that," Draco said, curtly.

"You didn't used to have a problem with it," Blaise frowned. "But fine, both you and Hermione are being really awkward, and I want to know why."

"Go ask her then!" Draco said, annoyed. "She's been avoiding me as much as I've been avoiding her!"

"Aha!" Blaise said, wagging his finger. "You admit you're avoiding her!"

Colour rose in Draco's cheeks, and he looked away abruptly.

"Tell me," Blaise smirked, leaning in with a hunch on his mind. "These dreams… Did they involve Hermione in various states of undress?"

"Oh fuck off!" Draco said, picking up his Hogwarts snow globe and lobbing it at Blaise's head. Blaise caught it with a mischievous smile.

"I'll take that as a yes," he said, putting down the globe and sauntering off. "How interesting."

Draco watched Blaise leave and tried to calm his breathing. Of course he was avoiding her. In his dreams, he'd fucked her twenty times over and had woken up ready for more. He'd seen her do things, mind-meltingly amazing things, things that were now burned into the back of his eyelids. He'd never dreamed so vividly, so strongly, and sure enough, he had been rock hard ever since, resorting to taking a calming draught just to keep his body under control. He couldn't go out and talk to her. It was hard enough to sit this close to her without blurting out some sort of sexual proposition. The entire situation was horribly embarrassing... It was like he was sixteen again! His mind was at the whim of his libido, and everything else was getting pushed to the side. Work was a write-off - he'd read through three flying manuals without taking in a word. And lunch? Lunch was going to be a disaster. If he didn't find some way to stop his brain from replaying his dreams over and over again, he was going to have to cancel the whole damn thing.

Draco buried his head in his hands, wishing he could clear his mind.

His wish was granted.

Hermione's scream cut through the din, and Draco felt his brain quiet, running towards her before he could even register what was going on.

Hermione looked over at Draco's office door for the twentieth time that day. Thank Merlin he'd been so busy all morning - she had needed the space to sort out the distracting impulses that were shooting through her body.

After last night's lightening-fast orgasm, plus another one before her morning shower, and then another one post-shower for good measure, she was feeling genuinely spooked by the sudden re-awakening of her sex drive. Not that she was complaining exactly, but this wasn't the norm for her, and fantasizing about the person who was essentially both her boss and her friend was extremely unnerving. Perhaps it was time for her to start dating. There must be a wizard out there who wouldn't mind being used for sex. Anything to get these urges under control.

As if that wasn't enough, this upcoming lunch was looming over her consciousness like a dark cloud. Sitting down with an ice queen and a Pureblood supremicist was going to test her patience, even if they were inviting her over as a gesture of good faith. Hermione glanced at the clock on the wall. 11:30. They were due at the Manor in ten minutes. She'd been burying herself in work to make the time pass, but now she found herself wishing for a little extra. How does one prepare to walk into the lion's den, exactly? While she had never approved of Draco's treatment by the public after the War, his parents were a slightly different case. It was their beliefs that roped their son into serving Voldemort, their beliefs that allowed them to watch her being tortured on their parlour floor. Had they seen the error of their ways the way Draco had? It was anyone's guess, really. If they still clung to their old views, this already-awkward lunch would quickly become intolerable.

With a resigned sigh, Hermione pulled her trusty hand mirror out of her desk drawer to check that she at least looked presentable. Not bad - the dark circles that had become a permanent fixture on her face were now gone. It was nice not the have to rely on glamour charms anymore for that. Maybe there was hope for her yet. Even her hair was looking healthier. An errant curl fell in front of her eyes and she pulled it back, taking one last look at her reflection.

She screamed.

Draco was at her side so quickly, she wasn't even sure how he had managed it.

"What is it?" he panted, his eyes jumping around the room.

"I can't believe this!" she cried, squinting at the mirror.

"Hermione! Explain please! You can't scream like that and then leave me hanging!"

"Sorry, sorry," she said, flinching slightly when something twitched in her chest. "I think the stress is getting to me, that's all."

"How so?" he said, sharply.

"I... I believe I'm actually going grey," she said, wrinkling her nose. "Here, at my temples. I'm not even twenty-five!"

"I thought you were in trouble!" he groaned. "You scared me, and you're just fretting about your hair?"

"Well look!" she said, checking the mirror again. "Actually, it's not even grey. I've gone straight to white!"

Draco froze. His stomach dropped. "Did you say... White hair?"

"I can't even just pull them out... There are too many! I swear to God they weren't there yesterday... I'm going to have to dye them! Oh bollocks, what a pain."

"They wouldn't by chance be... Sort of... Platinum, would they?" he asked, nervously, trying not to stare.

"I don't know, Draco! Whatever they are, they don't belong on my head!" she cried.

Draco sat down abruptly on an overturned box next to Hermione and dropped his head into his hands. So it was true. The Gregales trait, the real reason behind this roller-coaster of emotion, the possibility that... No, the fact that Hermione was his destined partner... It was all true. Even the impossible had happened: her trademark hair was starting to change. And she had no idea what was going on.

Oh my God. Panic flooded Draco's body. This was all wrong. Hermione was finally off the drugs. She finally felt in control of her life, of her destiny. What would she say when she found out her future was mapped out as his mate? She would never accept it. She'd leave him. She'd fight it the whole way just out of principle. All she had wanted since the War was some fucking agency, some bloody say in where her future lay. Now something new and inescapable was being added to the mix.

How could he proceed without having everything blow up in his face?

An idea came to him.

She could never find out the truth. Ever. He could be clever about it... Actually court her properly. Let their feelings grow without forcing it. They could take it slowly... Be a proper couple before they discussed any sort of future together. She'd never have to know they were fated for one another.

It wasn't a perfect solution, but it would have to do. Anything else would be an absolute disaster.

"Fuck," he breathed. "I can't believe this."

"Tell me about it," she moaned, not realizing they were now discussing completely different things. She examined the soft, pale hairs that accented each temple, a stark contrast from the warm brown surrounding them. "I don't like to think of myself as being overly conceited, but it just seems to soon for this."

"I agree," he said, staring blankly at the floor. "Much too soon." That must be why he couldn't stomach the idea of Blaise setting him up with someone, why the thought of Hermione with the Weasel made him want to fucking die. He was hers, and she was his. Or she might be his if she didn't run away. It was oddly fitting, actually... Malfoy women were infamously stubborn.

Malfoy women. Oh God, is this was indeed true, Hermione was destined to be a Malfoy. His father was going to have a fucking fit. And his mother...

His mother must know. Why else tell him about the trait? Why else plant that seed? Why else go to the trouble of leaving that potion for Hermione? Malfoys don't go to those lengths for anyone but family. That conniving, sneaky, brilliant woman. Draco was at once furious and impressed. That's what this lunch was about... She wanted to see how things were progressing. She wanted to meet the newest Malfoy.

"What about when I start dating again? How am I supposed to explain this?"

"Dating?" Draco said, looking at her with alarm. "Are you... Are you planning on dating people?"

"Well, eventually," she shrugged. "Obviously not anytime soon. The mess with Ron sort of soured me on the idea in general, but I'd like to think there's someone out there who's a better match for me." She decided to leave out the part about having excessive sexual energy that very clearly needed to be burned off. He didn't really need to know the sorts of things she imagined him doing to her. Again. And again. And again.

Her eyes slid down towards his mouth, noting the hint of a snarl that was forming on his perfect lips.

Oh, the things she could do with - STOP IT HERMIONE.

Draco's fists clenched and unclenched several times, his jaw tensing angrily, his pulse hammering in his veins. He needed to stay calm, he couldn't just explode, but he also couldn't let a comment like that slide without interjecting. Dating? Dating? She clearly wasn't as deep in as he was, or the very idea would make her feel ill.

She had been staring at him with a funny look on her face, but jolted out of it and was now fidgeting with her hands.

"You don't think it's a bit too soon to be considering that?" he said, trying to keep his voice even.

"What, dating?" she said, puzzled. "Perhaps. It's not a serious plan or anything. I just don't want to completely give up on relationships on account of things going so badly with Ron."

"I agree that you shouldn't give up, but honestly Hermione, Weasley was and remains an imbecile," Draco said, looking at her with utmost seriousness. "If you are going to date, you need someone worthy."

She snorted with amusement. "Thanks for the sentiment, but let's be honest, Draco. I have a history of drug abuse. I'm a know-it-all, as you love to remind me. I'm a bookworm. Now I can tick off premature ageing as well. Not a great deal to be worthy of."

"Don't sell yourself short," he said with that same serious tone. "You have plenty to offer. My father used to tell me that when he met my mother, he thought she was the most controlling, damaged, brilliant woman he'd ever met. He still ended up falling for her."

"I guess he liked the idea of a challenge," Hermione said.

"Malfoy women are always a challenge," he replied, knowing the hint would be lost on her. "It's just the way the family works."

"And Malfoy men?"

He thought about it. "Difficult, as you could have guessed. Stubborn." He took a breath, amazed at what he was about to reveal, even if she wouldn't understand. "But they are absolute putty in the hands of the women."

"Huh. Your parents must be interesting people," she said, trying to imagine Lucius Malfoy being putty in anyone's hands. Seemed ludicrous. The man was about as warm as a bloody viper.

"You have no idea," he muttered. "Speaking of which, we'd best get going. I have a feeling my parents will be very keen on speaking with you."

"You think?" she said. "I thought this was just a token gesture, to be honest."

"Oh, I don't know... I wouldn't be surprised if they are genuinely interested in getting to know you better."

"Hmm." Hermione tried not to look too uncomfortable at the thought.

"Don't worry," he said, shooting her a smile as he stood up. "They will behave."

"I'm not worried about that," she lied, standing up with him.

He gave her a disbelieving look.

"Fine, I'm a little worried," she sighed, rubbing the scar on her arm absent-mindedly. Draco cringed at the gesture.

"I know they haven't been good to you in the past, but they are trying to turn over a new leaf. You might be surprised at how welcoming they can be."

"I hope you're right," she said.

"I know I'm right," he replied. Oh yes, they would behave. Malfoys protected their own, and as of this moment, Hermione was one of them.

Merlin help them all.

Narcissa stood by the window, looking out towards the main gate with stone-faced focus. Lucius watched her from across the room.

"'Cissa, they will be here any minute," he said, calmly. "Could you please try to relax? We still don't know whether or not we're dealing with the real thing here. You could be fretting for nothing."

"You may not have decided, but I have," she replied. "I know it's her."

"We shall see," he said. "I remain to be convinced."

"With the addiction gone, if she is one of us, the symptoms will be accelerating. I remember the feeling extremely well - I will be able to tell if she is affected."

"And if she's not?"

"Then I will admit that I am wrong."

Lucius walked up to Narcissa with a wry smile, tilting her chin up with his fingers and giving her an amused look.

"Darling, you have never been wrong about anything."

"Correct answer," said Narcissa, pecking him on the lips. "At any rate, once she finds out the truth, and once the surprise wears off, I think she will be quite pleased. The Malfoy name is old and prestigious, especially because of her recent efforts. You remember when I found out, of course."

"You couldn't wait to get married," Lucius said, smirking at the memory.

"I waited two days. I think that was more than generous."

They both shivered at the same time, and a CRACK could be heard off in the distance.

"They're here!" she said, excitedly.

"Don't expect me to fall over myself to greet her," he said with a slight sneer.

"Oh please," she said, rolling her eyes. "You don't fall over yourself for anyone."

"Except you, darling," he said with a smirk, following her out of the room.

"Correct answer," he heard her reply.