How To Marry A Malfoy

by BDShadothe

One egregious mistake and she never wanted to hear his name ever again, but the Fates force them together eight months later. How will she cope without surrendering to or strangling him? Will she be able to? Dramione, rated M. See disclaimer inside.

6. Step 5: Becoming Elusive

A/N: Hello lovies! Honestly, I don't know what happened. I feel like I just updated last weekend, but when I check the dates, it's actually been two weeks! Thank you to lia163, who asked me what the hell was taking so long, which helped motivate me. To be fair, the last two weekends were mad busy because my best friend got a new boy toy so I had to meet him, and my sister's wedding is coming up in September so I had to go finalize my bridesmaid dress size and all that good stuff. And I spent most of the weeknights researching my new compy that I just bought. I've been trying to play The Witcher 2, but I keep lagging so badly I can't even beat the first major boss of the game, which is sad and frustrating. But enough excuses from me; I hope this super long chappie will persuade you to forgive me. Second to last, a gigantic hug to everyone who reviewed, even if it was just a smiley face. I love you all so much for giving me feedback, so please continue to do so. Lastly, but on a related note, I'm introducing a new character in this chappie, and I'm not sure if y'all are gonna love him or hate him, so please review and let me know what you think.

Reviews: There were no specific reviews this time that I felt a compelling urge to reply to (other than grinning like a fool and saying to all of you, "Thank you!" of course), but at least a couple of you mentioned wanting to read some of the other stories I've vaguely referenced in my replies. This is the only story I have up online right now. I have about six other Dramiones I've started over the years with different plots, so I was referring to scenes from some of those. At the end of this story, I'll probably ask you all which plot I should work on next, and you can tell me then if you want me to PM you when I put something new up. I'm definitely not working on any of those until I get this done, though. I can only really work on one story at a time because otherwise I'll start to mix them up in my head and then it all goes downhill from there. I know this from experience. Those two stories I'll probably get around to setting straight at some point in the far future. Anywho, enough rambling. Enjoy!

~~~\~~~

Step 5: Becoming Elusive

As I previously mentioned, Malfoy men are hunters by nature. As such, they thrive on the thrill of the chase, and the more elusive the prey, the more desired the prize. It is rare that any Malfoy backs down from a challenge. Once your Malfoy has you set in his sights, put some distance between the two of you. Throw some obstacles in the way of his claiming you, such as a boyfriend, being physically distant, or anything else that could be a legitimate reason to not be together. A Malfoy is cunning enough to recognize a flimsy excuse, so be convincing.

Notes of warning: While Malfoy men do have a code of honor, it is not quite the same as the popularly-known version. For example, if you decide to get a temporary boyfriend, your Malfoy will try to seduce you into a purely physical relationship anyway, and, seeing as Malfoy men excel above all others in seduction techniques, you will need to stay consistently strong to resist. Hence, you will still have to be constantly elusive and not just hide behind said boyfriend or obstacle. Again, Malfoys are hunters, and no matter what obstacle you throw in front of him, he will find you. The overall point of this step is to show your Malfoy how far he will go to have you, and the longer the 'courtship', the better. Although, while most men tire of the chase after a while, Malfoys tend to try harder the longer it goes on. They are incredibly patient in that they are confident in their abilities, yet their desire for their prey will urge them to move things along, so if you want the chase to keep going, you will have to try harder as well. Be warned, your Malfoy will use every trick of the trade in his considerable repertoire to catch you. It will only end in one of two ways: either he catches you, or he loses interest. At this stage in the game, I've never even heard of a Malfoy losing interest, because he would have stopped pursuing you long before this if he weren't interested. So remember, it is only a matter of time before he catches you. Use it well.

~~~\~~~

Hermione woke up the next morning feeling worried. Despite her self-assurance before she had fallen asleep, she had a feeling that it wouldn't be so easy to write Malfoy off. As she looked over at the empty spot beside her, she missed him. Of course, if she were honest with herself, she had missed him after Graduation, though she had liked to pretend the whole time that she was one-hundred percent happy he was gone from her life.

She sighed. Not that he wasn't an annoying, pretentious git of a human being, but he was the only peer she had known in Hogwarts that came close to matching her on an intellectual level. He had had the second best marks in the school, just under hers, and her day hadn't been normal until she ran into Malfoy in the hall and exchanged insults. The insults themselves hadn't been all that creative, since they had reused the same ones for the most part, but it was the quick-witted banter she missed. The way that they dueled with words kept her on her toes and eager to improve, basking in the battles she managed to thoroughly beat him. Yet, he had never given up, and she had lost battles, too, so the cycle continued, back and forth and back and forth...

Even now she felt that thrill because they were doing the same thing, she realized. Except this time, the banter included actions, not just words. Instead of arguing over who was less of a human being, they now argued over whether or not she would have sex with him. What was that saying he had spouted all those years about his family? Oh, yes, right. 'A Malfoy always gets what he wants.' She saw no reason why he wouldn't believe it now, despite all that had happened during the war, so it was only practical to presume he would apply the same thinking to this...whatever was going on between them.

To state the obvious, Malfoy wanted to have sex with her. Was there any chance of him failing his objective? With the way she was starting to feel, probably not, yet she could still hold on and fight the good fight for as long as she could. Really, he had to learn sometime that he couldn't always get what he wanted. She'd be doing him a favor. There, that was a good reason she could hide behind. Surely not every girl in Hogwarts had succumbed to him. There must have been one girl he had lost interest in and ignored after she resisted his advances for so long...

Well, if such a girl had existed, neither Hermione, nor Ginny, nor Parvati, nor Lavender, nor any other girl she had talked to about him had ever heard of her. She had probably kept it quiet, then. She must have, because otherwise...actually, everyone would have heard about it anyway because the girl must have had friends, and if Draco Malfoy had failed in a conquest the news would have been all over the school mere minutes afterward. Nobody could keep a secret like that in Hogwarts. Nobody would want to. That girl would probably have gone straight to the gossips of the school, just so she could take Malfoy down a peg or one hundred. The boy was sexy, but he could do without the attitude.

So that only left one conclusion: Malfoy had succeeded in every conquest he undertook. That didn't leave much hope for Hermione.

She needed someone to talk to. How was it possible to feel so many conflicting emotions for one person? She was fond of his wit, lusting after his body, loathing his prat-ish personality, homicidal every time he made fun of her, disappointed that she hadn't woken up next to him, and afraid of the power he had over her in general. The intensity of all those emotions should have made her spontaneously combust by now.

She glanced over at her closet and bit her lip. Usually she avoided re-reading the letters from Harry, Ron, and Ginny, her best friends, because they made her sad. Maybe if she read them again, she could pretend they were right here with her, giving her advice.

She ran over to the closet, opened the door, rummaged around, and withdrew an old shoe box, which she carried over and gently placed on the bed. She hopped back on the bed next to the box and carefully opened it.

She lightly skimmed over the parchment with her fingers, then closed her eyes and held back tears. Guess the potion is still in me, then. I don't usually get quite this upset.

A knock on the door distracted her. She sniffed and wiped away the tears from her eyes, before answering it.

Dopey's smiling face looked up at her when she opened the door and she smiled back. "Yes, Dopey? What is it?"

"Miss Hermione gots post this morning." He beamed and held out an envelope.

Her breath hitched as she stared at the envelope. Well, that's a coincidence. She hesitated, but then reached out and took it from Dopey. She forced a smile back on her face. "Thank you, Dopey."

Dopey beamed back at her and popped away.

She shut the door and walked slowly back to her bed. She used to receive three different letters each month: one from Ron, one from Ginny, and one from Harry. But once they all got hired for their respective Quidditch teams, they found it was easier to hang out after all, and decided to write her one big letter. Since then, she only heard from them once every one to two months. While she was really happy they were kept busy all the time with social events, practices, and games, she missed them terribly. It had been such a huge change for her, to go from having all three best friends around most of the year, to suddenly feeling quite alone. But with what had happened the night before Graduation, she had decided to take the less healthy hermit route, rather than the healthier make-new-friends route. She had preferred to leave behind all thoughts of Hogwarts and Malfoy, but eventually she realized how much she missed her friends, so every time she got a letter, it was a bittersweet moment that she tried not to dwell on too much.

She felt a thrill of joy as she opened the letter and read the first line. She could always tell who was writing the letter just by the greeting. Ron usually called her Mione, because he was too lazy to write out the extra three letters. Ginny's exuberance always translated through an exclamation point, like Hermione! Harry just did as he had been taught in school, with the normal Dear Hermione.

Dear Hermione,

We're so sorry it's been so long since we last wrote. We've been especially busy with practices because our teams are all still in the running and we're all anxious to beat each other because, well, you know how it is. We still manage to get together for a meal every couple of days, though, just to catch up and stuff. Ron's dating the sister of a player from the Wasps, so they've been especially vicious toward the Cannons recently. Thankfully he's at least trying to keep low for the time being. I guess he finally learned after the Amanda incident.

Ginny and I are doing great. Since we're traveling so much, and plan to be during our careers, we probably won't get married for a couple more years or so. Not that we don't want to, but you know Molly. The second we get back from our Honeymoon she'll be all over us for grandchildren, and we really don't want that kind of pressure, although I'm sure you know I am really really excited about it. Like you told me before, with no evil maniac running around at the moment, we don't have to worry about rushing into things. I plan on doing exactly as you told me. I'm taking my time, enjoying my job, and my girl, and just being me. I could really do without the extra fame, but it's a small price to pay for how happy I am playing Quidditch. So thanks for that talk, Hermione. I know I said it a million times before, but I don't know what I'd do without you. It's not any less true even now, and not being able to get your advice on every little thing just makes it that much more clear to me.

Anyway, enough about us. How are you? How are things going with your potions research? We managed to hear through a line of gossips that you're not working for Snape anymore. Knowing you, you've found another mentor, and a better one at that, so we want to hear all about it when we come back home. I know you can't really answer those questions now, but I just want to make sure you know we do think about you a lot. We miss you loads, Hermione. Even Ron says it just doesn't feel the same without getting into an argument with you over something stupid. Is it sad that we miss you reprimanding us for our latest shenanigans? Not that we're doing anything wrong. Or mischievous. Or slightly frowned upon. Or anything at all that you would disapprove of. Because we're perfect angels like that.

Well, that's pretty much all that's going on here, since you couldn't care less about Quidditch. Ron says that as a show of how much you miss us, you should become a Quidditch fanatic to impress us with what you've learned when we get home, but Ginny's smacking him for you for being an idiot. She says she really misses talking to you about everything and she has loads of stories for you. And maybe even a nice wizard you should meet. Ron says it won't work because he likes Quidditch. Ginny says he should stuff it in his fat mouth and you two could at least give it a chance. You might have more in common than you think.

And now they're fighting again. You know, Ginny saying that does make me wonder, are you seeing anyone? If you are, you know we have to meet him if he's still around when we come home. If not, no worries. I'm sure Ginny will be more than happy to set you up with a dozen of her male friends. You know, if I wasn't positive she's madly in love with me, I'd be jealous of all these blokes she hangs around with. Maybe you could take one off her hands?

Anyway, we have to go soon. We miss you and can't wait to see you again. Stay safe and don't run yourself ragged, okay? We want there to be a Hermione to come home to.

All our love,

Harry, Ginny, and Ron

When Hermione finished reading it the third time through, she noticed she was crying again. Mostly because she missed them just as much and couldn't wait for them to come home, but partially because she did not want to have a conversation about what had happened between her and Malfoy. Hopefully he would be gone by then, though, so only she and Professor Morgana would be here when her friends visited. It would be much easier to miss Malfoy in silence than to voluntarily throw him, Harry, and Ron in a confined space and expect them not to provoke lots of bodily harm.

But she had plenty of time before she'd have to worry about that. It was only February now, and the Qudditch season didn't end until May or June. That still gave her at least three months to get Malfoy out of her life.

Malfoy couldn't leave, however, until the "private business" with his aunt was resolved, so that would be her first task. Find out what that private business was and then help them complete it so Malfoy could stop making her life stressful.

Objective set, she searched out Professor Morgana. She finally found her in the drawing room playing with Crookshanks. She hadn't run into Malfoy at all, so she hoped that meant he'd be out all day.

Hermione cleared her throat. "Professor?"

Her mentor didn't look up, too busy cooing at the cat. "What is it, girl?"

"Well, I know this isn't really any of my business, but I'm just curious about how much longer your nephew will be staying with us. You mentioned he was helping you with private business, so do you know how long that might take?"

This made her mentor raise her head and give her a searching look. "You want him to leave?"

Yes, I do! Very much! "Well, you see, Draco and I have a very...complex history. And I'm afraid we aren't getting along that well. Not to say we can't be civil, but it's a very...tenuous civility and so, really, the sooner he leaves the better, lest something unfortunate happens between us. But I know he's here for a reason, so mainly I was wondering if I could do anything to help, you know, move things along?"

She looked up at her mentor hopefully. It wasn't quite the way she wanted to bring up the relationship between her and Malfoy, but she got so excited at the prospect of his leaving sooner that she hadn't been able to contain herself.

"A simple 'yes' would have sufficed, girl. The business is nowhere near concluded. My husband and I never had children, so my nephew is our sole heir. The private business he has here is to set up everything to transfer over to him when we die."

Hermione's jaw dropped and the words burst out of her mouth without her even thinking about them. "He's going to get richer? How is that even possible? He's already got the majority of the Black estate through his mother, in addition to what his father left him, and he benefited from the Death Eaters he was related to, which was nearly half of them, and -"

THUMP!

Hermione jumped and immediately stopped talking, blushing at her outburst.

Professor Morgana gave her a stern look. "Calm down, girl, before you hyperventilate. Yes, my nephew is one of the richest men in the country already, and he will undoubtedly only increase that fortune throughout his very long life, which is precisely why I'm giving him everything. He's a shrewd businessman, that one, and I know he'll use every knut well."

Hermione had to sit down, but there weren't any chairs or furniture around, so she settled for the floor. She took a few moments to process all the information. "He's a bloody empire, all by himself," she commented in awe, half to herself.

"Indeed, he is."

Hermione looked up at the immensely proud tone in her mentor's voice.

Well, that's it, then. There's no hope. He's insanely rich, or about to be, so there's nothing that will keep him away forever. He could pay any number of people to maintain his finances while he's away bothering me, unlimited resources at his disposal...

But she couldn't just give up, either. Maybe Harry and Ginny would protect her? She could hide out at their place when they came home...

Wait a minute. What was she thinking? Would Malfoy honestly go through all that trouble just to bed her? Of course not. He could have any number of women, especially with his fame and overflowing bank accounts...what did she have to worry about? He was only doing it now because she was right there. If she moved out, then he would have no reason to pursue her. He just wanted to shag someone. It didn't have to be her.

The answer was so simple she mentally laughed at herself. Oftentimes the hardest solutions to see are the simplest ones. Silly Hermione.

Hermione stood back up and faced her mentor. While she was sad at the thought of leaving Professor Morgana, whom she had grown to love like a grandmother in such a short time, it was for the best. And it wasn't as if she had to lose contact completely. They would just be sending letters instead of talking in person. Or, she could just stop by once in a while to discuss her progress. She didn't have to live here to study under her.

"Actually, Professor, I think it would be best for me to move out."

Her mentor merely raised an eyebrow. "Why's that, girl?"

She bit her lip. "Well, it's quite obvious that your nephew will be involved for quite some time, since I'm assuming your...list of properties and finances is quite long, and I've nearly finished the potion, anyway, so the hard part is over. I mean, you and I will still keep in touch, of course. I'll no doubt still have questions for you, but I don't need to constantly be here to do the research. I could still stop by and read to you from time to time. That way the research doesn't get interrupted and your nephew and I won't...clash."

THUMP!

Hermione jumped again.

Her mentor scoffed. "Nonsense, girl. That potion is still in your system. You don't know what you're talking about. Of course you need to stay here. Who else will watch over you and make sure you don't get yourself blown up? No, no. You'll remain here." She paused, and Hermione could have sworn there was a slight smile amongst her mentor's expression, which was not unlike her old Transfiguration Professor's stern smile.

"Besides, girl, I've grown rather fond of you in a very short time, and that is an accomplishment. Ask my nephew and he'll tell you. Will you really consider leaving a lonely old woman to an empty house with only her house elves and her longing for her husband to return, which will only be for a short time before he's off again?"

Hermione didn't know how she did it, but she was utterly impressed with the way her mentor sounded so haughty and vulnerable at the same time. For the first time since they had met, Hermione wondered if the old woman never rambled, but instead knew exactly what she was saying. What if she took advantage of the fact that people assumed her crazy and set in her ways, using it as a cover to manipulate and browbeat people to do what she wanted? If so, she was certainly a Malfoy, alright.

The drawing room door opened, making the two women focus their attention on it.

"Aunt, I've just met with-" Malfoy paused, noticing Hermione was in the room, but then continued normally, "the appropriate authorities about the Abshire estate. They say they need Uncle's written consent to the exchange, and a few other statements, as usual."

Professor Morgana nodded. "Very well. That will have to wait until he returns, and I'm sure it won't be long now. He'll be due for another visit soon. Draco, is it true that you and Hermione aren't getting along?" she asked off-handedly.

Hermione winced and glared at her mentor. The woman definitely knew what she was doing. She should have gotten out when she had the chance. Better yet, she never should have even brought it up. It's not like it helped anything. She focused on watching Crookshanks watch them interestedly and completely ignored the look Malfoy burned into to the side of her head.

"No, Aunt. I thought we had been getting along splendidly." She could hear the smirk in his voice.

If he had sounded anything but amused, she would have let it go. But Hermione couldn't let him straight out mock his own aunt!

She whipped around and glared at him. "Draco Malfoy, that is a big, fat lie! There is nothing splendid about our relationship!"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh? I got a very different impression from you last night."

She desperately tried to stop herself from blushing, but failed miserably. Well, fine. If he wants to play it like that, let's play dirty. She schooled her expression into one of exasperation.

"I told you about those dreams, Malfoy. Do you understand? Dreams like those happen from time to time, and that's fine, but just because you dreamt it doesn't make it true."

It took all of her self-control not to burst out laughing at his response. His face had gone from confused, to understanding, to angry, and then back to his usual smirk.

"Well, you know Granger, it doesn't help stop those dreams when I find you in my bed the next morning. It does make one wonder..."

"Actually," she corrected haughtily, "I believe it was my bed that you slithered into during the night, so don't even try to act like it's all my fault."

His smirk widened. "Yes, Granger, you're right. It does take two people to consent to sleep in the same bed."

THUMP!

They were both staring at each other so intently that they jumped at the noise.

"Darren," Professor Morgana started imperiously, "I thought you were going to take care of her, not aggravate her. Keep a closer eye on her. She's had the silly idea to go live somewhere else because of you, so it is your responsibility to make sure she wants to stay. Now, off you go. I need to spend more time with my Crooksy." She shooed them away.

As soon as the doors were closed behind them, Hermione set off toward the laboratory, steaming. The scheming old woman had an agenda, but she couldn't figure out exactly what it was. While her mentor hadn't been lying about their quickly-growing bond, she was positive the woman had an ulterior motive for keeping her here that had nothing to do with potions research. But could it really be so simple as she was lonely?

"Trying to get away from me, Granger?" Malfoy smirked from beside her.

"And failing, apparently," she ground out. "Not that I'm surprised. Nothing has been going my way since you got here."

"Or maybe you're failing because you're not trying hard enough. Maybe you want me to catch you," he suggested nonchalantly.

Hermione stopped and glared at him. "Why are you following me?"

"Because my aunt commanded it."

"Well she also told you not to aggravate me, so stop."

"Oh, is the truth aggravating you? Shall I lie to make you feel better?" he asked innocently.

"No. You know what would make me feel better? If you stopped talking. I can at least tolerate you when you're silent."

Merlin, how was she ever going to get rid of him now? Wherever she decided to go, he would just follow her, but where could she lose him? In a crowd? Where would-

Wait a minute. The name Draco Malfoy was just as instantly recognizable by now as Harry Potter, just for different reasons. If she wanted to get rid of Harry, not that she ever would, but someone with that amount of fame...she'd only need to bring him outside, somewhere very public, and preferably with large groups of women to crowd around him and gush. If she could get Malfoy trapped by a ravenous horde of women, she'd be home free. But how to do that without making it seem too obvious?

"I need to go to Flourish and Blotts," she said suddenly, a plan forming in her mind. "They have a new book coming in about the properties of nettles and other similar ingredients in potion-making, and I think it'll help me with the recipe."

Malfoy looked at her strangely, so she threw him a plausible reason. "That's why you're annoying me so much. I've been cooped up in this house too long. I need fresh air." She started walking to the nearest room with a Floo. "If you insist on coming, then fine. Just don't bother me when I'm talking with the owner, got it?" She threw him a glare for good measure and to make sure he was actually following, which he was, silently. She cackled mentally. Sometimes she wondered if Malfoy had actually been deteriorating her sanity all these years.

"Dopey!" she called loudly.

Dopey appeared by her side and walked with her. "Yes, Miss Hermione?" he asked hopefully.

She smiled down at him. "Please get us our winter coats, hats, gloves, and scarves. Malfoy and I are going outside."

"Rights away, Miss Hermione!" Dopey beamed and popped out to retrieve their items.

She hated asking a house elf to retrieve her outerwear every time she wanted to go outside, but the reason they were so efficient with it was because they had their own sort of filing system that would take months for her to figure out. She had tried to make sense of it for an entire week after she had first arrived, before finally admitting defeat and letting Dopey wait on her. If she hadn't given up, she would have had to keep buying new clothes, and that was not the way she wanted to spend her money. To make herself feel slightly better, she had persuaded Professor Morgana to work out a deal where she only inconvenienced Dopey without insulting the other elves. It was bad enough feeling dependent upon one elf, let alone worrying about how the other elves would feel when she forgot all their names. Ron's face had turned redder than his hair as he howled with laughter at her attempts to decipher the elven filing system. She was afraid of even thinking it in Malfoy's presence, lest he somehow find out. If Ron had been insulting, Malfoy would be absolutely unbearable about it.

~~~\~~~

It was early afternoon and chilly when Hermione and Malfoy entered Diagon Alley. There was no immediate rush of females, but she did notice that everyone started noticing them. Malfoy started flashing smiles, clearly enjoying the attention, but it wasn't enough. She'd have to stoke the fire a bit if she wanted a clean break from him. She made sure that they passed by the office of The Daily Prophet, and then stopped. The last she had heard, Lavender Brown got a job as a reporter and columnist. Still despising The Prophet for everything it had written about her, Harry, and Ron, she didn't read the rubbish. She did hope, however, that she could find someone she knew to tip off.

While Malfoy's back was turned as he flirted with some giggling girls on the other side of the street, Hermione ducked into the office . She approached the front desk, which was manned by a presumably leggy blonde whose nametag said "Peggy" in flowery handwriting.

Peggy was busy chewing gum, listening to the wireless, and filing her long, red painted nails. Hermione cleared her throat, glancing at the door to make sure Malfoy hadn't followed her. Peggy looked up. Her eyes widened comically and her mouth formed an O.

"Hermione Granger!" she yelped. Everyone in the room stared at the two of them and whispered.

Hermione smiled nervously at everyone and then turned back to Peggy. "Yes, hi, er, could you please direct me to Lavender Brown?"

Peggy stared for a few moments longer and then quickly nodded. She pointed behind her. "Down that hall, fifth cubicle."

Hermione grinned brightly. "Thanks, Peggy."

She followed Peggy's directions and poked her head in around a divider. "Lavender?"

The woman in the cubicle was flipping through an issue of Witch Weekly and lifted her perfectly-styled blonde head at the name. "Yes, how-Hermione!" Lavender grinned, jumped up, and hugged her as if they had been best friends since birth. "How have you been? You practically fell off the face of the planet!" she gushed.

Hermione smiled weakly, but hugged her back. "Hi, yes, I've been really good. I can't stay long, but I just wanted to let you know that Draco Malfoy is outside right now. I'm sure he'd love to have you do a piece on him, you know?"

Lavender squealed so loudly she practically burst Hermione's eardrums. She dashed out of the cubicle with a quick "Thanks, Hermione!" and yelled the whole way to the front door, "Oi! You lot! Draco Malfoy's outside! Get out those cameras!"

Hermione smirked and hid in Lavender's cubicle as she heard every woman in the entire office squeal like Lavender and make a mad dash to the front door. She usually didn't like manipulating people like this, but Draco Malfoy always brought out the worst in her.

She waited a minute or two after the place had cleared out, just to make sure the crowd would be in full swing before venturing out of the office. Just as she had predicted, Malfoy was surrounded by what looked like every female in Diagon Alley while answering Lavender's questions in front of the cameras. They moved away from the office, probably to find somewhere large enough to get out of the cold and still fawn over him. Hermione giggled at her success and weaved her way through the crowd. That should keep him busy for several hours. She couldn't have wiped the grin off her face if she tried.

After she had cleared the crowd, Hermione breathed in deeply and exhaled happily. She enjoyed the sweet taste of freedom after being practically suffocated by Malfoy for nine days. But now she asked herself a very important question she hadn't really thought about. What did she want to do? She longingly thought of Hogsmeade and all the memories she, Harry, and Ron had made there. But then she thought of home, and how she hadn't been in the Muggle world for a long, long time. She couldn't see her parents because they had elected to stay in Australia, but she could visit her old neighborhood, or even just take a long walk.

Destination set, Hermione headed off toward the Leaky Cauldron.

~~~\~~~

Over an hour later, Hermione was relaxing in a diner next to a main road, staring out the window and sipping tea. The waitress who had taken her order came back with a steaming plate of food, and Hermione's stomach rumbled. She smiled up at the woman and looked at her nametag. It was a golden, rectangular pin that had 'Mona' typed on a white sticker label. "Thanks, Mona."

The waitress smiled prettily back. "Not a problem. More tea?"

Hermione looked down and realized her tea was, indeed, nearly gone. She looked back up. "Yes, please."

"Okay, I'll be right back with that. Holler if you need anything else."

Hermione nodded, and turned to her food. Most of it still looked a little too hot to eat without burning herself, so she settled for the warm, buttered toast to start. Hopefully by the time she finished that she could start on the eggs.

The little bell on the front door rang. She looked up to see a man speedwalk along the booths and plop down into the seat across from her. He turned so his back was to the window and slid down in the seat, shooting covert looks toward the door.

Hermione finished chewing and swallowed, watching him with interest while her food cooled.

After a couple minutes, he seemed satisfied that nobody followed him and looked at her.

"Uh, hi. Sorry about that. I'm hiding from a crazy ex-girlfriend."

Before Hermione could reply, Mona brought her tea over. "Here ya go." She turned and noticed the other booth occupant. "Oh, hey, Devon. Your usual?"

The man looked at Hermione, as if asking her permission. She shrugged, so he turned back to Mona. "Thanks, love."

"Sure," she chirped, and walked toward the kitchen.

The man cleared his throat and Hermione brought her attention back to him. He stuck out his hand across the table. "Devon Winchester," he ventured, smiling.

She smiled back and took his hand, shaking it. "Hermione Granger," she replied.

His eyebrows rose. "Hermione. That's an interesting name. Don't hear that one often."

She chuckled. "Yes, I get that a lot."

He frowned. "Oh, sorry."

She laughed and waved a hand dismissively. "Don't worry about it. I'm just happy you pronounced it correctly. So tell me about this crazy ex-girlfriend of yours who's stalking you."

Hermione spent the next two hours talking with Devon, happily engrossing herself in someone else's life and problems so that she could forget about her own.

"So, ya, that's my life story. I feel like I've been talking forever. What about you, Hermione? What brought you to this fine establishment?" Devon grinned, sipped his third coffee, and finished off his bacon.

Hermione bit her lip. "Well, I guess you could say I have my own crazy stalker, but he's not my boyfriend, and that's a really big oversimplification. Our relationship has gotten very...complicated in the past two years..."

He chuckled. "Do tell. Give me all the details. I told you mine," he wheedled charmingly.

She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help but smile, too. "Oh alright, I'll try. So, this boy, let's call him John. John and I went to the same boarding school together for basically our entire adolescence and we absolutely loathed each other. I mean, every time we saw each other in the halls we insulted each other. He comes from one of those old, rich, aristocratic families who thinks that anyone of 'lower status' isn't even fit to breathe the same air. So, of course, he considered me of that 'lower status', and I thought he was an absolute prick, so we never got along. Well, it went mostly like that the whole time we were in school. But in the last year, the night before Graduation, I was very...irked with my classmates because they were drowning themselves in alcohol, especially my two best male friends, and since I couldn't knock any sense into them, I decided to take a walk."

Hermione fiddled with the handle of her tea mug as she decided what to tell and what to omit. "Long story short, I ran into John, who was also drowning himself in alcohol, or at least attempting to. He had stolen the bottle from someone else, but there wasn't much left in it, so he was mad that everyone else was getting drunk but he couldn't, or something like that. Anyway, by the end of the night...he and I...well, stuff happened that I'm still not proud of."

Devon smiled teasingly as she blushed. "You shagged?" he suggested helpfully.

She shook her head, blushing. "Not quite that far, but close enough to mortify me. The funny thing is that if he hadn't been so snarky about what we were doing, I might have actually...you know. But as it was, his ego had to stroke itself, which made me come to my senses and run away. But not before he said some very hurtful things."

Devon frowned and squeezed her hand with his comfortingly before removing it. She smiled weakly in thanks. "Anyway, so, as you can imagine, I was ecstatic to get him out of my life forever and content to just avoid him. Unfortunately, the Fates decided they didn't like that plan. About six months after Graduation, I moved in with and started working under an elderly lady, famous for her knowledge and research in my field. I had only been working with her for two months when I discovered that she's actually John's great-aunt. So, nine days ago, he came to stay with her and I've had to deal with him ever since."

She sighed heavily. "The worst part is that I assumed I could just ignore him the whole time, because he's only supposed to be there long enough to sort out 'private family business', but I soon found out that he also intended on picking up where we left off the night before Graduation, and he still doesn't want a relationship. He just wants a shag partner while he's there," she spat bitterly.

"And?"

Hermione looked up to see Devon leaned over the table, hanging onto her every word. "And what?" she asked, confused.

He rolled his eyes. "Have you shagged him? Or done anything?"

She glared. "Of course I haven't shagged him. What sort of tart do you take me for? But as for your other question..." she frowned and bit her lip. "Well, I suppose it's not really that much better, but he did manage to get a repeat of the night before Graduation. That was last night."

Devon looked at her searchingly. "I know this is going to embarrass you, but please humor me."

Hermione nodded hesitantly.

"What exactly did you two do those two nights, last night and before Graduation? You obviously don't want to say, I know, but I have a good reason for asking. I have a suspicion."

Hermione frowned. Was it possible that this random Muggle bloke had Draco Malfoy figured out more than she did? Well, she'd never know until she humored him, and any resource that could help her was more than welcome. She licked her lips and blushed, staring intently at her tea. Her eyes darted around to make sure nobody was paying attention to them and lowered her voice to a barely audible whisper.

"He, well, got me off with his fingers."

She took a long sip of her tea, blushing profusely.

When she figured she ought to stop hiding behind her tea mug, she lowered it and cleared her throat.

Devon just stared at her, as if waiting for her to continue. "And?" he prompted.

She blinked. "And what?"

He sighed. "What else did you two do?"

"Nothing. Just that."

He frowned. "Just that? All night?"

She blushed further. "Well, the first time I ran off after because, as I mentioned, he was being a right prick about it. The second time, I, well, fell asleep after. It was a very...er, intense experience."

Devon eyed her suspiciously. "So let me see if I got this right. John's got notoriety, good looks, and money from his family, and so he can get any woman he wants, but instead he's chasing after you, a woman who is rejecting him at nearly every turn?"

Hermione nodded. "Pretty much."

"He's shagging other women, though, right? While he's been pursuing you."

She shrugged. "I don't want to know what he does with his spare time."

"Well, you should," Devon objected bluntly.

Hermione blinked. "What? Why?" she asked, dumbfounded.

Devon sighed exasperatedly. "Look, you seem pretty smart, but obviously you don't understand the way a bloke's mind works. I see that you embarrass easily, but I'm going to be blunt with you, just to make sure you get the message, okay?"

She nodded automatically.

"Alright. Blokes, especially ones like John, like sex. A lot. I mean, if we had the choice, we would choose to die from having too much sex over any other way to die. So if we have a choice between having sex with a real, gorgeous woman and having sex with our hand, we'd choose the woman every single time. Makes sense, right?"

Hermione nodded.

"Right. So, it's very important if John is having sex with other women while pursuing you, because if he is, then you're just a side project, or a hobby, to him. Blokes like him do that all the time. If, however, he isn't, then he's either a eunuch, or choosing his hand over choosing a gorgeous woman."

"Well, he's definitely not a eunuch," she confirmed wryly, and then frowned."So, hypothetically, if John weren't sleeping with other women, then what would explain why he's...er, using his hand instead?"

Devon chuckled. "That he's bloody in love with you."

Hermione's jaw dropped. "You're insane," she managed.

Devon shook his head. "The only time a bloke willingly chooses his hand over a perfectly good shag is when he thinks he has a shot with the woman he wants. Now, whether you'll get John to admit it or not, that's a whole other thing. But there you have it."

Hermione stared down at her tea and fiddled with the handle, then glanced back up at Devon. "Don't you think that...well, love is a really strong word for...you know, his type?"

He nodded. "It is, which is why I mentioned that he's not going to come right out and admit it."

She bit her lip. "Right...but how do you know?" she asked a little (alright, a lot) more desperately than she wanted to sound. It was more of an anguished cry, really. Merlin, she was being such a girl right now and she hated it.

His mouth quirked at her antics. He took her hand for comfort and squeezed it again, but held onto it this time. She smiled sadly back and wondered how she could possibly feel so comfortable around him. She had only known him for about three bloody hours and yet she felt like they had been best friends for years! Or maybe it was just the fact that she felt he had all the information about blokes that she didn't, yet desperately needed. He seemed a legitimate bloke encyclopedia!

He sighed. "Listen, Hermione. I'm sorry to say, but you're not going to know unless you can figure out a way to read him or trick him into telling you how he feels. I don't see you finding out otherwise."

She groaned. "And how am I going to do that?" she whined.

She huffed, but managed to catch the smirk that flitted across his lips. The familiar look immediately changed her expression from defeat to suspicion.

He noticed her change in expression and grinned back at her cheekily. "Say, Hermione, there was one thing I failed to mention when I told you all about me, mostly because I didn't think it was important at the time, but I think you might be able to help me out with a little problem. Would you be interested in a mutually beneficial partnership?"

Her suspicion deepened. "What sort of problem?"

He cleared his throat. "Well, my mother has been hounding me about finding a nice girl to settle down with because she wants grandchildren sometime in the next decade. I'm really not ready for a serious relationship at the moment, so if you wouldn't mind pretending to be my girlfriend for a while, or even just dating for a bit, that would get her to leave me alone for a decent amount."

Hermione smiled teasingly. "What's the problem? Can't get real dates to do your dirty work for you?"

He laughed. "Nah, it's just that they never stick around long, and my mother knows that, so that's why I was hoping you'd go with the girlfriend option. If she sees you more than once, she'll back off, thinking I'm making progress."

"Hmm...maybe. And what do I get out of it?" she queried curiously.

He grinned. "One way to make John admit his feelings is by getting him jealous."

Now Hermione laughed. "So, I just flaunt you around in front of him and he'll profess his undying love for me?"

He smirked. "Not quite. More like he'll fly into a jealous rage at the mere mention of me."

She raised her eyebrows. "Sounds a little dangerous, don't you think?"

Devon shrugged. "You don't have to, Hermione, and you don't even have to decide now. Tell ya what. Go home, think it over, and next week come back here. Same time, same place, next week." He gave her a quick smile and waved as he got up from the booth and headed out the door.

Hermione sat stunned. She hadn't really thought he was serious. Pretending to be someone's girlfriend? Sure, she could understand that some mothers were overbearing like that, but he looked not even past twenty-five. Could Malfoy really be in love with her? Or, if not there yet, was he on his way to loving her? Did she like him that way? Well, he was certainly ridiculously attractive, more so than should be legal, really. And he intrigued her like nobody else. And he was entertaining to talk to, even when they were fighting. He was actually intelligent, and could hold a conversation about something other than food or Quidditch or homework or copying notes. And the passion between them...Merlin, her skin tingled just thinking about kissing him again. Not that she wanted to-

Oh, who was she trying to kid? She wanted Malfoy. Badly. And she might even have a soft spot for the bloody prick. Actually, her whole body was one giant soft spot for him. It was the only reason that explained why he got under her skin so easily. But she had no idea how that happened, because her body should have become one giant fortress against him, with everything he had done and said to her in the past.

But, she decided, there was really no point in denying it to herself now. She was certainly on her way to loving the prat, though by no means was she there yet. And she just had to know if Malfoy felt anything similar to what she did. Sure, he was trying to make everything sexual at the moment (and that was when he was being quasi-pleasant) but that could just be a cover for how he was feeling, right? She wouldn't find out until she tried.

Pretending to be Devon's girlfriend wouldn't be so bad. They didn't actually have to date. All she would have to do would be to show up at his mother's house once in a while, have dinner, pretend she was getting to know him. That didn't sound hard. It was certainly a small price to pay for a chance at getting Malfoy to finally let her see what he really thought, and to wipe that stupid, annoying smirk off his face every time he got close to her. He already knew that he could affect her, so it was about time she found a way to affect him back, that didn't involve actually snogging him.

Hermione flung herself out of the booth and dashed out of the diner. She looked both ways and fortunately spotted Devon not too far away down the sidewalk. She hurried and caught up with him, grabbing his arm.

Devon quickly turned around, but smiled when he saw Hermione bent over, panting and gasping. "Ya?"

"Y-yes!" she gasped out. "Let...let's do it," she responded breathlessly.

To her complete surprise, Devon grinned and picked her up in a giant hug. She squealed, but laughed, too, and he put her back down. "Great! Thanks, Hermione. Just you wait. John will be furious in no time, I'm sure of it."

She giggled. "Okay, well, I'm going to go back and pay for the food now."

"Oh!" he exclaimed. "Ya, thanks for reminding me about that." He dug out his wallet and handed her some money. "There. They would have caught me next time around, anyway, but since you're going back..."

She grinned at his forgetfulness. "Sure, thanks. So, are we still meeting next week?"

He thought for a few minutes. "Ya, I'll off-handedly mention you next time my mum calls and when she asks you to dinner I'll make it for next weekend. Sound good?"

She nodded and then paused. "What if I need your advice before then?"

He shrugged. "You could ask Mona to let me know next time I come in. Leave me a time and day, and I can nearly guarantee I'll be there. She's a sweetheart, so she won't mind passing on the message. If I can't make it she'll let you know when I can."

"Alright. Sounds good," she agreed. "Bye!" She waved and headed back into the diner, and then decided she ought to go back to the Manor. Malfoy had probably forgotten about her by this point anyway, and was home himself after all that attention. Heading back to the Leaky Cauldron, she giggled, still immensely pleased with herself for pulling off such a huge stunt.

~~~\~~~

Unfortunately for her, or fortunately depending on how one looked at it, Malfoy noticed her as soon as she walked into the Leaky Cauldron and yanked her aside. He was furious.

"Granger! What in Merlin's name were you doing in the Muggle world?" he fumed in a hushed voice.

She was very tempted to tell him to sod off because he didn't own her, but that reminded her of what Devon had said about making Malfoy jealous. She decided that she might as well start now.

"Oh, you know, just wandering around really. I had missed it. It's been such a long time since I took a long walk there. What took me so long was that I met a really nice bloke, and we hit it off immediately. I'm going to see him again next week!" she revealed excitedly.

Malfoy blinked and then narrowed his eyes. "You met a bloke? You made me sit here for hours because you met a bloke?"

She nodded happily, feigning obliviousness to his simmering rage. "Mhmm. His name's Devon." She sighed. "It' been such a long time since I've been on a date. I'm so happy, not even you can bring me down, Malfoy!" she mentioned cheerfully. "Now, come on. It's about time we got back home, don't you think?" She didn't wait for a response before brushing past his stunned body and readying herself to floo back home, humming the whole way.

***/***

He was going to kill the bloody bint one of these days.

It hadn't taken Draco long to realize that Granger had set him up with the reporters and impossibly compact crowd so that she could escape him. He had been impressed that she had pulled the wool over his eyes long enough to succeed. In hindsight, he knew the exact moment that she had gotten the idea into her head and put it into action, and he noted that she could be a decent actress when she really tried...well, this time, anyway. Normally she was horrid at it, but he supposed it must be easier around him because she didn't feel guilty about lying to him. To her friends or any of the Hogwarts professors, the guilt probably weighed her down enough to give her away. Was it a bad thing she had no such reservations with him?

In any case, she had managed to run off while he was occupied doing an interview with the lovely Lavender Brown in front of a giant crowd of tittering females. Some of those women were older than his mother. He shuddered in disgust and pushed that train of thought away. The interview had taken up about two hours or so, and he had managed to get away after that. He had assumed that Granger went straight to the bookstore, but she wasn't there and the shopkeeper said he hadn't even seen her. That was the moment he figured it out. After he registered being impressed, he got angry. And scared. He was angry at himself for letting her slip away so easily, and angry at her for being so uncharacteristically deceptive. But he was also scared that he would return to the Manor and his aunt would ask him where she was. And he wouldn't be able to tell her. And then she'd get mad at him for not keeping tabs on her, as he had promised, and send him back out to find her, ordering him not to return until he did. So, he skipped the embarrassing parts and just stayed at the Cauldron, waiting for her to come back.

He had waited. And waited. And waited. For a grand total of two hours, forty-two minutes, and thirty-nine seconds. He kept track, because he was going to hang it over her head every chance he got. Sure, Granger wouldn't feel guilty about lying to him, but he knew for a fact that she would feel guilty about making him wait. That was just the sort of person she was. Even if she pretended to his face that she didn't, he would know, and he would use that knowledge to his advantage, because it hadn't even been for a good reason!

She met a bloke. He scoffed mentally. Sure, it wasn't so far-fetched that a Muggle could be interested in her; she wasn't ugly, and in fact was rather attractive, really. But she was so bloody annoying all the time, though not in the same way as Pansy.

Pansy Parkinson, the girl he had dated on and off during school, had an annoying voice, an annoying walk (which she thought was seductive, but really wasn't), an annoyingly clingy personality, and had the most annoying way of knowing what he was thinking, except when it came to her. He and Pansy did think alike most of the time, but while she had been convinced that he had been in love with her, he most certainly hadn't. In fact, he had been the one to end their relationship every single time, but eventually he had gotten horny enough and took her back again because she was a reliable lay. She had had some silly idea that the more he had slept with her, the more in love with her he had fallen, and he had let her think that because telling her the truth would have been difficult and all-around tiring. She wouldn't have believed him, first of all, and if she finally had, she'd have spited him at every turn. Pansy Parkinson wasn't dangerous, per se, but she knew how to make things in your life extremely inconvenient when she was angry, so it was just smoother to play along with her delusions.

No, Hermione Granger was not annoying in the same ways as Pansy, but she was even more annoying than his ex-girlfriend only because he could never really shake her. Pansy, he had been able to keep content and away from him with the occasional lay and even a gift or trinket. Granger, he could rarely keep out of his head. It was like she knew exactly what to say or how to act just to make him angry at her. Fortunately, he wasn't as easy to read as she was, but he was affected all the same, and it annoyed him to no end.

The more time he spent with her in his aunt's manor, the more inexplicably attracted to her he felt. He had assumed that it was merely leftover lust from the fact that she had bailed the night before Graduation, leaving him completely unsatisfied. Granted, that had been partially his fault, because he had opened his stupid mouth about the Weasel, but he hadn't realized that she had had that much will power. He had seen that she had enjoyed his talents immensely. He had known that she had wanted more of him, all of him that night. He could have taken her that night. So why wouldn't the mere sight of her remind him of his unfinished conquest and drive him to finish the job?

But now he was starting to think it was something different. He had been genuinely concerned for her safety when the potion exploded. And as much as he tried to rationalize it as somehow being rooted in his lust for her, he knew that wasn't the real root. There was something else, some other emotion, that had made him worry about her. And he had felt that same worry rear his head for the whole two hours, forty-two minutes, and thirty-nine seconds until he saw her enter the Leaky Cauldron. As much as he cursed her, and himself, and feared his aunt, he had worried about Granger. Maybe she had gotten lost in Knockturn Alley, or been kidnapped by a rogue Death Eater wannabe, or slipped and hit her head on something and bled to death in some hidden corner. Thoughts like those had haunted him the whole time.

So when she mentioned that she had met a bloke and had made a bloody date with him, it only proved further that he wasn't only feeling lust. He hadn't cared whom his ex-girlfriends and shag buddies had dated. They could have slept with every bloke in the school for all he cared. But the thought of Granger kissing, and being kissed, and touching, and being touched by some other bloke made his blood boil and his hand itch to whip out his wand and hex the trespassing prick for touching his property.

It was only then that he realized, stunned into silence as he heard Granger cheerily hum some ditty on her way to the fireplace, that in his mind, Granger was his. His to annoy, his to touch, his to take care of and protect. Nobody else was allowed. If the prat had been a wizard, Draco would have had no problem tracking him down and intimidating him into staying away from her. But he couldn't quite do that to a Muggle without, you know, admitting the existence of the whole Wizarding world, and he couldn't Obliviate him without rendering the whole visit useless. Not to mention using anything like the Imperious curse would bring Granger's wrath on his head like another Voldemort. That was to be avoided at all costs.

So, since he couldn't directly influence the bloke, he'd have to influence Granger. He had to get her into his bed and keep her there. Well, at the moment she was rather keen on avoiding him, so he'd just have to trap her and seduce her. He'd actually have to start trying now, before the bloody Muggle got to her and convinced her to leave the Wizarding world forever.

~~~\~~~

When Draco arrived back at the Manor, his head was filled with all sorts of schemes and plots to seduce Granger, but he had to throw out at least most of them for sheer absurdity. Potions were out of the question because that wouldn't make her stay long-term without her acting suspiciously, and she'd be absolutely furious when she found out. Likewise, he couldn't use his wand, because any spell would produce the same effect as a potion and eventually make her angry enough to avoid him forever. He might be able to recruit his aunt into helping him, but there was a chance she'd reprimand him and tell Granger just to spite him. Even though he was named the woman's heir, he still hardly knew her. On the one hand, Granger probably already had a vague idea that he had been half-attempting to seduce her all along, and she still gave in...though rarely. On the other hand, if his aunt told her what was coming, then Granger would have the advantage of expecting it, which would definitely hinder his efforts. He had already underestimated her will power once, and he didn't intend to do so a second time.

He eventually concluded that he would investigate his aunt's opinions on the subject, subtly. If the signs were favorable, he'd bring it up. If not, he'd leave it alone. Worst case, he wouldn't have his aunt's help, so he'd just avoid her as he did normally, and focus on making the best out of his natural resources: his body and his knowledge of his target.

While Granger literally, and irritatingly, skipped off toward the dungeons, probably to work on her potion, Draco decided now would be the best time to approach his aunt. The sooner he knew her position, the better. He had a week before the Muggle prick could really get his hooks into Granger, and he intended on using it wisely, especially since he only had tonight to sleep in her bed. If he couldn't prove that she was still affected by the potion tomorrow, she'd demand that he get out of her room. She hadn't been nearly as emotional today as she had been yesterday, although he hoped she had been a little too happy about the bloke, meaning there was still some effect he could take advantage of tonight. Granted, he couldn't seduce her tonight because of his promise to her, but the more sexual thoughts she had about him, the better.

He found his aunt in the drawing room, as usual, playing with her stupid cat, which he was positive used to belong to Granger. He had usually seen it in her compartment on the train to and from school, and during the school year he occasionally had seen it trotting about Hogwarts as if it owned the place. It certainly looked like the same cat, except much fatter, and the name even sounded similar.

"Yes, Damien?" his aunt replied to his presence, still cooing at the bloody cat.

He scowled. She still couldn't remember his name. He had sworn that she had gotten it right at least a few times while he had been here. Now if only she could just bloody remember she had gotten it right.

"Draco," he corrected coolly.

She waved her hand dismissively. "Pish posh. Minor details. What do you want? Crooksy and I are busy."

Was this all that the woman did with her spare time? Maybe that's why she had stolen Granger's cat in the first place. Bloody spinster, or as good as, with her husband gone most of the time.

He cleared his throat. Which lie was the most probable? He sighed for effect, as if this was the last thing he wanted to talk about, but was obligated.

"My dear mother wants me to ask you about possible future marriage prospects for me. She says that you have access to 'different sorts of women' than she does." He rolled his eyes and set his expression to an impatient one.

His aunt raised her eyebrow at him. "It isn't like her to not ask me directly. I'm sure you've realized by now that she doesn't quite share the same...dislike for my husband as your late father did."

He nodded. "Yes, but she's apparently contracted a slight cold. You know how she is about appearances. She insists she has the Plague, and couldn't bear to be seen or heard in person. So, of course, this is what she spends her time thinking about, and wants an answer so she may continue planning out the rest of my life. You know, how many children I'll have, where I'll live, which job I'll take." He scowled, but didn't have to fake it. The woman really was insufferable.

"Hmm...that is true," his aunt mused, tapping her chin with a finger and still petting that blasted cat with the other hand.

Suddenly the doors behind Draco burst open and Granger dashed toward his aunt, stopping right next to him, yet completely ignoring him.

"Professor!" she gasped excitedly. She looked like she had flat out run all the way from the laboratory. "I've got it! I discovered the recipe!"

His aunt's lips quirked into a smile, but she kept her face mostly straight. "Now, now girl. Calm down and tell me."

And then Granger started babbling. She was still out of breath, but that didn't stop her from talking at the speed of light. All he caught were various potion-making terms here and there, like "lovage", "stir", and "cauldron". But his aunt seemed to understand perfectly, because she was nodding appreciatively and weighing Granger's words. Bloody women.

Finally, Granger stopped speaking. She didn't even try to hide her desperate, hopeful expression as she waited for his aunt's verdict.

The light in his aunt's eyes told him she had already made up her mind. But she made Granger sweat for a few moments before allowing her lips to turn up into a smug, proud smile. "I must say, girl, Severus was right. You are, indeed, brilliant."

Granger's face immediately lit up with pride, and then she did the unthinkable. She dashed up to his aunt and hugged her. Hugged her. Draco blinked as he watched Granger wrap her arms tightly around his aunt's shoulders. He fully expected his aunt to...well, he didn't know really. Nobody in his family hugged like that. It just wasn't done, except for the times when his mother had been worried about his safety. But that was in a crisis. There was no emergency here.

But she didn't sneer, or push her away, or make some scathing comment about affection. His aunt's lips tilted up into a warm smile as she lightly patted Granger's back. It was as close to a hug as the Malfoys ever got in a time of happiness.

As Granger finally pulled away and beamed at his aunt, his aunt patted her hand. "Now, girl, don't you think you ought to go tell St. Mungo's so they can get the trials underway?"

Granger gasped and nodded. "Yes, of course!" And she dashed right back out of the room, ignoring him. He glared after. He doubted she had even noticed his presence, and that irked him immensely.

"Oh, yes. What were we discussing?" his aunt asked, coming out of her own reverie.

"Future marriage prospects," he replied dutifully, wiping his expression clean and turning back to her.

"Ah, yes, we were. You know, Derek, you could do a lot worse than a woman like Hermione, but tell your mother I will look into the matter and owl her when I come up with a list."

Draco nodded apathetically and headed toward the doors. Mentally he was grinning. So, his aunt approved of Granger. That was one less obstacle, and a possible accomplice, though he decided not to bring that up quite so soon. Things were certainly looking up for him. He smirked.

***/***

After Hermione had sent the letter to St. Mungo's informing them of her final results, she went up to her room and fell back on the bed, sighing. Her back ached from standing over the cauldron for so many hours at a time, day after day, but it was worth it. She was one step closer to making a tangible contribution to academia, and deserved a bit of a rest.

She had almost dozed off, or at least entered some kind of half-conscious state when her bedroom door opened. She frowned. Who dared to enter her room without even asking for permission?

She woke herself up and sat up, staring at the doorway. Malfoy closed the door and leaned back on it, hands in his pockets and smirking at her, like usual. Oh, right. Malfoy's living in my room at the moment. She let herself fall back down and ignored him. She supposed she could have been a bit happier than normal about discovering the recipe, but it was hard to say because discovering a new potion was a pretty big accomplishment. Who's to say the potion wasn't already completely out of her system?

"So," Malfoy began, "I suppose I ought to offer my congratulations."

"Thanks," she grunted.

He sighed. "Granger, why are you avoiding me?"

She sighed in return. No nap time for her. She pushed herself back against the headboard for support and clasped her hands around her bent knees in front of her.

"Why wouldn't I avoid you, Malfoy? The only good thing that has come out of me knowing you is Devon. And that only happened because I was avoiding you. So, really, only good things happen when I avoid you."

She watched his face carefully as she spoke and was pleased when he openly scowled as she mentioned Devon's name. Well, Devon was right on that account. Malfoy clearly despised the thought of another bloke dating her. But she couldn't be sure it was because he felt more than lust for her yet. She wouldn't put it past him to feel some completely misplaced sense of possessiveness. He seemed like the spoiled brat who wanted his toys all to himself, even if he never used them.

He glared at her. "So making me wait three bloody hours for you because I didn't know where you were or if you were alive was a good thing? My aunt would blame me if anything happened to you because I'm supposed to be taking care of you. Don't you think of anyone but yourself?"

She couldn't help it. Hermione barked out a laugh. "HA! Oh, that's rich, coming from you. Don't you think that's the pot calling the kettle black? You're one of the most self-centered, narcissistic people I know. So don't even start with me about being selfish. You're the bloody poster boy for selfishness. You even just admitted that you were only concerned about me because of the repercussions you'd have to endure. You don't care about me. You care about you getting punished because of me."

As she said the words, her heart started breaking. She knew they were true. She had always known. But somehow she had stupidly held hope in the way he had been acting around her recently, especially when he had been so worried because the potion had exploded. But this just proved to her that she was right. Devon had been wrong. She was just a hobby, a side project, in Devon's words.

She pulled her knees tighter to her chest and rested her head forward on the top of them. She would not give him the satisfaction of crying about him in his presence.

"Malfoy, just go away," she pleaded tiredly. "I don't need your shite right now." She shut her eyes and fervently wished he'd listen to her for once, not even noticing he had made her openly curse almost as badly as Ron.

But, of course, he didn't go away, because that would have been helpful. The world would end if the boy actually did something that someone else wanted him to do.

"Granger..."

It seemed only a second had passed, but he sounded like he was standing right next to her now. She didn't dare open her eyes at the hint of softness in his voice. It was just an illusion, she tried to convince herself. It wasn't really there. He was cold and mean. He didn't feel anything except lust and pride. If it had been any other girl, she would see right through his façade and scoff at the girl for being so weak. So she tried, she tried to be strong. But now she could smell him, faintly. Yes, he was right next to her, and Merlin help her, she didn't want to be just another conquest.

And then she felt a warmth sliding up and down her back. She sighed as she remembered the comfort she had felt in his embrace. She yearned for the contentment and safety she had felt then, in her little cocoon. It was such a shame that it had to be Draco Malfoy that made her feel like this. But shame or not, that's how it was, and she had two choices. One, relax and let him touch her, even though he didn't deserve it. Or two, back away and give him a piece of her mind for jerking her around. The thought of submitting to him without even fighting made her choose the latter.

She twisted her body away from his hand and turned around, kneeling on the bed and glaring at him. "I told you to leave, not to touch me," she reminded him forcefully.

He rolled his eyes. "You're only telling me to leave because you want me to touch you. Really, I don't know why it kills you birds so much to just say what you mean."

And there it was, his usual, eloquent insult, this time looping her into the category of being a stereotypical, flighty female. He knew very well that she was anything but flighty, yet pretended she was just to get a rise out of her. Well, it worked. It evoked a profound disgust for his character that gave her the strength to fight with him.

"Maybe," she said acidly, "you ought to rip your head out of your own arse and pay attention! Yes, you are attractive, but that doesn't mean I want you around! God, this must have been how you felt with Pansy Parkinson. You can't just leave me alone for one bloody minute! I don't like you, Malfoy! I can't stand how arrogantly pig-headed you are! You are the human incarnation of everything that is wrong with this world, so why aren't you bloody dead yet?"

As soon as the words flew out of her mouth, she instantly regretted them. Most of it was true, but not everything. She didn't really wish him dead, but she didn't dare give him ground she had already claimed. If she gave him a millimeter, he'd take a full meter. She couldn't budge for him or she'd lose. So despite her conscience rising up to eat at her, her face stayed angry and hateful.

Malfoy blinked. "I am not Parkinson," he sneered. "Don't you ever compare me to her like that again," he warned, dangerously quiet.

Hermione smiled cruelly, wanting him to hurt. "Or what? What are you going to do, Malfoy? Glare at me to death? Give me a heart attack with your good looks? You couldn't hurt a Pygmy Puff...or Dumbledore." It was the lowest blow she could think of, and worked spectacularly.

The only warning she had was a single moment where his eyes burned with anger and his wand hand flexed. The next moment, her Shield Charm only just blocked a hex before shattering into mist. She dove to the floor on the opposite side of the bed, dodging another, but he quickly moved around to get a good angle and cast a third, which just barely grazed her. It was a Stinging Hex, so she lost a second from the pain, but managed to send her own Teeth Enlargening Jinx to distract him while she found a better position.

She hid behind the nearest bedpost for a couple spells before Malfoy cast a Confringo to blast the barrier out of existence. Having no other option, she evaded a Body-Bind Curse by rolling out of the way and then somersaulting toward Malfoy.

She could have tried to get further away, but she eventually would have been backed into a corner, if he hadn't caught her with the sheer volume of spells he was throwing at her. She could block with as many Shield Charms as she liked, but that would only tire them out, not resolve the duel. She had clearly underestimated his dueling ability. So she took a chance, hoping he wasn't as skilled at physical fighting as he was with magical.

Luckily, he paused long enough to stare at her in surprise, which allowed her to get close enough to sweep his leg out from under him, making him topple over. She silently thanked her father for convincing her to take a couple self-defense classes during one summer. 'Hermione,' he had said seriously, 'I know you can do all sorts of things with that nifty magical twig, but like any other weapon, it can be taken away from you. I'd feel much better if you knew how to make your own body a weapon so you won't be as defenceless should that happen. You'll always be my little girl, so humour me and make me feel a little safer by learning how to protect yourself.' She was now very, very glad she had acquiesced.

"Expelliarmus!" she said quickly, while he was down. He had already started to deflect it, but was a second too late due to being stunned by the fall. She stood up and grabbed his wand out of the air with her left hand while keeping her wand in her right still pointed at him.

They watched each other intently, both panting slightly from the exertion. She felt like her heart was going to beat out of her chest from adrenaline and fear of what he'd do next.

Finally, he spoke. "Where did you learn that, Granger?" he asked slowly.

She wanted to shrug noncommittally, but didn't dare let her guard down for a moment. "Class."

He raised an eyebrow. "No class at school ever taught that."

She smirked a little. "I didn't say from Hogwarts."

His lips tilted up just slightly. "Touché." He slowly sat up, eyeing her wand. "Are you going to put that thing down anytime soon?"

"Say you concede," she demanded.

Ten seconds passed in silence while he assessed their positions.

"I concede," he said finally.

Hermione let out a long breath and lowered her wand, ecstatic that she had won, and relieved they hadn't maimed each other too much. They were so volatile together that accidental death was a strong possibility, even with both parties purposefully avoiding it.

Malfoy stood up and straightened himself out. Then he reached out his hand, palm up. "My wand?"

Hermione reached out with her left hand to hand him back his wand. His fingers closed around her wrist instead. She looked at it in surprise for a moment before he yanked her to him, lifted her up a little, and then threw her to the side. She fell backward onto the bed, but didn't have time to react before he was on top of her, yanking her wand out of her hand and tossing it far behind him. He trapped her hands against the pillows on either side of her head by lacing their fingers together and pressing downward.

She glared and hissed, "Of all the treacherous, cowardly-!"

He smirked. "I win. You Gryffindors really are far too trusting."

"You conceded!" she argued.

"You ought to know by now that I'll say anything to get out of a disadvantageous situation. It's almost cute that you actually thought I gave up."

She screamed in rage and struggled against him, cursing that he was right. She was usually so careful around slimy snakes like him. She didn't know why she hadn't just kept his wand and held it for ransom. It was certainly what she was going to do next time. Surely they'd come to blows again.

He chuckled. "Granger, here's a free piece of advice. If you keep flailing around like that you're just going to tire yourself out and make it easier for me to restrain you. Bide your time until you can focus it all in one attack. You'll have a better chance of succeeding that way."

She narrowed her eyes. "Like this?" She moved her knee inward and shoved it upward.

Malfoy's leg jumped out of the way to protect his privates and then used the space under her raised leg to slide himself between it and her other leg. She gasped when their pelvises touched, as the position reminded her of Graduation Eve, and the previous night when she had teased him. She wondered if he had planned this position on purpose just to remind her what it felt like, or if she was overthinking it.

"Precisely like that, except you want to be a lot less predictable," he replied cheekily.

She stared at him wide-eyed, angry, and aroused. She desperately hoped he couldn't feel how much her body had warmed up upon contact with his, and it wasn't just because they were both alive. That smirk of his was always infuriating, but being pressed up against him so intimately made it seem sensual and predatory. It became less of an arrogant taunt, and more of a promise of overwhelming, imminent pleasure. Her insides clenched and for one terrifying second, she wondered if maybe he knew exactly how his most trivial actions affected her.

He lowered his face down for the barest brush of his lips on hers, while simultaneously pressing the bulge in his trousers against her just enough for her to have no doubt of her own effect on him. The unexpected jolt of pleasure and want shifted her world like an Obliviate, making her forget everything she had just been thinking.

As his lips and hips withdrew, her own followed a few centimeters, trying to maintain contact. A whimper from the lack of warmth passed her lips before she could stop it.

He leaned back down and rubbed his body sensuously against hers, making her arch against him. She could feel him hard and ready, and for the first time in her life, found herself practically dripping wet from anticipation.

Ron had never had the patience to make her feel like this. Or perhaps they had been too much like oil and water, never truly able to mix. Fantastic sex, from what she had heard, required a lot of mixing.

"Does this seem familiar to you, too?" Malfoy breathed into her ear.

The triumph in his voice immediately fueled her anger, which mixed with her lust to form a vindictive sort of honesty.

"Yes," she replied just as breathlessly, relishing the words on her tongue. "It reminds me of the other time you tried to have me and failed. You still can't keep your mouth shut."

His whole body stiffened, which made her smirk. He slowly raised his upper body to move his face in front of hers, eyeing her carefully.

"I have you at my mercy, Granger. I've already won."

His words were confident, but his tone was not. She could taste the uncertainty as he scrutinized her face.

So she laughed throatily at him, basking in the sudden clarity she had gained. "You haven't won anything, Malfoy. You fancy yourself a lion tamer, do you? You can't tame me any more than I can tame you. That's what's so exciting about it. You want to conquer me utterly, so completely that I beg for you to take me. But you know very well that I refuse to beg."

His grey irises burnt to charcoal, and she wasn't sure if it was more because of anger or lust, but it was definitely due to some combination of both.

"I've already made you beg for me," he reminded her forcefully.

"Have you?" She asked innocently. "I can't recall ever doing anything of the sort."

He pressed his body down on hers hard. "You bloody minx," he growled accusingly.

She smirked. "Now who's the lion tamer?"

That sent him over the edge, provoking him to attack her all at once. He thrust hard against her core, which made her gasp against his mouth. He took complete advantage, seeking her tongue with his to prove to her that he could tame and dominate her in every way.

But she was ready for the assault, rubbing her body against his to make him lose all control, to prove that he wasn't as all-powerful in the bedroom as he believed. He was good, but he wasn't untouchable in any sense of the word.

During her own fruitless mission to dominate him, however, she forgot that her self-control wasn't endless, either. The sexual potential pulsed through her body like a steady drum beat, strong and loud. She needed to touch him everywhere and anywhere she could reach, so she flexed her fingers against his, trying to communicate her need.

He released them. Her hands dove into his hair, grasping the roots to keep him in place. His lifted up her clothed legs and pressed them against his sides. She took the hint and wrapped them tightly around his waist, pulling their bodies even closer together. She moaned, but knew it still wasn't enough. She needed...connection, something that melded them together so that they were no longer two people, but one. She needed to mix somehow.

She needed sex. There was an annoying voice in the back of her mind that was yelling something about not needing it, and she shouldn't be in this position in the first place. A second voice told the first to shut the bloody hell up and let her enjoy it. Who knew if she'd even get a second chance? The first voice then mumbled something about preserving dignity, but went silent after that.

With that settled, Hermione clung tighter to him and grinded her body against his. She smirked as he groaned into her mouth, holding her just as tightly and grinding back. They broke the kiss only due to the necessity of oxygen, but Malfoy didn't waste a second. His lips and tongue went straight for her neck and shoulder, making her moan and gasp as he sucked. After he left a satisfactory mark on her neck, he shoved her shirt up above her breasts. He thrust against her to make her back arch, leaving his hands enough space to unhook her bra. They parted for a few moments to get the annoying articles off of her, but once she was bare from the waist up, he attacked her breasts with a ferocity that left her breathless from moaning.

She couldn't take the heat anymore. It was reaching a fever pitch and she needed to do something about it. So her hands went straight to his belt and started undoing it. To her utter surprise, he slid his hands out from under her back and gripped hers tightly, stopping their progression.

She glanced up at him. "What?" she breathed.

He closed his eyes for what seemed like forever, but was probably only about ten seconds. He took a deep breath before opening them again. He looked straight into her eyes, slightly frowning.

"I promised," he replied seriously.

She frowned back, trying to figure out what he was talking about. It took longer than normal because her brain was so thickly fogged with lust, but she managed. Her mouth opened, and then closed.

She nodded. "You did. But..." she trailed off, not sure how to express what she was feeling.

He stared at her intently, still riled up himself. "Can you honestly tell me that at this very moment, you are one hundred percent positive there isn't a drop of that potion left in your system?"

She bit her lip and shook her head sadly. So much had happened today that she couldn't be sure. All of the extreme emotion she had felt today could have been her, or it could have been heightened by the potion. But she wanted him so badly. She wanted to argue that she was enough in her right state of mind that a little bit of amplification didn't matter, yet it wasn't like her to lust after him this much, and it didn't seem like only a little bit of amplification. She could have lied to him, but she didn't want to. She'd be lying to herself, too, ultimately. And she didn't want to do that anymore.

So she sighed, and tried to keep her lust under control. Her one consolation was that he seemed to be just as affected and reluctant as she was. He wanted it, too, badly, but they both knew that stopping was for the best. She started to get out from under him, but he stopped her again, this time with a smirk.

"Where do you think you're going?" he teased.

She blinked, wondering how his tone suddenly seemed so light, as if they hadn't been snogging like chain-smokers and their cigarettes. "I-I don't know. Just, somewhere else. Or at least to get dressed or...something," she replied slowly.

He leaned back on top of her, flooding her once again with heat. She sighed and basked in the warmth's return.

"Nonsense," he whispered seductively. "I also promised I'd take care of you, remember?"

She licked her lips and nodded, her brain still muddled as she waited for his next move. Her heart thudded in anticipation. He slowly captured her lips and she moaned, opening for him instantly. He was far too good at distracting her. The next thing she knew, her pants were open and he was shoving them and her underwear down her thighs. She wanted to ask what he thought he was doing, since they had just agreed not to have sex, but she was too afraid that he'd stop if she did.

The moment he started rubbing her, she felt like slapping herself for not getting it sooner. Obviously I should have figured it out. He's only done it twice before, one of which wasn't twenty-four hours ago! But her mental self-beratings could wait, because the thrusting of his fingers and the slithering of his tongue ensured that the only coherent thoughts she could form had nothing to do with being elsewhere and everything to do with his salacious reputation being well-deserved.

A/N 2: Since I too easily lost track of time last chapter, I'm going to ask you all to give me more stuff to add into the next chapter to keep me focused. This time, give me something irritating, something mortifying, and the funniest insult you've ever heard. Ready? Go!