Quick review reply before I begin: to HarryPGinnyW4Eva, I am in complete agreement with what you said. However, I felt that, since I did get a nice amount of constructive criticism on my previous story, and a number of those readers have followed, I have been hoping for a bit of the same. I have been getting more than perhaps a writer with few stories would normally get, and I appreciate it, but, like I've said several times, I want to make a living out of writing, which means I will need some form of criticism. Even a "yes, I love it, please write more."

I do understand that it might seem selfish on my part to demand more reviews, and yes, receiving favourites please me to no end, but I always like to hear a little bit on why. If the reader does not want to review, I will not pressure them, but I have to say that, having received 19 reviews for the third chapter and only 6 for the fourth put a real damper on my self-confidence (and I lack it, trust me. I may act like I'm all "yayay, I'm great," but I think otherwise). So yeah, it is nice to see people favouriting them, but if you have a reason, a particular scene, or if you like my writing, I encourage the readers to review.

Trust me, writers love to receive reviews.

Well…I suppose this branched off to a bit more than just a reply to you, eh? Haha. But yes, I do agree with what you said.

So, to all readers out there, do not feel pressured to review, but we, the writers, do appreciate every single review. Do not be afraid to do it, but you are not obliged to.

So, I will not be instating the # of reviews before posting next chapter rule. I just couldn't do that to you guys or myself. Sorry if I was a bitch last chapter, guys!

Onto Chapter 6, Draco eating a Muggle dinner and discussing dentists. Fun.

Disclaimers: Songs of Innocence and Experience belong to William Blake, Narcissus in Chains belongs to Laurell K. Hamilton, and the Lord of the Rings Trilogy belong to J.R.R. Tolkien. Just so that nobody yells at me.

Chapter 6

Literary Smut and Teeth Doctors

The kitchen was warm, a gentle heat that was neither overwhelming nor too faint. It was comforting, the warmth of the air, the emotions that swam around within it to make the atmosphere more calming than stressful. They sat at the table, peeling and cutting away at various vegetables, and his mind slowly began to wander.

He had to admit it; he had never felt such a soothing atmosphere before in his entire life. The kitchen at home had always been a cold place, void of life, love and the same warmth that wrapped him in a warm blanket in this kitchen. It had been a place of panic and anxiety, a place where only the lower-class would come to work and serve those of higher status.

It had never once replicated the soothing embrace of a mother's.

This one was different; even though he had just stepped into this home for the first time in his life, even though these people had every right to hate him, they accepted him into their home and made him feel more very much at home. Her mother stood by the stove, sliding open the oven door every so often to let the mouth-watering scent of the roast filter through the air as she checked the meat. The vegetables were boiling away on the stovetop now, their lingering scents mingling just enough with the meat and the homely scent to make him feel almost at peace.

He wanted to say that he hated the place, that he hated everything these people stood for, but he could not do anything but sit back and listen to their discussions as he tried his hardest to wrap the blanket of love tighter around his form.

Never before had he felt so accepted; even at school, the students had been wary. His friends had been few and far between, and even their families had been cautious when it came to him. He was the Malfoy boy, he was richer than most and had a powerful bloodline and no one wanted to upset him. The families avoided having him over at all costs, and yet, this family welcomed him into their home with open arms, unafraid of his bloodline or his power.

To them, it didn't matter where you came from, didn't matter who you were, so long as you had a good heart.

He wondered briefly if he did have a good heart; it was tainted, he knew that at least. He had done things that he was not proud of and never would be proud of, he had said things that caused unbearable pain, and he had been just as cruel as his father.

Perhaps, he thought, these people saw something in him that even he couldn't see. At least, he hoped for it. He hoped that there was indeed a pure part of him, that he was not too tainted, and that they were not simply imagining it for the sake of their daughter.

"Draco…"

Lifting a brow, he tucked his thoughts away for another time before looking up to meet Hermione's gaze.

"Hmm?"

"Did you not listen to a word I said?"

He shrugged, trying to look more nonchalant than embarrassed and gave her an award winning grin. "Was I supposed to be listening?"

Rolling her eyes, Hermione heaved a loud sigh and looked over to her mother. "You see what I have to put up with? I was asking," she said, turning back to Draco, "if you wanted to help us set the table; supper is almost ready."

"Is that really what you wanted to know?"

"Yes."

"That life-threatening question I didn't hear that caused you to sigh and whine? Honestly, Hermione, and you wonder why I sometimes stop listening to you."

Hermione flicked a leftover string-bean in his direction; grin fading as he easily dodged it. "You prat."

"Besides," he began, acting as though she had not just tried to hit him with a little green vegetable, "I already helped with the preparations."

"Are you trying to get out of helping set the table?" Hermione sighed, getting to her feet to pour herself a glass of water.

"No, I'm just stating a fact," he said pointedly, nodding his head as though it was clearly going to end the argument and result in calming her down. He reached out, grabbing her hand as she walked by him, pulling her body close to his. "Besides," he whispered in her ear, "Malfoys do not set tables."

"Oh," she sighed, "you insufferable prat." She tugged on his grip, trying to pull her arm free and move away from his body. "Can't you go one minute without mentioning your damn bloodline?"

"But," he continued, keeping her close as he ignored her words, "I think I will make an exception. Only, I will require compensation."

Having not caught onto his suggestive tone, Hermione remained in the dark and looked over to him, at least as much as she could; she only got a glimpse of his hair and ear, she was that close. "What do you…?"

He grinned against her ear, sliding his tongue out to play with the lobe. "I think you know what I mean." This time, he breathed into the shell, sending shivers racing down her spine.

Her face instantly turned red, body tensing with a combination of embarrassment and need as she replayed the scenario in her mind. "Don't say stuff like that," she hissed back, glancing over to her mother, who was a little too focused on watching the vegetables cook. "My mum is in the kitchen, you know. My parents cannot know that we've…you know."

"No, I don't know," Draco said with a grin, earning a pinch in retaliation.

"Mum," Hermione said loudly, leaning back to look at her mother, "I'm going to show Draco the rest of the house, is that okay?"

Jean nodded with a smile. "Yes, just keep the doors open and don't be too long," she replied with a wink.

Groaning inwardly, Hermione grabbed Draco's hand and pulled him out of the kitchen, down a hall and up a flight of stairs, waving to her dad stationed in the living room on the way. Once upstairs, he was tugged down another hallway and couldn't help but grin when she yanked him into a bedroom.

"Well, well, I knew you couldn't wait," he began, staring around what had to be her bedroom, eyeing the bed in particular.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione turned on the light and faced him. "Honestly, could you get your mind out of the gutter for more than five seconds? I brought you here to talk."

"What is it that you want to talk about that we can't discuss in front of your mum?" he asked, making his way over to the simple wooden dresser, the top of which was decorated with various little knickknacks and, surprisingly a couple of candle-holders.

"What do you think?" she asked, sending a pointed look his way. "Be careful," she added when he picked up a glass candle-holder in the shape of a wolf, "it's fragile.'

"I figured that," he snorted, "it's made of glass."

Placing the item back in its place, he turned around and continued his examination of the room, ignoring her words yet again as he eyed the simple blue walls, the full-length mirror decorating her closet door, and the bookshelf was that literally overflowing with books of all shapes and sizes.

"Why am I not surprised?" he asked aloud, squatting down to look at various volumes. "Well, well, well, I am surprised. Trashy romance novels, Hermione dear?" he asked, pulling out a book published by none other than Harlequin.

"Shove it, even I like to read something simple once in a while," she said, sitting down on the small yet comfortable double bed that sat in the corner of the room facing the bookshelf.

"Seems you like to read these a lot," he replied, finding several other books with titles that all seemed to reference heat, men, manly professions, and perfection. "Honestly, Wet Heat? That's almost pornography!"

"It just about was," she mumbled, keeping her eyes on her knees as he turned to stare at her.

"I love this," he grinned, "I'm learning all of these little embarrassing secrets you have. Who would have guessed that Hermione Granger liked to read smutty books? I'm borrowing this." He slid the book off of the shelf and, with a way of his wand, shrunk it and pocketed it.

"No!" she cried, whipping out her wand. "Accio…"

"Oh, come on," he interrupted, sending her a sly grin. "Isn't this something couples do? Don't they share things?"

"Yes, but…"

"We are supposed to share hobbies, so, if you enjoy reading smut, then I will see if I enjoy it."

"I do not approve of this," she snapped.

"Oh, but I do," he replied, charming his pocket with a quick wave. "There, now you will not be able to Summon any item from my pocket."

"Damn you, Ferret boy."

"Oh, well that is a name you haven't used in a while," he said with a laugh. "Upset are we?"

"I'm going to make you pay."

He continued to grin, looking back over her shelves. "Consider this my compensation."

Groaning, she fell back on the bed, covering her face with a pillow as he continued to peruse her books, letting out sounds of glee whenever he found something particularly interesting or embarrassing.

"Anita Blake? What hell is this? Some kind of vampire series?" he asked aloud, picking up a copy of Narcissus in Chains. Flipping through the pages, he suddenly let out a hoot of triumph. "Jackpot! This is bloody brilliant! A massive orgy! I never knew you liked this stuff, you filthy vixen."

While the nickname would normally arouse certain feelings in her lower body, she only groaned louder. "Please…put it back…"

"Oh hell no, I'm reading the whole scene now."

"Accio Narcissus in Chains," she mumbled, quite content to feel the spine of the book pressed against the palm of her hand and his sound of dismay.

"Cheater."

"Prat."

"Reader of smut."

"Sneaky ferret."

"You like written porn!" he cried out, causing her to send her pillow flying in his direction.

"Sod off."

Tossing the pillow back at her, he stood up to look over the upper shelves, growing more and more disappointed as the books shifted from smut to Milton, romance trash to satires by Pope and poetry by Blake. Then, on the topmost shelf, were several books from school.

"You still kept those bloody Gilderoy Lockhart books?"

"Even if he did take other people's credit, they were still true stories and very interesting to read," she said, sitting up. "I need to talk to you about something."

"What is it?" he asked, lowering himself to examine the far more interesting shelves laden with Muggle literature. Pulling out a copy of Blake's Songs of Experience, he began to flip through the pages.

"Well…it's about my parents. They're a bit....well…they think I'm a…"

"Virgin."

"Yes."

"And what's the problem with that? You just have to explain to them that you aren't anymore," he said, reading through The Chimney Sweeper. "Damn, religion is a bitch."

"I, well, yes, Blake pointed that out in his Songs of Experience, but that is not what I want to discuss. You see…I don't want my parents to find out."

"Why is that?" he asked, flipping through to find another poem.

"Because…well…they think I'm still a virgin…and they have this idea in their heads that I will remain so until I get married to the right bloke."

"And?"

She arched a brow, sitting on the edge of her bed, hugging the pillow to her body, more for comfort than to be comforted. "What do you mean? That's it."

"There's an 'and' in there," he replied, lifting his head from the book to turn and look at her. When she gave him a confused look, he continued. "And your father will probably try to kill me if he finds out I've defiled his beautiful little flower."

"Oh," she said, face blushing red. "I…I never thought of that…I suppose it's true."

Draco leaned back and flashed her a grin. "Of course you wouldn't, you still are quite the virgin in mind."

"Bugger off."

Moving back to the book, he replaced it back on the shelf and restarted his perusal of her texts. "So, you don't want mummy and daddy to know that, as the Americans would say, we've 'done the deed,' correct?"

"Well yes, in a nutshell; I would prefer to avoid the embarrassment if it's possible," she said, stretching out her legs in front of her. "To be honest, I think it would be the best for both of us."

"Because if daddy tries to kill me, I might have to retaliate," he said more than questioned, sliding another book off of the shelf. "What is this? Lord of the Rings?" He grew silent as he began reading the back of the novel.

"It's a very good trilogy," she replied with a smile. "So, do you promise not to tell my parents anything about our…personal relationship?"

"I suppose I have no choice," he sighed, opening the first few pages of the thick novel.

Her eyes narrowed and she sent a glare in his direction. "And what is that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I am pretty positive that you would try to harm my body in some way or form."

"You prat," she snapped, whipping the pillow at the back of his head.

He, fortunately, did not see it and jerked forward, letting out a cry of surprise and pain as the pillow slammed against his head. She let out a hoot of triumph as he cursed loudly, dropping the book on his foot, which only added insult to injury. Spinning around on the spot, he sent her a furious glare and strode towards the bed, dark intent making his eyes to blacken to the hue of storm clouds.

Her eyes widened with surprise as he fell upon her, pushing her down hard against the soft bed, and she let out a yelp of shock when his breath mingled with hers, face lowering so that his forehead pressed against hers.

"Draco…" she began and was promptly cut off when his fingers ran up her sides.

"That hurt," he growled softly, eyes dark with the promise of retribution. "You didn't have to do it."

"You were being a prat," she replied firmly, trying to not let his wandering hands get the better of her, fighting to keep some semblance of control.

"I'm going to have to make you pay," he answered, sliding his hands back down to run along the sides of her stomach, stopping along the same horizontal line as her navel.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, grateful that her voice was void of worry.

He flashed a rather maniacal grin, before answering with, "This," and his fingers began worry in a fury, tickling and running along her sides as she squealed with delight.

"No! Stop!" she cried through her laughter, wriggling to get out of his grip as his fingers danced along her sides and stomach, tickling her in every spot he knew would cause her to nearly piss her pants. She squirmed and squealed, writhing to try to escape his touch as his fingers danced furiously along her body, earning coughing laughter from her.

He continued to smirk at her, holding her squirming body in place with his while one of his hands trailed down her leg to tickle behind her knee, causing her to let out a loud shriek of laughter when he ran his finger along the ticklish spot.

"Stop! Stop!" she nearly sobbed, face turning red, breathing heaving as she fought to get in enough air between each squealing laugh.

"Why should I?" he asked in a strangely calm voice, almost eerily calm considering the situation.

"Be…because…this is torture!" she squealed, trying her hardest to claw her way across the bed, to find a way to fall on the ground and run away as fast as her legs could carry her.

"Good," he replied, moving one hand to tickle her underarm. "You deserve it; you weren't very nice, Hermione."

"You were being a prat," she sobbed between laughs.

"You still didn't have to hit me," he replied, moving his hand back down to her side, pinching and tickling, enjoying the feeling of her muscles contracting under his fingertips through the thin cotton of her v-neck sweater. "This is your punishment."

"I'm…I'm sor…" she ended her words on another high-pitch laugh as he continued to tickle her with a fervour unmatched by anything she had ever experienced before.

"You're what?"

"Sorry!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you," he replied, moving to lock her kicking legs in place with his own, making sure that the position would not enable her to kick him right where it would hurt.

"I'm sorry! Stop…I'm going to pee my bloody pants!"

"Alright." He suddenly moved his hands away, remaining pressed on top of her, watching as she heaved for breath.

She shut her eyes, each breath gasping and shuddering as she fought to refill her body with much needed oxygen. Her heart hammered wildly against her ribs, skin flushed from the tickling, and her pulse raced through against her throat. Slowly, when she had managed to gain enough breath to speak, she slowly opened her eyes, meeting Draco's smouldering grey gaze inches away from hers.

"You're such a prat," she murmured, unable to speak above a whisper; her throat hurt that much from laughing.

"I know," he grinned, lowering his mouth down so that their breath mingled once more.

Her body tensed in anticipation, her eyes darkening to the colour of aged whiskey as she prepared for the feeling of his lips pressed against hers.

She could almost feel them…

"What was going on in here?"

Draco's head snapped up, face mottling red as Robert stood in the doorway, a mixed look of confusion and annoyance on his face. Draco immediately moved away from Hermione, sliding off of the edge of the bed to land on his bum. Hermione, all the while, rubbed her face, almost as though it would remove the redness and wash away the embarrassment.

Robert's gaze shifted from the bed, the blankets on which were rather mussed up, to the pillow on the ground beside the forgotten book. Arching a brow, he looked back over to his daughter for an answer.

"'Mione?"

"It was my fault."

His eyes instantly shifted over to Draco, who had managed to brush himself off and stand with more dignity than he thought he had at the moment. Running a hand through his hair, he took in a deep breath and continued in order to answer the man's questioning gaze.

"You see…I made a joke about some of Hermione's books, and she thought it would be funny to throw a pillow at me," he grinned, almost as though he thought it would alleviate the tension in the air. "So, I decided to tickle her as punishment."

Robert stared at the younger man, eyeing him, almost as though he were trying to examine the man's mind and see whether or not the blond was lying.

"'Mione, is this true?" He knew that his daughter would never lie to him.

"Yes, dad," Hermione replied, sitting up after having finally removed the redness from her cheeks and had regained her breath. "You see, he knows that I'm rather ticklish, and I suppose it wasn't very nice of me to throw the pillow at him…"

Nodding slowly, the father looked over the couple once more, uncertainty in his eyes, before he heaved a sigh. "You're always been too silly for your own good," he said with a shrug of his shoulders. Draco sent a look of disbelief to Hermione, who sent one of her own in return. "Well, supper is ready, so you two better hurry down," he added before turning to leave the room.

Once his footsteps fell out of earshot, Hermione let out a loud sigh of relief. "I'm lucky that dad's so nice," she said, getting to her feet, making her bed.

"He looked like he wanted to kill me," Draco muttered, moving to pick up the book and pillow. "And what the hell did he mean you were too silly? Since when have you ever been silly?"

Frowning at her boyfriend, she finished the final touches on the bed, accepting the pillow from him. "I'll have you know that I can be silly."

"Yes," he said, shrinking the book and pocketing it, following her out of the room, "but, it is so difficult to imagine you being silly."

She sent him a glare, silently threatening him to continue. "Honestly, we're lucky that my dad believed us."

"But it was the truth," Draco pointed out, knowing that it would be futile to continue the discussion on her silliness, or lack thereof.

"Yes…but, he could have ignored us and have kicked you out," she replied, turning to face him as they reached the top of the stairs. "He was probably thinking we were about to…do it…when he came in."

Draco rolled his eyes in response. "Hermione, you have got to get your mind out of the gutter; stop thinking about me violating you for more than five seconds."

"You're an arrogant git," she muttered, marching down the stairs ahead of him.

"But you love me," he replied with a grin.

"Sod off."

"The world's greatest love declaration if I have ever heard one," he said, placing a hand to his heart for added effect.

"Shove it."

"And more words of love! How wonderful!"

"If you do not stop, I will be forced to push you down the stairs," she snapped, turning to glare at him.

"Oh, but that would be in vain, for it appears that were are at the bottom of the stairs. Hermione, my dear, where has all of that intellect gone; it appears that you believe I will be harmed if you push me down one step."

"Don't make me try."

He landed beside her, hopping over the last step, and draped an arm over her shoulder. "You're so cute when you get violent," he said with a grin, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

She rolled her eyes; wanting to do nothing more than dig her elbow into his ribs in retaliation. "Don't make me hurt you," she threatened, turning to ensure that the front door was locked before leading through the living room – which was quite nicely furnished, if Draco had any say in it – before entering the dinning room through an arched entrance.

He followed, assuming that obedience might earn him more points than arguing with her, particularly since he wanted to make a good impression on her parents. He knew that Jean was growing fond of him, but he also knew that Robert probably wanted his head on a stake at the moment.

The mouth-watering scent of roast beef filtered through the air, mingling with buttered vegetables and mashed potatoes, making his stomach churn before he even stepped in and saw the sight of the table laden with the food. Jean and Robert were already seated at either end, waiting patiently for the couple.

"Mum, this smells delicious," Hermione gushed, taking the seat positioned in front of the cabinet, leaving Draco the seat across the table from her.

"Yes, Jean, it looks amazing," Draco added, knowing that compliments would please Jean and it didn't hurt seeing as it was the truth.

"Thank you," Jean said with a smile, cheeks growing pink with glee. "I thought that it would be nice to serve ourselves, that's why the table's set up in a way."

Draco hadn't asked a thing, neither had Hermione, but he quickly assumed that this was not the normal fashion in which they ate. Draco, too, typically ate in a different fashion, with House Elves bringing trays laden with the food and taking away the plates once they were done.

This would prove to be a rather educational experience.

Supper began with no issues, bowls and plates were passed around, white plates soon groaning under the weight of the food, glasses filled with water or wine, and discussion was light for the most part, comments on the food here or there, a few questions about school, but nothing personal or really entertaining.

They were about halfway through supper when the phone rang, piquing Draco's curiosity as Jean rushed to answer it. After watching the woman run to the kitchen, he turned to look at Hermione.

"What was that?" he asked.

"The telephone," Hermione replied matter-of-factly, placing a forkful of beans into her mouth.

"What is a…tell-a-foam?" he asked, curiosity slowly taking over his mind.

Swallowing, she sent him a look that told him he would pay for his constant questioning. "It's tel-le-phone," she corrected with a quiet sigh, "and it's the Muggle way of communication. There are lines set up all throughout the world, wireless towers that connect them, and we are able to communicate through these lines and towers. Sort of like the internet, but only for speech."

"Wizards don't have telephones?"

Draco looked over to Robert, noticing that the same curiosity he felt was currently displayed on the man's face. The blond slowly shook his head in answer, seeing this opportunity as a way of gaining better favour of the man who had nearly caught the blond snogging the hell out of his daughter. "No, we don't need them; we use the Floo Network or the O.P.D.S., Owl Postal Delivery Service."

"What's a Floo Network?"

Draco sent a look to Hermione, silently asking her why she had never described Floo transportation to her parents, before turning to the man. "We use this powder called Floo powder. When we throw it into a fireplace, it opens a gateway to all other fireplaces that are open publicly. Using this, we step into the fire, name the place we want to go to and we're sent there."

"Or," Hermione added, "we can just put our heads in and they will appear in the location we want them to as a reflection of image in the other fireplace. That way, we can talk to people who are thousands of miles away, just like the telly."

"Wow, that's fascinating!"

All heads turned to see Jean standing in the doorway of the dining room, looking more pleased than a child who had just gotten his favourite candy and toy in the same five-minute span.

"Well it is, isn't it?" she asked when Robert sent her a look that reminded Draco of Hermione. "It's so…magical."

Hermione nearly groaned aloud at her mother's corny use of words and quickly stuffed potatoes before she made any sound or said any words that would speak her thoughts. Robert, too, looked like he was about to say something in response, while Draco covered his laughter through several coughs, waving away Jean's assistance by choking out that he had swallowed the wrong way. Hermione eyed him from the across the table, knowing fully well that he had had nothing in his mouth before the coughing and sent him a kick under the table.

This caused him to jerk in response, and he coughed louder as he sent a kick her way, picking up his water to clear his throat.

Hermione sent him one more look before focusing a little too much on cutting up her meat.

With the curious questions answered satisfactorily, the dinner resumed its usual pace, silent yet comfortable, not tense as Draco had feared it would be. Then again, he should have expected her parents to very accepting if they were anything like their daughter. Hermione was one of the most accepting individuals he had ever met; her mind was not closed off but open, she did not prejudice against anyone, Slytherins and Purebloods included. He knew that she had her own basic beliefs or biases of rich Purebloods, but she was not about to push them away just because of that.

She, like her parents it seemed, worked to get to know someone before making any judgment on them.

For this, he was glad; he was nothing like the despicable, sad excuse for a father he had had.

Once the plates were cleaned and their stomachs full, Draco stretched in his seat, saying his praise for the delicious food. It was true; never before had he eaten roast beef that just melted on his tongue in a delicious mixture of flavours, he had never eaten softer or creamier potatoes, and the vegetables were just the right tenderness, mingling with the butter to create a myriad of tastes on his tongue. He had no choice but to comment Jean on her outstanding work in the kitchen and prayed that it had been passed down to her daughter.

After Jean gushed loudly for quite a bit, Robert cleared his throat and stood up.

"Draco, would you mind helping me clear the table?"

It was a simple question, easy to answer, and held so many implications and hidden intentions that Draco knew that by refusing he would insulting the family, but in accepting, he would be forced to endure the What-Are-Your-Intentions-Concerning-My-Baby-Girl speech.

Damn it all to hell.

Hermione sent him a sympathetic look as he lifted her plate, reaching out to gently rub his hand in a comforting way, knowing fully well that he was not looking forward to her father's speech and questioning. Jean, all the while, pretended that she was absolutely clueless to the situation and quickly engaged Hermione in a conversation about school.

Once in the kitchen, Draco began placing the dishes in the sink, not sure how to go about washing them. He knew that it required soap and something to wipe them with…right?

But…where was the soap? He could not find a single bar of soap and was left confused as to how he was to go about washing them. A part of him was relieved; maybe they ran out of soap and he wouldn't have to spend the rest of the visit trying to figure out how to go about washing dishes.

He knew how to turn on the tap and that was it.

"Just rinse them off and load them into the dishwasher," Robert said, rummaging through the cupboard to tug out several large plastic containers.

"Dish…washer?" Draco asked slowly, looking around for some kind of item that might wash the dishes.

"Right there," the man said, pointing to some sort of metallic-coloured door near the end of the counter.

Curious, Draco examined the buttons on the front, confused at the different symbols that meant absolutely nothing to him. Seeing something that looked like some sort of handle, he slipped his hand in and pressed, and the door popped out.

"What the?"

He lowered the door so that it hung horizontally above the ground, and gaped at the two racks stacked above each other, already partially filled with plates, cups, and various other eating utensils and items.

"What is this contraption?"

"It's called a dishwasher," Robert explained, moving over to tug out one of the racks. "You put the dishwasher safe dishes in there and once it is full, you put soap in the compartment, press the right buttons, and it washes the dishes."

"How?"

Robert let out a chuckle. "You magic folk really don't have these things?"

"Well…no," Draco explained, rinsing off the plates before placing them with the others already in the machine. "We use magic to wash our dishes."

The man moved back to the counter and began place the leftover roast beef into two separate containers, one larger than the other. "This, I suppose, is our kind of magic. You see," he began to explain the mechanics behind a dishwasher, teaching Draco more about a single item than the blond had ever learnt about one subject in his entire life.

"That's fascinating," he said, tentatively pushing the rack back in to pull out the top one, examining the machine with amazement as he tried to determine just how the top rack hung in the air.

"Yes, well, we can't use magic, so we have to find our own way of doing things," the man explained, moving to spoon the potatoes into two different containers.

"That's what Hermione told me."

Nodding, the older man continued to empty out the larger containers, passing them to Draco, instructing him on how to wash them, where to find the soap, and et cetera.

"Speaking of Hermione…"

Here it came.

"I had to be clichéd, but I have to ask you about your intentions."

Damn all fathers to hell.

Why did they all happen to either be neglectful of their children or overprotective?

Pausing as he washed the pot, semi-glad to find an excuse to stop this disgusting task – who in their right mind would actually want to shove their hands into leftover food in pots and scrape it off? – he turned to look at Robert.

"I'm assuming that you would like for me to honest," Draco began calmly, "so I will be honest. A few years ago, Hermione and I used to hate each other more than anything else. I was a horrible prat to her and she was rude in return, although she had her reasons. I was not the nicest man. But, before the war, some…things…happened that cause me to reflect on my past behaviour. You could say that I am now reformed," he added.

"Even before we were assigned positions as Head Boy and Girl, I believe I started developing some form of interest in her, and it has only recently become what I believe is to be love. Your daughter is beautiful, intelligent, wonderfully witty, sarcastic, and can be the most annoying person in the entire world, but, in spite of everything that has happened between us, I love her. I do not plan on leaving her for some other woman, I do not plan on breaking her heart, and I vow to hurt everything single damn … jerk…that would ever dare try to hurt her." He looked up at Robert, smiling at the man. "Does that satisfy you?"

The man looked serious for a moment, almost as though he was ready to ignore Draco's words or dismiss them as unwanted or unnecessary and Draco was about to heave a sigh and give up, when the man's face broke into a smile.

"More than satisfactory," he replied. "Thank you for your honesty, Draco."

Draco nodded, sending another smile in return before shifting his attention back to the task of cleaning the dishes.

"Just one more question."

Draco arched a brow in question and sent the man a look in response. "Yes?"

"Do you use protection?"

Draco let out a loud cough, dropping a plate and breaking it in the process, still coughing loudly as disbelief flooded his mind. The man had not just asked him that!

"What?" Robert asked, moving over to help the blond pick up the broken plate. "You don't expect me to think that my twenty-year-old daughter isn't sexually active, do you?"

Draco had no clue how to react to this; he had never met a single person, Wizard and Muggle alike, who had been so open about such a subject. Certainly, there had been boys his age who enjoyed discussing sex daily, but for the parent of someone to ask such a question…it was unthinkable!

What the hell was he supposed to say in reaction?

"Mr. Gran…uh, Robert…do you really think this is an appropriate question?" Draco managed to say, watching as the man tossed the broken pieces into the garbage.

The adult turned and smiled at the younger man. "Yes, I do. I want to make sure that you don't get my little girl pregnant and then leave. She's got an education to finish, you know that? And I really don't think she's ready to be a mother anytime soon, so I just want to make sure that…"

"I get it,' Draco said, wiping his hand on his pants before rubbing his face. He knew that he had no way out unless someone magically appeared from the dining room to interrupt their discussion. "Well…honesty is key…if I were to…become active with your daughter in that way," he was treading on very, very, very thin ground right now, "I would most certainly use protection. However, we find no need because we are currently not engaged in such activities; we only started … dating…" was that the proper Muggle word? "…a few weeks ago, and I believe it is in both of our interests to get to know each other more before we, uh, have…sex."

Robert looked over the blond for a moment and Draco couldn't help but feel like he was being scrutinized from every angle. It was rather uncomfortable for someone to be staring at him in such a way and he felt the urge to squirm and get away as fast as possible.

"Okay."

Okay? Is that all the man was going to say? 'That asshole just put me on the fucking spot and all he's going to say is 'okay'? What the fucking fuck?' Draco mentally shouted, wanting to scream at the stupidity of the situation.

"You have my consent to date my daughter."

He had to get the man's consent? He thought that only Wizards did things the old fashioned way.

This was getting to be a very confusing night.

"Dad."

'Oh great, now the damn chit decides to show up!' Draco wanted throw his hands into the air in frustration and turned all of his attention back to scraping the damn pot clean.

"Yes?"

"I hate to be a bother but could we serve pudding soon? Draco and I have to be back at school soon," Hermione said, trying not to laugh at the sight of Draco washing the dishes. It certainly was a sight to see; the sleeves of his silk shirt rolled up to his elbows, his hands soapy and dirty, and his face etched with lines of frustration.

With a nod, the cleaning process ceased and they began serving the tarts that Jean had made earlier that day, placing small dollops of whip cream on top. Draco sat back in the dining room, enjoying the delightful taste of strawberries on his tongue as he listened to Hermione talk to her parents about her plans for some activity or another at Hogwarts.

The second he was done, he slowly licked his teeth, ensuring that no seeds were stuck in them, and quickly rinsed his mouth with water.

"You've been taking good care of your teeth, dear?"

That was right…her parents were dentists weren't they? He listened as Hermione answered her father's question, mind wandering back to the question of whether or not they might try to steal his teeth because they thought that his teeth would hold magical properties.

"You're not going to steal my teeth, are you?" The question was out before he could even stop it and silence filled the room as all eyes turned on him.

Hermione burst into a loud fit of laughter while Jean and Robert just blinked at him. Draco felt his face heat up in embarrassment and he would have given anything to be killed at that very moment.

"Dear, no," Jean suddenly said with a faint smile, "where in the world did you get such an idea?"

"I…well…Hermione said you were teeth doctors…and I thought that, because I'm, um, different…you might want to take my teeth and examine them," he mumbled, feeling more embarrassed than he had ever felt in his entire life.

Robert's laughter was turned into several coughs while Hermione giggled loudly into her napkin. Jean's smile broadened and she shook her head in response.

"No, no, we don't take teeth unless they require to be removed. We just examine them where they are, clean them, and fix them," she explained. "And all teeth have the same composition, just some look different than others because they belong to a completely different species. You're still a human, so you have human teeth."

"So…you won't try to take my teeth?"

"Not unless they're rotting away in your mouth and require immediate removal, no." He didn't know whether he should be insulted or grateful for Jean's sweet, motherly tone. She spoke to him like he was a five-year-old, yet the kindness in her voice made him feel a little less embarrassed.

"Oh," was all he could say, and he squirmed in his seat for a bit before taking a swig of water. "I'll help clean up," he hurriedly said, collecting the plates and rushing out of the room as fast as possible.

Hermione couldn't stop laughing.

A good half hour later, they were dressed to leave and standing at the back door, Draco watching as Hermione hugged her parents goodbye. He felt a twinge of jealousy at the way her parents held her, the way they professed their unconditional love for her and told her that they would be there for her at her graduation.

Suddenly, a hand was thrust into his vision and he stared up at Robert's grinning face.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Draco," he said as the blond took his hand. "You'll be welcome here anytime."

Draco couldn't help but return the grin, shaking the man's hand. "Thank you, and the pleasure was all mine."

Once their hands were free, he was suddenly pulled into a tight embrace. The warmth of Jean's arms around his body, the motherly touch that made his heart ache, nearly made every emotion in his body swim to flow down his cheeks. It felt so nice…to be truly held by a mother…when he had gone so long without his own mother's embrace.

"Even though you've only been dating our Hermione for a few weeks," Jean said as she pulled away, "I want you to let you know that you're part of the family now. Our home is your home." She then thrust several containers of leftovers into his hands and wished them a safe trip back.

He smiled the whole way back to school.

Even if Hermione laughed at him the second they were back at Hogsmeade, he knew that nothing she said or did could remove the bliss he felt from being accepted into her family.

Life was good.

Sorry it took a while to post. I had a lot of school work to deal with; it's the last week and a half into semester and I've been busy writing essays and studying for exams. I finally got some reprieve last night and was able to write a good amount of this and finish it on the train today.

And again, I'm sorry if I was a bitch last chapter. I guess I was going through a moment of self-doubt and lack of confidence before posting it and I guess I kind lost my...remaining self-confidence when I saw how few reviews I had received. So, I'm sorry if you felt obliged to post a review. Please, post only if you want to. Sorry for being a bitch.

So, quick question: Who wants me to start posting recipes again? I will if enough of you beg, haha.

So yeah, the next chapter shouldn't be AS long as this one, and we're going to start moving a little faster in the story-timeline now that I've gotten the before-starting-school-again activities done.

Oh, and Weary_Soulsearcher was kind enough to do a pretty drawing of Draco dressed as a lion for me. ^.^ It made me happy so I feel I must share it with the rest of you!

(dot)com/art/Gryffindork-Allies-145491742

Enjoy! I think it's really cute and thank you so much Weary_Soulsearcher for sending it to me! You get loads of e-cookies of love. 3

Take care everyone!