A/N: Just a quick note to thank those who have decided to follow along with my random drivel. I appreciate the support as it sucks to think my words are existing in a vacuum. I also tend toward a lot of italics and bold use. MOstly for thoughts, dreams, and letters. *shrugs* I hope that doesn't annoy you.

OK...on with the story. Please R&R. I can not improve if no one tells me what needs to be worked on.

Draco had kept his word. Hermione had seen neither hide nor hair of the tall blond male and something inside railed at the thought. Of course, she soon decided that his absence was a good thing. After all, she had been having dreams, especially after the sixth. Though they were not sexual in nature, they were wholly sensual. They INVOLVED her.

As she lay in her bed on the last night of the full moon in October, she found herself wondering, and not for the first time, if wolves could send dreams to their prospective mates like she had heard Veelas could do. She doubted it but she had no other explanation for the nightly escapades, deep into the woods, hidden away in her subconscious. Those thoughts, of him in the woods, running, followed her to sleep.

The moon is full, not yet losing the roundness which would denote the first night of it's waning. Trees shroud her in darkness, the scent of crabapples and oak leaves fill the air and she can feel it, the way the night opens for her. She wants to explore but the warmth of the ground beneath her, so unusual for the month, keeps her stationary.

She still wants to move.

Off to her left, she hears the soft pad of paws. She waits; wanting to see, to understand, to experience but she knows that those paws will come no closer, will leave her trapped here, on edge, wondering. It has been ever thus and though she is disappointed, she allows the sensual feeling of the dark and the heat and the scent of midnight to color her senses. She can do nothing more except be seduced into the darkness.

The silence becomes so oppressive that even the night birds and insects cease their noise and it is then, and only then, that wolves come from both her left and right, to place themselves nearby. One is russet with an undercoat of white and she understands, implicitly, that this is her friend. The other wolf takes her breath away and it is he who comes closer until his head is in her lap. He is beautiful; white, gray and silver, body compact and heavily muscled but his eyes stop her breath. They contain a commingling of gold and silver with pupils that seem to swallow her down, drink her up, mesmerize her.

She is caught there.

One trembling hand rises to tangle in his ruff, to tug at the softness she finds there. She feels him move slightly, his shorter than the average wolf's snout pressing deep into her lap, snuffling at her, drawing her scent into his lungs. She wonders, as she strokes and scratches, what he smells. However, he can give no words to her questions, only lay there and stare, eyes blinking slowly. Eventually, the pair rises and wanders away, leaving her alone in the dark, in the silence.

But she is not sad. She knows.

And so do they.

With a whimper, Hermione opened her eyes. Wetness had gathered at the corners of her eyelids and she wondered if she'd actually cried this time. The dream itself had been different, especially since she had seen the wolves and usually, she did not. Why she saw both Tobias and Draco had no answer and, in all honesty, it did not matter. Much like her dream version in the night's vision, she knew that it was them and she understood that in some undeniable way, they were hers and she was theirs. It made no sense but it was there.

The young woman swung her feet to the plush carpet and stood up on slightly unsteady legs. It was past time for her to get ready for work and though she knew the date (Monday, Octoberber 16th, 2000) she also understood that she would see Draco today. He would make sure of it. There would be no cowering from him.

So she dressed to please herself (and eventually him) by wearing a comfortable, well-tailored pair of dark gray trousers and a white button up with the top three buttons left open which drew attention to the slim lines of her throat. She'd even pulled her hair up into a high topknot so that the entirety of her nape was exposed. All of this was not to tease but to place them on even ground. To Hermione, his wanting of her needed to be tempered. Neither young person knew that she would give in, not truly, and without the life or death compulsion of the Veela, it wasn't like he'd die if she said no.

Otherwise, all of this would have a very different outcome.

By nine, the young woman was in her office settled behind the desk and studying the first of her work journals. A Quick Quill was busily jotting corrections onto a blank sheet of parchment as she flipped from journal to book and noted the differences between the older version of Wolfsbane (From the late 70's) and the two changes made since then. By the time she'd finished with her self-appointed task, it was nearing noon and she'd filled four parchments with her rambling.

Theo had stopped in for a few moments, his quick wit and lazy smile at odds with the serious information he'd brought to her attention; the difficulty of garnering a decent connection to a magically owned copper mine. That issue had also found its way into her notes along with a few names she could reach out to via floo or muggle means. She would, once again, have to take lead on procurement.

"Just what do you lot do, if I'm having to do all the reaching out," she asked.

"It's obvious, Hermione! We get paid to bring these issues to your attention," Theo laughed his response.

"Arse!"

A few minutes after her boss retreated, Hermione, rose from her seat and indulged in a long stretch since her lower back and shoulders were taut from being hunched for so long. As she reached above her head and leaned backward to loosen the tightness, a flush of heat skated over her flesh. With suddenly rosy cheeks, the tousled young woman turned to face her office door and the man who had just entered.

"Hello, Draco." Hermione aimed a smile in his general direction. "How are you doing?"

The man in question looked entirely too good to be real. His gray eyes caught the light and gleamed seductively, his broad-shouldered build covered in an elegant black suit which intrigued the eye. Even his blond hair was controlled, tied back from his patrician features with a bit of black ribbon. His return smile was almost too sweet and hinted at his thoughts much better than a letter filled with smut.

"Good afternoon, Hermione. I've come to take you to lunch."

A flash of heat ripped through the young woman in question as she dropped her hands to her sides and allowed them to clinch there. She felt the urge to reach out and ruffle him, his hair, his clothes, his very being and by his deep intake of air, she was sure that he'd caught the riptide of desire that threatened her equilibrium. However, she refused to allow him to put her off her stride. Instead, one dark eyebrow winged its way upward as she responded.

"Are you asking or ordering, Mr. Malfoy."

The young man in question refused to be put off, only stalked closer until he was no more than an inch or so away from her, invading her space, breathing her air. "Whichever one is going to assure that you will be accompanying me, Miss Granger," His voice was dark and husky, a promise held in each and every syllable. "All that you need to know is that I am not leaving without you so assign whichever meaning to the statement and then come on."

His smile morphed into a smirk.

'Fuck,' she groused to herself. 'Guess I am going to lunch...'

Five minutes later, the pair was ensconced in his office, seated on a dark green leather sofa which faced a large floor to ceiling window that overlooked all of Diagon Alley. His house elf (Mippy, Trippy, Drippy?) had set two places on the marble-topped coffee table and a small repast of soup, salad and sandwiches were all ready to be served. After he/she whichever, whatever, had poured their tea and waited for them to fix their plates/bowls/whatever, the excess was popped away with nary a word beyond "Thanks."

All in all, it was rather...quick.

"Okay, you've demanded and I've acquiesced. What do you need, Draco," she huffed out, her voice a snap of sound.

"Well, the pleasure of your company, Hermione." He practically purred his response, a decided emphasis on her given name. "I figured you might miss me after my prolonged," a pause. "Absence."

She could do nothing except her shake her head at his forthright answer. Even if she had missed him, which she would never admit out loud, she was sure he had another reason for his infringement on her time. She was not going to beg him for answers, hell she was not going to do anything but eat the delicious lunch he'd procured for them and keep her thoughts to herself.

Or so she thought.

Silence reigned for about fifteen minutes as the pair filled up on the simple repast of delicious foods. Hermione found herself watching him, her thick lashes at half mast in an attempt to disguise the direction of her gaze. She felt an urge to shift closer to his warmth but time and again, she fought it away, forced herself to hold still, to eat, to drink, to not speak. However, she could not stop watching him, his long fingers, the white sharpness of his teeth, the elegance of his posture, the flush of color which rode his high cheekbones.

He intrigued her.

As soon as he called for his elf to clear away the remains of their meal (Tippy, her name was Tippy!) those startling gray eyes had caught her gaze and she watched him as he leaned closer and slipped into her personal space with an alarming ease. One large hand rested upon the knee closest to him and his mouth moved to a spot just below her ear, so that she heard every word he uttered.

"I dreamed of you. Did you know? While I was in Oslo, while I ran in the woods. I saw you there, plain as day. Tobias mentioned that he smelled you on me, did I tell you that? I hadn't seen you in so long but your scent lingered, he said." The words were a whisper, teasing, and light. "So, did you miss me, Hermione. Did you dream of me? Think about me? Want me?"

The young woman in question leaned into him, a small barely restrained whimper lingering in the back of her throat. Had she missed him? No, at least she did not think so but she'd dreamed of him...even if he was not actually IN those dreams until the last one. She'd thought of him, hadn't she? Was that the same as missing? Thinking? She did not believe to be the case but well this was all outside of her reality, wasn't it?

Her lack of acknowledgment did nothing to deter him. In fact, Draco continued onward, his hand rising now to loosen her curls and tangle within their softly scented depths. He twisted those curls into his strong hand and pulled, just once, so that her head was angled away from his nose and lips, and his softy spoken whispers shivered against the soft flesh there, a taunt.

"I bet you dreamed of me, pretty one. In fact, I can smell that distinctive scent that denotes your own hunger. It's been unsated for a long time, hasn't it?" Here, he backed away and caught her gaze once more, his voice no more than a husky growl. "Would you like me to sate you?"

Those words broke the spell and Hermione scrambled away from him before she leaping to her feet. "Stop it!" she snapped. "You are being purposefully seductive!"

He laughed and gave her a boyish smile, his silvered gaze alight with glee. "No, I'm asking questions. You are being purposefully obtuse. If you'd just answer my questions, I'd not have to ask so many."

The young woman shook her head~ to dislodge him, to argue his point? It did not matter. Instead, she made her way to his door and opened it before she turned to him, once more. "I've eaten with you. Now I need to head back to work."

She fled.