A/N: I've been reading this and checking the times and dates to make sure they properly coincide. That doesn't mean that I've caught any and all mistakes, just those in particular. So if you, dear reader, find something completely screwy, do let me know. I've been editing myself, as I have no one to beta for me, and I seem to be only human. (More's the pity) Mistakes will happen and more constructive reviews will help. Thanks.

The dinner on the Friday of her meeting had been intimate but not overly so. He'd been no less than a gentleman and had allowed her to lead the conversation. He'd not pressed for touches nor kisses, only watched her with a silvered gaze that left her feeling antsy. Unsure. Needy. The only thing he'd actually done was to inform her at the end of their evening that he would be coming to her apartment on Sunday to see her.

He'd not given her a choice in the matter, simply stated his intentions before stepping away from her and apparating home. He had left her there to make her own way and she'd done so by returning to the restaurant and using their Floo to get home. She found herself shivering with reaction almost as soon as she was safely inside.

Sleep had been hard to come by.

The next morning she'd awakened to the tap of an owl against her bedroom window, the snowy creature glaring at her, almost in consternation. She'd opened the window and took the small roll of parchment from his proffered foot before he'd turned and launched himself away. Obviously then, the blond did not expect a response in return. With fingers that shook, she opened his missive and read the words he'd committed to the parchment, her brown eyes growing wider with each sentence, her breath coming faster with each word.

Hermione-

I can smell you.

Your scent lulls me into dreams, dreams where I feel you. Beneath me. Hear you crying out my name. My name. Do you enjoy knowing that you drive me insane with those quiet whimpers?

You make me want.

I will give you today for yourself. Tomorrow? That is for me and for you if you but choose for it to be so. Don't try to avoid me, Granger. Don't close yourself off from this, from me. I wouldn't allow it, even if you tried.

I can taste you.

And you taste divine.

-Draco

P.S. I will be with you by 2 PM and I expect my gift around your neck when I see you.

She'd spent the day cleaning, her mind a morass of thoughts, feelings, needs, desires. She tried to empty herself, tried to bury those things beneath busywork but all of it returned, again and again, until she was half crazy with a hunger she did not understand. She knew he'd driven her to distraction with his calloused hands, his growling, demanding voice, his molten gaze but there was nothing she could do about it.

She didn't even want to try.

He wouldn't let her even if she had wanted to.

By five, she was in her library. Much like when she'd attended Hogwarts, she turned to books when the world overwhelmed or she felt alone and confused. It didn't matter what sort of book, all that mattered was the words before her eyes and the loss of conscious thought as those words took over and embedded themselves into the whorls of her brain. She could pause her rambunctious thoughts and allow the story, the knowledge, to seep in and take over.

The need to research and learn was part and parcel of who she was.

She'd read until well past midnight and by the time she'd found her bed, her eyes were heavy with the need for rest, for deep dreamless sleep. She got her rest but the dreams did not care that she didn't want to have them. No. They came anyway. Sexy. Sensual. Slow. Not just Draco but Blaise as well. The three of them, there and gone. Yet, yet, it always comes back to just her, just Draco, just them and when she awakens on Sunday morning, she knows what she should have known months before.

She had chosen him.

Blaise had been her last chance at something slow and sweet.

Draco would be her forever.

She just would not tell him, not yet.

An owl, his owl, tapped at her window once more and when she opened it, he flew inside and offered her another parchment. She took and unrolled it, her eyes flying over the words. There weren't many.

Hermione~

Will you cook for me?

Draco

She penned an affirmative to his question and rolled up the parchment before she offered it to the owl. He glared at her (yet again!) and took it, his claws gripping the small bundle tightly and then he was gone, winging his way into the sky with the beat of snow white wings. She allowed herself a chance to breathe and then glanced at her wall clock. It was later than she thought, almost ten, and she still had shopping and food preparation to do.

With no further thought, she headed for the shower. Twenty minutes later, she was comfortably dressed and in her kitchen, making a list for the groceries she'd have to procure for the week. She felt harried as if everything needed to be done yesterday and she knew it was because of the rising panic she felt at Draco's upcoming visit. She just could not get herself calm, no matter what she tried.

She figured shopping and cooking would have to do.

With that thought uppermost, Hermione gathered up her wallet and shoulder bag before she headed out to her front stoop and apparated into Muggle London to go grocery shopping. As much as she hated the necessity of shopping, she was brutally efficient when it came to noting what was needed, buying just that and no more, and paying for the mess. She only wished it was as easy to do when one had to buy dresses or dress robes or work clothes or...

'Shit!' Hermione shuddered slightly as she noted the time and prepared for her trip home. She had spent a few moments in the search for an unused alleyway, and once she'd located one a few blocks from the store, she'd wasted no time in shrinking her bags before she'd apparated back, her mind already focused on dinner. 'Cottage pie with sweet peas?' She thought some more. 'I have enough for a peach crumble, too.'

Within minutes, the waif-like young woman had her groceries put away and was busily assembling everything needed for a hearty meal. Half an hour later, the main course was in the oven and the crumble was ready to pop in, held under a stasis spell. After all, he might not want to eat it right away and she could bake it while they ate. Of course, she'd prepared everything the Muggle way, barring the few spells she'd used to either boil water or assemble everything so that her hands didn't get dirty (and even THAT had felt like cheating) but all in all, she was pleased with the simple meal she'd planned.

She just hoped he would like it.

Hermione checked the delicate watch on her left wrist and noted the fact that she only had about forty-five minutes before he was due and she still hadn't pulled herself together, properly. True, a shower wasn't needed but a change of clothing (and hair) was definitely in order. She couldn't have him seeing her all frazzled. He'd never let her forget it, well the old Malfoy wouldn't. She wasn't so sure about this new Draco.

By the time of his arrival, she was dressed in form-fitting jeans, a cropped emerald green sweater, and her favorite pair of combat boots. Her hair had been left loose and tamed into a mass of shining curls which fell to the middle of her back in glorious profusion. She'd given herself a quick once over before adding his gift to her slender neck and opening the Floo.

It wouldn't do for him not to be able to enter.

Draco stepped into her living room precisely on the hour, his lean build covered in muggle jeans and a tailored green button up which fit his upper body perfectly. His hair was loose but pushed away from his face, well, except for the fringe that hovered just above his eye. She had waited for him, seated on the couch, her gaze trained upon the spot where he would appear and as soon as he saw her, he smiled.

Not smirked.

Smiled.

"Are you going to get up so that I can properly see you, Hermione," he queried lightly, his tone belied by the seriousness of his expression. "I thought good hostesses greeted their guests."

A faint tinge of pink heated her cheeks even as she stood up. Her reticence toward him made her uneasy, the way he made her feel small made her want. She didn't desire those reactions and yet, he caused them anyway. There was just this thing, golden and fine, a chain, which connected them. It was fragile and fine linked but it was there; she could practically see it.

She wondered if he could see it, too.

Finally, her honeyed gaze met his silvered one and she stuttered out a hello. Was it the way his eyes immediately dropped to her throat? The way his eyes gleamed, the flash of gold? Was it the way that gaze took her in completely, from her curls to the tips of her boots? She did not know and that was terrifying. It left her breathless and she knew by the curl of his lips that he knew it.

She watched as he inhaled, his eyes shifting to a cool pewter. His long legs carried him closer until his frame invaded her personal space and his voice caused shivers to run down her spine. "Cottage pie? What else?"

"Just fresh peas with a crumble to pop in while we eat a very late lunch." She spoke her reply softly, hesitantly, and she hated that, absolutely loathed it. Wasn't she a Gryffindor? Did she not have courage? Had she not fought a fucking war? Of course, she was, she did, she had. So why was there that touch of 'Take me, please.' That need for 'Make me yours.'

His hand rose so that his thumb could stroke over her bottom lip before he allowed it to slip down, to cup her chin, to make her head tilt back. Smooth, so smooth. "And what would you like to do after we eat, Hermione?" Oh, that voice like warmed velvet over iron, strong, husky.

"I am not sure, Draco."

"Well then, I will have to think of something, won't I?"

She could do nothing but nod, nothing but look up at him and wait for it. He did not disappoint as his head dipped and his hands drew her closer, brought them together so that teeth and tongue could taste and tease and torment. So many T words. She felt shattered from just that little motion as an aching need shot through her.

He released her with a growl, his voice a husky rumble. "How much longer for food?"

Hermione stepped away before she turned and started toward the kitchen. "The meal is done now. Dessert will bake while we are eating."

Within a few minutes, she had the table set with the appropriate silverware and the first servings plated up. Fresh mugs of butterbeer settled themselves by each plate and soon enough a teapot, two cups, sugar, honey, milk and lemon joined their repast. Finally, she paused and looked at the young man who seemed to be waiting very patiently, if one didn't look into his eyes.

"Draco, please take a seat."