A/N: Small amount of citrus ahead, very small, almost not there, blink in you might miss it. And then you might be sad. And then I would feel awful...and you would just point and laugh at my discomfiture. Also, for those who know Alicia Keys' Songs in A Minor (and Butterflyz from that same album), I have worked a bit of magic (HA!) to allow that particular bit to surface. After all, the official release date of that album was on Draco's birthday.

You give me butterflyz
Got me flyin' so high in the sky
I can't control the butterflyz

Hermione found herself listening to a muggle singer, one who had a lovely husky contralto, on her magically run muggle CD player. She'd lucked upon a pre-release version of the album, one without all of the additional instrumentals and polishing. Well, not lucked up, she'd made it a point to work a complex bit of magic and ended up with a small collection of American music that hadn't been played on the radio as yet. This particular artist was her favorite; the soulful sounds, the soothing voice, the passion.

She needed that soothing as she felt as if she were about to burst.

And she had yet to get dressed.

The time was just about past six and she knew that getting dressed should be her top priority and yet, she couldn't force herself to start. Instead, she found herself listening to that particular song, over and over, on a loop. The feeling it aroused, the words used? They were perfectly suited to her own situation and she just couldn't stop listening.

You seem like the likely thing
From the start you told me, yeah, yeah
I would be your queen
But never had I imagined such a feeling
Joy is what you bring; I wanna give you everything

However, when she noted that the time was now half six, she shook herself awake from her daydreams and turned off the music. There was nothing she could do except call Ginny. She was going to need help with her hair. She had entirely too much of it and there was no way she'd be able to get under control without help, especially if he wanted it up.

By quarter after seven, she was dressed. She had chosen to skip makeup charms, instead opting for muggle means. On her eyes, a faint gold shadow with nude just below her brow bone. Black eyeliner was expertly smudged to make her eyes appear even wider, black mascara drew attention to her lashes. Conversely, since her eyeshadow was almost non-existent, she used a dark red lipstick and gloss. By the time her friend had arrived via floo, she had applied the choker and dark red pumps with a four-inch heel and an ankle strap.

"Good Godric, Hermione! You look amazing! Who are you going to see," the redhead wondered.

"Malfoy is taking me to dinner."

"Seriously? So you finally made a choice, huh? Good on you! Now, where'd you get this dress? I didn't even know you owned something like this!" Ginny ushered the frazzled young woman back into the bedroom, her case filled with hair supplies which dangled from her slender right hand.

"I didn't. He bought and sent it to me for our night out. Is it too much?"

"Wow." Ginny paused in her ministrations to check out the young woman, eyes taking her in from head to toe. "No, you look gorgeous. It is an understated sort of sexy. Now hold on." With that, the slim young female went back to work, straightening Hermione's heavy mess of curls so that she could pull the hair up into a tight bun wrapped by a thick braid and held in place by just a few bobby pins hidden beneath Hermione's thick hair.

When Ginny stepped back, Hermione turned to the mirror and gave a small gasp. She looked...elegant. Beautiful.

Her red-headed friend left ten minutes prior to Draco's arrival and Ginny's impish smile was the last thing Hermione saw before the young woman disappeared in a whoosh of green flames. To say the brunette was nervous would have been wrong. She was terrified, almost gobsmacked with anxiety, and her heart pounded so hard she thought she could see the imprint against the thin skin of her chest.

'I have to calm down,' she thought, worriedly. 'Fainting at his feet is not an option!'

After a bout of deep breathing, she felt a tad more in control but that ended almost as soon as the handsome 'Gods, look at him!' blond entered her home via floo. He was dressed in black on black, the only spot of color being his blood red tie. His hair was pulled back, the silken, shoulder-length strands held in place by a black ribbon. His eyes were heavy-lidded as he stared at her, his expression a commingling of hunger and satisfaction.

"Good evening, Hermione. Are you ready?" He sounded rough, almost abrupt. "I had forgotten to send along your wrap. Come here so I can situate it properly."

Hermione glanced down, taking in the warm golden gleam of fur lined silk. She stepped forward as she tried (and failed) to ignore the butterflies in her stomach, those intimate little flutters that made her feel as if she could throw up at any moment. With hardly any pause at all, she stepped forward and then turned so that her back faced him. Large hands gently placed warmth over her shoulders even as firm lips pressed a kiss to the tiny bump (node?) that had reappeared at her nape.

She shivered in response.

"Our reservations are in Muggle London tonight. The Promenade at Dorchester, maybe you've heard of it?" Here she felt his hands grip her shoulders as his voice poured honeyed roughness into her ear. "However, before dinner, I've tickets to the theatre. We are going to see Phantom of the Opera at Her Majesty's Theatre so our reservations are at eleven. Hope you've eaten today."

Honey brown orbs widened slightly even as she turned to take his hand. He smirked and the quirk of his mobile mouth and the silver gleam of his teasing gaze showed that he enjoyed taking her by surprise.

"Come on, Granger. Let's go dazzle the plebians."

She could do naught but laugh. Plebians, indeed.

It was half past the "witching" hour before the pair returned to the warmth of Hermione's place. Draco, being the gentleman that he sometimes was, had slipped the wrap from her shoulders almost as soon as they'd stepped from the floo and directed her to sit down, with no more than a motion of his head toward the couch. Hermione wanted to protest but her feet were not happy about her choice of shoes and so she settled herself against the tweed with a small sigh.

Once he'd hung up their outerwear, the lean blond returned to the couch and crouched down to take one of her small feet into his large hand. "These heels make your calves look delectable but I fear you've paid hell for it. Hold still." She started to scoff, to tease him for his position or something but it was then that he unclasped the ankle strap and slipped the pump from her foot. Elegant fingers swept down to press against the ball of her foot, a massage that went from toe to heel and back again, with long, slow, strokes until Hermione thought she'd melt. Then he removed her other pump and did it all again.

Hermione, of course, promptly turned into a blissful puddle.

Lips, warm and satin smooth, touched the top of her left foot before transferring to her right. Once. Twice. Elegant fingers encircled her ankles and then skimmed upward, palms glided over silken stockings, leaving a trail of heat behind. It was at that point that glittering light brown eyes opened and Hermione chanced a glance at the man who still crouched before her. He looked...intent with his cool gray eyes locked on his own fingers as his hands seemed to move independently from his wishes.

She tried to murmur a demurral but even her mouth knew that such would be a lie.

Those clever fingers soon began to draw uneven patterns along her upper thighs, small swoops, and circles, over and over, each time drawing inward, teasing her legs apart with each and every movement. Heat pooled between them, hidden by a scrap of lace and she knew, more than saw, that he felt it.

She could feel the rise of an embarrassed flush on her face but she did not try to stop him.

She didn't want to.

Finally, those teasing, ever so warm, fingers paused and gray eyes, shot through with glimmers of gold and silver, rose to meet her gaze. His voice, almost rusty from his enforced quiet, gritted out a query. "What will you give me tonight?"

She drew in a long, shuddering breath and whispered, "What would you like?"

The smile he gifted her with in response was, in a word, wolfish. His words, though, were smooth, seductive. "Let me taste you." A demand that wasn't, only a statement of his desire. She could not find it within herself to deny him, she really did not want to.

"Here," a quavering question. "Now," she asked, her voice gathering strength in that single syllable.

"Yes," was all that he replied.

What words could she use to agree to THAT? True, she wanted to feel his mouth on her even if she'd never experienced the like before. She wanted him to know her taste though the idea left her feeling shy, embarrassed. For that matter, she wanted to know his taste as well, though she was unsure of how she'd go about informing him of that little tidbit. How could one just say "Oh yeah, I would like to know if you taste like good salt water taffy..." without someone laughing?

But here, on the couch, while she was still fully dressed?

She blinked. Maybe that was the issue at hand. She would be fully dressed, wouldn't she? Why did that seem slightly more embarrassing than being nude and in a bed? Either way, he would have his face THERE, wouldn't he? Maybe the dress would obscure his...activities and save her from blushing herself to pieces? Wait! Did she want to miss anything he chose to do? What about...

"Hermione, get out of your head. I can feel you overthinking and it's like an itch at the back of my skull. We don't have to do anything, you understand? I can wait, I don't want to, but I can." His voice was low, soothing, much like water over stone, deep, calm.

Hermione felt yet another round of heat as it rose to her cheeks but she only nodded her acceptance, of what she wasn't sure. Draco's returned grin broke the surface of his patrician features and with no further ado, she felt his fingers as they edged further upward, grasping the waistband of her knickers. A sharp yank parted them from her heated nether flesh and soon, she caught the scent of her arousal; a hint of musk and something other.

The man between her thighs gave a low groan before he disappeared beneath the silken flame of her dress. She felt his breath there, puffs of warmed air against heated dampness. The hands that tore apart her underthings soon tugged her closer so that her hips hovered over the edge of the couch and the breath was replaced by a pointed tongue which delved between her folds.

She whimpered and he growled a response before sucking the taut bundle of nerves hidden at the very top of her wet slit into the warmth of his mouth. More whimpering ensued which soon turned to sighs, little breathless shrieks, and low moans. A husky chuckle was heard and a questing finger was felt and within minutes, Hermione was shuddering out her release which was licked away as if it were the finest ambrosia. Draco retreated soon after the last shiver, his mouth still wet with her fluids.

"Come, kitten, I think it's time for me to put you to bed. You look exhausted." With that, the lean young man rose to his feet and offered one long-fingered hand to her in a bid to help her rise. Shakily, Hermione rose from her seat and allowed him to lead her toward the comfort of her bed.

A/N: I am now finished with all of my pre-written content and am, even now, working on the next chapter. I thank you for your patience so please R&R.