A/N: This was an interesting chapter to write so I really hope you like it.

I've decided to upload the chapters as I finish with them, so they'll arrive sporadically from now on but I hope you'll follow the Dramione journey with me anyway.

HBSJ

Chapter 16

Hermione rushed about that afternoon. Luckily her family still had an amazing two-story flat in the heart of Mayfair, equipped with a full wardrobe for all four of their family, curtesy of her mum.

And yet, she had nothing to wear.

Despite her always feeling like the odd one out in sociable contexts, this problem was as normal as it could be. Having a closet full of clothing but nothing to wear.

She seemed to have nothing suitable for a dinner… with a married man.

Shite.

Everything, including the frantic pace she'd kept up since her disasterous afternoon, screeched to a halt. She stopped browsing through her closet and her legs collapsed underneath her.

What the hell had she been thinking, agreeing to dinner with that man?

She sat there, staring for an immeasurable while at the lovely cobalt blue dress that had fallen down the hanger when she'd slumped to the floor.

Well, at least the floor was comfortable, her mum had installed lovely thick carpets in all the bedrooms of the flat.

She took a deep cleansing breath. She wasn't going on a date-date. She was just going to a friendly dinner with Tom Riddle.

…Who happened to be married to Draco's aunt. Great. She hung her head. Nothing could go wrong in this tangled situation.

Another breath and she got up.

This wasn't like her. She was usually so levelheaded and logical but this family, Draco's family, had her all rattled and off-center.

So she got up, steeled herself and got ready. She'd already gotten the cobalt blue dress out, it was knee length with a modest neckline and half sleeves. Perfectly suitable for a non-date friendly dinner.

She chose simple jewelry, simple makeup too and dark gray plateau pumps with a matching clutch.

She was as ready as she'd ever be.

It was nice here.

His phone battery had mercifully died, the pints were icily cold, the whiskey was lusciously fragrant and everyone around him let him be to wallow in his own damned misery.

Well… Perhaps that was overstating things, but he sure as hell wasn't happy. He winced, tasting that word again with wry derision. Happy.

He wasn't even sure if lofty emotions like that were even applicable to him.

He wasn't supposed to be happy. He was supposed to marry a woman of good blood, from the highest levels of the aristocracy and then sire children. Preferably more than one male child so the line of succession was ensured for many generations to come.

His father had lectured him on this specific subject for years, ever since he reached his majority.

There could be nothing standing in the way of ensuring the prosperity of the Malfoy line. Even doing actual crimes hadn't been out of the question, according to his father. Do everything and anything to protect the line.

It had been a bit much then and it felt like a much too much now but even so, those drilled-in words stuck with him always. They had compelled him to rashly agree to Cho's ultimatum without consulting his friends or even his family about it.

It was a problem to be sure.

He downed the rest of his third whiskey and signalled for another. Or was it his fourth perhaps? He had no idea.

All he knew was that the very thought of Hermione going on a fucking date with Tom Riddle made his skin crawl.

He was a married man. Married to his cousin Bella, didn't she know that?

If she didn't, she would know soon. She ought to know. Their date would be all over social media, Riddle was a known wanderer and all eyes were on his next sacrificial lamb.

And even then, Bella refused to divorce him. No matter how many women he publically courted, snogged and, in one particularly disgusting case, fucked in a public bathroom at a fancy restaurant. The man could charm the knickers off anyone.

He blanched, the realisation only now dawning on his bedraggled mind.

Hermione!

Oh no no no no no, his anger and frustration had pushed her right into Riddles cold yet charming waiting embrace.

Fuck!

It was his fault but it meant that it was also his obligation to make it right.

He had to find her. But how?

He peered around at the patrons of the pub, looking for the first time at all of the people he had resolutely ignored for hours on end.

It took him a few moments but finally he found what he was looking for.

Getting up, he walked purposefully and thankfully steadily over to a pack of five women out for a good time. He had to focus to steady himself, he might've had a tad too much to drink.

He smiled crookedly as he approached them, hamming up the charm as much as he was able. "Ladies, I do apologize for interrupting your lovely evening but might I request your assistance with a noble quest?"

All five stared up at him silently with wide eyes. One of them even moaned a little bit while eying him up with complete abandon.

The first to recover was also the one with the most sense in his opinion. She was lovely, if perhaps looking at him with a considerable amount of distrust. Smart girl.

If he hadn't been so focused on Hermione, he would probably have stayed to wipe that distrust from her eyes. Her tone was hard. "What can we do for you mister?"

He smiled, amping up the charm again and playing on the chagrin of his words. "I have just realized my feelings for a very special someone and stupidly I might've pushed her away. Now she's on a date with someone else and I need to find her to tell her how I feel."

It was strange. He had whipped up the lie on the spot but as the words left his mouth, he realized that it was all true.

He winced. Or it was at least as close to the truth as possible when it came to his bloody feelings.

Dinner went well, in a way anyway.

It was strange, the moment she'd entered the fashionable bar at the Shard, she had forced herself to stay completely aware of every trick Tom could possible pull out at her and there were too many tricks to count.

When they were shown to their table, he pulled out her chair for her and caressed her back surreptitiously as he was pushing her chair in. He moved his own place-setting and chair nearer to hers, so they sat closer and at an angle instead of across from each other. He listened ever so attentively to everything she said, no matter how intrepid or controversial and made flirty comments back that had no real connection with the flow of the conversation. And he used every possible excuse to touch her, her hand, her arm, her back, her face.

In all, it was quite maddening sitting there, being treated quite obviously as an object he seemed to think that he had already won. She had never had anyone treat her like something they owned, or if they'd tried to she would have connected her fist to their face and be done with it.

But that wasn't a possibility in the middle of a fancy restaurant unfortunately and he was charming, so she had no real basis for her gut-feeling about him. It was just an odd flinty thing.

Only when the topic of conversation came round to polo, did he show any real enthusiasm and abandoned his pretentious flirtation.

"I can't imagine why you would think a polo team is a sound investment,-" she found herself saying after the third glass of wine, "-since good ponies are notoriously expensive, stable upkeep and staff is expensive and so is your players, if they're any good."

He scoffed with a charming expression, though it seemed a bit forced. "Of course it's a sound investment, the sponsorships alone cover all those costs."

She nodded in agreement, but continued to argue, "Yes, but only if you win." She paused, taking another sip of a delicious Bourgogne wine. "And then you have to add all the extras, food for the ponies, transportation both domestic and abroad, saddles and other necessary equipment." She thought for a moment. "Oh yes, and then the taxes of course on all your winnings." She finished triumphantly.

His expression darkened at her final sentence. "Taxes?"

She nodded, feeling a tiny bit tipsy from the delicious wine that her glass never seemed to run out of. "Oh yes, the taxes on the winnings are quite high. It's the same as if you won in a quiz show on telly or something like it. If some things seem too good to be true, they probably are."

His jaw clenched and nodded in silent contemplation, all affection and flirtation completely gone from his expression.

The silence between them stretched and he seemed lost in his own world.

She was fidgeting, so in lieu of something to do, she excused herself, grabbed to clutch and went to the bathroom. Reflexively, she checked her phone and was surprised to see seven missed calls from Harry, along with a bunch of texts.

Could you call me please? I need to talk to you about something.

Are you coming back tonight? I need to talk to you.

Hermione, where are you?

According to Twitter, you're on a date with Riddle, why the hell would you go out with that slimeball?

Hermione?! Are you okay?

Shite, have you seen Drake? He's gone MIA too.

You two are giving me a fucking headache.

And finally:

Call me when you get this, I don't care what time it is!

She smiled and called him immediately. It took him only one ring to pick it up.

"Mione! Are you okay? Where are you?" He sounded frantic.

She giggled, the wine must've gone to her head because she never giggled. "Relax, I'm fine, I'm at the Shard with Tom. We're having dinner and everything's fine."

There was a pause. "Wait, you do know that he's married, right?"

She rolled her eyes. "Yes Harry, I'm well aware of that. It's not a date, he asked me to friendly dinner and I agreed." She paused and said with a pensive tone, "He is being more flirtatious than I would have imagined though."

Harry sighed heavily, seeming exasperated with her. "Mione, you need to get out of there. Riddle is a flirt yes but there are stories about him, that he isn't above forcing women. He's darkness incarnated."

She frowned at Harry's choice of words. It wasn't like him to be so ominous. "I don't see why-"

But he interrupted her with a surprisingly forceful command. "Get out of there. Don't let him take you home either. Just leave."

"But,-" She could feel irrational panic rising in her throat. "-I have no excuse. We haven't even had dessert yet."

"Jesus Mione,-" He sounded so exasperated and tired. "-just fake an illness, say you've got a stomach bug or something. Anything! And call me when you get home!" And then, just like that, he hung up.

She stood there, staring at her phone incredulously. She had suspected a rather uncompromising flinty side to Tom Riddle, but nothing like the so-called darkness that Harry seemed to believe.

But Harry was her very best friend in the world. She trusted him. He had never warned her away from anything or anyone in their life. Everything was just a gay old time in his world. So her surprise about his fervency was palpable and she should probably heed his warning.

She splashed droplets of water on her face and neck as if she'd been perspiring and walked out with a somber face. Tom's expression had returned to its charming self but his eyes narrowed every so slightly as she walked towards him and his smiled seemed to stiffen.

She gave him a weak smile, amping it up a bit. "I'm sorry, I think I have to go home. I'm not feeling too good."

His face re-arranged itself into a mask of concern. "Oh dear. Can I do anything for you? Escort you home perhaps?"

She blinked at his blatant question. No, she didn't want him anywhere near her London flat. So she shook her head, wincing as an imaginary headache pierced her skull. "No, no thank you. They've already called a cab for me."

He nodded artfully, keeping his eyes trained fiercely on hers, as if to root out any falsehood. "Let me escort you to the elevator then, Hermione."

He seemed to taste her name on his tongue and a tremor of unease travelled down her back. She didn't feel safe any longer, strange as it may seem. It was fortunate then, that she did have some skills to take care of herself.

He kissed her cheek as they departed, lingering a moment too long and when she had entered the elevator and was waiting for the doors to close, he was watching her with a boyish sort of charm that would have disarmed her if she hadn't been so suspicious of him. He just stood there, with both his hands in his pockets and watched her intensely.

She breathed a sigh of relief when the elevator doors finally closed.

The cab ride was utterly uneventful and she just sat there, watching as London flashed by outside the window with quiet contemplation. She couldn't wait to talk to Harry, to get some bloody answers to why he'd been acting so strange.

She paid the driver and as he took off, she noticed a man slumped against the railing on the doorstep of her building. He didn't think much of it until she saw his hair.

It was a shocking shade of white-blonde and tousled, as if he'd run his hair through it most of the evening.

And he was asleep, snoring lightly.

Draco.

How vulnerable he seemed, sitting there against the railing. And peaceful.

She hadn't realized the toll the past week had taken on him too. Because now there was no artifice in his expression, only calm.

But that was neither here nor there. He, the fancy Marquess of Bantham, heir to the Duchy of Devon, couldn't sit out in the street and sleep. The gossip mill would go wild.

So, with much effort, she pulled, heaved, prodded and coaxed him inside, to the elevator where he hung heavily on her and up to the flat.

He collapsed on the sofa the moment she let go of him and his eyes fluttered for a moment before fixing directly on hers with a slight frown. "Are you a dream?"

She chuckled. "No, I'm right here Draco."

He watched her pensively, scrutinizing her intensely. "Well, you look very much like a dream to me."

Without warning, he pulled her to him with surprising force, dragging her on top of him and proceeded to ravish her mouth.

The sheer force of his arms locked her to him and like a cat, she almost purred as one of his hands held her head in place and his other hand drifted down to her arse, grinding her pelvis against his.

He manoeuvred them slightly and the effect was almost magical. She was on top of him and one of his knees was raised with her rutting on his muscular thigh.

Her mind went blissfully blank and there was nothing, nothing more important than the man holding her.

She was on fire, her ever nerve ending felt frazzled and frustrated. Her belly was awash with heat and she felt the heat rush to the very core of her, aching for his touch.

She gasped at the delicious friction, loving the way he could inflame her so entirely.

He caught the moan that escaped her involuntarily and began biting her lover lip playfully, making her laugh breathlessly.

He plundered, teased and took what he wished with no regrets, like a pirate. She could feel it right in her soul.

It was electrifying.

And completely overwhelming.

And just then, she could feel her brain kicking right back in.

She stiffened slightly and he was so in tune with her that his hands and arms slackened just a bit, but enough that she could withdraw from his arms if she wanted to.

She didn't want to.

But she probably had to at some point.

Neither of them were anywhere near sober. And despite the flush that seemed to cover her entire body, her mind really seemed to have gained the upper hand again.

He was still kissing her but slower, languidly as if he had nothing better to do. He was nibbling on her lower lip and slowly dragged his mouth away from hers to track down her throat in an excruciatingly slow decent, alternative kissing, licking and sucking her tender flesh.

It made her feel hot and feverish for him. The same way she usually felt around him.

He was nuzzling the base of her throat and she felt him relax, his steady breath turned deeper as he was dragged under by sleep again.

Without opening his eyes, he managed one quietly drawn out word before she got up. "Exquisite."

She stood slowly, dazedly and decided rather quickly to just go to bed. She couldn't handle this now, she was tipsy, tired and seriously aroused.

So she texted Harry quickly and went to bed in the next room where she tried desperately to ignore the insistent blaze he had stoked to life within her.

Morning dawned and she was feeling wretched.

Not only had she been to dinner with a man who was married but she had also, not of her own volition at first, but she had still participated eagerly in the snogging of a man who was so obviously in a relationship with someone else.

She felt miserable.

It was obvious that she was only good enough to be 'the other one'. Both Draco and Tom had made that abundantly clear by their actions the previous day.

She rolled over in bed until she was face down in her pillow and she groaned loudly.

A clatter in the kitchen and the sound of assured footsteps claimed her attention outside her room. He knocked, "Hermione? Are you okay? Breakfast is ready soon."

She blinked. He was making her breakfast? "Uhm, yeah, I'll be out in a couple of minutes." She felt so awkward but she had to get up. She had to face him and the disaster that was yesterday.

Reflexively, she took a moment to check her phone and she was shocked by what she saw.

She had no less than eighteen missed calls, one hundred and fifty-three notifications on Instagram and two hundred and seven on facebook… what the hell had been going on?

She was suddenly wide awake and began browsing with frantic speed through the notifications. She's been tagged in so many comments and labelled a home wrecker, a whore and much much worse things.

The post itself was a photo taken at the Shard were Tom was leaning especially close to her, gazing at her speculatively, with herself smiling back at him and leaning towards her. It was posted by a notorious gossip site with no sources quoted on the post, of course.

They looked, for lack of a better word, in love and she wanted to vomit as she read the text accompanying the picture.

The infamous and very MARRIED Tom Riddle is at it yet again! Riddle have exhibited the latest woman to the public, readying her for the inevitable impending seduction!
Daughter of the Baron Whitecroft, heiress Hermione Granger have fallen completly under his dark spell!
The lengthy date at the fashionable Shard ended with them leaving together and looking very cosy! This author can only guess that what happened afterwards included a bed and no talking!
One can only wonder what Riddle's wife, Lady Bellatrix Lestrange, makes of yet another sordid affair!

The air seemed to be sucked out of the room instantly and she couldn't breathe.

She couldn't stay in here, the room felt too small, too constricting. In just her nightclothes, she wrenched open the door with wild eyes.

Draco was in the kitchen and he paused when he saw her stricken face. "What happened?"

She didn't say anything, she just handed him her phone. He frowned as he scrolled through facebook with his expression displaying increasing alarm.

"I don't know what to do." She admitted and hung her head. She'd never not known what to do, it wasn't in her vocabulary and it felt horrible.

She wanted to crawl into her bed and just stay there. This was horrible.

She had never been subjected to such hate online before because her presence online had never been especially distinct. In fact, it was negligible.

As she descended into the gloom of her thoughts, Draco jolted her back up. "Never mind those fucking vultures." He tossed her phone casually on the sofa and went back to preparing breakfast. "Here, I've got bacon, eggs, toast but no beans or sausages because you don't have them in your cupboards and how do you not have baked beans anywhere? Are you even a proper Brit?"

He was teasing her, trying to distract her with mundane chatter. It worked a little bit. She quirked a tiny smile and he smirked, evidently very pleased with himself.

Gosh he was handsome when he looked like that. She took all of his appearance in for the first time since entering the kitchen. He was slightly dishevelled, mussed from sleep, wearing a pair of trousers with no belt, no shirt and no shoes. He looked completely delicious.

He served breakfast and expertly brewed tea and still, she couldn't help thinking that he looked so much better than the food in front of her. But he bade her eat and obediently, she did.

They sat eating in silence for a while, both of them focused on getting sustenance in their bodies before dealing with everything else around them.

He finished his food in record time, wiping the corners of his mouth delicately before speaking. "So tell me, what the hell happened?"

She sighed heavily. "Nothing! Nothing happened. These people are crucifying me for something that I haven't done!" She could feel her blood pressure rising, morphing into anger at the injustice of it all. "This bloody picture means nothing, it's a glimpse into a manipulative date that ended in Harry shouting at me on the phone to leave and go home!" She choked on a sob, hot tears spilling from her eyes and she was back to feeling so wretched again.

Draco, being Draco, she had expected him to gaze at her stoically and then toss her from the fancy polo training program. But he did the opposite.

He got up, walked around the table and gathered her up in his arms. "Hey hey, relax, I'm not accusing you of anything."

She relaxed into his arms, relishing the comfort and security he provided as she leaned on him. He pulled her to the sofa and sat down with her in his lap.

"I've never done anything like yesterday, I knew he was married but he specifically told me that it was just a friendly dinner. He told me he was melancholy because his wife had gone to France and then… I'm not sure how it happened but then he asked me to dinner and I agreed. It wasn't a date, I'd never do anything with a married man. He might be handsome but I know that he's not for me."

She was rambling and he was letting her. And it felt so good to be held by him.

But then she remembered his day yesterday and how he'd been looking so content on the arm of the magazine woman.

She stiffened and glared at him. "Wait, why are you here? Do you think I'm a quick shag just like Tom? You're in a relationship too with that Cho!"

She was panicking now, scrambling away from his lap and standing up. "Get out, I don't want you in my house. You need to leave right now!"

He held his hands up, trying to get her to calm down but it had the opposite effect, it only made her more incensed. "Hermione, I was just,-"

She cut him off viciously. "You were just trying to get some too…"

He blanched but she stared at him without seeing him properly. "Jesus Christ, am I that low to you people? Do you think I'm not good enough? Am I just a fucking joke? Or am I just a joke to fuck?!" She sneered. "Get the fuck out of my house right now!"

He stood up, looking shocked at her reaction. "Look, I wanted to tell you that Cho and I-"

She was walking away from him, ignoring him. "No. No. Nope, you need to go." She gathered up his things and thrust them at him. "You're not telling me a damn thing! Another fucking sob-story for me to show you some pity and then turn on the charm to get me into bed, not fucking happening!"

She shoved him with all her might towards the door, he was protesting the entire way but she wouldn't listen to him and when he was finally over the threshold, she slammed the door in his face.

Draco stood outside, watching the closed door in utter shock.

What the fuck just happened?

A/N: Don't forget to review!

HBSJ