A/N: So... it's been over a year. I definitely did not intend for it to take me so long to update. All I can say is that it's been the busiest year of my life so far. I'm working three jobs these days and I got married a couple months ago, so what little free time I had leading up to that was devoted to wedding planning. But now that it's summer and I'm a married lady with no more massive events to plan, I finally had a little time to make some words. I hope you enjoy!

As always, massive thanks to BiscuitsForPotter for being the best damn alpha/beta a writer could ask for!

By the time the therapy session had concluded, there was little Hermione could do to avoid it: Malfoy would be spending the weekend with her and her parents. After Malfoy escorted her home and they parted ways, Hermione immediately Flooed back to Ginny's, hell bent on giving the conniving witch a piece of her mind.

"What the hell were you thinking?" she snapped as she stepped back into the living room.

Ginny looked up at her from her chair, still in her disguise, her eyes sparkling with doe-eyed innocence. "Whatever do you mean?"

Hermione scowled in response. "Well, we won't be going, I can tell you that," she insisted with a stamp of her foot and folded arms.

Ginny grinned and stood from her seat, waving her wand to cast a finite on the glamour charms she'd used. "Yes, you will." Her tone was flippant, as if Hermione was being ridiculous. "As your therapist, I really must insist that it is the best course of action for all parties involved."

Furious energy pouring from every inch of her skin, Hermione followed Ginny into the kitchen. "You aren't a therapist! You're a journalist. And how is introducing Malfoy to my parents possibly a good idea? In what world—"

"It's a good idea because, despite what you might think you need to do for this article, Hermione, I actually think you should keep Malfoy around for a while." Ginny pulled down a glass from the cupboard and filled it with wine.

"What on earth makes you think that?"

Ginny raised one pale eyebrow, giving Hermione a knowing look. "I know you think he's fit. Only a blind woman would deny that he's good looking. And you two obviously have a lot of heat between you."

Hermione scoffed. "It's called pure, unadulterated loathing."

Ginny took a sip of her wine, her eyes boring into Hermione's. "No. I don't think that's it."

Throwing her hands up in exasperation, Hermione pressed on. "And how do you propose I explain to my parents what I'm doing with him? I've lied to them enough for one lifetime."

"You don't have to lie to them. You can tell them exactly what's going on for all I care. But I think it would be good for you, and for Malfoy, to have a weekend with them." Ginny's eyes glinted. "Besides, I really don't see how you could get out of it now that Malfoy thinks you're going."

To say that Malfoy seemed to dread the idea of a weekend with Hermione's parents was an understatement. He walked up the path to the Grangers' front door with the look of a man being led to the gallows.

Hermione held tight to his hand, trying to maintain her act of simpering girlfriend, but knowing that she was failing. She was sure her parents would see right through this little act; sure they'd read her like the books she so dearly loved. And then this whole shenanigan would come crashing down around her. It was bound to be a disaster. Yet, somehow, her feet kept carrying her forward.

As they approached the house and knocked, she looked at him and forced a smile, receiving an equally forced grimace in return.

The door swung open to reveal her mother, who greeted them with far more enthusiasm than they returned.

"Hermione!" she cried, immediately throwing her arms around her daughter. "What a treat! I couldn't believe it when you rang to tell us you were coming. And bringing a guest too!" She looked at Malfoy. "I'm Jean Granger. Pleasure to meet you."

Malfoy held out his hand. "Draco Malfoy. Thank you for inviting me into your home."

Hermione's mum ignored Malfoy's hand, instead opening her arms and wrapping him in a tight hug.

Malfoy went stiff, as if he'd never been hugged before.

"Don't make them stand outside all day, Jean." Hermione's father, John, appeared in the doorway with a warm smile. "Come on in, you two."

As they entered the home, Malfoy and her father introduced themselves. They were quickly ushered into the kitchen, where Hermione's mother poured them each a cup of tea.

"Hermione, I can't believe you didn't tell us you were seeing someone," Jean said as she sank into a chair at the kitchen table.

"It's… new." Hermione cleared her throat and took a sip of her tea, nearly scalding her mouth on the piping hot liquid.

"Oh? How long have you two been seeing each other?" John asked.

"A week," Hermione answered, her cheeks flaming. What was she doing? Why had she agreed to bring Malfoy here? This was humiliating, not to mention deceitful to her parents who she had already deceived far too much for one lifetime. She should have told Malfoy that her parents were out of town, that they would visit another time. She should have lied to him, not to her parents.

John's eyebrows lifted sky high. "Indeed? That's quite quick to bring a beau home. You two must be very serious about each other."

Malfoy choked on his tea, coughing a few times before sending her a smile that she was sure was entirely forced.

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Hermione corrected her father. "M - Draco doesn't know much about Muggles, you see. And I told him so much about you and how I grew up that he got curious. Wanted to see the house and meet you two. Isn't that right?"

The briefest flash of confusion crossed Malfoy's face, and Hermione did her best to smile at him in the same airheaded way she had for the past seven days. She was sure he was baffled. Two days ago she'd been planning their wedding, and now she was telling her parents that they weren't serious about each other.

Malfoy's expression quickly fell back into its typical mask of cool confidence. "That's right. I wasn't allowed to associate with Muggles while I was growing up, you see. So dating Hermione has been quite eye-opening for me."

"I must admit," Jean began, "given the stories Hermione told us about you while she was in school, I was shocked to hear that you two had mended fences."

Hermione opened her mouth to defend her fake boyfriend, but Malfoy reached out and grabbed hold of her hand.

"I made a lot of mistakes in my youth. But I feel very fortunate that Hermione was willing to give me a chance to show how much I've grown and learned. I'm trying quite hard to prove that I'm someone worthy of her forgiveness."

Hermione blinked at him, stunned by his words. He certainly seemed sincere, and yet she'd suspected for days now that he was merely trying to get into her knickers. It was the only logical reason she could fathom to explain why he hadn't broken up with her yet despite her mad behaviour.

Realising that everyone was staring at her, she hurried to add on. "I admit that I was wary at first, but Draco has been quite caring to me this past week."

The doorbell rang suddenly, and Jean stood up. "Oh good, they're here!"

"Who's here?" Hermione asked as her mother hurried from the kitchen. "Mum! Who's here?" she asked louder.

"I told her you two probably wanted a quiet evening," John said. "But your mother insisted that you coming home was the perfect opportunity to have the neighbours over for a game night."

Hermione groaned. "Dad!"

John held up his hands in defence. "I know! I tried to stop her."

Hermione turned to Malfoy, who looked startled and slightly frightened. "I'm so sorry for what's about to happen," she murmured.

"What's going on?" he asked.

Before she could reply, no less than six people hurried into the kitchen, all clamouring to greet her and meet her date. Most everyone was her parents' age, their children near Hermione's age having grown up and left home too.

Malfoy certainly seemed overwhelmed, but was his usual charming self. Within minutes he had the older ladies of the neighbourhood laughing and winking at her. "He's quite a catch, dear," one of them whispered to her mischievously.

Hermione just smiled and allowed herself to be ushered from the kitchen into the dining room.

Her father thrust glasses with generous pours of whiskey into her and Draco's hands, offering them an encouraging nod as they sank into seats at the table

Jean clapped her hands, shouting over the sound of the crowd until everyone quieted. "Alright, so most of you know how to play already, but for our newcomers—" she gestured toward Hermione and Draco with a fond smile. "I'll just quickly explain the rules. John, could you deal the cards?"

Hermione's father unsheathed a deck of playing cards and began to shuffle.

"The name of the game is Bullshit," Jean announced.

Hermione baulked. She had never known her mother to swear. Certainly not so flippantly in polite company.

"Courtesy of a lovely American couple John and I met while we were living in Australia," Jean explained. "The object is to get rid of all the cards in your hand. But you may need to lie to do so. For example—" She scooped up the small pile of cards in front of her and fanned them out, examining them closely. Then, she plucked two cards from the middle and placed them face down in the centre of the table. "I've got two aces. John?" She gestured to her husband on her left.

John made a show of looking through his cards and studying the faces of those at the table. "Apologies, dear, but I'm afraid that's bullshit."

The other players tittered with laughter as Jean revealed that she had, in fact, lied. She returned her cards to her hand. "And if you're caught lying, you pick up all the cards in the middle, not just the ones you placed."

"But!" piped up John, leaning forward slightly, "if you accuse someone of bullshit, but it was not, in fact, bullshit, you take the pile. So you shouldn't just accuse everyone."

Next to Hermione, Draco nodded and picked up his pile of cards. He rearranged a few, his mouth set with determination.

John pulled a single card from his deck and placed it face down in the centre of the table. "One two."

The game continued with Mrs Wells from across the street playing two threes. Hermione observed, taking note of what was in her hand and what people were claiming to place on the table.

It was a simple enough game. But while she personally had no issue with swearing, hearing her parents and their friends do it was jarring every time. She had to stop herself from clapping her hands over her face each time her mother cried out "bullshit" with joyful abandon.

They played a few rounds, and she noticed that Draco was surprisingly good at assessing whether or not someone was lying. It seemed that he quickly discovered small tells in most of the people at the table.

"You're quite good," Mildred Hemmings remarked as she tucked her three cards back into her hand.

Draco shrugged. "It's all about reading people."

"Draco's in law enforcement," Hermione piped up, hoping to avoid Draco mentioning the word 'Auror' in a room full of Muggles.

Mildred Hemmings perked up. "Oh! I see why you like him, Hermione. What woman can resist a man in uniform?"

Hermione just smiled in response, fighting the urge to roll her eyes at the cliche. In truth, Draco looked amazingly fit in his Auror uniform.

On Draco's turn, he plucked a single card from his hand and placed it on the pile at the centre of the table. "One six," he declared, sitting back in his chair.

And that's when she noticed it. It was tiny, miniscule even. The slightest twitch in his jaw muscle that she'd noticed days before. Whether it was the orchid or Godric or telling her he had to return to work, she'd seen that muscle twitch before. He was hiding something.

"Bullshit," she accused.

His gaze snapped to her, eyes wide. For a moment he didn't move, and Hermione thought that perhaps she'd made a mistake. Then, his cheeks blooming with pink, he reached out and turned over the card he'd laid down. Not a six after all, but a nine.

The table erupted, thrilled to see Draco have to add the entire pile of cards to his hand.

Draco scowled as he organised the cards.

Hermione placed a hand lightly on his arm. "It's all about reading people, darling."

"Very funny," he droned. But despite his pouting, Hermione saw a glint in his eyes and a slight pull at his lips as if he were fighting a smile.

After the game, everyone dispersed. Some taking their drinks to the living room and some venturing to the kitchen for refreshments. Many people sought her and Draco out, curious about Hermione and her new beau.

"Draco Malfoy, eh?" a broad shouldered man with a wiry moustache chortled. "Bit of a peculiar name, innit?"

Malfoy took a tip of his drink. "It's an old family name."

"Did you and Hermione go to the same boarding school?" the man's wife asked.

"We did," he said, smiling at Hermione and wrapping his arm around her waist.

The woman placed her hand over her heart. "Aww, young love."

Malfoy laughed. "Hardly. We actually hated each other at school. It wasn't until just recently that we reconnected and I realised just how much of a prat I'd been."

The man clapped Draco on the arm with a low chuckle. "What man wasn't a bit of a prat in his youth, eh?"

Draco just smiled in response and looked at Hermione. "I'm just lucky she was willing to give me another chance."

And his eyes were so clear, so earnest, that Hermione forgot for a moment that it wasn't real. That she'd only begun dating him for her article. That she had to push him away before the tenth day.

She and Draco talked with nearly everyone over the next hour. He kept his arm around her waist the entire time, only detaching from her when her father insisted he accompany him in the dining room. And when the final guests had left, Draco was still chatting with her father over glasses of scotch.

"He's lovely, darling," Hermione's mother remarked, drying her hands on a dish towel after starting the dishwasher.

Hermione peered through the open doorway of the dining room to where Draco was looking through picture books. "He can be."

Jean came to stand next to her, handing her a full glass of wine. "He was a good sport tonight, to put up with all those people."

Hermione chuckled. "It's certainly not something he's used to."

"Tomorrow will be quieter," Jean promised. "You father and I have tickets to a show in the afternoon. I tried to move them when we heard you were coming, but with such short notice…"

Hermione waved her hand. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure we'll both appreciate a quiet day after the evening we've had. Don't trouble yourself to accommodate us when I barely gave you a heads up we would be coming."

Suddenly, Draco burst out laughing and looked up to find her. "Your hair in this picture, Hermione!"

Blushing, Hermione walked into the dining room to see the photo Draco was pointing at. She saw herself at age five. She and her parents were at the beach. She wore a bright pink swimsuit, and her unruly brown curls were at least twice the size of her head.

She smiled. "It's gotten much better, don't you think?"

He grinned at her. "I had no idea that the way it was when I met you was actually an improvement. I never would have teased you if I'd known."

Hermione scoffed. "Yes you would have."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

It should have infuriated her, but she found herself laughing.

Her father brought a new book forward and flipped open to a page bearing a photo of Hermione holding up her Hogwarts letter, her smile so broad that her eyes crinkled. The next picture showed her modelling her newly-purchased robes from Madam Malkin's.

"There she is," Draco hummed, his eyes showing a fondness she'd never seen before.

Her parents bid them goodnight, with knowing smiles, and disappeared up the stairs hand in hand.

Hermione sank into the chair next to Draco, sipping her wine and looking at the old photos with him.

"I still remember the very first time I met you," he said, turning away from the book to look at her properly. "Do you?"

She nodded. "On the train, yeah?"

He hummed. "You came in thirty minutes after we left King's Cross, and you were already in your robes. Probably the earliest any student has ever gotten dressed in the entire history of the school."

Blushing, Hermione brought a hand up to cover her mouth. "I was excited."

"You were looking for a toad," he continued. "And I believe Pansy said something rather unkind about your…" He trailed off.

"Hair?" she offered. "Teeth. Shoes. Everything. Take your pick."

His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry."

She laughed, feeling much to light from the wine and night of merriment to hold onto any sort of resentment. "It was a long time ago."

Brow furrowing, Draco turned the page, his grey eyes falling on picture after picture of Hermione and her family.

"You certainly won over my parents' neighbours," Hermione remarked, trying to keep the conversation light.

His lips twitched. "It was fun. Although how you knew I lied is a complete mystery to me."

Hermione grinned. "You have a tell. And no, I won't reveal what it is." She looked over his shoulder at a photo of her and her parents on Christmas her first year.

"You did well blending in," she remarked. "I thought Mildred Hemmings was going to try to take you home." Her lips twitched at the memory of the woman in her sixties who had let her arm linger on Draco's bicep a bit too long.

"She did slip something into my pocket, actually," Draco said, leaning slightly so that he could reach into his trousers. He withdrew a small slip of paper. He passed it to Hermione. "What does it mean?"

Hermione examined the paper, noting ten hastily scrawled numbers. She laughed. "She gave you her phone number!"

"What's that?"

"It's how Muggles talk to each other when they're not in the same place. A bit like a Floo call, but you don't need a fireplace, and you can't see the other person."

His brow furrowed with unmistakable confusion. "Why would she want to talk to me again?"

Hermione gave him a pointed look, lifting her eyebrows suggestively.

Grey eyes grew wide, his mouth dropping open. "Honestly?"

Shrugging, Hermione took a sip of her wine. "It would be my guess."

"That's very forward of her," he remarked, glancing at the number on the paper. "And while you were right next to me, too!"

"Maybe she thought you were too attractive to be with me," Hermione mused without malice.

"That's absurd," he said with a scoff. "If anything, I'm not attractive enough."

Hermione's eyes snapped to him, taken aback. She was a reasonably confident person. She certainly didn't think poorly of herself. Her confidence had grown a lot over the years, and she was generally pleased with what she saw in the mirror. But she was still unaccustomed to being complimented on her looks in such ways.

She took in his face. It was symmetrical. His features were fine. His jawline was strong and his cheekbones were pronounced. He was conventionally attractive by just about any standards. It seemed mad to her that anyone would find her to be the more appealing party of the two of them. And yet he'd said it as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

At a loss for words, she leaned in and kissed him soundly. Her hand cradled his cheek tenderly as she drank him in. Then she pulled away, keeping her face close to his as she softly spoke.

"We should go to bed."

Draco regarded their room with curiosity. Sterile was the best word to describe it. It was a simple guest room with very little decor. Her parents didn't host many overnight guests.

"This isn't the house you grew up in," Draco observed, turning to where she sat on the bed.

Her lips twitched. "What makes you think that?"

He gestured around. "Well, this hardly looks like the room of a teenage girl. And even if you'd since cleaned it out of any personal items, there's still a suspicious lack of books."

"You're a good detective, Auror Malfoy," she teased, leaning back on her palms. "It actually is the same house. And this is my childhood bedroom. But I haven't had any personal items here since just after our sixth year."

Draco's brow furrowed.

Maybe it was the wine, or the fact that he'd been so lovely all day. But she wanted to tell him, to share this part of herself with him. She shifted onto the centre of the bed, crossing her legs and folding her palms in her lap. "My parents moved to Australia during the war," she explained.

With a shuddering breath, she forged ahead. "I… I Obliviated them after sixth year. I knew I'd be going on the run with Harry, and I knew they'd try to stop me. And I had to keep them safe. They never would have left without me, and I knew they'd be in danger if they stayed. So I erased every trace of myself from their memories. They moved to Australia."

Draco blinked at her, his mouth slightly agape. His feet moved, drawing him closer to her. He sank onto the edge of the bed.

"They have all those photos," he said, glancing at the bedroom door.

Hermione nodded, rubbing the back of her neck. "I erased myself from a handful of photos and kept them here with my parents for them to take to Australia. But I took a lot of the photo books and home videos with me. I stashed them at the Weasley's during the war and brought them back afterwards."

Draco's brow furrowed, and Hermione knew it was a lot for anyone to comprehend. Even her closest friends had thought it was an extreme measure to take.

"After the war, I went to go find them," she continued. "It was a long process, but over time I was able to restore their memories with the help of a Healer who specialises in Memory Modification magic. As it turned out, that was the easy part."

She swallowed, her heart racing at being so vulnerable with him. There was a loose thread at the hem of her shorts, and she found herself pulling it slightly to avoid his eyes. "The real work came after, when we tried to rebuild our relationship."

"You all seem fine now," he remarked, glancing at the bedroom door.

Hermione shrugged, running a hand anxiously through her curls. "We're certainly much better than we were in the beginning. But I'd wager that one of the reasons they invited all the neighbours over tonight was because they still feel a bit awkward around me. They don't like hearing a lot about magic still, and having a house full of Muggles is a pretty good way to be sure we wouldn't be talking about it."

His hand lifted, and then he was taking hold of hers, his thumb brushing soothing circles over her knuckles. "I'm sorry."

She turned her hand over in his, her eyes fixed on the way their fingers moved together like a gentle dance. "It's alright. I know I did the right thing. And as strained as things are now, I feel very fortunate that they're here. That they're alive and that I managed to restore their memories. That's enough. And the closeness will come with time." Her chest was tight, her throat thick as she swallowed down the emotion that threatened to bubble up within her. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to gather herself, only opening them when she felt Draco's hand gently cup her cheek.

Draco's eyes searched her face for several seconds, seemingly at a loss for words. He swallowed. "What can I do?" he asked at last. Softly. Earnestly. "What do you need?"

Hermione exhaled, her heart quickening, her stomach swooping. "Just hold me?"

Without hesitation, Draco laid down on the bed, his head on the pillow, and opened his arms. With a weak smile, Hermione moved next to him, resting her head on his chest and wrapping her arm around his torso. He pulled her close, his lips pressing against her forehead.

Hermione woke the next morning warm and comfortable. She couldn't recall the last time she'd slept so soundly. She was only surprised that it had been in the arms of Draco Malfoy.

Turning carefully in his arms, she allowed herself to look at him as he slept. His face was utterly relaxed, his walls nonexistent. The air of aristocratic snobbery that usually surrounded him was gone.

"It's rude to stare," he grumbled, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Hermione nestled into chest. "If you weren't so nice to look at I wouldn't need to stare."

One of his eyes opened a sliver, his eyebrow arching with amusement. His hands tightened around her, pulling her flush against him. With a sleepy moan, his mouth slanted against hers, kissing her languidly. "Good morning," he mumbled.

Hermione's heart fluttered at his surprising affection. "Good morning." She smiled against his lips.

He continued kissing her, his hand drawing up her back to bury in her bedraggled curls. She arched into him, fingers curling in his shirt.

Perhaps she was imagining it, but it felt as though something had shifted the previous evening. They'd reached a new place together. The logical side of her reasoned that it was simply because she was being herself, and not the baby-talking thing she'd been for the first six days of their relationship, but the flutter in her heart told her that it was something else.

Draco Malfoy was kissing her, a muggle-born, in her childhood home. He'd spent the evening with her parents and a gaggle of tipsy — and at times flirty — Muggles and hadn't batted an eye. Sure, he'd been out of his element and a bit stiff at first, but he never once seemed disgusted by any of it.

It was certainly possible that his prejudices were a thing of the past. He wasn't a child anymore, and the war had changed a lot of minds and hearts.

If he'd truly grown, it changed things for Hermione. It was easy to know she was intentionally pushing him away when he was just her unpleasant former school bully. But now…

They started their day with breakfast with her parents, followed by a few home videos her father dragged out to show Draco.

He laughed as he watched Hermione twirling around the living room when she was seven, having just seen the Royal Ballet perform Sleeping Beauty for the first time. She declared loudly that she wanted to be a ballerina before losing her balance and falling to the floor.

Seeing the footage as an adult, Hermione determined that it had clearly been a ridiculous dream. She was woefully uncoordinated and seemed to be about as graceful as a baby giraffe on ice skates. Still, little Hermione seemed happy. Getting up to twirl some more in her little purple dress until she tumbled over again.

Draco squeezed her hand, laughing at her, but in a way that surprisingly didn't make her want to slap him. He smiled at the clumsy, tiny girl on the screen and wrapped his arm around the adult version of her next to him.

Hermione allowed her mind to wander, and found herself wondering what he'd been like as a small child. Spoiled rotten, probably. She couldn't imagine him being anything but a terror as a child. He'd been such a brat the first few years she'd known him that she was sure it started quite early. Still, he'd probably been very cute.

Early in the afternoon, Hermione's parents left to catch the show they had tickets for. They offered to cancel their dinner reservation afterwards, but Hermione refused, not wanting to put them out more than they already had.

"Fancy that walk?" she offered.

Draco smiled at her. "Lead the way."

They strolled through Hermione's parents' neighbourhood, enjoying the sunshine and warm weather.

Draco grabbed hold of her hand as they walked, and Hermione tried to recall if he'd initiated physical contact with her before they came to her parents. He must have, but certainly not like this.

She led him through the familiar streets, past a playground where a few children and their parents played. She steered him toward the park.

"Hermione, hi!" a voice called.

Turning, she saw Mildred Hemmings hurrying toward them, a bag of shopping over her arm.

"Hello, Mrs Hemmings. How are you?" she greeted with a smile.

Mildred's eyes were fixed on Draco as she approached. "Doing very well. Just returning home after a bit of shopping. I need to do a bit of work in the garden today."

"Well, you have great weather for it," Draco remarked, his arm snaking around Hermione's waist to pull her closer to his side.

Mildred's eyes followed the movement, but she didn't seem deterred. "I only wish I had someone strong to help me…" She reached out and placed her bony hand on Draco's forearm, her eyebrow curving upward suggestively.

Draco's cheeks bloomed pink as he backed away with a nervous chuckle. "Oh, Mildred, you flatter me. But I assure you, I'm not nearly as strong as I look. Besides, I'm rubbish at gardening. No green thumbs here, I'm afraid."

"I'm sure that's not true," Mildred tried again, reaching out.

"Oh, but it is!" Draco insisted, dodging her touch. "Besides, Hermione and I have a very busy day planned. Isn't that right, my love?" He turned to her, his eyes pleading.

"Very busy," Hermione said at once, placing her hand on Draco's chest. "So sorry, Mrs Hemmings, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to keep my boyfriend all to myself today. Surely you understand."

Mildred's face fell slightly, but before she could protest, Hermione steered Draco away. "Have a wonderful day!" she called over her shoulder as they quickly made their escape.

They managed to make it five steps away before dissolving into quiet laughter.

"Merlin's beard, she's persistent!" Draco glanced over his shoulder toward Mildred. "What do you think she'd've done if I'd gone to help her in her garden?"

"Best not to think about it."

He shook his head. "Can't take a bloody hint, can she?"

"She probably wasn't even listening to what you were saying. You look too fit in that shirt."

Draco didn't reply, but his arm tightened around her waist as they walked.

As they walked through the park, clouds began to gather overhead and the sky began to darken. Just as Hermione opened her mouth to suggest they head back to the house, the sky opened, and rain poured down on them.

Instantly, Draco reached for his wand in his pocket, but Hermione grabbed his wrist. "No, you can't! Someone might see," she reminded him as rain pelted them from above. "Come on. We'll have to run for it." She took his hand in hers and bolted back toward the house.

Laughing, he raced after her. It was several blocks back to Hermione's parents' home, and by the time they made it inside, slipping on the linoleum floor, they were soaked to the bone.

Hermione closed the door behind them, still laughing alongside Draco.

The house was dark and quiet, the only sounds were their laughter and the squeaking of their trainers on the wet floor.

Draco reached for her, large hands brushing wet tendrils of hair away from her face. Drawing her in, he silenced her laughter with a kiss. His lips were light as they slanted against hers. She stepped into him, pressing herself against his wet clothes and tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.

Raindrops fell from the ends of his hair, dripping onto her face until she pulled back with a chuckle. "There are towels upstairs," she murmured, feeling quite warm despite her cold, wet clothes.

He could have reminded her that they could dry off in an instant using magic. She was very aware of that fact, herself. But instead, he silently followed her as she took him by the hand and guided him up the stairs.

She took two towels from the linen closet and then proceeded to her bedroom, closing the door behind them when they entered.

Draco took the towel she offered him and roughly dried his hair. Hermione gently squeezed her towel around her hair to dry the ends.

It was distracting, having him here. Especially with how his pale shirt clung to his wet torso. But more than that, it was distracting to have him in her bedroom, the last place she'd ever expected him to be. If she could go back and tell her younger self that one day Draco Malfoy would be standing in her room and looking like he absolutely belonged there, she'd never believe it. And yet here he stood.

And perhaps the strangest fact of all was that she wanted him there.

Desperately.

"What?"

Hermione blinked, and realised that she'd been staring at him. "You've really changed, haven't you?"

His gaze rested on her for several seconds before he answered. "I've been trying to show you that I have."

Her feet carried her closer to him until she had to lift her chin to look into his eyes. "I think I finally see."

Standing on tiptoe, she reached up and kissed him soundly, her arms circling his neck.

The towel he'd been holding hit the floor. His hands were on her in an instant, pulling her against him, delving into her sodden curls at the nape of her neck. Parting her lips, her tongue met his and a light moan escaped her. The hand at her waist tightened, curling into the wet fabric of her blouse.

The blond hair was fine and soft as she buried her fingers in it. Her calves began to burn from holding herself up on her toes, so she lowered herself down, breaking the kiss as she did.

He stared down at her, his eyes wide and his cheeks slightly pink.

Slowly, waiting for him to stop her, she dragged her hands to his chest, unbuttoning the top button of his shirt.

His lips parted in a silent intake of air, but he didn't stop her as she moved on to the second button.

When she reached the bottom button, she tugged the shirt tails from the waistband of his trousers and then peeled the wet fabric away from his body. It was awkward and stuck to him several times, but with a shared laugh, they discarded it and it dropped to the floor.

Hermione raised her arms over her head, and with a grin, Draco took hold of the hem of her shirt and slowly dragged it up and over her head. After tossing the shirt aside, Draco's hands moved to her face, pushing the hair away from her eyes and drawing her in for another kiss.

Smiling against his mouth, Hermione stepped backward, pulling him with her until they reached the bed. She sat down, setting to work on the buckle of his belt.

Draco kicked his shoes off before helping her with his trousers. He pulled his belt from the loops and opened the front button. Then he turned his attention to her denims. Jeans were devastatingly difficult to take off when wet, but after a bit of awkward shuffling and several breaks to continue kissing, they hit the floor with a wet thud along with his trousers.

Crawling over her, Draco settled his body on top of hers, his hands traversing her curves and stoking a fire within her.

He took his time, his fingers teasing and exploring. His mouth left hers, kissing along her jaw and drawing her earlobe into his mouth before descending to her neck.

An involuntary moan left her as the tip of his tongue tickled a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, and soon he was paying special attention to that spot, kissing and sucking and nibbling until she was writhing beneath him.

"Draco," she whimpered, arching her back and pressing her breasts into his bare chest.

In an instant, his mouth was covering hers again, and she realised belatedly that he might be worried that she would say something to humiliate him again. Perhaps bring up Princess Hufflepuff again.

No.

She had no intentions of derailing things this time.

She wanted him, and she wasn't going to ruin it again.

Draco's hands reached behind her back as she arched against him, and the clasp on her bra released. He broke the kiss for a moment to pull the bra away from her and feast his eyes on her breasts, but then dove back in, swallowing her moans as he filled his palms with her.

"Bloody gorgeous," he mumbled against her lips.

There was a distant part of her that was quietly reminding her that this wasn't permanent. That she'd only started this for the article. That her future as a journalist depended on this article. That she had to give him up.

But as his hands drifted lower and brushed over the lace of her knickers and he sighed into her mouth, she pushed that small voice aside. She would worry about all that tomorrow. But for now, the thought of giving him up made something ache within her.

For now, she wanted to keep him.

She wondered if she could.

He was hard against her thigh. Instinctively, her knees parted, desperate to feel him against the most sensitive parts of her. Long fingers dipped below the elastic of her knickers, teasing her and circling her clit.

He broke the kiss, his lips venturing back to her neck as he sank two fingers into her dripping heat.

Her hips jumped, chasing his touch as he languidly pumped his fingers within her. Draco's kisses continued downward until his lips closed around her nipple.

A cracked cry left her as his mouth and fingers continued to coax her to new heights. Her fingers twisted in the bedding as her body writhed beyond her control. Legs trembling, back arching, hips gyrating, the coil of pleasure within her tightened.

And as she shattered with a gasp and a wail, thoughts of losing him were far from her mind.

She was floating, boneless, for a full ten seconds before she became aware of herself again.

Draco smiled down at her, his hands running affectionately along her hips and thighs. "You're a fucking goddess, do you know that?"

Feeling her cheeks flush, Hermione covered her face with her hands. But Draco just dipped his head, kissing every bit of her face and neck he could reach until she dropped her arms to his shoulders.

"I think I could watch you come a thousand times and never tire of it," he declared against her throat.

"A thousand times?" Hermione hummed thoughtfully. "Seems like an unattainable goal for a single afternoon."

She felt him grin against her. "Who said anything about us only having today?"

The words made her stomach swoop. Maybe she could keep him after all. "Fair enough. But let's try for at least one more today." Her hands dropped to his hips before feeling along the front of his trunks to his bulging erection.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded, offering him an encouraging squeeze. "Very."

Draco groaned, burying his face in her neck as she stroked him through his pants. Then, as if he couldn't wait a moment longer, he tore himself away from her and scrambled out of his trunks. Following his lead, Hermione quickly divested herself of her knickers and laid back, waiting for him.

He reached for his trousers, still strewn in a sopping pile on the floor, and she was briefly concerned that he might leave her wanting. But then he pulled his wand from his pocket and cast a contraceptive charm and all doubt melted away.

After casting his wand aside, he leaned over her, his gaze meeting hers as he paused for three heart-stopping seconds. His lips parted, grey eyes darting between hers for just a moment before he leaned in and brushed his lips against hers once, twice, three times. Then his kiss was harder, almost bruising as she felt the head of his cock bump against her.

He pushed forward, stretching her deliciously as his fingers tangled in her hair and he moaned into her mouth.

Biting her lip, Hermione dropped her head back onto the pillow as he entered her. She was no blushing virgin, but it had been months since she'd last been with anyone, and he was large, much larger than her last partner. Still, the pleasure was blinding, and she couldn't help the gasp that tore from her when he pulled one of her legs up and he bottomed out within her.

"Are you alright?" he asked, pausing.

She arched against him, keening at the feeling of being so full. Her hands grappled at his shoulders. As she rolled her hips, he groaned, dropping onto his elbows, his brow furrowing. "Fuck."

"Please, Draco," she gasped.

He moved one hand lower, pressing her hips into the mattress as he drew back and sank into her again. The rhythm was slow at first. Deep, full strokes that pulled the most sinfully guttural noises from her throat. He alternated between kissing her and nibbling at her throat. The hand that wasn't pressing bruises into her hip remained tangled in her curls, gripping her almost reverently as he murmured incoherent sentiments against her throat.

It was so much. Too much. His cock, his hands, his mouth, his words, his scent, the weight of him on top of her. All of it surrounded her, overwhelming her senses as his body possessed hers. Before long, her body was floating higher again, her cunt tightening around his cock as he began to thrust into her quicker and harder.

It was as if he had woken up every nerve ending in her body. Every touch felt amplified through her. Every drag of his cock within her sent shocks of ecstasy through her. Every kiss sent shivers down her spine. Every squeeze or caress of his fingers had her skin humming.

"Draco, I'm— I'm gonna—"

He groaned against her lips. "That's it, love. Come for me. Please."

Her orgasm ripped through her, setting every inch of her body aflame. She cried out, blunt fingernails digging into Draco's shoulders as he fucked her through every second of her release.

Distantly, she was aware of his hips stuttering, a strangled curse on his lips, a groan in her ear.

He didn't pull out of her right away, but pressed himself deeper with a satisfied moan, like he didn't want to let her go quite yet. Which was perfectly acceptable, as far as she was concerned. She wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging to him with a contented hum and kissing him soundly.

At last, he pulled away with a shiver, and reached for his wand to clean them both up before settling next to her. He drew her in until her head rested on his chest.

They would have to get up soon. It wouldn't be too long before Hermione's parents returned home from dinner, and the last thing she wanted was to be caught in a compromising position when they did. But for just a few minutes longer, she wanted to just enjoy being with him.

While she still could.

The next day, they Apparated back to London, and Draco dropped her back off at her flat. Though her things were packed in her small, light, beaded bag, he still insisted on carrying it for her and seeing her safely into her flat.

"I had a lovely weekend, truly," he said as he lingered in front of the Floo before leaving.

Hermione smiled at him. "So did I."

He shuffled his feet for a moment. "Listen, tomorrow is the Ministry Gala," he said, rubbing the back of his neck. "If you're not busy, I'd like for you to come with me."

Heart swooping, Hermione nodded. "Okay."

He stepped closer, grabbing hold of her hand. "As my girlfriend."

A grin overtook Hermione's face and a laugh bubbled over her lips as she placed her hand on his chest. "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend?" Just a hint of her old baby voice crept back in, but instead of grimacing, Draco just smiled fondly at her.

"I guess so."

A thought occurred to her, and she felt her smile falter slightly. "Tomorrow will be the tenth day we've been dating."

His brow furrowed slightly, and she knew he didn't understand the significance. How could he?

Draco nodded.

She didn't want to think about it, didn't think she had the heart to continue pushing him away. There was only one day left, and she knew, after the weekend they'd shared, that only a truly extreme act would push him away now. And now that she knew him better, now that she cared, she knew she wouldn't be able to hurt him like that.

Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him gently. "I'll see you tomorrow night."

As Draco bid her goodbye and disappeared through the Floo, the promise of tomorrow lingered. Its possibilities and its joys left no room for confusion. It was in that exact moment, watching Draco walk away, that Hermione made up her mind: She didn't want to lose him. Against all odds and comprehension, she'd fallen for Draco Malfoy, and she intended to keep him for as long as she could.

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