"What were you thinking?" Lucius hissed. Both of the Malfoy men were sitting in Lucius' office, though his father never used it as such. He just entertained important guests here, or had before the war. While his father was sitting behind the desk, Draco was across from him, leaning moodily against the side of the chair. His parents had been stonily silent since Draco's return two days prior. Until now. Now, Lucius was looking at him like Draco had just told him that he was moving to Maraco to live with Muggles.

Draco had never liked disappointing his parents. Since he was a young child, he always strove to make them proud of him, always wanted to do just as they asked. It had irritated him to no end that Granger was top of the class instead of him, especially when his father gave him that pointed look down the end of his sharp nose. His main reason for being branded like a piece of cattle was to make his father proud. But Draco had learned that obeying his parents' every order had not, in fact, led to the greatness that they had always promised.

"And what moment in time are you referring to?" Draco asked easily, picking imaginary dirt from under his fingernails. It was an avoidance tactic that Lucius knew well. Draco had learned it from him.

"The moment when a reporter took a picture of you with Astoria Greengrass."

Draco thought the press really must be hard up for gossip if they were taking pictures of purebloods and slapping them across The Daily Prophet's gossip column. Nevertheless, his and Astoria's picture was plastered across that page, the headline reading 'A History of the Malfoy Family's Shady Dealings and their New Ministry Connection.' It hadn't really been bad either. Draco had his arm around her, his hand resting on her hip opposite him, while he leaned down to whisper something to her. Astoria had a smile tugging across her lips as she glanced up at him. It was harmless really. Potter and his Weaslette had been caught in much more compromising positions.

Yet here he was, getting lectured.

"Honestly, Draco, of all the women you could have been photographed with," Lucius muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation. "Why couldn't you have chosen the Parkinson girl?"

Because she was married. Draco rolled his eyes. He knew his father was still bitter that Blaise had ended up married to Pansy instead of him. According to his mother, she was one of his best prospects — not that he had a lot of those these days. Pansy was one of the few girls his mother didn't complain about. Besides criticizing her haircut from time to time, his mother didn't really have anything awful to say about Pansy.

"And you had to pick Hyperion Greengrass' daughter? Of all people," Lucius scoffed. There was certainly no lost love between Draco's father and Astoria's father. Draco could remember the scathing remarks Lucius made whenever Hyperion Greengrass was even mentioned, and the thinly veiled insults whenever the two men crossed each other's paths.

At this point, Draco had taken to staring out the window at the snow covered lawn of the Manor. His father's anger was something he had expected when he returned from the French Alps, but Draco had been in here for over an hour and dealing with his father was becoming tedious.

"Are you listening to me, Draco?" Lucius snapped.

"I've already replayed everything you and Mother could say to me over the past two days when you weren't speaking to me," Draco said icily. "I'm sorry if I'm rather bored hearing them again."

Rage appeared in his father's eyes, and Draco fought the urge to flinch. Normally, he strove to please his family. This sort of reaction would have made him grovel for his father's approval not two years ago. Though that need to see pride in his father's eyes still existed within him, he was slowly learning that need often did more harm than good.

"That girl is a disgrace to good pureblood society," Lucius said.

Draco didn't even bother to roll his eyes. He knew his mother and father would never approve of Astoria simply because of her view on Muggleborns, just like they would never let go of the views that had been ingrained in them since birth.

"And she is the most crass person I have ever seen," he continued.

Bold maybe, but Astoria was never crass.

"She will ruin you," Lucius finished.

Privately, Draco thought she already had.

Draco hadn't thought this through. When he and Astoria arrived at the little cottage rental where Draco and his parents normally stayed, there was no one out front. After ringing the bell over a dozen times and searching the little inn, they finally located a very irritated satyr who told them that there was only one cottage left and that it was near the base of one of the mountains. Grumpily, he'd given them the key, and Astoria had tipped him handsomely for the inconvenience. Draco thought that he deserved a swift kick up the ass for his attitude rather than a tip.

Now, Draco listened as Astoria put away her clothes in the bedroom. That annoying satyr had sold them a room with only one bed and had not mentioned it when they left the reception area. Astoria didn't even allow him the chance to offer her the bedroom — just waltzed into the room and started unpacking. Leaving Draco to awkwardly decide if he was going to go in there and speak to her or live out of his suitcase for the next week.

Astoria also saved him that decision as well. She appeared in the doorway of the bedroom holding up a bottle of wine. She looked just as pretty as she had a few hours ago, in her pretty green jumper and trousers with her hair ruffled.

"Do you want a glass?" she asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes. "Where did you get that?"

"I took it from the reception area," Astoria said as she searched the cabinets for a bottle opener. When Draco looked at her incredulously, she only grinned. "What? I gave that satyr more in a tip than this wine costs."

Her audacity never ceased to amaze him. While Astoria opened the wine bottle, he unbuttoned the top two buttons on his shirt. Once the wine was poured into two glasses, Draco sat down on one end of the couch and Astoria on the other end. He lifted the wine to his nose, taking in the notes of black pepper and cherry. As the rich tannins coated his tongue, he realized this was awkward once again. Or maybe it was just him.

On the balcony in Athens, it had been easy, opening up to her in the moonlight, sharing things he hardly admitted to himself, listening as she explained her life. He was starting to realize that he'd disappeared in the middle of the night with a girl who was as good as a stranger to him and whose cousin might very well send him to an early grave.

"Why are you so tense?" she asked, sitting her wine glass down and tugging her feet onto the couch. She pulled her knees into herself and rested her chin on them. The most captivating thing about Astoria was her eyes, and Draco couldn't pull himself away from them when they were trained on him with such curiosity. "Is it because you're sleeping on the couch?"

Draco glared at her.

"You could sleep in the bed if you wanted." She picked up her wine and took another sip, while Draco tried to figure out if that was an invitation or simply a statement. "So why the French Alps? Did your parents honeymoon here?"

"No," he said softly, swirling his wine around his cup. "We'd vacation here when my grandmother was alive. She was fond of the mountains in the winter time."

Draco couldn't remember much about his paternal grandmother since she died when he was nine. What he did remember was pleasant enough. Vacations to the countryside. Her jovial laugh when he did something that amused her or his mother said something funny. Her snow white hair braided intricately atop her head.

"That must have been nice," Astoria said. "I never knew my grandmother." When Draco raised an eyebrow in question, she continued. "My father's mother was gone long before I was born, and my mother . . . well, her mother died a few years after my birth, and my mother never discussed her."

My birth. What an odd way to think of one's life and one's coming into the world.

"What about your mother and father?" Draco asked, leaning forward. "What are they like?"

Astoria smiled coyly. "Your father hasn't told you about my family?"

He had. To say his father wasn't fond of the Greengrasses was an understatement. He complained often of how deceptive Hyperion Greengrass could be and how he had connections that ran even deeper into the bowels of the Ministry than Lucius had at the height of his power. Despite his hostility toward Astoria's father, Lucius rarely ever brought up her mother, who was once a Rowle. In fact, Draco couldn't recall the last time he'd heard anything about Marianna Greengrass.

"I thought I'd ask for a slightly less biased opinion."

Astoria snorted. "Well, my father is certainly less narcissistic than yours." Draco glared at her, but Astoria just raised an eyebrow in challenge. "He's smart, a Slytherin to the core really. Ambitious, cunning, proud. He wants me to climb as high as I'd like in the Ministry as long as I'm happy. Supportive I guess you'd call it." She took a sip of her wine. "My mother's a cunt." Draco choked on his wine. "And she hates me. I don't think she ever wanted me, but she adores Daphne. If I'm Daddy's, then Daphne is Mother's."

There was bitterness there, Draco realized as he wiped red wine off his chin. He had no idea what it was like to have a mother who didn't want you, who preferred someone else to you. Perhaps, he was lucky in that sense. His mother had always openly expressed her love for him, often times louder than Draco would have liked.

"That's a rather depressing topic though," she said. "Nothing you'd be interested in."

Draco was interested, but he was not courageous enough to ask any further questions. To keep his mouth shut, he took another sip of wine.

They continued drinking in silence until the bottle was gone. Astoria stood up, wobbling slightly as she stretched. Her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes unguarded. Draco desperately wanted to keep her here, wanted to keep her like this. When she walked toward him and leaned forward, Draco thought he must be dreaming. Her hair whispered against his cheek as she smiled.

"Good night, Draco," she said softly.

As she walked back to the bedroom, Draco wondered if it had been more an invitation than anything else.

When Astoria walked into the Ministry, she immediately noticed the sideways looks that some of her coworkers were giving her. No doubt a result of page twenty of The Daily Prophet. Astoria didn't mind overly much. People gossiped. Rumors went from mouth to ear. The world kept turning, and she still had a job to do. When she reached the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, she turned left to head toward her office.

The Department of Magical Law Enforcement was not where she had hoped to end up when she finished school. Originally, her plan was to work in the Minister of Magic's office, and she had started out there. Only to realize that every change being made to any law was just sent up to the Minister's office for approval or denial. The real changes were taking place in the bowels of the Ministry. So, she'd taken a pay cut and transferred to the DMLE. Her first job had been as a secretary processing paperwork, then she'd moved on to case decision — deciding which cases went to the smaller courts and which went on to the full Wizengamot — and finally moved on to work on policy that was passed through the Wizengamot for approval before moving up to the Minister of Magic. It was glorious.

When she entered her office, her boss, the head of policy James Trimble, was already there, as was Harry Potter himself.

"You're late," Trimble said. The head of policy was only fifty, but time had not been kind to him. He was partially bald with tuffs of white hair sticking out around his ears and the back of his head. There were several wrinkles across his face, reminding Astoria of the lumps that appeared in mash, and his eyes were always blood shot. Her coworkers swore that was due to alcohol abuse, but they could never prove it, and she never once smelled alcohol on him.

Astoria glanced at the watch her father had bought her for her seventeenth birthday — a simple gold bracelet with diamonds encrusted on the case. "It's ten o'clock." She sat her briefcase on her desk and spun around to face the two men. "On the dot actually, which is exactly when I said I'd be back. I already told you I was taking all of my vacation hours, and I told you when I was going to be back. Which was at exactly ten o'clock."

Harry's green eyes were sparkling with amusement while Trimble's brown ones were drowning in annoyance.

"Well after the eventful holiday you've had, I thought that coming back to work would be a nice change of pace," Trimble muttered. That was when Astoria noticed the open copy of The Daily Prophet on her desk.

She narrowed her eyes. Trimble was known to express his dislike of any portion of her and her coworkers' lives that he found distasteful. Before she left for holiday, he'd muttered under his breath the whole time about Patrica Deman's 'unseemly' tattoo that he couldn't even see. Astoria hadn't liked it then, and she certainly didn't like it now.

"Is there a reason you're in my office, Mr. Trimble?" Astoria asked, arching an eyebrow. "Or do you just enjoy meddling in the personal lives of your employees? Shall I ring for tea and biscuits as you ask about all the juicy details?"

Trimble had gone red in the face. Behind him, Harry was covering his mouth to hide his laugh, his shoulders shaking silently.

"Mr. Potter is here to offer advice on the new law regarding minors and underage magic use," Trimble snipped. "I've laid the papers on your desk."

Then he turned and stormed out of her office. When he was gone, Harry let his laugh finally burst out. Astoria shook her head and picked up the paperwork Trimble had left her. There were at least a hundred pages here.

"When did you become an expert on underage magic use?" Astoria asked as she lazily flipped through the pages. She would go more in depth later.

Harry shook his head. "I don't know. Seems like I'm an expert on almost everything these days."

That much was true. Trimble wanted Harry's name on almost everything, saying that he 'consulted' with policy makers on what was being written. What really happened was Harry vaguely listened as policy writers explained what they'd written and then either said 'Yes, that's a good idea' or 'No, you're fucking barmy.' As far as Astoria could tell, Harry found the whole thing tedious. When you saved the wizarding world though, she supposed everyone wanted your opinion on policies enacted.

"So, did you sock Malfoy in the mouth after that picture was taken?"

Astoria glanced up from her paperwork briefly before glancing back down. "No."

Harry hummed, and Astoria could sense his disapproval like a chasm between them. She and Harry worked together. Besides occasionally sharing lunch, they weren't all that close, and her squabbles with Granger were enough to keep them from truly being friends. Harry was nice, though. They worked on the same level, disliked the same people — for the most part — and enjoyed making fun of those people behind their backs. When Astoria was fighting for something to be put into policy, Harry usually agreed with her. And when Harry saw something out in the field that was concerning, he'd ask her to look into it and see if there was something that could be done in the law. It was a mutually beneficial relationship. They almost never discussed their personal lives.

"Did you need gossip to bring back to the Auror office?" she asked, sending him a smirk.

Harry snorted. "No. There's enough drama down there as it is. Kirk and Wiley have broken up. Again." Kirk and Wiley were two Aurors who were under Harry on his team. Though he'd told them not to many times, they insisted on dating, and, according to Harry, doing a shit job at hiding it. "I thought you said Malfoy wasn't going on vacation with you?"

Astoria put down her policy. "I didn't know he was. Theo invited him and didn't tell anyone til we got to Athens. We took our own trip from there." She crossed her arms. "You going to lecture me now?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Just curious. You know he's not a good guy, right?"

Astoria was aware there were things Draco hadn't told her about the war — things that Harry probably knew — but she refused to believe that people were the sum of their past for the rest of their lives. If that were the case, she would be sitting at home reading because she was too coddled to get up and chase her dreams. If she could be more than the girl with the blood curse, then Draco could be more than a former Death Eater.

"I know what he is," she said. "And I'm not afraid of that."

Harry shrugged. "As long as you don't invite him to our lunches."

"I wouldn't subject you to that type of torture."

"But you would your . . ." Harry picked up the open copy of The Prophet that Trimble had left in her office. "Insatiable paramour?"

Astoria's grin was feral. "Absolutely."

Astoria was quickly realizing that Draco Malfoy was not meant for the cold. He was wrapped in a dark coat, a scarf, a toboggan, and thick wool mittens. He kept tugging his scarf up over his face and his hat down over his ears. With all those layers, he looked so comical that Astoria had to bite her lip to keep from laughing. Her outfit was much cuter, with thick wool leggings under a heavy blue dress and a brown jacket thrown over the top. Instead of a toboggan, she had opted to leave her hair down and cast a warming charm over her face.

"I swear that shop was just around the corner," Draco muttered.

They were currently in the most charming town Astoria had ever seen, bright with lights and decorated with small wooden statues. It was the kind of town where families vacationed with their kids, not at all the posh getaway she imagined the Malfoys would seek out.

"How long has it been since you've been here again?" she asked.

Draco was silent for a moment. "Twelve years, but that is not the point. That shop should still be here."

Amusement swirled in Astoria like the snowflakes that were falling around them. Instead of arguing, she simply grabbed his hand and tugged him towards one of the shops. The sign above the door read 'Ben's Pastries,' and that sounded good enough a place as any for breakfast. As the bell overhead dinged, Astoria was hit with the smell of muffins and coffee. It was a cute little shop, with a couple tables by the window as well as in the center of the floor. Astoria chose one of the window seats and dropped down into it.

"I would have-"

"I'm sure eventually you would have realized you had no idea where you were going, and we would have found some place to eat," Astoria cut in as she picked up a menu.

Draco gaped at her for a moment before sitting down and tugging his scarf off. She liked that she could make him speechless.

"What can I get for you?" the waitress asked as she stepped up to their table.

"I'll have your éclair au chocolat and black coffee, please," Astoria said.

"Just a scone and a coffee with cream and sugar on the side," Draco said.

Astoria raised her eyebrow as the waitress walked away.

"No one makes my coffee correctly," he sniffed.

Rolling her eyes, Astoria glanced outside at the children playing in the snow. She liked this place, liked that Draco had childhood memories here before his life had been infused with hate. She still couldn't say what had possessed her to agree to his scheme. It was ridiculous. Since she had been a child, Astoria had always been practical — impulsive maybe, but always practical. When her dormmate had droned on about finding a unicorn in the Forbidden Forest, Astoria told her she was more likely to be mulled by centaurs or get her head bashed in by a troll than find a unicorn. Yet, here she was, sitting in a shop in the French Alps and trying not to admire the sharp line of Draco's jaw.

The waitress returned with their coffee and pastries.

"Are you going to spend the rest of your life locked up in Malfoy Manor?" Astoria asked.

Draco abruptly dropped the spoon he was using to stir his coffee. It tinged against the rim of his cup loudly. "What?"

"Malfoy Manor," she said. His eyes were as wide as the saucer that his cup sat on, and he was looking at her like she'd just told him she was half centaur. "You know, the mansion your parents own."

"I know what you're referring to," he snapped.

"Well, are you?"

"I don't know."

Astoria nodded and interlaced her fingers in her lap. "I like you." Draco's eyes met hers sharply at that, like she had just punched him square in the gut. "I think you know that by now. I'd like to continue . . ." She didn't know what they were, but she knew there was a spark between them. Perhaps it could become a flame if they allowed it to burn. "This, but I'm not going to do it in secret, and I'm not going to be sequestered at Malfoy Manor whenever I want to see you."

There. It was all laid out on the table with their pastries and coffee. Vulnerability didn't come easy to her; it never had. Astoria found it much easier to have sympathy and compassion for others and hold a stiff upper lip when it came to her own emotions. Draco was almost worse than her though, and if she waited for him to do something about that spark between them, then she'd have grey hair by the time he'd sorted something out.

"You're not worried about what everyone will say?" he said softly. "I'm still a former Death Eater, you know. No matter how far removed from polite society." The words might as well have been acid, he sounded so bitter. "People will talk. They'll accuse you of things, turn their noses up at you."

"People already turn their noses up at me." She thought of his mother when he said that, though that wasn't who he meant. "And you've forgotten that my cousin is a former Death Eater, Draco. Everything isn't so black and white." Astoria knew all about shades of grey. Her whole family was colored in those grey tones.

Draco looked away from her, outside then. He looked so ridiculous with that toboggan he hadn't taken off. Reaching across the table, Astoria yanked it off his head, ruffling his hair in the process. He glared at her.

"Are you going to ignore me or give me an answer?" When he didn't say anything, she continued, her pride getting the better of her. "Or if you'd rather not do anything about this, then we can forget I ever-"

"Will you shut up?" he snapped. "Merlin, do you ever just close your mouth and think before opening it again?"

Astoria glared at him, annoyance thumbing through her. She was stupid, she realized, to ever think that this could work. Draco was still healing from the wounds that the war and his parents had inflicted on him. There was no hurrying that along. He wasn't ready. Fuck, she wasn't even sure she was ready for a relationship. There was her curse to think of. She stood up, ready to bolt, only for Draco to snatch her upper arm and yank her around to face him.

"You have the most vexing habit of running away, did you know that?" he spit acidly.

"Well, you'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" she snapped, unable to stop herself from pressing closer to his warmth. The fury in his eyes was intoxicating as was the way his fingers were wrapped around her arm. His breath fanned across her face like it had that night on the balcony after the first time he'd kissed her. He had shocked her then. Anticipation was rushing through her veins now.

"This is a bad idea," he whispered.

"Then why's it feel so good?" she said.

As he glanced down at her lips, Astoria felt goosebumps rise along her spine.

Someone cleared their throat. Astoria and Draco stepped away from each other, and she spotted the waitress looking pointedly away from them. Quickly, Astoria sat back down.

"Alright," Draco said after he was settled.

"Alright?"

"I think we could work something out."

"Like a date?"

He was squirming in his seat, and it made Astoria wonder if he'd ever actually tried this hard before.

"Yes, like a date."

"Draco, come here."

Draco closed his eyes in annoyance before heading back toward the sitting room. He found his mother curled in front of the fire with a book resting on her knees and her mouth pinched into a tight line. His mother's silence had hurt the most over the last two days. When his father had been thrown into Azkaban, Narcissa and Draco had walked through the Dark Lord's inferno of rage together. She'd done her best to protect him from the harsh reality of what it meant to be a Death Eater. Still, it hadn't been enough.

"Where are you going so dressed up?" she asked. Draco would hardly say he was dressed up. He'd merely thrown on a pressed button down and some black trousers, then tossed a nice jacket over the two. He didn't even have a tie. "Are you going to see that girl?"

Her words dripped with disdain, like she'd just tasted rotten fish.

"Her name is Astoria," Draco said gently. The last thing he wanted was to hurt his mother.

Narcissa snapped her book shut. "I don't want you to see her."

She might as well have pushed one of Aunt Bella's knives through his heart. Draco had expected his father's disapproval, even his rage, but he thought that his mother would have some sympathy for him. Instead, she was sitting in front of him with the most cold expression on her face, like he wasn't an adult but a child who needed correction.

"Why?" he said.

"Because she is a disgrace," Narcissa said bluntly. "She comes to events throughout the social season only to drink, she has the most crass mouth of anyone I have ever met, and she's violent. She nearly crushed Blaise Zabini's foot before his wedding for absolutely no reason." Draco had been there, and Blaise had deserved a lot more than having his foot crushed. "And I haven't even gone into her views on Muggleborns."

Anger coiled inside Draco in Astoria's defense. As far as he knew, Astoria had never said an unkind word about his mother, yet here Narcissa was blatantly attacking her. Mrs. Greengrass and Narcissa were not close, so all of the accusations she was throwing around were all gossip. His mother didn't want to get to know Astoria, he realized, no matter how much her son cared for her.

"I'm going to see her," Draco said coldly. "I do not care if you do not like her."

Then he turned on his heal and left his mother to boil in her anger.

That anticipation had been prickling under Astoria's skin since that day in the pastry shop. It was the third day of their impromptu getaway, and Draco had been the perfect gentleman, save for a few burning looks and soft brushes of his fingertips against her back. Astoria was a patient person — she had to be to work in policy — but Draco was pushing her to her limit. The worst part was, she was sure he had no idea he was having that effect on her; he would have taunted her for it if he did.

So, Astoria was left staring at him as he fought to get the cork off a particularly stubborn bottle of wine.

Even though she'd propositioned him that first night, Draco had remained on the couch, never once trying to press the issue. She was sure his back was not thanking him for it either, judging by the way he was slow to get up every morning. Or maybe he just wasn't a morning person. Astoria didn't know because he'd never made good on her offer. How much more obvious could she get?

"Do you want me to try?" she asked.

"No," he snapped, twisting the wine opener farther into the cork.

Merlin, he was stubborn. If she couldn't see his biceps flexing under his jumper, she might have used a spell to get that cork out. As it was, she was enjoying the show. The past few days had been revealing. Draco didn't have as much of a stick up his ass as she originally thought; it just took a while to coax the fun loving side out of him. A side effect of the war, Astoria was sure. Ironically, unraveling all the intricacies of Draco Malfoy did nothing to cool her desire for him.

"If you'd just-"

"I can just on my own."

Astoria rolled her eyes. Her gaze snagged on the way his hand was gripping the bottle to steady it. It was his left hand, the one with the Mark. Did he always keep it covered? What did he do when he was with a girl? Did he just not take his shirt off? Astoria wanted to find out. Abruptly, she snatched the unopened bottle from him and sat it roughly in the sink.

"What are you-"

Astoria didn't give him time to answer as she invaded his personal space. His eyes were blown wide, his hands starting to rise into the air. Taking his face in her hands, she brought his lips down to her own. It was like waking up from a deep sleep. She'd forgotten how his lips softened against her own, how his hands firmly grasped her hips, how oak and vanilla invaded her nose. Kissing Draco gave her a high that marijuana never did.

While her body pressed completely against his, she pulled her lips away from his, inhaling the air he exhaled. He gasped her name softly, and Astoria never felt so desperate in all her life. Draco pressed her roughly against the counter, the granite biting into her lower back. As his grey eyes ran over her body, her hands fisted into the coarse fabric of his jumper.

"What are we doing?" he asked breathlessly.

"Something bad," she answered before crashing her lips to his once more.

Draco groaned against her mouth, and all that anticipation that had been building up was finally bursting from her body. Her hands found his always tidy hair, and Astoria immediately set about messing it up. It was softer than she expected, like silk almost. When she tugged on it, Draco groaned against her mouth again.

"Astoria," he rasped.

Her hands fled from his hair and found their way under his shirt. His skin was soft, too, though nowhere as soft as his hair. While Astoria explored his stomach, his lips traveled down her neck, sucking on her pulse point. Why hadn't they been doing this sooner? Quickly, she detangled herself from him.

"You've done this before right?" she asked urgently.

Draco looked exasperated. "I told you-"

"Not kissing," she said. Then she tugged on his belt loops for emphasis.

His eyes went wide, the grey swallowed by the black. "Yes."

"Good."

Then she slipped out from between him and the counter and pulled him toward the bedroom. When they reached the bedroom doorway, Draco stopped in his tracks and Astoria spun around to face him. He looked adorably rumpled, his hair standing up in different directions, his lips swollen bright red, and part of his stomach peeking out from under his jumper.

"Shouldn't I take you on a date first?" he muttered.

"You don't have to take me out on a date to fuck me," she purred.

When he roughly took her face in between his hands and smashed his lips against hers, Astoria gasped. His tongue pressed into her mouth, savagely running over her bottom lip. Her hands frantically found his belt and started to undo it while he tugged her shirt over her head. As their lips separated for him to get the shirt over her head, his eyes landed on the black lace of her bra. It was see through. Astoria managed to get his belt off while he stared. Then she pulled his jumper over his head.

"Are you just gonna stare?" she asked when she dropped the heavy fabric to the floor.

"Get on the bed." It wasn't a request.

Slowly, Astoria backed away from him, dropping onto the edge of the bed and lifting her chin in defiance. Draco didn't comment, just stepped forward and dropped into a crouch between her legs. A thrill shot up Astoria's eyes as he racked his eyes over her body. He brought his finger up and ran it over her collarbone, then down between her breasts, over the center of the lacy fabric of her bra, across her stomach, until he reached the button of her jeans. Leaning back on her elbows, Astoria watched as he undid the button and pulled down the zipper. When he raised his eyebrows, she pressed the balls of her feet into the floor and lifted her hips up. He got rid of her jeans but left the sheer underwear.

Once her jeans were gone, Draco's hands slid up the outside of her calves to her thighs. Her breath swooshed from her lungs as he kissed the inside of her knee, his eyes finding hers as he rubbed his cheek against her soft skin. Astoria was going to combust before this was over with. Leisurely, his hands slid up her thighs until he reached her panties. She thought he might take them off, but he only dropped his hands from her hips and pressed them into the mattress. As he rose up, Astoria was able to catch a good glimpse of the pale skin of his chest and the Dark Mark that stood out on his left arm. He was beautiful, she realized, as he bent down to kiss her over the fabric of her underwear. Astoria's hands found his hair, and she yanked. Surprise filled his eyes as he pressed up onto his hands.

"You can do that later," she said.

"There's going to be a later?" he asked.

Astoria rolled her eyes and tugged him on top of her.

His hand snaked down her body and under her lingerie.

"Fuck," he swore as his hands dipped into her wetness.

"Told you."

All her arrogance disappeared when Draco smashed his lips back to hers. He started to push her panties down, and Astoria reached down to help him. When they were gone, she worked his trousers and pants off as well. His callouses brushed against her back as he unhooked her bra. Though they were both completely bare, Astoria felt the need to cover herself, suddenly self-conscious and afraid he wouldn't like her. It was silly. He was a man, and she was a naked woman. But she wanted him to like her — to find her attractive and beautiful — because she was her, not just naked flesh.

That was when he muttered her name against her neck. Over and over.

Astoria's heart fluttered stupidly in her chest.

Pressing himself onto his elbow, he looked down at her, concern suddenly filling his gaze.

"Have you done this before?" he asked.

Astoria rolled her eyes. "Yes, Draco. Don't worry about my honor. I have none left."

"Well, if it's any consolation, I've never had any."

She laughed at that before pressing her lips to his again. His fingers found her center again, pressing into her this time. She gasped against his lips, her fingernails digging into his back. Urgently, her fingers ran down his back, over his oblique, and down his stomach until she grasped his cock in her hand. Pulling away from her mouth, he hissed, and Astoria smirked. Fair was fair after all. She quickly twisted her hand over him before guiding him down to where his hand was wickedly curling into her. After pressing his fingers up into her once more, he pulled them out, and Astoria guided him inside her.

"Draco," she gasped, arching her back.

"Astoria," he muttered, resting his forehead between her breasts in reverence.

He was pulsing inside her, every ripple of his muscles shaking her to the core. Astoria had lovers before, but not like this. Draco had bared part of his soul to her, and he was holding her like she was something precious now. Guilt pooled in her stomach as she realized she hadn't been honest with him, not completely.

"Draco," she repeated, taking his face in her hands. He looked at her like she was water in a desert. Pressing her lips to his, Astoria poured her remorse and pleasure into that kiss. He started to move then, slow and calculated, long strokes that had her toes curling. Gently, he pulled away from her and started to kiss down her jawline then her neck. She turned her head to allow him better access, one of her hands fisting in his silky hair. When she opened her eyes and looked between them, she saw him slowly disappearing inside her, and it was probably the sexiest thing she'd ever seen in her life.

"Fuck," she muttered.

Draco lifted his head and followed her gaze. "Yeah."

His hand drifted downwards over her breast, stopping to lightly pinch her nipple, down her stomach, stopping just above her clit.

"I swear, if you tease me right now, I'll just get myself off," she hissed.

She saw him smirk before his fingers ran gently over her clit. Pleasure zipped through her, snapping across her stomach, zinging into her nipples, and causing a moan to escape her mouth. Draco's mouth was there to catch it, his breath ghosting across her face.

"That's it, Astoria," he muttered, his fingers slowly circling her clit. "I want you to say my name when you cum."

"Holy fuck," she swore as she glided toward the edge. "Dr-Draco."

As she clenched around him, Draco hissed, his rhythm stuttering as he followed her.

When they managed to catch their breaths, Draco rolled them onto their sides and brushed a sweaty piece of hair out of her face.

"Why didn't you tell me you were good at that?" she asked.

He smiled faintly. "It's not a topic of polite conversation."

"It should be," she mumbled as she cuddled into his side, tucking her head into the crook of his neck. Briefly, he tensed before gently wrapping his arms around her, and it occurred to her that he may not be used to this type of affection. As she drifted off to sleep, she resolved to change that.

Astoria clasped the halter top of her dress together, discreetly covering the love bite that was standing out harshly against her skin. Her hair was pulled up into a twist, and she'd spent the last hour and a half on her makeup, making sure everything looked just right. Draco had said that he would pick her up at the front door at nine. It was eight fifty now, and Astoria was starting to get antsy. What if he'd backed out? What if he'd changed his mind and fled the country?

It was ridiculous to worry about that. Instead, she applied another layer of red lipstick and headed to the living room. After pacing her flat twice, she finally plopped down on the couch. He was coming, she reminded herself. They'd spent a holiday together. She was being paranoid.

At five til, there was a knock at her door. She rushed over to it and found Draco on the other side of it, looking as put together as always. She had half a mind to tug him in here and make him messy. If she hadn't spent so much time on her appearance, she might have.

"Nice dress," he said.

"Nice suit," she replied as she stepped into the hallway and closed the door to her flat. "Are you ready for our first date?"

He ran a knuckle over her cheek. "Only if I get to bring you back here after."

Astoria raised an eyebrow. "I don't have sex on the first date, Mr. Malfoy."

"Just before it?" he shot back.

"Just before it."