My mental adventures with Granger at night are proving useful for something else, too.

I'm able to fantasise about her much more normally, like I would about other women, and not shoot in my pants ten seconds after I first imagine her touching me.

That's going to come in handy. I don't know when but I'm determined that it will.

Now that Snape has forced me to see the facts, I can't unsee them. I still don't buy that I'm in love with her but yes, I'm attracted to her.

If anything, my stubborn refusal to admit it only caused a backlog of wank material, a backlog I'm steadily working through.

I think she's attracted to me, too. And Blaise's impression is that she's not madly in love with Weasley.

Given these core ingredients, I've never had a problem before. The memory issue might be a complicating factor, but I've never shied away from a challenge.

I grace Snape with my absence for the whole weekend, so I don't feel remotely bad about popping in on Tuesday after work.

I know Blaise has a meeting at Hogwarts to discuss the sale of the fics to them and negotiate the price of renting the simulations themselves, so I know he'll be occupied - probably for hours.

Even if he gets done early, I don't think Blaise visits the park during the week unless we have a financial meeting.

Snape looks mildly curious in spite of himself when I explain what I'm going to try. "Where do you want to go?"

"A flat. The same flat he always takes her to as Potter. He's too cowardly to try this himself, so I'm going to do it."

"And instead, you're the coward who hasn't told him you're doing it. Am I right?" Snape stares at me, an amused look in his eyes. "No, don't answer. I don't care enough. I won't be in the middle of however this ends up."

I take out a small vial with several coarse, black goatee hairs and cringe. "Let's get it over with, then. The bruise on my jaw is almost gone. Time to see if she'll give me another one."

"Zabini," I hear at once, cautiously. "What the hell are you doing here?"

I am likewise cautious. Where is she? Last time I had barely a second to react. I turn around and there she is, red hair loose and shining, green eyes suspicious.

Now that I'm not occupied with deflecting flying fists and knees, I can appreciate again just how hot she is. Like Granger, captivity has done her well. She's grown into herself, too, more adult. Her body looks healthy - but it must be, if she can land a punch the way she did.

Well, what am I doing here? I never know how to start these things. I go for confused. It fits. I ignore her question and ask my own instead.

"Is this your flat, Wea - Ginny?" Blaise almost certainly does not call her Weasley. Potter never would, and I catch it just in time.

I lean against the wall casually, trying to think how Blaise usually stands. This isn't right; I lean on things. Blaise stands up tall, using his height. I do that.

She glances around, puzzled. "No, but…"

"But what?" I don't know what to do with my hands. What does Blaise do with his hands? I think for an apple, and one appears. I take a bite to give myself something to do. Much better.

"Where's the loo?" I ask, springing it on her in a flash of inspiration.

Ginny points immediately, instinctively, to her right down a hall. I feel a surge of triumph.

She is remembering.

Since I asked for it, I suppose I have to go to it now.

That's probably good; it takes me closer to her, and she's quite close to the hall entrance. She eyes me warily as I walk towards her, but this reminds me of my early fics with Granger.

She's naturally wary, since I'm a Slytherin who bullied her. Fair enough. But I'm also in a flat with her alone, and here comes the fear component - if it's going to show.

I brush by Ginny closer than I need to on purpose, and her hair smells nice, like cinnamon.

Blaise's dick twitches in my pants and I grab to adjust it instinctively. What the hell? Stupid tosser; even his body reacts to this witch. Belatedly, I realise what he's working with. Well, good on him, I think wryly, my lip slightly curled.

Just as I've moved two steps past her into the hall, I turn around and grab her arm without warning. "Ginny -"

She yanks it away from me with an indignant, "What the hell are you doing? It's that way, Zabini. I just told you." But her tone is far more of an affronted 'excuse me?' disbelief than any sort of fear.

This is enough to satisfy me. I was far too close to her, definitely in her personal space. I touched her; more than touched, I grabbed her by the arm from a position behind her.

If she was going to have any subconscious danger warnings they should have been blaring, and I'm relieved.

Then again, she did know where the loo was without even thinking about it. But whatever is happening to Ginny is still far below what's happening to Granger.

Snape looks moderately pleased when I tell him. He reaches into his robe and pulls out the Polyjuice counter-potion, and I shake my head. "Since that went well, I want to do some other things while I'm here. While I'm him."

Snape exhales in frustration. "What now?"

"I'm making sure Zabini is going to owe me the biggest favour of his life. Put me into a series of short fics with her, Obliviating her each time. I want her to think this is a collection of days, not one day."

"She won't remembe -"

"She might," I insist, "and if there's a chance she does, I want this to seem like it's been happening over time. Just do it, Severus. He'll owe me a favour and I'll owe you a favour."

Snape snaps, "Bring me a bottle of 50-year Ogden's Old Firewhisky so at least when you idiots drop in unannounced, I can hate it less while I have a drink."

"As we're here a lot," I say with a smirk, "I'll bring you two. Let's start in the Great Hall."

I give him a list of what I want and it's a good thing I just dangled the promise of two bottles, because I see him struggling not to whinge about every one I add.

In the Great Hall, it's just as I asked for. There are students, generic simulated students, milling about. Food on tables.

I finally spot Ginny filling a plate with some food and walk right over.

"Hey Weasley," I say confidently. "Want to go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?"

Pumpkin juice in my face.

In a random corridor, I send a paper aeroplane note zooming at the back of Ginny's neck. She opens it and reads

Weasley - meet me behind the greenhouses at 7 tonight. I'll make it worth your while.

She turns around and shoots me an incredulous look, hurling the crumpled note back at my head.

On the Quidditch pitch, "Oi, Weasley! Nice shot!"

And it actually was. Me throwing a compliment at her instead of an insult makes her pause, and she misses the next Quaffle pass.

In the hospital wing. I'm lying in a bed, perfectly alright, but the sheet covers me. Ginny's passing through.

"Ginny, nice of you to visit," I say nonchalantly and she stops in her tracks.

"I'm not here to see you, Zabini," she says with an eye roll, starting to walk away.

"I wish you were though," I respond teasingly, and she looks at me for a second too long as I add, "You could be."

I give her a wink and she flushes pink, shaking her head as she leaves.

Back to the Great Hall at mealtime. I conjure a floating banner of flowers over the Gryffindor table that reads, "Ginny, go out with me - Blaise."

She's mortified, as red as her hair, head ducked into her arms. Everyone at the table is laughing raucously.

That one should be memorable, I think.

Out to Flourish and Blotts for school books. Shoppers about, minding their own business. Ginny's reaching for the Standard Book of Spells, Year Seven.

"Hey, Ginny. Fancy seeing you here."

She looks over at me and I'm gratified to see she's sort of trying to look polite. "Not really, Zabini. Everyone's shopping this weekend."

I scratch my (unfortunately goateed) chin. "Well, maybe I just fancy seeing you, then," and I leave her to it with a roguish grin.

In the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, she's trying to order something from Madam Rosmerta. Even the simulated version of Rosmerta prefers serving the men and she comes over to me at once, bypassing Ginny, who looks offended. I order two drinks with a wink, and carry one down the bar to Ginny.

She reaches for it and I pull it back slightly, giving her Blaise's best flirtatious smile.

"Not so fast. Can I buy you lunch, too?"

She gives me a startled look - why would I do that? - and I give her an exit. "Maybe another time," I say smoothly. "But you should know - I've fancied you for ages."

Ginny's green eyes bulge and I hope this little encounter will be particularly memorable as well as I say, "I should have been telling you that all along. More fool me that I didn't."

I give her the drink and walk away, but I turn back at the door. Just as I hoped, she's staring after me.

In our financial meeting, it's all good news. Revenue is up. Costs are down, thanks to the completion of the new expansion expenses and Snape's cutting of another four companions. Blaise and I don't draw salaries so there's no additional overhead.

Blaise announces that Hogwarts is committing to a one-year contract for simulated companions to go along with the purchase of two fic locations for their exclusive use. They settled on 1,000 galleons a month for the companions during the stretch of the school year when they'll be in use - for both Quidditch training and Dark Arts duelling practise - and the table erupts in applause. Blaise takes a small half bow in appreciation.

I tell him to next approach professional Quidditch teams for similar use - purchase of a fic location, plus practice simulations for horrible weather training, skills camps and repetitions for player improvement by skill level and position, etc.

Ideally, once a few sign on the rest will follow, reluctant to forsake an advantage.

In a simplified world, the International Confederation of Wizards' Quidditch would provide the fics for teams within the Confederation but this works out better. Each team cuts their own deal in the end, allowing Blaise some negotiation room to get more money when he can, drawing on individual teams' desperation and need.

I continue pumping money into advertising, with the next campaign focusing on the expanded options of simulated companions - select anybody you want, your ideal companion. Maybe for sex, maybe for sadism, but I prefer to think it's sex. Either way, at least they're simulations.

Next up will be simulating the premiere captives themselves at a lower price than the real thing, but that's not quite ready to roll out yet with the extended polyjuice option yet. We're counting on people being in the fics for short enough spans of time to not notice any glitches.

I glance at Snape, who confirms that the modified imperio option he's working on has hit a couple of snags and won't be ready for testing for at least four more weeks.

This doesn't much bother me, as it involves the real companions and I suspect he might be delaying it on purpose. I don't care. I want revenue coming from the simulation division.

Snape has one final comment - our European buyer is planning to visit next month to assess a few other companions to purchase on behalf of his clients. I nod in agreement. Every little bit helps.

I dismiss the meeting and sit to review the statistics on who and what fics and companions are most popular.

Blaise hangs behind as well, and Snape lingers only long enough to grudgingly say, "I'll be in my office. I'm sure one of you will want something."

Blaise looks over my shoulder as I search the requests and scheduling for Granger and Ginny.

Granger is down to three days a week, usually only weekends. Ginny has four days a week, weekdays only, since Blaise occupies her weekends entirely.

I wonder how long Dolohov won't have a comment on that, now that the park is making more money and we're not as dependent on Blaise's investment. But, at any rate, Ginny's still available, so Dolohov can shove it. I hope he tries to complain.

After a quick review of Granger's reservation schedule, I block out an additional day, taking her down to two days a week. Blaise looks at me and starts to say something, but I scratch it back out. This might be the wrong move, scrunching every booking of Granger into the same tight window.

Ignoring Blaise, I take the same number of hours for her and spread them out instead, two days worth of work across all seven mornings. Let her mind have a break from the Obliviation whenever possible instead of giving her two full days of misery.

I decide to talk to my father after I get home this evening, about shifting my contribution to the park closer to 25/75 between my trust and my salary. He'll want a look at the books and at the next steps, and I'm prepared.

"Hello, Granger."

I brought her back to the library this time. Maybe it's a mistake, per Blaise's warning, but I'm curious. So many factors could be playing into whether or not she's afraid.

She looks up at me, and there's no mistaking it this time. She flushes a little before looking back at the shelf in front of her. "Hello, Malfoy."

I feel a rush of satisfaction but I'm determined not to put her on the spot. I grab a book on Legilimency and take a seat.

Her clothes are basic, but different from fic to fic. If they have house elves to provide food and clean, they're also presumably doing laundry. I suppose they're given a few options and allowed to make their own selections.

I've got on a normal short-sleeved shirt and trousers and I ignore her entirely, bending back to my book. But I don't miss her eyes flicking over to me and I can't convince myself that my ego isn't adequately stroked by her looking over here.

The next time she looks over, I openly stare at her, quirking an eyebrow as she notices and turns bright red. She's a darker colour than her shirt, which is closer to a salmon shade, collared, and also fitted across her chest. I don't know who arranges for their clothing but I should thank whoever it is for not taking Granger up a size.

She turns back to the rack at once, and determines - a little quickly, in my opinion - that it doesn't have what she needs. She disappears down the next one, out of my sight.

I remind myself that Granger is different. My overt flirtation might backfire on me, here. But I'm really adrift about how to handle her.

Now that I accept I find her attractive with the realisation that she's also attracted to me, this would be the usual seduction dance. It doesn't typically take long, and the likely necessity of stretching it out is leaving me uncertain.

But the game can be fun.

I decide to go find her, and she's sitting cross-legged on the floor of a row, scanning something in a book on her lap.

Leaning against the rack with my arms crossed over my chest, I clear my throat and she jumps, but not in fear. She does give me a nasty look, though, and I smile charmingly at her as I say, "Have you been practising your Occlumency, Granger?"

A delightful sort of stammering ensues and I gather that yes, she does have an interest in Occlumency, but she's only just started learning. I give her a slow blink while I look into her eyes and lower my voice conspiratorially. "It's very important. It's one of my favourite lessons, you know."

She's looking up at me from the floor, her lips slightly parted.

"Can I help you with it sometime?" I ask innocently, still in my husky voice, and I see her throat swallow.

"Not - not yet," she manages finally, her eyes still on mine. They're dark, secretive and I want to know what's behind them.

But I nod agreeably. "Better practise hard. There might be things you don't want me to see."

I deliberately hold her gaze as she turns red again, a wonderful shade that makes my heart stutter a beat. I turn around and walk back to my table before she can tell.

It's good timing because I need a moment. While she's well occupied, I need to shift things around in my trousers.

What might she not want me to see?

I sit back down at my table, looking at my book on Legilimency and not registering a word of it. I force myself to clear my mind, to focus. I need to keep the upper hand.

Granger clears her throat this time and it's me who jumps. She has two books in her hands, but she doesn't seem to be paying them any mind. In fact, she looks downright uncomfortable as she takes the opposite chair at the little square table.

"Thank you…" she starts, but trails off.

I'm holding my breath without realising it. "For what?"

"For the books," she says quietly, looking at her hands in her lap. "You bought them. Thank you."

I don't know whether she's remembering the end of our last fic or somehow recognized the books that I bought afterward for Snape to leave for her. But she's not far away from me and I lean closer. Just a little, while she's looking down. "You're welcome. Are there others you need?"

Her eyes come up to meet mine, but her head doesn't move. She seems downcast. "No, I don't think so. But thank you."

"I can get you something else," I insist. "What do you want?"

She hesitates for what seems like an age. "I want…" she bites her lip and looks away, and I have to know but I force myself to be patient. Somehow I'm not good at it anymore.

"It's not books. I want the war to be over," she says softly, looking out the window, and I can't help her with that. It is, and they lost.

But I can't stop my hand from reaching out and brushing a set of stray curls behind her shoulder. She doesn't seem to notice and I'm a little disappointed. "What would you do if it was?"

"I don't know," Granger says, almost absently. She's still gazing out the window. "Before the war, I was a child. I don't know what to want now. I never got a chance to imagine… adulthood after the war. Getting a job, doing something specific. I don't know."

"Why do you want it over, then?" This is a silly question and yet I don't know what her answer will be.

"Everything feels so horrible right now. Even though I know we're fighting a war and people are dying every day, I don't know how it can feel this bad."

I think I do, and I wince. "We're on opposite sides of this war, Granger."

She looks at me sharply and my breath catches. "Maybe, but you aren't like them."

I can't allow this delusion, no matter how often I wank to her now at night. "Yes, I am. I killed Dumbledore, after all."

"Why did you?" she asks softly and I wonder if she recalls anything at all about our earliest fics, when she'd scream and rage at me for doing it.

"The Dark Lord threatened my family, my parents. Killing Dumbledore protected them. I made a choice. I may not be sadistically cruel, Granger, but I want to be on the winning side. Make no mistake; Malfoys don't lose."

She tilts her head, considering this, then asks, "What would you get out of winning?"

Leaning back in my chair, I try to regain a little footing. What have I gotten out of winning? "Stature. Power behind the Malfoy name. Freedom to do as I like, when I want and with whoever I want."

"Aren't those things you already have?"

"Almost entirely," I drawl with a confidence I'm trying to fake, trying to convince myself it's true.

"Then what difference does the war make to you? Why bother?" She looks genuinely curious.

"Because if your side wins, Granger, I lose all of those things. Even the things I don't have yet." I hold her eye contact again and enjoy the blush in her cheeks before she breaks it.

"Why would you want those things?" she whispers and I know she knows.

So I look at her directly, letting her gaze heat up. "I've wanted them for a while, I think. Longer than I realised."

This does not answer her question, but I don't know how to.

('You hold her entirely differently in your mind.')

"What about you, Granger? Are there things you want? Things I could give you?"

Her breath seems to catch and she stands up abruptly. I'm unwilling to let her escape, though, and I stand too. Too close to her, probably, but what's too close anymore?

I don't know.

She looks up at me, head tilted to account for our height difference. It sends her hair draping further down her back and I want to put my hands in it.

I step into her and she doesn't back away, so I tentatively reach a hand out and brush her cheek with my fingers. It's flushed bright, and I can almost feel the heat rising from them. It's making me warm too, and it's not just the temperature of the room.

As if in a dream, Granger's hand slowly comes up to rest on my chest, fingers splayed out. Feather light, I can barely feel it, but at the same time it feels like she's dropped a brick on my head.

I'm having trouble thinking.

My hand moves anyway, of its own accord, to cup her face. My thumb brushes her cheek again and my fingertips have the fantastic feeling of her hair against them as they reach towards the back of her head.

I lean down instinctively and she tilts her chin up, and she might even stretch a little to meet me. I think she does.

She lets her lips touch mine lightly and I feel her fingers on my chest move, a flex at first but it turns into what's almost a stroking motion.

My other hand comes up to cover hers there. I don't want her to move it away.

She can feel my heartbeat. So can I.

I kiss her and she lets me, and I can't believe it. Her face is so small as I cup it with my hand, and I move fully to the back of her neck so I can tangle my fingers in her hair.

Deepening the kiss, she responds, her tongue flicking against my lower lip and I remind myself to breathe.

Granger gives me the chance by breaking off abruptly, stepping back, shaking her head.

The look on her face is an unmistakably shocked expression of 'what have I done?' and I can't have it.

I can't have her regret this.

Before she can speak, I step forward without even thinking if this is a good idea and grab her face in my hands.

I kiss her again, deep and intense, and she responds again.

I feel her sigh slightly against my lips and I run my hands down her sides to her perfect hips.

I want to lift her, like I do in my dreams, sit her on a table where I can step between her legs and tip her back, or sit down in a chair with her on top of me.

I'll snog her all night and I wonder how Blaise ever leaves Ginny.

Running my hands over her arse - also perfect, I think - she leans her body into mine, her hands on my chest, and I squeeze her instinctively, gripping her arse briefly with my hands.

I'm absurdly hard. I need to step back before that becomes problematic.

This could very quickly go the way of my dreams, which is unacceptable in the most basic sense, of course - but also that ten years of denied attraction might overwhelm me.

I want to ravage her on that table, kiss all the way down her body and show her exactly everything I want to do.

I won't be able to take my time. I'll go too fast and overwhelm her, too.

If she was worried a moment ago about kissing me, everything else I want to do will definitely be too much today.

Snogging. Just snogging. I have to let Granger lead if she's not going to regret anything. I definitely didn't do that just now but from now on….

Focus, Malfoy, I tell myself, but that's as hard as I am and it's almost painful.

But then it occurs to me that if Granger does regret this or even just wants to stop, leave, go elsewhere, she can't. I have to be the one to leave. Only I can end the fic.

How? How does Blaise do this every weekend?

My brain is shrieking at me, screaming not to leave.

But I should. I should, right?

I try to think back to dating when the woman coming home with me at the end of the evening wasn't a foregone assumption - before getting to fuck me was why they said 'yes' to the date in the first place.

Before those days, I would leave them wanting more. On purpose.

Yes, that. I should do that.

But what if Granger doesn't remember this? What if this is the only time I ever get to do this, get to kiss her and feel her body under my hands?

I want to do everything right now. I want her. But even if she lets me, she'll regret that later. I know it in my bones.

Taking every ounce of willpower I possess, I step back from her.

She looks at me, almost puzzled, and I almost break in two and completely cave. She looks confused but not conflicted.

No. Staying would be… a mistake.

"I have to go now," I say stupidly. What am I doing? Stay.

"I don't want to, but I have to." Saying it out loud gives me strength and I lean down to kiss Granger one last time and breathe against her lips, "Practise the Occlumency, alright? It's important."

I barely make it a whole day before I have to go back in. I have to know if she remembers.

What if she doesn't? What if she does, but she regrets it anyway? Or what if she does, but only just? If I have to start at the same place every time, like Blaise does each Friday?

But no, Blaise is lucky enough to go in as Potter. Blaise doesn't have to do the delicate dance of 'does she want to kiss me?'

I think I'll choose the library again, wanting the similarity in her mind. Maybe it'll be reassuring, familiar. 'Yes, that's right, we snogged here, it was brilliant.' I'll wear the same shirt. But maybe this will make her question her memory, though - why is it similar, is it deja vu, is she going mad?

Bugger. What should I do? What if I take her somewhere completely different? No associations at all; at least, not with me.

The indecision drives me up the wall and I make a snap set of choices. New location. New shirt. Get it together.

I bring Snape his two bottles of 50-year aged firewhisky and ask for a duel-location fic, just in case. Diagon Alley - the general street itself - and Flourish and Blotts.

"You won't be able to go into any of the other shops," Snape reminds me, almost reluctantly, as if he's disappointed to have to engage in this. "So why Diagon Alley at all?"

"Florean Fortescue's has outside seating. All I have to do is think for some ice cream. We don't need to go in the shop."

"Adorable, Draco," Snape says dryly.

"You asked," I shrug, not bothered at all.

He sighs in exasperation. "Where do you want her to be? Bookshop first?"

I consider, then shake my head. "Just in Diagon Alley. I'll find her there."

"Do you want other people around?" I can tell he's tired of the details. I'm impatient too, but for different reasons.

"Some, not a ton. Just a light business day, normal." The crowd will help me keep my dick in my pants if this goes well.

Before he moves to the pad on the wall, he stops. "We need to talk, when you're done here."

I furrow my brow and look at him, concerned. "What's going on? Should we talk first?"

He smirks at me. "No, I think having another fic with her will help… clear your mind." I immediately feel his stabbing attempts at penetration into my eyes, but I've been expecting it from him at some point and maintain my hold.

"Good," he says finally. "It's about time you got it back under control. We'll talk when you're done."