August Longbottom's wine had most certainly been a poor decision in hindsight, but Hermione still held onto the Crowned Prince of England's hand and allowed him to lead her towards a side exit that no one would see them exiting from.

When he'd approached her, Hermione hadn't even noticed him. Having had Pansy swap out the glass of white wine for Augusta's famous red moments before, the duchess stated that maybe Hermione could find some widower who would want to marry a spinstress, and the entire party wouldn't be a waste. Hermione had laughed and ensured Pansy that no man would look twice at her.

The Duchess, already on one for some reason, had huffed and stormed off to talk with a mother about her daughter being a potential match for her brother. Only a few moments later, Prince Draco appeared, startling Hermione from her musings after she drank all the bloody wine.

Never in her life had Hermione been rendered speechless, but she was being led away from Pansy's ball and into the darkness of a secluded hallway where no one would notice her and the prince. She wasn't a fool and knew perfectly well what he intended to do to her. Well, not perfectly well because she'd never done that before, but Ginny had given her enough details that Hermione had a reasonably good idea of what would happen.

"Where are we going?" Hermione asked, finally finding her voice as the distance between them and the party widened.

"If I recall, the library has a pleasant sitting room that overlooks a hedge maze that Pansy would have released fairies into," the prince answered, his hold on Hermione's hand not loosening. "If that's not private enough–"

"No, no, that will do," Hermione cut him off, grimacing at her rudeness. Though when he didn't say anything about it, Hermione continued. "Everyone will be busy with the party. We can ward the door so that no one can enter."

The prince turned back as they passed a large window. The moonlight shining in showed his face, and the smirk that he gave her had Hermione's knees weak. He was probably the most handsome man Hermione had ever seen. He had high cheekbones and white glowing hair perfectly offset by his darker brows. The pale skin that most aristocrats had and the straight nose made him look like an artist had chiseled him from stone. There were no blemishes, and only the flush on his face showed that he'd most likely been given some of the elfish wine from Pansy.

He said nothing else, turning his attention back to the path they were taking. Hermione could feel her heart rate picking up at the excitement of it all. She knew that Pansy hoped she might find a match this summer and finally marry someone despite her advanced age, but Hermione knew that compared to the idea of marrying someone who had just come of age and was more elegant and accomplished, no one would look at her twice.

Hermione resigned herself to her fate of being a spinstress who would be her father's companion until he passed and then live off the generosity of Harry and Ginny Potter. It was a life she was comfortable with and content to live. Watching the Potter children grow up and working as an assistant at the schoolhouse as needed, there wasn't anything else Hermione might want.

She might wish for nothing else. Except since Ginny had told her of the marital act, Hermione had to admit she'd been curious.

In the middle of the night, after all the servants had gone to bed, Hermione allowed her hand to wander where it had never gone before. She'd begun exploring the wonders Ginny had told her about in hushed whispers.

So when Prince Draco made the proposition to her, Hermione couldn't say no. She was too curious, and frankly, no one else would make her an offer. So when the prince asked, she said yes.

When they reached the library, Prince Draco looked back over his shoulder and down at Hermione, his silver eyes glowing in the hall's darkness. He was a thing of beauty. "I think the coast is clear," he said, smiling again, and Hermione could feel her legs trembling with anticipation. "Come on," he whispered, pulling her along.

Hermione knew this library as if it were her own. She'd spent countless hours browsing the shelves here and learning all the secrets of herbology that Neville had collected over the years and all the different histories of magic he possessed that her father would never have been privy to. There were limits to what her father could possess since he did not have the gift and had Hermione's existence not faded into the background; she likely would have been given lessons regarding her powers. As it was, she was ignorant of the truths of her power.

However, all the things she'd read were in the far recess of her mind as she was pulled through the rows of shelves and into the deepest depths Hermione knew, like the back of her hand. One more left turn, and down another two columns, and a right, and they'd be there. Prince Draco seemed just as acquainted with Sussex House's library because his steps didn't falter.

When they reached the sitting area, Hermione paused momentarily, taking in just how romantic it was. The rich sapphire reds and golds of the furnishings were bathed in the glowing moonlight shining through the massive bow window that took up the entirety of the wall. Hermione's steps were slow as she walked toward the fireplace and ran her hand lovingly over the mantel, appreciating the craftsmanship of the oak wood.

Strong hands came down on her shoulders, and Hermione finally looked away from the landscape painting that hung over the hearth. Prince Draco looked down at her, his face pure ecstasy, as if she were some treasure to behold.

"You're enchanting," he said, and she knew that he was being generous. "Are you positive–"

"Yes, I'm sure," Hermione breathed, and her chest felt tight and too warm against the fabric of her dress.

The prince smiled at her again, and then his mouth was on hers.