A/N- This chapter goes out to all of you who've followed and favourited this story, especially those of you who have left such encouraging reviews. You mean the world to me! :-)

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Theo's hope that Potter reigned in the Weasel before their departure was surprisingly realized when Hermione and Draco stepped through the Ministry fireplaces hand in hand without so much as a scoff from Ron. The unlikely foursome also descended in the lifts down to International Magical Transportation without any violent clashing of words. It wasn't until they'd landed in a long carpeted hallway outside their hotel rooms that Ron's pleasant façade finally managed to crack.

"I'll take the room farthest away from him," he said, gesturing pointedly to Malfoy before ambling toward the door at the far end of the hallway.

"Oh, well, alright. I'll grab the one next to you then." Harry shuffled after him, carrying an oversized black bag on his shoulder. He glanced back at Draco and Hermione who remained stationary, staring tense as a drawn bow at the two remaining doors.

"You two good with that?"

Hermione shifted on her feet. "Oh- sure. I'll just take this one," she said, pressing her thumb to the keypad, hearing it unlock with a series of clicks. As she opened the door, she looked back to see Draco watching her in his peripheral.

"Would you like for me to come in and cast a Revelio Charm or two?" he asked, noting that Potter and Weasel had already moved further down the hallway, sparing no concern whatsoever to Granger's safety.

Hermione's pulse quickened with a sudden spike of something before she managed to clear her throat of the rather exasperating unease. "Um, oh. That's ok. I know a few myself, but thank you."

"Ok," he replied, sounding faintly disappointed. "If you're sure." Sidling several paces away, he added, "Well, I will see you bright and early then." Placing his thumb to the keypad, his door opened just as Harry hollered, "We'll meet you in the lobby at nine o'clock and walk over there together."

Hermione tilted her head back, flashing Harry a thumbs up before glancing over at Draco. "Goodnight, then. See you in the morning."

As she crossed the threshold into her room, the dim lighting pouring from within suddenly felt too hot with the awareness that Malfoy would be asleep with only a slender wall between them.

She briefly wondered if he felt the same sense of yearning to be together.

Of course, he didn't.

She pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, urging the withering thread of delusion to temper. It served no purpose to deny the truth that their lives were about to very soon diverge onto very different paths.

She couldn't help her fascination with him, but she most certainly could help the recurring thoughts that continued to swirl in her head.

She resigned to pass the remainder of the evening delving into her research books.

As she placed her travel bag onto a chair in front of a curtained window, muttering the few Revelio spells she knew, she glanced around her rather abysmal accommodations with a renewed sense of purpose. Tomorrow would bring new developments in the case and she knew that would deliver them one step closer to apprehending MacNair and his accomplice. But the thought of the pair's impending arrest suddenly brought a strong pang of despair to tighten in her chest. Once the perpetrators were off the streets, Malfoy was off the case.

Attempting to draw her attention back to the matter of unpacking and readying herself for a night in, she grabbed her pyjamas from her bag and made her way to the loo.

As she changed into her sleep clothing, several glorious minutes passed without a single thought spared for Malfoy.

When she finally emerged, exceedingly proud of that very immense accomplishment, she was spontaneously greeted at the bathroom's narrow threshold by the thin grin of none other than the lamentably attractive blond.

"Shite!"

She skittered backward clutching her chest, and then in another rush of haste wrapped her arms around her waist in a pathetic attempt to cover her pyjamas.

Her face simultaneously crawled with enough heat to melt a snowflake- the sight of him standing at the doorway to her bathroom in her hotel room leaving her nearly breathless. "Merlin, how did you get in here?" she finally managed, watching him do a terrible job of concealing his amusement at seeing her so flustered.

"There's an adjoining door between our rooms," he said. "The housekeeper must have forgotten to close it, so I thought I'd wander over and see if you wanted to grab some room service with me." He checked his watch before looking her up and down. "It's a little early to be heading to bed, isn't it?"

Her gaze flitted over his shoulder, discovering for the first time a door propped open between their rooms. How did she not notice that before? She cursed the pitiful job she did of surveilling her room for any clear and present dangers, the open door glaringly being one of them.

When she didn't immediately reply, he took a step back, turning. "Or, well, perhaps we can take a rain check for another t-"

"No," she blurted out, with a little more enthusiasm than she'd intended. "I'd like that. I mean, sure- why don't we order something light- a hummus platter with pita slices perhaps- and maybe we can wash it down with a carafe of karkade?"

When Draco raised a brow at how effortlessly the rather specific list of menu options rolled off her tongue, she flashed him a supplicating smile. "You know, when in Rome-"

"Right. I should have known you'd have done your research before embarking to a foreign land."

"Well, I'm no expert, but I've been wanting to try Egyptian cuisine for quite some time and the hotel menu said hummus pairs well with-"

His grey eyes flickered askance before a ghost of a smirk played across his lips.

She ran a hand over her hair. "What?"

"Nothing," he said wryly, turning to walk away. "I will put in our order. Would you like it to be delivered here or there?" He motioned with his hand toward the door to his room.

She went almost rigid, her eyes catching on the door as if it lead to some forbidden land.

"Here is fine," she said, eyeing a small table over by the window. Give me a moment to get changed and I'll conjure another chair-"

"Granger," he interrupted, absently taking in the sight of her in her rather adorable kitten pyjamas. "No need to get dressed on my account. I plan to change into my pyjamas as well."

Something physical stirred inside of her. "Right. Casual, it is then."

After a few minutes of shuffling back and forth in his absence, she looked up to see him sauntering into the room wearing an ensemble much like the one he wore the night in question at the Manor.

Impure thoughts helplessly broke through into her consciousness- which she wisely kept to herself.

Despite her best efforts, a nettlesome flutter erupted in her stomach at the recollection of how bloody sublime his body had felt hovering over hers.

She stumbled backward in a botched attempt to circumvent walking anywhere near the bed as she drifted with a twitchy gracelessness toward the table.

"The service should be here shortly," he said, eyeing her with a curious perplexity as he made his way further into the room. "Do you mind if I have a seat?" he asked, gesturing toward the bed.

"Oh, sure," she stuttered. "I'll just sit over here for the time being." She dropped into the accent chair, nearly crushing the contents of her travel bag in the process. "Shite," she muttered, her dusky cheeks burning like a poppy as she pulled it from beneath her bum, glancing over at Malfoy only to find him staring at her with an exceedingly amused smirk. "What?" she asked not for the first time, tossing her bag onto the floor at her feet.

He shook his head blithely. "Nothing. You just look particularly on edge this evening. Is my presence here a bother? Because I can leave." His thumb pointed in the direction of his room.

"What? No. Of course not. Why would you think that?"

"I don't know. Just thought I'd ask so I'm not crossing any unspoken boundaries of yours."

His silky assertion roared in her ears, bringing her back to the moment in time when she'd heard him mutter something strikingly similar, only- she shook her head to rid herself of the image, just as a sharp knock came from the direction of the hallway.

She leaped out of her seat. "I'll get that!" Bounding over to the door, she hastily confirmed the room attendant's identity through the peephole, swinging the door open to allow what looked to be a primly-dressed bellhop to levitate their food tray into the room.

He glanced down at the service card. "Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy?" he asked, looking from one to the other.

"Oh, no-"

"Yes, that would be right," Draco said, standing up and inching forward. "You can put the tray right over there on the table." He gestured toward the window where Granger had neatly arranged two accent chairs on each side of the small wooden pedestal table.

She fixed him with a blank stare as the bellhop padded over to the table, placing down their tray before making his way back to the doorway.

"Is there anything else I can get for you this evening, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco slipped an Egyptian note into the wizard's hand as he politely thanked him and declined any further service, nimbly closing the door behind him.

"He obviously had the wrong idea," Draco said after an awkward yet almost apologetic silence.

Hermione batted away the sudden warmth that had risen to her cheeks. "Yes, and you didn't correct him," she pointed out, noting the shadowed look of conflict on his face.

He made no move to explain. "You know what, it's fine," she finally said, pivoting back toward the window.

Draco's grey eyes followed her as she walked away, watching as she levitated the silver-plated lid from the platter. "Wow, this looks delicious! Come here and have a look," she called, encouraging him with a flap of her hand.

He drifted over to where she eyed the completely unappetizing-looking grub and paused preemptively to appraise the scene.

"Is something wrong?" she asked, suddenly wondering why he continued to pore over her like some mystery that needed solving.

The corners of his mouth turned up. "I'm just enjoying the rather amusing sight of Hermione Granger in her kitten pyjamas marveling over a plate of Egyptian hummus."

"If my kitten pyjamas are too distracting, I already told you I can change."

"I suppose you brought them along so you don't have separation anxiety whilst away from that mangy cat of yours."

Her hands flew to her hips as she barked out an indignant huff. "I'll have you know, I-"

"Easy, Granger. I was only joking." He chuckled to himself with a healthy lilt of satisfaction as he dropped into the seat across from her, reaching for the carafe of karkade.

Hermione eased into her seat, unable to smother her smile.

"Who would have ever thought that you and I would someday be ordering room service together, in Egypt nonetheless, without Stupifying each other? Or worse-"

"I'd say my sixth year self for one would never have believed it." He poured the burgundy liquid into her glass and then tilted the carafe to fill his own. "We've sure come a long way in the matter of- well, days, really. Makes you wonder what things could have been like had we not been born into such different circumstances."

Hermione began plating their food. She had considered that notion more times than she could count recently and it always led her to feel more disheartened than had she not considered it at all. Despite their glaring differences of contrasting upbringings and opposing allegiances, they really did have a fair bit more in common than she ever thought they would. Loathe as she was to admit it, she quite enjoyed his company. Most days.

"I suppose my former self would never have believed it either, what with how awful we were to each other. I'm sorry for punching you in third year, by the way. Although, I think you'll agree that at the time you deserved it."

Draco snorted under his breath. "I most certainly deserved it. Believe it or not, I rather admired you for it, even if it was a long time before I ever walked through the Slytherin Common Room without at least one person re-enacting it for their own demented pleasure."

Hermione tried unsuccessfully to quell her laughter as she placed several pita wedges onto Draco's plate and handed it across to him. "Well, I guess we're living proof that it's never too late to make amends."

Draco nodded, watching her in silent agreement as she finished serving herself. "Well, I regret not making amends sooner," he confessed. "It may have given us more time together before- well-"

"Right," she said, looking up at him and catching a glimpse of something in his eyes she couldn't attach to words. It caused something foreign to throb in her chest, compelling her to say what she had only thought once to herself earlier in the day. "You know, I'm not opposed to us getting engaged- if you think it would help appease your parents."

Draco choked on something, although Hermione was nearly certain he had yet to tuck into his nosh. "Excuse me," he managed, holding a napkin to his mouth. "Sorry, I just-" He scoured her face for any sign that she'd misspoken, but found none. "I appreciate what you're doing. Well, what you've done and what you're trying to do. But, I'm afraid any further efforts would be futile seeing as it would only postpone the inevitable."

His eyes drifted over her shoulder to a place on the wall where an ornamental map of the world hung in a frame, taunting him as he registered all the dazzling destinations he'd not explore with the resplendent witch. Whether familial circumstances or unrequited feelings were keeping them apart, all he knew is his situation was impossibly hopeless. His expression grew more strained as he glanced back at her.

"My parents already have the contract drawn. It's only a matter now of me signing it, which I plan to do next time I'm there. I can only imagine my parents' acrimony should I blindside them with another unexpected delay." His laugh rang humorless, painting a daunting picture for her of how he felt about that fact.

"Well, just know you have that option- should you ever decide to take it." The words flowed from her mouth like a desperate plea- but he mustn't have seen it as the lifeline she did because all he did in return was nod absently.

Instead, he gestured toward her burgeoning plate. "Have a go, would you- I'm not sure I'm brave enough to go first."

She picked up one of the pita wedges and dipped it into the shallow dish of hummus before drawing it to her mouth. "Hmmmm, it's delicious," she hummed, as the smooth layers of chickpeas and olive oil blended with lemon juice and garlic on her tongue. When he raised a rather unconvinced eyebrow, she added, "I promise- it's way better than it looks."

He reached down and dipped a small corner of his pita into the spread and took a considerably meager bite as Hermione looked on amused.

"You really do need to get out more, you know that?" She grinned when his face slowly morphed from suspicion to approval. "See, I told you it's delicious."

"Either that or I'm more hungry than I thought I was." This time he scooped a hefty serving onto his bread and gobbled it down in one go.

"Well, I for one can't wait to try some more of the local cuisine. You can stick to the fish and chips that you've no doubt packed in your travel bag."

"I think I've done rather well, all things considered. Pizza on Saturday and Egyptian hummus today. You've been a considerably effectual influence in expanding my palette."

"Well, I'm glad I can still be of some use," she remarked, intending to offer a lighthearted quip but ending up sounding far more embittered than she'd meant to. When his head tilted and his mouth ran slack, she muttered a rather sheepish, "I'm sorry."

"Please tell me you don't think that you're no longer of use to me now that we've agreed to end this silly charade."

"Well, first of all, I never agreed to ending it. I for one think you are making a terrible mistake by foregoing the progress we've made on that front- but, I've already told you, your decisions are not mine to make. And secondly, my comment was only meant as a joke, and I apologize if it came out any differently. But, no, I don't think you believe I'm no longer of use to you. In fact, I think you very well know you still need me around- if for nothing more than to solve this case."

"Oh, is that right?"

She flashed him a broad grin. "Yes. As a matter of fact, I have an interesting development to share with you."

"Moving forward again on the case without me, are you?"

"Not exactly, no. Only conferring with an old friend who happens to be well-versed in herbs and such."

"And who might that be?"

"Neville."

"Longbottom?"

"Do you know another Neville?" she asked, fighting back a cheeky smile.

"And what is old Longbottom up to these days? Is he able to pronounce his entire name without spluttering yet?"

Hermione made a face. "Neville is the Herbology professor at Hogwarts. And I'll have you know, he's grown quite nicely into his peculiarities. Some may even say they find him quite attractive."

Draco outwardly cringed. "And do you count yourself as one of those horribly misled individuals?"

"I may, had we not grown up together and have what I'd consider a sibling-like bond of sorts- but truly he will make someone a very lucky witch someday. He's not only quite handsome now, but extraordinarily intelligent where herbology is concerned."

Draco wrinkled his nose. "I'll have to take your word for it. So, what did ol' Longbottom have to say when you talked to him?"

"Well, I think you'll find it quite interesting," she said, taking a sip of her karkade. "I asked Neville to opine about what our ingredients might produce if combined and what he said led me to believe we are definitely on the right track with what we believe MacNair and his partner are after."

"The body."

"Yes, but not just the body."

"Care to elaborate?" he asked, quirking a brow.

"While no one knows what potion might result, Neville was quite certain that given their specific properties, a protein is needed as a catalyst for any sort of reaction to occur."

Draco nodded his head in immediate understanding. "The blood."

"Exactly. And the reason they even need it in the first place is because-"

"The brooch containing ancestral blood was left behind at Strout's residence."

"Yes," she said smiling, thinking of how if she were to have this exact same conversation with Harry or Ron they would have long since been lost by now. "So that means their potion can't be complete unless they have the blood from one of the original members of the bond. The question now remains, whose blood is in the brooch and how did they manage to-"

"Blood magic," Draco cut in matter-of-factly. "It's how the blood resides in this ring. And it's the same way a drop of blood continues to live in the brooch. I'd be willing to bet that not only did Cleopatra make an unbreakable bond with her maidservants, but she also performed some sort of blood magic ritual with them so that regardless of the fate of the Soleada, their ancestral blood continued to flow through them."

"Their, as in?"

"Their as in Mark Antony and Cleopatra."

Hermione's eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing several times as she tried to form words. "You're not saying what I think you are, are you?"

"That the brooch belonged to Mark Antony? Yes, I think that's exactly what I'm saying. It certainly fits. You said yourself it was typical for that time period for a warrior to use it to fasten his cloak and Mark Antony was nothing if not a warrior, was he not?"

"So how did MacNair come to possess the brooch?"

Draco forced a laugh. "MacNair has never possessed anything of value. He's never been anything more than someone's lackey- a sycophant of the worst kind. Whoever he's with is definitely running the show- and I'd be willing to bet the chap he's working for is descended from the famous pair or at the very least stole it from someone who is. And that's how he came to possess the brooch."

Hermione nodded her head, absorbing the new information. "If MacNair brings nothing of value to the table, then why does this guy even need him?"

"He needs him because he's the connection to Miriam. Remember in the memory we found at Strout's place? Somehow he must have known MacNair had a connection to Miriam which is who he was interested in finding. MacNair was a means to an end- his way of getting to the Soleada. Now how he and MacNair came to cross paths, of that I'm not sure."

"Hmmmm." Hermione mindlessly shifted her food around on her plate. "It sounds like they may have already discovered the body if they had reason to be sniffing around the Alexandrian morgue."

"Well, we'll know more tomorrow, now won't we?"

There was a moment where they studied each other in thoughtful silence before Draco chuckled under his breath.

"What is it?"

"A funny thought just occurred to me. If this guy plans on tethering to MacNair for the rest of his life, he's in for a real treat."

"What makes you say that?"

"MacNair was an absolute imbecile, void of a solitary brain cell in his head. How the Dark Lord ever managed to keep him around is anyone's guess. If he's somehow made his way into this guy's inner circle, he surely won't remain for long."

"Like you said, tomorrow should bring some more answers. Until then, I suppose we should clean this up and head to bed."

Draco looked around, tossing his napkin onto his plate. "I'll put this outside the door."

Hermione stood along with him swaying on her feet as she suddenly remembered their rather awkward circumstances.

Should she wave goodbye to him at the door?

Shake his hand and thank him for an enlightening chat?

Follow him into his room and snog him senseless?

She inwardly groaned at her traitorous mind.

That she would not be doing.

He returned from levitating their meal tray into the hallway, seeming to realize himself the slightly uncomfortable predicament in which they found themselves.

"So-" he said, brow lifted in silent query.

"So-"

He eyed the adjoining door which remained propped open, charged heavily with its unspoken presence.

"I'll just be heading back to my quarters then." He sidestepped where she stood, striding his way across the room, when abruptly he stopped. "Would you like for me to leave this open or would you rather it be closed?"

She froze, unmoving as a tombstone.

Why did his questions have to be so difficult?

Would the way she answered somehow imply some sort of underlying interest?

If he was asking in the first place, did that mean he didn't want it closed?

She wished her overactive brain wasn't prone to overthinking.

"You can leave it open. That way if either of us needs to reach the other in the night-"

"Open it is," he said flatly, stopping just beyond the threshold to pivot back to look at her. "Thank you for the nightcap- and for pushing me even further outside of my comfort zone with regards to my palate."

She smiled back at him thinking how oddly himself he appeared in his pyjamas. "I rather enjoyed it- as always," she replied, stopping short of divulging more than she wanted to say.

"Goodnight, Granger. See you in the morning."

She watched the shape of his mouth as he uttered the words, thinking in another world she really could get used to hearing them. Her lips quirked up slightly. "Goodnight, Malfoy."

Untold minutes passed with her scurrying around, readying herself for bed. She placed her outfit for the following day out onto the chair by the window, gathered her parchments with the various questions she had written down to ask the Egyptian Minister and set them on the table, then plucked her toiletries bag from her travel tote and made her way into the bathroom.

Her mind raced with the new revelations she and Malfoy had made.

Could the fibula in Evidence at the Ministry really have belonged to Mark Antony?

The mere idea was more than she could wrap her mind around.

What did that mean for the identity of who was working alongside MacNair?

Was he a distant relative? A common thief?

Does he know about the Ouroboros Prophesy?

What even is the Ouroboros Prophesy?

So many questions swirled through her mind as she diligently brushed her teeth and washed her face. One thing was certain, she'd need a good night's sleep just to process it all come morning. Fortunately she had packed the Sleeping Draught to ensure her revolving door of thoughts wouldn't keep her awake half the night.

After smoothly pulling her hair into a low ponytail, she rummaged through her toiletries case searching for the vial. Coming up empty-handed with the painstaking attempt, she ambled into the bedroom and rifled through her travel case, grabbing her wand and muttering a muffled Accio Sleeping Draught only to be met with nothing more than a light stirring.

She began to panic, thinking that the last thing she needed was to start the day off in a sluggish fog.

After scampering back into the bathroom to cast an Accio into her toiletries bag, her shoulders slumped in resignation.

She must have forgotten to pack it in her haste.

Unfortunately, she'd simply have to manage without it- but how was she going to silence her mind from the day's events long enough to fall asleep?

After drawing back her bed coverings, and crawling under the blankets, she waved her wand to extinguish the lights and sunk back into her pillow. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad. With the time difference and Portkey-lag, perhaps sleep would overtake her sooner rather than later. She briefly wondered if Malfoy had already fallen asleep, but immediately decided that thinking about him would be counterproductive to what she was trying to achieve, which was a clear mind. The last time he plagued her thoughts, she hadn't slept a wink.

Deciding instead on counting sheep, a tactic that worked for her throughout much of her childhood, she breathed in deeply and began imagining the woolen fleeced creatures frolicking over a fence in a meadow. The backs of her eyelids twitched as one sheep followed the other on repeat until she had counted eighty-five without so much as a slight loss of consciousness. Shifting onto her side, she groaned to herself. Perhaps a change in position is what was needed.

This time as the sheep were jumping over the hedge, her mind traveled to the day ahead and what the meeting with the Egyptian Minister might bring. She briefly wondered if by the end of the day they'd have their two suspects in custody. Had MacNair and his accomplice already accomplished what they came to Egypt to achieve? Catching herself in the act of not focusing on falling asleep, she shifted again to her stomach and attempted some tried and true breathing exercises.

One mind-cleansing inhale followed by a slow and steady exhale. Repeat. If the suspects managed to be in custody tomorrow, did that mean Malfoy would immediately depart for France? Was this the last occasion they would be spending time together before he was swept away to his matrimonial prison, never to be heard from again? Hermione had never been one to dread change, but this was one occasion that she admittedly wasn't looking forward to. It was just her luck to finally find a wizard whose company she didn't completely abhor, only for him to go running off with some other witch. She groaned again, clutching a pillow to her head to muffle the sound. Rolling over onto her back, she stared up at the ceiling which she could barely make out in the dark.

She was wide awake with not a single indication that sleep would overtake her anytime soon. How could she have forgotten one of the most important elements of her trip- the potion for a restful night's sleep? She must have been distracted by the unexpected news Malfoy had sprung on her that morning. Malfoy. There he was again, seeping into her thoughts. If he was to blame for this, it didn't seem fair that he was on the other side of the wall slumbering like a newborn. She listened intently for any sign that he was still awake. Nothing.

It was no use. She resigned herself to another restless night of tossing and turning, trying to recall the last good night's sleep she'd had without use of a potion.

The evening at Malfoy Manor.

Of course.

What had been so different about that night?

Her mind didn't have to travel very far to riddle out the answer to that particular question. The warm and solid comfort of Malfoy's embrace along with the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her head had been the consummate recipe of relaxation to lull her into a deep and restful slumber. What she wouldn't do for a carbon copy of that particular method of respite.

A thought occurred to her but she quickly extinguished it seeing as Malfoy was already asleep but even if he wasn't, she was sure he would never agree to it.

She tossed onto her side, jaw clenching at her predicament. If this went on much longer, she would be sleep-walking through the Egyptian Ministry. She huffed a sigh thinking of how utterly useless she'd be without her faculties. The more she thought about it, desperate times did indeed call for desperate measures.

She threw back the covers from her bed, sitting upright long enough to gather her bearings and strengthen her resolve to do what needed to be done. Plucking her wand from the nightstand, she cast a Lumos Minima, enough to light the way over to the doorway between their rooms. She'd only take a peek inside, verify if Malfoy was awake or asleep, and then decide whether or not to go through with her plan based on her observations.

She craned her neck around the frame of the doorway, instantly uncomfortable with how much this particular brand of stealth felt like a gross invasion of Malfoy's privacy. Just beyond the threshold, she could make out the dim outline of Malfoy's blanketed form lying completely still in his bed, apart from the steady rise and fall of his breathing. From what she could tell, he was on his side with his back to her.

"Malfoy, are you awake?" she called, her voice several decibels below a hushed whisper. She waited several moments for a reply as the air continued to be rent with a deafening silence. How fortunate he was to be able to nod off so effortlessly while she grappled with the debilitating curse of insomnia.

Just as she backed away, pivoting to return to her room, Malfoy groaned. "For fuck's sake, Granger. What is it you need?"

The noise startled her, causing her to bump into the floor lamp that stood perched just inside the doorway, causing it to topple to the floor with a loud crash.

"Shite!" she muttered, reaching down to pick it up and place it upright. "Sorry, I didn't mean-"

By the time she had turned around, Malfoy was standing at the threshold nearly face to face with her floundering form. He looked down at her with unmistakable annoyance. "Are you always this much of a nuisance at bedtime?" he grumbled. "How am I supposed to get any sleep when you are next door making a ruckus with your tossing and turning? And what is this- you've decided now is a good time to be rearranging furniture?"

"What?" she asked incredulously. "No, I-"

"You obviously came to alert me for one reason or another- so, out with it. You're not exactly doing either of us any favors by slinking around in the dark, knocking shite over."

"I was not slinking."

"Well, whatever you want to call it- you're preventing both of us from getting any sleep. So, unless you have something pressing to tell me, please keep it down while I return to bed to gouge out my eyeballs with my fists."

"Wait," she said, as he turned to walk away. He stopped, frowning as she grappled for the words to use to market her proposition. "I was thinking- what with us both obviously struggling to fall asleep- what would be wrong with-" She suddenly realized how ridiculous, and not to mention embarrassing, her idea sounded in actuality, heat spontaneously creeping up her neck at a breakneck pace. "You know what, never mind." She spun around, not able to run fast enough back to the security of her own room, mortified by her stupidity.

As she crawled back into bed and pulled the covers up to her neck, she saw out of the corner of her eye, Malfoy looming over her with a look of overt displeasure on his face. Surreptitiously placing her nearly-extinguished wand on the nightstand, she wondered if she could feign unconsciousness and somehow play off the previous five minutes as an unfortunate fit of sleepwalking. She closed her eyes for a moment, hoping his towering form was just an apparition and none of what she'd done would turn out to be real.

"Granger," he said, his tone laced with impatience. "Don't pretend that you didn't just come traipsing into my room and-"

She inwardly groaned, her eyes springing open as she propped herself up on her elbows, the movement causing Malfoy to pause his berating sermon. "Look Malfoy, I'm sorry, ok? I came in there to see if you might agree to falling asleep together like we did at the Manor. It was the first restful night I'd had in days and the only thing I could think of in my desperation to get to sleep seeing as I forgot my Sleeping Draught and I've been tossing and turning for what seems like hours. I didn't exactly think through how you might feel about the idea, seeing as you're practically engaged now and not to mention, it would be grossly inappro-"

He yanked back the covers. "Move over," he commanded gruffly, as he dropped onto the bed. "Before I change my mind."

"What? Oh-" She inched her body over until she was nearly to the center of the bed, watching from her peripheral as Malfoy lay back, pulling the covers up over his waist. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest at his proximity, his warm body already emanating heat across the scarce space between them. This truly had been a dreadful idea. How was she supposed to sleep with the very object of her burgeoning affection lying so close by her side?

He turned to face her. "Is this what you had in mind?"

She shifted onto her side, scrutinizing his expression. He appeared far less annoyed than he had only moments ago from what she could make out under the cover of darkness, her wand now completely extinguished.

"Ummm- well, I hadn't exactly-"

"You hadn't exactly what?"

All at once, she detected the sweet smell of peppermint floating in the air between them and without further consideration blurted out, "Is that peppermint?"

"What?" he asked, believing she had officially proven herself worthy of admission to the Janus Thickey ward for the clinically insane, seeing as there was no readily apparent parallel between her answer and the question he had asked.

"Your toothpaste. Is it peppermint?"

She didn't see it, but he rolled his eyes. "I don't know. I don't exactly mentally catalogue what flavor-"

"Mine's spearmint but only because I couldn't find peppermint this time around-"

Draco scoffed dismissively. "While that's very enlightening, Granger, I'm fairly certain they're both the same."

"What? They most certainly are not the same. Peppermint is more candy canes at Christmastime, whereas spearmint is more like a piece of chewing gum."

"Well, I see no difference. So I guess we'll have to agree to disagree."

"Or, you can just admit you're wrong."

"So you've called me over here to argue about toothpaste? That should bode well for the both of us trying to get our proper rest."

"No, I just think that in this instance, you have a glaring lack of attention to detail, that's all. The two have distinctly different qualities and were you to just admit that fact, we could move on from it."

"I will admit no such thing," he said, rolling onto his side and groaning into the knotted sheets that lay bunched between them. "Now would you please close your eyes and at least attempt to fall asleep?" His muffled voice against the mattress prompted her to lean forward to glean what he'd said.

"What did you say?" she asked, inclining her head to catch sight of his buried face.

"Granger," he groaned, looking up only to feel her breath dancing perilously close to his lips, instantly noticing a hint of spearmint wafting between them. "What is it going to take for you to be quiet?" His voice began with a trace of irritation then suddenly dropped to a level that was tangibly gruff. "If you'll remember, the last time I attempted to silence you, it didn't exactly end well." His gravelly tone caused her face to flush pink with mortification, but fortunately for her, the cover of darkness prevented him from seeing how that particular recollection affected her.

Their lips were far too close for her to ignore the way it caused a sudden squall of desire to erupt in her stomach. This most certainly was not what she had in mind when the idea for him to fall asleep alongside her sprung into being. And yet like some sort of irrepressible magnetism, here she found herself again, a hairsbreadth away from Malfoy's lips.

"The last time your attempt wasn't nearly as dire as it seems to be tonight, what with your narcissistic pride seemingly on the line."

He chuckled, peppermint drifting enticingly across her lips. "If I knew you wouldn't go running away, I may just put our little debate to rest by proving to you that peppermint and spearmint are in fact very much one and the same."

As she felt his lips curve into an antagonistic smile against hers, she whispered, "I can't be certain of how you'd manage that, but you should know I'd never shy away from the opportunity to prove you wrong."

Neither one of them made a move to fully commit to what he was undoubtedly alluding to, instead choosing to patiently provoke until the other conceded.

She didn't think she could hold out much longer as his peppermint-flavored lips lingered just outside her reach.

"If you are so eager to prove me wrong, Granger, then what are you waiting for?"

She should have known he'd be better at the art of seduction, but not one to be outdone, she decided to take her provocation game up a notch by lightly grazing her hand across the velvety surface of his torso just beneath the hem of his shirt.

An innocent exercise in incitement.

The brazen move elicited a hitch of his breath, his head helplessly tipping forward to meet hers.

"Granger," he warned weakly. "You are playing a dangerous game that I happen to be much more skilled at than you."

His labored breathing caused the mingling of flavors to become intoxicating.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she whispered, her lips curling into a victorious grin against his as her fingers drifted agonizingly slow up the hard planes of his stomach.

"You are the absolute worst," he growled, before capturing her lips with his in what could only be described as a drugging sense of relief, an impatient clashing of lips and tongue and teeth that completely robbed her of any last vestiges of sanity.

An almost feral hand fisted in the hair at the nape of her neck pulling her body so firmly against his, she gasped on her own breath.

Unbridled want trickled down her spine and stirred between her hips as Draco dragged his teeth across her bottom lip, white-hot tension bubbling inside her as he clutched her side possessively.

Everything burned into an incoherent mix of need and destruction. Her skin, her chest, her veins throbbing with the desire for more.

This kiss was completely unlike either of the others, the intensity so feverish it caused her to forget that its sole purpose was to settle a petty debate over toothpaste. The sweet and spicy taste of peppermint uniting with the alluring masculine scent that was so distinctly Malfoy caused an unfamiliar heat to pool in her navel.

It was nothing short of exhilarating, this carnal mixture of confusion and clarity.

A dam spilling over with want.

Unsteady heartbeats roared in her ears as she swallowed every hypnotizing sensation.

And then, without warning, his frantic touches slowed into caresses. Each tender brush of his fingers against her body causing her to tense and shutter.

"I'll have you know," he muttered haltingly in between laving her tongue and nipping at her bottom lip, "that I stand corrected."

He paused his ministrations to rest his forehead against hers, hot breath panting against her swollen lips. "It appears as though spearmint has its very own defining features."

He leaned forward to gently pillow his lips against hers. "And I find that I quite like it."

Neither moved for the length of several heartbeats, endeavoring to arrest the pursuit of their forbidden ministrations.

A soft sigh slipped out, a wordless plea to continue, but Draco pulled away, rolling onto his back and patting a place on his upper chest. "There's a spot for you to lay your head if you're interested."

She couldn't speak. She couldn't move. Nothing but white noise filled her head.

She took a subconscious step back to settle her thoughts before inching forward to nestle under his arm, gently placing her head atop his chest, the entire length of her body now tucked snuggly against his.

She hummed softly at the feel of his warm presence, committing to memory the comfort of his embrace as her racing pulse fought to return to a more steadying pace.

The charged silence between them would have been the perfect time to channel some of the Gryffindor courage Ginny had reminded her to have- tell him how she felt about him. But some baser instinct held her back.

Maybe it was the way she saw the resolve on his face when he spoke of honoring his familial obligations. Or perhaps, she felt she'd already lost him to his aristocratic upbringing long ago.

Did a Pureblood and a Muggleborn really have a chance at a future together anyway?

She swallowed hard thinking about their lives diverging in short order. How could she ever go back to living the life she had before without spending every waking moment aching for his companionship, his comfort, and even his unfortunate cantankerous quirks?

She had to tell him how she felt or like Ginny said, she'd live to regret it.

But maybe it was already too late. A contract had already been drawn, after all.

But it had yet to be signed.

Would a confession of her feelings really even matter to him?

What if it did and he wanted to walk away from his obligations but couldn't bring himself to do so? She couldn't imagine placing that burden on him- choosing her or his responsibility to his family. And this wasn't just any family- it was an affluent Pureblood family with centuries of tradition coursing through its veins.

Was she foolish enough to think he might choose her over blood-line devotion?

A sudden feeling of dread washed over her as she considered her options, her heart clenching tightly in her chest. Despite the overt chemistry between them- both physical and intellectual- there was undoubtedly no hope for a future with him. Their lives, their pasts, their futures were just too different to ever find a way to unite them.

"A sickle for your thoughts," Draco muttered hoarsely into the stillness of the room, his gravelly voice breaking her from her trance.

"What? Oh- it's nothing-"

"Granger, your wheels were spinning so loudly, I bet Potter and Weasley even heard them. It certainly didn't sound like nothing to me."

She chuckled dryly, knowing how prone she was to losing herself in thought and how diligent he was about calling her out on it. Not to mention, this may be the first time she'd ever heard him refer to Ron as anything other than an insult. Maybe she had gotten through to him after all.

"I was just thinking about how much I enjoyed proving you wrong," she mused. It wasn't a lie, but it certainly wasn't the entire truth either.

He let out a low, throaty chuckle that chased a chill down her spine. "You're sure there was nothing else going on in that swotty little head of yours?"

Under ordinary circumstances, she disliked when he called her a swot. But for some reason, this time felt like an endearment. "I'm sure. And you?"

"What?"

"What's going on in that obstinate little head of yours?"

He inhaled with impossible control, the effort causing her head to rise along with it. For a moment she thought he might have a confession of his own to make, compelling her to unknowingly hold her breath in anticipation. "Only how we both need our rest in order to do our jobs tomorrow."

The fragility of her stilted breath broke, a pang in her chest igniting at how elemental his inner musings had been compared to hers.

This was all the evidence she needed that her heart was indeed on the wrong path.

"You are absolutely right," she conceded, her grip on him suddenly slackening.

"Goodnight, Granger." He leaned down to place a chaste kiss to the top of her head, moving to tuck her slackened arm back snuggly around his waist.

She shut her eyes and breathed, carving the moment into her memory. "Goodnight."

She spent several agonizing minutes analysing exactly what had transpired between them that evening leading up to and including the most electrifying kiss she'd ever experienced.

It had to mean something, hadn't it?

Coworkers didn't just go around star-gazing and ordering late-night room service and snogging, did they?

Or was she just naively unaware of what went on behind closed doors? Perhaps this was a common occurrence.

Regardless, she chastised herself for allowing the emotional attachment to Malfoy to continue to flourish after she'd vowed to keep her distance.

Of one thing she was certain- she'd set herself up for a torrent of heartache when the case concluded.

Landing always was the hardest part of falling.