Prologue 5

There is a pale, nooseless lump laying in a lawn chair, sipping a fruity-red drink out of a sippy straw and looking over the waves. At some point, the straw disembarks from the cups and falls to the sand.

Draco looks at his father, and his father looks back at him.

"Should we help him?" Draco whispers, nodding towards the Dark Lord who is using his puny shriveled hands to fetch the straw from the sand like some imbecile dinosaur.

Lucius sighs and shakes his head in the negative. "And remember, no one must find out."

This is the first and last time Draco Malfoy visits Jamaica.

-x-x-x-

Present Day

Draco Malfoy's got a reservation under his father's name at the finest dining establishment in all of Wizarding New York.

His pressed evening robes wait for him on his bed; his shoes stand, polished, by the door. An expensive cologne watches him pass by the bedroom door in a hurry.

As you may have probably guessed, Draco Malfoy will not be dining at Le Petit Debauche at a quarter to eight surrounded by the notable league of the After Dusk Pickleball Club (nee: Death Eaters).

Instead, he finds himself snooping around Ilvermorny's west wing well past curfew. It's nothing the Slytherin lad hadn't done before. He soon slips into the Defense classroom, finding it empty of anything identifiable... except...

"The bookbag." Draco finds the hideous, patchwork pink ball of a bag laying under the central, front-most desk of the room. It smells of her and its got bits of her curls stuck to it.

Draco pulls back the chair as well, finding a white, flaky substance on the back. "Egh." He grimaces, picks up the bag and begins to circle the room.

Now where would a brooding, perverted professor hide the smartest witch of her age? Trick question.

Knowing the Slytherin's love for dungeons, he begins to shine the tip of his light over the floor, searching for a hidden trap door or a descending set of stairs. He finds the Slytherin's second favourite thing.

"Books." He glares at the small, but impressive library. "Did a bit of light reading after class, Granger?"

An idea pops into his mind, but surely, Godfather Snape would be above such cheap gimmicks as a door behind a bookshelf. Although...

He scans the titles of the books. "Secrets of Lilies and Other Water Plants?" Why would Godfather keep such an odd title in a Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom? Draco tugs at the book, to no result.

Why did Hermione have to be so stupid to stay alone in a room with a wizard who could end her with the bat of a single eyelash? Better yet, why did she think she could come out of it alive?

"Because she's an Insufferable Know-It-All," he mocks in his Godfather's nasally, straight tone.

Suddenly, the bookshelf creaks and pops out of the wall to reveal a secret passageway. There are stairs descending down into the bowels of the school. Its easy, too easy, which for a Slytherin could mean something very bad or something very well-hidden in plain sight.

Draco shines the tip of his wand before him and begins to question whether or not he is stupid enough to come out of here alive.

At the bottom of the stairs is a stretching corridor with candle sconces, wooden chairs and a plush carpet. How medieval-reggio.

"Point me," he demands of his wand, and a thin sparkling orbs floats forward.

It flits and flutters about until it reaches an unassuming wooden door. He utters an Alohamora and the door slips open.

Inside there is a large wooden desk, and slumped over a mountain of parchments sits the Know-It-All, writing as though her life depends on it.

"Is it really the time for extra credit-"

"Dr-a-co." Her voice shakes as two bloodshot eyes gaze out at him from under the papers.

"I'm going to get you out of here-"

In response, Hermione shakes her leg. There's a silver chain attached to it and its chaining her to the desk. He's certain such an outcome never arose in Hermione's fantasies of the Hogwarts Professor.

Draco blasts the chain with a few shots, but each time the chain only jingles.

"Five hundred," she whispers. "And I can go."

"Five hundred words?" He glares. "Pages?!"

"Handwritten too." Hermione's swollen hand glides along the parchment, thick blisters formed on the fist. "And now that you're here too..."

The wheels in Draco's head turn fast. He grabs Hermione's shoulders and shakes her into an alert state. "What were Snape's exact words?"

"1000 pages of writing by midnight tonight, and I can go free," she says. "But no one can write that many in four hours."

"Maybe not you." Draco opens Hermione's bookbag and yanks out his old Arithmany textbook. It's filled with authentic handwriting. He puts in on the table and the chain on Hermione's leg shakes.

"No use. It's not enough," she says with a sigh.

Draco rummages through the bag some more until he finds. Ah! His manuscript.

"You wouldn't!" Hermione whispers. "Your work-!"

Draco simply shrugs and places the book on the desk. The chain shakes significantly. They rummage through the bag some more, finding old class notes and other conspects. After enough papers are placed on the desk, the chains give one final crack and break apart.

"Come on!" Draco hisses through his teeth, "Any minute now-whoa!" He finds Hermione's arms wrapped tight around his neck.

"Oh Dra-co!" she whispers into his ear.

"Not now." He can't believe he's doing this, but he schools his expression, peels her off and drags her back into the corridor. It's the hardest thing he's done in ages, and that's counting keeping the Dark Lord's hideout a secret.

-x-x-x-

She's on her second wind of energy when she and Draco appear at the International Portkey Station. Somehow, he managed to pack up all of her belongings into a trunk and have it delivered straight to the station without her help. Somehow, they managed to escape the Defense Professor.

Guess she was not only Hogwarts' best graduate, but its luckiest.

They stand there at the Grand Central Station gazing stupidly between the brick wall and the giant wall clock about to strike twelve.

And then, Draco taps his feet and begins to whistle.

"Are you serious?" Hermione snaps. "We almost got imprisoned. For life!"

"Huh."

"And you lost the, the," Hermione clenches her fists. "The only good thing you ever wrote!"

"Don't be so dramatic-"

Hermione can't help it. Between the incessant whistling and him nearly tap dancing like it is a Friday night at the Broomsticks, she steps on Draco's toes causing him to yelp in surprise.

"What the hell was that for?"

"Are you going to kiss me or not!"

"Piss off Granger," he whispers before he does just that, hugging her in by the curve or her arse and planting a huge, sloppy smooch on her mouth.

He's grinning like a cat that had it's cream and Granger looks pleasantly flushed. There's only one thing wrong with this picture.

"Well, well, well."

The two whip around to find a figure approaching them through the crowd. He's dressed in black and nurses a well-loved scowl on his face.

"P-professor Snape-"

"Godfather? What the hell are you doing here?" Draco snaps before he finds his mouth bound shut with a powerful spell.

Severus Snape circles around Hermione, taking in a good look at her from his high angle before snatching up her hand. "Miss Granger," he purrs and gives her hand a quick peck. "I do enjoy the feel of a well-used writing hand."

"P-Professor-"

"Speak no more." His eyes eat her up hungrily. He glances at Draco. He's watching. It's an act only a man can really be offended by. "Surely you did not think your escape would be so simple?"

She shakes her head, eyes bulging. "You have your pages. All of them."

"I suppose I should be so glutenous." His mouth curves. "However-"

Draco once again wonders what makes clever witches melt into a puddle around psychopathic, brooding Defense Professors. He also wonders why usually clever Slytherins fall for said clever witches and fail to use all common reason in the face of danger. He lifts his feet off the ground, but finds them stuck in place. Hermione is getting dragged away by the Professor and all he can do is stand and silently stare- bound by magic.

Suddenly, the platform wall softens and a figure appears through it. He's got a long white beard and a look of utter piety. He is the Headmaster Dumbledore and he makes a beeline for the Professor in the nick of time.

One hand up and both Professor and Hermione float back towards him.

Dumbledore clears his throat. "Ahem. Severus, my boy, we meet at last."

'Severus the boy' can barely protest when he is forced into an amicable hug.

"Come now, I am sure we have many matters to discuss," the headmaster says, waving a hand in their direction and he and Severus Apparate out of sight.

"That was anticlimactic," Draco says with a shrug, earning him anouther scowl from Granger.

The two enter through the wall and find the Portkey back to London.

"You know, London isn't all that bad." Hermione's face is still red with a hint of that longing, puppy-dog expression that makes Draco's knees weak. He takes a page out of the Defense Professor's books, grabs her shoulder and kisses her nose.

"If you think you're getting rid of me now, Granger, you're sorely mistaken."

She grins. "Good. Because you've got a whole new manuscript to re-write.:"

Draco's chest swells. "You'd never let me forget it."

The End!

AN: There it is folks! Sorry for the extended update, I was having some *good* changes coming about IRL, but this story was fresh on my mind for a to be finished! Enjoy and happy weekend!