Another story! I've delayed on posting this because I'm super busy right now. The chapters may come out a little slower, so I apologize in advance. Thanks for all the lovely comments with my last Hermione/Draco fic "Hardest of Hearts". I took a lot of what I really liked from that story and ran with it for this one.

I own nothing but deep love for these characters!

Set 10 years after the war.

War of Hearts

Chapter 1: A Little Dark & Dangerous

A flutter of nervous energy gripped her. Anxiously, she bit down on her lower lip, and cursed when she realized she was wearing lipstick tonight and didn't want to smear it. Swallowing, she inhaled, running a hand through her thick, curly brown hair. It was getting far too long these days. She mostly wore it up at work. But tonight, she let it loose down her shoulders and back.

The dark, notorious nightclub sat unassuming before her. The wet cobblestones glistening under the moonlight. There was no bouncer at the door, but she suspected a password would be needed to gain entrance. She didn't have the password and would have to wait for someone entering and slip in behind them.

Hermione knew about the dark witches and wizards associated with this nightclub. It was her job for a living to know where this kind of crowd liked to gather. Dark art and magical affiliations. The Ministry, ever since the fall of Lord Voldemort nearly ten years ago, kept a close eye on any suspicious activity. A vigilance that at times felt overwhelming and maybe a bit much, but that was why people like her and Harry, were trying to change things in a positive, collaborative way. But changes take time. Too much time.

The nightclub was called the Black Serpent, or that was at least what she believed it was called. Th allure of this nightclub was the mystery of it. It was a new establishment in their community, and it made a lot of buzz when it opened. It didn't exactly host the most reputable people.

She inhaled sharply, knowing that the second she walked into that place, she would be recognized and possibly not welcomed. The war hero. The legendary Hermione Granger.

It doesn't matter though, she thought determinedly, I need to try. She had evidence to believe that the two missing girls were last seen at this nightclub.

Being here was a risk. A huge risk in fact. Hermione wasn't an Auror like Harry. In fact, she worked in intelligence gathering for the Ministry of Magic in the Department of Defense and Protection of the Wizarding Community. It was a safe desk job and yet rather exciting at times when she landed the bigger cases.

And this was a case, she knew it. The problem was no one believed her yet. The Ministry claimed she did not have enough evidence that it was a kidnapping or worse, murder, to pursue any lines of inquiry. Code for: drop the case.

The only person in her corner was Harry, but he didn't have enough power to sway the committee yet. Harry was working on that though. He was the youngest Auror in the department, already capturing more dark wizards and witches than any Auror in history, proving to be an asset. However much of his recent moves on detective work had been curtailed by fearful Ministry officials that didn't like the progressive changes. Harry, only recently, started getting into the politics of it all to help push the changes of old, archaic law.

Granted, Hermione understood the Ministry's reluctance to address certain outdated laws and try anything new. They had just limped through the last war with Lord Voldemort. The war was ten years ago. It took five years to fully recover and repair the damage he and his followers did to their wizarding world.

Hermione had become determined more than ever to continue to protect and fight against any new insidious darkness that hid in the shadows. Everyone was terrified of another war. Yet many felt safe, knowing that Lord Voldemort was the worse they had ever seen, and nothing else seemed as scary as him.

She knew that this case was not just kidnappings of fellow witches—their disappearances were more. She felt it in her gut. There had been two women so far. Young, beautiful, intelligent witches that had good standing amongst their peers and no criminal records. There was no clear connection to one another other than their similar physical appearances, and this place. This nightclub.

Inhaling once more, she attempted to straighten her black form-fitting dress that Ginny had picked out for her. Hermione sometimes neglected her wardrobe and was lucky to have a best friend like Ginny Potter to insist on getting her to dress a little sexier.

Sexier for who exactly, she thought begrudgingly.

She had been single for years now. Dating off and on, here and there. Never really finding a man that didn't either terribly bore her, or who was more interested in her celebrity status than her personality. Or worse, a one-night stand, with the bragging rights of telling their friends they fucked Hermione Granger. She bristled at the mere thought. And she wasn't that desperate. Not yet at least, she thought with a frown.

She had avoided places like this, nightclubs that profited on horny singles, because it attracted attention she did not want. The Wizarding World, without her consent, had established her as the 'good girl' War Hero, that had a flawless reputation and a perfection about her that felt suffocating. Every move she made was scrutinized. Every choice, every mistake. Every date. The backlash from Ron and her splinting was damn near crippling, on top of her own dark emotions around it. Being a celebrity did not suit her. In fact, it made her love life absolutely terrible.

Hermione's average day was simple and routine. She went into the office early, usually the last one to leave, and went home to her empty condo in the city, drank a glass of red wine and read a book. She felt like the dusty pages she read, old and boring. Lonely. Collecting dust on a shelf, unwanted. She was only 28 and yet, had the social life of an 80-year-old. She knew she had to try when it came to dating. Yet it was so hard. Too hard for her. She would rather solve a case on her own than sit in a bar with another stranger, hoping for a connection that never comes.

Her eyes moved to the sounds of heels on the cobblestones. A beautiful young blond woman, with a silver, glittery dress that was scandalously too short, matched with painfully high heels, rounded the corner. She was draped on the arm of a tall dark-haired man as they entered the night club. He was whispering something in the pretty blonds ear, she giggled and pushed his chest playfully, as though he had said something naughty to her.

Hermione inwardly groaned. How long had it been since she enjoyed the pleasures of lovemaking? Even the company of a man who flirted and seemed interested in her? Uhm, years.

She had to admit to herself now that she was lonely. Achingly lonely. Ever since her separation from Ron only three years after the war, Hermione never felt whole again, as though searching for something. In the back of her memory, silver blue eyes gazed down at her in mild shock and awe, as his lips burned into hers, devouring her with such passion, such wildness. She remembered throwing herself headlong into those drugging kisses with the abandonment only teenagers had. How she had willingly gave herself to him. How nonsensical she had been, so irritational—so unlike herself.

So unlike the perfectly polished and poised Hermione Granger that had been cultivated the last decade by the Daily Prophet and the wizarding world.

Except if she were as perfect as the world wanted her to be, claimed her to be, they would be shocked of her indiscretion years ago with a certain dark wizard. A dark wizard with eyes like ice and hair like silver.

She shivered, pushing that memory back down, refusing to think, to feel any further.

Merlin's beard, Hermione, get ahold of yourself, you are not here for pleasure—it is business, she thought, annoyed with her betraying thoughts. That memory was a mistake. A stupid, stupid mistake. And a long time ago. A different time.

She was frowning by the time she approached behind the couple, hearing the man say to the black door with no handle, "Devilsnare."

She needed to focus and forget those stolen kisses and much, much more back at Hogwarts—in the arms of her enemy. The door slithered open, revealing the night club within. The young couple was too occupied with themselves to notice that she was right behind them as she followed them inside.

Hermione let out a surprised gasp at the sexy nightclub before her. It was dark and yet filled with a sleek elegance she hadn't expected. It was modern mixed with ancient, bringing in lanterns from the turn of the century with new century furniture. It was filled with beautiful people with fashionably expensive taste. It was literally the adult version of the Slytherin common room, she thought taking in the dark green walls, the black velvet curtains, the couches, and lounge chairs tucked away in dark corners for couples to spoon and kiss. The dance floor was small and only a few swayed to loud thrumming music that seemed ethereal and to Hermione's surprise, kind of wonderful. She rarely heard anything outside the basic Wizard Radio Hour.

The bar didn't have any stools surrounding it as people gathered to get their drinks and hit on one another. Deciding that a drink was a requirement on this investigation, Hermione moved to the bar, hoping to be invisible for a night. She wanted to sip her drink, stay hidden in the shadows, and watch. This place may be the kidnappers' hunting ground which meant he may actually be here tonight. She needed to keep her eyes open and stay alert.

Hermione felt a determined edge creeping up her spine as she stood at the bar. Ordering an Old Fashion with extra ice to water it down, wondering where she could possibly stake out a good location amongst the crowd. She knew the criteria of the kidnapper when it came to his women and their style. She would be on the lookout for potential targets as well.

You can do this, she told herself firmly, just like the old days.

He saw her the second she walked through the door. His pulse skipped wildly at the mere sight of Hermione Granger. Bloody hell, he thought darkly, what is Hermione Granger doing in my club?

After all this time she was still as beautiful as he remembered. He could recognize that bushy brown hair and fierce look of cool determination anywhere. Hermione was the type of woman who didn't know how attractive she was. She didn't lack confidence, her mind gave her that edge, but she seemed unaware of the men giving her form a pleasing appraisal. Whether Hermione liked it or not, she would belong in a place like this—beautiful, smart, wicked.

Draco knew there was a darker side to Hermione Granger. He first discovered it years ago when she had the audacity to punch him in the face in front of his friends and hers. She was fearless and somewhat reckless, and if his instinct was right—a little dark and a little dangerous. The confirmation to her wicked side was in their sixth year…

He could still taste her. Wild, hot, hungry. Everything about her kiss was the opposite of the prim, perfect student he knew. He had his fill of women over the course of his lifetime but nothing was as powerful as his encounter with Hermione Granger in the potions closet at Hogwarts. Nothing. That moment changed him fundamentally. He would never admit it to her or even himself really. But it did. And then what happened after detention, in the darken hallways and finding a hidden alcove, tucked away from the world. Just them. Just their unmitigated passion and the trickle of moonlight from the grand castle windows.

After that night with Hermione Granger, it had become harder for Draco to be blindly led by the decisions of others on the outcome of his life. She turned on a light inside him he didn't even know was there. It was why he couldn't kill Dumbledore. It was why his alliances began to change. Because of her. Because of what they shared one dark, forbidden night.

Yet nothing could ever take hold between them. They both acknowledged it. The rumblings of war had begun and they had chosen their sides, their families. The death of Dumbledore was one of the worst days of his life. The choices he made led him further away from the light—from her.

Draco did the only thing he could do, forced himself to smother his emotions out like snuffing out a candle. His feelings for her were too dangerous. And yet, those feeling bled out eventually, leading to doubt. Doubt his cause. Doubt his choices. Leaving him the only option, to stay silent and try to keep his family from being murdered. If Voldemort ever suspected doubt within his followers, death was their fate. The second worst day of his life was watching Hermione being tormented by his crazed Aunt on the floor of Malfoy manner, listening to her screams as the blade dug into her arm, scrawling out mudblood in her flesh.

He couldn't protect her. Couldn't save her from the path he was on. He did the best he could but it still wasn't enough. The next time he saw Hermione was the Battle of Hogwarts, and their paths collided.

Once the war was over, his mother locked herself away in the old manor, Draco was sentenced to three years in Azkaban and his father—committed suicide. The Malfoy name became a tattered ruin after the war. It had been up to him to restore it when he got out and that was exactly what he had been doing the past ten years.

Ten years to forget her. To try and forget that night. Except he never did and doubted he ever could.

Draco stared openly at Hermione now, watching her every move. She wore a simple black dress that would be considered plain for this lot. Yet on her, it was stunning. He liked her in black.

He barely heard the two women sitting beside him in his private lounge area in the back of the nightclub. Their mindless chattering had become white noise an hour ago. Neither of these women cared to talk to him, just to be seen with him and maybe even date him. They liked power, money, and prestige. That's what he was to most people.

He was the notorious Draco Malfoy. Former Deatheater to Lord Voldemort, turned business sleuth overnight. He currently owned a string of successful nightclubs throughout London and Paris, and just recently opened this one for the wizarding community. It took him years to establish his nightclubs for muggles. This, however, was something entirely new. A test run for nightclubs in the magical world.

The club only opened less than two months ago. He wanted to reestablish his name here now, which took time and convincing, as the wizarding world had long memories. Draco had to admit, his notoriety seemed to help bring an edge to the club that brought all sorts of wizards and witches.

They all wanted something different, something exciting, something new. And he provided that with the performances he booked, the old fashioned styled cocktails that he brought over from the muggles, and very little magic was performed in the club other than some of the creatures that came in. The first few weeks the Black Serpent was opened for business was rather frustrating as mostly former Slytherins seemed to be knocking at the door to get in. The tides were beginning to shift now.

Especially when a legendary former Gryffindor was here.

He watched a man at the bar turn towards Hermione now. He wore a plain suit and dark brown hair, seemingly unimpressive as he attempted to make moves on the war hero. Hermione's gaze was cuttingly cruel as she sliced over him coolly. The man waved a dismissive hand at her in retreat, and returned to his drink with his friends, looking pleased that he had hit on the Hermione Granger.

"I think I know her," said one of the females at his table.

"Isn't that Hermione Granger?" the other nameless female said in surprise.

"Bloody'ell, what's a girl like her doing in this place?"

"Looking for trouble," she replied. "I bet she's bored with all the nice guys in her world. Popped over here for the good lookin' dangerous lot."

Her friend snorted with laughter, "Careful sweetie," she said mockingly towards Hermione. "You may just get eaten alive if you pick the wrong one."

Draco had enough for their nonsensical chattering and stood, buttoning his black jacket suit, watching yet another man from the group of friends at the bar stroll casually over to Hermione, attempting to hit on her. She looked thoroughly irritated now. This pleased Draco considerably. Hermione's temper was always something to behold.

"Where are you going, Draco?" one of the females asked.

"Away from you," he replied. "Don't be here when I come back."

The let out surprised, offended gasps. He glanced over to the security wizard named Thaddeus, he had placed at the back of the entrance. He paid the man handsomely to keep watch of his guests and maintain order. Draco motioned to Thaddeus, who merely nodded and approached Draco's VIP table. "Time to go ladies."

Thaddeus quietly escorted them out the back entrance, despite their attempts to make a scene. Draco strolled through the crowd, some people stepping out of his way as he passed by. Hermione was too busy fuming in her drink and didn't notice him approach.

"Can I buy you a drink?" He asked smoothly, feeling an unexpected surge of energy being so near her again. It had been years since he touched her, smelled her, tasted her, and felt her unravel beneath him…

Hermione turned to look at him, her chin already jilted defiantly, and balked at the sight of him.

"I already have one," she replied, her dark brown eyes flashing up at him. This close he could see the golden hue reflected in her eyes. He'd seen them close before, closing in untamed desire as she crushed herself against him, body wrapping around him like crushing vine. Like Devilsnare, he thought darkly, gazing down at her. Her cheeks began to flush and she chewed anxiously on her lower lip.

"I'll get you another one," he waved to the bartender. "What are you drinking?"

"A…uhm, an old fashion."

"Good choice," he pointed to her drink and singled for two of them. The bartender simply nodded and immediately began making their drinks. "You like bourbon?"

Hermione, still confused by the interaction shrugged, eyes narrowing over him. "Yeah, I suppose. Ginny took me to a bar in London and ordered it, I liked it."

He nodded, taking her in shamelessly. She stared back in equal wonderment and curiosity. Ten years on anyone changed them. And she was just as gorgeous, just as fiery as he remembered.

He knew her mind was working quickly, he could see it in her contemplative features now, trying to figure out her next move with him. Except Draco already knew the next move the second he saw her. He intended to take her once again, just like he had ten years ago. To feel those incredible lips under his teeth. To kiss her senseless and drive her into madness with his tongue. To watch her climax again. He clenched the muscle in his jaw, tamping down on the sudden desire rising inside him.

He would take her again. It would not be rushed. It would be slow and brutal. She would unravel in his arms and moan out his name like she had years ago. The mere thought made his cock stir.

"What was the name of the bar?" He asked, drawing out the small talk. He wanted to keep watching her.

"It was Italian—Pronto."

He smirked, "Sounds fitting." Unable to resist as he asked, "Were those guys bothering you?" He indicated with a slight nod to the group of guys still watching her, chuckling and drinking their beers, seeing who would be next in the line of fire from Hermione.

She stilled, eyes briefly bouncing over to them, a frown on her lips. "No—they're fine..."

He didn't believe her. It was all over her face. She had never been a good liar as her emotions were always so clear to him—right there on the surface. "I think they were bothering you. I could see it across the room, Granger. You're just too nice to admit it."

Her lips pursed thinly, "You were watching me?"

He leaned in closer, "Of course, who isn't watching you right now? The legendary Hermione Granger has graced my nightclub with her presence."

Her body stiffened in shock, "Your nightclub?"

He nodded, winking at the bartender who handed him his drinks and he passed Hermione the fresh glass, taking her watered down one away. He let his finger slip over hers as he exchanged glasses. Her cheeks pinked and she swallowed nervously.

"Is that surprising?" He countered, not sure he liked her tone.

Her eyebrow furrowed in confusion, "I just didn't know…"

Draco smirked darkly, "Something Granger doesn't know, I'm in shock."

She snorted out irritably, crossing her arms over her chest. Confusion gone, replaced with defiance. This was the Hermione Granger he remembered. The one who was unafraid to speak her mind, no matter how brutally honest when provoked. And he had been one provoking prat to her back at Hogwarts.

"What do you want Malfoy? To toy with me before kicking me out?" She said through clenched teeth.

He picked her drink up from the bar, pretending not to notice her irritation with him. "I'm inviting you to join me," he motioned to the more secluded back corner of the club, a cool smile dancing on his lips. "Follow me, Granger."

Hermione hesitated before following him.

Hermione felt expectantly nervous as she trailed after Draco Malfoy. Bloody hell, she thought, it's been years and he's still incredibly handsome. Damn him! The cocky, arrogant, sexy, tall bastard!

Her mind flashed back to a memory of them in Hogwarts. Her heart instantly slammed against her chest. It had been their sixth year, their last year feeling like normal students before the world they knew fell apart and the war began with Dumbledore's death.

Her skin heated at the memory of their secret night. A secret she kept locked deep down inside her. She hadn't told a soul, especially when they were enemies at the time.

It had been a detention. Ron had cheated, copying one of Hermione's essays, and Snape discovered it. She was sent to the potions room to clean cauldrons out by hand and found Draco there as well. It was a memory she had buried. Buried so deep, she pretended at times it never happened. Believed that nothing like that could ever happen to her.

She was a good girl, a good student, a good friend. Loyal to the cause. She wouldn't jeopardize that with someone like Draco Malfoy. A flutter raced up her chest and tightened around her neck. Except she had. She had given herself to him for a night and never felt the same again.

Her eyes trailed over the expertly tailored black suit he wore as he led them through the club. Age had filled him out even more so. She very much felt like a woman and he a man. Heat flowed upwards to her chest, feeling flustered and hot.

Guests of the club parted for him, all eyeing her suspiciously. She swallowed. Clearly trying to stay hidden and watch from a safe distance tonight was out of the question now.

One thing was for sure, Draco had only gotten sexier with age. His hair was cut short around the sides and longer at the top, slicked back and silver blond. His icy blue eyes were sharp, watchful, and curious. The way he seemed to look straight through her at the bar made her shiver. He made her shiver. And to her everlasting shame, the memory she would replay on lonely, dark nights.

Draco held out his hand to her indicating the darken corner of the bar where a comfy looking and very intimate couch was situation. It was hidden enough to not be overtly seen. She inhaled a strong breath and sat down. He took a seat across from her.

Hermione carefully avoided eye-contact and took a sip of her drink.

"Thinking about potions, Granger?" Draco suddenly asked.

She nearly choked on her cocktail, "What? No. Of course not."

"Yeah, neither am I." His voice held a subtle mocking tone. This irritated her. Draco Malfoy always knew how to get under her skin. What she didn't realize was how long it would take to forget the way his hands moved down her body, kissed her lips, and took without limits.

"What happened, was a long time ago." She said fiercely, "We were just kids."

Draco's arrogant smile deepened, eyes flashing. "Ah, so that's how you've rationalized it."

"I don't have to explain myself to you."

"You don't. Though…" he leaned forward on the table between them, suddenly feeling too close as a lock of his silver hair fluttered across his brow. She had an unexpected urge to push it back. To touch him like she had once before. How he let her touch him. Hermione knew she was flushed and a complete mess. But she couldn't help it. It had been years since she was touched like that—possessed and taken, wanted, desired. Not even Ron came close to the way Draco made her ache and burn. And that encounter had been only one night.

She had never touched him again after that and believed that she never would again.

Until now. He was painfully close. Painfully handsome. Everything about him screamed hot, heavy, dirty sex. The way his eyes moved over her body, the slip of his fingers on hers, the smile dancing on his lips. His confidence over the years had once bothered her, now it thrilled her.

Stop it, Hermione, she told herself firmly. He wants to use you up like he did before and discard you like all the other men in your life. Draco Malfoy is just like the rest of them. She gritted her teeth at the thought. She knew she had scar tissue from her relationship with Ron and the men she dated afterwards.

"I was always curious why you let me touch you that night, Granger." Draco's voice was sensually low and husky, "I have a few theories. Maybe you were irritated at your boy-toy Ron for not giving you enough attention and decided to let inhibitions go with his mortal enemy."

She bristled at his words, refusing to say anything.

"Or maybe," he murmured darkly. "You wanted to play with fire and see if it would burn you."

Hermione felt the heat between them once more. It crackled and simmered just beneath the surface.

"If I recall, you were the one with the burn." She countered icily.

Draco let out an unexpected chuckle, "Touché." He flexed out his left hand and smirked, "I had an excellent nurse."

"Don't be charming."

"You prefer rudeness?"

"From you? I prefer the expected."

"I'd say our night was unexpected." He replied softly.

She refused to look at him, refused to go back to Hogwarts, to that closet and that hidden alcove.

His voice was rougher now as he said flatly, "I am not that bad guy anymore, no matter how you try to twist it in that mind of yours."

"Aren't you?" The words were mere whisper but he heard her and said nothing to this, merely sipped his cocktail and leaned back into his seat.

Finally, he cleared his throat. "People change, Granger. I'm a successful businessman now and paid my dues for my crimes if that's what you're referring to."

"Ah, so that's how you rationalized it." She retorted, throwing his words back at him.

Something came and went quickly in his eyes. A challenge, a flash of anger. "Why are you here, Granger? Obviously not for my sparkling company."

She hesitated, unsure for a moment before answering, "I wanted to come here."

Doubt filled his expression, "People like you do not come to these kinds of places."

She straightened her shoulders, pushing her long hair back over her shoulder, "Last I checked, you don't know anything about me anymore, Malfoy. "

He snorted, "I know what the papers say about you. Which is pretty much what they said about you in school. Perfect, golden child of the war, the safe one for little boys and girls to look up too. Out of the three, you're the most stable, so wha-la, you're placed on the pedestal to be mocked and praised. Nicely done."

"I have no control about my image and what people say. In fact, I think it's utter nonsense." She snapped. She wasn't perfect and yet cast in that light was suffocating.

His eyes traveled over her bare shoulder and up her neck. His gaze felt like an arousing flame spreading over her body. She inwardly cursed, hating her physical betrayal to this man.

"So did you come here tonight to show the world your darker side, Granger?"

She flushed, but kept her mouth closed.

He frowned slightly at this, "You're right. I don't know you anymore and I highly doubt the Daily Prophet does either. I think if anyone in this club knows you're not the saint they've made you out to me, it would be me."

She nearly jumped out of her seat at his reference.

He didn't seem to notice her anxiousness as he said, "Just tell me why you're here if not to sully your perfect persona. I'm not very fond of Ministry officials snooping around in my establishments."

Her eyes widened in alarm. "I'm not snooping…"

"You are a terrible liar, Granger. You're here for a reason. Now—out with it."

"Or what Malfoy? You'll have me shackled in irons?"

"Only if you want me too," He growled dangerously. The sudden pivot into flirtation made her hesitate. A delicious, sensual memory of him clamping his hand down around her wrists, pinning her down as he taunted, teased and fucked…

Hermione, unable to look at him, furiously clamped a hand down on her drink, refusing to think about that.

She could leave now, and take months brewing a poly-juice potion to conceal her identity to return so Draco wouldn't recognize her. Or trust him. Both options seemed impossible. She couldn't risk wasting time with the potion, only for the kidnapper to strike again, hurting another victim. She had to take this risk with Draco. Despite their history. Despite everything.

"Fine," she said through gritted teeth. Deciding that this information was shared in closer proximity than across a table in a noisy club. Hermione slid across the black booth to his side. She noticed him tense slightly at the sudden physical intimacy. Did she make him as nervous as he made her? She wondered this only briefly before refocusing on the task at hand. Maybe Draco deserved to know that women were missing after being at his nightclub.

"I am here on an… investigation. Two women, last seen here, have gone missing. I suspect something's going on. These women are young, successful, brilliant, and have suddenly vanished. Both share similar physical features and have little to no family that will ask questions if they disappear."

A darkness closed over his face, "Do you think they were taken from here?"

"Possibly. Lured away maybe."

"You have evidence?" He asked, eyes cutting over her.

She swallowed, trying not to be memorized by the sky-blue eyes that still haunted her dreams. "Just testimonials from concerned friends. Your nightclub was where they were last seen."

Clear alarm now shown in his expression, "Bloody'ell." He's gaze swept once over the club and a hand through his hair, contemplating. "Who else is working this with you?"

She stiffened, "Just me."

Draco's gaze snapped back to hers, "You? Are you an Auror?"

"No," she fidgeted slightly under the table. "I'm not."

"Yet, you're investigating like one…" He frowned. "Does anyone know you're doing this?"

"I mentioned it to Harry, but I didn't share everything."

"Like coming here tonight?" Draco countered, seemingly thoroughly astounded by her reckless behavior. "Hunting a kidnapper on your own?"

"I'm fairly capable, Malfoy." She retorted hotly. "The title War Hero didn't get placed on me by accident."

Hermione's wit saved Harry's butt more often than not. She knew her abilities were strong—just maybe, a little rusty. It had been a while since she did any investigating on the field level.

The strong hand that had raced through his hair, now rubbed over his face, exasperated. She noticed the silver glint of a signet ring on his pinkie finger. "You are as willfully stupid as you were in Hogwarts."

Hermione flared, wondering if she had ever been called stupid in her life. "I am not!"
A sudden fury came over him as he leaned in close to her, his face inches from hers. "You are putting yourself in danger—again. But this time, alone. Did you even stop to think if something happened to you while you were out on this investigation, alone, with no one knowing where you are?"

She swallowed. "I…"

"Of course not." He seethed. "Let's go."

"Wait!" Her hand shot out from under the table to grab his thigh, gripping tight, attempting to stop him. Draco stilled, his breathing shallow, eyes dark and unsettling.

"Careful, Granger. People will talk," he whispered, gaze moving to her hand on his leg.

She snapped her hand away. Fingers burning with the feel of muscled thigh.

"Let me stay," she breathed. "Just for tonight. I won't be a bother."

Draco's cold blue eyes moved across her lips. Her heart tripled in her chest. Why did he have to look at her like that? As if he could reach inside her and take whatever he wanted.

"It's a little hard for people not to notice a celebrity in their midst." He drawled blandly. "You've already caused a scene just by being here."

She turned away from his hypnotic gaze and cursed under her breath. Draco was right. She was worried about that yet hoped that she could blend in for once in her life.

"If the kidnapper is smart, he won't make any moves while you're here. That would surely make the Daily Prophet if someone were kidnapped in the place where the War Hero Hermione Granger was spending her evening. If this prat wants to stay hidden, nothing will happen tonight. Your presence made sure of that."

Hermione was momentarily surprised by his analyses and nodded, absorbing his assessment. He could be right. Whoever this person was didn't want attention to his crimes. With her here, he wouldn't take the risk.

"Then I should stay," she said firmly. "Make sure nothing does happen."

Draco arched an eyebrow, "All night?"

She was suddenly aware of how close Draco's leg was against hers in the booth, how their hips almost touched and his hand, laid out on the table was a breath away from hers. Candlelight from the table flickered warmly between them. Holding back the urge to shudder, she bit her lower lip and inhaled sharply, which was a mistake as she smelled his masculine cologne.

"Yes," she breathed.

She saw the subtle shift in his stern features which softened, and his muscles relaxed. She felt his leg brush against hers under the table, but unlike before, Hermione didn't retreat. His dark gaze met and held hers, his eyes seemed almost silver in the semi-darkness of the club. The tension in her body heated, warming her from the inside out. Her breathing felt quick and bated. She was suddenly, almost violently transported back to the closet of the potion lab, Draco's arms wrapped with such strength around her, hauling her body against his as he devoured her ruthlessly.

Her cheeks pinked.

"Well then," he said, casually leaning back against the booth, "We have all night together, Granger. Maybe we should catch up on old times. Been brewing any potions lately?"

TBC