Draco's Other Delicate Condition

Chapter 02 - Old Mates

So far Hermione's Saturday had been a total delight. It began with a trip to the play park for an early morning romp under bright sunny skies with her two small children; a girl and a boy. The children always hungered for Hermione's attentions so by the time she dropped them off at the sitter she was already feeling guilty. But it was Saturday and there was a good deal of work to be done for the upcoming week.

Hermione's offices were located in an old brownstone building in a modest business district of Diagon Alley. Climbing down the stairs to her office the first thing she noticed was the plain wooden shingle The Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare. Unfortunately, she was not surprised to see several smashed raw eggs dripping down the door. Opposition from wizard folk against the acceptance of elves as their equals had lessened over the years, but it was still present. The opposition from those without house elves was surprisingly even fiercer than from wizards whose families held house elves over the centuries.

Entering the S.P.E.W. offices, Hermione hoped the staff - 3 wizarding folk, and half a dozen freed house elves were off enjoying their weekend. It was in the nature of the house elves to loath free time, and it was all she could usually do to keep them from working the same exhausting hours she did.

Hermione walked through the main office to her private office where she set down her caseload satchel taking a moment to push back the curtains. A depressing haze filtered through the window onto piles of parchment, newspapers, clippings and quills on her cluttered desk. There was a great deal of work to be done. Hermione hung her cloak, and wearily seated herself.

As always, the first thing Hermione saw as she faced her desk was a wizard photograph. Harry Potter took the photo shortly after Hermione adopted the children. In the photo a petite brown-eyed four year old in a gingham frock, clung to Hermione's back. The child waved and grinned happily at the camera. A very small auburn haired, blue eyed two year old jumped up and down, waving and playfully mugging for the camera. Hermione stared lovingly into the smiling faces in the portrait for several minutes before she realized she was doing so. Sighing, she placed the portrait her "little darlings" face down so as to avoid the distraction. She began opening the post.

The afternoon passed quietly. Hermione sat chewing the end of her quill - a lifelong bad habit. She fetched several large books full of points of law from her barrister's bookcases. She then gave herself over to formulating the proper strategy and tact to use in a post to the owner of a small company in Wales, who for tax reasons considered liberation of his staff of a dozen house elves - a dicey situation. House elves freed too soon had no idea how to cope with freedom. Freedom in the eyes of the house elves was a thing of shame and humiliation. Freeing house elves without providing them guidance was cruel and often led to heartrending situations. Hermione herself, after many years, was still learning to handle such situations properly.

A funny clumping noise sounded; rather like the sound of a dropped kettle; a tall figure apparated in the center of the room. He stood tall, a platinum serpent headed cane held across his broad chest. Hermione leapt up, upsetting her inkpot, aiming her wand before she was even aware of having taken it up. Her shaking hand held her wand pointed straight at the intruder.

'Lucius Malfoy...!' Hermione yelped, then felt embarrassment as she realized her obvious error. Lucius was dead - but no denying the wizard who stood before her was cut of Lucius' image. Hermione stepped back, her elbow tipped over a small Muggle snow globe that fell, wobbling in a serpentine path across the floor, coming to rest against the dragon hide boot of a wizard.

'You flatter me Granger,' said Draco using her maiden name. Although the sound of her married name always made him feel a touch randy he preferred to ignore it. 'Surely you are aware my dear father is forever taken from me.' Draco dropped into a formal bow, keeping an alert eye on Hermione's wand. 'Good afternoon.'

'Good day,' said Hermione cautiously, her wand still pointing at Draco's heart. 'And Granger is my maiden name, my proper married name is -'

'Granger - your organization recently came to my attention. Although it was rude of you to not take the time to respond to the post my foundation sent to you last week, I thought a visit might prove less stuffy than sending one of my representatives.'

'Oh, really,' said Hermione suspiciously. 'What do you want Malfoy? I have my thoughts on the matter, but save me the trouble of guessing.'

'What a mind you possess; always thinking, always suspicious,' said Draco in his father's tones. 'Surely you must be aware of my family's philanthropic works. I am always searching for worthy charities. A cohort spoke well of your excellent work with S.P.E.W. I thought my Foundation might make a minor donation to your "little" organization. You must understand that giving to others is largely how I spend my time; charitable works are my hobby, my joy.'

'And a splendid cover for whatever it is you actually involve yourself with,' said Hermione flatly, her wand still poised. 'What would that be; extortion, black market trafficking of illegal artifacts, and magical potions? Oh, and yes, your family's specialty - freeing heinous war criminals.'

'Why Granger, what an astonishing load of crap, am I to understand you obviously read and believe the rubbish printed in rags like The Quibbler?' With the patient smile Draco pulled a bulky pouch from an inner robe pocket and tossed it onto the desk. The leather sack landed with the distinctive chink of gold coins.

Her wand held firm, Hermione reached with her free hand to pick up and heft the pouch. She quickly judged that the pouch contained enough gold to run S.P.E.W. for at least a year - a year and a half year if care was taken.

Rashly, Hermione pulled back and flung the pouch at Draco. Draco, his eyes wide but amused, ducked as the sack of coins bulleted past his head. The sack exploded against a bookcase, and golden Galleons clattered in a bright shower around the room.

'Knew I ought have written a draught,' said Draco, straightening up.

As the last of the large coins rolled to a halt, Hermione spat, 'I do not know what you are really after Malfoy. Probably taking the time to investigate my 'little' organization, find a way to close us down before word of freedom finally reaches your battalions of house elves. I am warning you - you may buy your way into whatever you wish elsewhere, but you cannot wriggle your way into my offices.'

'I once wriggled my way into far more than just,' Draco purred, 'your offices.' His comment was meant to provoke, and Draco found himself disappointed by Hermione's non-reaction, his visit already proving to be something of a failure. After all, in their youth, he and Hermione enjoyed each other in many ways, until the middle of their last year at Hogwarts. There he stood, his penis, "The Fireball" already stiffened by the very obstinacy of the intriguing Gryffindor Muggleborn witch, who defiantly pointed at him that same nasty little wand.

'Why does she not use that wand to straighten that mess of hair or at the very least,' thought Draco, 'place a spell on her lips to redden them up, look her best for an important visitor?'

Draco resigned himself to the fact that his best hopes for the little 'reunion' were highly unlikely. Well yes, the witch had lived through a difficult war and a marriage that ended with the death of her husband. But surely she'd had time to recover? What else had she to do since she and Draco last set eyes on each other? He limped forward slowly.

Hermione shakily stood her ground with her wand level. She clearly expected mischief.

'You tremble,' Draco's deep voice rumbled graciously with concern. He fixed his eyes hypnotically on Hermione as he eased forward. As his father before him, Draco was skilled in the gentle manipulation of delicate creatures; eagles, owls, pissed and bothered witches. His voice was smooth, even; his grey eyes focused on Hermione's troubled eyes. He spoke so softly; Hermione nearly ceased her breathing to catch each velvety word.

'My Gryffindor queen, as lovely now as in our youth; lovely hazel eyes still bright, skin like alabaster, lips sweet, and well, I see your waist is a touch thick, but allowances must be made for your age.' Quickly, as though screened behind the shadow of his words, Draco crept within a wand's distance, taking Hermione's waist in his hands, gently as if to steady her on her feet, 'not that I object to a bit of flesh to hold onto in my witches. Say, how long has it been?'

Gasping, Hermione sputtered, 'what? How long has it been since a childish wizard apparated - uninvited - into my office, scaring me half to death?' She shoved Draco's hands from her waist. 'I will only ask you one more time. What do you want?'

Draco chose his words carefully, not wishing he - heaven's forbid - come across as needy. 'A visit with my old school chum... my former lover. My people tried to convince me to owl you before visiting, but I thought us good enough mates for a surprise visit.'

'Next time,' snapped Hermione, 'listen to your people. We have not been mates for a long, long time.

'But you recall those times, fondly I hope?' Draco energetically pulled Hermione into his arms, thrilled to hold her once again and wondering if she could feel the heat of his excitement, barely contained by his robes.

Aren't we a pair of Knut Novel romancers! We only lack a ripped bodice for my lady; a cutlass and eye patch for me.

Pulled tight against Draco's body, Hermione could feel his apparent "happiness" pressing against her as he held her in his arms again. She angrily hissed up into his face. 'Damn you Malfoy, we are not children and you are not as charming as you think you are. You are disgusting! Now let go of me!'

With a pensive scowl Draco reluctantly released her with a little push. 'Aren't you ever going to forgive me for our final little row Granger?' As it always did when he was agitated, his phantom buttock began to ache and he shifted his weight to his stronger side.

'Forgive you Malfoy? You flatter yourself. I can't even recall our last row.'

'You really do not remember?' asked Draco with a glint in his eye. 'I demanded you tattoo your tits to match my Chinese Fireball Dragon tattoo - some little symbolic flames around your nipples. You do recall my tattoo? The tattoo that graced my great big thick pendulous... dicker on the matter if you will, but you can't possibly have forgotten my tattoo?'

'So that is what brought you here?' Hermione said triumphantly. She at last laid her wand on the desk. 'Having a mid-life crisis are we? Revisiting the 'triumphs' of your lost youth? If you were a Muggle you would have run out and bought a "P.E." automobile - a Penis Extender; a pillar-box red sports coupe for driving about to impress young women.'

I did recently purchase a shiny red brougham carriage and a matched pair of hippogriff and the young lovelies do take notice, but the carriage has done nothing to lengthen my penis that I have noticed, not that the Malfoy pride requires any lengthening.

'Well Malfoy, I am sorry to inform you that I, unlike you, am all grown up now. I do not require a 'romp' on the wild side to recapture my youth. I am a widow, with young children who depend on me. I have my organization to run and many responsibilities and even if I had need or want of a 'fling' it would not happen with the likes of a conceited, self absorbed, womanizing playwizard like yourself.'

'I am pleased you did not cut short that godawful shrubby hair of yours,' said Draco, giving no sign he'd heard a thing Hermione had said. 'With short hair you'd resemble a poodle and my father's hell hounds put me off dogs - of all sorts - long ago. As always Granger, you assume a great deal.' Draco gave a derisive little laugh. 'Why would I, a wealthy wizard who has only managed to grow increasingly spectacular with each passing year, fancy a fling with the likes of you, eh? You know, on second look, really, your waist is a bit thick, and are those crow's feet gracing those hazel eyes? Hum... your tits are dropping a bit like overripe peaches on a vine, and your arse...' Draco paused, his arms crossed and his head held back in evaluation of the witch before him. 'Well, I must say, your arse is still bloody marvelous! There is nothing like having one's own buttock blown off to give one a true appreciation of a capital looking arse. Now then Granger, all I had in mind is a donation to your little organization, but since you brought up the idea for a fling, I think your idea an excellent one.'

'I did not...'

'Now, now, credit where credit it due, having a fling is your idea. I am game. What say you to a tidy little shag here on your desk? If you see fit to throw in a little head, or perhaps a lively little lap dance I can reward you with a little bonus. Cash or perhaps a decent location for your little S.P.E.W. office, someplace stylish, not depressing like this location. So! I am a busy wizard, let's get cracking.' With a happy smirk, Draco began hefting up his robes.

'No,' snapped Hermione slapping at Draco's hands. 'I will thank you to keep that under wraps! And for the record, since you obviously 'purchased' your Herbology marks, peaches do not grow on vines.'

'I admit I do not know peaches but I know plump toothsome fruit when I see them,' offered Draco, leaning in to pinch Hermione's breasts but she quickly sidestepped him.

'Stop the rubbish Malfoy. I will regret this I am sure, but,' said Hermione smiling for the first time and holding up a warning finger. 'If you can behave yourself you may visit with me for a few minutes.' Hermione sat at her desk and indicated a stack of books on a large chair by her desk. 'Seat yourself.'

Draco limped forward a few steps and lifted the books.

'Thank you Malfoy,' said Hermione with a weak smile, 'you may place the books on the floor.

With much aplomb, Draco opened his hands and allowed the books to crash onto the floor. 'That was for old times sake.' He snagged the chair, set it down by Hermione's chair. Sitting, ever gingerly, ever painfully, he raised his dragon hide boots up to perch them on Hermione's lap. 'What a gracious little hostess you are.'

'Grow up,' said Hermione shoving Draco's boots off her lap. 'My last warning Malfoy - stop the bullshit. Now. Tell me Mr Malfoy, how are you? Just yesterday I read about you in the society pages of the Daily Prophet; an article about some bit of fluff you courted at some charity ball. Have you grow tired of shagging... 'entertaining', Mariah Leyland - Lavender Brown-Leyland's daughter? In or out of flesh-coloured jumpers you always had a 'thing' for that girl's mother didn't you?'

Draco settled back on the chair, his hands comfortably folded over his stomach. 'I have never denied that I fancy tits, yours in particular, Lavender's in passing. But tell me Granger, you do not believe the gash printed in the daily Rags, do you?'

'Oh? So the Quibbler headlines were false?' said Hermione with a disapproving glare. 'Aging Wizard Nails His Young Ward.'

'That is a crude way of putting it,' said Draco in annoyance. 'Perdita, my ward is off away all on her own. No telling whom the little minx is riding these days. I admit, Perdita and I had... lovely times together. Do you know what I liked best about her?'

'Oh, well let me guess what you might enjoy; perhaps that unlike me she possess a tiny waist, no crow's feet, pert bosoms and a firm young bottom?'

'Oh yes,' laughed Draco. 'Perdita is all that and a sack of Berty Botts Beans, but you see, more importantly, she keeps at bay the pureblooded, husband hunting harpies my mother persists in sending my way.' Draco sat up leaning forward towards Hermione. 'Stop judging me. I will tell you something - it was Perdita who came on to me, not the other way around. I only obliged the poor girl. She was looking for a father figure and forgot the details of a father/daughter relationship does not include shagging. Anyway, the girl meant little to me. There was only ever one girl for me.'

'Only one girl? You?' said Hermione. 'Where is your 'one girl'? Pardon, but did your 'one girl' come to her senses and run off?'

Draco sighed and squirmed uncomfortably on his single bum cheek. 'You're going to be difficult. Fine Granger. Enough talk of my romances. As long as I am here, fill me in on our mutual acquaintances, of what and whom they are doing. I mean, Dumbledore, and the large git, what was his name...ah, Hagrid! Uh... Those Weasley men - that Arthur, Bill, and the twit, Percy. And what about that forgetful tubby fellow - Neville Longbottom? The lot of them still dead then? Quite the coincidence if they are you know. My mother's cousin Sirius Black is still dead too. Small world.'

Hermione sat up abruptly. 'Yes, now I remember; our final fight! It was about your insensitivity. Your cruel and thoughtless comments, which were not funny when we were students, and are not one bit funnier now.'

Draco drummed his fingers on his knee and rolled his eyes in thought. 'Yes, well, my little jokes about dead people were funny to me when we were students, and damn me, they still give me a smile. But have it your way, shall we discuss the survivors? Uh.... Potty and the Weasel. Have those two quit their shallow charade and married yet?'

Hermione's look of annoyance intensified. 'The proper names of my two best mates in the world are Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Now. I have work to do Malfoy and no time to sit here while you make rude comments about people I love. And I will thank you to remember I am not, nor have I been Granger for many a year. I am Mrs Neville Longbottom.'

'You do not say?' Draco purred, undeterred. 'How rude of me to waste your valuable time Mrs Longbottom. Clever woman you are, you probably guessed my visit here today has a hidden agenda. There is a touchy matter I have pondered for a great many years now and I would like to put a question to you.' Draco sat up, and paused, as though formulating the exact wording for his query. 'Mrs Long 'bottom', these days when you achieve climax - and I assume you still manage to pop one off on occasion without my intervention - I wonder,' Draco blinked innocently, do you still scream out in ancient Mermish 'take me Dray-cocoa, my blonde Slytherin stud?''

'No, Malfoy,' said Hermione bristling with anger. 'Tell me; when you manage against to get that 'wee-wee' of yours up to having it off with girl who is young enough to be your daughter, do you still scream 'Petals there is only you?''

'Well, yes, as a matter of fact, yes I do and I must say, it really puts my girlfriends off,' said Draco. 'Coincidentally that is rather what led to me being here today Mrs Lushbottom. Answer another question for me? Your tubby little Neville passed on years ago. Why didn't you remarry?'

'You infuriating bastard!' Hermione made no effort to control her temper. 'Shut your foul mouth and do not you EVER mention my marriage. This little reunion is ended. By Merlyn, it was a lucky for me when you decided to have done with me all those years ago.'

'Only a little jest, do not take on so Lushbottom.' Draco momentarily shifted to the side to avoid making contact with a text Hermione lobbed at him. 'Your inability over the years to have developed any semblance of a sense of humour is disappointing. Suppose a swot doesn't require humour, only facts, and happily Mrs Lushbottom, I require a fact from you. Looking at you here, you seem "happy". Is that a fact? There must be cause for happiness then; your children? What else? Perhaps another disgusting cat like that old Crookarse? Is the sodding animal dead yet? Oh, and I'm only asking to make conversation but am I correct in thinking you feel you no longer require a wizard in your life?'

'My personal life is none of your business,' snapped Hermione.

'I admit I was a tad cheeky just now, but you'll forgive me won't you? Say, tell me about your children.' As the word "children" left Draco's lips Hermione's shoulders relaxed, her eyes softened, and her lips formed a sweet smile. At last Draco had said something that at least temporarily disarmed Hermione.

'Yes, I have two children. They are the joy of my life,' there was a great tenderness to Hermione's voice. 'I regret now that I had no children with my dear Neville. We thought we had all the time in the world,' Hermione looked surprised at herself for having revealed such a private bit of information, but she had once shared many private thoughts with Draco. 'It happened I came to hear of a small girl and boy, full siblings who lost their family. I took them in and have never regretted doing so. My oldest, my daughter Ella is five and she is as bright a child as...'

Here is the thing; you must understand that Hermione did not stop speaking, but Draco ceased listening. Years ago in their secret hideaway, Draco spent whole afternoons, entranced by Hermione's nattering, not listening to her words. It wasn't that he was disinterested the content of her words, but that Draco was quickly swayed into oblivion by the very tones of "his" girl's voice, sweeter to him than Sugar Quills or Ice Mice. And now again Draco found himself enchanted by the sweetness of Hermione's voice, mature and still as sweet. He still did not give a fig what the witch said, he only pondered over the thought that as he had both hoped and feared, he was again filled with the enticing desire for the Muggleborn witch - crow's feet, droopy tits, delectable arse and all.

And too Draco pondered his chances for convincing Hermione that she required him in her life. He was annoyed with himself - a rare occurrence - because thus far as he saw the matter - his charm, his wit, his persistence had gained him no advantages with her. He realized there was nothing else for it. He would have to use the one tactic that had to date, never let him down; he would allow his instincts free rein and hope the gods would show mercy on his randy soul.

In a quick movement, Draco dropped out of the chair onto his knees, poised on the thin carpet. Hermione gave a startled squeal and jumped up from her seat but Draco already held his hands firmly around her waist, however thick. He pushed her back down on her chair.

'What are you doing?' asked Hermione hotly. It may be assumed she had a fair inkling what her former beau was about, but if she had any idea at all, she preferred feigning ignorance. Still, Hermione sucked in her breath and slapped again at Draco's hands as he leaned forward, his robed torso on her lap. He quickly and deftly unbuttoned her blouse. Almost like a dog about to bite he plunged against her stomach his teeth gently nipping; his warm tongue and lips liberally kissing the tender skin of Hermione's soft belly. All the while he set up a grateful moaning.

'Stop that! ' Hermione protested. 'Malfoy, how dare you!'

Another series of wet, husky, longing noises rose from Draco. He stopped his gentle kisses and tongue lashings long enough to say almost indignantly, 'Come along now, you can't tell me you weren't wanting this the minute you laid eyes on me today?'

'You can't tell me you are insane enough to expect me to just allow you this... this... "liberty" just because you had a whim to stop by my offices today!'

Pausing in his amorous tonguing, Draco raised his head and stared up into Hermione's eyes. As he listened to Hermione's sibilant hissing he laid a curled finger just below Hermione's bra and slowing traced downward over her stomach, to her skirt waistband.

'You evil, you conceited, self-centered...' Hermione railed on.

'I suppose there is an argument or two that I am evil,' Draco conceded, 'I had wondered if you could still trigger passion in me, and guess what?' Draco leaned forward over Hermione's knees to run his tongue over the territory preceded by his finger.

Her efforts to repel Draco weakening, Hermione laid her hands on his shoulders insisting, 'I am not, I am not a girl... anymore things are different Malfoy, I can't be as I was.' She wriggled and squirmed, and made a halfhearted attempt to stand, but her legs trembled.

Draco moaned, and his fingers scrambled to unbutton Hermione's skirt. A second moaning joined Draco's as Hermione wriggled on her chair.

'You didn't want me,' the old hurt rose up in the witch. 'You put me out of your life because I was 'Muggleborn'. You said my blood didn't matter to you, but you lied.'

'I was a boy and I made a boy's error,' insisted Draco. As Hermione slapped at his hands, he gently pushed up her muggle 'bra' and sucked in his breath and began to gently mouth the plump breasts that were as sweet as he remembered. 'If you really do not want this Granger, say the word and I will leave,' he promised. 'I won't do this if you truly do not want me to.'

Hermione made a noise that she meant to be an objection, a vehement one, but as the sound left her throat her truculent 'no' transformed into a sigh of longing.

Draco sucked in a pink nipple and suckling as though his lips detected honey on the plump pink bud.

'You missed me,' he moaned, 'as much as I missed you.' He slipped his hands beneath Hermione's Muggle skirt and sliding his hands up under her slip to squeeze at her knicker-clad arse.

Hermione could not stop herself collapsing forward to kiss the side of Draco's face, and feather kisses along his thick neck. She entangled her fingers in the long curling locks of his pale hair, gripping, pulling, pushing - urging. 'Why did you come back Malfoy? You act as if it has been only a week since the you last made love to me.' She sucked in his scent and pulled at his robes, wishing his torso bear so she could feel his skin against her cheek again. 'You have no right, no right at all to return and pretend no time passed between us.' As her complaint left her lips, with one powerful movement, Draco shoved Hermione's clenched knees apart.

'Hello! What have we here,' Draco whispered, lowering his head for a peek up the forbidden tunnel. With a grin he slid a hand into the back of Hermione's knickers, viciously giving her bum a pinch. With a shocked little cry, Hermione rose up and before her rump touched back down on the office chair, her skirt, slip, knickers and tights were pooled around her ankles.

Draco still had "the touch".

'You can't!' Hermione yelped, but it seemed he very well could.

Draco lifted up his head and smiled at Hermione. 'You know old habits die hard. You must remember I used to do this all the time and surely you can't really wish me to stop?'

Hermione was alarmed; not because she now sat half naked in front of a wizard she thought she never wanted to see again, but because he was right - it did seem quite natural having his all too eager hands and mouth touching her. His intrusions felt both natural and sorely missed. He must have made love to her only twenty hours, not twenty years ago; time regressed as surely as if she had spun a time turner. She and Draco were once again in a time before marriage and a husband, before children and responsibilities. It was only minutes between the day Draco and she broke up and the day Draco apparated back into her life. Damning herself, Hermione knew she didn't want Draco to stop; she could not bear him to cease his lovemaking nor could she bear to think soon enough the conceited wizard would leave and time would begin again.

'You're still my beautiful Gryffindor witch.'

'No, I am not beautiful and I never was,' Hermione whispered, 'I am not.'

'Surely Mr Longbottom told his little Gryffindor bride how beautiful she was? He would have found out as I did how pretty and how soft you are - soft as rainwater... and wicked juicy.' Lowering his head, Draco dared to nibble and suck at the edges of the curly chestnut haired mound he remembered so well. The whorls of hair over the ruddy cleft were still hypnotically scented. The sensuous fold cupped his nose as he pressed his tongue into it, bathing, sucking, probing. He considered pressing his advantage further, removing his clothing and spreading Hermione on the carpet but instead he stopped momentarily. He pulled Hermione's face to his. 'You're mine again, are you not?' He sucked at her lips, touched by the feel that eluded him in the hundreds of other lips he had kissed over the years, this pair always at the back of his mind, comparing. He let his tongue invade the soft mouth, something he wouldn't dare chance yet with his other eager appendage. Finally, filled with the soulful kiss, he dropped back down to his joyful task as hand, or rather tongue. It had been a while since Draco bothered to give pleasure rather than take it; he had forgotten the sublime pleasure that always settled in his heart and soul when he granted such wicked sensations to a beautiful witch when he was working bloody hard to impress her.

Gasping as breathing forced her to take in air, Hermione alternately panted and ceased breathing all together. Much time had passed since she had generated so much heat, or felt such tactile eroticism, such sensation from a man appreciating her, one so single-mindedly intent on pleasuring her.

Draco gasped as Hermione near pulled out his hair by the roots as the rocking, bolts of warm pleasure constricted her muscles rolling over and over as Draco met her mark. The warmth expanded and continued expanding with a gush of heavenly wetness until finally, she could no longer bear the exquisite pleasure and her cries mingled at the very edge of breathtakingly wonderful pain.

'Cocoa!'

Praise the heavens she remembers my nickname! I must trust the Mermish will come back to her with time.

Frantically, wildly, Hermione pushed, bodily shoved away Draco's head and raised her legs to knee him away. Flinging herself back against the chair Hermione groaned. She lifted a hand to her face startled to see a clump of Draco's long blonde hair sticking out from between her fingers.

Draco slowly sat back on his haunches, his scalp aching. He ran a hand over a pale feminine thigh. He looked up at Hermione whose damp face was glowing. Running his tongue over his own lips, Draco tried to engage Hermione's eyes, to make her smile down at him, but she only wiped her brow and turned her head away. He knew she would not look into his eyes and he knew why; to do so would concede the war to him after the first battle. Hermione was not ready to lose herself to him so fully or so soon.

Hermione stood up, somewhat clumsily, holding her hands with sudden modesty over the curling hairs that Draco had only just bathed so avidly, and she pushed him back. Draco obliged, settling back on his haunches smiling, but still Hermione would not look at him. She fumbled, picking up her tossed clothing and turning her back to him. 'Stop looking at me!' she said, her face flushed with embarrassment.

'Where are my manners,' said Draco. He turned his back to her and focused his attention on the wall opposite by one the bookcases. There he obediently studied the reflected image of Hermione in a looking glass, pulling up her tights over her naked thighs.

'I want you to know..., said Hermione slowly as she completed dressing herself. 'I do not do... do "things" like this. I am a respectable woman, not some back alley strumpet. I do not drop my knickers for drop-in visitors, or allow others to drop them for me.'

'I know that,' said Draco, swiveling around on his heels and standing. He reached for Hermione's hand but she pulled it away and continued buttoning her blouse. 'I know you are honorable. I came back because...'

'Because you have happy memories of afternoons with a girlfriend that you once thought yourself in love with. We all have our lovely memories and I would be lying if I said thoughts of you never drift through my mind on the rare occasion my wits fail me, but we're all grown up now Mr Malfoy. It was lovely... talking to you but I have a great deal of research to complete if I am to attend a conference on Tuesday. So if you please, our meeting is over. Good bye.'

'You do not mean that,' said Draco. 'You feel the connection between us. You haven't forgotten what we meant... what we mean to each other.'

Hermione glared furiously into Draco's eyes. 'We meant lovely afternoons of sex, sex and more sex and that was all of what we meant to each other! We were children and I know we may have thought we loved each other back then, but in truth we were having fun defying the school authorities; believing we were pulling a fast one on our house professors. That is all we had between us. That was years ago Mr Malfoy and although I can't speak for you, I have a life now and I must to tend to. Good day.'

'Wha...?' Draco was truly amazed to hear Hermione's bitter words. 'Now see here Granger, we more than fancied each other, you loved me - you did - and I loved you. Sweet Mother of Merlyn you stubborn witch, it was you worked so stubbornly and hard to remove the Dark Lord's Investment curse from me! Surely you can understand how your kindnesses to me locked you in my heart even if I did ignore you - for good reason - when we left Hogwarts. You must believe me.'

'Oh,' said Hermione sarcastically. 'So then, you love me do you? You claim you loved me back at Hogwarts. Strange, because I can recall your very words the last time you bothered to speak to me there. 'Oh, Granger...' Hermione paused to gather her inner resources before she continued in a tight voice. 'I have decided we ought call off our little "fuck buddy" arrangement. I do not know about you Mudblood, but I am growing bored.' She looked defiantly at Draco. 'Those are the words you spoke to me, am I right? Aren't those the very words you said to me Malfoy?'

'Yes, but, you do not understand. That wasn't me, in a manner of speaking that was my Father... Father discovered my girlfriend wasn't Millicent and he started investigating what I...'

'Bulstrode? You told your father your girlfriend was Millicent Bulstrode?' Hermoine snorted.

'Father pressured me; Bulstrode was the first name came to mind. And when he found out I lied to him about who my girl was and he bribed some of my classmates, trying to find out the identity of the witch he was told I was in love with. And you know who and what Father stood for. If Father had found out I was in love with a Muggleborn, you do not think for one minute he'd have hesitated to have you murdered... have you disappear?'

'Why didn't you tell me about your father back then? If the problem was your father you know I would have understood.' Hermione asked, shaking.

'Because I wanted you angry! I wanted you hurt, furious, pissed beyond reason with me. I wanted you to stare daggers at me across the Great Hall, and tell your Gryffindor mates what a shite I was!' Draco paced as he talked. He could not look his love in the eye while burning with the shame of what he perceived as the greatest failure of his life. 'And you were angry. You were furious and everyone heard if it and so then did my Father. Yes, then Father 'knew' you were just another of his son's little schoolboy conquests; nothing that would turn me from his purposes; nothing he needed to concern himself with. Granger, you must realize your anger saved your life, the way your determination saved mine.'

'Oh, well thank you so bloody much for that,' spat Hermione. 'And again, my name is Mrs Longbottom. Now Mr Malfoy. Get out.'

'Do not you believe me? Why do we have to let the past interfere with what you know we have now?'

'Shall I show you the way out or will you just leave the way you came in?' asked Hermione.

'I do not want to leave at all damn you,' said Draco angrily. 'I gave you the truth. You always claim to value truths and I bloody well demand one now!'

Hermione held her ground, but her voice shook as she answered. 'All right; one truth, then you leave. No fuss. No bother. You just go.'

'Right then,' said Draco, still struggling to control his anger, although it was his anger that now allowed him to stare directly into Hermione's angry eyes to read whatever information they held. 'You claim we only shagged for a cheap thrill. That no love was lost between us back at Hogwarts. Well, I want the truth - did you love me when we were at Hogwarts? I mean did you love me in the manner of a young woman who knew she had found the wizard she was meant to be with?'

'That is an unfair question, what happened between us was more than twenty years ago and...'

'ANSWER ME,' snarled Draco, his face contorted.

The answer was a couple of minutes in coming. Not because Hermione had to fumble with any distant memory to form her answer. She only had to fumble with her own resistance in being forced to admit the truth - to herself.

'Yes,' answered Hermione. 'I loved you and I knew you were the one wizard I loved and thought I would always love above all others.'

Draco knew the answer in Hermione's eyes before any words left her lips, but still his heart skipped a beat, his head pounded and his phantom arse ached. The words he had traveled to hear, the words he longed for had finally gracing his ears.

Hermione hissed, 'but that was then Mr Malfoy,' she snarled. 'And this, is now.'

Draco made a small noise of pain and disappointment, took two rapid limping steps backward and a dull thunk sounded as he disapparated.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Summer mornings, any mornings at the Burrow were hectic affairs that would have tried the patience of Helga Hufflepuff. Still, Molly Weasley relished the activity. She was in her middle years now she was pushing 80, and to her credit did not look a day older than sixty. As usual, she was up early on this particular Saturday morning, standing over the hob, her wand waving in the air as she orchestrated the preparation of breakfast for the entire household - not a task for wimps or the disorganized. At the bidding of Molly's well worn wand, eggs cracked into fry pans, bangers flipped themselves on the skillet and slices of home baked bread stood patiently waiting for a turn to float themselves over the hob flames for a bit and then pile themselves neatly on the plate of toast. No one could magic up a home cooked meal like Molly Weasley.

'Mum!' shouted Ginny Potter, clumping down the stairs in her dressing gown, nightdress and bare feet. Four boys, all teens of assorted sizes and appearance, raced past her down the stairs, nearly knocking her down.

'MORNING AUNTIE GIN!' shouted the boys. 'MORNING GRAN!' The boys each hurriedly gave their Gran a kiss on the cheek.

'You lot stop your shouting,' scolded Molly. "And don't go anywhere, breakfast is almost on. Are you washed...?' It was too late; the boys had already stampeded out the back door.

'To think that yesterday I was thrilled to have that lot home for summer holiday from Hogwarts' Ginny muttered to herself. As she hit the bottom step she looked sleepily up, not really surprised to see her mother preparing breakfast. 'Really Mum,' Ginny scolded. 'You ought to be in bed resting! You know you're not feeling well lately.' Truth was, Ginny looked a sight more exhausted than her mother.

'Pants,' said Molly, 'If you want me lingering in my bed like an old fart, you will have to spend less time in bed yourself and feed the household! Now, why don't you round up the rest of the lot for the first seating for breakfast?'

The occupancy of the Burrow had reached something of a crisis point. The Burrow had taken well to the new wing added when Fred and Angelina moved in and began their family, which included the four stampeding boys and a girl too young for Hogwarts. A few years later Ginny and Harry moved out of Diagon Alley into the Burrow because their daughter Lily required special care. Harry and Ginny subsequently presented Molly with two additional grandchildren, who were currently also in their early teens and home from Hogwarts for the summer.

The door to the back garden opened and Harry Potter stood busily wiping his muddy feet on the back door mat. 'Did the boys eat already? They're headed out to the ponds, no chance seeing them again for hours. Lovely flight I had. Fred ought to have flown with me. He does not know what he missed having a lie in instead of getting up early for a flight over the pastures.'

'Harry dear,' said Molly, 'if you want Fred up early just march into his bedroom and pull him out by the short hairs otherwise he'll waste half that day lying about, worrying his Mrs.'

Harry turned beet red and said nothing more. He had no intention on walking into Fred and Angelina's bedroom, unannounced or otherwise. And too, Harry remembered in vivid detail how Molly had on one occasion marched into his and Ginny's bedroom and pulled the covers off of them because they were late for breakfast. Harry had been unable to perform his husbandly duties by Ginny for a good month following that unhappy intrusion and come to that, it was the last time Harry was ever again late for any Weasley event. Harry hung his beloved broomstick in the broomstick rack by the back door. He seated himself, poured a cup of tea but was interrupted by a Tawny Owl that flew up, landing on the lower Dutch door. Harry retrieved the letter and with a look of concern, he sat at the table.

'What is that Harry?' asked Molly, still orchestrating the breakfast fixings on the hob.

'What Harry?' asked Ginny, sweeping a red plait over her shoulder. She took the envelope from Harry and stared at it. She and Harry exchanged dark looks with each other.

'You realize this is a load of crap Ginny,' said Harry gently but firmly.

'I know,' said Ginny shrugging. 'But Harry, Lily's our baby. I mean, she's all grown true, but I won't feel right if we don't explore all of our options. What few there are.'

'Yes,' said Harry, and he leaned to put his arms around Ginny's waist and rested his head against her. 'Lily wants nothing to do with "options". We're only making ourselves feel better. Really Ginny, if this doesn't work we have to let go.'

'I know Mr "Uses-a-Cow's-Tongue-for-a-Comb", said Ginny, and she ruffled Harry's raven nest of unruly hair.

Pretending she hadn't noticed the little drama going on beneath her nose, Molly peered past Harry out the window to the back garden. She was the only one to catch a glimpse of an auburn haired, cloaked figure racing through the garden, darting around the far side of the Burrow toward the front door.

'Here,' Molly said carelessly beckoning Ginny. 'Finish the fry up for me. The lot will be down soon.'

Molly arrived at the front door of the Burrow and swung the door open, just as her Granddaughter Lily reached for the doorknob. Lily was Molly's oldest grandchild, a pleasant looking girl, jolly, the apple of Harry and Ginny's eyes and hopelessly spoiled rotten. The young woman had never performed even the easiest of household chores and hadn't in fact done anything of note in the past year except to entertain herself and gain a dubious reputation with the young men - wizard and Muggle, of Ottery St. Catchpole.

'Oh... Gran,' whispered Lily, trying to strike a careless pose. 'Good morning. I um... got up... well, you know, early like. Decided... to gather the eggs for you so you wouldn't have the bother.'

'Morning dear,' said Molly quietly, 'the eggs; let's have them.'

'Oh!' squeaked Lily, far worse at falsehoods than even her father. 'Must have forgotten them in the henhouse. Yes, that is it. Left them there, in the henhouse. You know; under the hens. No. Forgot. I took the eggs.'

'So,' said Molly, crossing her arms. 'I looked into your room around 4.00 am this morning. You had already made your own bed for once and I reckon you took the last two hours collecting eggs. Rather slow going do you think? Did you have to lay the eggs yourself then?'

Whispering, Lily pleaded, 'don't tell on me Gran. Dad, Mum will have conniptions. So I stayed out all night? I'm nearly twenty-two, an adult. Dad thinks I am not quite ten years old. Mum thinks I'm made of spun sugar and it pouring down rain. So I was pub-crawling all night? So what?'

'Lily,' scolded Molly softly. 'In their hay-day Fred and George might have taken a page from your book. Pub-crawling all night; like I am daft and do not know "the" pub in Ottery closes at midnight on Fridays.' Molly stepped onto the porch and quietly shut the door behind them.

'You are using the formula for the Rue Potion I gave you? I noticed the Rue plants behind the old barn are looking like more than the geese have had a nip at them.'

'Yes, Gran', said Lily looking downward and shamefaced. She shrugged. 'You're not a great-grand yet, so I must be mixing the potion right.' She looked up. 'You are the best Gran. Why can't Mum and Dad treat me like an adult, the way you do?'

'Cause your Mum and Dad are soft in the head about you and want what is best for you. And me... well, I'm a daft old cow. You put me in a mind of when I was young... when your Granddad and me scampered around Hogsmeade to all hours.' A melancholy smile lit Molly's face. 'Just remember, Rue Potion cannot work if you don't take it.'

'I am careful Gran', Lily kissed Molly on her cheek; she loved her Grandmother beyond anyone or anything else in her life and the two were a wicked pair of vixens at the opposite end from each other on life's road. They had formed a natural alliance as they were each set to ignore what everyone else in the household knew what was best for them. 'And by the by Gran,' said Lily, fighting a smile. 'Before I took off last night I went up to your room to give you a proper kiss goodnight and you'll never guess Gran. You weren't there! Queer thing though - pillows, all plumped up were stuffed under your duvet and there was some charm made your bed sound like it was snoring. Clever, sounded just like you too.'

Molly pulled back and gave her granddaughter a startled look. 'Bloody hell girl, if you say anything to your Mum or Uncles...'

'Gran, you know I don't carry tales. Really. We're both of age Gran, why do either of us have to tip toe around like naughty school children?'

Molly sank onto the porch bench. 'Lily, that's the way of the world I reckon. One day I was a happy go lucky lass such as yourself, the next here I am an old fool; babied by my own babies and sent to bed at 9.00 with a glass of warm milk like some old pensioner. And this is my own house Lily.'

'Oh, that makes me so angry Gran,' said Lily sympathetically. The morning birds were singing merrily in the front garden, damned annoying for Lily, who could already detect an oncoming hangover. She idly toyed with a chain on her neck. 'I don't know how you tolerate...'

'What's this?' said Molly, reaching out and pulling at a Lily's chain. 'Here, where did you get this?' Molly's sharp eyes peered at a small blue pendant that glimmered in many colours like a prism in the sunlight.

'Oh, well Gran, that's, well you see that is... um, a...'

'Where did you get this?' Molly spoke in a tone of voice that only fools argued with.

'It was a present, sort of, from an admirer,' explained Lily, her eyes glued to the pendant. 'Pretty isn't it?'

'Pretty? You have no idea what this is, do you my girl?' said Molly, gripping the pendant and pulling it up to her eyes, forcing Lily to lean over or choke. Molly's eyes were eagle-sharp so she was clearly about to make a strong point to her wayward granddaughter.

'This is the scale of a Ukrainian Ironbelly Dragon. Bloody huge dragons - I think it was an Ironbelly burned your Uncle Charlie's arm years and years ago. Their scales have wicked powerful magic you're better off not knowing. Ironbellies are rare; this scale is dear, worth near enough to buy you a cottage of your own I would wager.' Molly glared dead into Lily's startled eyes. 'What did you do to have a bloke give you a "trinket" like this girl? Your knickers hit the floor for this?'

'GRAN,' gulped Lily. 'I... uh... well, you must understand I was at a very stylish place where I reckon... well, I would imagine gifts like this... this fancy... are, um... rather ordinary really. Honest.' Lily was of the impression that Draco Malfoy and his like, often doled out small fortunes to young ladies who meandered, uninvited, into fancy charity affairs.

'Oh Lily,' said Molly, rolling her eyes in agitation. 'I thought of all my Grandchildren you have most sense but I see now I was wrong. Did you get this last night? You cannot keep a gift this expensive. Give it back to the boy... man... boy who must have stolen it from his mother's boyfriend.'

'I can't Gran,' said Lily, stuffing the necklace back down her blouse. 'I got it nearly two weeks ago and I'll never see the wizard who gave it to me again.' She grinned. 'Oooo and wasn't that wizard stinking with Galleons!' She wanted to add that the wizard, Malfoy was also dead sexy, but held her tongue for once as Molly was in a temper.

'Damn my eyes child,' said Molly. 'If you have any Weasley brains in that head of yours you will march out into the woods today and bury that thing; Ironbellies scales are contraband without proper paperwork to back it up. Even a sweet thing like you could earn a nasty great stint in New Azkaban without the proper paperwork. Did your fancy wizard give you any paperwork?'

'Papers? Oooo well, I don't exactly have papers Gran. Not in as much as there is anything written down or...'

'Blimey, the girl is green enough to stick in the ground to grow peas. Then get rid of it. Bury it in the fields and pray nothing of any note pops up out of the ground as a result.'

'Pops up out of the ground? Whatever do you mean?'

'Green as boggies,' muttered Molly. 'I have tried teaching you the old ways, all that I know. Do you listen to me? No you do not you foolish girl. I sit here giving you the benefit of my octogenarian wisdom and all the while that mind of your's is probably summing up the length of tadgers you have acquaintance with.'

'Oh Gran,' Lily snorted and smiled sweetly. 'I'll go collect the eggs now.'

'This morning's eggs are already in the morning fry up Luv. Get in the house and have your breakfast.'

'Yes Gran,' said Lily meekly. 'And where were you last night?'

'It is not too late to change tactics with you Lily. I ought to stop being your best mate and take up being your grandmother; spare the wand, spoil the child. Now listen to me. Your parents have something for you and just do as they ask, no arguments.'

Lily rolled her eyes. 'Gran! Why must Dad and Mum -'

'Humour them dear. And do what I told you about that necklace. If your Uncle Charlie or Uncle Ron see that around your neck you mark my words, no matter how "grown up" you think you are, the oak tree will be short of branches to the tune of one switch and those knickers of yours will drop straightaway and NOT for any reason you would find entertaining on a Saturday night! Now scarper off and behave yourself.'

Lily kissed her beloved Gran on the forehead and headed into the house. Afterwards the girl would go to bed, not to rise again and confront her parents until evening. For Molly's part, she sat idle on the front porch of the Burrow, listening to the morning birdsong. Idleness was a state with which the old witch was largely unfamiliar but it was a task she wished to master in her lifetime.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Hermione had not moved a step since Draco disapparated from of her office. She stood looking at the space Draco had occupied, her breathing rapid and her nerves on the edge of hysteria. She was dry eyed. She had long ago ceased the frequent crying she indulged in as a girl, when she was apt to wash away each and every hurt in a bath of tears. But over the years there were not enough tears to cover the tragedies, the burial of close mates, the loss of her second chance at love, her husband, and many other sorrows and disappointments as well. Her soft heart, that so had exemplified the young girl was now a woman's heart; toughened, and worse, accustomed to life's harsh turns.

Long ago, Hermione used to lie, feigning sleep in the Gryffindor dorm. Night after sleepless night she used to rehearse in her troubled mind the words of she wanted to say to the odious blonde boy who broke her heart. Now at long last Hermione the woman had spoken cruel words of revenge, long overdue.

True, after so many years the words had lost some of their sting. Still, she stood her ground, faced up to the odious man. She was revenged of the wizard who so long ago destroyed her trust, her faith, and her belief in happily ever afters. She had given as good as she got. If there was justice Malfoy would now suffer endless restless nights.

It was over. Hermione's life as a rational woman could resume. She could once again be the responsible adult she was, no longer a foolish little swot who danced about with her head in the clouds. Hermione turned toward her desk just the apparation crack exploded behind her. She nearly jumped out of her skin, and turned to see Draco materialize.

His eyes flicked towards Hermione for only the space of a heartbeat. 'I... I almost forgot.' He pointed to the little velvet pouch and the scattering of golden Galleons Hermione had thrown flung at him when he first arrived. 'If you like you may keep the lot for your stupid little organization if you wish, the Malfoy Foundation will have a tax deduction in any case...'

Draco stumbled backwards at the blow of Hermione hitting him with the full weight, height and intensity of her body as she leapt to pretzel her legs around his middle, clinging to him tighter than his own infamous butter-soft leather trousers. The shock of finding Hermione in his arms so stunned Draco he staggered backwards, stumbling back half way across the little office before he could close his arms around her, realizing the significance of what was happening. Draco was so moved, so stunned, so utterly unprepared to realize any dreams might have come true that he could not speak. He had to concentrate all of his efforts to maintain his Slytherin dignity; it would not do to renew the relationship with a show of weakness like some puling nancy-boy. The effort cost him - his throat ached, his head pounded but it worth every nuance of the pain. He hugged Hermione so tight she could scarcely breath. He held her head pressed to his cheek while hyperventilating and thanking every star, every ancestor; every thing that he held dear, his love was back where she belonged, in his arms.

'Draco, please I didn't mean...'

'Of course not, you didn't mean to be an arse, you couldn't help yourself...'

'I hurt so deeply and for so long I just couldn't...'

'I know my darling, think nothing more of it...'

'Forgive me Dray-cocoa....'

'There is nothing to forgive...'

Draco stabilized his backward motion and span about, shoving Hermione against the wall so her bum hit the bookcase. Books nosily crashed to the floor.

'Damn me!' Draco swore and almost drunkenly maneuvered his treasure to the space next to the bookcase. Bracing himself against Hermione who filled his arms, he braced himself against her, his face buried in her bosom while he one handedly pulled up his robes. Hermione was still clung to Draco's neck, kissing about the head and neck, at least up until she felt Draco's no longer hidden agenda, which now pressed hot against her. She recalled Draco's former penchant for a good, up against the wall, nice, hard, fuck.

'No! Draco,' squealed Hermione, pulling back, staring Draco in the face, 'you do not understand.'

'Sure, yes I do,' said Draco, his voice heavy with lust, pulling at Hermione's knickers. 'Loosen your legs a bit, I am coming in...'

'No,' said Hermione and bracing her back on the wall shoved. Draco, still fumbling one handed at his smalls, dropped her to the carpet.

'Oops,' shouted Draco watching Hermione land at his feet. 'The floor it is then.' He dropped, pouncing on Hermione, renewing his assault on her knickers, ripping her tights and pushing up her skirt. 'Stop fussing you know how gentle I can be, and if not, no matter, I am quite good with healing salves.'

'Draco NO!' shouted Hermione, again pushing him away, her bum to Draco as she scrambled over and onto her knees, her eyes wide, but not with fright.

'Doggie style! WOOF, my sweet, hang on,' shouted Draco, his excitement, so to speak, mounting.

'We're not doing this at all,' insisted Hermione, shooting to her feet making sure to keep her eyes averted to avoid seeing more of Draco than she cared to. She raced to her office window and stood there panting, looking out the window as if checking the weather of the darkening skies.

'What the...? Sure we are "doing this",' said Draco. 'I am easy my girl, it's your call, whatever you wish, the desk, the couch?' He rolled sideways onto his one bum, and released his robes to form a tent over his still raging hard-on, then jumped up, and limped after Hermione.

'I am sorry I gave you the wrong impression Malfoy. When you showed up again I was feeling sorry that I was so hard on you, before you left here. I was angry and my behavior was... was unworthy. I was overly pleased you returned so I could apologize. I was not trying to take up with you where we left off back at Hogwarts.'

'Oh,' Draco said smiling. 'That's why you jumped on me, stuck tighter than red on a rose?' He took one more step and his leg on his arse-less side shot out from under him in a spectacular fall, the Muggle snow globe he stepped on shot out from under his foot like a cannon ball, and Hermione ducked in time to save herself an injury. The globe propelled through the windowpane, and Hermione screamed, flinging up her arms to protect her face from the glass. For one moment she thought Draco might have flung a spell at her but when she turned, the wizard in question was lying on his back, apparently out cold.

'Draco!' Hermione screamed and she quickly knelt by his side, patting his cheeks. 'Wake up Draco! I will do whatever you want! Just please, wake up,' it was no good, when she peered under his eyelids; the grey pupils were rolled out of sight. With her remaining jot of presence of mind, she fetched her wand, pointing it at Draco. 'Profondo!'

A cauldron's worth of water drenched Draco, but he did not flinch.

Stunned and frightened, Hermione dropped to her knees again and resumed begging Draco. 'Damn you! You if you think you are going to go flitting off with your damned Malfoy ancestors again you have another bloody think coming!' she fumed.

Draco's arms shot up to grasp Hermione about the waist and he laughed, hugging Hermione tightly.

'Now, what was that you were saying?' he winked, which was half to tease Hermione and half because water was dripping down his face.

'You EVIL -'

'No, no, before that,' corrected Draco, still laughing, rubbing a new sore spot at the back of his head that hit the floor when he fell.

Hermione was grateful Draco was alive, very alive by the evidence of the bulge she was lying on. 'What? You mean what I said about your Malfoy ancestors?'

'No, you clever witch. The bit about you doing whatever I want.' Draco pulled Hermione tight against himself, his hand massaging her arse while he shut her up, the way he always used to shut the witch up by the clever insertion of his tongue to her tonsils. True, Hermione was no longer a seriously randy schoolgirl any longer, but her needs if anything had grown over the years and her body remembered Draco even if her mind preferred to pretend it did not. Still, she pulled back, staring into Draco's ever-hypnotic eyes, the witch consciously fighting to keep her head.

'Anything but this Draco. Anything.'

Damn me for loving this stubborn, troublesome, pain in my half-arse, 'oh chase me before I give in' witch. I could save myself a great deal of trouble by purchasing a blow-up balloon witch with bushy brown hair and a few well-placed orifices.

'How generous you are,' said Draco. 'Then at the very least you may allow me to take you out to dinner? Perhaps a little dancing to celebrate our old times together? You used to nag me to dance with you, remember? I'm anxious to show off, I've learned "how" to dance over the year. Your toes will be safe, more or less.'

Tempted and realizing that accepting any offer from Draco was bound to be only the fall of a preliminary domino Hermione answered. 'Perhaps I will go out with you, but just this one time. Only not tonight.'

'Why not?'

'I must pick up my children from the sitter at 6.00 and then I must find someone willing to watch them tonight if I am going anywhere.'

'So? Put your brats to bed and have done with them,' said Draco giving what he assumed was helpful advice.

'Draco, I cannot just place a bowl of milk on the nursery floor, pat the children on their heads and romp off. There must be someone there to...'

'All right, not tonight and I am out of town from tomorrow on, so how about this Friday night, seven?' said Draco already bored with the details of parenting.

I show up, praise the ankle biters, she puts them to bed and then, gods willing, there will be Fireball pounding, tit bouncing, hot, nasty, sticky, jungle sex until our naughty bits are puffy, sore and tingling like chimes in a hurricane.

'All right then,' said Hermione hesitantly as she heard the first of the dominoes crash. 'Friday night. You can meet my children then. Let me show you some photos.' She stood, so as to retrieve the picture on her desk, but Draco quickly stood and reached out pulling her back.

'I will see your sodding precious children soon enough, indulge me here for another minute?' Draco jested. 'It is all settled then, Friday next.'

'Yes, but remember, we're only to have a pleasant little meal and talk over old times. I am very much afraid our lives are too different ever be... commingled.'

Right. Commingled... you dropping those knickers and begging the Fireball to ram it to your hot little creamy place. Face the facts my lovely; we will be commingled, and there WILL be sex.

'Draco, I hope you really are prepared to... to do this? To meet my children? They are extraordinary, quite special. I know how you probably feel about...'

'Well, of course I want to meet your children Hermione.' Draco said. 'The poor things, orphaned by a cruel and terrible war I imagine? I love children, they are all precious.'

Hell, the tax deductions alone make the little beasts worth a bit of bother.

Draco placed a chaste kiss on Hermione's cheek. 'You are always a pleasure my dear. Friday then.' He backed a few paces and disapperated.

Shortly afterwards at his London suite, Draco tapped the blue powder into his pipe, wand lit it and drew deep drafts on his pipe until long curls of smoke wafted into the air. As he watched the curls of smoke drifting in the air he pondered the road ahead with Hermione. He would have her; there was no getting around it. The witch felt obligated to make him work for her prizes, as any witch worth her wand ought.

Damn me but that softhearted Muggleborn has no doubt adopted squibs - or perhaps worse, Hufflepuffs in the making. But I suppose if she loves her defective children so much then I suppose I can tolerate them at the very least. Better yet, I can send them off to that first rate Boarding school Perdita attended.

He was greatly annoyed to realize his hand shook slightly as he held his pipe, but then at her best Hermione could always unsettle Draco, and therein lay the challenge - and the fun.

When Draco was gone and her work at an end, Hermione pulled on her cloak and headed for the door. She always walked to and from her office for the exercise. She stopped suddenly, trotting back to her desk. From a small side drawer she fished out a ring, a bit too small for her mature fingers. She could never bring herself to use any magic to enlarge the tiny gold hoop, and anyway, were she to wear the ring there would be embarrassing questions from her family and loved ones. Draco had given her the friendship ring in Hogsmeade on a long ago date.

In relief on the surface of the ring, a tiny Gryffindor lion roared in a voice just audible, as a minute platinum serpent repetitiously sunk tiny needle teeth into the lion's regal arse. Hermione smiled, she could not hear the diminutive lion indignantly roaring and not smile. Even in the light of dusk, the emerald eye of the Slytherin serpent on the ring glittered. Hermione dropped the ring into her blouse pocket. The Friendship ring had graced her finger up until the night Neville proposed to her. Although she would never dwell on the thought, the little friendship ring and the happier times it represented was never far from her heart.