Warning: Unbetad, read at your own risk.

Chapter Four

Hermione was more confused than when she had debated what field to go into… and that was saying something. So far she was very happy with her decision; she absolutely loved her job and was positive she had chosen right for herself. Of course, it had taken her most of seventh year to figure out that potions were truly her passion. But she couldn’t very well spend months on end deliberating on Malfoy. Frankly, she was going insane. Just the other day, she had made a list of pros and cons… needless to say the con list was way longer than the pro. However, much to Hermione’s consternation she still could not make up her mind about him. Logic dictated that she forget him, that she not believe him… but...

She wanted to.

Even if the pro list was pitifully short.

“Oh, would you change that face! Really, you’re miserable because you chose to be so,” Ginny said, clearly exasperated. “Just go out with him and get it over with. If you like him keep him. If not, then the hell with him.”

They were in their favorite café in muggle London, drinking rich and creamy coffee and munching on sweet pastries. At least Ginny was, Hermione had been staring into space for the last couple of minutes with a morose look on her face. Hermione had tried explaining the situation to Ginny, her misgivings and her doubts. But the Ginny’s of the world would never understand what plain little professors went through. Ginny was beautiful, confident, and outgoing. Ginny never lacked male attention and she never had to doubt a man’s interest. They were so radically different that Hermione wondered how they ever managed to become close friends.

Hermione gave a dramatic sigh.

Ginny rolled her eyes.

“How about we focus on your love life? I’m sure it’s much more interesting than mine.”

“You’re very much mistaken,” Ginny said wryly.

Hermione was about to comment acidly, when it suddenly hit her that she couldn’t remember the last time Ginny had been in a relationship. Sure, Ginny dated, lots. But when was the last time she had a long term relationship? Hermione honestly could not recall. Most recently Ginny had started seeing a handsome, if albeit shallow, businessman and was quite excited about him. It seemed the excitement had not lasted for very long.

“Ah, how are things with, uh,” Shit, what was the man’s name? Elmer, Edmund, Edward?

“Edwin,” Ginny said laughing. “Wow, you’ve been more wrapped into Malfoy than I thought. Edwin and I decided to stop seeing each other several weeks ago.”

“What happened?”

Ginny shrugged. “He thought I was an empty headed bimbo and I thought he was a mature and intelligent man,” she said with her usual aplomb. “Turns out we were both wrong.”

Behind Ginny’s quick dismissal of her latest breakup and quirky smile there was a brittleness Hermione had never noticed before. Ginny was always so exuberant and funny and hardly ever brooded. It was exhausting, really, to watch Ginny go on about her life. Ginny just seemed to have it all, and a wicked part of Hermione was more than a little jealous of her friend. Now, however, Ginny looked a little worst for wear.

“Where did he get the idea that you’d be an empty headed bimbo?”

“Well, Edwin is the type of guy who thinks that a woman’s intelligence is inversely related to a woman’s bra size.”

Hermione glanced at Ginny’s ample chest and burst out laughing. “He must have thought you’d be pretty much retarded then.”

“Ha ha.”

Hermione’s laughter subsided abruptly, realizing that the redhead was not sharing her amusement. “Sorry, Ginny, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s fine, have your laugh. I couldn’t be too smart; after all it took me five dates to figure out what a jerk Edwin was.”

Hermione didn’t know what to say, Ginny was never this serious. Usually she would be laughing right along with her, or making light of the situation with flippancy and humor. “Look, this Edwin guys seems like a real loser. Do what you told me; the hell with him.”

Ginny sighed and slumped back in her chair. “It’s not him. He’s inconsequential. The thing is…” she sighed again, and stared at Hermione, as if making her mind on how much to disclose. “You think when people look at you they only see a brain. Well, when people look at me they only see a face, a body.”

Hermione was appalled that her friend would think such a thing. “That’s absurd.”

Ginny arched a perfect eyebrow. “Others can’t wait to boast that they been with the Great Harry Potter’s ex.”

“Surely, you’re exaggerating. There might be some idiots who are what you are describing, but there has to be plenty who genuinely like you for who you are. You can have any guy you set your sights on, you know that.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a lot of idiots in this world. And I don’t want to be with somebody simply because he fits my idea of who I should be with. I want to want them.”

Hermione winced, Ginny’s last comment hitting a little too close to home. Is that not what she had done with Trent? He had seemed perfect for her, which is why she had gone out with him, not because of any attraction toward him.

“I want to feel that spark, you know, that magical tingling when he touches you or looks at you in a certain way.”

Had she ever felt that tingling? With Ron definitely, back at Hogwarts, when they been so young and certain they’d end up together. As much as it pained her to admit it there was a barrage of fireworks whenever Malfoy even showed up.

“It’s harder that one would think, liking someone and having them like you back just as much as you do.” Ginny leaned in close, and wry expression on her face. “Have you any idea how envious I am of Luna and Harry?”

Hermione’s lips quirked. “I know. You can practically see the hearts floating around them.”

“What I wouldn’t give to have that. They have their problems, I know, but it’s so obvious how much they love each other.” Ginny’s expression was longing and, to Hermione’s surprise, hopeless.

Again, she found herself unable to say anything. Platitudes about how she was a wonderful woman and would find the right guy seem completely stupid. Who would have thought that the Ginny Weasly, the girl every boy wanted and every girl envied, would be having the same troubles as a her; a plain little potions professor? Hermione shook her head, guilty again about misjudging her friend. Had she not always believed that Ginny could have any guy she wanted because she was so beautiful with her statuesque build, her vivid red hair, her bright beautiful eyes… and not because she was a genuinely nice person, and intelligent and powerful witch. She’d been judging Ginny in a purely physical basis… and herself as well.

“You know I’m normally not this glum, but you’re not the only one with problems and insecurities. I know you’re attracted to Malfoy, deeply infatuated would be my guess, despite your denials otherwise. He would have given up already if he didn’t feel something for you.”

“He might be after something.”

“Hermione, we’re not in Hogwarts anymore. We’re adults. As a friend I’m going to have to tell you you’re being pretty stupid. The man has asked you out so many times you’ve probably lost count. There’s no reason to put himself through the humiliation of rejection. It makes no sense whatsoever. And of course he’s after something. You!”

“He dates women who look like you,” Hermione whispered.

“That sounded suspicious like an insult,” Ginny said dryly.

“No, no, I meant that-”

“I know what you meant,” Ginny smiled and took a drink of her coffee. “Am I going to have to pelt you with silly clichés about how attractive and wonderful you are?”

“No, Ron did that already,” Hermione said smiling, recalling the previous night.

Ginny beamed with pride for her brother. “He’s not so hopeless. Just because Malfoy dated those women doesn’t mean he can’t be attracted to you too.”

She was trying to reassure her, but how could Ginny understand. Every time she went out with Malfoy she would be comparing herself with all the women he had dated. Even worst, she would agonize over whether Malfoy was also comparing her to his past women. At least physically Hermione knew that she would always come out short. Why would she put herself through that?

“He likes you,” Ginny continued. “You like him. It’s not complicated.”

Each and everyone of her friends had told her to go for it with Malfoy. They didn’t think it was so strange for Malfoy to be interested in her. All of them had told her in their own way that she was attractive and still she didn’t believe them. Was her self-esteem that low? Was she that woman? That woman that needed constant reassurance, about her looks, her abilities, her intellect? Constantly fishing for compliments. Was she that needy? She felt so pathetic. This was not the woman she had wanted to grow up to be.

“Professor Granger!”

Her two assistants barged through her office door without even bothering to knock, startling Hermione who had been deep into her research. “What is it?” Hermione was instantly alarmed, they worked with dangerous ingredients, if something went wrong-

“Look what arrived for you! A beautiful owl brought it just now. Open it! Open it!”

Hermione fell back into her chair, relieved that nothing had gone wrong but irritated at her assistants for being so bloody excitable. Not to mention nosy.

“It’s from Mr. Malfoy,” Sully said excitedly.

“You’ve moping around here this whole week, we thought the present would cheer you up,” the slightly more observant Jaime commented.

She hadn’t been moping… She’d been expectant and disappointed… oh who was she trying to fool. She had been moping. It had been more than a week since she’d seen Malfoy, since the Sunday he walked out looking resigned. Hermione was still unsure of what to do about him, but one thing she was certain of now, was that she enjoyed his attentions. She wanted to see him. She missed his stupid lines and arrogant swagger.

The square package her students brought was wrapped in golden paper with a jaunty red bow. Hermione had to smile at the carefully wrapped present. Her students were standing vigil, waiting for her to open it. Not to disappoint them, she tore the wrapping apart like an eager child on Christmas morning. She opened the box, knowing that Sully and Jaime were practically holding their breath. What she found inside was something she had not been expecting. Books, four of them, magically charmed to fit inside the box.

Hermione pulled one out, read the title: Medicinal Potions by Rastlin Ophiuchus. She had never heard of the book or its author. She pulled the rest of them out, all were unknown to her. What as strange gift, she thought, coming from Malfoy. Everybody else gave her books, but Malfoy gave her flowers and chocolates, and kisses and... She supposed he was trying a new approach, trying to get in her good graces with what she loved the most. There was a note on the bottom of the package, Hermione was about to reach for it when Sully’s voice stopped her cold.

“Those are dark,” Sully said frowning at the pile of books on Hermione’s neat desk. “They’re all banned.”

Hermione’s face lost all color. “How do you know?”

“Advance history, we did a semester on obscure and dark wizards. I’m telling you, Professor, those books are all dark. Those shouldn’t even exist, the ministry was thought to have destroyed them all.”

Obviously the ministry hadn’t counted on the Malfoy’s. Hermione felt tainted, dirty, to think she’d laid hands on something so vile. Dark, why would Malfoy send her dark books?

Jaime, knowing their professor needed some time alone, tactfully escorted Sully out of Hermione’s office, closing the door behind them. Hermione could hear them whispering about how wrong they had been about Malfoy. She pulled the note out of the box with shaking hands.

Granger,

I know it won’t take you long to figure out the nature of these books, so I’ll save you the trouble and tell you myself;

They’re considered to be dark. I ask you to please take a look at them before pitching them into the fire. I believe you can

make better use of them than I ever could.

P.S. Don’t let those Gryffindor prejudices get the best of you.

Love,

Draco

She had indeed been about to burn those books, offended beyond belief that Malfoy had dared to sent her such monstrosities and playing it down by using the words ‘considered to be dark.’ They weredark and he damn well knew it. But she couldn’t burn those books. Not with that postscript. Malfoy lecturing her about prejudices? Preposterous. The postscript got her all riled up and pretty much guaranteed that she would at least skim the books. And he damn well knew that too.

Hermione was a very open-minded person; she would read the books, deem them evil and depraved and promptly incinerate them.

She took the first book, the one by Ophiuchus, actually feeling its wickedness seep through her fingers and up her arm as she opened the cover. She started reading with a scowl on her face, by the second page she wore a puzzled frown, and by the third she wore an expression of wonder.

“Did Malfoy put you up to this?”

Annoyed, Hermione rolled her eyes at her best friend. “No one has put me up to this. Do you think me so weak minded?” They were at Harry’s office at the Ministry. She had set the meeting with Harry at the ministry because she wanted to meet with Harry Potter Chief Auror and not Harry Potter Best Friend. She had wanted to persuade Harry using logic and professionalism and thus avoid any talk on Malfoy. Obviously that approach was not going to work.

Harry sighed from behind his desk, pushing his glasses up with the tip of a finger. “I think you like Malfoy more than you want to admit.”

“My feelings for Malfoy do not have any bearings on this matter,” Hermione said primly.

Harry leaned back in his chair, gazing at her with shrewd green eyes. “It’s not a simple thing you’re asking.”

She shrugged. “You’re Harry Potter. You wield unbelievable influence at the ministry.”

“So in essence you’re planning to take advantage of me and my position in the Wizarding World to further your own ambitions.” He asked a teasingly.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. “Shamelessly, but hey, if you are ever in need of a potion to spice up your love life with Luna I’m your girl.”

“Thanks,” Harry said wryly.

“That’s what friends are for.”

“They’re banned for a reason,” He stated, serious again.

“Not for any valid reasons that I could find!” She took a foot long parchment out of her bag and gave it to Harry. “The authors of these books aren’t Grindelwalds or Voldemorts. Hardly! Arian LeFay was executed as a dark wizard because of his open criticism of the corrupt ministry at the time. Derrin Drukan work’s was discredited and banned because he had an affair with a high official’s wife. Many times these wizard’s work was deemed dark because of plain ignorance. Harry, some of these wizard’s research was well ahead of their time. Can you imagine how much knowledge we are missing out on? Not only in potions but in every conceivable subject!”

“Hermione they are still banned, we don’t know the content-” Harry stopped abruptly at Hermione’s guilty expression. “You’ve read them, haven’t you?”

“Yes.”

“All of them?” He asked, but by his expression he already knew the answer.

“Yes.”

“That’s an offense.”

“Are you going to arrest me, Auror Potter?” Hermione snapped.

“Don’t be daft. I don’t arrest people for stupidity.” Harry stood up and paced as much as he could in his cramped office. The agitation was clear in his green eyes.

Hermione stiffened. “They are not dark. They are however, very well written, with much well researched information. They could be very beneficial to the potions field.”

“Is that what is about? Furthering your career?”

“Harry potter, I have been your friend since first year, I fought the war alongside you. How dare you imply such a thing? Now get your head out of your Gryffindor ass and listen to what I am saying. These sort of things are bound to happen, it is up to future generations to correct them. It’s happened in the muggle world as well, scientific innovations accused of being the devil’s work, literature being black listed because of its content… the point is that later on these mistakes are corrected when the people are more accepting, when the social unrest demands answers and justice. It’s our duty to see the same occur in the Wizarding World. You know very well how corrupt the ministry has been in the past…”

“I don’t know, Hermione-“

“Trust me, Harry. You do trust me don’t you?”

Harry stopped pacing. “With my life.”

“Then believe me when I say they are not dark.”

Harry was quiet for a long time. He finally said, “I will think about it. That’s all I’m promising.”

Hermione beamed. “Thank you, Harry.”

He shook his head in a resigned fashion and sat down on the chair next to hers. “Malfoy has gone through considerable pains to prove he is no longer a follower of the dark arts… I don’t know why he’d risk his barely restored reputation by giving you those books. I don’t like it, Hermione.”

“I think they were a parting gift. He asked nothing of me exept that I keep an open mind about them.”

“You haven’t talked to him?”

“No, Harry. This was my initiative. Malfoy doesn’t even know I’m planning to bring it up with the ministry.”

Harry looked only marginally satisfied, but he smiled at her anyway and let the subject drop. “So about hat potion to, uh, spice up…”

“You’ll get it by tomorrow.”

I am an amazing, passionate and attractive woman. I am an amazing, passionate and attractive woman. I am an amazing, passionate and attractive woman.

She left her hair down and curly because… just because. She wore muggle clothing because she felt like it. She put on that particular shade of cherry lip-gloss because it tasted good and made her feel sexy. She used mascara because she thought her eyes were her best feature, and the mascara showed exactly just how long her eyelashes were. And she was stalling in front of the mirror because she was so fucking nervous she was actually shaking. And the motto Ron had thought her was no help at all. No matter how may times she had chanted it in her mind the words just didn’t seem to bring the surge of power and confidence that Ron had promised it would.

Before she lost her courage she took a handful of floo powder from her mantel and threw furiously onto the floo. “Draco Malfoy’s Manor!”

She was half hoping Malfoy would have wards up, or his floo blocked, or his house would instantly recognize her as a mudblood and sent her hurtling back to her own home. But no such luck. In less than a second a well dressed house-elf was helping her out of the floo and magicking the soot away.

“Welcome, Ms. Granger,” the house-elf said with a smile. “The master will be glad to see you.”

“How do you know my name?”

“I know exactly who you are Ms. Granger, founder of S.P.E.W,” the elf said with a twinkle in his eye. “This way please. The master is in his study.”

After the war, many changes had come about. The ministry had been restructured, laws abolished and installed. Wizards and witches alike were taken in by the social change. S.P.E.W had really taken off, and now little by little, with education and better understanding, house-elves were being treated like full cognizant beings. Just as importantly, the house elves themselves had started to change their mindset about their enslavement. There were still a few, elves and humans alike, who resisted change, which was to be expected. Hermione had thought Malfoy would be one of those, but he surprised her yet again by employing a free elf. Malfoy was right, she could be terribly prejudiced.

She was led by the elf through a long hall. The house was not as big and certainly as ostentatious as she had imagined. It was by no means in the same scale as Malfoy Manor had been, still Hermione preferred this house to Malfoy’s previous residence. The manor of course had been stripped from the Malfoy’s years before.

“Right through that hall, Ms. Granger.”

The nervousness she was barely holding at bay resurfaced again, threatening a full on panic attack. “It’s okay that, I just, you know, came here uninvited?”

“Master Malfoy has made it plenty clear that if you ever visited to treat you as if you own the house and take you to him right away.” He smiled kindly at her and left.

Hermione walked slowly, feeling as she was walking a mile long gauntlet instead of a few feet in an elegant house, all the while repeating the mantra Ron had thought her in a squeaky nervous whisper. Perhaps, she thought, the motto would work better if spoken aloud. No such luck. She was still Hermione Jane Granger, she still felt like Hermione Jane Granger. And what was a little mouse like her doing at Malfoy’s house anyway? She was probably the first woman in the house who wasn’t either a pureblood or stunningly beautiful. But there she was again, putting herself down, and she had promised Ron she wouldn’t.

I am an amazing, passionate and attractive woman damn it! I can do this!

Oh, merlin, no I can’t.

The double doors that lead to his study loomed large and threatening in front of her. What was she going to say? What was she going to do? Her heart thumped loudly in her ears as she contemplated whether to turn tail and run or knock on his door. Stupidly she had acted on impulse, so very unlike her, and now she had no plan, not even an idea of what she was even doing here. The only thing she knew was that after nearly a month of not seeing him she was quietly but assuredly going insane. She kept waiting for him to barge in her lab and interrupt her work, easing the monotony of the workday. Or anger her with a clichéd remark that would nonetheless make her stomach flutter. His flowers were pretty too. She had thought herself too practical for flowers, but in truth she was finding she was quite partial to them. And she wouldn’t object to being manhandled again like that day at the university… of course now she was thinking of being a more active participant.

That is if Malfoy was still interested.

She was going to do as Ginny suggested, accept to go out with once and see where it lead. Hermione probably should have done that to start it and saved herself a lot of headaches and anguish. But this was bloody Malfoy!! What if it was a joke, and after she’d said yes his chums would come out bursting with laughter that the little mudblood really thought Malfoy would want her, or if he was up to something and was using her to get her, or if he really liked her and after going out with her he realized that she was boring and ugly and not worth his time, or… or… so many scenarios most of which came from her deepest fears and recent nightmares. But she must stop thinking the worst, she was nearly in hysterics just from imagining those outcomes.

Hermione took a deep breath and forced herself to calm down. Ginny was right, she and Malfoy were both adults and years away from Hogwarts. Plain Jane she was no matter how much her friends tried to convince otherwise, however, there were other facets to her that maybe, just maybe Malfoy was interested in. She could do this. Hermione raised her hand to knock, shaking lightly yes, but still purposeful when Hermione heard Draco’s drawling voice.

“Really, chérie, you’re not going to convince me with kisses. I’m not that easy.”

Well that git. It certainly didn’t take him long to find somebody else to amuse himself with. And to think that she actually-

“Those were my favorite pair of loafers you ungrateful mutt. They were Italian. Cost a lot more than your mangy butt.”

What in the world? Hermione thought, opening the doors before she could stop herself. What she encountered stopped her dead on her tracks.

“Oh, will you desist! I told you I’m not easy. Ah hell, who am I kidding? I am,” Malfoy told the giant canine that was trying to lick his face off. “Really, Chérie, you must stop slobbering on and otherwise ruining my shoes. It’s not befitting of a Malfoy,” he said sternly, all the while scratching behind the dog’s ears.

He was sitting on the floor, barefoot, his hair in disarray, the aforementioned shoes or what was left of them, next to a ratty couch that obviously belonged to ‘Chérie’. The dog, a Doberman for sure, with something else mixed in gazed adoringly at him then flipped onto its back. Malfoy obediently started rubbing the dog’s tummy.

Hermione sniggered.

Dog and man instantly went into alert. Malfoy stood up quickly, his cheeks turning a ruddy red as he realized it was Hermione who had caught him. The dog went to her, tail wagging, vying for her attention. Hermione backed away, as friendly as it seemed with Malfoy, it was still an abominably large dog.

“Settle down, Chérie,” Malfoy said. The dog instantly sat on its hunches but its body shook with exuberance, its stubby tail wagging as much as it could as she stared at Hermione with big curious eyes. “How long were you standing there?”

Hermione answered with a huge grin.

Malfoy groaned and his blush became darker. “Some guard dog you are,” he accused the dog as he unsuccessfully tried to make himself presentable by running a hand through his hair and smoothing out his shirt. The dog turned its big head toward him and seemingly mimicked Hermione’s wide grin, then it turned its head expectantly back toward Hermione again.

Malfoy cleared his throat, the blush still staining his normally pale face. “Forgive my manners, ladies. Hermione Granger meet Chérie. Chérie this is the girl I’ve been telling you about. Don’t be rude to our guest, now Chérie, say hello like a proper girl.”

The dog lifted its paw. Charmed, Hermione shook the dog’s paw firmly. “Nice to meet you, Chérie Malfoy.” She said, laughter filling her voice. The dog gave an answering bark, and Hermione lost the remaining fears she had for the dog. Strangely enough, she lost some of the fear she had for Malfoy as well. He was standing awkwardly, one foot rubbing the other as if conscious and uneasy about his lack of footwear. It was obvious he was ill at ease, and the fact that he was, made her own nervousness disappear.

He had always had the upper hand she realized, it was always she that had been surprised and caught off guard. Not even in her wildest dreams would she have imagined this reaction from him. She had expected arrogance, or even scorn, but this she had not counted on. No matter what happened know, Hermione knew her impulse had been worth it, just to see Malfoy acting so unlike himself; really it was verging on being longbottomish. And to think, that she, Hermione Granger had caused it, just by dropping by unannounced. It was quite thrilling.

“Please have a seat, Hermione.”

His study was large, filled with an oak desk, a large bookshelf, two plush sofas plus Chérie’s couch, and still plenty of room to spare, there were also plenty of dog toys strewn around, and water and food bowl which looked more expensive than her own tableware. The room looked well used, Hermione thought as she sat down on a sofa, she could imagine Malfoy working at his desk, the dog at his heels, or routinely playing with Chérie with one the toys from floor. It was a quaint picture, not one she would have ever associated with Malfoy. Hermione took a seat in one of the sofas, Malfoy took the other and Chérie plopped down on top of his bare feet, Malfoy gave a weak smile, and swallowed hard, his adam’s apple bobbing in apparent apprehension.

“I uh…” What was she supposed to say? Hey Malfoy I know you asked me out a bunch of times and I turned you down, quite nastily I might add, but I was wondering if you cared to give it another go? “I came to thank you for the books,” she finished lamely.

“I take it you didn’t burn them?” He said, a smirk forming on his lips.

“How could I? After reading just a few pages I realized what a treasure I had in my hands. It’s really quite appalling that these books have remained in obscurity for so long. Some of their content is still relevant today, I’m already planning to use one of LeFay’s theories for my next research project. Oh, and I’ve enlisted Harry’s help to try to remove the ban. If he can’t or won't help me then I’m planning to go to someone else. It’s absolutely ridiculous that these books are…” Hermione stopped in mid sentence knowing that she was babbling about something he probably wasn’t even interested in. “I’m sorry, I tend to get carried away,” she said with chagrin.

Malfoy shook his head, “I enjoy hearing you speak.” The quiet way in which he said it made her smile.

“Why did you give me those books? The least I could have done was destroy them. I could have turned you in, Malfoy.”

“I knew you wouldn’t,” he said, again using that quiet unassuming voice she had never heard before. “I do know you, see. Curiosity wouldn’t have let you destroy them without reading some of their content. Once you found out for yourself that they did not contain any evil spells or dark potions, you would never have turned me in. As for why I gave them to you, like I said, I knew you would make better use of them than I ever could. The timing, I admit, was a little precipitated. I was saving them, my trump card, you could say, for when you were royally pissed at me, or maybe your birthday or…or something else. I botched things up so badly, you deserve more substance than flowers and chocolates. You just have to bear with me, this is all new for me. I should have gotten a better feel for you before barging into your life like an idiot out of a soap opera.”

“I think you got a pretty good feel that one day, Malfoy,” she said wryly, referring to when he’d groped her behind some bushes at the university.

“Oh, fuck, I know. I’m sorry I was just… there’s no excuse. You don’t know how many times I’ve regretted it.”

“You’ve regretted it?” Hermione asked, brow furrowed and eyes dangerously narrowed.

“No, that’s not what I-” His own eyes narrowed suspiciously once he caught on. “Very, funny, Granger.”

Hermione shrugged. It had been funny to see him sweat; this once she had the upper hand and she wasn’t about to see it go to waste. “I had to get you back for that big fat lie.”

“What lie?”

“That this is all new for you,” she snorted, “please, you’ve dated how many women?” And all of them about one hundred times better looking that she. If he managed to get those women he shouldn’t have any problems with someone like her.

“Too many to count,” he responded. “However, dear Hermione, they were all disappointingly easy. As a matter of fact, most pursued me or made it obvious that they wanted me to pursue them. Money, no matter how tainted or how unsavory the character who possesses it, is quite an incentive.”

“For some,” Hermione said softly, wanting to erase that note of cynicism and pain in his voice.

“For some,” he repeated his cold grey eyes burrowing into hers. “I’m giving you some time. I need it as well to figure out how to do things right the next time around. Don’t think you are rid of me yet.”

“Good,” Hermione sighed softly in relief, barely audible.

“What?” Malfoy demanded, his eyes holding her gaze, his body strung tight. “What did you say?”

Managing to gather her courage, and in a squeaky voice filled with nervousness she responded, “I said that’s good.”

As if he had been holding his breath, Malfoy exhaled loudly and sank back into the sofa’s plush cushions. “Come here.”

Hermione shook her head.

“Granger, get your ass over here.”

“Why should I? I’m the one that came all the way over here.”

“Yeah, well I’m the one kept chasing after you even after all your rejections.”

“No. You come over here,” Hermione said sulkily.

Malfoy smirked. “Come over here and thank me properly for those books and I might just manage to find you another.”

Hermione faked annoyance and got on her feet. Her knees were shaking; hopefully he wouldn’t notice that. “Fine, but I’m just doing this for the books,” she said as she walked self-consciously to him.

“Yeah, sure, whatever you say,” he was breathing harshly and his gaze raked over her body. She was wearing jeans and a plain tee-shirt, but as she approached him she felt almost as if she were naked, so intense were his hungry eyes.

She stopped in front of him, at the edge of Chérie’s snoring form. Malfoy’s hands grasped her at waist, his hands then went slowly up, tracing her body, skimming the sides of her small breasts, then down again, to the flare of her hips, the curve of her butt. Finally he dragged her down on top of him to effectively straddle him. His hands were still on her ass, kneading skillfully. Hermione didn’t know whether to die of embarrassment or pure pleasure.

“You look delectable in this jeans, love,” he shuddered as he said it, “Have pity on me, will you, and kiss me.”

She felt awkward and inept, but behind all that, there was an emerging sense of empowerment. He was breathing harshly, his body tense and expectant, he was also very hard against her. She could do this to him. Hermione smiled wickedly as she wiggled her hips, causing him to groan and shudder again.

“Cruel, cruel woman,” he said hoarsely.

She kissed him, a soft kiss that was meant to tease but it soon turned into something deeper, hungrier. Her hands tunneled through his hair, following the long silky strands. His hands were everywhere and she was literally melting. Although she had always enjoyed sex, she had never let her passions overtake her. There was a time and a place, and discussions to be had… but this, this was something else entirely. It was too much, way too much and too soon, she thought even as moaned and let her own hands ran wild on Malfoy’s body. There wasn’t a place in her body that wasn’t tingling, that wasn’t dying for his touch.

“Tea is ready, Master Malfoy, will you like it served here or in the parlor?”

The bubble burst as the house-elf entered with a tea cart. Malfoy slowly and with much reluctance lowered his hand from beneath her shirt where it had been happily fondling her breast. “Right here, Bael,” Malfoy said with clenched teeth, as Hermione climbed off him. She settled close to him, coming to her senses, but still not wanting to stop touching him.

“Did the master like his surprise? First I thought, I should make Ms. Granger wait in the parlor and let the master know she was here. But then I thought, no, the master would probably most happy if I surprise him. Then the master took so long to call for tea, that I knew he’d forgotten, so excited was he about Ms. Granger’s visit. So I took it upon myself to deliver the tea nonetheless. I did good, did I not?” The elf smiled guilelessly as he handed Hermione a cup of steaming tea.

“Bael, you’re fired,” Malfoy said as he took his own tea.

“Yes, Master,” the elf said cheerfully. Then he turned to Chérie, the dog was standing in attention in front of the tea cart and gazing greedily at the scones and sandwiches. “Don’t let that mongrel have any,” he said with a glare at the dog.

“Of course not, Bael.”

He gave a warning look to Malfoy, a smile to Hermione and stepped out of the study.

As soon as the elf was out of sight, Chérie went to Malfoy and started whining at his feet, gazing at Malfoy with soulful and adoring eyes. Malfoy relented when Chérie rested her head against his knee, and whimpered despondently. He took a scone from the cart, buttered it and gave it to Chérie. “Here you go, you misbehaved mutt.”

Hermione who had been watching the whole exchange, both with Bael and Chérie, burst out laughing. “You know,” Hermione started, smiling at Malfoy’s off put expression, “I’m starting to think this might not be such a bad idea after all.”

TBC