Disclaimer: I do not own any of JK Rowling's brilliant characters or anything you find in the HP universe. Any characters, coffee shops, restaurants or street vendors, side streets off of Diagon Alley, or other places, people and things that you do not find in JKR's works, well then you can safely assume they are mine.
Author Note: This story was conceived in 2006—prior to the release of Deathly Hallows—and I already had in my head how Harry defeated Voldemort and what happened to the trio and Draco during the final battle. I had fully expected the story to be finished prior to the release of HP & DH (ha ha, obviously that didn't work out). So this is definitely NOT DH-compliant and should be firmly relegated to the realm of AU!
This story won Runner Up for the "School's Out! Best Post-Hogwarts" category at the Dramione Awards on LJ!
"All right everyone, that's it. Let's get back to work," Kingsley Shacklebolt wrapped up the weekly staff meeting in his usual manner and left the briefing room. As the rest of the team filed out, Harry caught Draco's eye. The two men lingered, and finally were alone. Harry returned to his seat and leaned back, tilting the chair on its rear legs, arms crossed as he studied the blond man.
"Was there something you wanted, Potter?" Draco asked dryly. "Other than staring at my handsome face, I mean."
Harry snorted. "Right. Handsome if you are a ferret, Malfoy." He indicated another chair.
Draco took the hint and sat down, one eyebrow raised sardonically. Harry remained silent, apparently still formulating what he wanted to say. Finally Draco prompted, "What's on your mind, Scar-head?"
"Ah." Draco was not surprised; he'd reckoned it would only be a matter of time before—
"I think she's smiled more times the last month than I've seen the entire year prior."
Harry's tone was conversational, but Draco was not deceived. He knew what was coming; if it were he, he'd have taken Harry aside in much the same manner. "And you are telling me this because…"
Harry grinned. "Because it is my belief that you bear much of the blame for this situation."
Draco shifted in his seat. "That's an interesting turn of phrase there: bear the blame."
"She's obviously deliriously happy, and it is your fault."
The thought that Hermione's best friend felt she was deliriously happy did funny twinge-y things to Draco's chest.
"Don't get me wrong," Harry continued, "I am very much in favor of her being happy, and of her smiling like a daft idiot, and staring into space with that girly look girls get."
The twinges turned into palpitations. Draco took a deep breath. "So your point is…"
The front legs of Harry's chair hit the floor as he leaned forward, elbows on his knees, grin replaced by a serious look. "I'd be a waste of a friend, and completely remiss as her best mate if I didn't say this, Malfoy. If you mess about with her, if you hurt her in any way—I'll hex your sorry arse to the moon and back."
Draco nodded thoughtfully. "I'm well aware of that, Potter." He looked the other man in the eye. "Let me state for the record that I have no intention of hurting her. I, too, am very much in favor of Hermione smiling."
"Right." The tension eased from his posture as Harry leaned his torso back against the chair once more. "It just needed to be said."
"Understood. After all, if our positions were reversed, I'd be saying the same thing to you." Draco smirked. "Of course, I'd have been a bit more descriptive about the types of hexes I'd use, and the unpleasant effects you would experience; makes the threat a little more menacing."
Harry rolled his eyes. "Naturally you would, given your pathological need to boast, Ferret. I, on the other hand, don't need to embellish my threats since my reputation precedes me."
The blond wizard snorted and shook his head, but his heart wasn't into engaging in a verbal pissing contest at the moment. A thought had been niggling at him for several weeks now, cautioning him to tread carefully with this whatever-it-was he had going on with Hermione.
Noting the lack of expected retort, Harry glanced at him questioningly, eyebrow raised.
Draco took a deep breath. "She loved him, didn't she? Weasley?" he asked Harry quietly.
All traces of humor left Harry's face at the abrupt change in subject. "Yes, she did," he answered softly.
Draco nodded. After a moment he added, "Has she ever gotten over, you know… everything?"
Harry had to blink hard several times to clear the vision of ghastly green spell-light and flaming red hair and empty blue eyes… He spread his hands and shrugged. "Honestly? Have any of us?"
Silence stretched uncomfortably between the two men before Draco finally turned to eye Harry. "Don't you think it's time we did, Potter? Get over it, I mean."
The dark haired man gave an ironic snort. "I wish it was that easy, mate."
"Here's to the end of that bloody class!" Draco raised his coffee cup high in a dramatic toast.
"Oh, come on, now, Draco. It wasn't all that bad."
He set his cup in the saucer with a loud clunk. "Unbelievable. You are actually going to miss it, aren't you?"
Hermione huffed. "You have to admit that some of the information was interesting and informative. Not that I'd want to study psychology as much as Harry has, but--"
Draco snorted. "Theonly thing that I will admit, the only good thing I can say about that class is; at least I could look forward to spending some time with you afterward."
She already had opened her mouth to retort when his words sunk in. Her cheeks pinked, and she looked down at her half-eaten slice of chocolate silk pie. "Yeah, that was my favorite part, too."
He grinned and picked up his coffee cup again. "A toast then! Come on, take up your cup!" He gestured impatiently at her coffee until she complied. "To Anger Management Class!"
She clinked her cup carefully against his. "Hear, hear. If it wasn't for Anger Management Class, we would still be…" She faltered as she searched for the right words.
"Enemies?" he supplied softly.
Her eyes were thoughtful. "Not enemies. Just, not friends."
"Are we friends, then, Hermione?" he asked lightly as a smile played at the corners of his mouth.
"Crazy, isn't it? And the world hasn't even fallen off its axis!" She leaned forward, all mischief and good humor. "In fact," she whispered conspiratorially, "I think we may be more-than-friends!"
Draco leaned forward, too, and touched her cheek. "I want to be more-than-friends," he told her softly. "I want to keep seeing you, you know."
"That's nice to know." She smiled. "Besides, you owe me a date."
Draco held the door to the coffee shop open and gently touched the small of Hermione's back with the other hand as she waved goodbye to Flo, the waitress. Outside, he took her hand in his and began to walk. He felt the tug on his arm as she remained still and turned back. "Is everything all right?"
She was glancing around, a slightly wistful look gracing her face. "I'm reluctant for this night to end. Isn't that silly? It almost feels like, oh, I don't know… like the end of something big. Like leaving school for summer holidays. Does that make any sense?"
He took her hand and tucked it into the crook of his arm, guiding her away from the coffee shop. "It makes complete sense. You put into words exactly what I am feeling." He chuckled. "Legilimency without eye contact is quite a skill to have, you know."
Hermione had a strange feeling of déjà vu. "What?"
"You said that to me."
Her brows drew together. "I did? When?"
"On the first day of that class. It was the first thing you said to me, actually."
Her mouth dropped open slightly. "And you remember that?" She felt her pulse pick up.
He stopped walking and turned her to face him. "Of course I do." He smirked. "I remember because of the look on your face when you turned around and realized it was me." He mimed an expression of a mouth open in astonishment.
"I did not look like that!" Hermione's indignant protest was edged with laughter.
"Well of course you didn't look like this. My features are much too gorgeous to be able to do justice to the gaping fish-out-of-water look I was going for."
Hermione playfully slapped his upper arm. "Git! I don't know why I put up with you."
Draco pulled her into a loose embrace. "For the pie and company, of course."
"Hmmm. That must be it."
He tucked his arm around her waist and began walking again. "Do you fancy a stroll? I'm not ready to call it a night."
She wound her arm around him and leaned slightly inward. "That sounds lovely."
They moved down Eatern Alley and back onto Diagon Alley, but instead of turning to go toward the Leaky Cauldron Draco pointed them in the other direction, and they meandered comfortably, arm in arm. They passed Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but the windows were dark; they'd already closed for the night.
Hermione noted, "I'd expect the boys to be open later, even if it isn't Friday or Saturday."
Draco stepped out into the street and circled around noting that, in fact, most of the shops had either closed, or were in the process. Only the restaurants and cafes were still open. "They certainly roll up the sidewalks early on weeknights," he agreed. "But I don't mind." He tugged her to him and draped his arms loosely around her.
Hermione's breath caught at the sparkle in his eyes. He held her gaze captive as he bent his head and pressed his lips to hers. She had to admit that she'd been looking forward to this all evening, but she hadn't quite expected such a public display of affection. However, the sensation of him snaking his arm around her waist and pulling her flush against him made any debate of whether or not she should engage in such a lack of decorous behavior as snogging in the middle of Diagon Alley simply fly out of her head.
"What are you doing?" she asked breathlessly when he released her mouth, although it was really rather obvious.
"I'm kissing you in the middle of the street," Draco grinned flirtatiously. "But my motives are honorable; it's strictly for research purposes. I want to make sure you have a wide comparison base for your eventual assessment."
Hermione thought back to the previous few weeks and the kisses outside her door, in her living room, in the alley behind the coffee shop… "Well, I must say, Mr. Malfoy, that you are nothing if not thorough."
Draco grinned wider and pulled her in for another kiss. "Tell me, when do you anticipate that you will have enough data, Miss Granger?"
Hermione gave him a sly smile and tilted her head coquettishly. "I couldn't say. I believe in gathering a wealth of information before I make any important decisions."
"So you are nothing if not thorough as well."
He kissed her again. "Mmm… I think thoroughness is my new favorite trait of yours." He turned and pulled her hand. "Come with me."
She laughed. "Where are we going now?"
He wriggled his eyebrows suggestively. "More research. I've never kissed you in front of Ollivander's before."
"Malfoy! Are you planning to kiss me at every spot between here and my flat?"
The look he gave her was pure admiration. "Merlin, but that is an absolutely brilliant idea!" He smiled wickedly as he led her across the street.
"Malfoy, what are we doing here?" Hermione looked around, astonished. She hadn't really minded when Draco had insisted on side-along Apparition; he'd looked smug and mischievous when he'd been adamant about needing the element of surprise. In spite of this, she hadn't expected him to bring her here again.
Draco smiled affectionately at the witch on his arm. She had looked quite fetching when she'd opened the door to him at her flat…
"You look smashing," he said without thinking—because she did—and added, "Nice dress." He immediately wanted to smack his head on the doorframe because he was usually much more suave and eloquent, but something about the dark-red dress (that clung to her like a heroine in a half-Sickle romance novel clung to her brawny lover) had effectively disengaged the connection of his higher cognitive functions to his mouth.
She looked down at her frock, obviously pleased with his reaction, and smoothed the skirt. "Thanks." She grinned up at him. "I picked this one for the color. I figure if any marinara sauce ends up on me tonight, it won't show very much."
He laughed. Thankfully, the Malfoy charm he'd inherited kicked in at that moment and he stepped into her flat, moving close to her. Seizing her hand, he brought it to his lips. "You are the picture of magnificence, Hermione," he told her huskily. "That color becomes you." Pink brushed her cheeks and he leaned in to capture her lips in a kiss--
He shook the memory loose from his head. "We are here to collect on a debt." Ignoring her quizzical look at his cryptic explanation, he placed his hand lightly on the small of her back and guided her into La Maison d'Enchantement.
Blaise Zabini's eyes widened when he saw the lovely creature on Draco's arm. His blond friend caught his attention, and at the sardonic lift of an eyebrow, Blaise schooled his face to his usual charming smile and strode forward. What did you expect; the same swotty eleven-year-old, but taller?
"Ah, Blaise," Draco acknowledged him, "I believe you remember Hermione Granger?"
"Of course I do," Blaise responded smoothly. He took her hand and brought her knuckles to his lips. "Miss Granger, you take my breath away. What are you doing with my idiot sod of a friend? Come away with me, my dear. I'll make sure you have the time of your life." His eyes sparkled in his striking dark face.
"Zabini?" Hermione was nonplussed. Her eyes darted back and forth between the two men. Draco was scowling at the other's impertinence; Blaise waggled his eyebrows and smirked in the manner of a man who knew he was irresistible. "This isn't just a coincidence, is it?" she asked dryly.
Draco pointedly removed Hermione's hand from Blaise's grasp, retaining it in his own. "No, it isn't. Blaise has something to tell you, Hermione." He frowned at his friend and cocked his head. "And try to do it without any inappropriate propositions, Zabini," he growled.
Thoroughly confused now, Hermione turned wide eyes on the tall former Slytherin. He'd always been on the quiet side in school. Who knew he was such an outrageous flirt?
"Ah, yes. That." Zabini's winning smile was tipped with a bit of chagrin. He took a deep breath. "Well you see, Hermione—may I call you Hermione?—when my good mate here," he gestured to the tall blond, "asked me to do him the favor of securing reservations for the two of you here about a month ago—I have some influence here, you see; I am a silent-partner in this venture—well, I was so flabbergasted that he would show some common sense and finally ask out a woman of such obvious class and--"
Draco cleared his throat warningly. "Without defaming my character, either, if you don't mind."
Blaise glanced at him out of the corners of his eyes. "The point is, Hermione, that I mixed up my dates and made it for the following Saturday instead." He placed his hand over his heart. "Please accept my deepest apologies as I feel quite responsible for your ruined date with Draco."
"The date wasn't ruined," Hermione corrected him.
He took her hand from Draco's and tugged her a few steps away from his friend before throwing his arm around her shoulders in a confidential manner. "You're a good sport, Hermione." He began walking her toward the maitre d'. "I just didn't want you to think that Draco himself had cocked this up. He really was in rather a dither about the evening and very concerned that you might change your mind about seeing him again. I'm glad you took pity on the poor bastard and gave him another chance--"
"All right, that is quite enough out of you!" Draco caught up to him and pulled his date away. Hermione was curious to note he had pink spots high up on his cheeks.
Since they had reached the reception desk, Blaise merely turned to the man standing stiffly at attention. It was the same man who had turned them away a few weeks ago. "Gaston, these are my guests I made arrangements for tonight. Please see to it that my sins are atoned for, and that they have nothing less than a stellar experience this evening."
"Of course, sir," the stuffy man replied and turned to the couple. "If you will follow me, monsieur, mademoiselle…"
Blaise clapped a hand on Draco's shoulder, then took Hermione's hand for one more kiss. "Right, then! My work here is done. Miss Granger, to say it has been a pleasure would be a gross understatement. Have a brilliant evening!"
"Thanks, mate," Draco said gruffly, before tucking Hermione's hand in the crook of his arm as he turned to follow the maitre d'.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't, you two!" Blaise's teasing voice followed their backs as they entered the restaurant. Draco looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes at his laughing chum.
"Is he always like that?" Hermione asked as Draco pulled out her seat for her.
"Like what: all charm and smarm, trying to make the ladies swoon?" Hermione nodded, an amused smile on her face. "Only when he's trying to impress," Draco noted wryly.
"Why would Blaise Zabini be trying to impress me?" Hermione wrinkled her brow in puzzlement. "And what was he talking about, you being so upset about that evening? I thought we've worked all that out."
Draco sat and accepted the menu and wine list from Gaston before dismissing the man with a nod. The smile he gave her was brushed with a hint of mischief. "It's possible that I might have exaggerated a bit when describing how the night had turned into a fiasco. Just to make sure he felt the appropriate amount of guilt for bollixing up my romantic plans."
Hermione chuckled. "Ah, right."
"And… it is also possible that I may have left out a few key details about how the date did turn out in the end." He lifted his eyebrows and eyed her quite rakishly.
Hermione leaned forward, placed each of her elbows on the table, set her chin on her interlaced fingers, and smirked coyly. "So, you didn't mention the snogging in the kitchen?"
Draco pretended to think. "No… It is highly likely that is one of the key details I left out."
"You're incorrigible!" she laughed.
Draco took one of her hands and brought it to his lips. "No, my dear, I think the word you are looking for is irresistible."
He was still basking in the warmth of Hermione's laughter when the waiter came to take the wine order.
At the light knock on her door, Hermione looked up from the file on her desk. "Oh Merlin, Draco, I completely lost track of time! It's been crazy here today--"
"No worries," the blond told her as he entered her office. "I've come to propose a change in plans," he held up a brown paper sack, "and I've already acquired dessert to sweeten the deal." He sat in a chair with a sigh. "It was hopping at the DMLE today, too. I spent the day knee-deep in the remains of both Beasts and Beings--"
"Urgh. Do I want to know?"
"No, you don't. But needless to say, I'm knackered, and you don't look to be faring much better, so I propose we take this," he lifted the bag, "and go pick up some take-away from Dimitri's before heading to your place to eat and collapse."
Hermione smiled at him. "You are brilliant! I could just fall at your feet and worship you right now."
A cocky half-smirk crossed his face. "Even exhausted, I have that effect on women."
She raised an eyebrow. "No, it's the dessert in the bag that makes me react that way. Is it truffles? Or cheesecake?"
Draco feigned a pout. "After that remark, I'm not telling, you cruel witch." He watched as Hermione laughed and straightened up her desk. "Anyway, I didn't want to give up on tonight completely because, well…"
"Because it is our night, of course." She looked at him fondly. "This is a perfect solution. Thank you."
They had polished off the souvlaki and the spanakopita, and Hermione was putting away what was left of the moussaka when she suggested that Draco take the tiny cheesecake he'd brought and some plates to the coffee table in the living room. "Let's eat pudding on the couch, yeah? I'll be out in a moment."
Draco stood and studied the couch and coffee table. He wasn't sure how he felt about having dessert in the living room. Well, that wasn't exactly right; he had absolutely no problem with the concept of eating in the living room. He wasn't some kind of eating must be done at a dining table purist or anything. It was something else that was bothering him…
Up until tonight, their weeknight forays had always culminated with arriving at her flat. At first, there had been goodnight kisses at her door, until the one time she'd invited him to step in. Then the end-of-the-evening snog had taken place in the living room, standing up. In fact, every kiss so far had been in the standing position; only the locations had varied. Standing provided a certain level of…safety. The kisses could get heated—and they often did progress to a deeper level of passion, especially in the last two weeks—but there was only so far two people could progress standing up.
Oh sure, he knew that wasn't strictly true; two willing participants could achieve a whole lot of intimacy while upright against a wall. But he wasn't willing to go that far with Hermione—not yet. He'd been doing some thinking lately about this relationship with her and what made it different from the fiascos in the past, and it was remembering something that Potter had said—a long time ago, long before the Anger Management Class and being reacquainted with Hermione—that had given him an epiphany.
He couldn't remember what they'd been talking about, or why Harry would tell him a Muggle saying, of all things, but Potter had said something about the definition of insanity was doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. And sometime in the last two months, Draco had come to realize that was exactly what he'd been doing with his romantic life.
This time, it would be different. There would be no jumping into the sack after two or three (or sometimes only one) dates. This time he was going to take it slow, and set some boundaries for his behavior (and his libido would just have to deal with it, damn it!). And boundary number one had been when we get to Granger's flat, the evening is over, and the kissing is done standing up.
Unfortunately, tonight had started at the flat. And in a few moments, the two of them would be sitting on the couch, and Draco certainly had every intention of kissing Hermione when she was finished with dessert, and maybe even before she was done. Somehow, he didn't think either of them, as tired as they both were, would want to stand back up for a snog. So it was time to figure out the next boundary before—
Draco was so startled, he nearly dropped the cheesecake. "What?"
Hermione cocked an amused eyebrow at him. "You were standing so still, I just assumed you'd been hit with a petrificus totalus." Her smile was impish. "What could you possibly have been so deep in thought about?"
He quickly placed the confection on the table, took her by the shoulders, and pulled her toward him. "Kissing you," he answered, before putting actions to words. He traced a path from her mouth, along her jaw and finally to her ear before whispering, "Kissing you is far better than any dessert for afters."
She laughed. "Oh no. You are not going to distract me from that lovely looking cheesecake, mister!" She pushed him down to sit on the couch and plopped down next to him before cutting two slices and putting them on the plates. She put a cooling charm on the remainder before handing him his portion.
Draco watched as Hermione savored her first bite. Her eyes were closed, and a blissful expression had taken over her face. The sight made his pulse rate increase. It didn't help any when she gave a little moan and whispered, "Oh, Draco, this is heavenly!"
Draco took the plate from her. "Hermione," he said, mock-seriously, "I'm growing concerned that our relationship has become unhealthily based on the consumption of pie."
She grabbed the plate back. "Not possible," she countered. "Besides, this is cheesecake, not pie."
"It has crust, and a filling; suspiciously pie-like if you ask me. And my point is: would you be reclining there on your couch looking so wanton and decadent if I hadn't brought dessert?" Flirtation caressed his voice.
She placed the plate on the coffee table, and leaned forward, her eyes sparking with mirth, and challenge. "So you are suggesting that pie is the only thing that might put a look of—what did you call it—wanton decadence on my face," she said, a definite purr caressing her words. "Would you care to test that theory, Malfoy?"
His expression was positively rakish. "Well, now that you mention it… yes. Yes I would." He leaned forward, cupped her jaw in his hand, and carefully tugged her mouth to his.
Hermione closed her eyes and gave herself over to the myriad of sensations she'd come to associate with snogging Draco. Her tummy flip-flopped, but not unpleasantly, her heart hammered a distinctive flamenco rhythm, and her lips tingled as she pressed herself closer and opened her mouth slightly. An intoxicating tension began to permeate every cell in her body as he pulled her lower lip between his and sucked gently, and she gave a delicate moan of approval.
The analytical and rational portion of her mind was, of course, rationally analyzing the proceedings. It occurred to her that with each man she had dated, she had been craving this exact feeling; being swept up in awareness of every inch of her skin and how the touch of another affected her. In the past, she'd only experienced it at the peak of intimacy, and yet here she was now with her one-time nemesis and he'd put her in this state merely by kissing her!
"Merlin, Draco," she gasped, "your kisses are better than sex!"
Draco's brain wasn't exactly sure how to respond to such a comment, although the rest of his body had a few ideas. He leaned back and took her with him as he moved to a supine position on the couch. His hand traveled down her spine to the curve at the top of her arse as the other slipped into her hair to hold her head as he plundered her delicious mouth. She propped on her elbows and reciprocated enthusiastically.
"Damn, Hermione, you need to be careful when you say things like that," he panted when she finally lifted her mouth from his. "I thought my heart was going to stop for a moment!" A huge smile bisected his face.
She blushed and breathed quickly. "I don't know what came over me… just saying what was going through my head at the moment."
He gently touched a finger to her lips. "Don't apologize. It's a compliment of the highest order to say I can make Miss Rational Hermione Granger go completely stream-of-consciousness." He chuckled as she giggled, and shifted her over slightly so her head rested on his shoulder. "And for what it's worth, I rather like kissing you, too." He stroked his hand from her shoulder down her arm and back.
"Mmmm," she responded as she snuggled in closer.
He repeated the motion over and over while he enjoyed the scent of her shampoo and the warmth of her body against his. The weariness of earlier that evening began to creep over him, and he felt his eyes droop. He took a deep breath in, and slowly let it out through his nose.
Hermione yawned. "I'm not sure it was such a good idea to get me into a recumbent position, Draco."
He laughed lazily. "I don't think a girl has ever said that to me before in this kind of a situation." He felt her shoulders shake as she chortled against him. "I should probably go…" he said regretfully.
She squeezed him slightly. "In a few minutes," she whispered.
"Okay." He let his eyes close.
A persistent, annoying, buzzing sound intruded on a rather pleasant dream that dissolved even as he tried to keep hold of it. Draco emerged into consciousness with the nasty feeling that he'd slept wrong; he had a sharp crick in his neck. He opened his eyes to early morning light and a riot of curls covering the side of his face and his shoulder.
"Hermione," he said softly, "wake up."
Hermione lifted her head dazedly. "What? Where are--"
"We fell asleep on your couch." He tried to move, but found that one of his arms had gone numb. "What is that awful sound, anyway?"
"Oh no! My alarm clock! Draco, I have to go to work!" She sat upright and looked around wildly before noting the clock on the mantel. She breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness, I still have time."
He sat up and indicated the cheesecake still under the cooling charm. "Do you have time for breakfast?"
She made a moue of disapproval, and the side of her face was lined with the pattern of the wrinkles from Draco's shirt. "That is not an appropriate breakfast!"
"C'mon, Granger. After keeping me from my comfortable bed and a good night's sleep, the least you could do is indulge me." He split the remainder of the cheesecake and put it on the plates from the night before.
She smacked his shoulder lightly. "Git! I didn't hear you complaining." She feigned indignation, but accepted the plate from him.
"Besides, there is nothing wrong with a little pie for breakfast."
"Cheesecake is not pie," she insisted.
He grinned winningly. "We are just going to have to agree to disagree on this point."
"Fine." She rolled her eyes, but couldn't help her smile. "I can't believe we didn't wake up."
"We were both pretty knackered," he noted. He chewed thoughtfully for a moment. "I'm not going to get hexed by Potter or anything because of this, am I?"
She glanced at him from the corners of her eyes. "For spending the night on my couch? It's not anything that he hasn't done before."
Draco's eyes widened. "With you draped all over him?"
She smirked. "Well, no. It was more platonic than that."
"That's a relief." He paused, mid-bite. "Still, though, you aren't going to tell him about this, are you?"
Her smirk grew. "Well, it's going to take a lot to keep me quiet. After all, I'm sure Harry would love to tease you about how you had a willing woman draped all over you, as you so eloquently put it, and all you could do was fall asleep…"
He shoved a forkful of cheesecake in her mouth. "Shut it," he advised, sounding disgruntled. Then he did a double take and looked sharply at her. "Hang on… did you say 'willing'?"
Last A/N: Yes, yes, I know it's been 10 months since I updated! I am so sorry, especially if you thought the fic was abandoned. I solemnly swear I will finish this story…someday. Thank you to all who voted for this story at Round 1 of the Dramione Awards on LJ.
Review and let me know that you are still out there, faithful readers! (Hugs my readers.)