Disclaimer: The following is based on actual events. Only the names, locations, and events have been changed. And completely thieved from Jo Rowling. So I called people to call her people and her people's people told my people's people that I had her informal permission to borrow them. And I totally put hints of RHPS and I stole a name from Hedwig and the Angry Inch, can you find them? Please forgive any blatant thievery.

Warnings: EWE. Excessively AU, sort of when it came to DH, I picked and chose what worked with my story. This story is sometimes funny, sometimes angsty, and sometimes heartwarming/wrenching. But always amusing. Sexy sex, sex, sex. Here it goes into your brain.

Plan C

They say that relationships are like sand, if it is held with an open palm, an open mind, then it will stay. Undeviatingly. Steady. But the tighter the grasp becomes the more it slips through the fingers.

Hermione Granger had slipped through Draco Malfoy's fingers.

As the cold November rain fell to the earth, he stood at the cottage window and pondered one question. Why?

It had been two weeks since he'd seen her. No word on why she left that early morning or where she had been since. Their friends simply reassured him that, "She's fine."

A lot had transubstantiated in a fortnight. For example, Harry and Ginny were expecting. Pansy had found a fantastic bloke who she was positively la-ti-dah over, only she refused to reveal his name or bring him around. Weasley was getting laid on the regular now, and he was quick to tell everyone. Even Blaise seemed to have found that special someone and had given up his debauchery for the time being. Draco had changed too. He was blatant in his tristesse. It was very apparent that he missed Hermione. That he was heartbroken and lonely.

The only thing that didn't change was the Chesterfield. It still remained in the center of the sitting room, on the Turkish rug facing the fireplace with the coffee table in between. It still objected to him sleeping on it, still moaned and groaned until he rose for the day. And when he searched the cushions, he found that it still kept loose coins and random socks within its vaults. Draco decided it was a fantastic hiding place.

He sighed resignedly and moved away from the window to the Carlton House Desk and picked up the invitation to Seamus Finnegan's party at the pub he and his mum run. Draco had promised Weasley and Harry that he would attend. After all, he hadn't been out since the gala in Milan and if his friends didn't drop by, he would never see them.

He wondered if Hermione would be at the party. He hoped she would. It made sense. The rest of the Sensational Septet would be, why not her?

Dropping the parchment, he headed for the shower. He would go to see her. Just once more.

Later, after he finished his grooming, he apparated to Harry and Ginny's flat. Ginny offered him a butterbeer and he made himself comfortable on Harry's sofa, while Ginny finished primping herself. Weasley arrived and they engaged in a game of chess.

Ron was uncharacteristically silent, as was Harry. The mood was somber. Draco knew there was a cumbersome secret and the tension built upon it. He could only wait for one of them to tell him.

It was Ron. "I think you should know that Hermione is bringing a date."

Draco raised an eyebrow and gulped. "That's fine." He glanced at Harry's concerned visage. "I'm fine."

"Just sayin' mate." Ron shrugged and gave a lopsided grin. "I'm glad you are going though."

"Yeah." But Draco was wondering if he could handle that she had moved on. That she was experiencing a new life without him. He had heard that the moon didn't really orbit the earth. As it caused the ocean tides, the tides, in turn, gave a gravitational torque that pushed the moon off its course. So it was coiling around the Earth and in tens of thousands of millions of years it would spiral away, only to be swallowed by the vast Galaxy. Hermione was his moon. Inadvertently they had pushed away from each other.

Ginny announced that she was ready to leave and saved him from such depressing thoughts.

Draco knew it wouldn't be easy. He prepared himself for it. But to witness the wonderment that was Hermione was supposed to be worth it.

He knew her, she would bring along some transitional peon that was a complete bore that Draco and Blaise would undoubtedly ridicule.

He could take that. What he couldn't take was her arriving late, looking incredibly beautiful in that simple way that only she could possess on the arm of the one bloke Draco couldn't stand the sight of.

Zacharias Smith.

Despite the devastating fury and resentment that roared in his ribcage, he managed a polite smile when the couple came past to greet the others.

However it did not rescind his need to size Smith up warily, distrustfully.

Harry and Ginny moved off with Hermione and Smith to mingle, but Draco was grateful that Blaise stood on his right and Pansy and Weasley on his left.

"Where's your girl, Blaise?" Draco inquired blandly.

"I'm not sure. What time did your mum say she was going to arrive?" Blaise returned and sipped from his tumbler.

"She would have been here already but she had to pick your mum up from the street corner." A tiny smirk corner Draco's mouth, but his eyes never left Hermione. Gods she looked amazing. A simple grey cotton wrap dress and her unruly curls falling unhindered about her shoulders and down her back. Her minimal make-up only enhanced a few features and didn't overpower them. This was his Hermione. As he always wanted her to be. Except not on the arm of a starved orangutan. He glanced to his left and Weasley was whispering something to Pansy. She giggled and poked him softly in the side.

Draco goggled, his jaw suddenly loose on the hinges. "You two are shagging!"

Pansy's face turned bright pink, but Weasley merely shrugged, "Not this moment, mate, but I plan on banging her into my floorboards later."

Pansy slapped Ron playfully in the stomach, and he smiled at her adoringly as he rested his arm over her shoulders, and pressed a kiss to her hairline.

Draco asked Blaise if he was aware of the relationship and Blaise nodded, "I'm just grateful I'm not ordered to keep my mouth shut anymore."

Draco glanced back to newly established couple and saw Ron pull Pansy close and lay loud, open mouth kisses on her cheeks, making her giggle ridiculously.

A look of confusion and slight repugnance crossed Draco's face. "It's weird!"

"I know. And loud. Always loud." Blaise sucked at the straw of his drink and scanned the crowd, dutifully ignoring the lecherous couple.

Draco chortled. "Listen, a bloke drinking fire whiskey from a straw is kind of ponce-y."

"I knew you'd like it." Blaise ignored Draco's advice and only smirked.

In the midst of realizing that Pansy and Ron was a couple, and putting down Blaise's drinking technique, Draco had lost sight of Hermione.

His jealousy had quelled, but compunction reared its head, and Draco wished he had paid more attention to her. Told her she was lovely. That he missed her.

"I hate Smith," Blaise said randomly.

Draco's head snapped up and he followed Blaise's line of sight.

There they were, chatting gaily with the Potters and Seamus.

Draco sneered. "Yeah, he's a foul git."

"He's got pilfering hands." Blaise set his drink down and tapped Draco, "Want another?"

"I'm fine," he said, but he really wasn't. Draco stood and his silvery gaze was fixed on Zacharias Smith's hovering hand, only inches from the subtle curve of Hermione's hip.

Draco's jaw tightened, his teeth gnashing together and angry magic prickled at his palm causing his glass tumbler to crack, preparing to shatter. The disgusted sneer on his face dared Smith to touch her.

As if Smith sensed Draco's thoughts, he glanced up at Draco, smiled wryly, and smoothed his hand over Hermione's hip, skimming delicately above her bum until his fingertips came to rest at the small of her back.

It was intimate and possessive.

Blood red murder blurred Draco's vision and he blindly slammed his tumbler on the bartop, his muscles were stiff with hatred as he marched across the room.

He had every intention on introducing Smith to his fist, but instead, he yanked Smith's arm off Hermione, twisted her around and threw her over his shoulders.

She immediately began to protest fervently, pummeling his back with her tiny fists and kicking her stilettos in a hectic attempt to make contact with his stomach. Luckily she was unsuccessful.

"Put me down! You sociopath!" she screeched.

But he silently refused, his only purpose was to take her back to the cottage and make her his again. Over and over until she never wanted anyone else forever.

Pushing her insane curls out of her face with her for arm, Hermione tried to calm her nerves. A thrill clutched at her heart, only to duel with the fierce anger pounding at her stomach. So Plan C worked. Big Deal. If she knew this was going to be the outcome, she might have spared herself the abuse.

Not only did she have to tolerate Zacharias' greasy flirtations, but now she was being carried away, quite unceremoniously, without an explanation at all. Uncouth, is what it was, and galloping Godric, his effing shoulder was sharp against her abdomen.

She had to get out of this. He was soundless and seething, ignoring her pleas and frustrating her more. But then she noticed her gypsy handbag was flapping against his arse, still attached to her person.

She grinned. Her wand was in her bag.

Ceasing her resistance, she slowly pulled the bag up by the straps and plunged her hand into it until she felt the cool vine wood of her magic conductor. She pulled it from the bag, pointed it at his feet and yelled, "Transducio!"

Immediately his body lurched forward, his grip weakened considerably causing him to nearly drop her. Hermione took that opportunity and struggled over his shoulder, sliding down his torso until her feet found purchase on the wet cobblestone pavement.

"My feet! Sweet bearded mermaid! I can't move my feet!" He raged, using his hands to yank at his unmoving appendages. "It's as if I'm glued to the spot!" Draco said exasperatedly, his eyebrows were lifted in a furious scowl.

"Yes, that was very much the intention of the maneuver." Hermione said as she fondly examined her wand, "One does try so hard in life on an intellectual slash conversational level, but sometimes it's just not possible."

"Release me, Granger." He growled threateningly.

"No. What is your purpose of manhandling me?" She put her fist on her hip.

"Manhandle? You are deluded. I was not manhandling you. That ass hat Smith was pawing at you like a burrowing Niffler."

"Draco…" Her voice was fat full of warning.

"Hermione…," he sang back.

"Honestly, I don't understand you! You want nothing to do with me, but the minute I began to enjoy myself, you show interest." Her lips pursed as she sniffed with displeasure. "Extreme interest at that."

"Yeah, well—"

"I'm not your girlfriend anymore." Her eyebrows rose emphatically

"May I remind you that you," he threw out his forefinger at her, directing the blame appropriately because he'd be damned if he was going to accept the role of the bad guy when it was only her and him speaking, "demoted yourself, I had merely accepted your wishes."

"Because you didn't love me." She spat deprecatingly.

"How do you know?"

"Because you don't love anything!" She screeched, throwing her hands in the air.

"Oi!" he scoffed, considerably affronted, "That is not true!"

"Really? Prove me wrong. Name something you love." She folded her arms over her chest and her visage became incredibly serious and smug.

He didn't even need a moment to think, "I love the Chesterfield."

Hermione's jaw dropped in disbelief, "It's just a sofa."

"I. Love. It." He bit out through clenched teeth, enhancing his point by poking his thumb roughly into his sternum with each word. "It's unique and comfortable and we have loads in common. For example, the Chesterfield and I both enjoy farting."

She rolled her eyes, because she couldn't see his point, and as far as she was concerned his entire diatribe was silly and senseless.

"If the Chesterfield wanted new throw pillows, I'd buy them. If it needed a new view, I'd move it. Whatever it wanted I would give it. I want it to be a mountain for my children to conquer and to comfort them when they are restful. And when it's careworn and lumpy I will cherish it still for all the memories it gave me."

He was absolutely off his rocker. "What!?" She yelled in her confusion, she really did not see what the Chesterfield had to do with their relationship, or lack there of. It was almost as if he was comparing his outrageous affection for the furniture to that of another human being. Suddenly comprehension dawned on her, "Oh," she whispered, blinking rapidly in astonishment. "You love the Chesterfield."


"Y—you love me!" A smile broke her face and her brown eyes lit up until they were sparkling with tears.

"I do."

Tingly happiness surged her nerves, making her warm and mindless, and before she could control herself she flew to him, throwing herself into his arms.

Draco wobbled dangerously, but managed to steady himself as he wrapped his arms tightly around her body. All he cared about in that moment was swallowing her into himself again.

"I love the Carlton House desk." She murmured before she crushed her mouth to his.

"I know." He smiled against her mouth.

She nuzzled his nose and pressed her forehead against his brow, "Let's go to the cottage and make some more things to love."

"Sure thing my pretty apple, but first unglue my feet."

She giggled and apologized before waving her wand at his shoes.

Then they Disapparated to the quaint cottage where they lived happily ever after.

Draco, Hermione, and the Oxford Chesterfield.


I'd like to thank my beta's: moxicrimefightr, floorcoaster, and spadul. Each of you is amazing, wacky and everything a narcissistic writer such as me could wish for. I am totally and completely the luckiest kid ever because I have the most brilliant team to help me achieve this goal. Thank you for indulging me. And to all the readers, reviewers and those who alerted and/or favorited this story, you will never know the depths of my gratitude! I appreciate each and every one of you. You feed my soul and my cup runneth over.