She told Morty about the Ball that night, and asked if possibly he could cover the last hour of the evening so she could get home and get ready.

"Absolutely not." He frowned at her. "You will leave at noon today, young lady."

She blinked at him. "I'm sorry?"

"The Valentine's Ball is a huge event! I don't want you doddering around a bookshop when you should be getting ready!"

She gaped at him. "I... Well, I don't need that much time. I'd hate to inconvenience you—"

"And don't worry about tomorrow." He waved the air, beginning up the stairs to his flat. "You'll need to recuperate!"

"What? No, Morty. I'll be in tomorrow!"

"Don't even think of it!" he yelled back at her.

She pouted. "Fine! But I'll be in by noon!"

The door slammed to his apartment.

She frowned.

When he forced her out of the store at twelve that day, Hermione went home and showered, preparing for Daphne and Tracey to come over.

She'd owled them as she left work the day before, asking if she could pay them to fix her up for the Ball.

It was odd, having the two of them over without Pansy. Pansy was always the one chatting and gossiping about old friends, so when Tracey played music from her wand, Hermione resolved to remain quiet for the afternoon.

"Do we want it up or down tonight?" Tracey asked, breaking the silence.

"Er..." Hermione stammered. The dress was similar to the New Year's Gala white dress. Ginny had made her wear her hair down that night, even though the witch styling her suggested up.

"What's your dress like?" Daphne asked, as she mixed some goo together to match her skin tone.

"It's gold. And floor length."

"Will you go put it on?" Tracey asked with wide eyes. Daphne looked like she more wanted to make sure she was matching her makeup tones, but Tracey looked quite giddy.

"Er... yes..."

Hermione went to her room and slid into the gold dress. She hadn't tried it on yet. The silk was cold against her skin, and it was cut very much like the white dress. She was planning on transfiguring the color of her New Year's shoes to gold so she could wear them with this dress too.

She came out of her room. Tracey gasped. Daphne appeared over her shoulder and sent her a very Slytherin smirk.

Hermione stepped into the living area where the light was better. "I'll need to wear a different bra, I know," she said as she turned. The dress was backless just like the white one, but the front was slightly different.

Just as Tracey was about to talk about her hair again, the fireplace roared to life and Ginny's head popped through. Her eyes went wide.

"What the fuck are you wearing!? What is that?!" Her mouth dropped open.

"I – Ginny!" Hermione jumped. "What are you doing?"

"What are you doing? I go out of town for three days and now you're the Queen of England?"

"I'm going to a Valentine's Ball tonight."

Ginny gasped. "With Malfoy?"

Hermione's eyes popped out of her head. Ginny couldn't see Daphne and Tracey from her view of the living room. Hermione had also not gotten a chance to talk with Ginny about much of anything this week.

"With... Malfoy Consulting, yes," Hermione tried. She looked to Daphne and Tracey quickly. Tracey was smirking, heating up a few hair instruments, and Daphne raised a brow at her.

"Merlin's beard, Hermione." Ginny looked her up and down again. "Do you need me to teach you the Contraceptive Charm before you go?"

Ginny wiggled her eyebrows at her. Hermione froze with her mouth open. She heard Tracey snort.

"I...I..." Hermione stammered. "Tracey and Daphne are here, doing my hair and makeup."

Tracey came over to wave. Ginny lifted her brows. "Oh, hello." Like it didn't bother her one bit.

"Alright, did you need something, Ginny?" Hermione felt her face flushing, and knew Daphne would be able to see it as she started applying her makeup.

"I was just popping in to let you know that I'll be home later tonight. Tomorrow's match is rescheduled due to weather," Ginny said. "But it looks like you won't be home!"

"Oh, alright. I'll see you when I get back then," Hermione said, aching to take off the dress.

"Have fun! Don't do anything I wouldn't do." Ginny winked at her, and disappeared.

Hermione closed her eyes. When she opened them, Tracey was looking over at her, hiding a smile.

"So. Up or down?"

"Er... Would up be best? Or is down alright?"

Hermione could hear a voice against her ear, whispering Never do this as he ripped her ponytail out. She looked up at Tracey, and it was like Tracey heard it too.

She smirked. "Let's do a little bit of both."

Hermione changed out of the gold dress, returned to the chair in the living room in her bathrobe, and let the girls continue. Daphne started applying her concealer, and Hermione tried to keep her face from flushing.

Daphne pulled back, looking down at her.

"Granger, are those love-bites?"

Hermione looked up at her, mortified as Daphne stared at her neck.

~*~

She popped through the fireplace at seven o'clock. The hall at the governor's mansion was just as large as Malfoy Manor, but instead of marble and snowflakes, she found warm tapestries and fluttering hearts.

She joined the receiving line, heading toward an entryway with swooping drapes, tied back with vines and finished with low lanterns.

Hermione realized she didn't have an invitation. Or an escort. At the New Year's Gala, she'd been sent an invitation and had even brought it with her, in case Narcissa needed to see it. Now she was just wandering toward a candlelit opening with a group of people, with nothing but the memory of a memo on her desk.

As she approached, she saw there was no list, and no one checking invitations, but she also had no idea who was standing at the entrance, shaking hands. He was a grey-bearded gentleman with kind eyes, and his considerably younger wife hung off his arm like a purse.

"Miss Granger!" the man said. He smiled brightly at her and Hermione decided to smile back.

He shook her hand and introduced her to his wife. The woman shook hands like Madame Michele liked, and Hermione reciprocated.

"I'm honored to be here tonight. Thank you for inviting Malfoy Consulting Group."

"Of course, of course!" He patted his chest with pride. "We are so excited to see what young Mr. Malfoy and yourself achieve."

She nodded politely, noting that he picked out only her and Draco from the whole of Malfoy Consulting.

He continued, "I believe Mr. Malfoy is already inside. Please enjoy yourself tonight, Miss Granger."

She smiled and stepped under the canopy of drapes, following the silks toward an entrance. She found herself on the second story of a large ballroom, counting twelve chandeliers lighting the room. Before her, the staircase split, rounding down the two sides to pour into the ballroom.

She was just wondering to herself if the purpose of the two staircases was aesthetic, or if there was a proper staircase to enter from, when Draco appeared at the bottom of the staircase to her right.

And it was decided.

She placed her hand on the railing, letting her other gather the silk material at her hip to keep from tripping, and stepped off the landing. She kept her eyes on him. He wore a white suit and a smirk.

He let his eyes wander down her form once before returning his gaze to her face. She felt a blush running up her neck before a flash went off to her left, and she turned her head to see Skeeter and her photographer set up in the middle of the two staircases.

"Miss Granger! You look stunning!" Skeeter screeched. "Tell me, do you have your eye on someone special this Valentine's Day?"

She stopped on the staircase, and blinked at her. She opened her mouth, make a squeaking sound, and closed it.

She turned back to Draco, still watching her, four stairs away.

How mortifying. Was this a date, or wasn't it?

And it was her decision in that moment?

Draco looked down. She watched him shift backwards, like he was about to step away from the stairs. From her. Step out of the way, and remove himself from the moment.

Hermione turned to Skeeter. "I will refuse to answer that incredibly invasive question, Rita, but if you'd like to photograph me walking away with Draco Malfoy, feel free."

Rita's eyes grew wide and greedy. She saw Bozo lifting the lens quickly, and Hermione turned to find Draco's eyes flashing at her.

She continued descending the last four steps, lifting her hand from the railing and slipping it into Draco's outstretched hand.

His fingers were warm as they slid across her palm, and the camera flashed. He tucked her arm around his, and turned them as she stepped off the last stair, heading away from Skeeter, and it was at that moment that Hermione realized that Draco's white suit was embroidered with gold thread.

She grinned down at her shoes, and Draco steered her to a tray of champagne glasses with strawberries at the bottom. He handed her a glass, and just as he turned to say something to her, a familiar voice caught her ear.

"Miss Hermione Granger!"

She turned and found Professor Slughorn sloshing toward them, his glass of brandy slopping around the edges and his cheeks ruddy.

"Professor!"

She barely had time to take him in before he was pressing a light kiss to her cheek. Oh, my.

"Miss Granger! You are a vision, my dear!" He turned his eyes on Draco. "And my favorite Slytherin – don't tell Mr. Zabini," he whispered.

"I wouldn't dream of it." Draco smirked, and shook his hand.

"I knew it, I said," Slughorn hiccupped. "I knew that I had chosen an excellent bunch for the Slug Club that year! Wildly successful consulting firm containing not one, but three of my students!"

Hermione pressed her lips together, keeping herself from mentioning that Draco had other things on his mind that year...

"Oh!" Slughorn burst. "I want to introduce you to someone, Miss Granger." He started turning away from them, gesturing for them to follow. "She was before your time at Hogwarts, but she would be an excellent contact for you."

They followed, Draco slipping her arm from his elbow, and placing his hand on her lower back.

That was so much worse. The silk was cool against her skin but heated immediately upon contact with him.

She mingled and spoke with Slughorn's friend. Thirty minutes into the evening, Hermione was surprised at how Slughorn had tossed them about the room, introducing them to four people who would all make excellent resources or clients for Malfoy Consulting. Hermione sipped her champagne and found a new respect for Horace Slughorn.

Throughout all the introductions, Draco kept his hand on her back. She couldn't tell which was worse – toward the beginning when he had his palm so low on the curve that she could feel electricity running in all directions every time she moved, or when he'd brought his hand slightly higher when they were speaking to the vampire novelist, letting his thumb brush across the bare skin in a way that could be purely accidental, but made every hair on her body stand up and shake.

"Ah! Mr. Buckworth!" Slughorn's voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "Mr. Buckworth, come meet my friends here."

A broad man about her grandfather's age approached, extending his hand to Slughorn. She felt Draco shift next to her, and she glanced at him quickly to see that he was focused solely on Mr. Buckworth.

"Mr. Buckworth, you know my friend Draco Malfoy, yes?" Slughorn gestured to Draco with his brandy glass. Hermione thought she maybe felt a drop land on her foot.

Buckworth looked to Draco. "Lucius's boy. My, my. You've been making quite a splash!" Buckworth smiled and shook Draco's hand.

At Lucius's mention, Hermione checked in with Draco, waiting for his eye to twitch or for his feathers to ruffle at being called "Lucius's boy." Draco grinned. And shook his hand enthusiastically.

"Thank you Buckworth. My father talks about you very fondly. And you, of course, know Hermione Granger?"

She felt a slight push on her back, and she was stepping forward to shake hands with a friend of Lucius Malfoy. For the second day in a row, the sound of her first name from Draco's lips paused her brain processes.

"I don't know if I've had the pleasure!" Mr. Buckworth's smile was kind, and she appreciated that his eyes didn't rake down her body like so many of the people she'd been introduced to this evening. "Rhett Buckworth, Miss Granger."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Buckworth. Do you know Horace from Hogwarts?"

"Er, yes and no." Mr. Buckworth chuckled and Slughorn giggled into his brandy. "Despite being a terrible student at Hogwarts, I worked with Horace after my time there, working with potions and the like."

"Oh, wonderful," Hermione said.

"Tell me, Mr. Buckworth, do you still keep in touch with Geoffrey Townsend?"

Hermione looked to Draco. He had a glint in his eye that she recognized, but it was so faint that she was sure no one else would see it.

"Geoffrey?" Mr. Buckworth leaned his torso in, like he hadn't heard correctly. "My! I haven't seen Geoffrey in years! Mighty fine potioneer, wasn't he, Horace?"

Slughorn mumbled something into his glass.

"Granger just had a meeting with him last week," Draco said. Hermione blinked at him. Was he not there at dinner as well? Draco looked down at her and gave her the smallest nod that she couldn't dream of interpreting correctly.

"Is that right?" Mr. Buckworth said. "He always loved beating me at Quidditch in school. How is the old fellow?"

Hermione turned to Mr. Buckworth. "He's wonderful. I had a lovely meeting with him." She felt Draco's hand on her back, pressing slightly. She gave it a whirl. "We were discussing my current project, the Werewolf Policy. We're taking it to the Wizengamot next month, trying to get equal rights for employment and education for werewolves. Mr. Townsend was so generous – he pledged a considerable amount to our fundraising goal."

"Oh?" Mr. Buckworth said. And Hermione watched the man's lips twist and his eyes narrow. Had she said something wrong? He continued, "So Geoffrey is still throwing his money around, is he?"

Draco chuckled next to her. Hermione felt like she was missing something. Was she not supposed to bring up the fundraising?

"How much did he pledge?" Mr. Buckworth asked, eyes squinting.

Hermione blinked at him.

"I think just about half of the goal," Draco supplied, looking down at her like he needed confirmation of his facts. The glint was still in his eyes, and she recognized it. She'd seen it before on him. It meant he was winning.

"Of course, he did," Mr. Buckworth muttered. He looked at a spot over Hermione's shoulder, then brought his eyes back to her. "At your next meeting, you tell him that his old pal Rhett matched his donation." He looked to Draco. "And he sent a lovely fruit basket on Monday morning."

What... what just happened.

Draco chuckled, saying something about Mr. Buckworth's generosity and shook his hand. They made some kind of joke about how Draco's favorite fruit was those chocolate-dipped strawberries, and Hermione felt Draco's thumb brush across her skin again. Like praise.

Slughorn pulled Mr. Buckworth's attention with an old story about flobberworms, and Hermione turned to Draco's shoulder.

"I have no idea what just happened," she whispered.

"You just secured your fundraising for your first project, Granger." His voice washed over the top of her head and down her neck.

"I... I didn't do anything, though."

"You were perfect."

He was teaching her, like he'd promised.

She was elated that they had just secured the funding for the Werewolf Project. She was confused at how they had done it, but she felt slightly giddy.

As Slughorn grabbed the attention of a passing gentleman, Draco leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"I need to speak with Horace about something, but this gentleman here is the youngest Hogwarts governor. He's also Muggle-born."

She looked up into his grey eyes, and nodded. This was her opportunity to discuss the Muggle-born Integration Program with someone who could actually support it.

Draco shook the governor's hand, and stepped to the side with Slughorn – hand sliding across her back as he moved away, thumb grazing the skin – as Hermione introduced herself. She watched out of the corner of her eye as Draco asked Slughorn a question, and the older man's eyes opened wide and he nodded erratically. Slughorn escorted Draco away, and Hermione refocused on her discussion with the Hogwarts governor.

Twenty minutes later, as she was saying goodbye to the governor, promising to be in touch, Draco had still not returned. She set her empty champagne glass down on a passing tray and turned to see that the dancing had started in the middle of the ballroom. She edged her way toward a pillar, and searched the room for someone familiar to talk to.

"Merlin, what a sight!"

She turned to see Blaise approaching her, running his eyes over her dress, her hair.

"Eyes up here, Blaise." She pointed at her face.

"An impossible request."

She looked him over. He was wearing a pink suit. She blinked at him, amazed at his nerve.

"Someone's in the Valentine's Day spirit," she said.

He leaned with her against the pillar and said, "Well, I assumed most single women would be in red for the Ball. I wanted to make sure I matched for the pictures."

She grinned. "And how are the prospects? Anyone caught your eye?"

"Besides present company, you mean?" He winked at her. "There's not enough singles here," he whined, looking out over the dancers. "A few here and there, but I don't even have my proper wingman. Even Draco's here with someone."

She felt her blood run cold and the smile drop off her face. She looked at him, searching wildly.

"What?"

Blaise kept his eyes on the crowd. "Some gorgeous model in a gold dress."

Hermione frowned, trying to suck in air. That's why he was in gold accents. To match a different girl in a gold dress. Why would he...? Was he with her now?

She turned to scan the dance floor, looking for gold.

"Granger." Blaise's voice pulled her to look back at him. She pressed her lips together, trying to keep them from trembling. Blaise raised a brow, and smirked at her.

"I meant you."

She blinked at him, as his full lips split into a huge grin. His eyes crinkled. And he snorted.

"Oh..." She felt her cheeks warm. "Oh, no. Er, Draco and I aren't..."

Blaise laughed. "Oh, you're in so much trouble, Granger..."

"No, I mean... What I meant to say was –"

Blaise bent over, hands on his knees. His laugh was booming around them.

"That's not... um..." Hermione stammered.

Blaise stood, wiping the tears from his eyes. "Merlin, I'm glad I clarified. The first girl in a gold dress you ran into would have been Avada'd on the spot!"

Hermione felt how hot her face was and she shook her head at him. "I didn't mean ...."

"Best of luck tonight, Granger." Blaise clasped her shoulder. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do." He winked at her, and left her sputtering.

~*~

Hermione found Draco a bit later, across the room speaking to a wizened and grey man. They were turned in to each other, having what looked like a very serious conversation. Before she had an opportunity to wander that way, she ran into several people that she had met at the New Year's Gala. She spent some time catching up with them.

She was just turning to excuse herself from a particularly boring conversation, when her eyes landed on Viktor Krum, standing three paces from her, waiting to speak with her.

His eyes lit up when she saw him. He smiled and she couldn't help but to smile back.

"Herminny," he said, and she threw her head back and laughed at how things never change.

He reached for her hand, and brought it to his lips. He hadn't aged a day it seemed. His hair was still short, his neck and shoulders still broad, and his eyes were still kind. He wore deep red robes, and when he pulled his lips away from her hand, she could see that his eyes were deep brown, like she remembered.

"Viktor, how are you?" She smiled.

"I am vell." His eyes danced over her face. "You are still beautiful."

She blushed. "You are still playing for Bulgaria, yes? I know a bit more about Quidditch these days because I know so many more Quidditch players!"

"Yes. I play your Ronald Veasley in two veeks." He looked back and forth between her eyes at Ron's mention, then continued. "You are vorking vith Draco Malfoy?"

"Yes," she said. "I am heading up a branch for Non-Wizard Relations."

"And vat does that mean?" He grinned.

"I get to help Magical Creatures and Muggle-borns." She took the plunge. "There's a project I'm working on now that might be of interest to you..." She looked up at him through her lashes and saw he was still with her. "Do you know of the Golden Snidgets?"

Ten minutes of light conversation and Hermione had Viktor eating out of the palm of her hand. He nodded at everything she said, and agreed with every injustice against the little birds. She told him she was thinking of contacting him, to see about some publicity, and he was thrilled at the thought of hearing from her again.

She was about to mention another boring fact about the Golden Snidget population when the string quartet behind her started a new movement. Hermione turned to look, recognizing the tune, and when she looked back, Viktor held out his hand.

"Dance vith me again, Hermyown?"

She nodded, and placed her hand in his. He led her onto the dance floor, joining other couples. They faced each other, and Hermione was so glad she had just gone over this dance with Miss Truesdale.

The French Waltz began to play.

Viktor bowed, keeping his eyes on her.

She smiled at him, and curtseyed back once it was the lady's turn. She thought Miss Truesdale would be quite proud of how deep her curtsey was.

She stepped into Viktor's arms, one hand on his shoulder, the other in his hand, and they waltzed. He pressed her to him as he lifted her, the silk heating against her skin, and she giggled when he set her down.

This was easy. It was so easy to dance with Viktor Krum, like no time had passed. Like there wasn't a war and Cedric Diggory was still alive, and Sirius and Remus and Snape and Fred and Dumbledore. They turned around each other, and then she followed what she remembered, turning right to meet the gentleman two couples away.

And her heart stopped when it was Draco Malfoy. Again. Smirking.

The same dance. The same song. The same partners.

His eyes flashed at her before he bowed, just like he had five years ago. When he straightened, she smiled, chuckling under her breath. She curtseyed as well as she could.

"What are you laughing at, Granger?"

She rose and met his eyes, smiling. "Coincidences."

He held up his right hand. She brought hers to his, but did not touch him, just like she hadn't five years ago. Only now for so many more reasons.

"I don't believe in coincidences," he said. They began the turn around each other.

"Oh, really?" She smirked back at him, thinking if he only knew...

"I'm exactly where I planned to be. Just as I had planned to be here the last time we danced to this song."

She stopped, back where she started. Her pulse buzzing. He couldn't mean...

She watched as he smirked at her, eyes flashing, then turned back to his original partner.

"Herminy?"

She turned, eyes glassy, and saw Viktor reaching for her. She took his hand just as the next movement started.

She couldn't breathe. She couldn't—

She stepped on Viktor's toes and he grunted. She let him lead her, twirling, and she let her eyes search for Draco. Trying to spot him amongst the dancers.

Viktor bowed. Was the dance done? It just began. She bent her knees in a most inappropriate curtsey, and told him she needed a drink and would be right back.

She turned, ignoring the Bulgarian voice asking if she would like him to retrieve it for her, eyes running over the crowd.

She couldn't breathe. She put her hand to her stomach, feeling the gold silk, and turned down a quiet hallway.

For years, she'd dreamed about how fate had brought them together for only a moment at the Yule Ball. She'd thought of the way he'd looked at her that night, wondering what it was he was thinking.

She heard her heels click. And then the snap of dragon leather.

She wasn't ready. She... What did he mean?

She heard the dragon leather faster.

"Granger."

She stopped. She was at the end of the hallway, and he was just behind her.

"I didn't mean to... scare you or..."

She heard the frustrated sound of him pushing his hair back. She wanted to look at him but didn't trust herself.

"When did this start for you? Please, tell me," she whispered.

Silence. And she was terrified. Maybe that's not what he had meant.

"Fourth year."

There was panic in her chest, and joy swirled around it. She turned around, and his face was as terrified as she felt.

"I win." She smirked at him.

He blinked at her, confused.

She closed the gap between them, and his eyes darkened.

"Oh, you stupid bint." He reached for her, and she almost laughed as he kissed her.

She wound her hands up his lapels, behind his neck, and into his hair, pressing her chest into his. His lips moved over hers and his hands slipped across the silk, down and around to grab her.

He walked them towards a door, pressing her against it as he opened it. She tumbled into a small sitting room. She gained her balance as the door closed, and then her back was pressed against it.

He was panting against her face and she heard herself gasping for air. His grey eyes were dancing over her, and she felt his hand tracing her ribs through the silk. She felt his forehead against hers.

She could see a fireplace, chairs and couches.

"Did you know this sitting room was here?" She looked at him suspiciously.

"Granger, you led me down this hall, not the other way around." He leaned in, hovering his mouth close to hers. "But, yes, I've been here before. My mother and I had tea on those chairs just last month."

"I miss your mother."

"Let's talk about her later, shall we?"

She smiled and pressed her lips against his. She still had her hands tangled in his hair, and she took the opportunity to pull her fingers through it. He groaned, and his hands squeezed her backside, and bringing her closer to his hips.

"Tell me what you want." His breath misted over her lips, his hands running along her torso, sliding closer to her chest. One hand grazed her breast and she gasped.

"Everything."

He dropped his head onto her shoulder and groaned.

Then she was being lifted. She gasped, his arm wrapped around her waist and took her off the door, turning them. She grabbed his shoulder, and he walked them into the room. She had a moment to take in the fireplace, the arm chairs, before she was falling, landing on a plush chaise lounge. The back of the lounge rose on her right side, the fireplace on her left.

She found her breath again just before Draco sat up and started removing his jacket.

Oh, god, please.

She was panting by the time he lowered down on her. The chandelier above them twinkled, and lit his hair perfectly, just like she'd always dreamed.

"Tell me when to stop."

She almost laughed at that, but then he was kissing her again. He knelt above her, both knees to the one side of her, and one hand braced on the lounge, while the other moved from her hip up to her chest again. She gasped against his lips when he squeezed her breast, running his thumb across her.

"Oh, god, Draco."

He bit her lip, a stinging pain. He quickly pulled away. She pressed her tongue against the sting. "I'm sorry," he mumbled, attaching to her neck again as he continued to play with her through the silk.

She brought her hands up to his sides, feeling his muscles shiver. She wanted him on top of her, pressing against her. Why was he so far away?

"More. Please, Draco."

He shivered and huffed against her neck. She moved her legs, bringing her left knee up, feeling the silk slide down her thigh toward her waist. Her knee pressed against his hip and he started to move. He lowered down on her, pressing his chest against her and she sighed.

"Better?"

"Yes, god."

She could feel his hips against hers, could feel him, hard against her.

He kissed her, and she shifted under him and he gasped. She loved it. She did it again and he pulled his mouth from hers.

He slipped a hand between their ribs to touch her breast again. She moaned and then he rolled his hips and she yelped, clutching his shoulders.

"Tell me when to stop," he whispered against her mouth and rolled his hips again.

The third time she met his hips with hers and cursed. He slipped. He shivered and groaned. She brought her hips up again but he was still.

"I can't... I need to..."

He was pulling away and she was terrified. He lifted his hips away. Then he leaned over her again, and she could feel his hand on her left hip, slipping under the silk.

She sighed, and he kissed her neck again. She stared at the chandelier and his fingers followed the line of her knickers, coming closer.

He touched her over the fabric, and she turned her head to bite his ear. She felt his breath on her neck, as he touched her again.

"God, please, please, please," she panted.

"Tell me – Tell me when to stop."

"Why are you—" she moaned as he touched her again. "Why would you stop? What's wrong?"

He looked down at her, cheeks pink and his brow was moist. "If you want me to stop... If you want to stop—" He was panting, his eyes flashing at her.

"Why the fuck would we stop!"

She caught her breath as his eyes moved across her face.

"Because... because I'm a virgin?" She licked her lips. "Is that why?"

"That's why you stopped us. Last time."

"I stopped us? You stopped us!" She started to sit up, and he leaned back on his heels.

"You said you had never – So I pulled away!"

"Yes, I remember." She snarled at him. "But I never asked you to stop!"

His brows came together and his mouth opened. He looked so young. Then his grey eyes turned dark.

"If you don't tell me to stop, then I'm going to take you, Granger. Right here on this chaise lounge."

She shivered and gasped.

"What are you waiting for."

She felt her cheeks blush at her brazenness, just before he shoved at her shoulders, her back landing on the cushions. He leaned over her, eyes taking her in. Then he brought his hands to the front of her dress and ripped it down the middle. She gasped.

"What are you -?"

"I'll buy you a thousand dresses," he said as his lips caught hers. And her pulse jumped at the promise.

She had just started to wonder how she would be leaving the governor's mansion, when Draco slid his lips down her cheek, sucking a path over her collarbone, and trailing toward her left breast. Her bra was useless as Draco pressed an open-mouth kiss against her over the fabric. She clutched at his hair, pressing him closer, and brought her leg up to move against his hip.

His fingers started gathering the material across her legs, pushing it up to her waist and he reclaimed the path he'd found earlier, circling closer to her core. One of his fingers dipped underneath and found her precious sweet spot immediately. She bucked her hips and cried and Draco ran his teeth along her the top of her breast.

He started a torturous rhythm against her core, swirling and rubbing and Hermione closed her eyes and felt everything.

She was rising, and she didn't notice that his mouth had left her chest until she heard him speak.

"Look at me."

She opened her eyes and found him watching her. She barely had enough time to be embarrassed at what she assumed her face had been doing before he swirled her again and twisted his hand, pressing one finger inside of her.

She gripped the arm of the chaise lounge behind her head and fell apart.

She slid her gaze to the chandelier above her, watching the many crystals spiral out from the center and continue to dance into space.

She gasped and shook and squeezed her thighs together, holding him inside of her.

When she floated down, Draco was still watching her. Cheeks pink and sweat dampening his hair. His mouth was slack open and he panted. She could see his tongue running over his bottom teeth.

He withdrew his hand from her and she bit her lip to keep from moaning.

She sat up. And he pulled back to let her. She slipped her dress off her shoulders and tugged until she could pull her bra off and toss it to the side. As her arms came back, she saw him lick his lips, and place his left hand on the backrest of the lounge for support. She reached up and began unbuttoning his dress shirt. Such fine material.

He sat still, watching her undress him, and she felt his eyes eating her alive. Topless, and undressing him.

She was halfway done before she saw it. A faint jagged line starting at his collarbone and zagging down his chest. She pulled the right side of his shirt back and found where the line cracked under his heart and ricocheted down his stomach.

Sectumsempra.

He snatched her hands off of him, grabbing her wrists. She looked up at him and his jaw was tight, looking away from her. He took a calming breath and turned her right hand, kissing the inside of her wrist.

She let him kiss her arm two more times before she threw herself at him.

She smacked her teeth against his and he grunted. She pulled back, bringing her hand to her stinging lips. He laughed. And the sound bounced around the room, warming her.

She tried reaching up again, but the remains of the dress were slipping under her. She huffed and tossed her legs off the chaise, standing and shoving the dress down to the ground. She reached back and pulled off each of her heels, and it wasn't until she turned to come back to him that she realized she was in front of him in just her knickers. And he was fully dressed still.

Not that it bothered him one bit. She watched his eyes run down her body, and her arms twitched to come up across her chest. She kept them down.

"Take off your trousers."

She could hardly believe the words had tumbled from her lips. Neither could he, apparently. His eyes widened and darkened all in one breath. He looked at her and breathed deeply.

"I mean..." she said, sounding a bit more like herself. "That is where we're going with this, yes?"

She stood before him on the couch. He was still on his knees, where he had been before she stood and took off her dress. He smiled darkly at her, and in one fluid movement he stood, right in front of her in the very little space between her and the couch.

She sucked in a breath, and her breasts touched his shirt. She wanted to step backwards, give him some space, but she held her ground. She looked up at him, craning her neck at the small distance.

His lips were parted, and she heard him breathing as her breasts brushed against him with every one of her inhales.

He moved his hands to the buckle of his belt, knuckles sweeping across her belly. She gasped. His lips quirked.

She heard the harsh sounds of the metal, and the buttons of his dress pants slipping through the holes. She kept her eyes on his, finding herself breathing faster just to feel the caress on her breasts.

One of his knuckles continued to brush her stomach as he unbuttoned, lower and lower, feather light. She licked her lips. He swallowed.

Out of the bottom of her sightline, she saw his hands come to his waist, and slowly he pushed his pants past his hips. She heard them thud to the ground, and she pushed on his stomach, falling with him as he tumbled backwards to sit on the couch. She placed her legs on either side of him and attached to his mouth as her fingers grabbed for the rest of the buttons of his shirt.

He groaned against her, and she could feel the fabric of his trunks against her thighs. His hands came up to her hips, squeezing and running his fingers across her softly.

She finished with the last of his shirt buttons and pulled the shirt open. She placed her hands on his stomach, and he gasped. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and he tilted his head back. She shoved the shirt down his arms.

She moved her knees outward, trying to get closer to him, and then brought her hips down to his.

They gasped together, sucking the air between them. She could feel him hard against her center, and she knew she was wet and warm. She closed her eyes, pressed her lips together, and rolled her hips against him, feeling him press right against her. Sharp pleasure ran up her spine and he grabbed her hips, letting out a tight sound.

She ran her hands up into his hair, and moved again. His hips chased her but then his fingers were pressing bruises into her hip bones, and he was holding her still.

"Draco, please."

He reached up, holding her to him, and turned them until she was on her back again, with him pressing against her on the chaise.

He breathed against her face and she looked at him while he pressed his eyes closed.

They snapped open, and he looked at her. "Are you sure."

"Yes," she rasped. "Yes, yes, yes."

The hand still on her hip started tugging at her knickers, sliding them down, and she lifted her hips to help him.

She was wheezing in a particularly unattractive way, but he didn't seem to care. She reached down to help him with his underwear, but he was touching her again. She threw her head back and stared at her favorite chandelier in the history of chandeliers.

He pushed a finger inside of her and she hummed. Then he worked a second in, and she closed her eyes, pressing her lips together. She could feel his breath on her neck and he started moving his hand.

His fingers were thicker than her own, and the pressure was good. Too good.

"Draco, please. Please, please." She opened her eyes and found him watching her. "No more of this, please."

"Shh." He breathed across her face, hushing her as she whimpered. "Trust me."

He moved inside of her for a few strokes, opening and twisting, then pressed against her sweet spot and her mouth opened in a moan.

"I'm ready, I'm ready." She gasped. And she released the cushions where she was gripping them and grabbed at his hair, bringing his face to hers. She began kissing him, begging him, and he pulled his hand away, ridding himself of his underwear.

She felt him at her entrance, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He pressed his forehead to hers, and she nodded.

He pushed inside of her, and it was tight. She bit her tongue to keep from saying so. She squeezed her eyes shut, a pinching and pressure, and why did people do this?

She grit her teeth together, and felt him release a breath across her face. She opened her eyes, and Draco's eyes were pressed shut, jaw tight. If it was hurting him too, maybe they should stop? And then she saw his jaw release, and recognized the raw pleasure on his features. And she was the one giving it to him.

He opened his eyes to look down at her, and they were hot, and she shivered. "Okay?" he asked.

She nodded.

He pulled back and entered her again, slowly. The pinching pressure was still there, but now she got to watch his face, as he pressed his eyes closed. The third time, he bent his head forward and kissed her, letting his tongue wander into her mouth and push and pull at the same time as his hips.

That was better. Her hands were on his shoulders and she let her nails dig in.

He let one hand come up and palm her breast.

That was better too. She got to feel some of that electricity again, and it calmed her.

He let that hand trail down her stomach, rounding her hips and pulled her knee up slightly, and it was like he slid in deeper. She wasn't that big of a fan but she got to watch his face and hear him grunt.

That was more better.

She watched him, his eyes pressed closed and his breath pushing out, and the sweat darkening his hair. Every few thrusts he would drag his lip into his mouth and release it on the next thrust. She liked that.

She was just getting used to the rhythm, starting to count the thrusts when his eyes drifted open. She watched her breath move his hair.

"Can I go faster?"

His voice was low, and raspy, and everything she wanted. She nodded. He snapped his hips, and watched her reaction. She pressed her lips together, and nodded that he could continue.

He brought his forehead down to hers again, and lowered his upper body down on her. He grabbed the leg that was around his hip, and held it there as his hips moved.

That was... better.

At least she could feel his chest against hers, her breasts rubbing him.

Then the hand that held her leg to him slipped around, and in the little space he had, he touched her again.

That was best. Yes, that was the best.

She groaned as she pushed against it. She almost wanted it to stop, so she squeezed quickly, and Draco's rhythm stuttered. He found it again, just in time for her to try squeezing again. He groaned and got even faster. And his fingers played with her even faster.

She felt sweat between their bodies, and she was starting to gasp. This was best. This was sex and it was best.

The hand that propped him up, holding him above her, starting winding into her hair. She felt a slight tug, and his lips her on her neck, his hand between their bodies, and his fingers in her hair.

"Fuck..." he whispered.

And she moaned. And he slipped, and worked her harder. She was at the top, and she stared at her chandelier, and she bit her lip, and he pressed a light kiss to her cheek.

And she groaned, letting her mind close and her body open.

She grabbed at his back, and he snapped his hips and she cried, and squeezed him. He slowed as she fell apart, and once she was coming down, she opened her eyes and he was watching her.

She swallowed, and smiled. And he snapped his hips against her four more times before he groaned and tremored.

She watched his face, his jaw open and his eyes squeezing shut. He dropped his head onto her chest, and breathed out, the air hot against her skin. One hand was still gripping her hair, and the other tight on her hip. His body was heavy against her, and she slowly ran her hands from his shoulders, across his back and up into his wet hair, repeating the motion over and over like waves.

She wondered if maybe they slept like this. Then she felt his lips brush against the top of her breast, his tongue flicking out to taste the sweat on her chest. Then he shifted and slid out of her.

That was an odd feeling.

His arms shook as he pushed himself up, kneeling over her. She remembered just how naked she was as he took one last look at her before standing, and offered his hands so she could sit up.

They got dressed. Well, he got dressed, and then he transfigured a robe for her out of her torn dress. He found a pot of Floo powder on the mantle, and after she'd given up the search for her underwear, she joined him at the fireplace, holding her shoes.

"If you're planning to go back out there," she said. "You'll need a look in the mirror first."

His hair was a mess, his face was flushed, and her lipstick was all over him.

He nodded at her. "I'll make excuses for you."

Hermione nodded, imagining all sorts of things.

Granger had to leave. She's gotten well and truly shagged and now she needs a rest.

Please excuse Granger, she's looking for her underwear.

She looked up and he was watching her. He stepped into her, and kissed her lightly on her lips. She swallowed, and he tossed the powder into the fireplace. She stepped through, and muttered her location.

She watched his eyes swirl away from her as the flames licked at her.

She stepped out into her living room. It was late.

She dropped her shoes, turned, and went to Ginny's room. She was asleep.

Hermione sat on Ginny's bed and shook her shoulder.

Ginny's eyes opened slowly. "Hey. Did you have fun."

Hermione stared at her.

"I need you to teach me the Contraceptive Charm."

Ginny was suddenly wide awake.