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Chapter Text

Refraction: The deflection from a straight path undergone by a light ray in passing obliquely from one medium into another.

Refraction occurs when light bends.

Somewhere in Central Italy...

Draco Malfoy squinted at the road and accelerated sharply, the sound of the engine flaring across the lush countryside. There were exactly two good things about this situation; the weather and the motorcycle. One was hot and the other was fast, and both were keeping his mind off everything else.

He shifted gears to take a deep curve, his body tilting toward the road. It wasn't the same as a broom, but it was as close as he was going to get. He sped out of the bend and flew up over a slight rise, managing to get both wheels off the ground for a gleeful second. Thudding back to earth with a little fishtail was an apt reminder that he couldn't just launch into the sky.

His shoulders tensed and he felt the darkness start to creep in, so he pushed the bike even faster, the warm wind whipping past his face.

Three things! Three fucking things. Having his own flat wasn't at all bad. Well, mostly his own flat. Theo had shown himself to be a very absentee roommate; he was already shagging at least three girls in town and he always stayed over. Faux-romantic bastard.

Draco saw the village coming into view so he slowed, glancing up at the warm walls of the buildings covering the hilltop ahead. The afternoon light slanted against them, creating a contrast with the deep umber shadows and glinting off the church spire at the very top of the hill. As he watched, a flock of birds took flight from the domed roof, creating a little poem in the sky.

He supposed there were worse places to be exiled.

Because he was, in fact, in exile—even though they called it 'protection'. Couldn't leave, couldn't communicate with his family or friends, couldn't use magic. He supposed that was the price though, of being on the wrong side for so long.

But he had switched, although it had been a near thing, standing there with his wand outstretched, staring down an incapacitated Dumbledore. Casting one spell would have meant protection for his family and an enormous amount of power if, or when, the dark lord won this pitiful war. But Draco hadn't been able to do it, hadn't been able to take the final, irreparable step. His body had rebelled even before his mind, and he'd watched his wand hand lower as if it belonged to someone else.

"We can protect you, Draco," Dumbledore had called, low and urgent. "But you have to come now. They're almost here." Draco had nodded once, stepped forward, taken Dumbledore's outstretched hand—and set in motion everything that had brought him to this moment, in this place: a small, winding road leading up to an ancient Italian village.

When he thought about it (and honestly he tried not to) he felt right about the choice. Even though he was also deeply angry that he'd had to make it—the feeling of being a pawn in a game he barely understood had persisted even after he'd switched to the 'good' side.

He flew around another bend, the bike's engine whining, his mind tracking back to those first nights in the safehouse when some had looked at him with loathing, others with pity, but all with suspicion. He'd known then that he'd never be truly trusted, no matter what he did. That what he'd almost done would follow him for life.

He revved the engine compulsively, pushing down hard on the gas, his teeth grinding, his fingers spasming on the handlebars. A nonna sitting in front of a farmhouse on the outskirts of the village looked up with a disapproving glare and waved her hand sharply. Draco reminded himself to relax and slow down. The engine quieted and he forced himself to breathe deeply.

He was supposed to be blending, supposed to be a nice muggle university student, over for a summer job with his good friend Theo—Draco working in the local bookshop since his Italian was passable and Theo, who could get by on hand gestures and charisma, a waiter in one of the trattorias lining the tiny town's main piazza.

"We can protect you there," Remus Lupin had explained when he'd outlined the plan before they'd left England. "Italy is very difficult for the death eaters to access, and although San Cipriano is largely a muggle town, it's heavily warded because it sits on several ley lines."

"There are a few places like it around the world," added Draco's cousin, Nymphadora, 'Tonks' as she liked to be called. He'd had the distinct impression they'd brought her into the room because they'd thought it would comfort him, but he'd never met her before in his life. "You'll all be going to one or the other," she'd said, "all of you students who are… of interest to Voldemort."

"So will there be others?" Draco had asked, still trying to get a grasp on what would be happening to him.

"Possibly," Lupin had said, glancing at Tonks. "You'll have a partner, someone you'll know who is also going into protection. You'll live with them. Watch each other's backs."

"Notify the Order if the other is taken or killed?" Draco had asked with a weak version of his old sneer, his mother's faint gasp from the corner of the room instantly chastising him.

He shook his head and downshifted as the road narrowed. His mother. He was still in disbelief that Narcissa had agreed to be in on it all, that she had sat in that room planning along with members of the Order, and that she had managed to convince Lucius to go along with it. She had even gone into 'protection' too—but publicly—as a Ministry prisoner. All staged and with her full cooperation, but it meant more stains that would never wash away.

Draco had looked back at Lupin after apologising to Narcissa. "Sorry. I know it's for the best. But there will be others besides my 'partner'?" He'd rubbed his forehead. Please don't tell me I'll be sharing a village of 500 people with Potter.

"The details haven't been determined yet." Tonks had said with a noisy exhale. "It's taking a lot of logistical work. But we're trying to spread you out as much as possible, so as of now it will just be you and your partner. We'll give you a flat, a job, the means to get around."

"Although not too far," Lupin had cut in quickly. "You won't be protected if you're outside the wards."

"And you'll lay low," Tonks had continued. "The muggles in the village aren't to know you're not one of them."

"So no magic," Draco had said heavily.

"No obvious magic," Tonks had replied. "We want you to have your wand at all times. Just in case. But you can't do anything with it that will mark you out. So I'd recommend a mostly magic-free existence. Unless you want to be moving towns every few days—or end up stuck in a safehouse for three months."

Draco had nodded slowly. "And I'm assuming there will be some sort of crash course in muggle studies?"

"Yeah," Tonks had said. "But you're clever. You'll pick it up. They're not all that different from us after all." Her mouth had twisted in a facsimile of a smile, but her eyes had been cold. Brilliant, even his cousin didn't believe he could change.

"San Cipriano is beautiful. It could be worse," Lupin had said with a weary half smile, after darting a glance at Tonks.

Draco had just looked at him until the smile faded.

But, he glanced around as he cruised slowly toward the center of town, he supposed it really could be worse. The village was beautiful and he was enjoying his independence immensely. The motorcycle was an undeniable perk. He'd seen it sitting just off the square his second day in town, all sleek black metal and dark leather, a hand-lettered 'vendesi' sign slung over the handlebars. He'd lusted after it immediately, surprise mingling with disdain and a little fear—a muggle machine?

He'd been about to walk away when the owner had come out of the tabaccheria and seen him staring. "Do you want to try it? Do you want to buy it?" he'd asked in good-humoured Italian. To Draco's extreme shock, his mouth had said yes, he did want to try it. He of course had no idea how to work it, but with a quick lesson, he'd taken to it "ti viene naturale!" —as the owner had exclaimed. And after a breathless cruise around town, Draco had used a significant portion of his expenses budget to buy the bike on the spot. It was so much like flying.

And after nearly two weeks he was even getting marginally more used to living without magic—the only charms he regularly performed were a wordless language clarifier if he got a tricky request at the bookshop and a stabilising charm on the bike. He also hadn't seen anyone else magical and supposed he and Theo were going to have the town themselves. This suited Draco; he knew the presence of other witches and wizards would intrude on the calm, predictable existence he had created here, and he was loath to give it up. After the last year's hell, boredom was truly a luxury and he found himself savouring the long hours in the shop followed by quiet evenings at home with nothing but a book for company.

Not to mention that anyone else they might send here would probably hate him on principle.

Of course none of this stopped Theo from making impassioned arguments every few nights about why Draco should go with him to the local disco and assist him in working his way through St. Cipriano's female population. But Draco always put him off. Why did Theo require a second? And the last thing Draco needed was a complication of any kind—but especially that kind.

Funny that he was thinking this just as he saw her.

It was the dress and the flowers, both a bright orange-red, that caught his eye—and the long, slim legs that kept it. Her legs and her stride: swift and confident, straw hat bobbing, her free arm swinging. The dress was also very short and Draco's gaze traveled up to where it just skimmed the backs of her upper thighs, swishing against the smooth flesh there. He swallowed and unconsciously slowed the bike so that he was idling along behind her. She passed the open door of a taverna where some local men were lounging and smoking, an occurrence they did not let go by without comment. Draco saw the quick flash of a defined jaw and determined chin as she tossed her head at them. He grinned and then frowned, something in her gesture niggling at his mind, then making him realise that his slow creep behind her was just as lecherous as the mens' cat-calling.

He shook his head and was just about to speed away when she swung abruptly into the café, waving and calling out a greeting. Her hat still concealed her face and Draco craned his neck, trying to get a better look. Maybe she worked there? Maybe he'd go investigate later. Or, he revved the bike and shook his head again, maybe he'd be smart and keep the fuck away.

"Come out tonight," Theo said, looking up from the mirror where he was carefully arranging his hair.

"No thanks," Draco took a sip of wine and barely glanced up from his book.

"Bloody old woman," Theo muttered. Draco put up two lazy fingers in his direction and Theo returned the salute before resuming his primping. "You really should come, though" he said, "There's a new girl in town. Mauritzio says she's molto bella. Works at the café. Inglese too."

Draco's head snapped up. "I think I saw her today. Red dress?"

"Don't know," Theo left the mirror and picked up a pack of cigarettes. He pulled one out and went to sit in one of the large swing-out windows that dominated their flat's sitting room. "Never saw her myself." His lighter flicked to life and his eyes were keen on Draco. "But maybe she'll be there tonight."

Draco schooled his features and lifted a shoulder. He hadn't even seen her face, and Mauritzio had notoriously low standards. Probably why he and Theo got on so well. "I'm not interested."

"Suit yourself." Theo blew out a cloud of smoke, "but don't be a cunt when I get to her first." Draco didn't look up. Theo inhaled again and Draco could feel his gaze lingering. "Why aren't you interested, though?" he asked, "Is it the muggle thing?"

Draco closed his book. "No." Theo raised his eyebrows when Draco didn't continue. Draco shrugged again. "I'm not my parents." Even though he and Theo had been in the same house for six years and their families had run in the same circles, they really didn't know each other all that well. Draco felt a stab of melancholy. He wished Blaise were here instead.

"Even though you were still calling people 'mudbloods' and carrying out commissions for the dark lord as of last month?" Theo snorted.

"Fuck you. It's not like I could say no." Draco forcibly pushed away a memory of some of the death eater persuasion tactics he'd witnessed. "Or blow my cover by suddenly acting like a muggle-lover."

Theo hopped off the window sill. "So you're not opposed to muggle girls. ...or is it boys, or both?" His eyebrows waggled and he tilted his head to the side.

"Girls." Draco rolled his eyes and Theo shrugged with a smile. "And I'm not opposed in theory, although I still don't understand how you manage to conceal your magic from them constantly."

"Leave my wand in my bag, mostly. Or in my trouser pocket once she gets them off me." Theo's eyebrows danced again.

Draco pushed up and went to refill his wine glass, shaking his head as he went.

"So you're not opposed in theory. We're stuck in this place for who knows how long. There are some truly fine physical specimens just ripe for the plucking—gods, I love Italian girls." Theo laid his hand over his heart. "And you're passably attractive." He squinted at Draco, who made another rude gesture at him, "so why the fuck not?"

"I don't want complications." Draco said, downing half his glass of really very good red. "And no collateral."

"Collateral?"

Draco's mind flitted back again to a favorite of the dark lord's strategies, "Leverage," he said to Theo, "Using someone or something against you." He twirled his wine glass and looked down into the ruby liquid, "For example, 'you kill the headmaster or I torture and kill your mother.'"

Theo blanched and Draco felt a very humourless smile cross his face. "But it doesn't have to be anything as dramatic as all that. It could just as easily be disfiguring the pretty muggle girl you've been sleeping with all summer. Or killing her family. It just seems unsporting when it's not their fight." He tossed back the rest of his wine.

Theo stared at Draco fixedly for a few beats. "You don't think they'll find us here though, do you?" His voice was quiet in the echoing silence of their high-ceilinged flat. "The Order… They'll protect us. They'd get us out before… " He nodded as if to reassure himself.

"No, yes. Well, probably." Draco shrugged again. "But the fact is that we don't know what's going to happen. Maybe we'll die tomorrow in a death eater raid. Or maybe Potter's charmed skin will somehow blast the dark lord into oblivion again."

Theo pulled out another cigarette, lit it and inhaled deeply. He offered the pack to Draco, who tapped one out, then caught the lighter Theo tossed at him. "All the better to live like there's no tomorrow, then," Theo quipped, but his face was still pale.

"Sure," Draco said on the inhale. "You can look at it that way. And I don't think the grudge against you is quite as strong as it is against me. But I'm not taking any chances." He blew out a satisfying cloud and felt the corner of his lip curl up, "You have fun tonight though."

Chapter Text

Hermione Granger hummed as she ran a white cloth over the gleaming curves of the chrome espresso machine, polishing it to an even brighter shine. The morning rush was over and she didn't expect another until the waiters came in to get their pre-shift caffè lungos around four, shortly after which she'd be off for the day.

She moved the cloth to the pitted marble counter; surprised at how much she'd taken to this job. She hadn't thought she would at first—had even argued rather vociferously that she should be placed in a bookshop or an apothecary or something interesting like that instead. But being a barista suited her. She found the precision of the tasks satisfying: the measuring, tamping and steaming—and she enjoyed the little flourish of service she provided with each order. In fact, she could lose herself in the ritual quite effectively. There had been whole hours over the last few days when she hadn't thought about her situation at all.

Her situation. She frowned and put the cloth down, then lifted the grinder lid to check the bean level. It seemed almost surreal that just last week she'd been in a war room in a safe house, being informed that she'd be shipping off to a small town in Italy for her safety.

"Like, uhhhh... 'witness protection!'" Tonks had exclaimed. Harry, Ron and Hermione had just looked at her silently until Lupin had spoken.

"It's not just Harry that's of interest to the dark lord. You know that." he'd said quietly. "He's aware of your value," his eyes had flicked to Ron and then Hermione. "To Harry and to the Order. And he's very adept at exploiting those types of weaknesses."

"But I want to fight," Ron had exclaimed, slapping the table. "I don't want to be hidden away like a child."

"But you are a child," Lupin had said gently. "And until you're of age, we'll continue to protect you. Your homes are too vulnerable right now, so this is the best plan we've got."

Hermione had listened to Lupin and Tonks explain what they could of what would happen next: hiding them in the last places anyone would look, laying low, no magic, blending with the muggle locals. And of course the golden trio would be split up for safety. Hermione was certain the Order would have Harry under particularly high security somewhere. And it was frankly for the best that she and Ron would be spending some time apart.

She shook her head as she removed a tray of steaming bicchieri from the dishwasher and began stacking them on the bar.

Tonks had also explained that they'd each have a partner, although Hermione's hadn't shown up yet. She was hoping it would at least be someone she could tolerate on a daily basis. It was too much to hope to get Ginny, but somebody like Luna wouldn't be bad. Hermione knew Luna was part of the program, and in fact, after running scenarios over in her mind the last few nights when she couldn't sleep, she was fairly certain it would be Luna, and had begun mentally preparing herself for a summer of odd notions and strange half conversations.

She smiled faintly as she came out from behind the bar to gather newspapers and neaten the seating area. Luna would be fine. She wondered where they'd put her to work, though. Maybe the flower stand? Or the funny little lapidary shop off the square? She wondered how good Luna's Italian was. Hermione was picking up more every day, but still needed to lean on a language charm fairly heavily. If she'd gone to France it would have been a lot easier, but Italy was beautiful—and for now, much safer. Lupin and Tonks had explained that much to her once they'd told her exactly where she was going, even though they'd had to keep more than she'd liked from her as well. But she did understand, and after years of dangerous half truths from Dumbledore, was appreciative of any information she could get. And it was good to feel like someone was at least trying to protect them for once. Even Hermione's parents had received covert safety measures, although her concern for them long-term still weighed on her mind.

The bell on the door tinkled and Hermione looked up to greet a customer, her mind switching back to the practical. She chatted with the older man, set him up outside with an espresso and a panino, then drifted back in to rearrange the bouquet of bright red peonies she'd brought to the café yesterday, her mind running back to its previous track.

Would Luna arrive today? And would there be others? It seemed logistically impossible that only two people would be assigned to San Cipriano, but so far she hadn't seen anyone else. And the harried witch who had escorted her here after Lupin and Tonks had been suddenly called away on Order business hadn't known anything.

Hermione heard a shouted greeting and snapped out of her reverie just as a group of young, black-suited waiters tumbled into the café, led by the darkly handsome Mauritzio, who had already asked her out... two? No, three times.

Her afternoon rush had arrived.

"Boungiorno," she called to the group, already starting the grinder and pulling out glasses. Everyone would need at least two shots and about a half a pound of sugar. "Our petrol," Mauritzio had explained in heavily-accented English the first day when Hermione's eyes had widened at the amount of white granules that were disappearing into his tiny cup. And according to Giancarlo, the café owner, the flock would come by again at 7pm for a pick-me-up and then once more after work. Hermoine wondered how they ever slept.

"You come to the disco tonight?" Mauritzio asked, leaning on the bar and training the full power of his liquid brown eyes and darkly fringed lashes on her. He was absolutely gorgeous and he knew it—Hermione was sure he'd been through every woman in town and probably several neighboring villages too.

"Won't you be working, though?" she said with a smile. She enjoyed flirting with him almost despite herself.

"It goes late," he waved a hand. "I be there at ten, eleven. But only if you go, too." He tilted his chin and looked up at her.

"Nooo, I don't think so." Hermione laughed at the hangdog expression that came over his face. "I have to be here early to open tomorrow." She spread her hands wide. Other than the self-preserving aspects of avoiding an entanglement with someone like Mauritzio, she wasn't quite sure dancing at a disco was appropriate in her circumstances.

"You break my heart." Mauritzio shook his head as the other waiters, each of them a dapper mix of dark hair and white teeth, called out encouragements to Hermione and/or insults to their friend.

She laughed again and gave him a smile. "Maybe another night." The men cheered in response and slapped their glasses down on the bar, calling out their goodbyes as they headed to the string of bistros that lined the piazza.

Hermione waved and Mauritzio backed out slowly, his hand over his heart. "Alla prossima," he said soulfully, winking at her before turning away.

Hermione couldn't help but enjoy the scene as she walked home from the café after her shift ended: the warm light, the uneven cobblestones, the zip of a Vespa as it sped by. All so different from her life back home. And so lovely.

It never left her that this was a time of danger and uncertainty, that they were in the middle of an almost war. And she'd often be arrested by crippling moments of fear for her friends, her parents and the future. But that all made her somehow more determined to also take joy in little moments and small things. Like walking home after a satisfying day's work to her light-filled flat.

After a few minutes, she reached the door to her building. She unlocked it and pushed through the giant wooden panel before ascending the long curving staircase to the third floor. Entering the flat carefully, always cautious, she could tell immediately that something was different.

She looked around, taking in a duffel bag near the kitchen table and a sheaf of sunflowers wrapped in brown paper on the counter. A faint, sweet scent lingered in the air and the sound of the shower rushed faintly from down the hall.

It seemed her partner had arrived.

Hermione felt a little surge of nerves and busied herself, finding a vase for the flowers and throwing open a window against the late afternoon heat. She wondered if Luna had eaten and set some water on the hob to boil for pasta. She had some good salad leaves from the vegetable market in the small refrigerator too. That would make a nice supper. And perhaps Luna would like a cup of tea as well—or was it too hot for tea? She was standing there staring at the kettle and debating internally when a tread sounded in the hall.

She turned with a smile, words of welcome on her lips, but the words died and she actually felt the smile slide off her face as she realised who was standing there.

"Lavender Brown?" Hermione could hear the shock from her brain infusing her words. Shock that was turning quickly to anger. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm your partner," Lavender said simply, twiddling with the end of the towel she had wrapped around her hair.

Hermione blinked several times, words failing to form in her mouth. Lavender took a half step forward. "It's awkward, I know—" she started.

"Awkward!?" Hermione gave an angry snort. "It's bloody ridiculous!"

Lavender blew out her breath and cut her eyes to the side. "I know it's a shock. I've had a few days to get used to it and I still…" She stopped and put her palms up. "But here we are."

"Why do you even need protection?" Hermione practically shouted, thinking seriously about the enchanted communication galleon sitting in a heavily warded box in her bedside drawer. But Lupin had said it was supposed to be for emergencies only. And while this was infuriating, she wasn't sure it quite rose to that level. She tapped her fingers on the counter and glared.

"I guess my, uh, association with Ron? At least that's what they said." Lavender's cheeks reddened. "Anyway," she said, looking around. "The flat is really cute."

"I'm going for a walk." Hermione interrupted, turning her back on Lavender's resigned face and pushing back out the door.

Leaving may have been the coward's way out, but the walk was helping. Hermione had headed to the left, up the street that wound through the center of town to where the church capped the hill. It was extremely steep, especially near the top, and she was walking fast and breathing hard. She could feel the fire of her initial anger blowing out with each step.

Who was she really angry with anyway? It wasn't actually Lavender—she was more pathetic than anything. The people who had sent her? They had bigger things to worry about than school grudges. Ron? She had been angry with him, yes—and terribly hurt, for months while he paraded their relationship in front of her. But she wasn't really angry about that anymore and hadn't been for quite some time.

In fact, other than distaste and a sort of lingering irritation that Ron would be so insensitive, she barely felt anything about that anymore. Something had changed over those months. It was like her focus had adjusted and she'd seen Ron clearly for the first time: his insecurities and need to be puffed up, the resentment often bubbling just below the surface, the mean streak that could snap to life in a flash.

And she'd realised she wasn't interested in any of that. At least not in a life partner. She and Ron would always be friends—they'd been through too much together and Harry would always connect them—but she'd come to know with certainty that they'd never work as a couple.

It had been quite freeing, actually.

Funny enough she'd come fully to this realization just as he'd broken it off with Lavender and turned to Hermione as if she'd been waiting in the wings for him with folded hands. Wanker.

She still remembered his face when he'd tried to snog her the last day before term ended. She'd put her hand up to stop him and he had been so surprised.

"What are you doing?" The incredulity and confusion on his face.

"I'm sorry, Ron," she'd said, "I just don't feel that way about you anymore."

"Don't feel— but it's been years! And I'm free now!"

His self-righteous tone and the acknowledgement that he'd known that she'd fancied him for so long had set something off in her. "Yes, it's been years. Years of you being a complete arsehole. Ignoring me. Insulting me. Hurting me deliberately because you were too much of a coward to stick your neck out and tell me you returned my feelings."

"What do you mean?" he'd sputtered, and his face had gotten that splotchy look.

"The Yule Ball? The way you behaved after Ginny told you about Viktor? The last six months?"

He'd stalked away rather than argue with her and it had been all tense silences and stilted conversations between them since. It truly was a good thing that they were separated this summer. Maybe he'd meet someone and get it out of his system so that they could be friendly again. Eventually.

So, no, she wasn't angry at…anyone…anymore, but still, Lavender Brown…? Hermione leaned against the fortified wall that circled the piazza at the top of town and looked out over the rolling acres of fields and vineyards with a sigh. How were she and Lavender Brown—her giggling, ditzy, divination-obsessed, boy crazy, polar opposite—going to live together, alone, for several months? What would they talk about?

Maybe the war? Or what it felt like to be separated from everything they knew? Or the strangeness of what they were living through?

Hermione shook her head and pushed off the wall to start the downhill route back to the flat, a bit ashamed of her earlier reaction. A better start would probably be accepting things and trying to work with what she'd been given. She didn't have to be best friends with Lavender, but she owed it to everyone, to the situation to be cordial. Her mind began to whir with the start of a plan.

"Where are you working?" she asked as soon as she stepped back through the flat door.

Lavender looked up from where she was stirring something very similar to what Hermione had been planning for her dinner with Luna. "The gelateria," she said shortly.

"I suspected as much and that's perfect," Hermione nodded once. Lavender just looked puzzled. "I work at the café—you know, espresso, panini, that sort of thing," Hermione explained. "My hours are very early. I open the place most days. And the gelateria opens at what, 11 o'clock? Or noon?"

"I was told to be there at 11 tomorrow."

"And it doesn't close until 9 or 10pm, correct?"

"I think so."

"So we should barely see each other," Hermione explained. "I'll be gone in the mornings while you're here. When you're working evenings, I'll have the flat to myself. I go to bed early most nights, so you won't see me for long when you come home. We can have labeled shelves in the fridge and all that." She felt her spirits rising. This might be a way to make it work. But as she spoke, she saw that Lavender's face was falling.

Hermione stopped her excited chatter. "What?"

"I had... I had sort of hoped we could try to be friends," Lavender said quietly after a long pause. "After all, you won. You have him now. You had him all along," she looked up and her eyes were shiny with tears. "And I'm… OK with that."

Oh arse. Hermione closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "We're not actually together." Lavender made a little sound. "I don't like him that way anymore, OK? So can we just… put all that aside?"

Hermione opened her eyes to see the most incredible array of emotions cross Lavender's face: incredulity, anger, resignation and then finally a sort of exasperation. A very humourless laugh escaped Lavender's lips and she rubbed her forehead.

"What?" Hermione felt irritated again.

"I just, I spent the last few months and especially the last three days meditating and burning sage and rationalising and trying to accept the fact that you and Ron are perfect for each other, destined to be together, and that's why he didn't want me. And now you tell me 'you don't like him that way'?" Lavender's huge blue eyes widened even further and another slightly hysterical laugh escaped her lips.

A hundred replies cycled through Hermione's mind, but the thing that came out was, "Well he's sort of selfish arse, wouldn't you agree?"

There was perfect silence in the flat, but for the bubbling of the boiling water, as Lavender looked at Hermione, her face totally still. Then she threw back her head and broke into a peal of real, ringing laughter.

Hermione kept a straight face for about two seconds before she lost it too.

"He really is," Lavender gasped after several moments, wiping the underside of her eye and shaking her head. She caught Hermione's eye and Hermione erupted again. It was several minutes before they were both calm.

"All right," Hermione said when she could speak again. "All right, let's start over." She put out her hand. "Welcome," she said, "the flat is really cute. And you're going to love the town."

Chapter Text

Hermione bumped down a dusty track, the springs creaking under the seat of her bicycle. On loan from her boss, Giancarlo, it was ancient and a bit too big for her, but he had declared the distance to the swimming pond too long to reach on foot. At this point and in this heat, Hermione had to agree. And she appreciated the slight breeze generated by her swift ride—at least it was blowing the sweaty hair off her face.

Every time she'd remarked on the beautiful weather since she'd arrived in San Cipriano, a local would laugh and tell her some variation of 'wait until it gets hot,'—well, a few days after Lavender had arrived, it had gotten hot. Hot like nothing Hermione had ever experienced. It was sweltering in the café, oppressive in the flat and unbearable in anything but very deep shade. She and Lavender had even broken down and cast a cooling charm last night so that they could sleep.

Hermione's moaning about it today had led to the suggestion of The Pools and the loan of the bike from Giancarlo, who obviously pitied her thick northern blood. He'd even pushed her out of the café thirty minutes early. She'd stopped by the gelateria to see if Lavender might be able to sneak away, but the queue had been about twenty deep, so she'd given her harassed roommate a sympathetic wave and set off on her own.

She must be almost there. Giancarlo had said no more than two miles and it had been at least fifteen minutes. Just then she caught sight of a small wooden sign with an arrow pointing down an even narrower track with a single word, pozze, written on it in white paint. Thank god. She dismounted and edged down the path until it ended in a frizzle of dried brown grass and a string of huge trees. She propped the bike against one of the trunks and walked cautiously to the lip of what she could now see was a low stone cliff. Peeking over, she gasped involuntarily at what was below.

'The Pools'—understated name of the year—were actually a series of crystalline blue ponds scooped and carved out of fantastical stone shapes and boulders. The rock formations were rounded and beautiful—some creating islands and natural jumping points, others making shadowed nooks that looked perfect for escaping the relentless sun. The place sat serene and apparently completely deserted, and the water looked so inviting that Hermione actually squealed aloud. Craning her neck, she noticed the path continued over the cliff in a steep descent, winding down through a pass between huge rock cliffs, so she shouldered her knapsack and began gingerly picking her way down, trailing her fingers over the smooth stone as she went.

She couldn't believe this place existed and that she seemed to have it totally to herself. However, right on the heels of that last thought, the distinct sound of a splash sounded from below the curve of the path. Bother, someone was here. But then Hermione chided herself; she couldn't expect that no one else would want to take advantage of this place on a day this hot.

By the time she walked around the bend, she was resigned to company. She just hoped they wouldn't be loud and would let her swim in peace. A movement attracted her eye and she looked down, then stopped short.

He was below her, standing on the tallest rock, obviously poised to dive or jump. Still streaming wet, he must have just climbed out of the water. His skin glowed a light gold and his hair, although darkly saturated, looked as if it could possibly be blond. As she watched, he reached up and sluiced it back from his forehead with a careless motion, the movement doing interesting things to the muscles of his back.

He was absolutely beautiful.

She couldn't even see his face, but it didn't matter. Her gaze skimmed over his broad shoulders and finely corded arms—oh, he was diving because he had raised them over his head—the long curve of his back and slim hips. Perfect arse. He was tall and elegant somehow, in his movements and bearing. Hermione swallowed and reached her hand out to touch the rock face next to her again, her fingers spasming against it. She wanted with a sudden intensity to run them down this boy's arms.

She watched dumbly as he took flight with a graceful motion and disappeared over the front of the rock. A light splash sounded seconds later and she started out of her reverie. God. What had come over her? She'd never felt anything like that before: such a pure stab of lust for someone she didn't even know. She hadn't even seen his face.

She blinked and forced herself to start down the path again. What the bloody hell? She didn't usually do this. She wasn't boy crazy like Lavender, (who hadn't changed, and despite claiming to, 'still be in a place of healing after the wounds of last year' had already started flirtations with both the milk delivery man and the flower stand boy) but of course she had noticed boys. Had crushes. Been curious. Felt attraction. Taken it further.

A series of images flitted through her mind: Ron's broad shoulders under his Quidditch uniform; Mauritzio's liquid eyes dancing at her; Charlie Weasley rolling the sleeves of a workshirt over tattooed forearms; Viktor's lush mouth; Adam's glinting smile; even Harry, and the way his hair curled against his neck when it got a little too long. She'd noticed these things, yes, and noticed what they did to her. The frissons and increased focus, the tinglings and flutterings.

But this was different.

She felt heat start low and then spread up her chest and into her face as she reached the bottom of the path and a smooth rock platform that led down to the water. Where had he gone? She wanted to see him again, see his face. A quiet disturbance in the water from around the side of the rock let her know that he was probably climbing back up. Probably going to jump again. She couldn't spot him at the top from this angle, but she saw him break the water, a perfect line with barely a splash. He was under for a long time and she tried not to stare, but also tried to track where he'd surface. She didn't see him, but heard that telltale rippling again from around one of the soft bends of the rock.

She shook her head impatiently. She was here to swim, for fuck's sake. Not stand in the boiling sun like a lust-struck idiot. But as she put down her things and stripped down to her white two piece, her thoughts returned to him, and she glanced surreptitiously around, trying to find him, but with no luck. She slathered on sunscreen and stepped out of her canvas trainers, wondering if he was from the village. He didn't look Italian somehow, although she knew Northern Italians could be fair. But she would have noticed him—or, more accurately, she wouldn't have missed him. He must be from a neighboring town. Or maybe he lived at one of the massive estates that dotted the countryside. He had that air about him somehow. Hermione squinted as a wisp of memory tugged at her consciousness, but dismissed it when she couldn't catch it.

She bent to pull out her towel and arrange her things neatly in her bag, thinking that if she swam around the side of the rock ahead she might be able to see him. He'd certainly notice her since she was the only other person there. But she also didn't want to be too obvious; she'd do a bit of exploring of the pools before she sought him out. She half-smiled at her own cunning before straightening and taking off her hat and sunglasses, then pulling out the elastic that was holding her hair in a tight bun at the nape of her neck, feeling the long curls fall down her back. She raked through them with impatient fingers and turned to face the pool. Finally ready, she stepped into the water, which was deliciously cool, and skimmed beneath the surface.

Draco pulled himself out of the shimmering blue water and on to the face of the rock. Climbing swiftly, he reached the top and flung himself down on the heated stone, letting its warmth on his chest and the sun on his back seep through his skin and into his bones. He hadn't slept well last night—bloody heat—and as he lay, his body pleasantly fatigued from swimming, drowsiness stole over him in a sweet wave. He let his eyes flutter closed, soft birdsong and smell of wet granite lulling him into further relaxation, but he knew he shouldn't fall asleep in the sun. He may have gotten less pale since he'd been here, but he'd still burn no matter how many protective charms he cast.

His lips lifted slightly. Other than the heat, the last few days had been… almost good? His life had definitely gotten into a rhythm here, a pattern that seemed to sooth him. Maybe he was healing. He snorted to himself—twat. But really, if he compared the previous six months with the last six weeks, it was like night and day. A period of stifling, airless blackness followed inexplicably by a burst of warm light.

How had he gone from a daily routine of casual sadism and concentrated evil; the prospect of certain death after his abject failure at his assigned task… to this? Pristine pools in the sun, working in the shop, waving to the bloody locals as he walked in the town square? Even Theo was turning out to be a surprisingly entertaining presence. And besides, he hadn't been at the flat for the last three nights.

Draco stretched his arms and rolled his neck. In many ways it was truly baffling. He'd never really thought of an alternative future to one in which he would grow up to be his father's son. He'd been raised for it, trained and groomed since he could form memories. And even if he had been growing away from the bigotry, he'd never really doubted the rest of it. But this experience was showing him that there were different paths, different lives. And to his deep surprise, he liked this one. Strangely, it suited him. He wondered if it was what he would choose for himself, if he had a choice. He wondered if he deserved it.

Was that disappointing? Lucius would certainly think so. Accepting a life like this would mean a sort of failure—not to mention conceding a certain type of power and influence. But Draco found himself unmoved. What did any of that matter? He'd used to have such pride in the whole thing. He'd stood shoulder to shoulder with Lucius in every way. But it had all changed somehow. He'd gotten a glimpse of what his future would be like those months at the manor with Voldemort and his flunkies, most of them idiots, all of them single-minded and just incredibly, mind-crushingly, boring. Draco couldn't think of anything worse that being among them, being one of them for the rest of his life. That, more than anything, was what had made him lower his wand.

He shook his head, pushing such heavy thoughts away as he shifted on the rock, lifted his head slightly and cracked his eye open. There was movement from down near the main shore. Someone else had shown up to swim. He blew out his breath, slightly disappointed, then propped his chin on his closed fist to get a better look at who it was. He breathed back in swiftly as he realised it was her. The girl in the red dress. Theo had been banging on about her again the other day; he'd tried to go and see her at the café and had just missed her. And apparently Mauritzio was obsessed. Probably because she seemed to be resisting his advances thus far.

Smart girl.

Draco canted his body toward her and watched as she dropped her bag and scanned the pools. It was definitely her. He'd recognize those legs anywhere, and she was wearing the same wide-brimmed straw hat with the black band. It shadowed her face and her hair was bound up under it like the other day. He wondered what color it was.

His eyes traveled over her smooth, brown skin, appreciative of the fine lines of her limbs, admiring the pert curve of her arse under a simple fitted dress. He shifted on the rock and frowned. This could be trouble. Then his eyes widened as she pushed the straps of the dress down over her shoulders and shimmied out of it, uncovering a white bikini that was extremely revealing—especially when she bent over and started digging around in the bag at her feet. Draco felt a very distinctive stirring and closed his eyes against the vision, taking a deep breath and reminding himself that he didn't want complications.

When he opened his eyes again, it wasn't much better, because although she had stood up, she had twisted toward him and was now fiddling with the tie at the back of her neck, an action she turned into a long stretch that highlighted the lean plane of her stomach and lifted what looked to be an absolutely perfect pair of tits. Draco swore softly, but could no longer tear his eyes away. And as he watched, she turned away again and threw down her sunglasses and hat, then reached behind her to loosen her hair, which tumbled over her shoulders in a riot of brown and gold curls. The hair was really the end of him—his fingers instantly itched to tangle in it while he kissed her gorgeous neck.

He was well down the path of this fantasy, already undoing her bathing suit tie and biting her smooth shoulder when she turned back around and Draco actually gasped out loud in shocked surprise.

Because he knew that face. Even if the body had been covered by years of unflattering school uniforms and the hair had been transformed by the sun to a lighter shade. But the face—winged brows, delicate mouth, determined chin—that had been undeniably beautiful since about 4th year or so, was exactly the same.

And it belonged to Hermione fucking Granger.

Draco leapt up and moved so quickly and silently out of the swimming area he may as well have been a thestral. As soon as she slipped under the water he bolted. Although he'd stared open-mouthed until she'd gone in. Grabbing his clothes, boots and rucksack, he sprinted to the motorcycle and jammed on the pedal to start it, tearing off down the path to the road before he had time to think.

Hermione fucking Granger. Shit, shit, shit.

"Do you want a refill?" Lavender stuck her head in the refrigerator and pulled out a half full bottle of straw-colored wine.

"Why not?" Hermione held up her glass. She was feeling pleasantly relaxed after her morning of work and afternoon of swimming, and the cool liquid was going down rather easily.

"So he just disappeared?" Lavender wrinkled her brow as she filled Hermione's glass.

"Yeah, it was so strange. He must have gone out another way. Or the timing was just perfect for me to miss him while I was under the water."

"Hmm, well he doesn't sound familiar. I don't feel like I've seen anyone tall and fair like that in town."

"Believe me, you would have noticed him," Hermione snorted into her glass.

"Oh? Ohhh…" Lavender's eyes lit up. "So he was…?"

"Gorgeous." Hermione shook her head and looked into the distance. "Although, I never did see his face…"

"What!? How could you tell, then?" Lavender had started to laugh, something Hermione had realised she did a lot. It was rather infectious and Hermione grudgingly admitted to herself that she enjoyed it. She was actually coming to enjoy Lavender herself, much to her own surprise.

"Oh I could tell. If you had been there you would have agreed."

"Hmm, well he shouldn't be too hard to track down—looking like that. I'll start asking around."

"Nooooo!" Hermione looked at Lavender with a sort of appalled amusement. She was like a bloodhound when it came to men.

"Why?"

"I don't want to come off as some sort of mad stalker. And, I don't think it's wise in our … situation." Hermione picked up a paper napkin that was sitting on the table and started tearing it in careful strips.

"What? We shouldn't date because we're in protection? Or because they're muggles?" Lavender paused in pulling a pack of almond biscuits out of the cupboard and leaned against the counter, her expression quizzical.

Hermione grimaced. "Both? It's just like, well, what if we had to leave very suddenly, for example?"

"Hermione, they're young and they're men. They'd get over it." Lavender laughed again, but this time with more of an edge.

"I know, I just… Maybe it also feels frivolous? In these times?"

"Hermione Granger," Lavender wagged her finger at her, "love and affection and yes, sex, are basic human rights and shouldn't be denied or back-burnered just because there's a conflict or a war or whatever this is." She waved the biscuit pack in the air. Hermione had started chuckling, but Lavender talked over her. "No, I'm totally serious. We shouldn't deny ourselves that joy and that... that release!" She punctuated her point with an index finger in the air.

Hermione gulped a huge swallow of wine. "Have you ever had sex?" Lavender's eyes widened and Hermione gasped and put her hand up, "You do not have to answer that. Oh my god." Damn wine.

"No, no it's fine," Lavender pushed off the counter and came to sit with Hermione at the table, throwing the now open pack of biscuits down between them. "We're living together for who knows how long. We can't hide from each other." She paused. "And the answer is yes."

Hermione could tell by the seriousness of Lavender's expression that it had been Ron. She shoved a biscuit in her mouth. "With Ron," she croaked out.

Lavender nodded slowly, her eyes on Hermione's. "And one other. Before him. A muggle boy I met the summer before 6th year."

"A muggle boy, really?" Hermione was so surprised she almost forgot about the whole Ron thing. Not that she really cared, although it did feel strange that she hadn't known. But it wasn't like he could have told her. She wondered if he'd told Harry, though, and then felt a tiny stab of sadness that they might have kept it from her. But again, how would that conversation have gone?

"Yes," Lavender was saying dreamily, and Hermione tuned back in. "He was French and soo good looking."

"Mmm," Hermione made an indistinct sound and slurped at her wine again.

"What about you?" Lavender suddenly snapped into focus.

"Me?"

"Yes, you. Have you ever had sex?"

Hermione's mind raced. Did she want to share this? She hadn't told anyone. But she'd been the first one to ask and Lavender had been honest… "Yes," she finally said, looking down at the table.

"Not with Ron?" Lavender's words came out fast and there was a kind of cringing quality to them.

"No. God, no!" Hermione reached out involuntarily and touched Lavender's wrist. "That would have been awkward."

Lavender laughed again but this time it was tinged with relief, "Harry?"

Hermione almost missed the question in the laugh. "What! No! No, it was a boy from home. Last winter break. Also a muggle. I was pretty angry with Ron at the time, and Adam was visiting my neighbor from university. He was handsome and funny and we started spending a lot of time together. And eventually I thought, 'Why not?'" Lavender was nodding along. "It was lovely," Hermione continued with a little shrug.

"Good. Mine were both lovely too. Mostly." Lavender's smile was a little sad and Hermione was reminded forcibly of what a git Ron had been, even if Lavender had gotten a bit clingy there at the end.

Hermione was preparing a major subject change to the question of what to have for dinner when Lavender spoke again, abruptly. "Sorry if that was a weird thing to ask about Harry, but I always wondered. You're all so close. I always thought most of the tension was between you and Ron, but you and Harry have such a bond."

"That's true," Hermione said slowly.

"So have you ever? With Harry? Anything? Tell me to shut up if I'm prying too much."

Hermione smiled briefly. "No, nothing. We're just friends."

"Why do you think that is?" Lavender retrieved the wine and distributed the last of it between their two glasses.

"Do you want the long answer or the short?"

"Both," Lavender's eyes twinkled.

"Ha. OK, well the short answer—the one I give everyone and which seems to satisfy most—is that he's like a brother to me." Lavender nodded. "But," Hermione continued, "that's not strictly true. There have been certain moments, connections. I could see us, like, making one of those pacts—'if we're not married by the time we're 30', you know?" Lavender nodded again. "He's my best friend," Hermione said softly. "I'd do anything for him…"

"He's also bloody attractive." Lavender raised a brow in a lecherous manner, lightening the mood Hermione's serious words had introduced.

Hermione cracked up. "Oh my GOD you are insatiable. You were dating his best friend!"

"Doesn't mean I don't have eyes." Lavender got up and twirled away from the table with a wink. "I'm thinkinnnnng risotto tonight…?"

"Oh yes, please. Tell me what to do." Lavender had turned out to be a surprisingly good muggle cook and Hermione was happy to take direction.

"Chop an onion and tell me more about the swimming bloke so I can track him more efficiently."

"Oh my GOD."

Lavender laughed again.

Chapter Text

Hermione sang goodbye to Giancarlo and pushed out the door of the café. The pleasant sensation of having a few errands to run before going home for an evening at home settled over her as she walked down the street, and she hummed a little as she ducked into the bakery.

After a sociable stop there, she made another at the fruit and vegetable stand, then one at the enoteca. Each took a good amount of time since one couldn't just run in and out of a shop in San Cipriano, but instead had to spend at least 15 minutes chatting with the proprietor about the weather, the latest town gossip and often the principals' personal lives as well. Hermione loved it, but it did mean her usual scheduling tactics were thrown off, and she glanced nervously at her watch as she hurried out of the wine shop and up a particularly twisting street. She wanted to get to the bookshop before it closed for the evening.

A customer had told her yesterday about an Italian language class that was being given a few towns over and apparently the libreria was the only place in town to sign up for it. Hermione was keen because she felt the instructional model, which was to match pupils with native Italians for structured conversations, would be ideal to give her a boost into true fluency. She hurried her steps; today was the last day to sign up because the course was starting at the weekend, and she had about five minutes before closing time.

It seemed strange that the libreria wasn't a more regular haunt of hers, but Hermione had visited it the day after she arrived and it had just depressed her that her language skills weren't strong enough to allow her to appreciate its extensive selection—especially since it was a particularly lovely specimen, with tall ceilings, big windows and delightful little nooks for sitting and browsing. She'd eyed the small shelf reserved for English-language books forlornly, realising she'd read all that were worth reading. Then she'd left and just… hadn't gone back.

But this language course would help, she told herself as she tripped up the step to the shop's door and swished through it, relieved that it wasn't locked already. The familiar peaceful silence and sharp tang of paper and leather greeted her and she inhaled with pleasure. Maybe she should be coming here more often just to soak in the atmosphere. She glanced at the till, thinking to ask the elderly female clerk she'd spoken with last visit about the course, but no one was behind the counter, although a cup of tea steamed on the blotter. That was odd, in her experience Italians rarely drank tea.

She lingered, waiting for the clerk to show up, but soon became impatient and began walking down one of the aisles, craning her neck as she reached the end then turning up another and scanning it with no luck. She was about to go back to the counter and just wait when she heard a thump and muffled curse—in English—from somewhere behind her. Surprised, she turned and followed the sound to the far corner of the shop and saw that there was another room tucked away through a small crooked doorway.

She peeked in. The room was small and dim, but tall-ceilinged with what looked like older, more rare books slotted in neat rows on built-in shelves. A couple of worn velvet chesterfields sat back to back in the center of the space and just behind them was an old-fashioned wooden ladder on a track attached to the shelves. And standing on the ladder, Hermione realised with shocked surprise, was the boy from the Pools.

She knew him instantly; the long legs and set of his shoulders, the curve of his back under a fitted waistcoat. He was turned away and his face was in shadow, but there could be no doubt. Hermone suddenly felt a bit breathless, a little pulse of excitement shooting through her. He worked at the bookshop! She took a quick step forward and her hand floated to the door frame.

She was about to say something, make some kind of noise to alert him to her presence—eager to finally see his face—when he moved, bending slightly to place a volume on a lower shelf. And as he did so, the light from one of the tiny thick-paned windows at the top of the room slanted against his profile and hair, and Hermione inhaled sharply as several realisations piled on her at once. Because his hair wasn't just fair, it was pure, silvery platinum. A shade she'd only seen once, well twice, in her life. Before her shocked eyes, the wisp of a memory and niggling perception from the other day flowered into full recognition and she realised with a feeling like falling very fast from a steep height, that she had been ogling, no, lusting after, Draco bloody Malfoy.

Draco bloody Malfoy who was here in San Cipriano, apparently working in the bookshop.

"It was you," she said, the words hissing from her mouth before she could stop them.

He froze on the ladder, his arm raised in the act of shelving another book. As she watched he lowered it slowly and squared his shoulders, then took a deep breath and turned halfway toward her, his gaze trained on the ground.

"It was me." His voice held wary resignation.

"But what! How? You knew it was me!" Hermione's outrage grew as it began to dawn on her that he had run away rather than speak to her the other day.

He climbed down the ladder and turned slowly. "Forgive me if I didn't want to encounter you for the first time in a deserted location." He crossed his arms, "After my, er, activities this spring."

"What?" Hermione only seemed to be able to manage affronted sputtering at this point. She was so furious at herself for her reaction to him.

He raised his brows and shrugged.

"Oh for god's— we were briefed, Malfoy." Hermione shook her head. "I know what you did. Or, uh, didn't do."

"Ah, well glad we've straightened that out, then." He shifted and Hermione's eyes were drawn to his crossed forearms, bare under rolled sleeves, which seemed oddly unlike him. So informal, so muggle. She shook her head mentally. This was Malfoy, not the anonymous boy from the Pools.

"So you're here," she said brilliantly. "In San Cipriano."

He blinked and shook his head once, looking at her as if she were dim.

"I mean," Hermione took a deep breath and waved her hand, as if trying to physically dispel some of the awkwardness and clear her garbled reaction. "You're here, here. Under protection too."

"Merlin's sake, Granger." He discreetly pulled out his wand and muttered a quiet silencing charm.

"Sorry," she muttered, feeling a faint heat wash up her neck. "I'm just really surprised." She leaned in the doorway for support. "How long have you been here?"

"Two weeks."

"Quite a bit before Lavender and me, then," she murmured almost to herself. "I wonder why they didn't tell us? Probably too distracted."

"Lavender?" His brows shot up. "Lavender Brown is your partner."

Hermione felt her brow lower as he started to smirk. "Oh fuck off, Malfoy."

He leaned back against the ladder, his mouth twitching and his eyes mocking.

"It's not that bad," she said. "We're actually becoming friends. So you can stop chortling—" He'd snorted as soon as she said 'friends,' clearly unable to hold it in. "Oh for god's… Well one thing is clear. You remain a total arse." She turned on her heel and walked out of the room and back toward the front of the shop.

"Wait," she heard as she moved rapidly toward the door. "Granger."

"What?" She stopped near the till, still vibrating with irritation. He moved unhurriedly up the central aisle of the shop, his elegant stride unmistakable now. How could she not have recognized him before?

"What are you doing here? At the shop?" He reached the counter and stopped, "were you sent, or—" All traces of mirth were gone from his face now and he looked down at her seriously, perhaps a touch anxiously.

Shit, the language course. Hermione tilted her head back and blew out a breath. She had really wanted to make a grand exit, but she couldn't let him derail her purpose.

"No, it's not any official business. I just wanted to sign up for that language class that's starting Saturday in Aquino."

"Ah," he leaned on the counter and crossed his arms again. "Your Italian not quite up to snuff?"

Hermione glared at him, "I'm picking it up very quickly, thank you." She didn't miss the fact that his Italian must be rather good if he was working in the bookshop. This knowledge did nothing but provoke her further.

"Mmm." The sound was somehow dismissive and disbelieving and Hermione felt her jaw growing more rigid the longer she stood there. He continued to lean and look in an insolent way, and she found her eyes drawn back to his forearms and her mind back to the moment on the rock when he'd stretched them up over his head. Fuck, what was she doing!?

"My vocabulary is strong, I just lack fluency," she blurted, in an attempt to get her thoughts off that ridiculous path. "I think the style of the course will help."

"Perhaps," he said, pushing off the counter and passing behind it. "Here's the sign-up." He handed her a clipboard, "and here's the information sheet. Bring payment to the first class."

Hermione eyed the sheet and then took the clipboard, signing her name and listing the telephone number for the flat.

Hmm, telephone number… "So how are you finding living in the muggle world, Malfoy?" she asked, smirking at him this time. "You able to dial a phone and pay for things with lira without bursting into flame?"

"It's not rocket science, Granger."

"Ooh, a muggle reference! My, my aren't we reformed." Hermione couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice, and as she spoke an echo of his old sneer crossed his face.

"Didn't think I had it in me did you?" he said flatly, the question not actually rhetorical.

"Didn't think you'd lower yourself."

His eyes narrowed and his cheeks suddenly flushed pink. He opened his mouth to respond, but just then the bell on the shop door tinkled and an elderly man tottered in. Malfoy replaced his angry expression with one of bland politeness and greeted him, then started what seemed to Hermione like an ostentatiously fluent conversation.

His accent was flawless and it was highly annoying.

Even more annoying was that she couldn't understand everything they were saying, although she caught enough to make out that the man was looking for a particular book and that Malfoy wasn't sure they had it. But she lost the thread again when Malfoy started recommending alternative titles—an impressive number (she grudgingly admitted) rolling off his tongue. He made to move off down the aisle with the man and Hermione put down the clipboard and started to walk toward the door.

Suddenly the man gave a cry and stretched out his hand to block Malfoy from going any further. He spoke rapidly—again Hermione couldn't quite catch it all—but she could see the faint pink rise in Malfoy's cheeks again as he attempted to interrupt.

And then Hermione did make something out. "Bella signorina," the man said, gesturing to her with a smile and practically pushing Malfoy in her direction, waving off his protestations and, Hermione caught this part quite clearly, telling him, "not to ignore a girl with legs like that". He gave Malfoy a final shove and loped off—surprisingly spry—around the corner.

Now it was Hermione's turn to feel heat rise in her cheeks, although she also felt laughter bubble in her throat. How absolutely mortifying for the prince of purebloods. Rather than run out the door, which was her first instinct, she thought she'd wait around and see how he handled this. After all he was living with muggles now—he'd have to get used to it.

She waited with raised brows as he wandered back, looking over his shoulder and moving slowly.

"You understood that, did you?"

"Enough." Hermione could feel her lips twitching.

"Well," he sniffed, stopping and looking her up and down, "if you go around in clothes like that."

"Like what?"

"Short." His brow went up and he slid behind the counter again.

Hermione looked down at her perfectly normal-length, rolled linen shorts. "They're not that short, Malfoy."

He just shrugged.

"Look, we're in my world now and I'm telling you," Hermione's hands snaked to her hips, her irritation blooming full strength—until she realised a faint smirk was playing at his lips. She stopped her harangue and took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down. "Anyway."

"Anyway." He turned away from her and started fiddling with the ancient till on the opposite counter.

"I guess, we'll… be in touch?" Hermione felt extremely awkward saying it, but they were sort of in this together. They were the only wizarding folk in town as far as she could see—them and Lavender. Oh god, Lavender was going to die of laughter when she heard about this.

"I guess," Malfoy was saying with an indifferent lift of his shoulder.

Hermione rolled her eyes and started moving to the door again. She was arsed if she was going to be responsible for him in any way. He could come find her if he needed something. "Well I'm at the Café Trieste and Lavender is at the gelateria most days. Our flat is on Via Croce, number 12 at the top of the street if you— wait!" She stopped, arrested, "Who is your partner?"

"Theo Nott," was the again indifferent response. "He's at the trattoria in the alley off the main square." This time his voice was a bit sing-song and she got the impression he was bloody making fun of her. Arsehole. She decided to not take the bait.

"With Mauritzio?"

"Yeah, he knows Mauritzio well."

"So do I. Huh, can't believe we've missed each other all this time." Theo Nott, hmm. Maybe she just hadn't recognized him. She barely knew him. He was just another one of the pack of rich Slytherin boys she'd tried to avoid her entire school career.

In fact, now that she thought about it, it was rather amusing that two of those boys, and especially Malfoy, were relegated to this little muggle town and their little muggle jobs—and allowances. Ha. Maybe it was uncharitable to think that way in the middle of a war, but she couldn't help but feel some schadenfreude.

She sniggered softly and reached for the door handle. "Well, I guess I'll see you around."

"Mmm, hmm," Malfoy appeared absorbed in a receipt he was checking against the day's inventory.

Hermione paused for a second, but he didn't look up. "Arse," she whispered under her breath as she finally pushed out the door.

Draco slid the huge metal muggle key into the shop's lock and twisted it until it snicked. Signor Molinari waved once more and shouted his thanks and Draco lifted his hand as the old man disappeared around the curve of the winding street. Gods, when had he become so bloody committed to customer service? It was nearly an hour past closing time.

He shook his head. At least chatting with the old man had taken his mind off the previous encounter.

He'd known it was going to happen. He'd told himself to be ready. But somehow he had still been unprepared for her to just pop up in the bloody shop wearing the shortest... He shook his head again as he set off up the street to the small square where his and Theo's flat was located. He wasn't supposed to be thinking about that. He was putting that out of this mind.

"Hey-o," a call from above provided a welcome distraction. Draco looked up to see Theo balanced precariously in their sitting room window, one leg dangling over the sill and a cigarette between his lips.

"He returns!" Draco squinted up. "Careful up there. And where the bloody hell have you been? It's been a long time even for you."

"Giulia," Theo sighed, leaning his head back against the window frame.

"What the fuck does that mean? Dramatic wanker," Draco muttered as he let himself in and walked up the single flight of stairs to the flat door. "What the fuck does that mean?" he said louder as he walked into the flat itself.

"She saw me with Angelina after work the other night. I had to stay to 'prove myself to her and our love.'"

"Oh my god. You truly belong on the stage, you and all your girlfriends." Draco dropped his satchel and went straight to the row of bottles that lined their counter. "Drink?" he asked, and Theo nodded.

"God yes, I need it. I'm absolutely knackered. Let me tell you Giulia has this technique that increases—"

"I do not want to hear about it," Draco held up his hand. "Please."

"Prude."

"Fuck off," Draco handed Theo a cool glass and settled in his favourite armchair. "So are you moving in with Giulia, then? It will be lovely to have the flat to myself."

"No." Another sigh, "I broke it off. Told her she was too possessive."

Draco choked on his drink, "After, you— ?"

"Yeah," Theo waved his hand. "It's fine. We were never exclusive." He straightened up, "I was lucky to get out of there with all of my parts intact though. Don't recommend fucking around with Italian girls."

"No." Draco blinked then shook a cigarette out of the cigarette pack and lit it. "So it's Angelina now, then?"

"No." Theo said mournfully. "She broke it off with me. Said anyone who would put his cazzo in Giulia was, I think 'a filthy pig whore'? Or maybe it was 'dirty pig fucker'?" Draco started laughing and Theo shook his head. "I really do need to brush up on my language skills. So yes, anyway I'm officially singolo again."

Draco got up from his chair, still laughing, then drained his drink and started making them a new round. "Speaking of language skills… I have some news." He looked over his shoulder at Theo and raised his brows.

"News about what?"

"The girl in red. Mauritizio's girl."

"You saw her!" Theo sprang up out of the window.

"I met her. She came into the shop." Draco handed him another Negroni and crossed to the window himself. "And I saw her at The Pools the other day."

"Well!?"

Draco looked out on the scene below: some children playing in the fountain, the old man who ran the newsstand shutting it up for the day. "What do you want to know?"

"What do I want to—is she as gorgeous as Mauritizio says? Do I need to get down to the café and start my twelve point plan to cut him out?"

Draco snorted.

"So she's not attractive." Theo sounded deflated.

"I didn't say that."

"Oh. I see." Theo lit another cigarette.

Draco pivoted and leaned against the window sill. "See what?"

"You want to keep her for yourself."

Draco snorted again, but louder this time.

"For fuck's sake can you stop being so bloody cryptic?" Theo flung himself into the chair, sloshing his drink over his hand and swearing as he shook it off.

Draco laughed and decided to put him out of his misery. "She's likely everything Mauritizio says she is, but there's one rather big thing about her…"

"What? Her arse?"

"Ha, no." Actually, that was rather—Draco cleared his throat and shook his head once.

"She has a peg leg? She's bald? A tragically limited vocabulary— ?"

"She's Hermione Granger."

Draco watched with amusement as Theo's eyes and mouth grew rounder with each second that ticked by. He sat there silent and still for several moments, starting up only when the ash of his cigarette dropped in his lap and started smoldering. "Fuck, fuck," he yelled as smacked at his crotch.

Draco was really laughing now. And after Theo got himself under control, he sent Draco a very dirty look with an accompanying gesture. But then his face cleared. "Hermione bloody Granger. Here?" He looked into the distance, then his eyes snapped back to Draco. "Are you sure? Wouldn't someone have, I dunno, notified us?"

"Yes, I'm sure it was her know-it-all mouth and bushy head taking up a lot of room in my shop this afternoon." Draco drawled. "And she didn't seem to know we were here either, so clearly the Order isn't making notification a priority."

"Figures she'd be in the bookshop," Theo said, his voice trailing off. "And, does she look … different? I mean, I guess she's always been pretty, but Mauritzio…"

"Italy agrees with her," The words popped out of Draco's mouth before he could keep them in. Damn second cocktail. Regret immediately bloomed as he saw Theo's eyes brighten and his mouth curve up.

"Oh, ho, HO. So that IS the way the wind blows. And you saw her at The Pools. Looks good in her bikini, does she? And I seem to remember you being rather taken with her red dress."

"Fuck off. Nothing is blowing anywhere." Draco sincerely hoped the warmth he felt creeping up his neck was not visible.

"Uh huh." Theo continued to look at Draco with narrowed eyes. Draco stayed perfectly still and held his gaze. He knew any sort of flinch would fuel Theo's fire. Finally, Theo broke their staring contest. "So what was she doing in the bookshop. Still swotting it up?"

"Ah, no. She was actually signing up for that language course in Aquino. The one I was saying you should take."

Theo looked at Draco silently for a moment, then tapped his chin. "Well maybe I will." He jumped up and moved into the kitchen.

"Theo, don't go getting involved with Hermione Granger," Draco said, again before he could stop himself. Bloody hell, what was he doing?

"Whyever not?" Theo looked up angelically wide-eyed from the interior of the refrigerator.

"Just. Complications." Draco gestured with his empty glass.

"I don't mind a little complexity. And I'm intrigued." Theo straightened. "First Mauritzio. Now you."

"Now me, nothing. What the bloody arse are you on about?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all. Now where did you say the class meets?"

Chapter Text

Hermione was sweaty and annoyed. She had checked the bus timetables at least six times and left forty minutes early to make sure she wouldn't be late for her first class and she was still bloody going to be. Damn the Italian disregard for precision in scheduling!

The first bus had been late and the second had been extremely slow, with the driver stopping to chat with acquaintances not once, not twice, but three times. And then he'd told her he wasn't actually going to her stop because they were behind schedule and had dropped her a good half mile further away from the meeting point than she had planned. So now she was power-walking up a dirt lane, glancing angrily at her watch every ten seconds and trying to make out which house looked like it had a language course occurring in it. She was also now officially twenty minutes late and fuming.

Finally, she saw a small sign for the language institute and what looked like a group of cars and people gathered around a low yellow building. She picked up her pace and was practically jogging by the time she burst into the yard, calling an apology to the instructor. A tall woman with a wide smile and a lot of jewelry, she waved off Hermione's words and directed her to sit in the circle with the other students.

"You missed the assessment," she said in slow, clear Italian. Hermione figured they must already be in the no-English portion of the class. "But our numbers are off by one, so I'll just put you in the intermediate group today with Signore Falucci and Signore…" Her brow knitted as she focused on a young man, clearly trying to remember his name.

"Nott," he supplied, his English accent crisp even on just the one syllable. Hermione suppressed a gasp.

"Of course, Signore Nott," the instructor's eyes rested warmly on him for a beat too long.

Hermione looked down and could instantly see why.

She didn't know what she had been thinking earlier, but seeing him now, she of course remembered Theo Nott. A picture of a handsome boy with brown hair floated to the front of her mind. On the tall side with intelligent blue eyes and a habitually amused look. Buttoned down and polished up, the way all the Slytherin boys seemed to be.

Suddenly she recalled an evening in the library at Hogwarts just over a year ago, sharing a table with two Ravenclaw fifth years. They had been giggling and Hermione had looked up, distracted, just as the giggling had died to whispers and nudges and then one of them—the pretty black-haired one—had said, "Hi, Theo," in a distinctly flirtatious tone. A boy in Slytherin robes had stopped in the act of pulling a book from the shelf across the aisle and turned, saying, Hi Jasmine, in a way that made even Hermione's skin stand up in little goosebumps. The girl had blushed and he'd sent her a singularly lethal smile before he'd walked away. At the time, Hermione had shaken her head and immediately forgotten the interaction in the intricacy of her Arithmancy essay, but now she remembered.

Theo Nott: flirtatious, handsome, a bit of a reputation.

Her mind snapped back to the present and the boy in front of her, who looked nothing like the pressed and cleaned Hogwarts student. Hermione released her breath in a silent sigh of appreciation at what she saw. His hair was longer, more curly at the top and shot through with threads of gold. His skin was also a golden tan, which made his blue eyes stand out in icy contrast. His chin and jaw were dusted with a perfect shadow of dark stubble and his teeth glinted white as he smiled up at her innocently.

Hermione's brows drew together as she looked down at him, instantly on her guard. Draco hadn't said anything yesterday about him taking the course. And this couldn't be a coincidence.

"Signorina…?" The instructor was prompting her.

"Granger," Hermione said, still keeping eye contact with Theo. What an unusual shade of blue his eyes were. Clear and crystal, like the sky above them, but also soft somehow, like the fabric of his worn denim shirt. Hermione realised she was staring when Theo's smile widened. She blinked and looked away, back at the instructor, who was gesturing at her to sit down. There would be no way out of this without causing a scene, so she gave a little sigh and sat.

The no-English rule was absolute and Signore Falucci was a strict task-master, so there was no real chance to chat during the day, or, more accurately, for Hermione to ask Theo the questions that were burning away in her brain. There was however, ample time to notice him: the polite way he interacted with the instructor, the effort he put into the lesson, the easy way he laughed at his own mistakes and the little glances and self-deprecating smiles he kept sending her, obviously trying to be reassuring. Hermione started the day very tense, but by the end was feeling more comfortable. Theo seemed harmless—and determined to put her at ease. And the fact that he was incredibly nice to look at didn't hurt either. Hermione cringed inwardly. What was with her this week? And wait until Lavender heard about, and for god's sake saw, Theo.

Hermione sensed trouble, or at least complications, on the horizon.

Finally the instructor clapped her hands and drew them all back to the circle, explaining that there would be another long session tomorrow and a shorter one midweek; a pattern which would repeat for the next several weeks until the course concluded. Then she thanked and dismissed the group. Hermione gathered her knapsack and water bottle and pulled her bus schedule out of her pocket. She had planned to wait at the stop at the end of this road, but after this morning wondered if she should walk to the main highway again. She sighed, the afternoon sun was hot and she was tired, but it couldn't be helped. Maybe she'd ask Giancarlo if she could borrow the bike again for tomorrow. She glanced over at Theo, wondering if they'd have a chance to talk, but the instructor had pulled him into conversation, bracelets clicking as she gestured. Theo's back was to her, but she heard him laugh.

Hermione gave a little snort. Well, maybe they'd have a chance to chat before class tomorrow. She slid on her sunglasses and picked up her pace, hoping she wouldn't be late for the evening shift at the café. It suddenly occurred to her that it would be nice to have a muggle music player if she was going to be walking and riding to class. Would one figure in her budget? She was calculating when a shout came from behind her.

"Signorina Granger, wait!" She turned to see Theo jogging toward her down the lane.

"Hello," she said as he came close, unable to prevent a small smile from tugging at her lips.

"Nice to speak the native tongue again, isn't it?" He moved his mouth exaggeratedly. "When I speak Italian, it's like I'm using different muscles or shifting a gear in my brain."

"Shifting a gear?" Hermione's brow went up. She was sure Theo's family were pureblood for generations.

"I know. So muggle of me." He wrinkled his nose and Hermione couldn't hold back the laugh that bubbled from between her lips. There was a little pause and then, "Hermione Granger," he said, and tilted his head. "Here we are."

"Yes, here we are," she replied.

Just then a group of other students walked near and seemed to converge around them. Theo glanced at them and then stuck out his hand. "Nice to meet you." His smile was wry.

She looked down at his hand for a moment, then back up at him. He gave her an encouraging little nod. "And you," she said, grasping his warm palm. He held her hand a little longer than necessary until she gently disentangled it.

He brought his freed hand up and ran it through that lovely, curly hair. "I hear you met my roommate yesterday," he said, widening his eyes and lifting his brows. "Absolute ray of sunshine, that one."

Hermione pressed her lips together against a giggle. "Indeed. Lovely person. Very charming."

He barked out a laugh and she wanted to ask him more, but with all of the strangers nearby she was reluctant. Theo looked around and suddenly a gleam was in his eye. "How are you getting home?" he asked. "Are you riding? Walking?"

"Walking and bus," Hermione said with a frown. "Which after this morning I know to be a poor method."

"Oh excellent. I was afraid you had a bike."

Hermione cocked her head at him.

"Because I'm giving you a ride," he explained. "Come on, I'm just over there." He pointed to a battered little car parked against the house wall and shot her a quick smile. "We can ride together every day."

Hermione defaulted to looking for reasons not to say yes, but couldn't find any other than, 'you're Theo Nott and I'm Hermione Granger,' which seemed incredibly stupid considering their current circumstances. "Ok," she said. "I mean, that would be lovely. Thank you."

After a bit of shocked disbelief on Hermione's part that someone Theo's height could fit in such a tiny car, they got in and started down the rutted drive. Hermione kept her eyes on his hands and feet as he worked the gears; she wasn't at all convinced that he could possibly know how to drive a muggle car properly.

He noticed her doing it and laughed. "I am totally competent, you know."

"Mmm, I'll be the judge of that." Hermione said and he laughed again, then pulled them out of the drive and onto the road. The wind picked up and began rushing through the windows and around the flap of canvas covering the roof over their heads, causing Hermione to clutch at her hair. "How in the world did you end up with a car, anyway?" she yelled over the sound.

"Bloke whose job I took at the restaurant was moving to France and selling it. I got a great deal on it. Figured it would be useful. And it's a classic!"

"Oh?" said Hermione with some skepticism. It felt more like a tin can.

Theo saw her look and laughed again. "It's a 1979 Fiat 500! The last year they made them. I can't believe you don't know this, muggle."

She rolled her eyes at him and then grabbed at the door as he took a curve on the fast side, and the little car seemed to almost tip up on two wheels. "Are you sure this is safe!?" she yelled.

"Perfectly!" He accelerated on a straightaway. "Lot safer than Draco's motorcycle at any rate."

"Malfoy has a motorcycle?" Hermione's shock was extreme.

Theo shot her a sidelong glance. "Yeah. Mad, isn't it?"

Hermione looked out the window, a vision of Draco Malfoy astride some gleaming hunk of metal popping to the forefront of her consciousness. She stuffed it down, shook her head slightly and turned back to Theo. "I guess it's more surprising than anything. You're adapting so quickly."

"I did achieve a Muggle Studies O.W.L." A glint of blue flashed in her direction and a dimple appeared in his cheek. God, he was legitimately gorgeous.

Hermione started after a slightly overlong pause. "I didn't know any Slytherins took Muggle Studies. Or was it a 'know your enemy' type of thing?"

"We're not all the same." The smile dropped from his face.

His response took Hermione by surprise, but she fought her reflex to apologize; she didn't belong to a house that excluded an entire class of people. Instead she changed the subject. "So how are you liking it here? How is it going?" She waved her hand to encompass the whole thing.

He squinted out at the road before he answered, speaking slowly. "It's strange, you know. I love it. And yet... it's almost surreal. Like, I'm here living la dolce vita," his eyes flicked to her at the reference, "and yet there's a war in the background." He shook his head. "I guess I'm just trying to live for the moment and enjoying those moments quite a bit, except when crippling dread accosts me?"

Hermione turned fully to face him. "That's almost exactly what I would have said if someone had asked me that question."

They were pulling into town now and he came to a stop behind a line of cars. His smile appeared briefly again and he looked at her fully as they idled. Hermione felt something flash between them—maybe a bit of wariness on both sides washing away. She felt her own lips lift. Then traffic started moving again and almost immediately a cartoonish horn beeped from behind them.

"So, Lavender Brown?" Theo said, the corner of his mouth tugging further up.

"Oh not you too—" Hermione groaned.

"No, no! I'm not here to gloat! I mean, we've already discussed my partner."

"Right, although aren't you two good friends?"

"Not really. Our families run in the same circles." He shrugged. "But we've never been close. He's much better friends with Blaise Zabini."

"Ah. And is he in protection too?"

"Not that I know of." Theo navigated an extremely tight turn and Hermione saw the advantage of having such a tiny car on these twisting streets. "Blaise's family have always been very good at giving the appearance of neutrality."

Hermione wrinkled her nose then cut her eyes to him. "And how did you end up here? To be blunt, your family isn't known for being neutral."

"No." He paused for a long time and Hermione wondered if he was going to answer her. When he finally spoke, his voice was low. "Let's just say when I saw a chance to get out, I took it."

"Oh," Hermione said, her hand starting toward him involuntarily. She hadn't expected that at all. He glanced at her briefly then turned his eyes back to the road.

"So how is it going with Lavender?" he asked after a bit, his voice markedly lighter. "I'd assume after last year, that you two aren't the best of friends."

Hermione accepted the subject change. "We're actually getting along well," she said. "There was a bump in the beginning—mostly me being a bitch—but we worked it out. I actually like her now that I know her better."

Theo glanced at her and raised his brows.

"What?" Hermione said.

"I'm just surprised. I didn't clock you as someone who would change an opinion that easily."

Hermione sighed. "Yes, I suppose people see me as rather rigid."

"I wouldn't go that far." His dimple appeared again and Hermione snorted. Liar.

Theo turned his attention back to the road. "Do you want me to drop you at your flat or do you need to go straight to the café?"

"Ahh, my flat, thanks. This ride has allowed me twenty minutes to change clothes and have a shower before my shift, so I thank you very much, as do my customers." She inclined her head to him.

He laughed. "You're very welcome. And shall I come round tomorrow to fetch you? 10:30?"

"Oh I'll walk over to you. It's too difficult to try to navigate the streets around my flat, they're so narrow."

"Ok, 10:45 at mine then. Number three Piazza del Duomo, first floor."

"Excellent. And you can drop me just there. I'll walk the rest of the way. It's not two minutes."

He nodded then stopped the car and leaned over to open her door, his tanned forearm brushing against her and his head practically resting in her lap. Hermione gave a startled little laugh as he grinned up at her, then she slid quickly out of the car.

"Thanks again."

He stayed stretched across the seat, peering up at her and keeping her gaze. "You're very welcome."

Hermione shook her head slightly as she turned to walk away.

"I can't believe he just showed up at the course!" Lavender stirred her crema di caffè and eyed Hermione, her gaze bright.

"I know! And Malfoy didn't mention a thing about it yesterday, so I can't help but wonder if it was a motivated decision." Hermione waved to a regular as he pushed out the door of the café, and noted a young couple come in and sit next to each other in a booth, clearly on a date. The evening shift was so different from the morning one and she rather enjoyed the change.

Lavender burst into laughter at the mention of Malfoy's name, earning herself an amused and appreciative look from a group of schoolboys who were sitting in the corner. One of them called out to her and she flicked her long honey-blonde hair over her shoulder and shot him a flirtatious wave, much to the vocal support of his friends, who immediately started jostling him and slapping him on the back. She turned back to Hermione and rolled her eyes, although it was clear she loved the attention. Hermione snorted and shook her head.

"I am still dying over the fact that your beautiful boy at the pools was Draco Malfoy." Lavender looked like she was going to burst into laughter again.

Now it was Hermione's turn to roll her eyes. She stuck out her tongue at her roommate for good measure too.

"I really need to see him now," Lavender said. "I might even have to take the drastic step of going to the bookshop."

"Well, don't expect service with a smile." Hermione bent over to retrieve the sugar from under the counter. "The clerk there is an arsehole."

Lavender giggled again. "But Theodore," she said, leaning on the counter and slurping at her drink. "We seem to have liked him a bit better…"

"Yes," Hermione got busy arranging sugar packets. "He was surprisingly easy to chat to."

"Uh-huh. And how was he to look at? Has he done as dramatic a turnabout as Malfoy?"

A turnabout. Huh. Hermione had actually been thinking about this, about what the bloody hell her reaction to Malfoy had been about. She hadn't shared her theory with Lavender yet, but she was beginning to think that it wasn't so much a change in him, as it was the fact that she wasn't sure she had ever really looked at him before—at least not without the weight of their mutual prejudices. Her mind flashed on his body slicing into the water at the pools, the line of his jaw in the dim light of the bookshop. She'd always hated him, so she'd never noticed that he was beautiful. As disturbing as the conclusion was, it felt accurate. And Theo. Well.

"Earth to Hermione. Come in, Hermione." Lavender was waving a hand in front of her face. Hermione started and Lavender grinned. "So he's that good?"

"I mean," Hermione squinted at her. "Is it possible we just never noticed them that way before? At school? And now we're in this new context and it's like suddenly… we see them differently?"

Lavender raised her brows. "I noticed them at school."

"Really? I could barely recall Theo until I saw him this morning."

"Yeah Theo is the less striking of the two, but he's still... " Lavender's eyes widened and she gestured with her cup. "And Malfoy." She fanned herself slowly. "I mean I never liked him, but after about fourth year or so, it couldn't be denied. You just always had your head buried in a book. And you were focused on Ron."

"Perhaps. But Draco Malfoy?" Hermione gave a small shudder. "But maybe he wasn't as awful to you as he was to me. You being pureblood and all."

"No, he was a dick to me too. The Browns have never been wealthy and we have some intermarriage in our line, so were not all that pure either."

Hermione snorted at 'not all that pure' and Lavender flicked some foam from her drink at her. "Anyway." Hermione noticed the young man from the couple who had come in earlier looking ready to order. "Be right back," she said to Lavender as she smiled at him.

"Oh yeah, this is not over. You still haven't told me everything about Theo."

Hermione snorted softly then turned her attention totally to her customer. Once he and his girlfriend were served, she ambled back over to Lavender, who was noisily sucking up the dregs of her caffè. "So what do you want to know?" Hermione asked, wiping at a spot on the counter.

Lavender stared at her empty cup. "I really want another of these, but I'm trying not to gain a stone while we're here," she said mournfully, as she ran her finger around the inner rim of the glass to catch the last of the foam. She popped it in her mouth and sucked it clean. "I want to know why you got a funny little look on your face when I asked you about him," she said. "Spill."

"I guess he's just," Hermione scrubbed vigorously. Would she ever be entirely comfortable with Lavender's brand of 'girl-talk'? "Looking well." She stopped scrubbing and glanced up at Lavender. "And if you must know, I'm a bit disturbed by my reactions to both him and Malfoy in one week."

Lavender nodded. "You're not used to noticing."

"Maybe not. Or at least not noticing boys like them. Or maybe it is the sun and the clean air, or something. Malfoy certainly looks less pale and haunted. And Theo is practically gilded."

"Gold? But Theo was always dark. Oh gods, I'm so curious!" Lavender squealed.

"Maybe you should go see for yourself. I think he's working right now." Hermione pointed her chin in the general direction of the square.

Lavender straightened up, her eyes avid. "I'm absolutely doing that! Back in a mo!" She hurried toward the door just as a large group came in. Hermione chuckled and turned to help what looked like a post-dinner crowd.

About ten minutes later, Lavender was back, all bright eyes and significant looks. Hermione ignored her until she had served all of her customers, then came out from behind the counter to join her at a table.

"Well?"

"There must be something in the air here." Lavender shook her head, her eyes wide. "Wow."

Hermione laughed. "Yeah. Now you know what I mean."

"Now I want to see Malfoy. Shit, is this place doing the same to us?" Lavender held out her arm as if to study her skin.

Hermione laughed again. "Did you talk to him?"

"Noo, he looked busy. With a table full of women, actually." Lavender's brows waggled. "But he definitely saw me. I waved and he nodded. We should probably all, I don't know—meet up—at some point." She shrugged.

"Well, at least three out of four of us." Hermione snorted, getting up as a new wave of people came through the door.

"Right," Lavender said, "but I'm going by the bookshop tomorrow."

Chapter Text

Hermione craned her neck as she entered a small piazza near the top of town. Theo had said number three, but the numbers weren't always easy to locate in these old squares. Finally she spotted it: an ornately tooled "3" in worn black paint on a faded green facade. She looked up to see what looked like an ancient building, tall and narrow, with peeling stucco and giant shuttered windows. Intriguing. She found the massive wooden entry door and was surprised that it didn't have a lock. Pushing it open, she found herself in a dim entryway with a curving stair and not much else.

First floor. She started up the steps through the murky light and came to a small hallway with one door at the end. Each floor must be a single flat. Hmm, she was so curious to see it—the feel was so different from the warm, light-filled space she was sharing with Lavender. Almost as if someone had matched their living quarters to their Hogwarts houses. She snorted—she didn't think the order was quite that organised. As she raised her hand to knock on the door, a little pulse of nervousness ran through her. How strange to be here, doing this. Also, she was a few minutes early. Should she wait?

But then she shook off the feeling with some impatience and rapped smartly. She wasn't that early and this was her life now—she just had to get used to it. With that in mind, she took a deep breath and composed herself to greet Theo.

The door opened and she exhaled with a bright hello on her lips, but was caught up short. Because it wasn't Theo framed in the doorway, it was Malfoy.

And he was wet again.

Hermione shut her mouth with a snap after a few moments of letting it hang open, distressed that she hadn't prepared herself better for this. "Uh, hello," she said. "I'm here for Theo?"

"Still in the shower," Malfoy said, stepping backwards, "but you can come in and wait."

He was barefoot. Barefoot and in muggle jeans and a t-shirt, with his wet hair swept back from his forehead, just like at The Pools. He must have just gotten out of the shower himself. She noted these things then gave herself a sharp scold. Snap out of it, Granger. For fuck's sake.

She nodded and Malfoy pushed the door shut over her head, then turned to walk down a long, high-ceilinged corridor. She followed his muggle clothing-clad form dumbly, past a few closed doors and shadowed doorways until they emerged into a huge room highlighted by three massive windows—the shuttered ones she'd noticed from the square. Her impression of atmospheric and artful decay increased as she looked around to take in the faded walls, dark furniture and elegant moldings.

"Wow," she said, almost without thinking, "this is so different from my flat."

"Oh?" Malfoy had gone through a wide doorway into the kitchen area of the room and was busy with something on the counter. Hermione shifted her bag on her shoulder and moved toward the windows to look out. The closed-in view of the piazza and the buildings ringing it was charming, but again very different.

"Yes, mine is low-ceilinged and sort of cosy. Also, we're on the third floor at the top of one of the streets that go up toward the center of town, so we have views over the countryside. It's very light." Why she was babbling like this she didn't know, but she couldn't seem to stop.

"Sounds nice. This place is a bit of a tomb." Hermione could hear that Malfoy had turned to face her and she began to turn toward him to object—she hadn't meant to make an unfavorable comparison—when abruptly he continued. "Would you like an orange juice?"

She finished turning. "What?"

He gestured, an orange in his hand, and she realised the thing on the counter was a juicer—the old-fashioned metal kind with a lever. "We found this contraption in the cupboard, so Theo brought home a bag of oranges from the restaurant last night. They're very sweet."

"Oh, uh, yes please." Hermione took a step toward him, surprised.

"You may as well sit," he said, turning back to the counter and using a long knife to slice the orange in two. He sliced several more and Hermione was strangely fascinated by his movements. "He'll be a while primping."

Hermione glanced at her watch.

"You should be fine," he said. "It's only ten minutes from here and you're early."

"Right," Hermione said. "I tend to do that." She heard the faintest snort as she sat gingerly on one of the ornate dining chairs ringing a massive oak table at the side of the room. She looked around some more, noting the sooty, man-height black fireplace, the scratched mirror hanging over it, a beautifully decrepit chandelier floating above. "This building must have been a palazzo at one time," she said, getting up again to study a muted landscape on the wall.

"Yes, I believe it was a single residence. These would have been the reception rooms, hence the insanely high ceilings." Mafoy glanced up. "Probably bloody freezing in winter."

"I'm sure."

"Here." Hermione turned again and saw that he had moved toward her and was holding out a tall glass, the juice inside an intensely vivid shade.

"Thank you," Hermione said, suddenly flustered. Why was he being so non-horrid? She stepped forward and took the glass, bringing it to her lips without thinking. She took a sip and the flavor exploded on her tongue, so sweet and fresh that she made an involuntary sound. His eyes widened fractionally before he turned back around and began slicing more fruit.

Hermione was immediately mortified and took her glass away to the far end of the room, ostensibly to examine a sombre portrait hanging in a darkened corner. Why had she moaned like a bloody porn star? For fuck's sake. She covered her embarrassment by taking another huge gulp of the juice. It was insanely delicious. "It's very good," she choked out, trying to salvage a bit of normalcy.

"Habit-forming," he said, and it sounded like he was sipping his own glass. A silence stretched and Hermione began to feel uncomfortable, when suddenly Theo poked his head around the doorway from the corridor.

"You're here!" he exclaimed and Hermione wheeled toward him. He was wearing nothing but a towel. God, what were they trying to do to her!?

"Yes! Bright and early." She waved her juice glass.

"I'm just out of the shower. Won't be a moment," he said brightly. "How are the oranges?" he asked Draco.

"Very good. I think Granger would agree, wouldn't you?"

His voice held a hint of humour and she realised the bloody prat was making fun of her. She shot him a glare. "Yes. Very good."

"Excellent. Make me a glass?"

"Mmm, hmm." Draco turned back to the counter and Theo disappeared down the hall.

Hermione decided she wasn't leaving this conversation looking like an awkward idiot.

"So Theo tells me you have a motorcycle." She tried for breezy and confident. "However did that come about?"

"I saw it the second day I arrived and I bought it," he said, fitting an orange half into the juicer and pressing down.

Well this was going nowhere fast. Hermione tried again. "But did you know how to ride one before? How did you learn?"

"No. I just hopped on. It's a lot like a broom." He leaned against the counter and took a long drink from his glass.

Hermione snuck a glance at his throat as it bobbed up and down, then forced herself to focus. "But there are gears and parts and shifts and brakes, and things. I don't even know if I could just jump on one and ride away."

"You probably couldn't."

"Well I don't know if I'd say that," Hermione felt her irritation rise as she moved back toward him.

"Don't get your knickers in a twist. I'm just repeating what you said."

"I'm not!" Hermione stopped and crossed her arms, "Whatever. I'm not letting you bait me."

"I'm not trying to." The half smile on his face said otherwise. Hermione looked at her watch again and took calming breaths. Where the bloody hell was Theo?

"It's just a shock," she finally said to cover the long silence. "You with your muggle motorcycle. And your… muggle jeans."

She meant it as a challenge or maybe even an insult, but he just raised a brow. "I contain multitudes, Granger."

A laugh burst from between her lips, taking her totally by surprise. His face registered surprise too—for the briefest moment—before it settled back into its normal aloof lines. He pushed off from the counter, a glint in his eye. "Would you like to try it sometime?"

"What—" Hermione's brain went in several different directions.

He frowned. "The bike."

"Oh, uh." Hermione was at a loss. She really had no desire to conduct a two wheeled death machine, especially on Italian roads with Italian drivers, but the word that came out of her mouth was: "OK?"

Malfoy looked like he was about to reply when Theo strode into the room, looking fresh and bright-eyed. "This mine?" he asked, picking up a full glass of juice from the counter. Draco nodded and Theo took a deep drink, draining nearly half the glass. "That is fucking delicious," he said, wiping his mouth.

"You two have a nice chat?" His eyes glinted as he glanced from Malfoy to Hermione.

She forced a smile to her lips. "Lovely." Malfoy murmured something indistinct.

"Ace." Theo drank the rest of his juice, then looked at Hermione. "Ready?"

"Yes, absolutely." Hermione walked forward and set her glass on the kitchen counter. "Thanks for that," she told Malfoy, looking briefly into his silver eyes. Such an odd color, but so striking. Well she meant it to be a brief look. She shook her head mentally and forced her eyes away.

"Anytime." His response was so quiet she barely heard him.

Theo was jingling his keys and moving toward the door, "Our chariot awaits," He gave Hermione a crinkly-eyed smile that she couldn't help but return. She followed him and spared one last glance over her shoulder as she went down the hall, but Malfoy had already gone.

Draco brought his bike to a smooth stop under a spreading fir tree and cut the ignition. He lowered the kickstand and swung his leg over the saddle, extending his arms in a long stretch before he stood and started crunching across the gravel courtyard.

The weather was much cooler here in the mountains, the air almost crisp. He stopped for a moment and marveled at the difference a few thousand feet of elevation made; tall trees and craggy rock instead of rolling golden-brown hills. He took another deep breath, then headed toward one of the grand stone buildings that lined the courtyard in which he now stood.

He wasn't sure why he'd pointed the bike toward the monastery. He supposed he'd wanted a longish ride and a cooler temperature. And to get some more of the good soap that they sold at the pharmacy here.

Or maybe some peace.

The last seemed to be most accurate as he found himself opening the door to the chapel and slipping into the silent space, the quiet settling over him like a mantle. He'd discovered this place the day after he'd gotten the bike, when a customer at the bookshop had told him that if he wanted some curvy roads where he could get up some speed, he'd have to go into the hills. The monastery had been suggested as a destination and Draco had thought 'why not?'. He'd never been to a muggle religious place before. He didn't quite know what to expect, but the calm, sunny quiet had not been it; he'd been told too much about the violence connected with muggle religion.

He strolled silently down the aisle, taking in the soaring windows, beamed ceiling and iconography, none of which meant anything to him. It was just quiet here, hushed. He paused for a moment, ran his thumb over a polished wooden bench and breathed a few times before turning back to the door and moving out into the sunlight again.

He hadn't planned to ride today: his one day off. He'd planned to go to the market. Tidy the flat. Get some reading done. But instead he'd jumped on the bike almost immediately after Theo and Granger had left. He'd needed movement and speed after that strange encounter.

A picture of Granger's rose pink lips touching glass appeared in his mind and that soft sound she'd made when she tasted the juice whispered in his ear. He swore softly, earning a look from a cotton-robed monk who was walking by. Draco felt himself color and gave the man a brief nod, then picked up his steps and headed toward the ancient pharmacy. Along with the chapel and a rather impressive library, it formed the public sections of the cloister. Going from the bright sunlight into it's dark paneled interior was disorienting, and he stood and blinked for a few moments.

"Ah, the archangel returns," a jovial voice came from behind the counter.

Draco blinked and moved further into the shop. "Hello, Signore."

"Will you unfurl your wings today, I wonder?" the old man winked and turned to replace a huge glass jar on a high shelf.

Draco gave a short laugh. The last time he'd come in, the man had confused him with all this talk, but he'd read up on it since. The man thought he looked like an emissary of the muggle christian god. They looked like veela in the illustrations.

It was his bloody hair, he knew it.

"Not today signore. I'm just here for some soap. And maybe some more of that blackberry honey if you have it."

"I do, I do. I'll get it for you. And the soap was the angelica-citrus, correct?"

"Yes," Draco said through a sudden yawn.

"So fitting," the man puttered out from behind the counter. "You are tired," he said, stopping and peering up at Draco.

Draco nodded. One of the nightmares had woken him up before dawn and he'd never gotten back to sleep again.

"Then I'll add some sleep oil too. Three drops on your pillow each night. Lavender to help you to get to sleep and sweet orange to sweeten your dreams!" The man punctuated the air with a pointed finger.

Draco nodded and murmured his thanks. He could actually bloody use that. Well, what he could really use was a dreamless sleep potion or ten, but this feeble facsimile would have to do.

He thanked the man again and got out his muggle money, counting rather carefully despite his bravado with Granger the other day. Granger. Her flashing eyes as she'd started to tell him off about the bike. Her surprised little laugh at his quip…

Draco forcibly stopped the train of thought and shook himself back to the present. He laid out his money and the man took it with thanks, grinning up at him through thick glasses.

"Stop by again next time you fall out of heaven," he teased.

Draco just inclined his head and held up his bag as he walked back out the door.

Draco pulled back into the village just as the evening sun began to sink behind the buildings. He'd stopped at the willow spring and done the walk there, eaten his lunch and taken the leisurely, long way home and felt he'd killed as much time as he possibly could. He actually hated his days off. Being idle left him entirely too much time to think, to worry: about his parents, about what would happen next, about whether or not he'd live to see his next birthday.

'All the better to live like there's no tomorrow', Theo's voice echoed in his mind. Draco had scoffed at the time, but he was beginning to see the wisdom in it. He may never have this kind of peace again. On that thought, he suddenly pulled the bike to a stop and parked it near the square. He'd see if Theo was free for an early dinner before his shift started.

Walking up to the trattoria, he spotted Theo right away, sitting at one of the tables and folding napkins, his curly head bent over the task. With a dart of surprise, Draco realised he'd become rather fond of his roommate. He'd never really cared for Theo before; he'd always considered him too glib, too flip, too... gregarious. He'd always preferred the cool, calm company of Blaise, or Pansy's venomous, but restrained, presence. And Theo was still an over-dramatic, wily git—but he was also a good roommate and seemed to have a knack for pulling Draco out of his moods.

"Got all the corners lined up properly?" he called as he approached.

Theo's head snapped up, "Yes, fuck me. This is slow going. Detail work is definitely not my strong suit."

Draco snorted and slid into the seat across from him. "Give me some of those." Theo handed him a stack of linen squares and muttered his thanks.

"Did you eat yet?" Draco asked, familiarising himself with the proper fold and quickly executing it.

"No," Theo watched Draco as he folded three napkins in quick succession, then shook his head. "But the sugo is supposed to be molto bene tonight, according to the cook. Do you want to have a plate? We also got in another crate of that good red. I could use a glass before I brave the hungry masses."

"Definitely, I'm starved." Draco leaned back as Theo signaled to one of the other waiters.

"Where were you just now?" Theo asked as he tackled another napkin.

"I rode up to the monastery, did the walk at the spring, cruised around. It was a lot cooler in the mountains."

"Nice, I need to get up there one of these days. Did you get some more of the berry honey?"

"I did. And how was language class today?" Draco found himself a little more curious than he would have liked.

"Good, yeah. I hate to admit that you were right about anything, but I think it's really helping me. I feel like I'm thinking less about what I'm going to say and instead it's just coming out."

"That could be dangerous."

"Ha. ha."

"And Granger? How is her progress?" Draco could have kicked himself as Theo's bright eyes glanced up and scanned his face, a glint of amusement flickering within them.

"She's doing well. Better than I am, at any rate. She told me she's quite fluent in French and I think it's helping her."

"Mmm," Draco grunted, keeping his lips physically sealed.

"You know, she's different than I thought she would be," Theo started, then interrupted himself to thank one of the waiters as he placed two plates of pasta and a carafe of red wine on the table.

Draco thanked the waiter too and poured them each a glass of the light garnet liquid. "Oh?" he said.

Theo's brows went up as he took a swig of the wine.

"You were saying," Draco said, realising he had dug himself another neat hole, "about Granger." He spoke into his glass.

Now Theo's full smile emerged. "Oh right. Yes, she's lovely. Not at all the unpleasant, rigid type I'd thought she was." He took a bite of his pasta and made a rapturous sound, "Why is food so much better here?" he asked after he'd swallowed.

Draco shook his head in solidarity. It must be some kind of muggle alchemy.

"Of course," Theo continued, "she's clever and outspoken and opinionated. But aren't we all?" He held his wine glass up to the light and swirled it.

"Uh, no." Draco smirked down at his plate. "At least not the outspoken part." Not anymore.

Theo laughed and they ate in silence for a while before Theo poked his head up again. "You know Brown stopped by here the other day too. Peeked at me from next to that tree over there." He pointed with his fork.

"She was spying on you?"

"No, she wanted me to see her. Waved and everything. Of course I was rather busy with a table of eight nurse trainees celebrating a birthday."

"I'm sure you hated that."

"Oh it was dreadful, having to take three phone numbers so discreetly that the others didn't realise." Theo put the back of his hand on his forehead and Draco rolled his eyes.

"But seeing Brown, getting to know Granger. It's given me an idea."

Draco felt a distinct sense of unease as he looked a question at Theo.

"We should get together! Have dinner or something. Here, or we could invite them over. We're in this mad situation, just the four of us. Why in the world would we act like strangers? Because we're from different houses? Feels a bit juvenile at this point, really."

Draco privately agreed, but his instinct was to keep away from Granger and these strange little attractions he seemed to be feeling toward her. He couldn't think of any way to actually say this though, so what came out was a reluctant, "All right."

Theo peered at him. "Really?"

"Yeah." Draco leaned back and drained his wine glass. "You're right. I don't particularly relish the idea, but it would be stupid to not make the connection."

"Excellent." Theo nodded. "Should we do it here or at the flat? Here there's the advantage of a public place, so you and Granger can't go at each other too rabidly. But at the flat we can speak more freely."

"I'm perfectly capable of exercising any restraint necessary, thank you."

"Right. That's why I had to be on the other side of a distracted silent treatment on the way to class this morning. What did you say to her, anyway?"

"Nothing! She asked me about the bike."

Theo leveled a look at him. "Uh huh. Anyway, I'll book us a table here after I talk to Granger about it. Or maybe I'll pop into the gelateria a bit later." He steepled his hands. "A nice public place to keep us all polite and aboveboard."

"Better make sure you set aside some of this wine. We're going to need it." Draco topped up Theo's glass then tipped the last of the carafe into his own.

"Done and done." Theo flashed a smile as he saluted Draco across the table.

Chapter Text

"Have I mentioned that I don't want to do this?" Hermione frowned at the cobblestones and then back up at Lavender.

"Oh maybe one or two... HUNDRED TIMES!" Lavender laughed and squeezed Hermione's arm. "It's going to be fine. Stop worrying!"

Hermione exhaled noisily. She was fairly sure it was not going to be fine. It was going to be awkward and uncomfortable and … unsettling. She plucked at her top; she'd had such a hard time deciding what to wear and was extremely annoyed with herself for caring.

She'd initially slipped on her favorite shorts and a pretty blouse without even thinking about it, but then his face in the bookshop had floated in front of her eyes, and his voice had echoed in her ears—'you know, short'. She didn't want to be thinking about that all night. So she'd put on some wide-legged trousers and a button down shirt. But then bloody Lavender had flounced out of her room in a tiny slip of a sundress and Hermione had felt stuffy and dowdy next to her. So she'd claimed the top was making her too warm and gone back and stared at her closet for five minutes before she'd thought, fuck it, and donned a very cropped sleeveless top. It went well with the trousers and made her stomach look amazing and also, fuck him. But now, of course, she was pulling at it, smoothing it so it was a little longer. She forcibly moved her hands away and made herself focus on what Lavender was saying.

"...So I was really surprised when Theo stopped in and suggested this! I didn't think he'd reach out to me when he's already seeing a lot of you, but it was a nice touch. I really do think he's sincere."

"Oh I think Theo is sincere too. I just wonder what he had to bribe his roommate with to get him to come: two weeks' washing up?"

Lavender snorted. "Be open-minded!"

"Ha. Open-minded. I wonder if this is the first time he's sat down to eat with a muggle-born."

"Do not ask him that tonight, Hermione. Please. We're supposed to be building bridges here!"

"All right," Hermione grumbled, kicking at a rock with her sandaled foot. They were almost to the Piazza so she made herself straighten up, then tossed her head and threw her shoulders back.

"That's the spirit," Lavender murmured with a giggle in her voice as they entered the square.

Hermione's eyes immediately began to scan the charming dining area outside of Theo's restaurant. Canopied in strings of twinkle lights with tables covered in checked cloths and lit by flickering candles, it was almost absurdly romantic. Hermione frowned again and shook her head, just as her eye was caught by a flash of platinum, gilded by the last of the evening sun. The boys were sitting at a prime table, placed just so under the branches of a beautiful little tree and slightly away from the rest. Smart move, Theo. As Hermione watched them, Theo gestured and Draco tilted his head back and laughed at something he was saying. The humor transformed his face and Hermione almost stopped dead in her tracks. Luckily at that second Lavender squealed, "There they are!" and started pulling her by the arm.

Lavender wasn't the quietest and Draco looked up immediately when she called out. There were traces of laughter still in his face, but they drained as he watched their approach. Hermoine saw his eyes flick down her body and felt instantly self-conscious—especially when she caught the brief pause when he got to her midsection. But then he looked away and said a quick word to Theo, who turned around and stood up.

"Ladies! We were beginning to despair of you," he said, his smile bright.

"Sorry we're late, Hermione had to change her top three times," Lavender said, and Hermione could have cheerfully stabbed her with a butter knife.

"Oh, well, I like what you decided on," Theo said with a twinkle in his eye as he very obviously ogled her bare stomach. Hermione muttered her thanks and suppressed the urge to smooth her top down again. There was a little awkward maneuvering about where to sit—Hermione quickly trying to decide whether it would be more uncomfortable to sit next to Malfoy or across from him, and berating herself for not having thought this through already—before they all found themselves seated and staring at each other, Hermione across from Draco and next to Theo. Oh god, now she was going to have to avoid looking at him all night. And try not to touch him under the table. She should have sat next to him, shit.

"So," Theo glanced around the table. "Here we all are."

Silence met his words for a beat before Lavender burst out laughing. "Isn't it so strange?" she said. "I mean, let's just get that out in the open."

Her words seemed to act like a little pressure valve, letting some of the tension out of the atmosphere. Theo laughed along with her and Hermione murmured a low 'yes' and felt a smile tug at her lips. Even Malfoy's face relaxed as he nodded and lifted a wry shoulder in agreement. Hermione thought she might let Lavender live another day after all.

"Well, luckily we have wine for that," Theo said, pouring each girl a generous glass and topping up Draco's and then his own. "And excellent food. I took the liberty of ordering for the table since I'm very familiar with what's good." He knocked Hermione's shoulder with his. "I've been told I'm quite managing, but sometimes one has to be!"

"I didn't say you were managing!" Hermione protested, looking at Theo and rubbing her shoulder exaggeratedly. "I said it was very neat, how you managed me into riding with you every day to class!"

"Theo's talent for twisting words is formidable." Hermione was surprised to hear Draco's voice and she glanced across the table, where he was leaning back and watching them with a gleam in his eye.

"I'm starting to realise that," she murmured, holding his gaze for a beat and then reaching rather quickly for her glass of wine. She drank a large gulp as Lavender spoke up again.

"So," Lavender angled herself toward Draco and crossed her arms, "I understand that you were the first to arrive here. Did they tell you anything more than they told us? I mean," she turned back to Theo and Hermione and spread her hands, "I knew nearly nothing except where I was working, the address of the flat and that Hermione was already here. The witch who escorted me basically shoved the medallion and an envelope of cash in my hand, said 'good luck' and left!"

"I wasn't told much more." Draco shrugged again. "I'm sure you both," he nodded at Theo and Lavender, "were subjected to the muggle crash course just before you arrived as well."

Lavender and Theo nodded as Hermione said, "What? What course!"

"Well you obviously wouldn't have needed it," Lavender said with round eyes. "It was all about, like, using money and what's electricity and how to cook. And there were all these magazines to look through." She looked at Draco, "Did you have that American instructor? He was so strange!"

"Yes." The one word conveyed a world of disdain, and Hermione couldn't help the snort that escaped in response.

"Was it that he was American or the prospect of living in the muggle world?" The words slipped out before she could stop them and pulled an immediate curtain of silence down on the table. Lavender and Theo's faces showed surprise and Hermione knew her expression was a mixture of chagrin and challenge.

Draco looked at her and sniffed once. He swirled his wine in his glass, and then amazingly the corner of his mouth curved up and his eyes actually twinkled.

"Both."

His brows flicked up and down, and Hermione felt surprise race through her veins like the wine she had been drinking rather quickly. A laugh burst from her lips just like the other morning. Theo and Lavender started laughing too and Draco smiled, the expression again transforming his face. Hermione felt herself relax for the first time that night. Who knew Draco Malfoy was funny?

"Sorry," she said a bit gruffly, "I'm supposed to be being open-minded." She cut her eyes to Lavender and wrinkled her nose.

"I'm sure you're not the one who's been lacking in that area." Draco's voice was soft and Hermione whipped her eyes back to him, blinking in surprise, but his gaze was cast down, to where his long fingers were playing with the stem of his wine glass. She opened her mouth to reply, but just then two waiters arrived with the antipasti and the table was suddenly noisy with chatter and the movement of plates and glasses.

Once the activity settled and they were all eating, Lavender spoke up again, telling the table that she was thinking of buying a scooter and asking Draco how he liked his motorcycle. From there on, it was almost like a normal dinner between friends, or at least friendly acquaintances. Hermione felt her reserve giving way bit by bit as they chatted through three courses and into the night. She'd known Theo was entertaining, so it was Malfoy who surprised her most. He was not only non-offensive, but actually seemed to be putting himself out to be interested and even charming at times. His natural reserve and prickliness were of course still present, but he was also engaging and Hermione felt herself responding. Of course, he'd probably been schooled in polite dinner conversation since he was a toddler, so it could all be an act, but at least the night wasn't the excruciating exercise in awkwardness she'd expected it to be—maybe because they managed to avoid all discussion of the war and the dark shadow it had cast over their lives. There seemed to be a tacit understanding that this meeting wasn't for that—that the deeper conversations might come later.

They were debating whether to have dessert or just order espressos like locals, when Lavender leaned forward with bright eyes and suggested that they all go to the disco. Hermione caught a flash of reluctance cross Draco's face and felt in solidarity with him. She didn't really want to go either.

"I've never been, but I've heard so much about it!" Lavender was saying. "Have either of you gone?"

Draco shook his head. "Not me, but Theo's a regular."

"It's not like I haunt the place," Theo said, shooting an annoyed look across the table. "But yes," he turned back to Lavender, "I've been a few times. It's ace. Outdoor and nothing fancy. Just a DJ and a bar and a dance floor. Some tables and string lights like these." He pointed up. "All kinds of people turn up. Lots of young folk from here and the other villages. Some of the French girls who do seasonal work around here. University students on holiday."

"Sounds brilliant!" Lavender shimmied a little in her seat. "Let's go! Oh come on!" she said, noticing Hermione's body language, which Hermione knew was displaying her skepticism. It was one thing to have a cordial dinner with Malfoy, but to dance in front of him, or with him for that matter? She felt her neck and cheeks warm.

"It's just, er, late," she said feebly, Lavender already starting to scoff at her words.

"Late!? This is Italy! It's what, 10:30?" Lavender looked wildly around. "People are just finishing dinner!"

She was right and Hermione knew she was right, but she still felt strange. She stole a tiny look at Malfoy to see that he was leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, regarding her with a ghost of his old smirk on his face. Instantly she knew that he knew exactly why she was reluctant, and she felt the heat burn brighter in her cheeks. Theo nudged her again.

"Come on, it will be fun," he said gently. "Open-mindedness?" His roguish grin emerged full force as Hermione tried to hold back a smile and did not succeed.

"Fine!" she said. Chancing a direct look at Malfoy, she met his eyes. "And you're supporting this plan too?"

"I don't think we'll burst into flame, Granger," he drawled in response, holding her gaze. She remembered her earlier words and half laughed, strangely reluctant to look away.

Theo cleared his throat and Hermione jolted back to awareness. Shite.

"Well, we're going to need that coffee then." She leaned back and signaled one of the waiters, not missing Draco's eyes dart down to her stomach as she stretched, maybe lingering a little longer than necessary.

"Oh quit showing off, you bitch," Lavender said. "I swear that's not fair. And no I won't be having dessert tonight."

Hermione straightened back up and sent Lavender a friendly rude hand gesture. Both boys laughed and it was like a final crack in the ice.

"So how are we going to get there?" Hermione said.

"A table!" Lavender squealed, "Let's grab it!" She pulled Hermione by the hand to a rustic wooden circle at the edge of the dance floor and threw her bag on it. Hermione followed and sat down in one of the low chairs ringing it. The disco was almost exactly as Theo had described; just a basic outdoor space with a little shack for a bar, lights strung over a dance floor, and a few tables. They were lucky to have gotten this one because the place was crowded. Hermione turned around to say that to Lavender only to see her back, deeply tanned against her white sundress, as she pulled Theo out into the dancing crowd. Hermione froze. Fucking Lavender.

"Would you like a drink?" came a voice from over her shoulder.

"Er, yes." She turned, grateful that Malfoy had come up with a simple solution to the problem of having to sit awkwardly and watch their friends dance. "Thanks." She glanced at him then lifted her tiny handbag and began to unzip it. "Let me give you some Lira…"

"Granger, please. You can get the next round if you must."

She looked up then and he was almost smiling her, the rainbow lights from the DJ booth playing over his handsome face. She blinked slowly and took a breath. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm being so awkward. I just—"

"Because it is awkward. And you don't have to apologise." He lifted a shoulder. "We can't all be stupidly outgoing." His eyes moved past hers to the dance floor, where Theo was swinging Lavender around in some kind of lift, while she laughed with giddy delight, much to the amusement of several other patrons.

Hermione saw a visible shudder pass over Draco's face and she laughed and caught his eye again. "Thanks," she said, involuntarily reaching out and laying her fingers on his arm. He looked down at the point of contact and she felt a little jolt. "Uh, vodka coke?" she said, hurriedly removing her hand and putting it in her lap. He just kept looking at her, so she said, "My drink order? Coke is the fizzy brown soft drink?"

He tilted his chin down, "I know, Hermione."

"Ok, ok!" She waved him off. "Sorry!"

He took a step toward the bar then looked back at her. "Stop apologising."

She just shook her head and he turned again and walked away. She swiveled back to the dance floor, looking for Theo and Lavender, who had both moved on to new dance partners, but her eyes kept wandering back to the bar, where Draco stood tall and straight shouldered in his jeans and black t-shirt, his bright hair so distinctive. Would she ever get over seeing him in muggle clothes—especially such casual ones? Not that he didn't look very good in them. A vision of his waistcoat and rolled sleeves from the other day flitted through her mind, which led to speculation about what he wore when he rode his motorcycle, and then she remembered what he'd looked like under his clothes at the pools.

She suddenly realised what she was doing and breathed out heavily, closing her eyes against the images. She'd obviously had too much wine with dinner. And now she was having another drink. Probably not the best idea—she'd need to cut herself off after this.

She craned her neck. Maybe Mauritzio was here. He could distract her from ridiculous imaginings. She scanned the place, but didn't see him, although she did recognize a few of the other waiters from the village. She gave them a quick wave and then turned again to the bar, wondering what was taking Malfoy so long.

Ah. That was what. A beautiful girl with long dark hair was smiling up into his face as she talked and gestured. Malfoy was half smiling too, and looking down at her with polite interest. He had a drink in each hand and looked like he had been in the middle of turning to come back to the table. The girl grasped his upper arm and went on tip-toe to say something in his ear, and Hermione felt a hot pulse of … something. She didn't care to examine what it was, but she knew she didn't like that girl, who didn't seem to notice or care that he had two drinks in his hands. Rude. She kept watching them as Malfoy pulled back and shook his head gently, while the girl made a pouting face and tugged playfully at his shirt. He laughed and gestured with his head toward their table and Hermione, who realised she was glaring at them very fixedly, tried to look away and smooth her face into more neutral lines. But Malfoy had caught her looking—and the girl had also noticed, because she shot Hermione a glare before she tossed her head and walked away.

Oh dear.

"Thanks!" Hermione could hear that her voice was overly cheery as she accepted her drink with a wide, fake smile. Malfoy nodded and settled into the seat across from her. Hermione desperately tried to think of something to say, but couldn't, so she turned to the dance floor again and a painful silence settled on the table. Lavender was paired up with one of the waiters from town and Hermione tried to seem very interested in their gyrations, sucking down practically half her drink in about three seconds.

"So this is muggle dancing?" Hermione spun to see Draco looking out at the activity on the dance floor, his face a bit puzzled.

"Well, yes. A certain type," she said, eagerly seizing on a topic, any topic. "This is an R&B song, so the dancing is kind of… close." She grimaced as a nearby couple became fairly x-rated in their movements. "Other faster dancing, like what Lavender and Theo were doing before, is different. From a different era and a different style. That was a disco song, which is why everyone was twirling around. It's mostly from the 1970s, whereas this song is current."

Draco nodded. "Fascinating."

"Do you really think so?" Hermione cocked her head. "It must seem strange to you. I know wizarding dances seemed very strange to me when I first saw them."

"I do. And yes it seems strange, but I'm trying to learn. What other kinds of muggle dancing are there?"

"Well." Hermione turned fully around to face him and put her elbows on the table. "There's 80's dancing. That's kind of a style that goes with the type of music that was popular in the 1980s. It's very distinctive. If a song comes on I'll show you."

"Really?" His lips lifted.

"Or, I'll, er point it out at least." Hermione slurped the last bit of the second half of her drink.

"Does each decade have its own style of dancing?" Draco leaned his elbow on the table and put his chin in his hand, mirroring her. Hermione noticed his drink, which looked the same as hers, was barely touched.

"Not necessarily. There's no real distinct style for the 90s. But there are other types. There's ballroom dancing. That's much more formal and like wizarding styles—you won't see it in a place like this. And of course there's slow dancing."

"And what's that like?"

"It's sort of like the slower wizarding forms, but less… structured," Hermione said. "You basically just put your arms around each other and sway in time to the music." She laughed, remembering a trip to a disco with a muggle friend. "If you like each other, you stand close and if you aren't sure, you kind of keep your arms stiff." She held her arms out like a zombie and moved back and forth.

His smile deepened. "Sounds fairly simple."

"Yeah I find some of this—" Hermione waved her hand at the dancers, "a bit much."

"I don't know." He looked past her. "Looks fun."

He caught her eye and Hermione felt a prickling of anticipation. But then the music cut out and the tempo slowed. "Oh!" she cried, twisting to look at the DJ booth, "I love this song! It's from the 80's and a slow song. See how they're all coupling up!? See the swaying? And the arms!?" She turned excitedly to Draco.

He was smiling again. God, his smile was attractive. She didn't think she'd ever really seen it at school, but she was starting to understand what Lavender had meant. She'd just been blind to him. He opened his mouth and Hermione knew he was going to ask if she wanted to dance. And she knew she was going to say yes. And then maybe the whole world would burst into flame. Or maybe it wouldn't.

These thoughts flashed through her mind in the second it took for him to take in a breath and raise his brows, but in the next second she was being spun on her seat and pulled up and out of it by Theo, who was laughing and telling her he wasn't going to let her sit there like a lump any longer. She darted a glance over her shoulder and saw Draco look away and take a deep swallow of his drink. Hermione couldn't tell if she was disappointed or relieved, but then Theo was pulling her close and she gave in to the moment, looping her arms around his neck with a shake of her head and a smile.

Theo mouthed the dramatic words to the song in an exaggerated way that made her laugh, and she could smell a heady mix of sweet cologne and sweat. The lights were pretty as they whirled slowly.

"You know the song!" Hermione shouted over the music.

Theo nodded. "Surprised?"

"Yes!"

"I have a few tricks up my sleeve," he said in a low voice, his smile fading into a more intense look. Hermione felt her pulse speed the tiniest bit, which surprised her. Thus far she'd noted Theo's attractiveness, but not been attracted to him. Unlike—well, better not to dwell on that.

Theo seemed to sense the change in the atmosphere too. He stopped swaying and blinked down at her with a strange expression on his face. They had almost stopped moving altogether when the song ended and a new, bouncy one struck up, and suddenly Lavender was there to pull Hermione away. Hermione was glad for the interruption, which allowed her to ignore her confused feelings, and she and Lavender danced for a while—eventually letting Theo and some of the waiters join in.

Hermione stole a few glances at Draco and saw him watching them, leaning forward in his chair with his elbow on his thigh, the smoke from a cigarette wreathing his face. Hermione thought about going to get him, about pulling him into their circle, but couldn't quite picture actually doing it. Although when another slow song came on, she looked for him again, a mad half-idea taking hold in her mind, but he was gone. She felt a distinct stab of disappointment that he'd left, and then a distinct stab of a stronger emotion when she realised that actually he hadn't left at all, but instead was just a few couples over, swaying with the pretty dark-haired girl from the bar. Slag, Hermione thought and then was immediately appalled at herself. She looked away as the girl laughed up into Draco's face.

"Come on, let's get a drink!" Lavender suddenly yelled in her ear, a welcome distraction.

"Ok!" Hermione grabbed her hand and led her up to the bar, where they waited for the bartender to finish another order. Hermione leaned over to see what flavors of soft drinks were in the fridge, turning the motion into a stretch. Suddenly a warm palm slid across her bare lower back, the fingers curling lightly around her waist. She sucked in a little breath and whipped her head around.

"Order me a lager, will you? I'll get the round." Theo winked at her and let his hand trail off her skin to rest on the bar.

"Heyyy," she slid down and turned around, catching Lavender's avid-eyed stare as she did so. Theo had her neatly trapped and she was reminded of her joke about him managing her. She looked up at him for a moment, then put her palm flat against his chest and pushed. He stepped back with a laugh, pivoted and grabbed Lavender to twirl her in a circle.

"Where's Draco?" he asked after he placed a breathless Lavender back against the bar.

"Last I saw he was dancing," Hermione tried for a nonchalant tone as Theo's mouth dropped open.

"Dancing!?"

"Yeah, with some girl." Hermione saw Lavender staring at her again and she shot her a 'stop it' look when Theo turned to pay for the drinks.

"Well maybe I'll get the flat to myself for once," Theo said with a double flick of his brows.

"No, I don't think so," Lavender spoke up, her eyes now trained on the dance floor. "I'd bet my last galleon he just told her no thanks."

Hermione turned as she spoke and saw the dark haired girl flouncing away from an amused-looking Malfoy. The girl shot Hermione a very dirty look as she passed by them and pushed out a side door to the patio. Lavender's eyes flew to Hermione's, surprise registering in them. Hermione gave the tiniest shrug.

"Anyone else ready to go?" Hermione turned at the sound of Draco's voice.

"Are you upsetting the locals? Do we need to get out before there's bloodshed?" Theo said with a smirk.

"Something like that," Draco murmured, his eyes flicking to Hermione. That amusement showed in his face again and she wondered what in the world had happened.

"I'm ready to go," her mouth said, surprisingly.

Theo looked between them for a beat. "Well let's go, then."

"I want to drive!" Lavender called, snatching Theo's car keys out of his pocket and darting for the parking lot.

"Does she even know how?" Hermione asked as she and Draco watched Theo run after Lavender.

"Who knows?" Draco said. "But I guess we'll find out."

Chapter Text

Draco didn't know why he'd left an hour early for work or why his feet had pointed in the opposite direction when he'd gotten to the turn that led to the bookshop. Or why he was now walking very definitely in the direction of the café. Perhaps he just needed a coffee after the late night? He shook his head and shoved his hands in his pockets. Best not to analyse too much.

Arriving at the yellow stucco building with the polished wood door and gold-lettered sign, he stopped for a moment, giving himself one last chance to move along. His mind traveled back to the night before: her avid face when she had been telling him about the dancing, her wicked smirk when she'd made that crack about his muggle studies course, the smooth expanse of skin he'd had a hard time keeping his eyes off of...

He leaned his back against the wall, looked up and sighed. If he went in there, knowing she was there—and yes he'd already glimpsed her curly head and graceful movements through the large plate glass windows—it would be an admission of sorts, even if only to himself.

He could walk away now and stay safe on one side of an imaginary line.

Or he could cross it. The thought was already gone as he grasped the door handle and pulled it open.

"Buongiorno," she called at the tinkling of the bell. Her back was to him as she did some intricate thing with a tall glass. "I'll be right with you." Her italian was really quite good—very natural flow and her accent was decent.

"It's nothing," he murmured, stepping up to the bar, hoping to watch her a bit before she realised it was him.

But the instant he spoke, she whipped around and dropped a spoon on the tile floor, the clatter raising heads all around the bustling little space. So much for that plan. Draco raised his brows at her and she reddened. Interesting.

"Uh. Good morning," she stammered in English.

"No, no keep up with the Italian," he leaned against the counter. "It sounds excellent. Your accent is quite good."

She had turned back around. "Not as good as yours." In Italian again, but with a distinctly petulant tone. He laughed lightly and she threw a look over her shoulder at him. "What would you like?"

So many things, Granger. "A cappuccino please."

"To go?"

"For here."

"Table, or bar?" The slight pause before the second option made him seriously consider staying at the bar just to discomfit her further, but he'd really rather take the nice table that had just opened near one of the windows and ostensibly look at the newspaper someone had left behind.

"Table, please."

"I'll bring it right over."

He inclined his head and stepped over to the small, sunlit section and dropped into the chair facing the bar. Picking up the discarded copy of La Repubblica, he began skimming the muggle news, but soon gave up on it. He'd never get used to the static pictures, and besides, there were much more interesting things to look at. She was wearing a skirt today, a calf-length green affair that seemed to wrap around her in some clever way.

Her movements at the massive, belching espresso machine were deft and already practiced. Like everything she attempted, she seemed to have mastered the vagaries of espresso-making in all its permutations, a ritual and culture that had largely eluded Draco thus far. He knew you drank it with milk in the morning and plain after noon, but that was about it. He vastly preferred tea anyway. Another small fact in to weigh in the balance of why the fuck he was here this morning.

She walked over, a tray with a lightly steaming cup, a biscuit and a glass of water balanced on her hand. He folded a corner of the paper down and looked up. Unexpectedly a grin spread across her face.

"What?" he asked, knowing she didn't just have smiles for him.

She pushed her lips down, shaking her head once. "Nothing." But her eyes were still twinkling.

"Come on, Granger. Out with it." He picked up his cup and sipped. The coffee was perfect, hot and rich.

"You just… looked so like a muggle just then! Sitting in a coffee shop, reading the paper."

He raised his brows and took another sip of his cappuccino.

"I guess I'm just having a hard time getting used to it," she sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm not trying to make fun."

"I told you to stop apologising. Do I look offended?"

"Well yes, but then you sort of always look slightly offended."

Draco laughed. He couldn't help it.

"Oh god! There I go again!" She wailed, "I'm so—"

"Don't say it." He reached up and almost touched his index finger against her lips. She froze and stared at him for a second, and he didn't move. He saw color bloom slowly up her neck to her cheeks. Unfortunately, at that interesting juncture the bell tinkled on the door.

"Duty calls," she said with a distracted look, as she practically jumped away and hurried to the counter.

For a while he just sat and drank his coffee, watching from behind his newspaper as she interacted with the wide variety of people who came in: listening to her banter and commiserate and gossip, then send them off with a bit of cheer. She was very good at it, and he could tell she enjoyed it too. He wondered if she felt the same as he did about their whole situation, living here, working, ignoring the outside world and their grim reality. He realised he wanted to hear her thoughts about it.

He realised he may have already gotten in too deep.

He sighed and thought again about the night before. She had started stiff and defensive, as had he—although they certainly had different ways of expressing that. He snorted softly and glanced up as she called goodbye to a customer. But by the end of the night, at the disco, their conversation about dancing…it had been like the rest of the room had fallen away, talking with her, a connection zipping between them. He'd wanted to talk more, he'd wanted to dance with her.

Fucking Theo.

And wasn't that funny that his admirer—what had her name been? Sofia.—had thought he was with her? He crossed his arms and looked out the window, wondering how he could get back to that place, where they were open.

"Penny for your thoughts."

"Hmm?" He started out of his reverie to find her there, standing beside his table. The café seemed to have emptied out, the only other customer sitting outside. She glanced around and sat down.

"It's a muggle expression. It just means 'what are you thinking?'"

Draco squinted at her and opened his mouth. She put her hand up and closed her eyes. "You already know that. I—" She shook her head. "Anyway." He smiled again and she smiled back.

Suddenly inspiration struck.

"So Granger, do you know a lot about muggle music?" he asked.

She frowned. "What? Why, do you? Ohh." Her brow smoothed out. "Last night. The dancing."

Draco nodded.

"Well, I guess I know a bit. My dad is really keen. He plays electric guitar—you know what that is?" She checked in and he nodded. He knew it was loud, at least. "Well, he has a lot of music in his collection. So I was sort of subjected to it. I probably know less about current popular music than most muggles my age, though. The Hogwarts experience was not really conducive, you know? Although Dean Thomas and I have compared notes on occasion. Why do you ask?" She twisted a sugar packet round in her hands and glanced at him keenly.

"I'm interested," he said with a shrug. "I play, of course."

"Oh I didn't know that!"

"I think it's a prerequisite for all pureblood mothers of a certain social class to force their children to learn."

She laughed. "Ah yes, I believe that holds true in both worlds. What do you play?"

"A wizarding type of piano."

"Ah, it's similar in both worlds?"

He nodded. "But what I've heard this summer— which is more than I've ever heard before— intrigues me. It's very different, very expressive. I'd just like to know more." He shifted. "It's the same with books, but I have ample access to those, obviously. I've been reading a lot."

She was nodding along, her elbow on the table and her chin on top of her closed fist. "That's how I felt when I first learned about Hogwarts and the wizarding world. I just wanted to know more. Probably why I put everyone off first year quoting Hogwarts, a History all over the shop." She laughed.

He laughed with her, then sobered, thinking of how he had treated her first year, and many subsequent years. A cold wash of shame crept over him, and he was struck by how generous it was for her to even be sitting here and talking with him like this, about her world and these subjects.

"Hermione," he ventured, and he could hear the gravity in his voice.

"Yes?" She tilted her head, a slight frown on her face.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly. He looked down at the table and then up at her. He saw realisation replacing the frown. He went on before she could speak. "I can't excuse my behaviour for the first five years of school except to say that I was a spoiled, ignorant shit who ate everything my father fed me without question. But last year—and I know you were briefed." She nodded once, her eyes intent on his. "A lot of last year was me covering, trying to protect my family. But I had already started to doubt, well, more than doubt, for myself."

She was silent for several beats as she looked at him. Then, "Thank you for telling me," she said with a slight nod. They sat for a moment and then she cleared her throat. "So," she said briskly, "if you're going to learn about music, we're going to have to find you a way to listen to it."

"Are there a lot of different ways to do that?"

"Oh yes! CDs, tapes, records, the radio… And you'll need a player." She was tapping her chin and looking off into the distance. "I'll help you find some things."

"Excellent, thank you." He felt absurdly pleased with himself for hitting an excuse to keep talking to her.

"Now," she said, "tell me what you've been reading."

Hermione looked at the clock with a start. She'd been sitting and talking with Draco for thirty minutes and she hadn't run the dishwasher or prepped for the lunch crowd, which would start appearing in roughly twenty-five minutes.

"Shit," she muttered.

His eyes followed hers to the clock. "Shit!" he echoed, jumping up. "I was supposed to open five minutes ago. How much do I owe you for this?" He gestured to the remains of his cappuccino.

She waved him off. "Please. I've got it. For the drink last night." She caught his eye. "And for the conversation."

He paused in gathering his things and looked back at her. "All right. But only because I'm in a rush."

She waved at him again as he ducked out of the shop, his hair ruffling in the warm wind that was sweeping through town that morning. She also stood and watched him go for a bit before drifting back behind the counter and mechanically taking panini fixings out of the fridge to arrange them for assembly. She'd been so surprised when he'd come in. She was fairly certain she'd mentioned last night that she was working this morning. And she was also fairly certain that he'd never been in before. Had he just wanted to ask her about music? But he didn't need to make a special trip for that, let alone stay and chat.

Was he trying to be friends?

Her hands stopped their brisk movements, the thought arresting her. And she'd forgotten in all the book and music talk that he'd apologised. She stood and stared at nothing for a moment. Why had he done that? What had changed his mind? She realised she very much wanted to know. Maybe if they were friends she could find out… The idea appealed. Maybe a little too much.

Maybe it was too late to be just friends.

She shook her head and brushed away her inner voice impatiently. It was just an attraction. A purely physical attraction. And hadn't she managed to (mostly) hide her attraction and be just friends with Ron for years?

Huh, she guessed she was just freely admitting to herself that she was attracted to Draco Malfoy. He'd made her drop a bloody spoon this morning, leaning against the counter all sleepy grey eyes and tousled hair. She snorted softly and forced her hands to get back to work.

But what about Theo? Didn't she find him attractive too? She conjured his blue eyes and golden curls. Yes, he was also extremely… magnetic. And they had definitely had a moment last night. A couple of moments. And Theo seemed safer somehow, despite his reputation.

She shook her head again. How in the world had she ended up in this position, considering the relative merits of two Slytherins, one of whom was Draco Malfoy? It was beyond comprehension and she had a flash of what she would say to Harry or Ginny or god forbid, Ron, if anything ever came of this.

Maybe nothing ever should. Surely the safest course was to remain friendly and nothing more. Besides, she was almost certain that that was all he could want. He? They? No, she was also almost certain that Theo would be happy to be more than friends. He was more than friends with a lot of girls in town if Lavender's sources were anything to go by. God. Maybe she should talk to Lavender about this. Maybe Lavender would take one of them off her hands. Maybe she was completely delusional and no one harboured secret, lustful feelings toward her.

She laughed out loud at that and lifted a tray of caprese panini into the chilled case. Just then the bell tinkled and a group of older men walked in. She looked up brightly and welcomed them, determined to put everything but lunch out of her mind for the time being.

As the next few days rolled on, Hermione's 'friends' theory gained traction. Draco came in to the café a handful of times and always stayed to chat. They continued to talk about books and music and he would often come with a question about the muggle world for her to answer, which would turn into a conversation about how the same thing worked in the wizarding world and why and what the connection could be and usually a (mostly) friendly argument about which culture influenced the other. Hermione never neglected her customers, but she was mightily tempted to a few times.

Theo had also started coming in very regularly—ostensibly to talk about their course and to practice the areas of speech the instructor sent them home with after each session, but really to flirt, Hermione thought. He kept it light and if she gave him the slightest signal to back off, he always did, but there was a current there that hadn't been before the night of the disco. She wasn't sure how she felt about it, but in an idle moment, she found herself wishing she could mix her interaction with the two of them—a little more flirting from Draco and a little more substance from Theo.

Maybe the two of them together make one perfect sort of boy. She laughed to herself as she set the café sign from 'chiuso' to 'aperto' early one morning. She was dusting the bottles on the bar and wondering when she'd ever see Lavender, who had been out late several nights with one of the waiters they'd danced with at the disco, when the bell tinkled. Her earliest customers were almost always two lorry drivers who came in to have a chat and a coffee before they started their deliveries for the day, but it was early even for them. She looked up in surprise to see Draco walking in.

It was chilly at this time of the morning and he was dressed for riding, in a close-cut leather jacket with his helmet under his arm. His hair was mussed and he looked fresh and windblown. His hands were gloved in supple black.

Now, Hermione had been enjoying Draco, enjoying getting to know his agile mind, trying to get comfortable with the fact that she was drawn to the rest of him too. But she hadn't let herself feel anything like that pure wash of lust that had come over her the day at The Pools before she'd known who he was. There lies danger, her inner voice would practically shout at her. So she had been keeping a tight rein.

But this. This was too much. And as he stalked with his long stride across the café floor to the counter, the lust swept back with a vengeance that destroyed any barrier she feebly tried to erect. Her breath sped. Her hands, which suddenly ached to unzip the jacket, push it off his shoulders and run up under the white t-shirt she could see peeking out underneath, twitched against the counter. She gripped it tightly and forced a strangled Boungiorno from her lips, which also ached— to whisper up the column of his throat to his sharp jaw and then his lips. God.

She saw a small frown appear between his eyes and mentally shook herself. She must look like she was having a stomach cramp, or a minor stroke. She forced a smile. "You're here early." It came out oddly mechanical and slightly mad at the same time. Brilliant.

He tilted his head and laid his gloved hands on the counter. "Are you well?"

"Fine, just fine. Slight headache, this morning. Probably dehydrated!" And now she sounded manic. She forced herself to tone it down, taking a discreet deep breath. Which actually didn't help because it contained a whiff of the clean scent she had come to associate with him, blended with the leather from the jacket. Shit. She wheeled away and started pulling glassware from counters and levers on machines, not exactly sure what she was doing. "Your usual?"

"Ah, no, actually. May I just have a doppio?"

"Of course," she chanced a quick look over her shoulder. Still incredibly gorgeous, yes. "At a table or are you off?" she inclined her head toward all his gear.

"I'm going. I'll just toss it off, quickly."

Toss one off; good idea for later. God! What had come over her!? She forced her brain to heel and turned with a smile. "And where are you going?" She did not look at his throat as he drained the coffee Italian style, in one quick swallow.

"Up into the hills. I haven't been past the monastery before, but a chap in the shop was telling me how beautiful it is the further you go. And it's my day off, so…"

Hermione glanced around the shop and lowered her voice. "But isn't that past the wards?"

He looked away. "Yes, but I'm bringing my wand."

"Draco, I don't want—" Her hand went out involuntarily and she almost touched her fingers to his gloved wrist.

"I'll be fine." He brought his eyes back to hers, "I just. Sometimes I feel a bit trapped here. As lovely as it is." He looked away again, out the window. "And I miss flying so much I can taste it."

She sighed and it struck her that Harry would be the exact same in this situation. She wondered what Draco would think of that if she told him. She also wondered what she would say to Harry if it were him standing here. She'd probably give him a blistering scold, but she found she couldn't quite do that now.

"Just... be careful. All right?"

He looked down at her and his eyes darkened. "I will."

The atmosphere was suddenly charged and Hermione felt all those physical reactions she had finally gotten under control, flare up again. Draco kept her gaze until she could have sworn his eyes dropped to her mouth.

She was about to say something—someone needed to—or maybe she should just reach up and wrap her palm around the back of his neck, tug him down and…see what happened. But in the vague distance she heard the door open and someone start to come in. Draco's eyes cut to the sound and his posture instantly changed, stiffening and loosening at the same time. Hermione ripped her eyes away from him and saw what was unmistakably Theo, his back to them as he pushed through the door, holding a box and a sheaf of flowers.

"I come bearing verdura for study!" he called, "and fiori for you," he added, his voice lowering as he turned and took in the scene.

"Good morning," said Draco, a funny sort of emphasis to the words. Hermione had the distinct impression that he hadn't seen Theo in the flat the night before. Maybe because Theo reddened slightly and looked annoyed.

"Going somewhere?" Theo said, a little pointedly.

"Yes." Draco seemed to recall himself. "I'm off for a ride. Long one. Won't be back until this evening, I imagine. Will you be out again?"

Aha!

"No, I don't have to work tonight," Theo said, his eyes narrowing, then moving between Hermione and Draco before the corner of his mouth tilted up the smallest bit.

"Hello, Theo." Hermione thought it was time to interject. "You've brought props for our vegetable market practice?"

"Yes!" Theo thumped the box down on the bar. "A good variety. All the cook asks is that we handle them carefully."

"I think I can do that," Hermione said, smiling at him. He shot back a brilliant grin.

Draco shifted toward the door with a small, impatient movement. "I'm off," he said. "Thanks for the coffee."

"Of course." Hermione turned away from Theo and toward Draco. "And do be careful." She frowned.

His posture softened slightly and he nodded once before turning toward the door. Hermione watched him, his broad shoulders tapering to his lean waist, and felt the heat flare again. Just as she was about to tear her eyes away and turn her attention back to Theo, Draco turned.

"Don't forget you're coming out with me someday," he said, his eyes glinting. Dangerous, the word drifted through Hermione's mind like a leaf on a current. He popped his helmet back on his head while she stared dumbly. What? "On the bike," he prompted.

"Oh right, yes!" She was maybe a little too loud, so she modulated. "Will do." He nodded again and was gone.

Hermione turned her attention back to Theo, who was lounging against the counter and regarding her with a very speculative squint to his eyes.

"So. Vegetables." Hermione took a noisy breath and narrowed her eyes at him. "It's very early in the morning for vegetables."

His eyes widened. "Which is why I was hoping for a coffee and a cornetto first. Can you join me?" He gestured to a table.

"Hmm, let me think..." Hermione glanced exaggeratedly around the very empty café. "Yes, I believe I can spare a few minutes."

"Excellent." Theo leaned even more deeply into the counter and turned the full force of his dimple on her. She was caught there for a moment, marveling at how she could even notice anything about him after what Draco had just done to her, when an extremely loud engine revved outside and suddenly Draco himself went tearing by, a blur on his black machine. Hermione glanced at the clock. The neighbours must have loved that.

Theo looked over his shoulder and shook his head. Hermione thought she heard him mutter something about a 'show off wanker' as he lifted his box over to the table near the window.

"These are for me?" Hermione lifted the bunch of bright flowers Theo had left behind.

"Yes, the stall at the market was just opening as I took the veg from the restaurant. Couldn't resist."

"Thank you. That was very kind of you. I'll just put them in water and make our coffees." Hermione turned away as Theo stretched back in his chair.

"You're very welcome." He yawned as he spoke and Hermione had to resist the urge to ask why, if he and Draco had both been up so early, they hadn't seen each other until they arrived here. He'd probably had a late night last night. She wondered with whom. Lavender's sources had placed him with a couple of local girls since he'd arrived, but Hermione didn't put it past him to have other options. She remembered Lavender mentioning the table full of young women he'd been waiting on the other night.

He looked out the window and she watched him surreptitiously as she made their cappuccinos. His profile was elegant and yet that air of roguishness always seemed to be just outside the frame, even when he was pensive. Probably down to the dimple, or the slight uptilt to the corners of his mouth…

Just then he turned and totally caught her looking. His brows lifted slightly over the clear blue of his irises and Hermione realised that his eyes were what really did it. Warm and expressive, dark fringed with a constant hint of humour in their depths—crinkles at the corners, and such a striking color against his tanned skin. As they looked at each other he did a little something with them and suddenly Hermione was aware that she was being smoldered at. Huh, she bet that was effective. She even felt a little flutter in her heartbeat.

"I bet that's effective," she said as she brought the coffees over.

"The 'look'?" His face was completely guileless now.

"Yeah. Blimey." Hermione dropped into the seat across from him.

"Gets me some numbers." He sniffed, and she laughed. "Did it work on you at all?" He tilted his head.

"A little, yeah." Hermione nodded vigorously and took a sip of her coffee.

"I could tell. A little heat here" he reached over and touched her cheekbone with the tip of his finger, "and here," he touched the other, letting his finger slide softly off her face. For the second time that morning the atmosphere in the little café was suddenly fraught.

Hermione wondered what she had become. Vividly picturing kissing two completely different boys within the space of twenty minutes? But then she shrugged it off. Theo was a flirt, a very good looking one, and she was seventeen years old. It was totally natural.

Draco on the other hand…

She brushed that thought aside and fixed Theo with a mock-severe look. "Now, now. Drink your coffee so we can get to studying before my customers arrive, or I decide that doing this from behind the counter is safer."

The slightest frown crossed his features, puzzling Hermione, before he laughed and pulled an eggplant out of the box. "Young beautiful lady," he said, his Italian floridly accented, "What price for this purple garden vegetable?"

"I grew it, so it is priceless, Signore, but for you three thousand Lira," she responded with a laugh.

Draco woke up in a sweat, his breath coming fast. He propped himself up and wiped his brow, looking at the clock. Just gone one in the morning. They were getting earlier and earlier, the nightmares. He flopped back down and stared into the darkness, trying to will away the sickly feeling that lingered with the images from the dream, but couldn't quite succeed. Suddenly he heard a sound, the key turning in the flat door as it opened and then shut softly. Theo must just be home from the restaurant. He'd be up for at least an hour winding down his day. With a swift movement, Draco pushed up out of bed and grabbed for his trousers. He'd far rather sit up with Theo than lie here shaking.

Theo was already pouring whisky into a second glass as Draco emerged into the sitting room. "Another bad one?" he asked as he turned and held it out.

Draco nodded and took it. "Thanks." He walked over to the window and looked out at the moonlit square. "How was your night?"

"Good, bit boring." Theo settled into one of the armchairs.

"No tables full of nurses?"

"Unfortunately."

Draco heard a cigarette wick to life. "How was your ride?" Theo asked through an exhalation of smoke.

"It was good, yeah. Very beautiful up there and the roads get really challenging. Took all my skill and a stabilising charm not to wipe out a couple of times." Draco took a sip of his whisky and turned to sit on the window ledge. "Surprised to see you so early this morning. Giulia kick you out again?"

Theo cleared his throat. "No, she had an early shift." He coughed lightly. "Surprised to see you at the café at all. I thought you didn't like coffee."

"I'm developing a taste for it."

Theo's snort echoed in the room. "Clearly."

"What about you?" Draco pushed off the ledge and moved to the other chair. He dropped into it and looked at Theo. "I've never known you to … study." Theo had been famous in Slytherin house for rarely being seen cracking a book and yet scoring high marks on all of his essays and exams.

"I study when the subject interests me." Theo held out the pack of cigarettes and Draco took it, tapping one out and catching the lighter Theo tossed his way.

"She won't like being one of a line-up," Draco said, exhaling a long first drag. He knew he shouldn't smoke, but sometimes it was so soothing.

Theo was silent for a while. "She doesn't have to know," he finally said, the words seeming to hang in the silent room. Draco felt a surge of anger and he frowned, opening his mouth to respond, but Theo spoke again. "I mean, I'd stop all that if— " Draco closed his mouth and the anger abated. A little.

He played with Theo's lighter. "She may already know. You're not the most discreet."

Theo groaned. "I know. Fuck."

"Do you really like her?"

"Do you?" Theo's eyes flashed through the gloom and Draco's mouth curled up.

"I asked you first."

"Ok, I'll bite. And yes. As I said before, she's different than I thought she was. Clever but not rigid. And she's not just clever, she's quick. Fun. I feel stimulated around her."

Draco snickered.

"Fuck you, you know what I mean."

Draco knew exactly what he meant. "Never known you to keep it in your pants for one girl though, Theo. Even Daph—"

"Don't say her name, please." Theo's voice was suddenly tight.

"All right. Shit. I didn't know that was still a sore spot." Draco put his hand up as Theo closed his eyes and shook his head. Draco took a drag and exhaled. "Would have used it more if I had."

Theo gave a sharp bark of laughter. "Cunt."

Draco shot him a grin through the darkness.

They sat quietly, smoking and drinking as the light from a silvery moon started to creep across the floor.

After a while Theo spoke up again. "But I'd consider backing off," he looked over at Draco, his face calculating. "If you really liked her, I mean."

YES, the word rose up in Draco's throat, but when he opened his mouth, it didn't make it past his lips. Instead, "No need," he said, as he pushed up out of his chair.

"Really?" Theo squinted up at him.

"I told you before, I don't want complications." Draco said, and it was like he was reminding himself too. He turned to walk back down the hall, "I'm going to attempt sleep again. G'night."

"Night," Theo called, but Draco never heard him go to bed.

Chapter Text

Despite his words to Theo, Draco still found himself in the café most days. And Hermione had started visiting the bookshop too, eager to read everything she could as her language skills improved. He enjoyed picking out books and setting them aside for her a little more than he liked to admit. He also found himself reading along with her—ostensibly because he was trying to improve his knowledge of muggle literature, but also so they could have discussions. And Theo was right, she was more than the pedantic know-it-all he'd thought she was in school—she was quick, and thoughtful too.

Theo also seemed to be gradually increasing his press and more often than not, Draco saw him at the café, leaning in that way of his, trying to make her laugh, trying to make her blush. From what Draco could gather, she was willing to be amused, but in no danger of losing her head, let alone her heart.

This knowledge pleased him.

Although he still maintained that he wanted nothing more than this sort of half-friendship with her, he also didn't really want to see her as one of Theo's string of victims, none of whom had been totally cut loose as far as Draco could tell. He wondered how Theo did it. He'd be lucky if he got out of this Italian adventure with both balls.

Draco was still shaking his head over Theo as he opened the door to the café on a hot afternoon and walked in on a burst of noisy laughter. Of course, it was Thursday—time for a group of the town's elderly gentlemen to gather to play cards, smoke and drink grappa for several hours.

Hermione was just placing a tray with a frosted bottle and a dozen tiny glasses down on their table as Draco pulled the door shut behind him. An exclamation of general approbation arose and the men sent her playful compliments and sallies. She answered them in her surprisingly idiomatic Italian, which had improved so quickly that it amazed Draco. As she turned away from the table, she sent a particularly ribald riposte over her shoulder, and her smile was so alluring that it stopped him in his tracks. It also didn't hurt that she was wearing the red dress, a fact which several of the gentlemen were remarking on, albeit respectfully.

As she moved back toward the counter, she looked up and saw him, and her laughing expression softened into something warmer. She tilted her head and looked him up and down as Draco tried to collect himself.

"Riding again today?" she asked, nodding at the helmet in his hand.

"Yes. But I went toward the sea this time."

A slight frown appeared between her eyes and he knew she was worried about him going outside the wards again. And he probably did need to be more careful, but he couldn't resist the pull of the longer, wider roads. He shrugged and grinned at her and she shook her head, going behind the counter and turning her back to him. Her back in the red dress was very appealing and he looked his fill as she bent down and fetched a chilled carafe of water, then poured out a tall glass.

She turned and handed it to him. "You must be thirsty."

Suddenly, Draco realised he was absolutely parched. He took the glass from her and gulped, eyes closed, and the water was so perfectly cool and quenching that he finished the whole thing. He placed the glass on the bar and reached up to wipe his mouth. When he looked up, she was watching him, her lips slightly parted.

"I needed that, thanks," he gasped.

She turned away again quickly. "Do you want another?"

"No, that's fine. Just a quick coffee to set me up for the closing shift."

"Oh you're working tonight?"

"Yes, Agata has a dinner engagement so she asked me to. It's not my usual night."

"I know."

She knew his schedule? He pondered this as she placed the small cup of dark liquid in front of him. He picked it up and sipped. She turned again and started clattering parts of the espresso machine.

"How are you finding Infinite Jest?" She raised her voice over the din.

They were both reading the two copies of the latest English language book to arrive at the shop. She had put hers on hold as soon as she'd learned it was coming and Draco had picked his up to skim through and gotten pulled in.

"Chaotic. Strange. But compelling. Even though between the language and the muggle setting, I don't understand half of it." He shook his head once. "You?"

"It's like nothing I've ever read before," she frowned. "I want to hate it, but I think I actually love it. It's so cluttered, and yes, very strange."

"Cluttered. That's a good way to put it." He took a breath to elaborate, but just then a loud huzzah went up from the Signores in the corner, who were all focused on something at the door. Draco turned to see Lavender, posing in an enormous hat and extremely short, low-cut, white dress with what looked like red cherries printed on it. The older gentlemen called out to her and she went to the table and dropped a kiss on each weathered cheek, flashing ample eyefuls of thigh and tanned bosom as she did so. Everyone enjoyed the performance mightily.

Draco turned to Hermione and lifted a brow. She laughed. "She's harmless."

"Oh I imagine she's actually high-risk for some of these old gents." A smirk lifted the corner of his mouth as Lavender approached.

Hermione broke into a peal of laughter and swatted him playfully on the shoulder.

"What?" Lavender asked. "What's so funny? Hullo, Draco." She flipped her large red sunglasses down and gave him a flirtatious smile.

"Just you, and that little performance," Hermione said with mock severity as Draco murmured a greeting.

"Oh they love me," Lavender waved an airy hand toward the table.

"Clearly." Hermione gave her a look. "But you'll give them all heart attacks in that get up."

Lavender rolled her eyes. "Fix me a crema, will you?"

"Of course."

"And how much longer do you have? I want to get out of this heat and into the water!"

Hermione glanced up at the clock. "Mmm, ten or fifteen minutes? Can you last? I've got all my things here, so we can just go." She looked at Draco. "We're headed to The Pools."

"Yeah, do you want to come? I've heard you're quite the diver." Lavender had picked up a straw and was chewing on it as she looked up at him, her eyes wide. Draco sensed Hermione tense and wondered what she'd told Lavender about that day he had run off. The memory of her stretching on the shore flashed vividly in his mind and he swallowed.

"Ah, I can't. Have the uh, closing shift tonight," he said.

"Pity." Lavender let her eyes run down his body.

Draco let his eyes slide very obviously over hers, lingering on her low cut bodice. "Isn't it just?"

Hermione tried unsuccessfully to hide a cackle of laughter in a cough and Lavender made a face at him. "Next time, then," she said. "Arrange it with Theo and we'll all go together."

"Oh yes, let's do that." Hermione added her entreaty with a soft smile.

"Will do." His gaze lingered on Hermione as he placed his espresso cup down. He'd just have to steel himself for several hours of exquisite torture. "Have fun." He gave both girls a swift wave and turned to leave.

"So how often does Draco come into the café?" Lavender said as she smoothed coconut tanning oil on her legs.

Hermione watched her in fascination. "You know between that and the lemon juice in your hair, you smell like something good to eat."

"Want some spray?" Lavender gestured to the bottle laying on her towel. "Your hair has really lightened already, but the lemon is supposed to put lovely blonde streaks in it."

"Sure," Hermione picked up the bottle and started spritzing.

"And you didn't answer my question." Lavender rolled on her back and lowered her sunglasses over her eyes.

"Hmm?" Hermione was working the liquid through to the tips of her damp hair. She'd had a swim almost the moment they got there and was now ready to drowse in the sun.

"Draco. In the café. Today." Lavender's voice was slow and relaxed. "How often is he coming in?"

"Not as often as Theo." Hermione flopped onto her stomach and rested her chin on her fist.

Lavender snorted. "Do we have too many handsome boys on our hands? I saw Mauritzio in there when I walked by yesterday."

"I don't have anyone on my hands. Least of all Draco."

"Oh please," Lavender tossed her hair. "Mauritzio is gagging for it. Theo would leap in a minute if you gave him the signal, and Draco…"

"What?" Hermione propped up eagerly and squinted at Lavender, who paused.

"He's harder to read. But sometimes the way he looks at you... Like today, just before he left."

"But you don't think he could possibly—?"

"Oh I think he could very well possibly. He just holds his cards closer to his vest." Lavender slid her glasses down and looked at Hermione, her eyebrow arched. "But which one do you like? I mean, I can tell you're not interested in Mauritzio. Not seriously. But sometimes I sense a vibe with you and Theo. And sometimes I sense it with you and Draco."

Hermione groaned. "I don't know."

"Oh, so there is something there," Lavender leaned on her elbow and took her glasses off.

"With which one?"

"I don't know! Either! Both! You tell me."

"Theo is … charming," Hermione started, "and fun. I find him very attractive."

"Oh he is," Lavender nodded rapidly. "This Italian life agrees with him. I mean he was always— But now?"

"Why don't you go after him?" Hermione asked, suddenly struck. Their personalities were so alike.

"Other than that he's into you?" Lavender chuckled, then muttered, "Story of my life," in a side voice.

Hermione swatted at her with her hat. "Oh, please!"

"Well, I mean other than that, and the fact that I'm very much enjoying the local offerings, he and I dated already and it didn't work out."

"What!? When!?" Hermione sat up in surprise.

"Fifth year."

"Why didn't you tell me!?"

"It was very brief," Lavender rolled her eyes.

"Bloody hell!" Hermione's shock was extreme. "And how did I not know this already?"

"Uhh, I think we've established that you were fairly clueless about the romantic currents at Hogwarts. Occupational hazard of living in the library and having two boys for best friends." Lavender said.

"True. But why was it so brief? You two seem like you would be good together."

"Eh," Lavender waved a hand, "We're too alike. Before Ron, I had a hard time with commitment, you know. And Theo… has the same problem."

"Clearly." Hermione rolled her eyes and lay back down, staring up at the endless blue above, which incidentally reminded her of Theo's eyes.

"Which is why you're cautious with him," Lavender said. "Even if Draco weren't here to muddle you up."

"What? He's not muddling me."

Lavender picked up her book, a battered copy of Bridget Jones's Diary, and bopped Hermione with it. "Liar."

Hermione was silent.

"It's fine if you don't want to talk about it," Lavender said after a moment. "But I'm here if you ever do." She lifted her book and cracked the spine.

"It's just," Hermione ventured in a small voice. "He's Draco Malfoy." She looked at Lavender and shook her head.

"What? Rich, gorgeous, intelligent, sophisticated?"

"Uhh, bigoted, muggle-hating, pureblood snob who until very recently was working for Voldemort?"

Lavender winced at Hermione's use of the name. "Shhh!" She glanced around involuntarily.

"Oh poo!" Hermione said. "That's such rubbish, you know…" She gathered herself to deliver a lecture on the efficacy of naming things to reduce the power they exercised, but Lavender sat up again and cut in before she could speak.

"Fine, ok. But back to the topic at hand. Didn't we both receive the same briefing about Draco? He was forced into it and they threatened his family, etcetera, etcetera?" She twirled her hand in the air.

"Yes," Hermione said softly. She'd been thinking a lot about this, actually—what she would have done in Malfoy's position.

"And he seems different to me. More open-minded. He's reading all those books with you. And you said he asked you about dancing and music. The motorcycle. He seems to be really enjoying himself here living as a muggle: embracing it. Even if he hasn't said anything, I think his actions speak for him. Do you see that too?" Lavender tilted her head.

"Hedidsaysomething." Hermione said it so quietly that Lavender leaned forward and blinked.

"Pardon?"

"He did say something." Hermione took a deep breath and exhaled noisily. "He apologised."

"WHAT!?" Lavender whipped off her sunglasses and widened her eyes to saucers.

"I mean, it wasn't explicit or flowery. But he apologised."

"Draco Malfoy." Lavender's mouth was gaping. "Apologised."

"Yeah we were talking about school and I said something silly about first year and he got very quiet and serious and then he just told me he was sorry. For all of it."

Lavender stared at Hermione for several moments before dropping her head dramatically down on her towel and blowing out a loud breath. "Ohhhh kayyyy..."

"What?"

"This changes things." Lavender laughed and shook her head.

"What do you mean? Changes things how?"

"Well to be honest, I thought Draco was perhaps drawn to you, but committed to keeping a certain distance."

"And?"

"Well, now I think he may be further gone than I suspected."

"No." Hermione was arrested, staring at Lavender's face.

"What would you do if he were?" Lavender said, her brows going up.

"I— I don't know." Hermione said, distracted. What would she do if Draco… She breathed in sharply as heat flashed over her body. What wouldn't she do?

"Shit," she said under her breath.

Lavender started chuckling, "Harry and Ron are going to fucking lose it."

"That's not funny! And why are you talking about it like it's a foregone conclusion!? There's still… Theo!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Oh right, sure. Theo." Lavender's lip twitched up at the corner.

"I haven't decided anything. No one has said anything!" Hermione said a little desperately. "Nothing has to happen!"

"And why the fuck not?" Lavender sat up fully and fixed Hermione with a serious look. "Why shouldn't you be able to explore something with someone you're attracted to, with whom you share interests, who excites you? Harry and Ron don't own you. This conflict shouldn't dictate everything you do. You're seventeen for fuck's sake. Do something reckless and bold. Prioritise yourself!"

Surprisingly, Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes. She touched Lavender's hand. "Thank you."

Lavender's eyes were suddenly a bit shiny too. "I mean it," she said. "It's about time someone put you first. You deserve it." Her mouth turned up in slow grin. "You also deserve a gorgeous boy with a motorcycle and a brain and frankly one of the nicest arses I've ever—"

Hermione put her hand out in surprise, giggles erupting from her mouth. "Stop! Oh my god!"

Lavender just laughed. "It's true."

"But it's also true what I said about Theo," Hermione said. "I'm not one hundred percent sure of what's going on with either of them."

"Well, that's fine." Lavender settled back on her towel. "Let it play out. Let it unfold naturally until things become more clear."

Hermione nodded and stared at her unseeingly.

"Although," Lavender picked up her book again and smiled wickedly. "I'll eat that straw hat of yours if you don't snog Malfoy on the back of that motorcycle before this summer is over."

"Lavender!"

"I mean, snog Theo too, with my blessing. He's very good at it. But Draco on the bike in the leather jacket thing he was wearing today? That's just too much to pass up."

Hermione put her hands over her face and laughed as she lay back on her towel. "You are incorrigible."

"I'm good for you."

Hermione snorted and shook her head, "You know, I never would have believed it, but I do think you are."

Lavender just smiled up at the blue sky.

Chapter Text

Draco washed the last dinner dish and handed it to Theo to dry. It was a rare night that they were both home, but with Theo on the outs with both of his Italian girlfriends and seemingly trying to otherwise keep his dick in his pants, he was in more often. And of course Draco was always in, which was how he liked it.

Theo hung up the cloth and wandered to the corner of the sitting room where an old guitar leaned against the wall. It was another item they had found in a random closet in the flat and Theo had taken it to get restrung. He lifted it and started strumming.

"Do you have any idea how to play that thing?" Draco went to the window and looked out. It was another beautiful, warm night.

"I'm picking it up," Theo said as his strumming coalesced into something like a melody. "It's not bloody easy, though."

Draco turned and watched Theo's fingers, trying to translate the chords he was playing to what they would be on a keyboard. He still needed to find a way to listen to music other than the old radio in the bookshop, which only seemed to pick up news programmes and a tinny classical station. He'd have to ask Hermione about it again. Hermione, hmmm. His eyes narrowed and he wondered if Theo's sudden interest in the guitar had something to do with her. Draco had mentioned some of their conversation about music and he wouldn't put it past Theo, the smarmy git, to serenade her or write a song about her or something equally twatty.

"Want a drink?" Draco moved toward the drinks cart.

"Yeah, just a whisky, thanks." Theo said and then started to hum a tune over his strumming.

Draco poured two and was handing one to Theo just as a distinctive five-beat knock sounded on the door. He froze and his eyes widened on Theo's. It couldn't be.

In a flash he was moving to the door and throwing it open, Theo right behind him.

"What in the bloody hell!?" he exclaimed as he beheld a tall, haughty-faced boy standing on the threshold.

"Fuck, you really are here." Blaise Zabini stepped through the door and wrapped Draco in a tight embrace. "I thought you were fucking dead."

Draco was as surprised at the hug as he was to see Blaise at all. "That's what they're telling people?" he asked, as Blaise finally let him go and Draco grabbed him by the shoulders to hold him at arms' length, so fucking happy to see his best friend.

Blaise shook his head and gave him a rare smile, then reached around him to shake Theo's hand, "Theo."

Theo took Blaise's hand and grabbed his upper arm. "Good to see you, mate."

"To answer your question, they're not telling anybody anything." Blaise said, his eyes back on Draco, "But the over/under definitely favours your demise."

"That could actually be useful," Draco mused. Blaise chuckled.

"Come in," Theo said, starting off down the hall. "Have a drink and tell us what the fuck you're doing here."

"Sounds good, yeah." Blaise followed him, whistling as he took in the flat's interior. "This place is insane. They set you up pretty well, huh?"

Theo nodded. "Could definitely be worse. Whisky OK?" He held up the bottle of single malt he and Draco had been sipping.

"Yeah," Blaise nodded swiftly and sat down on the couch.

Draco fell into one of the armchairs across from him. "You slick git, why didn't you tell us you were coming?"

"What? Was I supposed to owl you?"

Draco pointed to the phone. "Or use that."

Blaise cut his eyes to Theo. "My man turning into a muggle already?"

"Nearly there," Theo said cheerfully as he handed Blaise a glass. "You should see his motorcycle."

Blaise's head whipped toward Draco again and he let out a low laugh. "That I definitely have to see,"

Draco waved his drink. "All in good time. So what the fuck? You know that we're here. What else do you know? Did someone send you? Are you moving in?"

Blaise held up his hand, a slow grin stealing across his face. "Blimey, that's lot of eagerness for a Malfoy. Let's see. I know the two of you are here because you're in hiding, so to speak. I know there are more of you. And yes, someone sent me; Remus Lupin. I'm supposed to tell you that the password is 'Phoenix Tear'." Blaise rolled his eyes.

Draco gave a short laugh. "Like we needed that."

"So is there news, then?" Theo asked, settling down on the other end of the couch. "From Lupin?"

"Nahh, not really. He doesn't have anything new, which is why he didn't come himself. Said to tell you to hold tight, lay low and all that. Looks like school will start as usual in September, but that could change. Especially if Dumbledore gets worse." Draco nodded, remembering the headmaster's weakened state that night in the Astronomy Tower. "There's a sense that the other side is planning something." Blaise sipped his drink. "Which my sources back up."

"Your sources?" Draco frowned.

"Yeah, I've been doing some listening, a little reporting."

"You're working for the Order?" Draco's surprise was extreme.

"That sounds a bit official. Let's just say I'm passing along things of interest if and when I can."

"What brought that on?" Draco was incredulous; Blaise was the last person who would stick his neck out for a cause.

"I'm just trying to stay safe. Protect myself and my mum. I don't want to end up dead or in Azkaban." Blaise's dark gaze shot to him and Draco nodded. "As you know," Blaise continued, "mum attracts all kinds. She throws a party, you never know who will turn up or what they'll say after a couple of euphoric draughts." Draco nodded again, Blaise's notoriously beautiful mother Diantha, a former model and sometime singer, moved in very rarefied circles.

"Are you staying with her now?" Theo asked.

"Nah, she's in Paris practicing for some gig at the end of the summer. I'm in one of the villas. It's close to here."

"One of the villas?" Theo's eyebrows went up.

"Mum's got three or four," Blaise said shortly. "Tends to inherit them."

Theo let out a low whistle, then popped up and grabbed his pack of cigarettes off the table.

"So you're not moving in, then?" Draco asked, taking a cigarette as Theo offered the pack around.

Blaise took one too and paused as Theo held out his lighter, his brows going up at the muggle device before he leaned forward and took the light. "No," he said on the exhale. "I'm not under any sort of embargo like you lot, but I think I'll make the villa home base for the time being, so you'll see more of me."

"Good man," Draco said.

"Yeah, that's ace," Theo echoed. "It's a great time around here. I think you'll enjoy what's on offer." He raised his brows twice then glanced at the clock over the fireplace. "Shit. Speaking of, I'm supposed to meet Giulia in five minutes. Better dash."

Draco's eyes whipped to him. "You're on that again?"

Theo had the grace to look a little chagrined. "I saw her at the disco last night and she was very persuasive."

Draco frowned and noticed Blaise's gaze moving between them. "Trouble, boys?" he asked with a smirk.

"No trouble at all," Draco said evenly, but Theo wouldn't meet his eyes as he hurried to the door.

"Glad you're here, mate!" Theo waved to Blaise. "Maybe you'll help this one loosen up!"

He jerked his thumb at Draco, who sent him a rude gesture as the door closed. Blaise got up. "I actually need to dash too." He said. "Mum wants a floo call. Could be something interesting to pass on. Can I apparate from here?"

"Yeah, there are no restrictions. We're just supposed to be cautious." Draco stretched up out of his seat.

"What's your schedule like?" Blaise asked. "Will you come by the villa tomorrow?"

"Sure. It's my day off."

Blaise snorted. "You. Working." He shook his head. "Lupin said it was a shop too."

"Eh." Draco lifted a shoulder, "I actually like it."

Blaise grinned. "Tomorrow then. Come for lunch, stay for dinner?"

Draco smiled back at him. "Yeah, sounds good. Write down the address and I'll take my bike so you can laugh at me some more."

"I look forward to it."

"Hermione fucking Granger." Blaise tipped his head back and blew out a long breath that turned into a chuckle.

"And Lavender Brown, don't forget," Draco added, shifting in his deck chair and squinting against the bright sun. He reached for his sunglasses and slid them on.

"Brown, now that is a bit intriguing," Blaise murmured.

"Is it?" Draco glanced over.

Blaise's eyes were closed, but he smiled slightly. "She was looking fit at the end of term."

"Huh." Draco let his head drop against the canvas chair back. "Well, you'll probably be pleased with how she looks now, then."

"Oh? What does that mean?"

"Just, Italy. Everyone's tan and relaxed."

"Even Granger?" Blaise snorted.

Draco was silent. With Blaise, he didn't feel as on guard as he did with Theo, but he was still reluctant to discuss whatever the fuck was going on with Hermione. "She looks... well, too," was what he finally settled on.

Blaise immediately sat up in his chair and took off his sunglasses. "What?"

Fuck, so much for not discussing it. Draco sighed.

"Ok, what the fuck is going on?" Blaise's voice held a lot of incredulity and a hint of humour.

"Nothing is going on."

"You just complimented Granger's looks," Blaise said, his eyes wide. "Now, I'll agree that she's pretty, and I know we've all been steadily moving away from the muggle-hating shite of our younger years, but you can't stand her. I know you can't."

"Maybe I just didn't know her." It popped out before Draco could think and he knew instantly that he was caught.

"Oh. Fuck." Blaise said, a huge grin taking over his face. "You. And Granger. Oh my fucking gods."

"There is no 'Granger and me'," Draco said irritably, shifting up off his chair and taking off his t-shirt. He walked to the steps of the pool and skimmed his foot over the pristine water. "If anything there's more likelihood of Granger and Theo. He's trying all his shit on her."

"I'm not leaving behind the topic of you and Granger by any means," Blaise said, "but Theo too? What the fuck is going on around here? Has Granger suddenly become a sex goddess? Is there something in the water?" He raised his palms and looked around theatrically. "And, also wasn't Theo off to shag some Italian bird last night?"

"Yeah, same old Theo." Draco shrugged. "I thought he was turning over a new leaf for Granger, but apparently not." A dart of anger shot through him and he shook his head once.

Blaise whistled. "You're not happy about that!"

"Fuck off, Blaise."

"Ok, ok." Blaise put his hands up again.

"And besides," Draco said. "I don't think Granger's biting. With Theo. So no harm, no foul."

"You think or you hope?" Blaise said with a wicked grin.

Draco gave him the finger and dove suddenly under the water. He swam almost the whole length of the pool before he came up, shaking his head and gasping for breath. He moved with leisurely strokes to the far wall, where lush green landscaping dipped almost down to the pool edge, then flipped to float on his back. He lay there for a while, letting the water cushion him, staring up at the greenery and the blue sky where it met the salmon pink wall of the villa in an almost surreal saturation of color.

"You want a Peroni!? I'm going in!" Blaise called.

Draco flipped over and called an affirmative, then swam back to where they were sitting. He pulled himself out of the water and let it stream onto the pool deck. It was so hot, he barely needed to towel himself off and instead just flopped back on the lounge chair and closed his eyes again.

Granger, fuck. What was going on with her? Did he really want to think about it? No. But the truth was, with Blaise here, he wasn't going to be able to conceal anything effectively. Blaise knew him too well. He blew out a breath and raked his hand through his wet hair, resting his wrist on his forehead for a moment and letting the warmth from the sun seep into his bones. Maybe he'd just let it lie. Maybe she'd pick Theo anyway. 'Pick?' Fuck. He was already thinking of it that way. He breathed in and out slowly, trying to clear his mind, letting the heat drowse him.

As soon as he relaxed, an image of Hermione in her white bikini bloomed behind his eyes. He breathed out a soft sigh and imagined her here, coming up out of the water, her hair slick and dark, her eyes hooded. She walked over to him, leaned down, kissed him. Her lips were soft, and droplets from her hair fell onto his chest. He tipped his head back and slid his hands around her waist. She wrapped her fingers around his jaw and behind his ear, her tongue licking against the seam of his mouth. He opened and invited her in, twining his tongue with hers, feeling heat start low and potent. She made a soft sound, not unlike the one the day of the orange juice, and it was like oxygen to a flame. He pulled her down and she went easily, straddling him, her luscious tits at eye level and her hot core positioned perfectly over his—

"Here's your beer." Blaise's voice startled Draco out of his fantasy.

"Uh, thanks." Draco shifted up, flustered, hoping the fact that he was half hard wasn't noticeable. Blaise flopped back down and took a deep drink of his beer. Draco did the same, letting the icy coldness shock away the torpor of his daydream, although a few images lingered.

"So when am I going to see them?" Blaise asked.

Granger's tits, what? "What?" Draco was confused.

"Our two Gryffindor friends. You said you've been hanging out a bit. Am I going to get to see them? Have to admit I'm insanely curious now."

"I don't know." Draco collected himself. "Is it safe? With what you're doing and everything?"

"I don't see why not. Don't you trust them?"

Draco leaned back and looked up. "Yeah, I mean, they have no reason to sell you out. And you're helping the Order, which still surprises me by the way." He shot a look at Blaise. "What brought that on? Why not just … stay out of it?"

"Didn't like what they did to you, did I?" Blaise shook his head and a very cold look came over his face. "And although I know mum and I would survive under that regime, I think it could be unpleasant for her, having to dance to his tune. And Dolohov has always had an obsession with her." Blaise shuddered and a hint of fear touched his features.

Draco felt an unpleasant prickling up his neck too. He'd seen Dolohov in action during the last year.

"Yeah," he finally said, hanging his head. "You're not wrong." He heaved out a big breath. "And I think it would be fine for you to meet them. Hermione—and Brown."

"Hermione, huh?" Blaise's eyebrow went up, the gravity of a few moments before gone from his face. Draco rolled his eyes and Blaise lay back on his chair again with a chuckle. "Bit cheeky of the Order to have those two shack up together. Lot of bad blood there if I recall."

"Yeah, I about lost it when Granger told me. But they seem to be getting along OK."

"Huh. Maybe there is something in the air here. Muggle magic."

"Maybe." Draco took another swallow of beer. "I'll see when Theo has his next night off and we can have something at our flat. Invite everyone round."

"Good, good. There's a telephone somewhere in this villa. I'll figure out how to use it."

"I'll show you." Draco looked over and flicked his eyebrows up.

Blaise shook his head with a smile. "Not going to get used to that anytime soon, mate."

Draco chuckled. "Adapt or perish."

Blaise sat up. "Speaking of, when are you going to show me this bike?"

"Right now sounds good," Draco said. "I'm not letting you fucking ride it, though."

"Why!?"

"I've seen you on a broom. You'd crash within thirty seconds. Probably sooner. Reckless." Draco shook his head and stood up. "You can ride on the back and hug me."

"Fuck. You." Blaise put two fingers up. "You can save that shite for your girl."

He smirked and Draco put two fingers up in return.

Chapter Text

"Look up just a little bit, and don't blink!" Lavender waved a mascara wand perilously close to Hermione's eyeball.

"How am I supposed to not blink when you're jabbing at me with that thing!"

"I'm not jabbing, I'm applying. And you're going to have it all over your face unless you sit still and stop acting like a baby."

Hermione huffed, but went completely still. Lavender leaned in, mouth open in a little O, eyes intent, and swiped quickly and expertly. She leaned back after a couple of moments with a satisfied look. "There, now your eyes really stand out!"

She stepped away from the mirror they were standing in front of and Hermione peered at herself. Along with the mascara, Lavender had brushed various powders and creams onto her face and lips, and Hermione had to admit the effect was nice. Her eyes did seem to stand out and she looked more colourful and vibrant somehow. "Very pretty." She looked at Lavender and nodded. "I like it."

"Oh good. I was worried you were going to be one of those 'I hate makeup' types," Lavender said as she applied the mascara wand to her own eyelashes.

"I don't hate it. I've just never used it." Hermione shrugged as she caught her hair up into a twist at the back of her head. It was too bloody hot to leave it down.

"Well, with those dark lashes and brows and your annoyingly clear skin, you don't actually need it," Lavender said. "But it's nice anyway. And you look gorgeous."

"Thank you." Hermione smiled at her. "You're looking rather luscious yourself." Lavender had done something with her makeup that made her look like a dewy, frosted peach. "Looking forward to seeing the new arrival tonight?" she asked with a pointed look. Theo had told them about Blaise Zabini's appearance a few days ago and Lavender had been surprisingly excited by the news. Hermione wasn't sure how she herself felt about it. They'd gotten comfortable in their little group with their budding friendships. She guessed tonight would be a test of those.

Lavender preened a little in the mirror. "Maybe."

"I still can't believe you have a thing for him."

"I know." Lavender sighed. "I guess I have a self-destructive streak. But he is fucking gorgeous. He's even better looking than Draco."

Hermione privately disagreed with that statement. "He just seems really cold to me."

Unlike with Theo, she had no trouble recalling Blaise's face. His beauty was almost unearthly. But it was also marred by a habitual attitude of disdain. A cold fish. Hermione couldn't see ever finding someone like that more than superficially attractive.

"He can be warm when he wants to." Lavender shot Hermione an enigmatic look and Hermione shook her head, not wanting to ask. She was sure Lavender had gotten up to all sorts of things in her bid to get over Ron.

"Are you ready?" Hermione adjusted the collar of her dark blue shirt dress and bent to strap the chunky Mary Janes Lavender had insisted she wear with it. 'They make your legs look endless!'

Lavender cocked her head. "Would you do something like that to my hair too? It's so hot and I am shit with updos."

"I can try." Hermione was doubtful as she regarded Lavender's long, silky locks. "Wish I could use my wand. Although, let's face it. I'm as rubbish with hair spells as I am with muggle hair techniques."

Lavender giggled and Hermione stepped behind her, then started pulling her fingers through the thick, dark blonde mass. It was slinky and slippery—so different from her own texture. She worked and tugged, concentrating and checking in the mirror until she heard Lavender's soft voice, which had lost all traces of humour.

"Hermione?"

"Mmm hmm," Hermione was attempting a tricky bit with a clip.

"Do you ever get scared?"

Hermione's hands instantly stilled and her eyes went to Lavender's in the mirror. "About the war?" Lavender nodded once. "All the time," Hermione said quickly.

"Me too." It was almost a whisper. "What do you get scared about?"

"My friends. My mum and dad. What would… happen to me, if the other side won. What about you?"

"I get scared about nothing being the same, about all the good things being gone." Lavender glanced away. "My parents won't speak about the last time round, but I have an aunt. She's younger and we talk sometimes. She's told me what it was like." She looked down at her folded hands and then up at Hermione with a grave expression. "And I worry about you too."

Hermione just looked at her with a sad grimace until suddenly Lavender turned and pulled her into a quick, fierce embrace. "I'm glad we got to know each other," she said. "I'm glad we got to be friends."

Hermione felt tears spring to her eyes. "Me too," she mumbled against Lavender's now ruined hair, squeezing her back tightly. "And we just won't let them win, will we? There are powerful forces on our side and I truly believe that good will prevail. Most days."

Lavender released her and nodded. "You're right. And it doesn't do to get down over things we can't control," she said, wiping at the underside of her eye and looking sharply at Hermione. "Don't smear your mascara," she said. "Do like I am."

Hermione reached up and tentatively dabbed the wetness away. "And you realise," she said as she gathered Lavender's hair up again, her tone lightening, "that we're doing our part by running a highly localised campaign here? Against these two, well, three now. Converting them to our side bit by bit."

"That's one way of putting it." Lavender laughed and raised a brow.

Hermione swatted her shoulder. "Oh you know what I mean. We're all getting to know each other, becoming friends. And that's the key to breaking down prejudice and eroding bigotry." She snapped the clip into place for emphasis, then stepped back. "There. What do you think?"

Lavender turned her head this way and that. "Very nice." She spun around and saluted. "Now. Let's hit the battlefield."

"Welcome." Theo's smile was brilliant as he threw open the door to the flat. Lavender leaned forward and gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek. Hermione maneuvered around the parcel she was carrying to do the same.

"Thanks for having us," she said, returning his grin, thinking again that the night was going to be... interesting; the first time they were just casually meeting up to hang out, no agenda in place.

Theo seemed to catch her thoughts because he leaned down and kissed her cheek in return, whispering, "It will be fun, I promise," into her ear as he pulled away. Hermione smiled up at him. Lavender was already off toward the kitchen, calling out how "fucking amazing" the flat was.

"These ceilings!" She stopped and pointed up to the soaring heights.

"I know. So different from ours, right?" Hermione said.

"SO different. Where can I put this wine, Theo?" Lavender held out the two bottles of prosecco she and Hermione had settled on bringing after a protracted debate at the market.

"Fridge is here," Theo gestured. "We also have an ice bucket because this flat is full of extremely random items in cupboards." He pulled out a big silver pail and started filling it with ice and water.

"Very posh," Lavender said in an exaggerated accent.

"Is that something to eat?" Theo looked at Hermione's parcel.

"Uh, no. Something to listen to. It's for Draco," she said, wondering where he was. "Part of his education."

"My education? How intriguing."

Hermione spun and couldn't help a stupid smile from spreading over her face. "There you are."

He smiled back and Hermione felt a distinct increase in her heart rate. Probably because he looked ridiculously handsome in jeans and what looked like a linen button down shirt, creamy white and with the sleeves rolled up over his forearms. She shook her head a little as he blinked then looked up and over her.

"Theo, they don't have drinks. What kind of host are you?"

"Fuck off, I'm chilling the wine!"

"Hi, Draco!" Lavender waved from where she was arranging a platter of cookies she'd made. "Where's Blaise?"

"Lavender." He lifted his chin. "Arriving imminently, I'm sure. What would you like to drink?" He glanced at Hermione too. "We have beer, your wine, red and white still wine, vodka, whisky. I can do gin cocktails..."

"My, my," Lavender laughed and looked at Hermione. "We should hang out with Slytherins more often. Don't get much more than a warm beer and a packet of crisps at a Gryffindor party."

"Seriously," Hermione's mouth was hanging open and her eyes widened as she also took in platters of antipasti and sweets arranged on the counter and table, obviously brought in from Theo's restaurant.

"Well, we didn't know what you liked, so we sort of bought one of each," Theo said with a shrug. "We also have coke and tonic to put with the vodka. Or the gin? Or the whisky! I suppose we do have a lot." He started laughing.

"Well, I'll have a... vodka and tonic," Hermione said, blurting the first thing that came to her mind. She'd drunk them one night with a muggle friend at winter break and they'd been fairly inoffensive. "Thank you very much."

"And me!" Lavender called. "Sounds refreshing. This bloody heat."

Draco nodded and moved into the kitchen. "I haven't forgotten about that." He pointed at the parcel in Hermione's arms as he brushed past her, his clean scent also whispering by.

She gave him a look. "Meet me in the sitting room and I'll tell you all about it." His brows flicked up once, then he turned to help Theo with glassware. A distinctive crack sounded somewhere from the back of the house.

"I told Blaise he could apparate in and out of the back bedroom," Draco announced in response to the surprised looks from Lavender and Hermione. "It's more of a closet, really. No windows or anything. He's comically helpless at non-magical means of transportation."

"I'm sure we could have said the same about you not a month ago," Theo quipped, earning a rude gesture from Draco. Lavender laughed and posed against the counter as they all heard soft footsteps in the hall.

"Hi, chaps." Blaise Zabini's distinctive form came into view. Dressed in an oversized muggle t-shirt and some fancy type of jogger, his tightly curled black hair longer and more undone than Hermione had ever seen it, he looked... relaxed. Hermione was vaguely surprised by his choice of muggle over wizarding wear and then realised with a stronger jolt of surprise that they were all dressed like muggles and it hadn't even struck her until now. She allowed herself a tiny smile. Maybe there was more to this exile plan than just protection… "And ladies," Blaise amended, nodding at Hermione and throwing a quick half smile to Lavender. He was still breathtakingly handsome, with cheekbones that could cut glass and dark, dramatic brows. The flash of his white teeth against his light brown skin was enough to flame Lavender's cheeks.

"Hi Blaise," she said in a breathy voice, shifting against the counter and crossing her legs at the ankle. Her extremely short corduroy skirt pulled up a fraction and the sunflower on her crop top stood at attention.

Blaises's smile widened. "Looking good, Brown."

There was suddenly a lot of something in the air of the kitchen. Hermione caught Draco rolling his eyes and Theo snorted out a laugh as he turned with a drink in each hand. "Ladies, something to, er, cool you down."

Hermione put down her box and took her drink gratefully, murmuring her thanks, then drank rather deeply as a little flourish of nerves assaulted her. This night felt like the beginning of something, and she didn't know quite what.

"So, what is in the box?" Theo said, sweeping it up and heading into the sitting room. Hermione trailed after him and threw a look in Draco's direction. He met her eyes and nodded, then followed them. "I have to admit I'm a little jealous that he got a present," Theo pouted.

"When you ask me if I can help you learn something muggle, maybe you'll get a present too," Hermione said tartly, wresting the box from him with a wink. "And besides this is something everyone can enjoy." She placed it on a low table near the couch and sat down on the floor, arranging the skirt of her minidress so she wasn't flashing anyone. Her gaze darted up to Draco, who settled on the couch near her.

"I found it at the mercato delle pulci the other day," she said to him, pulling out a large silver rectangle. "The signora said her son had gone away to university and didn't want it anymore."

Draco was looking confused so she explained. "The mercato is like a second-hand market—where people come to sell things they don't want anymore. And this," she gestured to the box now sitting on the table, "is a radio cassette player. And these," she dug into the box and pulled out a bag, which she dumped on the floor, "are cassettes." Spilling all over the place, some of the tapes were in cases and some weren't. Some were store bought and some handwritten. There were at least thirty of them.

Hermione looked up triumphantly. " Each one can hold around twenty songs. There is so much music here!"

She glanced around just as Lavender and Blaise stepped into the room too. Draco was looking down at her with an expression that she couldn't read, and she noticed Blaise's eyes on him. He started and bent his head, reaching down to sift his hand through the tapes. "This is brilliant, Hermione." His eyes went to hers. "Thank you. What do I owe you?"

Hermione waved her hand impatiently. "Nothing. The whole thing was the equivalent of like three sickles! This" —she thumped the player— "is not particularly high quality. And these..." She picked up a few of the tapes. "I don't even know what's on half of them! A lot of the hand-lettered ones are in Italian. Although most of it seems to be from about ten years ago," she murmured, looking through the titles. "The eighties." She picked up a mixed tape and read, "New Order, Psychedelic Furs, Crowded House, Joy Division, The Cure, Echo & the Bunnymen—that's a funny name." She wrinkled her nose at Draco.

He chuckled and held out his hand. "Let's listen to it."

"It's a music player?" Blaise was saying as Hermione hunted for an outlet and plugged in the cord.

"Yeah," Theo said. "Part of Draco's full muggle conversion."

Hermione threw a quick look to Lavender and raised her brows. Lavender giggled and raised her fist in the air.

"I'm not even going to ask." Theo shook his head.

Hermione smirked at him then took the tape out of its case, showing Draco how it went into the player and what the symbols meant on the buttons. Blaise wandered over to watch them.

"So this has a lot of songs from different artists on it?" he asked, crouching down next to Hermione.

She met his dark eyes. He was almost flawless up close. "Yeah, you can transfer songs from other cassettes onto one mixed one if you have the right kind of machine."

"That's cool," he said, picking up a tape and peering at it. His eyes went back to hers and Hermione had the distinct impression that he was reading her, gauging her, and she wondered why.

She tore her eyes away. "I can't vouch for most of this," she said, looking at Draco. "A lot of this music is a bit before my time."

"Well here goes," Draco said, widening his eyes and pressing the play button. A dramatic and melancholy sound filled the air, guitars and drums and an atmosphere that reminded Hermione somehow of the Forbidden Forest or walking along the shore of the Black Lake at night. Everyone looked at each other and she realised with an inner laugh they were all nodding in time to the music, an attitude of listening on their faces. Score another point for the muggles. The song had Hermione captivated too and she picked up her drink as the lyrics started, moody and dark. Something about a moon and a killing.

"This is giving me goosebumps!" Lavender squealed, rubbing her arms.

"Yeah, it's dark as fuck," Blaise said, looking at Hermione with an amused glimmer in his eyes. "I like it."

"Me too," Draco's soft voice came from above her.

"I dunno. It's a bit creepy." Theo gave an exaggerated shudder as he drained his beer.

"Well, there are a lot more," Hermione said.

"Yeah, it's brilliant. Leave it on. We'll see what comes up." Theo smiled at her warmly. "You want a refill?"

Hermione looked with surprise at her empty glass. "Yeah, I guess I do." She hopped up. "I'll help. Anyone else?" She collected glasses and followed Theo into the kitchen. Behind her she heard a new song come on, decidedly lighter.

"I think you'll like this one better." She handed Theo Lavender's glass.

"Oh yeah, this is good for dancing." Theo put the glass down and suddenly grabbed her around the waist, spinning her as she shrieked in surprise.

"This isn't that kind of song," she said, laughing as he pulled her against him, but letting him sway with her.

He looked down at her. "That's too bad." He was giving her some version of his 'look', but it didn't seem put on this time.

Hermione sobered. She heard Draco's voice in the other room. Her eyes locked on Theo's, clear and blue and intent on her. What was she doing? What did she want? Hermione breathed in... and spun away, ducking out of his arms and going to the fridge.

"Was everyone having vodka?" she asked, her voice determinedly light.

Theo's tone was also nonchalant. "I believe so." He stuck his head through the wide doorway and queried the room, then nodded back at her. They fixed the drinks silently and Hermione was half worried that he was going to do something awkward, but he didn't, instead just lifting a half smile at her as he backed through the door. She came out a moment later and he was in the window smoking.

Hermione drifted over and sank into a plush armchair just as another song came on, one she knew. She hummed along and made a very conscious decision not to feel bad about Theo. He certainly didn't lack for attention, and it wasn't like he'd said anything. He must just be so used to girls falling into his lap. She shook her head and refocused on the room to see Draco's eyes on her. He'd accepted a cigarette from Theo and looked so elegant sitting there smoking it that he seemed from another era. Hermione resisted the urge to be rude and wave the smoke away.

"So Blaise," she said into a slight lull in the conversation that had been quietly buzzing between Lavender and him. He looked at her attentively. "Theo says you're here for a while."

"Yeah," he said, "my mum has a villa nearby—about twenty minutes away by muggle means. I'm going to stay there for most of this month and next. Until we go back to school. If we go back to school."

Hermione nodded, her eyes darting to Draco. No matter what, he wouldn't be going back. She felt a stab of sadness for him and wondered if Hogwarts meant as much to him as it did to her. Blaise saw her look and his face softened as his eyes slid to Draco too. He lifted his brows slightly at her and took a breath, his shoulders rising and falling.

"And Lupin told you where to find everyone?" Hermione glanced at Theo, who had given her the rundown on the way to and from class the last few days.

"Yeah. 'Phoenix tear' in case you need reassurance." Blaise's mouth twisted into a smirk as Hermione nodded with her own half smile. He leaned forward and rubbed his neck. "I've been helping them a bit. Just passing along information when I get it." His eyes cut to the side and he looked uncomfortable. Hermione realised how vulnerable putting this out there must make him feel.

"That's amazing, Blaise." Lavender turned to him, her eyes huge.

"Yeah, that's great," Hermione murmured, surprised again by him.

"It's not a lot." He held up his hands. "I'm no hero."

"It's quite a lot," Draco cut in.

Hermione's gaze went to him and saw him looking at his friend with concern. Blaise looked back at Draco and It flashed on her then that they really cared for each other. She hadn't paid a lot of attention to the intricacies of Slytherin friendships at Hogwarts, but Theo had said Draco and Blaise were close. On the heels of that thought was a second; that she was glad Draco had someone here. She knew he must be facing a lot right now and she wasn't sure he'd been able to talk to Theo about it.

"Eh." Blaise rolled his eyes and smiled. "But you should all come out to the villa one day. It's gorgeous. Sixteenth century, lots of columns and tropical plants. The pool is insane."

"Ooh a pool!" Lavender looked at him avidly. "I would kill for access to a pool."

"No need, darling. Just come through. Anytime. Draco was there yesterday. Nice, isn't it, mate?"

"It's gorgeous."

Hermione was doing some rapid calculation in her head. "Twenty minutes away… isn't that outside the wards?" she asked, her concerned gaze traveling to Draco.

He rolled his head from side to side on the couch back. "Yeahhhh. But it feels safe. It's very private."

"Very big gates," Blaise said. "Magical wards of its own too."

"Hmph." Hermione still wasn't convinced it was a good idea.

"Well, whatever, we don't have to decide now, although a pool! Oh my GODS, Hermione!" Lavender sighed dramatically.

"Have to say I'm with Lav on this one," Theo said, rejoining them. "Let's take this party out there some night."

"Anytime," Blaise said again and it struck Hermione how different he was in this company.

"Well, I think it's time for some bubbly." Lavender got up and straightened her skirt. "And I made cookies!"

"Lav is like, a really good, muggle cook," Hermione told the rest of them as Lavender disappeared into the kitchen. She could definitely feel the effects of her two drinks.

"So is Draco," Theo said with a laugh.

"Really!?" Blaise and Hermione said at the same time, both whipping their heads toward Draco, who lifted a shoulder.

"I mean, making a tomato sauce and boiling some pasta is not haute cuisine. And it's hard to go wrong with the ingredients here."

"He made bruschetta the other night!" Theo said.

"Again, toasted bread with olive oil and tomato." Draco waved a hand. Theo wagged a finger at him and Draco rolled his eyes then got up to flip the cassette, which had ended. He looked at Hermione as he did so and she nodded to indicate he was doing it right.

Lavender came back in with a bottle and cookies and passed them around. "Ok," she said, plopping back down in her seat. "Real talk. Two questions. Number one; what do we miss most about magic—a thing or a spell or whatever you want to say, and number two; what do the muggles do better? Theo you go first."

"What! Why me!?" Theo's dimple made an appearance.

"Because I really want to hear your answer," Lavender said with faux urgency. "Come on. I'll go next."

"Hmm..." Theo tapped his chin. "I misssss…"

"Can't say the first thing that came to his mind in mixed company." Draco's old smirk was in full effect.

Hermione laughed as Theo gave Draco a two fingered salute without looking at him.

"Ok this is boring," he finally said. "But I miss Accio! All the fetching and carrying—especially at work. If I could just summon a fork from the kitchen after some little kid drops it for the fourth time…" He shook his head as the rest of them started laughing.

"You lazy wanker." Blaise shook his head.

"Uh, pardon me, you have no idea what you're talking about." Theo said with an exaggerated glare.

"And what do the muggles do better?" Lavender prompted, moving in her chair to swing her legs over the arm. Theo's gaze flicked up and down her body, a good amount of which was on display.

"The clothes," he said with a wicked grin. "Especially the girls' clothes."

"Theo!" Hermione chucked a handy pillow at him. Lavender just batted her eyelashes and kicked a lazy foot in his direction.

"What!?" he said, fending off the missile. "I'm sure Draco and Blaise agree. Wizarding robes are dowdy and cover all the lovely bits up."

"Oh no, Draco doesn't like muggle girls' clothes, do you?" Hermione said, laughing as she turned to him. He rolled his eyes, and she turned back to the rest of the room. "He thinks they're too short!"

"Bullshit," Theo coughed into his hand as Blaise started laughing. Draco was shaking his head with his eyes closed.

Suddenly he opened them and slanted a look at Hermione, "Just because I notice something is short," he drawled, a slight slur to his words, "doesn't mean I don't appreciate it." The whole room erupted in whoops at this remark and Hermione felt her neck and then her face get hot.

"Oh," she said, looking down. "Oh."

"More bubbly!" Lavender called, descending on Hermione with a bottle. "Also, it's MY TURN!" She settled on the floor next to Hermione, who was still reeling a bit from the implications of the last exchange, and leaned her head on her shoulder. "What I misssss is all my divination stuff." Hermione groaned. "Shut up, you." Lavender poked her. "It's fun and I enjoy it, and the muggle versions of it are pale imitations."

"And what do you like more about living here?" Hermione asked, lunging forward and grabbing one of Lavender's cookies off the tray on the table.

"Mmm, there are a couple of things. Which to say…?" Lavender stared off into the distance.

"Say both!" Hermione said, "There are no rules here!"

"Ok, well I really do enjoy muggle cooking," Lavender nodded at Draco, who nodded back. "I like the time and concentration it takes. It's not all just wave a wand and it's done. You put a bit of yourself into it and it's very satisfying."

"And very delicious!" Hermione declared as she shoved the rest of her cookie into her mouth. She caught Draco's amused eye as she chewed blissfully.

"And," Lavender put up a finger, "I just like the sheer variety."

"Of men," Hermione muttered to the side. Everyone cracked up and Lavender swatted her hard on the shoulder, although she was laughing.

"I meant of experience, you bitch!" Lavender objected. Hermione just kept laughing, listing to the side until she realised she was leaning against Draco's leg. She straightened abruptly.

"Who's next?"

"You are," Lavender said.

Hermione sobered. What did she miss about magic? Everything. "Everything." It came out a near whisper.

"Aww, petal." Lavender squeezed her to her side.

Hermione looked around. "It's just different for me than it is for you, right? I lived in this world" —she waved her hand around— "for eleven years before I found out there was something beyond, something incredible. You all have always been aware of my world. But being let in on yours was the most amazing thing that I think will ever happen to me." She looked down. "So I miss it all. The lore, the spells, the unexpected things I learned every day." The room had gone silent when she looked back up and she felt a flash of embarrassment. Had she gone too far? Opened up too much?

"Do you ever practice with wandless?" Draco's voice came from behind her and she twisted in surprise, her brows drawing together.

"Wandless?"

He leaned forward, a shock of his white blond hair falling over his forehead. He pushed it back. "Yeah, just to keep your hand in without giving yourself away. I use a wandless language clarifier in the shop sometimes. It's a short little incantation under the breath."

"I hadn't thought of that," she said slowly.

"I'll teach you that one and a couple of others if you'd like," he said, leaning back.

"That would be brilliant, thank you." She felt a smile curving her lips and she kept looking at him until someone cleared their throat.

It was Theo who said, "But there must be loads of things that the muggles do better, right?"

Hermione swung back around to him and the others. "Yes!" she said decisively. "Loads."

"Examples?" asked Blaise, cocking his head.

A particularly exuberant and charming song had just started blasting from the little player, so Hermione pointed to it. "Music, definitely. And books." She twisted around to Draco again but just briefly. He nodded. "I mean, there are some magical books that are absolutely incredible. But our muggle fiction writers are better, I think. AND, I know this will be controversial, but I prefer muggle art too."

This comment resulted in a mini-commotion since one thing on which all the purebloods seemed to agree was that art that didn't have moving figures couldn't possibly be as good.

"You're all wrong." Hermione talked over them. "And part of the problem is that you've never seen any good muggle art in person." Draco started to say something, but she turned and shot him a look over her shoulder. "And reproductions in books don't count!"

"Well if you weren't such a stickler for going outside the wards, maybe we could go to a muggle museum," Lavender said in a wheedling tone "I know there are some very good ones just a train ride away…"

"Oh I see exactly where this is going." Hermione put her finger in Lavender's face. "You weaken me with the temptation of a museum and then next thing I know we're hanging out at Blaise's pool every day. 'Wards, what wards!?'" Lavender started giggling and fell over as Hermione yelled that she could see through her and the boys laughed.

"Here," Theo eventually said through the melee, his voice getting on toward very slurred, "is there any more of that fizzy wine?"

Lavender held up the bottle, "Nope, empty. I'll go get the other." She hopped up off the ground and looked in Blaise's direction. "Anyone want to help?"

"Yeah, ok." Blaise smiled and stretched up out of the chair.

"Subtle," Hermione muttered as they went through to the kitchen. Draco and Theo both snorted, and Theo got up and walked over to Hermione, then pulled her up. "What, where are we going?" she asked, suspicious.

"Just offering you Blaise's chair so you don't have to sit on the ground anymore." Theo made a gallant little flourish and Hermione dropped into the soft armchair.

"Thank you, sir." She nodded regally and stretched her legs. "That is more comfortable." She smiled up at him and then glanced over at Draco, who was lounging in the corner of the sofa, his posture more loose than she had ever seen it. She couldn't seem to prevent herself from being aware of him in the room, his motions and reactions, the way he shifted against the sofa or sipped his drink. "Hey!" she suddenly sat up. "You never said yours!"

"Oh dear, that's true," he said softly, his eyes hooded.

"You have to!" Hermione said.

"Do I?" he seemed to settle even more deeply into the sofa. The corner of his mouth went up as Hermione started to gesticulate.

"Come on, you git," Theo added, but half-heartedly.

"All right, all right." Draco held up an elegant hand.

Blaise and Lavender re-entered the room just then and Blaise topped up Theo's glass. "Draco's turn?" he asked.

"Unfortunately." Draco moved up and looked skyward. "What do I miss… Oh," he snapped his fingers. "Easy. Dreamless fucking sleep potion. What I wouldn't give for a vial or twenty of that."

Hermione felt her brows draw together. She caught Theo sending a sympathetic look in Draco's direction just as Blaise gave him a sharp glance too. Of course. Trauma. Trauma disrupted sleep. Hermione felt a deep pang of sympathy. Draco did often look tired, even if he was less wan and pale than during the school year. If she had trouble sleeping sometimes, how difficult must it be for him?

"I can get you that, mate," Blaise was saying. "I have a few vials at home right now. I'll snap over and get them and leave them with you tonight. And I'll pick up some more tomorrow."

"Yeah?" Draco straightened fractionally in his seat. "That would be brilliant. Thanks." He gave a quick chin flip to Blaise, who returned it.

"Anytime."

The music stopped and Draco leaned over to turn the cassette. He seemed to be really into it.

"And what about the muggle world?" Lavender asked. She had sat next to Blaise on the couch, but now twisted to face Draco. "What is Draco Malfoy's favourite muggle thing?" Her voice held a teasing note and Hermione felt her heart seize a tiny bit at the phrasing of the question. If Lavender looked over at her, she would kill her.

"You've all said it so well," Draco said, straightening in his seat as another jangle of guitar chords filled the air. Theo was lighting a cigarette and wordlessly offered one to Draco, who accepted and then reached for Theo's lighter. Hermione got the distinct impression he was stalling as he lit and took a couple of drags from the cigarette. Finally he exhaled and spoke. "The variety of experience, the books and music, cooking and yes, even the clothes." His grin flickered briefly. "All of that is…" His voice softened. "Good. Marvelous." He took a deep breath and seemed to be lost in the patterns of the smoke as he blew it slowly out.

"That's amazing," said Hermione's voice, although she was certain she hadn't given her mouth leave to talk. Draco's eyes went to hers, surprise and a slight question in them. She sat up and cleared her throat. "I mean, considering, er, who you, er, were. It's heartening. If you and Theo and Blaise," Hermione gestured at Theo and glanced at Blaise quickly, "can change your minds in small— and big—ways. That means that others can, and will. I just think it's great," she finished lamely, staring at the floor and feeling heat creep up her neck to her cheeks.

The room was silent for a moment and then, "Thanks for your help with it," came the soft reply from Draco's end of the couch. Hermione looked up and he was looking at her too, his face unguarded for once. What she saw there made something surge through her. He held her gaze for just a fraction too long for comfort and the tension in the room started to stretch. Hermione opened her mouth, but at the same moment, Draco broke the contact, a grin spreading over his face. "And the bike," he said. "Let's not forget the bike."

"And so even though the wizarding world doesn't have formal titles, there is a similar structure to the muggle aristocracy." Blaise was waving a cigarette in the air and his drawl was very pronounced, which Draco knew were two sure signs that he was absolutely rat-arsed. Draco raised a brow at him. "It's true! I did my Muggle Studies project on it!"

"You were in Muggle Studies too?" Hermione grabbed the arm of her seat and stared at Blaise with open amazement. Theo and Draco both started laughing as Blaise muttered at both of them to fuck off. "What?" Hermione said, "What did I say? I didn't know so many of you were interested!" At this Draco really lost it, leaning his elbow on the arm of the sofa and covering his face as his shoulders shook. He could hear Theo was weak with laughter too. "WHAT!?" Hermione yelled.

"He was, he was … forced to take it!" Theo gasped, wiping his eyes.

"Whaaaat?" Lavender looked at Blaise with round eyes, but he was totally sideways in his armchair, head tilted back and eyes closed.

"Whatever," he sang to the room.

"Forced to take a class?" said Hermione, her brow adorably furrowed. "I didn't know they could do that."

"Neither did we!" Theo said. "But McGonagall overheard him speaking some of that pureblood rubbish we used to spout."

"And," Draco took up the narrative. "Even though he had signed up for Ancient Runes, when his schedule came out it said Muggle Studies instead. Tried to go to Runes too, didn't you?" Draco pointed at Blaise. "—And got zipped right back to the Muggle Studies room by some kind of castle magic!"

Theo whooped at this. "I was there! Oh fuck, that was funny."

"ANYWAY," Blaise said, straightening up, "the POINT is that I did a project mapping the muggle aristocracy to the wizarding world's. And you ladies are in the presence of a couple of lords." He pointed a finger at Draco and Theo.

"Oh, shut the fuck up," moaned Draco. "Here, has the cassette ended? Let me find a new one." He scrabbled around in the pile on the floor at his feet.

"Yeah, Blaise, no one cares about that shite." Theo said, heaving himself up and lunging for the last of the cookies.

"It's actually fascinating," Hermione said, squinting hard at Theo and then Draco. He resisted the urge to make a face at her and instead just took a deep swallow of his wine. "What would they be?" she continued, still eyeing him.

"Other than wankers?" Blaise muttered. Hermione nodded mock-seriously and Theo pushed at her with his foot. She had somehow ended up on the floor again, a circumstance which was rather trying to Draco's attitude of nonchalance, since she was wearing a dress and kept leaning and toppling over. "Well," Blaise rubbed his chin, "my conclusion was that he," he pointed at Theo, "would be like, a Baron. Minor title, but still Lord Nott." Theo rolled his eyes. "And he," Blaise circled his finger and pointed at Draco, "would be something like an Earl or Viscount, courtesy title for the eldest son of a Duke, you know." Draco blew out a huge breath, but Blaise apparently wasn't finished. "AND the Blacks would be something big too, so you'd probably be the son of a Duke AND the grandson of a Duke!"

Hermione, who was re-twisting her hair up on top of her head, let out a long, low whistle. "No wonder you were such a twat," she said to Draco, her eyes huge. "I mean, they're all horrible. Overbred, entitled—although the one prince is rather dishy." She stared into space.

"Exactly." Blaise said as Lavender cracked up and Draco got up and flipped them all off.

"I am not a Duke, or heir to a Duke or whatever," he said with finality.

"May as well be," Theo slurred.

"No it's totally different," Draco felt a point coming on and he wanted to make it. "It's the titles themselves, you see. They're so in your face. Such signifiers. Flags of wealth and privilege. Planted here, there, and everywhere you go. Lord this, Lady that. We don't need any of that."

"No, you're even more exclusive, because you just expect everyone to know already," Hermione said tartly, draining the last of whatever she was drinking. Draco felt himself sputter as she shook her finger slowly in his direction and Lavender cracked up. "Son of a Duke and grandson of a Duke and only heir to each. It explains so much." Hermione fell over laughing and Draco looked for the pillow she'd chucked at Theo earlier, then threw it at her as everyone cracked up.

"I'd burn it all down, though." Theo's voice came suddenly out of the din. "All of that shite." He was serious and his tone quietened them all instantly. "When I inherit, IF I inherit. I don't want any of it. I'll turn Nott House into a muggle museum or an old folks home or something." He shuddered.

"You're saying you'll give up all the cash?" Blaise had opened his eyes and was looking at Theo in surprise.

"I mean, I'd keep enough to live on. But I'm done with all of that. Done with my father and his shite. Once he goes to prison, it's over."

Draco felt his steps moving him out of the room and toward the kitchen, away from the murmurs that had arisen in response to Theo's comments. He walked to the kettle and took it to the sink, staring at the water as it rushed from the tap.

"Is it hard for you to listen to that?" Hermione's voice came from behind him and he whipped around. She was leaning in the doorway, arms crossed, her head tilted against the frame.

He turned back to watch the level of the kettle, his shoulders suddenly tight. "Just because I'm not showing off for attention, doesn't mean I don't think about the same things." Shite, he must be more drunk than he'd realised.

He heard her move off the door frame and into the room as he set the kettle to boil. He turned and leaned against the counter, watching her as she took a bowl from a stack on the table and served herself a wedge of the tiramisu Theo had brought from the trattoria. She walked to the counter and leaned too, dipping her spoon in and bringing it thoughtfully to her lips. He tried not to watch her mouth and failed.

"Do you think about them?" she asked, her dark eyes serious on his. He gave her a look. "What!?" she said, waving her spoon around. "I don't know. I don't know anything about you!"

Didn't she? He was silent for a long time until the kettle clicked off. He turned to locate the tea and pull a couple of mugs out of the cupboard. "Maybe I'd give it all up too," he said quietly.

"Really?" she said. "And what would you do if you weren't being Draco Malfoy?" Her voice was also quiet, almost gentle.

He passed her a mug. "Careful, it's hot." She put down her bowl and took it with a nod and a quick thanks. He leaned back against the counter and sighed. "And I don't quite know. I guess that's part of what I'm trying to figure out."

"That's fair."

They both looked up as a loud burst of laughter came from the other room. Draco sipped. "But maybe I'd buy a bookshop in a little Italian town." He looked over at her as the corner of his mouth went up. "Get a motorcycle."

Her lips curved slightly too and she looked at him for several beats. "That sounds nice."

He kept her gaze, and the thought of closing the distance between them, of kissing her, flooded his mind. What would she do? What would she feel like? As he watched, the smile faded from her face and her eyes darkened. He put down his mug, thoughts of lines and crossing them and whether or not he should blurred by the copious amount of alcohol he'd consumed—and by desire.

Her lips parted and he thought she made a movement to put down her mug too when Theo swung through the door yelling something about the song that was playing in the sitting room. Something about it being one they'd danced to at the disco. He grabbed Hermione's free hand and tugged her out of the kitchen, as she laughed and protested. Draco caught a glimpse of her dark eyes as she looked back at him, along with the strangely flat look Theo threw at him over his shoulder. Were they in competition now? Draco shook his head and lifted his mug to his lips again, staying out of the fracas he could hear beyond the doorway. It sounded like a dance party had broken out.

Blaise came in shaking his head. "Madness," he said, his teeth flashing in a quick smile.

"Better off in here," Draco said. "You want a cup?" He gestured with his mug.

"Nahh," Blaise said. "I was going to nip over and get you that dreamless sleep before I, uh, forget about it." His eyes cut to the doorway and Draco knew he was referring to possible end of the night activities with Lavender.

"Sounds good." Draco pushed up from the counter and led Blaise down the hall to the back bedroom, waiting a brief moment as Blaise disappeared then reappeared with a cluster of small vials in his hand. "Thanks, man," he said, taking the potions. The cool glass seemed to hum with magic and the promise of relief.

"No problem," Blaise said. "I'll get you some more before those run out too." He shuffled his feet. "Are you ok?" he finally asked. "Otherwise?"

"Well, this will help," Draco said as they walked out of the room and he ducked briefly into his own bedroom to place the vials on his night stand. "But I'm feeling better. Every day here."

"Good to hear it," Blaise clasped his shoulder briefly. "Now let's go make sure Theo isn't making a complete arse of himself."

"Undoubtedly too late." Draco said as they entered the sitting room again. The dance party seemed to have died down. Someone had lit a fire in the huge fireplace. Very likely Theo and very likely with magic. Granger was on the floor, legs extended, her head on a cushion. Her hair had come down at some point and it was fanned around her in a halo of sorts. Lavender was draped over an armchair, her eyes at half mast. Theo was in the window again. The whole scene spoke of the end of the night.

"You're drunk, Granger," Theo was saying.

"You're drunk!" Hermione pointed at him without lifting her head.

"All right, well you're also mad."

"You're both obviously drunk," Draco said, stepping gingerly over Granger's prone body and suppressing most of the thoughts that went with the motion, "but why is Granger mad?"

Hermione shifted on the floor as he passed and stared up at him with bright eyes. "I have a theory!"

"Shocking," Blaise murmured as he shoved Lavender over and settled into the chair with her. Draco raised his eyebrows and Blaise flicked his twice in return.

"No, it's really good," Lavender said through a yawn.

"Thank you, Lavender. It's about the sorting hat," Hermione said, sinking back on her cushion and closing her eyes. Draco took advantage of her lack of awareness and Blaise's distraction to stare at her beautiful face. As he watched, she put her hands up behind her head and tilted back into a stretch, which exposed her long neck and lifted her— Theo cleared his throat loudly and Draco settled back in his corner of the sofa.

"So all this muggle versus wizarding talk had me thinking," Hermione continued. "What if the hat doesn't magically rifle through your head at all? What if it's much more simple than that and all the poems and chats-inside-your-head are just put-ons?"

"I didn't get poems or a chat," Blaise muttered. "It just yelled 'Slytherin' the moment it touched my head."

"Same," said Draco.

"Well some of us got chatted to. It really thought about putting me in Ravenclaw," Hermione said.

"Yes, we had a conversation too," said Theo.

"Mmm-hmm," added Lavender.

"Anyway," Hermione flapped her hand. "My theory doesn't have to do with all that. What if," she sat up and looked around, "the hat simply takes your temperature? Like in a very minute way. And if you're coolest you're in Slytherin, then Ravenclaw and if you're warmer you're in Hufflepuff and warmest you're in Gryffindor."

The room was silent for a few moments until Blaise started to laugh. Theo joined in and Draco felt his own grin emerge before he could stop it. Even Lavender started to crack up.

"That is the biggest load of—" Blaise couldn't finish speaking, he was laughing so hard.

"I TOLD you!" Theo howled.

Granger looked around and her face settled into thunderous lines. "Fuck ALL of you!" she said. "It's a sound theory."

"It's not," Draco said, swiping at his eyes.

"It IS!" She was up on her knees now, with her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

"Granger, what two houses were you almost sorted into?" he asked, leaning forward.

"Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. I already said!"

"So you'd say you were on the border between two?"

"Yes."

"But on your scale, what's between them?" He'd leaned pretty far forward now and she was still glaring at him, sparks practically coming out of her ears. Then, realisation dawned.

"Oh. Hufflepuff." She blinked several times at him, her face relaxing and her arms dropping down her sides. She was so fucking captivating. Draco itched to reach out, wrap his hands around her waist and pull her toward him. If they were alone he would have done it. The room had gotten quite quiet and Draco wondered why Theo's latest cockblock hadn't arrived. Then he realised Theo had disappeared. Probably in the loo. "Well," Hermione let out a gusty sigh, "I'm no bloody Hufflepuff, that's for sure." Everyone laughed at that and she turned to lean against the couch, right close to Draco's legs.

"It was a lovely theory, though," Lavender said from her chair.

"It was almost a great theory," Draco said. To his surprise she tilted her head and tapped his knee with her temple. He restrained himself from reaching over and touching her hair.

Lavender yawned hugely. "Well I'm suddenly knackered. Are you ready to go?" She looked at Hermione and a little conversation seemed to pass between them in slightly widened eyes and tiny nods.

Blaise looked confused and Draco snickered quietly. Guess Brown wasn't as sure a thing as he'd assumed.

"Yeah, I am," Hermione started to get up off the floor and Draco rose swiftly, then offered her his hand. Hers felt warm and soft in his and she squeezed it slightly and thanked him before she let go. "Shall we?" she said to Lavender. "We're walking, right?"

Lavender groaned. "Can we just apparate from the back bedroom?"

"Oh gosh. I suppose so." Hermione's eyes flew to Draco's.

"Of course," he murmured. "I'll show you the way." He started leading Hermione down the hall after she'd gathered her bag. When they got to the doorway to the bedroom, he realised Lavender hadn't followed them.

"Are you coming?" Hermione shouted toward the sitting room.

"Won't be a mo!" Lavender's reply floated in.

Hermione leaned in the doorway and sighed. Her dark eyes went to his. "Well anyway, thanks for a lovely night. I hope the clean-up isn't too atrocious," she said.

Draco grabbed the top of the doorframe with one hand and leaned down. "I'm sure we'll end up using magic. I'll close the shutters or something." He shrugged, noticing that she was just staring at him with a sort of glazed expression on her face. "And thank you," he continued after a moment or two, "for the music."

"You're welcome," she said softly, and Draco was again overwhelmed by the urge to do something really stupid, like press her up against this doorframe and kiss her until neither of them could see straight—walk her into his bedroom and slam the door… Instead, he cleared his throat and stepped back. Luckily, because Theo's cockblock was incoming this time, gliding down the hallway with a parcel he was holding out to her.

"Extra tiramisu," he said. "Take it, please."

Hermione thanked the smarmy bastard and kissed his cheek as Brown finally showed up, looking a bit mussed.

"Are we ready or do you three need to discuss something?" she asked with a wicked little smile. Draco didn't miss Granger's face going bright red.

"We're ready," she ground out as she grabbed Brown's arm. "Thanks so much to the both of you," she turned and said in a much softer tone and with a brilliant smile.

"Yes, that was lovely," Brown added. "Let's do it again. Soon. And at ours! Ta!"

Draco's last glimpse of them before they disappeared was of Granger's dark eyes and flushed cheeks as she called goodnight.

Chapter Text

Draco's heels click on the familiar polished parquet and he grips his wand tightly in his slick palm. Dread surrounds him like a tangible thing. There had been a sound; something that had soured his stomach and caused panic to roil in his veins. What had it been? Where had it come from? He picks up his pace, portraits of his ancestors a blur as he almost jogs down the hall. He hears voices, a sickening hiss, a rumble of laughter.

And then a scream; pure as crystal and sharp as a shard of glass driven cruelly into soft skin.

He gasps and breaks into a run.

That was the sound.

(Oh god, oh god, he has to get to her.)

He is running flat out now, but the doorway is always just ahead, unreachable, and the screams are multiplying, one on top of another in an unrelenting wave. He feels hot tears spill down his face. His heart clenches. He reaches out, trying to grip a doorway, pull himself forward, but he slips and falls, pitching downward as a vision of her contorted face rips through his mind.

His impact with the floor is a swift, brutal jolt—

—Draco sat up with a gasp, his eyes stretched wide and his fingers clutching his soaked sheets. He looked around wildly, his ears reaching for the sound, the screams, but there was nothing.

All was silent and still.

He was in his bedroom, in the flat, in San Cipriano.

Theo was in the next room.

Draco made himself breathe—in and out—as memory rose up past the breathless terror of the nightmare.

The party. He'd had too much to drink. So much to drink that he hadn't bothered with the dreamless sleep potion Blaise had brought.

An obvious mistake.

He flopped back against his pillows and ran a rough hand through his hair. Swallowing heavily, he allowed his brain to travel back over the terrain of the dream now that he was firmly grounded in reality. Much of it was familiar; the manor, the dread, the inability to do anything about the violence happening just out of frame.

But the screams...and their owner. They were new.

Hermione. Fuck.

He scrubbed his hands across his face and rubbed his eyes and then his temples. What had he been thinking? And doing?

He'd almost kissed her tonight—at the sink and in the doorway as they were saying goodbye. And the way he'd looked at her and talked to her…in front of everyone.

Fucking mad. And reckless.

It couldn't go on. The thought had a flavour of finality, though it brought an immediate wash of pain and frustration with it.

Impulsively, he flipped over and grabbed a vial off of his nightstand—he'd never get back to sleep otherwise. Uncapping it, he drank the whole thing before he could second-guess himself, the taste of sweet anise and mallow chasing down his throat with the promise of oblivion. He wiped his mouth and barely had time to turn over before a black tide swamped him and his eyes fluttered shut.

Draco woke late the next morning with a splitting headache and a renewed sense that he had gone too far the night before. He lay quietly, reviewing the nightmare and the events preceding it, his regret and restlessness growing until he finally pushed up out of bed and made a trek through the silent flat for water and muggle pain pills. Settling into an armchair, he stared unseeingly at the wreck of the sitting room, (dirty glasses, cigarette butts and half full bottles on every surface) moments of what had happened there the night before flashing through his mind.

Fuck, fuck FUCK. What had happened to distance? To protecting people by keeping the hell away from them? What had happened to his famous reserve, constructed meticulously (mercilessly) in his boyhood by Lucius, and so well-honed over the last, vicious year? Why couldn't he turn that switch on? Why hadn't he?

He moved up impatiently and strode down the hallway to the bathroom for a shower, his fingers at his temples. Turning on the taps, he fretted while the water warmed, his anger at himself growing. He'd been entirely too loose and free. And the dream had come in like some dark portent to remind him of what that could mean.

He got in, letting the water sluice over him, and thought about the last few weeks. He'd been going to the café too much and it was time to stop. Stop seeking out excuses to talk to her, stop trying to find time alone with her. Blaise was here now so he should just...focus his social life on him. Hanging his head, Draco let the water wash over the back of his neck, staying that way for a few moments, his fists balled, already grieving a kind of loss.

But then he forced himself upright. He could still flip that switch, dammit.

He was in deep, yes (too deep) but he could call on his upbringing and his core. His cool, Slytherin base—despite his anguished thoughts, he felt his lips lift at the memory of her 'theory' and his heart swell at the memory of her gifts, her soft words and teasing face throughout the night—but then he pulled his features into grim lines. He looked up and let the water beat directly down on his face, allowing the horrific idea of that light, her light, being dimmed or snuffed out strengthen his resolve.

He could do this. He could pull away and not look back. It was for the best. For everyone. But especially for her.

But then he slumped, reaching an arm out to brace himself against the wall, letting the water pour over his bowed head in a torrent, allowing himself one last moment of debilitating regret and dismay; an almost childish complaint at the unfairness of it all. But then an echo of the scream from his nightmare ran through his mind and he straightened, cutting the shower off with a shake of his head.

He could do it and he would.

The next few days saw Draco very committed to this new course of action—avoiding the café and any other situations where he might interact with Hermione.

It didn't feel good, but it felt right.

And when Blaise came over and made the expected comments about Draco's behaviour the night of the party, it only strengthened Draco's vow. Because surprisingly Blaise's words were more gentle than mocking, and far more disturbing for that reason.

"Granger. What a surprise," he said with a sidelong glance as they settled into the armchairs and looked out at a spectacular sunset.

Draco tensed. "Yeah?"

"Yeah. I actually liked hanging out with her." Blaise took a drink of wine as he blinked at the pinks and oranges in the sky. "Guess this war is changing us all."

The last statement was accompanied by the full power of his dark eyes on Draco's. And Draco knew then that he had been rumbled completely. Blaise not only knew, but he knew that it went beyond something as simple as lust or boredom or proximity.

"I'm stepping back." Draco said after several moments of tense silence. "It's too dangerous for anyone to be involved with me like that. But especially her."

"OK." Blaise was quiet for a long beat. "But it might not be that simple."

"It should be!" Draco exploded. "I don't know why she even gives me the time of day. She should hate me."

Blaise made a sound of exasperation and sympathy. "Have you talked to her about all that?"

"I apologized." Draco tipped his head back. "Briefly. Told her I've been changing my opinions for a while now."

"And?"

"She thanked me for telling her. Then went right on being herself. I wish she would have yelled at me or pushed me or something."

"She may yet." Blaise's smile flashed.

"Ha. Ha."

"Serious question, though." Blaise turned in his seat, although Draco kept looking straight ahead. "Is any of this because you can't quite do it? She's muggleborn, Draco. Not a minor family, not a half-blood. Muggle. Born. I wouldn't blame you if it's just…too much. Too soon."

Draco was silent for a long time, the question knocking around his head, rattling at old ideas and prejudices, things he'd believed his whole life and that his family had cleaved to for generations. Fundamentals of what it meant to be who he was. Or had been.

Was that it?

Was it that, when it really came down to it, he just couldn't stomach it?

"No." The word came out of his mouth almost involuntarily. "That's not it."

"All right." Blaise took a deep drink of his wine. "Well, prepare yourself for a bit of a fight, then. I get the impression she doesn't give up easily."

Draco had brushed him off, but Blaise had been right, because even though Draco had stayed away, Granger was clearly not on the same track. Once he'd missed a few days at the café, she'd appeared in the bookshop and then at the flat with Theo after their class, bright-eyed and full of interesting things to chat about. Draco had been cool to her, feigning preoccupation with a client at the shop and inventing an errand that took him away from the flat not five minutes after she and Theo had arrived—trying to not care that he'd just left them totally alone.

He even tried to tell himself he could just leave Hermione to Theo if she wanted him. That it didn't matter and that she could take care of herself. She was too smart not to know about Theo's proclivities—if she pursued something with him in spite of that, it was her prerogative. Draco had to do a lot of pushing down of an inner voice that howled in protest at this train of thought, but he managed it.

Barely.

And he could tell Hermione was confused, and maybe even hurt. Her expressive face couldn't hide it. But he pressed on nonetheless, convinced of his course of action.

But Blaise had been right; she was nothing if not tenacious, so he did find himself in the café one bright afternoon, responding to a note she'd slipped under the bookshop door early that morning informing him that she had some new music for him and that he had to stop by and get it if he wanted it.

He pushed through the door warily, bracing himself and vowing to make the encounter brief. He held his helmet in one hand in what he hoped was a clear signal that he was on his way somewhere else.

The bell tinkled and she looked up from where she was sitting at the end of the counter, leaning over a book. She was wearing the soft pink dress from that first day at The Pools and her hair was up, revealing her pretty neck. Draco swallowed.

"Hi!" she said warmly, jumping up off the stool and hurrying out from behind the counter. Alarmed, Draco was certain she was about to hug him, so he schooled his face into cool lines and propped himself against the counter in a way that made it impossible. She stopped short with a jerky motion.

"Hello," he said, his voice tight, feeling like an arse.

"Hello," she said again, more softly than before. "You got my note? You're here for the cassettes?"

"Yeah, and I'll take a coffee too. For the road." He lifted his helmet onto the bar.

"Oh, ah, OK." She went back behind the counter, her movements much more restrained than before. Draco felt a strange little seize in his gut, but ignored it. She worked the espresso machine silently and eventually turned with his cup. "Here you are. I'll just duck in the back and get the music."

"Thanks."

While she was gone the bell tinkled again and to Draco's surprise, Lavender and Blaise walked in, laughing and holding hands. Things between them had progressed quickly, and for a moment Draco was awash in jealousy, wishing it could be that easy for him. But it never would be, would it? The thought bolstered his resolve and he threw back his coffee, determined to get out of there as fast as he could.

"Heyyy." Blaise greeted him with surprise in his tone.

"Fancy seeing you here," Lavender said at the same time, a little frown in her eyes.

Hermione came out from the back, her face drawn, but she brightened when she saw the new arrivals. "Hey, you two," she said with a little wave. "Haven't seen you in a while. Any of you," she murmured, her eyes darting quickly to Draco. He felt a stab of guilt. If Lavender had been off with Blaise while he had been staying away too, Hermione must not have had much company. Except for Theo. You're welcome, Theo. He frowned down at the counter.

"Well we're here to remedy that!" Lavender was saying. "We're going to the disco tonight. All of us. We already stopped by your flat and Theo is in," she said with a look at Draco. He opened his mouth to protest but Granger cut in.

"Oh that would be fun." Her face lifted and she turned her eyes to him. "We haven't been there since that first night. I've still never demonstrated 80s dancing for you." Her mouth went up in a tentative smile.

It was a clear olive branch and Draco knew it. Knew that she realised he'd been keeping away and didn't know why, but was willing to work past it. Try again. Bloody Gryffindor persistence.

Everyone was waiting for his reply and he knew he should say no. A refusal would cement this new distance. Even if she was tenacious, Hermione had self-respect. She wouldn't keep trying in the face of his indifference.

He took a deep breath, willing himself to make the cut, but instead he said, "OK."

"Really?" Lavender smiled and Granger's eyes stayed on him.

"Yeah, what time?"

"We're meeting at yours at nine," Lavender said. "We can all ride together."

"All right." Draco looked down at the counter again. Shite. His helmet slid against his suddenly damp hand and he started. The ride. His excuse. "Ah, I'm off then." He picked up the helmet and waved it slightly before putting a bill down on the counter for the coffee and turning away.

"Wait, your tapes!" Hermione said, coming out from behind the bar again. He stopped and turned back, willing himself not to notice how perfectly the pink dress skimmed her body.

"Word got out that I was on the hunt and somebody brought these in," she said, holding out a stack of cassettes. He looked down at them and then back up at her face, which was guarded. "They're newer," she explained. "From the last few years. Radiohead, Blur, and Pulp. Someone must know I'm English." She gave a short laugh. "They're uh, all English bands." He took the tapes from her grasp, but she kept one back and held it up. "I think you'll especially like this one; Radiohead. This is one of my favorites of the last few years. The Bends." She looked into his face and a nervous smile flashed across hers. "I was really happy to get them. Someone left them in the hostel in Aquino." He didn't smile back and after a beat she looked away, a frown crossing her features. Draco felt like a complete arsehole.

"Thanks—" he started to say, but she interrupted him as she swung around and walked quickly behind the counter, her tone and demeanor suddenly brusque.

"Anyway, hope you like them." She waved her hand. "So tonight?" She turned her attention to Lavender. "What are you wearing?"

Draco felt the dismissal, but also didn't miss the two spots of red burning in Granger's cheeks. He sighed and Blaise raised a brow at him. Draco shrugged slightly. "See you tonight, man," Blaise said with a flip of his chin.

"Yeah," Draco said and then forced his steps away and out the door.

Hermione pursed her lips as they walked into the disco. Draco had beat them there of course. She could see him across the dance floor, drink already in hand, chatting to a waiter from the restaurant. His bike was a lot faster than Theo's fully loaded car, which they'd of course realised wouldn't fit all of them. Hermione sniffed. Draco had jumped at the chance to take the motorcycle when the alternative being circulated involved her sitting on his lap.

No, it was becoming rather obvious that Draco wanted his distance from her. She'd started to wonder after so many days had gone by without him stopping by the café. And then his demeanor had been strange when she'd gone to the bookshop and at his flat one afternoon. Earlier today had been the cherry on top. He'd clearly been reluctant to come see her and almost dismissive about the new cassettes.

Well, fine. She didn't need his friendship anyway. She'd gotten by very much without it for over seventeen years. And she had Lavender—well, some of Lavender. She hadn't been around much. But Theo had been really lovely lately. He seemed to sense Draco's distance and be trying to make up for it. No ostentatious flirting or pushing of boundaries, just an easy and friendly constant presence.

She sighed as she let Lavender lead them to a corner with a big, open table. She did wonder what had happened with Draco, though. They'd had such a great time at the party. If anything, she'd thought they were getting closer. In fact, a few times she'd wondered—in the kitchen and right before they left… But no, she must have read it all wrong. Maybe she'd actually been too familiar that night and this was his way with dealing with it, of putting her back in her place. She bristled again.

Well, fuck him.

She looked down and smoothed the bottom half of the white lacy skirt outfit she'd borrowed from Lavender. Both pieces covered a little less than Hermione was used to, but she'd wanted to show off a bit tonight, to look good. And, no, she didn't want to examine the reasons why too carefully. But it did have something to do with the way Draco's eyes widened when he'd opened the door to the flat earlier. Again, fuck him. She tossed her hair, which she'd left down and very curly, and accepted a cold glass from Theo, who had just approached the table. Lavender and Blaise were already on the dance floor, putting on quite a display.

"Wow, she's flexible," Theo remarked, raising an eyebrow in Lavender's direction.

Hermione laughed and swatted at him. "Stop it! She's just having fun."

"No judgement!" Theo lifted his hands. "In fact, would you like to go out there?"

Hermione was about to decline, she generally felt a bit uncomfortable with really suggestive dancing, when her eye was caught by the view over Theo's shoulder. It was Draco—still across the room—and he was getting a hug from the beautiful dark-haired girl from before. What the fuck? Did they know each other now? Hermione's mind raced as her mouth sucked down her drink almost in a single swallow. Was this the reason he'd been avoiding her? The girl reached up and ran long fingernails through his hair, ruffling it. He stepped back, laughing down at her in surprise.

Hermione snapped her gaze back to Theo's and grabbed his hand. "I'd love to," she said, jumping up.

"Excellent!" He pulled her onto the floor and immediately drew her close. Hermione was aware of his warmth and his scent—just like the last time they'd danced. She concentrated on that, running her hands up over his biceps and shoulders to lace her fingers around his neck. His smile, which had been playful, deepened to something more a bit more serious. He pulled her closer and Hermione made herself relax into the embrace. She also made a mighty effort to forget the scene playing out across the room. Her eyes locked with Theo's.

"You look really beautiful tonight," he said in a low voice. "I love your hair down like this." He slid a light hand up from her waist, skimming it over her back and brushing her curls.

"Thank you, you're looking very nice yourself." She said with a smile. He did look extremely handsome. He was wearing her favorite faded denim shirt, the one that made his eyes look like a summer sky. He kept his blue gaze on hers for a beat and she felt her breath come a little quickly. The movements of the dance were sensuous and he was a very good dancer.

Experimentally, she stroked lightly at the back of his neck. His eyes instantly darkened and dropped to her mouth. She bit her lip, feeling a little surge thread through her.

Theo bent his head to her ear and whispered, "you shouldn't have done that." The smile in his words combined with the lightest touch of his lips on Hermione's ear, caused a throb in a distinctive part of her anatomy. She blew out a surprised breath. Draco who? He could hug as many tarts in bars as he wanted.

As the thought flitted through her head, Theo pulled back, his serious look replaced by a roguish one, then spun her around so she was tucked up against him back to front. Hermione realised the song had changed to something very gritty and sexy. She stiffened against him, not sure she could pull off this kind of dancing.

"Relax," he whispered, sliding the palm of his hand around to her bare stomach and pulling her tighter against him.

Hermione normally had a rather violent reaction to being told to relax, shades of Ron, but something in the tone of Theo's voice was caressing and playful rather than condescending, and she did relax. She gave a little laugh and fell against him, letting him move her to the bumping beat of the song.

"That's it." He tightened his other hand on her hip and put his lips to her ear again. Hermione felt the same shiver go over her body. She also felt the cocktail she'd drunk practically in one gulp slip through her veins. She tipped her head back and twined her arm up and around his neck, her palm against the back of his head. He laughed softly and tilted his face toward her neck. "There you go. It's fun, right?"

And it was fun. They moved together for a while longer, Hermione getting looser with every stroke. She didn't feel self conscious because almost everyone else around them was dancing more provocatively, some of the girls nearly bent double and touching the floor with the boys right behind them, grabbing their hips. Lavender was putting her flexibility to good use. Hermione laughed lightly just as Theo grabbed her waist and spun her around to face him. She reeled a little at the unexpected movement and fell into him. He was smiling too, but kept her from pulling away at all. Now they were dancing just as close, but facing each other. Hermione looked up at him from under her lashes just as the smile faded from his face.

"And there's your 'look'," he said. "Very good." His voice was light, but his eyes were intense on hers. He turned them in a slow circle and Hermione kept his gaze, really looking at him. Considering him. But as they turned she caught a flash of platinum over his shoulder.

Draco was alone at their table now. No dark haired girl. He was leaned over, smoking and watching them as they danced, just like the last time. It was impossible to read his expression through the dim and the smoke, but his posture was tense, his shoulders hunched, his foot tapping slowly.

Hermione's impulse reaction was to disengage and step away from Theo, which really pissed her off. So she closed her eyes and pulled him closer instead. She'd barely noticed, but the song had changed and was now slow and romantic. She leaned her head on Theo's shoulder and closed her eyes—against the vision of Draco and the feelings that went with it. She felt Theo touch his face to her hair and take a deep breath in.

Pulling her head up, she collected herself and smiled at him. "I think I like this kind of dancing better."

"It's very nice," he murmured, his hands brushing slowly over the bare skin of her back. Hermione felt that confusing warmth building again and she looked down. Suddenly, Theo took her hands from around his neck and swung her out in a slow twirl. She laughed as he did it, thankful for a break in the tension between them. He smiled back and pulled her in again.

They swayed a bit more, until the notes died and the DJ announced a break. Everyone pulled apart and started walking off the floor. Theo kept Hermione's hand lightly in his as they turned toward the table. Lavender and Blaise were there, but Draco was gone, his empty glass sitting in front of his empty chair.

"You want another drink?" Theo's voice broke into Hermione's suddenly swirling thoughts.

"Yeah," she said, glancing at him briefly. "Another of the same. Thanks."

He nodded and dropped her hand, moving toward the bar as she walked toward the table. Blaise jumped up as she approached and shot her a look that she couldn't quite read before going off after Theo.

"Having fun?" Lavender asked as Hermione sat, flicking her eyes in Theo's direction with a tease in her voice.

"Yeah." Hermione smiled and nodded, but couldn't help her glance at Draco's empty chair.

"He left," Lavender said with a twist of her mouth. "Sorry."

"What!?" Hermione shrugged exaggeratedly. "I don't care!"

"Uh huh." Lavender played with the straw in her empty glass.

"I don't! I'm having fun! With Theo!" Hermione protested.

"I can see that." Lavender's brows went up. "Remember what I told you about him."

Hermione squinted at her.

"He's a very good kisser," Lavender said with a wink and a naughty smile.

Hermione rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Thanks." They sat in silence for a beat, then Hermione looked at Draco's glass again and abruptly asked, "Did you see where he went?"

Lavender blew out an exasperated breath. "What am I going to do with you? He went home, and yes he was alone. Not for lack of trying on her part." She jutted her chin toward a corner of the room, where the dark haired girl was laughing with some friends. Hermione looked at the girl and felt a very distinct rush of relief. She then looked back at Lavender, who was shaking her head slowly.

"Lav." Blaise was suddenly at the table. "They can't make that peach thingy you want. Come see the choices."

"Oh, ok!" Lavender jumped up and took Blaise's hand, just as Theo came up behind them with two drinks. She and Blaise spun away toward the bar, Lavender darting a very significant look at Theo's back and wiggling her eyebrows at Hermione as they went.

Hermione snorted to herself while Theo was placing the drinks down. He opened his mouth to say something, but just then the music started up again; a loud, raucous tune that had everyone yelling and running out to the dance floor. Hermione winced and grimaced at the noise.

"Do you want to take these to those tables around the back?" Theo yelled.

"Yeah!" Hermione nodded as a particularly loud guitar squeal rent the air. "Let's go!"

Theo nodded and grabbed her hand, threading them through the crowds of dancers and out a side door. It closed behind them and the sound muffled pleasantly. This section of the club was reserved for dining during the day but seemed to be designated as an informal quiet area at night. There were only a few other people out there. One couple sitting at one of the small square tables and two girls smoking and talking animatedly under a tree in the corner. Theo led Hermione to a table and hopped up on its top, resting his feet on one of the seats. Hermione joined him and watched the girls as they stubbed out their cigarettes and made their way inside.

"That was fun," she said, clinking her glass with his. "Thanks for putting up with my sub-par dancing skills."

Theo smiled. "What are you talking about? You were brilliant."

Hermione took a long swallow of her drink and nudged his shoulder. "Come on."

"Once you loosened up, you were great," he said firmly, nudging her back. They sat in silence for a moment, and Hermione looked up at the starry sky through the branches of an overhanging tree. The night air whispered warm against her skin. She glanced around, the other couple seemed to have gone inside.

"It's so beautiful here," she said. "Sometimes I still can't believe this is my life."

"Yeah," he blew out a soft laugh. "Same." He paused for a minute and she felt him turn toward her. "How are you doing?" he asked.

She gave him a questioning look. Was he talking about Draco?

"I mean, just generally," he explained. "With all of this."

Ah. "OK, I guess?" she said, shrugging. "I mean, I worry all the time. But I try not to let the worry surface, if you know what I mean."

"I do." He nodded.

"And how are you?" she said.

"Same. OK, but always with the undercurrent. I'm starting to wonder how all of this is going to end too." He waved his hand. "Like, will we go back to school? And when we do, what will it be like?" The look on his face was serious.

"Do you think we'll still be friends?" Hermione asked softly, speaking aloud the first words that popped into her mind.

"Of course!" His reply was immediate, and something about its quickness and warmth touched Hermione. She realised there had been part of her that worried that they'd all be pretending like they didn't know each other come autumn.

"That makes me really happy, Theo." Impulsively she leaned over to emphasise her words with a quick kiss on his cheek, right on his dimple. But at that same moment he turned to look at her, opening his mouth to say something, and her kiss ended up landing closer to his lips. She inhaled in surprise, but didn't pull away, something keeping her frozen. A second or two ticked by and he didn't pull away either. Instead, he leaned forward the slightest bit and kissed her again, his lips soft and caressing.

Hermione's first reaction was surprise, and there was a very brief point where she thought she would pull back, smooth the whole thing over with a funny word and a laugh. But something inside of her was curious and caught up in the moment, so instead of pulling away, she kissed him back, parting her lips and exploring his. He breathed in sharply and his hand came up, around the back of her neck, under her hair. His fingers were warm and sure and she let herself fall into the kiss as he deepened it, tilting her head and slanting his mouth across hers.

Hermione felt almost outside of her body, like she was in a film, the sensation of warmth as it tingled through her veins secondhand somehow. Experimentally, she opened her mouth and teased her tongue against his lips while she ran her hand up his chest and around his neck, cradling it lightly. Why not? The thought whispered through her mind. He was a gorgeous boy, it was a romantic night and she wanted to. She didn't owe anybody anything. Far from it, in fact.

Theo's reaction to the touch of her tongue and caress of her hand was immediate. He breathed in sharply and slipped off the table, barely breaking contact with her lips as he stepped between her legs and pulled her toward him. His tongue went to hers and Hermione got a demonstration of what Lavender had been talking about. Kissing him was like zipping in a fast car or twirling on a ride at a fun fair. Her sessions with Adam last winter instantly paled in comparison.

"Gods," he breathed against her mouth after a few minutes, pulling back very slightly, "you are so sweet."

"Mmm," she made an indistinct sound in response, enjoying the sensations that were rolling over her in slow waves. She had been holding his shoulders, but now ran her hands up to his neck again, and caressed the soft skin there.

"Hermione," he half said, half moaned, his lips now near her ear. "You're driving me mad." He kissed her again, even more deeply, and his hands, which had been in her hair, went to her thighs and gripped lightly there, running up just a bit, his thumbs caressing in slow circles.

Something about the gesture was questioning; Hermione got the impression that he was asking if she wanted to go further and how far she wanted to take it. She appreciated the silent inquiry and pulled back from his lips, resting her hands on his.

Clearing her throat, Hermione laughed low and looked down and then up at him through her lashes, "Right," she said, her voice a bit breathy.

He leaned forward and rested his forehead against hers, "Yeah." His breath was ragged and his eyes closed. She put her hand up and ran a finger over his cheek and he half-smiled, still not opening his eyes. "Sorry, just give me a minute." His dimple appeared and deepened and Hermione blew out another soft laugh.

"OK." She moved her hands to his wrists and gripped lightly there. He pulled back and opened his eyes. His pupils were blown and the blue very dark around them. He took a deep breath and straightened, shaking his head slowly as a grin broke across his face.

"I—" he shook his head again and turned his hands in her grip, grasping her wrists lightly. She swung his hands lightly between them. "I would really like to kiss you again," he said, a slight smile playing at the corner of his mouth, "but I don't think I could handle it here. Damn, I wish we could apparate." He looked around a bit wildly.

Hermione laughed, inwardly glad that they weren't somewhere more private. She still wasn't sure how far she would ever want to go with Theo, and now she wasn't certain of how well she'd do at stopping herself if they were truly alone. "Shall we go back in?" she suggested gently. "Lavender and Blaise are probably wondering where we are."

He blinked down at her, a flash of disappointment crossing his face so quickly, she thought she might have imagined it. "Yeah, OK," he finally said, his tone lighter than before.

He took her hand and slid her down off the table, lingering a bit as he did so. Then he led her back through the door to what felt like the other side of the world. The music was instantly loud, the light brighter and the energy high. Hermione blinked at it all as she tried to reacclimate. She spotted Lavender on a stool at the bar, Blaise standing beside her, whispering something in her ear. Lavender laughed, spotting Theo and Hermione as she did so. Her eyes went instantly to Hermione's and her brows to her hairline. Hermione rolled her eyes and gave Lavender a quick grin. Lavender laughed again and gave Hermione a discreet thumbs up, which she turned into a wave to beckon them over.

They arrived at the bar, Theo keeping Hermione's hand until she gently freed it, a part of her (of which she was a bit ashamed) hoping Blaise hadn't seen. They discussed having another drink, but instead decided to go.

"Do you want to come to ours? Have a nightcap?" Theo asked the girls as they pulled out of the dirt lot and onto the highway. Hermione twisted to look at Lavender, suddenly wanting nothing less than to go to Theo's flat and possibly see Draco. She just wanted to go home, get in bed and mull over what had happened. Lavender's eyes, which had been wide and questioning, narrowed slightly.

She suddenly gave a jaw cracking yawn. "I, for one, am knackered," she said through it. "I think I'd just like to head back to ours and turn in if nobody minds." Hermione gave her a grateful look before turning and yawning herself.

"That sounds good, I'm actually tired too," she said, glancing at Theo. He was looking out at the road, his profile inscrutable.

"Your wish is my command," he said lightly. "Zabini, you want to come with me and apparate from there?"

"Yeah sounds good mate, since my woman don't want me." Blaise's voice held a smile and Hermione saw Lavender tilt against him as he kissed her temple. The rest of the ride passed mostly in silence and Hermione was glad when they pulled up to the usual drop-off point near the center of town.

Theo parked the car and Lavender and Blaise scrambled out of the back. "Back in a mo," Blaise said to Theo.

"Are you coming?" Lavender asked Hermione as they turned to walk around the corner up to the flat.

"Yeah, in a minute," Hermione said with a wave. She heard Theo getting up out of the car behind her and turned halfway to him, not exactly sure how she wanted this night to end. The moon was now high and shining down brightly, but his face was in shadow as he approached.

"So I'll see you tomorrow," he said softly, stepping close.

What? She was confused for a moment. "Class, of course!" she said. "Durr, totally forgot. Oh and something else I forgot. Giancarlo asked me to open tomorrow, so I'll be a bit late."

"So you won't need a lift?" he reached out and touched one of her curls, twisting it loosely around his finger.

"Not there, at least," Hermione said softly.

"I'll drive you home," he said, seeming suddenly closer. Hermione tensed involuntarily and her eyes darted up the street. Theo seemed to sense her reaction because he stepped back instantly, dropping her hair and taking up her hand instead. He placed a light kiss on the top of her wrist as he spun away. "Until then."

"Ok," Hermione said, turning to walk around the corner. "I had a lovely time!" she called at the last minute, just as Blaise came into view. She saw Theo's hand wave out the window as she turned away.

"Are you actually tired?" Lavender came out of her bedroom in a very tiny matching blue pyjama set. "What do you think of this hat?" she asked, inexplicably popping a straw fedora on and off her head as she looked in the mirror.

"Uh, it's cute?" Hermione said. She sat down at the table and tossed her handbag down with a sigh. "And no, I'm actually kind of wound up."

"One more drink?" Lavender asked, going to the fridge.

"Yeah, ok." Hermione realised she'd only had two all night. No excuses, then.

Lavender pulled out two beers and handed one to Hermione. "Too hot for red wine and we're out of white," she said as she sat down. Hermione nodded and swiped at the condensation on her bottle. "So," Lavender leaned her chin in her hand and wiggled her eyebrows. "What happened?"

"We kissed," Hermione said on a big exhale.

"And how was it?" Lavender leaned forward. "Good, I hope?"

"It was really good. Exciting. Hot. I just. I don't know. I'm so confused!" Hermione wailed.

Lavender sat back. "Because of Draco."

Hermione dropped her head into her hands. "I don't want it to be that," she said through her fingers.

"But it is," Lavender said, plunking her beer bottle down on the table.

"It's so frustrating." Hermione looked up at the ceiling. "He doesn't even like me that way."

Lavender shook her head. "Mmm, I don't know about that."

"Well he's definitely been avoiding me. Since the party. So maybe he did like me but he stopped? Or he can sense my interest in him and it disgusts him? I don't know! It's so stupid to even think about. He's Draco Malfoy! And there is a perfectly lovely, gorgeous boy right in front of me. What is wrong with me?"

"Oh no no no, Theo is not perfect. Don't forget that." Lavender wagged a finger. "He never has been. Even for Daphne Greengrass."

"What do you mean? Another Hogwarts romance I was totally ignorant of?"

"Yeah, it was Slytherin inner house stuff, so whatever. But the story did circulate."

"What happened?"

"He just liked her for a long time. I guess they were childhood friends and then finally got together at the beginning of last year. Happy and all that. Perfect together. Blah blah blah. Until he did his Theo thing. Broke her heart, broke his."

"Oh shit. You didn't—"

"No! In fact I think I was part of his epic rebound campaign."

"And her?"

"I think she started dating an older guy. Someone who graduated a few years ago. According to Blaise, she doesn't talk to Theo anymore."

"God, that's really sad."

"Yeah, and there's no way he's truly over it. He was in love with her for years. So don't get too sentimental over him." Lavender knocked twice on the table. "Plus we know he's got things going with at least two girls here. Blaise hinted that those are ongoing things too."

"Huh. Ok." Hermione looked off into the distance, "Keeping my eyes wide open with Theo for sure."

"I'm not saying don't do anything!" Lavender exclaimed. "Just be realistic."

"No, I know. I'm just not going to let myself get into a 'poor little Theo' guilt spiral."

"Exactly," Lavender said. "Now back to Draco." Hermione groaned. "I'll see if Blaise knows anything."

"Do NOT talk to Blaise about this!" Hermione yelled.

"I will be VERY subtle," Lavender said in a placating tone. "I'll make it seem like I noticed it and am just wondering. I'm actually good at this kind of thing, you know."

Hermione made a skeptical sound.

"Because," Lavender continued, "unless my intuition is really wrong, which it rarely is, he does like you. Quite a lot. It was clear as day the night of the party. But I'm wondering what happened after." She rubbed her chin.

"Well if you figure it out, fucking tell me," Hermione sighed. "Or," she straightened up. "Maybe I should just bloody well forget about him. He probably started to like me and then remembered I'm a muggle."

Lavender laughed, "Ouch. And for what it's worth. I don't think that's it. He's definitely trying to stay away from you, but I don't think that's why. Anyway."

"Anyway. I'm off to bed." Hermione stood up. "Thanks for listening to me moan."

"Of course. Sweet dreams of that hot kiss," Lavender said with a wink.

Hermione laughed as she turned and went down the hall.

Chapter Text

Hermione jogged up the lane to the language institute. The bus had been slow again, but she hadn't minded this time. The long ride had given her time to think—and to put off the inevitable. She was so bloody agitated about seeing Theo today.

Why? It wasn't that she regretted kissing him. And after her conversation with Lavender, she truly didn't feel any sense of obligation to him—or anyone else. Maybe, she'd thought as she'd stared unseeing out the bus window, it was that she just wasn't sure she wanted to go any further with him? Not that the kiss hadn't been nice. It had been very nice. The memory of it, which she'd played over in her mind quite a few times now, never failed to make her thrill. The question, she supposed, was whether she wanted to do it again.

She looked up as she approached the now-familiar low yellow house, and recalled Theo's soft lips, her own ragged breath, the feel of his hair between her fingers. She also spotted Theo himself, across the lawn, standing and gesturing to Signore Falucci. She stopped for a second to check her reaction to him, running her eyes over his lithe figure, broad shouldered and haloed by the late morning sun. He turned to the side and laughed, his smile flashing across the distance.

One part of her brain wondered why in the world she wouldn't want to do it again. Why wouldn't she just enjoy this boy in this time and this place? It was all temporary—they were living in a half dream that could go away tomorrow. Why bloody not? Even if he was seeing two other girls and had a problem with staying faithful. They were seventeen. It wasn't like she was looking for something real.

She started walking again slowly and a very sly voice whispered across her consciousness. You weren't looking for it, no. Hermione rejected the voice instantly and actually swore out loud. She wasn't in love with anyone, for fuck's sake. And even if she had started to think there was something with Draco, he obviously didn't want something with her, so the point was moot. She picked up her pace, annoyed that all this thinking had returned her basically in the exact same spot from which she'd started.

As she crossed the lawn, Theo spotted her and waved her over, his face brightening. Hermione felt a half-smile tug at the corner of her mouth too.

"Ah Signorina," called Signore Falucci. "We learn of transportation today! Trains and planes and holiday destinations!"

"Yes," Theo added in Italian, "come away with us." He accompanied this statement with a slight smile and a flick of his brows.

Hermione felt herself blush. "Excellent," she murmured, grinning nervously at both men.

"All right," said Signore Falucci. "As you say in English, all aboard!"

Theo steered them carefully out of the driveway after the lesson, his tiny car picking up speed once they hit the paved road. Hermione looked out the window, relieved that their interactions during class had been very ordinary. After that first slightly provocative comment at least, he'd seemed determined to keep everything light.

Of course, now that they were alone Hermione felt her nervousness surface again. Were they going to have to talk about things? Didn't boys historically not like to talk about things? She'd certainly learned that lesson over the years with Harry and Ron. Maybe she'd get lucky today.

She glanced over, quickly clocking Theo's mood from his profile. He looked pensive—and lovely, as usual. She shook her head a little internally that she was even debating whether she wanted to kiss him again. At that moment he glanced her way.

"Good lesson, eh?" he said. "I feel like that one was a bit more useful than some of the recent ones. Being able to ask for directions and understand them will be really helpful."

"Yes," she said. "I got lost trying to find this little boutique the other day because I mixed up the words for left and right. Now I feel like I've got a handle on it."

Theo murmured his assent and kept his eyes on the road. They were silent for a bit, Hermione watching the trees and hilly fields whizzing by out her window. Was this the point at which it was going to get awkward? She sighed.

"Theo," she said, angling her body toward his as much as the tiny car would allow—at the same moment as he said her name.

They both stopped and he shot her a quick grin. "You go."

"No, you!"

"I was just going to say there's something up here I'd like to show you, if you have some time before you have to be back at the café."

"Oh, er, OK. Yes, I have some time." Hermione was taken aback. This was not what she'd expected.

"Brilliant." Theo smiled again and flicked on the indicator, then pulled the car off the road and to a gentle stop.

"What is it?" Hermione blurted.

"You'll see. Come on." Theo jumped out of the driver's seat and signaled to her to follow suit. Hermione opened her door and unfolded herself up and out.

"This way!" he called, striking out on a narrow path that wended its way through a field dotted here and there by gnarled olive trees. Hermine followed him toward a point where the path fell away down a gentle slope. When they reached the point of the elevation change, she stopped in surprise.

Below them was an entire grove of olive trees, much more thickly clustered than in the field they had just walked through and stretching for as far as Hermione could see. All of them were low and twisted into fantastical shapes and some were massive, clearly ancient specimens.

"Incredible." Hermione shielded her eyes with her hand as she looked.

"Isn't it?" Theo's eyes darted out at the view then back to her. "Come on!" He dashed off down the path into the grove and Hermione followed him, picking her way carefully down the steeper bit.

"How did you find this place?" she called.

Theo's teeth glinted white over his shoulder. "Had to er, answer the call of nature on the way to class that first morning. Saw the path, so I pulled over."

Hermione laughed. "Nice place for a pee!" His answering laughter floated back to her.

They made their way down into the trees and for a while just wandered around, pointing out the biggest or most twisted ones. Hermione quite forgot her earlier nervousness in the exercise, relaxing into enjoying Theo's company again.

"Look at this one!" she called, having found a tree with a branch so low and thick that it basically formed a bench. She sat and bounced a little. The branch easily held her weight.

Theo appeared from another cluster of trees and saw her. His face, which had been set in an excited grin, relaxed into something softer. "Well aren't you a picture," he said quietly.

Uh oh.

Hermione laughed lightly and went to stand up. Theo took a step and was there in front of her, giving her his hand. She took it and when she stood, he pulled her lightly toward him. Hermione fell a little into him and looked up. The sun was dappling them through the branches of the trees and his eyes were intent on hers.

"Hello," he said, holding perfectly still.

"Hi," Hermione replied, her voice barely above a whisper. The sound of birdsong and insects buzzing seemed to intensify around them.

Theo's hand came up and brushed lightly across her jawline. Every thought and internal debate from earlier rushed through her head at once. It was time to come to the point. Was she doing this?

"I think you know that I want to kiss you again," Theo said, his voice low. "But I'm not quite sure you want me to." His tone was almost playful and his hand stayed on her jaw, lightly caressing. His head angled slightly closer to hers.

Hermione was caught. She wanted to close her eyes, press pause, take a little more time. But she knew if she closed her eyes, his lips would be on hers—and then her judgment would be clouded.

Because she could still feel that spark arcing between them. The spark Theo seemed to have with a lot of people, the one that had gotten him in trouble in the past. And she could see very clearly an outcome where she let him back her up against one of these ancient trees and reduce her to jelly with his hands and his lips and his tongue. She knew she would enjoy it, would be an enthusiastic participant. But would she feel good about it later? Would it just make things more complicated?

No. Yes.

The rumble of a passing motorcycle sounded in the distance and Hermione started, putting her hand over Theo's and pulling it down gently. She held their clasped hands between them like a barrier and cast her eyes toward the ground.

"Theo, I—"

He gave a light groan and twisted away from her. She glanced up quickly to see real disappointment in his face. He turned back, squeezed the hand he was still holding and took up the other one.

"I really like you," he said. "And I hope you know that. I hope you don't think I'm just a, a...player. Or looking for a notch on my belt or something like that."

"I like you too!" Hermione tried to put all the sincerity of her feelings into the words. "But, no, I don't fancy being one of a lineup. I know there are others and… it's just not me, Theo."

"Why does everything have to be so serious?" he said, dropping her hands and going to sit on the low branch. "Can't we have a bit of fun? We're teenagers, for fuck's sake." He ran a hand through his hair and looked off into the distance. Hermione had the impression that this wasn't the first time he'd had this conversation with someone.

"Last night was me having fun. And I enjoyed it thoroughly—"

"Why not do it again, then!?" He rested his forehead in his hand. "Shit. Sorry. I'm really not trying to bully you into kissing me. Not my style, you know." A ghost of his charming smile crossed his features.

Hermione went to sit next to him on the branch. She took up his hand again. "Look, I want to be your friend. Your friendship is important to me. And I know if we got involved and you did your usual thing" —she talked over a sound of frustration he made at these words— "that it would really compromise that. I'd be hurt, whether that was fair or not. And I completely agree with you. We are teenagers and we've only really known each other for less than a month. I don't want to force some monogamy situation on you. It's not like I'm looking for a relationship."

Theo leveled a long look at her after these words and Hermione glanced away quickly—in the direction of the road.

"OK," he finally said after a long silence. Hermione felt him get up off the branch. She glanced up at him warily, but the look on his face was carefully neutral. He held out his hand. "Come on then, friend."

She took it and stood, peering into his eyes. "No hard feelings?"

He stepped back and dropped her hand gently. "I mean, I'm not going to lie. I'm disappointed." He shrugged. "And annoyed with myself for fucking this up before it started. I meant what I said about liking you." He rubbed his neck and flashed an uncharacteristically vulnerable look at her. "And I wonder," he mused, his voice quiet. "If some things had been different…" He shook his head again. "But they aren't." He smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes.

Hermione resisted the urge to apologise. She really had nothing to be sorry for, but she was a little angry with herself too—for kissing him at all. She should have kept things simple. But no, they had been heading for this reckoning for a while now. And even though she felt bad and a bit deflated, she was also relieved. At least everything was out in the open.

She looked at her watch. "I probably should be getting back."

"I know," he sighed. "Me too." He twitched his head in the direction of the road and gave her another weak smile. "Well, let's go."

"We're going to see a band tomorrow night!" Lavender's eyes were bright as she scooped Hermione's gelato selections.

"What!?" Hermione accepted a heaping cup over the tall glass counter. "Is this why I was summoned in here? Mauritizio said it was urgente."

"Yes! These guys came in earlier. American. I was chatting to them and it turns out they're in a band. From Texas, they said. And they're playing in Aquino tomorrow night, within the wards, and we are on the list to get in!"

Hermione blinked and took a bite of pistacchio. "Well that sounds fun."

"I know, right!?" Lavender gave a little squeal. "At least two of them are reasonably good-looking too. Good opportunity for you." She nodded seriously at Hermione, who laughed.

"I just extricated myself from one thing, Lavender. I don't think I want another!"

"Uh, blokes in bands do not 'things' create." Lavender said. "This is strictly a one night gig. They said they're off to Rome the following day. Jusssst passing through." She waved her hand and wiggled her brows. "Perfect for you!"

Hermione laughed again, but also considered Lavender's words. It had been a few days since her conversation with Theo in the olive grove and she hadn't seen much of him since—other than their last ride to and from class, which had been quiet and stilted.

It had been sort of lonely, if she was honest. She hadn't realised how much she'd come to enjoy and rely on Theo's company. She supposed she couldn't expect him to dance attendance on her after she'd rejected him, but it was a little depressing how quickly he had dissappeared once sex was off the table. Or was that unfair? She felt like she didn't know anymore.

And Draco. Well. She wasn't allowing herself to dwell on that at all. She'd seen him once briefly when she'd ducked into the bookshop to pick up a novel she'd put on hold. He'd been busy and she hadn't lingered. Although she couldn't help but wonder if he knew anything of what had gone on with Theo. She and Lavender had barely had a chance to discuss it, so she hadn't had any intel from that quarter either. Really she'd just been trying to stop thinking about boys altogether and move concert thing actually seemed like a great way to do that.

Hermione shook her head mentally and refocused on Lavender, who was saying something about the band being 'indie-rock.'

"That's what Jeff—he's the lead singer—said, anyway." Lavender was leaning on the counter on her elbows. "He was one of the fit ones."

"Oh, does Blaise have anything to worry about?" Hermione teased.

"Uh, NO." Lavender rolled her eyes. "He was actually here when they came in. And we're all invited, including Draco and Theo. The band guys said they'd put us all on the list."

"Huh. Doubt those two will show." Especially Draco. Hermione stuffed down a stab of disappointment and scraped up the last of her gelato.

"I don't know. Blaise seemed keen. I think he'll talk it up to Draco, at least. And Theo won't want to be left out."

"Interesting." Hermione handed her empty cup to Lavender. "Well, break's over. I'd better head back."

"Ok! Start thinking about your outfit strategy!" Lavender called as Hermione walked out the door. Hermione laughed and waved her hand behind her, feeling rather perked up and excited—strictly about the music, of course.

Draco dragged his left arm out of the water and plunged it back in, turning his face to take a quick breath as he did so. Approaching the far side of the pool wall, he twisted and pushed off to start another lap, keeping a steady pace. He didn't stop until he had to—pulling himself out of the pool to lay dripping on its tiled border, utterly exhausted. He closed his eyes and breathed heavily, letting the hot sun dry him as his heart rate slowed. Finally he pushed up and walked to a deck chair and flopped down. He threw his arm over his eyes to block the bright light that turned the insides of his eyelids a dull red, then stayed that way, just listening to the still silence around him.

It was good to come here and swim. Blaise had told him to make free with the house and pool and Draco had, even at times like now, when Blaise wasn't here. He'd never swum for more than fun before, but without Quidditch he had very little outlet for his restless physical energy, and he found the methodical pull through the water soothing. After 50 laps, his thoughts didn't hound him quite so viciously and he needed less of the sleeping potion at night.

Of course, all the exercise didn't seem to be helping now. His mind had already wandered in a particularly dangerous direction. It was because he'd seen her today—at a distance—coming out of the fruit and vegetable shop with a parcel and her brisk stride, hair tucked up under her straw hat. It had reminded him of that first day before he'd known who she was. He'd ducked into a shadowy doorway and watched her, like a creep (he really identified with a song from one of the bands she'd recommended to him), until she'd walked into the cafe. Then he'd come directly to Blaise's.

He sighed and rolled his head slowly back and forth. He'd started last week so convinced that he was doing the right thing and that he would succeed in doing it. And he'd even managed for a bit.

Then the bloody disco night had happened.

And after that the vision of her dancing with Theo was on a fucking repeat loop in his brain, no matter what he did. Even riding his bike extremely recklessly, getting drunk alone and pathetic, a lot of swimming—none of it had helped.

God, she'd looked incredible. That little white skirt and her long, bare legs. Her hair wild and down. Fucking Theo with his hands and his whole fucking body all over her. Her smiling up at him, slipping her fingers into his hair. Theo's hands on her skin—Draco pushed his eyes open and tried to will the images away.

He didn't care. It was for the best. He didn't want complications. Rinse and repeat.

She obviously liked Theo anyway.

He took a deep breath and unclenched his jaw. Then looked down to see his hands were in fists. He unclenched them too and made a sound of exasperation.

The real fucking bugger of the thing is that it hadn't gotten any easier as the days passed. He'd thought it would, and felt almost betrayed when his old friends time and distance hadn't helped in the least. Usually when he decided to cut people out of his life or put them out of his mind, they stayed gone. Pansy Parkinson's face floated across his consciousness. He'd dropped her shrill, bigoted arse over Winter Break without one look back. His once-loyal henchmen, Crabbe and Goyle? Cut loose last summer.

Even his father…

He'd always been able to do it. Something about being an only child, he supposed. He was used to being solitary, lonely even. Not really needing anyone. But with her it was like his brain kept sweeping over and over the same burnt, ragged patch of want—and hurt.

And it wasn't just the dance floor or jealousy of Theo, or what Draco wanted to do with her physically. He missed her mind. Her presence. Their talks and their shared interests. It was becoming more and more clear that she was what had made this situation more than bearable. Now he was just alone with his paranoia and crippling worry for the future.

Fuck.

He started up out of his chair and stalked off in the direction of the house. Blaise had to have some booze or maybe even a potion that could take his mind off things. Draco picked up his pace, feeling his breath coming a bit heavy. He rounded the corner to the covered corridor at a good clip.

"Heyyy," A hand reached out and steadied his shoulder. "Mate, slow down."

Draco came to an abrupt halt. "Sorry. Fuck."

"No worries. You swimming?" Blaise's dark eyes showed concern.

"Yeah," Draco looked up at him from under his lowered brow. "I was about to see if you had anything to drink inside."

"You know I do. I'll join you."

"A toast to your mum," Draco said a few minutes later, tapping his deep red cocktail to Blaise's. "For having such a well-stocked bar."

"You know Diantha." Blaise raised his brows and took a deep drink. "Damn, that's bitter!" he sputtered.

"Yeah," Draco said. "But good though, right?"

Blaise nodded thoughtfully and took another, much smaller, sip. "How are you?" he asked, looking across the tall kitchen counter where they were both sitting.

Draco lifted one shoulder.

Blaise gave him a long, level look. "The potions been helping you sleep?"

"Yeah. And the swimming. Thanks for both."

"Of course."

"And you?" Draco said. "You've been occupied of late." His mouth pulled up on one side.

Blaise pitched his head to the side and smiled. "Yeahhhh."

"That going well?"

Blaise nodded and took another sip. "Very well."

Draco snickered and Blaise jostled him under the table. "No, that's great, mate." Draco raised his glass again.

Blaise fixed Draco with another long look and opened his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. He looked down at the counter and up. "Hey I wanted to invite you to something tomorrow night."

"Not the fucking disco."

"No." Blaise's teeth flashed quickly. "It's a music show. A band playing in a club in Aquino. Americans. They came in the gelato shop when I was visiting Lav and she struck up a conversation with them. I figured since you liked Granger's cassette thingies so much…"

Draco looked steadily at Blaise.

"What?" Blaise finally said.

"Theo going?"

"I mean, he's invited. Everyone's invited."

Blaise's slight emphasis on 'everyone' had Draco grinding his teeth. "I'll think about it." He was curious, but also seriously doubted his ability to watch Theo all over Hermione again.

"Yeah, all right," Blaise said, draining his drink.

Draco swallowed the last of his too. "I should be off," he said and pushed up from the counter. "You have anything on tonight?"

"Seeing Lav."

"Have fun with that." Draco gave him a quick smile.

Blaise smiled back and looked down. "Yeah." He looked back at Draco. "Think about tomorrow, ok? You should get out a bit."

Draco nodded and turned toward the door.

Tucking his helmet under his arm, Draco trudged up the stairs to his flat, mulling over the idea of going to the show. He was intrigued by the prospect of seeing a muggle band. It seemed so fitting somehow, to experience that this summer. He'd also really like to see the kind of music he'd been listening to played live. And if bloody Theo couldn't keep his hands to himself, Draco could always leave, like he had the other night.

He was deep in these thoughts as he pushed his way through the front door, pausing for a moment to flick on a light in the dim hallway.

Almost immediately the soft silence of the flat was disrupted by a sigh, a woman's sigh, low and sensuous. Draco froze, his eyes darting to Theo's door, which was shut tight. Another sigh emerged and for a second Draco's heart dropped; Gods, was it her? But no, no, it wasn't, because the sigh was quickly followed by a string of extremely idiomatic and rather raunchy Italian, the woman's voice smoky and scratchy.

Relief flooded Draco's veins and he listed against the wall for a moment, eyes staring unseeing into the distance. A man's grunt roused him from his stupor and he pulled his wand from an inner pocket of his riding kit and cast a silencing spell in the direction of Theo's bedroom. He did not want to hear the rest of this, but he also didn't fancy waiting it out somewhere else.

He moved toward the kitchen and stowed his helmet on a shelf, shifting through a strange mix of emotions. His initial elation that Theo didn't have Hermione in there was replaced quickly by a hot flash of anger. Theo up to his old fucking tricks. Draco moved to the fridge to pull out a bottle of white wine, but then stopped, arrested. Theo had said he'd try to stay faithful if Hermione were interested. And although Draco had never known Theo to succeed at that particular endeavor, he'd also never known him to fail quite so quickly.

A new and different explanation took hold, one that had Draco's heart feeling lighter than it had in days. He uncorked the wine and poured a generous glass, a slight smile lifting his lips. He took his glass to the sitting room and pulled open the huge glass windows, then tugged one of the club chairs over to face them. He sat sipping, enjoying the evening air and the last rays of the sun as they dipped behind the buildings opposite, his mind quiet for the first time in days.

Eventually he heard the sound of a door opening. Then soft laughter and an even softer goodbye. The shower ran and turned off and after a while, footsteps sounded behind him. Draco craned his neck. Theo was in his waiter's uniform, his hair darkly damp.

"You're home," he said. "Sorry if that, uh, disturbed you."

Draco made a sound and waved his hand. "I cast a charm."

"I figured." Theo's sounded a bit chagrined. "She can be loud."

Draco shrugged. He'd lived the last six years of his life in a dormitory with eight other boys; it wasn't like he hadn't heard it all. "Giulia or Angelina?"

"Francesca."

"Ah." Draco looked over his shoulder and lifted a brow.

"Any more of that wine?" Theo asked, moving toward the kitchen.

"Yes, I just opened it. Bring it over."

Theo complied, approaching with the bottle, from which he topped up Draco's glass and filled his own. He fished out a cigarette and lit it, leaning against the wrought iron grill of the window. "Lavender ran me to ground earlier," he said, inhaling. "Something about a music show tomorrow night. You going?"

Draco extended his hand and Theo handed him the crumpled pack of cigarettes. "I think I might," he said, looking out at the darkening twilight as he shook out a cigarette and flared a match. They smoked in silence for a while, Theo tapping his foot restlessly on the ancient tile floor.

"Hermione going?" Draco finally said, not taking his eyes off the scene in front of him.

"Don't know." Theo stubbed his butt on the railing and launched it into the square below. "I'm off," he said, swallowing the last of his wine. "Closing tonight."

Draco nodded. "I'll see you tomorrow, then?" He looked up and caught Theo's eye.

Theo gave him a level stare before wheeling away. "Perhaps."

Draco smiled out at the night as he heard Theo's footsteps recede.

Chapter Text

Hermione tumbled out of a taxi cab with Lavender and Blaise, alighting in Aquino's central square, which was larger and more open than San Cipriano's. They consulted the directions Lavender had carefully written down and struck off up a narrow, winding lane until they came to a doorway with a small crowd gathered around it, talking and smoking. Hermione felt a dart of excitement. She'd never been to a club like this and she'd always wanted to go.

After a short conversation with a man at the door, they were admitted and then descended down a set of steep stairs to a dark, windowless expanse. There was a bar at one end of the room and a stage at the other. A few booths and niches lined the walls. Pillars dotted the main open area and Hermione could see doorways that seemed to lead off to other, smaller rooms. It was all dimly lit by flickering candles and neon signs. The stage was still dark and people were clustered in groups, chatter and laughter breaking out in intermittent bursts.

"Drink, ladies?" Blaise asked, gesturing toward the bar.

"Yes, please!" Lavender said, pivoting in a slow circle as she took it all in. Hermione added her thanks to Blaise as Lavender spoke again. "This place is cool! I'm so glad we came!" Her eyes flashed to Hermione's.

"Me too!" Hermione said. She and Lavender followed Blaise to the bar and perched on some empty stools. Hermione asked for a beer and Lavender for something fruity. Hermione's eyes wandered the club. She didn't know if Theo and Draco were coming and she couldn't help but scan for them. Lavender, no doubt reading her mind, spoke up.

"Is Draco coming?" she asked Blaise as she took a glass from him.

"Not sure," he said. "I told him and he seemed interested, but who knows?" He shrugged.

"Theo seemed lukewarm on the idea." Lavender's eyes cut briefly to Hermione's. Hermione made a face, but hid it in her beer. She still hadn't had a chance to talk to Lavender in-depth about what had happened with Theo in the olive grove, but Lavender knew the gist.

Some people appeared on the tiny stage and began plugging things in and carrying instruments back and forth.

"Oh, there's Jeff!" Lavender waved to a figure adjusting a stand microphone at the front of the stage. He peered through the darkness and jumped down, then wove through the crowd toward them. He was tall and thin with artfully shaggy dark hair and a friendly face.

"Lavender, hey!" he said, waving. "And Blaise, right?"

"Yeah, man." Blaise put out his hand and they shook.

"And this is our friend Hermione," Lavender said eagerly, her eyes bright.

Hermione said hello and after a little unsubtle maneuvering from Lavender, fell to chatting with Jeff about the band and their tour. He was nice and interesting, but she didn't feel much of a spark. Also, as they were talking, Hermione gradually became aware of a group of girls gathered at the other end of the bar who were watching them intently. Although Jeff was modest, she gathered that the band had quite a following in America and wondered if these were some of their fans. After a bit, one of the girls approached and after apologizing profusely—in an American accent, Hermione noted—asked Jeff if she and her friends could have a picture with him. Hermione obligingly took the snap and Jeff took the opportunity to lope back up to the stage, giving her a quick wave as he went.

"Damn." Lavender's voice sounded from behind Hermione's shoulder. "For a minute, I thought that was going somewhere."

Hermione whirled around and laughed. "You are relentless!" She pushed Lavender lightly on the arm. "Not every encounter needs to end in making out! In fact, I feel strongly that I'll be able to tell someone, someday that I met Jeff from Glass Houses at a little club in Italy, and it will give me a lot of credibility."

"Yeah, if that following is anything to go by." Lavender lifted her chin at the group of girls, who had now migrated across the room to the front of the stage. Hermione's eyes followed the girls too. They were all tracking Jeff as he plugged things in and spoke to various people. How strange to have that kind of attention on you all the time. Hermione took a swig of her beer and looked away toward the door to the stairs—just as Draco walked through it.

Her fingers slackened on her beer and she almost dropped it. Shit. He stood in the doorway for a moment, looking around, and Hermione took in his tall form, slim in dark jeans, a black t-shirt and his leather motorcycle jacket, his bright hair swept back from his forehead. She took a sharp breath. Why did he gave to be so fucking gorgeous? Why couldn't she put the blinders she'd worn for six years back on? He shrugged out of the jacket and took a step into the room. Hermione noticed the girls at the stage turning their heads toward him and jostling each other. They probably thought he was another rock star there to see the show. He certainly looked the part.

At that moment his gaze traveled to hers and they locked eyes. She felt a full body flash of heat and could have sworn his lips lifted slightly. Her heart fluttered. It was the warmest look he'd given her in days. Of course, then she was instantly annoyed with herself. She wasn't going to jump just because he'd decided to notice her again, was she? She turned to Lavender and asked her something, anything. Blaise's face brightened and he called out a greeting. Hermione could tell when Draco walked up because she could bloody smell him—even over the bouquet of stale beer and musty underground that permeated the club.

She turned halfway and murmured a polite greeting. He nodded at her and said hi to Lavender, then fell into conversation with Blaise. Hermione kept chatting with Lav, but couldn't help but be hyper-aware of Draco's movements and proximity—even as she scolded herself for it.

When the band took the stage, Hermione was grateful to have something else to focus on. Jeff walked to the mic and said a quick, "Hi everyone," then looked at his bandmates and nodded once. At the signal, they launched into a loud and rolling tune, guitars leading and drums pounding. And when Jeff started singing, the girls in the front screamed. Hermione smiled. She looked to the side and realised Draco was there next to her, smiling faintly too. His eyes cut briefly to hers and she couldn't stop the warmth that flared in her cheeks. She hoped the darkness hid it. Turning her attention back to the music, she lost herself in a few songs. They were actually really good.

"They're really good!" Lavender shouted in Hermione's ear a few moments later.

Hermione nodded and raised her beer. "They're brilliant!" She noticed Blaise lean over and tap Draco, who bent down as Blaise said something in his ear. She was then hit in the chest by the force of Draco's full smile as he laughed at something Blaise said. Fuck, fuck, fuck. She resolutely turned her eyes away again.

The band broke into another song, one which must have been popular, because the girls in the front screamed again and everyone started dancing and singing along. Lavender grabbed Hermione's hands and twirled her in a circle. "Come on!" she yelled suddenly, towing them up toward the stage. They joined the crowd of girls, who widened their circle to let them in, all of them shouting the lyrics. Hermione lost herself in it, swaying and throwing her arms up. Dancing with Lavender and then the girl who'd asked for the picture earlier, she quickly picked up the words to the chorus and started belting them out too. The song came to a crescendo and then an abrupt end and the place erupted, everyone cheering and whistling. Hermione clapped and laughed up at Jeff, who caught her eye and winked down at her. Hermione felt a surge of elation so strong that it made her giddy. She reached over and half hugged Lavender, who hugged her back.

They stayed for a few more songs, dancing with their new friends, until the tempo dropped for a slow number and Lavender leaned over to Hermione to suggest another drink. Hermione nodded and they made their way to the back of the room. Draco and Blaise were still at the bar, sitting on the stools the girls had vacated. Lavender walked up to Blaise and slotted between his legs, looping her arms around his shoulders and giving him a slow kiss. Draco jumped up as Hermione approached, gesturing to the seat.

"You don't have to—" Hermione broke off as he tilted his head and gave her a look. "OK." She half smiled and slid onto the stool.

"That looked fun." Draco flicked his brows as she settled herself.

"Yeah." She gave a little laugh, trying not to dwell on the fact that he'd been watching her. "It was. They're so good!"

He nodded. "They are. Do you want a drink?"

"Yeah, thanks. Just a beer is fine."

Draco started to turn to the bar, but then froze, an angry look flashing over his face. He glanced quickly at Hermione and then at something over her shoulder. Hermione naturally turned to see what it was, and saw Theo stumbling down off the stairs with a girl. They were stumbling because they were kissing, looking for all the world as if they were about to tumble into bed rather than a bar.

She heard Lavender's voice low in her ear. "Bloody hell, Theo."

As Hermione watched, Theo pressed the girl up against the wall of the club and trapped her, his hands and mouth everywhere. She was laughing, but pushed weakly at him until eventually he pulled back, laughing too. He looked drunk, his movements loose and unsteady. Hermione felt her eyes widening at the scene, which filled her with distaste more than anything. At that moment Theo turned to face the club and saw her. His cheeks darkened and then his eyes darted to Draco, standing over her. He blinked once and then swung his attention back to his date, leaning down to kiss her again. Hermione blew out a breath and faced back to the bar, catching Lavender's eye and raising her brows. Lavender shook her head once and turned her attention back to Blaise.

Hermione could feel Draco's gaze on her so she chanced a look up at him. His face was now creased into an expression of concern. He took a breath and opened his mouth.

Hermione cut in quickly. "How about that beer?" she asked with a bright smile.

His features relaxed as he took in her demeanor, "Of course," he said, signaling the barman, who came over and after a brief exchange, pulled out two cold bottles.

"Thanks," Hermione said, taking a deep pull off of hers. "So how are you liking your first live muggle music show?"

"Quite a lot." He leaned against the bar next to her and shot her a half smile. "I think I could do it too."

"Do what?" she asked, confused.

"Play in a band like that. I could do at least as well on the keyboard as their bloke."

"What!?" Hermione was suddenly swamped with an incredibly compelling vision of Draco up on stage. She tried unsuccessfully to ignore it.

"Yeah." He looked up at the band, who had finished the set and were making way for the next act.

Hermione took a breath, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth despite her attempts to suppress it. The arrogance! Just as she was about to tell Draco what she thought of him, she caught a movement over his shoulder.

"Hiya, chaps!" Theo had planted himself behind them, his expression oddly belligerent. The girl was at his side, pretty with shiny black hair, her fingers entwined with Theo's.

Hermione twisted on her stool. "Hi," she said, nodding at both of them. She heard Draco murmur a greeting. Blaise and Lavender also turned around.

"Francesca, chaps. Chaps, Francesca," Theo said, waving his hand back and forth. Hermione noticed a slight slur to his words.

"Hi, I'm Hermione. It's very nice to meet you," she said in Italian, holding out her hand. Francesca took it with a sweet smile. Lavender echoed the greeting and held out her hand as well, then also introduced Blaise and Draco. Theo seemed to have tuned out of the little scene, his head turned and his gaze roaming around the room.

They stood in awkward silence for a moment until Hermione couldn't stand it any longer. "Are you, uh, enjoying the music?" she asked, still in Italian, fully aware that Theo and Francesca hadn't been paying any attention to it.

"Brilliant, yeah," Theo said, flipping back around and switching to English. "Need a drink, though. What would you like, love?"

Francesa looked at him blankly and he started, then asked the question in Italian. She answered and Theo moved them down the bar and out of range. Hermione caught a look passing between Blaise and Draco just as Lavender shrugged at her. Hermione shrugged back, trying to avoid the conclusion that classified Theo's actions as a reaction to what had happened between them. That didn't seem very charitable to Francesca somehow. She shook her head and refocused, noticing that someone had appeared onstage and was announcing the next act.

"Come on! Let's go out into the crowd again!" Lavender had jumped up, tugging Blaise with her. Her bright gaze darted from Hermione to Draco too.

Draco nodded and Hermione slid off her stool. She looked around for Theo, not wanting to leave him out, but he and Francesca had disappeared, so she took Lavender's hand and let herself be pulled into the throng closer to the stage. Their little group stopped just before the section she and Lavender had been in before. Lavender leaned against Blaise and his arms slid around her middle. Hermione could feel Draco standing behind her, the impression of his form just visible if she turned her head to the side. She was highly, viscerally aware of him there: his movements, his presence. She let her mind just briefly entertain the idea of what it would be like to lean against him too, have his arms wrap around her, but then steeled herself against the vision and refocused on the stage—just as the new band bounded across it.

Glass Houses may have been popular in America, but this second act seemed to be local and have a passionate following, because a huge cheer went up the second they appeared—and the crowd, which had been standing loosely with a good bit of distance between groups, suddenly tightened and surged toward the stage.

Lavender gave a whoop and grinned at Hermione as they were swept forward a few steps. Hermione made an excited face back, instantly aware of Draco much closer behind her now. She could bloody smell him again. And it would only take the tiniest step back to touch him. She took a deep breath and willed her attention back to the stage.

The new band was louder and much faster, and people around them started jumping and dancing, yelling the words to almost every song. It was highly entertaining and Hermione let herself get lost in it, trying to pick up the words and bouncing up and down with Lavender to some of the dancier bits. Blaise was grinning up at the stage and she even chanced a quick glance behind her to see Draco with a half smile too. He saw her looking at him and flicked his brows at the keyboardist. Hermione couldn't help but laugh, and then blush after she turned around again.

The band moved from the first song directly into another. This one had a faster, driving beat that seemed to immediately roil the crowd. The group just in front of the stage started swirling in a loose circle, their movements reckless and a little violent. Hermione felt a pulse of nervousness and her fingers spasmed, wishing for her wand. She glanced at Lavender, who was whispering something to Blaise, then mouthed, 'back in a mo,' to Hermione before she turned and started making her way out of the crowd. Blaise followed her and Hermione thought she might do the same.

She was turning to say something to Draco when suddenly a body came out of nowhere, flailing straight toward her. She threw her hand out and her beer bottle was knocked away, but the body was still hurtling into her. Time seemed to slow down and Hermione had a second of real fear before she felt an arm wrap around her midsection and pull her back and around. She grabbed the arm reflexively, fingers gripping its corded strength, as she was pulled off her feet and against a solid warmth behind her. She also felt the jostling impact of the body as it hit Draco, instead of herself. Her feet hit the floor again and still looking down, Hermione loosened her fingers from their death grip, brushing them across his skin, as if to feel that he was still there and she was still in one piece. She took a deep, shuddering breath. Sound, which had gone away for a beat, seemed to rush back.

"Bloody hell!" Draco's voice was strained and angry, coming from somewhere near her right ear. "Are you all right?" he continued, his tone much softer.

Hermione clasped his arm again and looked up at him over her shoulder. He bent his head to look down at her at the same time, and she pulled in a quick breath at how close their faces were. She had an overwhelming urge to twist in his arms, throw her arms around his neck and bury her face in his collar.

Instead, she blinked twice. "I'm fine. Thank you, though." She still hadn't let go of him and he was still holding her tightly, palm splayed against the bare skin at her stomach. His eyes stayed on hers and time seemed to slow again. His glance dropped to her lips and Hermione felt them part. She took a sharp breath in, which she knew he could feel. His eyes flipped back to hers and a slight crease appeared between them before he looked around at the still roiling crowd.

"Let's get out of here," he said tersely, sliding his arm from around her but keeping a light grip on her waist as he led them through the tightly packed bodies. But once they were free of the worst of it and near the side of the room, he stepped away. Hermione instantly missed him.

"Thanks," she said again.

He leaned against the wall, his arms tucked behind him, eyes hooded. Hermione had another urge, this time to press herself against him, run her fingers into his hair… kiss him the way she'd kissed Theo. Although it would be different. She swayed in place, just watching him as he looked back and the moment stretched.

Her hand started up, but then abruptly she spun and pushed her shoulders against the wall next to him, reminding herself that he'd been avoiding her and cool to her lately. He'd only touched her out of necessity and had let her go as soon as they were free of the danger. She took a deep breath, eyes roving unseeingly over the churning crowd. She couldn't let the heightened emotions of the moment fool her into thinking anything more was going on.

Chancing a quick look over, she saw that he was looking at her too, that crease back between his eyes.

"Hey!" Suddenly Lavender came out of nowhere, Blaise close behind her. "Here you are," she said, her eyes darting between Hermione and Draco. "Is everything all right? Did you get away from that mad dancing they were doing?"

"Moshing," Hermione said faintly.

"What-ing?" Lavender's face was confused. Blaise stepped around her and said a quiet word to Draco.

"It's what they call that thing they're doing—the dancing in the circle with the pushing and shoving. I'd heard of it, but never experienced it in real life before." Hermione shrugged. "And I'm fine. Thanks to Draco." The corner of her mouth lifted, but she wasn't smiling.

Lavender darted her a speaking look and Hermione shook her head slightly. "Well, Blaise and I were talking about going and getting something to eat. There's supposed to be a good late night place a couple of streets over." Lavender said. "Don't know where the bloody hell Theo got to, but do you want to come?"

Hermione wasn't hungry and she was suddenly very tired. "Not really," she said. "I think I'd rather just go back to the flat. I'll get a taxi."

"No, not alone!" Lavender fretted. "It's late. Blaise and I will ride back to San Cipriano with you and eat there."

"No—" Hermione put her hand toward Lavender.

"I can give you a lift." Draco's soft words cut through their exchange.

"Oh?" Hermione looked to him in surprise.

"Would you, Draco? What a fantastic idea!" Lavender's face lit up like a fucking Christmas tree.

Draco lifted a brow at her, then his eyes cut back to Hermione. "As long as you don't mind riding on the bike."

Hermione swallowed. "No, I don't mind," her mouth said, even as her brain threw a hundred yellow flags on the field.

"I don't mind," she said, so softly that Draco saw the words more than heard them. What the fuck was he doing? Basically inviting her to press her body against him, wrap her arms and legs around him? Was he insane? It had been very difficult to let her go just now. He'd had to pin his hands behind him to keep them from reaching for her again. And now he was just asking her to... His fingers tightened around the beer bottle he was somehow still holding.

This whole night—from her face when she'd seen him walk in, to her teasing smile when they'd talked about the band, to the fucking delightful picture she had presented dancing with Lavender, to the warmth of her body in his arms—had been a sore trial to all facets of his self-control. And now he was just throwing it all in the bin? Fucking fuck.

"Are you ready?" Draco's frustration made his words a little curt and she blinked before she said yes. He could barely focus on the flurry of goodbyes with Blaise and Lavender, and it seemed that in the blink of an eye he was walking with her up a quiet street. Every shadowy doorway and wall seemed to issue an invitation to pull her into it, push her against it, kiss her, touch her. Oh, how he wanted to. He flexed his hand.

"Well," her bright voice cut through the silence of the night, and his frantic thoughts. "Aside from almost getting my nose broken there at the end, that was brilliant. Thanks again for saving me." She gave him such a funny little smile that he truly almost lost his battle with his will.

"Of course." He looked away a little desperately. "I'm parked just up here."

They rounded a bend and the bike came into view, gleaming black in the dim streetlights.

"I've never been on one before," she said in a slightly nervous voice as they approached.

"No?" He glanced at her, surprised.

"Yeah, my parents are pretty, er, opposed." She grimaced slightly.

"Ah, some muggles consider them quite dangerous, correct?"

"Yes." Her grimace deepened.

"Oh shit." Draco snapped his fingers. "Speaking of, I only have one helmet."

"Oh." Her face pulled down into disappointment. "Maybe I should get that cab."

"No," he said quickly, again surprising himself. He should be taking the chance to get out of this! "You can just wear it and I'll go without."

"You need to be able to see, though!" She stepped closer to him, a little frown between her eyes. His fingers twitched, wanting to reach out and smooth it.

"I have goggles." He stepped back. "And I'll cast a stronger protection charm than I usually do. We won't be able to go as fast, but that's fine."

"OK." She still sounded nervous. "If you're sure."

"I wouldn't want you to have to tell your parents you rode a motorcycle without a helmet." He gave her a half smile.

Her face smoothed out and she laughed. "OK."

Draco pulled the helmet off the bike and handed it to her. She shook her hair back and eased it over her head, then looked up at him. "Does it look right?"

"Almost," he said, taking the excuse to look into her beautiful eyes, which crinkled a little in question. He reached up. A curl had escaped her careful placement and was peeking out near the front of the helmet. He meant to tuck it back quickly, just so it wouldn't whip in her face when they got up speed, but instead he rubbed his thumb over it, feeling his lips lift. "A stray," he said softly. He could barely see her mouth, but her eyes widened. He blinked and let the strand go. The fuck was he doing?

"Thanks," she said, her voice quiet.

Draco stayed looking at her for a moment and then stepped back, sliding the goggles over his head. He was really determined to make this whole thing harder on himself, wasn't he? "Right." He attempted a brisk tone. "You should probably wear this too." He indicated the leather jacket slung over his arm.

She instantly started to protest. "Oh, no Draco, I'll be fine! It's warm and—"

Draco felt his brows go up. "I'm not trying to make a commentary on the abbreviated nature of anything you're wearing," he cut in, trying not very hard to suppress a smile. "But there's much less to your top than mine." He should know, he'd been admiring it—or maybe more accurately what it revealed—all night.

She looked down at the tiny, black strappy thing and then back up at him. There was a kind of helpless resignation in her eyes. "OK," she sighed, holding out her hand. He gave her a look, then moved around behind her and held the jacket out for her arm. He was Narcissa Malfoy's son, after all. "Oh!" she gave a startled little movement, blinked then slid her hand into one soft leather sleeve, then the other. "Thank you."

"Of course," he murmured. He noticed her take a deep breath once the jacket was settled around her shoulders, looking huge on her smaller frame.

She ran her hands up the sides of the sleeves. "It's so soft."

He inclined his head, then stepped close to the bike and slung his leg over the saddle. He hitched himself forward and then looked over his shoulder. She was standing there, still hugging her upper arms, a rather glazed expression on her face. "OK," he said. "Hop on."

She approached gingerly, put her hands on the seat and scrambled on, ending up perched behind him, but not quite touching him. "Is this right?" she asked.

He straightened up and looked back at her. She was so close, but at least there was a giant helmet in the way. "Looks good." He nodded. "You can hold the seat sort of below and behind you, but I think that might feel precarious once we get going. If you want to hold my waist or around my middle, it's fine." Just Fine. Right. Brilliant. She nodded quickly and moved her hands to the seat. "And when we turn, lean with me. That's important even though it might feel strange." She nodded again and Draco nodded back, then turned around and struck down on the pedal starter. The engine leapt to life and he revved it until it was purring smoothly. "Here we go!" he called as they took off.

They wound their way through the streets of Aquino, Draco going slowly and getting used to the feel of another body on the bike. It definitely made a difference in steering and acceleration, but he soon acclimated. It was very much like taking someone up on a broom. Hermione did well with the leaning, although she stayed mostly not touching him, keeping her hands behind her and her a good inch between their thighs—though Draco could feel little points of contact like pulses of heat when they went over bumps or around turns.

"This is fun!" she called after a bit. "I feel so much more a part of things!"

He turned his head to the side. "Exactly!" They were approaching the turn-off from the town streets onto the motorway, so he brought them to a gliding stop. "We'll be going faster now," he said gesturing to the wider, straight road. "Get ready!"

"OK!" she called.

He pulled out and twisted the throttle; the sudden burst of speed giving him the giddy feeling he associated only with this and flying, although he was careful not to accelerate too quickly. Or at least not as quickly as he usually did. He still heard a squeak from behind him right at the same moment her arms flew around his middle and her front pitched against his back.

He had to admit that it was fucking thrilling.

"Are you all right!?" Draco yelled and felt her nod. He turned his attention back to the road, making his way extremely carefully without dipping below the advised speed. Once they were going, the warm air rushing past them and no other traffic in sight, he let himself relax… and feel. Feel the way her palm was curled around the side of his waist, her warm body soft along his back, the long line of her inner thigh against his leg. God, it was intimate. He was so fucking turned on. He wondered how it felt to her.

He could sense her looking around; her little shifts in weight and pressure. At one point her hand sort of spasmed against his midsection and it felt almost like a caress. His breath quickened and he forced himself to think of bland things, although it didn't work very well.

All too soon, the turn to San Cipriano appeared and then they were back on slow, winding streets. She didn't let go of him, though. Finally the turn to her street appeared and they pulled up in front of her flat. He stopped the bike, letting it idle, and twisted half around. She was pulling the helmet off and shaking out her hair, her eyes bright.

"What did you think?" he asked, cutting the engine.

"Oh Draco." The most beautiful, blinding smile transformed her features. "That was brilliant!"

He felt his own smile emerge. He couldn't help it. "You liked it?"

"I loved it!" She started to swing off the bike, one hand still around his waist, gripping him tightly, which he enjoyed. She seemed to notice at the same moment what she was doing and quickly pulled away. She was also still holding the helmet. She looked down at it and took a deep breath before looking back up at him. "Listen," she said, her words tumbling over each other. "It's not that late, would you like to come up for a glass of wine or a beer or something? I'm sure Lavender and Blaise aren't far behind us."

He looked at her, standing there with her hair slightly wild and her face hopeful, and knew in his bones that he should say no. There was no way he was going up there alone with her and succeeding in keeping his distance.

"I can't come up tonight," he said, trying to pull together the shreds of his self-preservation. Then her face fell and he couldn't bear it. "But," he continued quickly, "I still owe you a longer ride, and a lesson…" Well, so much for that.

"Oh. Right." She blinked several times.

"What are you doing tomorrow?" he asked, his inner voice screaming at his outer one to shut the fuck up.

"Ahh, nothing. No plans. I have a shift at the caffe, but it's a closing one. I don't start until six."

"I'm off too. Would you like to go up to the monastery?" The actual fuck.

"Really?" She gave a little bounce and it was adorable. "I mean, brilliant. That's cool yeah. I would uh, like to."

He'd done it now. For fuck's sake. "Here at say, 11 o'clock, then? I'll find a way to get you a helmet."

She nodded then paused. "Actually, I have to run by the caffe in the morning. Why don't I just walk over to yours after?"

"That works." He started the bike up again so that he wouldn't be tempted to do something really idiotic, like kiss her goodnight. "Until tomorrow, then." He could hear that his words were clipped. He was angry with himself, but didn't want to take it out on her, so he tried for a smile.

"Until then," she said, smiling back. "Oh! And you'd better have this!" She handed him the helmet. "And this!" She started shrugging out of the jacket.

"Thanks. And you should wear a jacket tomorrow too, even if it's warm. It will be cooler at the higher elevation." He pulled the helmet down over his face and slung the jacket on—and was instantly enveloped in her scent. He cursed inwardly, but also breathed in deeply. "Good night, Hermione."

"Good night," she said.

He could feel her watching him as he rode away.

Chapter Text

Heart skittering as she stepped from the narrow street into the square, Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath. Two deep breaths. But she couldn't tamp down the nervous excitement that seemed to be pulsing just beneath her skin. Even if she was annoyed by it.

She stopped and leaned against a wall, raising her eyes skyward and asking herself the same question that had been circling endlessly in her mind since the night before. Was this a date? A friendly outing? An obligation being fulfilled? She had absolutely no idea.

She blew out her breath. She didn't quite know what had come over her last night, when she'd asked him up. Something about seeing him again, his relative warmth and the ride being so exhilarating. It had been pure, dumb impulse. Of course he'd said no, but then he'd said yes—sort-of?

She sighed; she wished Lavender had come home so they could have talked it through. But Lavender hadn't appeared as of this morning. Although Hermione had some idea of what she would say. Throw him down and take what you want. You deserve it. What's the worst that could happen?

Hermione snorted. What was the worst that could happen? Rejection? Incredulity?

Ugh. She shook her head. No, she wouldn't be risking that. He was the one who had blown hot and cold, well warm and cold. He was the one who'd been calling her a mudblood until a few months ago. And he was the one who had invited her today. He could bloody well make a move if it meant anything more. Until then, she'd be playing it friendly, but cool.

She pushed up off the wall, balling her fists and setting her chin, and began to stalk into the square. Until she almost ran directly into something.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!" An amused voice and a flash of blue eyes. "What's the hurry?" Theo grasped Hermione's upper arms and held her steady. She stiffened and he immediately dropped his hands and took a step back, his face shuttering.

"Theo, hi!" Hermione heard her own voice sounding overly loud and high.

"Hello," he said. Hermione noticed with surprise that his face had gone pink.

"Uh, beautiful day," she said.

He rubbed his neck and looked away. "Yeah."

"Yeah." For some reason Hermione was highly flustered at the idea of Theo knowing that she was going to meet Draco. Which was absolutely stupid. She pushed the thought away and opened her mouth again. "So—"

"Listen—" he spoke at the same time.

"You go," she said. Coward.

"No, you." He inclined his head.

She took a deep breath, fully expecting something else inane to issue from her lips, but then she stopped and looked at him. Her tense shoulders slumped. "I just. I just wanted to say. I really hope there are no hard feelings," she said, reiterating her words from the olive grove and hoping they meant something.

"After the shit I pulled last night?" Theo squinted into the distance. "I should be asking that of you."

"Oh, Theo." Hermione's hand went out. "It was fine. I mean, if anything you might want to check in with Francesca, but—"

"Yeah, I'm headed to see her now." He pointed to his car, which Hermione realised they were standing next to. "Throwing up then passing out not the best way to end a date." A quick, humourless smile crossed his features. Hermione smiled too, catching his eye and making him look at her. He spoke again, his voice a bit tight. "So you're going to meet him?"

"Yeah, he's finally making good on that promise to take me out on the bike." It was Hermione's turn to look away.

"Well." Theo raised his brows. "Have fun. Be safe."

Hermione nodded.

"OK, well I'm off. Got to eat crow while the sun shines." Theo cracked his knuckles in an exaggerated way and put the key in his car door.

"Theo." Hermione lurched forward and touched his sleeve. He turned back. "Can we still be friends?" she said in a rush. "Please? I've missed you this last week. I'm worried that I've ruined things."

He paused for a long moment, his fingers still resting on the car door handle. "If anyone ruined things, it was me," he finally said, his voice soft. He reached out and took her hand, holding it in both of his, looked down at it then back up at her. "I'll be better, I promise. I needed a little time... to be an arse, apparently." He shook his head. "But our friendship is important to me too. I won't fuck it up. I've fucked up too many things."

She flipped her hand in his and grasped it tightly before letting it go. "OK."

Theo turned and Hermione started to walk on, but then he pivoted back again, propping his elbow on the car roof and cocking his head. "Hey."

"Yeah?"

"Did he ask you? To go on the bike today? Or did you ask him?"

"Uh, he asked me." Hermione felt her face warm again.

"OK." Theo nodded thoughtfully then tapped the top of his car twice and started to get in.

"What—"

"No." He held up his hand, a shadow of his old roguish smile emerging. "Nothing more from me. You two will have to figure it out." He got in and started the car, revving the little engine and grinning at her. "See you!" He waved, then drove away.

Hermione stared after him. What the bloody hell did that mean?

"So I don't think I actually want to drive it today," Hermione looked worriedly down at the gleaming hunk of steel between them, and then back up at Draco. "Is it OK if I'm just a passenger again?"

His brows drew together. "Of course. You just seemed like you wanted to before."

"Did I?" Hermione laughed weakly.

He tilted his head. "It's possible I baited you the smallest bit."

"I fucking knew it!" She jabbed a finger at him and he laughed. Hermione felt her insides do a slow flip. Fuck, but he was gorgeous. She looked down suddenly and gripped her helmet. Was she really about to get on the back of the bike and press herself up against him again? In the jeans and the leather jacket and the ruffled hair? Last night had been a special kind of torture: the first time she'd really touched him. And they'd gone straight from zero to sixty, hadn't they? Her memory flipped to him holding her against him at the club and then to the ride itself. At least now she knew something of what she was getting into physically.

Mentally was another story, of course. Her mind traveled back to its earlier track and she began fretting again about Draco's intentions and motivations—and her own. Did she want to give him another chance to be friends? He seemed to be trying, even if the sudden change was a bit mysterious. And was it even wise in the first place? He was and would remain Draco Malfoy, with all the attendant complications—despite what her body or hormones or whatever-it-was—seemed to want.

The best course probably was to play it cool, try to protect herself, hang back—even if her natural inclination was to push and test and make something happen.

"Well come on, then." He was still smiling as he swung a leg over the saddle and looked back at her, eyes still glinting silver with amusement.

It was then that Hermione admitted to herself that no matter what, she was well and truly fucked.

He put his helmet on and she snapped out of her reverie, gingerly lifting the helmet he'd procured for her over her low ponytail and climbing onto the bike. He revved the engine a few times and Hermione jumped. He turned his head and flipped up his visor. She could see a gleam of white teeth behind it.

"You should probably hold me around the waist again. If you don't mind. It was much easier last night after you did that."

Well then. "Right!" Hermione gave him a thumbs up, like a complete prat, and he nodded once, eyes crinkling, before he turned around again and eased the bike onto the road. She slid her arms around his waist, tentatively and a bit stiffly. At least he was wearing the leather jacket today. Last night with only the t-shirt, she'd been able to feel every movement of his lean, muscled waist. And his warmth. Spreading from his body to hers, an intensely intimate exchange.

Hermione took a deep breath in, realising the moment she did that it pressed her breasts against his back. She felt him flinch and she straightened back up, also conscious of where and how much her inner thigh was touching his outer one.

This was going to be just excruciating, wasn't it?

She tried to refocus her attention, looking around as they cruised down the winding main street out of the village. It was a gorgeous day and people were out: walking, sitting, chatting. The sun glinted off the shop windows and made the ochre stone of the buildings glow. The sky was an almost impossible blue. Hermione felt a familiar surge of affection for the scene, followed almost immediately by a stab of melancholy. It was mid-July and she had, at the most, just over a month left here. She would miss it. Terribly.

Almost involuntarily her hands, which had been resting lightly at the sides of Draco's waist, clenched. She slipped them further around him, as if to pull it all closer. He turned his head briefly and she tapped him twice to let him know she was ok. He nodded, then faced forward again as Hermione willed herself to relax.

She resolved then to enjoy the day, enjoy this time in this place. With him and whatever he wanted to give her.

She took a breath in and out; they were just coming off the small town roads now and onto the large, busy main road. Tightening her arms in earnest, Hermione molded herself to Draco's back as they threaded between lorries and cars which suddenly seemed much larger than before. The warm wind whipped her hair out in a stream behind them and she shut her eyes when he leaned forward and pushed them even faster.

Eventually they turned off from the heat and exhaust of the highway and began climbing. Hermione could almost instantly feel a drop in the air temperature and she lifted her head to take in their surroundings, which were morphing from the golden hills and sparse trees that ringed San Cipriano to a more closely wooded landscape.

Like yesterday, she noticed that being on the bike she could smell everything, feel everything in a way that didn't happen in a car. It was as if they were a part of the landscape rather than just passing through it. They moved suddenly through a deeply shaded part of the road, a little stream of water trickling down the rock at their right side, and Hermione could taste the change in the air—how it became moist and mineral and cool.

Suddenly they burst out of the shade into full sunlight and started up a steep incline. Draco shifted gears and the engine hummed low with effort. As they traveled, the woods gave way to great swathes of evergreen and the hills turned to peaks. Hermione looked to their left and could see a massive vista of craggy mountains, their steep sides covered in deep green firs. She gasped involuntarily. It was so beautiful and unexpected. She knew Italy had skiing and high elevations, but she'd never seen them before.

Draco seemed to sense her delight because he inclined his head toward the view. She squeezed him lightly around the waist to convey what she was feeling—it's so beautiful, thank you for bringing me here—and he nodded several times over his shoulder.

After that, Hermione truly relaxed, the feeling of being in sync with him, the bike, their surroundings taking her over. The road, still climbing, became a series of switchbacks, requiring them to lean first to one side then the other. Hermione felt as if her very limbs and muscles had softened into a curving stream of energy, or maybe light. She wondered if this is what people were on about when they waxed poetic about riding brooms.

Finally the road straightened out again and they started to see some signs of civilisation: small houses, a timbered building that looked like it belonged in an alpine scene, a bus stop and even some other traffic. Draco slowed the bike and after a bend in the road, they were suddenly cruising through a sun-dappled village. Hermione saw a café bar, similar to hers, and a larger restaurant with outdoor seating dotted by cheerful, red umbrellas. There was a tabaccheria and a fountain. But almost as soon as she'd finished looking around, they were out of the town and climbing gently once more through thickly wooded hills. Draco didn't pick up speed though, instead dropping gears and slowing down. The road curved one more time, then the steep bank to the right of them gave way and they were in amongst a grouping of stone buildings. Most were low and humble, but a large church spire rose from a central point of one of the clusters and Hermione saw a sign, welcoming visitors to the Comunità Monastica di San Benedetto. Draco pulled off the road and down the driveway next to the sign and parked the bike in a shaded spot.

Cutting the engine, he pulled his helmet off and Hermione quickly slid backward and did the same. He looked over his shoulder, a brow raised.

"Well?"

"Brilliant," Hermione said, a huge smile taking over her face. "Absolutely brilliant. Those mountains, Draco. And that sweet little town! I could feel the road and the temperature changes, and when we went around those curves it was so exciting!"

He smiled too with real warmth, then swung off the bike and stood. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."

Hermione pulled her leg over and he held out his hand and helped her up. "I didn't just enjoy it, I loved it," she said, looking up at him, still smiling. He looked down at her for several beats before they both seemed to realise what they were doing and stepped away.

"I'll just secure these," Draco said, holding out his hand for her helmet. Hermione gave it to him and took a few steps, then turned around in a slow circle to take in their surroundings, trying to ignore the various flutterings and pulses that were zipping through her body.

Breathe. Focus.

The air was warm and quiet, almost hushed. It smelt of green things and the dust of the gravel parking lot. A bird trilled in the distance and the sunlight dancing over her face was a vivid, dazzling yellow.

"Beautiful," Hermione breathed.

"Isn't it," said Draco, his footsteps crunching as he approached. He'd taken off his jacket and the white of his t-shirt was almost blinding in the bright light. "I wasn't sure what to expect when I first came here, but it's lovely."

Hermione shrugged out of her jacket too, wanting to feel the sun on her shoulders. "How many times have you been?"

"A few. Maybe three or four. I like the quiet and it's usually at least ten degrees cooler up here."

Hermione nodded and looked around. "And what are we looking at here? Obviously that's the sanctuary"—she pointed to the tallest building—"but what are the other buildings?"

Draco squinted and turned to face the street across from them. "I believe those are the living quarters and the garden. I think the brewery and distilling operation are over there as well. On this side," he pivoted back around, "along with the sanctuary are the apothecary and," his eyes glinted as he smiled down at her, "the library."

"Ooh, are we allowed to go in!?" Hermione rose up on the balls of her feet.

His face broke into a full grin. Hermione sighed inwardly. "Yes, we are," he said, stepping closer to her. "Although my previous forays have revealed the collection to be 99% boring muggle religious texts."

Hermione tried to swat him on the arm, and he laughed and twisted away. "I still want to see it!" she said.

"Of course. And there are some rather pretty illuminated manuscripts out for viewing. You'll like those." He started walking her toward the larger of the low buildings that sat to the left of the church.

They entered and after a few minutes, Hermione had to concede that he was right. Most of the books weren't particularly interesting, especially when one compared them to the contents of even the most basic of wizarding libraries. But the illuminated manuscripts were beautiful and she spent some time enjoying them.

"This one reminds me of an alchemical text in the manor library," Draco murmured over her shoulder as she studied an intricate panel that gorily illustrated the story of Cain and Abel. "Bit gruesome, both of them."

Hermione snorted a laugh, then instantly looked around to make sure they hadn't disturbed anyone, but the room seemed to be empty. "You have things like this in your family library?" she asked, twisting to look up at him.

"Malfoy Manor's library is more extensive than Hogwarts', Hermione," he said, the smile playing at the corners of his mouth growing as her eyes widened.

"Oh," she breathed.

His smile turned into a smirk, but then the humour left his face and he looked away. "Wonder if I'll ever see it again."

Hermione turned all the way around and her hand went out. "Oh, Draco." She rested her fingers on his forearm. He looked at her for a beat and she saw such sadness in his eyes. But in a flash it was gone and he stepped back.

"Do you want to see the church?"

"Is it allowed?" Hermione had not been raised in a religious household and wasn't sure of the rules.

"I think so." He lifted a shoulder. "I always look in and no one has ever told me not to."

"OK." They turned and Draco ushered her out the door. Hermione thought she felt the whisper of his palm on the small of her back.

After a brief look into the chapel, in which several monks seemed to be praying, they ducked out again and walked back into the courtyard. A monk passed by them and nodded silently. Hermione nodded back, a bit surprised that things like monks existed in real life and not just on the pages of historical texts. Funny thought, coming from a witch.

Once the man had moved away, Draco looked down at her. "Do you want to see the apothecary? It's rather interesting."

"Absolutely! Is it like a museum?"

"No, it's a working concern. They sell soaps and perfumes and honey. Liquor too, I think. All made here."

"That's amazing! Is it that building?" Hermione pointed to the third structure that ringed the courtyard, a little smaller and older looking than the other two.

Draco nodded and put his hand on her elbow, a half smile lifting his features. "Come on. I hope this one funny chap is working there today. I'll be curious to see what he makes of you."

Hermione wrinkled her brow at him. "Okayyy. What does that mean?"

He flicked his brows. "You'll see."

His friend was behind the counter. Excellent. "Buongiorno," Draco said as he and Hermione stepped into the dark-paneled room. He heard the intake of her breath as she took in the space and whipped her head around to look at him, eyes bright. Her reactions to things were so fucking charming. She never seemed to hide her enthusiasm or try to take on a bored air. It was all just there on the surface: the joy she took in the world.

He felt the corner of his mouth lift up, and they had another one of those moments where they just looked at each other. Draco was first to break eye contact this time, because he noticed the little man behind the counter turning and standing from where he had been bent over a display.

"Buongiorn— ohhh, you've decided to come down and visit us again." The man's eyes twinkled. "And you've brought a friend, clearly another of your kind."

Hermione shot Draco a quick look that clearly said, 'What the fuck?'

"Does he know—?" she started.

"No, no." Draco bit back a laugh. "You'll see. He's just a little odd."

"So, what are you looking for today? Some Angelica? Echinacea? Maybe a salve to soothe the blisters from your harp playing?" The man laughed at his own joke and the sound was so merry that Hermione smiled, but her expression was still very puzzled.

"Harp playing?" she said softly, her eyes darting from Draco to the clerk. But then she rested her gaze on Draco for a moment and he could see realisation dawn. He raised his brows twice and she broke into her own peal of laughter. "It fits, oh, it fits," she said in English. "I mean, your looks, at least." She turned the man and said in Italian. "Thank you sir, but I'm no angel and he certainly isn't!" She jabbed a thumb behind her at Draco.

"Well with a beauty like you around, who could be?" the little man said smoothly, sending Draco a mischievous look. "Well worth descending from heaven for, my son."

Draco inclined his head and tried to ignore the blush that stole over Hermione's cheeks at this remark. She murmured something polite to the man in return and then went off to examine a shelf of lotions. Draco ambled over to the honey and picked up a jar of the blackberry. Would he bring it to Theo this time? He was still rather angry with him over his little performance last night. He sighed.

"Can't decide?" Hermione had appeared next to him.

"I usually bring one to Theo when I come here. He loves the stuff. I'm trying to decide if he was too much of a shit last night to deserve it."

She frowned. "Let me get it for him," she said softly, placing her hand over his on the jar. He looked at her and then down at their hands. His heart gave a funny little leap and she pulled back. "Unless you want to, of course."

"No, go ahead," he said, wondering what the gesture to Theo meant, and hating the thread of jealousy that snaked through him. Surely, last night showed that there was nothing going on between them. And Draco shouldn't fucking care anyway.

"I'm going to have to get something for Lavender too. She would adore this place. I'm sure she'll be pestering Theo to borrow his car as soon as she hears about it." Hermione bustled away and Draco walked over to chat with the friendly clerk, giving him their canned story about being university students over to study Italian for the summer.

"I like my story better," the old man said, squinting at Draco and then at Hermione. "And I maintain there's something about you. Both of you." Draco was startled. He'd heard of muggles who had more of a sense for magical people, but he'd never met one. Hiding his surprise in a chuckle, he looked away when he heard Hermione call his name.

"Will you help me?" she asked, looking over her shoulder in such a winsome way that he sighed very quietly.

"My sympathies," the little man said softly. "But you don't stand a chance." He laughed again as Draco tilted his head with a pained smile, then walked away from the counter.

He approached Hermione and she held up her wrists, "I want to buy one of these. Will you help me decide?" He realised she was standing near the perfume oils again and his heart sank. She was going to make him smell her, wasn't she? Fuck.

"Alright," he said, trying to keep his face very neutral. "What are the choices?"

"This one," she held out her left wrist, "is sweet orange, jasmine, geranium and mandarin." She read from the bottle and turned it over. "It's called 'Angel's Share', so he'll like that." She smiled in the direction of the clerk.

Draco steeled himself before grasping her wrist lightly and bringing it toward his face. He kept his eyes on hers as he breathed in deeply, careful to keep from actually touching her and trying to ignore the sudden, intense urge to place his lips against her skin. The scent was lovely, light and not too sweet.

"Nice," he managed to choke out. "And the other?"

She paused and looked down before she held her other wrist up. "Uh, this one is called," she looked at him and wrinkled her nose,"'Tutti Frutti'. It's orange, bergamot, lime, mandarin, grapefruit and vanilla."

Draco took her wrist. "That's a very silly name," he murmured as he sniffed again. It was stupid of him to speak, because his lips did brush her wrist this time, so lightly he might have imagined it. Except he knew by her quick indrawn breath and sudden movement that he didn't.

He stepped back instantly. "The first," he said, partially because he had preferred its more sophisticated notes, but mostly because if she wore the second he'd constantly be reminded of this moment and how hopelessly aroused he was. "I'll just wait outside while you pay," he said, hoping he didn't seem like an arse.

Waving to the old man, who gave him a very knowing look, he headed for the door and pushed through it. When he got outside he moved down the wall and leaned, tipping his head back against the rough stone and letting the sun blind him. He closed his eyes and focused on breathing. He'd known today would be difficult in many ways, he just hadn't prepared himself for how delightful it would be in others. And how much more difficult that would make things. He curled a fist and tapped it lightly against the wall. This was why he'd been practicing distance, because when he was with her he had no self-control.

"You look like an angel more than ever now, with that bright light in your hair."

His eyes fluttered open to see her standing in front of him, giving him a gentle smile. Thoughts of kissing her flooded his mind again, although it would probably be disrespectful to the monks. Yes, the monks were who he was really worried about right now.

Suddenly she turned and leaned against the wall herself, tilting her head and closing her eyes. He was reminded of last night at the club, when he'd had to physically restrain himself from reaching for her. "Oh, that's nice," she said. "I can feel the warmth from the stones." Her lips parted and she smiled again.

"Yeah." He closed his eyes again against the vision of her. "Do you want to go get some lunch?"

"Ooh, yes! In that little town we passed?"

"Yes, San Benedetto." He kept his eyes closed. "The restaurant is good. Or we can get panini and go sit on the bench if it's free."

"The bench?"

"Yeah, it overlooks the valley. Good views."

He heard her push up and face him again. "I like the sound of that."

He took a deep breath and opened his eyes. "Then let's go."

Hermione crossed her legs and began unwrapping her sandwich. "I think 'good view' may be an understatement," she said, looking to her side at Draco.

He ducked his head and nodded, chewing and swallowing a bite of his panino. "Possibly." He took a swig from the bottle of mineral water they'd bought and shot her a quick smile.

Hermione forced her eyes away from him and out to the vista again. Peaks layered into the distance, going from a deep green nearby to a shadowy purple further away. A light haze lay in the valley and the deep blue sky stretched over all of it. Above them a huge, leafy tree tossed gently in the warm breeze. "So. Fucking. Beautiful," Hermione said with a shake of her head. She bit into her sandwich.

She heard Draco sigh next to her.

"Are you going to miss it too?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the scenery.

He didn't answer for so long that she turned to look at him. He was gazing out over the valley too. She saw his chest rise and fall. "Yes," he said and there was a lot in the one syllable. Regret and sadness foremost, though, she thought.

"Do you know where you'll be going?" Hermione asked. "Next? After?" And now it was her turn for regret and sadness.

He shook his head. "I don't. Although I'm not sure why they wouldn't just leave me here. Even if it wouldn't be the same without…" His voice trailed off. Then he turned and looked at her, clear grey eyes meeting hers. Hermione felt her breath catch, but then he looked away again.

"Probably a safehouse? France? I don't know." He shrugged and picked up his sandwich. "You'll be going back to Hogwarts, though. That will be strange." A ghost of a smile crossed his face and he sent her a slightly playful look. "All your new Slytherin mates. And suddenly best friends with Lavender Brown. Whatever will people say?"

She balled up a napkin and threw it at him. He caught it and flicked his eyebrows up at her. "At least you won't be there," she sallied, although her words also brought an instant stab of pain to her heart. He really wouldn't be there. She wouldn't see him.

"True. You've definitely escaped something there," he was saying, still light and teasing. He leaned back and stretched. "Imagine if we sat and chatted like this in the Great Hall."

"Definitely burst into flame." Hermione nodded, trying to mask her inner turmoil with a silly face.

Draco chuckled. "Us or the rest of the student body?"

"Oh the rest of them. We can handle it. We've proved that this summer."

"Yes, between me calling you slurs for six years, your friends' deep and abiding hate for me and the fact that I believe you did hit me in the face once, I think our friendship might come as rather a shock to most." He turned fully to her on the bench, crossing his arms and smiling at her in such a way that Hermione had to actively stop herself from climbing on top of him.

They sat for a few beats while the mischief faded from his face, replaced by something much more dangerous.

She cleared her throat. "So are you still reading Infinite Jest?" Her voice was slightly strangled and she realised she had smashed half of her sandwich even flatter. She loosened her grip and continued. "I had to create a chart to remember who all the characters are."

He laughed shortly. "Yeah, I gave it up once we. Uh." He turned to face forward again. "Once you weren't ah, keeping me going."

Adorably, a blush spread over his cheeks and Hermione was annoyed with herself for finding it adorable. He was the one who had stopped bloody coming round. "Yes, well. It's just getting good," she said, shaking out her sandwich paper and folding it into aggressively smaller squares. "You should pick it up again."

"I should." The words held a kind of quiet urgency and Hermione stopped her hands and their jerky movements. She didn't look at him, though.

"And the music?" she asked a bit hoarsely. She could tell he had turned to her again.

He sat back. She thought he ran his hand through his hair. "It's great, yeah. I like it all. But as you predicted, I really like The Bends. Been listening to it a lot."

"'Don't leave me high. Don't leave me dry,'" she murmured.

"That one's my favourite." His voice was very low.

"It's even got a motorcycle in it," she said, finally meeting his gaze.

He smiled fleetingly, but his eyes were sombre. "Yes, it hits home in a lot of ways."

Hermione ran through what she knew of the lyrics in her head and looked at him, tilting her head. "Draco..."

"Mmm, hmm." He had looked out over the view again. His jaw in profile was beautiful. She wanted to run her fingers over it. And then into his hair.

She closed her eyes and opened them. "What started changing your mind? When did it happen?"

He opened his mouth and breathed out a sigh, then paused a long while before he spoke. "I started to have doubts at the end of last year. When my father went to prison. I was so angry." He tilted his head back. "And I started to think about who I was angry at and why."

She nodded and he shot a glance at her. "Make no mistake, my focus was definitely on Potter and the Order at first." He turned forward again. "But the more I thought. The more I watched my mother dealing—badly—with my father's absence. The more I started to think about who really was to blame. Who had actually put us where we were … when did it start? And why? And once those doubts crept in, other cracks started to form too." He shoved his hands in his pockets. "And it helped that Blaise was starting to feel the same. For his own reasons, but with similar effects. We started to talk about it. And then we started to read—with my father gone and my mother at loose ends no one was watching anything I did. We even went into the muggle world a few times. Just to see."

"And what did you see?"

"Just," he blew out a breath. "People. Being human." He stopped for a moment and gazed out at the view before continuing. Hermione stayed silent, just listening, sensing that she needed to.

"And then they came. After the breakout from Azkaban." A shudder passed over his face and he shifted up, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands loosely between them. "That was when things became really bloody awful. He was very angry at my father and looking to punish him. But he still needed the Malfoy power and money—and he wanted the manor. So he couldn't kill us outright. But he's very clever and quite creative." Hermione made an involuntary sound of sympathy and his eyes flicked to hers. "So that's how I ended up with my task. Dumbledore." A very humourless smile lifted his lips. "Of course it was meant to be impossible and my… early failures carried commensurate punishments."

"Oh, Draco," Hermione's heart seized and her hand shot out. "Did he hurt you? Did he—"

His look stopped her, his eyes like ice chips. "Not me, no."

Hermione's brain worked quickly, landing almost instantly on an image of a cold, beautiful face framed by pale gold hair. "Your mother," she breathed.

He nodded once then his shoulders slumped. Her hand went out again and she gripped his forearm fiercely for a moment before letting go.

"So, that was the end of it for me." He shifted back up. "After that it was all fair game. Anything I'd been taught or led to believe. I read more. Talked to others—Theo a little, and of course Blaise—who were feeling the same. Tried to distance myself from those who weren't. Although I had to be careful not to blow my cover, of course." His eyes went to hers and his eyebrows went up. "I watched you a fair bit. If muggle-borns were meant to be inferior, how were you one of the cleverest people I'd ever known? That story you cooked up for Umbridge in her office that day. 'Dumbledore's secret weapon.'" A real grin flashed her way and Hermione snorted.

"One of my better moments." She inclined her head and he actually laughed. She felt a sort of desperate gladness that she'd been able to lift his spirits.

"Can I ask you something?" His eyes slitted out toward the view. She sensed a tension in him suddenly.

"Of course."

"Why are you here? I mean, why are you here with me? Willing to be… friends, with me? After all the years of my shit?"

It was Hermione's turn to be silent for a long time, her brain cycling through a hundred different replies. Finally she said, "I suppose because I think people can change. Or rather, I truly believe it."

He flicked a glance to her. "Do you?"

"Absolutely. If I didn't, what chance would there be for me?" She crossed her arms. "Even if, when, Voldemort is defeated, there will be a reckoning. And I have to believe that many of the people who were on his side can be made to see things differently."

"Why? Why not just let them all rot in Azkaban?"

She turned to him fully. "Because of this. Right now."

He looked at her for several moments before they both leaned back against the bench and stared out at the view again. The light was going golden as the sun sank toward the dark ridge of the tallest peaks. The earlier haze had solidified into long streams of mist decorating the valley. Hermione felt lighter, somehow, than she had in a long time.

"We should probably go," he said after a while. "I don't want to go down the hill in the low light and your shift is starting in what— ?

"An hour and a bit," she said, glancing at her watch with a sigh. She paused and looked at him, his lovely profile again. "This was such a lovely day, Draco. Thank you."

He turned to her, his eyes traveling over her face, something she couldn't quite read in them. Hermione felt heat start up her neck and hoped it wouldn't redden her face in an obvious way.

"No," he said, "thank you."

Draco walked into the flat, tossed his keys down on the kitchen table and took off his jacket. His mind was very full, going over and over the events of the day. He was conscious of something bubbling up within him. Something reckless and possibly… joyful? He knew he should tamp it down, but he wasn't sure he could. He certainly didn't want to.

He was so caught up in his thoughts, that he failed to realise Blaise was in the living room until he came face to face with him.

"Fuck!" Draco started back as Blaise popped up from where he had been concealed in one of the armchairs.

"Sorry, mate! Thought you knew I was here." Blaise held out a hand. "I did call out to you when I heard the door open."

"God, I didn't even hear you." Draco shook his head. "Lost in thought, I guess." Blaise's dark eyes flashed at him with a knowing look. "What are you drinking?" Draco asked, flipping his chin at the glass in Blaise's hand as he walked into the kitchen.

"This is just Pellegrino." Blaise got up and followed him.

"You want something stronger?" Draco asked, his head in the fridge.

"No, I'm only stopping in."

Something in Blaise's tone made Draco straighten up and really look at him. Blaise's face was sombre. "What's going on?" Fear curled in Draco's belly and he thought immediately of his mother.

"There was another breakout. From Azkaban." Blaise said quietly.

Draco's blood ran cold. "Who? What happened?"

"MacNair, Lestrange...Dolohov." Blaise grimaced. "Several others. They just disappeared into thin air. The Ministry's hushing it up because they don't want people to panic."

"Fuck." Draco slumped against the counter, sick fear curling his guts. Hermione's face flashed before his eyes and his heart seized too. The idea that they were out there, getting stronger...

"I know. He's getting stronger and it feels like no one's doing anything about it." Blaise's words seemed to echo Draco's thoughts.

"Does the Order know?"

"Presumably. Mum's source was someone close to that side of things."

"I assume they'd have said something to us if there was any immediate danger." Draco's thoughts were racing as another wave of fear broke over him. He suddenly felt very far away from the earlier part of the day.

"Anyway, I just stopped in to tell you. I actually have to go. There's a do at my mum's tonight and I'm going. Seems more important than ever now." Blaise was speaking again.

Draco straightened up and gave him a look."I hope you're being really fucking careful."

"I am. You know I am." Blaise gave him a smile that was more of a grimace. He pushed away from the counter and started walking toward the hallway. "Oh," he stopped and turned back. "How did it go today?" he asked, his tone lighter. "How was the ride?"

Images and impressions flashed through Draco's mind. It had gone bloody brilliantly. Every minute with her had been a fucking delight. Even that conversation on the bench, which had been difficult for him.

But now it all had the flavour of something careless...and dangerous.

"Good," he said softly.

Blaise narrowed his eyes. "More than good."

Draco shook his head and looked down. Blaise sighed. "You've got it bad," he said. "And she does too—despite that little episode with Theo. Could see it plain as day last night." He squinted at Draco and tilted his head. "But you're going to go all nobel and self-sacrificing again, aren't you?"

"What little episode with Theo?" Draco's eyes snapped to Blaise's, all thoughts of death eaters and Azkaban suddenly swept from his mind.

Blaise froze. "I thought he'd told you. The way you were looking at him at the club..."

"Told me what?"

Blaise looked away. "Just, the disco last weekend." He waved his hand nervously—in a very un-Blaise like manner.

Draco did not like the feeling that was currently surging through him. "What happened at the disco last weekend?" he said evenly.

Blaise tilted his head back and closed his eyes. "They just kissed is all!" He breathed out heavily. "I don't think it went anywhere! You saw him in action last night. You saw how little she cared." The antique clock on the mantel began chiming the hour. Blaise's gaze whipped between it and Draco. "Fuck. I have to go or I'm going to be late. And I really can't be late to this. But look." He stepped forward, grabbed Draco's upper arm and peered into his eyes. "Don't let it bother you, ok? It was nothing, I'm sure of it."

Draco was silent. He didn't trust himself to speak at this particular moment.

Blaise made a sound of annoyance. "Right. I'm coming over tomorrow and we're having dinner. Do NOT do anything stupid before then. Please."

No, Draco wouldn't be doing anything stupid. He would just be putting phase two of the distancing plan into action immediately. Not only did the danger feel clear and present again, but this reaction to the thing with Theo—he noted his nails biting into his palms from his tightly curled fists—was ridiculous. He was in far too deep. Dammit.

"Draco?" Blaise said, glancing at the clock again.

"It's fine." Draco said, forcing himself to be utterly calm. "Nobody owes anyone anything. It's better that way." He told himself he believed it—he certainly hadn't been giving Hermione any reason to think he was interested the last few weeks. He had no right to be angry or hurt. Unfortunately that didn't seem to be preventing the feelings themselves.

He pushed off from the counter. "You'd better get going. I'lI see you tomorrow. I'm off at six, so come by around seven. I'll make pasta." His voice sounded as if it were coming from far away.

Blaise nodded, then heaved one last sigh before he started walking toward the hall and the back bedroom. "Nothing stupid!" Draco heard him call faintly just before the crack of apparition sounded.

No, Draco thought. He wouldn't do anything stupid. In fact, he'd be very, very smart. The timing of this was actually propitious. He'd weakened and let his thoughts move in a dangerous direction today and this was a reminder to nip that in the bud and keep more to the course he'd been on, which had worked—fairly well—until he'd broken his own no contact rule.

To protect her, protect himself.

Besides, Hermione had the right to kiss whomever she wanted. It wasn't like Draco even knew what he wanted from her. To be her boyfriend? How totally absurd.

What had he been thinking?

He went back to fridge, took out a bottle of beer and opened it, then tipped it down his throat, drinking almost half of it in one go. He wiped his mouth and stared unseeingly for several minutes, reliving moments of the day almost in spite of himself.

What hadn't he been thinking?

Suddenly he raked his hand through his hair. Gods, he'd been such a fucking idiot. They'd all be leaving in a month anyway. He should be focused on that.

He would focus on that.

Chapter Text

Hermione hurried her steps toward the book shop, eager to get there. A customer had told her about a novel set in the area that she'd been wanting to read. But of course that was secondary to her real motive.

She really just wanted to see Draco. Talk to him. Build on the connection that they'd reforged the day before. She didn't want to let another moment go by without it. And so she moved her feet even faster, skipping over a protruding cobble and around a rubbish bin out for collection.

The ride down the mountain yesterday had been sublime. She'd let herself relax from the first, molding her body to his and reveling in that feeling of joined weightlessness. He'd walked her to the caffe for her shift. Sat and had a coffee while she'd set up for the evening. Lingered. She'd stolen little glances at him in the corner, leaned back in his chair, tousled and beautiful—often catching him watching her—and felt a cascade of sparks each time. Giancarlo had given her a raised-eyebrows look as he'd left and Hermione had felt the heat bloom in her cheeks. Intoxicating. Eventually, she'd gotten busy and Draco had gone, but not before coming to say goodbye.

She made a happy sound as she hopped up the steps to the shop. She could feel that something had shifted and changed, and the excitement it caused to course through her couldn't be suppressed. She didn't want to tamp it down or play it safe this time, either—even if she didn't quite know what would happen next.

Her brow lowered briefly. She had wondered if he'd stop in this morning, and had been a little surprised when he hadn't. But no matter. She was here now. She looked up as she pulled open the door, a brilliant smile taking over her face as she did so.

He was in the waistcoat and trousers again, standing at the shelves, his back to her. She hadn't seen him so formal in a while and had forgotten how deadly attractive he was in that garb. Her eyes traveled over his form as her mind called up a memory of him in similarly formal dress, sweeping down the hall at Hogwarts, robes billowing behind him, a stark figure all in black except for the icy contrast of his hair and the customary flashes of green at his collar and throat. At the time, she'd seen only his coldness and haughty disdain, but now her mind's eye revealed new details: the length of his stride, the elegant line of his back and cheek, and the glint of his silver eyes resting on her as he passed. "I watched you, you know," his words from yesterday echoed in her mind and Hermione shivered with a sudden heat.

At that moment he turned and saw her, and the intensity of her memory increased because of the way his eyes flicked to her and away, quick and cold. Hermione stopped in her forward trajectory, smile dying, instantly puzzled and on her guard. What the fuck?

He was helping a customer, a middle-aged woman, and turned to lead her down an aisle, speaking rapid Italian as they went. No hello, no acknowledgment, and he didn't look back. It felt like a dismissal. Like the first day she'd come in and found him here. She felt an icy trail trickle down her center, followed instantly by a rush of hot anger.

What could it be this time? She stood rooted to the spot, emotions washing over her in quick succession, the anger replaced by embarrassment replaced desperation then by anger again. She seriously considered just leaving, but she wasn't a fucking coward. And she did want that book.

She stomped down another aisle, looking for the section and the author's name, her brain barely focused. She could hear his low tones and the other woman's responses, but the buzzing in her ears prevented her from absorbing what they were saying. She stared for several moments at the same titles, not seeing them, until eventually she felt a presence behind her. She didn't turn around.

"May I help you find something?" he asked, and just the formality of the question and his tone pissed her off. Also her reaction to his physical closeness; a part of her still wanted to turn around and grab him, push him against the shelves, demand an explanation—and more—from him. Although she could tell from her peripheral vision that he was standing quite far away, body stiff, arms crossed.

She ran her fingers over the spines where her book would be. "It should be here. I thought it would, but it's not." She let her anger come through in her words, even as it gave way to sadness.

She chanced to turn around and look at him then, but he didn't meet her eyes, his focused on a distant point down the aisle. He looked so bleak that Hermione shifted toward him, her brow wrinkling and her hand going out.

Almost imperceptibly he shifted away.

"My apologies." There was a tightness in his voice. "I can try to get it for you if you'd like."

"No," she was saying as she started walking, her steps turned toward the door. She needed to get out of there before the tears that were threatening actually showed up. "I don't think you can."

"What the actual FUCK!?" Lavender gave Hermione a look of stunned exasperation.

Hermione sighed from where she was laid out on their sitting room sofa, a pillow clutched to her middle. "I don't fucking know." She shook her head back and forth, trying to force away the confusion and heartache.

Lavender sank into their only other chair, a cushiony thing covered in chintz. "You had the world's sweetest date yesterday—and yes," her eyes cut to Hermione's, "that was a date. He confided in you, you basically made out without kissing—riding that bike together. He walked you to work and stayed around to watch you. And then you show up today all happy and he's Mr. Cold and Distant!?" She sighed loudly and tapped her chin, her eyes narrowing. "It's got to be the kiss with Theo. Even though that's utter bollocks," she said, almost to herself.

"What!?" Hermione sat up. "How would he know about that?"

"It all makes sense now." Lavender shook her head. "Blaise stopped in at the shop earlier to tell me he'd be having dinner with Draco tonight and wouldn't see me, but I was swamped and could barely speak to him. Busload of tourists." She cringed and Hermione nodded in sympathy. "But he told me there was something we needed to talk about and he looked nervous. Very unlike him. He must have said something to Draco. Or maybe Theo spilled?"

Hermione groaned.

"Look, whatever!" Lavender straightened up and leaned forward. "It's better that he knows. You have nothing to be ashamed of!"

"I know. I do know that. But the timing. And they're roommates. Ugh. I could kick myself for that stupid thing with Theo." Hermione lifted the pillow up and smashed it over her face.

"No. Regrets," Lavender said, her tone strident. "If Draco can't handle the fact that you kissed Theo once—"

"A good bit more than once."

"OK, one set of kisses. And he's unlikely to know those sorts of details anyway."

"Well that's exactly it. Who knows what he thinks? He could think we slept together."

"No one who saw you and Theo on Friday night would think you'd slept together. You were entirely cordial to him even though he was being a drunken arse. You were friendly to his date and completely relaxed. There was clearly no emotional investment there. Well, not on your part. Theo on the other hand..."

Hermione groaned again.

"Anyway," Lavender pushed up. "Fuck them. Let's have a drink."

"Yes, please," Hermione said from under her cushion.

Lavender went to the kitchen and started rummaging in the cupboards. "Maybe it will just take some time," she called. "For Draco to sit with it and decide it's not a big deal. Maybe Blaise will say something to him tonight. Tell him to stop being a prat."

Hermione sat up. "You know, even if he did find out about the kiss—and it does make sense as far as the abrupt change from yesterday to today—I wonder if it's more than that."

"What do you mean?" Lavender came in with two glasses of wine and sat down next to Hermione.

"I mean, I guess I hope that he's not the judgmental, possessive type." Hermione accepted her wine and gulped. "And there was something about his demeanor. Almost sad, but...resolved?"

"Hmmm, jealous and possessive tracks with the Draco Malfoy we've known and disliked most of our school careers," mused Lavender. "But he's changed so much. I see what you're saying. Maybe he thinks you should hate him or something."

"He has mentioned something like that a few times. He asked me yesterday why I was willing to be his friend."

Lavender's eyes flew to hers. "Interesting. May be a fair bit of self-loathing going on there. And self-sacrifice seems to go with his new persona... Well, if that's the case, you'll have to push if you want him. He's a Slytherin; he's going to withdraw and hide behind his coldness."

"That's exactly what it felt like today." Hermione made an impatient gesture. "And I'd rather fight, put it all on the table."

"Exactly. Me too. And that's why we were put in our House." Lavender sipped, then smiled slyly from behind the rim of her glass. "That or the whole basal temperature thing."

Hermione looked at her and Lavender looked back. They both started laughing at the same time. Hermione was shocked that she even could. "Fuck off," she said, but with a smile.

"That was the most daft, drunk girl thing I have ever heard." Lavender's laughter renewed.

"It had merit, you bint!" Hermione grabbed the cushion and tossed it at her. Lavender put up her hand and batted it away. Hermione felt her face settle into more sombre lines again. Lavender quieted too.

"Aww, petal," she said. "I'm sorry this is happening. Really, though. The more I think about it, the more I think he just needs some time. He must have just heard about it last night. After your wonderful day. It was probably a bit of a shock."

"Maybe?" Hermione shook her head. "Or maybe I just read entirely too much into yesterday. I mean, we had this deep conversation and the whole bike thing and some moments that felt intense, but it wasn't like he tried to kiss me, or signalled me in any way like that. When I compare it to how Theo acted, for example…"

"They're very different people," Lavender cut in decisively. "Theo is also a pusher. In his own way. Remember he said the hat debated with him too. And I'm fairly certain he never would have been a 'puff or a 'claw." Hermione nodded slowly. Lavender had a point. "But Draco, he's Slytherin through and through. Just like Blaise. There's a reserve there and it goes deep. It's bloody attractive, I'll admit, but it can be infuriating. I basically had to jump Blaise at the end of last year and then again when we met up here. He would have danced around it forever if I hadn't."

"Really?" Hermione said, peering at her friend. "I thought he was rather forward with you."

"Right, because you've been thick with the clueless twins your whole adolescence." Lavender laughed. "No, Blaise is a lot of talk and very slow to action. I had to make everything happen. I mean once it did…" Lavender waggled her eyebrows and Hermione giggled.

"How are things going with you? In that, er, department?"

"We haven't slept together if that's what you mean," Lavender said, getting up. "More wine?"

"Yes, thanks." Hermione held up her glass. "And you haven't?"

"Nope. I'm trying to take it slow. And as I said, he's perfectly happy with that. Not that it's been boring, mind you. A lot of things to do around sex, if you know what I mean." Lavender gave Hermione a wicked smile and Hermione lifted her brows. "And it will probably happen soon. I just want to be sort of clear on what we are to each other. And what it's going to be like when we go back to school."

"Good point." Hermione nodded. "Draco mentioned something about that yesterday. Mixing with Slytherins. Our friendship. People are going to be surprised. Harry and Ron will be a handful."

Lavender snorted. "Yeah. But whatever. Fuck them if they can't handle it." She flounced back down on the couch again. Suddenly she stopped and looked at Hermione. "God, it just occurred to me that Draco won't be coming back, will he?"

"No." Hermione shook her head.

"Why did I not realise that? It puts a really different spin on things." Lavender looked off into the distance. She turned suddenly to Hermione. "What do you want, then?"

"Knowing that he'll be gone? Or I'll be gone from here?"

"Yeah." Lavender wrinkled her brow. "A summer fling? Or something more...?"

Hermione sifted through her confused emotions. "I had thought," she started. "I think. Well, none of it matters, does it? If he's pulled away again?" Lavender looked at her for several moments. "What do you think?" Hermione finally asked, a bit desperately.

"Honest truth?"

"Honest truth." Hermione steeled herself.

Lavender nodded once. "I think you've fallen for him. I think you've fallen hard and there's no way back from it. You can't just turn it off now."

Hermione sighed noisily and flopped back against the couch cushions, bringing her wine to her lips and drinking deeply. It was true. She knew it was.

"I also think," Lavender craned her neck and forced Hermione to meet her eyes. "That he's the same. The same for you."

"Really? Then how can he just turn it off and on like this?"

"I don't think he can—which is why he disappeared for awhile. He had to stay away. And then as soon as you were thrown together again, he couldn't help himself. The thing I don't know," Lavender sat back and touched her chin, "is why he's keeping away. Although I have some ideas."

"So what should I do?" moaned Hermione. "Maybe I just…try to keep away too? Until we leave?"

"That's an idea, and probably the safest thing," Lavender said. "But that means you don't get to follow through on this thing, see where it goes. You might miss out on something amazing."

Hermione made a sound of frustration. "I'd like to at least have the choice," she muttered.

"If only we had a bit more time." Lavender stared off for a bit and Hermione could practically see the wheels turning in her mind. Suddenly she sat up. "But we don't, so I'll have to get creative."

"What does that mean?" Suspicions rose in Hermione's mind like ominous balloons.

Lavender waved her hand. "Nothing for you to worry about. I'm just going to pull a few levers."

"Oh for fuck's sake." Hermione buried her face in her hands. "Didn't you say the hat had a conversation with you too?"

"Yes," Lavender said, shooting her a sideways glance.

"Which other house?"

Lavender tilted her head. "Slytherin darling, of course."

"Theo wasn't lying. You are a good cook." Blaise leaned back and ran his hand over his stomach as he stretched. "I'm stuffed."

"Too full for a drink?" Draco nodded toward the line of bottles on the kitchen counter.

"Never."

"Whisky? More wine?" Draco pushed up and stacked dishes to bring to the sink.

Blaise got up and began helping him. "I think a whisky is all that will fit."

Draco snorted and pulled down two heavy-bottomed glasses. "Leave that," he said, gesturing to the dishes Blaise had started to rinse. "I'll get it later. Go to the sitting room and I'll bring this over."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Blaise grinned. "I still don't see how you can truly live as a muggle and do this all by hand."

"Eh, I find it soothing." Draco shrugged. "Helps quiet the mind."

"Hmm." Blaise gave him an inscrutable look and Draco wondered if the lecture that had been simmering around in the back of their conversation all night was forthcoming. But Blaise just turned and strolled through the doorway, then plopped into one of the deep armchairs. "Another bloody gorgeous evening," he sighed, his eyes trained on the huge windows.

Draco joined him, handing him his drink. Looking out the window too, he saw the first stars winking to life in the deep periwinkle blue sky above the buildings across the square. "I know," he said, shaking his head as he sank into the other chair.

Blaise was silent as they sipped and looked, then his eyes cut to Draco again. "Do you know what you're going to do yet? After all this?" He gestured at the room and the view.

"I don't." Draco put his glass to his lips. "But I've been thinking a bit about it."

"Obviously Hogwarts is out."

Draco nodded slowly. He'd reconciled himself to that a while ago, although it still stung sometimes to think of never seeing it again. "Hogwarts is most definitely out."

"Would they keep you here? Put you into hiding somewhere else?"

Draco leaned forward. "I don't know that I'd want to be here with everyone gone." He felt Blaise's swift look in response, but didn't make eye contact. "I don't know that I'd want to hide anymore."

"What does that mean?"

"Not sure yet. But maybe some kind of counterintelligence thing?"

"With the death eaters!?" Blaise sat straight up.

"Yeah. Maybe stage a break out of some kind with the Order and my father. Go back and insinuate myself somehow. No one but the Order and the people here know that I've switched sides. I could have been a prisoner this whole time. It's more likely, actually."

"Mate, that would be incredibly dangerous. Especially with all the worst ones out of prison now."

Draco lifted his shoulder. "Nothing you aren't doing."

"No." Blaise had turned fully toward him now. "That's nothing alike. I go to parties and pass along stupid tidbits from minor players. You're talking about getting in thick with the dark lord and his cronies again."

Draco turned to him. Blaise was hunched forward, his elbows on his knees, a deep furrow between his brows. "I just don't want to do nothing. And if my mother and father play along we might have a real chance to help bring him down."

Blaise began shaking his head. "It's too risky," he said. "He'd see right through you."

"I disagree." Draco met Blaise's eyes. "I'm quite good at hiding myself. I did quite a bit of it last year."

Blaise looked at him for several beats, then sat back with a noisy exhale. "I don't like it and I don't think Remus Lupin will either," he said to the ceiling.

"I actually don't think Lupin would mind all that much—risking me." Draco sat back too.

Blaise blew out a humourless laugh. "You are a cynical little bitch, you know that?"

Draco flicked his brows upward and Blaise laughed again. They sat in silence for a while until Draco drained the last of his whisky. "You want another?" he asked as he got up.

"Yeah, I will have, thanks." Blaise held up his glass. "Theo leave any of his cigarettes around here?" He craned his neck and looked around.

"Might have done." Draco went to the counter and poured a measure and then added a dash of water. "Check in the box on the mantle. He sometimes keeps a packet there."

Blaise stretched up and looked in the ornate marble box that was centered above the fireplace. "Aha!" he said, pulling out a crumpled square. "Just two, but that's enough."

"Thanks." Draco accepted the cigarette and a light from a match Blaise held out. Despite his grumbling, he'd gotten quite proficient with some muggle things this summer.

Blaise shook the match out and threw it in the grate, inhaling deeply. "So," he said. "Did you manage to keep from doing anything stupid?"

Ah here it was. "Took you long enough to get round to that." Draco drew on his cigarette and ambled over to the window to exhale a stream of smoke into the warm night air. He turned and leaned his back against the iron railing, crossed his ankles and sipped his drink.

"Didn't want to ruin a good dinner, did I?" Blaise grinned.

Draco shook his head.

"Well?" Blaise prodded a bit. Very unlike him.

Draco shrugged and looked away. "I didn't do anything, no."

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "You didn't see her?"

A picture of Hermione's stricken face flashed through Draco's mind and he felt his shoulders drop as a wash of sadness flowed over him. He felt like such an arsehole.

"You did see her and you did do something stupid." Blaise pointed at him. "What was it?"

"I was just… cooler, to her than I've been the last few days." Draco flicked his cigarette butt out the window and pushed a hand through his hair.

Blaise looked frustrated. "Because of the kiss?"

"No! I mean, of course I don't like it— between you and me. But I don't have anything to say about that. I hadn't given her any reason to—" Draco shook his head impatiently.

"Right and I can tell you right now that from where I'm sitting, it didn't mean anything. Just a bit of fun. Lav thinks it happened because you left."

"What?" Draco's eyes whipped to Blaise's face. Blaise shrugged and Draco shook his head again as if to clear it. "But the kiss is not the point," he said, closing his eyes. "The point is that I'm dangerous and need to stay away from her. This prison break was an extremely sharp reminder that I've gotten way too fucking close. I can't seem to help myself," he muttered, looking down.

"I noticed."

"I don't want her to get hurt."

"Her or you?" Blaise's dark eyes flashed and Draco looked away.

The room was silent for several moments, but for the clock on the mantel ticking. Draco's thoughts chased each other around in the same track they'd been on since roughly 24 hours before, no, since he'd realised his feelings for Hermione were not strictly platonic. Blaise had a point, but Draco still couldn't see a way out. There was no way to have what he wanted and keep everyone safe. He felt like kicking something.

Suddenly the sound of the lock turning and the front door opening intruded. Blaise looked over his shoulder and Draco looked up as Theo strode into the room.

"Smoking up my stash, eh?" he said, sniffing the air dramatically.

"Hope they weren't your last two." Blaise got up and grabbed Theo's shoulder in greeting.

"Nah, all good." Theo's eyes cut to Draco's with a hard-to-read look. They hadn't seen each other since Draco had found out about Hermione and him, and Theo seemed to sense something in the air. "Leaving just when I arrive?" he asked Blaise, who was shouldering into his jacket.

"Yeah, thought I might say a quick hello to Lav before I head home. See if I can convince her to come with me." Blaise's white teeth flashed briefly.

"Well, good luck, mate." Theo said, clasping Blaise's hand in a quick shake.

Draco pushed away from the window. "You apparating?"

"Nahh, she doesn't know I'm coming. I'll walk."

"Ok." Draco followed Blaise to the front door.

"Thanks for dinner." Blaise stepped through over the threshold and turned around. "Think about what I said. Who you're really protecting... and why." His words were very soft and Draco nodded once before he shut the door and walked slowly back toward the sitting room.

Theo had taken Blaise's chair, pulled it close to the window and propped his feet up on the grillwork. "So I take it you know what happened?" His back was to Draco and he didn't turn around.

"Yeah." Draco tried to infuse his tone with nonchalance, but wasn't sure he achieved it.

"Nothing really happened, though." Theo's voice was distant, as if his mind was far away. "I mean I kissed her. She kissed me back. But that was it."

Draco felt a fairly severe twist in his chest at these words, but tried to ignore it. No claim, no right—the words had seemed to become a sort of mantra.

Theo spoke again, still looking out at the now dark sky. "I would have liked more, but she shut me down neatly." He barked a short laugh and his eyes found Draco's. "To be honest, I think all she sees is you."

Draco again tried to ignore a feeling surging in his chest. He didn't trust himself to speak.

"Why are you staying away?" Theo's voice was distant again. "I stopped in at the cafe today and she was clearly upset about something. Figured it must be you, being a prat again."

"Remember what I said when we first got here?" Draco cut in. His voice felt thick and slow.

Theo turned in his chair to look at him again, puzzled. Then his expression cleared. "Oh, 'collateral'?" His eyes narrowed.

Draco nodded. He moved to the railing and looked out, gripping it tightly. "It's bad enough when you don't much care about them. But it's excruciating when you do."

Theo was silent for a long time. Finally he spoke, his voice so devoid of it's usual hint of mockery that he hardly sounded like himself. "You can't let them control what you do, though, Draco. Can't let them take everything. You have to grab on to the good when you find it. Escape into it when you can."

Draco looked down at him, but Theo was still staring into the distance, his face deeply shadowed. "I just don't know if I can risk it," Draco finally said.

"Well, you bloody well should."

Chapter Text

"That's it just up there." Lavender pointed out the windshield to a nearly hidden gravel drive. Theo slowed the car and swung into a neat left turn. Hermione looked through the space between the front seats to see ornate iron gates blocking their path.

"Bloody hell." Theo brought the car to a halt. "Feels like I'm back home." He cringed a little as he spoke and Hermione touched her hand to his shoulder. He glanced back at her quickly with a slight smile.

"Is there a spell or something?" she asked Lavender.

"No, it's that little black box up on the left." Lavender pointed. "It's muggle, but Blaise finds it amusing."

"Oh an intercom!" Hermione said, spotting the device. "Pull up to it and push the button, Theo."

Theo did so and after a moment the box crackled to life, Blaise's languid tones issuing from it and telling them to wait a moment while he lifted the magical wards. They waited and Hermione felt a little ripple in the air before the gates swung slowly inward.

"Neat little trick," Theo said, putting the car in gear and edging forward. "Mixing the muggle and the magical."

"Yeah, but Blaise says if you have a wand and know the incantation for the wards, you can get through the gates too." Lavender wrinkled her nose. "I keep telling him to fix that."

"Uh, yeah. You two know the only reason I agreed to come outside the San Cipriano wards was because I understood this place to be amply protected." Hermione waved her hand, her tone severe. She'd done 25 rounds with Lavender over this and still felt some reluctance about coming to Blaise's villa.

"Oh please. As I mentioned last night, you had no problems going outside the wards when you went to the monastery." Lavender shook her hair and shot a sideways glance over her shoulder at Hermione, who pinked instantly.

"She's got you there," Theo chimed in. Hermione could see his grin lift the corner of his mouth as he steered around the gravel semi-circle in front of the house.

Hermione harrumphed, but was secretly glad that Theo could refer to her...whatever-it-was with Draco with equanimity.

Not that there was any there, there.

Draco, ugh.

Hermione had been doing a mostly stellar job of putting him out of her mind the last few days, having decided that she was no longer going to beat her head against the wall of his mercurial, back and forth, shite. If he wanted to see her or talk to her, he was going to have to come to her first—and apologise.

She sniffed audibly. She didn't even know if she'd see him today. Lavender was obviously trying to engineer something with this pool party outing, but Blaise had told Lav he wasn't sure Draco would come. And Hermione had told herself that she didn't care. Although she couldn't help but glance around for a motorcycle.

Theo parked and Hermione saw Blaise walking slowly down the steps of the villa, a wide grin splitting his face. "Servants' entrance is round the back," he called, eyeing Theo's car.

"Fuck you," Theo said, helping Hermione out of the back seat. "This is a classic."

"In the sense that it's old and rubbishy?" Blaise scratched his head in an exaggerated way.

Lavender ran up the steps and slid her arms around Blaise's waist. "Now, now," she murmured, planting a long kiss on his lips. Hermione rolled her eyes at Theo, who rolled his back, then took a moment to look around. The grounds were truly stunning. Meticulously landscaped, lush and green with artful placements of exotic ferns, topiaries and trees that perfectly enhanced the muted pink structure of the villa itself. Pillared and balustraded, the building sat in tasteful splendor; a testament to just exactly what money could buy.

Hermione exhaled with a low whistle. She'd never experienced anything like this in person, and it drew into sharp reality the differences in lifestyle between her and several of her classmates. She shook her head once, realising Theo was watching her, a bemused look on his face.

"Little overwhelming?" he asked softly.

"More surreal, I'd say." Hermione squinted up at the facade and then shot him a quick grin before calling out in Blaise's direction. "It's beautiful here. Thank you so much for the invitation."

"Of course," Blaise directed the full power of his smile at her and Hermione blinked. He was so blindingly good-looking, it still startled her sometimes. "Shall we swim a bit? Bloody hot today."

"Yes, PLEASE!" Lavender squealed, moving past Blaise and through the dark doorway behind him. "This was the only thing that got me through serving approximately 500 cups of gelato yesterday."

Tourist season was in full swing and Hermione did not envy Lavender her job at this moment. While the cafe had seen a definite uptick in customers, the gelateria was consistently swamped at all hours now.

"My scooping arm is killing me!" Lavender wailed as she swept through the dark interior of the house toward the bright patio beyond. Blaise laughed and followed her, gesturing at Theo and Hermione to do the same. Hermione had a vague impression of a richly appointed space as they made their way through several cool, dim rooms, but couldn't see much detail due to the difference in the light.

When they emerged on the pool deck, though, she gasped aloud in surprise. It was absolutely magical, for lack of a better word. The arched theme from the front facade continued here with artfully crumbling pillars stretched right through the center of the pool. The cool blue seemed to extend almost into the interior of the house, part of it beneath the underhang of the terrace and shaded from the relentless sun. The landscaping also continued, with one side of the water framed by deep green vegetation and spiky palms. Chic lounge chairs were strewn about, and the water looked so inviting that Hermione wanted nothing more than to rip off her sundress and plunge in.

She realised her mouth was hanging open and she shut it, but not before seeing Blaise grinning at her. "The pool is definitely the centerpiece of the place," he said. "Quite opulent."

"Quite. Yes. It's absolutely gorgeous. Thanks again for having me. May I?" She gestured with her bag to a nearby chair.

"Of course." Blaise's grin turned to something warmer. "Make yourself at home."

Lavender seemed to have had the same impulse as Hermione because at that moment she jumped into the water with a whoop. Hermione flinched back from the resulting splash and raised her brows at Blaise. "Get in there, Granger." His smile widened to a grin again. "I'm serious."

She laughed, "OK," and kicked off her shoes. Blaise walked away toward the house, calling out to Theo about a beer, and it occurred to Hermione that Draco must definitely not be here. Hmph, maybe he wasn't coming at all and she could just relax and enjoy herself. Of course that thought was immediately followed by a stab of disappointment, which annoyed her to no end.

Determined to will it away, she lifted her arms and dived into the pool.

Much later Hermione was feeling truly relaxed. They'd swum for a few hours, had a lovely lunch provided by what must have been house elves—Hermione hadn't seen any other humans around—and were now drowsing on the terrace drinking something fizzy and lemony.

"Does this have alcohol?" Lavender asked, lifting her glass and twisting around to glance at Blaise, whom she was tucked up against on a single lounger.

"Nahh, it's a soft drink." Blaise kissed the top of her head. "You want something stronger?"

"Depends on what you have." A slow grin overtook Lavender's face and Blaise chuckled. Hermione chuckled too, from under her hat, which she had propped over her face.

"You'd better come in from the sun," Theo called to her from where he was sitting in the deep shade, reading a muggle magazine about architecture.

She waved a lazy hand. "I'll be fine. I never burn."

"Another reason I hate you," Lavender grumbled. "I'm pink even with a spell and the strongest muggle sunblock I could find."

Hermione lifted her hat and stuck her tongue out at Lavender. "You're gorgeous. Whatever."

Lavender stuck her tongue out back then looked up at Blaise again. "Is there anything bubbly?"

"Like Champagne?" He tilted his head. "Probably some in the cellar. Although I don't know if it will be cold."

"Cooling charm," Theo said without looking up. "I thought I was the one living like a muggle."

"Good point." Blaise started to shift up, displacing Lavender, who protested as she slid off his lap. "Come with me and look," he said, hoisting her up. She smiled and twined her hand with his and they walked into the house.

"Won't see them for a bit," Theo said after they disappeared.

"Theo!" Hermione laughed under her hat.

"What!?" She could hear the smile in his voice. "Well, I actually want another drink this century," he said. "And maybe another of those cunning little almond biscuits. I'm going to go forage in the kitchen. Do you want anything?"

"Whatever you're having to drink. And I will take another biscuit if you find them, thanks. They were very good, weren't they?" Hermione turned over on her chaise and squinted at him with a smile. It was really lovely how he'd made an effort to bring the equilibrium back to their friendship.

Even as she was thinking this, his eyes brushed over her and Hermione suddenly felt very conscious of how little she was wearing. She'd purchased her striped bikini locally, and consequently it was rather more revealing than what she was used to wearing—especially in the back. And while they were indeed friends again, she also could vividly recall the feeling of Theo's lips on hers if she let herself. She cleared her throat and he blinked.

"Right. Back in a tick." He gave a little wave as he disappeared inside.

Hermione propped her chin on her fist with a sigh. She really wished things weren't so complicated. Suddenly, she sat up on her knees and rolled her neck, trying to release her mind from unproductive thoughts and work out the tension there. Maybe it was time for another swim.

Stretching her arms over her head, she pulled at her back muscles to loosen them when a sound from behind her—a funny sort of strangled cough—caused her to start and whip around. Her breath pulled in sharply and she scrambled up off her chaise. Draco stood across the pool deck, looking at her intently, his hand on the latch of a gate he was frozen in the act of pulling shut. He was shirtless and in swim trunks, a towel slung around his shoulders, looking every bit as breathtaking as the day at the pools. Hermione was instantly aware again of her very minimally clothed body, but in a totally different way than before—one that caused heat instead of self-consciousness to flash over her.

This of course, was highly annoying, so she raised a curt hand, said, "Hi," and moved toward the water. Before Draco could respond, she slid in and under, determined to swim as far as she could before coming up for air. When she emerged, she couldn't see him anymore.

Good, she thought, flipping onto her back and floating. Maybe he'd left.

But of course he hadn't. And once Theo, Blaise and Lavender reappeared, Draco did as well, and Hermione was subjected to his annoyingly distracting presence. Diving and swimming, dripping wet and golden. It reminded her forcibly of the anonymous boy she'd lusted after so keenly at the beginning of the summer. Right down to the fact that he seemed to be avoiding her.

Hermione was fuming by the time they decided to wrap up the swimming and head inside. The sun had just dipped behind the tops of the palm trees and Blaise was suggesting some 'real drinks' since he and Lavender had come up from the cellars earlier suspiciously empty-handed.

"Draco, will you make some of those red thingies you did that time before? I liked those." Blaise was standing at the bar rifling through bottles. "What do we need?"

"Negronis—gin, vermouth and Campari. Yeah, it's the bright red one there." Draco stepped over and pulled a few bottles from the collection. "Does everybody want one?" His gaze swept the little group.

"Yep," Theo answered, quickly putting up a finger.

"What's it like? Looks pretty!" Lavender wandered over and picking up the red bottle.

"It's actually bitter as fuck." Blaise grimaced. "You might not like it, babe. Not your usual fruity thing. Maybe the girls would prefer something lighter?" He directed the last query at Draco.

"Don't be sexist," Lavender cut in, exchanging an eye roll with Hermione. "I like more complicated things too." She moved to Blaise and ran a finger across his jawline. "I'm with you, aren't I?"

Blaise made a face, then kissed her as the others laughed. "So that's three then," Draco said after a moment, glancing at Hermione. "Or would you like one too?" Hermione paused for a minute, caught in his gaze—the first real eye contact they'd made in days. "I could make yours lighter," he said after a beat. "Or maybe a gin and tonic?"

Hermione shook herself mentally. "I think I can handle it," she snapped, then went over to drop onto the couch next to Theo. She sat quite close to him and he looked at her with a little start of surprise.

"So." She pitched her voice low, conscious that some part of her was trying to create an air of intimacy around them. "Last class tomorrow. Can you believe it?"

"No." Theo shook his head. "It went so fast." His eyes went unfocused and a frown line appeared briefly between his brows. Hermione felt a tiny pang of guilt that she might be picking at something not quite healed, but then she looked up and saw Draco watching them as he stirred a concoction in a pitcher.

He looked away quickly and the devil on Hermione's shoulder prodded her again. "Tell me," she said, placing her fingers on Theo's forearm,"What do you think was the most valuable thing you learned?"

Theo leaned closer and Hermione saw Lavender giving her a look from across the room, so she took her hand back and tucked it in her lap, a bit ashamed of herself. "I think the confidence," Theo was saying. "You know to just speak. Rather than thinking about what I'm going to say first." He looked up as Blaise approached and handed them glasses. "Ta."

Hermione thanked Blaise too and cradled the cold glass in her palm. Lavender was right, the drink was pretty; bright ruby red with a thin pinwheel of orange suspended in its depths. She took a sip … and almost spat it out on the carpet. Only her absolute determination to prove her earlier words to Draco kept her from doing so. It didn't help that she looked up and saw amused grey eyes on hers.

"Bit bitter?" he murmured.

Hermione was saved from a rude reply by Lavender's loud exclamation from across the room. "Bloody hell!" she said, looking at her glass and shaking her head.

"Told you." Blaise's smile was extremely smug.

"It's not that I don't like it." Lavender gave him a dirty look. "It's just a surprise. Not what you'd expect."

"Exactly," Hermione said loudly. "It's always a shock when you think something will be one way and it turns out the opposite."

Theo snorted and Lavender's brows went up. She tilted her glass toward Hermione in subtle salute.

Hermione couldn't resist a small glance at Draco, but he was looking down. She gave a tiny hmph sound and pushed up out of her chair, discreetly setting her full drink down on a side table. "Blaise, do you mind if I look around?" she asked. "You have some really beautiful muggle art pieces here."

"Of course not. You want the grand tour?" Blaise half stood out of his chair.

"No, no, don't get up." Hermione waved him away. "I'll just have a wander."

"Please do."

Hermione smiled her thanks and set off down the hallway. She'd seen a painting on the way to the loo that she wanted a closer look at. She eventually spotted it through the doorway of a small, jewel-like room that seemed to be dedicated to music; a grand piano stood in the corner and several fine stringed instruments hung from the walls. The painting in question was an abstract, but in the context of the room Hermione got the impression that it was trying to capture the swell of musical notes. She stood in front of it for quite a while, her head cocked.

"I like that one quite a lot." A quiet voice came from behind her. Hermione spun in surprise. Blaise was there, his hands in his pockets.

"Really?"

"Yeah," he shrugged. "I don't know a lot about muggle art, but I know what I like."

Hermione eyed him, wondering why he'd come to find her. "I don't know that much about it myself. I used to go to museums with my parents quite a bit. My mum is keen." She turned back to the painting. "But there's something about the colours in this one."

"Yeah and the feel. There's a lot going on for something that doesn't move."

Hermione chuckled then sobered. "Why are there so many muggle things here?" she asked softly. "Your mum is a pureblood, isn't she?"

"Yeah." He shoved his hands deeper in his pockets and moved further into the room. "Her last husband. Nico. He was a half-blood and this was his family's place. I think it had been in the muggle family for a long time. And when he inherited, it was sort of a surprise. He'd barely known them. Cut off, you know."

"It's difficult in many ways to be a muggleborn," Hermione murmured. "But I think it must be harder to be a half-blood. A foot in each world..."

Blaise nodded, his dark eyes serious. "Nico was a good guy, but I got that impression, yeah."

"And he and your mum…?"

"He died. Year before last. I'm sure you've heard the rumours?" Blaise's voice was flat.

Hermione had heard the rumours. Was ashamed now of how avidly she'd listened to the stories of Blaise Zabini's 'black widow' mother. "Yeah," she said. "I'm sorry."

"Eight husbands, all dead of mysterious causes. No one knows who my dad is. Blah blah blah." His voice was icy but also detached. He looked down. "It was actually four. The first when she was really young. He died in a flying accident. The second was my dad—he died due to a heart condition when I was a baby. The other two when I was five and then 15. Both also very ordinary causes of death and all very sad. It's not easy to lose four people you love."

It was the longest speech Hermione had ever heard from him. Her breath had gone in and her fingers had curled into her palms. "I'm so sorry, Blaise," she said again.

He looked up and his eyes met hers. "It's OK. I never gave you much cause to think well of me."

"But I shouldn't have. I should have—" Hermione struggled to put into words what she felt.

"I guess just." Blaise's words stopped her. "We all have our things. Misconceptions. Ways of coping and protecting ourselves and those we care about."

Hermione became very focused. She realised he was trying to tell her something.

"So maybe don't take things at face value. I'm not trying to give you a hard time about the stuff with my mum. Fuck, everyone in Slytherin believed those rumours. I even joke about it sometimes. It's just." He shook his head. "Look, it's not my place to say. But he's my best friend. And I've never seen him like this. Over anyone."

Hermione felt her eyes grow wide, although her voice didn't seem to be working right then. What was he saying?

"Blaise, babe, where are you?" Lavender's voice floated down the hall.

"In here, Lav." Blaise gave Hermione one last look and turned. "Hermione and I are looking at the art in the music room."

Lavender appeared in the doorway. "How lovely, but can you come help me with this antipasti—or deal with the elf? She doesn't want anything to do with me."

Blaise laughed. "Yeah, she's an old grump. I'll come." He turned and gave Hermione one more serious look before he followed Lavender out the door.

Hermione stood still for several moments, her thoughts in a riot. She suddenly felt hot and confined in the tiny room. She stepped forward, noticing that one of the windows opposite her was actually half of a French door. Grasping the handle like a lifeline, she stumbled out into a small terraced garden, breathing deeply. The sun had just set, taking the worst of the heat with it, and the air was pleasant on her skin. She tipped her head up and looked at the wisps of cloud draped across the pinks and blues of the sky.

What had Blaise meant? "I've never seen him like this, over anyone."

What was she supposed to do with that? Try again? Keep trying? Wear him down? She shook her head. While part of her ached to do just that—it was her nature to worry (or batter) at a problem until she solved it—she also felt a rush of peevish anger. A series of pictures played out in her mind: Draco talking to her in his kitchen the night of the party, Draco smiling over his shoulder at her on the bike, a look he gave her during their talk on the bench—followed by flashes of his cold dismissals and sharp silences. What was real? And why wasn't he the one trying...if he indeed felt something for her? Without the answer to that question, she didn't know if she could put herself out there again.

She sighed, annoyed that all this anguished dwelling had gotten her precisely nowhere. And it was getting on toward dark. She was suddenly ready to go home to her own flat, make a cup of tea and read something light. Hopefully Theo was ready to go too. She thought he'd said something about having plans tonight.

She walked around a set of topiaries toward the pool deck and the main entrance to the sitting room. Draco and Blaise were there, sitting in armchairs and draining their drinks.

"Where are Lav and Theo?" Hermione asked, scanning what she could see of the rooms beyond.

"They, ahh, left," Blaise said, his tone a little sheepish.

"Left?" Hermione felt herself blinking rapidly.

"Theo suddenly realised he was going to be late and Lav had a headache. They had a quick look around for you, but Theo was in a hurry. Lav said to say sorry and she'd see you at home."

Hermione was livid. She felt red creeping up her neck. "So I'm supposed to ride with you again?" Her gaze flashed to Draco as the words slipped out before she could stop them. She was annoyed with Theo for leaving without her, with Lavender—who had surely engineered this, with Draco for creating the awkwardness in the first place and most of all, with herself for caring.

"I mean, you could apparate," Blaise said doubtfully. "I do it all the time."

"It's too far and I don't trust myself with the wards. I'm not a great apparator," Hermione bit out. "It's fine. As long as it's not too much of an imposition." She barely looked at Draco, who was standing up out of his chair.

"Hermione—" he started forward, but she moved out of the room to the side parlor where they'd stored their bags.

"Are you ready to go? I'll just get my things."

She could hear him follow her into the small room. "Hermione," he said again, pulling the door mostly shut behind them. "Look, I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what? You don't owe me anything." Hermione was angrily throwing items into her canvas tote.

He took a deep breath. "For disappearing again, and blowing you off at the bookshop. Being an arse in general."

"Look Draco, it's fine. I have enough friends. A lot of good, steady friends. I don't need someone who runs hot and cold." Hermione tried fruitlessly to jam her towel into the top of her bag. "Damn it," she swore. "If I only had magic!" She pushed a final time and the towel stayed put. She looked at Draco with a brittle smile. "It's probably ridiculous for us to try to be friends in the first place. We hate each other on principle, right? The pureblood and the mudblood?"

"Don't say that!" Draco's hand shot out. "Of course I don't hate you." His voice was low and intense and Hermione stopped what she was doing to look up at him. She noticed too her extreme annoyance that he truly had become golden at some point during the summer. Not a deep bronze like Theo, but a light glow to his skin and hair in the mellow lamplight. He was so beautiful that it hurt.

"Then why, Draco? Or more accurately why not?" She felt the anger drain from her then, replaced by a deep sadness.

He looked down, swallowed, then looked up. "I want…"

Hermione's heart surged at his words, and she stepped toward him, but then he looked down, shook his head and didn't speak.

Hot rage flashed over her again as he continued to be silent. Blaise's earlier words echoing in her mind just increasing her ire. She shouldered her bag roughly. "Fine, let's just go—I'll try not to touch you on the ride home."

She started to brush past him, but at that moment a loud, distinctive chime sounded through the air.

"What the bloody hell was that?" Draco looked around in confusion.

"The doorbell," Hermione said, suddenly panicked.

Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up just as Blaise's frightened face appeared in the crack of the door.

"Stay in here. Don't make a sound," he whispered, drawing a finger across his neck.

Draco nodded and moved instinctively to Hermione, drawing her into the darkest part of the room that still had a line of vision through the slight opening in the door. He looked down at her and she up at him, her face stricken. Draco shook his head once and she nodded.

This could not be good. He knew it. Anyone who could show up unannounced, get through the gates and wards, but then have to ring to be admitted, should not know that Draco Malfoy was alive or that he and Blaise were here with Hermione Granger. Fuck, fuck, FUCK. Every fiber in Draco's being was screaming at him to take Hermione and run for the bike—or apparate, but he didn't want to risk the noise and any questions it might pose for Blaise. Gods, they should have apparated the moment they'd heard the bell. They'd already blown a chance to get away.

At that moment Blaise's voice drifted to them from the front of the house. "What the hell are you poofs doing here!? Come the fuck in!" He was trying for jovial and relaxed, and mostly succeeding—but Draco recognised the current of tension under his words.

Draco could hear movement and footsteps, words of greeting and backslapping that instantly tensed his muscles even more. Instinctively, he reached out to Hermione, taking her upper arms in a firm grasp and pulling her against him. She seemed to understand what he was doing because she stepped close and tucked up under his chin without a word or motion of protest, although she kept her eyes and attention focused totally on the chink of light coming through the door. Draco looked down and realised she had pulled her wand out of her bag and was clutching it tightly. Good, at least one of them was armed. His was in his jacket, which was currently draped over a chair halfway across the room.

"Dolohov Junior and Pucey Senior! Can't believe you're fucking here!" Blaise's voice was much closer now. Draco's heart dropped at the names and he felt Hermione's arms tense under his fingers. "You want a drink? Ogden's?" Blaise came into view in the doorway, standing at the bar cart and looking over his shoulder.

Low, affable tones rumbled in response and Draco saw two young men move into view. Early 20s, maybe three or four years older than himself. He recognised Adrian Pucey's older brother Orin and someone who reminded him, in the slope of his shoulders and the heaviness of his brow, of a much younger Antonin Dolohov.

This was very bad.

"So how the fuck did you two break my wards and get in?" Blaise was laughing as he turned with two glasses of golden liquid.

Orin Pucey, powerfully built and with very closely cropped yellow-blond hair, stepped forward and took his drink. "We were here for that party of your mum's last summer. The Solstice do."

"Of course!" Blaise snapped his fingers. "I remember now."

Dolohov, shorter and with dark hair, took his drink. "We were flying by and we saw the house and the lights on." Draco noticed that he spoke with the slight Slavic inflection that also colored Antonin's speech. "Orin tried the entry spell on a whim and it worked. So here we are." Dolohov smirked and Draco wondered at his explanation; it seemed a little flimsy. It felt more likely that this was some kind of check-up. On Blaise or his mum, Draco wasn't sure.

"Damn. I should probably update that." Blaise's teeth flashed. "Keep out the riff-raff."

They all laughed and Blaise gestured at them to sit down. Draco noticed that he positioned the men so that they were facing away from the door. "So what are you doing in the area?" Blaise leaned back in his chair. Draco tensed. Blaise needed to be careful.

"Eh, just passing through. On our way from points south to points north." Pucey's voice was neutral and Draco couldn't read him without seeing his face. Blaise looked supremely relaxed, though. Draco realised he was good at this.

Dolohov looked around and picked up an empty glass and Draco tensed again. "Looks like you had company." Dolohov tilted his head in inquiry.

Blaise passed his hand over his mouth and looked down. "You could say that." He looked up again with a wicked grin.

Orin started a low rumbling laugh. "Who was she? That French tart we saw you with last month? She was extremely fuckable."

Dolohov laughed too and Blaise leaned back and closed his eyes, a grin spreading over his face. "Now boys, when have you known me to bother with the same girl two months in a row? No, these were some local supplies." Draco flinched and he felt Hermione tense again. He knew Blaise was putting it on, but the act was very good.

"Some, plural? Damn, Zabini!" Pucey slapped the arm of the sofa and sat back.

"Sisters," Blaise said, his grin widening. "You gents should have owled first. There was more than enough to go around. Some very talented ladies."

Dolohov shifted in his seat, his leer obvious in his voice. "Muggles?"

"Yeah," Blaise shrugged. "Not a lot of magical folk around here, and you know when it comes to pussy, I don't discriminate."

"Muggles: fellate, fornicate, obliviate." Orin raised his glass and all three of them chuckled.

"These girls were particularly talented at the first one." Blaise stretched with a long sigh.

"Good with their mouths, were they?" Dolohov leaned forward eagerly.

"Fuck yes. Let's just say I'm very relaxed right now."

All of the men laughed outright at that and Draco squeezed a little pulse on Hermione's arms. She shook her head once very slightly and he understood that she was telling him not to worry about it. And he did know she could handle it—it was just disturbing to consider from her point of view. Draco cringed to think of how many conversations like this he'd been involved with, if not directly, then by letting them go on around him without comment.

But he did have to hand it to Blaise, it was obvious he'd removed any suspicions Pucey and Dolohov may have had. Their demeanor was now completely relaxed and they continued to chat freely, first about Quidditch scores, then about a party Blaise's mum was throwing in Paris next month. Draco started to worry that he and Hermione would have to stand here all night.

Suddenly Blaise pushed up. "Hey, you chaps want to stay for dinner? Or for the night?"

"We'd love to, but we're expected back in London before midnight. We should probably go soon if we want to make it." Dolohov looked at Pucey who nodded heavily.

"You're on brooms? Why don't you just floo from here? Or apparate if it's not too far," Blaise said.

"Can't floo to where we're going and I don't trust apparition around here," Orin grunted. "There are some heavily warded areas nearby. No idea why." Hermione's eyes flicked up to Draco's at this.

"We can't floo there, but we could floo a lot closer." Dolohov said, turning to catch Pucey's eye.

Pucey tapped his chin, seeming to catch Dolohov's meaning. "You're right. That would save us an hour or two."

"Then you do have time for dinner!" Blaise said excitedly. "Why don't we go and sit by the pool. It's cooler out there right now. Bit warm in here. I'll tell the elves to make something nice. Bring us some good wine."

The others agreed with enthusiasm and Blaise led them from the room and through the enormous patio doors. Draco could hear him settle them on the far side of the pool deck. Good man.

Draco bent down and breathed into Hermione's ear. "I think he's going to try to give us a chance to side-along. Is that OK?"

She nodded quickly.

Just then Blaise came in and walked to the drinks cart. He held up a bottle, acted as if it was empty then headed over to their room, where he slid through the doorway and immediately started whispering.

"You have to get out of here," he hissed. "These two are trouble. They're basically junior death eaters on the make." His eyes cut to Hermione. "And Pucey especially is a nasty piece of work. They would deliver either of you to the dark lord in a heartbeat."

"I gathered that," Draco whispered back. "Should we apparate?"

"I think it's the only way." Blaise darted a look out the window. "The apparition sound is a risk, but I think I can cause a diversion. There's a big silver platter out there from earlier and if I knock it down, it should create enough noise to cover yours."

"OK." Hermione whispered, nodding. Draco murmured his assent as well. It wasn't a perfect plan, but it was better than nothing.

"Let me get my wand." Draco crept over and slipped on his jacket, taking his wand from its pocket as he did so, then moved back to stand very close behind Hermione again.

Blaise looked at them, his features taut. "OK. When you hear me say, 'Fuck you, lads!' count 1, 2, 3." He held up his fingers one at at time, "—and then go."

Draco barely had time to agree before Blaise had disappeared back through the door. He shut it tightly behind him and the room dimmed. Draco was glad for another small barrier against the distinctive crack of apparition.

"Coming with the drinks," Blaise's muffled voice rang out. "Thought I'd run out of Ogden's! But tragedy was averted!"

Draco leaned down to whisper to Hermione again. "Are you sure you're OK to do this? I have apparated from here a good amount. And I've side-alonged before. Not many times, but always without incident."

"Yes," she breathed. "I think it's our best chance." There was a pause and then she added, "I trust you."

Draco nodded. He could feel that she was taut as a stretched wire, could feel his own tension mingling with hers. He also couldn't help but be aware of how close she was—the warmth and scent of her. And he was about to ask for more, but there was no help for it if they wanted this to work.

"I think you should, ah, turn and face me," he whispered, feeling his face heat in the darkness. She went still for a beat, but then whirled instantly and stepped against him, her arms going around his waist under his jacket and, after the barest hesitation, her cheek going against his chest. Of course she understood that they had to be as close as possible. He wrapped his arms around her too, splaying his hands over her upper back and waist to connect as much of them as he could.

The paradox of this moment—finally getting to hold her, but only because they were in mortal peril—did not elude Draco. He couldn't help but breathe in the scent of her hair, and he thought he felt her sigh against him.

"Fuck YOU, lads!" Blaise's voice suddenly rang out, loud and full of laughter. Draco heard the scrape of a chair and his whole body coiled as he started counting down. He felt Hermione tense too, and her finger tap once, twice, three times against his side before he shut his eyes and focused with everything he had.

The feel of swirling through darkness tugged by an invisible cord was familiar; the heavier drag of a second person not so much. But Draco could also feel their connectedness—there was no glimmer of dangerous uncertainty in his mind.

They went together.

Of course, that didn't keep him from being terrified when they landed, both gasping and shaking, in the small back room of the bookshop. Why he'd taken them here rather than the flat, he didn't quite know, but it had seemed safer. It was Sunday; all the shops were closed and he knew no one would be here.

Hermione was still wrapped around him, and stayed that way—frozen—for just a moment, before her hands started running over him, skimming and seeking.

She was mumbling something, "Are you all right? Are you all right?" And he realised she was checking him, making sure he was whole and fine, at the same moment he began checking her.

"I'm fine," he said. "Are you—" And then he was running his palms over her back and shoulders, touching her arms, bumping her legs with his, frantic to know that she was whole and fine too.

"Yes, yes," she said softly. "I'm okay, we're okay. We're here. We're okay."

He stopped and she looked up. Her hands, which had slipped from his back around to his front, also stopped. Her eyes, a shade between brown and gold that he'd been trying to name all summer, met his. Draco was still breathing heavily, still caught in a net of fear and adrenaline, but also keenly aware that they were alone. In a quiet, nearly dark room—the only light filtering through the small windows from the street lamps outside.

He looked at her and maybe it was the aftereffects of what had just happened, the relief in their escape, but everything he'd been trying to push away and not feel rushed through him at once.

She was dear to him.

He pulled in a breath, a riot of fear and reckless hope starting through his veins.

Was it too late?

But at that moment her hand moved again—slowly—up his chest, skimming the fabric of his shirt until she reached the base of his throat. Her lips parted and her eyes focused on the point of contact, her skin on his skin. The instant she touched him, Draco breathed in sharply, then went utterly still. He noticed everything. The hush of the room, her body against his, her light scent surrounding them, the barest touch of her finger pads like a point of fire. She tilted her face up at the same time that Draco brought his down, feeling some final thread snap within as he pulled her against him and their lips met.

Her lips were soft and sweet, at first lightly brushing his as her fingers moved from his throat and over his jaw to lace into the hair at his nape. He wrapped around her, leaning down and sliding his palm up between her shoulder blades to her neck, the feel and taste of her overwhelming him. He'd wanted this for so long. Why had he held back? He couldn't remember now. He couldn't think at all, really—especially when she pushed up into him, her fingers tightening in his hair, tempting him to follow the trail of desire sparking between them. And Draco did, tilting her head back and raking into her curls as he deepened the kiss.

When her lips parted and her tongue touched his, he jerked and spun them, lifting her against the spines of the old books. Her leg went up and around him and he pushed against her, a groan slipping from his throat. Bracing his hand against the shelf above them, he pressed harder at the same time as he hitched her closer. She gasped his name, and their kisses grew deep and devouring.

"Gods," he breathed after a few moments, pulling back and resting his forehead against hers.

"Draco," she murmured again, low and breathless, her fingers slipping under the fabric of his thin t-shirt and running up his back, nails skimming against his skin. He sucked air between his teeth, his control no match for weeks of pent up need. He wanted to tear at her clothes, throw her down on the faded chesterfield behind them and feel her bare skin. He moved his lips back to her mouth, exploring with his tongue and pinning her against the rough shelves, his hands questing over her body. She met him with similar force, then suddenly pushed them away from the wall. He let her walk him backward until the backs of his legs hit the sofa. She broke their kiss and looked up at him, her eyes dark. As he watched, her hand went up and rested in the center of his chest, then pushed him down. He dropped against the old, crushed velvet—breathing heavily—and looked up at her from under his eyelashes.

"You're so beautiful," she whispered, and he paused for the barest moment before reaching up to grab her wrist.

"Come here." His voice low and rough.

She went, climbing into his lap and straddling him as she reached down and captured his lips in another searing kiss, her fingers in his hair again.

Fucking hell. He'd wanted this, thought about it near-constantly, but he still hadn't been prepared.

He tipped his head back and let her have her way with him, swept his hands over her thighs and around her waist, the feel of her swimsuit under her short cotton dress reminding him of earlier, when he'd come in to the pool deck and seen her stretching, the tiny bits of string and fabric barely covering her lovely back and perfect arse. Desire had surged then as it did now, and he groaned again against her mouth, which left his and began nipping up his jaw toward his ear. She pushed his jacket off his shoulders and his hands went to the hem of her dress, crushing it upward, his fingers spasming against the smooth skin of her thighs.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," she sighed, like a prayer—-or an incantation.

And maybe it was some kind of spell, because he had forgotten everything he should probably be remembering right now.

Had forgotten they had just been in danger. That this probably wasn't a good idea. That they could still be in danger. He'd nearly forgotten who he was.

She said his name one more time, on a caught breath in his ear as she pressed forward, down and against him—unlocking something wild in him. He slid his hands around her waist and lifted her, taking and keeping her lips as he swiftly shifted her to the side, pushed her down along the sofa and moved over her. He wanted to press her into the cushions, feel her underneath him, consume her. And she welcomed him, opening her arms and pulling him against her, slotting her legs between his and deepening their kiss. He kissed her back a bit desperately, catching his hands in her hair, pulling it down and tilting her head back, then trailing his lips down the sweet column of her throat, his teeth grazing her skin when he felt her nails on his back again. She arched up and he pulled back, the vision before him searing itself in his brain: her long curls in disarray, swollen lips parted on ragged breaths, eyes glittering under lowered lids.

Gods, where was this going? She was driving him fucking insane. He was blind with want.

Her hand went up and she traced his jaw and then his cheek again. He turned, closing his eyes, and kissed her palm.

"Draco I—" There was a question in her voice. One he knew he needed to answer before this went any further, before they were past the point of no return.

He opened his eyes, looked into hers. "Hermione." His eyes roved over her face. Her name on his lips and everything it meant was so sweet… and terrifying.

I want you so badly. I'm sorry if I hurt you. I'm yours.

Desperate words. True words. Could she read them somehow—in his face and his touch?

She shifted against him, slow and deliberate—the point of contact exquisite. He stopped and looked at her and she kept eye contact with him...then did it again. Draco felt himself lose focus in the need to bury himself in her, forget himself completely. His left hand went to the hem of her dress again and his right to the thin strap on her shoulder. He lowered his mouth to the golden skin there and bit down softly, sweeping his tongue over her salty-sweet taste. She moaned low in her throat and he felt her fingers run from his back to his front and skim under the waistband of his trousers.

His muscles spasmed at her touch and his hips jerked. His hand at her hem pushed upward as he buried his face in the perfect junction of her neck, shoulder and fragrant hair.

"I want—" the words ripped from his lips, ragged and desperate.

"Yes." Her hissed response.

And then she was shifting, helping him push her dress further up and over— when a loud crack rent the air.

Draco didn't even freeze. He scrambled up, grasping for his wand in his jacket pocket, trying to be careful not to crush or hurt her. He could feel his eyes wide and wild as panic overcame him. That had been apparition, he was sure of it.

He took up a defensive position in front of Hermione, who had also jumped up and grabbed her wand from her bag on the floor. But she moved from behind him so that they were side by side in front of the couch, wands out. Visions of Pucey, Dolohov or worse finding them here in this state assaulted Draco's mind. He glanced at Hermione—her hair mussed and clothes disarranged. He knew he looked no different. It would be clear to anyone what they had been doing. Visions of what the death eaters might do in return roiled his gut. Pictures of his mother's face, twisted in pain. He tasted bile in the back of his throat.

But there was no further sound. For several moments the shop remained utterly quiet. Nothing disturbed. No response to Hermione's quickly muttered Hominum Revelio.

Draco cut his eyes to her in confusion and she shook her head. But then the sound came again, another distinctive crack, but further away now and clearly from outside the building.

Hermione's shoulders sagged and she lowered her wand. "It was a car," she said, turning to Draco. "A car backfiring. It must have been just outside."

"You're certain?" The waves of nausea were still rolling over him and his heart was still racing.

Just then the sound came again, even fainter this time. "Yes, absolutely." Hermione's hand floated to her forehead and she gave a hollow little laugh. "My god. It sounded just like it."

Draco forced himself to put his wand down, but he couldn't force away the panic or the visions. He sat on the arm of the sofa and put his head in his hands. He heard her move toward him.

"Are you ok?" Her hand rested on his shoulder.

"This is what I was afraid of!" He looked up and saw her flinch, so he lowered his voice. "This is why."

"Why what?" She moved even closer, a crease appearing between her brows. Her eyes searched for his, and she put her other hand on his other shoulder.

"Why I've been such an arse. Why I've fought this" —he waved his hand wildly to encompass the room and their mussed persons— "for so long."

"I don't understand." Her face was close now. Too close. He felt an almost overwhelming urge to fold her in his arms. So he put her away from him and stalked over the bookcase. Leaned his forehead against it. Tried to block out the hurt and worry in her face.

"What do you think would have happened if they'd found us like this?" he asked, his voice still unsteady.

She looked away, grimaced. "Nothing good. Taken us prisoner somehow? I don't think they'd kill us."

"No, they wouldn't kill us. That would be too easy. I betrayed them, Hermione. I sold them out and joined the other side. If they found me like this there would be very little that they wouldn't do to punish me and make an example of me once they realised that."

"Draco—" Before she'd seemed to know instinctively not to approach, but now she moved toward him.

He stopped her, his palm outstretched. "And what do you think they'd do to you to punish me? If they thought you meant something to me?" He saw her blink, saw the wheels turning, so he rushed to press his case. "You heard them talking about muggle girls tonight. What a perfect example we'd make. The pureblood betrayer and his mudblood girlfriend." He rubbed his hand over his face. "I can't risk that. I can't do this if it means risking that."

He took his hand away and looked at her. She was watching him, her eyes wide and her face set.

"What if I don't care?"

"I care about you too much to risk it." I can't let you. I can't, I can't.

"And you just get to decide?" Her voice was choked and spots of red had bloomed high on her cheeks.

He didn't speak, couldn't, for a long moment. Then, "I guess I do." The words felt like stones dropping in his stomach, but he shuttered himself as best he could and reached down to pick up her bag.

"Well I don't think that's fair." Her eyes were glassy now and he could barely stand it.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She grabbed her bag from his hands and wheeled away, but not before he saw tears spilling down her cheeks.

"Well," Her voice was a ragged shred and Draco felt a crushing weight settle solidly on his shoulders. "So am I."

Chapter Text

Hermione woke unrested, her eyes heavy and her cheeks stiff. She blinked and it took precisely two seconds for the memories of the previous evening to rush back: searing and heartbreaking in equal measure. Her hands spasmed and she clutched at her sheets as hot tears leaked down her temples and into her hair.

His mouth, his glittering eyes, the touch and taste of him. The sensations that had burned through her body and the feelings that had exploded through her mind and heart. When they'd first kissed and his lips were so sweet and gentle—and then later when he'd been anything but gentle, and she'd only wanted more.

She'd never felt so totally consumed—fingers kneading into flesh and breaths gasping into breaths. Possessing and possessed. She'd been blind for him. On fire.

And then to have it just yanked away.

She took a shuddering breath and passed her hand over her eyes—it was cold comfort that she understood it now; the 'why' of his keeping away. She'd thought the knowing would solve everything. That it would allow her to fix the problem or at least make a go at moving on from it. But instead she was now stuck in a pitiful limbo. Draco wanted to be with her, it was fairly obvious that he cared for her, but he couldn't.

Wouldn't.

She slammed her fist into the mattress and kicked at her thin blanket, then lurched up and began to pace the wide wooden planks of her bedroom floor. It was absolute bullshit. Completely unfair and sexist and condescending and reactionary and WRONG. Just utterly wrong. Why did he get to decide? Hermione grabbed her pillow and smacked it against the wall so hard that feathers exploded around her in a little flurry. She batted at them as she heaved deep breaths, anger leaving her just as quickly as it had surged.

She sagged against the wall. She was so sad.

It had been lovely, hot and so fucking magical. She wanted it back. She wanted his skin under her fingers and his lips on hers. She wanted to hold him and touch him and stretch out next to him and read him something funny and listen to some music with him on a quiet afternoon. She wanted to hear his fears—all the worst of them—and talk him through them. She wanted to step between his legs at the disco and kiss him, a touch possessively, for all the world to see.

But he wouldn't let her. She had seen it clearly last night. His set, white face. The finality in his eyes. He'd been deeply frightened, and not for himself, for her. Which meant that he could seat his unhappiness in sacrifice and cling to it stubbornly. She knew this trait—Harry's face flashed through her mind—and she knew how difficult it was to counter.

With a sigh, she looked at her clock and rubbed her gritty eyes. As much as she would prefer to lick her wounds in bed all day, there were actually things to do. She shouldered into her dressing gown, slumped across the hall to the bathroom and turned on the bath.

After she'd gotten home last night, Lavender—who'd taken one look at Hermione's face and demanded to know what was wrong—had wrangled most of the story out of her. Hermione had told her in detail about the incident at Blaise's house and less about what had happened after. And although Lavender had clearly wanted to know more, she'd been so worried about Blaise that she had accepted Hermione's muttered, "I don't really want to talk about it," without much of a fight.

Around 11, Blaise had finally rung to say he was fine and that Pucey and Dolohov had gone, seemingly none the wiser. After that they'd all agreed, via a flurry of telephone calls, that Lupin and the Order needed to be informed of the death eaters' strange stop-in. The girls had then used their communication coins to send a message, shortly after which a faint, blue, non-corporeal patronus followed, announcing in Lupin's habitually weary voice that he would arrive early the next afternoon.

Hermione disrobed and stepped into the tepid bath with a sigh. She was both looking forward to and dreading the visit. She couldn't wait to see the professor and hear any news about her friends and parents, but she also knew that Draco would be there and that seeing him would be torture.

How was she going to face him without shattering into a million tiny pieces?

She dipped her head back into the water and a sort of desperate ache pulsed through her, a dry sob escaping her lips.

How indeed?

To Hermione's surprise, the Order seemed to have its own quarters in San Cipriano, so she and Lavender were now trudging up toward the piazza at the top of town, to a flat that sat high in a building opposite the church. Lavender looped her arm into Hermione's, but didn't try to make conversation. She clearly knew something was still very amiss, but seemed to realise that Hermione needed to get through this day before they discussed it, so they completed the walk in silence.

Eventually they came to a discreet door that Lavender opened with a touch and a one word incantation that had been sent via their coins earlier that morning. They walked up several flights of stairs to the top floor and another solid door. They looked at each other for a moment, then Hermione took a breath and rapped softly. After a tick, the lock and handle turned and Professor Lupin's face appeared, then creased into a faint smile as he beckoned them in.

"Hello girls." He gave them each a nod and rested his hand briefly on Hermione's shoulder. She and Lavender returned the greeting, then began following his slightly stooped figure down a long hallway toward a well-lit room at the end.

"Are we the first to arrive?" Lavender asked, darting a quick look at Hermione.

"Ah, yes." Lupin's voice held a little cipher, but Hermione was too busy being relieved that she'd have a little time to prepare for Draco's appearance to notice it much.

They emerged into a large, airy space, sparsely furnished, with tall white walls and a bank of windows that looked out over the countryside beyond the piazza. Hermione's eyes took a moment to adjust to the bright light streaming in, but she didn't miss a dark figure, its back to them, silhouetted against the panes. She blinked a few times and then gasped and rushed forward.

"HARRY!" Her voice broke on his name and he turned and caught her as she threw herself into his arms, tears starting wildly from her eyes.

"Hello." There was a catch and a touch of a laugh in his voice as he held her tightly before pulling back. "Lovely to see you too." The laughter faded as he looked at her face. "Are you all right?"

Hermione dashed at her eyes and gave a watery chuckle of her own. "Yes, fine. God. I'm just really happy to see you. What are you doing here!?" Her gaze swung from him to Lupin and back.

"Being jealous of you, for one thing." Harry half turned and gestured to the view. "This is incredible."

Hermione nodded and sniffed.

"Yeah, it's not the worst place to spend a summer." Lavender's voice piped up from behind her.

"I'll say. Hullo, Lavender." Harry gave her a brief nod, then his eyes cut to Hermione's and widened a bit. She gave him a quick smile, then turned to pull Lavender forward by the hand.

"It's been even better due to being here together." Hermione raised her brows very slightly at Harry.

His flew up, but then he nodded. "Excellent."

"Anyone like a cup of tea?" Lupin had been standing to the side, but now he spoke up.

"Yes, please. I'll help. You two as well?" Lavender moved toward Lupin and looked at Harry and Hermione, who nodded their thanks. Hermione gave Lavender a look to let her know that she appreciated the moment alone with Harry, and Lavender smiled before turning to follow the professor.

As soon as they disappeared back down the hall, Hermione turned to Harry and put out her hands. He took them and squeezed while she looked him over, happiness edging out her earlier grim mood. He looked different, noticeably taller and a little thin. His hair was very long, but it suited him somehow. She squinted.

"What?" he asked.

"You look good. I don't know." She cocked her head. "Your hair looks different."

"Just haven't had it cut all summer." Harry ruffled it self-consciously and lifted his chin at her. "You're looking well yourself."

"Italy," Hermione said with a shrug. "It's happened to all of us." Of course this statement called forth a memory of Draco from yesterday, emerging from Blaise's pool, skin light gold and hair streaming, water trickling over the beautiful musculature of his chest. She looked down and gave a sharp exhale, causing Harry to look at her with concern again.

"Are you sure you're all right?" His one hand still holding hers gave a squeeze.

Hermione shook her head. "Fine. Tell me what you're doing here! What you've been doing. Are you staying? Have you heard from Ron?"

"Ahh, ok. Let's sit for all this." Harry laughed, then let her go and moved to a large dining table that was situated under the windows. He pulled out a chair and Hermione dropped down into the one next to him.

"I am here, I suspect, because I harangued Remus into letting me come. I've been holed up at a safehouse outside Manchester all summer and it has been incredibly dull. Well, mostly." Harry's eyes shifted to the side in a significant way, but he kept talking, so Hermione didn't have a chance to ask him what he meant.

"He happened to be there checking up on me when your call came in," Harry continued. "I'm not ashamed to admit that I pleaded." Hermione laughed and he gave her a quick smile. "And I don't believe I'm staying any longer than Remus, although it is my birthday tomorrow so maybe I can beg an extra night if you have a sofa I can kip on?"

"Your birthday, of course! I'd totally forgotten the date." Hermione shook her head. "Time moves strangely here. And yes, you should absolutely stay one more day if you can. That would be lovely."

"I'm going to try. Harry rubbed his hands together and narrowed his eyes. "Oh and I haven't heard from Ron, although they assure me he's fine."

Hermione nodded, glad to hear it. She opened her mouth to ask Harry about some of the others she thought might be in the program, but he spoke first.

"So," he lowered his voice. "What's it been like to be here with Malfoy? Do you see him at all? I understand he and Nott and Zabini will arrive shortly."

To Hermione's deep consternation she felt a wash of hot red sweep up her neck and over her face at Harry's words. She looked away and cleared her throat and when she chanced a look back, Harry was watching her, brows at his hairline. "Uh, it's been fine," she mumbled quickly. "Little rough in the very beginning, but not now. We do all see each other quite a lot. Theo and I are taking a language course together. Lavender and Blaise are..." she twirled her finger in a circle and Harry's mouth dropped open.

"Oh, Ron will shit when he hears that!"

"Why!?" Hermione was annoyed. "He broke up with her!"

"Yeah, but you know how he is." Harry shrugged. "And you've obviously become friends with her?"

"Very good friends, yes."

Harry nodded, surprise still showing in his features. "And what about Malfoy? Are you friends too or is he still… himself?"

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out except for a little choked noise. Luckily and that moment Lavender and Lupin walked back in with the tea things, Lavender asking what time the others would arrive.

"Any minute now," Lupin was saying. "I asked them to come later so you two could have a bit of time before they got here." He smiled at Harry and Hermione as he arranged the table. "We're on a rather tight schedule, unfortunately. I have to be back at headquarters this evening."

"About that," Harry said, and Lupin glanced over at him. "Do you think I could stay a little longer? Just tonight and tomorrow—extend the portkey?" Lupin lowered his brows and opened his mouth, but Harry preempted him. "It's my 17th birthday tomorrow, you know."

Lupin's eyes fluttered shut and the saddest expression crossed his face. "Oh my gods, of course, Harry." He heaved a sigh. "Sometimes we get so caught up in the mechanics of this thing that we forget you're a boy too, don't we? Almost a man—seventeen years, my gods." He dropped into a chair suddenly, shaking his head and looking down. After a while he sighed again. "Let me just check a few things, but yes, I think you can stay an extra day to celebrate with your friends."

"We'll have a party at ours," Lavender said decisively from the other side of the table. "We'll invite the Slytherin boys and some of our muggle friends from town. I'll cook and we'll ask Draco to bring the music player. It will be a little strange for you, Harry, but fun, I think."

Harry's eyebrows had inched up again at this recitation, but he nodded slowly, his face incredulous. "OK. Sounds interesting."

Hermione, whose stomach had lurched at the sound of Draco's name, caught Harry's eye and gave him a half smile. Visions of him mixing with the rest of the San Cipriano crowd ran through her mind. It certainly would be interesting.

"We all get along rather well," Lavender said. "You'd never expect it, but there you are." She shrugged.

"I'm glad to hear that," Lupin said. "There was some, er, hand-wringing around the makeup of this particular group. It's good that you've worked through any differences."

Lavender caught Hermione's eye at that moment and, despite her current mind state, Hermione had an unholy desire to laugh. She bit down on her lip while Lavender turned her own escaped giggle into a cough. Harry looked at them both with narrowed eyes and Lupin just gave them a funny smile.

Just then a knock sounded on the front door and they all sat up a little straighter. Hermoine felt the cold prickling of nerves all over her body. Her heart sped and she gripped her hands tightly in her lap. Lavender took an audible breath and Harry, whose face had been warm and open, suddenly looked remote and cold.

Lupin stood up. "And that will be the boys." He went down the hall, and a few seconds later they heard steps and quiet greetings. Hermione instantly picked out Draco's low tones and focused on a point in the corner of the room, reminding herself to breathe.

Of course she was aware of his tall form the moment he entered, although she didn't look at him. Instead, her mind helpfully served up a vision from last night. Right when she'd pushed him down on the sofa and he'd looked up at her from under his lashes, eyes glittering silver—when he'd grabbed her and said, "Come here." The moment she'd truly lost control.

Hermione took a breath and forced herself back to the present, forced herself to pay attention to the strange round of half-introductions that was taking place, as if they hadn't all gone to school together for six years. But she supposed they were almost different people now. She tuned in just as Draco and Harry were warily saying hello.

"Malfoy." Harry half stood and nodded, then very deliberately held out his hand. Hermione looked at him in surprise and saw his eyes serious on Draco's. Draco leaned forward and they shook. Hermione glanced quickly at Draco as he stepped back, a tactical error since he had also chosen that second to look at her. They were both caught for a beat, neither able to look away. Hermione felt the color drain from her face even as she noticed spots of red standing out in Draco's pale cheeks. He also looked like he hadn't slept, although the dark circles under his eyes and hollows in his cheeks just made him more beautiful.

A mild throat clearing sound broke the moment, which Hermione realised had stretched into near-awkwardness. She very much did not look at Harry afterward, although she felt his attention sharp on her. But then he and Lupin were making the rounds with Blaise and Theo, after which Theo came over to give Hermione a fierce hug, grasping her tightly and telling her he was so glad she was all right. Hermione again felt the beam of Harry's extreme curiosity. He caught her eye and blinked a few times as everyone got settled.

They were definitely going to need a bit of a chat later.

Eventually everyone served themselves tea and sat. Lupin was at the head of the table, Blaise and Lavender on his right, Harry and Hermione on his left. Theo had dropped into the other seat next to Hermione, and Draco had placed himself at the foot. As far away as possible, Hermione thought morosely.

Lupin called the little meeting to order and relayed what he could of news and plans. The Azkaban break figured prominently, and although nothing had been heard from the death eaters since, Lupin's words conveyed a palpable sense of waiting—as if the Order was expecting the other shoe to fall at any moment. Hermione hoped they were prepared, realising with a little jolt how much she'd allowed herself to forget about the cares of the outside world this summer.

As for their post-San Cipriano plans, nothing had changed: but-for Draco they'd all presumably be going back to school in September, although Hermione noticed a strange expression cross Harry's face when Lupin mentioned it.

When preliminaries were out of the way, Lupin sat down, took out a notebook and asked for a close recitation of exactly what had happened the day before. Theo and Lavender spoke up, running through the first part rather quickly, although Lupin paused them to deliver a sharp scold to the San Cipriano group over their foolishness in traveling outside the wards. Hermione nodded along, chagrined. It was clear they'd all gotten entirely too comfortable.

Lupin finished and looked at Blaise. "That said, I'll be sending someone out to change and strengthen the wards at the villa early next week. After that it will be as safe as town, and no one should be able to just drop in." He looked around to encompass the wider group. "I think it's actually wise to have another safe place that's not the village, for you to go. Somewhere you can apparate to and from quickly."

Hermione looked down at the word apparate, images and sensations from last night tumbling through her mind. She looked up again when Lupin said her name, requesting that Blaise, Draco and she give a detailed recap of what happened after the death eaters' arrival.

Hermione and Draco let Blaise carry most of the narrative, since he'd seen and heard everything and they'd mostly been hidden away. And as he relayed the whole encounter, it truly did seem like the visit had been unplanned—although the Professor's brow furrowed in a few places as he took notes. Blaise came to the end, when he'd seen the two men off, and Lupin looked down the table at Hermione and then Draco.

"And you two obviously side-alonged with no trouble?" He peered at them over half-spectacles.

"Yes, no trouble," Draco said softly. Hermione swallowed and nodded, not daring to look in his direction.

"And then you just—" Lupin waved his hand. "Back home and all that? Nothing strange on this side when you reappeared?"

"No," Hermione tried to say, but it came out strangled. She cleared her throat.

"Nothing. Everything was fine. Good. Very... good..." Draco's voice trailed off and Hermione stared hard at the smooth wood grain under her clasped fingers.

Several moments of silence passed.

"Well, that's brilliant. Is there anything else you need to know, Professor Lupin?" Lavender's bright tones cut through the quiet room.

Lupin appeared to be reading down his notes. "Aahh, no, I think this is fine. Draco, you said you had something to talk to me about though, correct?"

He looked down the table and Draco nodded. "Just in private, Professor."

Hermione couldn't help but send a questioning glance at him and he met her eyes again, but after a moment he looked away. And she felt all the frustration and anguish from yesterday well up again. He wasn't going to tell her anything or share what he was talking to Lupin about. He was going to keep her at arm's length—for her bloody protection. She felt like screaming.

Abruptly, she scraped her chair back—pushing so hard she almost hit the wall behind her. Both Harry and Theo looked at her in surprise, but she ignored them and stood up, pushing her chair back in with almost equal force.

"Well, if we're done here," she said, hearing the anger in her own voice. She wasn't looking at Draco, but she saw his head flip up. She suddenly didn't know if she could stay in the same room with him without crying or yelling or possibly both. She threw a slightly desperate look at Lavender, then said, "I'll just wait downstairs. Lovely to see you, Professor." Lupin nodded a little confusedly and pushed up out of his chair.

"And you are staying until Sunday?" Hermione turned to Harry.

"Ah, yes?" he said, looking to Lupin for confirmation. "Just a few details to work out?"

"A very few. Be well, Hermione." Lupin's kind eyes rested on her and he gave her a slightly puzzled smile.

"Thank you." Hermione nodded at the professor. "I'll see you downstairs," she said to Harry, then gave everyone else a little wave and started for the hallway. She really needed to get out of there right now. Thankfully, Draco had stayed seated so she wouldn't have to walk by and smell him or something.

Blaise and Lavender seemed to be lingering, but Theo jumped up and said, "I'll go with you, Hermione," and she looked at him gratefully as he came up behind her. "Bye, Professor!" he shouted as they started down the hall.

Hermione looked back one last time to see Draco's eyes on them, his face set in tight lines.

Hermione said goodbye to Theo and watched him stride across the square. He turned one last time and saluted her before he continued down the winding street.

"You weren't joking when you said you'd all become friends." Harry's voice came from behind her as he pulled the door to the building shut.

Hermione turned to see Harry's eyes focused on Theo's retreating back. "Yes, I'm sure it's all a bit shocking."

"Stranger things have happened." Harry flashed a smile and came to join her at the wall ringing the square. He leaned and looked out at the view and they were silent for a moment. Hermione's mind went to whatever was happening upstairs, whatever Draco needed to speak to Lupin about.

"Hey," Harry's voice broke into her thoughts and he bumped her shoulder. "Lavender said to tell you she's going out to the villa with Blaise and the Professor. Lupin's going to put some temporary wards on it before the experts come out. She said she'd have dinner there. I think she's trying to give us some time together."

"She does that," Hermione said with a smile.

"I thought it was nice of her." Harry turned away from the view to look at Hermione. "So will you give me the grand tour?"

"Of the village? Absolutely." Hermione moved close and linked her arm in his. "We'll stop by the cafe where I work and get lunch and then I'll show you the sights." She was tired and heartsick, yes, but she knew the distraction would do her good. And she really did want to show her little world to her best friend. "We'll have a ramble."

"Sounds ace. This place is just—" Harry craned his neck to look around. "It's like something from a muggle film."

"I know." Hermione shook her head. "It seems unreal at times. A little bubble we've all been trapped in." She looked away, images from the last two months running through her mind, bringing with them an ache of sadness. Harry squeezed her arm and she started. "Shall we go?"

"Yes, let's."

"This is really nice, Hermione." Harry looked around as they walked into the sitting room of her flat after their afternoon of exploring. "Compares very favorably with the musty 8 by 10 foot bedroom I've been occupying all summer. Shades of the cupboard under the stairs… " He shuddered and Hermione laughed.

"Sorry for that. I guess they wanted to hide the Chosen One in the last place anyone would look." Hermione grimaced and went toward the kitchen. "Have a seat and I'll bring us something to drink." She looked in the fridge. "Beer? Wine? Tea? I think Lavender has a bottle of vodka and there's Coke..?"

"Whatever you're having," Harry stretched out on the slouchy sofa.

"White wine," Hermione declared. "Cool and non-fizzy. I'm too full for anything else after all that gelato."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, probably shouldn't have gotten three flavours myself. But it was so good."

"I know. All the food is here." Hermione shook her head and busied herself with the wine bottle as Harry yawned and stretched.

"So the food is lovely. The town is lovely." Harry straightened back up. "And your work is good. Places to swim and a disco. You've learned Italian. New friendships. Building bridges with Slytherin house. I'd say your summer has been rather nice."

Hermione nodded slowly. In a lot of ways, it had been very nice. And in others it had been excruciating. "Absolutely," she said after a longish pause.

"So why then," —Harry pinned her with a stare as he accepted his glass of wine— "are you so bloody unhappy?" Hermione started to protest, but he held up a hand. "Don't try to fob me off. I know you too well. And we're going to talk about this now. It's got something to do with Malfoy, doesn't it? I swear if he has said one word out of line to you—"

"No, no! Harry. It's not that. Draco hasn't—" Hermione's voice gave out and she flopped down next to Harry on the couch, laying her head back and closing her eyes.

"Nott? Is it Nott then? I could tell there was something with the two of you too. He was entirely too—"

Hermione opened her eyes and squinted at Harry. "When did you get so bloody observant?" An absurd desire to laugh bubbled through her. "Who are you and what have you done with my best friend?"

"I've done a lot of thinking—and listening—this summer," Harry muttered cryptically. "After last year. A lot has happened over the last few months." He looked into the distance, his eyes unfocused. Suddenly he shook his head. "But we're not talking about me."

"Yet." Hermione narrowed her eyes at him. Something big had been going on with him too, she was sure of it.

"OK, but you first. What's he done?" Harry said softly, but with an undercurrent of menace.

Hermione felt balanced on a knife edge. Should she tell him? Could she even keep it from him at this point? Would telling him make it better or worse?

There was only one way to find out.

She heaved a huge sigh and rolled her neck to look over at him. "Other than made me fall for him?"

Harry's eyes widened to saucers and his mouth dropped open. He stared at her for several seconds and then collapsed against the back of the couch. But then he bolted upright again. "Wait, do you mean Nott or—?"

Hermione closed her eyes again. "No, Draco. Theo and I are just friends. I mean, I did kiss him the one time, but that was before."

Harry, who had been in the process of taking a large drink of wine, started coughing. He pitched forward and Hermione reached over to smack him on the back a few times until he finally spluttered out. "Bloody hell," he said, eyeing her and taking another gulp. His glass was almost gone so Hermione went to refill it. They were clearly going to need additional liquid fortification for the rest of this conversation.

"I know. It's completely mad," she said as she upended the bottle over his glass.

"Not so mad," he muttered. "They're both bloody fit."

It was Hermione's turn to choke on her wine. "What did you say?"

Harry held his glass up and looked at it. "Hell, that went to my head," he said wonderingly.

Hermione kept looking at him, her face frozen and her head cocked.

"My part of this talk is next, remember?" he said. "Let's keep on the subject of you. What the fuck happened? I mean, now that you've told me this, a lot of today's behaviour makes more sense. The tension was so thick in that room I thought someone was going to self-combust. And now that I think back, Malfoy looked approximately as happy as you do right about now. Has he, er, fallen for you too?"

Hermione started out of the arrested state that Harry's words had created. "Do you want the long, detailed version or the abridged?"

"Abridged. I haven't changed that much." Harry smiled, and Hermione snorted, but all humour faded as she thought of how to relay her tale. Harry looked at her and his eyes softened. "You really are sad," he said, reaching his hand out and placing it over hers.

She felt tears prick her eyes again. "I am. Even though it's all so surreal. But it did happen. And to answer your question, yes, I believe he has 'fallen for me' too. Not that it bloody seems to matter..." Hermione directed a pained half-smile at the floor, but then she took a deep breath, looked up at Harry, and proceeded to outline the last couple of months with Draco: the ups and downs, the back and forth—even the detour with Theo—and finally to the night before, which she could barely speak of, saying only (unable to meet Harry's eye, face hot) that they'd gotten 'carried away' before the noise stopped them and triggered Draco's final rebuff.

"Fuck." Harry shook his head when she finished. "What do the others think of all this? From the looks flying around the room earlier, I take it everyone knows?"

"Oh yes. It's no secret. Lavender is mostly up to speed. I think Draco confides in Blaise. Theo and I have spoken of it in roundabout terms, although as you can imagine it's rather awkward."

Harry just stared into the distance for a bit, shaking his head slowly.

Hermione pushed up, got a tissue and blew her nose. "So what do you think?" she asked when she sat back down. "Have I lost my mind? It's Draco Bloody Malfoy, for fuck's sake. I'm still brought up short by that every now and again." She'd almost…with Draco Malfoy, just last night. Hermione slumped back down on the couch and gazed at Harry, who was looking pensive.

"It's absolutely mad, of course," Harry gave a funny little shrug. "But you're caught here in this sort of dream world. I don't know. I guess it's… understandable?"

Hermione blinked several times. She'd thought he would take this harder. Thought there would be more, 'how could you' and less, 'I get it'.

"For what it's worth," Harry was saying slowly, "I've learned quite a lot about what he went through last year. Feel like I owe him a bit of an apology, actually."

Hermione felt her brows go up. "Draco? Why?"

Harry nodded and rubbed the back of his neck. "I've sort of been demanding to know more, be included more, in the Order's doings and plans. You know, if I'm going to risk my life?" He looked at her with a fleeting smile.

"And they agreed?"

"Yeah. They use the house where I'm staying for meetings. And I've been sitting in. So I've heard things about Malfoy and his family. What happened. Why he did what he did. How his views have changed." His gaze cut to hers. "Did you know he took veritaserum and gave memories?"

"I didn't," Hermone said slowly. "Voluntarily?"

Harry nodded. "He insisted. They couldn't make him because he was a minor at the time, but he wanted to. His father wasn't in support, but his mother gave permission."

Hermione blew out a long breath, suddenly flooded with sadness for Draco. His mother. "He did tell me some of what happened, though," she said quietly. "Not explicitly, but enough." She turned her head toward Harry. "And he apologised."

"For?"

"Just all of it. The mudblood stuff. Explained how he'd been changing." The memory of the conversation on the bench blazed through Hermione's mind. She balled her fist and thwacked the couch. "It's not fair, Harry. He wants this. I want it. But he just won't let it happen."

Harry shrugged. "I get it. I get where he's coming from."

"Of course you do. I knew you'd fucking say that." Hermione's anger spilled over.

"I'm glad he's thinking that way. And it shows he truly cares for you."

"But you have to understand how unfair and patronising it is, to just make that determination and not give me a say?" Hermione got up and crossed the room, needing to move in her agitation.

"It's a terrible responsibility, Hermione."

"I know that. God." Hermione rested her forehead against the sitting room window and looked out, barely seeing the bright blue sky and yellow walls of the houses across the narrow lane. "But what if this is it, Harry? What if this is all we have? Our only chance." Her eyes went to his in sombre entreaty.

"That's the only valid counter-argument," he said quietly. The room was silent for a few moments until Harry spoke again. "I can barely believe my eyes, but I can see how much you care for him. Are you going to talk to him? It sounds like you left it rather abruptly last night. And he's obviously torn up too. If you want to, er, press your case, he's probably fairly vulnerable."

"Oh you know me." Hermione gave a sharp, bitter laugh. "Can never leave well enough alone. I probably will have another go at him. I want to know what he's talking to Lupin about, for one thing." She ran her hands through her hair, pushing it back off her forehead in a rough motion. "More wine?" She nodded to Harry's glass.

"Eh, why not?"

"All right." Hermione went to the fridge, but before opening it she popped back up. "It's your turn."

"Huh?" Harry was trying to look blasé, but his cheeks had flushed.

"Your part of this talk." Hermione pulled the bottle out and attacked it with the corkscrew. She finally got it open and then walked back over to the sofa. "What you said earlier."

Harry's eyes were focused downward and his fingers were fiddling restlessly with the braided trim on a throw pillow.

Hermione shook her head and put up her palm. "Actually, let me rephrase that. You don't have to tell me anything. Unless you want to. I want to listen and I'm here for you. Anything you want to tell me or not tell me is ok." She put her hand out and touched his arm.

Harry took a very deep breath and looked up at her. "Ehm. Well, you've probably already got some idea, from what I've said."

Hermione did, and the idea was surprising, but as she ruminated on it, it also made a lot of sense. But she didn't want to put words in his mouth, so she just nodded slowly.

"So I realised, have been realising for a while, that I'm... not just attracted to girls." Harry spoke with difficulty, his head down again. "I think I probably first felt it in fourth year. With Cedric… and then Bill. Not that I did anything with anyone, I just... noticed them in a different way." He glanced quickly up at Hermione and she nodded again, encouragingly. "That's mostly what it's been. Just noticing. I definitely noticed Malfoy last year for instance, when I was tracking him like a bloodhound." He raised his brows.

"Well, he is ridiculously good looking," Hermione sniffed, holding out the wine bottle. Harry gave a short laugh and nodded, so she filled his glass.

"But then this summer. I, ah, haven't been alone in the safe house."

"No?" Hermione was burning with curiosity, but she knew instinctively that this was a time for patience and listening.

"No. I was assigned a partner too." His eyes flicked to hers. "It's Dean."

A thousand questions crowded into Hermione's mind, but she quieted them for now, saying only, "I see."

"I know you're wondering about Ginny."

Hermione lifted a shoulder. "Well, yeah."

"Well, it's really between Ginny and me, but I'll just tell you that she knows and she's OK with it. We'd already decided not to be together when we left school for the year. Before everything else." He blew out a sharp sigh. "Look, I care for her deeply. But I'm still trying to figure out who I am. And I have, you know, a death sentence hanging over my head. So it's incredibly complicated."

"And you're only 17," Hermione said gently, thinking of Theo in the olive grove.

"I'm only bloody 17! Well, almost," Harry said with a sharp laugh. "And Dean really understands—the whole thing." He waved his arm. "He gets that it's about giving what we can and no more than that."

"I see what you're saying," Hermione said softly. "That must be nice. To have the comfort and the... release." She felt herself pink slightly and Harry's cheeks flamed too.

"Yeah. It is." Harry took a deep drink of wine.

"Are you happy?" Hermione asked, seeking his eyes.

He blinked a few times. "As much as I can be, yeah. I'm still bloody frightened. And I worry about bringing anyone into my orbit, and putting them in danger. I really do understand where Malfoy's coming from."

"How do you think Dean would react if you told him you couldn't see him anymore because of that?" Hermione asked, raising her brows.

Harry laughed. "Probably call me a condescending git."

"Exactly."

They were silent for a moment, then Hermione tipped her head over onto Harry's shoulder. "I'm really glad you and Dean have each other, you know. And I'm glad that you told me."

"I'm glad I told you too. It feels good to have you know."

"Is it just Dean, Ginny and me who do?"

"And Remus."

"Ah, that's good." Hermione looked up at him. "What about Ron?"

"That's going to be difficult, I think." Harry closed his eyes.

"Well, maybe I can soften him up first by introducing him to my new almost-boyfriend, Draco Malfoy."

Harry started laughing.

"The old bait and switch." Hermione also started to giggle.

"Is it possible for a 17-year-old to have a heart attack?" Harry asked, really cracking up now.

"Seriously, though." Hermione tried to catch her breath. "I'll keep this private, of course, if you want me to. I'm guessing you aren't out to everyone else here…"

Harry shrugged. "I'm not trying to advertise it, but I'm not trying to hide it either. And Dean and I aren't exclusive. Neither of us wants a relationship." He turned to her."I'm not going to make, like, a big announcement. But you can be open about it. And if people ask, you can tell them I'm bi."

Hermione nodded. "And when we go back to school?"

"About that." Harry took another deep breath.

"What?"

"I have something else to tell you."

Chapter Text

"Hey mate." Blaise put out his hand and Draco took it in a one-handed shake as he walked onto the patio at the villa. He put his helmet down and dropped into a chair. "Lavender still here?" He looked around as he leaned back and put his feet up on the table in front of him.

"Nahh, she had a shift. Left about twenty minutes ago. Just you and me. You want lunch?" Blaise sounded as if he were half asleep.

"No, I grabbed something before I rode out here."

"Good, cause I'm not hungry. Huge breakfast." Blaise yawned so widely that his jaw cracked. He looked over at Draco. "Want to swim or anything?"

"No, it's ok. I just needed a ride." Draco realised his foot was jiggling when he saw Blaise watching it, and stilled himself. "Not as many places to go now after talking to Lupin."

"Yeah, and I still think you're unprotected a bit on the way here."

"Only for a few miles."

They were silent for a while, Draco trying desperately to let the peace of the setting calm him. It was hushed and quiet except for the lapping of the water and the drone of a muggle grass-cutting machine in the far distance.

"Hey, speaking of Lupin, how did your talk go with him? He seemed a bit preoccupied when he came out here yesterday."

"Ok, I guess. He didn't say no outright."

Blaise made a disgruntled sound. "I still think it's too dangerous."

"I know."

"What happens next, then?" Blaise asked after a long pause.

"He's got to run it by several people, and my parents. None of this works if Lucius isn't on board."

"Your mum is going to hate it."

Draco crossed his arms. "I know. I'm counting on my father to sway her."

"I don't think it can be done." Blaise skewered Draco with a look.

Draco glanced away. "We could always do it without her."

"That's not on and you know it." Blaise shook his head.

"I think she'll do it if they give him a full pardon and take some other measures to exonerate us. I have a few things in mind. Lucius probably will too."

"Well I still hope they say no." Blaise faced back toward the sun. "I'd rather not lose you."

Draco was silent. The buzzing in the distance cut off abruptly and a bird cried out overhead.

After a few minutes, Blaise heaved a sigh. "Have you decided if you're coming tonight?"

Draco sat up, grateful for the subject change. "No."

"Lav really wants you to be there. I'm supposed to make sure you are."

Draco breathed in and out through his nose.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Blaise rolled his head sideways and raised his brows.

"There's not much to say."

"I know there was quite a time discrepancy between when you apparated and when Lav says Hermione came home."

Draco cut his eyes to Blaise, then looked away.

"I don't want the bloody details!" Blaise exclaimed. "I just want to know if you're ok. It was very obvious yesterday that something went sideways. Even Potter was looking at you two."

Draco frowned. Potter. What a bloody time for him to show up. He thought back to yesterday, when he'd stood at the windows of the ministry flat, watching Hermione walk away with the git, arm in arm, her head on his shoulder. What were they to each other exactly? Draco hated the jealousy that had surged through him then and was renewing now.

"I just… lost control," he bit out. "The one thing I didn't want to do."

"Did you—" Blaise's eyes were wide.

"No, no." But almost. He'd wanted to, so badly. To feel her, be felt by her. He wanted her now, was desperate to be curled up against her talking, kissing, more. A series of vivid images slipped through his mind—her lips, her dark eyes—and Draco looked down, his angry energy dissipating into a kind of despair.

"So you stopped it? Said something? She did not look happy yesterday."

Draco felt a dull wash of red flow up over his neck. He felt terrible for making her feel that way. "I told her my reasoning, yes."

Blaise barked out a short laugh. "Lovely. And I'm sure she just tapped her chin, said, 'Makes sense,' and moved on?"

Draco shot him a filthy look.

Blaise straightened up and removed his glasses. "Look, I know you're scared. We all are. And." Blaise held up a hand as Draco opened his mouth to interrupt. "I know that you'd probably face more dire consequences than anyone but say, Potter himself, if they found you. But this is our life, Draco. This is it. And it could be bloody cut short at any moment. Is more than likely to be cut short since we're in the middle of this shitshow of a war and you insist on volunteering to take incredible risks. And if you end it rotting in some death eater prison, or being tortured to death by a crucio, wouldn't it be nice to have some really good memories to take with you?"

Draco just stared at Blaise as a long silence stretched around them.

Finally Blaise broke it, putting his sunglasses back on and looking out over the pool. "Think about it," he said, pointing at Draco. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes again. "And come to the bloody party tonight."

"Do you think we have enough booze?" Lavender was frowning into the fridge as she surveyed its contents.

"I should bloody hope so." Harry laughed from where he was sitting on one of the kitchen counters.

Lavender rolled her eyes. "You obviously haven't done much partying with Slytherins."

"Ah, no, I have not," Harry said with a flick of his brows.

"She's right." Hermione came in from the flat's small terrace, where she had been wiping down furniture. "It's a whole different level. Plus the waiters and some of their friends will be here." She went to stand next to Lavender and inventory their supplies. "Four packs of beer, half dozen bottles of wine, vodka, rum and a whole lot of soft drinks. One gigantic lasagne and an equally large birthday cake. A lot of crisps. And people will bring things too. I'd say we're set."

"Hand me one of those beers, will you?" Harry reached out a hand and Hermione placed a cold bottle in it. "Who are these waiters again?" he asked as he took a long drink.

"Just some muggle friends from town. I dated one briefly and one of them has a crush on Hermione, although I think he's figured out that…" Lavender glanced briefly at Hermione and snapped her mouth closed, "Er, just remember, no magic tonight!" she finished, giving Harry a severe look.

"I'll remember, I promise. It's the least I can do after you two put all this together. Thanks very much." Harry slid off the counter and inclined his head at them.

Hermione crossed the room to give him a quick hug. "You're very welcome. Hopefully it will excuse the fact that I don't have a gift for you."

"This is gift enough. As you know, I don't expect much on my birthdays." He grimaced and Hermione sent a silent curse out to the child abusers he'd spent his first 11 years with.

"All right." Lavender clapped her hands. "The house is ready. The food and drink are ready. Time to get ourselves ready." She grabbed Hermione's hand. "We'll be back in a few," she said to Harry as she towed Hermione to their bedrooms. He waved them off and headed toward the terrace.

"What are you wearing?" Hermione asked as they passed into Lavender's room. "I was thinking jeans and maybe my cropped black vest top? Hair up?"

Lavender fixed her with a look. "Uh no. You're wearing that little blue satin dress you bought in Aquino. The one you've never worn. With the combat boots and yes, I think hair up." Lavender squinted at Hermione then nodded decisively.

"But that dress is…!" Hermione spluttered. The garment in question was very… attention-grabbing.

"Why did you buy it if you weren't going to wear it!?" Lavender sing-songed, crossing the hall and going into Hermione's room. She came back with the dress, its deep blue, silky fabric shimmering in her hands. A short A-line shape with thin straps and a chinoiserie pattern, Hermione had felt transformed when she'd put it on at the shop—beautiful, sexy and older somehow. And of course Lavender had insisted that she buy it.

Hermione took the hanger and held it up against her body. "Maybe with my white baby tee under it?"

"NO." Lavender crossed her arms. "Your skin is so tan and amazing right now. It would be a crime to cover it up. Come on, stop being silly." She practically pushed Hermione back across the hall. "Go put it on. And NO BRA!"

"Wow, what's going on in there?" Harry's faint voice floated in from the terrace.

"Sor-ry forgot you were here!" Lavender called, shutting her bedroom door in Hermione's face.

Hermione closed her own door, stripped to her knickers, removed her bra with a soft laugh then slipped the dress over her body. It fell into place perfectly, the fine material sliding against her bare skin decadently. She went to her small mirror and twisted back and forth. Yes, it fit as well as she remembered, nipping in at just the right places and hitting her legs at a very flattering spot. She remembered the half-formed thought that had flitted through her mind when she'd bought it—just after the first party at the boys' flat, before Draco had withdrawn—would he like it, would he think she looked pretty?

She shook her head to clear it. She was fairly certain he'd like it. She had proof enough of that. "Fat lot of good that will do me, though," she said, catching her hair up at the top of her head and pinning it into a bun. She pulled a few curls down around her face, frowned at her reflection, then walked back out into the hallway.

"You really think the boots?" she asked Lavender, who was now doing her makeup at the mirror in the loo, clad in a yellow gingham romper and sky-high platforms.

"Absolutely. Keeps it from being too much." Lavender dabbed something on her eyelids and blinked at Hermione in the mirror. "Cute hair. You need a choker I think. I have that black velvet one."

"OK." Hermione sighed, suddenly sad. What was this all for? She slumped down on the side of the bath and put her head in her hands.

"Oh sweetie." Lavender was instantly there, kneeling on her enormous shoes and pushing the door closed. "We didn't even get to talk about what happened, what with all the excitement and Harry here. How are you doing?"

"Not great. Do you know if he's coming?"

"Blaise put the screws to him. I think he is." Hermione took a deep shuddering breath and felt tears stand in her eyes. Lavender's fingers went to her shoulder. "Ohh, what happened?" Her eyes widened on Hermione's. "My gods, did you—?"

"No," Hermione whispered. "But I think we might have if we hadn't been interrupted."

Lavender kicked her feet out and sat on the floor. She grabbed Hermione's hand. "Shit, I didn't realise it had gone that far. What the fuck happened? Did he get cold feet?"

"The stupidest thing." Hermione lifted her face and rubbed her finger under her eyelid to catch her tears. "There was a sound. It was just like apparition and seemed like it was in the shop. It freaked us both out. I thought they had followed us or something. Found us."

"But?"

"It was just a bloody car. A car engine backfiring. It sounds exactly the same."

"And that was it? He wouldn't… come back after that?"

"No. He was too spooked, and he said, he said—" Hermione's voice broke. "That he couldn't do this because of the danger it put me in. And I told him I didn't care, that it wasn't just his choice. But he wouldn't budge Lavender. He just wouldn't. Won't."

Hermione pitched forward and Lavender's arms went around her while her voice murmured soothing words. Hermione let herself sink into the comfort, clinging back until her tears slowed and Lavender pulled away, still rubbing Hermione's back and looking into her face with concern.

"Well that's just bloody idiotic, isn't it?" she said after a bit. "Boys. As if they think they're stronger than us."

Hermione choked out a laugh, very much in spite of herself.

"Well." Lavender rocked back on her heels. "I think you and this dress and this night may have a little more to say about that. 'It ain't over til it's over,' as the Americans say. And I think you should definitely talk to him again. Let's just see him try to resist you!"

"I don't know." Hermione took a deep breath in and patted her hair. She truly didn't know if she could take another rejection. "Am I totally wrecked?"

"Not in the least." Lavender stood and held out her hand. "I have a quick anti-redness spell for the eyes. Learned it last year after Ron." She grimaced as she re-opened the door and turned back to peer at Hermione. "And then we'll do your makeup. You will look so gorgeous. Gods help any man who tries to stay away. Especially that one. He's a goner already. He just needs to accept it."

Hermione breathed out a small laugh. "Thank you. What would I do without you?"

"I have no idea," Lavender said crisply. "Your shoe choices would be all wrong, for one thing."

Hermione really laughed at this and lurched forward to throw her arms around Lavender's fragrant person. "My friend," she said and Lavender squeezed her tightly.

"Heyyy, she's not your only friend." Hermione looked up to see Harry lounging in the doorway, a faint smile on his face as he took in the scene. "And not your only friend who thinks Malfoy would be totally mental to pass you up. Especially in that dress." Harry's eyes moved over her and he let out a low whistle. "Damn." He lifted his brows and inclined his head.

"Right!?" said Lavender, turning to Hermione and moving her in front of the mirror. "Now, open your eyes wide and look up."

Draco trudged up the stairs to the girls' flat, a bottle of wine under his arm. He'd debated for a good two hours before he'd finally found himself throwing on his jacket and walking out the door. He didn't really know what had swayed his decision, but deep down he thought it had probably come down to the fact that he couldn't quite stay away.

As he approached the door, he heard music and voices—he'd sent the cassette player with Theo earlier—and he hesitated the slightest bit before putting his hand up to knock. Was this really wise?

Absolutely not, he thought as he rapped three times.

The door swung open and Draco found himself staring at Potter's profile as he laughed at something being said behind him. Potter turned back around, his face changing as he saw who was standing in the doorway.

"Malfoy." Potter nodded and stepped aside, his eyes intent on Draco's. As always, Potter's expression was an open book, and Draco understood immediately that Hermione had told him…likely everything. He felt his face heat as he stepped into the room.

"Potter. Er, happy birthday." Draco held the wine out and Potter took it, his facing slipping into almost comical surprise.

"Thanks?" He looked at the wine and then back at Draco.

Luckily Lavender showed up at that moment. "Draco, you made it!" She stepped around Potter and kissed Draco's cheek. "Come on. Blaise is in the kitchen. Harry, do you want me to take that?" She held out her hand for the wine.

"Yeah, Malfoy brought it." Harry again looked at Draco sort of wonderingly, like he was surprised that Draco could make a nice gesture. Draco raised a brow at him and strangely, Potter's cheeks reddened. "I'll just uh, be on the terrace," he mumbled, slipping away.

Draco followed the bright stream of Lavender's chatter as they made their way toward the kitchen. He looked around, realising he'd never been inside this flat, which seemed odd. Hermione had been right—it was much warmer than his and Theo's. All low ceilings, soft furnishings and deep yellow paint. And right now it was quite crowded; a lot of waiters from town had shown up and seemed to have brought their friends. The bright chatter and laughter emanating from different little groups on sofas or gathered in doorways felt foreign to Draco somehow. He walked through the scene as if removed from it, catching snippets of conversation and bits of the music coming from his cassette player, but not really absorbing any of it. Why was he so out of it? Maybe it was the heavy thoughts the end of the summer was bringing or maybe it was his conversation with Lupin.

Right, sure. He laughed silently at himself. He knew why.

He'd been looking for her from almost the moment he came in. Where was she? He scanned the various groups and discreetly looked over his shoulder, but didn't see her. The party was well-advanced. Maybe she was being chatted up, maybe she was away with someone. Where the bloody hell was Theo? Draco's head whipped more sharply around as Lavender pulled him into the kitchen.

Ah, there was Theo. Draco's shoulders relaxed. And there was Blaise too. Draco moved gratefully over to his friend, who put out his hand and slapped Draco on the back.

"Mate! Glad you made it. Something to drink?"

Draco nodded his assent and answered Lavender's query as to what he was having. He leaned against the sink as she made him a gin, then accepted it and drank deeply. Good, it was strong.

Blaise and Theo were arguing about something. Muggle cars, it seemed. Blaise was making fun of Theo's again and Theo was telling him off. The conversation seemed to float around Draco in a kind of haze. He drank again, realising he'd nearly drained the whole thing.

Suddenly Lavender was in front of him. "How are you?" she said softly. "Haven't spoken to you in a few days." Draco looked down into her face, and although she wasn't as obvious as Potter, he still read what was there. Concern for him, yes, but also curiosity and a great need to give him some advice. He really didn't want it. In many ways, he knew exactly what kind of idiot he was being.

"Fine, yeah." He nodded once. "And you? This was a nice thing you put together. For Potter."

"Right." Lavender turned and leaned next to him against the sink. "These muggleborns and half-bloods, I don't think they realise quite how important it is to come of age in the wizarding world." Her lips lifted in a half smile as she sipped her drink. "Had to mark it out somehow."

Draco snorted and nodded, his sad excuse for a 17th birthday had been in a safe house, the day before he'd been dropped here. At least Potter would have something to remember, even if it was a bit of an odd circumstance.

A silence stretched as Draco finished his drink and contemplated how long it would be before Hermione made an appearance and completely wrecked the fragile equilibrium he was barely holding onto.

"So what are your plans?" Lavender's bright eyes met Draco's again. "For after all this?"

He lifted his brows at her. He was fairly sure she knew his plans had been the subject of his talk with Lupin yesterday. "In the works."

Lavender's eyes narrowed. "Off to do something noble, then," she said with a flick of her hair over her shoulder. "Interesting the risks we pick and choose for ourselves." Her eyes flashed as she grabbed his glass out of his hand. "I'll just refresh that for you."

She pushed away and Draco stared at her back, a little open-mouthed. He'd seen real anger in her eyes just now. A reminder of how royally he'd fucked up. He tipped his head back with a little sigh and crossed his arms over his chest.

"You can keep your bloody Ferraris!" Theo's voice rang out over Blaise's laughter.

"Me and the rest of the world. You're delusional, Theo." Blaise was shaking his head and Draco was turning to join their extremely ridiculous conversation (honestly, how muggle had they all become this summer?) when the door to the kitchen burst open.

"Lav, we're out of crisps and Matteo just showed up with an enormous box of leftovers from the pizzeria and I can't find any platters—" Hermione's bright voice cut off as she saw Draco standing there.

Lavender's eyes swung between them and she cut in quickly, saying something about spares in the pantry or other bits of wool and rubbish that Draco couldn't make out over the buzzing in his ears. It was good that someone was talking because he certainly couldn't. He was robbed of speech.

He'd long thought Hermione was attractive, and over the summer he'd grown to think her wildly beautiful as well as alluring and sweet. He'd catalogued things such as the indent above her lip and the sharp angle of her jawbone where it met her neck, the precise tone of her skin against certain colours and textures of fabric. The slightly crooked incisor that showed when she really laughed, and the brightness of her eyes when she looked at him with amusement. It had all coalesced to form the person that he realised he wanted most, craved the most. So it was amazing that it was even possible for him to still be struck dumb by her—as he was now, eyes roving over the deep blue satin skimming her body up to the graceful planes of her clavicles and down to the endless length of her legs. He flashed suddenly on a memory from the other night, when she'd slid those legs around his hips and pulled him against her, sighed his name into his ear.

He thought all of this in the time it took to suck in a sharp breath, see her lips part and watch her hand tighten on the doorframe.

But then she said something to Lavender, whirled and was gone.

"Here," Lavender shoved something in his hand with an arch look. His glass. He looked down at it and then up. Lavender walked out of the kitchen and Blaise followed her. Draco was still staring at the place where Hermione had been when he became aware of Theo's voice coming from somewhere on his left.

"Some dress, huh?" Theo raised his brows and shook his head once. "Smoke?" He pulled a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and offered it.

"Gods, yes." Draco didn't even try to hide for once, and Theo snorted a short laugh.

"Come on, let's go to the patio."

A few minutes later they were ensconced in a corner of the small terrace, which looked out over the winding street. A few of the muggles from town were in the other corner, but had mostly subsided into their own loud conversation.

"Very different view than ours," Theo said, leaning over the low ledge and inhaling deeply.

Draco blew out a cloud of smoke. "Yeah, I'm surprised this is the first time I've been here."

"Me too." Theo smirked out at the street and Draco read the subtext in his words loud and clear.

"Going to deliver me a lecture as well?" he asked, leaning a shoulder against the wall. He could see Hermione inside, moving through the living room. Gods, but she was breathtaking. The tendrils of curls just brushing her neck.

"Absolutely not," Theo said, turning to lean his back against the ledge. "At this point, if you're willing to pass on" —he nodded toward the living room— "all that, and remember I know at least some of what you're giving up." His eyes flicked to Draco, who felt his blood run suddenly hot. "Then be my guest. I'll be the one at Hogwarts with her come September. Or him." He waved his cigarette at Potter and they both watched as Hermione dropped down beside him on the sofa. "Or Weasley, or some other bloke who's not too much of a coward to return all that fire and beauty."

Draco's hand balled into a fist and he felt his face grow very tight.

Theo looked up at him and raised a brow. "Now, now. No fisticuffs at our new mate's birthday do." He stubbed his cigarette out. "You can't or won't have her, so nobody else can? She has to, what—stay wrapped up in cotton wool until such time as you see fit—or you die? Don't be an arse." He leveled a very flat look at Draco and pushed past him off the patio.

Draco stared after him, stunned for maybe the fourth time that night. He was breathing heavily, as if he had just climbed a flight of stairs. He shook his head, eyes caught by the scene in the sitting room, which played out like a film. Hermione tucked her legs up under her and leaned into Potter, resting her head on his shoulder. Potter touched his head to hers and put his arm around her, pulling her to him and saying something that made a soft smile cross her features. His hand went up to her hair and he stroked gently.

Draco turned suddenly and put his back to the vision, asking the other group if they had a spare cigarette. They tossed him one and he leaned over for a light, then moved back to his corner and inhaled fiercely, not daring to turn back around. Was this going to be his life now? Wondering and speculating? He suddenly saw himself, a few months in the future, back at the manor, dark and grim, toadying to some pathetic death eater and wondering if this was the day that Theo, or Potter or some other bloke who wasn't 'too much of a coward' won her. Fuck. He flicked his ash angrily into the street below and glanced over his shoulder. Potter and Hermione were gone—to where, to do what?

Before Draco knew it, he was moving back inside.

Hermione whirled against Mauritzio with a sharp laugh. Someone had brought a cassette of old Italian songs and put it in the player, much to the delight of the Italian guests, who were now whooping their way through a lively round of the Tarantella in the corner of the sitting room. Mauritzio was trying to teach Hermione the dance, but she was failing miserably, her heavy boots not suited for the light-footed steps.

"I can't, I can't," she gasped in Italian, holding her sides and stepping out of the group.

"But you were doing so well," he said, keeping hold on her hand. "OK, we'll do a different dance," he said as he pulled her closer, swaying her from side to side at a much slower tempo.

Hermione pulled back and gave him a raised brow. She'd had a bit much to drink tonight, but not so much that she wasn't up to his tricks.

"What?" His smile was bright. "You can't blame me for trying. Especially when you look so beautiful." He actually kissed his fingers to her and Hermione laughed, but the sound died on her lips as they turned in the dance and she saw Draco watching her from across the room. He was leaning against the far wall, ostensibly talking to Blaise and Lavender, but his eyes were on her, his expression inscrutable.

"I think I need to sit down," she said, looking away to the patio, where she saw Harry chatting animatedly with Matteo, one of the waiters whose English was very good. As she watched, Matteo placed his fingers on Harry's arm and leaned in to whisper something in his ear, something that made Harry laugh and brace his own hand on Matteo's knee. Matteo fell closer and they both pulled back, laughing hard. Harry caught her eye at that moment and shot her a little smile. Hermione smiled back just as Matteo got up and beckoned Harry inside.

"Just going to get some air," Hermione said to Mauritizio, who was also watching Harry and Matteo.

"OK." He gave her an enigmatic look. "I'll go see what Cassanova is doing with your friend."

"I don't think Harry minds," Hermione murmured. Maurizio nodded thoughtfully and let her go, giving her a wink and a gallant little bow before he turned toward the kitchen.

Hermione glanced over to where Draco had been as she made her way to the patio, but he wasn't there anymore. She hated the deflated feeling that came over her as she noted this. Since he had arrived, the whole party had been a series of nerve-wracking shifts between excitement and dread. He hadn't even tried to talk to her. She made an angry noise and pushed through the door to the soft night air.

"That bad, eh?" Theo's languid tones came from the corner of the little space.

"Oh hello." Hermione attempted a smile. "Are you, uh, having a nice time?" She dropped into the spindly chair next to him.

"Fine, fine," Theo said, blowing a long stream of smoke away toward the open side of the patio. Hermione watched him, his beautiful profile outlined by the yellow of the streetlight across the way.

Why couldn't she have just gone for him? The thought sprang to the front of her mind with a hint of ferocity. Why couldn't she have just chosen the light summer fling that would have satisfied her body without wrecking her heart? But then Theo turned to her and something about the look in his eyes told her it wouldn't have been quite that easy.

"Can I have one of those?" she asked abruptly.

His expression lightened and he looked down at the cigarette in his hand, then back up at her. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I want to try it."

He shrugged and slid the pack out of his shirt pocket. "OK, but I have to warn you that the first time is reported to be almost uniformly disgusting." A hint of his dimple appeared in his cheek. "Some people even—" He mimicked throwing up.

"Why on earth do they do it, then?" Hermione took a slender white cylinder from him and their fingers brushed just slightly.

His eyes went back to hers. "It's a compulsion," he said with another shrug. "Addictive." He flashed a smile that wasn't a smile at all, then fished around in his pocket and withdrew a silver lighter, which he flicked open, then wicked to life.

"OK, what you do is inhale when the flame touches the end. To catch it, you see?"

Hermione nodded, placing her lips gingerly around the end of the cigarette, the chemical taste of it strange in her mouth. She leaned forward toward the flame and puffed.

Theo chuckled. "It's more of an indrawn breath than a steam train, Hermione."

Hermione cut her eyes to him and inhaled, the smoke careening down to her lungs and starting an immediate coughing fit. The taste was outrageously bad and tears sprang to her eyes as she sputtered.

"Oh no." Theo was laughing lightly again, but he also leaned forward and plucked a Pellegrino out of a bucket at their feet, uncapped it and handed it to her. "Here. Drink."

She took the water gratefully and sipped, the bubbles easing her throat, although the foul taste of the burnt tobacco lingered in her mouth. "I ask again," she gasped, "why on earth do people do that regularly? And how do you make it look so elegant!?"

"You get the hang of it rather quickly," Theo said ruefully. "And I suspect I look elegant doing most things."

Hermione swatted him and he really laughed, his eyes crinkling. She sat back and regarded the burning cigarette in her hand, feeling rather grown up holding it. She brought it to her lips and puffed again, gently and barely inhaling.

"There you go," Theo said. "I have a, er, friend who only ever holds it lit. She says it makes her look dashing without all the bad bits." His face took on a distant look and Hermione had a sudden suspicion that he was talking about Daphne Greengrass. "Bloody waste of a cigarette if you ask me." He shook his head and refocused, leaning forward and looking to the side, where his eye obviously caught on something in the room behind them.

Hermione naturally turned too, glancing over her shoulder to see Draco sitting on the sofa next to Blaise, but obviously watching her with Theo. Grey eyes shifted to the lit cigarette in her hand and his brows went up the slightest bit.

Hermione felt a hot wave of anger break over her and she whipped back around. Honestly.

"Where is Francesca tonight?" she asked Theo, determined to ignore Draco. "Or are you…?"

He sat back in his chair, also looking away from the scene behind them. "No, no. She's lovely. Had a thing with her family tonight. I'll go to hers later."

Hermione nodded, realising her cigarette was burned down to a nub. Theo held out an ashtray and she pressed it into the bottom, feeling very strange. "Guess I've tried it now." She smiled at him. "Thanks."

"Happy to assist with all vices and bad habits." He inclined his head and Hermione laughed.

"Have I told you lately how much I like you?" she said impulsively, leaning forward and touching him on the back of the palm.

"Not nearly enough, no." The corner of his mouth lifted, but Hermione saw that gravity in his eyes again, so she was glad when Lavender suddenly popped her head through the door.

"We've run out of booze," she said.

"Really!?" Hermione's shock was extreme.

"Do you want me to run to the market?" Theo asked, shifting up in his chair.

"It's shut by now." Lavender flipped her hair over her shoulder. "And frankly, I'm ready to get everyone out of here. I think I'll suggest we all go to the disco?"

"Ah, good plan." Theo nodded.

Hermione murmured her assent and looked discreetly behind Lavender into their sitting room. Draco wasn't on the couch anymore. Had he already left? The thought resparked her frustration and she tapped her foot restlessly, emotions running riot through her, less controlled thanks to the several drinks she'd had tonight. She knew Draco wasn't a huge fan of the disco and to be honest, she'd probably rather crawl into bed herself than go out, but could he not just disappear for once?

Her train of thought was interrupted as she caught a glimpse of inky black hair and a glint of glasses near the door to the kitchen. Ah, at least it would be fun to show Harry their local. But just then Matteo tipped into her frame of vision, right next to Harry and laughing again, his hand going lightly to Harry's hip as he leaned toward him and said something with a smile.

Well. Maybe Harry didn't need her to show him anything. Looked like he'd have a good time no matter what. She wondered if he'd need their sofa to kip on after all.

Shaking her head once, Hermione focused back in on Lavender and Theo, who were discussing logistics.

"All right, I'm going to make an announcement," Lavender said as she ducked back into the room. "Will you turn off the music, Theo?"

"Yeah." Theo stood and held his hand out to Hermione. She let him lead her back through the patio door, keeping her hand lightly in his. Of course she then saw Draco come up the hallway and lean in the doorframe, his tall figure striking as always. Hermione dropped Theo's hand, but not before Draco saw them.

She sighed inwardly; what did it matter anyway?

Theo left her with a quick smile and went across the room to the cassette player, which he turned off as Lavender leapt up on a low table and shouted, "Oi!" to the room at large. Conversation stopped and people drifted in from all over the flat to look up at her expectantly. Her announcement that the drink was all gone brought boos and whistles, but her subsequent suggestion that they all go to the disco brought a round of excited cheers.

The waiters, led by Mauritzio, gathered their friends, shouting that they would see everyone there. Harry, with a quick smile and wave at Hermione, let Matteo drag him with them. She waved back and winked as he disappeared out the door.

Suddenly the flat was fairly silent, only the magical San Cipriano group arranged around the room.

"Right,"—Lavender jumped down—"no one clean up anything. Let's all just go."

"OK, babe." Blaise stepped forward and steadied her as she wobbled on her tall shoes. Hermione, who had already stacked several glasses, ducked into the kitchen to place them in the sink. She returned as Theo spoke up.

"The car is just down the way," he said. "Shall we all pack in or will you ride your bike?" He turned to where Draco had been in the doorway, but Draco was gone.

"Did he apparate silently or something?" Theo said, tilting his head in a puzzled manner at the place where Draco had been standing.

Hermione's irritation flared again. He was just bloody leaving? Not even a word of goodbye? She craned her neck to look down the hallway and saw a flash of white-blond as Draco ducked into Lavender's bedroom.

He was. He was just going to fucking apparate away without a word. Well, fuck that. Hermione's feet were striding off before she knew what was happening. She vaguely heard Lavender's voice call something about catching up later, but she didn't regard it. She was focused.

"You're just buggering off?" She stopped in the doorway, her words coming out harsh and accusing.

Draco turned, as if surprised to see her. He faced her slowly, but didn't quite meet her eyes. "I'm not keen to go to the disco, no." His voice was tense and quiet.

Hermione had absent-mindedly picked up one of Lavender's many bottles of creams and perfume, and now slammed it back down on the dresser. "Don't you think that's rude? To just leave?" She knew she was being ridiculous, but she didn't care.

Color flashed over Draco's face, flushing his pale cheeks. "What!? It's not like you lack for attention tonight. I'm sure Theo or Mauritzio or even Potter will be happy to continue… entertaining you." He took a step toward her and Hermione saw a muscle ripple in his jaw.

She took in a swift breath and stepped toward him too. How dare he. "Oh please," she sputtered, saying the first thing that came to her mind. "Harry's trying to hook up with Matteo."

Draco's brows went up for one surprised second, but then his face settled back into remote lines and he moved back. "Well, whatever. Theo then. Have a good time," he said and apparated on the spot.

Hermione stood there for a shocked second, her breath coming fast and the words how dare he running through her mind again. Suddenly she shouted over her shoulder for the rest of them to go on without her, waiting only for Lavender's distant "OK," to float back down the hall before she took a deep breath and apparated as well.

Chapter Text

"Merlin and fucking Morgana!" Draco practically shouted as Hermione appeared in his flat's sitting room with a loud pop. "What the bloody hell are you doing?"

"I wasn't done talking to you," Hermione said, advancing on him.

"You shouldn't have fucking done that! It's dangerous!" He was still almost yelling. Hermione was sure she'd never seen him this worked up since their early school days.

"It's fine." She waved her hand impatiently.

"No it's not. You said yourself you're not good at it." He was breathing heavily and his voice wasn't raised now, but it was still laced with anger.

"I'm fine at it, Draco." Hermione balled her fists. "And I'm allowed to take risks that I want to take." She locked her eyes with his, making sure he took her meaning.

He held her gaze for a moment before spinning away from her and stalking toward the kitchen. "Well, it's a stupid risk," he tossed over his shoulder.

"Is it as stupid as whatever you're cooking up with Lupin?" she said to his back, following him with quick steps.

He yanked his jacket off and threw it on the sofa as he passed. "That's none of your business."

"Isn't it? You get to decide what risks I take. Shouldn't I be consulted regarding yours as well?"

"That's a ridiculous comparison," he said tightly, pulling the refrigerator door open with an angry jerk.

"It's not. It's a perfectly valid comparison." Hermione was right behind him now, fury burning bright in her breast. "It's OK for you to make judgments about your actions, but not for me to make judgements about mine? Surely you realise that's a double standard. Surely you know it's complete shit."

"I don't know anything, alright!" He was shouting again, really shouting this time, as he slammed the fridge door and whirled on her. "I don't know what's going to happen tomorrow or next week or when this war is over. I just know I don't want anyone to get hurt because of me!"

"And that's enough to just throw it all away!?" Hermione yelled back at him, determined to fight it out.

"Throw what away?" he bit out, leaning into her face, his eyes dark and sparking in the dim light of the kitchen. "You kissed Theo too. Just… go be with him instead."

Hermione saw white spots in front of her eyes. "I kissed Theo once!" She yelled, pointing a finger at Draco's face. "Because you were blowing bloody hot and cold. And it was nothing like you and me." She jabbed at his chest, tears starting in her eyes. "Nothing has ever been like you and me. Nothing." She heard her voice break and she hated it, but went on anyway. "And I know you're scared, but I'm scared too and I think it's really bloody unfair and condescending that you just get to say unilaterally, 'No, we're not going to do this'! It's not FAIR, Draco!"

Hermione had moved closer as she spoke and was now right in Draco's face. She could see the tight lines of his mouth and the individual lashes fringing his stormy eyes—the fine sheen of sweat on his skin. She could feel that her hair had half come down and a curl that was brushing her neck. She could hear his ragged breaths go in and out over a moment that seemed to stretch in time—until he made a strangled sound and reached for her, his arms going so tightly around her that she puffed out an involuntary gasp just before his lips crashed down on hers.

Hermione's hands were instantly in his hair and she pushed up on her tiptoes into the kiss, her tongue going to his as he moved her back against the counter, pressing into her, his fingers winding into her curls.

"I can't fight you," he muttered against her mouth. "I don't want to."

She took a shuddering breath in."You can't fight us," she said, sliding her hands down from his nape and around to his back, her lips seeking his again, nipping at his lower lip, totally abandoned, as she chased his tongue with hers. He groaned into her mouth and his hands went to her waist, where he grasped and lifted her up to the counter, then pushed between her legs and pulled her roughly against him. Hermione's arousal spiked at the possessive movement and she cradled his face in her hands, kissing him voraciously. She wanted every bit of him, every part—and she wasn't going to be denied any longer.

On that thought she slid her hands down again, under his shirt, suddenly needing to feel his bare skin, his warmth against her fingers. She meant only to run her hands under the soft fabric, but instead found herself pushing it up and over his head. He helped her, barely breaking their kiss as he pulled it off and tossed it away. She let her hands wander, over his chest and his shoulders, down his beautiful arms and around to his back. His breath became heavy along with her movements, which spurred her on.

She broke from his lips to look at him, leaning back and letting her eyes travel where her hands had been. He was perfectly formed, looking like the angel he'd been mistaken for, almost glowing in the moonlight coming in the huge sitting room windows.

"Beautiful," she breathed, tracing one finger up from his hand, his long fingers clasped around her thigh, up his forearm and his bicep to his clavicle. Draco watched her face, his lips slightly parted, his eyes black. When she got to the center of his chest, Hermione caught his eye and then let her finger drift lower, over his stomach and downward from there. His breath caught as he grabbed her hand right before it went to his waistband.

He pulled back and briefly touched his forehead to hers, breathing in and out raggedly. "Bedroom," he finally whispered, pulling her down off the counter. She went slowly, sliding against him, feeling every bit of him, the knowledge that he was aroused by her too inflaming her beyond anything she'd felt before. "Fuck, Hermione," he said as she reached up to kiss him again. He stayed with her lips only a few seconds, before moving down her neck and to her shoulder, his tongue wicked and his teeth skimming her skin. He got to the strap of her dress and pushed it down. "Gods, this dress." His voice a strained whisper.

"The zip is in the back." Hermione took advantage of his bowed head to run her tongue over the shell of his ear and bite his lobe softly. His whole body jerked in response and she felt reckless, almost unlike herself, but she also felt powerful...and elated.

"Bedroom, now," he said and she could hear urgency, but also the faintest slip of humour in his voice. She smiled as he took her hand and led her out of the kitchen then swiftly down the hall to a dark doorway. Stepping through, he bent and clicked on a dim light that illuminated dark walls, a fireplace, a dramatic canopied bed. She'd barely taken it all in before he slammed the door shut and gathered her in his arms again, all that glorious skin pressed against her as he kissed her deeply. Her hands spasmed on his back and he turned them, then broke the kiss and pushed her lightly down on the bed.

She sat, leaning back slightly on her hands, gazing up at him from under her lashes, every bit of her alive to sensation. She'd wanted him for so long; the taste she'd had before just whetting her appetite. He looked at her for a long moment, then reached out and pulled the clip out of her bun. Hermione felt her hair fall around her shoulders. She heard him take a sharp breath in.

"Do you know how exquisite you are?" He asked, his voice a low, almost detached, drawl.

"Thank you," she whispered into the stillness. He stood there, just looking at her. "Do you want to come here?" she finally said, the corner of her mouth going up.

"Yes."

Hermione reached out for his hand and he grasped hers, their fingers twining. She looked at their hands and then back at him. His face was serious now, tender, and something between a laugh and sob bubbled up in her throat.

"Come here," she said, echoing his words to her from the night at the bookshop, tugging him forward. He came, but instead of pushing her backward he knelt swiftly between her legs. Hermione parted them instinctively, her mind racing.

He looked up at her and tilted his chin, then rested his hands on her ankles and ran them up to the hem of her dress.

"I want to lay you out on my bed. Put my lips on every inch of you." He ran his hands back down to her ankles and Hermione took a sharp breath in. "But what on earth are we going to do about these?" He asked, sliding his hand down around the heel of her boot and lifting it slightly. He blinked and a slow smile stole over his face.

"Oh my god!" Hermione laughed and and put her hand to her forehead. "I'll get them," she said, straightening up. "They're massive. I know."

"Oh, no, no, no," he said, extending a firm palm in front of her. "I'll do it."

It was nothing new that Hermione found Draco incredibly attractive. She was physically affected by his every movement, his scent, his expressions, his voice. And, at this particular moment, she was, unsurprisingly, in an extremely heightened state. However, the vision of him bending over her foot, shirtless, back muscles chasing beneath his smooth skin as he carefully undid the laces on her boot and slid it off—nearly fucking destroyed her. As soon as he looked up with a triumphant smile, her second boot in his hand, she reached out and practically yanked him forward, capturing his mouth in a devouring kiss.

He went, and the playful mood dissipated as he moved over her and pushed her down onto the bed, the weight of his body as delicious as she remembered. They moved up to his pillows with a series of soft sighs and increasingly heated touches. He turned her onto her stomach and found the zip on her dress, then slowly undid it while he placed kisses down her back every inch or so. Hermione didn't know whether to thank or curse Lavender for the no bra situation, because when he realised she wasn't wearing one, the kisses stopped—but then the dress came very quickly off, and Hermione was treated to his reaction, as close to reverence as she'd ever seen, when he pulled back and really looked at her.

After that, his clever mouth and hands worked over her body as she dug her fingers into his silky hair. He was breathing heavily, moving slowly between her legs as pressed back against him and ran her foot up the back of his calf, vaguely realising his jeans were still on and wondering why. But then his fingers drifted near the band of her knickers and he breathed, "May I?" against her lips.

She nodded, whispering a soft yes, only a little embarrassed at how wet he was going to find her. He didn't seem to mind in the least, though. If anything his kisses got deeper and his movements more purposeful as he touched her. And his fingers were like magic, spooling the most intense sensations out of her as his lips sought her breasts and she gasped his name and clutched at him, concentrating on what was happening to her and how shockingly good it felt.

He had moved up and was kissing her neck when she began to shatter—surprise circling ecstasy as it happened more quickly and easily than it ever had with someone else, or even by herself. Her fingers spasmed into his back and her nails raked his skin as he muttered into her ear. "Yes, that's it. Let yourself go. You're so fucking beautiful. So perfect."

Thoughts of their previous time together drifted through Hermione's mind as she came down; she had felt ready to go further then, caught up in a kind of frenzy born of their near-escape, but she found her inclination now was to go more slowly. That said, she did want to return the favour, so she gently pushed Draco's hand out of her knickers and rolled him onto his back.

"Why are you still wearing these," she asked, skimming her palm over the front of his jeans.

He groaned and closed his eyes. "I was a bit… preoccupied."

She hovered her hand over his flies. "May I?" she asked, leaning over to nip at his ear again. He seemed to like that.

He opened his mouth but no recogniseable words came out. He took a stuttering breath. "Yes, but you don't have—"

"Tell me what feels good," she whispered, undoing his button and zip.

He blew out a laugh, his eyes still closed. "It all feels fucking good, Hermione." His eyes fluttered open, going straight to her bare breasts. "And whatever you do, it's not going to take long, I'm warning you."

She pushed down his jeans and tugged them off his long legs, then moved back up and slid her tongue into his mouth as she reached into the front of his trunks. He practically bucked up off the bed at her touch, which started slow and soft as she pulled back and gazed at his beautiful face. She sped her hand and he was right, it didn't take very long before he was shuddering and groaning her name.

"My gods," he muttered after a few moments. Hermione watched his face again as he relaxed, propped up on an elbow as she traced patterns on his chest with a light finger. His lids eventually fluttered open and he looked at her, eyes light silver and almost sleepy looking. Bedroom eyes; the phrase flitted through her consciousness and she knew she'd remember this moment for a long time.

"Good?" she said, a quirk to her mouth.

"I think you know," he said lazily, sliding his hand up behind her head and bringing her down for a kiss. He kept her lips and pushed up and over her, reversing their positions and propping himself on his elbow. She looked up at him in the warm light, his gorgeous bone structure and coloring, a lock of bright hair falling over his forehead. She reached up and smoothed it back as he closed his eyes and tilted his head into her palm.

"Draco," she said.

"Mmm-hmm." His eyes were still closed, but they opened now and focused on her. A small crease appeared between them.

"This is it now, isn't it?" She said softly. "No more back and forth."

"No more back and forth." He shook his head once. "I think we've established that I can't stay away." He bit his lower lip and it was adorable. Hermione reached up to kiss him and they were occupied for a bit, but eventually she pulled back.

"I talked to Harry," she said.

"I could tell. Potter's face is, as always, an open book."

She chuckled. "Yes. But I also talked to him about what you said and he explained a bit… where you're coming from. I just wanted you to know," —she reached up to brush his face— "that I did hear you and I… do understand somewhat. Even if I don't agree."

He nodded slowly then lay down on the pillow to face her, so close she could see the deeper grey ring around his iris. "But this may be all we get," he whispered. "We'd be fools to pass it up, wouldn't we?"

"Yes." She smiled at him and he smiled back, then pulled her close against him. Hermione tucked her face into his neck and breathed deeply, feeling herself finally relaxed and at peace in his arms.

Draco shifted and opened one eye to the extremely dim light of early morning. It took him a moment to realise that something warm was pressed up against him and something soft was tickling his chin.

Memory rushed back and he grinned slowly, splaying his palm against Hermione's stomach and pulling her back closer against his front. She made a sweet sound and burrowed into him.

"Are you awake?" he whispered, enjoying the warmth, the near-dark and a feeling like they were the only two people in the world. He knew Theo hadn't come home—Draco always woke when the flat's loud door lock turned and he hadn't stirred the slightest bit last night. In fact, he'd slept better than he had in a long time.

"Somewhat." She arched her back against him and Draco let his hand drift upward to her breasts as he lowered his lips to her neck. "Oh," she sighed, the sound making him press harder against her. She hummed her approval and twined her arm up around the back of his neck, running her fingers into his hair and arching even further. Sensation sparked through Draco's body and he wrapped himself around her, tracing down her shoulder with his lips. She sucked in a soft breath, "Draco, oh," as he slid his hand down her sleek torso. When he got to her knickers he paused, but she breathed a soft, "yes," so he pushed them down and off.

It was glorious to feel her whole body pressed against him. No barriers to stop his roving hands and lips. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the fragrance at the nape of her neck, and then licked and kissed her there, eliciting a sharp gasp.

"You like that?" he murmured, doing it again, a bit rougher this time. He was so turned on it was hard to be soft and slow.

"Yes, ohh." She pushed back against him and Draco ghosted his other hand, which had been teasing at her inner thighs, up further. When he touched her, she moaned and fire surged through him. He tightened his other arm around her stomach to pull her even tighter against him. The sensation almost put him over the edge, but he kept his focus on her, wanting to make her feel good, wanting to evoke the same ecstatic reaction he'd been treated to last night.

Just then she looked over her shoulder and reached for him, pulling his lips against hers, her hand splayed against the back of his head. He tongued deep into her mouth and increased the pace of his fingers. She writhed and moaned and he swept his other hand to her breasts and lingered there.

"God, Draco." She broke away, her breath coming hard.

He felt an overwhelming desire to get closer to her, taste her.

Swiftly, he pulled her onto her back and moved over her, kissing down her soft skin and lingering on her breasts, which she seemed to enjoy. But when he moved lower, down her stomach and to the sweet join of her hip and leg, she made a little sound of surprise, so he looked up, a question in his eyes. Her gaze was dark and her lips were parted, swift little breaths darting from them. He could see all of her as she propped up to look at him and it was so hot that he throbbed with desire, rubbing himself against the softness of the sheet almost unconsciously.

"Is this OK?" he whispered, leaning down to place a soft kiss on her upper thigh.

"I've never—" The breathlessness in her voice inflamed him even further, but he waited for her to decide.

Her eyes roved over him and he kissed her again, on her stomach this time, swirling her skin a little with his tongue, a promise of things to come. She jerked at the sensation, then plunged her hands into his hair, pushing his head down slightly. Draco's lips lifted and he glanced up, but her head was thrown back and her eyes closed, so he focused his attention and moved deliberately down her body, enjoying her soft skin and the feeling of her foot hooked around his arse, hitching him against her.

When he first touched his tongue to her, she jolted again, so he checked in, pausing and peering up. Her eyes were still closed, but her fingers tightened in his hair and she nudged against him, so he continued, working over her softness, lapping and savouring. The intimacy of it was intense and his pleasure spiked as he felt hers ratchet up. And when he changed his angle slightly and she moaned—loud—in the stillness of the room, he found himself reaching inside his trunks. It wasn't long before he was stroking in time to her rapid breaths, then jerking against his hand as she started to writhe on his face.

He could tell when she realised what he was doing because he felt her shift up and she gasped, her nails raking his scalp. "Oh yes," she choked out, and the idea that she was watching him and turned on by it drove him almost out of his skull.

His climax started to come into sharp focus, so with his free hand he grasped her waist, pulling her against him and delving into her with even deeper intensity. She tensed and cried out, her thighs tightening around his ears, and Draco felt a soaring sensation as she shuddered and gasped his name, clearly reaching for her peak. Suddenly, she went rigid, making a sound between a moan and a scream that seemed to unlock Draco's climax with a primal force. He groaned against her as he came apart, hanging on to just enough consciousness to work her through her release until she was boneless and sighing beneath him.

Eventually he came down too, cheek resting on her belly, eyelashes fluttering against her skin as he blinked to awareness. He wasn't quite sure what had just happened, but he knew he'd never experienced anything like it before. He rubbed his cheek against her, moved his lips softly on her skin, then looked up to see her dark gaze roving over his face. He shifted up to look at her; she was all tousled curls and sleepy brown eyes and definitely the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Why had he denied himself this for so long? Thoughts of why threatened to intrude, but he pushed them away, determined to enjoy the moment now that he was committed to this path.

He reached down, intending to touch his lips to hers sweetly, gently—but in a quick movement, she wrapped her hand around the back of his head and brought his mouth down hard on hers. Draco felt a slight smile tug at his lips as he sank into the kiss.

They kissed for a while in the quiet dim, their mouths and hands eventually growing heated again—he was, apparently, insatiable for her—until she pulled back with a groan. "I should probably sneak back home." She ran a soft finger over his cheek. "I'm fairly certain Harry didn't sleep there, but he'll come back for the portkey and I want to be there to see him off. He has to leave early." Draco propped up on an elbow as she lay back and laced her hands behind her head.

Distracted by her bare breasts above the coverlet and the memories of what had so recently transpired, Draco didn't respond immediately.

She cleared her throat. "Eyes up here, Malfoy."

"Well, when they're just in my face," he said with a grin and a flick of his brows. She stuck out her tongue and pulled him down next to her again. He settled on the pillows and attempted to school his brain into rational thought. "I suppose you should go." He yawned. "Although I hate to concede you to Potter. Let Matteo send him off," he said, leaning over and beginning to kiss her neck again.

"Mmm, I hope he had a nice time," she murmured.

"I'm sure he did. Matteo has quite a reputation."

"You don't sound surprised by any of this. With Harry," she said, beginning to run her fingers through his hair, which he enjoyed quite a lot.

"I suspected."

"Really? I never did."

"Mmm hmm." Draco had discovered the spot under her earlobe and was giving it some attention. "You were too close. And you're platonic best friends. Right?" He suddenly looked up at her.

"Yes." She wrinkled her nose at him.

He lifted a shoulder. "Just checking. And yes, last year I wondered a few times. When he was stalking me all over school."

"He did say he thinks you're good-looking," she sighed, stretching like a cat under his hands and lips.

"You're good-looking. Gorgeous, in fact. I particularly enjoy this bit," Draco said, nipping at her smooth shoulder. "And this one." He placed a soft kiss on the dent above her upper lip. "And this," he directed a light swat at her bare arse.

"Heyyy!" She grabbed his hand and shot him a mock-severe look. "And we could argue about that all day. Although I really should go." There was laughter in her voice, but it faded from her face as he looked down at her, trying to memorise her in this moment.

"What?" he asked, a trickle of worry invading his blissful happiness.

"I need to hear it again," she said quietly.

He tilted his head.

"What you said: no going back, no pulling away."

"I meant it." He kept his eyes on hers. "No pulling back. No pulling away. I don't want to, and I don't think I could." He picked up her hand and rested his lips on her fingers.

"And you'll come in today? To the cafe and see me? Because I can't—" She broke off and her eyes darted to the side, "I can't do that again, Draco. Where you reject me."

He slid his hands up and cradled her face. Looked into her eyes. "I know. And I will absolutely be there today and tomorrow. And every other day we're here together. Nothing could keep me from it."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

And he did. With all his heart.

Chapter Text

Hermione touched her lips as she (finally) walked away from the large green door to Draco's building. He hadn't let her leave for quite a while, detaining her in the hallway of the flat, on the stairs and in the foyer.

He also hadn't wanted her walking alone, but she'd insisted, San Cipriano being generally about as safe as Hogsmeade and her wanting to reinforce the idea that she wasn't breakable or in need of protection.

And now she wanted to move, joy bubbling up through her like fizzy wine.

She swung down the square and through the center of town, her strides long and her feet light despite her heavy boots. Her boots. Oh. Visions of him kneeling to unlace them…she sighed at the thought and then actually laughed out loud. A passing delivery man gave her an indulgent look and she schooled her features, a little amazed that the town was just waking up as she was coming home. She looked down at her dress—what was this supposed to be called? The 'walk of shame'? Fuck that; she felt anything but ashamed.

Ruminating on these things, she started up the hill to her flat, moving briskly over the uneven cobbles and puffing against the steepness of the street. She was looking down, so she didn't notice a figure coming toward her in the opposite direction until it was almost upon her, and she looked up startled when she registered the other tread right in her path.

"Oh! Harry!"

"Hi, Hermione." Harry was also in last night's clothes and his hair was an absolute wreck. They stood and looked at each other for a few beats and Hermione felt heat in her cheeks even as she watched a flush climb up Harry's neck.

"Well," she said. "Did you have a, er, nice time?"

"Yeah." He scrubbed a hand through his hair and looked to the side. "You?"

"Uh-huh."

"Good good… With, uh, Malfoy?" Harry winced a little on the last bit.

Hermione nodded slowly. "And you were at…Matteo's?"

"Yeah, that's right."

They stood there a moment longer until a van roaring down the street made them both start.

Hermione shook her head and stepped forward. "I guess we're not kids anymore," she said, slinging her arm around Harry's neck.

He looked at her with a grin. "No."

"Come on." Hermione started walking them toward her door. "I'll make us some tea and toast before you have to go."

They trudged up the steps to the empty, messy flat. Hermione peeked in Lavender's room to confirm that she hadn't made it home last night either.

"You want the shower first?" she asked Harry, who was glugging a glass of water in the kitchen.

"Please," he said. "I'm rank. All the dancing and cigarette smoke."

And the sex. Don't forget the sex. Hermione grinned and waved him off down the hall. "Towels are in the cupboard next to the bath."

Later, when they were both freshly scrubbed and ensconced at the kitchen table with a strong pot of tea and large rack of toast between them, Hermione took advantage of their last hour together to grill Harry about his plans for the autumn.

"So you really don't think you're going back to school?"

"It's doubtful." Harry said, chewing. "I think I need to focus on finding the rest of the Horcruxes."

"But Dumbledore?"

"He's too sick." Harry shook his head. "I saw him last month and...I don't think we'll have him for long, Hermione."

"Really?" Hermione put down her cup and touched Harry's hand, a little chagrined that she hadn't asked about the Headmaster earlier.

Harry nodded. "And even before it happens. The curse is… It's bad. He could barely speak when I was there."

"Oh, Harry." Hermione put her whole hand over his, her mind running over the things she'd mostly tried to forget the last two months: the war, the danger and the heartbreak waiting for her when she left this place.

"I know." Harry closed his eyes and turned his hand to grip hers. "I'm going to try to see him one more time. Ask him what I can. But after that, I think it will be time for action."

"Do you have a plan?"

"I mean, vaguely to find the rest of them." Harry rubbed at his neck as Hermione snorted a laugh. "But I think the first step is the locket."

Hermione nodded, her mind racing with thoughts of school, the real world, the war. Draco's face flitted before her eyes. He wouldn't be at Hogwarts this year. Who knew where he'd be, actually? She looked around the flat. She'd be leaving here soon…and going back to what? To books and classes and petty concerns—while the people she most cared about were gone...risking themselves...fighting?

"I'll go with you," she said suddenly, making a snap decision.

"What? I can't ask you to—" Harry leaned forward in his chair and frowned into her eyes.

"No, you can't. But I can offer. And you can't refuse me. You can't afford to."

"Hermione! What about school? What about your parents!?"

"School can be made up when, and if, we get through this thing. My parents I'll have to think about…" Hermione stared into the distance. She'd fobbed them off rather easily this summer with a trumped up 'study abroad' story bolstered by Professor Lupin, but jettisoning her entire last year of school would be more difficult to explain. And it was probably time to start thinking about their protection...

"Well I can't deny that I'll be happy to have you with me. Thank you." Harry said, his eyes suddenly a bit shiny.

Hermione touched his arm. "Of course. And are you going to ask Ron?"

"I can't see keeping it from him." Harry shrugged. "I'm sure it will come up at Bill and Fleur's wedding, and if he wants to come, I'd be happy to have him."

"God!" Hermione slapped her forehead. "I'd totally forgotten about the wedding!"

"August 31st! I'm still coming to get you and bring you to The Burrow for it, right? That's what we said in June. Although—" Harry looked down. "—Maybe I'll try to come a day or two early."

Hermione's brows went up. "Matteo?"

Harry got very focused on shredding a piece of toast. "Mmm hmm."

"Well, arrange it with Lupin. It will be lovely to have you here before we all have to go. Make it a little easier..." Hermione's voice trailed off, the prospect of leaving squeezing her chest.

"So things are OK, then?" Harry's voice was soft. "With you and Malfoy? You worked it out?"

Hermione nodded at the table top.

"I could see it last night—I mean, it was hard to miss." Harry laughed a little bit. "What's between you." He shifted in his seat. "It kind of makes sense, you know? Like more than you and Ron ever did. Now that Malfoy's not a bigoted little shit anymore. Well, at least not bigoted."

Hermione snorted. "He's changed a lot. You'd be surprised."

"No, I get it. I saw it with Theo last night. And even Blaise. I had a good time with them. At the disco."

"Aww, I'm sorry I missed it."

"No, you're not." Harry sent her a singularly wicked smile and Hermione felt her face go bright red.

"Harry!"

He just laughed, and then looked at the clock. "Shite, I have to get going. Lupin's waiting for me in France somewhere. Got a tricky route planned back to the safehouse. Ugh." He rolled his eyes.

"At least you'll be seeing Dean again," Hermione said hopefully.

"Yeah," Harry nodded quickly. "That's true."

Hermione took a moment to wonder at the changes even the last few days had wrought in their relationship before she looked up and spoke briskly. "OK, let me know what day you're coming back so I can be ready."

Harry nodded again as he stood and Hermione got up to meet him. She looked at him for a long moment: his dark, messy hair and slightly crooked glasses. They smiled slightly at each other, and then Hermione lurched forward and caught him tightly in her arms. He hugged her back, just as fierce.

"I'll miss you until then," he said, his voice choked. "Be safe, Hermione."

"Same. And you too." Hermione replied, a little sob hiccuping out of her throat as she finally let him go.

Draco was true to his word.

He came whistling into the cafe around ten, an hour or so before the bookshop opened. Hermione was busy with a group of tourists who didn't speak English or Italian, trying and failing to pantomime panini options, when he walked by and shot her a slow smile. It was so hot that she completely forgot what she was doing and stared stupidly, her hand going up in an idiotic half-wave before she could stop it. The tourists, noting her distraction, turned as one to stare, and Draco's smile turned positively angelic, morphing into an expression Hermione normally would have expected to see on Theo's face. He was so beautiful that one of the ladies in the group actually sighed and one turned back to Hermione and dipped her chin in approval.

As soon as the group was served, Draco appeared at the counter, leaning over it and giving her another warm look.

"Good morning. What would you like?" she asked, leaning toward him almost involuntarily.

He looked at her for a beat, the smile widening and his eyes running slowly over her person. "So many things, Granger," he said, his voice low and caressing.

Hermione felt herself go bright red.

"Ahem, yes. A coffee, then?" she sputtered, eyeing an older gentleman in the queue behind Draco.

Draco's fingers, which were resting on the counter near her hands, brushed lightly against hers. "A coffee would be lovely, yes." He turned and nodded at the signore behind him, but then stopped suddenly and pivoted back. "Make it a doppio, please. I didn't get a lot of sleep last night."

Hermione's mouth opened and closed, then she shot him a look and turned her attention to the older man. After serving him, she made Draco's coffee and brought it to him at the corner table he'd commandeered. He had a muggle newspaper up in front of his face, but he flipped it down and leaned forward as she approached. His eyes ran very obviously over her again as she set his cup down. She raised her brows at him.

"I like that dress," he said with a half shrug. "A lot."

Hermione looked down at the simple pink cotton sheath. One of her favorites, she wore it all the time. "Oh, thank you." She was a bit flustered at the idea that he had been admiring her in it all along.

His eyes glinted up at her and he flicked his fingers up from where they were resting on the edge of the table and lightly brushed her thigh. Hermione took a sharp breath in, whipping her head around to see if anyone had noticed. His smile widened and his head tilted. "No one's looking. You're just serving a customer."

Hermione was sure that anyone with working intuition could sense the waves of longing and and desire radiating from their little corner of the cafe, but he was right, when she looked around everyone else in the bustling room was absorbed in their own conversations or reading materials—their own lives. No one was looking, so impulsively she bent down and placed a swift kiss on Draco's cheek, flicking her own brows up at him as she turned to duck behind the counter. She was gratified to see his hand float to his face.

After that, she got busy, the mid-morning rush enhanced by several other tourist groups passing through—although there was ample opportunity for quick glances and shared looks, each of which gave Hermione a potent little thrill.

She had just ducked down to retrieve a tray of glasses from the dishwasher when the bell jangled again and loud hallo echoed through the space. It was Mauritzio, his smile brilliant as he swept in and leaned over the counter. Hermione sensed more than saw the increased attention from Draco's corner.

"A triple this morning, belissima," Mauritzio said, then yawned dramatically. "I am so, so tired." He slumped on the counter as Hermione laughed. "Your friends they keep me out so late," he complained.

"More like the other way around, I'd wager." Hermione smiled as she tamped espresso and prepped the machine. Mauritzio shrugged eloquently.

"I missed you!" He placed his hand over his heart. "When will we be there together? When will you dance with me?"

Hermione glanced over at Draco. The paper was up over his face again, but his foot was tapping.

"This Friday?" Mauritizo persisted. "I pick you up. We get some dinner, have some wine—and then we dance!"

The corner of the paper flipped down and a raised brow appeared behind it. Hermione suppressed a smile. "Ah, no, I can't. I'm, uh, busy this Friday?" Her eyes darted quickly to the grey ones watching her from the corner and Draco nodded quickly.

"Always, you put me off!" Mauritzio placed his hand over his heart, but he was grinning. Hermione suspected he enjoyed the chase more than the catch. "OK, OK," he said, making a short bow as he placed his empty cup back on the counter. "But I don't give up!" He backed out the door, making eyes at Hermione while she laughed and waved.

She glanced over to the corner, but the paper was back up. Also, she was out of milk. Taking stock of the cafe, she saw that the pre-lunch lull had replaced the midmorning rush and it was nearly empty, so she ducked into the back room and went to the large fridge there. She was about to open the door when a soft tread sounded behind her and an arm slid around her waist. She was spun around and urgent lips descended on hers before she could think.

Draco tasted delicious, like a hint of almond from the biscuit he'd eaten. Hermione's arms snaked up around his neck and she sighed into his mouth, opening her lips as his tongue teased against hers. He was wicked, angling her neck and backing her against the wall. Her fingers went into his hair and his hand drifted towards her arse. When his other brushed her breast, she started a bit and broke the kiss, her eyes darting to the bright doorway. No one could see them here, but still.

"The bell hasn't rung," Draco muttered against her skin. "You're fine."

"Mmm, but if Giancarlo—" Hermione arched her neck, offering it for his lips.

"I was helping you with the milk," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.

"You're such a helpful person."

"Do you know, I am." The smile was really apparent now. "For example, I'd be happy to help you get this dress off later." He nudged into her in a significant way.

"Draco!" But she was laughing quietly.

"Really. Come over tonight," he said, his voice darker now. "Theo's got the dinner shift at the restaurant and he's going out after. I'll cook."

She sighed. How perfectly lovely. "Yes, I'd love that." She drew back and reached up to run her finger over his jaw. He was so gorgeous, if a bit rumpled. She smoothed his hair. "And I presume you've got big plans for us Friday? Since I passed up a date with Mauritzio for you?"

"Oh, are you seeing other people?" His head ducked and his lips whispered against her skin again.

"Well no one's asked me not to."

"Please don't see anyone but me." His lips were back on hers again and his knee was between her legs. "And the next time that smooth git comes in here, tell him you're spoken for so that I don't have to resort to violence."

"Alright. And if that dark-haired girl from the disco comes in to talk to you at the bookshop, please do the same."

He smiled against her lips. "You noticed Sofia?"

"Oh, Sofia? And yes, if I see her touch your hair again, I won't be responsible for my actions."

He laughed. "Deal."

The bell did ring now and Hermione pulled away reluctantly, running her palm up his chest to rest it near his heart.

He looked down at her and his eyes roved her face. "So beautiful," he murmured.

Hermione's stomach flipped and she bit her lip. What a sore trial to her self control not to just throw him against the wall... Instead, she called on her professionalism and ducked around him, going to the fridge and pulling out several cartons of milk. She handed a couple to him. "Here, look busy."

He laughed and took them, then followed her through the doorway. Hermione was unable to hide her answering smile.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Amused tones sounded from near the door and Hermione realised it was Lavender who had come in. The place was empty but for her.

"Lav, hi!" Hermione was suddenly flustered. She looked hurriedly over her shoulder at Draco.

"Hello, Lavender." Hermione could hear a faint smile in his voice.

"Draco. Aren't you supposed to be at the bookshop by now?" Lavender's eyes danced as they darted from the clock to him.

Draco looked up at the clock. "Shit," he said succinctly, setting the milk down with a thump.

Lavender leaned over the counter on her elbows, watching them avidly and unabashedly as Draco turned to Hermione. "I'll see you later?" He asked softly.

"Yes, what time?"

"I'm off at six and I need to go to the market. Come around seven?"

"OK." Hermione couldn't help the stupidly large smile that bloomed over her face. Draco looked at her for a moment, his expression soft. Then his eyes darted to Lavender and the corner of his mouth went up. Suddenly he leaned down and planted a lingering kiss on Hermione's lips. She felt her whole face heat as he slipped out from behind the counter and picked his jacket up off the chair he'd been sitting in.

"Lav." He nodded as he swept by, flicking his eyebrows at Hermione.

Lavender turned so that her back was to the counter. "Bye, Draco!" she called.

He waved without turning around as he walked out the door and Hermione busied herself with a cleaning cloth.

"Well, well, welllll." Lavender turned back around after several beats. Hermione didn't meet her eyes but she felt the heat in her face intensify. Finally she looked up. Lavender was grinning at her like the Cheshire cat.

"What?" Hermione half laughed.

"May I have a double espresso and an explanation, please?" Lavender said sweetly.

"I don't know what there is to say." Hermione bit down on her smile as she turned to the espresso machine.

"Don't know what there is to say!? What happened!?" Hermione looked over her shoulder to see Lavender's eyes round and her grin wide. "Last I heard, you were arguing in my bedroom! And now I come in and you're walking out of the back room all rumpled and snogged-looking and he's kissing you right in front of me!"

"We worked it out." Hermione put one shoulder up and turned to serve Lavender her coffee.

Lavender craned her neck and made Hermione catch her eye. "Worked it out… Did you SLEEP together?"

"Lavender!" Hermione looked wildly around the room, even though she knew it was empty.

"What? There's nobody here." Lavender slurped her coffee without taking her eyes off Hermione.

Hermione stayed silent and Lavender's eyes widened until Hermione finally broke. "No, OK. We didn't. Not exactly."

"But you did other things."

Hermione tilted her head and crossed her arms.

"This is girl talk, Hermione. Get used to it."

"Oh, so I have to tell you everything?"

"No, you don't. But it's fun!" Lavender leaned down again and lowered her voice. "And I thought you were close the other night…?"

Hermione glanced reflexively around the cafe again, but there was still nobody lurking in a corner table.

"I guess…" She looked away. "The other night was—we got carried away. But I kind of want to take it slower? Like you and Blaise."

"Oh that ship has sailed, sweetie." Lavender laughed.

"What!?"

"Yeah a while ago! Right after we last talked about it actually. But this is not about me."

Hermione turned back to the espresso machine and pulled out the scoop. "How about, 'it was lovely' and I leave it at that."

"OK." Lavender's tone was softer and she gave Hermione a sweet smile. Then her eyes narrowed. "I'll break you down eventually, though. I want to know if he's a good kisser, and if he's good with his mouth in other ways, how he is with his hands, how big his—"

"Lavender Rose Brown!"

Lavender just smirked as the bell rung and a group of young mothers with prams began trundling in.

"That will be my mums group. They'll all need coffees and cake, so you'd better go!" Hermione made a shooing motion with her hands, but she also couldn't prevent the grin tugging at her lips.

"All right, all right." Lavender laughed as she turned toward the door and nodded quick hellos to a few of the young women. "But I'll talk to you later." She pointed. "And Hermione?"

"What?" Hermione sent a wary glance at the mums.

"Don't take it too slow." Lavender jutted her chin in the direction Draco had gone. "Remember...less than a month."

Hermione shook her head and waved Lavender off as she went out the door.

"You have a dark grey ring around your iris." Draco felt Hermione's fingers brush over his eyebrow as her gaze roved his face. She was sitting on his kitchen counter and he was exactly where he wanted to be—between her legs, hands on her thighs, thumbs brushing the satiny skin there.

It was evening; mellow light filtered in from the sitting room windows, which were open to the soft air. She had just arrived for their planned dinner in, and he'd barely let her put down the bottle of wine she'd bought before he'd pulled her against him.

"Well, you have freckles." He felt the corner of his mouth lift.

"Only like five!" Her outraged look was adorable.

"I count seven." He leaned down and kissed each one before capturing her mouth again. She made a muffled sound, but after a moment her tongue teased against his lips and he opened, deepening the playfulness to something more intense as his thoughts ran to what were already favorite parts of the night…and morning...before. She drank from his lips, her hands sliding down his neck to his shoulders. He leaned her back against the cupboards, pressing into her, feeling like he could move in to this moment and live here for the rest of his life.

And they did kiss for quite a long time, until the sound of furiously boiling water became so persistent that Draco couldn't ignore it any longer. He pulled away from her lips reluctantly.

"The pasta," he said, letting obvious regret tinge his words.

She slid her hands down his chest. "Mmm, yes, you'd better get it." She looked up at him from under her lashes and bit her lip.

His eyes widened. "Oh that's just not on." He ducked his head to kiss her again. "Bloody...witch." She laughed softly and tightened her grip on him, and he found he didn't care much if the pasta was terribly overcooked.

In fact, he was contemplating whether they really needed to eat at all or if he should instead persuade her to the sofa (or the bedroom), when he heard the loud snick of the door lock. He broke away a bit abruptly, his surprise mirrored on her face. It could only be Theo, though he'd definitely said he'd be out all night.

A step sounded in the hall and Draco spun away to face the doorway. He sensed the motion of Hermione sliding off the counter as Theo walked into the kitchen and the thought crossed his mind that they probably looked guilty somehow. Annoyed, he glanced at Hermione and saw a telltale crease between her brows, so he purposely set his face in aloof lines.

"Caught in the act?" Theo asked lightly as he paused in the doorway and his gaze flashed over them. He cracked a smile, but Draco caught a hint of something other than humour in his eyes before he looked away.

"Of making dinner," Draco said evenly.

Hermione murmured an indistinct hello and Draco heard, and greatly disliked, the nervousness in her voice. He suddenly had an intense urge to know just exactly what had happened between Theo and her. He felt his fingers curl into his palm.

"Well don't mind me." Theo stepped forward and yanked open a drawer. "Just forgot my wallet." He held up a brown leather square with a half smile then moved back toward the hallway, turning just before he left the room. "And I'll uh, be gone all night. So you two…" He twirled his hand around.

Draco felt his brows go up.

"Oh, uh." Hermione's voice was still tight and a touch awkward. "Have a good time, Theo."

"Thanks." Theo's eyes flicked over her. "You too." He shot one last look at Draco, who realised his nails were digging into his palm. Theo's whistle sounded down the hall just before the door opened and slammed.

It was quiet in the kitchen but for the still-riotous bubbling of the the pasta. Draco moved swiftly over and turned it off, then leaned against the counter next to the hob. Hermione was standing in the same spot, looking toward the hallway, her back to him.

Draco's eyes skimmed over her lithe figure. "I know I have no right to ask." He was almost surprised to hear his own voice.

"No, you don't." She turned back to him, her face guarded.

"I'm still going to." He said softly. He found that he needed to know, a fact which felt vaguely alarming.

Hermione bit her lip again, but this time the effect was less come-hither and more pensive. "OK."

"Do you have feelings for him?" Draco was surprised again—that this was the first thing out of his mouth.

"Like I do for you? No." She shook her head decisively and Draco felt the largest of the bands that had constricted his chest upon Theo's arrival loosen.

"And what happened between you?" Draco could see an assortment of emotions flit over her expressive face before she took a deep breath and he realised he was bracing himself for her answer.

"We kissed. But I think you knew that?"

He nodded. He also knew there was probably more to it, so he waited.

She walked slowly toward him across the kitchen. "It was one night. It didn't go further than kissing. A good amount of kissing." Her eyes flicked to his. "He wanted more, and I didn't."

Draco pushed aside the sensations that 'a good amount of kissing' raised and instead focused on the latter part of her statement. "And why didn't you?"

She snorted and looked away. "I think you know."

"I wouldn't mind hearing it."

She looked back and Draco saw a faint smile on her lips. She crossed her arms and the smile disappeared. "You, alright!? Even though you were being an unpredictable arse and I had no reason to think you—and every reason to—with him." She shook her head and Draco almost reached out for her, but then she spoke again. "But I care about him." Her dark eyes flashed. "And on some level I didn't think it would be fair to him. Or me."

Draco nodded. "OK." He pushed off the counter and toward her.

"So it wasn't totally about you." She held his gaze.

"That's fair." He stopped bare inches from her, looking down into her alluring face; the delightfully quirked lips and dark-winged brows. He reached down and slid his fingers along her jaw, cupping it in his hand. "Tell me one more thing?"

"Mmm hmm." Her eyes were dark on his as she tilted into his caress.

"When he kissed you," he slanted his mouth to hers. "Did he kiss you like this?" He slid his other palm around her waist and pulled her to him as he moved against her lips, deep and intense. Her fingers instantly tangled in his hair and she sighed low in her throat. Draco felt time fall away as they stood there, his hands roving over her lower back, the delightful curve of her waist, her arse, as his tongue explored every bit of her sweet mouth. She pressed up and against him, holding the fingers of one hand in his hair and questing with the other up and under his shirt. He felt the skim of her nails against his skin and gasped with the pleasure of it. His lips left her mouth and traveled to her neck, which she arched obligingly.

"No," she breathed softly after a few moments and Draco almost couldn't remember the question she was answering.

Almost.

"It was nothing like this. Nothing has ever been like this." Her voice broke as she pressed against him, her cheek against his heart. Draco breathed in and out as his arms enfolded her, tight and fierce.

"Good," he muttered into the fragrance of her hair.

Chapter Text

"It's not supposed to rain here!" Hermione shrieked as she ran toward her flat, Draco close behind her. She fumbled with the key and fitted it into the lock, pushing the large entryway door open with her shoulder as they fell inside laughing and gasping.

The foyer was dark and redolent of damp cement—totally unlike the dusty scent Hermione usually associated with it. She took one look at Draco, hair plastered against his head and jacket dripping with water, grabbed his hand, and started towing him up the steps.

"Come on! At least the flat will be warmer."

"I think the dash from the bike made me twice as wet as the ride itself." Draco shook his sleeve as they got to the flat door. "Hope it's alright where I parked it." He shoved a hand into his hair and pushed it back off his forehead.

"I'm sure it's fine." Hermione got the door open, shrugged out of her jacket and kicked off her sandals. She called out for Lavender, but there was no response. "I think she's got the closing shift today."

Draco was peeling wet leather off his arms and stepping out of his boots. "Blaise mentioned something about a special dinner?"

"Oh that's right! Their anniversary or some such." Hermione rolled her eyes very gently.

"Yeah, that's it. Two months." Draco chuckled.

"A lifetime." Hermione's smile was mocking, but it faded as she looked at him. It actually did feel like she'd lived a whole alternate life since the beginning of summer.

So much had changed.

The spark of laughter in Draco's eyes mellowed and she knew he was thinking the same thing. "A lifetime indeed," he murmured as he reached out for her and pulled her into a soft kiss. His lips were warm and Hermione lost herself in them for moment, but his shirt was cold and clammy, so she pulled away, twisting the dripping cotton in her hands.

"Let's get out of these wet things."

A mischievous look flashed over his face."By all means." His long fingers reached for her and began undoing her blouse buttons. "Happy to help with yours."

She laughed and swatted at him. "Before you do that, let me get us some towels and figure out how to work the radiator in my bedroom so we can hang things to dry. Why don't you put the kettle on for tea." She gave him a light shove toward the kitchen.

Draco's eyebrows went up and stayed up at the word 'bedroom'. "All right. But I reserve the right to remove any damp underthings."

Hermione shook her head and giggled as she moved down the hall, pulling towels from the closet and craning her neck to see out the flat windows and over the roofline of the buildings opposite. The sky above them was a deep, angry grey and drops continued to hurl out of it. A rumble of thunder rolled in the distance and she was surprised anew. Of course Italy had storms and rain just like any other place, but after sixty straight days of sunshine it was somewhat of a shock.

Walking into her bedroom she flicked on a lamp—the usually light and bright flat having been sunk into gloom—and went to the radiator, which she'd never used. Too bad they weren't in Draco's bedroom with the fireplace, she wished idly as she twiddled nobs and dials. But her flat had been the much closer option when they'd sped back into San Cipriano after their lunch in Aquino had been interrupted by the surprise storm.

The radiator began issuing a series of hisses and pops and Hermione felt a faint hint of heat come off its metal sides. She nodded with satisfaction and went to the window, gazing past the drops sliding down the glass to the streets below. The whole village looked different; pavements deserted and the usual ochres and creams stained dark by the wet. She put her fingertips to the cold glass, hearing Draco in the kitchen: the kettle going as cupboards opened and shut. A feeling of contentment stole over her and she smiled.

If this summer felt like a lifetime, then the last week had been like a season within it, warm and sweet. She and Draco had been together almost constantly when they weren't working; she'd barely seen Lavender and Blaise or Theo. In fact, now that she thought about it, everyone seemed to have paired off, with Lav at Blaise's every night and Theo almost having moved into Francesca's flat. It gave her a little stab of melancholy somehow, although the delight of being with Draco mostly overshadowed it. Hermione was trying not to name things when their situation was so temporary and precarious, but she couldn't remember a time when she'd felt this happy or whole.

"You're still dressed." Draco appeared in the doorway with two mugs in his hands and Hermione turned, rasing a brow.

"Well it's not quite warm in here yet! Come in and close that door."

"Yes ma'am." He set the steaming tea down and came to the window with her. "It looks so different."

"It really does." She glanced up at his beautiful profile as he watched the scene below. After a moment he looked back at her and smiled so sweetly that her heart squeezed a little in her chest. He reached out and lifted a lock of her hair.

"The water made it more curly."

"I know." She wrinkled her nose.

"I love it." He turned and pulled her to him.

She couldn't help the smile that bloomed at his words. "And yours is so dark! You almost look like a regular blond when it's wet." Reaching up, she slid her fingers against his temple. He tilted his head into her hand and closed his eyes.

"Funny, I used to be proud of it," he said softly.

"Your hair? What do you mean?"

"The colour. The way it marked me out as a Malfoy." He grimaced, his eyes still closed. "Now I'd change it if I could. Except that it would be so obvious I was trying."

"Nooo." The word came on a soft exhalation. "I love your hair." She rubbed the fine strands between her fingers.

"You do?"

She reached up and pressed her lips to his. "Yes. It's a part of you." She pulled back and squinted at him. "And it's bloody attractive."

He half laughed and caught her tight against him. "Is it warm enough to take this off now?" he murmured, skimming his fingers over the fabric of her blouse.

"Mmm, I think so." She smiled against his lips as he made swift work of the shirt and pushed it off her shoulders. "And yours," she said, pulling the damp cotton up and over his head. "I'll just hang them to dry." She broke away and began fiddling with hangers and the radiator. It said something about how unaccustomed she'd become to magic that it barely occurred to her to use a spell instead of the muggle method.

Draco ran a towel over himself, then flopped back down on her bed. She turned to see him laying against her pillows, gorgeously rumpled. He was watching her movements quietly.

"Some music?" she asked, turning to the small player on her vanity table. "I still have your tapes from the party. And some new CDs."

"Something quiet," he said, his eyes sweeping over her. "And then come over here. You're too far away." Hermione felt a trickle of heat as she ran her eyes over his long, lean body and beautiful face. They hadn't had sex yet, but she found herself thinking about it almost constantly. Especially when they were alone. She'd never wanted anyone the way she wanted him.

"This one," she murmured, putting one of her newer purchases on and pressing play. A hushed and beautiful melody filled the room as she climbed on to the bed and over Draco, covering his body with hers.

"This is nice," he sighed, his fingers reaching around her torso and clasping her waist.

"The music or me?" She nipped at the place where his jaw met his neck.

He let out a sharp breath. "Both, although I don't know why you're still wearing damp trousers and we're not under the blankets."

"Why don't you help me with that?"

"Gladly."

He worked her out of her jeans, but wouldn't let her up to hang them.

"Leave it," he whispered, turning her over and pinning her wrists lightly as he kissed her.

"OK."

He ducked his head and she felt his lips through the thin fabric of her bra. "This is still damp, though."

"I know." She wriggled a little in place as he moved down and kissed her stomach. "Why don't you— ?"

"Gladly," he repeated himself with a smile in his voice as her bra clipped free and he followed the path of its strap down her arm with his lips. The song changed.

"Oh, I love this one," she sighed, her fingers drifting into his hair.

"It's beautiful…" He stopped to listen to the words. "And sad." He propped back up to look at her, his face serious.

She reached up and touched his cheek, traced a path over his eyes and nose and lips. "It is."

He heaved a deep sigh.

"What?" Hermione frowned up at him.

"I'm just… worried. Everything's rushing up so fast."

Hermione cringed internally. It was true—they only had a few weeks left. "What are you worried about? Tell me."

"What am I not worried about?" He looked away. "But specifically, I guess, just what comes next. For me. For you." He looked back at her. "I mean, at least you'll be at Hogwarts, but what if it falls to the other side? What would happen to you?"

Hermione took a deep breath. She'd been avoiding talking to Draco about her plans with Harry because she'd wanted to enjoy their time together without bringing in potential conflict. It was why she hadn't asked him about his plans yet, either. It had never seemed like the right time.

Until now.

She let her breath out. "Well I've been meaning to talk to you about that."

"About what?" He rolled over and sat up against the headboard, his posture and gaze suddenly alert.

She sat up too, tucking the blankets around her. "My plans. For after we leave here."

He cocked his head and blinked. "What plans?"

"When Harry was here, we talked. About what he's going to do next and my… role in that. I don't think I should tell you a lot of details, just in case." She grimaced. "I don't want to put you in danger."

"OK."

He looked worried, so Hermione rushed on, getting it out quickly. "I don't know how much you know about Harry and Vold—" Draco flinched and Hermione stopped herself. "And him."

"I know that he wants Potter dead. He's obsessed with the idea."

"That's right. Yes."

"And I imagine that's because Potter poses some kind of threat to him. Or at least he believes Potter does."

"Exactly." Hermione went silent as she tried to work out what she could tell Draco about the next part.

"So." His soft tones cut through her thoughts. "Does that mean Potter's staying in hiding?"

"It's a bit more complicated than that." Hermione sighed at Draco's puzzled expression. "I'm sorry. I'm just trying to be careful." He nodded and she reached out to twine her fingers with his.

"What if… what if there were a way to stop him? And Harry knew what it was."

"What, a spell or a—"

Hermione shook her head. "I don't want to say more."

"OK."

"But what it is Harry's doing... he needs help. My help."

Draco's frown deepened. "What are you trying to say?"

"That I won't be going back to Hogwarts this year."

"What!?" He sat up straight. "But that's the safest place for you!"

"Not necessarily. As you just said, it could be taken over. Dumbledore is not well. And that Azkaban break… Vol—his power is growing."

Draco flopped back against the cushions and stared out into nothing. He was still clasping Hermione's hand, but much tighter now.

"I still don't like it. How will you keep safe? Potter can't keep you safe." His eyes darted to hers, dark and troubled.

"How will any of us?" She kept his gaze. "I haven't wanted to ask, and mar all this"—she motioned her hand to indicate the quiet bedroom and their barely clad selves—"but what are you doing after we leave here? I know you're up to something with Lupin."

He tilted his head back against the wall and blew out a breath. He was silent for a long time until he spoke abruptly. "It's also probably best I don't tell you too much. Now that I know you'll be out in the world. In case you're…" He shook his head and a slight shudder passed over his features.

"But?"

"But I'm planning to help in some way." He gently disentangled his hand and ran it through his hair.

Hermione pressed her lips together. "Counterintelligence?"

"Yeah."

Now it was her turn to flop back. This was what she had suspected and she absolutely hated the idea. She put her hands up over her face and sighed deeply, the sigh turning into a kind of sob.

"Hey, hey." His voice was very soft as he gently pulled her hands away from her face. "What?"

"It's just the risks, Draco." Her voice broke and she felt her eyes fill.

He shifted and pulled her into his arms, against his chest. "I can't stand by and do nothing. Not anymore. It's personal now." He stroked her hair.

She felt a tear roll down her cheek. "Fuck."

He wiped it away with his thumb. "I know."

She clutched at him tightly, rubbing her cheek against his chest, listening to his heart. The song was changing and the only sound was the rain drumming on the roof above them. She synced her breathing with his and tried to imprint the moment on her mind. His hand kept stroking her hair and she made herself relax—be here now and not dwell on the terrifying and uncertain future.

After a long while, she felt the hum of his voice against her cheek. "Sometimes I wish— Often I wish—"

"What?" She looked up at him.

"That we didn't... That none of the rest of it existed." He looked into her eyes. "What if it was just you and me? And we met here? And we got to know each other, and we had all the time in the world?"

Hermione's voice was choked. "I would love that. Would have loved that." She reached up and touched his face, not trusting her voice and trying to convey what she felt with her eyes and the tips of her fingers.

He took her hand and shifted, turning them slowly and moving over her as his head dipped and she felt his lips on her jaw and then her neck. "I just," he whispered, his lips like feathers brushing her skin. "I just want to lose myself sometimes. Forget it all. All the rest of it." She made a noise of assent. She wouldn't mind stopping time in this quiet moment in the rain. "But that feels selfish somehow." His voice was so soft she almost didn't hear the words.

"It's not selfish." She stroked the back of his neck. "It's real." Her fingers tightened and she brought his face up, brought his lips to hers, kissed him deeply. He kissed her back with unmistakable passion, tongue delving deep into her mouth until she was gasping and dragging her fingers against his skin.

She moved against him and felt his arousal, making hers even sharper. "Lose yourself," she whispered after a while. "In me."

He drew in a fast breath. His fingers brushed over her breasts down her ribs to her hips. "You want to…?"

The rain pattered on the window and radiator hissed. The room was dark but for the small glow of her bedside lamp. The music swelled in a series of melancholy piano chords. "Yes," she said, shifting, her fingers at the waistband of his trunks. She hooked her thumbs underneath and slid them down. His face was in her neck and her hair, but he had stilled completely.

"Are you sure?"

Hermione examined herself for a moment and found she very much was. "Yes." She arched her back.

His mouth went to her breasts then and she gasped as he lingered there, his hands sliding to her hips and under her knickers. Sensation exploded across her skin and she shivered with delight.

"Are you cold?"

"No."

She caught his face and brought his lips to hers again. His fingers tightened on her hips and he pushed her knickers down. She helped him until they were skin to skin, the feeling exquisite. Reveling in his taut muscle and long limbs, she stroked and skimmed until he groaned and pushed against her, his hardness against her softness intoxicating.

She gasped in earnest when his fingers found her core while his lips found her breasts again. She was sighing his name when he finally came up, cupping her face with his hands.

"You're sure?"

"Yes, oh god, yes." She could feel him and she wanted more. More of him, more of everything she was feeling. She clutched at his back and tightened her legs around him, drawing him to her. He went slowly, his breath suspended and his face tucked to her neck again. "Please," she whispered.

The rain drove harder against the glass.

"Gods, Hermione." His voice was more breath than speech.

Her name on his lips as he filled her, the sensation, like nothing she'd— She tilted her head back and moaned as he began to move. Her nails on his skin, her fingers in his hair, her breath ragged. His breath ragged. She pulled her legs up and around him and he gasped, sped his pace.

God, you're perfect. God, you feel perfect. God, god, god.

She pulled his face back, she wanted to look at him while they were joined, together. And he looked at her, put his hand up and brushed the hair back from her temple, pushed into her as she sighed his name.

His eyes darkened and he moved again, harder and faster now. Yes, she hissed with her voice and her body. Yes. Again. More. His eyes fluttered shut and he pressed harder against her, his weight so good. Hands clutching into her hair and skin.

Lost in her.

She felt a soaring happiness and raked her nails against his shoulders as sensation built and spiraled up. She started to reach down but he stopped her.

"Let me."

His lips on her neck again, then his fingers down to her breasts, then down to where they were joined. He touched her and she arched back.

"Oh god." Her hands spasmed, her body built and tensed. "Don't stop, don't stop. God. Draco, please."

"Yes, yes. That's it, perfect. You're perfect." His words against her lips. A sort of mantra. Then he was kissing her while he stroked her.

She began to soar, to reach for something so stunning she couldn't name it. To have all of this, all of him at once… She began to gasp and cry out. His name over and over. He pushed into her faster and harder, touching her still—through every sensation, until she was writhing and screaming out, her world shattering into a million exquisite pieces. Still he moved inside her, through the whole thing, through the sea change from before to after, until he was calling her name and then collapsing, his body heavy and lovely against her.

They lay for a long time in the quiet. Her fingers on his skin. His breath on hers. The music was soft and the rain was hard. Hermione felt a happiness that was so deep it almost couldn't be named.

He rubbed his cheek on her chest and she felt his lips there, just brushing her throat. She stroked his jaw and down his neck.

Eventually he inched up and looked into her eyes, kissed her again, soft and sweet, before he pulled back and a very faint smile lifted his features.

"That was—" He took a breath.

"Yeah." She laughed.

He rested his chin on his hands, his eyes a very light silver. "Please believe me when I say it's never been like that for me before."

"No." She shook her head once, her own smile breaking over her face.

"I probably should have asked before, if you've ever— done that." He grimaced slightly, then his eyes widened. "And, shit, if you cast the charms. Or is there a muggle way?"

"There is definitely a muggle way, but I cast the charms days ago." Her grin widened.

"Oh you did?" He laughed softly.

"Mmm hmm." She ruffled his hair.

"And the other?"

She looked at him, perplexed.

"You've done it before?" he prompted.

"Oh. Yes."

"Do I want to know with who?" The corner of his mouth went up but she could see a tightness around his eyes.

"We're talking about this. OK." She nodded. "Well, it's not anyone you know. No one from school."

"Ah." His face relaxed a little. "Someone from home? A muggle?"

"Yeah. A boy I met last winter break. And you?"

His eyes cut away. "Well, Pansy. And two others. Girls I met in France last summer." He looked back.

"So just three." Hermione was a tiny bit surprised. Even she had heard the rumours about him at Hogwarts.

"I'm no Theo." He quirked a brow and she snorted.

He shifted back around and she moved up to select a new CD. Draco picked up the one they'd just played and turned it over letting the surface glint in the low light.

"I liked this one." He looked up and bit his lip as he smiled. "I think it's probably burned on my brain now too."

Hermione shot a quick smile back. "I'll make you a tape."

"Please do." He settled back down and she rested her head on his chest, running her fingers over the satin of his skin.

"So you and the Weasel…" His voice was unusually tentative.

"What about Ron?"

"You never—?"

She looked up at him. "Oh this? No, nothing like this." She went silent, her memory reaching back to the last day of term, Ron's face when she told him she didn't feel that way about him.

"Because I always had the impression..." Draco's voice pulled her back to the present. "Especially when he was with Lavender. There was a lot of talk."

"Oh, you weren't wrong," she said. "For a long time I wanted that. But then I… didn't. Right as he realised he did, funnily enough."

"So there was never anything?"

"He tried to kiss me last day of term, but I put a stop to it." She let her lips ghost over Draco's skin as she spoke and he made a little sound of contentment. His hand went to her hair again.

"Good, because if you're going off with Potter, I'm assuming Weasley will be there too." She felt him stiffen. "And you've never… anything with Potter, correct?"

"No! I told you before. We're platonic friends and always have been." She looked into his eyes to emphasise her words.

He held her gaze for a beat and then his lips turned up into a smirk. "I guess I just find it hard to imagine being around you all these years and not trying something."

"Ooh, I haven't seen that look in a while." She reached up and traced his mouth with her fingers, which he captured and bit lightly.

"Heyyy." She rose up and put her hands on his shoulders, then lowered her face to his. "You have," she said, nipping his lower lip, "nothing," she kissed him, "to worry about."

He reached up and kissed her back. "Please make that clear to fucking Weasley. I don't want him thinking there's a second chance brewing."

"So you want to continue this while we're apart?" Hermione felt warmth flood her chest at this information.

"Yes." He kissed her. "Absolutely." He pulled back suddenly. "Don't you? And after all of this is over?"

"Yes. Maybe we'll even end up back at Hogwarts," she said dreamily, imagining it.

"Mmm, and when I walk into the Great Hall and kiss you like this?" He demonstrated for a good while, and Hermione felt her desire kindle again.

"And when I sneak into your bedroom," she broke off and moved to straddle him, "and kiss you like this."

"I will definitely burst into fucking flame," he muttered, making her smile.

His hands swept over her hips and around her waist and she shifted, realising he was ready again. He groaned and she sped up her movements, enjoying the sparks of pleasure they were creating. Loving the fact that they had nowhere to be and nothing to do—that they were safe tucked away in this little cocoon of warmth and quiet. She looked at him and his eyes were closed and his head was thrown back, so she reached down and ran her lips up his throat and to his jaw.

She nipped at his ear just as she reached down and stroked him.

His whole body jerked in response. "Fuck me."

"Do you want me to?" she whispered into his ear as she tongued it.

He blew out a quick laugh that turned into a moan. "Yes, please. Gods."

She obliged, splaying her other hand across his chest as she slid slowly down on him, gasping and open-mouthed. His eyes were hooded as he looked up, breathing heavily, just watching her. She began to move, astounded at the sensations and feelings surging through her. She'd meant it when she said it hadn't been like this for her before. Everything was better. Heightened.

Even the sound of the rain and the music—the sharp, gorgeous planes of his face and his bright, tousled hair.

His hands tightened around her waist. "Gods, that feels fucking good," he said through heavy breaths. She threw her head back and her chest out, and moved faster, wanting more of the friction and perfect fullness.

Suddenly he reached for her wrists, circling them and pulling her forward into a deep kiss. She fell into it, fell into him.

"I will never forget this day... this afternoon… this moment," he whispered as he nuzzled her neck.

And Hermione knew it would stay with her too. Forever.

Chapter Text

"It's just up here." Draco turned back and smiled at Hermione as he led her down the path alongside the willow stream. It was green and close under the trailing branches of the trees, which were keeping out the worst heat of the broiling day.

"God, I just want to wade in there," she groaned, lifting her hair off her neck and stopping to stare longingly at the crystal clear water.

"All in good time. I promise it will be worth the longer walk." Draco was eager to show her what was up ahead; a small deep pool fed by a waterfall that in turn fed the meandering stream. Almost too cold for swimming most days, it would be just the thing for today's ridiculous heat.

"If you say so," she said, giving him a flinty look.

"Almost there." He took her hand to pull her around a sharp curve in the path and kept it as they walked for a few more minutes. Finally the trees thinned, the ground rose and they were suddenly there, at the edge of a grassy clearing that ran right up to the lip of the pool. Sunlight dappled the meadow and the only sound was the trickling of the waterfalls.

"Oh!" Hermione turned to him and clapped her hands twice. "It's beautiful, Draco!" She immediately pulled her dress over her head and threw it at him. "And I'm getting in right now!"

"No objection here," he said, letting his eyes slide very obviously over her body. She'd worn the white bikini: his favorite, because it reminded him of that first day at The Pools. He made an appreciative noise and she wrinkled her nose at him before turning toward the water. He watched her go for a bit before walking into the meadow and throwing his rucksack down in a nice spot.

"This is so much better than The Pools for today!" she called, seemingly reading his mind as she dipped a foot into the water.

"Yes, it would be much too hot there." And crowded, Draco thought as he unfurled a cotton spread and lay it in a shady part of the grass. He looked around, appreciating that the long, sometimes steep, walk from the road seemed to discourage anyone else from coming here. They seemed to have it entirely to themselves.

"This water is not warm!" Hermione had more of her foot and leg submerged now and was grimacing at him.

"No. I think it comes straight off the mountains. Much more of a quick plunge than a leisurely swim situation."

"Well, here goes!"

Draco straightened to watch her as she turned fully toward the pond, held her nose and after only a brief hesitation, jumped in. She emerged a few seconds later shaking her head, laughing and gasping as water streamed over her face.

"Oh my GOD that's fucking cold!" she yelled.

"Told you!" It occurred to Draco that he adored this about her, her willingness to just plunge in, and he smiled at the thought as she pulled herself up and out of the water, then leaned over to squeeze her hair.

"I didn't bring a towel, so you'll have to do," she said as she advanced on him and threw her arms around his waist.

"Heyy!" He tried for a moment to get free, but then surrendered, wrapping his arms around her wet body and planting a kiss on the top of her head. Eventually she let him go with a laugh and plopped down on the cotton square.

"I suppose I'll let the sun dry me the rest of the way."

"See that you do." He raised a brow and she stuck her tongue out at him, then rolled onto her back and shaded her eyes.

"Aren't you going in?"

"Maybe later." He didn't feel quite hot enough to brave it yet, and he was enjoying watching her dry.

"Well then, are you hungry?" she asked, propping herself up and beginning to rummage in her bag. "There were some beautiful peaches at the market this morning and I couldn't resist. Hope they're not squashed…"

"Oh that will go well with the wine," he said, pulling a cold bottle of prosecco from his rucksack.

"A cooling charm?" She tsked at the bottle. "Naughty, naughty."

"Oh, you don't want any, then?" He arranged his face in lines of mock-innocence.

"Hand it over, Malfoy."

He laughed as he popped the cork. "I'll trade you for a peach."

She was cutting the fruit into slices, but paused and popped half of one into her mouth. "You'll have to come and get it."

He looked at her for a beat and then lunged forward until he was very close to her face. "Gladly," he whispered once they were almost touching.

The corner of her mouth went up and her eyes crinkled.

He moved forward and the sensation of slipping his tongue around the velvety fruit and then against her soft lips was instantly and intensely erotic—and what was supposed to be playful deepened almost instantly into something more.

These things so often did with her. Because he found her totally irresistible.

But this was too much. She was nipping his lower lip and he was seriously thinking about sliding the hand that was buried in her hair down to the tie at the neck of her bikini, when she pulled back.

"May I have my wine now?" Her mock-innocent look almost got her tossed down on the blanket.

He blinked several times. "I suppose," he finally said, smirking and hitching back to grab two glasses from his bag. His hand brushed against something laying on the bottom and he started in surprise. "I forgot, I brought you something," he said, starting to pour the fizzing liquid.

"Oh?" She took her glass and nodded her thanks.

Draco fished out a small bag, smoothed it and held it toward her. "For you."

She frowned as she turned the bag over and noted the monastery's crest printed on the paper.

"Draco! You went outside the wards!?" She turned her frown on him, clearly wrestling between annoyance and a softer emotion.

He shrugged a shoulder. "I wanted to say goodbye to my friend at the apothecary. Get something for my mum and a last jar of honey for that git I've been rooming with this summer."

She kept glaring at him so he leaned forward and brushed her lips with his. "And something for you, of course. Aren't you going to open it?"

She kissed him back, but also gave him one last look. "OK, but I still don't like it," she said, unrolling the bag. "Oh Draco, the perfume!" Her frown turned instantly to a brilliant smile. "You remembered!"

"Remembered? I'm unlikely to forget. You were very close to being kissed right then, you know."

"I was?" She opened the perfume and began dabbing it on her wrists and neck.

"Yes, only the fact that we were on the grounds of an actual monastery—"

"—And your extreme idiocy."

"That too." He closed his eyes and nodded. "Only those things kept it from happening."

"Well. I do not condone trips outside the wards for any reason, but this was very sweet. And thoughtful." She held the small vial up and turned it. "Still a silly name, though."

He laughed, "I know. Tutti-frutti. Gods."

"Oh!" She put up a finger. "My mum always said if you want perfume to last, don't just put it on your skin. Put on your clothes too."

"Hmm. But you're not wearing many right now." Draco murmured. "Not that I mind." He said through a sip of wine, as she pulled her bag over and started looking through it.

"No, but I have… Here it is!" She pulled out a long, thin scarf and ran it through her fingers before uncapping the perfume bottle and touching its mouth to the silky fabric. "Et voilà!" She began winding the scarf around her damp hair. "Now kiss me and see if you can tell I'm wearing it."

Draco leaned forward, very happy to oblige. Instantly, the scent of the perfume rose around him and he was pulled back into the emotions of the day they'd spent at the monastery. How happy he'd been, how excited to get to know her and share some of himself with her too. How much he'd wanted to do this very thing. The tension and longing.

He slid his palm down her back, pulling her closer and prolonging the kiss. She sighed against his lips.

"I went to the bench too, you know," he said softly, teasing his tongue against hers. "Our bench."

"Mmm." Her hand went up his neck and around to his nape. "The bench. How nice. That was such a good day, a good conversation." She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes warm. "Thank you for giving me a way to remember it."

"You're very welcome."

He pulled her close again and they were occupied for a while until she broke gently away. "Speaking of the bench and that conversation." She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees. Draco's skin prickled.

"Yes?"

"We didn't get to talk much the other day about what you're doing after you leave here."

"True. I was a bit distracted, if I recall." He tapped his chin, memories of the rainy day in the bedroom flooding his mind.

"Be serious, Draco!"

"All right." He schooled his features and looked at her inquiringly.

"I just. I don't like your plan." Her dark eyes flashed and a crease appeared between them.

"Well, I don't like yours." He leaned over and fetched his wine, drank deeply.

"But mine is… We have to."

"Potter has to, you mean. Although I concede that he wouldn't get far without you." Draco picked up the stone from their peach and chucked it toward the pond.

She shook her head. "You know what I mean. You could stay safe, hidden by The Order, until it's done. Why take the risk?"

He saw that she had begun twisting her hands in her lap and reached out to still them. "And what would that make me? If I just sat on the sidelines?" He put his wine down, placed one of her hands between his palms and looked into her eyes.

"Smart! You've already done enough. You stopped them getting into Hogwarts, you saved Dumbledore!"

"That's one way to look at it." He dropped her hand and glanced across the meadow. "I don't quite see it that way."

She was quiet for a long time. Then she said, "so I can't convince you?"

He looked back at her, hating the quaver in her voice, but knowing there was nothing he could do to change it. "No."

She gave a short, humourless laugh. "And I, of all people, know how stubborn you are."

"Yes, and you've already used throwing your body at me as a tactic once. It won't work again."

"Oh won't it?" She leaned over him and licked her lips very slowly. He watched her for a beat then swiftly reached up to kiss her, but she ducked her head and unbuttoned his shirt, placing a series of soft kisses down his chest and stomach—and lower. He leaned back and closed his eyes. It felt fucking incredible, but he managed to hold relatively still until she got to the waistband of his trunks and looked up. "Tough nut to crack," she said, narrowing her eyes.

"Mmm, hmm." He was actually so turned on he didn't trust himself to form words.

She shifted back abruptly. "Fine. Maybe you'll do as a spy after all."

He looked at her for several moments before his arms shot out and he pulled her over him, toppling them both and kissing her deeply. "Minx," he said after a while.

"I play to win." She arched a brow and he couldn't help but kiss her again.

"Stalemate, then?" she said after another interval.

He broke contact with the soft skin of her neck and looked up. "I believe so."

"All right," she said, and he bent his head again, but she pulled him up, palms on either side of his face, eyes looking deep into his. "But you have to promise me something, Draco."

"Anything."

"This is serious."

"All right." He focused on her.

"If we meet out there. And it appears we're on opposite sides...you can't break character. You can't try to help me or...save me...if it means risking yourself, or the cause."

He looked at her for a moment, her words draining all the warmth and beauty from the clearing. She kept his gaze, hers steady until he looked away.

"Can you do that?" Her words were low and urgent.

"I don't know, I— if they're hurting you or—" He shook his head. Hard. His heart sped and his fingers curled against her skin.

"You have to, Draco. It's the deal we made with ourselves when we let this happen."

Was it really? He looked back up, felt a faint wetness in his eyes. "And what if I can't?"

"I'm asking you to. I'm asking you to promise. For your own safety. For everything we're fighting for. For the chance that we might be able to walk down Diagon Alley someday, holding hands—for all the world to see."

He looked at her face, let himself drink her in for a long moment. Let himself imagine a future free of threats or fear. "All right," he finally said. "But only if you'll promise the same thing."

She nodded slowly, though her eyes also became shiny. "I do. I promise."

He touched his forehead to hers. "For us and the future."

"Yes." Her hand slid into his hair and she brushed it back. "Speaking of the future?"

He looked at her attentively.

"Is there another glass of wine in mine?" She held up her empty glass as a grin stole across her face.

Draco felt his own body relax. Quite right not to dwell when they had so little time left together. "Might be," he said, squinting into her eyes, then letting his own lips tilt up.

She laughed and he reached over and grabbed the bottle. "Speaking of the future, future," she said as he filled her glass, "have you given any more thought to what you'd like to do after all this, after we're done with school—if we get to go back, that is?"

"Are you asking me what I want to do with my life again? Like in the kitchen at the party?"

"Oh yes, the party." Her cheeks flushed a little and he smiled.

"Another time you nearly got kissed."

"Oh, really?" She tilted her head. "I wasn't exactly sure…"

"Oh yes." He interrupted her to reach forward and touch his lips to hers. "Fucking Theo," he muttered after a bit, cutting his eyes to the side as she giggled.

"Fucking Theo indeed," she said. "If you'd kissed me then, this might've all sped up a bit." She teased at his lips. "You'd have got in my knickers a lot sooner."

He groaned, his head suddenly filled with images and sensations of getting into her knickers right now. "Don't remind me." He adjusted himself subtly and rolled over, trying to calm his heated body. It was a long walk back to the bike and a longish ride back to his flat or her flat and any sort of bed.

"The future," he muttered as he plucked a piece of grass and rubbed it between his fingers. "Well, like I said at the party, I wouldn't mind coming back here. Get a little flat— something more like yours than mine— warm and comfortable. Go to work, come home, eat good food, read and listen to music, take you to bed." His eyes flicked to hers. She had sat up and was now cross-legged, smiling dreamily at him.

"I like this plan. A lot." She shifted down to lay next to him, laced her fingers with his. "There wouldn't be any wards, so we could go to Florence and the muggle museums there. See a film, go to the beach. I really want to go to the beach with you."

"That would be lovely."

"And Rome!" she said, squeezing his hand. "We could hole up in a little flat there. Ride around on a Vespa."

"Mmm, I think I'd need something a little faster."

"Fine, fine." She nudged him with a grin. "But we could travel. I'd love to travel with you. Spain, Portugal, Greece—beyond Europe."

He nodded, just gazing at her, a bit amazed at what an unfettered future could be.

"And after that," she was continuing, "I've been thinking, and I believe I'd like to go to muggle university."

"Really?"

"Yes. I find it so strange that there isn't a wizarding equivalent."

"Yeah." He rubbed his chin. "Just masteries and apprenticeships."

"Which can be really insular and hard to obtain if you don't have the right connections." She frowned. "It's just another way to keep knowledge and wealth concentrated in certain hands."

He tilted his head. "I'd never thought of it that way." She lifted her brows. "But you're right," he said quickly, then sighed. Sometimes the obstacles in their world seemed insurmountable.

He tilted against her. "Which muggle university?"

"Hmm?" She smiled fleetingly at him. "Oh. Well before I learned I was a witch, it was my goal to go to Oxford."

"You knew which university you wanted to attend at eleven years old?"

"Eight, actually. We visited the city the summer I was eight. I decided then."

He looked at her for a beat and then pulled her tightly against him, chuckling into her hair.

"What!? It's not that strange!" She pushed at him, but then let him kiss her. "I'd have to do something clever with my school record though." She murmured it as he bent down to nip her shoulder.

"I'm sure you could manage," he muttered.

"It may even have been done before..." Draco could tell she wasn't attending, so he let his fingers creep up to the bow around her neck and pluck slyly at the dangling string.

"Heyy," she swatted his hand away. "We're in public!"

"Barely." But he pulled back and flicked his brows, grabbing for another of the peaches and biting into it. She reached for the short blue dress she was using as a coverup and pulled it over her bikini while shooting him a severe look. He made a moue of disappointment that she leaned over and kissed. He held her there, kissing her back until they were both breathless and he had to break away. "You know Oxford's not that far from Wiltshire. I could probably manage living there and helping my parents."

"Mmm." She tilted her head and smiled, then her eyes narrowed. "Is that what you would do? Or would have done?" She leaned on her chin. "Actually that's a good question, what would you have done?"

"What do you mean?"

"In the old world. Beforetimes."

"Beforetimes?"

"The war, this summer, us."

Draco rolled onto his back and looked up at the endless blue above, his mind traveling to the hypothetical life he would have lived. "Well," he flicked a glance to Hermione, "there would have been a lot of pressure on me to get engaged quite soon after school. Maybe even during 7th year."

"What!?"

"Yeah, you probably weren't paying attention because it was mostly Slytherin-centric, but there's usually a student engagement announced every few years."

She lay back too. "I guess maybe I do remember hearing that, but I thought it was a one-off. How strange."

"Yeah."

"Why is it like that?"

"Tradition, mostly." He shrugged. "With the Malfoys there is sometimes difficulty producing an heir, though. And there's usually only one per generation. I wasn't born until almost five years after my parents married. I think it's something a lot of pureblood families face, hence the pressure for an early start."

"Wow." She rolled onto her side and looked at him. "I'd just never noticed. But now that you mention it, except for the Weasleys, most of you are only children."

"And the Weasleys are an incredibly rare case."

"Huh!" She propped her chin on her hand and stared down at him. "Wonder if it's something to do with lack of variety in the gene pool."

"Perhaps, although they'd never acknowledge a muggle scientific explanation. I've also heard vague talk of curses; a lot of the old families have them in their bloodlines, although it's all kept very hush-hush."

Hermione shook her head. "Incredible. And how would it have worked? For you?"

"Well, of course it would have been to a suitable girl vetted by my parents."

"So the polar opposite of me."

He rolled his eyes and reached out to wind a strand of her hair around his finger. "Unfortunately for me, yes."

"Would you have loved or even liked this girl? Would you have had a say at all?"

He shrugged. "I'd have had a say, but I probably wouldn't have had a huge objection to anyone they chose. Hopefully we'd have gotten along and I'd have liked her enough to want to… you know, make heirs."

She smacked him. Hard. "Draco Malfoy!"

"What!? He shielded himself, laughing.

"Honestly, men." She dropped back onto her back and blew out a huge sigh.

He leaned over her—she was pouting adorably—then ghosted his lips to her jaw. "I think I've made it fairly clear that nothing's ever been like what we have."

"Hmph." She tossed her head on the blanket and he applied himself to kissing down her neck to a spot he knew she liked, near her collarbone. Finally she relaxed and sighed, "I suppose we are speaking in hypotheticals."

"Exactly," he breathed, his lips inching closer to her breast. He was just about to nudge her dress aside when she pushed upright again.

"Wait! Would it have been someone I know? Like Pansy Parkinson?"

He snorted. "Ahh, no. The Parkinsons are not quite at the level my parents would require."

"Really? But you—"

"Fine for a girlfriend, not for a wife, Draco," Draco said in a fair imitation of his father's drawl. Of course, Lucius had said something much cruder at the time.

"Oh, wow." Hermione's voice was quiet.

He sighed and lay back again. "Yeah, I don't think Lucius would have entertained the idea of anyone in our year, except for maybe Daphne Greengrass. But she and Theo… yeah, no." He shook his head. "I would have objected to that. I'd have probably ended up with someone European—a Beauxbatons girl, or something."

"So you would have gotten married," —she shuddered lightly— "and then what?"

"Learned to run the estate. Taken over on the Wizengamot and the various Board seats my father fills. It's a full-time job, and he wants to retire to France one day. Grow grapes or somesuch."

"And would you still do that? Not all the arranged, child marriage stuff, but the estate management?" She propped up and brushed her fingers over his brows. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the caress.

"Hmm, can I just be your houseboy while you study instead?" he murmured. "Sex slave?" She started giggling. "No really," he said, his eyes still closed, but his lips lifting in a grin. "I'll live with you in Oxford, drive you to and from class, cook for you, service you in the evenings to reduce stress."

She was really laughing now. "I can only imagine what kind of intrigue that would cause. My model-beautiful chauffeur. Can I have you wear a uniform?" she asked, her eyes bright. He tickled her in response and she collapsed against the blanket, where he kissed her soundly.

"But truly," he said, a bit breathless after a long interlude. "I've always thought I'd like to do a Potions mastery. Maybe try to develop a few of my own and make a mark that way."

"Commercial draughts?"

"No, more like fundamental magic... or healing."

"That would be fascinating, Draco. And I think you'd be quite good at it."

"Why, thank you, I did always best you in Potions," he said, nipping at her lower lip. He was enjoying this conversation immensely, but she was also driving him insane.

"Only in Potions," she was saying, giving him a look that raised his blood even further. He reached out and pinned her wrists.

"God, that's a turn-on." He shook his head once and rubbed against her body.

"What? Me besting you?" It was a smirk. That's what her look was.

"No." He cocked his head and looked to the side. "Well actually, yes. But I meant your mind more generally." Her eyes darkened and Draco felt his desire ratchet up some more. "And what would your incredibly sexy mind want to study at muggle university?" He felt himself get a little breathless as she shifted so that he was lying between her legs, bending her knee so that they fit against each other tightly.

"Hmm, I think it would be a split between something I'm passionate about—like literature, art or history—and something I feel would unlock some connection to magic, like... theoretical physics.

He put his brows up. "Perhaps both?"

His suggestion seemed to please her because she smiled, then reached up and kissed him. "Yes. Perhaps both."

"Maybe you could learn why a scent in your hair reminds me so forcefully of wanting to kiss you? Which in turn makes me want to—"

His lips had snuck down and she gasped. "Oh, I can tell you all about that already. I read about it—it's to do with, oh, neural paths." She wiggled underneath him. "Let's at least go under the trees, Draco."

What was she saying? Draco's senses overloaded, but he managed to get up neatly and pull her to her feet too. Within seconds he had her against the trunk of a very large tree, one hand pushing at the hem of her dress and the other finally undoing the tie of her swim top. She threw her head back as he pushed the strap of her dress down, her breath coming fast as his. He could still smell that bloody perfume and was so hard he could barely think.

"Have you really never seen anyone here?" she asked, her voice a hot whisper in his ear.

"Never." He was being honest, but he also cursed himself for leaving his wand in his rucksack all the way across the clearing. He'd have absolutely no problem bending the rules to cast a disillusionment charm at this moment, but he also wasn't moving for anything in the world.

Her hand brushed the front of his trunks, and he started, sucking in a breath. "I want you," she sighed, glancing around. "But we'll have to be quick."

A buzzing sensation built in Draco's ears and felt like he was going to fly out of his body. Was this really happening? But it seemed that it was, because the motion he felt against him was her shimmying out of her bikini bottoms and fucking stuffing them in the pocket of his shorts.

"Fuck, Hermione," he muttered, his tongue going deep in her mouth, as his hand reached under her extremely short dress. When he touched her, he could tell she was more than ready for him, which almost did him in before they'd even started, but he managed to keep his head and stroke her until she was gasping.

"Now. Please," she said into his ear, and he buried his face in her hair as he hurriedly freed himself. She was so hot and wet and gave a sort of aching sob when he pushed into her that he again came very, very close to losing it.

And when she whispered, "You can go fast—it feels so good. I'll handle myself," then reached down, he almost lost it again. But he managed to hang on to an extremely slim thread of control—at least until about three seconds after she muffled the scream of her release into the skin of his neck.

A few minutes later they were still against the tree, Draco's face in her hair as he took deep breaths of her scent mingling with the fucking perfume that was probably now seared onto the very fibres of his brain stem, when they heard the unmistakeable sound of shifting pebbles and laughing chatter from up the path.

"Shit!" Draco pulled away and got his trunks up, at the same time as she righted her dress and bathing suit top, eyes wide and giggles escaping her mouth.

"My bottoms, quick. Oh my god," she whispered. He shoved them at her and she pulled them up, then smoothed down her dress.

"Your hair," he said, stepping back. It was poking out over the scarf in wild disarray. With a quick movement, she slipped the silk band from her head, then stuffed it into his other pocket with a sly smile as she ran a hand through her curls to put them mostly back in place.

"Come on." She took his hand and led him back toward the meadow just as a group of younger teenagers burst into the clearing, shouting and playing a small radio at top volume.

When they got to their spot, Draco looked at Hermione and she looked at him and they both started laughing.

"That was close!" she sputtered.

"But worth it?"

"Absolutely." Her smile emerged again and he leaned forward to place a swift kiss on her lips.

She picked up her bag and pulled out a bottle of water, also glancing at her watch when it fell out onto the blanket.

"Oh shit, Draco! It's half three. Don't you have to be at the shop at 4?"

"Fuck. Why is it you always make me lose track of time?" Draco gave her a mock severe look as he started throwing things in his rucksack.

"It would have been fine if we hadn't—" She gestured toward the trees.

"Worth it," he repeated, flicking his brows at her. "So fucking worth it. But come on, if we run and I drive the bike really fast, I think we can make it."

"Oh, that's a transparent excuse to exceed the speed limit!" But she was laughing as she took his hand.

Hermione giggled as she and Draco stumbled back into his flat. She'd taken advantage of their heightened state after the interlude at the tree to tease him on the ride home, clinging very tightly to him and letting her hands wander freely.

"I said you were a minx and I meant it!" He said, spinning her against the wall as soon as the door shut.

Any reply she might have assayed was lost when he captured her lips and pressed into her in such a way that she forgot anything like words. It wasn't until he was pushing at the hem of her dress again that she came to and broke their kiss.

"Draco, the time!"

"Fuck, fuck, fuck." His muttered curses landed somewhere on her neck. "And I should have a shower," he sighed as he stepped back and straightened. "You could help me!" He brightened.

"You'd definitely be late then."

"True. Damn it." He frowned, took a deep breath and shook his head. "Fine, then." He turned toward the loo. "But don't go anywhere."

"I won't." Hermione drifted to his bedroom and flopped back on the large bed, the sound of running water the only noise in the flat. She sighed aloud as she thought about their afternoon; equal parts dreamy, romantic and utterly thrilling. When they'd been against the tree it had felt so exciting, so good. Hermione gave a little groan. She'd never considered herself much of an exhibitionist, but just the thought that someone might have been coming when they were…fucking...against that tree. She shivered with a little dart of delight, suddenly really disappointed that Draco had to go.

Just then he appeared in the doorway in nothing but a towel and made the disappointment that much sharper. She sighed.

"What?" He turned and began pulling things from his wardrobe.

"I just wish you didn't have to leave." She let a little bit of a pout seep into her voice.

"I'm not even going to turn around. The temptation would be too great," he said, dropping the towel—much to Hermione's delight—then pulling on his pants and jeans.

She made an appreciative sound and he did turn then, his eyes running over her body. She arched her back and struck a playful pose.

"On second thought, how much time do I have?" His voice was speculative and she laughed again as she looked at her watch.

"You were supposed to be there five minutes ago." The laugh turned into a sigh.

"Fuck." He raked a hand through his hair and bent to give her a swift kiss. "Then I'm off before I detain myself any further."

"I think I'll stay and have a rinse before I walk home." Hermione suddenly felt sticky, hot and dusty.

"Of course." He walked to the door. "That'll give me something to entertain myself as I wile away the lonely hours at the shop. Feel free to lounge around my room unclothed as well."

"Maybe I will." Hermione raised a brow.

Draco made a funny sound and rushed forward again, kneeling swiftly on the bed and giving her a long, lingering kiss. Hermione intensely resented bookshops and paid employment of all kinds at that moment. Just as she was running her hand up to clutch into his damp hair, he pulled away and walked purposefully toward the door, picking up his jacket, keys and wand as he went. He gave her a quick smile as he ducked through the doorway and she blew him a kiss.

"Temptress!" she heard him call as the door opened then closed.

Chapter Text

Hermione held still for a moment, the utter silence of the empty flat settling around her. Then she clenched her fists, let out a little squeal and flipped over onto her stomach, rubbing her smiling face into the fabric of Draco's duvet. The happiness that overcame her in certain moments really was fizzy and sublime. She lay there for a few more minutes, letting her mind drift, enjoying Draco's subtle scent on his pillow, before heaving up and crossing the hallway to the bath.

Like the rest of the flat, the bathroom had a worn opulence, with high ceilings, tarnished brass fixtures and peeling paint. Hermione leaned over and ran the taps, then stepped into the spray, twisting to keep her hair out of the water as she rinsed the pond and their, er, activities off her person. The tub was massive and claw-footed, deep enough for a truly satisfying soak, and Hermione's mind ran to certain possibilities as she let the hot water sluice over her. She made a smiling note to herself to suggest some of them to Draco.

When she felt thoroughly clean, she climbed carefully out of the tub and reached for a towel, then wrapped herself in the soft terrycloth before picking up her bathing suit and dress. She looked at the garments critically and made a face; they were still a little… mussed. She'd left her wand in her bag in Draco's room, but these things needed a quick tergio before she'd put them back on. Pushing through the bathroom door with this thought in mind, Hermione barely registered the click of the front door lock as it turned over along with the doorknob. But when the heavy wooden panel swung open, she looked up in alarm.

"Theo!" She felt her eyes go wide as she saw who was opening the door. Whirling in panic, she simultaneously tried to tighten the towel, conceal her clothes behind her back and leap toward Draco's doorway.

Theo was backing in, his arms around a couple of large paper bags. "Oh hey, Hermione," he said as he turned. "You guys in for the—" His speech ended abruptly as he took in her appearance. "Uh," he said, then blinked. Hermione couldn't quite speak through the acute embarrassment washing over her. The towel was very short. "Uh," Theo started again, forcing his eyes to the floor just in front of her. "Sorry to interrupt…"

"No!" Hermione had managed to duck behind Draco's door by this point and frantically chuck her clothes onto the bed. She now peeped her head back around the frame. "No, he's not here. He just left for an evening shift. It's just me. I was using the, er, shower." The heat in her face was so intense, she felt sure Theo must feel it radiating from her.

"Right. Of course." Theo's posture relaxed a touch and he shifted the bags in his arms. Hermione even saw a ghost of a twinkle come into his eye. "I'll just go put these down."

"Right!" Hermione chirped, pulling back and starting to close the door.

"Don't run off, though!" Theo called. "I haven't seen you in days."

"OK!" Hermione closed the door and stood against it, taking a few deep breaths and pressing her lips together against the giggles that were suddenly rising in her throat. What a farce. She shook her head and pushed off the door to grab her bag and unearth her wand, which she quickly used on her garments and hair.

Peeking in the glass over an antique dressing table, she assessed her presentability and took several calming breaths, then walked down the hall to the kitchen. She could hear Theo banging around as he sang along with an Italian pop song on the radio.

"Hello," she said, feeling strangely shy.

Theo turned, two glasses of wine in his hands. "Here." He held one out. "I think we need this." He flicked his eyebrows up and down and Hermione laughed, taking hers and shaking her head as she felt her shoulders ease.

"Cheers," she said, marveling at his ability to sweep the awkwardness out of the moment with one gesture. He clinked his glass to hers and they both drank.

"So how have you been?" he asked, leaning against the counter. "It's been an age in San Cipriano time."

"I know. We've all been sort of off on our own, haven't we?" Hermione smiled at him over the rim of her glass. "But I've been well. Very good."

"I'm happy to hear that." Theo's voice was soft and his eyes were sincere.

"And you?" Hermione asked. "Everything fine?"

"Yeah, really good." He looked around. "Other than that I could get used to this life, you know?" He shrugged ruefully and Hermione understood the sadness underlying his words.

She nodded slowly. "I'm going to miss it too." They were silent for a moment before Hermione spoke up again. "Hey, how is Francesa? Everything still going well there?"

"She's fine, yeah. Off to uni at the end of next week, which she's really excited about."

Hermione cocked her head. "What have you told her? Are you planning to stay in touch?"

Theo scratched his jaw and looked away. "That's a funny story, actually."

"What?" Hermione squinted at him.

He looked at her for a moment without speaking, a smile lifting one corner of his mouth. "Hey." He straightened up. "Do you want something to eat? I'm starving and I have a tonne of leftovers from the restaurant." He gestured to the paper bags. "I can tell you all about it over some pomodoro."

Hermoine suddenly realised she was, in fact, starving too. "Yes, please," she said as Theo started rummaging in one of the bags. He brought out several containers, and in short order they were sitting in the club chairs, bowls of pasta in their hands and feet up on the iron grillwork as they stared out the flat's huge windows at the sun bouncing off the roofs across the square.

"So yeah, I was all prepared to give her my speech, but she beat me to it." Theo laughed and took a bite. "Told me she likes me and has had a lot of fun, but wants to be free and clear when she gets to school."

"Smart girl!"

"Heyyyy!"

"Oh, you know what I mean. And that made it very easy for you, didn't it?"

"Mmm hmm." Theo smiled. "I said something about writing to each other—not sure why because I have no idea how I'd actually do it—and she just smiled and patted my hand." He laughed out loud and Hermione reached over and patted his hand as well.

He gave her a look and she laughed too. "What? I like Francesca more and more."

He reached out and nudged her shoulder and she grinned. They subsided into silence as the clock in the piazza started chiming.

Hermione took a bite and sighed with satisfaction. "I don't think I'll ever get over the food here."

"I know." Theo shook his head. "Ruined for everything else."

Hermione speared a piece of bucatini al pomodoro and held it up. "This sauce is what? Tomato, basil, garlic. Some olive oil and salt? HOW do they make it taste so good?"

"No idea. But I will miss it terribly. It will be back to roast beef and kippers soon enough." Theo heaved a sigh.

Hermione lowered her bowl to the floor and picked up her wine. "Only two weeks left," she said softly, eyes scanning the view.

"How are you feeling about that?"

Hermione glanced over, but Theo was looking away. "Not great, to be honest," she said flatly, taking a deep drink.

"Must be hard," he said, "to have just figured it out and then have it all taken away."

Hermione got the sense, as she often did with Theo, that he meant more than what they were currently speaking about. She kept looking at him until he finally glanced her way and she saw that his eyes were sad.

"Yeah. It's not ideal." Hermione turned back to the view, giving a mirthless little smile to the ether.

"So what will you do, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"Draco and you." Theo waved a hand in the air. "Will you try to… stay together? Even though you're separated?"

Hermione gave him a look, which caused a grin to break out over his face. He put up his hands. "Just asking. Friend to friend!"

Hermione snorted a quick laugh. "I figured." She hoped. "And yes, we're going to do that. Stay together and hope we'll be together again at some point." Hermione's throat closed a little on the last words as she contemplated the uncertain future.

"That's great." Theo's words were a bit clipped and he abruptly pushed up out of his chair. "More wine?" he asked, moving toward the kitchen.

"Yes, please!" Hermione called over her shoulder. She watched his back, a little worried that all wasn't perfectly well between them. Picking up her empty wine glass, the thought ran through her mind that Draco might not like this either: her being alone here with Theo, drinking and chatting. But then she quickly rejected it. Theo was her friend and she didn't mean to lose him. And she should also start with Draco how she meant to go on, open and honest. She'd tell him right away about this whole thing and expect him to trust her that it had been totally aboveboard.

Theo returned with the bottle and filled her glass. "So Hogwarts in just a couple of weeks," he said, settling back down and pulling a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket. "How is that going to be?"

Hermione panicked for a second. She'd already decided she wasn't telling anyone but Draco about her plans, but hadn't really worked out what she was going to say. "Hard to know," she hedged, watching Theo select a cigarette and put it to his lips.

He noticed her looking. "Want one?"

"No!" Hermione shook her head vigorously. "One was enough, thank you!"

Theo smiled around his cigarette as he lit it. "That's wise. One thing I do know is that I'm giving this up when I get back."

"Good. It's really terrible for you."

"It's not like I'm known for making good choices, Hermione." He gave her an arch look and she snorted.

"So Hogwarts," he began again after a few moments. "Will you have lunch with me in the Great Hall on day one?" He wiggled his eyebrows as he blew out a plume of smoke and Hermione laughed again.

"Gladly."

"Won't Potter and Weasley have something to say about that?"

"Probably. And I'll have something to say back."

Theo's eyes crinkled. "Going to be good to have you on my side this year."

Hermione smiled at him, suddenly sad that she wouldn't actually be there, and for his reaction when he realised that. "And what about your friends? What will they say when they see us?"

Theo's face twisted as he dragged on his cigarette. "Surely you know I don't have any friends at school." He picked up his wine and took a long drink.

There was a long silence during which Hermione's heart broke a little. "What happened with Daphne Greengrass, Theo?" The quiet words slipped out of her mouth before she could stop them.

He froze and his hand tightened on his glass. For a good while Hermione thought he wasn't going to answer her. She waited while he stubbed out his cigarette, then tapped another out of the pack and lit it, inhaled and exhaled before he finally spoke. "In a nutshell? I got scared and made a huge mistake."

"What about the full story? I have nowhere to be." Hermione gestured with her glass. "If you want to talk about it, that is. That's what friends do, though."

Theo snorted softly. "Hmm. All right. Well. The whole story. The whole story." He leaned forward and coughed, then leaned back and rolled his neck. Hermione waited quietly until he finally settled. "Daph—" He stopped and closed his eyes slowly, shook his head once. "It's still difficult to say her name." His eyes cut to Hermione's and then away again. He took a deep breath. "Daphne and I grew up together. Our families' estates are near each other and our mothers were close as girls." He took a drag on his cigarette. "She was my only friend. Through some very rough times. And I was hers. Neither of us have very good fathers." He grimaced and Hermione laid her fingers on his arm. He lifted his lips at her, then looked away. "So we were together constantly. Outside as much as we could be—almost feral, to be honest—what with my mum dead and Daphne's consumed by Daph's younger sister."

"Younger sister?" Hermione interrupted. "Did I know that Daphne had a younger sister?"

"Probably not," Theo said. "Astoria?" He glanced at Hermione and she shook her head. She'd never heard the name. "Well, she's always been sickly," Theo continued. "She only did a couple of terms at Hogwarts and she's two years behind us even though she's only just over a year younger than Daph. She wasn't even publicly sorted."

"What's wrong with her? I mean, what's her illness?"

"Nobody seems to know." Theo said, shaking his head. "Although there were many years where the family's whole purpose seemed to be to find out. Made poor Daph a bit of an afterthought."

Hermione shivered. "That's awful."

"It was. Rather bad for a long time. But we had each other, which was all we needed. Two dirty little kids hiding in stables, doing what we wanted, living wild. We once ran away for four days and no one even noticed."

"How old were you!?"

Theo took another drag on his cigarette. "Nine."

"Four days at nine years old! That's neglect, Theo!"

"I know. We thought it was grand at the time, though." He gave her a swift smile.

"And you were close once you got to school too?"

"Yeah. My sole goal was to be sorted into the same house as her. Remember I told you I had a conversation with the hat?"

"Right. It wanted to put you…?"

"In Gryffindor."

He raised his eyebrows at her, but Hermione shook her head stoutly. "I'm not surprised."

"Well I was. And I told it 'absolutely not.' I wanted to be in Slytherin with Daph. It finally relented on the grounds that my stubbornness and loyalty to friends were very Slytherin qualities."

"And your impeccably pure blood didn't hurt." Hermione gave him a look. No amount of stubbornness or loyalty would have caused the hat to put her in Slytherin House.

He shifted in his seat. "Of course. That too."

"So you were sorted and all was well?"

"For the first few years, yes. We were a unit, as we'd always been, although both of us branched out. Daphne got close to Pansy and I got friendly enough with everyone else."

"But you and Draco weren't particularly close?"

"No, he always had Blaise. And I always had Daph. And I don't know if you noticed, but we're a bit different."

"A slight understatement."

Theo grinned at her, but the grin faded when she spoke again. "So what happened, Theo?"

He looked out and away, his eyes growing distant. "Growing up, I suppose. It was like one day I looked at her and she wasn't just Daph anymore. She was this beautiful, alluring creature that I wanted more from. So much more."

"I know that feeling," Hermione said softly, her thoughts running to when her view of Ron had shifted and changed. Theo looked at her and nodded and she spoke again. "Did she know?"

"Yeah. She knew because I told her." Theo laughed, a dry sound.

"Wow. When?"

"Summer between fourth and fifth year."

"And?"

"She freaked out. Didn't want anything to do with it. Said I was going to ruin our friendship."

Hermione looked away. She'd been so afraid of that reaction with Ron too. For years. "And did it?"

"No! But only because I backed the fuck off and took pains to get it completely back to normal."

"But the feelings didn't go away?" Hermione picked up her wine glass and sipped, memories of Theo's quick turnaround earlier this summer flitting through her mind.

"No. They never have." Theo's voice was raw and Hermione turned to look at him, but he was looking out and away. The sun was behind the buildings opposite now.

"But… she did return them at one point?" she said gently. He nodded. "And how did that come about?" He didn't answer for a moment and Hermione's hand shot out. "Tell me if I'm prying, Theo—"

He looked over. "No. No, it's fine. It's good. It actually feels good… to talk about it." He gave her a short smile. "And it was the stupidest thing." He scrubbed at his forehead and hitched forward in his chair, dropping his hands between his knees and staring at the floor. "Just one day in the library. Early fifth year. We were studying. And I said something silly, and she laughed and then we were kissing…" He trailed off and went silent again, clearly lost in the memory.

"And after that?" Hermione's voice was barely a whisper.

"We were together. And I was so fucking happy." He heaved a huge sigh. "Until I fucked it all up. Like we both knew I would."

Hermione put her hand out again and touched the back of his chair. "Do you want to talk about that too?"

"And tell you what a complete fucking idiot, arsehole I was? Not sure." He put his forehead in his hand.

"You don't have to."

"No." He looked up after a few moments. "You might as well know the whole of it. Especially if we're going to be real friends. Might want to get out now."

"Oh, Theo."

He took a deep breath. "Literally the stupidest thing. There was a party in London over this last winter break. For Marcus Flint. Draco and Blaise were there, but it was mostly older lads going. Fucking Orin Pucey was there." He shook his head. "I was invited, but Daph didn't want me to go. Said they were a bunch of douchebags and I shouldn't mix with them. We all knew what these parties could be like. They bragged about them often enough at school. But I was … flattered to be asked, I guess? I never felt like I really fit in, so it was… I dunno." He grabbed his wine and drank again. "Anyway, Daph and I fought. She told me I was pathetic and I told her she was controlling." He shuddered. "She cried and l left anyway. I was angry and had a sneaking suspicion I'd been an arse, so I got very drunk, very fast." He tipped his head back and closed his eyes. "There were girls there."

Hermione sucked in a silent breath.

"One of them liked me and she was persistent. And I was so drunk. Not that that excuses anything."

"So you…?" Hermione looked to the side at him, almost not wanting to hear the answer. Poor Daphne.

"I didn't fuck her, no."

Hermione flinched.

"But I might as well have." Theo's eyes were still closed as he took a deep breath and put another cigarette to his lips. He lurched upright and lit it.

"I felt so fucking guilty the next day," he said, inhaling then blowing out a cloud of smoke. "Woke up in a hallway, right where I'd passed out. Worst headache of my life. The knowledge that I'd screwed up utterly sitting on me like a stone."

"Did you tell Daphne right away?"

"Yeah." He shook his head once. "I mean some of the lads had seen. It was that kind of party."

Hermione's stomach lurched, her mind going immediately to Draco, even though she knew it was stupid to feel bad about the past. Theo saw her face and a wry look flitted over his.

"Oh don't worry about him. He'd left before all that. Too debauched a scene for his fastidious highness."

Hermione gave Theo a look, but also couldn't help letting out an inward sigh of relief. "Anyway."

"Yeah." Theo tipped back in his chair again. "Yes, I told her right away. One of the worst moments of my life. If I'd been able to eat anything I would have thrown it up. But it was almost like she already knew because she just said, 'I'm not doing this. I'm not being this person.' I tried to apologize, but she cut me off." He stared out again at the view. "Part of me was angry, defensive. I said some really unforgivable things—accused her of trying to tie me down." He flicked a glance to Hermione. "Remember what I said to you in the olive grove?"

Hermione nodded slowly, indeed remembering his anguished words about how they were too young to be exclusive.

"So you see you were smart to reject me." He drained his glass and stood up.

"Theo—"

"What?" He turned away. "I fucked up so badly." His shoulders slumped and he spoke as if from a distance. "I try hard to think of it as a first love. Something I'll get over in time, but I have a sneaking suspicion, Hermione, that that was it for me." He turned again to her and his face was bleak. "Since then, I've never scratched the surface. Other than—" He shook his head and closed his eyes. "But that's probably not a good subject to discuss at this late hour and after a bottle of wine."

"Theo." Hermione reached out a hand to him. "I want you to know… that you're not broken and you're not bad." She frowned and gathered her thoughts. "Good people make mistakes and they make bad choices." He started to speak and she held up a hand. "I'm not saying that Daphne should have reacted differently or even that she should forgive you. I'm not saying that what you did wasn't fucking shitty. And that's between you and her. But I don't want you to think you're… irredeemable." She twisted in her chair and made him look at her. "And maybe you can work on it this year. Now that the first anger has cooled. The war is bringing what's important into such sharp focus. At least maybe you can try to be her friend again. You have so much history." It broke Hermione's heart to think of losing Harry or Ron this way—the magnitude of the loss she would feel.

"Maybe," Theo said softly. "But it always felt sort of all or nothing with us. That's what she said about why she didn't want to take that step initially. That I'd break her heart and she'd never recover. I'd never recover. Fuck, if I could just take it all back." His hands balled into fists and he bowed his head.

Hermione stood and moved to him, pausing for a bare moment before pulling him into her arms in a strong embrace—just as she would with Harry or Ron. He didn't clasp her back at first until she squeezed him a little. Then his arms went tentatively around her and he sighed. They remained that way for a few seconds before he pulled back. She could see that his face was shuttered now, the raw emotion of a few moments ago gone.

"Better not do that for too long," he said with a small smile. "With my luck he'd burst through the door and see us and I'd end up with a black eye or a bloody nose."

"He wouldn't!" But Hermione stepped back as Theo raised a very incredulous brow at her.

They began gathering their glasses and bowls and the wine bottle as Hermione looked around for her bag. She fully believed that Draco would never resort to violence, but she also thought hanging around alone with Theo at night and especially having any more to drink would be a touch disrespectful.

"So." Theo's voice held a hint of humor. "I guess you did want a relationship after all."

Hermione gave him a puzzled look as she deposited dishes in the sink.

"What you said in the olive grove." He gave her a mild version of his mischievous smile.

"Oh." Memory returned and Hermione felt a little smidge of guilt. "Yeah, I guess I wasn't being totally honest with you or myself."

"It's OK." Theo wrinkled his nose. "It all worked out, didn't it? And now I have a friend to sit with on the first day of term. Much more valuable than a summer fling." He walked over and put a brotherly arm around her shoulders, squeezed her briefly to him and then released her. Hermione felt a stronger wash of guilt that she wouldn't actually be there for him, but she stuffed it down, cold dread that the war would demand much larger sacrifices creeping over her.

Forcing the darkness away, she smiled. "Absolutely." She shouldered her bag and glanced toward the door. "Think I'll take the long way home. Enjoy the walk through the village."

Theo nodded. "Good plan," he said as he began ushering her down the hall. When they got to the door he paused and looked at her, his face serious. "And thanks, Hermione." He waved his hand toward the sitting room. "For all of that. For listening."

"Of course." Hermione's hand went out and she gripped his arm. "That's what friends are for."

A brief smile twisted over his features as he nodded and let her out the door.

Chapter Text

"So you finally did it?" Lavender popped a grape into her mouth and chewed avidly, her eyes glinting.

Hermione let out a long breath and shook her head back and forth.

"Come ON. It's obvious anyway. You have that freshly shagged glow and I passed him in the square this morning and he was whistling." Lavender laughed. "Draco Malfoy whistling. I had to practically trip him to get him to say hi to me. He was obviously caught up in a memory." She flipped her sunglasses down and wiggled her eyebrows.

Hermione laughed too. "All right, all right. Yes, OK! We did it. We had sex! Are you happy now?"

"How was it?" Lavender crunched another sweet grape and threw a rotten one into the bushes surrounding the pools.

"Which time?" Hermione said slyly.

"Oh you SLAG!" Lavender took her glasses all the way off.

Hermione plucked a grape and threw it at her. Lavender caught it and popped it in her mouth, smiling as she chewed.

"So tell me everything," she said.

"Like what?" Hermione rolled onto her side and squinted against the sun. The rainy weather had disappeared as suddenly as it had come and they were basking in the heat again.

"How did it happen? Was it good? What have you tried? I want to know it all!"

"I mean," Hermione looked skyward, still not totally comfortable with this type of sharing. "The first time was really sweet. Lovely, actually. And we've, uh, done it a lot since then." She trailed off and darted a glance at Lavender.

Lavender stared at her for several moments before exclaiming, "Oh my GODS. You are the worst!" and collapsing on her towel.

"WHAT!?" Hermione pushed her on the arm. "What do you want me to say?"

"OK." Lavender rolled onto her back and spoke to the sky. "I can see I'm going to have to go about this a different way."

Hermione just looked at her as Lavender turned back over.

"What was the most exciting time?"

"Mmm, I guess when we did it outside?" Hermione spoke in a rush.

"Outside!? WHERE!?"

"At the willow stream? We almost got caught." Hermione giggled.

"Outside and in public? Shit. Respect." Lavender gave a low whistle and held up her hand for Hermione to pat.

"It was against a tree too," Hermione said, feeling her mouth tug up.

"Standing UP!?" Lavender squealed and a few of the people around them looked their way.

"Shhh!" Hermione glanced around. "People will hear!"

"Oh, they should be so lucky," Lavender sniffed. "Has he gone down on you?"

Hermione, who had chanced a sip of Limonata from the bottle they'd brought, started coughing.

"LAVENDER!" she finally gasped.

"What!?" Lavender looked very innocent. "I mean, I hope he has. I would be very wrong in my assessment of him if he hadn't."

Hermione just shook her head.

"Well?" Lavender said.

"YES!" Hermione practically shouted. "The first night, if you must know. Or, er, morning."

"I knew it!" Lavender chortled, punching a lazy fist. "And the hottest time? Or was that the tree too?" The green of her eyes was practically sparking.

"Mmmm." Hermione mulled over a memory as she felt a slow smile steal across her face.

"It wasn't the tree!" Lavender pointed at Hermione. "Come on, out with it!"

Hermione rolled over and touched her head to her towel, half laughing and half groaning.

"Oh now you have to tell me!" Lavender pushed Hermione's shoulder. "Was the motorcycle involved? Please tell me it was!"

"NO, no!" Hermione collapsed in giggles. "I don't think that would be comfortable or even physically… no." She shook her head.

"WELL?" Lavender stared her down. "Come on. Now you have to tell me!"

"It was actually last night," Hermione said, wiping tears of mirth from her eyes. "I was wearing my red dress—he really likes it." Lavender nodded knowingly. "We were out at the music club in Aquino and things got... a little heated. So we left early. Theo wasn't home and we just… didn't make it very far inside the door."

"You did it in the hallway!?"

"Mmm-hmm." Hermione smiled dreamily. "Against the wall. It was very good. I gave him a..." She twirled her finger in the air and pursed her lips.

Lavender squinted at her then comprehension dawned. "OH, a blowjob. You gave him a blowjob in the hallway… nice!" she said, laughing as Hermione tried to shush her again. "And how did he like that?"

Hermione felt her face heat at the memory of how much Draco had liked it and what he'd done to her afterward. The rough feel of the wall against her back and his tongue on her…

"He liked it… a lot," she murmured as Lavender started laughing.

"I love those times when you don't quite make it to the bedroom." Lavender sighed and shook her head.

Hermione nodded, sort of amazed that she had an actual frame of reference for this conversation. "It kind of feels like. I mean. It's been really good since the first time, but we're almost like… hitting our stride even more now?"

"Oh yeah, I get what you mean." Lavender sat up on her towel and crossed her legs. "I actually have a theory about this. After this summer."

"Oh yeah?" Hermione also propped up, always eager for a theory. "You must have a lot of data." She smirked at Lavender, who nodded vigorously.

"Yeah just that. I think having one partner and doing it a lot gives you so much more knowledge than doing it only a few times—or just once—with a lot of different people? More scope for experimentation and finding out what you really like."

"What's your favorite, erm, position?" Hermione asked after a moment, a little shocked at herself.

"From behind," Lavender said immediately, taking a huge swallow of juice. Hermione felt her eyes go wide. "Have you tried it yet?" Lav raised her brows as Hermione shook her head slowly. "Ohh, you're in for a treat. It's very… explosive."

"Lavender!" Hermione rolled on her back, laughing.

"Whaaat!? It's true!" Lavender was laughing too. "Talk to me after you do it. You'll see."

Hermione's chuckles died away and she lay still for a few minutes, letting her eyes flutter closed as she ran over a few scenes from recent days. Not just sex and physical things, but talks and moments. She sighed happily.

Lavender shifted next to her and Hermione heard her pull something out of her bag then unwrap it. "How's Theo doing with all of this?" she asked, taking a bite of a sandwich. "Have you seen him much?"

Hermione propped up and reached for her own bag, suddenly hungry too. "No, I hadn't seen him at all—apart from this sort of awkward encounter we had the first day after Draco and I got together." Hermione winced and Lavender made a sympathetic sound. "But then," Hermione continued, unwrapping her own sandwich, "I saw him yesterday and we had a long talk. I think we're good now. Really good."

"That's great. What did you talk about?"

"Friendship, mostly." Hermione looked away, remembering their conversation. "Ours. And his with Daphne. That's such a sad story."

Lavender shook her head. "It really is."

"He's so despondent about it, but I think, knowing how close they were, that there could be room for them to come back. I mean, not together necessarily, but maybe be friends again."

"I wonder," Lavender said, staring out at the water. "I don't know her at all, so it's hard to say."

"Yeah." Hermione balled up her sandwich wrapper and shoved it into her bag. "Maybe once … uh, we're back at school." She'd decided not to tell Lavender about her plans with Harry for safety and secrecy, but that didn't keep it from feeling very strange and wrong somehow.

"I wonder how that will be," Lavender said as she lay back on her towel. "What are people going to say about us and our friendships."

"A lot, I'm sure," Hermione said with some asperity. "Of course, my situation with Draco needs to stay a secret."

"Of course. He said something to Blaise about that and his plans, whatever they are." Lavender held up a hand. "Don't worry, I won't ask."

Hermione smiled. "I barely know myself."

"Good," Lavender said, her face set in serious lines. "But even without Draco being there, all the rest of it should be interesting. And I wonder how others have fared. Harry's obviously had some revelations." She wiggled her eyebrows. "Wonder what Ron's been up to."

"Ron, yeah." Hermione smirked a little at the thought of him.

"He's going to have a lot to get used to," Lavender said. Hermione looked at her and they both broke into laughter.

"Ah, it will be good for him," Hermione finally said. "It could be quite the shake-up for everyone at Hogwarts next year," she continued, suddenly rather sorry she'd be missing it.

"I'm ready for it," Lavender said crisply. "That place has been stagnant for far too long."

"Agreed. But I'm going to miss this," Hermione moaned, stretching luxuriantly in the warm sunlight.

"I knowwww," Lavender sighed. "At least we can commiserate about it as we huddle and shiver next to the lake."

Hermione laughed, but also felt a strong stab of melancholy that she'd be leaving Lavender on her own. At least Blaise would be there.

"Anyway, no more moping while we still have time to enjoy it." Lavender popped up and started to stand. "I'm going to have a swim and then we should probably get back."

"Yes, duty and espresso machines call," Hermione said, also standing and reaching for an elastic to tie up her hair.

"And we're still on for tomorrow, right?" Lavender asked as they walked to the pebbly shore.

"Brunch at the villa, wouldn't miss it!" Hermione smiled. Lavender had been regaling her with tales of the mid-morning spread for weeks. "No Theo, though?" She asked as she kicked lightly at the water. It was just slightly warm, perfect in fact.

"No, just the four of us. A double date!" Lavender's dimple flashed.

"Fun," Hermione said, a thinking of what her pre-San Cipriano self would have made of a double date with Draco, Blaise and Lavender Brown. She laughed inwardly. Shock and disbelief, for sure.

"Hey, what day is Harry arriving again?" Lavender asked, wading into the shining blue.

"Friday. Less than a week," Hermione said, sadness washing over her again. So little time.

"Shit." Lavender shielded her eyes and looked back, her face reflecting Hermione's feelings. "So soon."

"I know."

"And then you're leaving the next day? For the wedding?"

"Yeah." Leaving for good. Hermione suddenly felt like she might cry.

Lavender reached out and rested her hand on Hermione's arm. "We should do something all together that last night—I mean unless you want to spend it with just Draco, but with Harry here...?"

"No, we definitely should. Draco and I will do our own thing the night before. Another party?" Hermione pushed into the water and let it sluice over her shoulders.

"Eh." Lavender ducked in too, the tips of her hair floating around her. "I don't want all that clean up just before we have to pack and go. Why don't we just do a big dinner together and the disco? You didn't even make it last time."

"That's a good idea." Hermione nodded. "I was actually sad I missed it before."

"No you weren't!'

Lavender flicked water at her and Hermione laughed. "That's exactly what Harry said when I saw him the next morning!"

Lavender giggled. "Nice." Her expression sobered. "Well, then it's settled. Dinner and the disco for our last night. Feels fitting."

Hermione heaved a huge sigh. "Our last night." She smiled sadly at Lavender before turning on her back and floating there, hearing Lavender's answering sigh before she dove under the water.

Draco reached up and caught a falling leaf as he and Hermione approached the villa. He showed it to her and she took it from him with a rueful smile.

"Autumn," she said simply, then shook her head. He took her hand and squeezed it as they started around the side of the house to the pool deck, trying to calm the spike in his heartbeat that always occurred when he remembered how little time they had..

The thought made him stop and pull Hermione aside in a small courtyard before they made it all the way to the back of the house—pull her against him in a fierce embrace and heated kiss.

She molded to him easily, although he felt the question on her lips, even as she parted them for him. His hands went to her hair and pulled her head back to angle more deeply. Her hands slid up his back until they rested on his shoulders, pulling him tight against her.

"Everything OK?" she whispered softly as they broke apart.

Draco looked down at her lovely face, trying to memorize everything; the softness of the midmorning air; the damp of the recently watered grass at their feet; the sweetness of her expression as she reached up and brushed his forehead, smoothing the crease there.

He sighed and looked away. "Everything and nothing." She made a face and he knew she understood what he meant.

She stepped back and rubbed her hands down his arms, sliding her palm back into his. "Let's go be with our friends. Enjoy the day."

Draco nodded once and they continued around the corner to the pool, to shouts of greeting from Blaise and Lavender, who were already sitting at a lavishly spread table.

"About time," Blaise smiled slyly as they approached. Draco lifted his brows at his friend and settled into a delicate wrought-iron seat.

Brown laughed and tsked at Blaise. "Like we didn't sit down literally two minutes ago." She tossed her head. "Here try the pasticciotti—they're marvelous. And there are eggy things and fresh juice. Or Champagne." Draco accepted a glass of chilled wine and let himself relax into the hum of chatter around the table, watching as Hermione laughed at something Brown said and Blaise's face transformed too, a quicksilver flash of humor and affection aimed in his girlfriend's direction.

Draco supposed that's what they were now; girlfriend and boyfriend, which naturally turned his thoughts toward Hermione and what she meant to him. Of course this was immediately followed by a wish for more—of everything, but especially more time. He cursed himself for the hundredth time for resisting so long this summer, but then turned the burst of frustration into activity, pushing up from the table.

"Think I'll have a swim before I eat," he said quickly. Noting Hermione's keen gaze on him, he gave her a small smile to let her know he was OK. Her lips lifted in return.

"I'll join you." Blaise got up and toed out of his sandals. "Ladies?"

"No thanks." Hermione waved a pastry. "I'm quite happy."

"I'm not even wearing my suit," Brown said. Blaise lifted his eyebrows at her and she made a shooing motion.

Draco shook his head and went to the side of the pool, bracing himself for the cool slip into the water. Once he was in, he pulled through on long strokes, crossing the length once, twice, three times before he emerged on the far end.

The girls were still at the table, laughing about something as Lavender refilled Hermione's glass. Draco watched the Champagne fizz over the rim and Hermione catch it, tilting the bubbles into her mouth with a laugh. A swift stab of feeling pierced him again and he stared at her for a moment before diving beneath the water.

When Draco next emerged, on the near side this time, Blaise was out and toweling off, so Draco pulled himself up too, letting the water stream off of him as he reached for his own towel.

Lavender looked at him and said something to Hermione, who shook her head while giving Brown a dirty look. Brown cracked up and Hermione kept glaring. Blaise just shook his head at them and Draco threw Hermione a puzzled look.

She broke eye contact with him and muttered, "Don't you dare," to Lavender.

"What!?" Brown giggled. "It's a legitimate question."

"Lavender!" Hermione was bright pink and Draco leaned forward, now very interested.

"Do you two want to share with the class?" He aimed a smile in Lavender's direction.

Lavender bit her lip and looked at Hermione. "I was just, JUST," she spoke over Hermione's protests, "asking if Hermione had ever told you about the first day she saw you in San Cipriano."

"At the bookshop?" Draco frowned. "I'm sure we don't need to rehash that." Part of him still felt bad about what a prick he'd been that day.

"No, the Pools!" Lavender said, and Draco raised his brows, now remembering that Hermione had indeed seen him that day. She'd said as much at the fateful bookshop meeting.

"You know, I don't think we've talked about that," he said, settling in and grabbing a sticky almond-covered pastry off a platter. He took a huge bite. "Why? It wasn't a big deal, was it? You didn't know it was me." He looked at Hermione, who was now tapping a finger on her glass and glaring at Lavender.

"She didn't!" Brown crowed. "But she did spend about twenty minutes that evening bending my ear about the most gorgeous boy she'd spotted at the Pools, even though she hadn't even seen his face!"

"Right, I am going to push you in this pool!" Hermione jumped up and ran around the table to Lavender's chair and tipped it toward the water. Draco started laughing as Brown shrieked and Blaise's shoulders shook.

Lavender managed to jump up and skip away from Hermione, who started to chase her, but Draco shot out a long arm and caught Hermione, pulling her into his lap. She laughed and gasped as she tumbled down and he reached up to brush the nape of her neck with his lips.

"For what it's worth," he said in her ear, "you drove me out of my mind that day too. Both before and after I knew it was you."

His words quieted her, and she stopped sputtering at Brown, then twisted to look down at him. "Did I?" she said lightly. "But you were so rude to me the next time we met! You said odious things about my clothes, if I recall."

Draco reached around her and took a long sip from his glass of champagne. "You were hardly a ray of sunshine yourself."

"Draco Malfoy!" She jostled against him, which was rather stimulating. He gave her a look and stilled her with a hand on her hip. She smirked when she realised what he was doing and gave another little wiggle against his lap.

"Well, I seem to remember," Blaise spoke up, pulling Draco's attention away from a very specific area of his anatomy, "something about a red dress. Too bad Theo's not here to tell the tale."

"Really?" Draco gave Blaise a look and Blaise grinned back at him.

"My red dress? The one you like so much?" Hermione twisted again to look at Draco.

"Before anyone bungles it, and thank gods Theo's not here to exaggerate," Draco drawled, "yes, I saw you very early on. Possibly the first few days we were here." He reached up and kissed the tip of Hermione's nose. "In your red dress that I like so much. But you were wearing a hat and I didn't know it was you. I happened to mention you to Theo that night and he didn't let me forget it for several weeks—er, until he decided to try..." Hermione looked sharply at him and Brown coughed. "Anyway," he continued after a moment. "I still don't understand why we're talking about all this."

"I was just remarking on the fact that you'd each noticed each other before you knew who the other was." Brown smiled. "It feels like that was a long time ago somehow." Her smile turned a little sad and they all quieted.

Hermione slipped her hand into Draco's and squeezed it "It does seem like an age, doesn't it?" She tilted her head. "It's funny to think there was a time when Blaise wasn't even here yet."

"Amazing how you all managed to get on without me," Blaise said with a smirk, pushing up from the table.

"I mean, Lavender managed quite well," Hermione quipped after a short silence. Draco snorted and Brown shouted something as she threw a napkin across the table at Hermione. "Payyyy baaccck," Hermione sang, wagging a finger.

Blaise just laughed as he leaned down and dropped a swift kiss on the top of Lavender's head. "Anyone want more wine?" he shook the empty Champagne bottle.

"I will after I swim!" Hermione jumped off Draco's lap and moved over to a chaise, which she leaned on as she shimmied out of her shorts. Draco enjoyed the view, especially when she bent over to slip off her shoes. She shot him a look, perhaps lingering a bit over the task.

"Oh all right, I'll go change into my suit too." Brown got up and the scrape of her chair startled Draco out of a filthy little fantasy. He watched Lavender as she caught up with Blaise and followed him into the house, then turned his attention back to Hermione, who straightened and made to slip by him on her way to the pool.

But Draco had other ideas, and he again reached out and slid a hand around her sleek waist. "Not so fast," he growled, running his hands over her ribs and down to her arse, then grabbing it and pulling her into the vee of his legs.

She leaned down with a laugh, bracing her hands on the arms of his chair. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she said, her voice low and teasing. "I'm trying to have a swim."

"Detaining you." He looked very obviously at her breasts spilling from her tiny bathing suit top, then up from under his brows. He tugged a corner of his mouth up and Hermione sucked in a small breath of exasperation. "What?" He laughed a little.

"Sometimes you—it's just unfair!" She shook her head once and then lunged forward, capturing his mouth and sweeping her tongue straight between his lips. Draco felt himself go instantly hard as he reached up to meet her and tightened his grip on her arse, running his index fingers lightly under the fabric of her suit bottom.

"Draco!" she gasped, but she was smiling against his mouth.

"What? They're inside." He pulled her down into his lap again and kissed her deeply. Gods, if they were alone. He'd slide that tiny scrap of fabric aside, shift her on his lap, make his way straight toward what he knew was wet and—

"Ahem!" A loud throat-clearing noise intruded from the doorway to the villa as Brown walked out, practically glowing in a bright yellow bikini. Hermione stiffened, wide eyes trained on Draco's, then leaped up and skipped toward the water, throwing an adorably embarrassed look over her shoulder.

Draco gave her a slow smile and Lavender ostentatiously ignored them as she made her way to the water, shouting, "It's too bloody hot!" before jumping in.

Draco shifted in his seat. He had to agree.

Hermione waved one last time to Lavender and Blaise as Draco revved the motorcycle's engine and guided them down the shaded driveway of the villa. It had been a lovely brunch that had stretched well into the afternoon, but she and Draco both had evening shifts, hence their reluctant departure.

Pleasantly warm and boneless after hours in the water and sun, Hermione hugged Draco tightly as they flitted between light and shade over the winding lanes back into San Cipriano. Stroking him lightly through the soft cotton of his button-up, her mind traveled back to earlier, when he'd pulled her into his lap the second time.

If only they'd been alone. Hermione smiled to herself and shifted against him with a restlessness that he seemed to pick-up on, turning his head to the side. She saw a flicker of amused silver beneath his helmet visor and was sure he knew something of what she was thinking and feeling. She squeezed him lightly with her hands and thighs in confirmation and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

She squeezed him again—harder—and was rewarded with a little ripple of his stomach muscles.

They were approaching the village, so he turned his attention back to navigating the increasingly narrow streets until they arrived at the foot of Hermione's lane. She looked at her watch as they coasted to a stop. Damn, only twenty minutes until she had to be at the café. She'd have just enough time to shower, change and run down to the square.

Sliding off the bike, she handed Draco her helmet and gave him a rueful smile.

"Pity there's not more time," he said, taking off his own helmet and seemingly reading her mind.

Hermione stepped closer, reaching out to play with the placket of his shirt. "I know." She gave him a heated look from under her lashes and he swore softly and reached for her. She went eagerly, slipping one hand around his waist and one around his jaw, leaning into their kiss, which lasted for a while, until he finally broke away.

"Remind me why I need to actually go to my job tonight," he said, out of breath.

"You made a commitment," Hermione muttered, checking her watch again. "Shit, only fifteen minutes."

"Alright. I'm leaving before my moral fibre completely dissolves," he said, shoving his helmet back on his head. "When are you off work?"

"Eight. I'm not closing."

"Come by the shop," he said, reaching out to grab her hand and pinning her with a sultry stare. "I'll still be doing the receipts." His eyes glowed light silver and Hermione felt her pulse speed.

"I'll be there," she said, blowing him a kiss before whirling up the street.

A few hours later, Hermione tugged on the door to the bookshop and slipped inside, a little surprised it wasn't locked since it was past closing time. But then she heard Draco's voice and realised he must still be with a customer. She drifted around the front of the shop for a bit, then down the aisle next to the one he was in, perusing the spines of the books, but really listening in on his conversation. It was gratifying that her Italian had progressed enough so that she could understand almost all of what he and what sounded like a youngish woman were discussing. Draco seemed to be advising on self-help titles, which gave Hermione the urge to giggle.

Stopping at their exact position in the aisle, Hermione cleared her throat softly and slid a book from the shelf. Draco paused, looking over his customer's shoulder and catching Hermione's eye through the spaces in the books. Hermione winked and he trailed off mid-sentence, his gaze going unfocused until the customer prompted him about the title they'd been discussing.

Hermione giggled very faintly, but then moved out of eyeshot and toward the reading nook at the back of the shop. The customer was now asking about childrens' books and seemed like the type who would linger.

Selecting a colorful tome on Renaissance painting, Hermione dropped onto a soft window seat and started flipping pages, letting the scent and peace of the shop wash over her. Eventually she heard the sound of the till and then the door as the bell tinkled and the lock clicked into place.

She looked up and closed her book with a smile when she heard Draco's tread coming toward her. He rounded the corner with a stack of books in his arms and her smile widened.

"Good evening, and thank you for waiting," he said in a faux-formal tone, his eyes raking over her as he approached. Hermione murmured her own greeting, letting her gaze slide obviously over him as well. She realised he'd changed—into the waistcoat and trousers he'd been wearing the first day she'd come to the shop. His hair was brushed back and he'd also rolled his sleeves. He looked practically edible. She sucked a breath in.

"I just have to shelve these quickly and then I can close up." He indicated the stack of books with his chin.

"Alright." Hermione stood and stretched her arms over her head. Draco's eyes widened slightly at the motion and Hermione was reminded that her own wardrobe choice this evening—a cropped top and short skirt borrowed from Lavender's closet—had been rather deliberate. She bit her lip on a smile and Draco cleared his throat before turning and going through the doorway to the rare book room.

"Very quickly," she thought she heard him mutter under his breath. "Lav staying at Blaise's tonight?" he asked more audibly.

Hermione trailed after him. "I think she's actually got an early shift tomorrow, so she'll probably be home." She approached the doorway of the small room, memories of the night they'd alighted there after their escape from the villa running through her mind. The little space felt steeped in the vivid emotion of those heated moments.

"Pity. Although Theo will likely be away tonight." Draco's voice came from above and she looked up to see him up the old wooden ladder that was attached to the shelves—almost exactly as he'd been when she'd first realised her beautiful boy from the Pools was him.

She'd been basically done-for from that exact moment. She knew that now.

Draco shoved the last book into place and started descending the ladder, his shoulders a thing of beauty under the sharp lines of his shirt and waistcoat, his hair gleaming in the dim light. Hermione felt heat flash over her body and before she knew it, she'd moved to the foot of the ladder, grasped the handles and pulled herself flush against his back.

"Oh, hello," he purred in pleased surprise as he started to turn. Hermione stopped him with her lips, capturing them over his shoulder while she hooked one hand around his waist and ran it up the center of his chest. She felt his breath go in sharply before he returned her kiss with interest, reaching behind him to grip her hip and pull her tighter against his back. Hermione felt the pent-up need of the day erupt. She wanted him so badly.

"I like what you're wearing," she whispered, pulling away from his lips to place kisses along the soft skin above his collar to his nape.

"Oh?" He arched his neck and she saw his hand tighten on the rails of the ladder. His other hand moved lower, under the hem of her skirt, the tips of his fingers skimming her arse. "I rather like this too."

Hermione could hear his breath come faster as she started to rub her breasts against his back.

"Gods," he breathed, tilting his head against her shoulder. Hermione let her hand drift lower, moving it to his waistband, then over the front of his trousers. He jerked in response and she nipped playfully at his neck.

He was already hard and it was absolutely intoxicating.

Suddenly wanting to feel him—and make him feel good—she quickly unbuckled his belt and his trousers, then slipped a hand down the front of his trunks. He groaned loud in the silence of the shop as she palmed him.

Hermione reached up to whisper in his ear. "How does that feel?"

"Fucking amazing. My gods." His words were staccato and he hung his head. His gasps filled the air in time to Hermione's strokes.

"I love how you feel." Hermione licked his skin and nipped him again, a surge of power racing through her. She rubbed her body against his, harder.

"Yes, your...tits on my back," he said, hoarse. Hermione arched in response and his fingers spasmed against her arse, then slipped lower, sliding under her the hem of her knickers, just like earlier when he'd played with her bathing suit. Only this time, he didn't tease and Hermione felt him seek the wetness between her legs.

"Mmm," she groaned in his ear, her hips moving rhythmically against his fingers. "But I want you to turn around," she gasped after a moment, a new idea taking hold. Draco stilled for a split second before his hands shifted out of her knickers and he spun on the stair with a deft movement. Once he was facing her, he took her lips in a deep kiss, pulling her hard against him as his hand snaked up her back to unhook her bra and his tongue dipped deep into her mouth.

"Fucking drive me insane," he muttered, pulling back for a second. His eyes, pupils blown, roved her face just before he pushed her top up over her head and threw it somewhere behind her. Her bra went next and Hermione had a second to feel totally wanton for being half naked in the middle of the shop, before he slid down the ladder to put his lips and hands on her breasts, and she no longer cared. Digging her fingers into his hair, she tilted her head back as he worked her nipples then kissed a hot trail up her throat. "Been driving me insane all day," he said, nipping at her earlobe.

She chuckled low in her throat. "Same. You shouldn't have kissed me that way at brunch."

"You shouldn't have bent over in your bikini right in front of my face."

Hermione pulled back and blinked innocently.

"Oh you did do that on purpose." Draco gave a sort of low growl, but as he made to lunge forward, Hermione dropped down, keeping her hands on the rails of the ladder and her eyes on his.

The mischievous look faded from his face as he regarded her and his eyelids fluttered shut when she reached into his trunks again. "Fuck me," he groaned.

Hermione stroked him once with her hand—he was so hard—before replacing it with her tongue and then her mouth. She'd only done this the one other time, but it had been such a heady rush that she'd been thinking about doing it again ever since.

Draco's hands, which had been resting somewhere near her shoulders, pulled back to the ladder again and gripped it tight. He tilted his head back and he let out a long, gasping sigh that delighted Hermione. She moved her hands over his wrists and took her time exploring him, licking, tasting, sucking until his breaths were interspersed with ragged moans.

"I'm going to… if you don't…"

"I want you to," Hermione swirled her tongue before taking his full length in her mouth again.

"Fuck!" he hissed. Then, "Not yet. I want you to feel good too." He loosened her hands and pulled her up, then in a quick movement pivoted them so her back was to the ladder.

A little puff of air left Hermione's mouth before he was at her neck and then skimming his teeth down her shoulder, his hand moving up under her skirt, then tugging impatiently at her knickers. She ran light fingers over his back, giving in to the sensation as he found her core and started stroking, his other hand at her breasts.

Sensation starting to tense and climb almost immediately, Hermione rode against him and moaned hot in his ear. She could feel him still thrusting against her too, an instinctual rhythm that spurred her on. He added a finger, then two, and she was far gone, but not so far that she didn't remember something Lavender had said at the Pools the other day. And as she felt Draco shift, felt him slide his fingers out and adjust to replace them, whispering, "Fuck, I need to feel you," she put up a hand, stilling her fingers against his chest.

"I want to try something," she whispered, unable to resist reaching up and stroking her tongue once against the salty softness of his throat.

"Anything. Whatever you want." He kissed her, pushing against her again.

Hermione pulled back, pressed her lips together and gave him a look… then slowly turned around on the ladder.

Draco paused for the briefest moment before she heard him take a ragged breath in.

"Have you ever…?" She turned her head slightly to look over her shoulder.

"Done it this way? No." His words were strangled, clipped, but she could hear the raw desire in his voice.

Hermione touched her forehead to the slanted rung and pushed her arse out slightly, feeling it brush his front. She heard his breath draw in and then felt his hands, sweeping up either side of her spine and back down, over her waist, down to her arse and under the hem of her short, cotton skirt. He pushed the fabric up slowly and she heard another ragged breath.

He looked for a good few moments and Hermione stretched her neck and back, arching toward him.

"Fuck. I can see— Gods, you look—"

"Please, Draco," she whispered, so ready that her legs were trembling.

He gave a low groan and she felt his mouth drop against her hair as he reached down. And then the feeling as he filled her achingly slowly. Oh my god, the words slashed across her brain like they were lit by fireworks and she let out a sound that was more scream than moan.

"Merlin and fucking Morgana," Draco's hands squeezed convulsively around her waist. He kept his movements measured at first, but soon something took over and he was moving fast, then faster, slamming against her as Hermoine bent lower, her moans now regular and rhythmic.

Hands clenched on the wood of the ladder, Hermione felt it the second Draco reached around to touch her as he fucked her.

Fucked her.

From behind with her skirt pushed up around her waist and her knickers caught on her ankle. Pounding into her so hard that everything, her body, the ladder, the books on the shelves shook with the impact. These images in her mind ratcheted her desire up to explosive (yes, explosive, Lavender) levels and Draco's nimble fingers just pushed it onward until she was gasping and climbing, bucking back against him and spitting his name between moans.

She started to shatter, the sensation so powerful that her legs shook like jelly as she clamped down, feeling him go impossibly faster and harder as he started to come undone too, his yell joining hers in echoing through the small space before he collapsed against her, his hand closing over hers where she was still gripping the ladder.

Hermione just breathed for what felt like a long time, the scent of old books in her nose, before returning from somewhere that had felt almost out of body. Finally she felt Draco shift then step back, his palms sliding around her bare stomach and pulling her against him. She melted there, still weak in the aftermath, feeling his lips on her hair and then her neck.

"Come on," he said softly, spinning them over to the old chesterfield that had seen their undoing a few weeks ago. He knelt on the worn velvet, then leaned back, pulling her with him until she was resting her cheek on his chest. He stroked idly down the skin of her bare back and she reached out to twine her fingers with his.

After a few minutes, she propped her head up, resting her chin on her fist. She couldn't help the slightly shy smile that tugged at her mouth as she looked at him. His eyes met hers, soft and grey, but as she watched they lit silver and tilted up at the corners.

"Blimey," he said, reaching out to tug on one of the curls that had come down from her formerly neat hairdo.

She pressed her lips together against a giggle, but it escaped anyway. "Indeed."

"And where did you get the idea to try that?" he asked, smile emerging.

"Lavender." Hermione lifted a shoulder.

His brows went up. "Remind me to send her a bouquet."

Hermione laughed and touched her forehead to his chest, realising his shirt and waistcoat weren't even off. "Heyyy, this isn't fair!" she said gesturing to their unequal states of undress.

He perused her slowly. "Isn't it? Then let's go to mine and remedy the situation. Get all of them off."

Hermione laughed and then pulled up until she could reach his lips. Placing hers lightly against his, she whispered, "Yes, let's."

Chapter Text

Draco watched Hermione from the bed as she picked up last night's clothes and swept her hair into a quick bun.

"Shit, shit, shit!" she muttered as she whirled around the room. "Why do I always let you make me late?"

"I'm irresistible?" He laced his hands behind his head.

She stopped her frantic motion. "That is both true and extremely annoying." Her eyes raked over him and she made a frustrated sound before stalking to the bed and climbing up to straddle his lap. He welcomed her with a pleased smile and she took his face in her hands. "Almost criminally gorgeous," she muttered, leaning down to kiss him.

He reached up for her lips and promptly ran his hand up under her blouse to cup her breast.

"Draco!"

"What?" he said lazily, nipping at her lower lip as he started to push the fabric of her top up. If he could just get one more look at those glorious…

"Stop that!" she pulled her top down and drew back. "I have to open this morning!"

"Well you were the one who came over and accosted me," he said, swatting at her arse as she scrambled off the bed.

She was shaking her head and laughing as she ducked out of the bedroom. He heard the door to the loo close and the water start running, so he heaved himself up and found some joggers and a t-shirt.

Pulling the shirt over his head as he ambled down the hall, Draco felt a smile steal over his face as he went over some favorite bits from the night before: the bookshop and the ladder and then further activities once they'd apparated back to the flat. Earlier this morning too… His smile widened as he walked into the kitchen.

"Have a good night?" Theo's voice sounded from across the room, startling Draco out of his reverie.

"Shit, didn't realise you were here." Draco stopped mid-stride, trying to remember if he'd cast a silencing charm at any point last night. He didn't think he had.

"No worries." Theo smirked and his eyes darted down the hallway to where very obvious washing sounds were still coming from the loo. "I just arrived. Been at Francesca's. Want some juice?"

Draco saw that Theo had the old juicer out and a bag of oranges and grapefruit open on the counter.

"Yeah, thanks." Draco nodded, going to the fridge and looking in. "I fancy eggs," he said as he pulled a carton out of the cool interior. "Want some?"

"That'd be ace." Theo smiled briefly and turned to his juicing. "Will Hermoine want—?" He gestured with an orange over his shoulder.

"Not sure." Draco grimaced. "She's in a bit of a hurry."

"Ahh." Theo kept slicing and pressing fruit and Draco went to the hob and flicked it on. Silence reigned—somewhere between comfortable and uncomfortable—until the sounds of bustling movement came down the hall.

"OK, I'm off, Draco. My shift ends at six and—Theo!" Hermione appeared in the doorway. Her eyes darted to Draco's and her cheeks flamed bright red. "I didn't know you were—"

"He wasn't." Draco gave a tiny shake of his head.

"I wasn't," Theo said with more than a hint of laughter in his voice. "Do you have time for this?" He held out a glass of juice.

"For that? Ooh yes." Hermione stepped forward and took it, shooting Draco a relieved glance as she did so. Theo turned back to the counter and Hermione tipped the glass back and drank deeply. "Mmm, that's good."

The sound was the exact same breathy moan she'd made last time Draco had made juice. He shot her a grin and she made a face at him before finishing the glass and placing it in the sink.

"Thank you, Theo. I'm really off now. Bye!" She ran over and kissed Draco lightly on the cheek. He turned to walk with her down the hall, but she shooed him away. "No time! I'll see you tonight?"

"Absolutely." Draco gave her a long look and she paused for a second before blinking and shaking her head, then pivoting off down the hall.

"Juice was lovely, Theo! Thanks!" Her voice trailed off.

"Anytime!" Theo waved his knife as the door slammed shut.

Draco turned his attention to making the eggs and a plate of toast, while Theo kept on with the juicer until he had two full glasses.

"Coffee too?" Theo asked, holding up the cafetiere.

Draco grunted his assent and, soon after, they were sitting at the worn kitchen table sharing breakfast.

Again a sort of loaded silence settled over them, but for the clinking of cutlery and plunking of cups and mugs. It was the first time they'd been alone together in a while—since Draco and Hermione had gotten together in fact, and Draco found himself at a bit of a loss. He knew Theo and Hermione had cleared the air quite thoroughly a couple of nights ago—hadn't half liked it when Hermione had told him, but hoped he'd managed to not be an idiot about it—but he wasn't quite sure how to tackle Theo himself.

Finally Theo cleared his throat. "So. Everything's going well," he said, his eyes darting in the direction Hermione had gone.

"Yeah. Really good," Draco said, nodding at his plate. He looked up again to see that Theo's expression was guarded.

"Told you not to be a prat about her," Theo finally said. "You're a lucky bastard, you know that?" He pointed his fork at Draco, and his face relaxed into its usual mischievous lines. "Lucky she didn't give up on you."

"I do know that. You were right all along." Draco shook his head and took a long drink of juice. "Blaise was talking about the red dress girl when we were at the villa yesterday. From when I mentioned her to you before we even knew who she was. You had me pegged from the first."

Theo snorted. "It was a bit obvious. Especially after we realised who she was."

Draco nodded and felt a hint of a smile cross his features. "I'm admitting that now."

Theo snorted and returned to his eggs and they ate in silence for another few minutes. Draco wondered not for the first time about Theo's feelings for Hermione, but didn't intend to open that particular avenue of discussion.

There had been something else that had been weighing on his mind, though. He took a deep breath.

"Can I ask you something?"

Theo looked up, a question in his face.

Draco spun his glass on the table, then traced the ring of condensation it left behind. "While I'm gone or if I'm... incapaciated" —or dead, he thought grimly— "will you, look out for her?"

Theo went very still and Draco continued in a rush. "I know she doesn't need looking after, and she has Potter and Weasley, but they're about as likely to make it through this thing as I am. And if I don't make it, or gods forbid the other side wins, she is going to need support from someone in our world. I'll tap Blaise too, but I know that you care about her in a way that he doesn't." Draco stopped the torrent of words here and held Theo's gaze, which was troubled.

Theo blinked and looked down. "I'll be honest," he said slowly. "I do care about her. A surprising amount. More than anyone… since Daph. More than I've even let on to her." He looked up. "Are you sure you want to ask this of me?"

"Gives me all the more reason," Draco said quietly.

Theo sat back and blew out a breath. Draco raised his brows. "I mean, of course I will!" Theo said, shaking his head. "I'd do it without you asking. Aside from all the feelings, she's my friend. She means a lot to me."

His look turned a bit challenging and Draco felt his features tighten.

"But it's not like you have anything to worry about," Theo said, obviously reading Draco's face. "Unless you fuck up and do something really stupid."

"I don't plan to," Draco said evenly.

The tension went out of Theo's shoulders. "Of course you don't," he said more softly. "And of course I'll do anything I can to support Hermione when or if… I'm around and you aren't. We already have lunch plans for the first day of term." He gave Draco a faint smile and Draco remembered that Theo didn't know Hermione wouldn't be at Hogwarts come September.

"Right," he said, feeling a faint pulse of guilt. "That's great." He took a bite of toast and squinted at Theo in an exaggerated way. "Just mind you don't get too chummy while I'm away."

Theo smiled. "Not a chance. As I've said before, all she sees is you, mate."

Draco sobered. "Thank you. For all that. For, uh, pushing me. You were a real friend to both of us in this. At your own expense."

"Eh" —Theo put up a wry shoulder— "I've always had a self-destructive streak."

Draco snorted a laugh and realised with a pang that he would miss Theo, miss living with him and his friendship. Yet another unexpected effect of this strange summer.

Theo pushed back from the table, "Well. I have got some shopping to do. Cooking dinner for my last night with Francesa before she heads to uni."

"She's leaving already? Will you want the flat tonight?"

"She's off day after tomorrow. And yeah, that would be nice. We've been at hers a lot." Theo smiled briefly over his shoulder.

"Thanks for that." Draco said. "I'll arrange to stay at Hermione's tonight then."

"Ace." Theo inclined his head.

"Oh and did Lavender tell you about the disco plan for Friday night? Night before Hermione leaves?" Draco's chest tightened and he coughed. "Uh, Potter will be here and the girls want to have a big last thing with all of us."

"Right, Lav did give me the rundown. I'll be there. Wouldn't miss it. Our last night together, fuck." Theo shook his head. "I think I'm off a couple of days after that. What about you?"

"Unclear, but I'll probably be last to go. They have to deal with all you lot first. Get you back to school. Then they'll deal with me."

Theo nodded and Draco wondered how empty the flat—and the town—would seem without the others here. Maybe he'd go out to the villa for a few days...

Just then the crack of apparition sounded from the back of the flat. Draco looked up in surprise to hear Blaise's voice from down the hall as if on cue. "Hey mates! Everyone decent?"

"Yeah, in the kitchen," Draco called.

"Ooh, do I smell coffee? Hey Theo," Blaise said as he appeared in the doorway.

"Hey, man." Theo gave Blaise a chin flip. "I'm actually just going. I'll see you both Friday night?" Blaise nodded and patted Theo on the arm as he walked by. Theo waved and started down the hall.

"Hey, Theo! Wait!" Draco jogged after him, raising a finger at Blaise as he went.

"Yeah?" Theo stopped at the door.

"Just. Thanks, man." Draco slowed and held out his hand.

Theo looked down at it and back up at Draco's face with a puzzled expression, but he put out his hand and took Draco's. "For?" he asked with a little shake of his head.

Draco pulled him forward and into a half-embrace, clapping his back roughly. "Just… everything," he said as he pulled back. "For this summer. I'm glad we were in this together."

Theo's mouth dropped gently open, but then he collected himself and almost smiled. "Same," he said, then nodded and opened the door. He walked down the steps, paused and looked at Draco one more time, then sent him a little wave over his shoulder. Draco shut the door and ambled back down the hall, his mind full.

"What was that all about? Did I interrupt something?" Blaise asked as Draco came back into the kitchen.

"Nah, just a heart to heart between flatmates." Draco grinned and Blaise laughed shortly. "Did you say you wanted coffee?"

"If you've got it."

"I'll make some more." Draco got busy with the kettle. "And what brings you here?"

Blaise slid into Theo's seat. "Lav has an early shift and I'm on my own. Just thought I'd see if you were around. Maybe have lunch."

"Yeah, definitely up for that. I just ate breakfast but I'll be hungry again soon."

"Big night?" Blaise smirked and Draco raised his brows. "Glad that's going so well," Blaise said with a laugh. "You seem happy."

"Yeah." Draco looked down with a smile, but then he felt his face fall. "Of course, that's until I remember this time next week I'll be in some godforsaken Order safehouse."

"Yeah." Blaise sighed. "That's the real shit of it. Part of me still can't believe you won't be at school. Missing seventh year, man." He shook his head.

"I know," Draco said. "I mean, after my experience sixth year, I could pretty much take it or leave it, but it's strange to think you'll all be there without me."

"It's all going to be strange," Blaise said. "Who knows what's going to fucking happen?"

"Yeah. How are you going to spin your thing with Lav? I mean when you get to school?" Draco handed a mug of coffee to Blaise.

Blaise thanked him and shrugged. "Probably cook up some whirlwind thing at the beginning of term. Make it seem like it just started."

"Right. That would work." Draco nodded.

"Obviously your thing with Hermione is top secret. But what about Hermione and Theo?" Blaise squinted at Draco.

Draco knew this wouldn't be a problem but he played along anyway. Hermione's plans were not his to share. "I think she and Theo are going to be pretty open about their friendship. I'm not sure how secret these summer things are supposed to be, anyway. The Order is probably going to play them off somehow. Maybe as study abroad programs? Lupin said there'd be some sort of debrief before everyone goes back to school. Probably include some spellwork to alter perceptions and discourage questions too."

"Ah, OK. That makes sense. Lav and I can leverage that too."

"True. Everyone knows you and your extensive villa collection. You could have easily been staying nearby to wherever she was."

Blaise chuckled and nodded, but then his face grew serious. "Can you tell me any more of what you're planning yet? I mean, it might make sense for me to know if we meet each other out there. I'm going to keep on with my, uh, activities after school starts. As much as I can, at least."

Draco stared at Blaise and considered the idea. His default had been to share nothing more than the bare bones he'd told Hermione, but with Blaise not publicly on the Order's side, it wasn't as much of a risk. And Blaise was right, there was a good chance they might meet under 'friendly' circumstances, in which case it would be useful to have Blaise in on his story. He made a snap decision.

"Yeah, I think I should, actually." Draco said slowly. "But it stays strictly between us. Nothing to Lav or Theo. And especially not to Hermione." He flashed Blaise a warning look.

"Of course."

"So yeah, I've communicated with Lupin a few times since he was here and he's run my ideas back and forth with Order leadership and my parents, and I think we've hit on something that everyone agrees with—or at least isn't actively opposed to." Draco paused here. "Except for Narcissa, of course. She's opposed to all of it."

Blaise nodded sympathetically. "Not surprised."

"Anyway." Draco finished the dregs of his coffee. "The rough plan is to have me go back to a safe house after we leave here and then 'escape' from it, but sort of… quietly. I'll go out on my own, just slip away and alter my appearance. Then I'll lay low for a while, but my goal will be to get in with one of these smaller bands of death eater sympathisers that Lupin says are forming all over the country."

"Yeah, that's the type of thing Dolohov Jr. and Pucey are involved in. But there are others. I could actually help you connect with one. One where you aren't already known to the members."

"That's a good idea." Draco nodded.

"So you'd go in under an assumed identity and then what?"

"Get enmeshed in the group. Pass any information that I can to the Order while building up trust internally. And in the meantime, my parents will have a much more public escape from Order custody followed by an equally public return to the manor. The assumption is that Voldemort will seek them out there. Since my father's been away, the wards haven't allowed him access and Order intelligence says he misses the manor's comforts quite keenly. Apparently he's holed up in MacNair's falling-down pile in Scotland right now."

Blaise snorted. "Serves him right."

"I know. Fucking bastard." Draco laughed mirthlessly.

"OK," Blaise fanned his hands on the table. "So you're in with this small group, your parents are back at the manor with V. What then?"

"Lucius and Bellatrix smooth my way and I gradually reveal my identity. Then with evidence of my loyalty via my work with the death eater band, I make my move back to the manor. Hopefully I'm fully infiltrated and helping my parents with counterintelligence by early next year."

Blaise held Draco's gaze for a long time. "It feels bloody risky," he finally said.

"I know." Draco tapped his fingers on the table. "But it's what I've got."

"What if they don't want you back? Seeing as how you lowered your wand and all?"

"Then I'll stay out on my own and disguised. But I'm banking on the fact that Voldemort will see me as useful. For leverage against Lucius if nothing else."

Blaise shook his head vigorously. "Don't fucking like the sound of that, mate." Draco just shrugged and Blaise was silent for a long time before he finally looked at Draco. "OK. I'll help with connecting you with a group and then with some easy wins to build those death eater loyalty points."

Draco snickered. "Thanks, glad you'll be in my corner." It made him feel lighter somehow to think that Blaise would be looking out for him.

"Always," Blaise said with a serious look.

"And what are your plans looking like? For after all this?" Draco asked, realising he didn't know how Blaise was planning to mesh school and his recent activities.

"I'll be on the platform on the first. And then I'll be doing some of the same stuff when I can. Diantha will 'need me' for special engagements on weekends and the like. Winter break, Easter." Blaise shrugged. "But who knows what's going to fucking happen. By all accounts Dumbledore will not be back and if that's the case, the school will be vulnerable."

Draco nodded, suddenly very glad Hermione wouldn't be there. "Well, you be careful no matter what happens." He fixed Blaise with a glare. "No heroics. Get the fuck out if anything dangerous goes down."

Blaise chuckled. "When have you ever known me to be heroic?"

"True." Draco snorted.

"Well," Blaise patted the table with his palm. "I'm glad you told me. Glad I know what's going on and can help."

"Me too." Draco said.

They looked at each other for a moment. "You ready for lunch?" Blaise finally said, stretching back in his chair. "Might as well wring every last delicious bite out of this place."

"Agreed. Let's walk down to the pizzeria." Draco stood. "Give me ten minutes to shower and change?"

"Yup. I'll just finish the coffee." Blaise emptied the carafe into his cup.

Draco headed off down the hall and emerged a short while later, feeling refreshed. He and Blaise trundled down the stairs and emerged into the bright noonday sunlight, then began walking slowly through the square.

"What were you talking to Theo about?" Blaise asked. "It seemed serious."

"Ah." Draco glanced to the side. "I was just thanking him for pushing me. About Hermione."

"Really?" Blaise wrinkled his brow.

"I mean, I expect you to do that shit." Draco nudged Blaise's shoulder. "But he went against his own interests there."

"Yeah, he's never been much of a Slytherin." Blaise's smile gleamed briefly and Draco laughed.

They walked for a few minutes before Draco spoke again. "I also asked him to look out for her." He squinted against the sun. "If shit goes south."

Blaise sighed. "I really don't want to think about that."

Draco shrugged. "We both know it could happen. And I know you'd watch out for her, but they're friends and he has a...more vested interest."

Blaise just looked at Draco until Draco stopped. "What?"

"You could be inviting trouble there." Blaise shook his head.

"I trust her."

"But you shouldn't trust him."

"If I'm… not around, though?" Draco winced a little at the words.

Blaise closed his eyes and breathed in and out. "No, you're right," he finally said. "I'd do the same." They started walking again and Blaise turned to Draco with a slow grin. "But then, we're the consummate Slytherins."

Draco elbowed him in the side.

"What!? It's true!" Blaise cried, dancing away.

"For the record, I'm not trying to exploit Theo's feelings for Hermione. I more wanted to let him know that I'd want him to be there for her if I can't."

"You don't think Potter and Weasley will fill that role?"

"Not if their side loses. Or they aren't around for other reasons." Draco squinted into the sun.

"True." Blaise heaved another huge sigh. "Let's just hope it doesn't come to that."

They approached the door to the pizzeria and Draco held it open. "Let's hope."

Chapter Text

Hermione kicked at a pebble as she dragged herself up the steep hill toward the Order's flat. It wasn't even 10 am and it was already sweltering. Late August in Italy heat was like nothing she'd ever experienced, but today was particularly bad.

Or perhaps, she thought as she kept the same rock skittering up the uneven street, she was moving slowly because she wanted time to slow down. Turn back.

Yesterday had been so lovely, but now it was over. She had only today. Tonight.

Tomorrow she was leaving.

Leaving. The two syllables seemed to merge with her breath as it went in and out.

Tomorrow night she'd be at The Burrow, sleeping in Ginny's narrow second bed. And then the wedding the next day, and then who knew? She'd spent some time thinking about Harry's plan and intended to use the next few hours to have a long talk with him about it, but she still had no idea how the coming weeks and months would unfurl.

Would they be ok?

Would their side win?

Would she see people she… loved, again?

No answers came to her and she made a wordless sound of frustration, and possibly despair. But she trudged onward, until a bright puff of white jasmine caught her eye from where it draped over an ochre wall lining the pavement. She leaned toward the vine's heady aroma, which floated into her senses, its sweetness evoking memories from yesterday.

Their last day.

Hermione sighed and checked her stride, touching the soft blossoms absently.

They'd woken early, but not gotten up right away, lingering until quite late in the morning. And then there had been coffee and cornettos at the cafe, followed by a long ride along the smaller roads leading out of town. They'd ended up at the Pools, which had been lovely for a while, but eventually felt a little crowded. So there'd been a mad, laughing race back to Draco's flat in the afternoon where they'd stayed in for quite a long time. Almost missed dinner, in fact. But they'd managed to make it to the square late in the evening and have a thoroughly romantic meal under the stars. Then it had been back to the flat and very little sleep.

Hermione smiled, breaking off a stem of the jasmine and running it across her cheek.

A perfect day.

But now it was over.

Her smile dropped and her shoulders slumped. She placed a hand against the rough wall, taking a few deep breaths before she straightened and started walking again.

Nothing to do about it now but move on, move forward. She forced her focus to shift from the past to the future, from Draco to Harry, who may already be waiting for her upstairs. She checked her watch. Not quite eleven—she had a few minutes still.

Reaching the now-familiar building with its tall, narrow door, she glanced around to make sure no one was looking while she sketched out a symbol on the dark surface and muttered an incantation. She pushed the door slowly inward and stepped into the dark entryway, pausing while her eyes adjusted to the dim. Her fingers tightened on her canvas shoulder bag and the white paper sack she held in her other hand crinkled. Late breakfast? Early lunch?—either way, she was sure Harry wouldn't have eaten before the multi-floo journey.

She started forward and climbed the stairs to the top floor where another incantation opened the door to the flat, which was utterly still and silent, watchful somehow. Hermione's eyes swept the room, but nothing out of the ordinary appeared—other than the memories from when she'd last been here, wrapped in a misery that seemed almost quaint now.

Maybe in some ways Draco had been right… But then she shook her head and spoke aloud to the empty room. "No."

No. She wouldn't trade the last few weeks for anything.

Hermione placed the paper bag on the long table under the windows and looked at her watch again. Eleven on the dot. Harry should be here any moment. As if on cue, the floo roared in the huge fireplace across the room and Hermione crossed to it quickly, just in time to catch Harry as he stumbled out, hacking and somewhat sooty.

"Goodness!" She braced him with strong hands on his upper arms as he covered his mouth and heaved a last cough. "Are you all right?"

"Yeah," he croaked. "Just that last bit from Rome was rough." He straightened and shook his head. "Third one in an hour."

"Come and sit. I'll bring you a glass of water and open a window. It's stuffy in here."

"Thanks," Harry said, sinking onto the couch and tilting his head back. Hermione went to one of the windows and pulled at the latch, cranking it open to let in a soft gust of warm air. Quickly filling two glasses from the tap, she handed one to Harry and then grabbed the white bag off the table.

"Assorted pastries and biscuits," she said. "I figured you'd be hungry."

"Starving," Harry said, finishing his water in a long gulp and accepting the bag. He pulled out a piece of torta di mele and shoved it almost whole into his mouth. "You're a lifesaver." His words were muffled by the food and Hermione laughed a little as she watched him. He looked thinner than the last time she'd seen him and his hair had been cut. He'd obviously gotten some sun somewhere because he didn't look quite so pale either.

"What?" he asked, now biting into a fluffy valdostano, Giancarlo's specialty. He held it out squinted at it. "That's bloody delicious."

"I know. The sweet and savoury together?" If Hermione hadn't eaten one with Draco before she'd walked over, she'd be stealing half. "And I'm just looking at you. Taking you in." She reached out and ran her hand over the messy top of his hair as she dropped down next to him on the sofa. "You've had a haircut and you're not so pasty."

"Thanks." He gave her a sarcastic smile.

"You know what I mean." She made a face at him. "How have you been?"

Harry brushed crumbs off his fingers, seeming much more alert and less green now. "Good, yeah. Better than last time I saw you, actually. They relocated me to a different safehouse in the south. Cornwall. It's near a beach, so I've been outside a lot."

"That's good. Fresh air and all that."

Harry nodded. "And you? You look well. Happy." A half-smile lifted his mouth as he gazed at her.

"Yeah." Hermione looked away out the window and then back at him, matching his smile. "I'm very well."

"Malfoy managing not to fuck up any more, then? All good there?"

Hermione's smile tugged upward and she nudged Harry's shoulder. "No. Yes, very good."

"Excellent."

"And what about Dean?" she asked tentatively. "Did he go with you to the new place?"

"Ahh, no." Harry grimaced a little. "And we decided to…" He made a slicing gesture with his hand. "I mean, not that it was acrimonious or anything," he continued quickly. "Just, everything's uncertain."

"Right." Hermione nodded in understanding. "So have you been all alone, then?"

"Living alone, yes. Which, I have to say has been bloody fantastic."

"Not lonely?"

"Er no, I actually met someone in the town nearby. A muggle girl." Harry rubbed his neck.

"Oh did you?" Hermione's brows went up. "Been quite a summer for you." She poked him. "And I have it on good authority that Matteo will be there tonight too."

Pink crept up Harry's neck. "Oh yeah?" he said, smiling again. "What are we doing?"

"Dinner and the disco. Last night celebration." Hermione straightened up. "But first I think you and I should have a bit of a planning session. I don't have anywhere to be until the afternoon. Draco's off from the bookshop then and he's going to meet us at my flat. Lav, Blaise and Theo are meeting us there too at some point in the early evening. Then we'll all walk down to Theo's restaurant in the piazza."

Harry nodded along a little dazedly as Hermione stretched up off the couch and paced to the fireplace, her mind on logistics.

"And you'll kip on my couch tonight unless maybe you'll be—er, with Matteo?" she asked.

"Ahhh," Harry cut in with a quick smile. "I think I'll actually plan to stay here?" He stood and looked around the flat. "I fancy the idea of a bed. And Lupin wants us back in Rome for a Portkey by noon tomorrow. So you can just meet me here before then. Not like we won't be spending a lot of time together for the next few months." He laughed, but then sobered. "And I know you'll want to have that last bit... with, er, Draco."

Hermione felt her face fall. "Yeah," she said softly, looking down, sadness sweeping over her.

Harry crossed over to her and touched her arm. "Want some more?" He gestured to her water glass.

She looked up and blinked. "Ahhh, I think some tea, actually," she said, going to the kitchen and starting to blindly open cupboards. Harry followed her and found the kettle under the sink, which he filled and plugged in.

"Been living like a muggle since you went to Cornwall?" Hermione gestured at the bubbling machine, trying valiantly to discipline her emotions and focus again.

"Ah, yes. Attempting to. Especially since I started seeing Alice."

"Right, Alice. Theo's had a muggle girlfriend this summer too." Hermione leaned against the counter as they waited for the water to boil.

"Oh interesting. So everything's cleared up there too? Between you and him?" Harry asked, leaning next to her, his face crinkled in concern. She felt the support of his friendship reach out and wrap around her—almost like a physical thing—and realised how much she'd missed him this summer.

"Yeah," she said after a moment. "Very good. He's become a close friend."

"I'm glad," Harry said. He touched his shoulder to hers and Hermione leaned against him.

Then the kettle popped, starting her up. She filled two mugs and handed one to Harry. "All right," she said, moving toward the table and sitting down. "Let's talk. What news do you have? What plans have you made?"

Harry sat too. "A good bit of news, less planning," he said sheepishly.

Hermione shook her head affectionately. "That's all right, we have all afternoon. And I have a notebook and a quill." She rose and grabbed her bag from the sofa, pulling said items out and setting them on the table.

Harry smiled. "Of course you do." He watched her while she arranged her things, his smile fading. "Well, the biggest news is probably Dumbledore. He's almost gone. Remus thinks it's a matter of days."

Hermione made a sound of dismay and Harry shook his head.

"I saw him one more time last week. He didn't, couldn't say much, but they've told me to be available for the reading of his will." Harry's voice choked a little and Hermione reached out to cover her hand with his.

"Oh, Harry."

"So yeah." Harry cleared his throat. "There's that. Not as much instruction or explanation as I'd hoped for, but maybe whatever he's left behind for us will help."

"Right." Hermione tried to hide the disappointment Harry's words had brought. She'd expected so much more guidance from the headmaster.

"But things are bad, Hermione." Harry looked into her eyes and she focused back on him. "Professor Burbage went missing last month and the Order thinks Voldemort abducted her. It's unlikely she's still alive."

Hermione gasped and put her hand over her mouth, picturing the lively and intelligent Muggle Studies professor.

"There are also signs that the Ministry has been infiltrated. Small ones, but enough for the Order to take protective measures for all members who work there." Harry's face was bleak and it came over Hermione in a rush that this was happening... that it was coming for them.

"My god," she whispered, putting her fingers to her temples. Harry was silent and the stillness of the flat seemed to press around them. Hermione looked down, despair creeping into the edges of her vision.

How were they supposed to do anything? How were they supposed to fix this?

She heard Harry breathe out heavily and the plunk of his mug on the smooth wood. She snapped her head up. "Then we have to plan. We have to be as precise and prepared as we can. One step ahead if possible."

Harry nodded once and Hermione felt her brain click into gear. "I'll need a few days," she said distractedly, cataloging items and beginning to jot a to-do list. "Shelter, supplies." She focused on Harry again. "I'll need to visit my parents before we go truly underground."

"What are you going to tell them?"

"I'll think of something." Hermione looked out the window behind Harry, the bright sunlight shining through the glass seeming almost a mockery now.

No matter, they'd be shivering in a British autumn soon enough.

"I have some news and instructions for Malfoy too." Harry was saying.

"Oh?"

"Ah, yeah. Lupin told me it was confidential?" Harry said with a grimace. "I'll need to get a minute alone with him at some point."

"Of course." Hermione's grim mindset lifted a little at the thought of a tête-à-tête between the two of them. "I know the bare bones of what he's doing. But we've agreed to share as little as possible."

Harry looked at her sharply. "Does he know about our plans?"

"Just that we won't be at school."

"Hermione…"

"Look, there's a chance we'll see him out there. I thought it best to minimise any surprises." Hermione held Harry's gaze. "And he and I needed to get a few things in place. Like the fact that all of this?" She waved her hand in the air. "Never happened. I don't care what's going on, we can't blow the cover for him and he can't for us."

"Agreed," Harry said after a long pause. He sighed heavily and rubbed his brow. "Agreed."

"Good." Hermione slurped the dregs of her tea. "Another?" She gestured to Harry's cup.

"Yeah, thanks."

Hermione got up and busied herself in the small kitchen again.

"Arthur stopped by the house last week," Harry called, getting up and doing some stretches against the back of his chair. "God, I'm bloody knackered," he muttered.

"Oh yeah, why?"

"Er, Alice was over late," Harry said, his cheeks reddening.

Hermione smirked. "Thanks, but I was referring to Arthur."

"Oh," Harry snorted. "Ahhh, he mostly came to tell me the wedding's still on. And they're still expecting us. Ron's been somewhere in the north, apparently. Scandinavia. I'm sure he'll tell us all about it. Ginny's been in Ireland."

"Huh, interesting." Hermione brought the tea over and retrieved the pastry bag from the sofa, opened it and plucked out a crumble of biscotti. "How do you think it will be with her tomorrow?" She popped the biscuit in her mouth and chewed.

"OK, I hope?" But Harry looked a little unsure. "I mean, we left it on what I thought were good terms. And who knows what's happened with her this summer?"

"Right." Hermione hoped for Harry's sake (and Ginny's) that Ginny had gotten up to something interesting. "And nobody knows about our plans, correct? We're only telling Ron?"

"Yeah, other than Remus... and Draco."

Hermione nodded. "Of course, that will be a moot point once we disappear. And on the first when we don't show up for school."

"Mmm-hmm." Harry bit into another biscotti. He chewed thoughtfully. "Although, Remus said there's going to be some kind of briefing for everyone in this program, before they board the Express. And we will very obviously not be there, so maybe they'll say something then." He shrugged.

"I'm presuming Arthur and Molly, McGonagall, and others will be informed even earlier."

"Yeah, I guess it depends on how we decide to play it."

"Exactly." Hermione looked at her watch. "Are you OK to spend a few hours on it? Get lunch a little later?"

"Yeah." Harry, who had wandered to the window and looked out, returned to the table and sat down, his eyes alert on Hermione. "Sounds good."

"OK," Hermione picked up her quill and opened to a fresh page in her notebook. "Let's start with our departure. Here's my rough idea of what we'll need to take with us."

"I don't think my brain can go anymore." Harry leaned back with a huge yawn a few hours later. "And I'm starved."

"It's definitely time for a break." Hermione stretched her hands high over her head. "Panini and a coffee at the cafe?"

"Absolutely." Harry stood. "One of those strong, quadruple coffees they make here. Maybe two."

Hermione smiled. "Yup, let's go." She led the way out the door and down the stairs into the sunshine of the tiny piazza.

Harry turned his face up when the bright light hit them. "Yeah, that's the stuff."

Hermione laughed and linked her arm through his. Harry yawned again, hugely.

"I know you said we're meeting Draco and the others at your flat before dinner, but I may need to come back here and take a nap before we go out," he said.

"That's fine. But you do need to talk to Draco first?"

"Yeah." They came to the end of the street and Hermione guided them toward the center of town. Harry looked down at her. "So things really are good there? Sometimes I still can't believe...you and him…"

Hermione kept his gaze. "Things have been wonderful. Perfect." She smiled fleetingly as images of the last few weeks rippled through her mind.

Harry's brow creased. "Are you in love with him?" he asked abruptly.

Hermione's brows went up. "How unlike you to ask." She laughed and looked away. "But yes," she said. "I think I am."

"Have you told him?"

"No." Hermione's hand tightened on Harry's arm involuntarily. "It doesn't seem fair somehow. When there's so much to come. How did you put it earlier?" She glanced up at him. "So much uncertainty."

"Yeah." Harry's voice was heavy.

"I think… it's like, we were granted this perfect summer, this beautiful moment in time, and for now we have to leave it at that. Anything else feels like tempting fate somehow." Hermione felt tears threaten and she swallowed on them painfully. Harry pulled her a little closer and she leaned against him. They walked in silence for a while.

Hermione took a deep breath as the cafe came into view. "Here we are," she said, making her tone bright. "Why don't you sit and I'll go order for us."

"Yeah, just get me what you're having." Harry sank into a seat at one of the outside tables. "And a strong coffee."

Hermione nodded and slipped through the door, calling a greeting to Giancarlo as she went.

Draco took the stairs to Hermione's flat two at a time. He'd managed to duck out of his last ever shift at the bookshop twenty minutes early and he'd rushed off the moment Agata had kissed his cheek and given him the last of his pay.

Even twenty extra minutes were valuable at this point.

He sighed heavily as he approached the door and put his fist up to knock. But before he could do so, the panel swung open and Hermione appeared, pulling him into the entryway with a quick kiss and caress of his cheek.

"I saw you come up the street," she said. "You're early!" She sounded pleased as she turned to lead him through the doorway to the sitting room. But Draco stopped and spun her back, wrapping her in his arms and placing a lingering kiss on her lips. He knew Potter was here, but didn't rightly care. She was leaving in a matter of hours and he meant to kiss her as many times as he could.

She pressed against his lips and he felt the wicked whisper of her tongue too. He pulled away and gave her a raised brow smile. She winked at him before stepping back and leading him toward the doorway, calling, "Draco's here, Harry!"

Draco was still smiling as Potter stood from where he'd been sitting on the sofa, his gaze running over them, taking in their clasped hands and intimate posture. He started and blinked, but Draco saw him force himself to relax.

Draco gently disentangled his hand from Hermione's and held it out. "Potter."

Potter held out his hand and stepped forward. "Malfoy."

They shook and Hermione beamed at both of them. "So." She bounced slightly on her toes. An awkward silence descended until she looked at Harry expectantly.

"Ah." Potter shook his head and Draco noticed that he looked fagged. "Lupin. Gave me some information to pass along to you." His eyes flicked to Draco's. "And only you. So we need to, uh, find somewhere private to talk." He half-shrugged.

"Harry's knackered, so he's going to go back to the ministry flat after you chat to have a rest before dinner," Hermione added. Draco perked up at this. A few hours alone that he hadn't counted on, excellent. "So I guess I could go out and leave the flat to the two of you? Or hole myself up in my bedroom with some music on?" Hermione was squinting up at Draco and he looked down at her then over to Potter.

"Nah," Draco said. "Let's take a walk, Potter. You look like you could use some air."

"Yeah," Potter nodded. "That'd be good."

"Shall we?" Draco wanted to get this over with so he could get back to Hermione before the others showed up.

"Off you go!" Hermione made little shooing motions and Draco raised his brows at her over Potter's head. She looked so pleased to see them together, it made him a little nervous. Bloody hell, if they came through all this the way he wanted, he was going to have to be friends with Harry bloody Potter, wasn't he? He exhaled heavily as he led the way out the door and back down the steps to the outside.

"Let's go this way," Draco said after they exited the building, heading toward the small square at the top of the curving street where he'd parked his bike. It was usually deserted and would be a good place as any for a private chat. Potter nodded and they walked briskly up the steep hill and into the piazza. Draco was right; there wasn't a soul in sight. The only sound was the bubbling of the fountain in the center of the square.

Potter looked around and shook his head.

"What?" Draco asked, glancing down at him.

"Everywhere you go in this town looks like a bloody film set."

"Yeah. It's ridiculously idyllic." Draco snorted as he took off his jacket, warm from the climb up the street. They passed his bike just then and he tossed it over the seat.

Potter stopped. He looked at the bike and then at Draco.

"What?" Draco said again.

"Just you and...such a muggle machine," Potter said. "Beautiful bike, though." He reached out and ran a hand over the fender.

"It's as close to flying as I can get in this world," Draco said softly.

"I bet." Potter's intense green gaze flicked up. "And I bet it's bloody fun."

Draco felt a reluctant smile steal over his face. "Yeah, it is that." Potter smiled a little too and Draco regarded him. "Maybe I'll let you ride it someday. You can handle yourself on a broom, so I imagine I could trust you with it."

Potter's brows went into his hairline. "Wouldn't pass that up. You're keeping it?"

"Yeah, Zabini said I could park it at his place. Maybe I'll get back to it someday." Draco frowned.

"Yeah," Potter said, his face slipping into seriousness too.

Draco looked past him to the small tabaccheria on the edge of the square, a faded tin Peroni sign its only adornment. He could hear faint sounds of a football match coming from a radio inside. He glanced at Potter. "You want a beer?"

"Yeah," Potter squinted at him. "OK."

Draco nodded and turned toward the shop. "Take a seat on the fountain," he said over his shoulder, "I'll be right there."

Potter nodded and walked off and Draco ducked into the shop, coming out a few minutes later with two cold bottles. He passed one to Potter as he sat down next to him.

"Thanks. Cheers." Potter held up the beer, then drank deeply. Draco did the same, the crisp liquid running down his throat and chasing off a little of the heat of the afternoon.

"So," Potter wiped his mouth and turned to Draco. "I'm sure you'd like to cut this as short as possible and get back to Hermione." Draco nodded and Potter continued. "Alright then, this is everything I have. Mind you, I don't understand any of it, but Remus assured me you would."

Potter then relayed some logistics to do with when Draco needed to leave (day after tomorrow) and where he'd be going for his first floo (Rome) and then how to find the Portkey after that, ending with some coded information about where Draco would be 'escaping' from and who his contact would be once he was out.

Draco nodded along, everything more or less tracking with what he'd assumed.

Potter finished talking and took another swig of his beer. "Make sense?"

"Yeah." Draco picked at the label on his bottle.

"I'm guessing you're not just going into hiding." Potter held up his hand. "Not that I want to know anything more."

"Good, because I wouldn't tell you."

"But I know Hermione's told you a little of our plans."

Potter twitched and Draco could tell he wasn't exactly happy about this.

"Just that you won't be at school. But I can extrapolate from there."

"Yeah, me too." Potter gave him a long look. "And you should be really fucking careful."

"So should you," Draco replied quickly.

They sat silently for a moment.

"Do you have any plans for safety?" Draco asked suddenly. "How are you going to keep her safe?" He took a quick swallow of his beer.

Potter turned his head. "I hope you know by now that Hermione can take care of herself. She's probably the most dangerous of the three of us. Definitely the most capable."

"Yeah, of course," Draco sighed. "I do know that." He hung his head, but then whipped back up to glare at Potter. "But whatever you're doing feels really unsurprisingly half-cocked."

Potter's eyes flashed. "And what you're doing is finely tuned?"

"Fair point. But at least it's just me."

"Fair point." Potter's shoulders sagged. "If I could do it alone, I would."

"She wouldn't let you." Draco finished his beer.

"Nope."

Potter drained his bottle too then stared into the distance. "You know the one thing that's clear to me in all of this?"

"What?" Draco narrowed his eyes.

"It's all just utter shite." Potter's voice was low, furious and Draco felt a pulse of magic emanate from him.

Draco nodded slowly in agreement, a bleak sense of unreality overtaking him.

They sat for a while, the fountain gurgling behind them.

"I'm grateful to you for making her happy this summer, though." Potter finally said, his voice soft.

Draco blinked in surprise. "Yeah, well," he said, "I made her really unhappy for a while too."

"I know, and I know why. I talked to her about it when I was here before. How hard it is."

Draco nodded once. "Thanks for that."

Potter nodded too.

Draco clinked his bottle against the lip of the fountain. "So was that everything?"

"Yeah." Potter straightened up and stretched. "Think I'll head back to the ministry flat from here. It's just down to the big square and up Via Nero, right?"

"That's right. I'll tell Hermione you're coming back later?"

"Yeah, she said we'd go out around eight. I'll be there by then."

They stood and walked across the piazza and down the street to the door of the flat, where Draco stopped. He held out his hand and Potter looked down at it before grasping it again.

"Be careful out there, Malfoy." Potter said tightly.

"And you," Draco replied.

"And if we see each other, we don't know each other." Potter's eyes bored into Draco's from behind the lenses of his glasses.

"That's right. We don't know each other at all."

Potter nodded once and then turned to go.

"Harry's here!" Lavender's bright tones floated through the flat to Hermione's bedroom.

"Hi, Harry!" Hermione called. "Have a beer or something, I'll be right out!"

She turned back to her vanity, pulling her hair up off her neck, twisting to see if she liked it better that way. The last few hours had slipped by quickly, especially since she'd unexpectedly gotten to spend them alone with Draco, and now she was late in getting ready for their evening out.

"I like it up," Draco said from where he was lounging across her bed, flicking through an Italian muggle magazine.

"Oh?" Hermione's eyes flicked to his in the mirror. "You chose my dress and now you're choosing my hairstyle?" She let her hair fall and turned to him.

A slow smile spread across his face and he rose from the bed to walk over to her. "If you wear it up," —he bent down and pushed her hair to the side— "it's easier for me to kiss your neck." His lips brushed the sensitive skin at her nape and Hermione shivered.

"Up it is!"

Draco chuckled as she swept her curls into a quick bun and anchored it with some pins.

"OK, now I just need some shoes. I'm not wearing the boots again," Hermione said, forestalling Draco's reply as she stood and smoothed the silky blue fabric of the dress he had requested she wear—the one from the first night they'd…

"But I like the boots. They remind me of taking them off for you." He moved behind her and his arms went around her as he bent to kiss her neck again. Hermione watched them in the mirror, his fair hair glinting in the lamplight, his beautiful hands running down her upper arms.

"Mmm," she gave a little half sigh, half moan. "You're very persuasive, but I want to be able to dance tonight."

"Alright, alright," he said, stepping back and twirling her around so she was facing him. She looped her arms around his neck and he swayed her to and fro for a moment. "I am looking forward to dancing with you."

Hermione's mouth quirked up and she ran a palm up his chest... before gently pushing him away. "Lavender!" she yelled over her shoulder. "What shoes should I wear with the blue silk dress if I'm not wearing the combat boots!?"

Draco stepped back. "Think I'll go have a drink with the boys while you work this out."

Lavender appeared in the doorway as Draco slipped through it. "Nice dress, Brown," he said as he walked out.

"Thanks, Draco!" Lavender preened a bit, raising her brows at Hermione.

"You do look gorgeous," Hermione said, taking in Lav's short, strappy babydoll, powder blue and trimmed with tiny black bows. "Oh and it's a good thing I don't want the boots," she laughed, noticing them on Lavender's feet.

"Well, my chunky red sandals will look great with that too," Lavender said, eyeing Hermione's feet.

"Really? Red with blue?"

"It's a dusty red and it will pick up the color of the flower pattern perfectly," Lavender said, plucking at the hem of Hermione's dress and examining the fabric. "Don't you trust me by now?" Her lips lifted as she looked up.

"Implicitly." Hermione leaned forward and placed a smacking kiss on Lavender's forehead. "Are they in your closet?"

"Yes, just in the back."

"OK!" Hermione darted out to Lavender's room and grabbed the shoes in question, carrying them out to the sitting room. Blaise and Harry were on the sofa and Theo was leaning in the doorway to the patio, holding a lit cigarette out the door.

"Heyyy, everyone!" Hermione waved as she sat down next to Harry. The boys' hellos chorused around her as she slipped a sandal on her foot.

Lavender breezed by and plunked a drink in front of Hermione. "I made you a gin. Anyone else need anything?" She looked around.

"No," Harry held up his half-full beer as Blaise shook his head and Draco walked in from the kitchen.

Theo took a deep drag on his cigarette. "I, for one, probably need to eat rather than drink more," he said. "We going to dinner soon?"

Harry made a sound of assent and Hermione looked up. "I'm mostly ready," she said, picking up her gin and taking a long drink. "What about you, Lav?"

"Yup, yup!" Lavender rushed through the room. "Just need to do something with my hair. Won't be a mo!"

"Your hair looks gorgeous, babe. Just leave it." Blaise caught her hand as she went by and pulled her back for a brief kiss.

"OK," she said, giving him a slow smile.

Hermione took another big drink of her gin and stood, putting out a hand to Harry. He grasped it and she pulled him up. "Did you manage to get a nap?"

"Yeah," he scrubbed a hand over his face. "Slept like the dead for two hours. I feel so much better now."

"Excellent!" Hermione beamed at him as Harry glanced over her shoulder and Hermione felt Draco come up behind her. She turned to him with a smile. "We're on the bike, right?" He nodded. "And the rest of you in the car?" She looked back at the room.

"Yep." Theo jangled his keys. "I'm parked near the piazza, so we can just go straight from there after dinner."

Hermione clapped her hands once. "Then let's go!"

"Wait, wait!" Lavender said. "Before we head out for our last night, I would just like to make a little toast." She held up her drink and looked around the room, taking in each face as everyone stilled.

Hermione felt the beginnings of tears prick the backs of her eyes, though she willed them back.

Lavender took a deep breath. "To the San Cipriano five!" she said. "And Harry!" she added quickly, smiling at him. He smiled back and tilted his beer bottle in her direction. "And... to friendship," she continued, her voice a bit choked.

Despite her efforts, Hermione's tears threatened to spill over. "To friendship," she repeated along with everyone else, looking around the room at Theo's wry smile, Lavender's bright face, Blaise's warm eyes, Harry's bemused expression. She craned her head to look at Draco too, finding his hand and clasping it, then raising her glass to drink. "To friendship," she said one more time, but softly.

Everyone seemed to take a collective breath and then Lavender sniffed loudly. "OK, enough of all that!" She wiped at the undersides of her eyes. "Let's go have one last amazing night!"

"Here, here," Theo said, and they headed for the door as one.

Hermione laughed as Theo twirled her in an elaborate spin. "'Don't dream it's ooover,'" she sang along with the music. Theo mouthed the words too and she smiled at him. "You know the lyrics again!"

"Told you I'm full of surprises," he said, pulling her in and swaying her in an exaggerated way.

She put her hands against his chest and shook her head. "Certainly are."

He looked down at her and his eyes crinkled. Hermoine glanced over his shoulder and caught Draco's eye. He was watching them, sitting back in his chair with a faint smile on his lips. Blaise said something to him and Hermione watched his face light up before he nodded and laughed.

"He's much happier than the last time we danced," Theo said with a wink, noticing her attention as they swayed around.

Hermione laughed a little. "Yeah. That was his own fault though."

Theo laughed. "Absolutely." After a beat his expression grew serious. "I'm really glad everything worked out, though," he said. "Happy you're my friend."

"Me too, Theo." Hermione squeezed his shoulders. "Me too."

He looked down at her and something passed over his face, something that made Hermione tense and look away. Lavender, who was dancing with Mauritzio nearby, caught her eye and bounded over just as another more upbeat song started.

"I love this one!" she shouted, pulling Hermione's hands off Theo and turning her in a fast spin.

"Me too!" Hermione called as she twirled. She saw Harry on the edge of the dance floor and beckoned him over. He came and the circle expanded to include him. Soon Matteo and Mauritzio joined and they all bounced in time to the beat. Hermione saw Draco watching them again and pointed at her feet, mouthing, "This is 80s dancing!"

He laughed and nodded, then mimed getting a drink and got up to walk to the bar. Hermione danced some more, first with Mauritzio, who insisted on twirling and dipping her dramatically, then with Harry to an anthem that had been popular the last few years. They shouted the chorus raucously before heading for the table arm in arm.

Draco was delivering a fresh round of drinks as they walked up. Harry sat and accepted a beer with thanks while Theo and Lavender dropped into the remaining seats, laughing and gasping for breath. Hermione was about to sit too, when Draco slid into her seat and pulled her onto his lap.

"Heyyy," she said, nuzzling into his neck. "That was my seat."

"Our seat," he corrected, pulling her tighter against him and kissing her soundly. Hermione saw Harry out of the corner of her eye, shaking his head and looking down with a smile.

"Strange, isn't it, mate?" Blaise caught his expression and laughed. "You do get used to it, though."

"Sorry!" Harry waved a hand. "I'm sure I will... someday."

Hermione balled up a napkin and threw it at him. Harry batted it away as Matteo approached, grabbing a chair from another table and pulling up next to him. They embarked on an animated conversation that consisted mostly of hand gestures and grins.

Lavender leaned into Hermione as Draco moved behind her to say something to Blaise. "Looks like a love reconnection," she said, raising her brows in Harry's direction.

"I'm not sure I'd call it love…" Hermione giggled. "He told me he was seeing a muggle girl up until yesterday."

"Player!" Lavender exclaimed, smiling hugely. "Ron's going to have a lot to process this year." Her eyes flicked from Blaise to Draco to Harry and Matteo

"Oh my god, yes." Hermione cracked up. Ron could certainly use some horizon expansion—she watched Harry's eyes follow Matteo as he walked to the bar—but she wondered especially how he was going to take Harry's news.

Just then the strains of a new song came on and Lavender squealed and started bouncing her seat. "This is such a good one!"

"Yes!" Hermione bopped her head to the song, which had been all over the radio that summer. Lavender mouthed the words and Theo took up lip-syncing too, holding his beer bottle like a microphone. Draco and Blaise laughed at him and Harry nodded along. When the chorus came on they all shouted it.

"Let's all meet up in the year 2000. Won't it be strange when we're all fully grown!"

"The year 2000, shit. Let's all hope we live to see it," Draco said.

"I'll drink to that," Harry said, reaching out and clinking his bottle to Draco's.

"Year 2000. Gods, we'll be twenty." Theo shook his head.

"Some of us will be almost 21," Draco said, squeezing Hermione around the waist. "I like an older woman," he said conversationally to Blaise, a mock-serious look on his face. Hermione swatted at him and Harry's shoulders shook with silent laughter.

"That's right. It's nearly your birthday!" Lavender looked at Hermione with wide eyes. "We'll have to do something. At school." Her eyes cut guiltily to Draco and she grimaced a little.

Hermione caught Harry's eye and buried her expression in her drink. Something told her her birthday would be a sad affair this year.

"Anyone up for a smoke?" Theo asked the suddenly silent table, holding up his pack. Blaise and Draco agreed and Harry took the chance to go find Matteo, winking at Hermione as he went. She imagined it was the last time she'd see him tonight. It was getting a bit late.

Scooting over to Lav, Hermione asked her about her schedule for the next few days and they worked out some final details about how they'd leave the flat.

"I'm staying at the villa tonight," Lavender said. "I figured I'd leave the flat to you and Draco since Harry is staying at the ministry one. And if I don't see you tomorrow, I'll see you in a few days."

Hermione winced a little as she nodded.

"Gods, I can't believe this time next week we'll be sitting in the Great Hall. Or more likely in bed already," Lav said gloomily, looking around as if trying to memorize the scene. "It will probably be freezing and drizzly too." She scowled and Hermione made a sound of sympathy.

"I'm going to miss it so much," Hermione murmured. She turned and grabbed Lavender's hand impulsively. "Let's make a pact to come back some day. When all of this is over. We'll come here, but we'll also go to Greece or or something. Make a holiday of it!"

Lavender's eyes shone. "Yes!" She squeezed one of Hermione's hands and took the other, her eyes a bit shiny. "We will absolutely do that. Just the two of us. It will be amazing."

Hermione smiled at her and nodded, not quite trusting herself to speak. Lavender turned as Blaise and Draco walked up, and the strains of a slower song came on.

"Would you two lovely ladies care for a dance?" Blaise asked, holding out his hand to Lav. She took it and let him pull her up and they drifted toward the floor.

Hermione stood and smiled at Draco. "Care to?" she asked, leaning into him. "I don't believe we've ever slow danced before."

"Massive oversight," he said, taking her hand as she led him to the floor. The music swelled around them and Hermione looped her hands around his neck. He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her against him.

"I love this one," she sighed, closing her eyes and trying to capture the moment; the light scent rising from him, the soft air caressing her skin, the warm chords washing over them. She mouthed some of the words until she felt his lips lightly brush against hers.

"I like this one too," he said against them. "What's it called?"

"Sweet Jane," she murmured, returning his kiss and sliding her fingers into the silky hair at his nape. He hummed low in his throat and his hand drifted down towards her arse.

She smiled. "Naughty, naughty."

He nipped at her lip and pulled back, his eyes glowing warm grey. "The last thing I'd ever want to do is cut this night short, but might it be time for us to go? I saw Potter leave with his waiter friend a few minutes ago and Theo took off after we smoked." His brow creased. "He said to tell you goodbye."

Hermione felt her heart seize a little at this first departure. "Will Lav and Blaise get back to the villa all right?" she asked, trying to push her feelings away and stay in the moment.

"The taxis are all lined up outside and Blaise has become quite proficient this summer." Draco smiled gently and lowered his face to her neck. "Let's go and I'll let you take me to bed."

"Oh, you're that easy?"

"Yes." He kissed her again, his tongue slipping between her lips this time. Hermione melted into him and kissed him back until they were both breathless.

"Right," he said, breaking away and looking around a little dazedly. "Where did I park?"

"I think if we go out the side door—" Hermione didn't even get to finish before he was tugging her across the room. She caught Lavender's gaze on them and sent her a wave through the crowd. Lav's face lit up and she blew a kiss back and Hermione realized in an instant that this was it for them too. She felt her face change and saw the strangest expression cross Lavender's.

"Wait," she said to Draco, loosening her grip on his hand and turning to dart through the crowd. Lav was pushing her way through too and they met in the middle of the dance floor and stopped. Hermione could see the tears standing in Lavender's eyes just before she stepped forward and grabbed her in a fierce hug.

"Be so fucking careful," Lavender whispered into her ear.

"I will. I promise."

Lav nodded once, squeezing Hermione's hand before she released it with a sad smile.

Hermione took a breath and then turned and ran back to Draco, who ushered her through the door and out into the soft night.

"The red dress, tonight's blue dress, the pink dress, the crop top, the shorts you wore to the book shop," Draco enumerated his favorite outfits of Hermione's on his fingers. "But there's one I prefer to all of those."

She tilted her head and wrinkled her brow adorably. "Which?"

"This one." Draco whipped the light coverlet off of them to reveal her totally nude self: all long legs, golden skin, perfect tits. He sighed deeply in appreciation as she half-laughed, half-shrieked and grabbed at the blanket.

"Draco!"

"You'd deny me my last chance to enjoy you?" he asked, pushing the fabric back down and running his lips over her clavicle and down to her breasts, which he kissed reverently, one then the other.

She sighed and slid her fingers into his hair. "No."

He progressed to licking and sucking gently—and then less gently. Her sighs turned to moans and he moved over her deliberately, feeling a quickening in himself despite the fact that they'd done this less than an hour before, barely made it in the door, in fact.

She pulled his head up and kissed him deeply. After a few moments, he made to work his way back down her body, but she held him in place.

"I want you inside of me, please," she whispered in the darkness.

He was happy to oblige and they moved languidly, unhurriedly, as he savored every second of feeling, of being this close to her, his face buried in her hair and his fingers twined with hers.

"Draco, Draco, Draco," she murmured. "You make me so happy."

He pulled back and looked at her then, deep into her dark eyes as they were joined. "Me too," he said softly, marveling at the feelings coursing through him. He buried his face again, this time in the soft skin of her neck, lips moving on a silent chant; me too, me too, me too—until he didn't know quite what he was agreeing with, until pleasure overtook them both, until they lay side-by-side, spent and quiet in the aftermath.

"What would it be like," she asked after a while, taking his fingers and bringing them lightly to her lips, "if we were going to Hogwarts this year?"

He could hear the beginnings of a smile in her voice and he rolled over to face her.

"Together?" he asked.

She rolled over too. "Yes," she said, the smile blooming full as she reached out to trace a finger over his forehead.

"Well," he said. "I believe we'd start by getting on the train."

"Mmm-hmm."

"I'd take your hand," he said, grabbing her palm and pressing it to his.

"But someone might see!" Her eyes sparkled in the dim light filtering through her bedroom window.

"That would kind of be the point." His grin emerged as she laughed softly. "And besides, we'd definitely sit together."

"In our own compartment because no one would sit with us," she giggled. "Although, maybe Blaise and Lav…"

"Maybe. Zabini can be very self-preserving, though."

She laughed. "People would be shocked."

"People would be," he agreed. "Especially when I leant over and kissed you." He moved forward and captured her lips. She responded sweetly, breaking away after a moment.

"And when I kissed you back?"

"That would really shock them."

"Can you imagine?" She bit down on her lip and shook her head. "We might get an audience."

"Well, that would be unfortunate," Draco moved over her again, capturing her lips in a much deeper kiss. "Because I've always wanted to do something naughty on that train."

"Oh?" She wiggled underneath him in a suggestive way.

"Mmm," he growled into her ear. "But perhaps a disillusionment charm? Or a blackout spell on the windows?"

"Peruvian Darkness Powder," she murmured, her tongue tracing the rim of his ear.

"Or I could just… Drop. Under. The. Table," he said, punctuating his words with kisses down her torso to the sweet join of her leg to her hip.

He licked her there and she sucked in her breath. "That would be very nice. Or there's always the loos."

"Restrictively small," he said dismissively, now placing soft kisses across her lower belly.

"Perhaps if you bent me over the sink?"

He groaned, images blooming before his eyes.

"What?"

"That's just... really got me going again." He adjusted himself as she gave a low laugh.

"Again!?"

"I'm a healthy young man and you... are a minx." He started tickling her and her laugh intensified. He moved back up to run his hands around her lovely face, which was lit up in a wicked smile.

He was smiling too, but as he watched her, he stilled and felt himself grow serious. Her face relaxed into tenderness too.

He leaned down and touched his forehead to hers. "Promise me again," he whispered.

"What?" She tilted her head and brushed his lips.

He pulled back and looked at her. "When we're out there. Keep a part of you for me. For us. No matter what happens."

"I will. And you too. No matter what."

"No matter what." He clutched at her then, lifting her from the mattress and pulling her so tightly to him that she gasped. He felt her arms go around him and her palms splay wide against his back, gathering him to her too.

They stayed locked that way for a long moment before she slowly pushed him down, climbing over him and kissing him slowly.

Draco reached up and kissed her back, resolved to lose himself one last time before morning.

"Draco?"

"Mmm?" He was on the edge of sleep, although part of him resented losing even a moment to it.

"I hate goodbyes."

His hand went to hers. "I know. Same."

"Let's not say it." She sounded on the edge of sleep too. "Let's say something like, arrivederci."

"'Until we see each other again?'"

"Exactly."

He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her back tight against his front, inhaling the warm fragrance of her soft hair.

"Yes," he murmured. "Until then."

Chapter Text

Hermione held perfectly still as Ginny directed a spell at her eyelid.

"Not a twitch, this is very precise," Ginny murmured. Hermione felt a damp line place itself just above her eyelashes. "Now for the other. Yes! Totally even!" Ginny leaned back on her heels in triumph. "Took me all summer to perfect that spell."

Hermione put her face close to the mirror, admiring the dark brown eyeliner. "Very nice," she said, pulling back and poking at her hair. "But I didn't think rural Ireland would be the place to learn makeup charms?"

"Oh, there was this one girl who was just very knacky with it," Ginny said, peering at Hermione's hair. "Want me to help with that too?"

"No, I can do it," Hermione said. Ginny's words conjured an image of Lavender: leaning against the counter in the kitchen of the flat in San Cipriano, stirring something delicious and telling Hermione she really should experiment with darker lipstick shades.

Hermione smiled at the memory, but slid almost immediately toward melancholy. She spoke quickly to head it off, reaching up to pin the sides of her hair back. "Tell me more about the village and the football team and the boy."

"Right. Might not have another chance before mum ropes me into the first of million things we 'have to do before the ceremony,'" Ginny said with an eye-roll. "And it was boys, plural." Her rogue grin appeared as she sat and launched into a rapid monologue about her summer, which sounded as if it had been action-packed—especially after she had walked onto a spot on the local muggle football team.

"Never played a muggle sport in my life!" she crowed, but Hermione listened with only half an ear. Despite her best efforts, her mind had wandered quickly from Lavender and San Cipriano to Draco. She wondered where he was and what he was doing right now, unable to prevent a sigh from escaping her lips.

Ginny paused in her narrative and Hermione plastered a smile on her face.

"Enough about me," Ginny said slowly. "Tell me more about your Italian holiday. The weather alone makes me extremely jealous. Was there any other excitement?" She wiggled her brows up and down as she looked in the mirror and fastened a necklace around her throat.

"Other than getting to be friends with Lavender Brown?" Hermione asked, faux-innocence in her tone.

Ginny laughed. "I still cannot believe that. I'll have to see it in person, I think." She turned, smoothing her dark blue dress. "And you just... stayed away from the others?"

"Yeah." Hermione got up and twitched a ruffle on her bodice. "Didn't see a lot of them." As much as she wished she could tell Ginny about Draco and even Theo, she didn't want to spoil the short time they had together.

"Well, I always thought it was naff. How Ron treated Lavender after their break-up." Ginny shook her head. "I would have been upset too. Just because I'm more likely to punch something than cry about it…"

"Agreed. And on that note. How are you doing? Er, how are things with Harry?" Hermione didn't know how, or even whether, to bring up all of Harry's developments this summer, but she wanted to make sure she checked in with Ginny.

Ginny met Hermione's eyes in the mirror. "Fine, I guess? A little weird. Part of me is still in some stupid sort of love with him. You should have felt my heart gallop when I saw him last night." She grimaced and Hermione gave her a sympathetic smile. "But he's got to go save the world, hasn't he? And I can't put my whole life on hold while he does that."

"Absolutely." Hermione nodded.

"It's mad. All just utterly mad." Ginny blinked and stared out the window to the field beyond, where someone was spelling white chairs into orderly lines. "Maybe if we make it through this whole thing and get a few years under our belts, we can revisit it. In the meantime, I plan to be as happy as I can in the time that I have."

Hermione placed her hand on Ginny's forearm. "That's really wise, Gin."

Ginny patted Hermione's hand. "And Harry has a lot to figure out."

"I know," Hermione said quietly.

Ginny's eyes cut to her. "You know?"

"Yeah."

Ginny nodded. "Good, I'm glad. So you can see how I don't want to be an obstacle to that. Hell, I may have things to figure out myself!" She flashed a quick look at Hermione. "Ron doesn't know yet though, right?"

"No, and I think Harry wants to wait until after today to tell him." Hermione and Harry had discussed it and both decided that their bombshells could wait until they were alone with Ron, preferably far away from civilisation and behind a silencing spell.

"GINNY! I need you!" Molly Weasley's distinctive tones floated up the stairs, making Hermione jump.

She saw Ginny twitch before shouting back down to her mum that she'd be right there. "Haven't missed that this summer," she muttered, running a hand over her hair one last time and heading for the doorway.

"I'll be down to help in just a moment," Hermione said.

"Take your time. There'll be plenty to do before they make it down the aisle." Ginny gave a short laugh before trundling down the stairs.

Hermione stood in the suddenly silent room and looked at herself in the mirror. The vibrant red of her scoop-neck dress glowed against her deeply tanned skin and her hair gleamed gold, lighter than it had ever been. The effects of a summer in the Italian sun... She sighed, an intense longing for Draco to see her like this, looking pretty, shooting through her.

She touched the wood of Ginny's vanity and looked down. It felt surreal somehow that he was still in San Cipriano. What was he doing right now? Riding his motorcycle to Blaise's? Drinking an espresso in the piazza? Packing?

Maybe he was lying in bed, shirt off, drowsing in the afternoon sun. Hermione's breath quickened and her fingers twitched with a physical ache to touch him, be with him.

Or maybe, she shook her head and frowned, he'd already left to come back to Britain. Maybe he was sitting in a cold safehouse war-room or a death eater hideout. Hermione shuddered—she didn't actually know, and the not knowing made her sick.

She made a face in the glass. She'd have to get used to this feeling, wouldn't she? And it didn't help anything to stand around here feeling sorry for herself when there were preparations to be made—for the wedding and the upcoming departure.

Crossing the room with an impatient noise, she fetched the small, beaded bag she'd picked up in Diagon Alley yesterday and held it against her dress. Not a perfect match, but it would have to do. She shifted it over her shoulder and it rattled ominously, so she silenced it with a touch of her wand. Extended and filled with most of the basic supplies she and Harry had discussed, it still lacked a few essentials. She'd go see what Molly could spare from the pantry and storage shed.

Hermione ducked out of Ginny's room, catching a glimpse of Charlie's dark red head as he disappeared up another flight of stairs to the Burrow's extensive attics, calling something over his shoulder about glassware. She needed to find Ron and Harry so they could go over next steps. Ron, whom she'd only seen for a loud, crowded couple of hours yesterday, hadn't even known about the plan at all until Harry had filled him in late last night. Hermione figured Harry's significant look and nod toward him at breakfast meant Ron was apprised and onboard, though.

So it would be the three of them again.

Hermione gripped the worn newel post at the top of the steps and started down. Three against the world. Not for the first time, she wondered how a few teenagers were going to actually do anything to affect this war. And how were they going to survive alone together for the next several months?

Shaking her head and tamping down these depressing thoughts, Hermione slipped through the dark hallway at the foot of the stairs and out to the garden. The chairs were all set up now, and a charm appeared to be erecting a large tent on the lawn next to them. She could hear Molly and Ginny in the kitchen, having words over seating arrangements, and see Fred and George down the garden, ridding the plot of gnomes. Someone whizzed by on a broom, trailing ribbons and flowers, and Hermione had a moment of being totally overwhelmed by being back in the magical world. She longed with a sudden, passionate intensity to be alone with a book and coffee in the flat in Italy.

She turned away from the noise and activity and walked around the side of the house to the shed, forcing her mind to blankets and tea kettles and potion ingredients. She was soon so lost in thoughts of supplies and organisation that she started when Ron poked his head out the pantry window.

"Psst!" he whispered, gesturing to her.

"Ron! What are you doing?"

"Making a getaway," he said, pulling back inside. "Wait right there." A few seconds later his lanky frame appeared in the kitchen doorway, which he exited with a furtive glance over his shoulder.

"Come on," he said in a low voice. "Mum's on the rampage." He inclined his head and started moving rapidly down a path that skirted the side of the garden, well away from the chairs and Fred and George. Hermione realised he had a paper sack in his arms, which was clinking as he moved.

"Where are we going? What is that?" She pointed at the parcel.

"Let's just get over the rise where they can't see us," he said, speeding up. Hermione hurried after him, taking two steps for each of his and marveling at the fact that he seemed to have gotten even taller over the summer. The path dipped up and down and Hermione saw that they were heading for the creek that ran along the lower boundary of The Burrow. She spotted Harry's dark hair through the branches of thickly trailing willows that lined the bank.

"Hey!" Harry called quietly, waving to both of them. "You found her," he said to Ron.

"Found some beer and crisps too," Ron said. "Nice to have so many supplies in the house." He settled on to a patch of grass at the edge of the creek and opened the bag.

Harry was sitting against the trunk of a willow. Hermione dropped down next to him, carefully arranging her skirts, and accepted a cold bottle of beer from Ron. It was only early afternoon, but she found she didn't care.

Ron took a huge swig from his bottle and looked at Harry and Hermione, a smile lifting his features. "Three of us finally back together, eh? Hardly got to talk to you two last night."

"I know. Yesterday was a bit mad," Hermione laughed. Any gathering where all nine Weasleys were together at the same time—especially after a long separation—had a certain energy, and this one had been no different.

"So. How was your summer?" She turned a little awkwardly to Ron. Part of her still felt uneasy with him, although he seemed determined to act like nothing strange had happened between them last term, which was welcome. She'd take any chance to build camaraderie between them. She knew she'd need it as soon as she told him about Draco.

"It was ace, yeah." Ron smiled. "I think dad told you I was in Norway, right?" He glanced at Harry.

"Scandinavia, yeah. He didn't say which country, but that's great." Harry nodded.

"It was bloody gorgeous," Ron said. "Good food and strong drink. Big lakes and meadows. Quidditch pitch in the peaks."

"Wait, you were in a magical place?" Hermione asked, greatly surprised.

"Yeah, weren't you?"

"No! We lived like muggles all summer! In a muggle village. The group I was with."

Ron stared for a moment then started laughing.

"What?"

"Just Malfoy and all those Slytherins." Ron's shoulders shook. Hermione felt Harry's glance at her but didn't dare meet his eyes.

"Oh right," she said. "Yeah. Totally." She gave an unconvincing laugh and Ron opened his mouth to say something, but Harry talked over him.

"Well, you both had it better than me," he said, rolling his neck against the tree. "I was in a dingy little room in Manchester for two months and then a village in Cornwall, which was nothing special. Although it did have a nice beach. And some nice people." His voice trailed off.

"Did you meet anyone cool in your village, Ron?" Hermione asked, reaching for one of the bags of crisps and ripping it open.

"Well, er." Ron passed a hand over his neck and Hermione saw color stain his lower jaw. "Yeah, I uh, met someone. I mean, a lot of someones. But one person in particular. Annika." He shot a quick look at Hermione. "That's not weird, is it?"

"Not at all," Hermione said, shaking her head vigorously, a feeling of relief sneaking over her. This would make it so much easier. She looked to the side and saw Harry nodding. He gave her the briefest of glances before leaning forward.

"What's she like?" he asked, putting his elbows on his knees and dangling his beer between them.

The corners of Ron's lips went up. "Six feet tall, blonde, better Keeper than me. Funny in a smart-mouthed kind of way." The flush spread up over his cheeks. He seemed happy and Hermione was glad for him. Ron had always needed something of his own.

"She'd never even heard of you, mate." Ron's next words seemed to reinforce this thought. He barked a short laugh in Harry's direction and Harry reared back in mock surprise.

"Shocking."

They all three laughed and then there was a silence in which Hermione could hear George shouting Fred's name and someone beginning to tune a fiddle.

"Are you going to keep in touch?" she asked Ron.

"Oh yeah," he said quickly. "When this is all over." The happiness that had lit his face seeped out slowly until he was frowning. He squinted away toward the other side of the stream bank and picked up a stone, throwing it in the trickling water.

Hermione's sympathy for his feelings was profound, although she wondered if Ron would be able to reciprocate once he knew about her choice of partner.

"Enough about me, though." Ron straightened and peered at Hermione. "How did you and… Lav get on? Must have been rough for you two."

He said it as if he were about to pour rubbing alcohol on a cut and Hermione couldn't help but laugh.

"We got on really well, actually." She stared at him with a grin on her face. Harry started to chuckle next to her.

"You did?"

"Yeah, I'd say we're good friends now. As close as Ginny and I are." Ron was looking at her with a sort of shocked disbelief. After a moment he shook his head.

"I can't believe that."

"Believe it," Hermione said, dusting crisp crumbs from her hands. "Harry saw it. He can vouch for me." She nudged Harry with her shoulder.

"Yeah, it's true, mate. Lav's cool."

"Wait, when were you there!?"

"I, ah, visited once and you know I went to pick Hermione up and bring her back," Harry said.

Ron's eyes narrowed and he opened his mouth but then shut it. "Did you become friends with the rest of them?" he sputtered at Hermione.

Hermione felt Harry tense and she looked over her shoulder back toward the house. She didn't actually want to lie to Ron if she could help it.

"I think I hear your mum," she said, cocking an ear.

Ron took on an attitude of listening, but of course the fake call didn't come. "I don't hear anything," he said.

"We're going to have a lot of time to talk about our summers coming up," Harry said, beginning to stand and stretch. "Why don't we run over our plans just now before Molly does find us."

"Right," Ron said. "Good idea."

Hermione breathed a quiet sigh of relief. Thank you, Harry. Outwardly she said, "So our first stop is Grimmauld—at least for a few days."

The boys nodded and Hermione continued, "I've got most of our basic supplies here." She patted her beaded bag. "Tent, blankets, cookery gear, reference books, extra clothes, potions and potion ingredients, some tinned food."

Ron's eyes went wide. "All in there?" he said, pointing to her tiny bag.

"Yeah." She lifted it. "Extension charm."

He shook his head. "Bloody brilliant, you are."

"Thank you, but we still need a lot more if we're really going to be ready for anything." She turned to Harry and lowered her voice. "I know after Grimmauld we're planning on Godric's Hollow, and then hoping that will lead us to the other Horcruxes—and I'm assuming that means we may be living rough for a while."

"Yeah," Harry said. "I think that's a good assumption."

"So we have the wedding, and then supply collection. I need to see my parents as soon as possible." Hermione ticked their next steps on her fingers. "We need to be ready for the will reading," she said, her eyes darting to Harry's, "when it happens."

Harry nodded tightly. Dumbledore was hanging on, but by the slightest of threads. They expected news of his death any day or hour, although in many ways Hermione felt like he was already gone.

"I hope we learn something solid from it," Harry said. "I hope he left us a plan or at least a clear next step."

"I know," Hermione said. She wasn't sure what they were going to do otherwise.

"I spoke to mum and dad this morning," Ron said. "They are not happy that I'm going with you—or that any of us are going at all." He shook his head. "Only the wedding preparation has kept mum from cornering you to try to talk you out of it."

Hermione grimaced. She wasn't surprised.

"What are you going to do about your parents?" Harry said, directing a sharp look at Hermione. Ron also turned toward her, a crease between his eyes.

She sighed. She had thought and thought about this, talked it through with Draco, and come to only one conclusion—a painful and difficult conclusion. "It's going to have to be full obliviation," she said quietly.

"What, of you? From them?" Harry sounded shocked.

"Yes. I've told them too much. I need to erase all of it and replace it with a different story. New identities. New place to live. Somewhere far away. I've decided on Australia," Hermione said, looking from Harry to Ron, both of whose mouths were hanging open.

"But Hermione—" Ron said. "Those kinds of spells. They can be irreversible."

"I know." Hermione felt tears well in her eyes. "But I have to protect them. And us." The tears spilled over and fell down her cheeks.

Harry was instantly there, his arms around her. Then she felt Ron on her other side, his big hand rubbing her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry," Harry was murmuring and she could hear the guilt in his voice, clear as day.

"Yeah," Ron said. "Sorry, Hermione." She could hear concern and pain in his.

Hermione let herself cry for only a bit before straightening up. "Thank you both. And do not blame yourself," she said, drawing back and pointing at Harry as she wiped her eyes. "This isn't your fault."

Ron kept behind her, but she felt him nodding along.

Harry closed his eyes and tipped his head back. "I guess this is just one of the many of who-knows-how-many awful things we're going to have to do." He blew out a huge sigh.

"Right." Hermione turned to Ron, who was looking up the path.

"I think I do hear mum calling now," he said. "We should probably get back."

"The plan is to leave for Grimmauld tomorrow mid-morning, correct?" Hermione looked to Harry for confirmation.

"Yeah," he said, nodding as they started back up the path, Molly's tones clearer and more strident now as she called Ron's full name at high volume.

"Coming, mum!" Ron shouted, shaking his head. "God, she does my head in," he said, but the words lacked bite. Harry fell into step with him and they started discussing a recent Quidditch match.

Hermione trailed behind, her mind going over and over the plan and what she would need to do in the next few days. Her parents. God. She stopped, squeezing her eyes shut and taking a ragged breath.

The Quidditch discussion got more technical and the boys' steps got faster as they walked away up the path and a familiar sense settled over Hermione of feeling left out and more than a little alone in the old, familiar grooves of this friendship. That this would be her life for the foreseeable future filled her with a sudden, intense loneliness.

She braced her palm against a slender sapling, suddenly missing Draco so much that it almost robbed her of breath. And Lavender. And Theo and even Blaise. Her world had expanded this summer—in the most satisfying of ways. And while she loved Harry and Ron and believed in what they were doing, the idea of being the third wheel of the golden trio again felt stifling.

A memory came over her, of being face to face with Draco, so close she could study the elegant jump of his nose and the darker flecks in his light grey irises. Feeling like the only two people in the world; his focus intense on her and hers lasered on him. Their breaths mingling and their fingers entwined.

Would she ever have that again? Would she be anyone's first thought and first priority? Were such thoughts selfish and petty in the face of what she, Harry and Ron had to do?

Hermione shook her head and pushed off the tree. There was nothing to be done now. It was all in motion and there was nothing, nothing she could do, but help win this war so that it would all go back to normal in some way.

She swallowed down the constriction in her throat and put her chin up, cresting the path and raising a weak hand to wave to Molly in the distance.

"We haven't danced yet." Ron appeared in front of where Hermione was leaning against a post in the giant tent, watching Bill and Fleur as they swayed slowly under the twinkling lights. The white tent had been truly transformed into a warm, jewel-like room, its deep, gorgeous colors and textures reflected in candlelight and the happy faces of the guests.

"She's the most beautiful bride," Hermione murmured, glancing up at Ron. "And are you asking?"

"Yeah, I am." He held out his hand. Hermione let him lead her to the middle of the floor, realising with surprise that she and Ron had never danced together before. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she breathed his familiar scent and let her eyes travel up to his face. He looked back at her and they moved in silence for a while, the air between them a little fraught, but not nearly as bad as it had been before summer.

They turned in the dance and suddenly Molly and Arthur were there, Molly's eyes running over them avidly. "How well you look," she trilled, and Hermione noticed her cheeks were very rosy.

Ron chuckled nervously. "Sure, mum." He turned them again and raised his eyebrows at Hermione. "Going to be a blow to her when we don't get married the second we're out of school and present her with a grandchild nine months later."

"Ron!" But Hermione was laughing.

He laughed too, but then his face sobered. "Look." He glanced around. "I wanted a minute alone before we set out and we're... never alone." Hermione frowned up at him and he took a deep breath. "Like I said earlier, I hope we're OK. But I want to apologise for what an arse I was at the end last school year. And before."

Hermione felt her eyebrows shoot up.

"I know." He shook his head. "I'm not great at this. But I feel like I learned a lot this summer. I talked about it—with Annika. She pointed out a few things to me. About Lav too."

"Wow. Can't wait to meet this Annika. And thank you," Hermione said a little incredulously—it was hard to believe this was Ron she was speaking to. "And yes, you definitely owe Lavender an apology the next time you see her."

Ron nodded and they moved silently for a few moments. "Does she hate me?" he asked suddenly.

"No!" Hermione said. "You hurt her, but she's, uh, moved on." Another bombshell coming his way in due time.

"I still can't believe it. You and her friends," he said. "I mean, even aside from our history, you're just... really different!"

Hermione laughed. "Yeah, but complimentary. That's something I learned this summer. Also, other than Ginny, I've never really had a female friend. And it's nice." She shrugged. "We talk about different things."

"I bet."

The look on Ron's face made Hermione laugh again. She caught Molly watching them again too. Ron followed her gaze and sighed at his mum. "She's going to be a handful."

Hermione shook her head. "She'll get over it. We're clearly much better as friends, and anyone with an ounce of sense should see that." She let her eyes linger on Ron's familiar features: his long nose, dusting of freckles and the startling blue of his eyes—dear to her still, but in a different way now. "I do accept your apology, though," she continued. "And I'm sorry too."

"For what?"

"That we let it get like this. I don't know what I'd do without your friendship, and I thought I was losing it there for a while."

"Never," Ron said, squeezing her waist lightly. Hermione breathed out, feeling like she was releasing something that had been tight and constricted. Her mind flashed again on the bonds she'd forged this summer and it occurred to her that this might be growing up—an expansion of social circles, thoughts, ideas…not always easy or without pain, but good and worth it. She hoped again that Ron would be open to the changes in her life.

"Tell me more about Annika," she said after a bit. "Seems like you're pretty serious."

"I am. She is. I'm thinking of moving there or having her come here after… well, if we get through all this and come out on the other side."

"Does she know you'll be out of touch?"

"I told her communication would be spotty. She knows how bad it is here. Bloody worried about it, in fact."

"I'm sure." Hermione grimaced. "But, it sounds like it's worth it." The same equation she'd worked on with Draco all summer.

"Absolutely," Ron said as the song came to an end. He kept her hand as they walked off the dance floor and Hermione now saw several pairs of curious eyes on them.

"Can you believe Annika had never heard of Harry before?" Ron was saying. "Things are just kind of different up there." His voice took on a faraway quality and Hermione murmured something indistinct as she scanned the room for Harry, realising she hadn't seen him in a while. She finally spotted him at a small table, deep in conversation with Ginny. She hoped that was going well.

Gently disentangling her fingers from Ron's, she looked up to say something to him when several things happened at once. A wind seemed to whoosh through the tent, making heads raise and eyes meet. Hermione felt a sharp stab of fear that she saw reflected in Ron's face. They both looked to Harry, who started up out of his seat toward them just as a silvery shape billowed into the room.

Harry stopped and Hermione clutched at her beaded bag, then Ron's hand. The shape unfolded into Kingsley Shacklebolt's distinctive lynx patronus and spoke in a low, carrying voice that seemed to drown out all other sound.

"The Ministry has fallen. Scrimgour is dead. They are coming."

The lynx vanished and the tent was utterly silent for a beat, then two, before erupting into utter chaos. Families shouted for each other and people ran for the door even as dark, swirling figures started appearing in the crowd. The crack of disapparation sounded from all around. Hermione and Ron surged forward as one, trying to get to Harry, who had disappeared behind the frantic wall of people and sound.

Hermione opened her mouth to shout his name, but just then someone grasped her other hand and she whipped her head around to see it was Harry, his face anguished as he watched the dark figures resolve into robes and hideous masks. Hermione felt a scream building in her throat as one spotted them and started to draw its wand. She saw Lupin and Tonks appear on the side of the dance floor take aim at it.

"NOW!" she shouted, looking frantically from Ron to Harry. Harry's eyes were on Ginny, and Ron's tortured gaze roved between the various members of his family, who were fanning out in defensive positions across the room. "We have to go NOW!" Hermione yelled again, pulling the boys to her and focusing with all her might on the shadowy halls of Grimmauld Place. She felt each of them crush her hands as they began to swirl into darkness.

Her last thoughts as the room vanished along with the screams and ozone scent of magic deploying, were strangely of Draco and a quiet afternoon in the San Cipriano sun: one last spot of brightness before she disappeared into the void.

Chapter Text

Draco shifted gears just as the bike's engine started to whine. Cresting the hill, he jammed down on the accelerator and flew over the top of his favorite rise. The bike wriggled a little in mid air and he smiled as he thudded to earth.

Not many things could make him smile these days, so he'd take what he could get.

The village came into view and he savored its warm lines. The umbers and ochres were deeper than earlier in the summer, and the late August sun slanted at a lower angle, tinting the scene with a touch of melancholy.

Or maybe that was just his mood.

He leaned into the final curve before town. It felt so strange to be the last one left. Even Blaise had left this morning, on his way to his mother's end-of-summer concert in Paris. Draco had been with him at the villa the last couple of days, but now he was alone again. And with one more night before he Portkeyed back to Britain in the morning, he wanted to see the village. Even if he knew it would be painful.

He braked as he entered the narrower streets, the bike purring beneath him. Looking around as he drove, he was almost paralysed with how much he would miss it, all of it. The crumbling stucco, the bright flowers in window boxes, the washing hung on lines above. The quiet of the bookshop and the noise of his bike. Smoking with Theo, teasing Lavender, laughing with Blaise. Everything with Hermione...

The summer already felt like a sweet but faded dream.

Turning down a familiar lane, he spotted the cafe. Watching its warm windows and bustling tables as he passed, Draco could hardly bear the fact that Hermione wouldn't come swinging out the door and hop up behind him with a kiss and a laugh. Or that he'd never visit her there again, fluster her as she waited on a customer.

He looked away with a frown. He'd have his coffee somewhere else.

Finding a shady spot, Draco parked the bike and walked slowly into the square, surveying its worn cobblestones as he made his way to the bookshop. There was a novel he wanted to pick up. Something Hermione had recommended weeks ago that he hoped would be a distraction the next few days in the safehouse. He smiled faintly—maybe they could discuss plot points and themes when they saw each other again. His smile faded. If they saw each other...

The trattoria came into view and Draco glanced over. He could almost see them there that first night they'd all eaten together at the table under the tree: Theo amused and Lavender a bit sly, Hermione looking at Draco with suspicion and Draco already trying desperately to tamp down his attraction to her.

Why had he wasted so much time fighting it?

He shook his head and jammed his hands into his pockets; he remembered his reasons but he couldn't really understand them anymore. What was between Hermione and him seemed inevitable now—his attempts to evade it futile. And even if the fear was still there, it was nothing to what they'd had. Nothing to falling in love.

He knew that now and he wouldn't trade it for anything.

Draco kicked at a loose stone as he walked out of the square. He did wonder what their future held, though. He hated most of the answers.

He approached the bookshop and, calling hello, pulled open the door. Then he stood and chatted to Agata about fake plans and his fake life as he tried to pay for his book, which she insisted on making a gift.

Gods, what if he really were doing nothing more than going off to a muggle university? Or simply finishing his seventh year of school? What if it were that normal and easy? A familiar sense of the unfairness of it all swept over him and he said a hurried goodbye, kissing Agata's powdery cheek and calling, "Ciao," before she could see the bitterness—or the tears—in his eyes.

He blinked them away as he left the shop, wanting to keep moving and doing, the idea of brooding alone over dinner suddenly unappealing. His steps carried him quickly back to the square and across it, then up another familiar street.

It wasn't long before he was in front of her flat.

He fingered the house keys in his jacket pocket—collected one by one from the others as they'd left—and looked up at the sunny facade. The third floor windows shone in the early evening glare like blind eyes, as if knowing she wasn't there had rendered them blank and lifeless.

Had he been heading here all along? Probably. Although he should probably keep walking. Stick with the original plan of dinner in the square and nothing more. Back to the villa for a swim and an early night before the next, horrific part of his life started.

But no.

Because it seemed he was grasping the handle to her building door, taking the steps to the third floor two at a time, unlocking the flat, stepping in.

It had been a while since he'd been able to resist anything when it came to her.

Draco pulled the door shut behind him and stood in the utter silence. The air was warm and close, watchful somehow, as if the flat were a living thing lying dormant until its next occupants arrived. He looked around. Every surface was neat and orderly and there was a faint tang of lemon in the air. Muggle cleaner, he realised with a ghost of a smile.

He started forward, one hand running over the back of the sofa as he looked into the kitchen. All tidy and tucked away there too. No radio playing or pot bubbling. Although something in the quality of the light made him flash to a memory… of sitting at the table one sunny afternoon, watching Hermione at the counter while she pressed coffee in the cafetière. She'd been laughing, telling him something Lavender had said. He'd reached out and grabbed her when she'd tried to pass by. Pulled her down and kissed her. She'd tasted like the almond biscuits they'd been eating.

His gaze dropped to the floor. It had all been so lovely.

And it was almost like it had happened to someone else.

Draco breathed against the ache in his chest and left the kitchen, wandering down the hallway, still not entirely sure what he was doing.

He reached the doorway to her bedroom and paused. Could he enter here, where the memories were thickest and most sweet? Again, he was powerless not to, his fingers grasping the handle of her door and pushing it open impatiently.

It didn't smell like lemon here. No, it still held some trace of her. A scent that brought not only images rushing back, but feelings and desires too. He stood and closed his eyes, reliving the first night, the day in the rain, the last night. Then he sat down, shoulders bowed, on the bed.

How was he going to do this?

How was he going to put one foot in front of the other and leave this place? Walk into his new life and keep walking toward danger and fear and sorrow? What if he walked away instead? Found a way to reach Hermione and take her with him? They could hide in some far corner of the world—under a glamour or maybe just in plain sight...

But no. He knew she'd never agree to it. And he didn't think he could do it either. Not anymore. Something had shifted. It wasn't that he'd turned noble overnight. It was just that he knew he couldn't live in a world in which she was never safe and they were never accepted.

He dropped his head into his hands, scrubbed them over his face, then looked up.

It was time to go.

Time to box up this summer in a place in his mind only he could reach. Like a perfect, smooth stone he could take out and hold in his hand. Look for the glints of bronze and gold in its depths.

He pushed up and shoved his hair off his forehead, forcing his mind to practical thoughts of dinner and packing and where to store the bike at the villa. He moved fast to the bedroom door, reaching for the handle and intending to go quickly down the hall and out of the flat.

But a movement caught his eye, a slight flutter on the back of the door. He paused and looked, although he knew already what it would be. Something had been wafting her sweet scent around the room.

His hand darted up and the silky scarf slithered off the hook into his fingers. He stared at it—just a simple strip of deep blue—for a long moment before balling it up and pressing it to his face and inhaling deeply. The fabric held not just her perfume, but the essence of her—in the sunshine, eyes teasing as she'd laughed and stuffed it into his pocket.

Draco took a deep, shuddering breath.

He knew he shouldn't take it. He shouldn't have anything of hers on him. He should let it stay here, a mute testimony to what they'd had, the perfect summer they'd shared.

He watched the silk glide through his fingers once more before starting forward and pushing out of the room.

Draco didn't linger in the flat now. He strode through quickly, closing and locking doors, impatient to be gone. To be out in the warm evening air in the crowds of people who now gathered in the square. Living normal lives free of his particular flavor of sacrifice and pain.

Later, after he'd made himself eat and then linger over a final coffee, he climbed on the bike again. Directing it along the smooth, twisting roads, he accelerated out of town and into the twilight, toward uncertainty, dread and sorrow. And as he rounded toward the last curve to the villa, he touched a hand to his pocket, where a small corner of deep blue fabric fluttered in the wind.