Beautiful Disaster

Title: Beautiful Disaster
Chapter: 16/??
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Veela!Draco! discovers that his mate is the least likely person on the planet, and the discovery leads him and his father in new directions...

*~*

Draco escorted Hermione to her room after they’d finished dinner. The meal had gone by rather uneventfully, just some small talk amongst the four. He watched her throughout the course of the meal, noticing that she had perfect table manners. He wondered if Muggles cared as much about things like no slurping and elbows not on the table, as much as the pureblooded families. She seemed reluctant, still, about the house elves serving her, but realized it was in bad taste to take something from their hands and do it on her own.

He couldn’t help but stare at her. He knew she didn’t have the typical features that would classify her as beautiful, but he was enraptured with her appearance. She had features which had softened over time, cheekbones that no longer jutted out and made her appear awkward, but rather flowed into her cheeks, to her chin, and nose. Her bottom lip was much fuller than her top lip, and he had the urge to kiss her and take it into his mouth to run his tongue along its softness.

Hermione smiled awkwardly at him as she stood in the open door to her room, “So, would you like your present?”

He shrugged. “Sure.”

Her smile disappeared and she seemed a bit peeved. “If you don’t want it…”

He shook his head quickly, assuring her that his nonchalance hadn’t meant that he didn’t appreciate her gift. “No, I didn’t mean it that way. I meant if you’re ready to give it to me, I’m ready to receive it.”

She walked into the room leaving the door open and he took a few steps in as she removed a box from the wardrobe. The house elves had not only taken her luggage to her room but had unpacked everything as well. When she approached him, her eyes never left the box. “It’s not much. I wasn’t sure what you would want.”

He removed the bow, which had shifted during travel. He opened the box and found a simple silver chain, but upon closer inspection, the clasp was the head of a dragon and he looked up at her as she began speaking again.

“I mean, it’s extremely hard to shop for someone who has the means to buy themselves anything they want, so I really hope you like it. It’s for a pocket watch, which I know you have, and I thought…”

Her rambling was cut off by his lips on hers. She was surprised and stared at his closed eyelids for only a moment before she melted into his embrace. Her arms moved to his shoulders, then to link behind his head.

He pulled away gradually and watched as her eyes fluttered open slowly. “I love it. Thank you.”

She bit her lip and slid her hands over his shoulders to his upper arms. His arms were still wrapped around her waist, the chain clasped in his hand and the box forgotten. He stared at her lips for a few moments and leaned in slowly to try to kiss her once more, before she turned her head away.

“Draco,” she said softly and looked at the floor.

He pulled away from her and swallowed the need to take her and make her his, pushing it as far down as it could go so he could suppress it. He sighed, “Goodnight, Hermione,” he said placing a kiss on her hand.

She closed the door behind him and leaned against it. She released a deep breath and moved over to the wardrobe and removed her pajamas. She slipped on the long flannel bottoms and a regular tank top before she grabbed a book from her trunk and moved to the bed. It was one of the ones Draco had given her. She had read it once, but had taken to reading them both over again. She was at the part of the book she’d been interested to read again, “The Bonding,” she said softly as she read over the chapter title.

The bonding between a Veela Male and his mate can be one of the most remarkable occurrences to take place in our world. No other creatures on the planet will ever have a similar encounter when they claim the one. The Bonding Process is not complicated to understand, but it may take some time.

The bonding of a true female Veela and her mate is different from that of a male. While a female Veela will have her mate, she will often yearn for the touch of others. Often times, the lives of female Veelas will be more harsh and with almost every case resulting in infidelity. It is in the instincts of the female Veelas to procreate as much as possible, and will look to any male to make this happen.

Hermione thought back to Bill’s relationship with Fleur and wondered if this was one of the traits that she had or if it was a recessive part. She would hate to think of Fleur being unfaithful to Bill, but then the Weasley’s were known for creating large broods. She hated the track her mind had taken and shook the thought from her head and looked back down at the book.

The male Veela, however, experiences a deep commitment to his mate. He will never long for another woman, even should his mate meet an unfortunate end. In cases such as these, the male Veela has been known to wallow and eventually die due to his grief. Infidelity has never been a problem with the male Veela. While women are still attracted to the male, he is unable to see anything past his mate.

The bonding, from the second the male finds out who his mate is (turn to Chapter 3 My Mate Is… for a full explanation on how this is carried out) until his claiming of her, will cause a few things to happen. First, the male will experience extreme possessiveness and flights of violence. The best suggestion we have is for the mate to stay away from other members of the opposite sex as much as she can. Anything, from a look to an actual touch can trigger the possessive side of the male Veela. For example, there was a male Veela in Florence who once tore the arm from a man who had touched his mate. Physical contact is certainly not something in which a mate should partake.

Another part of this possessiveness is that the male will know, without being in the same room, when someone is touching his mate in a way that is inappropriate. Such a thing will cause one of two reactions given the severity of the touch. First, the male Veela will attempt to find his mate and rid her of the one touching her. This is true in most cases. The second, and much more serious, is should the mate be in danger of having another man in her bed, the Veela will fall to the floor in agony. As described by a Russian Veela, “It felt like my entire body was on fire and cold at the same time. My skin was no longer a part of my body, but peeling away slowly in an excruciating pain the likes of which no one should ever know. I could feel my heart slowing down, my eyes rolling into the back, and a pain so sharp in my head I was sure it would explode.”

Our advice to the mates: avoid physical contact with any male. We can’t say this enough.

Hermione frowned, and thought back on the passage she’d just read. He would feel threatened by any male touching her. She couldn’t hug her friends and they couldn’t look at her in a way that Draco deemed inappropriate. She couldn’t believe that something as simple as a hug would be able to trigger such a reaction. She wondered how true that was. Was it really that serious that she had to go through this? She looked back at the book.

The male Veela will also be able to control the dreams of his mate. With enough concentration, no matter the placement of his mate, he can find her in his thoughts and cause her to dream what he wishes.

She looked at her bedroom door and wondered if Draco had done that to her. She then rolled her eyes and realized that he was a Slytherin; he’d done it, more than once. She wondered whether or not to say anything to him about it. It was something to be upset about. He had invaded her privacy by stealing into her head and causing her to dream about him. But on the other hand, they were good dreams that made her feel things she’d never felt. She decided that she would bring it up and ask him outright if he’d ever done that to her, even though she knew he had.

Often times these dreams are an attempt to help bridge the gap. The mate often feels large amounts of hostility towards the male Veela before his claim. This is seen as a way to soften the lines and bridge gaps. Male Veelas can attest that this has worked more often than not in enabling the male to initiate conversation with the mate without receiving anger.

The third part of the bonding will be something both mates notice. The emotions of the other will drift between them. Should one emotion, such as anger, be felt in a large abundance the mate will feel it between their link. This gives both people a sense of completeness but togetherness. In some cases, it is stronger and the smallest hint of an emotion can be felt. This, however, is rare and has led to the Veela and his mate to use Occulemency to block out some of this.

The final part of the Bonding Process is The Claiming. This is seen as the first encounter with actual intercourse. When a male Veela is finally ready to claim his mate, she has to give herself willingly to him. There are two parts to the claiming: Permission and Acceptance. Permission is the male asking his mate for her consent, which she must give. A male Veela can never take his mate without her approval. When Permission is granted, the male Veela will then bite the inside of his mate’s right thigh very near her sex. Within hours, this will turn into a scar which will warn anyone who should see fit to take the mate against her will that his life will be taken if he tries. The mate must also do this as close to the scrotum as possible.

Acceptance is actual intercourse. Permission and Acceptance must be done together for the magic to fully take hold. Once The Claiming has taken place, a true feeling of completeness will overtake them both. The Claiming is the most important part of the Veela heritage.

Hermione closed the book and placed it on the night stand beside the table. She stared up at the canopy of her bed and furrowed her brow. “Not only will Draco have to bite me,” she said as she looked at her cat, “but I have to bite him. Are they kidding, Crooks?”

The cat made its bow-legged way up to her and nuzzled her chin. “Oh to be a cat,” she said drolly as her hand moved over the tabby’s fur.

Hermione rolled onto her back and stared at the ceiling. She was to be taken, with her consent, but would never know the touch of another man. Draco was to be her one and only lover. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. He was to be possessive and irrational in that feeling. That scared her more than she wanted to admit. Crookshanks nuzzled his head against hers, and she pulled him into her arms.

She wished she could believe the book was lying, that in its pompous delivery there was a lie hidden in its depths. She knew that was too much to hope for. If it had been right about the bond between them growing stronger, she knew it was probably right in the other areas as well.

*~*

Morning came too early in the form of a pounding at Hermione’s door. She groggily rubbed her eyes and found Narcissa standing at her door, wringing her hands. “You must get your cat and come with me.”

“What’s going on?” Hermione asked, suddenly aware that something was not right.

Narcissa shook her head. “No time to explain. Grab the cat, and come with me.”

Hermione did as was asked and noticed as she closed the door that three elves were turning the furniture in the room into boxes. She followed the older woman down the hall towards Draco’s room and stopped before reaching the doors. Narcissa tapped once on the wall and an invisible door slid open.

“What’s happening,” Hermione hissed.

“I’ll send Draco to explain in a bit,” the older woman said as Hermione went into the room and the door slid shut behind her. She noticed that there were two windows, one sofa, and a fireplace. She looked at the cat and wondered what the Malfoys’ were up to that they had this sort of room in their home.

*~*

Draco watched as Auror’s searched through the library, pulling every book out of its place and tossing them carelessly onto the floor. Arthur Weasley stood in the foyer with Lucius and Narcissa as his father read over the warrant that the red-headed man had presented him. Ministry raids were a plight on his family. It was only two days after Christmas and here they were, ruining the giant tree that his father had had the house elves put up. He winced as it went crashing to the floor.

Narcissa walked into the room. “If you scratch my floor you will pay for it with every check you receive from the Ministry,” she shrieked. The Aurors in that room were much more careful after that.

Draco leaned against the doorframe as they tore through his home. He longed to go to Hermione and assure her that everything was okay. He could feel her fear and apprehension and he hated that her trip was being ruined by a Weasley.

Two Aurors approached the elder Weasley. “We’re done searching down here. We’ll look upstairs.”

Narcissa made to follow them and Arthur narrowed his eyes. “Where are you going, Mrs. Malfoy?”

She whirled on him in anger. “To make sure your Aurors don’t destroy my home. If you don’t like it, petrify me!” She hissed as she stormed up the stairs after the two law enforcers.

Lucius glanced over at his son, then back at Arthur. “I want to know what grounds you have to search my home.”

“It’s in the warrant, Lucius,” Arthur said coolly.

“I’ve done nothing wrong.”

Arthur tilted his head at the blond man. “The mark on your arm says differently.”

Lucius narrowed his eyes at Arthur. “You’ll be sorry you did this.”

The other man shook his head, “Any reason to send you to Azkaban forever will make it easy enough for me to sleep at night, Lucius.”

Draco wanted to punch him in the face. The man was lower than his pauper son, and Draco wanted him to know it. He wondered if it gave Weasley extra satisfaction to put a house in such disarray. A house he could never afford if he wanted to. Screeching could be heard from upstairs as Narcissa chased one of the Aurors down the stairs, the other one on her heels. Narcissa’s wand was pointed at the man.

Arthur met her at the bottom of the stairs. “Are you threatening a Ministry official, Mrs. Malfoy?”

“I’ve made no threats. Only promises.”

Draco realized that Arthur was looking to throw someone into prison. “Mum, what happened?”

“That little insect,” she said pointing her wand at the man standing behind Arthur, “broke my Ming vase that Lucius bought for me and he did it on purpose.”

The man looked almost proud of himself as Arthur turned to look at him. “Did you try a repair charm?”

“You can’t repair it!” she screamed. “It’s protected by ancient Chinese magic! If you knew anything about priceless items…”

Arthur held up a hand to silence her. “Enough. I don’t care.” He looked to his two Aurors, “Did you find anything?”

They both shook their heads. “We searched every room.”

Arthur sighed, defeated. “Lucius, we leave you to your home,” he said with a smile that made Draco’s stomach churn. Draco waited until the Ministry rats had left his home and quickly made his way to the room they had Hermione hidden in. He tapped his wand to the wall and it slid open to reveal a pacing Hermione. She rushed to stand in front of him and he quickly pulled her into his arms, feeling them both relax.

“What’s happened?” she asked softly.

He frowned. “Ministry raid.” He tugged her along with him out of the hidden room. He waited until Crookshanks followed suit, and he closed it. “They come in periodically and search for items that are illegal. They’re mainly looking for a reason to send my father back to prison.”

She noticed that a table and chair in the hall way had been knocked over. She stopped to right the chair as Draco used his wand to right the table.

“How often does this happen?”

He glared at the table, “Too often.”

She bit her lip. “I’m sorry.” She could feel his irritation in waves and frowned. “Was anything destroyed?”

He nodded. “Mother’s Ming vase that Father had given her.”

“A Ming vase? Those are…”

“Priceless. Now, it’s a priceless pile of porcelain,” he said through clenched teeth.

She placed a hand on his arm, “I’m sorry.”

He rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen the tension between the blades. “What makes it worse is that Weasley’s father was the one to head it up.”

She said nothing, only frowned more deeply. She knew that Arthur was in charge of some raids, but she wondered if his resentment towards the Malfoys’ would make him more inclined to damage their property. Draco turned to her and took her hand, “Are you hungry?”

She shrugged. “I suppose.”

They stopped by her room and she changed clothes. A sensible pair of jeans and a large t-shirt with a giant Gryffindor on it; Draco rolled his eyes but smiled despite himself. She would always be a Gryffindor, and nothing he could do would change that.

He held out his hand for her to take, and she slid hers into it. They made their way down the stairs and she saw that the tree in the drawing room had been knocked to the ground and the elves were busy righting it as Narcissa seemed to be staring at the floor. Hermione stopped walking and watched as Narcissa tapped her foot, “What’s she doing?”

He looked at his mother and frowned. “She’s making sure her floor wasn’t scratched when they knocked the tree over. She threatened their lives if they did.”


They made their way to the dining room to find Lucius already sitting at the table. The older man was staring out of the window, completely lost in his own thoughts. Draco cleared his throat and Lucius looked at them giving them a nod of recognition. He turned to the plate sitting before him then to his wife’s chair. “Where is your mother?”

“Parlor,” Draco answered as he pushed the chair in for Hermione before taking his seat. “She’s making sure the Ministry didn’t scratch the floor.”

“I should hope they didn’t. The flooring in that room cost more than their homes put together I’d wager.”

A harried looking Narcissa walked into the room a few moments later, mumbling under her breath. “I’m going to hex Arthur Weasley’s head off one of these days! First it was ‘accidentally’ setting my mother’s portrait on fire, then it was the holes in the wall they put in the ballroom, and now it’s my vase!” She turned to Hermione, “Are all the Weasley’s as vile as he is?”

Draco spoke first, “In my opinion, yes.”

Hermione clenched her jaw. “I suppose he feels he’s just doing his job…”

“His job doesn’t entail destroying my home!” Narcissa answered tersely. She obviously realized she had lost her composure and sat up a bit straighter. “I’m sorry.” She looked at Lucius, “I don’t feel much like eating this morning,” she said as she stood and left the table.

The older man sighed. “Enjoy your breakfast, both of you,” he said as he stood and followed his wife out of the room.

Hermione wrung her hands. “I didn’t mean to upset her further.”

Draco leaned back in his chair, a frown creasing his brow. “Look, I know you’re friends with them. She does too. But every time he’s in this home something happens to destroy an item that means a lot to her. They don’t like the Weasleys. I don’t like the Weasleys.”

She shook her head. “I won’t stop being friends with them.”

“I’m not asking you to. But you have to understand that the Weasley’s are a very sore subject, and in particular, Arthur.”

She scowled. “But he was…it’s his job.”

“They don’t have to go about it by knocking things over or putting holes in the wall. Or if they do, they could repair them. But they don’t. They’re ruthless and cold about it, Hermione.”

She didn’t want to point out that if his father hadn’t been a Death Eater in the first place he wouldn’t have this problem, but she knew that was a fight that neither wanted to have. She frowned at her plate and wondered how long things like this had been happening. She noticed the forlorn look on his face and felt badly for him. She couldn’t imagine what it was like to know that at any moment someone could come into your home and begin riffling through your things. She also understood the Ministry’s perspective in keeping an eye on a known Death Eater; reformed or not.

She decided to change the topic to other things in order to get his melancholy out of his system. “So, I was re-reading one of the books you gave me last night.”

He tilted his head and waited for her to finish her thought, and then she began rambling.

“How is it that I’m supposed to bite you? And you have to bite me too, which I think is just very strange. Do you think it will hurt? Well, I mean it has to hurt a bit, and I guess I’m just wondering how this is supposed to happen. And what about this mess that you can control my dreams?”

He held up his hand, his eyes widening a bit. “Slow down and take a breath.” She inhaled deeply and he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. “Hermione, the biting is part of the ritual.”

“I know. The Claiming,” she said flatly.

He smirked. “Yes. It will happen because it has to, and yes, I’m sure it will hurt. I mean, you’re breaking the skin, I would assume it’s going to hurt.”

She rested her elbow on the table, in a very unsophisticated manner, then rested her head on her palm. “Who thought this up?”

He shrugged. “No idea.”

“What about the dreams?”

He leaned back in his seat and eyed her carefully. “What about them?”

“Have you been in my dreams?” she asked coyly.

He raised an eyebrow. “What do you think?”

“I think if you knew you could do it, you would have taken full advantage of it.”

“Again, I ask what you think.”

She leaned up and folded her arms over her chest. “I think you have.”

He nodded. “And if I have?”

“That’s very sneaky of you.”

“I am in Slytherin.”

She rolled her eyes. “Do you have to live up to all the characteristics of your house?”

He chuckled. “Not all of them, but a great deal.” He grinned, “Are you mad?”

She shook her head. “Not exactly.”

“Then what are you, exactly?”

She sighed. “I suppose I’m irritated. You did invade my privacy.”

“Yes, I did.”

“But at the same time, you and I have a pretty tumultuous past, and I suppose that you needed to do something to get me to see you beyond the thorn in my side.”

“Thorn in your side?” he asked incredulously.

She nodded. “That’s what you were.”

“I like that word ‘were’. It implies the past tense.”

She smiled. “Just don’t do it again.”

He frowned. “Why not? I enjoyed them as much as I believe you did.”

“You took unfair advantage. I can’t do the same to you…”

“You’re in my dreams all the time,” he answered quickly. “I thought it was only fair that you shared my burden.”

“A burden?”

“Not burden so much as…well, burden is probably the right word. It’s truly a pain to wake up every morning and want you. It could drive a man crazy.”

She bit her lip. “Quit teasing.”

He shook his head, his expression showed no mirth. “I’m not teasing. It’s every morning, Hermione.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat and looked at her plate. “I think this is a dangerous subject for us to discuss.”

“Dangerous? In what way?”

“Well, I just don’t want to talk about it.”

He laughed again. “The truth comes out.”

She looked out of the window to her left and saw a thick blanket of snow covering the ground. She looked over at Draco as she stood and he did as well. “I think we should go outside.”

He also looked out of the window. “There’s a lot of snow out there.”

She walked towards the door. “I’m going to get dressed to play in the snow, and I advise you to do the same.”

“How old are we again?” he asked snippily.

She turned to him and put her hands on her hips. “Draco Malfoy, you will get dressed and play in the snow with me.”

He moved to stand in front of her. “On one condition.”

She raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“You have to kiss me,” he said with a smile.

She seemed to be pondering this, and he wondered what exactly there was to think about. He thought she liked kissing him, but then again, they had been in a fight before she arrived at the manner,.

“Okay. But after we’re done in the snow, to ensure that you don’t step outside and then run back in.”

He chuckled. “You may know me too well.”

She rolled her eyes before she turned and made her way up the stairs, Draco walking behind her so as to get a good look at her bum in Muggle jeans. He’d never really been a fan of Muggle clothing, but he found that he liked the look of Muggle clothing on her. It looked natural, but so did robes. She really did fit into both worlds, and he was amazed by her, once again.

Hermione watched as he walked into his room and closed the door behind him and she quickly changed into something warmer. She pulled on her Gryffindor scarf, a pair of ear muffs, and her thick wool mittens. She used a glove to keep the wetness of the snow from getting to her hands. She pulled on the heavy cloak that had been left in her room and felt it shrink a bit to accommodate her size. She stared at the hem, still amazed by magic at times. The knock on her door startled her a bit, and she opened it, finding Draco donning his Slytherin scarf and a heavy black cloak that almost matched hers.

“I haven’t played in the snow since I was six,” he said as he took her mittened-hand in his dragon hide covered one and led her down the stairs and out through the conservatory. Her thick boots kept the snow from reaching her legs. She walked out a few feet and looked around; she noticed that there were trees and bushes spread throughout the property. She knew he was standing behind her when she felt the warmth radiating off his body.

She turned to him, her chin held high. “I want to make a snow man,” she said with a bright smile. He found it infectious and raised his want. She put her hand on his and shook her head, “I want to do it with my bare hands, and you’re going to help me.”

“I am, am I?”

“Yes. Because you want your kiss,” she said sweetly. He sighed and rolled his eyes. He should have known that she would use that against him.

She made a small ball and smiled, “This can start our base,” she said as she placed it in his hand. He looked at it, then her, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“You’ve never made one of these on your own?”

He shook his head. “No.”

She seemed ecstatic that she could show him how to do something. She loved teaching, and she loved knowing things that other people didn’t. She took the snowball back from him and began rolling it along the ground, showing him how the snow was sticking to it. Draco took over from there as Hermione gathered objects from the ground, like sticks and rocks. After fifteen minutes of exerting himself with the giant snowball of doom, as he called it, Hermione had told him he was finished with the base. She helped him pile snow onto the giant snowball of doom, and they soon had their middle, and ten minutes later, they had the head. Draco stood back and looked at their handy work. It was sort of leaning to one side, and he knew it would probably fall in a few days.

Hermione took the two large sticks she’d found and made them the arms and the rocks made the eyes, nose, and mouth. He helped her find more rocks to put buttons on it, because she insisted it needed buttons and their snowman was complete. He was looking at their creation when he felt a snowball hit him in the back of his head. Snow slid down his back and down the collar of his shirt. He yelped as he tried to get the snow out of his shirt. He could hear her laughing from behind him and he rounded on her and caught another snowball in the chest.

She was so caught up in laughing that she didn’t see the one coming at her chest. She went to throw another one and he hid behind the snowman.

“Oh, big bad man hiding behind a snowman,” she called.

He smiled and launched another snowball over the snowman and it hit her in the head. He could hear her shriek and he came out from behind the snowman and pelted her with another one, catching her in the shoulder. She pelted him with another one, catching him in the head.

He shook off the snow, “You’ve got three seconds to start running.”

Her eyes widened and she ran as fast as she could in the thick snow. Draco was right behind her and caught her around the waist. She was giggling frantically as she reached down, grabbed a handful of the white powder, turned in his arms and rubbed it in his face. He stood still for a moment and she was afraid he was angry. She took that opportunity to run again, wanting him to know that she was only playing around. She hid behind a tree as he wiped the snow from his face and looked around for her.

“Okay Hermione. That was funny and all, but you’re so going to get it.” She put her hand to her mouth to keep him from hearing her laughter. He could feel her cheerfulness through their bond and it delighted him that she was having a good time.

He walked past her tree and just when he got a few feet from her, she lunged at him, knocking them both to the ground, Draco face first. He turned beneath her and looked up at her incredulously. “Hermione! You didn’t have to knock me to the ground! Now I’m wet and freezing!”

She smiled down at him, her hair falling around them like a shield to the world. “Quit whining, you baby,” she said as she wiggled on top of him. She liked how warm he was and was content to stay there. He wrapped his arms around her waist and smirked.

“What’s that look?” she asked, almost afraid to know.

He smiled. “Well, you may have won the snowball fight, but I definitely don’t mind losing as long as I get this in the end.”

She rolled her eyes, “You’re such a sap.”

He chuckled, and she didn’t notice that one of the hands had left her hip and was gathering snow. He leaned up as though he was going to kiss her, then dumped a handful of snow down on her head, making sure some of it made its way beneath her scarf.

She stared at him wide eyed. “I can’t believe you did that!”

He laughed at the expression on her face, and then sobered. “Hermione, you need to get off me.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t feel my back.”

She shook her head. “No, this is your punishment.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t make me roll you.”

“You wouldn’t roll me.”

He said nothing, and she pushed herself up, using his chest as leverage. He then stood and shook the snow from his body. She ran a hand over her hair and got the clumps of snow from it.

He rubbed at the back of his head, then sniffed, “I think we should go inside.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you do.”

He pulled her to him. “I’m serious. I think we could do with a shower and some hot cocoa.”

She smiled. “Separate showers,” she said softly.

He narrowed his eyes. “Don’t tempt me,” he said as he took her hand and pulled her behind him into the conservatory. Hermione removed her cloak, earmuffs, and mittens as Draco did the same.

He shook his head again and snow fell from his hair. “You’re an evil little minx. Has anyone ever told you that?”

She looked up at him innocently. “Of course not. I always behave myself.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Ha!”

“What? I do.”

“You’ve gotten into more trouble with Potter…”

She waved him off. “But that was more him than me.”

He chuckled. “Sure it was,” he said taking her hand once more and leading her up to the bedrooms. “I’ll leave you to your shower,” he said as he started to walk away.

She turned to walk into her room, then whirled around, “Wait! What about your kiss?”

He stopped in his tracks and smiled in satisfaction. “I’ll kiss you soon enough,” he said as he continued walking to his room. Hermione smiled and walked into her room and closed the door behind her.