Claiming Hermione

It was going to snow any day now. The frigid air froze Draco’s sweat to his skin, but he flew faster, higher. Practice was over an hour ago and the team had rushed down to the changing rooms, and Draco took off. He was escaping her again. Or, trying to.

But this time, she was winning and a loop played in his mind. Images of Granger. Vignettes – he could never seem to get the whole picture, could never have all of her. Her ear, her knee, her cut cheek, her hand brushing his stomach, her shoulder, the silver dress sparkling gold in the flickering firelight (funny that…silver…gold), her fists pummeling Zabini, the taste of her shoulder. It was like that crazy mix of scents that swallowed him every time he got too close to her. He could hold bits and pieces, but never grasp the whole thing.

Draco had never wanted to be anyone’s first.

He told himself that it was because he expected his lovers to be experienced, to know how to give him pleasure. He had no interest in the ineptitude of virgins.

But in a deep, dark place in his heart, a place he denied existed, lay the truth. Draco didn’t think he was the sort of man a girl should give her virginity too. He didn’t know what to do with a gift like that – he didn’t want to be responsible for it and he didn’t deserve it.

And he deserved it even less with Granger.

He was afraid. He was afraid of himself.

He was so sick of this confusion. He longed for the self-assurance that had always been with him, but it eluded him.

He flew around the castle, blending in with the darkening sky, his bright hair like the moon. The small diamond paned windows were orange against the dark stone exterior. Draco hovered to the side of a second story window, lost in his thoughts, and then turned back.

**************************************************

Hermione lifted her eyes and watched as he read through the small stack of parchments and then opened the folios for the Yule Ball and the Tutoring Program. He made some notes, read through something, made more notes. If his silence didn’t give away his mood, his body did.

He was untouchable. This was the Malfoy she had always known. Walled behind a foot of impenetrable ice. Distant, haughty, over-confident, impeccable posture at all times. He had looked down his nose at her even when they were eleven and the same height.

But now, as they sat in this common room, making slow in-roads towards civility – and more – he had relaxed. His posture was still perfect, but he seemed at ease and that made Hermione feel proud. Now it was gone. In its place was the old Malfoy. Rigid. Hard. Untouchable.

Worse, was that despite the cold emanating from him, she still found him unbearably attractive. She wanted to look at him, and look at him, and look at him, and not stop. Ever.

His robes were thrown over the back of the chair and his tie was loosened. Hermione zoned in on his forearms, bare, with the white oxford’s sleeves rolled up. From her desk she could make out the ridges of veins that disappeared under his cuffs, as well as the shoulder muscles she now knew the shape of – that she had touched – straining under the crisp cotton. She felt angry and annoyed.

**************************************************

It was clear from Draco’s curt tone at their Heads’ meeting on Thursday that the tension between them had risen to elephant-sized proportions. Hermione tried hard not to rise to his prickly attitude. Some fights were not worth fighting and Hermione was more concerned about the fragile state of their friendship than she was about tomorrow’s prefects’ meeting. It really didn’t matter what order they talked about Quidditch, tutoring, patrols and the upcoming Yule Ball. He could run the whole damn meeting for all she cared and she told him so, right before she walked out of the HCR, shutting the portrait none too gently.

Draco slammed his folio on the floor in frustration. He knew he was being a jerk, but he couldn’t seem to get a grip on his anger. Or, his desire. He felt like he was battling every moment not to just scream out, “YES!” and throw her down on the ground and fuck her brains out.

And it was worse when she was angry. Her eyes sparked and she flushed pink, on her cheeks, down her neck, the way they had that night – with the words. And when she was trying not to react to him, to not say something back, her lips pouted, drawing his eyes to them. It was making him crazy.

**************************************************

Hermione watched with her arms crossed over her chest and a stony expression as Malfoy led the prefects’ meeting on Friday. It was fast, full of information, and over in the blink of an eye. The prefects all looked a little stunned as they collected their notes from their cubbies. Before the first prefect had exited, Malfoy had his bag hitched onto his shoulder and was making his way out of the portrait. Hermione huffed at the back of the blonde head disappearing behind the door. She was trying to be patient with him, she really was, but she was starting to wear thin.

**************************************************

There wasn’t one speck of remotely interesting news in Saturday’s Daily Prophet. Hermione folded up the paper, placing it on the bench beside her. Harry was absent – no doubt having a bit of a lie-in – and Ron was inhaling his breakfast like it was going out of style. Hermione pushed her plate away with a small groan.

The hall was unusually high-spirited. The students of Hogwarts had woken up to a thick blanket of new snow, promising all the winter mischief that could be conceived. A Ravenclaw vs. Gryffindor snowball fight was currently being planned, as well as a snow statue transfiguration contest. Those students capable of such intricate transfigurations competed to see who could make the most accurate representations of people at Hogwarts out of snow. Professors Snape and McGonagall were favorite subjects, icy as they were; though last year’s Professor Sprout was particularly funny. Statues made by the less adept tended to look something like house elves. The house elves were honored beyond words, Dobby had once told her.

Hermione wondered what it would be like to have a snowball fight with Slytherin. Brutal, if she guessed correctly. She shivered at the thought and caught Ginny’s eye. Lavender and Ginny were going to Hogsmeade today, sans boyfriends under the guise of buying presents, but mostly to have a girls’ day together. They invited Hermione and she agreed. It would be just the thing to break her bad mood.

In Hogsmeade the girls did, after all, spend a good portion of their time debating over Christmas presents for fathers, boyfriends, and brothers, and they spent far more time in the Quidditch shop than Hermione would have liked to. But, they also visited the bookstore, as well as a lovely jewelry shop tucked into a little corner.

Lavender wanted to get Ron a ring that matched hers, and Ginny tried to look like she wasn’t looking at rings in the wedding section. Hermione just walked around the store letting her eyes fall on whatever was in front of wherever her feet took her. At the back of the store in a dusty case were dozens of finely crafted pieces that twirled and shined. One caught her eye.

Hung on a long silvery chain towards the back of one shelf was a tiny platinum snitch, smaller than a pea. Hermione thought of Draco and then frowned. Why not Harry? Or even Ron? Both her best friends were Quidditch players, not to mention, fans of the highest order. But she couldn’t stop thinking of Draco. She looked over her shoulder to see the girls in a serious debate over rings and she bit her lip. The shopkeeper, a quiet elderly man with a knack for suddenly appearing, suddenly appeared at her side making Hermione jump a little. She asked to see the necklace and the old man smiled and pulled it out, handing it to her before disappearing as suddenly as he had appeared.

Hermione held the chain up so the tiny snitch was before her eyes. It had intricate carvings on it, much like a real snitch, and when she reached up to touch it, delicate, almost non-existent wings fluttered open and rotated slowly, like a snitch that had just been caught. She held the little ball between her fingers. It was exquisite.

**************************************************

Saturday evening was spent with smuggled butterbeers, in front of the Gryffindor common room fire, recovering from an exhausting snowball fight they’d been pulled into when they returned from Hogsmeade. It was warm and friendly and the cheerful voices of her friends made Hermione smile contentedly. She was perfectly happy to not think about Malfoy for a little while, even as she rubbed her finger repeatedly over the small box in her pocket.

**************************************************

It snowed again during the night and by Sunday morning Hogwarts was coated in a fresh blanket that softened the proof of the battle the day before. Hermione worked on her potion in her room for the first half of the day, thereby avoiding all manner of incidents, and after lunch joined her friends in the Gryffindor common room again.

She stared into the fire, distracted by her thoughts while the group chatted happily.

Harry leaned in close to Hermione and asked quietly, “What are you doing after dinner?”

“Nothing special.”

“Wanna go for a walk around the lake? I know a good warming spell or two.”

Hermione smiled, “Sure Harry. That would be nice.”

“Good, I want to talk to you.”

Hermione gave him a half-hearted smile. Great.

**************************************************

Their footfalls were muffled in the deep, soft snow and the two old friends were silent as they trudged along. It was getting dark earlier now and the grounds were already washed in the blue paint of twilight. Hermione glanced sideways at Harry’s profile, a nervous tickle in her belly.

“Alright, Harry. Don’t keep me in suspense. What’s going on?” she asked as soon as they reached the lake.

“I was going to ask you the same question.”

“What do you mean?” She tried to sound nonchalant.

“Hermione, I know you are busy with all your duties, and I imagine you’ve found a better place to study than the library because you are never there, but it’s been months…. I just want to know what is going on with you.”

When Hermione didn’t answer him right away, Harry decided he should just come out with it. “I mean, I want to know what’s going on with Malfoy?”

Hermione stopped and turned to face him, letting out an exasperated sigh, “Oh, Harry…”

“Okay, wait. Let me say something first,” Harry interrupted and took a deep breath. “Alright, look, Malfoy has been different, yeah? I think something’s changed. Especially this year. But even last year he hardly said a word to any of us. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with him…”

“Harry...”

“No. Wait. Listen. I know you’ve been spending a lot of time with him, and I want to know what you think. If you think he’s still the same on the inside, or if he’s really changed?”

Hermione let out a huge internal sigh of relief. That was not what she was expecting. “I think he’s changed,” she said without hesitation. Then she looked at her feet and said quietly, “I know he’s changed.”

“Yeah,” Harry said as if he’d thought so all along and just needed it confirmed by someone else. Someone with good judgment. And nobody had better judgment than Hermione.

“Harry? What’s this all about?”

“I dunno. I was just thinking about what happened…to his parents, and was thinking that if it’d been me, the last person I’d want to be buddies with would be Voldemort.” Harry looked out over the blue lake. Hermione looked at his profile and took in the far away expression. Softly, he said, “Plus, now we’re both in the same boat.” Hermione put her arm around Harry’s shoulder and looked across the lake with him.

“And there’s the part where he saved my best friend’s life.” Harry turned to her with a crooked smile.

It took Hermione a moment to realize that he meant the snakebite and then she smiled back. “Yes, there is that.”

They continued on their walk, pulling their cloaks tighter, and after a few minutes Harry said, “He’s still a prat, though.”

**************************************************

The intricate wand movement of the transfiguration spell Hermione was working on wasn’t making any sense. The swish and hook after three counterclockwise revolutions seemed to add an extra revolution and she couldn’t be sure if that was supposed to be counted as one of the three, or was in addition to them. Her eyes flicked up to the common room door for the hundredth time, which was not helping. Would he come tonight?

When the portrait door finally did open, Hermione felt a rush of something sweep through her and she locked her gaze onto Malfoy’s. The piercing stare he gave her left her without a clue as to what was going on his mind, but made her heart thump hard against her chest. After a long moment he turned and presented her with his back as he dropped his bag and robe, and pulled out the Yule Ball folio. She felt inexplicably anxious for him to look at her again.

“Dumbledore wanted us to go look at the Yule decorations,” she blurted out.

Draco turned around and gave her an odd look. “Now?”

She fidgeted with her quill, “I guess now is as good a time as any.”

He hesitated a moment. “Lead the way, Granger.”

**************************************************

The bobbing swish of Granger’s school skirt drew Draco’s eyes like a magnet as he walked a few paces behind her. He was still plagued with conflicting thoughts. The skirt wasn’t helping. The backs of her thighs seemed to be mocking him. This is what you can’t have, Draco Malfoy, right here on this silver platter she’s handing you. Walking behind her up the stairs was brutal.

His sigh was muffled by their footsteps and Draco forced his eyes up. The temptation there was just as cruel. The cloud of honey curls bounced in time with her skirt. He hated her hair.

Draco closed his eyes briefly and then tried looking over her head.

**************************************************

The room was large, but so full that there was very little room to move around. They both stood in the doorway for a minute to take in the sheer magnitude of it. It was dim with only one sconce.

“Damn, I left my wand,” Hermione cursed herself out loud. Draco lit his and held it up, casing a soft light over the stacks and stacks of boxes and the shelves lining the walls. Hermione let the door close behind them and Draco immediately moved away from her. She frowned.

After defending him to Harry, it pissed Hermione off that Malfoy was still not really talking to her. She turned her back on him and began to peek in the boxes. Miles of gold garland. Strands of silver tinsel. Hundreds of glass icicles that hovered in the air where ever they were left.

She had probably offended his stuck-up pureblood sensibilities. How dare she suggest that he lower himself to touch a mudblood! Friend or not, the great Draco Malfoy must be sick to his stomach at the very idea! Hermione was working herself up into a healthy strop.

She wanted to shout at him, ‘Forget it! I don’t care anymore! Forget I said anything! Maybe I don’t want you either you stupid prat!’ She threw the little glowing crystal star she was holding back into the box and it clunked against the other stars.

Draco looked up at the noise and she looked up too, on the verge of letting everything in her head come spilling out. His expression was odd, but his eyes held hers and all the anger left her. She did care. She did want him. Damn it!

**************************************************

Draco dropped his gaze to the box in front of him and opened it. Glittering snowflakes. He was listening to her move and trying to focus instead on the task at hand. Jars of Everlasting Snow. They were moving in a circle around the room, starting at the door and each making their way in opposite directions along the outer path. Eventually they would meet at the bottom of the circle, where a tall bookcase with an old rolling ladder was crammed with more boxes. Draco stalled, delaying the inevitable.

They worked in silence, opening boxes, examining the decorations, and putting them back. Hermione was mentally cataloguing her finds and trying to forget the tall blonde was in the room with her. She was getting closer and she knew it. She looked around for a distraction. A row of sparkling silver boxes on the top shelf of the bookcase caught her eye.

Draco watched out of the corner of his eye as she moved closer to him and then turned abruptly to climb the old ladder. The wood creaked loudly in the stone room and the wheels at the base squeaked once.

The ladder ended at the third shelf and Hermione had to stretch to hook one of the boxes and nudge it toward her. One leg came off the ladder to balance her and Draco turned his head towards her. He could see the caramely skin of her inner thigh. He closed his eyes and breathed slowly.

How did this happened? How did he come to desire Gryffindor’s Princess to the point of such intense torment after six years of despising her? The ladder’s wheel squealed harshly and Draco looked up just in time to watch her wobble, drop a silver box, and catch herself on the side of the ladder.

They both looked down at the box as it fell open and hundreds of tiny fairy lights floated up, like bees from a fallen hive, swirling around her on the ladder and then filling the room with small spheres of suspended yellow light. Draco looked up in awe at the scene before him.

It was dream-like. Fairy lights swirled around her legs and upwards, bathing her in gold. Her skin glowed like a living thing in the moving light, and lights on the other side of her shone through her unruly curls and highlighted her delicate profile. A wave of longing washed over Draco. She looked at him sideways for a second and then started down the ladder.

A loud splintering sound echoed off the walls as her foot hit the next rung and then Draco was suddenly under her, his large hands wrapped firmly around her hips. Hermione didn’t move, both shocked at the touch, and afraid the ladder would break.

“Get down Granger,” his voice was low and commanding, almost angry, and she began to climb down carefully. At the base of the ladder, Draco’s grip tightened on her hips. She was down. Safe. And his hands were still on her, holding her there. She could hear him breathing behind her.

“Thank you,” she said quietly with her back to him. His fingers dug into her again and her heart leapt into her throat.

He was fighting. Fighting to control it. He closed his eyes and tried to will his hands to let go. She was in his hands. He was touching her. He was finally holding Granger in his hands.

Ten seconds passed, fifteen. She was barely breathing. Terrified, frozen and exhilarated by her longing, by his closeness, and the anticipation drowning her.

Draco took a deep breath and it came out ragged. It was too much. She was so close.

Everything that had happened – everything that hadn’t happened – between them was building higher and higher, and then it was crashing down on him. Using his hold on her hips he turned her in a swift, smooth motion and hauled her small body into his and held her there, pinned to him by the arm around her waist.

His right hand cupped her face under her chin, tilting her face up to his. She could feel the insistence in his fingers grasping her firmly. She was acutely aware of his fingertips near her left eye, over her cheekbone, and of his thumb pressed along her jawbone.

Her face, her mouth, was his.

His jaw was clenching. She could see a tiny muscle pulsing along his temple. She thought she might pass out.

Draco was staring at her. Holding her face up, boring into her with those crystal, arctic silver eyes. He looked dangerous.

She felt like a sponge, a vessel, built to absorb the penetration. He was just staring at her. Into her eyes.

Hermione could feel the uneven rhythm of his chest and her chest, pressing against each other, coming together, falling apart, not entirely in sync.

“I’m going to kiss you Granger,” he ground out low, rough. Hermione felt her breath catch, it might have stopped, and her eyes grew slightly wider.

This is it. Oh God. This is it.

There was a fairly light fluttering near his cheek.

She watched his eyes shut slowly as he closed the distance and she let her eyes close also. She could feel his lips before they touched hers.

And then his mouth his closing over hers. The mouth she had stared at while he slept. His lips were warm and soft and it was slow and intense.

He sucked her lips softly into his and groaned. She felt the woosh go through her, down her legs, and then rush back up as he captured her mouth again. And again. And again. And she opened her mouth to him more each time and his tongue dipped between her lips.

He was tasting her, savoring her, sweeping his velvety tongue along hers. Slowly. So fucking slowly. And he tasted like nothing. Nothing she could name. She was kissing Draco Malfoy. Kissing Draco Malfoy. Kissing Draco Malfoy.

And it was decadent and she felt like he was making love to her mouth.

Hermione nudged her tongue into his mouth, to slide along his, and twirled her tongue around his. Draco felt like he was being undone, untied, and he might fall apart. Her hands were on his chest and he felt them move them up, slowly, in time with their lips, to his shoulders, and then his neck. Her little hands were on his bare skin. He felt hot, feverish. Her fingers were moving into his hair, beginning to clutch at him.

Draco thrust deeper into the wet heat of her mouth, Plunging in over and over, faster, harder. Plundering. Taking her. She made a small noise in the back of her throat, and the hand pulling her into him was suddenly palming the back of her head, her curls bunched in the tangle of his fingers. His pace became frantic, desperate, and Draco felt like he was diving into her, his desire trying to dig down through her.

This is everything.

Their breathing was coming fast and hard, they were devouring each other, and Draco stepped forward, guiding her backwards with his leg between hers. She stumbled a little, but it was a short distance and her back stopped against the wall. He needed to press into her, to push her into his body. His cock was a long, hard ridge, grinding against her hip.

The ache of his need was blinding him, driving him forward. Her hands were clutching at the back of his head. He tilted her head back further between his two hands. His mouth was open on hers and his tongue thrusting, circling, possessing her small mouth.

She moaned into his mouth and the sound reverberated in his brain. Stop Draco. He plunged into her mouth again. Stop Draco. His tongue wrapped around hers. Stop! From somewhere – he didn’t know where – he pulled with everything in him, to regain control and tore his mouth from hers.

He released his absolute control of her head and his hand moved into the mess of curls. Draco rested his forehead on the top of her head. He held her there with his eyes closed and remembered how to breathe.

Hermione’s hands were still in his hair and she kept her eyes closed also. Her entire body was humming and she stood there, trembling, under the tower of Draco Malfoy, feeling the buzz course through her.

Draco fisted the soft curls in his fingers. He lost control. He took what he wanted. And now he wanted more. A lot more.

“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath and pushed away from her. Hermione’s hands fell to her sides. She blinked slowly at his chest. She felt drugged. Her lips tingled or maybe itched and felt puffy.

Draco turned away from the temptation of Granger’s kiss-swollen lips and dazed expression. He ran his hands through his hair, resting them – fingers locked – on the back of his neck.

Now what?

He walked over to the fallen box and picked it up, casting a quick spell to summon all the glowing fairies back to their nest. He covered the box and set it aside, plunging the room into darkness and walked to the door and opened it.

Hermione looked at him, not sure what to do, and not really thinking about it anyway.

“Let’s go,” he said softly.

**************************************************

For four floors they both looked straight ahead as they made their way back to the common room. Draco said the password and held the door open. He followed behind her and picked up his robe and pulled his bag onto his shoulder.

Hermione numbly followed, filling her book bag and stuffing her robe into it. He waited for her by the door, opening it again and following her out into the hall. She turned to him and opened her mouth to say something.

Draco shook his head a little. “Later. I’ll walk you..” and he nodded toward the staircase that led to her room.

Hermione swallowed and turned the stairs. In a manner of seconds, her brain went from a stand-still to overdrive. Why was he walking her? What about ‘later’? Did this mean that…that…yeah, did this mean that? Suddenly, “overdrive” sped up and she couldn’t keep up with the spinning whirlpool. Everything went silent again.

At her portrait, she turned to him again, but looked at his feet. He had on the boots. Her hair swung forward and hid her face. Draco reached out and tucked the curls behind her ear.

“Good night, Granger.”




_______

Dreamweaver
Yes, I think Draco is rather plagued with thinking about “that”, or trying NOT to. And yes, he is making some major changes. I think they were in the works along, germinating, but now he is making them official. He can’t go back to being “maybe I’m a death eater and maybe I’m not” anymore. Not sure it will be wise for him to “come out” to his Slytherins, though. I like how you describe Hermione. A reviewer asked where the vindictive Hermione had gone, but I think you put it perfectly. She’s all about second chances, just don’t expect a third. Good karma, and a ways down the road she’ll be glad she has that strain of good karma. ;-) Haven’t figured out, entirely how Ron is going to react. And I DO love Ginny. I used to only read Harry/Ginny. Oh how the times have changed. Thanks a million times over for the reviews! It’s so great to get your reactions!

omelove
Well, you sure called that one didn’t you!

Snape_Goddess
LOL@ I totally snarfed my coffee. That made me laugh out loud. (Good thing * I * didn’t have any coffee.) I just read that you are have a degree in anthro and eyptology. It makes so much sense now, how you can write so brilliantly the exotic locales. Is that Hermione your alter-ego, or a direct reflection? ☺ Thank you so much for the great reviews. It still makes me all giddy and squirmy to think that the authors I love are reading my story. Maybe that will wear off when I have a few more under my belt. I am curious about your original works and, okay, I see that I am digressing here. Perhaps I will email you or LJ you when I get a sec. Thank you so much for the review! I know you know how awesome it is.

leValkyrie
Well, we all want to know that. I can tell you that he doesn’t think he is. And she suspects he won’t either.

SoftObsidian74
Let’s just say that Harry is curious. He’s aware that his best friend has been MIA and he thinks maybe Draco has too. He doesn’t suspect anything, but he keeps thinking about how much things have changed. I think as graduation looms closer, and the inevitable nears, Harry is trying to get his ducks in a row. He knows where most people fall, but Draco is a bit more...enigmatic. You know I have you up on this very high (but stable) pedastool, so getting your reviews is freakin’ awesome! Thanks!

ichi.ruki
ichi – can I call you ichi? That’s what I call you in my head. Sounds like ee-chee. Probably a terrible pronunciation. What does it mean? Oh yeah, ichi – if the sexual tension isn’t enough to make him want to shag her brains out, I don’t know what is. He is excruciatingly patient and in control of himself though, isn’t he? Possessive? Draco? I see you are onto my reason for the title – and that’s all I’ll say about it. When this story is done, I’m going to work on a drunk dialing plan. It will be many months away, but hopefully you’ll be free when it comes around. I have some ideas about it and it’s not all funny (I’m not so good at the funny – or the dialogue which is why my Draco and Hermione are always silent – but if you need a brooding, moody, full of anguish Draco, I’m your man, or woman.) That’s enough about that for now – it’s going to germinate in the back of my brain. Thank you so much for reviewing!

gabby1234
Haven’t read The Bracelet yet, but I mean to. I don’t think it will take 50 chapters for these guys, but we still have some hurdles. And I hate to tell you this, but the next 5-6 weeks will be a little slow as I’m on a special project right now. But, I will try for once a week, at least. Thanks luv!

Gryffindor_Slytherin
Yeah, Dementors…hmmm, um, well, honestly, I’m completely unsatisfied with the how Draco’s parents died parts. Hopefully brilliance will smack me in the face long enough to re-write it at some point. Let’s say that the Dementors are still at Azkaban and Lucius broke out some other way. Harry does have a lot on his plate, but between him and Ron, he is the more observant of the two. Plus Lavender is very distracting where Ginny is more independent, giving Harry more freedom of thought. Also, ready the response to SoftObsidian74 above for more explanation about what is going on with Harry. Thanks for reviewing!

Chickacherrycola
You are very silly! Thanks! ☺

meakochan
Worse is before it gets better is debatable. Sort of. ☺

mystical_07
I am a fabulous reader ;P, but I am really flattered that you think I’m a fabulous writer too. Since this is my first time doing something like this, I still feel a little unsure of myself. So, your words of encouragement hit hard. Thanks. Redeemed Malfoys are great aren’t they? Harry was my first love as a reader, so I’m glad you think I’m nailing him. Sometimes I think that he and Malfoy aren’t all that different. Actually, I might retract that. I guess I mean in the sense that they are both observant on a deeper level than most people, and prone to moodiness. But Harry’s coping mechanisms aren’t as obvious or mean as Draco’s. LOL@ the adult hokey-pokey. I should warn you that they WILL get there. They are both seventeen in this story which is usually when most people become sexually active. Draco is ahead of the game, of course, and Hermione is behind, of course. But, they are going to shake it all about. ☺ I like a misunderstood Pansy and have been considering incorporating that here…we’ll see. I love her in The Fallout by Sage on CG. I loved your outrageously long review! Thank you!

Sara
LOL. I was like, “wait…Draco ripped off his shirt before attacking Blaise? I don’t remember that!” I almost went to check. As if I hadn’t written it. Oooh, I’m tickled that people are recommending it. That freakin’ rocks. No pressure though, right! LOL @ you rock fanfic’s socks. I used to design socks – weird I know.

sugypunk
So, ichi.ruki exists in mind as ichi (eee-chee) and when I am talking to you in my head, I call you sugy (shugy – like sugar with no AR and a Y instead). Hope that works for you. You never seem to mind in my head. That’s great that Ron made you laugh. I don’t think I’m particularly funny, but so far people are liking that one. Good by me. Thanks darlin’ for the reviews!

DrpnBlood4U
Hang in there – they are going to talk about it next. ☺

Thank you also to Starrynite45, tootsie, Phoebejs, PyroAngel, Crescentmoon, The Cat, Ochit, luv2cusmile, Kazfeist, Crissy, LancesPet, MidnighTemptation, Gryffindor_Slytherin, and Pointlessdreamer. You guys keep my muses happy and motivated! Thanks! ☺

Reviews are like little nuggets of love.