A Pound of Flesh

Chapter Twenty: Happy Birthday, Granger

Hermione opened her eyes. The lighted clock display beside the bed said that it was half six in the morning, and it was still dim in Draco’s room.

Draco’s hand rested on her stomach. If she held her breath and concentrated, she could feel the pulse of blood in his fingers against her skin. Everything about him was so alive. She listened for his sleeping breaths, but heard nothing.

She turned her head to the other side and was startled to see Draco gazing at her. Caught in the act, he blinked and smiled sleepily.

“Hi,” he breathed.

“Hi,” she returned. “How long have you been awake?”

“Not long.” Draco shifted closer, his eyes luminous. The hand on her stomach slid up her body and left a trail of tingles on her skin in its wake. He touched her cheek and then cupped her face. “Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.” She tilted her head and kissed his cheek. “It’s a bit early for you, isn’t it?”

Draco shrugged.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

Draco smiled almost shyly. “No, it was a good dream.”

“Oh?” Hermione rolled onto her side and faced him. Their knees bumped together. Draco intertwined his legs with hers.

“M-hmm,” Draco replied. “You were in it.”

“I was?”

Draco’s thumb began a slow caress of her cheek. “Yeah, you were.”

Hermione edged closer and threw her free arm across his naked hip. “What was the dream about?”

He angled himself toward her. “It started like this,” he began.

“Like what? Like we are now?”

Draco nodded. “And then I leaned in and kissed you.”

“Maybe you should show me.”

Draco’s lips twitched upward. His eyes, glowing in the faint light coming from the window, sparkled with anticipation. He closed the distance between them slowly, as if he were savoring the experience.

“Show you?” His voice was husky.

Hermione nodded her head a fraction of an inch, and her eyes drifted down as Draco’s tongue moistened his lips.

“Well, it went something like this.”

Then, like she was made of the most precious, delicate glass, he brushed his lips against her waiting mouth. The kiss was so light it was barely more than the sensation of a breath across her lips. Hermione’s lungs constricted and her heart thundered against her breast.

He swept another kiss, just as gentle, but longer, on her parted lips. The hand on her face slipped up and tenderly brushed her hair back.

Hermione brought her hand to Draco’s face. Her fingers trailed along his jaw and the fine blond stubble on his chin. She touched his warm cheek; the tips of her fingers tingled as she marveled at the smoothness of his skin.

With a happy sigh, Draco freed his other arm from beneath him and held Hermione’s face between gentle hands. He pressed his supple lips to hers once, and then she felt the probing pressure of his tongue seeking admittance to her mouth.

His hand drifted down to caress her side with an almost reverential touch, and he trailed his lips along her jaw. She tipped her head back and her eyes fluttered shut. Draco’s feather-light kisses traveled down to the hollow at the base of her neck.

“It was a very good dream,” she mused, breathless.

Draco chuckled throatily against her neck. “It gets better,” he murmured.

Hermione moaned at the tingle of Draco’s breathy laughter against her skin.

“I’m going to make love to you now,” Draco whispered.

Hermione nodded, rendered mute. Her throat tightened with happiness so intense she could hardly catch her breath.

Draco pressed his bare chest against her sensitive breasts and eased her onto her back. She wrapped her arms around him and ran her fingers up and down his back. He positioned himself over her.

For a moment, he paused on his knees between her legs, hands were on either side of her head. He opened his mouth, his eyes unsure, and then he changed his mind.

“What?”

Draco shook his head and said, “There are no words.”

“Come here.” Hermione drew him down and his eyes smoldered as he sank against her.

For a long moment, he held her in the warm cradle of his embrace. His body stretched over her, warm and comforting and like home.

Oh, how she loved him.

She felt the rapid pounding of his heart against her breast, and his hot breath warmed her neck. Then he shifted, and Hermione felt the heaviness of his erection between her legs. Her own heart began to race as he reached down and aligned himself against the warm wetness of her core.

He rolled his hips; the movement was slow and deliberate.

“Oh,” Hermione breathed as he buried himself completely within her. Draco moaned in agreement, his face still hidden in her shoulder.

Then he looked up. His face was so vulnerable, so open; his gaze locked on her eyes. “I –” he started, and then he closed his eyes and shook his head. He propped himself on one arm and traced her lips with the tips of his fingers.

“I could stay here forever.” His voice was a mere whisper. “Just like this.” He shifted inside her but made no move to thrust. Then he bent and pressed a tender kiss on each of her eyelids, and then her lips.

At last, he began to move within her, each movement slow and soft.

“You’re amazing,” Hermione whispered, awed.

Draco smiled against her cheek.

Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips. She wanted to be as close to him as she could. Draco rolled them to their side, and Hermione met his every measured stroke with the same slow intensity. She never wanted this to end.

As they reveled in each other, the room grew brighter as the sun began to glow rosy on his curtains. Then the alarm clock, set for seven on the dot, began to blare. Draco, now on bottom, groped blindly for it. Hermione, her limbs languid and shaking, reached up and slapped her hand on the snooze button, and once more, the only sounds in the room were their quiet exclamations of pleasure.

Hermione wondered if she was still asleep. This was too good to be anything but a dream. Nothing in her life had ever felt as incredible as making love to Draco.

Draco reclaimed the position on top just as the tell-tale tingles of impending orgasm began to build in Hermione’s abdomen. It spread out with every pound of her heart, with each of Draco’s gradually quickening thrusts.

He began to shake, and Hermione opened her eyes to find him gazing at her intently. There was an apology in his eyes.

“I can’t hold it,” he gasped, and his body tensed as his thrusts became faster and harder. His eyes screwed shut in concentration.

Hermione felt the tingles that had rushed through her body begin to converge within the aching desire between her legs. Her orgasm was cresting. She couldn’t look away from Draco’s flushed, glistening face; she couldn’t breathe.

Draco groaned and went rigid. Almost lost in the sensation of teetering on the edge of a massive explosion, Hermione felt him spasm inside her and come.

His eyes flew open, clear and bright and full of wonderment. He met Hermione’s searching gaze as he thrust raggedly against her.

“I love you,” Draco breathed.

Hermione gasped in shock. She left her body; she felt herself surge through the roof and up into the lightening sky and beyond the moon. Her orgasm fell off the edge and took her with it. She cried out; her back arched off the bed. She pressed against Draco’s hot, trembling body. As another cry of pleasure ripped from her throat, she clung to him. Then, panting and nearly incoherent, she collapsed against the bed.

Her heart flopped deliciously in her chest, and a gentle tingle swept through her body like a jolt of electricity. There was nothing else in the world as good as this: Draco loved her.

Draco watched her, and his face shifted through emotions so quickly that Hermione could barely keep up. She saw adoration, insecurity, worry, awe, fear and anticipation all within a moment of time.

Her own emotions were in the same process of cataloguing themselves. Happiness, above all other emotions, surged through her body and left her heart jumping in her throat. She reached up a hand and lightly touched Draco’s cheek. He leaned into the caress, but kept his eyes on her face.

She knew the words would be easy to say; she’d said them before. They ached to come out again, to match his declaration.

“I love you,” she echoed.

The myriad of emotions on Draco’s face settled into an expression of boundless joy. He smiled a small, tentative smile which spread into a wide grin. He ducked his head and pressed his lips to her mouth.

“I love you,” he murmured as he gathered her into his arms and held her tightly. She returned his embrace with the same intensity. “I love you.”

When the alarm went off once again ten minutes later, Hermione was still not ready to surrender herself to the coming day and all of its impending dramas. She held on to Draco as he tried to raise himself off of her.

“Come on, love. We need to get up.”

“No, we don’t,” Hermione protested, hooking her ankles together around his hips.

“Don’t you want to shower before you go to work?”

“Does that require me getting out of bed?”

With a teasing smile, Draco quipped, “Generally speaking, yes.”

Hermione harrumphed and Draco chuckled. He reached behind his back to tickle the bottoms of her feet. With a squeal, she attempted to twist away while still holding on to him. The result of this was they both tumbled off the bed. Her ankles, still hooked together behind Draco’s back, were now being ground into the floor by his body weight.

“Ouch.”

Draco, laughing helplessly, lifted his pelvis enough for Hermione to drag her feet out from under him.

“Well,” he managed between gasps of laughter, “I managed to get you out of bed, didn’t I?”

With a pout on her face, Hermione grumbled and rubbed at her ankles. Draco, his eyes alight with mirth, propped himself on one elbow and gave her a slow, sensual kiss. “Your feet okay?” he asked, his mouth moving with care across her jaw.

Rendered speechless by his kiss, Hermione nodded, mute.

After they untangled themselves and pulled themselves from the floor, Draco ushered Hermione to the bathroom with the promise that he would be along to join her in the shower in a few minutes. She smiled to herself as she hopped into the tub and let the water stream through her hair and over her face.

Draco loved her.

This was the best birthday ever.

It was when she reached for Draco’s shampoo to wash her hair that she noticed the addition of new bottles to the shower caddie. She pushed her wet hair out of her face and peered at the bottles, which were grouped together on the top shelf. She inhaled sharply as she recognized the labels. Draco had purchased all of her bathing supplies for her, right down to her shaving cream and razor.

“Oh,” Hermione breathed. “That’s so sweet.”

She was still staring at the shampoo bottle in her hand when Draco made his way into the bathroom, a low-hanging towel slung around his waist. He stepped into the shower behind her and trailed his fingers down her spine. “There’s the girl I love,” he said.

Hermione turned, shampoo bottle in hand. She held it up so he could see it.

“Oh, that’s the right kind, isn’t it? I wasn’t sure.” He looked uncertain.

“Yes, that’s the right kind. It’s perfect,” she told him. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He plucked the bottle out of her hand. “Allow me.”

***

Concentrating at work was more difficult than normal, but Hermione, who had to tell someone, confessed to Susan what had happened that morning. Her partner excused her for having her head in the clouds after that, and didn’t comment when Hermione bolted from the office as soon as the clock began to toll the five o’clock hour.

Ginny met her at her flat, bearing a large shoulder bag filled with hair products. Her friend had promised not to express any disapproval and she kept her promise. At the same time, Hermione didn’t feel comfortable telling Ginny that Draco had told her he loved her, knowing that the other girl would not be able to hold her tongue.

By the time Ginny had finished with her hair, Hermione was in awe of her friend’s talents. Her unruly mass of frizz had been tamed into a sleek, curled up-do. A few loose tendrils framed her flushed, excited face.

“Thank you, Ginny,” Hermione breathed.

“Just… have fun. I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

“Really?”

“Really. No judgment, either.”

A few minutes later, Hermione stood outside Draco’s door, dressed in an indigo dress that came to her knees and felt far too fancy, all of a sudden. But she knocked anyway, and then smoothed the front of her dress, nervous.

Almost at once, the door swung open. “Wow,” Draco said with a wolf-whistle, opening the door wider and taking her hand. She let him tug her through the doorway, feeling herself blushing at his blatant staring. “You look incredible!”

“Thank you.” Hermione let her gaze wander over Draco. He was dressed in charcoal trousers, a pale blue button-down that made his eyes stand out, and a sharp grey jumper. “I know I probably got too dressed up – ”

“You look fantastic,” Draco interrupted, reaching out and tugging lightly on one of the curls that framed her face. “Want something to drink?”

“Please,” Hermione said, her throat dry. “Water or something.”

“Or something,” Draco repeated with a chuckle, drawing her to the kitchen with him. He let go of her hand as he reached into the cupboard for a drinking glass, which he filled with water. He handed the glass to her and she took a long drink.

“Thanks,” she sighed in relief, setting the glass on the counter. Draco didn’t say anything, and she caught him staring at her with what was akin to lust on his face. She focused on the spot of floor at his feet. “You’re staring,” she pointed out, feeling her face flush again.

“Sorry,” he began, and reached out to brush a curl out of her eyes. “It’s just – can I tell you – ” He stopped abruptly, and his hand dropped like a leaden weight.

Hermione raised her eyes and took a sudden step back. Draco’s eyes had gone unfocused, and there was a look on his face she hadn’t seen since Hogwarts. “Damien,” she said, shaking his shoulder when he did not react.

His eyes refocused as he lifted his head. He looked at her with a questioning and haunted gaze before he dropped his eyes quickly. He shook his head, as though trying to clear away disturbing thoughts, and when he looked up again, his face reflected embarrassment.

“What is it?” she asked.

At last, he met her eyes, and she was startled by the burning resentment brewing on his strained features.

“I was remembering how pretty you looked at the Yule Ball, our fourth year.”

Reeling, Hermione grabbed the kitchen counter to avoid falling over. “What?” she gasped.

At once, Draco’s face cleared, and he blinked rapidly. He reached out and put a hand on her arm.

“Jane, are you alright?”

“I – I – ” Hermione began, bewildered. “What did you just say?”

“I said, you look pretty with your hair up like that.” But even as he said it, he looked hesitant and unsure. “Right?”

“Yeah, that’s what you said,” she said, determined to enjoy her evening with him, memories or not. “Thanks.”

A fresh smile creased Draco’s face. “So, do you want your present now or later?”

Still thrown by his brief memory, Hermione was slow to respond. “Depends on what it is,” she managed at last.

Draco bounced on the balls of his feet. From his pocket, he produced a small square box. “This is the first part.”

“The first part!” she protested. “How many parts are there?”

“Two,” Draco answered with a naughty smirk. “You get the second part later tonight.”

Hermione smiled in anticipation.

“Here.” He placed the box in her waiting hands and planted a lingering kiss on her cheek. “Happy birthday, Jane,” he breathed in her ear.

“Thank you.”

“You haven’t even opened it yet!” He nudged her hands. “Go on, open it.”

Draco’s excitement was contagious. Hermione pulled the small red bow from the box and placed it on his head. He grinned and left the bow where she’d put it. A lightweight, pale silver box was underneath the wrapping paper, and a lump formed in Hermione’s throat. It was a box that could only contain jewelry.

“Open it!” Draco prodded again.

With shaking fingers, Hermione grasped the lid of the box and flipped it open. Inside, a heart-shaped necklace rested on a pillow of silk. A red stone shaped like a heart was nestled in the center of the front of the necklace, and was surrounded by two rows of shining, clear stones separated by a fine scroll of silver lace. It hung from a delicate, silver chain.

“Oh,” she breathed. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s white gold,” Draco told her. “That’s a ruby in the center.”

It was too much and she said so. “I couldn’t,” she told him as she attempted to thrust the beautiful necklace into his hands.

“There’s no such thing as too much when it comes to you.” Draco deflected her attempts to give back the gift.

“These aren’t diamonds, are they?”

Draco shrugged. “Might be.”

“No, no, I can’t keep this.” She tried to hand him the box again.

He laughed and put the box back into her hands. “I found it at an antique shop and I thought of you. I bought it weeks ago. I can’t take it back, and I have no use for it, so you keep it. I want you to have it.” He caressed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Please, accept my gift.”

“It’s too much,” she protested again, though she made no more attempts to give back the gift.

“Don’t worry about it. I was happy to do it. It wasn’t as much as you might think. Here.” Draco took the box from her. He lifted the necklace from the box, and placed it in her hands. “It’s a locket, too. Room for two pictures in there.”

His deft fingers flipped open the latch, and with a faint click, the locket sprang apart.

“But there’s no pictures,” Hermione said. “I need a picture of you to put in here.”

“I’m sure I have something lying around. I’ll find you one later.”

Hermione traced her finger along the edge of the locket. “You bought this weeks ago? When?”

“Around the end of August.”

“That was three weeks ago!”

“Closer to four, actually.”

“How did you know we’d still be together?”

Draco shrugged. “You can’t stay away from me any more than I can stay away from you. It was a pretty safe bet.”

“Pretty sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

“You’re here, aren’t you?”

Hermione laughed at how pleased he sounded with himself. She leaned across the space between them and kissed him. “Thank you. I love it.” She kissed him again. “I love you.”

His smile widened. “And I love you. Here, let me help you put it on.”

Obediently, Hermione twisted in her seat until her back was to Draco. He took the necklace and draped it against her neck. His fingers trailed against her skin and she shivered in delight as he worked the clasp.

“There,” he said, but he didn’t remove his hands. “All done.”

Hermione touched her hand to the cool metal as it brushed against her skin.

All through their walk to the tube, and then during the short ride, she was aware of the locket around her neck. Draco kept a firm hold on her other hand, his thumb brushing against her knuckles.

“Do you know where we’re going yet?” he asked when they emerged from the underground station at Waterloo.

“No idea,” Hermione replied, mystified.

Draco placed his hand on her lower back and guided her down the street. He pulled her to a stop and pointed up. And then she knew where Draco was taking her. The London Eye rose above the Thames, the gigantic Ferris wheel a great circle of lights against the pink-tipped clouds in the evening sky. She had mentioned to him once, nearly a month ago, that she’d never taken a flight on it but wanted to. And he’d remembered.

Hermione started toward the lengthy queue, but Draco shook his head and guided her along the tree-lined sidewalk until the Eye was almost on top of them. From here, it was easier to see the pod enclosures that ringed the wheel, all of them full of people. While Draco went into the ticket hall to check them in, Hermione watched the leisurely rotation.

It felt like they hadn’t waited at all until they were standing next in line before one of the sleek glass pods, but Draco said it had been fifteen minutes. Hermione glanced out at the waiting queue and felt a pinprick of guilt that they hadn’t waited along with everyone else, but she couldn’t help it that they hadn’t thought ahead like Draco and bought special tickets in advance.

At the bottom, a group of people disembarked from a pod, all talking in excited, happy voices, and in their place, a new group of people climbed in, cameras strung around their necks. There was plenty of time for them at the bottom to enter and exit the pods, and Hermione counted twenty people go in before the pod began a gentle ascension into the twilit sky.

When it was their turn, Hermione climbed onboard, eager. The egg-shaped pods were spacious, or perhaps they just seemed that way since the continuous curved wall of the compartment was one giant grid of windows. Even the ceiling was made of glass. There were seats, but Hermione ignored these and went to the nose of the compartment, where there was a railing to hold onto and what she imagined would be an amazing view.

The motion of the wheel was so subtle that Hermione almost didn’t notice that they were moving until the water of the River Thames beneath them began to drop away. The view did not disappoint.

As the wheel crept around and their compartment ascended, the London skyline spread out before them in a vast panorama. Hermione could see Buckingham Palace, the Houses of Parliament, and St. Paul’s Cathedral. She fancied she could even see her building as the wheel took them ever higher into the sky.

Just as their compartment reached the apex of the revolution, the sun submitted to the impending twilight and disappeared below the horizon. The sky was a palate of colors, deep blue overhead; purple, red and pink clouds stretched across the open space like splashes of paint, and deep orange fire where the sun slipped beyond their sight. Hermione’s breath caught and she gripped the rail that ran around the compartment. Draco’s hands found holds on either side of hers; she felt him behind her and she leaned into him.

“Do you like it?”

“I’ve never seen anything so beautiful,” she whispered.

Draco put a hand under her chin and turned her face to him. “No fair stealing my lines,” he told her with a pleased smirk.

At this height, Hermione imagined it was just a short reach to touch the fluffy clouds. She felt lighter than air, and was thankful for Draco’s presence behind her, anchoring her from lifting off. She looked down at the darkened curve of the river, enchanted by the boats that passed far beneath them, each of them an individual beacon of twinkling lights against the dark water.

The night deepened across the sky as they began their slow descent from the top. Millions of lights blossomed to life beneath them as the buildings lost their shapes to the shadows. Streetlights, headlights, architectural lighting – London glowed at her feet.

Draco wrapped an arm around her waist and kissed her cheek. One of her hands threaded up and covered the locket around her neck. She felt the urge to pinch herself. This couldn’t be real; it had to be a fantasy.

But no, Draco was there, and he kissed her cheek again. Warmth suffused through her body, and the warmth was love. She turned away from the breathtaking view and met Draco’s waiting gaze. The warmth pulsed once as she saw it there in his eyes, the same emotion.

“I love you,” she whispered, feeling as though the warmth would burn her if she didn’t put words to the emotion soaring through her.

Draco’s face lit up. His beautiful lips spread in a gentle, slow smile, and his eyes were luminous. There was hope there; there was joy. “I love you,” he returned.

She would never get tired of hearing those words from his mouth. He could say it to her every minute of every day, and she would still get a shivering thrill down her spine every time.

He nodded his head toward the skyline, and she turned her gaze back to it, but her mind was on the feel of Draco’s arm around her waist, his hand on her hip, his fingers tracing light circles on the fabric of her blue dress.

“I wish I’d brought a camera,” Hermione mused when the capsule neared the end of its rotation.

“Next time,” Draco promised. “I didn’t think to grab one.”

Once they disembarked the giant wheel, they began brainstorming places to eat. The area around the Eye didn’t offer many options, at least none that Draco deemed worthy of the occasion of his girlfriend’s birthday, so he hailed a cab and gave the driver the name of a restaurant Hermione had never heard of before.

The restaurant, a small, charming Italian place, was swarming by the time they arrived, but in a disturbingly Malfoy way, Draco slipped the maitre d’ three folded notes. In short order, they were seated at a table on the upper level that looked down onto the street below. Hermione started to protest that it was too extravagant, growing uncomfortable with the amount of money Draco was spending on their evening, but he leveled a stern gaze her way that stopped the protest before it even began.

“Just enjoy yourself and stop worrying,” Draco admonished her. “If it makes you feel better, you can take me out next weekend and spoil me.”

“You watch,” she warned him. “I’ll do it.”

Draco smirked and turned his attention to the menu. “You don’t scare me,” he challenged as he raised the menu to hide his face.

“Your bravery humbles me,” she shot back, flicking his menu teasingly.

“It should.”

“It does.”

“Good.”

“Fine.”

Draco lowered his menu enough that she could see his laughing eyes. “Just have to have the last word, don’t you?”

Hermione shut her mouth, a ready retort on her lips. She struggled with it for a minute, and then laughed at herself. “Maybe.”

The menu, it turned out, was in Italian, which was not one of the languages Hermione had mastered. She knew just enough to order what she thought was a seafood ravioli, and a glass of wine. Dinner was delicious, though she still wasn’t sure what she eating. After the main meal, Draco ordered a bread pudding for them to share, and when it came out, there was a small, single candle perched at the center of it.

“When did you…?” Hermione asked, delighted.

“I have my ways.” Draco indicated the candle. “Maybe you should make a wish and blow it out before the wax goes everywhere.”

Hermione concentrated on the small, flickering flame, knowing this one wish was the most important wish she would ever make, and praying that there was some inherent magic to be had in this single candle.

She closed her eyes and made her wish. Then she blew out the candle and watched the faint wisp of smoke as it curled up and drifted away.

“Want to tell me what you wished for?”

Hermione shook her head and pulled the candle out of the spongy dessert. How could she tell him that she’d wished for his forgiveness for something he didn’t even know she’d done?

After dinner, they made their way to the nearest tube station, because – as Draco had reminded her – he still had to give her the second part of her present. But as they walked toward their train, Draco’s face split with a gleeful grin, and he set off in the opposite direction from where they needed to be, pulling her with him.

“What now?” Hermione asked, curious.

“Just wait and see.”

And in a few moments, Draco’s pace began to slow. Hermione glanced around the unfamiliar station, looking for signs or anything else that might tell her what he had up his sleeve, when without warning, he jerked her into a photo booth. She landed on his lap in the confined space. Draco leaned around her and pulled the curtain closed.

“What are we doing in here?” Hermione asked, hoping Draco hadn’t taken it into his head to give her the second part of her present in public.

“Well, generally, people have their pictures taken in here. Did you have something else in mind?”

“No, but I – ”

Draco nudged the locket with one finger. “You need pictures for that, don’t you?”

Hermione smiled. “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

“Good looks and a brain.”

There was a bit of a scuffle to see who would pay for the pictures, but in the end, Hermione won, only because she stole Draco’s wallet and stuffed it into her purse. Triumphant, she pushed a lock of hair out of her eyes and leaned forward to insert the money into the machine. Draco’s hands roamed down her sides and gripped her hips.

“Don’t get any fancy ideas,” Hermione warned him.

Draco pouted. “Just warming up a bit.”

“Here now, look at the camera.” Hermione gripped his chin and turned his face in the right direction. He pressed his cheek to hers and she felt him smile. The camera flashed and Draco turned his face to kiss her cheek. The camera flashed again, and Hermione pivoted in his lap and brought her lips around to his. The camera took another picture. Draco brought a hand up and touched her face. She opened her eyes and found herself nose to nose with him, and his eyes were alight with the most incredible emotions. She barely noticed when the camera took the last picture.

“Happy birthday,” Draco whispered.

“Thank you. It was the best one I’ve ever had.”

“It’s not over yet.” He leaned in to kiss her again and time seemed to stop. Three minutes later, when the pictures were ready, he pulled them from the machine without looking at them, took her hand, and said, “Let’s go home.”

It was a new experience, making love to Draco knowing he loved her as much as she loved him. There was no comparison. Afterward, he pulled her close and drifted to sleep. Hermione nestled down in his arms, blissful and at peace. But she could not join him in sleep, no matter how tired she was. For she knew that this stolen happiness would have to come to an end.

She rolled over and he slipped his arm around her waist. He curled around her, still asleep. The faintly glowing face of his alarm clock mocked her. Her birthday was over and the moment she’d been dreading was waiting for her in the very near future: telling him the truth about himself.

She turned her back on the clock. Draco slept on as she reached up to touch his cheek. An assault of emotions assailed her. Overwhelming all else was giddy happiness. Today had been one of the best days of her life. But there was also crushing sorrow; this could very well be her last night with him.

Being with Draco had been unlike anything she’d ever known – he’d been unlike she’d ever imagined him capable of being. Gratitude that she’d gotten to know him, to see this side of him, flooded her.

What she wouldn’t give for a Time Turner; she could relive this day every day for the rest of her life. Everything about being with Draco today had been doubly priceless. Every touch meant more, every smile and joke was imprinted on her soul. As much as she’d tried not to think about the inevitable, it was impossible not to realize that every last second with Draco was more precious than the one before, and every last second brought her closer to the end.

She’d tell him tomorrow, she thought, if she could work up the courage.

---

The people in my Yahoo group probably want to stone me for leaving them with such a teasing cookie and getting them wound up for nothing. But that's part of the fun, isn't it? Expect the next update - Chapter Twenty-One: Reality Check, Like a Bludger to the Head - to be posted in approximately ten days.