It Had To Be You

IT HAD TO BE YOU
Story Begun – 12/26/04
Chapter six begun – 9/12/05
Chapter six completed – 9/22/05

OFFICIAL DISCLAIMER: I do not own (unfortunately) any Harry Potter Characters, trains, buildings, etc. That honor is JKR’s - damnit.

A/N: This chapter is for you, Ronnie. My good friend, my confidant, my soundingboard and my long lost twin separated at birth and by two years.

LOVE YOU - L

So, thanks so very much everyone else too, for sticking with me. RL has been tough lately and those of you who know me, know it’s been an especially rough year. So, please be patient with me. It’s HARD to write sweet and fluffy when you feel like SH*T.

Anyway, this chapter is LONG. 21 pgs and choke FULL of fluff and lemons – you might even call it a LEMON MERINGUE PIE chapter. GRIN.

WARNING – SAPPY SWEET ALERT – GO GRAB A TOOTHBRUSH BEFORE READING.

So, go on now! Go read. Can’t wait to hear what you think!

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Chapter 6: Happy Christmas

Draco Malfoy was strutting down the halls of Hogwarts with the look of a man who was completely content. He was prone to flashing his most winning smile and winking roguishly at all the cute little first and second year girls he passed this evening. And said little girls were most appreciative at his attentions, smiling and swooning and lapsing into fits of giggles as their handsome Head Boy passed regally by.

Draco chuckled at the obvious, delighted reactions he was receiving, and for once didn’t mind one bit. He couldn’t help it really; he was in an excellent mood.

He had just excused his team from their final Quidditch practice of the year, telling them it was his Yuletide gift. The opportunistic bunch of Slytherin didn’t think twice about snatching up the chance to begin the holiday merry making a few hours early. Even though it was a bright starry evening, who wanted to practice and over-exert themselves for hours in the crisp December air, when they could be fireside with a pretty girl on their knee and a glass of fire whisky in hand? Exactly. So, the team members bid their captain a swift good night and presented him with uncharacteristically pleasant ‘thank yous’ and were on their way back to the dungeons post-haste.

Besides, Draco had better things to do this fine night than spend it with a bunch of smelly, grouchy, crafty Slytherin. Yes, indeed. The Christmas holidays were almost upon Hogwarts, and much to Draco’s delight, Hermione had declared just the previous evening that tonight he would be presented with his ‘Christmas present’. This ‘present’ was not a surprise to Draco. No, no. Draco had been working very hard at achieving this singular goal, pretty much since they’d started dating. He had decided to broach the delicate subject late one evening, while Hermione was wrapped up cozily in his arms, and was surprised when she didn’t tell him he was insane. Instead, she encouraged him by responding coyly with a tantalizing, ‘Let’s just see what happens.”

Ever since then he’d been a man obsessed. He’d wooed, cajoled, charmed and enticed her, and found himself asking her if she was 'ready yet' at every advantageous moment he could. He’d swoop in and kiss her till she was breathless, and ask if ‘now was the time?’ He’d tried persuading her with lavish gifts, sentimental tokens of affection and out and out right bribery. Yet, every time her response would either be to roll her eyes at his blatant attempts to get his way, or simply blush and tell him, “Not yet, Draco.” Draco couldn’t understand her hesitation, but no matter now, as finally, FINALLY she had come around and agreed. And in her doing so, touched him more than he knew how to verbalize, and showed him how much she truly trusted him.

Aside from the sentimental factor, Draco’s Slytherin side - the snarky, evil, cocky part of him, which reared its bratty head every now and again, was also greatly anticipating being able to rub this little coup of his in the Weasel’s dopey freckled face. Draco chuckled evilly, as he began plotting how to ‘casually’ drop this piece of juicy info into the Weasel's gullible lap. He was practically jumping with wicked delight at the idea of ‘Slug Boy’ realizing that he, Draco Malfoy, had managed to do what no other could with the beautiful, if not skittish, Ms. Granger.

HA! And who says revenge isn’t sweet?

He was optimistic, too, that this would be the best holiday season yet. And although he didn’t quite know how they were going to pull off seeing each other over the break, Draco was sure that Hermione and he could come up with some clever inspiration for a romantic, clandestine rendezvous. They’d both tried unsuccessfully to get their parents to agree to let them stay on at school over the holidays, stating that they couldn’t ignore their Head duties. But, as luck would have it, neither set of parents would budge, and so they were leaving for their respective homes in just two days time.

Who knew having loving parents that actually wanted to spend time with their children during this festive season could be so infinitely annoying?

Draco shrugged; it was for the best. After all, he did miss his parents and was looking forward to having the family together. Up till now, however, Draco had firmly refused to acknowledge that little flutter of worry and insecurity that was wobbling around in his belly when he began to think of seeing his parents. Because, when he started thinking about his seeing parents, that in turn made him start thinking about Hermione…and TELLING his parents about him and Hermione. And Draco was definitely NOT looking forward to seeing his parents' reaction to that grand news. Which brought around that wobbly, nervous feeling again.

Draco sighed; it was an ugly, vicious cycle.

But that issue was going to have to be dealt with sooner or later, as Draco had come to the realization, after being with Hermione these past months, that he was going to have to talk to his parents about their relationship, because Draco had no intention of breaking up with her anytime soon or possibly even ever…

But that talk would have to wait; for Draco also knew he wasn’t quite ready to verbalize to his family just yet what he had in mind. He had to have time to plan what he was going to say, and he had to make some serious decisions regarding what he wanted to do for his and Hermione’s future.

Draco stopped short and caught his breath, a quirky, lopsided grin slowly spreading across his face as the comprehension of what he was thinking, at last, hit him full force.

Draco wanted a future with Hermione. The kind of future that made him think in long terms regarding THEM, not just him.

That made him amazingly, wonderfully euphoric and incredibly, completely terrified.

Because Draco wondered if it was it truly this easy to find the person you want to grow old with. The person you want to have children with. The person who, even though you may bicker with and yell and scream at, you know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, they will be by your side for life. Sure, there had been all those past years of strife and angst between them. But they were over now and he and Hermione were happy. And surely, they would stay that way. Right?

Draco’s pulse thudded erratically and a zing of little tremors shot down his spine when he thought about his life outside of the sheltered walls of Hogwarts. Suddenly, he didn’t want to picture a life without Hermione greeting him every morning with a bright smile and kiss. He was already beginning to mourn the loss of days filled with stolen glances and sheltered, secretive kisses and warm, tender evenings spent in the company of one of the most endearing, passionate, loving people he’d ever met. Yes, Draco was starting to understand that he could no longer fathom his life without Hermione in it. Yet, at the same time, he didn’t know how to bring that future about without some very serious sacrifices on his part.

Well, his father always told him nothing worthwhile ever came easily, unless of course, you were a Malfoy or a Slytherin. Either of those would give you a built-in advantage. So naturally, Draco, bearing the enviable titles of BOTH Malfoy and Slytherin, was predisposed to having an easy, gifted life… However, Draco feared that even the cunning and intrinsic talents that were so much a part of him were going to be tested before he got what he wanted.

And what does Draco want? Well, that’s easy. He wants it all. And, Draconious Lucius Malfoy always gets what he wants. He’s gotten his way for seventeen years and had no intention of letting the fates cheat him now. Especially not when the stakes were so high.

But for now, Draco decided he needed to push those worrying thoughts right out of his head. For tonight was not the night to ponder what will be. Tonight was a time to enjoy being with the woman he –

He WHAT?

Draco blinked and shook his head. He what? Did he? Could he be?

After another long moment, Draco realized he was staring at the massive, magnificent portrait situated at the entrance to the Head dorms. His eyes then came to rest on the pretty profile of the willowy young witch who was their guardian and the mistress of the painting.

He’d not even noticed he had arrived, so deep in thought had he been.

Draco noted that the witch was now, as she had been since the first time he and Hermione had looked upon her, poised at the edge of a staggering cliff, gazing far into the distance as the setting sun dropped low into the sea. They rarely disturbed her, as she always appeared to be searching for something or someone in the blue, endless depths. Her flowing burgundy dress and long dark hair were cascading and blowing back and around her as the evening breeze continued its nightly dance. He couldn’t feel the wind, obviously, but he always imagined her slightly chilled as she watched her eternal sunset. Her gaze seemed forever drawn to the crashing, frothy waves of the sea below and beyond, constantly in a state of flux and turbulence, lit by the sinking sun to a dazzling array of golds, reds, fiery oranges and an endless range of blues and greens.

Draco at first couldn’t understand why she was the Head dorm keeper, for this witch was young and beautiful, and as all the portraits often conversed, gossiped and visited each other, he was certain she would be distracted from her duty. Perhaps even sharing secrets that he and Hermione did not want known among the other paintings. But she, Ophelia, never left her post; her slender body always remained straight and tall with her arms wrapped around her middle, ceaselessly facing the ocean. She rarely moved or spoke to anyone but her charges.

Draco stood patiently, something that he was not prone to do for most, and waited for Ophelia to turn her dark eyes upon him. Draco often wondered who or what she was looking for and had almost asked many times, but held his tongue as he could clearly see that whatever she was lamenting over was obviously intensely personal and private. Draco only rolled his eyes at this; reminding himself that she’s a PAINTING, she doesn’t have feelings. Yet, even though he knew this to be true, he nevertheless felt a chill run through him whenever her tormented eyes rested upon him, as they did now.

“Hello, Draco,” came her solemn greeting.

Draco nodded. “Good evening, Ophelia,” he replied formally. “How are you tonight?” When the portrait only smiled wistfully at him, Draco made a quick, impulsive decision. Maybe it was his desire to push all the uncertainty and anxiety from his mind, but he let curiosity get the better of him, and forgetting momentarily his impatience to get to Hermione, asked, “Ophelia, what are you searching for when you look out to sea?” He stepped closer to the portrait and turned his eyes to the crashing ocean, then back to her, awaiting a reply.

Ophelia looked at him for a long moment; so long that Draco thought she would not answer, until she spoke in her quiet voice, startling him a bit. “Do you have dreams, Draco?”

“Yes, many,” was his quiet reply.

Ophelia studied him thoughtfully once more, then finally spoke. “Dreams are like paper, Draco.” Her voice was soft and wispy and cool, like the zephyr caressing her. “They are so easy to tear apart, and so very difficult to put back together once they have been scattered into the winds.”* Ophelia sighed and looked off into the distance again. “When you are young, you think you can achieve anything. No dream is too impossible to realize, and rarely do you worry about consequences. Youth fools you into believing that you may defy anyone and remain strong and unaffected. It lulls you into accepting a false truth, thinking if you are blessed enough to find love and foolishly let it go, that it will eventually find its way back to you.”

She turned slowly and took a step closer to the edge of the painting, her piercing gaze locking with his. “But that is not true, Draco. Yes, you can achieve what you desire, but rather than be defiant, be convicted in your goals. Convince others that your dream is worth fighting for, above anything else. And whatever you do, Draco, never, ever, let love slip through your fingers once you find it within your grasp.” She watched as his eyes grew wide and he nodded numbly at her. Whatever he had been expecting to hear, that surely was not it.

So much for cheering up his quickly souring mood. Draco made a mental note: ‘For future reference, do NOT look to the perils of others any longer to seek enjoyment and cheer. – It doesn’t work.’

Without another glance Ophelia turned her stormy, pensive gaze back to sea and asked, “Password?”

Apparently their conversation was over.

“Eternal,” Draco whispered, wishing that he’d not decided upon this particular night to squelch his curiosity. Trying now to not let the intensity of her words weigh him down, on top of everything else Draco was mulling over, he stubbornly shook off the unease that began creeping back into his mind and focused on the night ahead of him.

He’d decipher Ophelia’s earnest entreaty eventually, just not now.

It was only until much later Draco realized that he’d not been given an answer to his question, not really anyway. But, then again, maybe she’d answered another much more important question, one that he had not even known he’d been seeking guidance for.

Draco strode into the common room, determined to get his playful mood back and noticed immediately the pair of dark Mary-Jane shoes tossed casually at the entrance near the portrait. He glanced up at Hermione’s bedroom door; it was open and he heard slow, dreamy music drifting his way.

Draco grinned knowingly. Finally, things were looking up!

Hermione always liked to listen to something soft and romantic in the evenings. She said it relaxed her, helped her think when she was doing homework and helped ease the tension of the day. Initially he’d scoffed at the idea. The last thing he wanted to do was listen to silly muggle music. Though he protested loudly and annoyingly at first, the ‘classic ballads’ as Hermione called them were growing on him. And, he even found himself occasionally now taking her hand and pulling her to him late into the evening, when they would dance slowly to the muted tunes, swaying cheek to cheek, fingers entwined and bodies pressed firmly together, before he’d dip her dramatically and she’d giggle and sigh as they flowed together once more, lost in each other.

It was ridiculously romantic and she adored it totally. And even though he’d NEVER admit to doing something as cliché and embarrassing as slow dancing with his girl in private, he just couldn’t seem to tire of seeing that tender look of hers directed solely at him when he held her like that. So, he’d continued to sweep her into his arms for as long as she fancied it.

Draco groaned at his folly; he was indeed a smitten fool.

“Hermione! I’m back early,” he called out, pulling his Quidditch robe off and tossing it hastily onto the couch as he waited for her answer. He’d decided to keep his uniform on, for the moment anyway, since he knew what kind of an effect all that leather and those tight breeches had on her. He chuckled again, his eyes twinkling at the memories.

He’d discovered this little reaction of hers when he came back from practice one evening, so upset with the team that he didn’t even want to hang around long enough to shower with them. He’d come in irritated, tired and sweaty and Hermione’s eyes practically fell out of her head when she saw him. He couldn’t have been more pleased. That night, and almost every other night he’d come in from practice in his uniform, had led to some of the most intense and best snogging sessions they’d had. Hermione’s blood would race each and every time she saw him swaggering in with his broom slung over his shoulder, his hair falling across his eyes and his body damp from his workout. He’d flash a grin and eye her up and down with those bedroom eyes of his and she would pounce. His lower region flared immediately to life at the delightful reflections.

When Hermione still hadn’t replied, he took a moment to muss his hair up a bit more – just for effect - and took the stairs to her room quickly, grinning broadly and bounding in without preamble, his tone low and seductive as he announced, “Are you ready for me?”

The grin that lit his face disappeared instantly and he stopped dead at the sight before him. “What is it, exactly, that I should be ready for?” came the cheeky greeting.

Oh shit.

Draco’s voice was cool, and despite the fact that he was shocked, he managed to keep an even face as he eyed one smirking Ginny Weasley. “How did you get in here? What are you doing here?” Draco didn’t wait for a response. “Where is Hermione?” he steamrolled on, eying her warily.

Ginny rolled her eyes. “She’s not here.” Draco grimaced.

“I can see that,” he snapped, glancing at the door to the bathroom, hoping desperately that she was in there to save this potentially very bad situation from spiraling out of control. The door was wide open and the room dark inside. He groaned. Of course she wasn’t in there.

Draco glared at Ginny, folding his arms across his chest and planting his feet firmly apart. He was all together annoyed at her knowing smirk and with the fact that she seemed completely unruffled at his dark expression. Ginny was laying on her belly on Hermione’s bed, reading a magazine, her legs bent at the knees and her ankles crossed in the air, lazily swinging back and forth. His gaze flicked over her stockinged feet, running the length of her body, back up to her face, where his gaze was now fixed, dark and angry. His eyes narrowed and he frowned. Ginny was still reading her magazine, flipping the pages casually and looking utterly relaxed and at ease. He’d found her that way when he’d entered the room and she’d still not moved.

“Again, what exactly are you doing here?” Draco’s voice was positively frosty. He began pacing when Ginny looked up and arched an eyebrow at him insolently.

“Touchy tonight, eh, Malfoy? Or, is anxious more like it?”

“You’re testing my patience, Weasley. I asked you questions and I want answers. I know Hermione wouldn’t give you our password. So again, how did you get in here?”

Ginny closed the magazine and slowly sat up, draping her long legs over the side of the bed. She leaned back resting on her elbows and smirked at Draco. “You’re right about that, Malfoy; Hermione is very protective of the password to your dorm.” Her smirk blossomed into a wide, smug smile and it was infuriating Draco to no end. “One could say, even overly protective,” she chuckled knowingly, “And now I understand why.”

Draco, who had been trying his best to maintain an impassive face, felt his cheeks flush ever so slightly. “I don’t fancy riddles, Weasley,” he said, in as calm a voice as possible, fighting back that damn blush and plastering on a clearly fake smile. “So why don’t you just tell me what you’re prattling on about.”

Ginny laughed outright now. “Oh come now, Malfoy, you’re a clever boy. I’m sure you can figure it out,” she raised herself up off the bed and came to stand before him. “I’m rather surprised actually; for someone who proclaims to be so smart, you’re being quite naïve.”

Draco snorted. “If you are implying that anything questionable is going on between the Head Boy and Girl, I would have you know that is grounds for dismissal, for BOTH of us. So I would be careful what kind of accusations and rumors you start spreading, Weasley.”

It was Ginny’s turn to snort. “Don’t worry about me, Malfoy. Believe it or not, I’m on your side. And I don’t have to do any talking; you two are doing more than enough to fan the flames of speculation all on your own.” Draco’s jaw dropped in utter shock. But before he could reply, Ginny continued, “Besides, McGonnagall would never let her favorite student be expelled. Hermione could strip down to her knickers and dance upon the table tops in the Great Hall and I doubt she’d get more than a firm reprimand.” Ginny glanced at Draco and began laughing at the glazed look that had replaced the shocked one in his eyes. She snapped her fingers in front of his face to get his attention. “Malfoy, I’m happy to add to your teenage boy fantasies, but do try and stay with me.”

Draco scowled, swatted at her hand angrily and wrenched himself out of that tantalizing visualization. “DON’T you ever speak so disrespectfully of the Head Girl like that in front of me again,” he growled, not even thinking twice at what he had said. The words came tumbling out of his mouth automatically and immediately. He was too busy reeling at Ginny’s presumptions to censor his emotions.

Draco couldn’t even begin to know how to respond to what this outrageous little Gryffindor was saying. He had believed that they were doing a good job at being discreet...It would appear they were not.

Ginny, who had begun strolling around Hermione’s room, picking up knick-knacks and inspecting books, stopped abruptly at that comment and turned to him, her eyes widening. She was really enjoying seeing the ever brisk and businesslike Malfoy become increasingly unsettled and nervous. It had been obvious to her for ages now that Hermione and Malfoy fancied each other, but she hadn’t known Malfoy would be so shaken at her revelation. She grinned wickedly; this was so much more fun than she had ever anticipated. “Wow, Malfoy. For someone who is known for keeping his emotions so close to the vest, you certainly are wearing your heart on your sleeve.” Draco’s eyes widened at his revealing slip up, then his face closed off immediately.

DAMN.

“What has Hermione been telling you?” he asked calmly. A part of him was taken aback that he was actually a little hopeful and maybe even relieved that people might be guessing they were together.

Ginny had stopped in front of Hermione’s dresser, her back to Draco; she turned quickly and tossed a bottle at him. He caught it easily and looked at her. “Hermione hasn’t said a word about you,” she reassured him. He assessed the look in her eyes and found her to be telling the truth. “She hasn’t needed too.” Draco frowned as Ginny approached him. She reached up and pinched his cheek and winked as she sashayed past on her way out the door. Draco glowered at her back. She turned at the threshold and pointed at the bottle. “I’m surprised to see that’s still unopened. If there is nothing going on between you two, open that bottle and have a toast on me and I guarantee there will be…” she turned and left and he followed her out the door.

“Weasley,” he called, stopping her. “What is this?”

Ginny’s saucy smirk returned. “Why, Mr. Malfoy, that is one very hard to come by, very potent, imported bottle of ‘Mr. Felicidad’s Pociön del Deseo.’”

Draco’s expression grew incredulous. “Are you telling me that Hermione, Hermione Granger, has an Ecstasy potion?” Ginny nodded. “WHO gave Hermione an Ecstasy potion, Weasley?” Draco demanded angrily. “Was it your nitwit brother? Humm?” He was advancing down the stairs menacingly as he spoke, before coming to a stop, towering over her.

Ginny rolled her eyes at Draco. “Although I don’t agree with your mental assessment of my brother, a gift like this is not his style.” Ginny shook her at him then, “And no, Romeo, relax, it’s NOT from Harry either.” Seeing the relief flitter across his face for a split second, Ginny groaned. “That bottle is from yours truly,” she concluded dryly.

Once again, Draco was left momentarily speechless. There certainly was more to these seemingly goodie-goodie Gryffindors than met the eye. “YOU gave,” he paused, he’d almost said ‘MY Hermione’, “Hermione a bottle of Ecstasy potion? When?” His face grew dark and his eyes narrowed dangerously. “Why? Who was this intended for, Weasley? Trying to set your bumbling brother up with Granger?”

Ginny shook her head, clearly amused. “No, Malfoy. I’m not trying to set Hermione up with Ron. She doesn’t fancy Ron. You KNOW that.”

”I know no such thing,” he replied stubbornly. “It’s not like I pry into her personal life.” Ginny guffawed loudly at that. “Where is Hermione?” he demanded again. He was tired of this conversation and wanted this little fireball out of here. He needed to put his arms around Hermione desperately.

“I’m right here,” came the chipper reply.

Draco and Ginny both swung around quickly to see Hermione walking over to her desk, her arms laden with books of which she promptly heaved up and dropped onto it. They hadn’t even heard her enter.

“What are you doing back so early, Draco? I thought you had Quidditch practice for a few hours this evening?” She was smiling brightly, albeit a bit nervously at him. She then turned to Ginny. “Sorry it took me so long to get back, Gin. That little first year was rather upset; it took me quite a while to calm her down. But she’s better now and I suspect she’ll not be having more problems with Transfiguration.”

”Why’s that?” Ginny asked, listening to Hermione’s answer as she plopped down onto the couch and cast a sly glance at Draco, raising her eyebrows at him and the telltale bottle in his hands. He snatched up his Quidditch robe quickly, hiding the bottle beneath the folds and excused himself, retreating to his room.

He gave Ginny a brief, thankful nod, before closing his bedroom door with a snap. He eyed the glittering pink bottle thoughtfully. Perhaps the evening could be salvaged after all…

----- -----

When Draco opened his door again a few minutes later, he found Ginny gone and there, in the middle of the room, stood one beautiful and apprehensive looking Hermione Granger.

“Good,” he announced, as he descended the stairs, “You got rid of the fireball.” He grinned at her and Hermione rolled her eyes. “I’m glad, because I’m so ready for tonight, I don’t know how much longer I could have waited.” Draco’s eyes lit up with mischief suddenly, his mood improving with each passing second. “Then again, it might have been fun to toss Little Weasley out on her cute arse.”

“Draco!” Hermione admonished.

“Tut, tut, Hermione,” Draco teased, “Although that WOULD be fun, I can think of a number of other pleasurable pursuits that I’d rather be doing,” he grinned and winked at her. “And, I doubt I could have waited one more second to be alone with you. Are you ready for me, Love?” he asked, as he reached out to her and wrapped his arms around her tightly, inhaling her scent and sighing with relief that she was finally back.

“Draco,” she began, “you know, I’ve been thinking about it all day, and, well, I think I may have changed my mind. I’m not ready.” She nodded emphatically. “Yes, it’s too soon. Not yet…” she was mumbling and looking rather peaked.

It was obvious now; she was terrified out of her wits. Had Weasley said something to her?

“What did Ginny say?” he asked cautiously.

Hermione blinked. “What?” she asked startled. “What do you mean, what did Ginny say?” Hermione groaned. “Oh, Draco, please tell me you didn’t get into a row with her.” She searched his face. “Did you?”

“No,” he answered firmly, “I most certainly did not. You two weren’t discussing me then?” he pressed.

Hermione looked suspicious. “Nooo. We were talking about Rose Jenkins, the first year I am going to start tutoring in Transfiguration and rescheduling our evening for tomorrow, since you’re back early.” Hermione’s brow knitted thoughtfully. “Come to think about it, Ginny did bid a hasty goodbye. Are you sure you two didn’t get into a snit?”

Draco shook his head. “No. She just saw I got off early from Quidditch practice because I went into your room when I got back.” He tried to sound casual and keep his expression neutral as he spoke. “And I found her there." When her gaze grew skeptical, he rolled his eyes and continued, "And we TALKED. I don't know why she left and frankly I don't care. Maybe she thought we had Head Business to take care of,” Draco offered. He'd had enough talk about Ginny Weasley. He leaned over and began nuzzling Hermione’s neck to get her mind back on him and away from the red-headed tart.

“Mmmm, maybe,” was Hermione’s distracted reply. Draco sighed, relief washing over him. Clearly Ginny hadn’t said anything about their conversation.

Good. That could wait. But his plans for tonight could not.

“Never mind her, Love. We have much more pressing and enjoyable things to be doing this evening.”

Hermione paled. “Really, Draco. I – I just don’t know…” she trailed off weakly.

Draco only chuckled, “Come on,” he purred in her ear, “we’re already half way there. It’s too late to turn back now. You said you wanted to, remember? You said it would be my Christmas present. It's the ONLY thing I want from you, you know...” He nipped at her ear lobe and began running the tip of his tongue along the curve of her ear. She loved that and Draco knew it. He was going to use all the tricks in his playbook tonight to get what he wanted, if he had too.

Hermione shook her head, her curls tumbling about her shoulders, she was trembling. “I – I don’t think I can…”

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me after all this time and all the discussions, that you don’t TRUST me?” It was a challenging statement, albeit issued without any malice and in that deep, husky voice of his that set her legs to jelly and her heart all a flutter.

‘Damn him…’ - “Of course I do,” she faltered.

“Mmm, good. That’s good to know,” he breathed in her ear; his rumbling voice sent little shockwaves through her, softening her resolve. Okay, so maybe she COULD. It was something she wanted to do after all…something she wanted to share with him. “I promise, I’ll go nice and slow…” Draco accentuated his point by dropping his mouth onto the curve of her neck, where it joined her shoulder and began suckling and worrying the spot with tender, lazy kisses and bites, until Hermione’s head tilted to the side invitingly and she moaned.

Draco grinned. That spot always got him what he wanted. And they both knew it. “N-not fair,” she said softly.

He chuckled again; he was winning. “Who ever said I play fair?”

Draco turned her around, his hands slowly moving up and down her arms until they slid down to her hips and he pulled her back against him. His hands were now roaming slowly up Hermione’s belly and up further to cup her breasts in his gentle grip. He kneaded them until he heard her catch her breath, then he began rolling her aroused nipples between his fingers languorously. He felt the desire jolt through her, it shook her body and he groaned onto her shoulder, where his errant lips had strayed and sunk his teeth into her tender flesh. Hermione moaned again, her hands slid over his, still massaging her breasts and she leaned into his chest and began rubbing her bottom against his hips in a totally wanton move, that set his mind whirling with desire and his body reacting to hers instantly.

Draco groaned and pushed his erection against Hermione’s rear. Her gasp and small moan was like music from the gods. His began a series of slow, insistent thrusts that were torturing them both. Hermione was starting to breathe very heavy now and she was squirming against him delightfully. He’d have to stop now or he knew he wouldn’t, and they hadn’t even made it to his room yet!

Draco pulled her closer and Hermione dropped her head back, turning her face slightly to catch his lips in hers, her tongue darting out to meet his, where they swirled and twisted together in a wholly lustful and heady kiss.

“Merlin, woman,” he gasped, “you’re going to distract me from my mission.”

Hermione purred and reached a hand up to pull him back for another breath stealing kiss. ‘That’s the idea…’

“Uh, uh, uhh, Ms. Granger,” he said, panting hard and pulling away from her tempting lips. “I know what you’re trying to do, and it’s not going to work. A promise is a promise,” At her disgruntled groan, he smiled and placed a tender kiss on her cheek before moving them forward, toward his bedroom. “So, that’s a yes then?” he asked hopefully. One of Draco’s arms had dropped down around her waist to hold her against him as they walked the short distance to his room, while the other hand dutifully and skillfully worked at its task on Hermione’s breast.

She gave a long-suffering sigh, “I suppose so…Eeeekkk!” she squealed, her words changing to a frightened shriek as Draco swept her up into his arms and he grinned triumphantly, carrying her the few steps up to his room.

“No turning back now, Love.” He wasn’t going to give her the opportunity to flee once they lighted to his bedroom.

Hermione huffed. She was frightened, but she wasn’t going to back out now, she was a Gryffindor after all. “You CAN put me down, you know. I’m not planning on running away,” she said, sounding a little dejected. Well, Gryffindor courage and all that aside, she MIGHT have been, if she lost her nerve. Now apparently, that option had been taken away from her. Draco laughed, he knew her too well.

Hermione demanded that he put her down again and he smiled ruefully and shook his head. “Nothing doing, Sweetheart. You’re not getting out of my arms, you’re staying right here.”

“What – what are you doing?” her voice rose to a panicky pitch, as Draco walked to his open veranda doors and nudged them further apart with his boot before flinging them wide. He gave her a quizzical look, his eyebrows shooting up as if to say, ‘You KNOW what I’m doing’ and shook his head. “What if I get cold?” she asked nervously.

“Oh, I’ll keep you plenty warm, Granger. Don’t you worry about that.” His insinuations sent a welcome blast of desire coursing through her and she shivered. 'Damn him and all his sexiness.'

Draco finally set Hermione down, and placed one of his cloaks around her shoulders, and then another around his own and still holding her arm tightly, much to her consternation, he faced her. “Are you ready, Angel?” When she turned, wide, uneasy eyes up to him, he pulled her close, wrapping strong arms reassuringly around her and engulfed her in a warm, tender embrace. His voice was low and rumbly when he spoke. “I’m going to take you soaring into the firmament, Hermione. We’re going to set a drift in a sea of sparkling stars and sail past the moon.” Hermione’s mouth dropped open at his romantic desires.

“Oh, Draco,” she sighed dreamily. “How can I say no, when you put it like that?” He smiled earnestly. He was, after all, telling what he knew to be true.

He smiled and ran his knuckles along her cheek. “I’m taking you home tonight, Hermione. An angel should know what it’s like to take wing among the heavens. Even if it’s just for a little while. Will you let me show you that?” She had never seen such a look in his eyes before. It stirred her heart and left her breathless.

“I’m scared,” she admitted shyly.

Draco hugged her close, then whispered in her ear, “Don’t worry, Love. The gods above may want to keep you with them, but I’ll never let you go. I’m taking my Angel on her first trip to the stars, but you’re coming back to earth, with me. I promise.”

“This really means that much to you?” she asked.

“You know it does,” he answered. She knew it too.

She leaned her cheek against his chest, taking a deep, steadying breath and pulled back, searching his face. His eyes were clear and there was hope sparkling in their grey depths. Her knitted brow relaxed, and she smiled genuinely at him and nodded her consent.

“Okay,” she breathed.

“Okay.” He smiled, his eyes alight. “Let’s go flying.”

----- -----

Draco, had not kept her out nearly long enough for his tastes, but hopefully Hermione’s maiden jaunt had served to whet her appetite for more moonlit trips.

He had been careful, considerate, gentle, patient, thoughtful – certainly not easy traits for a jaded and cynical Slytherin such as he, to embrace. Yet he did, and with aplomb. He understood Hermione’s fear was very real, yet he wanted so much for her to get past it. So that she too could take pleasure in his passion, as much as he did.

He’d hoped he’d dazzled her by flying low over the lake and pointing out how the huge, opalescent moon melted into the water’s edge and flowed like rippled like silk, rolling in the breeze.

He’d flown high up into the endless sky, telling her how her skin shone like the pale petals of a rose against the velvety blackness of the night. He showered her with soft kisses on her neck and cheeks and whispered how her eyes were radiant, like the twinkling stars, rivaling for the god’s attentions.

He’d tried to show her the beauty, the freedom and the absolute sensation of total release he experienced when flying.

He’d hoped he’d succeeded.

He would know soon enough. They were almost back.

Draco approached the castle unhurriedly, reluctant to end their flight, bringing his broom in slow and steady toward their private veranda. He eased in and hovering low, held her hand as she slid slowly from his grasp to stand on the balcony.

Hermione had not said much while they were in the air, so he was uncertain about her response; that was, until she turned to face him. His gaze met and locked with hers eagerly. His heartbeat raced and he felt a thrill go through him when he saw her eyes shining and sparkling, truly like the stars in the sky. He thought his words of praise could not have been any more accurate. His eyes followed her wayward curls as they danced lightly about her upturned face.

She looked heavenly.

He thought he’d never desired her more.

Then she held her arms out to him, and her lips turned up into a warm smile, and Draco caught his breath and knew he was wrong.

He’d not desired her nearly as much as when he saw her reach out to him willingly, affectionately…after a night of flying. With him.

“Draco,” she whispered, her voice slightly hoarse from the brisk, December air. “Thank you for showing me what it’s like to be an angel.” Draco groaned. “I never knew how it felt to have wings, until I met you. You’ve shown me heaven. Oh yeah,” she added, her eyes crinkling merrily, “and the flying wasn’t too bad either.” Draco’s eyes widened in surprise at her words and his heart swelled with pride and desire.

He needed to hold her, to feel her in his arms, her skin against his.

He hopped off his broom, his eyes smoldering as he devoured her with one glance. She felt that look wholly, as if his very hands had been caressing her. “Careful, Hermione,” he growled, reaching out for her. “When you say things like that to a man, he may just decide to keep you by his side - forever.”

Hermione sucked in her breath, her eyes growing wide and then glowing as she reached up on tippy-toes to kiss him soundly, encouragingly.

”What,” she managed out breathily, after a long, deep kiss, “only forever?”

“Not long enough for you, my sweet?”

She shook her head and flashed a tremulous smile. She knew this was a defining moment between them. “I think, perhaps I will settle for nothing less than forever and a day…”

“Ah, my demanding Gryffindor,” he purred and bowed to her, sweeping low and grasping her hand in his before bringing it up to his lips and dragging her knuckles sensuously across his mouth. “As you wish.” He stood up and swooped her into his arms without another word. In two long strides he was lowering her onto his bed.

Hermione tried to lie down, but Draco pulled her up onto her knees. His breathing was heavy, but his movements were unhurried as he removed his cloak from her shoulders, letting it fall to the floor forgotten and began undressing Hermione, removing each piece of clothing at such a leisurely pace that Hermione was growing impatient. “You’re going deliberately slow, just to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” she demanded, playfully.

Draco raised an eyebrow at her and surprised her once again with his honest, heartfelt response. “No, Hermione. I just want this evening to last as long as possible. I want to remember every moment, every nuance, every breath and movement of the night you let me show you my other passion in life.”

“Other?” Hermione squeaked.

He pushed Hermione down on the bed and raised her hips to remove the final barrier from her body, looping her panties in his fingers and dragging them from her hips and legs with relish. He tore his gaze from her hips and met her eyes. “Yes, other,” he answered, his stare burning into her soul, making her heart beat crazily. “Can’t you guess, my Angel, what is my true passion? My true desire and happiness?” Hermione hazily realized that Draco was fully clothed and sat up on her knees again, totally bare to him, and with shaking hands began undressing him as quickly as she could.

“You don’t have an answer for me, Hermione?” he prodded.

“I – I’d be afraid to speculate,” she stuttered, desperately wanting to hear him affirm to her, what HER deepest desire was.

He sighed dramatically. “Perhaps I’ve not done a good enough job of conveying my feelings then.” Hermione yanked Draco toward her and mumbling something about ‘showing her properly’, practically flung him onto the bed to begin clawing his pants from his body. He chuckled, very appreciative of her attentions. His little Gryffindor was certainly a lioness when she was properly aroused. He loved that about her. Hermione finally succeeded in removing Draco’s clothing, pulling his trousers and boxers down together, all in one good, strong yank, and then he too, was naked before her.

She huffed from her exertion, tossing his clothes aside and blowing a rogue strand of curls from her face as she and sat up, folding her legs beneath her and stopped to admire her Draco. Her amazing, loving, wonderful Slytherin, lying there with his arms behind his head, his long, lean body spread before her like a brazen, Greek god. He was glorious. And she wanted him desperately.

“Are you just going to lay there and ogle your lady, Mr. Malfoy, or are you going to ‘convey your feelings’ some more?” He was delighted with her impatient, obvious need for his touch. But he wasn’t quite ready yet.

“Tell me how it felt, being with me on my broom tonight, Hermione. I want to hear it from you.”

She tried not to roll her eyes. Draco chose the oddest times for deep, meaningful conversations. “I told you,” she said, clearly pouting. He sat up and Hermione’s eyes were automatically drawn to his erection. It was hard, and even in the darkened room she could see it was already flushed deep crimson from his arousal.

“I need more details,” he insisted.

Hermione pulled him up onto his knees and she sat up too. They were kneeling before each other on the bed now, he towering over her. She fitted herself to him and reached up to claim a kiss. He responded eagerly and didn’t deny her when her tongue swept over his lower lip and then into his warm, sweet mouth. She pulled away finally, after they were both panting and clutching each other tightly and whispered, “I was dazzled. I was in awe. I was breathless. I was captivated.”

“Will you go flying with me again?” He wanted to hear her say 'yes', so very much.

She rewarded him beyond measure. “Forever...and a day,” was her incredible reply.

Draco groaned and pulled her against him, his hands roaming over her smooth skin, running over the curve of her hip and reaching her bottom, he grasped her firmly and thrust his erection between her legs.

They both gasped. It was the first time he’d done that, and she automatically spread her legs for him to fit between them. She was soaking wet, she could feel the wetness leaking and covering Draco’s penis as he rubbed slowly back and forth between her folds, his erection straining to get closer to her heat. He groaned desperately, that heat that was burning him up and he wanted nothing more than to sink as deep as he could into her…over and over and over again, until he had no more strength in his body. He pushed upward, up at the juncture of her thighs again and Hermione automatically tilted her pelvis, unknowingly inviting him closer to his ultimate goal. She shuddered and moaned, his penis felt like fire and silk against her and she wanted to feel more. She needed to feel more.

“Hermione,” Draco growled in her ear, “Do you – uhhhh – do you like the way I feel against you?”

Hermione’s entire body was vibrating with a whole new level of desire that she’d not experienced thus far. She was almost physically aching to have Draco inside her. That yearning was driving her to abandon her reserve and give into whatever he asked of her.

“Do you?” he asked, his words shook her from her reckless thoughts. Before she could even utter a single syllable, his impatient lips sought hers again. He wrapped his arms around her, one hand reaching up and grasping her curls, tugging her head back, so he could claim her mouth more fully, slanting his lips across hers and opening her jaw wide to his unhindered plundering. His tongue stroked and flicked and licked the walls of her mouth, grazing over her teeth and flicking and twisting around hers with such fervor that her head was buzzing.

His entire being seemed to engulf her. His arms around her, holding her close, as if protecting her in his fierce embrace, his tongue darting in and out of her mouth, hotly, suggestively. His rigid penis pressing firmly at her entrance and his hips moving against hers in a dizzyingly erotic fashion, making no attempt at hiding his intentions.

It was almost too much for her to bear.

“Answer me, Hermione,” he rasped.

'What? Oh, right…speaking.’ “I, I…Ohhh, GOD yes, Draco!” she groaned, her voice heavy with desire. Hermione’s hands reached down and behind Draco to open her fingers wide over his firm bottom. She let her fingers slide along the curve of his cheeks before reaching low and squeezing them as hard as she could, pulling him against her hips.

A low, predatory growl escaped his lips. Draco was losing his control. He could barely keep his thoughts straight, and with the way she was touching him, responding to him, it was overpowering and amazing. But Draco knew Hermione wasn’t ready for what he wanted from her. He was battling with his body to regain control, because he if didn’t pull back, he was going to lay her down and take her – right NOW.

Hermione certainly wasn’t making things easy for him either. She was frantically kissing and nipping her way down his neck and shoulders, before sliding her tongue onto his chest and reaching one of his nipples, she took it into her mouth, pulling and sucking on the small bud until he moaned and threaded his fingers in her hair to keep her at her pleasurable task. “Merlin, woman. You’re testing my limits,” she heard him whisper. Hermione had never heard that tone in his voice before. She decided she liked the deep, sexy, almost animalistic quality it had. Her body responded in like, as her nipples peaked and were twinging and aching for his touch. She found one of his hands and pulled it to her breast and he instantly began running his thumb across the nipple slowly, swirling his fingers around it. She could feel her orgasm starting at the base of her spine then, her legs began to shake and Hermione’s eyes slid closed. She clung to Draco desperately and his other hand reached down, seized her bottom aggressively, drawing her hips up flush against his, their lower bodies pressed firmly, intimately together from knee to waist and he rotated his hips with hers slowly, making Hermione gasp sharply and shudder.

“Draco,” she moaned, pulling her torso back, giving him better access to her breasts and grinding her hips against his, in answer to his primal dance. “GOD! Don’t stop doing that….”

He moaned and leaned over her, dropping his hand to her hip as his mouth latched onto a nipple. He began suckling and pulling on it wildly, almost painfully on one breast, then moving his attention to the other. Draco was worshipping Hermione’s body like he’d always wanted too. Since they’d been together, he’d always had a good grip on his restraint. But tonight she’d just made him so happy that he was letting himself go more than he would normally. He was holding her like he’d dared not before. Showing his desire for her, unhindered. Touching her and pulling her body against his like he’d wanted to do for so very long.

Draco dug his fingers into the soft skin of her buttocks and pushed her hips up and against him, rotating his hips in invitation again and pulling back and thrusting in between her legs with long, even strokes. Hermione was moaning and squirming against him with such abandon that it was driving him absolutely crazy. He let go of her nipple with a soft ‘pop’ as his lips left and began dragging his tongue along her neck, whispering words of love into her skin, kissing and biting on all the erogenous spots on her neck and chest, making sure he marked her in the process. He wanted there to be no mistaking that Hermione was spoken for, no matter that no one knew she belonged to him. He rasped words of encouragement into her shoulder as she stroked his body and he fitted himself to her as close as he could get.

Hermione felt her legs starting to shake more uncontrollably now. The feel of Draco’s penis gliding against her sensitive folds, and the tip grazing them with each thrust, was wonderful and agonizing at the same time. The deeply intimate and carnal sound of his hips thumping and retreating against hers was blissful. His scalding breath sent shockwaves across her body with each exhalation. She was basking in these newfound emotions.

“Close your legs, Love, so I fit tighter,” he whispered. His voice was jerky and rough with passion. Hermione obeyed immediately, closing her legs and pressing them tightly together. Draco grunted his approval, grasped her hips with strong hands and began thrusting harder, reveling in the knowledge that his penis was finally between her legs, even though he wasn’t inside her...

As soon as he felt her legs start give way, he wrapped his arms around her and pushed her down fully onto the bed, fitting himself between her legs securely. Hermione’s eyes flew open and his gaze locked with hers. His eyes were hooded and dark with desire, but she could see the honor and respect for her shining there in his gaze. She understood he would not take her without her consent. “It’s okay, Mione,” he murmured, confirming what she already knew. “I won’t. Do you trust me?”

She nodded, and Draco reached down, slipping his penis inside her folds and began dragging the tip up and down along the soaking, sensitized skin. They both moaned and Hermione began at once to move her hips in rhythm with him.

Draco was not going to be able to hold on much longer. He was using every bit of control he had not to come like a volcano until Hermione orgasmed. And the sounds she was making, the feel of her wet body, so ready for him and the way she was squirming beneath him was agony.

Hermione could not believe how incredible Draco’s penis felt against her. She’d wondered so many times, these past months what it would feel like to have him between her legs like this. To be able to feel him moving against her – there. It was a thousand times better than she’d ever guessed. Every time the tip grazed across her clitoris she moaned and thrashed her head from side to side, the sensations taking her one step closer to spiraling over the edge. The feeling was indescribable and too intense to put to words, but each time he stroked it against and around her nub, she became more and more lost in the passion. Hermione’s eyes were tightly closed and she was clawing and clutching Draco’s biceps as if she would die if she let go of him for even a moment.

Draco brought his penis back up to her clitoris and circled around it slowly, before rubbing the very tip over and across it languidly, then dragging his erection even more slowly down along her folds, until he reached her entrance and pushed just the tip of his head into her. That was all it took. Hermione’s body jerked violently, her eyes rolled and she threw her head back against the pillows, screaming out as the first intense contractions of her orgasm rocked through her.

Draco could feel her inner muscles as they spasmed around the tip of his penis. It was the definitive definition of pleasure and torture in one. He growled. It would be SO easy to take her now. One, swift, strong thrust and she would be his. The thought of being enveloped in her heat and the torment and temptation of being at the threshold of her entrance and being unable to take her fully, was too much for Draco. He groaned her name and held tightly to her hips, pulling out and laying atop her, thrusting fiercely onto her belly in hard, fast strokes. It was only moments before he came with such force that he threw his head back, a primitive, guttural sound escaping from his lips as he came on her stomach and rode out his orgasm, holding her against him possessively as the final shudders raked from his body.

Draco hugged her close for a moment before he rolled off of her and with a flick of his wrist did a quick “Scrougify” and cleaned them both. He turned to face her, laying on his side and propping his head up on an elbow. “Hey,” he asked, “Are you okay?”

Hermione looked at him, her eyes heavy from her desire and gave him a lazy, satisfied smile. “Yes. Draco, that was…”

“Yeah, I know,” he agreed. He really didn’t know what to say. He was happy and yet, still unsatisfied. Draco was thinking that he might be ready to take things further. He felt his loins stir at the very idea and he began tracing his name and drawing little designs on Hermione’s belly. Eventually the soft, slow strokes against her sensitive flesh started getting to her and he watched, fascinated as Hermione’s nipples hardened and her breath became labored and heavy once more. With each stroke now, Draco’s fingers were descending lower and lower until he was teasing the wet curls at her thighs.

Hermione moaned and Draco rolled over on top of her, dropping his head to hers and kissing her hotly. Their passion was flaring to life once more, only this time it felt different to Hermione. It was with purpose and determination that he was kissing her. He nudged her legs apart further and fit himself between them, and she gasped. One of Draco’s hands left her hip to run along her upper thigh, skimming lower to grasp her behind one of her knees and pulling it up, around his waist. Hermione shuddered as she felt his erection, hard and ready for her, this time poised at her entrance. He was moving and thrusting against her gently. She could feel his restraint, but she knew this time was different. She pulled away from his kiss and gazed into his stormy, grey eyes.

That look took her breath away. It was filled with such desire, such need. It was flattering and wonderful and overwhelming.

“Hermione,” he moaned, not able to pull his body away from hers, “I want you.”

She took a great, shuddering breath. She wanted him too. Her body wanted him. Her heart and soul wanted him. She had him. He was hers. He’d told her so, tonight. ‘Forever…remember, Hermione?’ Hermione trembled.

Then why was she hesitant?

She knew why. She pulled back every so slightly. Draco’s eyes slid closed and he dropped his head to the curve of her neck, nuzzling it reassuringly and trying to calm his throbbing erection.

He felt it instantly, the change in her.

BLOODY HELL.

He KNEW he shouldn’t have said that, but the words came out before he could stop them. Sure, he had kind of expected that after being with her for a few months they would be ‘together’. He’d never been denied a woman before. But Hermione wasn’t any woman and he knew she didn’t see things that way.

He knew it because she’d told him.

Hermione wanted to give her virginity to her husband. And he told her he would respect her wishes.

“Draco,” she began hesitantly.

“Don’t,” he said softly, pulling back a little and touching a finger to her lips. She looked like she was going to cry. “Please, don’t. I’m not going to apologize for saying I want to be with you. I DO. But I won’t force you to do anything you don’t want to do. We established that long ago. I will honor your request.” She looked away from him then and he grasped her chin and turned her back to face him, unshed tears clung to her eyelashes. “Hey, Love, it’s okay, really.” He rubbed her cheek soothingly with the pad of his thumb. “Look, when a guy like me falls for an angel, he expects to have to make some concessions.” She groaned and covered her eyes. ‘Okay, Malfoy. Wrong words.’

“Mione, come on now. It’s not…” he pulled her hands from her face. “Look,” she was clearly upset. He didn't want her to be hurt, ever. And especially not because of him. She felt like she was letting him down, he could see it.

“Hermione,” he said quietly, the tone in his voice made her eyes snap to his. “It’s okay. Really. I’m not upset.” He grinned sheepishly. “I know how you feel. I remember what you said. I would never want to do anything you don’t. I do want you, but I want you willingly. I want you to want to be with me, just as much as I want to be with you.”

”But...but, I do!” she answered quickly. “It’s just that...” she trailed off miserably.

Draco sighed. “I know. You want to wait. You’re going to make a beautiful bride someday. And make one man a very lucky husband.” Hermione’s eyes widened and her heart stopped.

‘Beautiful bride…lucky husband…’ she echoed in her head. “Oh, mercy,” she whispered.

Draco smiled when he saw the expression on her face. “I mean that too,” he said seriously. “But, until that time when you’re ready to give yourself totally, there are other things we can do.” She looked both hesitant and hopeful.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Yeah, really.”

”Wh-what kind of things?”

He smiled. “Things that are pleasurable, for both of us.”

She looked into his eyes. “Other than what we’ve been doing?” He nodded again.

“I’d be most happy to show you.” One corner of his mouth tugged up in an adorable half grin. “But, I’d be even more happy to TEACH you.”

He chucked at her chin affectionately and tickled her until she gasped and begged him to stop. She smiled at him, her mood lightening considerably at his understanding and consideration of her wishes.

“So Mr. Malfoy, are you telling me that this teacher is now becoming the student?”

He grinned wolfishly, draping an arm across her, and pulling her up tight to his chest. “Well, turnabout is fair play.”

She giggled sweetly. “And tell me again, since when have you ever played fair?”

Draco grinned and dropped a kiss to her forehead before fitting her firmly against him and drifting off to sleep.

“Oh, Draco,” Hermione whispered.

“Mmmmm,” he replied drowsily.

“Happy Christmas.”

He smiled. It looked like it would be indeed.
________________________________________________________

A/N - Regarding the * in the story. This line was adapted from a scene in a Gilda Radner script from Saturday Night Live. I believe the original line was something like: 'Dreams are like paper, they are so easy to tear apart.' Anyway, I fell in love with that saying and just had to use it. So, if it sounded vaguely familiar, that's where you heard it from.

A/N: Okay kids….Yes, I am aware that they did not use the Ecstasy potion, again. They WILL. Promise. Gotta have something on deck to keep you guys coming back. So, tell me what you think? Would you be up for private lessons from one Draco Malfoy? – Grin. Yeah, me too.

AND ALL YOU SILENT READERS..COME ON, GIVE A GIRL A BREAK...HIT THE BUTTON DOWN HERE ON THE LEFT, TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK! Thanks! Lorett