The Plan

Where oh where have I been? Dealing with RL - sigh. I'm sorry for the disappearance and hope to get back to dealing with the plot bunnies in my head. They are multiplying by the dozen. I also hope to get back to LJ - everyone must hate me.

Anyway, this story was written for kryptiq for a holiday challenge.
Thanks to T_Stevenson for betaing.
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The man was barmy!

There was no other way to put things. Draco Malfoy was certifiably mad! Boggled! Nutters!

Just. Insane.

Why else would he show up at Hermione Granger’s flat every Friday night completely pissed out of his mind reeking of ale and completely disheveled?

Ever since she’d bumped into him at the Annual Ministry Summer Fête, where they shared one silent dance, the blond Slytherin would tap the glass of her bedroom window barely holding on to his latest Continuum 3000 broom, then ring her door chime incessantly or just pound on her door (how the man got through her wards was beyond her). It was embarrassing and completely exasperating. She’d tried everything from not answering the door, praying he’d go away, to not being home, in hopes of ceasing this strange behavior.

Unfortunately, the git’s persistence knew no bounds.

He would either continue to tap, pound, ring and even yell until she let him inside. If she was out, she’d come home to find him sleeping on her doorstep, window ledge or small bedroom terrace. How he’d managed to not get himself killed was beyond comprehension.

The oddest thing was he would stumble in, look at her for a few long minutes then make his way to the bedroom, leaving a trail of well-tailored robes and clothing strewn across the floor before falling asleep on her bed. HER BED! Naked! FULLY STARKERS!

The first time it happened, she’d stomped and screamed at the top of her lungs, calling him the most foul-mouthed names her extensive vocabulary had filed away in her intelligent brain. However, he ignored her, smirked and fell asleep. Worst of all, her beloved Crookshanks crawled up to investigate. She fully expected the kneazle to claw the Slytherin psycho into consciousness, Crookshanks however, sniffed him then curled up right around the bastard’s head and, promptly, fell asleep. His betrayal cut deeply.

Defeated, she collapsed on the couch in shock, fully intending to give the boozed-out berk a piece of her mind in the morning. Unfortunately, by the time she awoke he’d already gone. All traces of his invasion vanished. Littered clothes had been collected and her bed was as neat as a pin. The only trace of his presence was a lingering scent of juniper, cinnamon and light musk.

Malfoy had long let go of his narrow-minded blood prejudices. After the horrible stand-off on the Astronomy Tower, Draco disappeared. Shortly after, a mysterious owl made its way to the Order’s headquarters pleading asylum for Draco. Remus Lupin had the final say and welcomed in his former student.

Initially, Draco was both difficult and reclusive but eventually, with lots of patience and many physical fights, barriers were broken down. Hermione was shocked one morning to come down to breakfast at The Burrow to find Harry, Ron and Draco talking Quidditch. She was the last one to finally call a truce with the, then, haunted boy.

However, after the final battle when he’d saved her from a hex not once but twice, they became friendlier. Having lost both parents in the war, Draco took on the mantle of the Malfoy name working to restore his honor and pride by putting aside outdated Pure-blood notions.

Now, eight years later, Hermione worked as a barrister in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement researching, reviewing and re-writing outdated, pro-Pure-blood laws. In fact, she often worked with Draco seeking his support and advice on new bills and regulations. He was chairman of Wizarding London’s board of directors, a conglomerate made up of the heads of major magical corporations and, therefore, a very powerful group. Draco Malfoy, the youngest to hold the position due to his status and revolutionary ideas, was the richest and most influential. His word went a long way in helping bridge the Pure-blood, Half-blood and Muggle-born gap left over after the war.

Going back to work the Monday after “the incident” was nerve wracking. She had an appointment with Draco at eleven that morning. Upon seeing him, she attempted to broach the subject but he’d smoothly sidestepped it, treating her with an unusual blend of aloofness and hardness. It left her completely flummoxed. Any efforts to bring up the issue were met with either cool disdain or an amused sneer. The man was an enigma.

Then Friday rolled around and at exactly half past eleven came a rap-tap tapping at her window – and it was no raven. Holding a bottle of Ogden’s Old, Draco hovered on his broom outside her living room window singing White Cliffs of Dover. Her hands flew to her mouth stifling her laughter. Upon opening her windows, he zoomed past her, landed on the floor then proceeded to disrobe and make his way towards her bedroom. Hermione stood by, speechless, as Crookshanks perked up and dashed after the lushed lout. Once again, when Saturday morning dawned, no hint of Draco Malfoy was to be found, except for an occasional whiff of juniper.

Hermione had long passed her breaking point; she was now resigned to having his company once a week. On Friday nights, she’d rush out of work early, get home to change and await her ‘guest’. Upon arrival, usually around eleven o’clock, she would grant him access and let him commandeer her bed. Though she had another bedroom, it currently served as her library. In turn, she would curl up on the couch, in front of her fireplace, and enjoy a good book until she fell asleep.

Crookshanks, the traitor, always trailed after Draco the minute he stepped foot in the flat.

**************************************
“It’s just odd, Harry.”

Hermione and Harry Potter were enjoying a leisurely Sunday brunch in a favorite West London local hangout, Sam's Brasserie. Having both grown up in Muggle London, the two enjoyed escaping into the city’s varied neighborhoods to share a meal and talk. Ron and Harry had Quidditch, Hermione and Harry had Muggle London.

Picking at her seared salmon, Hermione soldiered on. “Honestly, the man is driving me barmy. It’s every bloody Friday night for the last six months. I’ve tried talking to him and he just turns to stone. I don’t understand his behavior. Why me, I ask you?” She spread a bit of tomato and chive butter on her flaky salmon. “You work with him often enough, Harry. Has he said anything to you?”

Taking a bite of his grilled lamb steak, Harry didn’t say anything at first. He chewed slowly then took a sip of beer, he finally spoke. “Malfoy is a strange bloke.”

“So astute, Harry and so NOT helpful.” Hermione rolled her eyes.

Grinning, he went on. “He’s got you at sixes and sevens, doesn’t he?” Hermione glared. “Right, as I was saying . . . Malfoy’s a Slytherin and a Malfoy, the two combined means he doesn’t go about things the usual, normal way.”

She blinked. “And what does that mean?”

“I don’t know, Hermione. Why don’t you go into the bedroom and ask him?”

“He’s naked, Harry.” Her cheeks reddened at the thought. “You can’t expect me to just go in there and try to speak with him. He’s NAKED and pissed out of his mind!”

He shoved a very large slice of lamb into his mouth. “Look . . . I fink you shuld ashk Mouthfoy.” Without pausing, he attempted to put two more pieces in his mouth. “Mmm . . . good food . . .”

Narrowing her eyes, Hermione frowned. Harry was hiding something. “You’re not telling me something, Harry. What is it?”

He scooped up some pearl barley and cherry tomatoes. Looking like an overstuffed gerbil, Harry smiled tightly and shrugged his shoulders.

“Fine! Be that way.” Daintily spearing an asparagus, she pointed her fork at Harry. “And I will ask Malfoy. I’ll find out, mark my words.”

Harry merely nodded his head, obviously relieved at not having to answer any further questions about Draco Malfoy’s strange behavior.

*************************************
“Malfoy!”

Draco heard the feminine voice of Hermione Granger calling his name down the Ministry hallway. He picked up his pace. He made it his mission to avoid the little Muggle-born six of the seven week days.

“Malfoy!”

Ticking off his meetings for the day in his head, he strode towards Minister Shacklebolt’s executive office. All the while ignoring the woman calling him.

“DRACO . . . STOP!”

Fuck! She used his given name. He stopped dead in his tracks but didn’t turn to look at her. It wasn’t even a minute before he was faced with a petite terror of a witch. He drank in the sight of the girl – no woman; she was a woman now – that had plagued his mind since third year.

Honey-brown locks fell just past her shoulders in soft, supple waves. A heart-shaped face showed off gorgeous, big chocolate brown eyes, pouty lips and high cheekbones. Her skin was a lovely pale-olive complexion rather than peaches and cream.

And that figure. Merlin, she was the reason he wanked on a daily basis. She had a tiny body that came to just under his chin. She was curvy with high breasts that would fit his palm nicely, a small waist that flared out to full hips. Her legs were lean and trim, not too thin. The damn woman was perfect to him.

And completely unattainable. Nothing he did seemed to get her attention. She still saw him as the prattish idiot from Hogwarts instead of the new man he had molded himself into. He had fantasized about her during the war, during the Hogwarts rebuilding phase, after the restoration when they’d returned to Hogwarts and, now, for the last six years. He’d tried dating other witches and even considered marrying Astoria Greengrass but realized he was free to do as he pleased, and that included pursuing and marrying a Muggle-born.

One in particular.

‘The Plan’ was, then, borne. He’d enlisted Potter and Weasley’s help to identify and determine the best way to get gorgeous Granger to notice him. It had to be shocking and unexpected. Hence, ‘The Plan’, which had been in full effect for the past six months, and she had yet to behave as expected. Leave it to Granger to be completely unpredictable.

Well, the Annual Ministry Holiday Ball was fast coming upon them, falling, by his design, on a Friday. She’d be his by the end of that night.

Schooling his features, he drawled, “Yes, Granger. Did you need something? I’ve a meeting with Kingsley and really don’t have the ti. . .”

“Why?”

He tilted his head. “Pardon?”

“Why?”

“Why, what, Granger? Could you be a bit more specific?”

“You know.”

Draco did know but he would play oblivious for as long as possible. “I don’t.”

She closed her eyes and seemed to be counting before opening them again. “I want to know why you show up at my flat . . .”

“Granger, I have to go.” He shouldered his way around the tumultuous tyrant.

She moved to block him. Draco felt a small poke in his chest. “No, you don’t. You’re not running away.” He chuckled as she stomped her foot. “I demand answers, Malfoy.”

He wanted to laugh out loud at the picture she painted. Her hands on her hips, face formed into scowl and her luscious lips pressed together in a thin, hard line.

“Well?”

“Well, what, Granger?”

“Answers, Malfoy, answers.”

“To what, Granger?”

“You know!”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“Why don’t you just tell me?”

“To . . . to . . . oh, you are infuriating!”

He so loved riling her. “I’ve got to go.” Walking around her, he smirked but froze at her next words.

Frustrated and deciding to take a wild hunch, Hermione blurted out, “Harry knows, he all but said as much at brunch.”

Draco could feel his anger start to rise. His hands clenched and his breathing became just a touch harsher. “Potter, you Parselmouthed bastard!” he whispered to himself.

Collecting his composure, he turned to look at the pretty brunette. “I’ll see you at the ball this Friday, Granger.” He winked, smirked, turned and walked away. He would talk to Potter later.

*************************************
The evening of the Holiday Ball arrived and Hermione was nervous.

Dozens of questions flitted through her mind. Would Malfoy bring a date? Would he come home with her? Would he just show up at her flat? Would he even speak to her this evening? She thought she looked nice. Hermione was wearing a dramatic strapless midnight blue, lustrous satin gown. Cut in a diagonal ruching design, it had a sweeping hem and pleated bodice down to the knees before flaring out slightly.

She was standing by a pillar looking out onto the dance floor searching for her friends as well as a certain wizard with a shock of platinum blond Hair.

“Hermione, you look gorgeous!”

Hearing Ginny Weasley’s voice, Hermione turned to look at her friend. “Thank you. You look quite stunning yourself.”

Ginny wore a black single shouldered, matte jersey, beaded dress with a daring slit up on side. “I don’t think Malfoy will know what hit him when he sees you.”

Rolling her eyes, Hermione snorted. “The man won’t notice me. He avoids me at all costs and drives me quite mad with his behavior.”

“You know you like him, just admit it,” Ginny grinned. “He’s gorgeous and probably an amazing shag.”

“GINNY!” Hermione turned a deep pink.

“Drop the virginal act, Hermione. I can see right through you.”

Leaning against the cool stone of the pillar, Hermione sighed. “Oh, fine. The man is delicious. Happy?” She turned back to the bodies swaying on floor. “I don’t think he’s here.”

“Oh, he’s here.” Ginny winked. “Come on, let’s find Harry.”

Stepping from around the pillar, Draco chuckled. She found him ‘delicious’. At least he knew he affected her. Brushing off imaginary lint from his finely cut expensive robes; he trailed behind the two witches. He found them moments later enjoying a glass of champagne and chatting with a group of old Hogwarts class mates. Draco’s jaw clenched when he noticed Theo Nott chatting up his witch.

“Good evening, everyone.” Draco gave Theo a knowing look.

The other Slytherin countered with a sly, lopsided grin. “Would you care to dance, Hermione?”

Draco watched as she first looked to him before nodding and accepting Theo’s offer. Draco watched them step onto the dance floor. He grit his teeth, Nott, he decided, was a bastard! She looked exquisite in that gown, the color complemented her beautifully. Knowing she would be his that very night, he visibly relaxed allowing Nott to twirl her around the dance floor.

“Mate, shouldn’t you . . . talk to her?” Harry handed Draco a glass of champagne.

Taking a sip, Draco shook his head. “No. It’s fine. I need some more of this if I’m going to get pissed properly.”

Both men laughed heartily.

*************************************
“Arse!” Hermione griped, stepping into her flat.

The evening was a success, in a way. She had a marvelous time. In fact, between Theo Nott, Oliver Wood and Cormac McLaggen she hadn’t lacked dancing partners. However, the wanker she couldn’t seem to shake from her thoughts and had her heart set on dancing with, if she were honest, had barely said a word to her all evening. All he did was stand on the sidelines and drink champagne with Harry, Blaise or Ron, slowly and surely getting quite inebriated.

At one point, she had made an attempt to discreetly ask if he was all right and if he needed any help Apparating home. The words died in her throat with his one sly look at the mention of ‘Apparting home’. She avoided him for the rest of the evening, leaving him to the other men and going home alone.

And judging it was now nearly midnight, it was unlikely he would show up. She wasn’t sure if she was relieved or upset. Sighing, she made her way to the bedroom, removing the pins from her hair and letting it fall down her back. She was irritated, exhausted and, for some reason, close to tears.

The sight waiting for her in her bedroom was unexpected. Lying on her bed, obviously quite naked, was one sleeping Draco Malfoy. How the hell did he get in? She was sure her flat was warded.

Standing by the door, she was unsure of what to do. She needed to get out of her gown but, sleeping Slytherin or not, didn’t want to undress in his presence. Resigned, she grabbed a modest, cotton baby doll nightie and disappeared into her en suite bathroom.

Smug and satisfied, Draco snuck a squinting glance to ensure he was alone. Like past Friday nights for the last six months, he was nicely buzzed and hard as steel. If she didn’t approach him, he was going to slam her against the wall and just fuck her there. He made a mental note to thank Potter and Weasel for a way past her wards. Turning to lie on his back, he closed his eyes quickly at the creaking of her bathroom door.

Hermione quietly tip toed to the closet opposite the bed. She noticed he was now lying on his back. Merlin, he looked so good. Her eyes traveled from his shaggy fringe, down his muscular chest, flat stomach and rested on the sheet sitting low on his hips. She gulped noticing his impressive . . . er . . . erection. What was he dreaming about?

The dress moved in a gentle whisper of rustling fabric as she hung it in her closet. Heart thumping, lump in her throat, she turned to approach the bed. He was fast asleep, he wouldn’t notice if she took one small peek. She was such a deviant, but honestly, it was nearly staring her in the face and this was her bedroom. He would never know.

Holding her breath, her fingers twitched as she bit her lip and lifted the sheet to . . .

A strong hand wrapped itself around her wrist and pulled her down onto the bed. “GOTCHA!”

Before she knew what was happening, Hermione found herself underneath Draco’s strong, warm body; his knees nudging her legs apart, his thickness brushing against her inner thigh. She shivered as his heat seeped into her body.

“Finally.”

“P-p-pardon?”

“I said, finally. Gods, woman, for the last six months, I’ve been showing up at your door and barging my way into your bedroom and only now do you approach me? I was seriously considering just going starkers in the living room and lying on the couch. Maybe that would’ve gotten your attention sooner.”

She struggled against his nude form. “Let me up.”

His hand was starting to stray under her tiny baby doll. “Oh, no. The only way you’re getting up is if you’re riding me.”

Mouth agape, Hermione reached up to slap him but he grabbed both her wrists pinning them above her head. “No hitting, sweet. Besides, I know you want me. I heard what you said to Red.” He nudged her legs wider and forced his body to settle between her thighs. “I believe you said you found me ‘delicious’.”

He bent low to nuzzle her neck. “I find you delectable.” One hand held her wrists while the other trailed down to cup her breast.

She held back a moan when she felt his fingers skim over her nipple, already hardening at the thought of what he might do next. His teeth sunk into the juncture of her neck and shoulder just as his fingers tweaked the taut bud hard. “Oh, gods . . .” Her body pressed against his hand.

“Mmm . . . so responsive.” He was breathing heavily, evidence of his control. “Do you really want to go? Tell me . . . Hermione.” Every word was accompanied by a determined grind into her center. “Should I let you go?”

Wantonly, she spread her legs further and rubbed herself against him, aching for some type of completion. She wanted him desperately, and it was clear by the hardness against her pussy that he wanted her as well. There was no way she was going anywhere, she mused, shaking her head in response.

“Not good enough, I want to hear you say it, sweet.” Draco’s fingers were ghosting over her hard nipples, his teeth grazing the skin of her neck. “Say.” Swivel. “It.” Thrust.

The man really was delicious. “Uh . . . no . . . don’t go . . . yes, there . . . don’t stop . . .”

Draco held her body down as he continued to move against her. The more pressure he applied, the stronger the little vixen’s reaction. He wanted to push her limits just a touch, he pressed his lips to her ear. “Would you like me to spank you, sweet, for being so naughty? For making me wait so bloody long?” She bucked against him, exhaling a low moan. “Imagine me fucking you from behind, then spanking you . . . your pert bum red and hot under my hand. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

By now, her lovely legs were wrapped around his waist and she was undulating madly against his hips. He could tell she wanted him badly. Draco suddenly stopped moving. “Don’t you dare come. You’ll come after you beg for my cock. That’s your punishment for making me wait so long.”

Without warning, he pushed himself away from her and ripped her nightgown from her body then brusquely tore off her knickers. His roughness was a welcome sting of sensation against her hips and body. She reached up for him but he pushed her hands back down, placing them over her head.

“Don’t move.”

Draco sat back and pushed her legs further apart until she was fully exposed to his gaze. His fingers toyed over her inner thighs as he bent to blow on her curls and swollen clit. Slinging her legs over his shoulders, he bent to lave her with the flat of his tongue, ever so slowly.

She shrieked.

He pressed into her flesh to hold her still and continued to lap at her in smooth, easy strokes. It was maddening. He never sped up; he would glide the tip of his tongue around her nubbin only to slide his tongue through her folds – all in the same, lazy tempo.

“Gods . . . Draco . . . please . . .”

He said nothing, just licked.

“Please . . . oh . . .”

Swirl. Lick. Swirl. Lick. Swirl. Lick.

Small beads of perspiration had broken out on her forehead. How long could he keep this up?

He laughed as he pulled away. “A very long time.”

Oh, she had said that out loud.

He whispered hotly, “You made me wait six months. I can drive you mad and not allow you to come for a while, sweet. You taste so good . . . mmm.” He resumed his task, and then paused. “Of course, you can beg me to fuck you. Will you beg for me?”

She stared at him, her eyes wide and pupils fully dilated with lust. He stared back smirking, tickling her sensitive clit with the tip of his talented tongue. He ceased. “You know what I want to hear. You know you want my cock, sweet. Just ask for what you want. Come on, beg. Look at me and beg.”

Swirl. Lick. Swirl. Lick. Swirl. Lick.

Her body was beginning to shake. She needed to come. Her breath hitched. “Please, Draco . . . oh . . . I-I need your . . . c-c-cock . . . please, Draco, please.”

Settling her legs back on the bed, he crawled up her body. Once again, his hands held her wrists. “Again. Say it, again. Louder.”

Swallowing thickly, her voice sounded sultry and hoarse to her own ears. “P-please, Draco. Merlin, just fuck me! Please, please, please . . . I need your cock . . . please . . . I’m . . . ooooh, yessss . . .”

Without a word, Draco thrust into her. She was wet, warm and tight. Perfect! “Is this what you want? Ahhh . . . you feel so good . . .”

Hermione couldn’t, didn’t want to, speak. She just wanted to feel. And feel she did. She felt Draco’s thick cock piston in and out of her at a steady pace. She worked to match his rhythm. He would swivel his hips every few thrusts or switch his angle to try and angle in deeper. When he finally let go of her wrists, it was to grab her legs and pull them up by the ankles. Merlin, that was amazing.

When he paused again, he sat back and drew her body up so she was sitting on his cock. She nearly cried when he slipped out of her but quickly positioned herself to have him drive back deep within her. Wrapping her arms around his neck, he gripped her hips and began fucking her in earnest.

In and out. Up and down.

He would kiss her shoulder, nip at her neck when she threw her head back and he’d whisper hot, dirty words in her ear. “Oh, yeah . . . your pussy feels good . . . you love how I fuck you, don’t you, sweet?” He swatted her bottom in a loud, resounding slap. “Answer me!”

Hermione continued to meet him thrust for thrust, grinding into him lost in lust. “Mmm . . . gods, yes . . .”

“Mine, witch. Say you’re mine.”

“Yours . . . yes, yes . . . going to come . . .”

He grunted as they both sped up their efforts, droplets of sweat now trickling down both their bodies. Draco bent his head and captured one nipple in his mouth sucking and biting hard when she finally came. Her orgasm washed over her in a roaring, crashing wave. Small bright, white spots danced behind her eyelids. At that moment, Draco groaned and she felt his hot essence release deep inside her.

Panting, he held her tightly as his hand caressed her back, one hand winding itself around her nape and drawing her face to him. He kissed her tenderly, his tongue and lips tasting her as he sighed quietly. Reluctantly, he let her go and gazed into her warm, brown eyes. “Amazing. I knew you would be amazing.” He tightened his hold when she tried to pull away. “No. Stay like this.”

Hermione smiled when he pushed errant curls from her face. “We have to move sometime.”

He shook his head. “No, we can stay right here, just like this, forever.”

“What about food?”

“I can just eat you.” He smirked devilishly.

Blushing deeply, she pushed the fringe from his face. “You’re barking, Draco.”

“I know. For you. Silly witch. How much longer were you going to make me wait?”

“I didn’t know I was making you wait.”

“Granger, what the hell did you think when I showed up here every week and crawled into your bed naked?”

Biting her lip nervously, she remained silent for a moment. “I-I really wasn’t’ sure. I tried to bring it up whenever I saw you but you avoided the topic. I didn’t know what to think. Why didn’t you just ask me to dinner? You know a date? Something normal.”

He snorted. “Since when have I ever done anything so conventional? I’ve wanted you for some time and just didn’t know how to get you to notice me so I came up with this plan after the Summer Gala. It might have been a bit eccentric, I admit, but it worked. Didn’t it?” He kissed her shoulder. “Didn’t it?”

Her eyes widened feeling him harden inside her. “Oh, yes . . . it worked.”

Flipping them over, he growled. “Don’t plan on leaving this flat this weekend, sweet.”

She squealed as he playfully grazed a rosy nipple with his teeth. Both were ready for another bout.

Crookshanks purred and watched from a corner.

********************************
Draco entered the Muggle pub, Prospect of Whitby, overlooking The Thames and headed straight to his regular table by the open hearth fire. He nodded a salutation to the bartender as he passed, then grinned at the dark-haired man sitting and waiting; five pints of ale in front of him.

“Only one tonight, Potter.”

“Going light now, Malfoy?” Harry chuckled.

Draco shrugged taking a sip of his ale. “I’ve good reason to stay sober these days.”

Indeed, it had been nearly a year to the day since the Ministry Holiday Ball. Hermione was his, he was happy and content.

“Well, what did she say?”

“She said yes, of course.” Draco sat back smugly.

“Oi. Started without us?”

Both men turned to see Ron Weasley, Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott arrive. Chairs scraped against the worn wood floor as the men slapped each other in salutation and grabbed a pint.

“She said yes,” Harry said wryly.

“To Draco and Hermione,” Theo offered. “Congratulations, mate. I assume we’re all groomsmen?”

Draco sneered jokingly, “Like I’d want the lot of you standing up for me at my wedding.” Turning to Ron, Draco frowned. “What’s wrong, Weasley? You look like the time you wore those awful robes to the Yule Ball.”

The men sniggered.

“Stuff it, Malfoy. Nothing’s wrong.”

Blaise laughed. “He’s upset.”

“Shut up, Zabini, or . . .”

Harry piped in, “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Lavender Brown,” Theo added grinning. “Apparently, our mate still has a bit of a crush on her and she won’t give him the time of day.”

Harry nearly sputtered his beer. “Lav-Lav? Seriously, Ron?”

Ron glared at his best friend.

“Leave him alone.” Draco clapped Ron on the back. “Well, I don’t know about anyone else but I, for one, think Ron’s current situation may call for another ‘Plan’.” Turning away from the table, he raised his hand beckoning the barkeep’s attention. “Bailey, five more please.” He paused and smirked, looking at Ron. “Keep the tab open, we’re going to be here a while.”

All five men laughed and raised their glasses in salute.

- fin -

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