45

Chapter 45

Sunday 16 March 2003: PM

Hermione mentally runs through her 'Things to Do Before Draco Comes Home List' one more time:

Still-groggy house elf warned to make himself scarce once the Floo signals Draco's return? Check.

New sheets on the bed? Check.

Energy bar and water consumed? Check.

Unwanted body hair depilated? Check.

Hair shampooed and conditioned? Check.

Copious quantities of detangling oil sleeked through blow-dried hair? Check.

Skin exfoliated to within an inch of its life and fragrant moisturizing cream applied? Check.

Favourite tea rose perfume spritzed on pulse points? Check.

Teeth brushed and flossed, and strawberry lip gloss slicked onto mouth? Check.

Sexy lingerie chosen and donned? Check.

Otter kimono strategically hiding said sexy lingerie until it's ready to be unwrapped? Check.

Pretty high heels strapped on pedicured feet? Attempted and abandoned due to inability to walk more than three steps without twisting ankle. Crossed out.

Contraceptive spell cast? Check…

"What am I missing? I know there was something else…" Hermione grumbles out loud, pacing around the bedroom in a bootless attempt to burn off some of her nervous energy. Her anticipation of the night ahead is reaching epic proportions… and daylight is still burning.

Take some deep breaths. Count to one hundred in French. No, don't think about French, that will get you het up again. Count to one hundred in Spanish. Scratch that, you only know the numbers from one to twenty... Wait, what have I forgotten, again?

"Hungry Hairy Hippogriffs – get a grip on yourself, woman!" Hermione sits down on the big bed, jumps up, fluffs the pillows, sits down again and wonders if she looks as berserk as she feels. She cocks her head as a familiar hum sounds downstairs, followed by a startled (human) male expostulation.

Yes! He's early! Hermione gallops to the landing and is doubly glad she decided against the lovely but impractical high-heeled mules when she misses a step or three in her hasty descent of the staircase. Her bare feet somehow find purchase and she nearly collides with Draco as she rushes into the lounge room; he wastes no time in effortlessly lifting her into his arms, firmly wrangling her bare legs around his waist as he laughs at her joyous shrieks and giggles.

"Granger– I did not realize your defensive training had extended to full-body tackles! Do not hurt yourself, darling. Ma petite lionne, assez belle, précieuse, et douce. Merlin, how I have missed you!". Draco punctuates each phrase with a hungry kiss to her jaw, neck, ears, cheeks, and finally her willing lips.

Hermione whimpers into his pliant mouth, grateful for Draco's big strong hands cupping and supporting her buttocks as tingles of almost unbearably intense sensation ricochet throughout her nervous system. How can every kiss somehow feel deeper, fiercer, more vivid and acute, than the ones that preceded it? I never want to let this man go!

Splaying his fingers, Draco begins to rhythmically squeeze her bum; she instantly responds by eagerly grinding her pelvis against his grey wool trousers. The split-open dark fuchsia otter kimono does little to disguise their frantic movements as her handsome blond boyfriend yanks her body even closer.

Such is their passionate embrace, Hermione entirely forgets their elfish audience until Mac shrills, "May Macdolas be excused? Master Malfoy tells Macdolas 'no handsies below waisties' but Master blatantly disregards his own advice!". The mannikin's petulant aggravation at the double standard rings clearly.

Stifling a chuckle at Mac's interruption, Hermione hides her head against Draco's neck; her boyfriend breaks their lip-lock to reprove his major-domo.

"Macdolas, you're bloody lucky I am feeling so euphoric right now – your hideous outfit alone is a sackable offence," Draco chides. "Begone with you – I promised Ruibby I'd send you back to the Manor, as she has planned out a big date for your evening. And take off those preposterous spectacles, I know for a fact your vision is twenty-twenty. Harry-sodding-Potter, indeed." He shakes his platinum head in disgust.

Clapping his hands together upon hearing the news of his scheduled rendezvous with Ruibby, Macdolas responds to Draco's command by deliberately pushing the controversial round-lensed glasses farther up his sharp nose with an elongated middle finger.

"Don't be too hard on him – we ran into Ron and Ginny when we sat down to lunch at The Three Broomsticks, and Mac took an instant dislike to Ron," Hermione confesses. "Mac told Ron he rated third in the Golden Trio rankings, and even compared him to pig meat. He made his loyalty to you obvious to the point of blatant rudeness… and he was dreadfully hopped up on a sugar overload – we stopped at Honeydukes along the way."

She worries at her sensitive lower lip as Draco's eyes briefly narrow and darken, relieved when he merely curls his upper lip and announces, "Macdolas – you're getting a bonus. Provided you don't spend it on lollies, you gluttonous little guts-ache. Go on, you don't want to keep your sweetheart waiting," he urges.

"And Mother is going to be keeping an eye on you two from a distance – Ruibby's set up your supper picnic in the conservatory, apparently – so keep your… physical interactions 'light', shall we say. Tomorrow you and I have matters to discuss, little mate," Draco sternly informs.

Gulping a little, Macdolas nods his acquiescence. "May Master Malfoy and Her Grace Lady Granger have a blessed, fecund evening," he imparts, before he Apparates with a snap of his nimble fingers.

Hermione laughs heartily at the affronted look on Draco's face as he registers Mac's sassy riposte.

"Dragon's balls – that ruddy imp is becoming more overtly brassy by the day," Draco breathes. "The bare-faced cheek of the wretch!".

Touching her trembling right hand to Draco's jaw, Hermione delights in the feel of his clean-shaven skin against her palm. "Forget about Mac… we've better things with which to occupy our time, Malfoy."

She slowly drags her hand from his ear to his mouth, softly tracing the shape of the aperture with her fingertips, using her middle finger to slightly part his beautiful lips. Draco shudders at her dainty touches, his graphite eyes aflame and tracking her every move.

"Draco – take me to bed, mon coeur. S'il te plait - j'ai tellement besoin de toi." Hermione repeats her request in English. "I need you so much… please."

"Fucking hell, I may not make it up the stairs if you continue to say things like that," Draco mutters. "Hold onto me tightly and close your eyes."

Obeying immediately, Hermione comprehends Draco's intent only after he has Apparated them straight up to their bedroom. She shucks off any residual dizziness as soon as Draco throws her down onto the wide bed. Bouncing a little, Hermione puffs out a snicker and tries to sit up; Draco wags his finger as he gently returns her to horizontal, his warm hand on her belly making her loins clench as he holds her in place from his bent-over posture at the foot of the bed.

"Lie quietly for a moment, ma petite minette sexy," he swiftly unties the silk sash at her waist, carefully spreading the sides of her exquisite robe without touching her heated flesh. His harsh inhalation at the sight of her jet-black lacy bra and knickers makes her inner vixen sing a song of smug gratification.

I'm glad Pansy and Luna made me buy these, too… even though they yet seem devilishly meagre in terms of actual coverage. Judging by the way Draco's eyes are flashing silver, he has no complaints in that department.

"Tu me rends tellement dur… Je veux t'attacher et te faire hurler pour moi," he growls, his hands twitching in tiny quick jerks before he fists them back at his sides.

Hermione ignores Draco's earlier directive not to move, propping herself on her elbows as she insists, "Draco Lucius Malfoy, if you don't translate your French, I will be forced to leave to grab my English/French pocket dictionary and do it myself." She squeals in a mixture of amusement and excitement as his left hand circles around her right ankle to jerk her closer.

"You're not going anywhere, Hermione Jean Granger. You want me to translate? Not a problem." Keeping his long pale fingers chained around her ankle, he bends her knee upward and outward, the better to expose her scantily-covered sex to his hot gaze.

"I said: you make me so hard… I want to tie you up and make you scream for me. I see the idea excites you, ma petite. You are in danger of wriggling yourself off the bed." Draco slides his hand from her foot, up her calf, his touch feather light as he continues along her sensitive inner thigh, all the way to her mons. He rubs large circles around her quivering flesh, teasing her by not stroking where she most desires his touch.

"Malfoy – are you going to just rile me up with your petting, or do you intend to put your money where your mouth is?" Hermione grumbles, raising her hips to chase his fluttering fingers before he suddenly cups her firmly.

"Patience. Have you worn this lingerie for any other man?" Draco's eyes contain a feral, possessive gleam, and his voice is little more than a rasp. His thumb unerring presses down onto her aching clit as Hermione releases a helpless moan of pleasure. "Answer me."

"No – no – only for you," she cries, as he hovers above her. "I bought this when I went shopping with Luna at Pansy's boutique." He's jealous – maybe I shouldn't have told him about running into Ron – but I don't want him to think I still have feelings for my ex-boyfriend…

"Good. I won't have to rip them off you… though tearing off your knickers is something I shall keep in mind for later, my sexy little witch. Tu es la mienne, Hermione. You are mine now, do you understand?" he husks.

"Tu es le mien maintenant aussi, Draco," Hermione growls the reciprocal claim. "Do you understand?".

"Always – and I am going to put my mouth where my greatest treasure is– " his cryptic warning is swiftly followed by Draco yanking her to the very edge of the bed, lewdly spreading her legs, and kneeling in front of her. He hooks her legs over his shoulders, applying his mouth to her lace-covered mound and expertly mouthing at her pudenda through the flimsy fabric.

Scrabbling at the white bedding beneath her with both hands, Hermione struggles to process the overload of heady sensation. The girls were right… this expensive, skimpy set's value is inversely proportional with regard to the scant quantity of material and the superb quality of its effect. Draco kisses her again and she loses the ability to think in anything other than delirious snippets of primal language.

Want – need – touch me – "More, more!" Hermione pleads, thrusting as best she can as Draco holds her legs apart with his spread fingers on the inside of her upper thighs. He responds by scraping his teeth over her wet panties, slipping his thumbs beneath the elasticized sides to pull apart her nether lips and open her inner folds beneath the lace. Her damp penny-brown curls are already glossy with arousal.

"Unghh…" Gesturing helplessly, Hermione barely recognizes the moans and mewls coming from her own mouth as Draco finally moves the tiny scrap of gusset to one side and slicks his tongue flat against her clitoris, testing her wetness and readiness with the middle and fore-fingers of his left hand before slipping them slowly inside her warm channel. He swipes her swollen pink core again and again, his fingers sliding in and out in perfect time with his tongue's laves.

Draco pauses, briefly raising his head as she chirps in protest. "Quand je finis avec toi, tu ne pourras pas former les phrases… Which is to say… when I am finished with you – you won't be able to form sentences."

"Already… there… More… harder…" Hermione pants, snagging a hank of Draco's silken white-blond locks in her grasping fingers; she shamelessly tugs his head back down to the juncture of her thighs. His low, delighted chuckle reverberates against her tingling skin as he applies himself diligently to his allotted task. He slides in a third finger, murmuring a soft question of acceptance as she fervently nods and babbles her consent.

Draco's even white teeth find her pearled bud and bite it delicately. He releases her nubbin only to swirl his tongue around it, and suckles strongly. Hermione digs her bare heels into his back and squeezes her legs around his head as she feels her climax roaring closer.

"Draco – don't stop – I'm close – please–" she sobs the last, feeling the first wave of euphoria crashing down upon her shuddering body. He complies without question, tunnelling his fingers in urgent thrusts and mouthing at her clit and mons with deep, open-mouthed sucks. Hermione repeatedly cries his name as her orgasm rocks her ever higher; her eyes close of their own accord as tiny zinging dots illuminate the darkness behind her eyelids.

Draco gentles the motion of his mouth and hand as Hermione slowly tumbles down from her full-body high. He bestows one last tender kiss on her soft crease and unwraps her tangled legs from his neck and shoulders.

Oh, my glorious, gilded gooseberries… Hermione is vaguely aware she is thinking utter nonsense, but her neural pathways are frizzing and whizzing around like Catherine Wheels at a fireworks display. Well, Draco did warn me to be ready... I was not expecting that. Remind me again why the hell we deprived each other of this ecstasy for the last two days?!

"Granger? Are you still alive?" Draco's smoky voice is accompanied by the sounds of divestment as he quickly disrobes, hurling his black long-sleeved shirt, dark grey trousers and loose cotton boxers in the direction of the armchair behind him; his shoes and socks and belt end up somewhere nearer the bathroom door.

Hermione turns languidly on her side as Draco lies down beside her, her cocoa eyes drawn to his rampant erection. Draco takes himself in hand, unashamedly rubbing his left palm over his reddened, bulbous tip as he watches her with hooded charcoal eyes.

Draco uses his free hand to pop her high, round breasts free of the transparent black triangles with their decorative lower frills and beribboned lacings. He licks the tips of his thumb and index finger before he rubs it over her burgeoning nipples, tugging them into tighter dark pink buttons.

He croons, "Hermione, tu es tellement belle quand tu jouis pour moi… you look so beautiful when you come for me, ma petite. Me laisseras-tu jouir sur tes beaux seins, chérie? Will you let me come on your beautiful breasts, sweetheart?".

Hermione whips her head back and forth in negation, hurrying to assure him as his face falls, "No – because I want to feel you coming inside me, Draco. I want to feel your big hard cock shuttling in and out of my pussy – like your fingers, but completely stretching me, filling me– I don't want you to hold back."

She adds her smaller hand to his, thrilling at how his heavy phallus bobs eagerly at her slightest touch. Emboldened, she knocks Draco's hand aside and concentrates on slicking her fingers and palm with his pre-ejaculate before gripping and rolling her hand up, down, and around his engorged length.

It is Draco's turn to groan and clutch at the rumpled ivory coverlet as Hermione exults in the effect her manual stimulation is having upon her characteristically cool, calm, and collected lover. He is panting raggedly, his hair is a damp, wild shock (admittedly, most of his disordered coiffure is the result of her grabbing limbs), and he is spasmodically rutting into her hand with every firm stroke and drag.

"Tell me when you're ready," Hermione prompts, staggered at how swiftly her libido has reignited since her splendid apogee minutes earlier. She pinches together her thighs, seeking to mitigate the renewed thumping pulse at her centre.

Draco takes away her hand, lacing it with his as he rolls to his knees and helps strip off her elegant pink kimono, his mouth scrupulously plying kisses to each inch of revealed skin as he frees her arms from the belled sleeves. Hermione folds her wobbly legs beneath her to assist in tugging the fine silk dressing gown loose and letting it slither to the floor. Wedging his fingers beneath the intricately patterned filigree lace at her sides, Draco snaps her fancy knickers down her legs and sends them flying; his eyes widen at the sight of her wet pussy, now laid bare.

Facing each other, Draco sits back on his heels, encouraging Hermione to straddle his lap by beckoning her closer and smiling his wickedly irresistible slow smile.

"Come here - je me suis langui pour toi quand j'étais absent... Hermione, I ached for you while I was gone. Let me kiss you, ma petite. Please," he entreats, as she enthusiastically crawls closer and positions her legs outside his narrow hips and sinewy thighs. His tumescent cock grinds against her naked sex, making her keen.

She avidly complies with his request, sealing her mouth to his in a long, liquid kiss as Draco enfolds his arms around her back, chafing his hard, budded nipples against her afferent breasts. He rocks her slowly up and down, hissing as his big dick undulates through her damp folds.

"Draco, please – please – I need to feel you inside me," Hermione implores, shifting impatiently as every controlled stroke nudges his bellend tantalizingly nearer to her tight passage, before gliding upward again and smoothing along her clitoris.

"Like this?" Draco tows her pelvis another half-inch closer, until his rigid staff breaches her opening; he waits for her jerky nod before he seats himself inside her in one rough thrust. Hermione moans at the rapturous sensation, her inner walls fluttering and constricting as he adjusts her on his lap, before beginning to move in a powerful rhythm. She matches him stroke for stroke, bearing down as their flesh loudly slaps together.

"J'adore la manière dont tu te tortilles sur ma bite," Draco rumbles. "I love the way you squirm on my cock, Hermione. Tell me – tell me what you want, what you need, I will give it to you, I will give you everything I have–"

"You – I only need you, Draco – oh, god, please, please don't stop, keep fucking me, harder..." she gasps, adding a little twist to the end of her bump and grind that makes him grunt and swear

"Ta chatte me rend fou – your pussy drives me crazy! Fuck me, Hermione – don't fucking stop, my perfect, beautiful, sexy woman– feel what you do to me–" he surges ever more powerfully, snapping his hips on each upstroke as she energetically wails in uninhibited delight.

Their smooth rhythm has devolved into a feral, primal rut. Hermione hangs on for dear life as Draco jostles her up and down his tumid girth with increasing ferocity. Her eyes are locked with his, their pupils blown and their breathing harsh and shallow. They swap biting, messy kisses as they climb to pinnacle together.

"Draco, I've never – it's never – only you, only you make me feel like this – I want you so much, mm–my Draco," Hermione chokes out semi-incoherently, feeling overwhelmed with the forcefulness of the overflowing sensations and the sheer depth of emotion she is experiencing. Tears bead at the corners of her eyes, silently slipping down her cheeks as she senses her second mind-blowing culmination is imminent.

"My Hermione - don't cry, ma petite, ma chérie, mon cœur et mon âme - I have you, sweetheart, I have you–" Draco stutters. "I have you."

Bracing his forearm around her waist, Draco shimmies his left hand betwixt their bodies and strums her clit with fast, hard flicks; it is the final stimulus she needs to topple into bliss. She convulses around him as Draco screams her name, shaking as he tightens his grip on her midriff. The semi-darkness of the room lights up with now-familiar firefly sparks as their magical cores meld, twining together like vines searching for the sunlight.

She cannot help but cry in earnest at the extraordinary wonder of the experience, snuffling into Draco's neck as he pets her back and rains kisses against her long, loose curls. He hums comfortingly as she uses their telepathic link to explain.

I'm crying because I'm so happy.

I know. So am I.

"You are?" Hermione lifts her head, surprised to see that Draco is indeed leaking a little salty water; he makes no attempt to wipe away his tears as he smiles radiantly. Damn – I am so soft for this stunning wizard.

"Of course. How could I not? I am back in the arms of my gorgeous – mwah – smart – mmm – hot-as-sin – mmmphff– beautiful girlfriend," Draco pecks a kiss to her plump mouth between each adjective.

He winks as he slowly pushes his still-hard cock a little deeper. "Not to mention – I am buried deep in your glorious pussy, ma petite."

Hermione groans at the delicious after-shock he sets off, before lightly smacking his muscled shoulder. "You've such a dirty mouth, Malfoy!".

"I did not hear you complaining when I applied it to your sopping wet pussy, Granger." He curtails her protesting reply by toppling them back onto the bed, laughing as her nose abuts his ear.

"It's just as well you're so sexy," Hermione mock-grouches as they clumsily worm their way up to the pillows; they finally uncouple as Draco clamps his arms around her spent form, tucking her hair away from her face and behind her right ear.

"It is, isn't it?" he facetiously agrees, chuckling as she tickles beneath his armpits as punishment. He squashes her against his chest to curb her titillation.

Hermione sighs contentedly, feeling like a purring cat as she rubs her dewy face against Draco's hard, fit body. She raises her head and tremulously divulges, "Draco… I missed you like crazy. No, please, hear me out," she demurs, as Draco tries to capture her lips in another passionate kiss.

"I don't want you to feel any pressure about the amount of time we spend together: you have work and family commitments, as do I – and I truly believe this little break has helped us both – but what I'm trying to say is, I am incredibly happy that you have chosen to share your life (and your home!) with me, and I want you to know that I will never take that for granted – I will never take you for granted," she concludes in a blathering rush, flopping her disordered tawny curls frontward in an attempt to hide her now-flaming face.

Draco brushes aside her thick tresses, huskily correcting, "Our home. It's our home now, Hermione." He nods at her shy blush. "Look at me, ma petite." He tips up her chin to gaze into her abashed chocolate eyes.

He swallows hard before he elucidates, "Wherever you are… that's my home. Fuck, could I sound any cornier?" he mutters in disgust as Hermione's sob segues into a snicker. Draco skims his artist's fingers over her cheek as he gathers his thoughts and clears his throat.

"It sounds appallingly trite – but it's the truth. Before… before you miraculously came back to me… Je vivais une demi-vie – I was living a half-life," he translates.

"I did understand that – Mac and I have been diligently practising," Hermione smiles.

"Of course you have, my brilliant scholar," Draco indulgently kisses the tip of her nose as she wrinkles it. "I am not yet certain whether teaching Macdolas French is going to be a blessing or a curse – but you are both unstoppably determined, it would seem. Now, where was I? Comparing my sad self to Sleeping Beauty, I believe." He shrugs self-deprecatingly, his wry smile not reaching his pewter eyes.

"I fashioned a workable existence for myself out of the ruins of my old life – and it wasn't… unhappy," he muses. "But compared to what I am sharing with you now… it was like a rough charcoal sketch. All outline and no texture… no colour or depth. I was terrified of falling back into my old habits – I believed I would have greater success in managing my addiction and underlying mental disorders if I jettisoned everything that came before and started from scratch.'

"From the moment I brought you inside, that awful night – everything shifted. No, bloomed. It's not at all romantic to compare you to garden fertilizer, but you were the catalyst for my life to blossom again," Draco pronounces.

"Well, I've heard worse," Hermione admits, thinking of teenage Ron's atrocious attempt to write a haiku in her honour.

"I've rambled long enough. The past forty-eight hours were cruel without you, Hermione… but you were right, I needed the time apart to realize that what we have built together is special, and worthy, and real – and worth fighting for. For as long as you want me, ma petite – I am yours," Draco solemnly avows, cupping both her cheeks before kissing her reverentially.

Thank heavens I didn't choose to wear eye makeup – I would be hopelessly raccoon-eyed by now, given how expertly Draco is plucking my heartstrings, Hermione reflects.

She scrubs at her moist eyes and inhales deeply before she can reply, "I'm – I'm yours too, Draco. For as long as you want me."

His immediate "Forever" is half-smothered beneath her impassioned smooch. Hermione presses every last drop of profound emotion into her kiss, hoping to show Draco what she has not yet mustered the courage to say. He claims her mouth with corresponding ardour, gently combing his fingers through her tangled ringlets.

Hermione breaks the kiss when she suddenly remembers something she has wanted to ask regarding Draco's last letter.

"Malfoy? What did you and Lucy discuss, about our magic melding?". She folds her hands atop his sternum to rest her chin upon them, peering into his expressive orbs.

Draco appears edgy as he slowly answers, "Lucius advised that he had heard of it happening naturally before – though as I wrote in my letter, it is rare, and mostly undocumented. Well, as far as his understanding of the phenomenon is concerned… it is a soul bond, Hermione. Our magic considers us to be soul-bonded."

His expression is notably apprehensive as he adds, "For – for life."

"For life?" Hermione echoes, surprise colouring her voice. "Are you sure?"

Nodding, Draco states, "Unless we perform a dangerously perverse Dark spell to sever the union, or until one of us dies." His eyes slam closed. "I'm sorry, Granger – I never meant to… to trap you like this – you should always be free to be able to choose your fate. Perhaps there is another way to dissolve it–"

"Wait – you want to dissolve it?" she parrots, striving to keep the hurt from her tone. "Do you feel trapped?".

"No! I feel like the luckiest man alive, ma petite! But–"

Hermione covers his objecting mouth with her hand. "Then stop talking nonsense about severing our bond, you darling nincompoop! I certainly do not feel trapped – I feel honoured, and excited, and pretty damned special." She scrambles to sit upright, blithely ignoring Draco's oof as she accidentally kneels on his elbow.

"What else did your father tell you? What does it mean, exactly? Will we be able to merge our cores at will? Will our ability to communicate psychically develop further? Are there sex rituals that will enhance the whole shebang?" she animatedly questions.

Clucking his tongue, Draco steadies her hips as she almost topples; her exaggerated hand gestures are making her a tad unbalanced.

"Easy there, Granger – and I love how you have homed in on 'sex rituals'," he chuckles tolerantly. He raises an eyebrow as she springs off his body and begins groping around for her cast-off lacy knickers.

"Where are you running away to, hmmm?"

"If we're going to discuss soul bonds and ancient magic – and roger each other senseless again! – we're going to need sustenance, Malfoy. I always scheduled regular refuelling breaks during my study sessions," Hermione impatiently announces. "Mac prepared a marvellous spread for us: crudités, dips, cheeses, fruits – he even carved the strawberries into the shape of roses – did you know he could do that?". She shakes her head in wonderment. "Where on earth did you toss my underwear?".

"Leave it – I will go downstairs and bring up the platter, and some drinks. You won't be needing any of the lingerie – lose the bra before I return," Draco commands, standing up buck-naked to authoritatively fling her back onto their bed.

"Not a word!" He affectionately spanks her bum as she tries to rise. "I'll be but a minute."

Pretending to be affronted by his highhandedness, Hermione adopts an exaggerated pout as Draco strides unselfconsciously for the door, his sculpted buttocks effortlessly drawing her admiring eye.

"Fine – but you'll pay dearly for that smack, Malfoy!" she hollers as he disappears around the corner. She waits until she hears his footsteps padding down the stairs before flopping back onto the pillows and cycling her legs in pure, giddy felicity.

We're soul-bonded. For life. Me and Draco Malfoy. Hermione stuffs her face into the nearest pillow to mute her irrepressible scream of delight. Could this day get any better?

Once she feels sufficiently composed, Hermione twists off her bra and heedlessly tosses it off the end of the bed. She considers and rejects half a dozen seductive poses before plumping and stacking two pillows to lie back against, sweeping her hair behind one shoulder and bringing her knees together and curled to the side. Perfect.

Her heart begins thumping as she hears Draco's rapid tread ascending the steps. He marches through the door, nimbly balancing Mac's beautifully arranged platter on his left hand, while his other holds… a letter?

Forgetting her carefully crafted 'sexy' pose, Hermione bolts upright as she finally remembers what had been niggling at her earlier…

Draco's face is a mask of impassive aloofness as he holds Ron's battered note; it is pincered between his right thumb and forefinger as though it is afire.

"This… thing was sitting atop the kitchen table; I assume Macdolas found it in your dirty laundry. I have not invaded your privacy, but the execrable penmanship leads me to believe it was written by your former swain." Draco utters the words wholly devoid of inflection, but his ramrod-stiff spine and set jaw betray his inner turmoil.

"May I enquire why he is writing to you again, Granger?". He extends the letter to her; Hermione numbly accepts it, her mind racing.

Piminy, zookers, fishhooks and fiddlesticks! The old-time exclamations jump into her head as she curses her idiocy in not recalling the bloody note before it reared its ugly head in such an awkward fashion.

And I haven't even read the wretched thing!

"Draco – I can explain…"

French translations:

Ma petite lionne, assez belle, précieuse, et douce – My little lioness, so beautiful, precious, and sweet.

S'il vous plaît - j'ai tellement besoin de tu – Please, I need you so much.

ma petite minette sexy – my little sex kitten.

Tu es le mien maintenant aussi – You are mine now too.

ma petite, ma chérie, mon cœur et mon âme – my little one, my darling, my heart and my soul.