Disclaimer: All characters mentioned in the following story are owned by J.K. Rowling unless stated otherwise. Plot and events were written by me. No copyright infringement intended.

Warning: The following story contains setting and description of sexual nature. Viewer's description is strongly advised.

CHAPTER 1
Draco Malfoy

"It was inevitable. Fate doesn't care about your plans."

He took everything for granted. He didn't value the materialistic objects he had. His peers loathed him because he had no appreciation for the simpler beauties of life. He was a brat. He was a coward. He was the last choice anyone would pick to trust.

But war changes people.

And Draco Lucius Malfoy shed the skin of a petulant boy and was reborn a man. He never took anything for granted since – not his life, not his wealth, not even his friends and what little of them remained – and especially not his family's life.

After the fall of Voldemort, the entire Wizarding World of Britain took a great yearlong reprieve to rebuild itself. Little by little, the Ministry was running again, the shops were slowly re-opening; people felt it was safe to walk the streets once more. And finally, Hogwarts opened its door to all the students who wished to come back.

In the pursuit of normalcy, and at the behest of a handful of people that he still cared for, Draco relented to go back to school and finish his final year. But he was nervous, though he would never verbally admit, that after the war he has cut himself off from his schoolmates. The only people he ever lingered around were his father, Severus Snape (when he wanted to escape his father), Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe (when he wanted to escape his father and godfather), and occasionally the awkward letters exchanged with Nott junior – but beyond them he spoke to no one else.

So the fact that Draco was clenching the strap to his book bag a little too tightly to render his knuckles white, and kept his head down while he walked the halls without meeting the eyes of the students from the other houses because it set his stomach into multiple knots, was most certainly not an exaggeration. And if he had had breakfast that day then he would have welcomed it back out the same way it went in.

The Malfoy heir groaned when he revised his schedule for the first day – Transfiguration. Though he proved to be literally Outstanding in the division, he detested the subject and the teacher enlightening it. Even while he was walking toward the classroom in question, he was still mentally debating if he should skip that particular class and attend the next one.

But no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than a large pale hand clamped down on his shoulder, halting the shuffle of his polished shoes and the gears of his thoughts to a dead stop. Almost like the deflector used his talent in Legilimency to peer into the young Malfoy's mind and spot the scheme to play hooky.

"I trust that you are tackling your schedule with much enthusiasm, Mister Malfoy. After all, it is your last year within the walls of our esteemed school and should make much of your youth before thrusting yourself into the hectic world of adulthood."

Draco turned his head to regard his shrewdly clad addressor. "Yes, Headmaster." He gritted out, with much respect and bitterness he could muster.

Snape craned an astute eyebrow as though he doubted his godson's sincerity, yet was unfazed by his tone. "It would behoove you to admirably do so, Draco."

Draco awkwardly hiked the strap of his bag further over his shoulder with a grimace. "Did my father request you keep an eye on me, sir? I do not need to be chaperoned. I am of age majority, yeah?"

"I do not take pleasure in mincing my words. And should your father convey any message to you, you will be bluntly informed of such …. regards." The older wizard tiled his head. "And as your headmaster, I have sufficient pubescent delinquents on my hands than to focus much of my attention on one student." Snape sneered.

But when the dark-haired wizard noticed the flush gracing his godson's aristocratic cheekbones he softened his next words and squeezed the younger wizard's shoulder in a concealed gesture of assurance.

In a much lower tone Snape uttered to the young Malfoy. "I convey not as your headmaster, nor as Lucius' proxy, but merely as a godparent to his godson. Take gratification in these moments spent among your friends, or grow to be old and regret the opportunity."

With slumped shoulders Draco met the older wizard's obsidian gaze. "Yes, uncle." He spoke in a hushed voice to avoid drawing attention to the sentimentality being exchanged by the lease probable individuals.

"Good. Now on your way." Snape released his hold on Draco's shoulder and gave his upper back a hard tap to send him on his route to class before walking in the opposite direction in a flutter of dark robes.

It was a miracle that Draco made it to his Transfiguration class with an extra minute to spare. Mcgonagall was already at her desk, waiting for students to file into their respective seats, and shot Draco a critical stare as he took his place. He already knew what that look meant so he should probably be on his best behavior, since Mcgonagall gave detentions more freely to Slytherins than Dumbledore used to give candy to his office visitors. The aging witch preferred to rob the snakes of their free time, and give all the points to her beloved little cubs.

Draco merely returned the witch's stare before he opened his bag and took out his requirements for the lesson. His resolution for this academic year was to step on as fewer toes as he dared. He just wanted to get this over with.

Even when Potter arrived a few moments after Draco took a seat, did he only exchange a nod with the other boy out of respect of shared past experience during much harder and dire times, but that was the limit Draco was going to spare The-Boy-Who-Lived. There was no mandatory requirement to suddenly become bosom buddies. Potter himself conveyed the same body language to his peers as the young Malfoy heir did. Although in Draco's opinion, Potter's peers didn't get the memo since they still hounded him for being their precious war hero, and the young Weasley girl clung to him like a little parasite.

Draco was suddenly snapped out of his reverie when the door to the class was magically slammed shut by their professor as she rose from her chair and verbally reviewed their semester curriculum, which the white chalk behind her levitated on the black board to write in bullet-points the head topics.

The class started for the first few minutes in silence while the students took notes as Mcgonagall gave the introduction lecture.

Suddenly the door burst open and into the classroom she came. With her book bag barely being held at the edge of her shoulder and her school robes, rolled and draped over her arm haphazardly, almost certainly she was too rushed in her haste to make the class on time to even wear it.

Her hair fluttered about her shoulder in delicate locks as she halted between the aisle of desks, chest heavily panting from the obvious jog, since she barreled into the classroom like a whirlwind of skirt and hair. And it was only when she stopped did the blonde wizard scrutinize the young female carefully.

Draco had to do a double take, because at first glance he didn't recognize who she was. The scarf that loosely hung around her neck and the lining of her ridiculously short pleated skirt proved she was indeed a Gryffindor, but no member he was previously acquainted with. Nothing about her was recognizable. And he would have definitely taken notice of this witch as she had a pair of shapely legs better than he had seen any girl close to his age possess.

Draco Malfoy was so close to labeling this witch as "unidentified", until Professor McGonagall had to reprimands said witch for her tardiness did Draco's visage morph into thunder-stricken shock and a little bitter awe.

"Miss Granger, it's a little early in the year to start arriving late to your very first class!" Minerva exasperated as she tapped her wand on her free hand, surprising Draco to the fact that the Head of Gryffindor was chastising one her golden pupils.

"I'm sorry, Professor! The shifting staircases delayed me; I couldn't jump them in time. I had to take a detour. It will not happen again!" Hermione replied tripping over her words, still trying to catch her breath from her scurry.

"I would most certainly hope not. As Head Girl you should be setting a good example for the younglings in your house!" McGonagall huffed.

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Well, take a seat, dear!" the professor chided. Precious seconds of her lesson already wasted.

Finally remembering where she was, Hermione dropped on the only spot available next to Harry, who bumped shoulders with her and made the girl instinctively smile at him.

McGonagall resumed her lecture as she discussed their preparations for N.E.W.T.s , but Draco Malfoy couldn't focus on the professor even if his life depended on it.

"Fucking hell! I don't remember her being like … that!" Greg whispered harshly next to Draco.

But Draco found himself tongue-tied, only able to nod his head once; with fists clenched so tight he snapped his ivory peacock feathered quill. He internally groaned as he recalled leaving his spare quills in his dorm room.

Goyle had a point, she couldn't be the same Mud … the same Muggle-born witch they knew for many years. The first thing he always spotted with the witch was her crazy wild poof of brown curls. It was easy to single out from far away and among crowds, like it was easy to spot Draco's shimmering platinum blonde head of hair as a shining beacon from yards away. But no. Now .. Now it was entirely different, yet somewhat the same. The hair was thick as usual but the mess of curls has been managed and tamed into undivided waves of brown locks.

Even the color wasn't that awful unappealing shade of dirt. It was darker, richer, an intensely deep mahogany, that somehow mysteriously glittered gold whenever it caught the light in just the right way. And she grew her hair out; it no longer covered the tops of her shoulders. Now it cascaded elegantly all the way down to her lower back in a chocolate waterfall.

When Draco's grey eyes trailed to the ends of the witch's hair, he had to swallow down the heavy lump forming in his throat, when his eyes met a flair of wide hips. It could have been the pleated school skirt that may have exaggerated the flamboyance of her lower physique. But the outrageously short hem of the skirt that ended mid-thigh displayed a pair of thighs and legs that were too sculpted for a girl her age among a sea of stick-figured and slender shaped girls.

In a secluded part of his mind, Draco wondered if her school attire was even within the bounds of proper academic wear. It looked sinful enough, and had the added effect of causing the Malfoy heir's palms to turn clammy, and his limbs to twitch in a way most unbecoming of his pureblooded prestige.

And what irritated the boy further was the verity that she let her conservative robe lay beside her on the seat without bothering to wear it like the rest of her peers. He discreetly looked around the class, no one seemed to notice or care – aside from his group of green and silver peers – nor she bothered to mind as she focused her attention on their professor and wrote down her notes furiously.

That swift motion of her hand instantly snapped the blonde wizard out of his own mental bewilderment, and tried with all his might to keep his attention at the head of the class. A feat which proved to be most challenging in the face of such blatantly display of provocation. Because every few seconds his eyes lazily lingered on the witch sitting in the row adjacent to him before he realized that he missed an entire section of notes that he was struggling to write with a presently split feather. But Draco was grateful that at least one of his friends was bright enough to be an inconspicuous swot. Draco looked over his shoulder at the boy in question and mentally decided to borrow Theo Nott's diary.

So instead of trying to salvage his ruined feather, and looking like a complete idiot while doing it, Draco leaned back in his seat and leisurely divided his attention between the professor and a certain witch he deemed curiously and frustratingly interesting enough to observe with maddening perplexity.

"My curiosity was hungry. I fed it, but it kept coming back."

Their first class couldn't have ended any sooner. And Draco packed his belongings into the bag so rapidly and stomped out of the classroom so swiftly that he was the first person to leave the room even while McGonagall was blathering about something his mind couldn't even begin to care about.

That was the longest hour of his life. The moment he stepped into the corridors, he felt he could breathe so much better the farther the distance he put between him and that room with her inside. After a few moments Greg and Vincent caught up with, and flanked Draco's sides, and the three Slytherins made their way to his next class. Potions.

The Malfoy heir stepped into the laboratory located in the dungeons, while Greg and Vincent went to their Slytherin Common Room. Since they didn't achieve scores high enough to get them into advanced Potions, they were to meet up with the blonde wizard after his lesson.

Even without his cronies, Draco Malfoy should have felt right in his element in this class. Receiving no less than high praise at excelling in the art of brewing magical concoctions with the precision of a seasoned alchemist.

Potions used to be his favorite subject when Snape was teaching. But since he became Headmaster, there had to be a replacement assigned as Head of Slytherin House and their new Potions Master. Other than Snape, no other viable candidate could be nominated, until they decided to pull their last and final resort out of retirement.

"Oh dear boy! Come in – Don't dally by the door!" Slughorn chirped like an overjoyed grandmother.

Draco narrowed his eyes. He half expected to find their Professor completely boozed and dozing off at the desk. If he had anything to go by from their experience with him during their Sixth, and most disastrous, year – the man drank bourbon like it was water!

Draco took the usual seat he occupied for many years during his time in the Potions lab. And watched uninterestingly as student-by-student slowly filled the classroom. His attention gradually started to faze as his eyes lingered on a jar of fermented mantis legs resting at the end of his workstation.

"Mister Malfoy," Draco contained the urge to flinch when he realized that Slughorn was standing beside him, attempting to chat him up. "How are you, my boy?"

"Fine, sir. Thanks." Draco clipped. He wasn't in a chatting mood. He never was in a chatting mood.

"How is your father doing? I wished to express my sincere con .."

Draco's grey eyes hardened as he cut the older wizard off. "Professor, I don't wish to be discourteous but perhaps this isn't the proper place to discuss a very sensitive topic, yeah?"

The newly appointed Head of Slytherin looked around the lab at the students busying themselves with their stations. "Oh – well yes, right you are." He cleared his throat. "Perhaps later then, dear boy. Take care of yourself." The older wizard patted Draco on the arm and drifted to the center of the lab to start the class.

Just when Draco was about to sag in relief, he nearly chocked on his own sigh when his gaze caught a head of brunette hair on the other side of the classroom.

His stomach rolled when he observed her laughing at something Potter had said while she clamped a hand over her mouth to keep the sound of her laughter from filtering into the air, as to not disrupt Slughorn's long-winded lecture. And Circe help him – she finally donned her robe and created less of a visual distraction.

Draco directed his gaze elsewhere. He pretended to examine the knife they would be using to prepare their ingredients, with more focus than was intended, but the effort was bungled completely when his lab partner, Theodore Nott, gasped, "Merlin have mercy..." While Zabini, behind them, grunted in agreement.

In a compulsive reaction the Malfoy heir looked first towards them, then followed their gaze to where they were looking. And he regretted it instantly. They were both looking at the Gryffindor princess. Of course they were!

She and Potter were partnered together. But the war hero lingered over Granger's shoulder while she prepared the ingredients for both their brews. Draco sneered at Saint Potter's dependence on the Muggle-Born witch while she started slicing their belladonna roots.

It was then that Draco noticed that though Granger had her robe on, the front of it was completely unbuttoned! While she was slicing the roots and moving her arms back and forth, she was unconsciously pushing her breasts together. Breasts that were practically overflowing in her blouse, as the buttons of said blouse looked like they were on the verge of snapping from the seam. If the buttons could talk, they would be screaming for sympathy. Holding the martial together looked like it needed the strength of a Hercules – or, more logically, a good sticking charm, which he half expected her to have casted on her top.

The Gryffindor princess' maroon and gold tie was loosely tied around her neck, and the first three buttons on her shirt were undone. Even from this distance and angle, Draco can spot the obvious hint of cleavage. Even without the assistance of her arms, the white blouse was tight enough to create the seductive décolletage view all on its own efforts. Merlin have mercy on his soul!

Draco's mouth instantly went dry and no amount of swirling his tongue could dampen his orifice. He noticed his side of the station had gone completely silent. With a suspicious thought he looked toward his fellow Slytherins, and the few Ravenclaws that managed to get into their Advanced Potions, and his doubts were confirmed that all the male members nearly stood frozen solid like they had been petrified into place. All gazing at the same individual that captured Draco's attention, before they started whispering among themselves in voices, annoyingly, audible enough to the young Malfoy's ears.

"How are those buttons not flying across the lab?" Blaise whispered.

"That is one lucky blouse!" Nott whispered back, winking over his shoulder at his fellow Slytherin. While Blaise nodded furiously at the Nott heir.

"What. A. Tart!" Pansy Parkinson huffed. And Draco nearly forgotten her presence, but when he turned to visually acknowledge his lab partner, he took notice that her statement was less factual and more resentful. Right then Draco also acknowledged that green wasn't the only thing Slytherin about Pansy. And it was also never her most complimentary color.

Draco sneered down at his workstation – at all the imbeciles and their primal urges.

….. Or it could be the actuality that Draco's sneer more related to him considering if 'Slytherin green' was to suit another witch in question. His mind was already supplying images he didn't care for, yet couldn't push away.

Things did not take a turn for the better during their Charms class either.

If someone had held a wand to Draco's neck and threatened to end his life unless he explained what he learned during that class, then his life would be forfeited – simple as that. For the Malfoy heir could only remember the "charm" of a set of pink, pouty lips, which were pursed. And a delicate little tongue that glided across the swollen flesh to moisten it. And that was all he could recall as that was all he could focus on.

The only thing he heard was the groans of Zabini and Nott as they too were focused on the same sight he was being tormented with. As the young Gryffindor witch was concentrating on casting a difficult charm, she centered all her frustrations on abusing her lips with her tongue and teeth, until the skin plumped and swelled into an inviting shade of rosy red. Kissable and succulent.

Draco's hands shook; he couldn't even gather his thoughts to cast his charm spell properly as his wand quivered with his twitchy hands.

To make matters worse, when Flitwick passed by their side of the class to examine their progress, he was very disappointed at all the shortage of it. He deducted five points for their 'lack of concentration', but none of the Slytherin house even gave enough concern to their professor to catch his comment.

All the young Malfoy cared about was if those lips felt as soft and warm as they appeared. And cursed the high heavens that they were so near yet so far out of his reach.

The impression lasted all the way during lunch, while he was in too much of a daze to even know what he was putting in his mouth. The Slytherin table was very lively, buzzing with titillating gossip. And the only hot topic their first day offered was the only one that burned in Malfoy's mind.

His expression adopted a mock sneer, yet his liquid silver eyes sought the target in question, and it took him all of three seconds to spot her from across the great hall. Sitting between Potter and the young Weasley girl. Interestingly enough to Draco's observation, she looked very uncomfortable. A grimace twisting her face as the young ginger haired girl beside her was chatting rather animatedly. Saint Potter was using his arm to shield himself from not getting involved into the conversation.

The Granger girl was shifting her gaze between the two people she was sitting amidst, feeling out of her element, yet she was nodding dutifully to the young energetic female.

Even from this distance Draco could spot the tension in her shoulders, and the clear awkwardness of the situation. And he wanted to seriously kick himself because he shouldn't even notice such a thing, or even care.

Suddenly, the food in front of him didn't look very appetizing, and Draco picked himself up from his seat and left his housemates behind as he departed the Great Hall, even as they were inquiring after him. A shudder passed through the blonde wizard's body when Pansy shrieked very loudly at his retreating form. But Malfoy didn't even spare a glance back.

Later that night Draco leaned against the cold stonewalls of the second level corridors.

He pondered briefly over his few classes after lunch and the further distractions he suffered. The only way he could have salvaged his sanity was that he had to keep his head down and look anywhere but at the bane of his temporary suffering. He didn't even know how he managed to avoid looking at the brunette Gryffindor when the temptation was too great.

Draco released a quiet groan when he realized he probably shared the rest of his classes with the Gryffindor princess, and not just today, but every other day of the week. It wasn't new information that she and Draco both excelled in their scores, and only a handful of selective few were accepted into advanced N.E.W.T level classes. So the space to get lost in the throngs of students during their sessions was impossible. He would literally have to see her every single hour of the day, even through meal times, until he retired to his dorm room for the night.

Even when dinnertime arrived, he couldn't enter the Great Hall. Between avoiding hawk-watching the Gryffindor witch, his Slytherin mates gossiping about her, and Pansy Parkinson dramatically gagging at the mention of Granger while suffocating Draco's personal space – he wouldn't be able to last the end of the week!

Instead of entering the Great Hall for dinner, the young Malfoy back tracked his steps, swallowed a gallon of his pride and went to the kitchens to collect a plate of food directly from the culinary elves instead. The advantage was that no one would have witnessed his shamefulness, a pureblood wizard and a Malfoy, down at the kitchens – since all staff and student body were convened for dinner. But the disadvantage was also that if he were spotted then he wouldn't be able to live that down. Even his own godfather would relish rubbing it in his face.

After his quiet and solitude dinner in his dorm room, Draco quickly prepared for the night rounds. If he were a prefect he would have skipped the rounds, but as a Head Boy, he had more obligations to navigate the other prefects from his house and to neglect his duty would reflect badly on him and his reputation.

After assigning each prefect their own section to do patrols, he hid in a nearly deserted corridor on the second floor, getting a moment of peace from the chaos in his mind, while avoiding anyone that might come his way.

But his blissful moment was cut short – for the fact that he grew rigged when he heard a shuffle of footsteps from the connecting corridor. Since he was still, the torches in the corridors dimmed down, but magically sensing motion from another body, the torches were lighting up again.

Though it was completely foolish, since the young Malfoy had every reason to be patrolling the halls, he felt rather silly when he ducked into the nearest alcove and hid from sight. There he was, a young man of all 6 feet and 3 inches, Head Boy, a Malfoy, and a Seventh year and he was hiding in a corner alcove like a first year after curfew. For the second time that day he wanted to kick himself.

He survived a war by the skin of his fingernails, and this was what becomes of him? Never!

If there was any time to act like a Head Boy with the rightful authority then it was now. The Slytherin kept to within the shadows of the alcove as he heard the footsteps growing closer to him. Whoever was scurrying about should be the one shame faced since they had no right to be out past curfew. The young Malfoy would wait until they got close enough and then catch them. And if they were from the other three houses then it would be an added bonus to deduct points.

They were coming very close! Draco silently crept to the edge of his alcove; his hand was ready to snatch the arm of the interloper.. 3 feet .. 2 feet .. and then he bent his torso out of the shadows and grabbed hold of an arm.

The person jumped and shrieked. It was a slender arm, and the scream was high pitched and feminine – a girl. When he turned the female towards him, Draco wished he never came out of his hiding spot. In fact he wished he had let the person he currently had a hold of carry on walking.

Instead, he now had a firm grip of the one person he wished to avoid. Hermione Granger was panting heavily, her heart literally beating out of her chest from fright. Their eyes connected, and for a moment, everything went still. Not even sound filtered through the bubble that encased the two people who were standing alone in the abandoned hall.

But the silence was brief as the brunette witch protested. "Ouch! Draco, your grip is too tight!"

That seemed to have snapped the Malfoy out of his reverie as he released her arm like he was burnt.

Trying to gather some of his wit, he puffed out his broad chest with his pureblood arrogance and stood tall over the witch before him, towering over her. "What are you doing out past curfew?" he hissed.

Hermione instantly snapped her head to meet Malfoy's grey gaze. He noticed the ire that filled her whiskey kissed eyes.

"For your information, Malfoy, I also happened to be on patrol. Since you obviously missed the Head Girl badge on my robes!" Hermione answered in her haughtily tone, the one she always adapted when she came prepared with every answer for every class.

For some reason or another, it didn't have the same irritating quality that Draco loathed. The bite was gone. The annoyance it spawned to every listener, failed to deliver. If he was even an inkling honest with himself, she actually sounded quite endearing.

But the Malfoy shook that confusingly warm feeling off and prepared to retort in his snide manner. When suddenly behind them they heard a cat's meow echoing off the stone corridor.

Both house rivals stiffened as their ears perked up. "That's Mrs. Norris, which means Filch is right on her tail – literally!" Hermione whispered, more to herself.

Draco hissed in annoyance because he agreed with the witch. Whether they were authorized to be there or not, Filch would use any excuse to rain his tirade upon them.

The brunette witch turned in the opposite direction. "We should probably go … Hey!" She was about to yelp when Draco grabbed her by the waist and dragged her to the same alcove he just occupied.

Hermione, noticing Malfoy's intention to hide instead of flee, produced her wand. "Nox!" she spoke a little too loudly and the torches in their corridor instantly went out.

And to prevent her from saying anything else that would lead them to get discovered, Draco covered her mouth, making the Gryffindor flinch in his arms.

She accidently elbowed Draco in the ribs. He suppressed the groan of pain, but couldn't maintain his balance as he toppled over. And since he had a hand around the witch's torso, he dragged her down with him.

Hermione landed gracelessly between his legs and her back connected with Draco's chest, as they landed on the stone floor in a heap of limbs. But rather than complain, they held themselves still when the flames lit their corridor again.

Hidden in the safety of the shadowed, narrow, alcove they heard Filch and his familiar prowling their way. Draco silently prayed to whichever deity was watching them that they would not be discovered.

It was certainly proving to be difficult as the young Malfoy had a warm, soft, womanly body so close to him. Her head was barely below his chin, and he couldn't resist catching a whiff of her hair and the fruity shampoo she used. It tingled his senses and he felt pleased by it.

When it came to feminine aromas, Draco always preferred fruity to floral. He tried not to make it too obvious to the witch nestled so close to him that he was inhaling the delectable scent of her hair. That would have been as equally mortifying as being discovered by the grouchy caretaker. Why did she have to smell so fucking good?

As if she could hear his mental self-berating, Hermione tilted her face up at the Malfoy heir. Their eyes connected, warm hazel to stormy grey. But that wasn't what caused both individuals to suddenly stiffen.

The awkward angle caused their lips to accidently brush against one another. It was as gentle as a skim of a butterfly's wing. The touch of warmth to his lips sent a jolt through Draco's body.

He didn't know if it was him or the witch that was pressed to him that sought another kiss. But he found himself tangled in a lip lock with the young Gryffindor. Her lips felt so good as she eagerly kissed him back. The growing desire he felt from the witch's body was intoxicating.

Instinctively, the Slytherin wrapped his strong arms around her body and pressed her tightly against his chest as he deepened the kiss further.

Hermione moaned against his lips, and the response sent electricity straight to the young man's crotch.

But just when he thought things couldn't go any further, he felt Hermione's tongue skim across his bottom lip, silently asking to be let in. In that moment, she could have asked for anything and he could have given it to her, but for now, Draco parted his lips to her as her tongue proceeded to penetrate his mouth.

Their tongues did no clash, nor did they fight for any dominance, but instead, they swirled around and mated in harmonious unity.

Hermione melted in the blonde wizard's arms. And Draco took strong masculine pleasure in her delicate feminine moans. He responded by pulling her much tighter against him. If the pressure of his arms was too much, the young witch did not let it be known.

Instead, Hermione placed one elegant hand over his broad chest, brimming with youth and solid muscles. And gently crept her other hand towards the back of Draco's neck. Her fingertips gently kneading the exposed skin that peaked from the edges collar of his shirt. Draco deeply purred at the exquisite feeling. And if that was not torture beyond torture enough to his celibate body, the witch slowly pressed her hip, in a grinding motion against Draco's ragging erection.

They didn't know how long they kept snogging. It could have been minutes; it could have been close to an hour. But eventually the young couple needed to catch their breath, and reluctantly their lips separated from each other. But they still kept their hands wrapped around one another as though they wanted this mysteriously enchanting moment to prolong for as long as possible.

Their foreheads were pressed against each other's as they panted for air. Their warm breathing mingled deliciously and invitingly for another round of a kissing session.

The fair-haired wizard thought the witch would be too shy to utter a word to break the silence. But not only did she surprise him by speaking first, but also by what she declared. "You stole my first kiss." She whispered against him.

It wasn't an accusation, Malfoy realized. As her tone and the whisper of her voice was soft and intimate. And there was no hint of regret in it either.

Draco couldn't help himself. He could feel a smirk stretching on his kiss swollen lips. "But I gave you mine in return." He whispered back.

"You're lying." The witch declared. Draco didn't know if he would have blanched at her detection of his untruthfulness. But the playful hint in her words eased his defensive backbone.

"Alright – you are not the first. But you're a close second. And that is saying something at least." He replied, reaching up he tucked her hair behind her ear and playfully traced her earlobe.

Hermione stroked her hand that was still resting on his chest, her fingers appreciatively touching his tight pectorals. Draco's free hand in turn, crept down and over her waist until it landed gently on her bum.

The witch squirmed in his arms, and Draco couldn't help but squeeze the flesh of her arse. He was rewarded with the young, curvy female moaning and melting further into his arms. She placed her head on his shoulder and turned her face towards the curve of his neck and placed a gentle kiss on the edge of his rugged jaw.

The wizard rested his back against the stone wall of the alcove, and tilted his neck to the side to grant more of his skin for the witch's lips to shower with kisses.

"When did you become like this?" Draco sighed.

"Like what?" the witch replied between kisses.

"Like … I don't know …. Like so fucking sexy."

"I don't know what you mean."

Draco didn't know if she was playing coy, or if she was genuinely oblivious to her affect. "You might be ignorant, but I sure as hell couldn't keep my fucking eyes off you the whole day. You've changed, Granger."

Suddenly the kisses on his neck halted. "Good change, or bad change?" the movement of her lips tickled his skin. And stirred that same feeling deep in that masculine part between his legs.

He flexed his hand that rested on her arse. "Its good. Very good. Trust me, yeah?"

Hermione giggled before snuggling her face towards the Slytherin's neck. "If you say so." She whispered, her voice tantalizing and seductive.

Draco could have shamelessly spent the entire night hidden in that dark alcove, snuggling and kissing the young alluring girl in his arms.

But sadly reality caught up with them and they had to return to their dorms before the teachers started doing their own rounds in making sure all students were present in their beds.

Reluctantly they parted in opposite directions, Hermione to her Gryffindor tower, and Draco to his Slytherin dungeons. But not before they shared one long lingering, tongue mating, and final kiss. Fearing that once daylight broke, whatever enchantment has saturated the air between them would evaporate the very next day.

The only thing that hung in the air was the promise of meeting at the same time, in that very same place.

The first week ended sooner than expected. And the castle buzzed with the excitement of the weekend. Especially the seventh year students as they were allowed early permission to visit Hogsmeade, while their lower year schoolmates would await till next month. But the luxury of a class-free two days was still an exhilaration to the young ones.

The end of the week was something a certain dark haired wizard would have lavished. But the duties of being headmaster were not put on hold even during the weekends – unfortunately.

Severus Snape reclined back in his fine leather wingback chair, and very briefly closed his eyes, relishing that moment of quiet in his office. It was a rare and undisturbed moment indeed as even the occupants of the portraits left their frames empty to wander about the castle.

His tranquil minute was short lived however as he sensed through the castle's sentient magic that someone was requesting access to the gargoyle statue guarding the headmaster's office chambers.

Granting permission to his visitor, Severus wiped a hand over his face and rose from his seat just in time for his office door to swing open.

Draco stepped in and closed the door subtly behind him.

During the weekends, Severus permitted Draco an exception to visit Malfoy Manor through the Floo Network that exclusively connected via his office. Now more than ever Severus understood the need for Draco to constantly keep his father company in their desolate manor.

As the older wizard escorted the Malfoy heir he noticed the dazed and absentminded look on his young face.

"Care to share was has enraptured your thoughts so fiercely, Draco?" Snape scrutinized.

The blonde Slytherin jumped, not realizing that his godfather was standing so close to him until his voice cleared the fog that has been clouding his mind this past week.

Draco turned his face away from his headmaster, only because he couldn't hide the heat that bloomed over his skin.

Severus decided to take another opportunity to probe the young boy before him. He knew he didn't have to push hard. Snape always had a way to make his godson spill all his troubles. "If something is on your mind then you need only speak of it, Draco – You do know you could tell me anything."

"It's nothing, uncle. Really … I just …. It's school stuff. Being back here, like it's all normal. It will take time to get used to it, yeah?" Draco flustered.

"You could tell me more before you leave for the weekend." It was strange for the dark haired wizard to see Draco so nervous around him.

"Maybe when you come to visit us tomorrow?" The young Malfoy inched towards the clay pot that held the floo powder and grabbed a handful of it before throwing it into the fireplace and announcing his destination.

"See you tomorrow, uncle." Draco called back swiftly before he disappeared in a swirl of green flames.

Severus stood for a while as he eyed the now empty fireplace. It was odd how the young Malfoy heir was suddenly so tight lipped when he had a loose tongue and would always confide in his godfather. Something must have happened to change the young boy's attitude.

He doubted it was something so flimsy as it would pertain to mere school stuff. Draco was after all the brightest wizard of his generation. Severus would have to owl Lucius concerning his son's troubled state.

But for now – and speaking of the brightest minds – the headmaster retreated back to his desk. He had a more pressing matter to attend to. A complaint to be more specific, from several teachers, regarding the state of their students being equally as distracted by a certain outrageous display from the last person Severus excepted to hear such a claim against.

Picking up his ebony wand, Severus sent a Patronus message to his colleague, knowing she would be in her office alone at this early hour. 'Minerva, please inform your Head Girl to proceed to my office at once.'

Severus watched as the doe form of his Patronus galloped around his desk before it disappeared through the wall and towards it's intended.

Relaxing in his chair, the headmaster released a sigh.

His morning would sure be an eventful one, indeed.

To be continued …