Please note - all mistakes are my own. I do not currently have a Beta/Alpha to help me correct my horrible grammar.

I do not own the characters created by JK Rowling, nor do I make any profit from this fanfiction.

This is all just fun for me.

Chapter Ten –

Draco apparated home before he could turn back around to strangle the witch. The change in her attitude had come as a shock to him, but he had not liked her calling herself a mudblood. Or rather, the creature resting peacefully moments before, had not liked it, and had come roaring to life within him. It had made his control start to slip.

Within the walls of the Malfoy Manor, he shed his coat, letting a house elf – one whose name he could never remember – take it to hang. Where, he did not know. His thoughts had immediately gone to take count of his body, and how it was fairing after being in close quarters with Granger for so long. The beast, while still aching to be near Granger, was much more content and wasn't warring within him to get out. That was progress. That time spent had obviously quieted it down for the time being. While he did have to suffer time with the know-it-all, he appreciated the moment of peace that it brought about afterwards.

Running a hand over his face, he headed toward his study. A drink sounded like a necessity at the current moment, before he dived back into some more research. His notebook, inside the pocket of his pants, was going to need to be updated with his reactions about his time spent with her. He would need to keep necessary updates if he was going to see how each and every interaction either hindered or helped him. The book would help to clue him into what matched up, or what perhaps was something new, or rather, something entirely brought on by himself. Just as he went to walk up the stairs, he paused. The book, he cursed to himself. In his haste, he had left the blasted thing there for her to peruse.

"Bullocks," he groused, stomping his way up the stairs. That woman was probably reading it now and discovering all the secrets he was attempting to keep hidden, well beneath the surface. She was too damn smart for her own damn good.

Slamming a glass down, he poured himself two fingers of whiskey before shooting it back quickly. The burn felt good. He was an idiot, letting that muggle born get the best of him like that. He was trained better than that, to face off against more daunting opponents than her. So why was he so skittish around her? The bond? That was the only real answer he could think of. She left him off kilter, and it was making him weak minded. He needed to get this handled.

A couple hours later, he felt the tugging start at his navel. Damn the peace hadn't lasted as long as he would have liked. With a deep breath, he started to take calming breaths in. Calming breaths out. A form of mediation, but it did nothing to ease the ache that was coming back tenfold. It was like a burning ache in the pit of his belly, like he was going to bottom out and fall to pieces right there in his study. The need to see her was calling to him faster and stronger.

Perhaps it was a good thing I left that blasted book then, he thought to himself. Taking out a sheet of parchment he quickly wrote out a short message to her. Folding it with practiced precision, he grabbed the wax and poured it over the edge. Taking the seal from the corner of his desk, he stamped it shut and then called for an elf to send it off for delivery.

Hermione had just finished putting on a movie on her muggle television, something she had yet to part with from the muggle world, when she heard a tapping at her window. Looking up, she found the Malfoy owl sitting on the banister, waiting with a letter in its massive claws. It had taken Malfoy longer than she had thought to realize his foolhardy mistake. Smiling to herself, mostly out of cockiness, she stood up from the couch and walked over to let in the bird.

"Thank you," she murmured as it stretched out its clawed foot and dropped a letter into her welcoming palm. The owl turned and left before she was able to offer it any of the treats that she kept on her kitchen island. The letter was in its usual manner of being pristine and having the emerald colored wax seal of the Malfoy crest on the back. How one made such a perfect circle with a wax crest was beyond her, but she wasn't really one to talk, because she didn't even have a family crest, nor did most of the families that she knew.

Granger,

I believe you have something that belongs to me. Do return it in a timely manner and not get sucked in before I have a chance to read the bloody thing.

Malfoy

A grin slipped over her lips. Mostly out of pure vindictiveness, she decided to wait until morning before writing a response to the blonde-haired man. Was she egging on the Slytherin? She supposed she was, but this was the most fun she had in a very long time. Even if the man in question wasn't pleased by her behavior, it only added to the fun – for her.

Monday morning came all too quickly for the bushy haired witch. The sun rose too brightly, the time too early for the morning to be rising, especially when she had stayed up all night researching accounts of muggles and wizards alike, who had encountered Veelas throughout history. Some were too vague to be worth accounting for, but some left her with more questions than answers. Veelas were a very private breed, in the sense of their lives, and especially when it came to the mated Veelas.

Pushing the covers over her head, she closed her eyes and tried to get more sleep, since the early hours of morning – probably around two in the morning – had been her sleeping hour. It had been quite some time since she had stayed up so late, and slept so soundly. She hadn't had a nightmare; or at least, not one that she remembered. Perhaps sheer exhaustion was the trick for keeping the nightmares at bay, not that she would attempt that on a nightly basis. Enough time on the run had effects on her body that she still was attempting to chase off.

Sleep however, would not come for the witch, because her familiar was yowling at the bottom of her bed. Shoving a foot under him, she pushed the hair ball off, only to have him come back again. This time closer. Throwing the covers off, she slammed her feet to the ground as she hefted herself off the bed and stomped her way to the kitchen. Quickly, she fed the starving creature. Once he was satisfied, she turned to walk away and crawl back into the warm covers that were beckoning her with a mighty force, only to stop when she eyed the creature from last night on her banister once more.

"Oh Merlin," she huffed, exasperated that no one in the bloody world was giving her a break this morning. She didn't bother with a thank you or a greeting as she snatched the letter and made her way back to her covers before she opened the letter.

One night is plenty.

That's it. No greeting, no signature. One line. Rolling over, she placed the letter under her pillow. Mainly because her night stand was too far away, as she was smack dab in the middle of her bed, surrounded by fluffy pillows and warm comforters.

Just five more minutes, she thought to herself as she felt her droopy lids finally flutter closed as sleep claimed her once more.

Draco felt the fury rising in him. That blasted witch was either being purposely obtuse, or was ignoring him intentionally. Grumbling under his breath, he went to his study with his notebook in hand. The study was dark, despite the morning hours. Thick curtains covered the vast windows, but with a flick of his wand they moved out of the way to let the sunlight in.

The heavy wooden desk sat in front of the window facing toward the door. He took a seat in the leather chair and pulled out the notebook he kept with his own personal findings. He jotted down the difference in the allotted time he was given reprieve after having been in Granger's space versus how long it had taken last time. He found that hours had changed. Last time it had taken a full day before the effects started to kick in once more, but this time it had only taken half a day. Disappointment reared its ugly head, but Draco tried to push it down as he meticulously wrote all his observations down while they were still at the forefront of his mind. Also attempting not to think about the woman who currently had his blasted book.

Hermione opened her eyes to see daylight streaming in through the window. Rolling over, away from the light landing on her face, she groaned into her pillow. Her eyes drifted shut, but she forced them over to look at the clock. It was almost eleven. Merlin, I slept way longer than I thought, she thought to herself as she forced her way out of bed. Sitting with her legs dangling off the side of the bed, she tried to get her head cleared of the brain fog that seemed to want to hold on for dear life. Perhaps she had overslept too much, if she was feeling this groggy. Rubbing a hand down her face, she shook herself and forced her way into the kitchen. At her window, again, stood that large, obtrusive owl. While at first, she had thought it regal and a sight for sore eyes, she was starting to realize it was much like its owner. Obtrusive and arrogant. She unlatched the window over the kitchen counter and took the offered letter from its claws.

Give me my bloody book, Granger.

Well, she definitely could feel the fury soaring through the air with those words. Using the same piece of paper that was in her hand, she reached for a pen that laid atop her countertop and jotted a quick response.

Draco lifted his head up at the sound of a pop. He looked over the top of his desk, standing a bit, to see one of the house elves enter.

"A letter has arrived for you, sir," it squeaked from its spot on the floor. Tugging at the pillowcase outfit with one hand, it looked down at its feet while its hand rose up for Draco to take the letter.

"Thank you," he murmured just as he heard another pop signifying the house elf had left once more.

He unrolled the parchment and couldn't help the smirk that came sneaking out of the corner of his mouth.

If it's that bloody damn important, and since you show NO patience, come and get it your bloody damn self. I am allowed a sleep in on my day off, Malfoy.

Mornings did not seem to be Granger's strong suit, if her foul language and abrupt nature of the letter were anything to go by. Not one to back down from a challenge, he muttered a quick Accio. His day clothes, a pair of slacks and a gray button down with a pair of black shoes, arrived. Quick to change from his own pajamas, he dressed with haste.

Stepping up to the fireplace, he grabbed the floo powder. Closing his eyes, he muttered, "Granger's Residence."

A/N: THANK YOU SO MUCH TO THE TROLLS LEAVING NASTY REVIEWS. You guys are awesome and only helping my review count go higher which makes more people want to read this. So thank you. Thank you. (I've now since decided to LEAVE your nasty reviews because it's helping my count :))

I would like to address something.

Fiction - Make believe.

Author - Creater.

Veelas - yes in true folklore they are ONLY women. But this is a work of FICTION (see above aka MAKE BELIEVE) and I am the AUTHOR (see above...).

If Stephanie Meyer (Author of Twilight) can publish a book about Vampires SPARKLING (which we all know is NOT in true folklore) I can get away with Malfoy being a Veela despite him being a male.

So like cool.

But honestly - to my reviewers who have been nothing but sweet and kind, I appreciate you all. I appreciate you guys taking the time to encourage me and give good feed back. It helps so much! & to the other author's from my DFW group - you guys are the best. You helped me get past this and this story truly wouldn't be here if it weren't for you all.