Disclaimer: Don't own it. I would if I could but I can't.

~*~

"It was just odd, you know," she continued on as she sank further down the plush interior of Malfoy's car. "I was just sitting their car and they kept talk about this little piece of wonderful technology and this incompetent government official and just," she paused for moment, as if in contemplation. "All these things that I couldn't understand. And didn't want to understand…"

She sighed and crossed her legs in a manly manner. "And that got me thinking about how… dependent on magic I've become."

"Er…" Draco tried his best not to roll his eyes. "Touching story, I'm sure."

"Please, Malfoy, you wouldn't last a day in the Muggle world without being able to do magic." Then again, he did have money. And they were seating in his gorgeous car that was being driven by a seemingly deaf chauffer. But still, she doubted he could. Especially since he grew up knowing about magic from the very beginning.

He scoffed at the idea. "I am not dependent on magic."

"Prove it."

"All right then," he replied, cocking an eyebrow at her. "Neither of us will use magic this entire day. Whoever loses will… have to do the winner some sort of favour. Deal?"

"Deal."

"Okay, know let's shake on it and sign our names in blood."

Hermione sighed and turned her attention to the window. Wasn't this all just peachy? She gritted her teeth and tried to enjoy the fact that she was in Paris, of all places. The city of Luuuurve.

Merlin. What she wouldn't give to be somewhere else. With someone else.

"I know what you're thinking," Malfoy whispered from beside her.

"Oh Great Psychic Malfoy, do grace us with your knowledge."

He brushed away her blatant sarcasm and continued with a smirk, "You wish that you were with someone else. Hmm… I wonder who it would be. The Boy Who Lived Far Longer Than Anyone Expected?" He mockingly tapped his chin with his finger in thought. "Or perhaps it's someone else? Someone who has captured the heart of Hermione Granger, our beloved heroine."

"You know what?" Hermione asked the window. "I hate that. I despise it when people say things about you, like they know who you are and understand you. Because people don't know me and they always act like they do." She turned to him then, her eyes filled with frustration. "Like you, Malfoy. All those years at Hogwarts, did you ever think of me beyond the stereotypes? Beyond being a Mudblood? Being a good student? Being friends with people you didn't like? Did you ever, for once, consider who I really was?" She turned back to face the window, watching people walk the streets to start their day. "No, you didn't."

"Did you?" Malfoy asked. The challenge in his tone could not be missed.

Hermione faced him, a wary expression on her face. "Did I what?"

"Did you ever consider me to be more than what I seem?" he explained patiently.

Hermione pretended not to be taken aback by his words. But they had affected and for a moment a distinct emotion took hold of her heart. Guilt. She ignored it and took a deep breath before replying with as much venom as she could muster. "You mean, did I ever take the time to get passed the fact that you were an egotistical prat? Sniveling, coward who his behind his father's money? Buying things left and right? Buying things that shouldn't be bought? Buying people?" Hermione tossed Malfoy's chauffer an apologetic look before continuing on with her tirade. "Beyond you who tormented me at each turn, reminding me at every opportunity that I am beneath you and that you are vastly superior to me because of your blood. Blood? You were nothing but an inbred arsehole with his head stuck in regions where the sun never shines."

"A simple 'no' would have sufficed, Granger."

"What?" she asked, exasperated. It couldn't end this way! He couldn't make her out as the ogre, the evil one. "That's all your going to say? No, 'you filth! Get out my car this instant!'"

The car immediately stopped and the door beside Hermione flew open.

She looked from the door to the person next to her, and with a good glare in Malfoy's direction, she grabbed her bag off the floor. She was torn. Pride or… Or what? Companionship? With Malfoy?

"Having second thoughts, luv?"

"Why don't you just—"

He had the gall to quirk an eyebrow at her. "Why don't I just what?"

Hermione laid her bag back on the floor, closed the door and leaned back against the leather seat. "Why don't you just shut up? It's really quite easy. You put your lips together and make sure that nothing comes from between them. Like this," she said demonstrating it.

She didn't feel him. Didn't notice that he had moved from him place until he felt his hot breath on her ear.

"Nothing?"

Hermione shivered at his seductive tone. It was disconcerting, making a small wave of emotion down her spine and to her… to her… well, down there. She quickly crossed legs, willing the tingling sensations to leave.

She nodded her head stiffly, trying to ignore that he was there, his lips practically touching her ear.

"I don't think so."

It was almost surreal. As if she were standing outside herself, watching as Hermione Granger wrapped her arms about her childhood enemy's neck, drawing him closer, as their positions were shifted and she was lying down on the cool exterior of his car.

She stilled at the touch of his tongue against the corner of her mouth, then slowly outlining her lips. She couldn't describe it. Didn't want to…

His hand came up to her chin, tipping it slightly causing it to part her lips much to his delight. And then he was there… his tongue memorizing each slope and crevice of her mouth, the smoothness and roughness of her tongue as they battled for dominance and shared in the ensuing pleasure.

His hands weren't idle. Quite thankfully. His hands were an artist's dream. Long slender fingers, touching her, caressing her. She whimpered softly as she felt them trace her collarbone. She never knew that her body could be so sensitive to the touch.

"Hermione," she heard him whisper against her mouth, making her move against him in anticipation.

His voice was like honey and his kisses—sheer heaven.

"Dra—"

What. The. Fucking. Hell. Was. She. Doing.

Reality hit hard and caused her to push Malfoy off of her, shoving him onto the floor.

Malfoy gaped at her. His face was handsomely flushed from the recent pleasure and blatant rejection. "What the fucking hell are you doing, Granger?!"

Hermione sat up, her back straight. She took calming breaths hoping that they would calm the warring emotions Malfoy's kisses had evoked in her.

"I don't know, Malfoy," she answered quietly. "Just don't… kiss me again."

He sat down beside her once more, though there was a noticeably wider space in between them, and stared out his window.

Hermione couldn't take the tense silence that overtook them. She wanted to hear what his voice. Wanted him mad at her, or just… something that would make him talk to her.

"Not that you weren't any good, mind you…" she ventured uncertainly, straightening out the creases of her shirt. "Your kisses—they were, erm… quite good."

Malfoy gave a low chuckle. "You were 'quite good' yourself, Granger."

She wanted to be able to explain why she felt absurdly pleased with what Malfoy said. She couldn't, though. Damn those questions you could never answer!

"Eiffel Tower."

~*~

Hermione craned her neck and her hand shielded her eyes. "You know, I could never decide whether the Eiffel Tower's beautiful or just another well-made structure. Like the Tower of Pisa."

"That would be Leaning Tower of Pisa," Malfoy corrected her. He took her by the elbow and led her to the sidewalk, evading excited tourists left and right. "Not exactly well-made. Eiffel Tower, on the other hand, is quite ingenious."

They began walking at a leisurely pace with no particular destination in mind. Hermione didn't like that. She liked having a plan of action, knowing where each step would lead. She supposed it to be the result of the almost constant unpredictability of her years in Hogwarts—aside from the fact that she was born that way.

"Where are we going?" Even though she tried her best to make it sound like she was merely curious, Malfoy saw right through her.

"I don't know, Granger." He ran a hand through his hair and Hermione was mesmerized with watching his blonde locks fall into perfect place. "I don't have everything scheduled at the back of my head. Unlike some."

"I find that hard to believe. See, I always thought that you had a schedule. Something like… wake up, take a bath, gel hair, have breakfast, make asinine remarks about Harry, brownnose way through Potions, lunch, make more asinine remarks, brownnose way through other subjects, retouch hair, dinner, snog Pansy, sleep, dream about finally winning a Quidditch game against Gryffindor…"

"I never snogged Pansy," Malfoy immediately qualified, steering Hermione into a small ice cream store. It was quite nondescript but there was a subtle scent that drew you in almost immediately.

Hermione looked at him curiously. "Never?"

"Well, she snogged me."

Hermione hacked loudly. "Oy, that's disgusting."

"Flavour?"

"Vanilla," she immediately answered. She smiled and pressed her hands up against the cool glass of the ice cream freezer. "Just vanilla."

That was the scent the softly radiated through the store. The scent of her childhood. It reminded her of her family, of childhood playmates and games in the sun and melting ice cream.

"Granger, here's your—"

Had she moved just a fraction slower or had he held out the vanilla ice cream a little farther—then maybe, just maybe, Hermione wouldn't have to wear it on her shirt.

"Argh, Malfoy! One is supposed to eat ice cream, not wear it as a bloody accessory!"

What started off as a small chuckle ended in another round of booming laughter, which Hermione tried to ignore as she began to wipe it off with a couple of tissues from the counter. She could have just done a simple spell to get rid of this mess, but due to the idiotic deal she would have to walk around Paris looking like a bird decided to go potty on her shirt.

She didn't notice that Malfoy had stopped laughing at her plight when he took hold of her elbow again, gently leading her outside.

"What now?" she asked warily.

He smirked at her. "Now, we get you out of those clothes."

A/N: Finally updated! Sorry for the delay. I entertained another D/Hr plot bunny and I had to write it out. I might upload it here or over at Fiction Alley, but be warned, it's an angsty little bunny. ^__~

Okay, a few things to answer. First of which, why the hell is Draco being so goddamn nice? I have my reasons and nothing will go unexplained. You'll just have to follow this one to the ending. And if I'm lucky, it'll be worth it.

Secondly, Hermione is deliberately high-strung.  If it seems OOC, I suppose it's because it is. To my defense, this is a Post-Hogwarts fic. In my mind's eye, Hermione fits the history I have given her thus far. Underpaid, overworked and under appreciated. I'm evil, should you take the time to notice. ^__^

On a different note, THANKS to all those who continuously review and read this story. The more reviews I get, the more I'm inspired to write. Or I just get really guilty… j/k!

I love you all so much!