A/N: Happy Easter everybody. Here's the last installment. Remember, it's a Valentine's story. Enjoy the Easter gift from me :-)

Eruption

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Chapter 3:

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A few months later, the CEWiz of Malgra Magical Potions and Research along with his trusted Chief of Research held a press conference on February 14; a Monday.

Draco Malfoy addressed the press such: "You will be pleased to hear that due to the unremitting effort of my Head of Research, Ms Hermione Granger, my staff at Malgra Magical Potions and Research, and myself, we have found, replicated and tested a cure for magical madness as commonly evoked by a lengthy application of the Cruciatus curse.

Ms Granger and myself are now available to answer any questions you may have regarding the development, testing, and immediate distribution of the potion. St. Mungo's has already been supplied with enough vials to clear out the Janus Thickey Ward, at no cost beyond the reimbursement of the materials for production."

It was clear that Hermione, standing proudly next to Draco Malfoy and beaming broadly, couldn't be any happier.

After satisfying the thirst for technical details, the reporters inevitably went to questions about the two, more or less beaming, people in front of them.

"Mr Malfoy, how does your wife feel about your close work with Mrs Weasley?"

"I thank you for leaving my wife out of it. In any case, you should ask her, and not me," he growled a warning at the reporter. To no avail.

"Mrs Weasley, although your credentials in this work are remarkable and I laud you for this incredible discovery, is there any chance of you reconciling with your husband, Ronald Weasley, war hero?"

"No," Draco Malfoy snarled before Hermione could even address the questioner. "Ms Granger, a war hero herself, will not reconcile with her ex-husband. Because she will have plenty to do, working for my company."

At Hermione's stern look and the gasp from the crowd at his impetuous reaction and the newest news – as far as they knew, Mrs Weasley was still Mrs Weasley - he snarled to the crowd, "And I said no personal questions. If you have nothing further, but to inquire after undignified gossip, this press conference is concluded."

Turning to Hermione with a scowl, he said, "Lunch at one o'clock for a business meeting."

When Hermione joined him in his usual lunch place, she was surprised to find him sitting over a firewhiskey at lunch time, contemplating the pattern of the tablecloth with diligence through the bottom of the tumbler. Taking her seat across from him, she was further astonished to see that he was nervous when he looked up. The thin smile didn't deter the impression, but rather supported it.

"Granger," he greeted.

"Malfoy," she greeted back. "What's this about? He is not my ex-husband. Not yet."

He evaded her question by asking her lunch order and only when she was supplied with a glass of wine and a plate of melted goat cheese over caramelized aubergine did he admit to what was on his mind.

Carefully secluding them from accidental listeners with a Muffliato, he said, "I have a proposition for you."

Enjoying the delicate taste of the cheese and the sweetness with the crisp wine, Hermione swallowed before she prompted him, "Another one? Which is?"

Malfoy surveyed her carefully, downplaying his uncertainty, and followed her next fork of goat cheese into her mouth before he said, "Date me."

If Hermione hadn't expected any of this, she would have spluttered and choked on her bite. But she had seen it coming. There was only one reason for Draco Malfoy to be nervous.

She had no clue about his intentions, though.

So she asked, "Why?"

Draco shifted in his seat. "Because we might as well. We've been sleeping with each other for months, we've accomplished amazing things at work, my marriage is shot and I'll make it known tomorrow. We might as well make it public."

Hermione couldn't help her smile. Malfoy at his best. Coming from him this was as close to a love confession as one got. "That's not very romantic."

He looked sceptical. "You want romance?"

Hermione cocked her head. "In a way."

He sighed and then he turned his napkin into a bi-coloured, feather-blossomed rose and handed it to her with a flourish. "For you."

Romance on demand. Well, most likely, that was as good as it would get with him. He swept her of her feet in other areas, though; Hermione had to admit that to herself.

She took the rose and with a soft smile thanked him before she put the flower down next to her plate.

"What makes you think I want to spend my life with you? You used to loathe me. We fight more often than not."

He sniggered with a sly grin. "You. Or dare you deny your racing heartbeat when you're with me? I can feel it too, you know."

Hermione blushed only a little. She was beyond the blushing stage, considering what she did with Malfoy on a regular basis. And no, there was no denying that. He did make her heart race and her blood boil with a touch, rubbish, with a breath alone.

He had more to say. "Do you deny that we fuck or work just as easily, depending on our mood? You can sit on my lap or behind a desk across from me with equal ease. You can push me against a wall or a heavy book with the same ardour. And that's something you love beyond anything. Admit it."

No, no following orders. But he didn't expect her to answer.

"I've been exclusive since our first time a year ago. There will be no other. I would be a fool. I am many things, but not foolish."

Hermione was surprised to hear this and made her astonishment known with a sceptical mien.

He answered her unasked question. "The feeling of you around me is one of a kind. I've never felt anything like it and I'm not going through trial and error with many meaningless women to seek something I already have. Back to my remark about foolishness."

He leaned forward and put his arms on the table. "You don't have to move in with me. You can decide every single day if you want to stay the night with me or rather relish your quietude."

"What about the children?" Hermione asked calmly, despite her racing heart.

"What about them? They have to split their time between their parents now anyway. And on occasion perhaps we can have them altogether, yours and mine, in the same house, wherever we are."

He made sense. But the main question was still unanswered.

"Why should I be considering it at all? Why shouldn't I go and look for new love?"

Malfoy pulled his mouth in a lop-sided half-smile.

"Because what we have," he motioned back and forth between them, "is what you want. All the work you want, exploring new magic, expanding your knowledge, and the heat between us. When we get together in your office, we never know whether we'll discover new magic or christen another surface. Or in my office. Or my house. Or yours."

He tilted his head slyly. "Dissolving boundaries between challenging, rewarding work and life, that's the life you want. You've tried the traditional conventional way and how did that work out for you?"

He took her grimace at face value and drove his last point home. "But what we have – is life. Power. Heat. Passion." He leaned back in his chair, having finished his plaidoyer.

"But," Hermione tried one last argument, "where's the love in all this?"

Malfoy huffed. "You want love?"

"I may – at one point."

Malfoy let his head sink back, exasperated, and exhaled through his open mouth.

"I'll make you a deal, Granger. Consider this a – business arrangement. I'll pay you handsomely as my Chief of Research and you work for my company as you've done for the last few months. Whatever money we need for our- endeavours, we take from my coffers. We continue sleeping with each other, as we've done. If you feel like it, you stay the night with me. If you don't, you don't. As long as you have nothing better, you accept our arrangement."

He bent forward again, fixing her with his clear grey eyes to finish his proposal.

"If – and only if – you find real love outside our arrangement that you want to pursue – I let you go."

Hermione surveyed him incredulously. "You would simply let me go?"

He nodded. "If you tell me you've found love with someone else, yes."

Hermione was flabbergasted. That was very un-Malfoyish. And not at all like a business arrangement.

"What's in it for you?" she asked suspiciously.

He grinned boyishly. "I've explained myself enough. Think about it, Granger. If you decide you'll accept our arrangement, you'll join me for dinner tonight. I have a standing reservation at the 'Black Capon' at eight. Make yourself up; it's not a place for jeans and a jumper. Besides, I want to see you in a little black dress."

"Don't order me around, Malfoy," Hermione hissed when, having finished her lunch, she got up to leave. She gladly left the bill to him.

"Granger," he called her back once more. She turned back to him and startled a little at his fierce gaze. He took her hand to pull her to him. When her face was at his height, he said vehemently, "Make no mistake with your decision. If you decide to accept, be aware that I will do my utmost to keep you. I have money enough to get you anything your heart desires. And then some." Then he let go of her hand and Hermione pulled back.

"One more thing, Granger. Don't over-analyse it. You can back out anytime," he finished with an almost pleading undertone.

Stunned against her will, Hermione couldn't do more than nod her understanding before she retreated.

She spent her afternoon over tea, doing exactly that; analysing the situation. Interspersed were a few episodes when she dreamed of her times together with Malfoy, making her blush when she remembered the heat and passion.

Could she give this up? Perhaps.

Did she want to? Absolutely not.

And she didn't say this because it tickled her libido. While the sex was phenomenal, it had only been a start. Now, however, it intricately intertwined with their work. And she wasn't giving up this work for the life of her. Malfoy had come a long way, too. She couldn't even imagine him calling her "Mudblood" anymore and she savoured her time with him.

While she sat for tea in her favourite Muggle coffee shop, his last pleading look imprinted in her memory, she overheard two women talking in the booth next to her. Hermione could only imagine that the witches had thought they wouldn't be overheard when going to a Muggle coffee shop, the same reason Hermione went, actually. Otherwise, they likely would have cast a Muffliato.

"Did you hear?" one witch asked.

"Of course," the other one answered. "Poor Astoria, she's done everything for him, given him everything, and now this."

"Pansy Parkinson, you know, my second cousin once removed, is still good friends with the Malfoys and she told me that they already had trouble. Astoria always did what she wanted. She doesn't care Shrivelfig's worth for Malfoy. She doesn't even let him in her bedroom."

The other witch gasped. Apparently, that was a big no-no. "The big party a year ago was just a trial to patch things up, and it only made them more ridiculous. They've been on the rocks for ages."

That was news for the other witch. And Hermione as well. Against her principles, she listened.

"Was there cheating involved?" she asked. Hermione blushed.

"No, no infidelity. Not that I know of. You'd think if Malfoy had one on the side she'd step forward and lay a claim. But, no. I believe it was more a matter of having drifted apart. With Scorpius gone to Hogwarts now three years…"

"You mean the child was the glue that held them together?"

The other witch must have nodded wordlessly, which Hermione couldn't see. The second witch continued.

"It's all because of the war. Twenty years later, now, we all pay the price, we who have survived. I don't blame anybody for splitting. Life's too hard to live without love."

The first witch sniggered. "If even a smartarse like Hermione Granger can do it…"

The second witch took up the thread contemplatively. "Yes, that's what I mean. It is pretty darn smart of her to cut her losses and move on. Just because she's been the war heroine and Ronald Weasley her designated partner doesn't mean that she has to pretend to be happy if she's not. Times are changing. And she's setting an example. It will remain to be seen if it's a good one, but at least there are options, other than sitting it out, as we've done for the last millennium, weaving malicious intrigues against our husbands whom we can't stand. I laud her for taking that step. Even if I don't like her, personally."

"What about our traditions?" the first witch asked.

"Well, our traditions were responsible for getting us into the Voldemort mess in the first place, weren't they? So, good riddance, I say. We'll make new ones."

"It's not that easy," the first witch protested.

"Nothing's easy. Life's not easy. All the more important that we keep an eye on what's really essential in life. Like love," the second witch replied heatedly.

Love – Dumbledore had always believed in love. But there were different kinds. There was the smothering one, like Molly Weasley's, which handicapped the loved person to grow exponentially. And there was the love that persisted even though you let go. She wasn't sure if there was any kind of love involved in her decision at the moment, but Hermione thought, passion was a good start.

She decided to tune out the conversation and leave. The two witches had given her many things to think about.

So, Malfoy had split from his wife, as he'd said. It couldn't have been easy. All his familial obligations - his parents had likely given him hell - his pureblood traditions, and his influence.

In their last talk, Ron had given her an ultimatum. He had known about her work with Malfoy and likely how close they had gotten. He had been furious.

"So, you're fucking Malfoy, is that it? Is he good? You know that he has no heart, right? You were nothing but a Mudblood to him. He'll use your brain and that's it. He'll use and then discard you."

"Ron," she'd tried to placate him, "we work together brilliantly."

"Oh, yes, with you, it's always about work, work, and work. Where's the life in that?"

"If you mean where's the life in serving my family, I have to tell you that I much prefer my work."

Ron was flabbergasted. "You'd rather work than be with your loved ones? The Hermione I married would have never said that."

"No, Ron, not being with my loved ones. Serving them, absolutely. And that's all I've been doing. I didn't mind taking care of our kids, but my grown-up husband shouldn't have required as much pampering as he requested. The Hermione you married got sick of catering to you."

"Harry will never forgive you, if you break up with me for good."

Hermione stiffened. "Harry will get over the fact that his two best friends are not a couple any more. Other than that, nothing has changed for him."

"Hermione," Ron whined, switching tactics for the fifth time, "I miss you. I love you. I'm nothing without you. I want you back. Please, give us another chance."

"I don't know, Ron," she whispered back, weary of his quick turn-around but still not able to make a final decision with a whiny husband. "I have to think about it."

"What do you have to think about? If he fucks you better than I do?" Ron said nastily.

Hermione shook herself, first entranced by Ron's heart-warming confession in the previous sentence and now shaken at his cruelty.

Then, Ron put his wand on her chest. "You have to make a decision between my love and Malfoy's using you. The next time you consider going to him, you better be sure. Because after the next time, I'm not taking you back."

Hermione snorted incredulously. "Oh, good, Ron. That's really good to know. I'll keep it in mind."

Ron had always been good with bluntness.

She straightened up when she reached her door. She would make her own decisions from now on. She would take what she wanted, claim what she liked, and do as she preferred. The Wizarding world had better be ready for a divorce –the scandal, the shame – because she was going through with it. Encouraged by her phenomenal success with Malfoy, she would find a way to sit out the mortification going along with it. She wasn't alone.

Sitting on her sofa, her thoughts back on Malfoy, she masturbated to the day-dream of being taken against a bookshelf at Malfoy Manor. Of overwhelming heat and mutual pleasure and breaking apart. Of exploration and passion and growing mutual respect and nurturing. She came with a muffled scream at the erotic images and giggled in delight when she stretched out her cramped muscles, which reminded her of the way Draco always stretched after sex; as if it had been invigorating.

She smiled in her sated state at the thought of how well she knew his little irks and quirks by now. How ticklish he was on his sides. How quickly he was aroused when she paid attention to his neck and ears. How gentle he could be.

Yet, Draco Malfoy remained an enigma, the former Death Eater from her youth, the one who wouldn't have given her the time of day. That Draco would have exploited her for the sex and the work and thrown her away to reap the benefits. If she had thought at first that he kept her around for the sex he wasn't getting at home, he'd soon proven that he had no interest in stopping what they did. That included their fruitful working relationship. But was he genuinely interested in her?

She had time to find out, didn't she? There was no catch really. She could keep a good thing until it became a hindrance if she fell in love and wanted out.

What was in it for Malfoy was the question, though? He wouldn't ever do anything like this out of the goodness of his heart.

When it was time to change for dinner, she thought she had the answer. This wasn't about lust. This was about life giving heat.

And so she went, dressed up to the nines.

When she entered the restaurant, she found Malfoy at his table, turning a wine glass around and around, obviously in anticipation.

His face lit up when she went to him and he didn't give her the time to sit down. He jumped up and took her hands before she had reached her chair. "Very nice, Granger. I knew you had it in you," he said loudly. When he'd reached her and put a quick, soft kiss on her temple, she heard him breath, "You came," in obvious enjoyment.

"I did," she confirmed calmly, smiling at the sight of his clear eyes gleaming in honest delight, which confirmed the answer she had found. "Happy Valentine's Day, Draco."

And then she sealed it with a kiss, grabbing his robe collar, in front of the flashing cameras waiting for them. A kiss that was so saucy and so thrilling that it left them panting and almost spoilt their dinner.

Almost.

The headlines of the Daily Prophet the next day read "Malfoy and Granger's Achievement Giving Heat to the Wizarding World! Development of an Anti-Cruciatus Cure. Read it here."

And "From an Explosive Start to a Fertile Work Relationship. Read the story of their relationship building on page 3."

This article ended with the sentence: "We expect a great harvest from their combined efforts. Happy Valentine's to the newest celebrity couple" – and left no room for argument.

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THE END.

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A/N: viola brought up the idea of Ron and Astoria ending together, and I have to admit, I haven't thought this far. I may let the idea simmer and then add something but at the moment, it's not part of the story. Sorry to those who were expecting it.

More explicit thanks go to strawberrykait for brainstorming in the early development of the story, to eilonwy for inspiration and, ultimately, to Misdemeanour1331 for being so open about her stories. Some inspiration for the laboratory scene came from one of her stories. Thank you all

Thank you, dear reader, for reading this story to the end. Leave a review if you like it – or even if you didn't. Let me know if any picked up the volcano theme and where you found it. You'll get a PM from me if you tell me. :-)

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