"Malfoy?" Harry said, straightening his glasses. Draco was still standing in the middle of the room, his infamous smirk still glossing his features. "Why are you in Hermione's house?"

"The better question is why do you have access to her house?" Draco crossed his arms, "Do you lot live together?" He began to chuckle.

It would be rather ironic if the Golden Trio did live together. It would, after all, give some context to the prude joke about what the three of them do when they're alone together.

"That is none of your bloody business, Malfoy – why, exactly, are you here?" Ron asked – his eyes glaring holes into his enemy's head.

Despite the conclusion of the war, and the end to all 'hatred' between Purebloods and Muggleborns – Ron, Hermione, Harry and Draco had too much history for it to all disappear. Of course, some of the hatred did diminish, however, all the childish bullying and name calling during Hogwarts days still add up to something. One can never forget about their childhood bully.

"I uh—

"We are free to leave now, Mal—oh my goodness," Hermione's eyes widened at the sight of the trio in front of her. All eyes now placed on her stunned figure. "Harry… Ron, what are you two doing here?"

"We had dinner plans at your house today… You gave us a key to your house in case you were still at work." Harry stated, "But you must've forgotten?" He looked between Hermione and Draco.

Hermione looked between Harry and Ron, licking her lips in hopes that by hydrating her lips in some way, will give her something to say.

"Malfoy came to the bookstore this evening looking for a book," Hermione stated, her eyes widening as she looked at Draco. He turned her as his eyebrows rose in confusion at her false statement. "I had taken his reserved book home for me to read, completely disregarding the fact that he had reserved it…" She began forcefully laughing, "Silly me!"

"But why is he in your house?" Ron asked.

"Because I was closing up and I didn't want him to be left alone in a store! I mean, he could've stolen something!"

"I'd like to have you know that I would never steal because I simply can buy whatever I pl—

"Anyhow, so I decided that he should come with me to my house and personally hand him the book… Courtesy of causing him such trouble, of course."

The room had grown silent. The two pairs eyeing each other out.

"Okay," Ron said, "So is dinner still on?" He asked with his boyish smile that once melted Hermione's heart to pieces.

"I'm afraid not, Ron," Hermione said, "I have a few errands to run this evening. But by all means, you two make yourself at home and eat! I should be gone until tomorrow morning." Hermione smiled at the pair. She walked toward them and placed kisses on their cheeks and walked toward Draco who stood there with a grin on his face.

"I think it's time we head back to the bookstore, Malfoy," Hermione affirmed, Draco smirked and nodded.

"As displeasing as it was to see you both, I do hope you enjoy your date with each other!" Hermione rolled her eyes and grabbed his arm. "Remember, ensure you two place a protection charm before doing what you do best," Draco winked "–these horrid Muggle diseases are worth protecting ourselves over!"

Apparation felt like one is being pulled by in all sorts of directions. More often than not, one feels like they are being pinched in all places.

When they arrived back at the Manor, Draco then realised that It wasn't the apparation that was pinching him, it was Hermione, and so very hard.

"You little twit, that was so disrespectful on so many levels!" Hermione shouted. Her unruly curls bouncing with each syllable she pronounced.

Draco stood in front of her, arms crossed, smirking. He rather enjoyed riling the Hermione Granger–Nott up.

"What I believe to be disrespectful is the fact that you failed to mention to your best friends that you are no longer a Muggle born," His cocky stance replaced his regular one.

Yes, Draco Malfoy had several stances in which was used in different situations. Typically, the cocky stance was the one he utilized the most.

Hermione's face dropped. She forgot about that.

"It was not the right moment nor place, I – I – I must ensure we are alone and that that no one is there, I cannot have people knowing who I am, I mean, that would be completely and utterly humiliating! I'll be defying what I've worked my whole life to work against, it's it's, I must tell them when I'm ready, okay?"

Draco broke out into laughter, he couldn't fathom what was going on in her brain at this second, but bloody hell was it funny.

"Look, Granger, I could not care less," He slowly stopped laughing, "Just do stay out of my way, and when you do tell those dimwits who you are, they are not welcome into my Manor. Got it?"

Before she had a chance to answer, he was walking down the hallway and into the West wing – away from her.

"No, I do not 'got it'," She huffed, angrily. Turning around with her bag filled with clothes in her hand, and storming down the hallway.

0o0o0o0o0o

"You seem rather tense, mate," Blaise Zabini stated, adjusting his suit in the mirror. "Is this why you had a sudden need to attend a strip club?"

Draco groaned as he placed on his dragon-leather shoes.

"I need some sort of release," He stated, "It's been a stressful two days,"

He stood from the bed and began walking out the door with Zabini striding at his tail.

"Work again?" The handsome Italian probed.

"Work, mother and her ideas – the whole lot," Draco thought aloud. Zabini simply chuckled.

"So we're hiring a slag or two today?"

"You bet we are,"

0o0o0o0o0o

He couldn't get that evil minx out of his head. How she dared to shout down the hall as he walked away, thinking he wouldn't hear her. Even with the gorgeous brunette he picked out from the list on his lap, he couldn't get her out of his head.

Every time he and Zabini attended the clubs, he had a type. Straight blonde hair and blue eyes. However, today, he went for something different. Brown eyes, curly brown hair. She was, after all, the most attractive one there.

Her lips connected with the side of his neck, trailing down to his exposed chest, her mouth never departing. Her clothes were off, and his boxers were pulled down to his knees.

She wouldn't jump on him until he asked.

"Malfoy," He stated, "Call me Malfoy today."

The woman nodded.

"Jump on,"

0o0o0o0o0o

Draco adapted this new hobby almost a year after the War concluded. It was during the time he and his lawyers were fighting the Ministry for his company – and we all know how that ended. Blaise had been doing it for a while, and told him that it was a great stress reliever. Draco didn't believe it until he tried it.

This filthy habit, as he called it, was a vice – once you get in it, there's no way out. It's a drug. And Draco's an addict.

No one knows of this beside Blaise. If he were to tell Theo about it, the amount of shit he would cop from him would be endless.

He tried to stop, he really did. But he couldn't. It's all he knows. It's the only thing that helps him relax, to live a little, and not to mention how great it felt.

It did get boring after a while, that's why he switched up his girls. But they were all the same, knew the same moves, kissed the same spots. It wasn't full of passion, but then again, it's a strip club – one with V.I.P members who get special acts. It wasn't the Bachelor.

0o0o0o0o0o

Whilst Draco was enjoying his time at the club, Hermione began packing her clothes into the drawers that were in her room. She didn't particularly like this new arrangement, nor the fact that she lied to her best friends.

But she'd tell them. Soon. And they'd still be best friends. They won't look at her differently just because she's a Pureblood – because she's a Nott. Of course they wouldn't.

Would they?