"I'm fine, Mione!" Ronald declared forcefully from inside the loo, the sound of uncontrollable retching ensuing as Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Why would you eat this?" His wife called out in aggravation, staring in disgust at the morbidly old chicken he had decided to snack on for lunch today.

Hermione immediately threw it in the bin, shaking her head at his stupidity as she sighed heavily, knowing that he would be in no fit state to watch the children tomorrow.

She would have to fire-call McCrae first thing in the morning and tell her boss that she wouldn't be in, a small pit of sadness settling in her stomach at the thought of missing work.

Well, not so much missing work as it was missing lunch with Draco.

A cinderblock of guilt crushed her thoughts as she surprised even herself - her plans with Malfoy were the last thing she should be concerned about right now!

Your husband is throwing his lungs up, and you're disappointed about missing lunch with another man? You daft cow!

Hermione blanched at her own carelessness, shaking her head vehemently in defiance of her feelings before making her way to the toilet where a green-gilled Ron was slouched.

"Do you need anything?" She asked gently, guilt forcing her to inquire much too sweetly as she assessed her ill spouse.

The man shook his head heavily, eyelids drooping as he battled another wave of nausea.

"Okay, I'll be home tomorrow to watch the kids."

"No, I'll be fine by morning-"

"I'm staying home," she affirmed. The woman's guilt slowly subsiding as she pledged herself to her wifely duties. "Besides, there's nothing important happening on a Wednesday."

Liar.

Ronald peered up at her from over the toilet bowl, a faint smile on his clammy face.

"Thank you."

Hermione nodded at her husband, knowing that if their roles were reversed he would have gone into the office unless she flat out instructed him to stay home. Not out of cruelty or malice - that was just how Ron was. He couldn't read her mind and it was wrong to expect him to know when she needed his help. What bothered her was that he didn't even ask.

His wife gave him an empty smile before heading into the next room where Rose and Hugo were screaming loudly, both trying to claim possession of the same toy.

She came over, gently prying the ball out of their tiny hands and hiding it on top of a shelf before sitting cross legged on the hard floor beside her wailing children.

The witch scooped up her two babies and smothered them in a sea of kisses, closing her eyes as she hugged them enormously, their sobbing slowing down as she reassured them with her presence.

She sat there quietly for what seemed like an eternity, rocking them back and forth in her lap as the sound of Ron's vomiting filled the air and a sense of unmistakable sadness filled her soul at the thought of the man in the bathroom.

The next day passed in a blur, her husband finally able to keep down more than a soda cracker after twelve straight hours of purging his system of spoiled poultry.

She remembered looking at the clock at noon, trying not to imagine what Draco was doing at work. She desperately tried not to wonder if he missed her company or if he was relieved by her absence, and most of all she tried not to wonder if he was as disappointed about missing lunch as she was.

Instead, she kicked the pesky thoughts about Malfoy from her mind and turned them into loving deeds for her husband.

Hermione dutifully made Ronald a thin noodle soup from scratch, made sure the kids were fully entertained and out of his hair, brewed a lovely cup of ginger chai - sans dairy - and even packed the kids up and headed over to Boots to buy a pack of Dioralyte.

Each time she presented the red-head with a new remedy, his tired blue eyes searched her face for any sort of expression aside from the tight smile she offered, but she kept her true feelings hidden from her features and went to bed that night with a strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but there was something bothering her…

"Are you upset with me?"

The room was dark and the couple were preparing for sleep to take hold when her husband's voice filled the air.

Hermione frowned, her eyes still closed.

"Why would I be upset with you, Ronald?"

"I dunno…" the man said as she felt him roll over to face her. "You just seem off."

His wife thought about his words, searching the back of her eyelids for an answer. Perhaps she was upset with him after all.

No, upset wasn't the right word.

Resentful.

That was it.

She resented him for ruining her plans today - not that Ron had gotten sick on purpose - but still. He was always the reason she missed out on things, not just with friends. He never wanted to go anywhere new or do anything fun.

Museum? Too boring.

Art gallery? Too pretentious.

Travel? Too much work with the kids.

Vacation without the kids? Too much money.

She was drowning in monotony and just as she had found someone who genuinely made her feel something other than complacency, he had to ruin it.

Hermione opened her eyes and studied the forlorn expression on her husband's face.

"I know I'm not perfect, and definitely not the best looking bloke out there, but I'm glad you chose me," Ronald whispered sweetly, reaching over to give her curly hair a rare stroke.

And just like that - in one sentence - he made every trace of resentment disappear into thin air, the previous emotion replaced with awful, gnawing guilt. She swallowed a wracking sob, unable to tell him her true thoughts, knowing that she owed it to Ron to bury her unhappiness - her absolute lack of vitality - and soldier on like any devoted wife and selfless mother.

They were too far into the game to give up on each other now, no matter how dysfunctional they were together.

Were they dysfunctional? God, Hermione didn't even know - he was her first and only real relationship. What if all couples were like this behind closed doors? What if behind every "I love you" there was a concealed universal truth of hurt, unhappiness and resentment?

She reached over and burrowed into her husband's chest, wet tears pooling against her nose as she gave him a tiny peck on the collarbone.

"I love you," the woman said quietly, reassuring herself over and over and over again that Ronald Weasley was the only one for her.

He had to be.

Thursday morning dawned slowly and meticulously, a bleary eyed toddler belly flopping into their bed just past three, followed by a rude awakening two hours later courtesy of a starving eleven month old.

Hermione yawned hugely, placing Hugo on his playmat and dumping out a bin of blocks for him to play with as she got up to get ready for work.

Not in the mood to faff around with buttons or pants, she opted for a cerise long sleeve dress that fell just below her knees, pairing the ensemble with a pair of sheer stockings, a black cardigan and a pair of matching pumps.

She was dressed nicely enough - for once - and decided the frizzy bun wouldn't do today. Taking out her wand, she waved her hand and tamed the unruly curls into a curtain of pin-straight cinnamon tresses.

Idly reaching for her mascara, she applied a thin layer over her lashes along with the faintest trace of blusher before an ear piercing shriek from Hugo had her flying back into the living room only to find her infant grinning from ear to ear with no danger or injury in sight.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at him, bending over to scoop him up as she planted a huge kiss on his chubby little cheeks, pretending to slurp up the rolls of baby fat around his neck as he giggled gleefully, wriggling with delight in her arms.

In moments like this, staring into his beautiful, innocent, perfect face, she truly missed staying home.

"Surprised to see you two up," Ronald stated groggily from the doorway, indelicately readjusting his bollocks before coming over to take Hugo.

"He was extra hungry this morning," Hermione explained, giving her son another kiss as the boy grabbed at her hair with gusto. "Rose still asleep?" She asked, kissing her nodding husband on the lips.

"I've already made some waffles, they're on the table," the witch announced, grabbing a handful of Floo Powder as she made her way to the Fireplace, ready to start her work day.

Back at the office, Hermione found herself stalling as she reached Boardroom C, not sure if she wanted to find out the extent to which Malfoy's presence affected her. Especially since she was more than certain the feelings were not reciprocated.

Throwing caution to the wind and taking a deep breath, she steeled her nerves and gently pulled the door open.

Draco's grey eyes instantly found hers and she felt her heart stop before gathering twice as much speed - he was wearing a navy blazer with a bright blue jumper underneath, the cerulean shirt making his already mesmerizing irises seem almost hypnotic.

A faint blush crept into her cheeks at the intensity with which he glared at her and she cursed her treacherous capillaries.

She noticed very plainly the way his gaze lingered on her sleek hair and makeup, his own ears glowing scarlet….

Maybe she had been wrong in assuming her crush was unrequited.

"Thought I'd scared you off," he announced casually, reaching over to swivel the chair around for her.

"Hardly," Hermione retorted, taking a seat as she let her bag slouch onto the floor. "I don't scare easily."

"I'm counting on it," Draco answered, gaze already back to his papers while the woman beside him blushed even harder, wondering why in Merlin's name he had to say things like that.

His eyes flicked to her like a knife, raking over her face and settling just a moment too long on her breasts. She felt her core pulse at the attention, her heart beat reaching unfathomable speed as she nervously tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

Ron. Ronald. Ronald. Think of your husband.

The brunette cleared her throat as she changed the course of their conversation.

"Did I miss anything monumental?"

"Not at all," Malfoy replied, focusing back on his work as he scowled, scribbling fervently onto the document.

Hermione nodded, somewhat let down by their lack of rapport after the ease with which they conversed on Tuesday afternoon. But she supposed he couldn't be equally as loquacious everyday.

The witch pulled herself closer to the desk and slid the next file from her ever diminishing stack of parchment.

The two colleagues worked in silence for what felt like hours before Hermione took a glance at the clock.

11:30

She made a face at it, wondering if she would have enough time to buy Draco's Secret Santa gift during lunch. Not that she had the slightest idea of what to get him.

Perhaps a scarf? Or maybe a new pair of gloves?

"Come on, time to go," Malfoy declared suddenly, setting his supplies down as he pushed away from the desk.

The woman looked around, almost expecting to see someone else in the room with them but soon realized he had indeed been addressing her.

"Go where?"

"For lunch - I told you it was my turn," he explained, shrugging into his jacket as he sauntered toward the door, his bewildered colleague only just rising from her chair.

"But I have to run an errand, I-"

"Come on Granger, or I'm actually going to throw you over my shoulder this time," he threatened, eyes glinting dangerously in the light as Hermione's breath hitched in her throat.

"You will do no such thing!" She squeaked, backing up a step as Draco took one closer. "I have a prior engagement so lunch will have to be rescheduled."

Malfoy rolled his eyes at her, throwing his jacket off in one fluid movement and turning his sleeves up before advancing on her menacingly.

"Just don't scuff the shirt, yeah - it's Armani," he instructed, crouching down as though to scoop her up before she stepped away, her stomach heaving in trepidation and excitement all at once.

"Okay! You plonker," she proclaimed rather rudely, stumbling backwards while holding an arm out in front of her as though trying to ward off a wild animal.

He turned around and laughed - he didn't snigger cruelly or smirk or chortle or chuckle, he full stop laughed aloud - for the first time she had ever heard, and Hermione thought her ears were going to sprout mouths of their own just so they could smile at the sound.

"I don't think I've ever been called a plonker before, Granger - I quite like it," he admitted with a light chuckle, his mood and expression brighter than a neon sign as a spellbinding smile enveloped his face.

He was unfairly handsome when he smiled.

Ron. Ronald. Think of your husband.

She ducked her head, her face beet red; certain that It would explode if any more heat rushed to it as she brushed herself off, heading towards the door while steering clear of the smirking blonde who looked utterly pleased with her fumbling reaction.

"Oh - ready to go so soon?" He said in a mock tone of surprise, straightening out his sleeves again.

Hermione scoffed and shook her head in amusement, unable to stop the grin which spread on her face as she stood at the exit with an unmistakable bubble of excitement swelling deep in her chest.

"Please tell me that's not your coat," Malfoy accused, giving her cardigan a disapproving glare as he came around the table to join her at the door.

"I'll be fine," she assured, wrapping the warm sweater around herself tightly before making a bolt for the exit before he could force his own upon her again. But the man was too fast, grabbing her by the wrist as they both gasped at the sharp jolt of electricity that ran through their flesh.

He let go of her arm as though she had burned him and the sensation stopped instantly.

They exchanged bewildered glances, Malfoy flexing his fingers and Hermione massaging her wrist as they stood awkwardly, both afraid to address the peculiar pull between them. Something she had completely neglected to look into as she'd planned.

Finally Malfoy reached forward and grabbed his jacket off the floor, holding it out to her with the very tips of his fingers as though he were discarding a soiled nappy.

"Just take the damn thing," he ordered, avoiding her sheepish gaze as she took the coat and wrapped herself in its warm confines once more.

She involuntarily took a large sniff of his collar, recognizing the scent of saffron, grapefruit and crushed tobacco- wondering how on Earth something could smell so masculine and fruity at the same time.

"What cologne is this?" Hermione asked, simply unable to stop herself as each sniff uncovered different notes - elemi, pink pepper, cinnamon...the list went on. She was seriously considering buying Ronald a bottle just so she could smell it at home.

Her interest in his scent made the man fidget and he tried not to watch her take another long whiff, his ears turning bright pink before he scratched the back of his head.

"It's a Muggle brand - Viktor Rolf's Spicebomb."

"I want to strip down and bathe in it," Hermione joked, immediately apologizing when she realized the unintended effect her words had on the man who groaned almost miserably, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes as though trying to rub out an unwelcome image.

Did he perhaps have an inkling of a crush on her as well?

"Let's go before we miss our reservation," Draco replied quietly, seeming to have regained his composure as he practically shoved her out the door.

Reservation?

"Exactly where are we going?"

Malfoy took a quick look at her snuggled warmly in his jacket and smirked appreciatively, his grey eyes lingering on her stocking clad legs and high heeled pumps.

This man was going to get her into so much trouble.

"It's a surprise," he said, raising his brows at her before taking the lead.

Hermione blinked after him for a second, the last time she had been surprised was almost twenty months ago as she stared dumbfoundedly at yet another positive pregnancy test.

The witch smiled after her colleague, quickly trying to catch up with the man while trying not to feel overly scandalous for leaving the office with Draco Malfoy.

Thankfully they didn't have to travel very far, especially since her lunch mate was practically running in front of her.

Hermione nearly tripped three times in the short walk from Whitehall, not knowing if his haste was due to the sub zero temperatures or if he just didn't feel like standing too close beside her.

Whatever the case, they arrived at a posh looking hotel with an exquisite stone facade littered with Corinthian pillars.

In all her years at the Ministry, Hermione had never ventured past the Pret a Manger on ' street, most places this side of Westminster well beyond her budget for lunch.

Draco bounded up the stairs to the entrance, nodding to the doorman as he pulled the ornate entryway open for her before standing to the side like a guard waiting for the Queen to pass by. The woman threw him a small smile by way of thanks and stepped through the threshold, stopping dead in her tracks.

The beauty of the lobby alone took her completely off guard: an utterly massive chandelier with twinkling string lights hung from a crystal paned oculus in the centre of the exquisitely furnished area. Cream coloured, high back chairs and plush couches were tastefully paired with gleaming oak tables and counters, enormous bouquets of pure white flowers amassed on top of every flat surface, spilling down the sides like milk from a bowl. The perfect symmetry of the doorways, all twelve feet high and bordered with a gleaming silver trim, gave the room an unearthly extravagance and Hermione felt her wallet get lighter with every step.

"Shall we?" Malfoy's voice brought her back to Earth as she turned around, trying not to gape at him.

"I buy you soup from a kiosk and you bring me to Buckingham Palace!?" Hermione squawked, suddenly feeling utterly inadequate in such a pretentious establishment. She had half a mind to run back to her 4 quid turkey on rye sitting in the office.

Draco rolled his grey eyes skyward, the sun from the windows passing through his irises making them look like diamonds caught in the light and the woman abruptly realized that this man was born for extravagance.

"This way, Granger," he informed, gesturing with his hand past the foyer and through one of the immense archways where she could see a polished grand piano sitting upon a beautifully hand woven persian rug.

Hermione gulped, but advanced further into the belly of the ostentatious building, cringing as each of her steps reverberated loudly off the marble walls while Draco followed silently behind her.

She could see a lunette doorway up ahead with a forcibly grinning hostess standing guard.

"Good afternoon and welcome to The Northall, are you both guests at the hotel?" She inquired politely, her accent immediately recognizable as Mancunian.

"No, we have reservations for two under Malfoy," the man explained, straightening out his suit as the hostess consulted the list tacked to the podium behind her.

"Excellent," the woman confirmed, taking a quick peek at Hermione who most likely looked like a stray dog that had followed a barrister home. "Right this way."

They followed the hostess through the door and into the exorbitant dining hall where people were eating, drinking and conversing while completely oblivious to the stunning architecture which surrounded them.

Hermione however, drank it all in - her brown eyes widening in awe at the five tier, wagon wheel chandelier in the middle of the room. It sat just above the bar which was surrounded by grey veined marble and flanked on either side by two massive Corinthian columns which extended towards the ceiling that was painted with what looked like gold filigree. It sparkled beautifully in the light of the grandiose Palladian windows which lined the west wall.

It was Romanesque, it was gaudy, it was completely ostentatious and above all else, it was breathtaking.

She noticed Draco studying her wide eyed reaction as they were seated, the hotel employee handing them a pair of menus before strolling away.

"You seem like you're at the zoo," Malfoy observed quietly, the expression on his own face looking slightly guilty as he searched her features.

Hermione smiled, shaking her head vehemently while she slipped out of his jacket and looked around at the awe inspiring room once again.

"It's just, this building is incredible - you see those in the middle over there?" She said, pointing enthusiastically at the Roman pillars by the bar. Ancient Runes - and by extension Ancient art and architecture - were one of the few topics which still truly excited the witch.

Draco's eyes reluctantly pulled away from her face and found the object which had so readily captured her attention.

"They're Corinthian columns - actually, even the name Corinthian is rumored to be erroneous,"-she snorted, gearing up for what she was sure to be a zinger-"According to Vetruvius, the man who sculpted the first one wasn't even from Corinth. He was Athenian!"

Hermione tittered at her own joke while Malfoy stared at her with a raised eyebrow, absolutely bemused by her inane rambling.

"Sorry," she said blushing furiously as she realized that a Pureblood like Malfoy would have no idea - and no interest - in the Roman Orders. Come to think of it, most Muggles wouldn't even be interested.

The witch cleared her throat, trying to conceal her embarrassment by taking a look at the menu before Draco reached over and pulled it down, her eyes lifting upwards.

"Don't."

Hermione looked at him blankly, the heat from her face having yet to dissipate.

"Don't what?" She asked, unsure if the look in his eyes was that of pity or sorrow.

"Don't apologize for something you're passionate about - I want to know what you were going to say," he replied, frowning at her.

"No you don't, no one does," she laughed, completely unoffended. And it was true, most of her own family and friends groaned loudly as soon as she began talking about anything to do with Ancient Muggle and Wizarding architecture.

"No really, I didn't know Callamachus was Athenian - tell me more," Draco demanded, propping his elbow onto the table as he rested his chin in his hand, completely oblivious to the fact that the woman in front of him was currently having a tiny heart attack as a result of his sentence.

He knew who Callamachus was! Not just in passing either, he knew the sculptor and his creations! But how? There was no way he read up on ancient Muggle empires in his spare time...did he?

"I was tutored on the Ancient Egyptian, Greek, Roman and Persian empires," Malfoy explained as though reading her mind, sitting up again as he unfolded the taupe napkin and spread it out onto his lap. "A lot of wizarding world buildings - including Gringotts - were inspired by GrecoRoman architecture. Not to mention quite a few of the historical figures were wizards and witches themselves - including Callamachus."

"What? According to whom?" Hermione accused, her heart flailing wildly against her ribcage as she felt the rush of adrenaline that only accompanied learning something new and exciting. She had read through almost every book in the Hogwarts library, many of them mentioning the famous witches and wizards of the past - Imhotep, Cleopatra, Homer, Xerxes - the list was extensive, but not once had she seen the name Callamachus anywhere.

Draco smirked.

"Not exactly the know-it-all I remember, Granger," he teased, opening up his menu.

She smiled, not even upset with the challenge.

"Come off it, how do you know he was a wizard?"

Malfoy grinned, thoroughly enjoying her enthusiasm.

"We had one of his personal diaries in the library. He was incredibly secretive about his magic."

"No!" Hermione denied incredulously, completely enthralled by Malfoy's attestation. She would kill to read a journal written by the master himself. "Why have you never mentioned it before?!"

"It's not exactly something that comes up in normal conversations," Draco chortled, staring at her in an appreciative manner. "He had a four page entry on his love affairs but not a single word about being from Athens."

"I'd give anything to read it!" She declared, following his example of unfolding her napkin and splaying it out on her lap.

"I'd let you have it, but…" the man trailed off, his expression darkening. "It's still at Malfoy Manor."

Hermione's chest seized up at the thought of that dreadful place, instantly closing her eyes and trying to focus on anything except the memories of torture. After a few seconds of training her thoughts on Rose, Hugo, friends and family, she reopened them and read the look of remorse and shame on Draco's face as he watched her.

But they had been down that road and definitely did not need to rehash talk of their past today.

She smiled warmly at him, wordlessly assuring him that she was alright and slowly watched his expression melt like the last snow of Winter.

Then his words abruptly caught up with her.

"Wait...you don't live there?" She inquired, genuinely shocked.

Malfoy shook his head, jaw clenching as he spoke.

"I wouldn't go near that place with a ten foot pole."

If Hermione had been tortured there for one night and harboured such intense feelings of hatred for Malfoy Manor, she could only imagine how Draco - who'd had to endure years of abuse - felt about the building.

It surprised her though; she had no idea why she thought he and Scorpius still lived there. Especially since it made perfect sense that Draco had vacated after getting married.

The witch found that her misconceptions and preconceived beliefs about the present day Master Malfoy were proving to be figments of her past prejudices and that they were unravelling at the seams.

"Good afternoon and welcome to the Northall, my name is Johnathan and I will be attending to you today," A posh voice broke their conversation and both Malfoy and Granger jumped at the sound of the waiter who seemed to creep up out of nowhere.

"Sorry, a few more minutes with the menu," Draco answered, preemptively cutting Johnathan short. The Muggle seemed completely indifferent and nodded curtly before heading onto to the next table.

"I guess we got distracted," Hermione said sheepishly, staring down at her menu for a moment and frowned when she saw that none of the prices were listed.

That was never a good sign.

She perused the lunch menu as though reading a manuscript written in German - slow roasted hake? Whole sea bream?

The witch always thought she'd had a comfortable upbringing, but this restaurant made her feel like a scullery maid who had accidentally been invited to high tea.

Hermione glanced up at Malfoy to try and gauge his expression, and of course he looked utterly at ease, grey eyes dancing across the menu as he chose his meal.

The brunette decided to go with the first thing on the list - crispy leg croquettes - and quickly snapped her card shut.

"You've already decided?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Yes. Although I wish I could try a bit of everything- it all looks delicious," she fibbed.

She didn't know what half of the items were.

Malfoy seemed to ponder her words as he set his menu down without taking another glance at it, raising an arm and beckoning Johnathan with barely a bend of his wrist.

The impeccably trained waiter came to them at once, his notepad and pen at the ready.

"We'll get the Mountbatten," Draco instructed, rather surprising his lunch mate at the term we. He passed both of their menus off to the Muggle who turned a slightly confused gaze to Hermione, then back to Malfoy.

"Just the two of you, sir?"

"Yes."

"May I suggest the Sussex?"

"No," Draco replied with a small smile which made the witch in front of him wonder just what in the world a Mountbatten was.

"Very well, your order will be out as soon as possible," Johnathan informed, flipping his notepad shut as Malfoy nodded in accordance.

As the waiter disappeared from view Hermione turned a shrewd gaze onto the blonde.

"What did you do?" She asked accusingly, something telling her that she wasn't going to be pleased.

"Ordered us lunch,"-he replied shrugging his broad shoulders-"you're welcome," Draco replied in a mockingly scathing tone.

"Thank you," the brunette volleyed, blushing again as she averted her gaze.

The two sat in an awkward silence for a moment before Hermione cleared her throat and turned towards him, fully intending to force a conversation if she had to.

"So, have you finished your Christmas shopping?"

Malfoy scoffed derisively, tilting his head to the side as he examined her bathed in the afternoon sun - his expression softening the longer he stared.

"Not quite yet," he admitted. "You?"

The woman laughed aloud.

"I wish! I've only got about a hundred people to buy for."

He smiled, perhaps not quite caring about her extensive list of gift recipients. He did seem to enjoy watching her talk though, and so she prattled on - about Ronald's family, her parents, Harry's kids, friends from Hogwarts - until she felt like her throat was going to crack.

All the while Draco sat and listened wholeheartedly, nodding and congratulating her when she mentioned Ginny and Angelina were both pregnant.

He really did have impeccable manners and perhaps she was accustomed to being tuned out halfway through a sentence - something she was equally guilty of when Ronald spoke - but she found herself overly conscious of how intently he seemed to be hanging onto her words.

She finished her tirade, taking a huge sip of water.

"All this talk of presents does make me wonder what the infamous Draco Malfoy has on his list to Father Christmas."

The wizard in question raised his brows in surprise.

"Infamous?"

"Only slightly," she amended, taking another sip of water.

"I haven't really given it much thought actually," he confessed, shrugging again as he looked around for their waiter.

"Well now I'm especially curious," she pried, hoping he would let something slip that would help her buy his gift that she was supposed to have ready by tomorrow. "I mean, if you had to pick something."

He scratched his chin, grey eyes searching the sky before he finally divulged the information Hermione had been hoping to extract from him.

"A mug."

"That's it?" She exclaimed, somewhat underwhelmed by his answer. She had been expecting something along the lines of a self driving car.

Draco nodded, craning his neck over her shoulder as his gaze caught something behind her, his face suddenly splitting into a wicked grin.

"You ready for lunch, Granger?"

Hermione gave him a suspicious glare, not at all fond of the absolutely smug look he was wearing as she turned her head, nearly falling out of her chair when she spotted them.

What seemed like the entire hotel staff was advancing in a steady procession, each carrying a tray of steaming food in their hands, sights trained on their table of two.

The woman got up from her seat, ready to run out of the dining hall as a sea of heads turned to follow the line of every single item on the Northall menu that was being brought out of the kitchens.

"And where do you think you're going?" Malfoy asked, jumping out of his chair as he placed a firm grip on her elbow, shoving the witch back into her seat with his own body.

"Get off!" Hermione hissed, absolutely livid as she smacked one of his well padded shoulders. "I can't believe you ordered everything on the menu!"

"You said you wanted to try it all!" Draco defended, a shit eating grin plastered onto his face as he sat on the side of her chair, effectively blocking off her escape route.

She buried her face in her hands, ears redder than her dress, as every pair of eyes in the room fixated on them while the waiters took turns setting plate after plate onto their table, eventually having to push two together just to fit all the food.

"You're so lucky we're in front of Muggles or I swear I'd turn you into a toad!" Granger threatened, peeking out from behind her fingers as the parade of staff took their leave.

"A toad? How uninspired," he remarked, almost offended by her lack of creativity.

"Shut up," she spat, shoving him slightly with an elbow as he turned to smirk at her over his shoulder, still nearly sitting on top of her.

His proximity was definitely an issue, the woman's heart was performing an acrobatic freak show behind her ribcage at the way his huge back pressed up against the side of her body. Despite her previous anger, she had an almost primal urge to lean into him, to rub up against him like a cat in heat, to feel his weight and warmth on her.

"Please move," Hermione pleaded, feeling the muscles between her thighs contracting with arousal as she drove out the image of Draco - sweaty, breathless and naked - on top of her.

Malfoy instantly got up, alarmed by the tone of her voice. He seemed afraid that he had unintentionally squished her, but when he saw the woman trying to regain her composure, face flushed with indecent thoughts and adulterous desires he abruptly realized what was going on.

He muttered an apology under his breath, returning to his own chair with a crimson complexion as the two started their enormous lunch shrouded in an uncomfortable blanket of sexual tension.

Hermione cursed herself for feeling this way. She felt like she had betrayed Ronald and their children without even having laid a finger on Malfoy.

She told herself that this was all just a crush. An innocent, fleeting fancy that would pass with the changing season. That her undeniable feelings towards Draco would fizzle over the Christmas holidays.

But deep down, she knew it wasn't true.

She could feel things around the blonde that she had long thought dead, or at least permanently dormant.

No.

NO.

She was being ridiculous - they were just friends.

Draco's steely eyes found hers, raking over her features before he smiled coyly, causing an instant flood of heat to her cheeks as she returned a bashful grin at him, ducking her head while the two continued to pick away at the food in silence, their unspoken attraction slowly growing stronger.