A/N: Hello my lovies! Hokay, so one reason I took so long this time (which I take full responsibility for) is that I realized Draco and Hermione have completely derailed me from my original intention with this story. To be perfectly honest, I hadn't meant to get so deeply serious with them, but that's where they led me, so when I sat down to outline what would happen in this chapter, I realized I was so far off that my original plans didn't even make sense anymore. Hence, it took me a while to figure out where this is going and how I can still keep the basic ideas this is based on. What I came up with...well, you'll see as we go, but I feel I should warn you now, as you'll see in this chappie, things are taking a slightly darker turn.

Also, freedomgeneratio made a very good suggestion that I start doing a sort of summary at the beginning of each chapter so you don't have to read the chapters all over again just to remember what happened. Personally, I like re-reading fics like that, but I totally understand how that can be annoying/frustrating to do every time an author updates. So here's my first go at a recap:

Recap: Harry and Ginny are keeping Ron occupied so he doesn't ask too many questions about where Hermione is most of the time. Hermione pushed too hard for Draco to seek psychological help because she suspects he's developed an addiction to sex as a coping mechanism for dealing with war trauma. Draco left after their argument, taking her suspicions as a personal attack.

~~~\~~~

Step 15: Beware the Friends

As you've no doubt noticed, the Malfoy family is full of proud Slytherins who are infamous for their way with words. Such devious creatures attract each other, not only because they have similar mindsets, but because they're all filthy rich with both money and the ambition to gain more of it. While you can be sure that Malfoys themselves can be loyal to an infuriating fault, that trait only applies to family. The "associates" of any Malfoy are greedy, slippery gits with their own agendas. It is often said that Malfoys have no true friends, but I find this not entirely true. It is possible for a Malfoy to find a kindred soul that is not a wife or lover, but it is rare enough that all Malfoys are taught to never let their guard down for a moment, lest that be the moment the knife is firmly plunged into them.

~~~\~~~

Hermione spent the rest of the day integrating her new books into their library, vacillating between guilt at pushing Draco to do something he very clearly didn't want to do and determination to help him despite himself. She realized now that every time she had rolled her eyes at him, thinking he had been exaggerating to the point of a one-track mind, he had been completely honest. It was all the more concerning that he didn't think an addiction to sex was a bad thing. True, it wasn't as physically unhealthy as a drug addiction was, but wasn't he tired of forcing himself to not think of so many things?

Evidence of the war was all around them, the memories inescapable. It was so easy to become depressed and to drown in them, but she had slowly learned to accept them like any other uncomfortable memory. When she remembered Fred, Tonks, Remus, Mad-Eye, and the many other Order members who had been sacrificed for Voldemort's death, she reminded herself their deaths hadn't been in vain. Their deaths had been...necessary, in a way. Open war had been the only way to kill Tom Riddle. Open war demanded casualties. There had been a purpose, one they all believed in, and no amount of crying or wishing they were alive would bring them back. It was nice to think, too, that Remus was finally able to spend time in whatever afterlife existed with Lily, James, and Sirius, his best friends.

Draco did have a point in that his choice of distraction from the memories didn't seem to be disrupting his life, but it also seemed that sex had become half of his life. Sex and work. She couldn't remember him ever going out for social visits that weren't mandated by his mother. Did he even have any friends?

He had Blaise Zabini, at least. But were they actually friends? It had seemed so, such as when he had handed her over to Draco at the Misuse For Muggle Artifacts charity ball, and when he had lured her from Flourish and Blotts straight to this very house, but Draco never talked about him.

Then again, Draco didn't talk about many personal things. He tended to focus on bragging and insults, especially when the matter at hand had nothing to do with him. He liked telling other people what he thought about them or their decisions, but rarely spoke of his own, unless it was to make someone else feel inferior, of course.

But that wasn't exactly a revelation, considering that he had only managed to admit out loud that he loved her during the height of an explosive argument. He never would have said it otherwise; that had been painfully clear. As much as he swore he rejected everything his father had taught him to believe, she knew that the association of showing emotion and being weak hadn't truly been overwritten.

Perhaps she had come on too strong, she finally concluded. She'd have to be patient and occasionally nudge him in the right direction, that's all. She could show him that it was okay to have flaws. It was okay to feel emotion other than hate and anger, and actually show it. He could be afraid and unsure in front of her. She wouldn't love him any less. He just didn't know all that...yet.

Draco didn't return home until late in the night. He didn't say a word, merely undressing and then sliding into bed next to her. She badly wanted to ask him where he had been, what he had been doing. Had he visited Zabini? Or had he gone straight to a pub and rekindled his long lost love affair with Firewhisky? She wondered what it meant that she was more worried about him possibly out drinking than maybe finding another woman to spend the night with. Not that the latter didn't fill her with a sudden urge to hex anything that moved and an impulse to smell him just to make sure he didn't smell of anyone else.

She stared at his bare shoulder blades in the dark, making out the ridges by memory more than simply seeing them. He could be asleep by now. He probably wouldn't even notice if she just leaned over, just a bit...just close enough to get a small wiff...

The next thing she knew, the bed creaked and her nose was a mere inch from his skin. She inhaled and sighed in relief at the familiar scent. Well, that settled that, then. She was very tempted to snuggle up to his back and breathe him in all night, but wasn't sure of his mood, or even if he was awake.

"Do you really think I would do that?"

She started at the sudden sound, belatedly registering his stern tone.

He turned over, staring into her surprised eyes, and that told her he was waiting for an answer.

"Do what?" she asked, nervous and embarrassed that she had been caught sniffing him in a very undignified manner.

He raised an eyebrow at her equivocation. "What would you have done if I smelled of another witch?"

She blushed, thankful that the darkness hid it, even if he knew it was there.

"I...I don't know."

"I think you do," he insisted. "I think you were imagining it the entire time you were staring at my back."

"Not really," she countered honestly.

"What were you thinking about, then?"

"If you were with Zabini at a pub."

"Why Blaise?"

"Do you have any other friends?"

"Why does that matter?"

She sighed. There he went again.

"I want to know if you have more than one friend in the world."

"That depends on your definition of 'friend'."

"Like Harry and Ron."

"I'm not friends with them."

She resisted the urge to strangle him. He was being evasive on purpose, but she couldn't tell if it was because he didn't have any other friends or if he just didn't want her to know about them.

So she sighed, again. "Like how Harry and Ron are my best friends."

"Oh."

"...Well?"

"Night, Granger." He turned over away from her.

She almost growled, having had enough of his attitude. "You're not going to sleep."

"I believe I am, actually."

"Why won't you tell me?"

"Because it's none of your business."

She silently gaped at him. "We live together, and I don't have any right to know who your friends are?"

"You don't ever see them, so why does it matter?"

"I've seen Zabini twice! And because you know all my friends!"

"I'm sure I don't. And I don't care."

"Well I do!"

"You can't force me to meet all your friends."

"That's not what I meant, and you know it!"

"Just go to sleep, Granger. I'm too tired to deal with this."

She sat up, nowhere even close to sleep now. "No! I will not let you shut me out like this!"

He sighed and stared at the ceiling. "Granger, you are not thinking clearly. Let's get some sleep and continue this tomorrow."

The audacity ! How dare he tell her she was being irrational! Just because she wanted to know if he had any other friends than Zabini!

The foul words came spilling out of her mouth with hardly any thought, because only he could provoke such a visceral reaction from her.

"Fuck you, Draco," she hissed, rolling out of bed and storming from the room. She slammed the door behind her for good measure.

***/***

Draco pressed his palms into his eyes, feeling a headache starting to form. This was their second argument of the night, and all he had wanted was to slip into unconsciousness, but of course, Hermione Granger had to be difficult. She had to talk things out and get the answer to every question because the bloody world would implode if she didn't. She couldn't even wait for the bleeding sun to rise.

He was very tempted to sleep and let her deal with it on her own, but that would only serve to make her angrier, which was bound to come back and bite him in the arse. Moreover, he was irritated with her refusal to accept that he talked about the people he associated with when he felt like it and not a moment sooner. Gods, she was so impatient!

He dragged himself out of bed and stepped into the library. He immediately found her pacing in the sitting area, so he leaned against the wall and watched, waiting for her to expend enough energy to calm down.

After a couple minutes of not even being acknowledged, he decided to just get this over with or neither of them would get any sleep.

"You're going to wear out the floor."

She shot him a glare, but stopped. Brilliant. She had more compassion for the bloody floor than for him.

"What, Malfoy?" she asked icily. "What else could you possibly have to say? Come to rub even more salt into the wound?"

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

"Gods, Granger. Just let it go, will you? It's not the end of the world if you don't meet them."

"It's because I'm not like them, isn't it? You're ashamed of me!" she accused wildly, pointing a finger at him.

It was perfectly clear by now she was hardly thinking about what she was saying. She was being completely controlled by her emotions. It was likewise as clear what he needed to do to snap her out of it, which was, of course, what he had always done best. It also helped that she had given him the perfect opening.

He glared right back at her. "I'm ashamed of you ?" He let out a disbelieving laugh. "Everybody that I associate with already knows that we're living together, and not a single one has said a word against you. If I am not mistaken, Weasel still doesn't know about us because you are purposefully keeping him in the dark. When are you going to stop being ashamed of who I am?"

She looked equal parts stunned, guilty for provoking him, and angry at his brazenness.

"I'm not ashamed of you," she contradicted at a more reasonable volume. "I'm afraid of what he'll do when he finds out. He's always tried to protect me, and he already sees you as a threat."

"You think I can't defend myself against Weasel ?" Now he was offended.

She let out a frustrated growl and started pacing again. "No! That's not what I meant. I know you can protect yourself, but Ron doesn't think before he acts. As soon as he hears your name, he goes mental. Can you imagine what he'll do when he hears that we're…intimate?"

"How did he handle what happened at Hogwarts?"

She averted her eyes, and that told him exactly what he had suspected.

"He doesn't know anything ?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed almost hysterically. "How was I supposed to tell him that for some idiotic reason I'd almost gone and given you everything in one night, when it took years for me to be comfortable enough to try with him? That kissing you was as easy as breathing when I'd always been nervous and unsure with him! That if you hadn't been such an arrogant git that night, I wouldn't have stopped you! I can't tell him that!"

She finally started hyperventilating, so he walked over to ease her into the nearest chair, which happened to be hers. She looked so scared that he felt his own protective urges taking over his anger. But he was still right smug about being the clear winner over Weasel. That, at least, made him more inclined to be gentle with her.

"You have to tell him at some point," he reasoned, sitting down with her and pulling her onto his lap.

She snuggled into his embrace, resting her bushy head against his neck and working to calm herself. The frizz sort of tickled a bit, but he ignored it, content that she wasn't yelling anymore.

"I know," she agreed in a tiny, muffled voice.

He looked down at the pitiful sight of Hermione Granger curled up into a ball and scoffed almost inaudibly.

But she heard him, anyway. "What?" she sniffed.

"The Brightest Witch of Our Age, my arse."

She sat up a little and threw him a disgruntled look. "I didn't come up with that, you know."

"No, but you haven't exactly been denying it, have you? Yet, here you are, terrified of a Weasley ." He shook his head and clucked his tongue in disappointment.

"I seem to recall you having a healthy fear of Ginny's Bat-Bogey Hex after she used it on you Fifth Year."

"Ginevra is different," he stated arrogantly.

***/***

Hermione stared in shock, but not just because Draco Malfoy had admitted to respecting a Weasley. No, the most surprising part of that sentence was that he had used Ginny's first name. Nobody used her full name except for her mother, and only then when she became extremely cross.

"I'm almost afraid to ask if she has given you permission to use that name."

"She has. She doesn't even let Potter use it," he added smugly.

"Alright, I'll ask. Why do you have permission?"

"Suffice it to say her assistance with my wooing you didn't come cheap, and in the process, we found unexpected common ground on several topics."

Hermione examined his face and body language for any indication of the actual reason. Ginny didn't allow such a privilege simply because they agreed a few times, though that was a remarkable accomplishment. She had forbidden everyone from using it because she hated the way her name sounded. She thought it made her sound ugly, like Eloise or Millicent.

So the only possible explanation was…

"She likes the way you say it," Hermione accused.

His self-assured smirk was enough.

Hermione shook her head with a slight smile, amazed at her boyfriend's charm. He was usually such an intolerable git, but when he wanted to get into someone's good book, he somehow found a way. Maybe there was hope for him and Ron not killing each other after all.

She ducked her head in embarrassment, realizing how mad she must have seemed, yelling and carrying on, when she wasn't much better. He was right. She'd been a bit hypocritical.

"I'm sorry, Draco."

"Good. Can we finally get some sleep?"

She nodded.

"Brilliant."

He picked her up without warning, making her squeal in surprise, and hauled her back to bed. She laughed the whole way.

~~~\~~~

The week seemed to fly by, as Hermione found herself more and more excited about Draco's idea of starting her own bookstore. She started drawing plans and compiled a whole stack of notes by Friday.

Draco had asked her once about the ideas she had, and then never asked again. She had talked his ear off for an hour before he simply walked away, telling her to let him know when she needed money. Granted, he probably had only been listening for about five minutes before he had tuned her out and started doing actual work at his desk, but he hadn't said anything or interrupted, so she had kept going.

At the very least, talking it out had made her realize some of the flaws in her original floor plans, like there hadn't been any room for doors because she had used up all the wall space with bookshelves.

At the moment, she was contemplating the store's name, testing out on her tongue everything she could think of from "Hermione Granger's Library" to "The Bookworm's Haven" to "Muggle Books & More". She was quite partial to "The Bookworm's Haven," but she wasn't sure if she wanted it to sound like it was a muggle store or if she wanted that touch of magical society in the name.

While she normally liked to do work and research in the library, today was a rare, sunny day. She had decided to take advantage of that by spreading everything out on the living room floor. The sun felt warm on her skin through the large windows and it also had the added benefit of her seeing Draco the moment he arrived home.

She already had a list of at least twenty possible names to test with her friends when the fireplace roared to life, making her jump.

Zabini's head appeared in the flames and he glanced around the room.

"Ah, Granger. Is Draco there with you?"

Hermione frowned. "No. He's out."

"And you don't perchance know where?"

She shook her head. "Is something wrong?"

"Potentially, but I suppose I could handle it without him. Unless…" he trailed off, sizing her up.

Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. She remembered exactly how sneaky this particular Slytherin had been with her.

"Unless?"

"If you wouldn't mind assisting me, I suppose you'd do just as well."

"And what, precisely, would that entail?"

"Go on a date with me."

She raised her eyebrows.

"Pretend to, I mean," he amended with a slight smirk.

She turned herself to face him and crossed her arms over her chest. "Spill, Zabini," she demanded.

He grinned at her tone. "I can see why Draco likes you so much. I bet you're into all sorts of kink, aren't you?"

She glared. "Zabini," she warned.

He chuckled. "Alright, alright. The short version is that my mother believes I should follow in her footsteps, to an extent, and has been setting me up with witches every day, and I do mean every day. In fact, I have a date planned this very evening. I had originally planned on using Draco again, but he's been much less inclined to help me with this matter ever since he fell madly in love with you. All I need is someone to give her a reason never to see me again."

"How did Draco help you?" she couldn't help but ask.

"He entered the same restaurant."

She frowned in confusion.

"I think you'll agree with me that Draco is far too good-looking for his own good. Witches fall all over themselves because of his 'mystery' and such rubbish every time he walks into a room."

Hermione smiled, remembering how she had used that very fact against him months before in Diagon Alley, and nodded. That was clue enough for her.

"He distracts them and they forget all about you?"

"Precisely."

"So whom are you seeing tonight?"

"Millicent Bulstrode."

Hermione tried not to laugh, but the expression of pain on Zabini's face, and the image of Bulstrode's very real resemblance to a troll was too much. She snorted.

"Go on, laugh at my misfortune. Draco does as well, without reservation. But that's mostly because I had mercilessly teased him about his obsession with you."

"Obsession?" she repeated skeptically.

Blaise raised an equally skeptical eyebrow back at her. "He must have told you by now."

She shook her head and leaned forward, unable to hide her interest.

A loud pop outside signaled Draco's return. He opened the door and Hermione and Zabini turned to look at him.

"Blaise," he acknowledged. "Who's the lucky lady this evening?"

"Bulstrode."

Draco let out a laugh. "Good luck with that, mate."

"Actually, Hermione, here, has magnanimously agreed to help me."

Draco raised an eyebrow at her. "Have you?"

She nodded, then turned back to Zabini. "How am I supposed to help you go on a date?"

"By being on a date with me first, obviously," Zabini answered. "Bulstrode will see us together, get jealous, despair about how she could never compete with you, and then leave me alone."

Hermione laughed. "Don't you think it a little strange to pretend to date your friend's girlfriend?"

"No," Zabini said seriously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Well, I'd rather not give any more people a reason to call me a 'scarlet woman', so I can't help you that way, sorry."

"Why would they say that?" Zabini inquired. "You've actually managed to keep your relationship from The Prophet so far."

"Yes, but I helped a friend like this before, and it completely backfired on me," she explained.

Draco didn't like the idea, either, judging by his scowl. "You are not kissing my girlfriend, Zabini."

"But Draco, it wouldn't be a date if I didn't at least kiss her goodnight."

"Exactly."

"Then would you like to do the honors of distracting Miss Bulstrode?" Zabini challenged knowingly.

Draco glared, clearly struggling with his options.

But to Hermione, there wasn't an option. She did not want Millicent Bulstrode putting her meaty paws all over her boyfriend. And Zabini was right, they had been pretty successful at keeping their relationship a secret from most of society, although it made her wonder how much longer that would last. She prayed Harry could keep holding his tongue around Ron, because once Ron found out, he'd howl it out for the entire world to hear.

"I'll do it, Zabini," she announced, "but if you are anything less than a gentleman, I reserve the right to hex you."

Zabini grinned. "Of course, Madam."

"Absolutely not. I forbid it," Draco asserted in a hard tone.

Hermione shot him a glare, and Zabini was wise enough to remain silent, watching from the sidelines.

"Forbid it? I am not your slave , Draco. You can't forbid me from doing anything. If I want to go, I am going, and you cannot stop me."

Her boyfriend stepped forward menacingly, drawing his wand. "I can stop you and I will . You are not doing this again, Hermione. I will lock you up in here and hold you down myself if I have to."

Hermione straightened up and drew her own wand. "You can try ."

"As much as I would love to see you two duel over me," Zabini drawled, "my knees are sore and the clock is ticking. I need a plan of action before half past six. Draco, I promise you it is just one evening of dinner and conversation. I'll even play at chivalry and keep my hands to myself."

"And your lips," Draco insisted.

"I need something to work with if I am going to convince anyone. Bulstrode is still smarter than Goyle."

"How about a kiss on my cheek?" Hermione suggested. "It's a common greeting and indicates some level of intimacy, which you can twist however you need to in order to be convincing."

Zabini grinned. "Ah, the chaste seduction. I like the way you think, Granger. Will that do, Draco?"

Draco merely glared at his friend, which was as good as consent.

"Brilliant! Granger, I'll floo over in five minutes with your dress for the evening."

The floo shut off and Hermione frowned. "My dress? Why would he have set aside a dress if he wanted you to go?"

"Use your brain, Hermione," Draco snapped. "Why do you think he told you about this mere hours before the date, while I happened to be out?"

Hermione stared at her boyfriend in surprise. Draco was implying a level of manipulation that she was almost afraid to acknowledge. Zabini's first question had been if Draco was there. Had he already known the answer and merely asked to avoid suspicion?

Merlin, being a Slytherin must be exhausting, having to be on guard around your family and your mates. But if he didn't trust Zabini, why would Draco have allowed him into the Fidelius Charm? Slytherin males were so confusing.

"Don't go, Hermione," Draco persisted seriously. "This is a mistake."

She supposed this was the closest to pleading that Draco Malfoy ever got, but she wasn't going to back out now. She had told Zabini she would help him, and it was only one evening.

"Then it's my mistake to make," she replied. "But I don't understand why you're so upset."

"Whatever you do, don't trust him. Stay on your guard."

She frowned. "That's a curious thing to say about your mate."

"We use the term 'mate' loosely."

She sighed and approached him. "Do you have to be so vague all the time? Why can't you just tell me what you're worried about?"

He remained silent, and she shook her head, remembering her promise to herself to be patient with him. He wasn't used to being open about his thoughts, and she understood now more than ever why he was constantly guarded.

"Alright, fine. Don't tell me. I'll just figure it out for myself." She wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest. "I just wish you would trust me , is all," she mumbled into him.

He held her tightly to him and leaned down to kiss the top of her head. "He's just like his mother," he murmured into her hair, "and they call her The Lethifold for a very good reason."

"Why's that?"

"Because most people don't realize how much danger they're in, and when...if they finally do, it's too late."

Her brows furrowed. "You aren't the same as your father was, so why do you assume it of him? He hasn't smothered anyone to death yet, has he?"

"Just…be careful, Hermione…please."

The weight of that single word was immense, like an icy boulder dropping into her stomach, freezing her insides and shocking her awake. If Draco Malfoy, who was an arrogant bastard even at the worst of times, was scared to the point of using the 'p' word, she ought to be very, very cautious where she stepped around Zabini.

"Alright," she agreed. "I'll stay alert."

She had a mission tonight, she decided. Yes, she was going to help Zabini get rid of Bulstrode, but she was also going to question him about Draco in the process. Why in Merlin's name were they even friends if Draco couldn't trust him?

Zabini reappeared right on time with a black dress and matching shoes. Hermione took them into the bedroom to change, both curious at his choices for her and dreading having to walk in heels again. Fortunately, Zabini was decently tall, so she could always lean on him for support, and they'd probably be sitting down most of the time, anyway.

She was pleased to find that the dress was nearly floor-length and her arms and collarbone were completely covered by black lace so she didn't feel exposed. The body of it felt nice against her skin, but she didn't know if that was by virtue of the material or if it had been altered with magic. She didn't notice the slit in the side that went up to her knee until she tried putting on the shoes, which seemed like they came with an excess of ribbon.

Never having been a particular fan of fashion magazines, it took her a minute to work out that the shoes were stabilized by crisscrossing the ribbon up her calf and then tying it into a bow. She finished her left leg and stared at it pensively. It was a little too reminiscent of lingerie to her, and Draco's warning replayed in her head.

She shook her head, pushing the thought away and starting to do up her right leg. If Zabini thought he could buy her affection with clothes and shoes, he didn't know her at all. She wasn't like other girls, and she had been through too much with Draco to be drawn away so easily. It was laughable, really, to think that Zabini wanted to steal her away. What did she have to offer him? Fame? She was willing to bet she didn't have enough money to tempt him, if he were like his mother as Draco claimed.

She walked unsteadily to her mirror, glad that the skirt completely covered her legs. She didn't have to show off the ribbon if she didn't want to, she discovered, pacing in front of the mirror. If she took small steps, the skirt only rippled instead of parting at the slit. She'd probably be taking small steps anyway, since these shoes were ridiculously high.

She paced for another minute or so until she was no longer tripping over herself so blatantly, and then deemed herself ready. She took one final, calming breath, pretending she was an Auror going undercover on an assignment. She didn't mind Zabini using her as a scarecrow, but she would very much mind any attempts by him beyond that purpose.

She could do this. Constant vigilance! She allowed another moment for a sad smile in memory of the wizard who had ingrained that motto into her head, and then slowly made her way back down to the living room.

Her eyes sought out Draco the moment she re-entered the room. Their gazes met for a second before his slid slowly down her form. The sight triggered various memories of other times his eyes had taken on that dark, focused intensity, which meant she was the only thing existing in his world at the moment.

She suddenly wondered what Draco would think of the shoes, and made a mental note to ask Zabini if she could keep them, and maybe the dress, too, just so she could find out.

In the meantime, she enjoyed watching the emotions flicker over his face, first lust, then jealousy, and finally a determined stare when he met her gaze again.

She bit her lip hard, trying not to grin at her clear effect on him, and she noticed his hands clenching. She was rather proud of him, considering he hadn't needed to restrain his libido with her for a long time. It would have been quite rude of him to drag her away when they had both promised Zabini she would go with him tonight. She decided right then and there she would make it up to him when she returned, heels or no heels.

Merlin knew that after a heated stare like that, she wouldn't be able to keep her hands off him for long, anyway.

Zabini cleared his throat, and Hermione broke their stare, flushing a little because she had essentially ignored her 'date'.

"Sorry, Zabini. You like nice," she offered.

And he did. He looked very nice in his tailored suit, and it occurred to her that they were dressed very…well, muggle.

"Where are we going?" she asked, for Draco's benefit as much as her own curiosity.

"The Three Broomsticks."

Hermione stared at him. "You made me dress up in this just to go to Hogsmeade?"

"No, Granger. I told Bulstrode to meet me there before dinner for drinks. She'll see you and bugger off. If not, then I'll claim that I thought today was Saturday because that's when my date with you is."

"And if she does leave, then we'll go home as well?"

"No, I'm still going to take you out and show you a good time, Granger. It's the least I can do for helping me with this."

"Is that how you thanked Draco, too?" she teased, "Taking him on romantic dates?"

Both males shuddered with disgust all over their faces. "Mate, I just imagined you in a dress, and even you aren't pretty enough."

"Shove it, Blaise. I'd be the wizard and you'd be the witch, because I'm taller."

"But I'm manlier."

"I am not effeminate!"

"You look fairly delicate to me."

"Only because you've never seen me naked. Be careful what you eat tonight so you don't ruin your witchly figure."

"Why, do you think there's a chance Granger'll see me naked? You're right, I shouldn't eat too much so I can have dessert later."

Hermione experienced the next several seconds like skipping large sections of a flipbook. Draco's arm moved, a flash of yellow light, a muffled "Fuck!", then Zabini was on the floor clutching his mouth.

"I dare you to eat any dessert like that ," Draco sneered.

"Puh ih bach!" Zabini demanded through his hands.

Hermione frowned at the standoff, still trying to figure out what had just happened. Obviously, 'dessert' was a metaphor for something, but she couldn't pinpoint exactly what.

"Draco, what did you just do?"

He smirked. "He has such a filthy mouth, Hermione. I had to vanish his tongue so he wouldn't use it inappropriately. On anyone." Then he turned back to Zabini. "Especially my girlfriend ," he snarled.

Her forehead wrinkled as she tried to piece all the clues together. What did Zabini's naked body, his tongue and her...

"Oh. Oh! Zabini!" she scolded, blushing from the implication. "That is completely inappropriate! Since you find it so hilarious to provoke him on purpose, I don't think I want to help you anymore."

"Aw, com ah, Granyah!"

Draco moved to her side. "You shouldn't, Hermione. He clearly doesn't appreciate your generosity," he declared. Then he leaned in to whisper into her ear, "And I can't wait until this pretty dress is a pretty heap of cloth on the floor."

The husky tone of his voice and the fingers burning her skin straight through the fabric at the small of her back made her lose all focus on the topic at hand, so she leaned into him. His suggestion sounded like a very good way to end the night.

"Oi!" Zabini yelled, regaining their attention.

Hermione sighed, pulling out of Draco's embrace. "Alright, I think he's suffered enough. Give it back, Draco."

The blond frowned. "No."

She raised her eyebrows. "Now, Draco. Or you won't be getting any dessert either. Of any sort."

Her boyfriend raised an eyebrow and smirked cockily. "And how will you ensure that?"

She smirked back. "I'll floo directly to Harry and Ginny's and stay there until I think you've learned your lesson. If I tell Ginny I don't want to see you, you know she won't let you within a mile of the house, and Harry would love the excuse to hunt you down and hex you."

Draco scowled, and Zabini chuckled behind his hand.

"Shut up, Blaise!" he snapped. "I swear, if you touch any part of her not already agreed upon, even Salazar won't be able to save you."

Zabini nodded in understanding and Draco reversed the spell.

"Ah," Zabini sighed wiggling his tongue to make sure it was in working order. "Thanks, mate." He turned to Hermione and held out his arm, bent at the elbow. "Ready, my lady?"

She raised herself up on tiptoe to kiss Draco on the lips. "I promise I'll make it up to you when I get back."

He shot a mild glare at her. "You better," he grumbled.

"I love you," she said expectantly.

"I love you, too," he sulked.

She beamed at him. "See, it's not so hard to say."

"'No, I won't help you, Zabini' isn't that difficult to say, either," he sniped.

She gave him a disapproving look and he went back to sulking.

"If you stop delaying me, I'll give you an extra-special treat when I get back..." she tempted.

"Like what?"

She whispered into his ear what she planned to do for him.

His eyebrow rose. "You'd do that?"

She nodded with a slight smirk, knowing he couldn't resist.

"Alright, then. Have a good meal. Come back soon." He kissed her lips once and walked away, searching for some way to amuse himself for the next few hours.

Zabini didn't bother hiding the shock on his face. "I joke about him being whipped, but that was a bloody miracle. What did you promise him?"

She let her smirk grow a little as she wrapped her hand around the proffered elbow. "I promised him cheesecake for dessert."

He waited expectantly for her to clarify, but she pulled him toward the fireplace instead, letting him decide for himself if she meant it literally or figuratively.

~~~\~~~

A/N2: Your homework this time is: What do you think Hermione's bookstore should be called? I'm not feeling particularly set on any one name I've come up with, so please inspire me! Until next time!