AN: Yeah, I know. This story was finished years ago. Only, it never felt finished to me. I always felt like there was more to be told. Based on reviews and comments, many readers felt that way, too.

Over the past year and a half, I have been slowly editing this story because it had a lot of grammatical errors. Hopefully, I fixed most of them. LissaDream helped edit some of it but then her life got too busy to continue. Anyhoo, as I was editing it and rereading it, a plan for a real epilogue began to form. I approached Lissa (because everything we write is better when we do it as a team) and she happily agreed to help me with this undertaking. This is a very long epilogue. It's over 12,000 words, which is four times the length of the average chapter in the rest of the story. There was just a lot to tell. So, without further ado, I hope you enjoy the revisited ending. And THANK YOU to LissaDream for her contribution to this final installation.

One more thing, some of you are going to like the ending and some are going to hate it. I wish I could make everyone happy. Please review and let me know what you think!

Two Years Later - Four Years After Draco Was Arrested

Hermione sputtered her tea as she read the headline of the morning prophet:

Draco Malfoy Released to Home Confinement

By Rita Skeeter

At the advisement of mind healers, Draco Malfoy, the young heir to the Malfoy fortune, has been released from Azkaban to his home where he will remain confined and under Ministry watch indefinitely. A relieved Lucius Malfoy issued a public statement within moments of his son's release:

"It is with the utmost respect and appreciation that I thank the mind healers, Azkaban governing board, and our ever-diligent Ministry of Magic for the release of my son, Draco, to the care of his mother and me, who love him very much. My son suffers from a mental disturbance, passed down from the Black ancestral line, which attacks quickly and indiscriminately. My departed sister-in-law, Bellatrix Lestrange, was its most recent victim until the madness set its sights on Draco. We have healers and potioneers working diligently to discover a more effective treatment, or better yet, a cure. I miss my son. He is but a shadow of what he once was. However, he does not belong in prison. He is of no danger to anyone within Malfoy Manor and it is Narcissa's and my hope, that in time, with counseling and love, he can refocus the object of his obsession to something useful."

Standing beside the Malfoy patriarch, Senior Mind Healer, Etan Browne, fielded questions about the nature of the illness plaguing the younger Malfoy. He went on to explain that "Mortem Rationabilem Mentem" is a very rare disease of the mind which causes the victim to develop an unbreakable and relentless obsession on a single person or idea. The disease had skipped a few generations before claiming the mind of Bellatrix Lestrange, nee Black. Many will remember Bellatrix as a great beauty and brilliant young woman before her mind became diseased with her love and obsession of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.

The healer went on to say that Mr. Malfoy's disease was compounded by the age of its onset. His obsession with not only the witch, but with his desire to bed her, was a direct result of his illness striking as he reached sexual maturity. It was implied that had Draco Malfoy been afflicted at an older age he might not have acted criminally, however Healer Browne stopped short of saying those words directly.

The Daily Prophet attempted to reach the victim of Mr. Malfoy's obsession, war heroine and best friend of Harry Potter, Miss Hermione Granger, multiple times without success. One has to wonder what her impression is of today's development.

Rest assured readers, Rita Skeeter is on the hunt and will be reporting as more information becomes available.

Hermione stood abruptly, cursing as she stormed back to her bedroom. She halted instantly, swallowing the mumbled rant that had been spewing from her lips when she noticed the sleeping wizard in her bed. She had forgotten Clint was still in her apartment. Or, was it Rick? She rolled her eyes in self-disgust as she quietly padded to her closet where she grabbed another blouse, quickly changing into it and tossing the tea stained one into the laundry bin. She leaned against her dresser, watching the sleeping blond as she buttoned her top.

The familiar lecture played in her brain. You need to stop this behavior. You're behaving like a slag. No proper wizard will marry you if you've slept with half of the wizards in London. No longer concerned with being quiet, she hissed "fuck" as she stormed back out of the room, leaving her living vibrator replacement still asleep. Dammit, Hermione! What is wrong with you? She snapped at herself before spotting the newspaper article once again and finding herself contemplating a whisky instead of another cup of tea.

Her self-loathing and irritation skyrocketed at the sound of her floo activating, accompanied by her best friends stepping out of the green flames. She would never hear the end of it if Harry and Ron caught site of her visitor.

Knowing full well the purpose of their visit, Hermione was quick with the false reassurances that had been spilling from her lips for the past four years. "Guys, I'm fine! You didn't need to rush over here."

"Like hell we didn't!" exclaimed Ron, his eyes full of the pity she had grown to loathe.

"This isn't going to stick, 'Mione. I've already sent an owl to Shacklebolt and Ginny is visiting with Arthur now. He has a great deal of clout in the Ministry these days. There is no way that either of them was aware of Draco's release ahead of time," Harry ranted as he watched her expectantly.

Hermione knew he was just waiting for her to rage or cry. She couldn't blame him. For despite all her assurances to the contrary, Hermione was always on the verge of losing it. And Harry was the one she unloaded on most of the time, although occasionally it was Ron whose shoulder her tears coated.

However, right now she needed them to leave before her bedroom visitor made an awkward appearance.

"I'm fine…really. I am." She hugged Ron and then Harry. "Honestly, I've been waiting for something like this. There was no way Lucius Malfoy was going to let his son remain in Azkaban. It was only a matter of time before he bought Draco's way out." When their eyes remained disbelieving, she became impatient. "Stop it! Both of you. I know you mean well, but this doesn't help. I just want…" She stopped herself and took a calming breath. Her voice quieted and softened. "It's not that I don't appreciate you. You know you two are my rock…my family. I just don't need you rushing to my side like I'm so fragile I'm going to…"

"Whoa! I thought you were simply name dropping when you said you were still friends with Harry Potter!"

Hermione felt her body sag with defeat at the sound of her latest conquest's voice. Her shoulders slumped, and her forehead fell into her right hand. She could literally feel Harry and Ron tense up before her.

"Who's your friend, Hermione?" Harry asked in a crisp and impatient voice.

Fuck! "Umm, this is…Clint…"

The shirtless blond stepped forward and thrust his hand out as he interrupted her. "It's Blake, actually. Blake Bothswell."

Hermione could feel intense heat creep up her face, knowing full well she was the color of a tomato as first Harry and then Ron shook the man's hand introducing themselves properly.

There was an awkward pause and after a minute Blake excused himself to get dressed.

"Hermione! What the hell?" Ron whispered, angrily.

"You promised us. No more one offs," Harry added as he collapsed exhaustedly onto the sofa.

"It was just…it's not like I… I mean I just ran out to grab dinner…I wasn't planning on…"

"Just stop, Hermione. That's it. You're seeing a mind healer…or a psychiatrist if you prefer a Muggle doctor, but you need help. And we aren't taking no for an answer any longer." Hermione stared at Harry who was looking at Ron for confirmation of his words.

"That's right, 'Mione. Enough is enough. Even if you can't see it, Harry and I can. You are on a fast path to self-destruction."

"How much did you drink last night?" Harry asked, a sad resignation in his voice.

Hermione didn't answer. She simply stared at her friends, her gaze shifting from Ron's blue eyes to Harry's green. Their expressions were hard and determined, and Hermione knew she couldn't talk her way out of it this time. They were right. As much as she hated to admit it, she knew they were.

"Maybe…maybe you're right. Maybe I could talk to someone…or join a group or something."

Harry closed his eyes and let out a breath. The tension escaping him was as plain as the glasses resting on the bridge of his nose.

"You mean it?" Ron asked.

Hermione fell onto the sofa next to Harry. "Yeah, I mean it. I just…I can't explain it. I get anxious at night sometimes and I just…I feel a loss of control of my life. When I bring a guy home, I get some of that control back. I'm calling the shots. I'm with him because I want to be with him." She swallowed. "But when I wake up, I feel dirty and used and…unworthy."

Hermione's eyes were welling but it wasn't until she looked up and saw the moisture in Ron's eyes, that her tears spilled over.

Harry grabbed her and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. "You are none of those things, Hermione. You are brilliant and beautiful and the most decent, kindhearted woman I know."

Hermione hugged Harry in return and let the tears flow. After a minute she heard the click of the front door and looked up to see Ron walking back towards her. She realized he must have seen Blake out. He sat down on the other side of her, took her hand and gave her an earnest look. "You can't back out, Hermione. We need you to keep your word."

Hermione squeezed his hand. "I promise, Ron."

Two Years Later

Hermione stood at the front door of the mansion. She swallowed heavily and steeled her nerves and resolve before purposefully reaching up and pulling back on the massive door knocker. Instantly a house elf opened the door.

"I'm Hermione Granger. Mr. Malfoy is expecting me."

"Missus is expected. Please follow me." Hermione followed the house elf, who was clad in a Malfoy crested pillowcase, down the hall and through a large stained-glass door. Lucius Malfoy stood promptly, stepping around his desk.

"Miss Granger, thank you for coming. I can't tell you what it means to me…what it means to…"

Hermione held her hand up, interrupting him with a firm tone. "I'm not doing this for you or for your son. I'm doing it for myself. I'm doing it because my psychiatrist wants me to."

Lucius swallowed; his look uncomfortable. "I understand, but I thank you just the same." He gestured for her to sit on the leather chesterfield sofa and, after she was situated, sat in the matching wingback chair across from her. He opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by the house elf popping back in with a tea tray. After the elf served them and left, Lucius asked with an appearance of sincerity, "How is that going? Your…therapy?"

Hermione swallowed the hot tea, finding it strengthened her resolve to be as forthright and honest as she had promised her doctor she would be. "It's going…well. I've come a long way in the past couple years."

Lucius set his saucer and cup on the table between them. "I can only imagine, Miss Granger…what this has been like for you." She didn't respond, not finding his statement worthy of one. After a minute he continued. "Do you like your healer? Pardon me, your psychiatrist? I don't mean to ask too personal a question, Miss Granger. It's only that, until we found a healer Draco connected with, one he trusted, until then we didn't see much improvement."

"Mr. Malfoy, I know why I chose to come today, but why did you ask me here? Certainly, it wasn't to discuss mind healers and doctors."

Lucius tilted his head in concession. "Straight to the point. I appreciate that." He stood and walked around his desk. "Not only do I wish to allow Draco to speak with you, but I wanted to show you something." He opened a drawer in his desk and pulled out a check. Seeing her expression and the rebuke forming on her lips, he quickly explained himself. "It's a donation, Miss Granger. A donation in your name and honor to the newly formed clinic for victims of rape and sexual abuse at St. Mungo's. The clinic is being publicly introduced to the community in two weeks. I would like your permission to name the clinic after you. Your strength and good name and…"

"No."

Lucius froze.

"No, to all of it, Mr. Malfoy. Make your donation. Call it what you will but leave me out of it. I'm not happy that I was a victim and I'm not proud that I'm better. I'm fucking relieved! Besides, surviving your son's abuse is not what I want to be remembered for. I have much better reasons, and frankly far more important ones, to be known for. Getting over your son's criminality is not one of them, I assure you. So, no. I don't want my name in any way associated with your clinic."

Lucius was stunned. "Miss Granger, you do realize that you are looked up to by witches all over the UK. You are a war hero. You are a beacon of light to many. Imagine a young girl or woman has been attacked. Imagine the faith they would have in trusting a clinic named after you. Imagine the positive influence you would have."

"Pretty words, Mr. Malfoy."

"Call me Lucius, please."

"Pretty words, Lucius. But you aren't using my name to give your pet project credibility and merit. Frankly, I would much rather an entirely different clinic be developed. One where individuals are screened for mental illnesses and tendencies towards violence. I would prefer that rather than another clinic to help victims, we have a clinic to prevent them. Perhaps if Draco had been screened and watched more closely given his family history, perhaps then I would never have been attacked."

Lucius' look was unwavering and stern. "Blaise Zabini was mentally sound and raped a multitude of girls."

Hermione snapped in response, "If you are going to tell me that a boy who brutally sodomizes and rapes multiple women is mentally sound, then I fear we need a dictionary, Lucius. For your definition and my own are very different. And I think there lies the problem with society." After a moment she added, "A famous muggle once said, 'An ounce of prevention is worth a pound of cure.' That's what we need. Prevention and education. Education that mentally sound individuals are not violent. They do not rape."

After a moment, Lucius simply nodded. "You are, of course, correct, Miss Granger. I have been properly chastised."

Hermione felt herself calm and after recognizing that he appeared to be sincere, responded, "call me Hermione, please."

Lucius smiled. "Well then, Hermione. Perhaps we can do both. A clinic for treatment and a program for prevention and screening."

Hermione smirked. "Perhaps that's a start, Lucius."

Twenty minutes later Hermione felt, rather than saw, Draco's entrance. She knew he was coming, as her host had sent the house elf to retrieve him after Lucius had promised he wouldn't leave her alone with him. Not wanting to appear weak, she sat up straight and looked at the younger Malfoy. She couldn't help the racing of her heart. Despite not seeing him in four years, he looked very much the same as he had at Hogwarts. The long hair from when she had visited him was now cut short again and he still had his boyish good looks. It was hard to believe it had been six years since it had all happened. Sometimes it felt like yesterday and other times it felt like a lifetime ago.

His demeanor was completely different, however. He was nervous and shifted from foot to foot. He seemed at a loss for words, something his younger self never struggled with. "Hermione…" He coughed and looked at his father who was now sitting behind his desk, a good twenty feet away from them.

"Why don't you sit, Draco," Lucius softly suggested.

Draco lightly rolled his eyes as he sat in the same wingback chair his father had occupied moments before. "Sorry," he mumbled, glancing up at Hermione. "This is harder than I thought it would be."

Hermione didn't say anything.

"Look, I…I don't even know where to begin. No words can undo what I did. I don't deserve, and I'm not bothering to even ask for, forgiveness. But I regret what I did every day. I'm ashamed that I hurt you and lied to you and… I'm heartbroken and mortified that I physically touched you."

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat. This was difficult. Hearing his voice and sitting across from him was much harder than she thought it would be. She had to fight her impulse to simply stand and leave. She had no way of knowing his sincerity. Truthfully, it didn't matter if he was sincere. She didn't care if he was sorry. It was neither here nor there.

Before she could say anything, he continued. "My mind healer tells me I need to be honest and forthcoming." He swallowed and looked up at her. "I have an illness. An illness that causes me to be obsessed with and…in love with the object of that obsession." He swallowed. "Which is, of course…you."

Hermione asked, "So you still? After all this time?"

Draco looked up at her, the warmth and adoration in his eyes all too familiar. It left her very uneasy. "I'll always feel this way about you, Hermione. There's no cure and it's unlikely my obsession will shift to another. It's…not easy. My healer has helped me so much. I now understand that my belief and faith that you loved me was wrong. You don't love me, and you never will. It took me a very long time to accept that."

Hermione's heart clenched. "I don't know what to say about that, Draco."

He shrugged. "Nothing for you to say, really. It's unlikely you can even believe any words that come out of my mouth anyway. But I have to tell you, I'm sorry. I have so many regrets, but what I regret the most is that I hurt you. Physically and emotionally. I wish we could be together… I probably shouldn't say that, but it's the truth. The difference is that now the thought of forcing you or manipulating you in any way is abhorrent to me. I love you too much for that." He held his hand up when she was about to speak. "Please, let me get this off my chest and then you can speak your mind and leave here…never to see me again."

She clamped her mouth shut, a myriad of emotions bubbling within her. Emotions she had thought long gone.

"I know you think my love isn't real because it's obsessive and stems from an illness. But my healer says it's as real as any love that any person has for another. At least, to me it is." After a pause he said. "What I did was…criminal and unforgivable. I wish I could take it all back. I wish I had a time turner and could go back and shoot a stunner at myself before I… but I can't. I can't change what I did. But I'm not the same person I was. I have the same illness and I still love you, but I'm able to rationalize right from wrong and I'm able to accept that you will never want anything to do with me." He let out a breath and ran his hands along his trousers as he leaned back in his chair. "Okay, your turn." He seemed to brace himself as if he expected her to verbally and physically assault him.

Suddenly, the words she had intended to unleash on him felt like ash in her mouth. So, she toned them back a bit, but spoke deliberately and calmly. "Draco, while I believe you have a mental illness, I also believe you have a cruelty in your nature. You would have never raped me, humiliated me in front of Blaise, or lied to me if you didn't. Let's not forget you attacked me before you were obsessed with me. It's not that your…love or obsession for me has a root in mental illness. I could accept that. And had you been a decent person, if you had actually been the person you pretended to be, I may have been able to…be your friend." She looked away and her voice dropped to a whisper. "Maybe even more." She shifted in her chair; her voice more forceful again. "The problem is that you are capable of such nastiness, brutality, and manipulation. I could forgive your illness, but not your nature. What you did to Harry was…" She paused and took a deep breath. "So, I don't forgive you, Draco. But…I no longer hate you. And I no longer wish you ill will."

Draco stared at her, hanging on every word and every expression on her face. "I understand, and I appreciate you coming today. You didn't have to do that."

"I didn't do it for you."

He shrugged. "Okay, fair enough." He smiled lightly. "Do you mind if I ask how you are? I was told you are in therapy. I hope…I really hope you are better. I really want you to be happy… more than anything."

Her tone was short and factual. "I have trust issues and a need to be in control of everything in my life. But…I'm better. Harry and Ron have been…amazing."

"Well, I'm glad you have them."

She let out a humorless laugh. "I don't believe you, Draco. You hate Harry and Ron and I'm sure you hate that they are in my life."

Draco smiled sadly. "I used to hate them, but not anymore. I've grown up, Hermione. I've outgrown that rivalry, but I'll admit to being jealous. They get to be in your life. I only know what I read and what others tell me about you." Sensing her uneasiness, he changed the subject. "What did you and my father talk about? He had you to himself for quite a while." He looked back over his shoulder towards Lucius who was busy working on something at his desk.

Hermione shook her head. "He had a ridiculous proposal for me."

Draco smiled widely. "Don't tell me he pitched the abused victim clinic to you?" He laughed. "I can tell by your face he did! Ha! I told him you would want no part of it."

Hermione was surprised. "You did?"

Draco smirked. "Please. That's not you, I told him you wouldn't want your name attached to it in any way, even if it was a worthy cause."

"It's not that it's not a good project and it's not that there aren't many women and girls out there who could benefit from such an offering, it's just that…"

"You would rather not be remembered as a victim. I told him as much."

Hermione stared at the blond before responding. "Yes, exactly." She shook her head lightly. "I need to go."

Draco's eyes shot up to hers, a hint of desperation in them. Then he closed them and reopened them again, this time they were soft and calm. "Of course." He stood and offered his hand to help her stand. She didn't take it.

Lucius stood from the other side of the room and approached them. "Hermione, thank you for coming."

Hermione nodded in response.

"I'll see you out," Lucius said as he gestured towards the door.

"Goodbye, Hermione." Draco said simply but with a trace of undeniable sadness in his voice.

"Goodbye." She said in simple response before leaving the room.

The minute she Apparated into her apartment, Harry and Ron were on her, asking what happened, what was said and was she okay.

After filling them in on the main points, she headed to the kitchen to make tea, the men hot on her heels. "Well, how do you feel? Are you upset? Are you glad you went?"

"Honestly, I'm just glad the visit is over. I said what I needed to say and so did he. Although every word out of his mouth could have just been more lies and attempts at manipulation. There is no way of knowing with him." She pulled cups out of the cabinet and after setting them on the counter, paused. "He always knew the right things to say. He knew how to play me. I have to believe it's no different now."

She turned back towards them. "Enough about Draco Malfoy. He's a closed chapter in my life and it's time to move on."

Two Years Later

"Checkmate," Draco gloated as her queen fell to the board, impaling herself on her sword. Her king had nowhere to go.

"That's it. I'm never playing with you again."

Draco chuckled. "You said that last time."

Hermione shrugged. "Well, this time I mean it."

"Yeah, until you don't. You can't stand not being exceptional at whatever you put your mind to. This is no different."

Hermione ignored him and stood, walking towards the windows overlooking the grounds. "If only it wasn't raining. I really enjoy your gardens."

"The rain is sure to stop. We can go out next time you visit," he said simply.

Hermione looked back over her shoulder at him. "I shouldn't be visiting you at all, Draco." She didn't miss the pain on his face at her words.

"It would be understandable for you to walk away from me for good. I don't deserve your friendship, even if I am grateful for it."

"I think your father had his sight on this very thing. Constantly inviting me over to work on the new mental health screening program, all the while knowing it would afford you more opportunities to spend time with me."

"You could have said no. You didn't have to come. You didn't have to agree to see me."

Hermione shrugged. "I know."

"So, why did you?" he asked boldly.

"I didn't see the harm in seeing you as long as Lucius was around."

Draco looked around the room. "He's not here now."

"Yes, thank you for pointing that out, Draco."

"Why can't you just admit you like me… as a friend."

"My psychiatrist doesn't like me spending time with you. He says it's fine for me to forgive you, but that I shouldn't…"

"That's only his opinion." He stepped towards her. "We aren't doing anything wrong. You see me once every couple of weeks, for an hour or two. You've become…a friend. I feel so incredibly lucky that you even speak to me, much less spend any time with me."

"I should go."

"Please don't. Can't you stay a little longer?"

"I have a date. I need to go and get ready."

"You have a…?"

"Yes, Draco. A date." She replied a little more harshly than she intended and then instantly felt guilty when she saw the hurt on his face.

After a second, he composed himself. "That's good. I'm glad you are going on dates. You deserve to be happy."

She knew he was saying what was right instead of what was true. "I'm sorry, Draco. I shouldn't be visiting you. This isn't fair to you…"

"Hermione, its fine…really. Your visits mean so much to me. We have fun, don't we? I'll understand if you never step foot in the manor again, but I hope you'll be back."

Two Years Later

"Again?" Harry's voice was mixed with disbelief and anger. "You're going there again? You were just there this weekend."

Hermione cringed internally. She hadn't meant to tell them she was going back to the Manor tonight. "I didn't realize you were keeping tabs on my extracurricular activities." She slowly set down her fork and raised her eyes to her two best friends with whom she was sharing a lunch date.

Ron's mouth was hanging open unbecomingly, partially masticated food visible. She swallowed a gag and shifted her gaze to Harry, his face said it all, but his next words made her flinch. "What's wrong with you?"

She sniffed primly before calmly stating, "There's nothing wrong with me. It's been over four years since I first visited with him. I've seen him almost weekly. If something sinister was going to happen, it would have by now."

"You're being foolish. You're setting yourself up to get hurt again!" Harry whispered heatedly, not wanting to draw attention to their table.

"Don't…" Ron trailed off before taking a steadying breath. "Maybe you should go back to your psychiatrist, Hermione. What you're doing is just…you're friends with the man who raped and humiliated you…that's…it's just not right."

"I agree with Ron." Harry's voice had softened, now it was laced with the concern and pity she so hated to hear.

Hermione felt her nose start tingling with the threat of tears. She understood what they were saying, she really did. She didn't know how to explain to them the way Draco made her feel. It was hard to ignore that type of dedication. It was hard to walk away from his looks filled with adoration and longing and love and devotion.

She knew it was so, so wrong of her…but she didn't know how to walk away and stay away. She found herself missing him if it was too long between visits.

To placate them, she whispered, "I'll think on it."

"Harry and Ron want me to start seeing my psychiatrist again. They don't like me spending so much time with you."

"Did you explain we are simply very good friends? It's not like there is anything more than friendship between us."

"They think I should be dating more. I'm twenty-seven years old years old. Ron and Harry have wives and children."

"Yes, and at twenty-seven you are the youngest department head in Ministry history. To be the Head of the Department of International Magic Cooperation is quite an accomplishment. Shacklebolt told Father you would be the next Minster of Magic. You've always been more career focused than your friends."

She shrugged.

He stopped beside her as she bent to pick up a fallen rose petal off the path they were walking on. "What's wrong, Hermione. Tell me. You've been acting strangely all day."

She started walking again, not saying anything.

He pressed, "You know, you are constantly insisting I be forthcoming about my feelings. I hide nothing from you when you ask of it of me. I have absolutely no secrets from you. Yet you clam up and hide your own feelings and thoughts from me on a regular basis. I realize it's a leap of faith on your part to trust me…given our history. But we've been friends for four years now, good friends for two. What are you afraid I'm going to do? Why do you hide your thoughts from me sometimes? You know I love you more than the air I breathe and only want your happiness."

"I've decided I need to stop coming to see you, Draco. The past two years I've spent less and less time with my other friends because I'm always over here. I've only been on four dates in two years. I need to be more available to my other friends. I need to meet new people. Find a man I can build a life with."

"And you can't do those things and still be my friend?"

She swallowed as she turned away from him, sitting on the bench overlooking the lake. "Draco, it's complicated. I… the more time I spend with you, the less I want to spend with others."

Draco crouched in front of her, his heart was pounding in his chest. "And you need to move on with your life. Which you can't do with me in it?"

Hermione's eyes darted up to his. "You've become my best friend, Draco. But you are also the man who potioned me numerous times and raped me. How can I be your friend? How did I let it come to this? How did I let myself…care for you again? You aren't good for me!"

Draco scoffed. "We've been friends for four years and I haven't more than touched your hand. I care about you more than probably anyone else in your life. I breathe and live consumed with thoughts of you and your happiness. I would die for you. How is that not good for you?"

Hermione swallowed. "There is a part of me that wonders…it wonders if you still had a wand, would you imperious me again? Would you try to potion me again? If you had it at your disposal? Do you really care about me? Or are you still trying to manipulate me into a relationship with you?"

He flinched at her words, a scowl creeping over his face. "What the fuck have you been doing visiting me for the past four years if you truly think I could still be capable of that, Hermione?" He stood and turned his back to her.

"I don't have an answer that makes any sense," she responded simply.

"Try," he snapped. "And dig deep for a bit of that truthfulness and forthcoming that you demand from me on a regular basis."

"You're easy to be with, Draco. We enjoy the same books and share the same interests. You are funny and warm and kind and treat me like a prin…" She blanched.

Fucking hell, he thought as he closed his eyes and that all too familiar guilt washed over him again.

After a minute, she continued. "I just… couldn't stop myself from visiting you. I needed to forgive you so that I could move on with my life. But somehow, I lost my way and…"

"If I had never attacked you, could you love me, Hermione? Despite my illness? If I hadn't been such a monster, could you have grown to love this man standing before you who loves you more than anything?"

She laughed without humor. "So easily, Draco. But you did attack me. And I don't know that the part of you that was okay with doing something so terrible and heinous isn't just hiding. When the day comes that you get your wand back, what will you do? What if we have a fight and I am no longer your friend? What would you do then? What evils could you be capable of? Everything is easy right now because your options are so limited. You have no choice but to accept what I offer you. But if or when you have the ability to take what I don't freely give, what then? What will you be capable of?"

"You seem to be under the false impression that I don't have access to my magic, Hermione."

"What do you mean? You don't have a wand. When you were released you were told you couldn't have it back."

Hermione's jaw fell when Draco held his hand out to his side and several of Hermione's favorite yellow roses flew through to the air and into his hand.

"Non-verbal and wandless? How did you…"

"You won't like it, Hermione," he responded simply as he held the flowers out to her.

She took them absently, still stunned by what he had just demonstrated. "Tell me," she demanded.

Draco let out a breath and answered hesitantly. "Severus taught me. After his release. He visits frequently from Paris."

Hermione felt bile rise into her throat. "Snape." She threw the flowers to the ground. "Of course. The co-creator of your potion and the enabler of your attacks on me. The other master manipulator." She stood and walked away, her back to him as she looked towards the stables.

"He's my Godfather, Hermione. He cares about me almost as much as my parents. I have very few people who care about me. I wasn't about to turn him away. He has been invaluable to me these past few years."

"How often does he come?"

"For a while it was weekly, but now that he is married, so it's not as often."

"How did I never see him here?"

"He didn't want to see you, Hermione. He kept to parts of the manor that you and I don't visit. He spent a lot of time with father."

"Why didn't you tell me he was visiting?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't come if you knew he was around."

"You're damn right, I wouldn't."

"So, you can forgive me for attacking you, but you can't forgive him for knowing about it?"

"Draco, Snape was a grown man and a teacher! It was his job to protect me, not to help you secure time with me and to cover for you. He helped you create that god-awful potion. Not only that, he knew about the familial mental illness. He should have told your parents what was going on."

"I hope that one day you'll let him apologize and explain. He regrets everything and feels guilty for his part in it all. He has yet to forgive himself for not intervening and not stopping me."

"I don't believe that." She ran her hands through her hair. "This is so fucked up." Peeking back over her shoulder, she ranted, "All this time I've let myself be alone with you, assuming you to be without the ability to harm me in any way and here you've been capable of wandless and non-verbal magic. To top it off, a Master Potioneer who helped you develop the lust potion and assisted you in covering your tracks, so you could use it on me, has been visiting you while I was here." She shook her head and began to walk briskly towards the manor. "I'm such a fool. I've learned nothing."

Draco rushed to keep up with her. "Yes, I've been capable of magic and yet I've done nothing to you. Go to St. Mungo's and get yourself checked if you don't believe me."

"Good idea, I think I will!" She suddenly stopped and turned back towards him. "This is over, Draco. I won't be visiting you anymore. I've been reckless and foolish."

Draco's own emotions were battling for supremacy. Anger, disappointment, resentment, jealousy… but it was heartbreak that won. His voice cracked with emotion. "I thought we had become friends and, somehow, I had believed you trusted me. I was the one who was a fool. I don't think my heart can take any more disappointment. This is unbearable. Please don't come back." He turned and walked away from her. Heading towards the stables.

Hermione watched him walk away, her own heartbreak threatening to consume her.

Two Weeks Later

"What are you doing here?" Draco's look was weary. Hermione couldn't help but notice dark circles under his eyes. It didn't appear he was sleeping any better than she was.

"I don't really know," she offered, disgusted with how lame she sounded.

Not saying anything, he gestured to the chair she usually sat in when she visited. When she cautiously accepted, he sat opposite her, his hands in his lap, trembling with anticipation. He hadn't thought he would ever see her again.

"I've missed you so much," he said so quietly she almost didn't hear him.

Hating herself for admitting it, she responded, "I've missed you as well." She looked around the room. "Is Snape here?"

Draco shook his head as he sighed. "No. He doesn't come around much anymore. He has a son now."

Hermione had nothing kind to say about that, so she said nothing.

"I'm sorry for…"

"I went to St. Mungo's."

They both paused and looked at each other awkwardly.

"You go first," Draco suggested.

Hermione sighed and then nodded. "I went to St. Mungo's. I decided that if they couldn't find evidence of anything, that I would consider resuming our friendship."

"I told you I hadn't done anything to you." He looked down. "But I don't blame you for not trusting me."

"Here's the thing, Draco. I want to believe you. I want to trust you. I like coming here. I love spending…" She shook her head. "Yet, despite all that. I just can't. I can't believe you. I can't trust you."

Draco closed his eyes. "Why are you here, Hermione?"

"To say I'm sorry. To say goodbye. I should have stayed away all these years. It can't have helped you get well and work through your obsession if I was always here. I've held myself back as well. I haven't moved on with my life."

He didn't say anything, but Hermione's heart nearly broke in two when she noticed a tear roll down Draco's cheek. He wouldn't look up, his eyes staring into his lap.

"I'm taking an extended vacation. I have over two months accumulated."

Draco's voice was shaky. "Where will you go?"

"I want to travel Europe and some of Asia. I think going away will help me stop thinking about you. And staying away will hopefully help you stop thinking about me."

Draco shook his head. "It won't make a difference, for me, anyway. My disease won't let me stop thinking about you. The less I see you, the worse it gets. When you are here, and I can trust that you are coming to visit me, I can focus on other things. I can read and I can study. I can write and I can focus on my art."

"I'm sorry about that, Draco. Truly. I don't want you to suffer. Or hurt. But I want a family. I want a husband and children. I want a life."

Unable to hear anymore, Draco stood as he snapped. "This is rubbish! Can you even hear yourself?"

Hermione's eyes grew wide as he began to pace.

"Two weeks ago, you admitted that I was your best friend. You know how I feel about you. You know that I would move heaven and earth for you if I could. You also know that I haven't done anything to you with my wandless magic, thanks to your visit to St. Mungo's to confirm. I'm not that confused seventeen-year-old, sex crazed, hormonal kid who didn't understand what was happening to him!"

He crouched in front of her and took her hands. "Look at me!" He demanded.

Hermione's heart clenched and it started to thrum as fast as butterfly wings when she met his eyes. Eyes that were fierce with determination. "I. Love. You." His words were punctuated. "Has it occurred to you that even if I didn't have this diagnosis, that I would still love you? Can I tell you why that might be?"

Hermione sat stunned. He hadn't been this impassioned about anything in a long time. She nodded.

"You are brilliant. I love discussing theories of time travel and Arithmancy. I love it when we debate the translations of Ancient Runes. I love it that we enjoy the same fiction. I love it when we spend hours doing nothing but going through magical theory books in my library. I love the way your forehead crinkles and you suck in your bottom lip when you find something that excites you. I love the way you cross your legs and wiggle your foot when you are engrossed in a book."

Hermione closed her eyes. "Draco, I…"

"Let me finish!" When her eyes shot back to his and she didn't say anything, he continued. "I love the way you don't take crap from anyone, including my Father. I love your work ethic and all that you have accomplished at the Ministry. I love that you helped Harry Potter defeat that maniacal monster! I love that because you and Potter spoke on my parent's behalf, they didn't end up in Azkaban. I love your heart and its infinite ability to love every creature who has been unfairly used or taken for granted. I love your passion for werewolf rights. I love that you don't bore me intellectually."

He paused. "Yes, I have this diagnosis. And yes, you are the object of my obsession. But our compatibility has nothing to do with it. What I feel for you now…it's real, Hermione. It's real! You are… beautiful. Everything about you. From the freckles on your nose to the way your eyes reflect shades of honey in the sun. From your crooked middle finger with its permanent ink stain, to your ridiculous yet magnificent hair. The way you never wear heels or dresses that reveal your curves because you insist on being appreciated for your mind instead of your feminine beauty."

Her took her hand and placed it over his heart. "This belongs to you, Hermione. As well as the flesh that it feeds. I am yours. Forever. I love you. I was wrong all those years ago. You weren't made for me. I was made for you! Don't you understand?"

Hermione started to cry.

"Marry me, Hermione. Let me love you. Have a family with me. Do you even know how much I would love to have children with you? How much I would love them? Children born from your womb and my seed? Please don't walk away from me. Please don't. Let me spend the rest of my life making you happy."

When Draco became quiet, Hermione stared at him. Her breathing was quick as she absorbed his words. Every single one of them.

His words were hesitant, as though he was afraid of their consequences. "Do you…do you love me? Even a little bit?"

Suddenly Hermione's arms were wrapped around him and she was sobbing onto his shoulder. She fell forward and he pulled her into his lap as he closed his eyes and rocked her. Afraid he would wake up any minute to find it was all a dream.

"Shh, don't cry, kitten. Please don't cry."

Hermione pulled back just enough to take his face in her hands. "I do love you, Draco. I don't know how it happened. But I do. You are not bad for me. Not anymore."

Two Days Later – Malfoy Manor

What surprised Hermione the most was that she wasn't nervous. She imagined this day ever since she was a little girl, and in it she always thought that she'd have butterflies in her belly and be trembling. However, she was perfectly calm.

It had been a whirlwind two days. She had told Draco yes. Yes, she would marry him. When they approached his parents, it was obvious that Narcissa was overjoyed. Lucius, while seemingly pleased, was more reserved. After a stiff nod of acceptance to their announcement, he asked what she needed from them to be sure.

He had been correct; she did have questions as well as a stipulation. First, she expected that Snape would never be allowed in the manor when she or any future children were present. That demand was met with a quick and understanding affirmative. Narcissa stating that they could visit the Snapes in France any time they wanted and there was no burning need for him to visit them at their home. If he were coming to England, they could set them up at their townhouse in London, versus him staying at the Manor.

Her most burning question had brought Draco up short; it was obvious that he had never considered it before – What was the risk of their children having the same mental disease Draco was cursed with?

Hermione had been surprised when Narcissa had beamed brilliantly at her and Lucius had uncharacteristically jumped up from his seat on the davenport to retrieve a sheaf of parchment. She had been informed that, due to Draco's young onset of the disease, they had been funding much research at St. Mungo's. There had been a breakthrough with the curse in the form of a potion that a child could take when they turned eleven-years-old.

"Even though Draco cannot benefit from it, it is still a huge development," Lucius exclaimed in what Hermione would have called excitement. "Any children you and Draco would have would be able to take the preventative potion which, in layman's terms, would make the child immune to the curse developing."

"Like Muggle immunizations?" Hermione found herself fascinated. A potion that worked as an immunization? How…forward!

She had taken the paperwork and research home with her that night and penned the head of the medical research staff before going to bed. When she heard back the following afternoon that they were still researching a cure but were confident in the potion's ability to prevent the curse from taking root, she knew that she wouldn't hold herself back. She wanted to be with Draco – she loved him as well as he loved her.

Which is why, a little over 48 hours since his spontaneous proposal, Hermione was standing in front of a full-length mirror in a dressing suite in the West Wing of Malfoy Manor. It was to be her personal dressing suite from here on out.

There was a light knock at the door and Hermione turned to find a beautifully made up Narcissa Malfoy smiling serenely at her. "Are you ready, my dear?"

Hermione nodded and returned the soft smile, "I am."

Two Days Later – The Burrow

Hermione fidgeted with the diamond on her left finger. It was slightly bigger than maybe she would have picked for herself, but the intricate and old-fashioned design couldn't have been more perfect. The beautiful matching wedding band molded directly against the engagement ring and looked to be a part of it flawlessly. Taking a deep breath, she plastered a smile on her face and swung open the gate on the far end of the property.

The creek of the weather worn and aged hinges alerted her surrogate family to her arrival. Shouts of, "Hey Hermione!" and "'Mione!" greeted her ears and her tummy tightened uncomfortably as she kept her smile firmly in place and raised her hand in a show of hello. She knew that this unassuming Sunday luncheon was going to turn ugly. No one was ever going to fully understand the decision she had made.

If she was honest with herself, she didn't blame them. Deep in the recesses of her logical and sane mind, she knew that was she was doing was insane. Draco Malfoy had assaulted her, raped her over and over again, and quite literally fucked up her life to the nth degree.

When it came down to it, however, what he had shown her over the last handful of years was that she was it for him. He worshipped her, he loved her, he was…he was obsessed with her. Somehow, his devotion to her made her feel powerful. His belief in her gave her strength. Despite everything, he made her a better person. He loved her, but he was brutally honest with her when she was wrong. She could bounce work ideas off him and his analysis and input was always intelligent and well thought out. His debates with her only made her arguments stronger and she was excelling at work even more than before because of it. She was sleeping better and focusing better. She laughed more. She smiled more. She lived more.

Maybe she was insane. But her life was richer and more fulfilling because of Draco Malfoy. And how could she turn away from someone who loved her so unconditionally?! He would never stray. He would never leave her. He would forever be devoted to her. He was smart and witty, and he challenged her intellectually in a way that fed her soul. He was hers. She just couldn't walk away from that.

"You look very pensive today, Hermione." Molly startled her out of her reverie as she reached the ramshackle tables laden with food. Everyone had obviously just sat down to eat and there was a stasis charm over the food. They had been waiting for her to arrive. "Knut for your thoughts?"

"Oh," Hermione tilted her head, conscious to keep her voice light as she waved her hand in a noncommittal gesture. "The food looks great!" The change of subject was a bit forced and she nervously reached for the back of her chair when a low whistle came from across the table. Charlie was home for the weekend and Hermione swallowed hard when she realized his gaze was homed in on the diamond adorning her left hand.

"I didn't know you were seeing anyone, Granger!" Charlie gave her a wolfish grin and pointed at the ring. "Who's the lucky guy?"

The silence at the table was deafening for a split second as Hermione, who hadn't even sat down yet, clasped her hands together in a poor attempt to hide it. She had been hoping it would take a little longer for people to notice.

She glanced around the table, noticing Ginny's face drain of color just before Harry and Ron exchanged furious glances. Molly's lower lip was trembling, and Arthur had removed his glasses and was wiping them with his shirt, obviously preparing for the explosion he suspected was about to take place.

"Hermione," it was Ginny who broke the silence, "tell me you didn't."

"She obviously did," Ron said furiously.

"Hermione, you can't," Harry's voice was hoarse. "I just…why would you even want to?"

Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot. She had known that this would be their reaction, but it still made her feel a mix of humiliation and anger. "Because he loves me," she whispered it, but her voice was firm.

"He doesn't! He wants to control you, he hurt you!" Harry roared, jumping to his feet. Ginny was silently crying, and Ron's mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water.

Tears splashed down Hermione's face even as her ire grew. "He did…years ago. And… and he paid for it. But you don't know him like I do – you don't understand what he's been through –"

"Would you listen to yourself? You are insane, Hermione!"

She could no longer keep ahold of her fury. Her whole body was shaking as she forcefully told her friend, "No, Harry. I am not. You tell me to listen to myself, but you never take the time to listen to me! I went through something awful and traumatic and I survived it. I dealt with it poorly, but I got the help that I needed and was able to do something amazing – I was able to forgive him. I forgive him! He has had every chance over the last six years to hurt me again and he hasn't taken it. I am the object of his obsession, yes, but it is no longer a hurtful obsession to me! To me it's just utter devotion and adoration. He is the only one that hurts! He loves me! So much that he has taken the scraps I've been willing to give him over the years. Now, though…now I realize that I love him, too. And I want to move on with my life – fully. And I want it to be with him."

The silence that fell over the table when she informed them she loved Draco Malfoy was absolute. Harry all but fell back into his seat as Ron buried his face in his hands, rubbing his fingers over his forehead in what appeared to be disbelief.

"I won't let you marry him, Hermione," Harry whispered after the longest minute of her life.

Tears pricked her nose as she gripped the back on the chair so tightly her knuckles were white. Draco had been right, and she was glad she had agreed to marry in the Malfoy Gardens a mere two days after he proposed. She had filed the paperwork with the ministry the very next afternoon and had requested his house arrest be lifted as the only reason he was really on it was because he was a potential danger to her. The paperwork had been approved ten days later – Draco Malfoy was free, and they were leaving in the morning for their honeymoon to Taha'a in French Polynesia – a wedding gift from her cautiously happy in laws.

"Even if it was your choice, Harry Potter, you're too late."

There was a collective intake of breath at the table and most mouths dropped open. Hermione pushed herself away from the table.

"What do you mean, 'too late'?" Ron rasped.

"Exactly what it sounds like," Hermione choked. "I'm already married. Congratulations, right?" She couldn't help the hurt and sarcasm that flooded her voice. "I can't do this – I…I have to go. It was a mistake to come."

Draco was holding her in his arms and stroking her hair lovingly when Tinny popped into their suite a few hours later. "Yous has guests, Mistress," the little elf informed them.

Surprised, both Hermione and Draco sat up in their bed. "Who?" Hermione asked in a tear-roughened voice.

"Misters Potter and Weasley, Mistress."

She looked to Draco, their eyes locking. He had been so wonderful with her when she had come back almost hysterical in her grief. Gentle and understanding and encouraging, he had told her that her friends loved her, and they would come around. And, while it would likely never be perfect, they would see over time that he just wanted her happiness and would do everything to make sure she had it. It would win them over in the end.

Hermione leaned into his touch when Draco smoothed an unruly lock on hair out of her face and behind her ear. "Show them to my wife's parlor, Tinny."

The elf winked out of existence after giving a low bow, and after a few words of encouragement from Draco, Hermione found herself cleaned up and sitting across from her two oldest friends.

"We went to your apartment, but your landlord said you moved out," Harry said quietly.

"Well, it made sense to actually move in with my husband," Hermione said a bit waspishly.

Ron flinched at her tone of voice. They were sitting in small parlor at Malfoy Manor - technically it was Hermione's parlor – in her and Draco's wing. When had her life become so surreal?

"Yeah…yeah, I guess," Harry answered uncomfortably.

"Look, 'Mione," Ron pressed after a moment of silence. "We're sorry."

She raised a lone eyebrow, surprised. "Are you?"

"Yeah," Ron cleared his throat. "We obviously…we obviously are never going to understand fully…but you…you're our Hermione."

Tears again. Merlin, she was sick of crying.

"What Ron means is that…we love you, Hermione," Harry said softly. "And we don't want to lose you. So, if that means supporting you in this…this marriage…" He trailed off. "Look, I can't say we agree or that we like it or that we even understand it. But we love you…you know?"

She nodded as tears splashed down her cheeks. It was good enough for now, they could work on more later…but it was good enough for now.

The champagne caused a tingle on his tongue and he felt like laughing. Never in his life had he been this happy. Taha'a was truly the most beautiful place he had ever been, and it didn't even phase him. The view of the crystal teal water was magnificent, the five-star wizarding hotel sublime. But none of that mattered. None of that meant anything.

Finally. He had her.

10 years. 4 weeks. 2 days. He glanced at his watch, and 11 hours.

That was how long it had been. How long it had been since that fateful moment in the Room of Requirement. How long it had been since his life's trajectory took a huge detour.

It was hard to believe. Draco smiled to himself as he took another glorious sip.

No, it wasn't that hard to believe, he teased himself. He had known. All those years ago and all the years since then, he knew. Like he was seer or something, he just knew she would be his.

He meant what he told her. She wasn't made for him. It was always he who had been made for her. But it came down to the same thing. They were simply meant to be together and now they would be. Forever. No more waiting for the wards to alert him of her arrival. No more moments of doubt that he would ever see her again. And no more polyjuice'd whores.

He still had mixed feelings about the other women. He did harbor a little guilt. But it had been so easy! The bushy haired seductress shed hairs all over the Manor every time she visited! It was nothing to collect them. To use them. To send them to his Godfather who brewed the potion. Draco didn't use it right away. He had resisted. He respected the woman he loved. But over time, it was just too much temptation. And while the whores were fine and scratched the itch, they never acted right. He was never satisfied. They weren't ... her.

His father had been understanding about Draco's physical need but had been less than pleased about the potion. Ultimately, he had supported Draco, but Lucius felt sleeping with Hermione's mirror image wasn't healthy and wasn't conducive to his heir's mental progress. Of course, Narcissa never knew any of it. Lucius wouldn't allow it and Draco couldn't have borne her disappointment.

Draco closed his eyes and drew in a big deep breath of freedom and complacency through his nose. He blew out any flickering of guilt about how he got here. How could he regret anything that led to this moment? His ultimate happiness. His Utopia. Hermione was finally his.

"Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?" she asked as she sidled up beside him and took in the sun setting over the water.

He only had eyes on her when he said without a glimmer of falsity, "Never." His gaze danced down to find she was wearing a forest green silk gown. She had never looked lovelier.

He turned to face her, cradling her cheeks in his long fingers. Their eyes met softly before he leaned down and placed a delicate kiss on her supple lips. He wondered if it would finally happen. Would she have sex with him? She hadn't yet. Despite that they had been married for almost a week. He hadn't pressured her in any way.

"Draco...I,"

"It's okay, Hermione, I can only imagine what you are going through right now. If it's still too soon, I can wait. We aren't in any hurry. Sex isn't important to me. Hasn't been for a long time."

Hermione could see in his eyes that he spoke the truth and she would be lying if she said his words didn't relax her.

He faintly smiled as his thumb stroked her bottom lip. "For you, when we make love, it will be our first time."

When his eyes began to well, Hermione pulled his forehead down to hers. "Shh, it's okay, Draco. I love you. It will be fine."

His steel blue irises met her honeyed ones as he whispered, "but it's my first time with you as well, love. My first time when you are...you. For the first time it will be real, Hermione."

Hermione smiled as she wrapped her arms around him and held him close. He felt like home. She closed her eyes in bliss when his arms enveloped her in return. This was right. And yes, her husband had hurt her many years ago. Yes, he had an illness. But he loved her more than any other man ever had or ever would. Whatever the catalyst for that love, she had it. It was a gift. And in this moment, she was the luckiest witch in the world.

His hands felt strong and warm as they rubbed her back through the silky fabric. His lips languorously trailed kisses along her jaw and down her neck. Her eyes fluttered closed as her head fell back and she felt her strength and any doubt leave her.

Sensing her acquiescence, Draco scooped her up bridal style and carried her into the suite and to the king sized, canopied bed. Laying her down gently, he stepped back and watched her as he began to unbutton his shirt. Her gaze never left his as he undressed. Down to nothing but his boxers, he sat on the edge of the bed as he pulled her hand into his. When she squeezed it in reassurance, he lay down facing her.

She shimmied closer and kissed him deeply. After a minute, he rolled her onto her back as his mouth continued to devour hers while he maintained most of his weight on his forearms. Her fingers were delicate as they skimmed up and down his back and her lips were gentle. A sense of disquiet settled over him as he became a bit more assertive. Pressing up onto his knees so that he was straddling her thighs, he kept his eyes locked with hers as his fingers skimmed down her sides and began to bunch her nightgown slowly up her body. She lifted her hips and then arched her back making it easy for him to slip it over her head and onto the floor beside them. Unable to resist anymore, his focus moved to her glorious breasts. They were his favorite physical feature of her body. They had become larger over the years and he frequently engaged in breast play when he was with her. Well, with the whores, that is.

Dipping down, he sucked her right peak into his warm mouth causing a delicious moan to escape her lips. Ahh, he thought to himself, there it is. Polyjuice did change the voice – the whores never could get it right. He liked her noises. He wanted her to squirm with need.

His right hand fondled her left nipple as his left hand made its way down between her legs where he rubbed the damp crotch of her knickers. Another little gasp from her lips was all he needed to tuck his fingers under the fabric and massage her dewy folds. His mouth and fingers became more aggressive as her hips began to gyrate. Sliding the skimpy fabric down her thighs, Draco kissed his way down her belly as he cradled his shoulders between her knees. Drawing them up and apart, he opened his eyes to her wet and spread open cunt. Taking a whiff of the familiar sent, he latched his mouth onto her clit causing another moan to meet his ears. Her hands gently threaded through his hair and once again Draco felt an edge of concern. Something wasn't right. She wasn't... he didn't really know. When his fingers slid into her core, she let out a little mewl. When he nibbled on her clit once again, her body began to tremble as she climaxed.

Sliding up her body, he kept her legs spread as he pressed his desperate cock into her. Still coming down from her orgasm, her eyes were slightly glazed as he began to move desperately in and out of her. Her fingers gently stroked his shoulders before threading down his chest. But this wasn't right, and Draco began to panic. Why wasn't this the bliss of his youth? Why didn't he feel the way he did before when he was inside of her? Thrusting wildly, he realized the problem. Fuck! Just wanting to be finished, he closed his eyes and pumped three more times before exploding inside her.

Neither said anything as he fell into the mattress next to her, his eyes closed and his breathing heavy. When he finally opened them, it was to find hers watching him. Forcing himself to say what he knew she needed to hear, he whispered, "That was amazing, kitten. I love you soo much!" It wasn't a lie. He did love her. More than words could say. It just wasn't the whole truth.

"I love you, too," she whispered as he pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head.

He held her until he could hear the soft snores of a deep slumber escaping her mouth. Gently pulling away, he slid out of bed and padded to the en-suite where he found his robe and pulled it on. Walking to the sink he splashed cold water on his face before standing upright and staring at his reflection.

"So close, Draco. So close," he whispered to himself. Despite the rapid thrumming of his heart, he told himself not to panic. But how could he not? The sex he had just experienced was no better than the sex with the whores. Worse in some ways. And he knew why. He let out a frustrated growl as he tossed the face towel on the counter. Why hadn't he figured this out before? How could he have missed something that was now so obvious!

Peeking back into the bedroom, he scribbled a note and tiptoed to the balcony. Ringing the small bell, a flurry of wings flew promptly toward him. He quickly fastened the note to the owl's leg. "That's for Severus Snape, and for his eyes only. Don't leave until he reads it and responds." The bird was gone in a flash.

Telling himself it would be okay and that his Godfather would help him, Draco mourned what he wanted and couldn't have. He loved his wife. He loved her mind. He loved her beauty and her wit. He adored her stubbornness and her fight for all that was right in the world. But he loved the part of her that she wasn't consciously aware of just as much. That part of her that was desperate for him. That couldn't bare not touching him. That aggressive and needy witch that was buried deep in her psyche. Princess! He needed Princess every bit as much as he needed Hermione.

It was two days later when the owl returned with a package. A package that contained a box of chocolate truffles and a small bottle of Elven Wine. There was a note:

Best wishes to the Bride and Groom. Thank you for traveling with Felicia's Exotic Portkey travel. We wish you a lifetime of happiness and many wonderful travels ahead. PS- Try the chocolates first. The wine compliments the aftertaste, deliciously!

Hermione stepped out onto the balcony and looked in Draco's hands. "We got a package?"

Draco shrugged. "Yeah, some chocolates and wine. A little kissing up from the portkey company. Clearly they want our future business."

Hermione gave him a curious look as she stepped closer. Her eyes lit up when she saw the chocolates. "I love truffles!"

He handed her the box. "All yours then, kitten."

He watched her cautiously as she plucked a round dome of sweetness out of the box and popped it into her mouth. Her chewing slowed as her eyes grew wide and she tossed the box aside.

"Draco," she moaned as she threw herself at him.

His lip curled into a smirk as he gave her a crooked smile. "Hello, Princess. It's been a while."

Draco sighed as the scene progressed in his mind with him forcing her to her knees, her mouth eager for his cock. It's what would happen, after all, if she ate the chocolate. He could see it in his mind perfectly.

Looking down at the two items in his hands, a sense of trepidation overcame him. He could do it. He could potion her. But then what? Did he want to be the kind of man who drugged his wife? And what if she found out? He would lose her. For real this time. There would be no coming back from it. Was getting Princess back occasionally worth the risk of losing his wife? His freedom? Because he would definitely end up in Azkaban, and she would be devastated. And Potter and Weasley would be right about him. And he would hurt her all over again.

Draco swallowed heavily as his hands began to tremble. He wasn't that boy anymore. He wasn't a rapist!

He was startled from his thoughts when she walked up beside him. "Oh, did we get a package?"

"Just some shitty chocolate that expired months ago and some cheap wine from the travel company."

Hermione looked at the truffle box with longing. "I love truffles," she pouted, playfully.

Draco pulled out his wand and cast an Evanesco, causing the entire package and its contents to disappear.

"Then I'll buy you all the truffles you want, my love. Only the best for you." He stepped towards her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders as she nestled into his chest.

"Draco, I want you."

He froze. "What?"

"I've been hesitant and shy when we've made love and I know it hasn't been quite…right. I just…"

"Shh, stop that. Why would you say thar?"

"I just sense…I don't know, disappointment from you?"

Draco stared into her trusting hazelnut irises and almost broke down in tears. What had he almost done? How could he ever think she wasn't enough? He did not need Princess! "No, Hermione. I think we are both …adjusting. I'm sorry if I've made you feel insecure."

"No!" she interrupted. "You've been wonderful and patient and gentle and kind! It's just, well, I want passion, Draco. I'm a passionate person and I haven't shared that with you. I want to ravish you and show you how much I desire you! Making love to you the past two days has been nice, but I haven't really let myself go. I was…worried. I didn't even realize it until we were in the act. But you have been with a version of me that I don't know. I have no memory of it and only saw glimpses in the pensieve. And I panicked that the real me wouldn't measure up and that maybe you would be let down." The words had come out in a rush. She took a breath. "But I've worked through my insecurity and now I want to show you the real me. I just needed some time to wrap my head around what I was feeling so that I could logically work my way through it. And I'm ready. I'm ready to open myself up to you and unleash the desire I have for you. Can we do that? Can we…make love?"

Draco was stunned. This witch was brilliant and amazing and…damn, he was so lucky. "You are ridiculous, you know that, right? As if you need to ask!"

Just then another owl flew to the balcony. Draco untied the note from its leg and unrolled it. "No!" was all it said. Hmm, I guess those were really chocolates and wine from the portkey company after all. This was definitely a note from his Godfather. He internally smiled. If he was ever weak again, he now knew he could count on the man to keep him from making a monumental mistake.

"What's that?" Hermione asked a she eyed the small parchment in his hand.

He tucked it in his pocket. "Just a confirmation for our dinner reservation in an hour." He cocked a brow. "So, you, my little kitten, need to get into that bed so you can ravish me!"

Hermione fell to her knees and had his trousers and boxers around his ankles in a flash. "Silly Slytherin," she smirked. "Who needs a bed?!"