Written for Round 3 of Dramione-Remix. This fic is completed and is only two chapters. I will post the final chapter next week.

Title: Wizards & Witches
Chapter: 1/2
Author y3llowdaisi3s
Rating: M16
Original Couple: Sky Masterson / Sergeant Sarah Brown (Guys & Dolls)
Word Count: ~7k/~12k
Disclaimer: Harry Potter is the property of several people who are not me, so take what is written here as such. No profit is being made and no copyright infringement was intended.
Summary: Due to Dobby's Law, Ronald Weasley has to go around the proper channels to procure a House-elf.
Warnings: Implicit Sexual Relations
Author's Note: Thank you to T and Y for being a wonderful beta. Thank you to MM for helping me with plotting this out even though you can't stand Dramione, and thank you to several people over at highstakes_ww for helping me get this done. I tried to keep the spirit of the original pair and even took bits and pieces and reworked it into the story. I hope that any hardcore musical fans don't hate this and I did an okay job of this. I can't even begin to tell you how much I struggled with this. Also, thank you to the mods for allowing me an extension. I hope what I present now was worth that. Enjoy!

Wizards & Witches

"You know, it seems that everyone is pairing off," Narcissa said, placing her cup back on the tea tray.

"Yes, just the other day, Harry said Ron was considering asking Pansy to move in with him. It was only yesterday when the two couldn't stand to be in the same room," Andromeda chuckled, placing her teacup on a saucer held by her other hand in her lap.

It was a nice summer afternoon, and the two remaining Black sisters were having their usual weekly high tea. They were in the sun room: it was in the very back of the Manor, with a large, picturesque window showcasing the grounds behind the home. The clink of the tea cups made an echoing down the silent corridor, drawing the attention of the only other person in the house.

The two sisters continued discussing the gossip of the younger generation, giggling like schoolgirls - the sisters they weren't able to be for so many years.

The sight almost made Draco tear up, but he was a Malfoy, so he held the tears at bay, and smiled at the happiness radiating from his mother and aunt.

He glided [because really, what else could a Malfoy do when entering a room?] into the room, greeting both occupants with a nod, and sat himself to his mother's left, and across from his Aunt Andromeda.

He smiled at the pair. Both were distinctly beautiful in their own way. While his Aunt Bellatrix was always a deranged beauty, his other aunt held a traditional beauty in her serene and sombre poise. Losing much of her family in the war aged her, but she aged well. His mother, on the other hand, with Lucius in Azkaban and not present to continue harming the family, seemed to blossom. She was always beautiful - in a porcelain doll sort of way - but now beamed with a new found confidence brought on by being around sane, loving family - her estranged sister, precious grand-nephew and doting son.

"Ladies, how are you this fine afternoon?" he asked, stopping his mother from serving him his tea by raising one hand. He poured a smidgen of milk into his cup before picking up the white porcelain teapot with flowers painted on it - by him, no less, when he was five - and poured himself a cup - it must've been Lady Grey, his mother's favourite, and the zesty smell over the traditional black tea was hard to miss. He returned the teapot to its original place in the middle of the coffee table before them, and grabbed a small cucumber sandwich before seating himself once more.

"Just discussing the love lives of your classmates, dear," his mother responded, a twinkle in her eye.

Draco mentally shuddered. The twinkle in her eye never led to anything good.

"Oh yes, were you aware that Harry and Ginny have finally set a date?" his aunt asked him, placing her saucer and cup back onto the tray.

He shook his head. No, he didn't know, nor did he care.

"Or were you aware that Daphne and Neville are expecting their first child? As is Blaise and Luna, their children will be darling," his mother said, turning herself to face him more fully.

"Oh yes, and Greg and Padma are expecting another little one early next year," Andromeda added, taking another small sip of her tea.

"Good on them," he muttered, nibbling on another sandwich. He didn't particularly care for where this conversation was going, not really sure where it was going in the first place.

"Yes, and Ronald Weasley is intending on asking Pansy Parkinson to move in with him," Narcissa announced, returning her cup to the tea service.

Draco scoffed. That was a couple he could hardly believe came together, let alone, continuing further.

"Draco," his mother admonished, "Pansy is very happy with Ronald."

"She could do worse. And Ron's flat happens to be rather nice."

"Exactly. Thank you, 'Meda," Narcissa nodded.

"Sorry mother, aunt," Draco apologized, keeping his eyes on his cooling tea. He reached for another sandwich - a small fruit bread roll with cream cheese spread within. His mother always served the best high tea.

"And what about you, nephew? When are you going to settle down? Or at least find someone to consider being serious with?" Andromeda questioned.

"Oh, yes, is there anyone single in your year to consider?" Narcissa asked.

"Well, there's that Greengrass girl, but she's very much like her younger sister - 'ambitious' I believe is the word gold-diggers are using these days. You should mind yourself and stay away from the likes of them," Andromeda reminded.

Draco nodded, remembering the disastrous but brief relationship he had with Astoria Greengrass. He would serve the Dark Lord once more before hitching himself with a Greengrass - and they'd probably want him too, to boot. Just one of the many reasons he was happy to be rid of the harpy.

"What about that Granger girl, the one who always beat you in school?" Narcissa probed.

"You mean Hermione? She's still single. Like a niffler to gold when it comes to her work though, but not seriously seeing anyone. Or seeing anyone in general," Andromeda answered before Draco could scoff at the idea of him and Granger dating.

"Oh yes, I've always admired her spirit. Hard working, intelligent, poised. If only she fixed her hair, she'd be darling," his mother mused, much to his derision. What was she smoking? "With Ron and Pansy becoming so serious, she's going to have to start considering a relationship of her own. And soon. Everyone is pairing off. All of her friends are already taken."

"Too true, Cissa. The girl may like her work, but she is a girl, no girl wants to be alone, deep down. You should see her when with Teddy. You can tell she wants that one day."

"Hmm, interesting."

Draco kept his mouth shut and tried to tune both women out. Yes, Granger had grown into a beautiful woman - she had legs and an arse that he could stare at for days. She was also smart - in a swotty sort of way - and successful. He could do worse, he mused. He continued to peck at the sandwiches and drink his tea, occasionally refilling his mother or aunt's cups.

"No, that isn't right. No, that needs to go there. Hmm, yes, that should work. Oh, if only," Hermione muttered, pacing around her small office. It was a mess. Papers scattered over any flat surface - floor included - cold tea perched on the windowsill and shelves and stacks of books, various parchment sheets hiding it from its owner's view. Against the wall across from her desk was a large chalk board that Hermione had listed several Pureblood families and Stuck lists of elves' names on it. She would stare at one name, and then at a Pureblood family, mentally calculating who belonged where. Some families were red, while others were green. There were only a few elves with their names highlighted in yellow - meaning they were free and without an owner, as yellow was a colour that represented freedom.

Hermione was so focused on what she was doing, she didn't hear the knock on her door, nor did she hear the first cleared-throat-cough thing that one of her best friends was known for when in her presence. Instead she kept muttering at the board, tapping her chin, worrying her lip, and furrowing her brows, deep in thought.

"Hermione," her visitor finally shouted, drawing her attention away from her work - just when she was about to have a breakthrough, she was sure.

"Ronald, it's rude to disturb someone when they're working," she chided, walking around her desk, careful where she stepped, to avoid the papers that contained information she needed to help free more elves and make all elves lives better. Everything was stacked up in an organized manner that only she knew - granted it would take her a while to remember what it was.

"First off, it's Saturday. Secondly, you're always working, so it would be sort of hard to never be disturbing you," he preached, a large grin on his face as he pushed the papers off a visitor's chair.

Hermione's eyes went large and she was about to berate him for the action when he simply Summoned them to his hands and placed them atop the other chair, perpendicular to the stack already there. He raised his brow at her to ensure that this was okay. She conceded with a nod.

"If I was to follow your idea of etiquette, and not disturb you while you were working, I'd have to wait til you slept, and I'm sure that has a rule against it too," he joked.

Hermione didn't think it prudent to tell him he was actually right, but she was rather busy. She was on a mission and she didn't like distractions getting in the way. It took a very dedicated individual to ensure that Magical Creatures received the rights they deserved - even if she was the only one who thought they did - and she worked hard to get the Wizengamot to back her - they caved and allowed a limit to the number of House-elves any family could own: one for every two residents living at home full-time, and they were to be paid a decent wage. Now, if only she could get everyone else to follow through. Most families refused to free their elves, let alone pay them any sort of pittance.

She sighed, maybe a short break would help her. She had been staring at the wall for a good two hours, and no epiphanies had occurred. Her mother always told her to take a step back and come back later - an idea may present itself to a fresh set of eyes. She rubbed her eyes with her fists and let her elbows rest on the tabletop. "What is it that you wanted, Ron?" she queried, still rubbing at her eyes.

"Oh, I was wondering, well, did you know how I would go about getting a House-elf?" he muttered, barely breathing between words.

It took Hermione a few moments to figure out what he was saying, and even then, she still needed clarification. "I'm sure you know the proper channels. I've only spoken about this to you and Harry a few hundred times." At the perplexed look her friend gave, she sighed, and explained, "First you would need to fill out a form. It's over there on top of the biscuit tin."

Ron's stomach growled at the mention of biscuits, and she rolled her eyes. "No, there aren't any biscuits. Maybe one, be my guest." She vaguely shooed the idea of biscuits away with a gesture of her hand.

"Fill out the form and deliver it to Carole Haztlebee at the front desk along with the fifty Galleons processing fee, then it needs to go through the proper channels. Eventually it'll end up here," she pointed in the direction of the corner behind her, where a filing cabinet rested against the wall. "I'll review it and put you on the waiting list. Which you can see on this wall over here," she directed his attention to the wall to the right of her desk, next to the door that entered her office. The list held seven names.

"Once you reach the top of the list, you'll be scheduled for an interview and an inspection. I'll ask you a series of questions to ensure the safety and happiness of the House-elf is in your top priority. If I find your answers satisfactory, we'll schedule a time for me to inspect the area of their main employment. This may be your home or your business, but it can only be one. If you want to do both, then you need to fill out different paperwork."

She looked at Ron to see if this was what he needed. He shook his head, so she continued, "Again, the safety and happiness of the House-elf is of the utmost importance and what I'll primarily be gauging for. Once you've passed all of that, when a House-elf is available, we then introduce you, and if he or she is amenable, you will need to pay the actual registration fee which is another fifty Galleons. There are random quarterly inspections for the first year, and then bi-annual every year thereafter. The current minimum wage for House-elves is 10 Galleons a week," Hermione droned, as if reading off a script.

"Are you serious?" Ron gaped.

"Quite," Hermione affirmed. Of course she was serious. This was serious business. The life of a House-elf was a hard one and Hermione had vowed in her fourth year to make it a better one for them however best she could.

"Now, if I wanted to get one without the proper channels?" he pressed.

"Ronald, how could you suggest such a thing!" Hermione was outraged. For him to even ask about this was to undermine all the hard work she had been doing for the past few years.

"I'm just saying, that's a lot to get one bloody House-elf," he muttered.

Hermione saw red. This was why the two of them hadn't worked out. They just didn't see eye to eye on the things that mattered - to her at least; the thing he thought mattered was far off her spectrum. She held her breath and counted to ten, less she hex her best friend.

"Okay, I'm sorry 'Mione. I'll fill out the form before I leave," Ron sighed, trying to appease the livid witch.

Hermione let out the breath she knew she was holding and smiled. He was learning.

"So why are you working on a Saturday?" he asked, scooting forward to sit on the edge of his seat.

Hermione grinned. She appreciated that he was trying to seem eager to know more about what she was doing. She knew she hadn't spent any time with her friends for a few weeks, and she vowed that she would make sure that she'd use her built-up vacation time for the two weeks everyone liked to celebrate Yule with.

"You see that list over there." She pointed back to the wall she was studying when he had first entered, across from her desk and behind Ron. "Well, I'm going over which families are in violation of the new Dobby Law as far as the number of House-elves owned and those awaiting wages."

"Okay," he nodded, staring at the wall, looking at all the names of House-elves and who owned them.

"Well, I was just about to write letters informing them that they had seventy-two hours to abide by all sections of legislation before being heavily fined," she surmised, Summoning parchment so she could get started.

"And who are you starting with?" Ron asked, leaning forward to read what she wrote.

"Malfoy, the sodding git. He has five House-elves. Five. It's just him and his mum at the Manor, but they're claiming Andromeda and Teddy so they're allowed to keep two." She replied, not taking her eyes off her writing.

"Oh, well, I guess I'll leave you to your work." Ron announced, standing up from his seat. "I'll see you for gift exchange next weekend, yeah?" he asked, while standing at the door.

"Mhmm," she mumbled in agreement, focusing on her work, not hearing Ron leave her office.

Ron really wished his best friend wasn't such a stickler for rules. She didn't always follow the rules when they were in school. But throw in House-elf rights and all of a sudden rules were the law - literally.

He sighed.

If he wanted to convince Pansy that living together wasn't a bad idea, that she could have a life that she was used to while still being with him, then it would all be worth it.

Or so he hoped.

He pulled back the ornate snake knocker from the front door and let it fall back. He shifted from foot to foot for a minute and then made to reach out for it again. Before he could touch the evil looking thing, the door swung open, letting him see into an empty foyer.

"Welcome," a squeaky voice said from under his chin. Ron looked down at the neatly dressed - he had a waistcoat on - moss-coloured House-elf. It had large purple eyes that were staring at him in anticipation. For what, Ron wasn't sure, but the elf let him know when it realised Ron wasn't saying anything. "Mays I helps you?" it asked.

"Oh," he breathed, "Yeah. I'd like to speak with Malfoy."

The House-elf eyed him warily, and Ron sighed. Leave it to Malfoy to have suspicious House-elves. "The young master does not like redhead visitors." He let go of the door, letting it swing closed.

"Wait." Ron held the door back with his foot. This really was his only chance - unless he figured out a way to get one hundred Galleons quickly or somehow convince Hermione to waive the fees. Pansy didn't cook, she didn't clean. If the two of them were to live together and be happy, a House-elf was imperative for their relationship to get to the next level. He just knew it. "It's regarding Pansy Parkinson," he divulged, unhappy to use his trump card so soon.

The elf's purple eyes widened, it sputtered, and then it blinked out of existence, leaving the door wide open. Ron stepped into the grand foyer and dusted the snow from his robes.

Another elf - this one more lime in colour with blue eyes, and a pink tea cosy wrapped around its body - stepped from a room to the side and screeched upon seeing Ron. "Redhead! Redhead ins the hoooouse. Master will be's most displeased!" It shouted, pointing at Ron while hopping up and down, arm stretched out flailing.

Ron tried to calm the elf down by pulling his jumper over his head, thinking hiding the red hair would calm it down.

"That's not going to work," a voice drawled - that Ron hated with a passion - from a staircase up ahead. "They're not idiots, especially not Circa. They're not going to forget just because they can't see. I always knew a House-elf was smarter than you." He continued to speak as he stepped down the stairs and towards Ron.

"Malfoy," he barely managed to say without contempt. Ron had to remind himself that trading insults with the ferret would not get him what he wanted.

"And what has brought you here?" Draco asked, leading him into the drawing room that Circa had originally stepped out of. Circa and the first House-elf walked around Ron, never turning their back to him, until he disappeared into the room.

"Well, you see," he tried hard not to stutter, "I want a House-elf."

Draco laughed. Ron could hear the elves tickling laugh from the hallway as well. His cheeks flushed and he clenched his fists.

Draco relaxed into an armchair, not giving Ron's rigid posture any notice. "And why haven't you asked your better third?" he made a gesture with his forefinger and another elf - this one with olive skin and purple eyes, wearing a dark grey towel around its body, like a dress - rushed to the nearby liquor cabinet. It kept its back to the wall, making Ron roll his eyes.

The elf handed a tumbler of Firewhiskey to its master and staggered back into its corner, again never letting its eyes leave Ron's face. "I tried, too much paperwork. I figured going to you would be easier," he responded confidently. He would not let the ex-Death Eater intimidate him.

"And you thought I would give you one because..." Draco's words were cut off by the pop of another House-elf - this one all green. It had green eyes, skin the colours of peas, and a mint coloured tube sock with an end cut off on its body. It was holding a sealed envelope. "Thank you Chooky," he nodded to the House-elf, taking the letter before it Disapparated. He opened the envelope immediately.

Ron saw the official Ministry seal, and knew that Draco would have to play into his hands. He couldn't contain his glee and grinned.

"I see, so you figured that this would endear me to giving you a House-elf?" he asked, waving the letter before leisurely placing it on the seat's arm. He continued to sip at his drink as if the letter meant nothing.

"Well, yeah, you have to get rid of three of your House-elves. Might as well let me take one off your hands." Ron thought Malfoy was smart. He shouldn't need this to be explained to him.

"And I don't think so," Draco replied, signalling to the elf in the corner for more Firewhiskey. The elf hustled to meet his master's orders, and in a flash had the tumbler refilled. "Thank you Whillikers," he nodded to the elf.

Ron was surprised by how well Malfoy treated his elves, especially in light of how he knew Dobby was treated. He shook his head. He didn't need to think of such things. He was on a mission. He rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying to think how he could get what he wanted.

"What does you wanting one of my House-elves have to do with Pansy? That is how you convinced Tetterwort to let you into my home," Draco mused, swirling the amber liquid in the glass.

Ron knew he would have to let go of his pride eventually. So what if he was admitting he wasn't enough for the woman he loved to his worst enemy. In the end, it would bring him what he wanted. "I want to ask Pansy to move in with me," he exhaled.

Draco rolled his fingers, gesturing for him to continue.

"Well, she's used to a certain lifestyle. A lifestyle that I can't provide at this point in time. She doesn't like to clean house or cook. The woman can bake a mean cake, but ask her to make dinner..." Ron watched Draco nod his head. "I just want her to be happy, and having a House-elf will make our lives easier, making living together much smoother."

It seemed like several minutes - it was only two - had passed before Draco acknowledged his reasoning.

"Even with a House-elf, I highly doubt she'd say yes to living with you in a hovel," he jeered.

Ron held his breath and counted to ten. Hermione always told him this was how she managed to not kill him yet, and it seemed like a good tactic. She was always good for things like that. She never let him down, and with that thought, an idea popped into his head.

"She's more likely to say yes to living with me than Hermione is to shagging you," Ron blurted, mentally smacking himself. Yes, it was more than likely a sure thing, but Hermione would surely kill him for involving her in such a way. It was bad enough that he used information from their earlier chat to acquire a House-elf. To suggest Draco Malfoy try to seduce her, well that was just traitorous.

Draco scoffed. "Every woman wants to shag me," he drawled, "Even Granger. And your wager is moot anyway because you still need a House-elf." Draco knew, deep down, that he was going to give Ron a House-elf - He'd have to figure out which elf could stand a Weasley, first. It would make his mother and aunt very angry if he did anything to prevent the pair from furthering their relationship. He couldn't just givea House-elf to the Weasel though. He had to get something out of it. Maybe he could take his suggestion and lure Granger into his bed. He always wondered just how innocent she was - secretly he hoped she was a minx - she had all the makings to be one. "You know what. I'll give you the House-elf if you give me an up on Granger."

Ron gulped. He was in trouble. He knew he should be happy for getting what he wanted from Malfoy, but the thought of Hermione sending canaries after him when she found out... He wasn't sure if it was worth it all.

But he loved Pansy and he wanted her to be happy. He wanted to wake up with the woman in his arms and end his days returning to their home - one they lived in together.

Hermione would understand in the end.

"She's always at work, and if she isn't at work, she's irritating some other pureblood family into helping their House elves," Ron gestured towards the letter sent, "We, Harry and I, and really everyone else, maybe see her every fortnight, and it's only for drinks because she prefers to get her dinner somewhere else. She likes to eat at this Cuban restaurant in Muggle London nearby. I don't know the name but it starts with an N," he shrugged.

Draco figured that was the most information he could get out of the man - any more and it really was betraying his best friend's trust. He wanted to bed the girl, see if there was any chemistry - and if there was, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it Or burn it. Draco nodded, and snapped his fingers.

There were five distinct pops and Ron's eyes bulged. Five House-elves bowed to their master before turning so that their backs were to the wall so as not be facing him. He rolled his eyes.

Draco snickered. Figuring out which elf would go, could prove quite a challenge. "You've already met Circa, Tetterwort, and Whillikers," the three elves stepped forward, glaring at Ron. No, they wouldn't do, Draco thought. "Chooky was the one who delivered the lovely letter earlier," the House-elf stepped forward and kept its eyes straight ahead. He always liked Chooky, and didn't think he could let go of her. "And this is Cobblers," a black toga wearing jade-coloured House-elf with large blue eyes, small ears flapping, stepped forward and gave their guest a small smile.

She didn't know why the others were being rude to Master's guests.

Based on the elf's reaction, Draco made a decision.

"Cobblers, you will be put in Ronald Weasley's care. You'll be taking care of him and Pansy Parkinson - you remember her, don't you?" Draco said to the elf, sincerely smiling, sad to see her have to go.

The House-elf nodded her head, not really sure if she should be happy or not. Her cousin Ruhr had to leave his master because of some law but said that working at Hogwarts was all right. Ruhr complained during the summer when he didn't have anyone to tend to. She guessed having a new family was better than spending her summers not working. "Okay," she said.

"All right," Draco waved his wand and a piece of parchment appeared before them, floating in the air. He pricked his finger with his wand and pressed the cut to the parchment in front of him. It dissolved into ash and disappeared. "Weasley, you better treat Cobblers right," Draco threatened.

"What was that? Shouldn't you have given her a sock or something?" Ron was confused. Not only did Draco Malfoy give him a House-elf, he was treating all his elves well, but did some Hoodoo magic thing he had never seen or heard about before.

"My House-elves are all free, and other than the bit about 'only allowed to have one for every two household members' - which is bollocks, by the way - I abide by every section of the legislation."

Draco rose from his seat. He had plans to make. Places to go. People - a specific person, more like - to see. "You can see yourself out," he sneered.

Draco flirted his way past the secretary - an old barmy woman who put Molly Weasley's matronly body to shame - named Carole Haztlebee and sauntered towards the only open door on the whole of level four - and possibly all of the Ministry on a Saturday evening - and gaped.

Hermione was seated on the floor in a tight fitting smart suit - the only spot not covered in stacks of paper - legs crossed, notebook across one knee, tapping a quill on the other, and staring up at a wall full of different names in different colours.

It was giving Draco a headache.

He lightly tapped on the door and stepped inside, stepping only where slivers of floor peaked through stacks of parchment.

When there was no response, and he could hear a quiet voice humming, he decided it was time to speak. "Granger," he drawled.

Hermione startled and fell backwards. Some of the stacks flew in the aftermath of her lying on her back. She stared up at Draco Malfoy. He was upside down in her view, and it made her head hurt.

"Hello, Granger," he smirked, turning around and seating himself royally in a guest chair which was surprisingly free of paperwork.

"Malfoy, may I help you?" she asked, rolling over onto her stomach, glaring at the floor when another stack scattered, and pushed herself up. She dusted her pants and walked around the desk so she could once again seat herself to talk to the intruder.

He shifted in his seat until he was seated at its edge. He placed his hands on his knees, and looked Hermione right in the eye. "Why, yes, you may," he teased.

Hermione rolled her eyes and took a deep breath, "What do you want?"

"For you to go to dinner with me," he drawled, face stoic as ever.

Hermione wasn't sure if he was joking or not, but she didn't find it funny in the slightest.

"Ha ha, really, what do you want?" she taunted. "Are you going to try and convince me to let it slide that you own five House-elves? Try and get out of the fines, hmm?"

He shook his head. "No, because it's Saturday. Besides, you'll find that I'm following every aspect of the law."

She scoffed, "I'll believe it when I see it."

"On Monday morning, you'll see," he smirked. "Now, about dinner," he queried.

"First off, I wouldn't go to dinner with you. Secondly, I'm busy," she harped, standing from her chair. Maybe if she ignored him, he'd go away. She went back to the list of elves on the board, wrapped her arm around herself, and held her elbow while resting her chin in her hand. She tapped on her lips, wondering if an epiphany would happen anytime before dinner.

Her stomach rumbled, and a whisper from behind her ear made her jump.

"You're hungry and I have reservations."

She spun around and pushed him away. She frowned when he didn't trip over any stacks of paper. They were traitors, only making her fall and never unwanted guests. She glared at them.

"Uh-hum," he harrumphed, "The Pucey's are claiming that Abigail is still living at home in order to keep a second House-elf. I happen to know that Abigail does not live at the Pucey Estate, but with her husband, Marcus Flint. Poor girl," he tsked.

Hermione's eyes bulged. She twisted around and stared at the wall. With that bit of information, numbers added up and now she could easily see the discrepancy between the Pucey and Flint homes. She Summoned a marker and began writing down notes. When she was finished, she beamed at the board and turned around and gasped.

He was still there.

"Now, I'll give you two more names. After dinner. We're going to be late to Negril," he said while grabbing her arm and pulling her from the office.

"Negril? I love Negril!" she admitted, then shouted, "Wait, it's in Muggle London!"

"Yes, I am aware," he smirked at her, still pulling her down the corridor towards the lifts.

He pressed the button to call the lift with the hand not holding onto Hermione's arm.

"But it's Cuban food. Isn't that too exotic for your tastes?" she questioned, finally realising he was still holding her.

DING, the doors opened and he gestured for her to enter first. She smiled and stepped inside. It wasn't every day she was treated like a lady. Minus the pulling her from the office though. But she was hungry and it was Negril! She hadn't gone in a few weeks, and she knew that she did need to let go. Wasn't it just earlier that day she mentioned finally using her vacation time?

"Not at all. It's a classy place that makes a mean Dulce de Leche," he added, happy that he did a little planning before coming in. Sure, he didn't really eat Cuban food that often, but his father took him to Havana once for business, and he remembered the drink that made the whole trip worth it.

"Oh, those are delicious!" she clapped her hands excitedly.

"Dulce de Leche!" Hermione beamed. She loved Negril. How Draco Malfoy heard about it, she'd never know, but she was happy he made reservations for her favourite restaurant.

While serving Cuban food predominantly, one wouldn't know from the decor. The tables were well-spaced and not crowded together, so not only was it easy to manoeuvre around, but every patron had an excellent view of the kitchen. Draco had originally intended for them to sit in a booth in the back, but Hermione refused, asking to be seated at her normal table - one that happened to be front and center, with the best view of the show.

She loved watching them prepare her meal. She couldn't cook very well at home, but the only dish she made exceedingly well was the one dish she watched them make here.

Her fricase de pollo- a stew of white wine tomato salsa with tender chicken pieces - was her staple meal when having friends over. It was delicious because she watched the chefs at Negril like a hawk.

This time, she watched Draco's - he insisted she call him such - meal being prepared. His paella del oceanowas full of seafood and something she knew Harry and Ginny would enjoy if she could ever manage to recreate the saffron rice with aromatic herbs with fresh clams, mussels, fish and calamari. She'd also have to purchase a cast-iron skillet if she ever intended to try making that.

Their drinks arrived at the table, and Hermione sipped at the straw while watching the food be prepared.

Draco chuckled. While she was busy watching their dinner, he was watching her. She was fascinated and looked very much like she did when they were first years, all those years ago. He could still remember the small buck-toothed, bushy haired girl who caught his eye. She always had an answer, but was never jaded with magic. He was very disappointed to find out she was a Muggle-born, but at least now, that didn't matter.

"Do you always look like a wolf when presented with something new?" he asked.

She nodded her head and sipped her straw. They were adding the calamari now.

He laughed and asked a passing waiter for more Dulce de Leche. Hermione's was practically gone, and he could see her making to grab at his.

He caught her wrist when her fingers wrapped around the stem of his glass. "What do you think you're doing?"

She blushed - or maybe it was just the alcohol? - prettily. She gulped the last of her drink, and shoved it away with her loose hand. She arched her brow at his hand that was still holding her wrist. She shrugged and leaned forward and used her tongue to grab his straw. She took a long sip, sat back up, and smirked in his direction.

He pulled at his collar - it was suddenly so very hot - and let go of her wrist. The servers came and placed their plates in front of them, along with two new drinks. His hot plate was sizzling over the wooden block and he wasn't sure what to try first.

He was about to skewer one of the shrimp when he watched a calamari forked by his date. He watched as the fork brought the morsel to her mouth. Her moan of pleasure was almost as bad as her tongue. He took a gulp of his drink and focused on the food.

"So, are we going to talk or just eat?" she asked before taking another long sip of her drink. She really did like them.

"We'll talk. How about how you couldn't tear your eyes away from them preparing my food? Intend to recreate it for me sometime?" he teased.

"I'll have you know, I am not that good of a cook, and all I can make considerably well is a cup of tea, some salad, and what you see in front of me," she nudged the bowl holding her stew.

He chuckled and used his fork to steal some chicken from her meal. She watched as he wrapped his tongue around the chicken to pull it off his fork. He groaned in pleasure, making Hermione shudder deliciously. She refused to examine her reaction and left it to wallow at the back of her mind.

"That is rather good. You'll have to cook that for me sometime," he smirked, returning to his meal.

She gaped. Did he imply that they would be eating together again? She shook her head and focused on eating, occasionally taking long sips of her drink. The rum was starting to get to her, because she found his jesting endearing. He was Malfoy, for Godric's sake, and she wasn't supposed to find him endearing in the slightest. He was a Slytherin! That would never work.

Except Pansy and Ron work - even moving in together if everything worked out. Daphne and Neville were about to have a kid. And if Padma could get along with Goyle so well as to have a secondchild... Well, apparently the Slytherins had something.

Maybe she could figure it out with this one.

"So, Draco, tell me about yourself. I haven't seen you since Neville's wedding." She asked, pointing at her drink when a waiter passed by.

"Well, I live in the Manor, as you know. My mother and Aunt stay with me, plus little Teddy," he said.

"Oh, I know, that's how you're allowed to have two House-elves," she stuck her tongue out at him.

"Well, yeah, and I have two more. I had to let one go today. The other two... Let's just say I found loopholes in your legislation," he smirked, barely restraining from sticking his tongue out back at her.

"Wha," she gawked, "how is that possible?"

"You'll see on Monday morning," he smiled.

Hermione liked that smile, and smiled in return. She wasn't sure what was going on, but the more she drank, the less she had to think.

"So, what do you do then? Do you just sit on your laurels letting the Malfoy money trickle in?" she smiled, letting him know she was jesting.

"I'll have you know I do not sit on my laurels. I play with Teddy. I'm trying to teach him how to fly. Or I work in my Potion's lab, researching."

"Don't think that divergence tactic will work on me! Teddy is far too young to be learning to fly!" She gasped.

Draco pushed her drink into her hand, hinting that she should drink instead of talk about flying.

She finished the rest of her drink - a little less than half - in one gulp.

"You okay there, Granger?" he teased, sending for more drinks - his being finished already too.

"Hey! You called me Granger!" she mock-shouted.

"Yeah, I guess I did, what you going to do about it, Granger?" he taunted, nodding his thanks when the waiter left their drinks on the table once again.

Hermione grabbed his drink away from him and clutched it close. He eyed hers but she grabbed it too before he could have it. She sipped at her drink and then licked her tongue around Draco's straw.

"This is a game you don't want to play," he drawled.

She smirked - at least she thought it was a smirk, it was very difficult while drunk, but she use to practice the Malfoy smirk when she was in school and she hoped it was like riding a bicycle (something you never forget) - and wrapped her lips around the straw, sucking it in and out.

"Maybe you should stop drinking," he rasped, pulling both drinks away from her, throwing both straws out of the goblets onto the table. He didn't think he could take her teasing him like that. She was silly with her blatant flirting. It was cute. He almost didn't want to see what she was like in bed.

Almost.

"So, question," Hermione purred, "is this a date?"

Draco nodded, eyes sparkling.

"Really now. Why?" She asked, petting her drink before sipping at it some more.

"Because I wanted to ask you out," he replied, also sipping at his drink.

"Well, what makes you ask a girl out?" she asked, still sipping her drink, it was almost gone.

"She needs to be smart, for one." He drawled, turning his chair so he sat closer to her. He placed an arm on the back of her chair and leaned forward so that he whispering in her ear. "Successful, funny."

"Does the infamous Draco Malfoy care about her personality more than her looks? What would the papers think!" she joked, pretending to be surprised, putting her hand in front of her mouth as she mock-gasped.

He licked the shell of her ear and whispered, "She also has to have a nice arse. And legs," he placed his opposite hand on her thigh and rubbed up and down it, "that go on for miles."

"Let's get out of here?" she murmured, eyes closed, taking deep breaths, enjoying the caresses Draco was giving her.

He didn't need to say yes. He just threw some money on the table, grabbed her hand, and pulled her out of the restaurant.

They were in his room at the Manor, he had her pushed against his door, slowly peeling her clothes off, kissing lips, neck, any skin that was available.

He pulled off her blazer and nibbled on her shoulder, working his way up. "Are you alright?" he drawled into her ear, nipping at her neck.

"Am I alright?" she moaned, fists clenching onto his dinner shirt, trying to pull it off him.

"Mhmm," he hummed into her lips, ravishing her mouth while unzipping her trousers.

She broke the kiss and pulled his shirt over his head, happy to see more of his skin. She rubbed her hands down his chest, following the light trail of hairs to his belt, and began unbuckling.

"What kind of man do you say yes to?" he asked, pulling her singlet over her head, leaning forward and kissing her breastbone, following the outline of her bra.

"Smart and witty," she pulled the belt from his pants, "successful," she unzipped his pants, "gorgeous," and pushed his trousers down.

"So, me?" he smirked, unclasping her bra.

"Mhmm," she hummed, tugging on his hair.

"Okay, cause, Granger-"

"Hermione," she interjected, pulling him for a kiss once more.

He kept kissing her for a few moments, then leant back, "This isn't a one-off. I intend on taking you out again."

"Good, because tonight was fun," she said, pulling his boxers off and pushing him towards his bed.