Hello my wonderful readers. I am sorry you have waited so long for this new chapter. I would love to say it was due to work and just the normal craziness of my life, but unfortunately I have been dealing with some serious health issues for an immediate family member. This has resulted in a large amount of personal stress and will continue until the condition can be corrected. I hope that will be happening in the next couple of weeks, despite the hospital stays and such that will result. At this point we just want it to be fixed (and thankfully it can be). I hope you can understand why this has left me with little time to myself, let alone the energy and inspiration to write. However, I have this now where I want it, and I hope you enjoy it. Please say thanks by leaving a review if you do. I will do my best to do some review replies now before our Thanksgiving meal is ready. I am thankful for all of you!

St. Mungo's was always sterile in the manner of every hospital, but St. Mungo's at night was an entirely different affair. Draco walked alongside Severus, his mind blank but for the immediate situation. Snape said nothing, merely gripped his arm to turn him toward the right room.

"Is my mother here?"

Draco's tone was cool, clinical. Severus recognized it well: it was the way they had all spoken while serving the Dark Lord. Dtachment was the only thing that made it possible to keep your sanity, maybe. There were two Aurors stationed outside the door, a fact which Draco noted but figured he would hear about soon enough.

"Yes. She's already with him."

Draco nodded, then opened the door. Narcissa rushed to envelope him in her arms, her face drawn.

"Draco!"

He returned his mother's hug, his eyes fixed on the sight of his father lying there, helpless in a hospital bed. He could feel her tears against his skin, but he needed information more than comfort.

"What happened?" He kept his tone low, not wanting to disturb his father in any respect.

Narcissa's eyes were bleak. "He never returned from visiting you. I am not sure where he went, but the Aurors were called by Aberforth Dumbledore. He was found in the Forbidden Forest. Aberforth…interrupted them."

Draco swore under his breath. "How many?"

"There were three that Aberforth saw. It was dark, raining. It's possible that more Apparated away. He couldn't say with the thunder."

"I see." A muscle in Draco's temple ticked, and he cleared his throat. "What do the Healers say?"

"His back was badly…cut up. It's his spine they are worried about. Severus has a potion brewing, but for the time being at least he's not in pain…" Narcissa's voice trailed off, and Draco understood why. She meant that he couldn't feel anything. The bastards had damaged his spinal cord.

"Has he regained consciousness at all?"

Narcissa straightened herself, slowly.

"No. They believe he will wake, once enough healing has occurred. The Aurors are a precaution, in case they try to finish what they started," she said bitterly.

"He's too tough to kill," Draco assured his mother, taking hold of her arms and forcing her to look at him. "You've told me that how many times? This is just another time he's come too close to the edge."

Narcissa took a deep breath, the hauteur flowing across her face telling Draco exactly how bad it was. "If your father is paralyzed, Draco, I dare say he would prefer to have been thrown over."

The day passed incredibly slowly for Hermione. There was no sign of Professor Snape. She spent several hours in the library before lunch working on Snape's extra assignment, but when she read what she had written it was a jumbled mess.

At lunchtime she chatted a bit with Ginny, but her friend was clearly preoccupied. She would only mutter about new maneuvers and the importance of practicing, leaving the table early in her Quidditch gear.

Prasanna Patil watched her go, then said to Hermione, "The game against Slytherin is coming up quickly. I hope they are able to master those new moves, or else I am not sure it will go well."

"Right," Hermione said, although she had very little interest in the Quidditch game at this point. There was no sign of Neville, which was odd. He wasn't one to miss a meal. Frowning, she asked, "Have you see Neville, Prasanna?"

Caught mid-bite, Prasanna shook her head. Hermione looked down and realized she was idly tearing apart a piece of bread. She couldn't stop wondering what had happened to Lucius, and how Draco was doing. The silence on both subjects was grating on her. She put the mutilated roll on her plate, her eyes tracking thoughtfully to the high table. Professor McGonagall was just pushing back her chair.

"See you later, Prasanna."

"Bye Hermione!"

It wasn't too hard to track down her Head of House. Professor McGonagall was heading for her quarters, and all it took was an overly loud "Professor!" to cause Minerva to stop in her tracks. When the venerable witch turned to her, however, her countenance was heavy.

"Hermione, please, come in for a brief chat. I suspect I know what you want to talk about."

The witch's personal quarters were filled with overstuffed chairs in tartans of several clans, and the fire was stoked with peat instead of logs. Hermione sat on the edge of her chair, waiting for Minerva to make herself comfortable.

"Tea?" she asked briskly, and Hermione shook her head.

"Has there been any news about Mr. Malfoy or Draco?"

Minerva's gaze was direct but leaden. "I have not heard anything further, and Severus has yet to return. When he was notified, it was not good news. I fear that Narcissa and Draco may face some very hard choices."

"I see." Hermione looked down at her lap. She didn't know how to sort through everything she was feeling.

Minerva contemplated her student, and then she ventured to poke her nose into the young witch's business. "I take it Draco has told you…?"

Hermione raised her head. "That he is a Veela? Yes. And that, amazingly ironic as it may be, I am his mate, and he is my mate. I've not quite come to terms with it, to be honest."

Minerva coughed briefly, then gave Hermione a frank look. "I've never been as familiar with the Muggle world as some, but I understand that fated mates is not something that most Muggles truly believe in."

Hermione let out a strangled half laugh. "You could say that. It's like something out of a bad Mills & Boon novel."

Professor McGonagall's brows rose. "I may not know what those are, but I can tell you that Muggle caricatures are often a bad starting point to transition to wizarding reality, as you know all too well. It speaks volumes that Draco, for all his flaws, has chosen to court you instead of involve the Ministry and their endless magical species conscription laws. I would think that is a large point in his favor, hmm?"

Hermione's mouth quirked up into a wry expression. "I recognize that. And it is impossible to ignore the…" she paused for a millisecond, thinking in for a knut, in for a galleon, and continued, "…animal attraction factor. It's pretty difficult to ignore him."

"It has always been difficult to ignore young Mr. Malfoy," Minerva said briskly, "unfortunately, for all the wrong reasons up to this point! Nonetheless, the past is the past, no matter who is intent on raking it over again." She paused, then added, "I doubt very much that Harry and Ron will be terribly supportive. Add in the consequences of Draco's past actions—notwithstanding those of his father—and you have a very long road."

"I am aware," Hermione admitted, clasping her hands firmly together. "Right now I just want to know what happened to his father. He was here to speak with me about Draco."

Minerva sighed, then placed her glasses on her nose. "One moment."

A quick flick of her wand retrieved a thick book from the shelf, and a simple flick of her wrist had the pages flapping. "Hmmm...Student Conduct Code Exceptions Pertaining to Magical Species…" a longer pause ensued, "Ah, here we are. Veelas courting during the school year…ah, yes. Good. Enough of that then."

The book floated away, and Professor McGonagall replaced her wand up her sleeve. "You'll be happy to hear I can tell you what little I know at this point without breaking the rules governing student confidentiality since Draco has informed you of your status as his mate."

"Great," Hermione said sarcastically. "At least someone will tell me what is going on, since Draco and the headmaster obviously can't."

"Exactly," McGonagall said sternly. "As it happens, Lucius Malfoy was attacked in the Forbidden Forest. He never made it home after leaving here yesterday, and he is presently unconscious and badly injured. Thus you are likely exactly correct in your supposition that neither the headmaster nor your mate are available!"

Hermione burst into tears.

Minerva knew she had been a bit tart, but no word from Severus did not indicate good tidings. Hermione needed to buck up before Draco returned to the school if she was going to be able to support him. Now she regretted pushing so hard. Fumbling for a solution, she summoned a decanter and poured two fingers of whisky into a glass. "Here, drink this. To Hades with the rules."

Hermione took the glass automatically, the belch of flames giving away its identity. Closing her eyes, she quaffed the liquor in one go, the heat of it warming her all the way down before she belched a tiny bit of smoke.

"Not so fast!" Minerva cautioned. "There, the color is already returning to your cheeks."

"I just want to know how he is, that's all." She always hated being in the dark, as her imagination ran wild in the absence of facts.

"As soon as I hear anything, Hermione dear, I will let you know, day or night," Minerva promised. "Now, if you don't mind, I have a couple more students to check on. We have an unusual set of circumstances coinciding this year, and as charming as a Veela courtship can be, it's not the only wrinkle we're managing this year. Go back to your quarters. As soon as I hear anything, I will send word."

Hermione's felt the warmth of the firewhisky spreading out from her belly as she stood. "Thank you, Professor. I appreciate your concern and help."

The elder witch shook her head. "When we're in private, Hermione, do call me Minerva. I've earned the right to break a few rules every now and again."

It was late that evening before Hermione finally heard from Draco. She received a note hand delivered by Twinky as she was preparing to go to bed.

Dear Hermione,

My father is still alive, but facing tremendous complications. Professor Snape is here assisting with potions, and the Healers are doing everything possible. He has yet to regain consciousness. I am trying to help my mother stay confident in his recovery as we wait. I would not have you here, though, given the dangers that would pose. Please take care of yourself, and when I can, I will be back. I will tell you as things progress. Please do not send owl post, as it's not clear if that is being monitored. Twinky can send any return correspondence via one of the Malfoy house elves.

Yours,

Draco

"Twinky, can you wait for a reply, please?"

At the elf's nod, Hermione sat down to write.

"Tea, Mother." Draco held out the porcelain cup, waiting for her to drink it.

"Thank you Draco." Narcissa was too pale, but she drank the tea which restored a bit of color to her face. "What would we do without Twigs," she added as an afterthought.

Draco nodded, his thoughts on more than their house elves. The Healers had bustled in and out several times over the past couple of hours, dark prognostications and frowns saying all that needed to be said.

"Mrs. Malfoy. Draco. A word, if you please."

Draco stood stiffly, the hateful feeling of impotence and anger rising as he waited to hear whatever indignities the Head Auror had to impart. Kuponda's eyes tracked briefly over him and his mother before he spoke again.

"We have not had much success determining where Mr. Malfoy was initially assaulted. There are a few wand traces, but they are degraded due to the condition of the forest itself. Mr. Dumbledore has not been able to provide much additional detail beyond what he described when he first summoned the Aurors to the scene. I am not optimistic about our chances of tracing back to a particular wand, especially given Mr. Ollivander's fragile health."

This last was said with a clouded look at Draco, and he restrained the sneer that threatened, instead stiffening and standing even taller. "You are well aware that we did everything we could for him during the war."

Kuponda's forehead furrowed. "I am aware, Mr. Malfoy, but your father's assailants are equally aware of the costs of what he suffered. I daresay they are feeling quite secure in the aftermath of their work. As a consequence, I would encourage you to consider withdrawal from Hogwarts and sitting your NEWTs privately. It is highly likely that they will be emboldened by their success, and you both are their next natural targets."

Narcissa stiffened next to Draco. "I am well capable of defending myself, Mfupa, as you know. You will also find that I am not in the habit of making unnecessary jaunts. As for Draco, he has good reason to be at Hogwarts."

Kuponda turned his hawkish gaze to Draco. "Is that so?"

"It would be inadvisable for my business interests to not repair as many school connections as possible," Draco offered noncommittally. Kuponda was having none of it.

"There is no assistance I can offer for business matters, young Master Malfoy, but if your interests were of a more personal nature, I would advise you to consider carefully the protections available from the Ministry."

"I'm sure we don't know what you mean," Narcissa sniffed, but she wrapped one arm around her waist in a self-protective gesture that Kuponda didn't miss. He sighed and was about to say something when Severus entered the room with the Healers carrying a small copper cauldron, steam curling in wisps around the edges of the lid. The chief Healer addressed Narcissa gravely, "Madame, it is time to try the treatment we discussed."

"Of course," Narcissa murmured, and moved off toward Lucius' bedside. Draco made to do the same, but Mfupa Kuponda stopped him, brow raised.

"Your former compatriots clearly ascertained certain things about your father, as evidenced in their treatment of him," he said quietly, nodding to Lucius. "It's likely they will extend those assumptions to you, and any other person that might be important to you. Consider that when you shun the Ministry's laws, young Malfoy."

"I am intimately acquainted with the Ministry's powers," Draco replied. "Perhaps you should consider its limitations. I understand there are significant…concerns with the Unspeakables, and perhaps some Aurors. I suggest you clean your own house, Mr. Kuponda, before you offer to safeguard mine."

Lucius was still unconscious, the hours ticking by, when Draco received a reply from Hermione. He had persuaded his mother to go home for a late dinner, and was hoping that she would take the opportunity to get a few hours of sleep. She would probably be back within the hour, however. The longer it took for his father to regain consciousness, the worse his prognosis would be, so Draco was thankful for the distraction of the note that Twigs offered.

Dear Draco,

I'm sorry. I wish had words of comfort to offer, but I know the Healers are doing all they can. Snape's expertise is not inconsequential, and I'm sure that will help your father as well. I hope that his body is healing itself through this time of unconsciousness, and that when I next see you or hear from you, it will be with better tidings.

I wish I could have expressed more gratitude at the time for your father's effort to help me understand the limitations of the Ministry for Magic. You, too, have been unquestionably restrained in how you have chosen to approach me. You must despise the circumstances that conspire at every turn against your nature. I appreciate all of your efforts and patience on my behalf. I recall your statement about Veelas in our seminar; how attuned you are to your mate…and I see more clearly than ever your care of my feelings. I wish I could be with you to provide the same care. Be careful and watchful, and know that I am thinking of you with kindness. I miss you.

Affectionately,

Hermione

Draco exhaled quietly, then ran his fingers through his hair. The door to the room opened, and he was unsurprised to see that it was Severus. His fingers relaxed on his wand in his sleeve as he stood.

"The Healers disagree about the effectiveness of the potion," Draco said, nodding toward the scrolling displays of the Healers' various monitoring charms.

"Of course they do. The effects will be cellular, and therefore will take time to become evident," Snape said dismissively. "He has survived worse, I assure you."

"Then why is my mother so worried?" Draco retorted.

"If she were truly worried, she would still be here. I would take her departure as evidence of her faith instead of its lack," Severus replied, then gestured to the unopened sandwich on the chair next to Draco. "I see you are caring for yourself with your usual vigor."

"it's not important."

"I dare say there is one witch who would disagree," Severus said pointedly. "When your mother returns, I am taking you back to Hogwarts. You look like death warmed over, and probably feel about as good."

"Fuck off," Draco said, but there was little heat in it, which told Severus he was correct to insist.

"Language," Severus remarked with a sardonic quirk of his lips.

Draco's eyeroll said it all. The door opened again, this time to admit one of the Malfoy family solicitors.

"Ah, young Master Draco. Given the circumstances, I need to review some business dealings with you before action can be taken by the company…" Mr. Causidicus began briskly, enlarging a sheaf of parchment from his case, then eyeing both Draco and Snape. "And, we will need to discuss your continued school attendance should Mr. Malfoy's indisposed state continue."

"I'm not leaving school," Draco replied hotly, his eyes flashing once.

"Patience," Snape said, laying a hand on Draco's shoulder, then turning his attention to Causidicus. "I believe such a discussion would be premature. I suggest revisiting this topic later should it become necessary."

"Well," the solicitor huffed, and Draco shook off Snape's hand with impatience. "I can deal with this," he said.

Severus made no reply, but rapidly made to sheathe his wand up his sleeve. This startled the solicitor, who gave a little jump. Satisfied, Severus left the room without another word. The solicitor drew a deep breath, his chest puffing out with his own self-importance before he attempted to regain his equilibrium. "Of course you can, Master Draco. Your father has the utmost confidence in you…"

"Just show me what was so important that you had to bring it to my ill father's bedside," Draco snapped, cutting off the pompous wizard.

Causidicus was clearly displeased, but knew better than to argue with a client over manners. Spreading out the documents in the air, he began. "It's about the Chinese and German acquisitions your father was pursuing. There are some legal entanglements due to recent actions in the German parliament and Chinese senate regarding the trade of magical ingredients across borders…"

There was no additional word from Draco overnight, and Hermione was left to worry about what was going on. She had no idea if Snape was back or not, but as it wasn't uncommon for the headmaster to be absent, no one noticed or remarked on it. In addition to her classes, Hermione found herself running the prefects' weekly meeting alone.

"Draco was summoned away on family business," was the only explanation she offered, and apparently there wasn't any chatter about the attack on Lucius because no one questioned that explanation. Hermione thought it was rather lucky given the number of people who worked at St. Mungo's, but perhaps it was just a matter of time and which edition of the Daily Prophet broke the story.

After the meeting she headed toward the library out of habit more than anything else. She had just turned the corner when she nearly ran into someone.

"Oh, Hermione! Sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going," Neville said in a rush.

"It's fine, Neville. No harm done," Hermione said, trying to inject a bit of levity into her voice. "Where are you off to then?"

"The greenhouses. Professor Sprout wanted some help repotting some Mimbulus mimbletonia," Neville said.

Hermione took the time to really look at him and realized he was fully togged out in his Herbology gear. "Ah, of course," she said with a wave of her hand at him. "If I had opened my eyes I'd have realized."

Neville paused and took a closer, slightly suspicious look at her. "You don't want to help me, do you?"

Hermione wrinkled her brow. "No. Why would I want to do that? I know you don't mind, but I'd rather not be covered in Stinksap today."

Oddly, a huge smile bloomed on Neville's face. "Really? That's great!" He didn't notice her puzzled expression at that reaction, and hurriedly continued, "Hermione, it would be nice if we could catch up. I haven't really had much of a chance to talk with you lately, so how about a nice study session in the library later in the week? Maybe after dinner on Thursday?"

"Uh, ok…" she replied, still confused by his response.

"Great! See you then!" He then took off with great haste, making a beeline in the opposite direction from some younger Gryffindors that were coming down the corridor. One of them was the 5th year prefect, Lena Drossel.

"Hermione, was that Neville?" Lena asked, trying to peer around Hermione at the fleeing boy.

"Yes, but he's got an appointment with Professor Sprout," Hermione replied.

"Oh," Lena said, clearly disappointed. "Well, I'm sure I can catch him later in the common room. Come on, girls—that essay for McGonagall won't write itself."

Sighing, Hermione resumed her trek to the library. The only thing worse than studying alone was having someone else steal your spot before you got there.

The common room he shared with Hermione was cold and dark when Draco again stepped through the portrait hole. Glancing at Hermione's closed door, he made do with the first deep breath of their space, her scent lighting up his pleasure centers.

"What a fucking mess," he said to himself, throwing his coat onto the couch. He felt like complete shit, his cold reasserting itself with a vengeance with his prolonged absence from Hogwarts.

"Draco?"

He turned and saw Hermione, limned in the light from her bedside lamp, standing at her bedroom door.

"Hermione." He didn't think, just went toward her. Thankfully, she had the same impulse, and he opened his arms just in time to catch her.

"Draco." Hermione just knew he needed this, to be held. He was cold from being outside, the warmer air of the castle not warming him up just yet. They simply stood for some minutes, absorbing the feeling of being together. Finally Hermione drew back a bit.

"How is your father?"

Draco sighed. "Not well. I am not sure what the next steps are, other than to wait." He noticed that Hermione was shifting her weight, and asked, "Cold?"

"A bit," Hermione admitted, and Draco remembered that she was in her nightclothes…a plain v-neck tee and pajama bottoms.

"Let's sit down," Draco said, using his wand to light the fire again and taking her hand to lead her to the couch. He was happy that she let it remain in his as they sat down, continuing, "They've given him an experimental potion by Severus, but it will take time for the results to show, if there are any."

"What happened to him, Draco? I feel somewhat responsible, as he was here to talk to me," Hermione said.

"Don't blame yourself," Draco said strongly. "He would have come to talk to you anyway. Snape had already informed my parents of my deteriorating condition, and he was determined to inform you of your status. It was just lucky that I had already decided to ask for his help. Besides, my father was not going to confine himself to his house. He has a life and he lives it, regardless of the cowardly bastards out there."

"I'm sorry," Hermione said. "There hasn't been much in the paper about the missing Death Eaters, so I foolishly assumed the Ministry had things in hand."

"Yes, well, the Ministry has its own problems to deal with," Draco responded darkly. "But the main problem is that they may have damaged his spinal cord. Right now the Healers can't say whether it is merely swollen, or actually cut. Severus' potion is designed to help the ganglia regrow if necessary. In the meantime, they are keeping him sedated because my mother feels he would not respond well to learning he is paralyzed—possibly permanently."

Hermione's face paled. "Draco, that's horrible. I'm so sorry—I don't know what else to say." She was at a loss for words. If Lucius' assailants had had the time to do that sort of damage, it was obvious that they could have killed him. That they had not signified an intent to maim, to punish.

"Hermione," Draco said, rubbing her hand with his own, "This is why I want to ask you to keep our relationship a secret for the time being. I don't want you to become a target by association. I will have enough to worry about for the next few days without fearing for your safety."

"Let them try it!" Hermione said vehemently, but Draco stilled her with a caress on her cheek.

"My brave Gryffindor," Draco murmured. "You wonderful woman, I don't want you to be heartbroken if anything happens to me. We aren't bonded yet—and under the circumstances that is a good thing. I want you to have a chance to be happy without me if these bastards get lucky the next time they try."

"Don't you dare go all noble on me," Hermione retorted. "I want you to put all of your Slytherin cunning to work, because I have every intention of flaunting our future happiness at every opportunity."

"You do?" Draco queried quietly, but his eyes were molten again. Hermione realized that her impulsive pronouncement could be interpreted as furthering her assent to being his mate, and took a deep breath.

"Yes, I do," she affirmed. Whatever this crazy ride was, she didn't intend to get off the roller coaster.

"Sweetheart." He cupped her jaw, the kiss that followed achingly tender, and impossible to break. Draco felt his fangs lengthen, instinctively wanting to pierce his own tongue, to give Hermione a bit of his blood, furthering their courtship. He broke off the kiss with a pant, feeling the prick of his fangs and the sweet taste of his own blood. Hermione came back toward him for more, but he shook his head, his voice somewhat garbled when he said, "No, don't. I can't control my instincts."

"To hell with your control," Hermione insisted, grabbing his neck and pressing her wet, open mouth back to his.

Oh fuck, this is amazing! The thought exploded in his brain as the first suck of Hermione's mouth on his tongue registered, giving him an instant hard-on that was headed for a rapid climax with every pull of her mouth.

Hermione knew damn well what she was doing. The first taste of Draco's blood was sweet and rich, adding a hormonal high to kissing him that had her writhing on his lap. Sweet Jesus, I could come from this alone, she thought, reveling in how Draco clenched one hand in her hair, the other pulling her tight against him. Her tongue flicked against his and hit one of his fangs, and on the next pass she ran her tongue over the tip of it.

That did it for Draco. He bit her tongue lightly, instinctively, giving him another, deeper taste of her own blood. He took control of the kissing and the writhing, bringing Hermione down hard on his lap, her knees opening for him readily. It only took a few thrusts and sucks before he came in his pants, Hermione's shuddered cry signaling her own climax.

"Oh my God. OH. That was…" Hermione's voice was muffled in his neck, and Draco brought her head back up, his tongue slipping back into her mouth, this time to heal the cut on her tongue. He ended the kiss, drawing back slightly to lean his forehead against hers.

"Magnificent. The word you are looking for is, magnificent—you stubborn, pigheaded, marvelous temptress," Draco finished.

"No more talk of you dying. At the very least, now I would pine for decades, Draco," Hermione said, letting her fingers trail along his cheek and to the stubble on his jaw.

"Yes, you would," Draco admitted. "I wish I could say I were sorry, but it would be a damn lie."

Hermione laughed at that, and Draco looked down at his lap, causing Hermione to do the same. "Excuse me, love. I think I'd better get cleaned up." He moved her off his lap and stood, not quite embarrassed to have come in his pants but also not terribly comfortable about it either.

"Right." Hermione realized she was a bit of a mess herself, and fumbled for her wand, which had fallen out of her back pocket into one of the crevices of the couch. "You must think I send the worst kind of mixed signals."

Draco paused in cleaning himself up, Hermione's tone alerting him. Her face was flushed, and Draco frowned in response. He came back to her, crouching on his knees in front of her.

"Hey. You and I, we have a lot between us: past, present, and future. We're still learning about each other, right?" He caressed her cheek. "Don't beat yourself up for not being prepared for everything. These instincts are powerful, and designed to bring us together. I've had months to get used to it, and you've had just over a day. This is one hell of a ride. We should enjoy it when we can."

His grin was infectious, and the corner of Hermione's mouth crooked up slightly. "You always know what to say. Well, sometimes," she amended, and he laughed.

"Glad I get it right sometimes," he said.

"You do. But not all the time," Hermione admitted wryly, and Draco grinned.

"Good thing you added that last bit, Granger, or you'd have been kissed again." Draco made himself stand up despite the strong temptation to do just that. "Look, I have to get to bed. Merlin only knows what time it is, and I need some sleep to kick this cold I've got."

"I hope I don't get it," Hermione said honestly.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Draco replied, giving her a quick kiss. "It's not something you can catch. I'll see you in the morning, right?"

"Yes. I have to write an essay for Snape." A hint of irritation crept into Hermione's voice, and Draco cocked an eyebrow in inquiry. "He set me an extra essay when I was questioning the Biro Controversy, the git."

He laughed, then pulled her into a hug. "I can help you."

"Thanks." It was muffled into his shirt, which was somehow just perfect.

"Good night love."