Hermione had meant to demand what the hell Draco thought he was doing, grabbing her like that, but by the time she had opened her eyes and got her bearings, Draco had already disappeared into another room. “Would you like some toast?” called Draco, apparently from a kitchen to the right of where Hermione stood on the brick hearth. Thoroughly wrong-footed by this sudden outburst of thoughtfulness, Hermione assented. She was a bit hungry, after all. While she waited, she peered about her surroundings. Draco’s flat was large, much larger than she expected. The living room alone could have encompassed the entirety of her own tiny flat in Hogsmeade. A great bay window opened on to a spectacular view of the London skyline. There was a soft rug covering the polished wooden floor, and comfortable-looking wing-back chairs were arranged about the room. A camel-backed settee was upholstered in wine-colored velvet, with fringed cushions piled up at one end. Clearly, this was where Draco liked to sit and read, judging from the pile of books on the floor nearby. The books surprised her. The walls were entirely covered in shelf upon shelf of books, old and new. Even more surprising was finding a report she had herself written and published among the recently-read books by the settee. Her exploration was interrupted by Draco arriving from the kitchen with a tray containing not only toast, but tea, cups and saucers, and a couple of pots of marmalade. He beckoned her to follow him to another adjoining room. The large polished table seemed as if it had once been intended as a formal eating area, with its graceful matching bentwood chairs and a glittering chandelier hanging overhead. However, the table seemed to have begun a metamorphosis into an over-large writing desk, judging by the parchment and quills that covered one end. There was plenty of room yet at the other end, so there they sat down. Draco poured them both some tea, while Hermione helped herself to some toast and marmalade. They munched in silence for a while. “Thanks for this,” she said, indicating the remains of the late breakfast Draco had prepared. She had been hungrier than she thought. Draco nodded in response. It had been an exhausting day. Through the bay window, the sky was beginning to darken, and the shadowy shapes of buildings were studded with lights. He looked forward to putting his feet up later, with a glass of firewhiskey in hand. “I should probably send for my things. Can I borrow your owl?” The eagle owl, which had been snoozing gently on his perch, opened a yellow eye. “Sure, go ahead,” he replied, rummaging for some writing things, then handing them to Hermione. “I’ll clear this away while you do that.” He picked up the empty plates and cups, piling them back on the tray, and returned to the kitchen. Now alone in the dining room, she picked up the quill and wrote a quick note to her neighbor, asking her to bring some clothes and other odds and ends to Draco’s flat, and explaining that she would be needing to stay in London for a while. She rolled it up and put it aside. She chose a second piece of parchment, this time addressing it to her supervisor at the Ministry, and jotted a quick note. Calling the owl down to her, she attached both letters. He zoomed away on powerful wings when she opened the window. Her letters finished, Hermione walked back to the living room. There she found Draco sprawled on the settee, reading a slim volume from his vast library. Thinking that he had an excellent idea, Hermione chose her own book, and curled up in one of the wing chairs. She was absorbed in her novel, when the flames roared in the fireplace, and small matronly witch stepped out of it, with a carpet bag dangling from one arm, and a basket from the other. “Coo-ee!” she called in a creaky voice. Hermione hopped up from her chair, and embraced the old lady. “Mrs. Chintz, how are you?” said Hermione happily. She unburdened the elderly witch, asking if she would stay for a cup of tea. “No, not tonight, my duck, not tonight,” she wheezed. “I’ve a gobstones tournament to play, and I’m expected soon. No, I just wanted to drop your things off. Who’s your friend, dearie?” she said, spotting a handsome young wizard sprawled across the furniture. “This is Draco,” explained Hermione, red spots appearing on her cheeks. “I’m just visiting him for a short time, until Healer Lovegood can reverse the effects of a training accident at work.” Draco looked up and waved cheekily to Mrs. Chintz at the mention of his name. Hermione’s blush expanded to cover her entire face. “It’s like that, is it, my duck?” She eyed Draco appraisingly. “I’d watch this one, I would. Has a slippery look about him, he does, dearie.” Hermione, stunned into speechlessness, was unable to articulate a reply. Mrs.Chintz gave Draco one last hard stare, stumped back to the fireplace and was gone in a roar of flames. Her face crimson, Hermione flopped back down in her chair. Draco smirked over the top of his book, thoroughly amused by her discomfort. Hermione glared at him. As much as she loved the sweet old lady, she knew Mrs. Chintz liked to speculate about things with her gobstones club. There was little doubt in Hermione’s mind that she had inadvertently given her plenty of fodder for tonight’s meeting. “Want a drink?” he asked, as he got up and crossed the room to his liquor cabinet. He picked up a glass and poured into it a measure of firewhisky. “Thank you, no,” she replied tartly. As bad a day as it had been, she had never been a drinker, and was not about to start on account of Draco. “Suit yourself,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink. Ignoring Draco, she leaned down to open the basket Mrs. Chintz had brought. Curious, Draco stood and watched, wondering what was inside. As soon as the latch was opened, an enormous shaggy ginger cat hopped out, looking affronted at having been left cooped up for so long. He gave Hermione a disgusted look, and jumped up to settle himself on the settee that Draco had vacated, obviously planning to take a nap. “Oy, cat, that’s my seat!” said Draco, waving his arm and making as if to shove him off the couch. The huge cat stared at him insolently, daring him to carry out his threat. “You leave him be, Draco!” said Hermione, still very red in the face. He looked at her oddly. Though certainly a predicable outburst, he was startled by her vehemence. He decided to play along. “Okaaay,” said Draco cautiously. “I supposed I’ll just have to learn to live with yet another houseguest. What’s his name?” “Crookshanks. And he’s the sweetest kitty in the world so don’t you dare hurt him!” cried Hermione, looking a bit unsteady. It suddenly occurred to Draco that, even if Mrs. Chintz had embarrassed her, she ought not to still be blushing over it. “Fine, we can share the seat,” he said placatingly. “Up you get, Crooks,” said Draco, who picked Crookshanks up, sat down himself, and then set the cat on his lap. He took another sip of firewhiskey and studied Crookshanks. Evidently, the cat had decided that sitting on Draco’s lap counted as staking a claim on the settee. His squashed face looked up at Draco crossly, and Draco obliged him by scratching him beneath the chin. Regarding them both happily, Hermione cooed, “Oooh, my little ginger man is sooo sweeeet! And sooo charming, yes he is! Yes, he even makes mean old Drakie pet him, yes he does!” She giggled. Drakie?!? thought Draco. What in Merlin’s name is going on here? This is seriously weird, even for her. Hermione was still giggling when her glassy eyes rolled up in her head and she slid gracelessly to floor. Taking another sip of his firewhiskey, it suddenly hit him. “Bloody hell,” he muttered out loud. Shifting Crookshanks to one of the chairs, he stood up and resignedly went to the kitchen to empty his glass into the sink. Coming back to the living room, he picked up Hermione’s limp body, and gently set her on the sofa. He found a blanket and tucked it around her, as she began to snore. It’s not good to get soused when you have work in the morning, reflected Draco, shaking his head. So thinking, he extinguished the lamp and went to bed.

A/N: This kind of encouragement is great for a first-time fic writer. Who knows, maybe I can go pro one day. ;) Thanks for all the wonderful reviews! (And keep 'em coming!)