“Hermione, I don’t think I can do this!”
Hermione Granger looked up from the parchment she was studying, trying not to let her irritation and stress show as she looked at the scared man in front of her. With a patient voice that did not betray the near hysteria she was feeling, she said, “Neville, you’re going to be smashing. You look very handsome tonight. You just need a little confidence.”
“No one is going to bid on me,” he said nervously, “I’m just a Herbology Professor and I’m not dashing like these other blokes. That Auror fellow only got three hundred galleons and he was right fit!”
“Neville, you’re going to be fine,” her voice was a bit more forceful and caused Neville to straighten up just as it had when they’d been at Hogwarts nearly five years ago. “Now repeat after me. I’m a wonderful bloke that any woman would be grateful to have.”
“I’m a wonderful bloke that any woman would be grateful to have,” Neville repeated slowly and somewhat unconvincingly.
“Now keep telling yourself that and go find Cecily. It’s almost your turn to go out,” Hermione smiled at her old friend, “And thank you for helping me with this.”
“It’s for a good cause, Hermione. Besides, I could never tell you no,” Neville smiled at the pretty brunette he considered a sister, “You’re doing a right spiffing job with this auction, though that’s not surprising. You’ve always been great at organizing and stuff like this. I’ll go see if I can find Harry. He was feeling sick earlier about going out there so I’d better make sure he’s okay.”
“Harry was sick?” Hermione’s eyes widened as she rapidly figured out what could be done if Harry refused to follow through with his agreement to participate. Bloody hell, the biggest draws of the evening were Harry, Flint, Wood, and Malfoy. Flint and Wood had all ready gone out, securing pretty nice bids, and Harry and Malfoy were the final two more well-known bachelors.
“You know how he gets about attention. He’ll be fine as soon as he goes out there and they all start bidding,” Neville assured her, his earlier nervousness forgotten as he saw that his old friend needed him to be strong.
“Tell him to come see me if he’s having problems, Neville. I don’t want him to feel like I forced him into this,” Hermione trailed off as she made a slight face. She had forced him, of course. This auction was very important to her and she’d not been above begging and using guilt to persuade her single male friends, which were quite a large number, into participating.
“You worry too much,” Neville informed her with a grin, kissing her cheek, “you need to go out there and have a drink instead of sitting backstage thinking about everything that might go wrong. People are having a good time and you’re raising a lot of money.”
“You’d better find Cecily. You’re up after Macmillan,” Hermione watched him walk away, repeating the mantra she had told him as he tried to forget his nervousness. With a sigh, she leaned back against the wall, noticing the activity around her. The St. Mungos Survivor’s Charity Bachelor Auction was nearly half over and seemed to be a success. The ballroom of the new Grand Hotel in Hogsmeade, a location that had been donated free of charge for the event, was beautiful and the guests seemed to be having a wonderful time. Her committee had worked for months preparing for this event, long hours and little sleep, leaving her job at the Ministry to spend her evenings finding volunteers and arranging the location and food and a dozen other things that had left her stressed and anxious for the last seven weeks.
Ever since the Second War had ended four years ago, Hermione’s greatest cause had been the care and welfare of the survivors that were not able to continue with their lives due to injury or curses that left them residing at St. Mungos. The hospital had easily prepared more space for the survivors, the aid of magic making the process effortless, but there had been over a hundred survivors that would require permanent assistance, a number that was far larger than the hospital was prepared to handle.
Over the last three years, many efforts were made to find a solution, patients moved to larger wings and medi-witches becoming overworked. Last year, a proposal had been brought forth to build a new residence for the Survivors, staffed with medi-witches that could take care of any conditions, as well as a place to provide assistance to other survivors that had been injured but were able to live normal lives with little change.
Hermione’s charity committee had been involved in the development of the idea, the brunette witch even locating a suitable property for such a residence. However, the sum of galleons needed to secure a qualified staff as well as the supplies and property requirements was far more than the amount they had available. With sizeable donations from some of the wealthiest wizarding families and other members of the community, they had enough to maintain the property and a staff for a year, the building surprisingly donated to their cause by Malfoy Enterprises. The donations would continue to support the new Survivor residence, but it had been decided that some sort of event would be justified to secure enough galleons for extra expenses that might come up throughout the year.
A bachelor auction had been suggested and, much to Hermione’s chagrin, it had been accepted excitedly. She personally thought it was a bit silly, and had been extremely thankful she had friends willing to help her, because the other members and most of the community seemed to find the idea entertaining and fun so she had accepted the idea. Despite being one of the younger members of the committee, she had been appointed the head when it first began years ago, having a knack for organizing and making sure things got done. This auction, however, had been overwhelming and she was so happy that it was almost over. She hadn’t slept a full eight hours in months and was constantly on the floo with potential bachelors or making lists of whom to invite or arranging a million other things that had left her with no free time.
“You look like shite, Granger.”
She closed her eyes and counted to ten slowly. This was so not what she needed, not right now. She was worried about the auction, having so much of the responsibility on her shoulders, and she was stressed to a point of nearly breaking. Draco Malfoy was not going to help relax her. On the contrary, he had a horrible habit of exciting her and arousing her passions and flustering her.
It was a habit that had not begun until after the War so it was relatively new and she was still unable to completely control her confusing emotions around the handsome blond wizard. She had never paid him much attention during their time at Hogwarts so it was quite astonishing when she had found herself looking at him and thinking about him in ways that she was not at all accustomed in the years following the Second War. Or, at least, she had never noticed her eyes lingering on him or his presence often in her thoughts until after Graduation and the Final Battle.
During school, he’d always been a rude little bastard with more superiority and arrogance that you could shake a wand at and a tendency to ridicule or argue with her over every topic imaginable. Hermione had honestly never paid him much attention as anything other than the annoying Slytherin that hated her and her friends. After the War, that’s when she had begun to notice him.
Bloody hell, she did not need this right now. Finally opening her eyes, she gave him a perfected glare that did not betray even a smidgeon of her confused feelings for him and definitely did not show her awareness of him or her desire, “Malfoy, shouldn’t you be attempting to make yourself look pretty for the bidders? I know it might be difficult, having so little to work with, but I’m certain that even you can look somewhat presentable.”
“Ah, there’s my roaring little lioness,” he smirked, completely unperturbed by her insinuations about his appearance, though his hand did run through his pale blond hair to make sure it was falling perfectly in place around his handsome face, feeling it brush against the nape of his neck. Gray eyes met brown as he tilted his head slightly, studying her, “You look even worse than usual, Granger. Surely you can at least attempt to brush that nest you call hair and those circles beneath your eyes are very unbecoming.”
“I guess we’re all very fortunate that I’m not participating in this auction then,” she replied rudely, hating that she actually cared what the handsome bastard thought of her.
“I fear, if that were the case, the galleons raised would not be enough to purchase a hand towel,” he agreed smugly, his eyes moving over her face as she looked at her parchment. She looked tired and stressed, the blond wizard having noticed her growing exhaustion during the last few weeks.
He’d not said anything, of course, not even really considered a friend to the brunette witch that was always lurking in his thoughts, but he had expressed his concern for her, in his own sarcastic way, during a lunch with Zabini last week.
Zabini was their only mutual friend so Draco had casually made a rude comment about Hermione’s sleepy appearance when he’d been at the Ministry, listening as the raven-haired Slytherin had mentioned her preoccupation with the charity plans as the reason why she was so frazzled. Draco had changed the subject quickly, not appreciating the contemplative gleam in his friend’s dark blue eyes or the slight knowing smirk that constantly seemed to be on Zabini’s lips when the topic of conversation was Granger, which was far more often than Draco even realized.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready for your bidding?” Hermione muttered crossly, annoyed that he thought she’d only raise enough money for a piece of linen. Her eyes quickly swept over him, not lingering despite their inclination to enjoy the view, not wanting him to know that she was attracted to him.
He looked even more handsome than usual, wearing a very expensive dress robe in a dark blue that made his pale blond hair stand out and his gray eyes look just a bit darker. She knew the slender frame beneath the robes, the muscular torso and long legs, having seen him without his robe on several occasions, wearing tailored trousers and a shirt that displayed his developed arms and clung to a flat stomach. It wasn’t fair, really, that he was not only intelligent and wealthy but also quite handsome.
True, his appeal was not for every witch. He was an average height, a bit shorter than most of her male friends, and he wasn’t overly muscular, his build just developed enough to show his many hours spent playing Quidditch and flying. He was pale and his features were sharp, just like the rest of him. His body was angles and edges, severe but still very attractive.
She had even grown to like his nose, angular and pointy, giving him a distinguished appearance in her opinion, preventing him from being pretty. His hands were large, long fingers, rough palms. She had felt his hands once, over a year ago, when he had steadied her at St. Mungos after she’d tripped, the rough palms on her arm, unexpected imperfection. Quidditch player palms, as she tended to think of them, most of her friends having that worn flesh from holding their brooms while flying.
“I still owe you, you know,” he remarked casually, his eyes narrowing slightly.
“For what?” she asked innocently, her eyes flashing with triumph as she smiled smugly.
“I donated that blasted building. That was my contribution to your charitable endeavor,” Draco’s voice was low and threatening, “and you blatantly disregarded my refusal to participate in this silly little auction and went directly to my Mum!”
“I did no such thing!” Hermione denied for the hundredth time since Narcissa Malfoy had insisted that Draco become one of the bachelors. It was rather amusing how the fragile looking blonde witch could control her stubborn and domineering son, merely arching a brow and giving him a look that had him gritting his teeth before reluctantly agreeing to participate. Narcissa was a member of her committee, the two surprisingly becoming friends over the years following the War and Lucius Malfoy’s death while trying to escape from Azkaban during their sixth year at Hogwarts.
“Oh really?” Draco drawled, enjoying the flash of amusement in her eyes and the flush in her cheeks as he moved closer to lean over her, wondering again if she possibly felt the same attraction that he had felt since their final year at Hogwarts, his eyes moving to look at her lips before quickly looking away as he gained control of his complicated feelings for the pretty witch. His voice changed as he imitated, “’Oh, Narcissa. Your horrid son refused to allow himself to be paraded in front of a bunch of desperate old witches. Isn’t he just an evil prat?’”
“They are not desperate nor are they particularly old,” she smirked, “and I believe I said evil bastard. Prat is such a nice term that I rarely use it in correlation with you.”
“Just remember. I owe you, Granger,” he promised, his eyes darkening slightly as they were again drawn to her lips.
“Hermione, we can’t find Michael Corner and he’s up after Jones,” a frantic voice interrupted their exchange.
Hermione turned to look at Cecily, taking a moment to focus. Merlin, for a moment, she thought Draco was about to kiss her. Wishful thinking, an annoying voice inside her head whispered. She ran a hand through her thick brown hair as she moved away from the wall, “Check outside. He’s a smoker so he might have stepped out to calm his nerves. If you don‘t find him, go straight to Neville.”
“Okay,” Cecily agreed before rushing off to locate the missing bachelor.
Hermione sighed tiredly, rubbing the back of her neck as she reminded herself that it was only another hour or so before she could go home and sleep for a few days. Turning her head, she noticed that Draco was now leaning against the wall, his lips curved into a familiar smirk, his eyes inscrutable, giving no indication that he might have momentarily considered kissing her or even thought of her as a potential kissing partner at all. She had just been imagining it, which wasn’t surprising considering the dreams she had about him for the last few years. “Go bother someone else, Malfoy. Harry was feeling nervous. Perhaps you can go and make fun of him to amuse yourself until it’s your turn to be auctioned.”
“Why, Granger! I am appalled at your suggestion,” Draco looked at her covertly, noticing the way she looked at his lips before turning her attention back to her notes. A thoughtful gleam entered his eyes as he realized that she did, indeed, feel the attraction and awareness between them. In the nearly six years that he had been somewhat fascinated by Hermione, it was the first sign she had shown that she might reciprocate his desire.
After this silly auction was concluded, he was going to have to devote some time and thought to his puzzling feelings for the former Head Girl and make a decision on how to proceed. Six years of wanting her had not dulled his desire, only complicating things by letting him get to know her during their joint charity work and during the occasional meeting at the Ministry and causing his feelings to become even more bewildering and confusing.
“I sincerely doubt you know the meaning of the word appalling,” Hermione said dryly as she focused on the list of things needing done and ignored Draco, relieved when he finally realized that she wasn’t going to allow herself to be drawn into another argument.
“Fine, I’ll go make fun of Potty. That’s always a highlight of any day,” Draco decided, “and I’ll be sure to let him know you’re the one that told me to find him.”
“You do that, Malfoy,” she rolled her eyes, wondering how men could be mature in some ways and still act like second years in others. After Draco left, she went to look out at the audience, relieved to see that everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. Her eyes narrowed, however, when she saw a familiar face sitting with Narcissa and Remus. That lying bastard! Blaise had claimed that he couldn’t participate in the auction because he had business in America for his family’s company, yet there he sat with an amused smile as he watched the bachelors’ antics.
He must have felt her eyes on him because he turned his head and smiled, winking at her before he stood up and made his way to the side of the stage. Before he could say anything, she glared, “You lying Slytherin! Trip to America my arse!”
“Now, now, Hermione. No need to get rude,” his voice was calm and amused, having the audacity to smile at her!
“What are you doing here, Blaise?” she arched a brow and tapped her foot, “If I recall, you refused to participate in the auction because of a business trip.”
“Yes, well, it was postponed so I decided to attend the auction to show appreciation for all your hard work,” he said smoothly.
“Postponed?” her voice was suspicious, “Just admit that you didn’t want to participate. You could have said no. I wouldn’t have been upset. I know you’re not fond of attention, Blaise. You didn’t have to lie.”
“Hermione, I would never doing something as common and despicable as lie to you. Zabinis are many things but we are not liars,” he assured her, “But, you are correct. I had no interest in being one of the bachelors. However, I did have a trip scheduled to Boston, it was just changed to the beginning of next week.”
“Oh, sorry,” she smiled sheepishly, “I’m just ready for this to be over.”
“You look worn out, love,” he brushed a lock of hair away from her face, “after this, you should take a week off and have a bit of a vacation. Perhaps somewhere tropical and warm.”
“Hmm…that sounds nice,” she admitted before sighing, “but I can’t think about a vacation for a few more months.”
“Why ever not?” he queried, “You have the time available and Arthur would gladly let you have a break.”
“Oh, look,” Hermione suddenly smiled, “Neville is being fought over!”
“I suppose they like the idea of spending several days looking at plants,” was Blaise’s only explanation, mentioning the ‘date package’ that was being auctioned off with Neville.
“I’d better get backstage and make sure everything is running smoothly,” Hermione decided, “we only have a few more bachelors to go and then this will finally be over.”
“You’re raising a lot of galleons, love. It’s been an excellent effort on your part,” Blaise smiled, “and I did owl you to let you know I’d be here this evening, but I am assuming you didn’t read it since you were busy with the auction.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” she smiled at the wizard she had considered one of her best friends since they’d spent most of seventh year studying together. “After the auction, I believe Harry mentioned a group of us going for drinks, if you’re interested in joining us.”
“To celebrate the success of the auction?” Blaise nodded and smiled, “That sounds very enjoyable, Hermione.”
He kissed her forehead before returning to his table, Hermione smiling as she turned around and went backstage. The smile faded when she saw Draco standing by the curtains. He was obviously angry, though his expression was cold and detached, his eyes were fierce. She frowned at the scowl on his face, “Is something wrong, Malfoy?”
“Not a thing, Granger,” he said curtly, ignoring her to glare at Zabini. They were friends, though their friendship had not begun until after graduating from Hogwarts, and he had to admit that Zabini was probably his closest mate since Greg had married Pansy. He also knew it was stupid to be jealous of Zabini’s relationship with Hermione because it was obviously platonic, the witch treating Zabini in the same way she treated Potty and the others, like surrogate siblings. And Draco certainly had no desire for her to treat him in such a platonic way. No, he wanted far more from the witch than a casual hug or polite kiss, so there was really no need to be jealous of Zabini. Except that Zabini was accepted with an easy smile and a kiss on the cheek while he was treated with suspicion and hesitation.
It had been years since he’d called her a Mudblood, growing tired of that insult even before his Father had died and he’d been given the opportunity to make his own choices regarding Voldemort and the War. True, he enjoyed riling her up, loving the flush in her cheeks when she was annoyed with him and the passion in her eyes that he knew he caused, but it had been a long time since their arguing had been petty or personal or truly meant to hurt. They teased like they had this evening, insulting and picking, more for amusement and because they were both matched for witty banter more out of a need to cause injury to each other. And, to be quite honest, there were many times they got along perfectly well, only a hint of snarky sarcasm or teasing to gain her attention.
Yet, she still treated him as if she was uncertain about him, didn’t seem to trust him, didn’t really know him at all. It was only logical that he resented the people in her life that had her acceptance and approval. Merlin, she even liked his own Mum but still kept him at a distance. It wasn’t as if he planned to toss her on the desk and shag her silly, not that the idea hadn’t occurred to him on many an occasion, so he just couldn’t understand what it was about him that caused her to be so guarded and cautious, to not give him a chance to show her that he wasn’t that same obnoxious brat that had called her names during school. Okay, so he was still a bit spoiled and arrogant, but, really, who wouldn’t be if they were as wealthy and attractive as he? It was just part of being Draco Malfoy and he would never apologize for being himself.
Draco was pulled from his thoughts when he heard cheers, rolling his eyes and cringing when he saw Potty on the stage. It was nearly his turn, a thought that caused him to scowl. He hated this entire idea, thinking it ridiculous and beneath him. A Malfoy being auctioned off like some house-elf. The very thought was absurd and he was thankful that Father was not alive to see him being won by some desperate old biddy who wanted a handsome wizard such as himself as a companion for a week.
Thank Merlin there were rules about expected behavior during the actual ‘date’, the blond wizard tempted to deliberately seduce whomever won him to a point where the rules were broken and he could justifiably break the contract. Potty drew the highest bid, won by Millicent Bulstrode of all people. Draco smirked as his former housemate came on stage and grinned at Potty. What a cute couple, he snickered.
Finally, it was his turn. They saved the best for last, his lips curved into a cocky smile as he began his walk on the stage. Not surprising that the bidding was fast and fierce. He paused a few times for dramatic effect, knowing if he was forced into this stupid auction he had every intention of securing the highest bid. He simpered and pouted and drew attention to his lips, his hands casually moving his robe against his waist to showcase the build that caused the bids to increase even more.
Yeah, he was going to definitely surpass Potty, he thought confidently. Turning his head, he noticed Hermione standing at the stage area, her eyes moving over him when she thought she was unobserved. He watched her cheeks flush when she looked into his eyes and realized she’d been caught, deliberately blowing her a kiss and winking ,much to the delight of the bidders.
He heard a very familiar voice suddenly speak up, “Two thousand galleons.”
His head whipped around as he saw Blaise give a lazy smile as he held up a number. His Mum waved at him and smirked before whispering in the Wolf’s ear. Eyes narrowing, Draco heard the announcer ask for higher bids, receiving none. With a ringing of a bell, he was won for the highest bid by Blaise fucking Zabini.
“The winner of Mister Malfoy is number 142, Miss Hermione Granger,” the announcer read from the book. Looking up, he noticed her backstage with a stunned and confused expression on her face. “Miss Granger, come up here and collect your prize.”
Well, well, well, Draco slowly smiled, this did change things. Blaise smiled smugly as he leaned back, giving Draco every impression of someone who was happily gloating. Turning to look at Hermione, Draco’s eyes flashed with amusement as he spoke up loudly, “Don’t be shy, Granger. I might begin to suspect that you don’t want me.”
“Awe,” several witches in the audience tsked her for not rushing up to collect her bachelor, falling for the vulnerable pout that Draco displayed.
“There must be some mistake,” Hermione whispered to the announcer, her hand nervously running through her hair as she felt everyone looking at her. “I didn’t sign up and I certainly didn’t bid on Malfoy!”
“Your name is right here, dear,” the announcer explained, “and you did organize the auction so I assume you aren’t contesting the accuracy of the records, are you?”
Bloody fucking hell, she glared at the announcer before she made her way to the blasted stage. She turned her glare on Draco when she saw the smug smile on his full lips.
“Really, Granger, if you’d wanted me that bad, all you had to do was ask,” Draco smirked as he saw the fire flash in her eyes. For a moment, he considered kissing her, knowing he could get away with it when they had an audience but deciding she’d probably hex him silly if he attempted such a thing. She was definitely upset and absolutely beautiful.
“I don‘t want you, you conceited Pureblood snob,” she informed him promptly, wanting to know what the hell had happened, even more annoyed because it didn’t make any sense.
“Tsk, tsk. And here I thought Gryffindors were always honest,” he shook his head sadly, both oblivious to their audience and the knowing smile on Blaise’s face as he watched his two friends continue to fight their attraction, confident that they would be unable to continue denying how they felt once they were away together.
“You wouldn’t know honest if it bit you in the arse, you sneaky Slytherin,” she realized how juvenile that insult sounded and cringed, muttering, “This is just a nightmare. I must have fallen asleep backstage.”
“Dream about me often, do you?” Draco mused, lowering his voice as he purred, “I dream about you, too, Granger. I have a brilliant idea. Why don’t you tell me yours and I’ll tell you mine?”
“Bugger off, Malfoy,” she hissed, refusing to let his deliberate taunts get to her. She knew he was just trying to be annoying, that he couldn’t possibly have dreamed about her in such a way that he’d be purring. Merlin’s beard, his voice was even better when it was husky and purring, causing her to wonder for a moment what it would sound like if he was saying her name right before he….her naughty thoughts were interrupted by him, eyes widening as she gaped at him.
“I’ll have you know, Granger, just because you paid such a large sum of galleons, that does not mean I intend to sleep with you immediately,” amusement flashed in his eyes as she began to seethe, “I expect seduction and romance before I shag you.”
“You loathsome,” she snarled, unable to finish her insult.
“You know you love me, Granger. Why must you deny how you feel? I’m certain it can’t be very healthy,” he smiled smugly, “It’s really very understandable. After all, I am handsome and intelligent and very sexy not to mention wealthy and humble.”
“Arrogant, spoiled, pointy-faced, pale, argumentative, annoying, rude, insulting, snobby,” Hermione was right up against him, her voice low, “conceited, proud, smug, pompous prat.”
“I love it when you talk dirty,” he almost laughed at the frustrated look in her eyes, deciding that this was the most fun he’d had in a while. He suddenly pulled her against him, turning her head to face the photographer, “Smile, Granger. You’ve just won me!”
Hermione glared at the photographer, squirming to free herself from Draco’s tight embrace, unable to ignore the feel of his hard body behind her or the way it felt so natural to be in his arms. Gods, this wasn’t good. Not good at all. The realization had finally entered her mind that she was somehow listed as the winning bidder, which meant she was doing to be going on the ‘date’ with Draco. Just when she didn’t think things could get worse for her mental well-being, the photographer spoke.
“Now let’s see a nice kiss.”
“Kiss?” Hermione squeaked, having missed the other poses from the winners, not aware that they had kissed each other on the cheek for a sweet photo.
Draco smiled wickedly when he heard the request. Well, he was merely obeying orders, he decided as he turned to Hermione. Looking into her tawny eyes, he saw fear and confusion and something that caused his body to react instantly. Lust. He carefully swept her back into his arms, intending to put on a show for the photo, his lips hovering above hers. Lips met, barely touching, just a kiss for the cameras and the audience. His eyes met hers and he groaned softly before his lips descended once again.
This kiss was anything but chaste or gentle, lips meeting lips, his tongue entering her open mouth. He felt fingers in his hair as she stopped squirming and kissed him back. His hand moved along her back until it was resting on her arse, pulling her closer, his burgeoning erection pressing against her leg. Suddenly, he became aware of a throat being cleared as well as twittering and conversation around them. Releasing her lips, he slowly straightened, embarrassed at having gotten carried away and nearly losing control just from a kiss. Deciding that his best plan of action was to act as if it was part of the performance, he smirked, “Was it good for you, Granger?”
Hermione couldn’t believe she was so aroused just from a kiss, her body on fire, places tingling that she didn’t even know could tingle, and she had a very good idea that he had been just as affected, having seen his eyes when he’d raised his head, seeing a touch of vulnerability and uncertainly along with a desire that had shocked her. Now he was back to playing the charming yet aloof git that she had realized years ago was mostly an act. With a confidence she didn’t know she possessed, her lips curved into an impish smile as she shrugged and said, “I’ve had better.” She watched his eyes flash at her unspoken challenge, his lips curving into a wicked smile that did not help assuage her desire for him.
“Guess I’ll have to do much better next time,” he promised silkily, his eyes darkening at the words next time, before he started to leave the stage. Turning to look at her, he smirked, “Oh, and Granger?”
“Yes, Malfoy?”
“We leave for our date tomorrow morning. Be ready by nine,” he watched her reaction to the realization that his ‘date’ package started so soon, knowing the exact moment when she remembered what his date consisted of, a week at his home on a small island in the Caribbean. He winked at her before continuing on his way, a determined gleam entering his eyes. He had a week alone with her, in the beautiful and lush surroundings of the island, the privacy they needed to get to know each other. Yes, it was a perfect setting for his seduction of Hermione Granger.