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A Creative Solution	By : cristinstar Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 19002 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it just playing in JKR's sandbox. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
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"Granted," he allowed, "Would you like to start?" he asked, generous in his triumph.

"Yes." She paused while she gathered her wits about her. "Tell me about your conditions for this experiment. What were they, what are they now, and what made you change them during this afternoon?"

With his trademark eyebrow lift, Draco asked, "That's more than one question, you realize? Hmmm... If I cooperate and answer your questions, will I be suitably rewarded?"

Grudgingly, she agreed. "Within reason."

He seemed to think about it for a moment, finally nodding in agreement. "Which one would you like to start with?"

She thought for a moment, and then said, "The second one: what made you change your conditions?"

"Very well," he said as he released the bowl, pushing it with the spoon towards her. He stood up, turned his chair around and brought it close, framing her between his seat and the table. He faced her sitting with his arms crossed over the back of the chair, his legs spread close to each of hers. "At the time, I was setting conditions based on a purely sexual agreement between friends. Now, after our dinnertime revelations," he teased with a smirk, "it has become apparent to me that you would not be opposed to something more than a business arrangement."

She nodded, and he reached over for her hand, drawing circles on her knuckles.

She narrowed her eyes at the handsome Slytherin. Determined to regain the upper hand, she pushed for clarification. "Have you forgotten your own admittance at dinner, Mr. Malfoy? It seems to me that you were somewhat physically expressive of your own interest, if that kiss in the coffee shop is anything to go by."

With a knowing smile, he easily countered her move and turned the tables once more in his favor. His voice became sultry, smoky, as he asked, "Have you been thinking about that kiss, Hermione?" As he spoke, he pulled her hand towards him, so that she was framing his face. By the time he said her name, Draco was kissing her palm as his lips formed the word.

Hermione flushed, silently fuming at the ease with which Draco could distract her. Two could play that game, she thought, firming her concentration. Taking advantage of where he had left her hand, Hermione batted back the conversational ball while gently tracing the corner of his mouth with her thumb. Looking at him from below her eyelashes, she modulated her voice into a lower register to ask, "How long have you been thinking about it, Draco?"

He stared at her fixedly, and while holding her hand against his cheek, he gently guided it towards his nape as he spoke. "Yet another question Miss Granger? All right, I will give you this one," he paused, and finished speaking directly against her sensitive wrist. "But only if you answer it first."

Shivering, Hermione gulped, knowing she'd been bested this round. Draco was rubbing his chin over her wrist, much like a cat would do, and she wondered if he was planning on licking her. Without looking away, taking another leap of faith, she answered him. "All evening. Since it happened." With a mind of their own, her fingers carded gently through his baby-fine hair, letting it slip between them as they learned the texture.

Draco gently breathed onto her wrist as his eyes seemed to glaze over. "It's been on my mind since it happened, too." Swallowing, he continued. "So bloody hot, so fecking right," he murmured. "By Salazar!" Shaking his head to clear it and dropping his hand from holding hers, Draco ruefully confessed. "I could not let you go after that kiss."

She let her own hand fall away from his face as he smirked. "You are addictive, you know? To quote Severus, you have bewitched my mind and ensnared my senses, Hermione."

The compliment had her blushing before she focused once more on her question, which Draco had easily deflected earlier. "So you changed your conditions when you decided that I could be more than an acceptable sexual partner?"

Raising an eyebrow, he smirked. "Do my ears deceive me? Or is that still another question?"

"Asking for clarification does not count as a question!" She was... annoyed… that he would continue the verbal volleys after turning on the heat earlier. That was it, right? This accelerated heartbeat and breathlessness had to be because he was exasperating. She couldn't actually find his verbal dexterity in cornering her attractive, could she? She liked knowing where conversations were going, and being on equal footing in her flirtations. She could not actually like not being able to direct the conversation! Could she?

Seeing her frown, Draco conceded. "Very well. Just remember that I can claim the same privilege when it is my turn." He inhaled deeply, marshaling his thoughts. "Yes. I changed the conditions when I realized that I wanted to explore where this thing between us could lead, without the artificial constraints of our deal. To speak Gryffindorish, I am no longer okay with being just your friend-with-benefits. I don't want to be your 'booty-call'. Now I want to see where this can lead us, together."

She agreed, smiling with relief. Pushing her advantage, she then asked him, "What were your conditions back then going to be?"

He arched an eyebrow. "Remember, Hermione, what's good for the goose is good for the gander. You will be as complete in your answers as you are asking me to be," he threatened with a smirk. "Payback's going to be a bitch."

Saucily, she met his challenge. "Whatever you can dish out, Mr. Malfoy, I can take it."

His eyelids came down, leaving his stormy eyes barely visible. "Is that so, Miss Granger? I'll need some sustenance, then." Helping himself to a spoonful of the tiramisu, he proceeded to lick the spoon and chase the remnants of dessert from his lips seductively. "Brace yourself. My pudding is going to be delicious," he promised in a velvety purr.

She gulped, thinking about the saying that if you could not stand the heat, you should not be in the kitchens. Hermione hoped she could argue her way out of whatever nefarious things Draco was planning. But that was for later; for now, she wanted answers!

"So? What were your conditions going to be?" She repeated insistently, when he did not immediately answer.

"You already know what the first two were, Hermione. First, that we both would be satisfied by the end of each session, and second, that we would make and keep a schedule of regular meetings."

She nodded. "The third condition..." He paused briefly, seemingly trying to find the right words. Fiddling with the spoon, he finally spoke, "No, let me ask you first. What did you think it would be?"

Frowning, Hermione ducked her head. "I'm not sure," she hedged.

"Oh, this is going to be good," Draco chuckled, "if you're hiding already you must have some pretty salacious theories."

She shook her head bashfully. Sometimes she forgot how good Draco was at reading people, how well he knew her -- she should have bluffed better!

He tilted her head up as he asked again, "Come on, give me one of your theories." Holding up a spoonful of tiramisu, he tried to bribe her. "I'll share some of this delicious pudding with you."

She pressed her lips tightly, miming closing them with a key.

"I can whine with the best of them, Hermione," he warned, smirking. "I've had plenty of practice." When she did not answer, he began cajoling her. "But why," he started, stretching the "y" sound in a long wail, "Won't you tell me?"

He followed this up with a few childish complaints, like "It's not fair!" and "Please tell me!" In each case he stretched the words, covering a wide acoustic range.

After three or four more of these wailed questions, Hermione gave up with a smile. "Fine, fine! I thought the ability to whine to get one's way disappeared when we grew up!"

"I knew you'd see it my way!" He exclaimed triumphantly, waggling his eyebrows. Knowing it would make her chuckle, he added, "No one can resist me!"

She was smiling as he leaned in to insist, "So, tell me. What did you think I would ask as a condition to us becoming romantically involved?"

Thrilled at his use of words, Hermione conceded as she averted her eyes. "Well, I thought when we made enough money," she said, blushing as she continued in a lower voice, "you'd ask me to... you know..." Hermione stalled in embarrassment, gesticulating wildly, peeking at him from under her lashes.

Draco had apparently gone through another of his mercurial changes of mood. He was frowning, hardening his lips into a harsh line. "No, I don't know, Hermione. Why don't you tell me?"

His menacing tone surprised her, and she gaped back at him, confused.

"Because you can't possibly have thought I'd coerce you to have sex with me, right?" He asked, in a silky whisper that hinted just how angry he was at that supposition.

Wondering what she could say to diffuse his anger, she gulped. "Not in those terms, no. You have girls at your beck and call all the time... you wouldn't need to coerce me..." She paused when she saw his face had darkened even more.

He was gritting his teeth, his nostrils vibrating with each inhalation, looking so thunderous that she decided honesty was the only way to salvage the conversation.

"I would have wanted it," she confessed in a rush. "Regardless of that, it's just not the kind of thing you would do."

"You're right that I wouldn't do it," he said, slightly mollified. "It would be coercion if I made having sex a requirement for our collaboration, and," he continued emphatically, "I will never force sex from anyone, much less from you!"

"I thought you may have wanted to collect my Maiden's Blood, when we no longer needed the money. And besides, you would not need coercion," she insisted, trying to reassure him, "I am sure I would have wanted it. Unless you don't want --"

"Hermione," he interrupted her in a gentler voice. "I would be honored if you chose to share with me such a gift as your first time and your maidenhead, but not as part of a contract. Whether we have made enough money from the Maiden's Blush or not, you would need to be sure it is what you wanted before taking such a step. In fact, if sometime while we are experimenting, you get frisky enough to suggest it," he smirked, lightening the mood, "I will wait until you tell me afterwards."

Perplexed, she asked, "What do you mean?"

He smiled softly, moving some locks of her hair to behind her ears. "In the heat of passion one can say, and mean, things that don't hold up to the light of day. I won't have any regrets between us, not anymore. I won't act on it until you, tell me," he used the spoon to point first at himself and then at her as he spoke. "When we're not otherwise occupied."

Hermione frowned, trying to make sense of what she would be supposed to tell him. "Salazar!" Draco swore softly with a smirk. "Your innocence is adorable, Granger!"

She bristled, huffing a couple of times while he clarified what he meant.

"Until you tell me, out of the bedroom," his voice roughened as he continued lasciviously, "that you want me to... penetrate... you, I won't act on any request."

Flabbergasted, she could only stare dazedly at him. He winked, teasing her as he said, "No matter how nicely you beg, Hermione."

Still smiling, Draco took a deep breath and rolled his head. He stretched his neck as he returned to their original discussion. "I might as well tell you what my third condition was," he conceded. "You've called some of the pure-bloods stodgy and prudish at time, Hermione, bound by outdated traditions."

"What does that have to do with us?"

"Patience, Hermione, patience. You really are like a cat, you know? Always so curious... and you know what they say about curiosity and cats, don't you?

"Yes, yes. Curiosity killed the cat, but you know what else, Draco?"

Because of how often they exchanged the same lines, they ended the popular saying in a chorus. "Satisfaction brought him back!"

"Plus, there is the small matter of the other eight lives," Hermione teased, "but that won't let you get away without answering. You were saying something about old-fashioned pure-blood customs?"

"See, the thing with the old traditions is that some are rooted in facts, and they have been ingrained on us pure-bloods since birth." He twirled the spoon between his fingers absentmindedly.

Frowning darkly, Hermione interrupted. "Like the prejudices against Muggle-borns."

"Not quite, Hermione," he said, still looking at the spoon as it caught and reflected the light. "I'm talking about things like manners and etiquette, not political views or stereotypes. Things that, with your Muggle upbringing, you may see as conservative or prudish, rather than as cautionary measures."

Catching on, Hermione asked, "So what are the pure-blood etiquette rules on conducting liaisons that you wanted to enforce?"

Looking straight at her, he stopped dithering and answered. "The ones about exchanging blood."

"Exchanging blood?" She had lost the thread of the argument, and sought to clarify. "Your third condition was that we exchanged blood?"

He made a moue of distaste. "No, quite the contrary --"

"Oh, so you don't want to sully yourself with my blood, is that it?" Hermione asked, her voice rising.

Draco tried to explain, "No, I --"

But Hermione would not let him finish, furiously ramping up her diatribe, "So I'm good enough to snog, but not -- umph!" She could not continue, because Draco's Quidditch training had allowed him to surprise her with a spoonful of tiramisu in her mouth as she spoke.

"If you want to know what I was going to say, Granger, you need to let me speak!" He was smirking broadly as he reprimanded her.

Shaking her finger at him, she mumbled a retort while she tried to swallow the thick mousse.

Undaunted, he insisted, "If you want to hear what I was going to suggest as the third condition, you will not interrupt me again. Clear, Miss Granger?"

Still incensed, she crossed her arms and answered, "Crystal. But be aware you may find yourself without a partner in this endeavor."

"I've been trying to tell you that there are reasons for most pure-blood traditions, and the one about not exchanging blood is pretty easy to understand," he explained. "Blood magic is ridiculously easy to enact."

Her eyebrows rose in surprise as he continued. "Any little bit of blood from a person can be used in all sorts of nefarious ways. Remember when Voldemort used Scarhead's blood to become corporeal back in fourth year?"

She nodded, frowning as she concentrated on the points he was making.

"With a bit of my blood not only can you Polyjuice yourself into looking like me, but you can fool the wards around the Manor, command the house-elves, bind me in lifelong servitude, or in an unbreakable marriage, to name a few."

"I would never --" she started to defend herself, but he interrupted.

"I know you wouldn't, Hermione," he reassured her, tapping her nose with his finger. "I told you, you are one of the few people I trust. I am just trying to start with the simplest example. You know that our potion-brewing knives have protective spells on them, right?"

"Yes," she agreed, "It would be only too easy to contaminate ingredients with a tiny nick of the skin, too small even to be seen or felt."

"More than that," he countered, "any bit of blood can be used to personalize potions and curses so that common antidotes can't neutralize them, and by the time a personalized counter can be created it's too late for the victim."

She reared back, horrified, and he smiled grimly at the evidence of her surprise.

"As child of influential pure-bloods, I've had spells cast on my person since birth that protect my hair, nails, skin, and blood. These protective spells make any bits and pieces that could be used for nefarious purposes are Evanesco-ed as soon as they separate from my body, unless I consciously will them not to."

She nodded in understanding. These spells seemed quite brilliant. That must have been what Millicent Bulstrode had done, which had prevented Hermione from getting the girl's hair for her Polyjuice potion, back in their second year at Hogwarts. Instead, she got a hair from Millicient's pet and turned into a partial cat for several weeks!

"Other people are not as careful, or," he said with a smirk, "perhaps their parents are not as paranoid. Take Crabbe and Goyle, for example."

Uh-oh, here we go, she thought, wondering if Draco had chosen them as an example because he knew that in their second year Harry and Ron had Polyjuiced themselves as Crabbe and Goyle. Or was it because he'd been so close growing up with those goons?

"They, like most students at Hogwarts, only used protective spells on bedding and personal items: toothbrushes, hairbrushes, and so forth."

Hermione considered this. She had been taught similar spells by Professor McGonagall before coming to Hogwarts, and she had taken to spelling her clothing as well once she knew about Polyjuice potion. Draco's blanket of protective spells was much more comprehensive.

"Would you teach them to me?" she asked Draco, wishing again for a pure-blood tradition compendium that she could read. It would have been most helpful before she started Hogwarts, but apparently she still had plenty to learn.

"Certainly, if you want," he shrugged as he answered. "Though they tend to be much more useful for men than women."

Hermione frowned as she tried to come up with the reasons why women would not find these spells as useful as men.

Draco reached over to smooth her furrowed forehead with a chuckle. "Can you guess why?"

It took Hermione only a couple of breaths to get at the reason. "Contraception!" she gasped, as he grinned. "That is why you were not concerned with the possibility of having an heir with one of those girls!"

He nodded again, explaining, "It is one of the reasons, yes. But not the only one - there are contraceptive potions and spells that can be used as well. It never hurts to have several layers of protection, just in case."

She nodded thoughtfully. But as fascinating as this information was, it wasn't what she had asked! She had made up her mind to ask him to cut to the chase and explain his third condition, when a different problem occurred to her. "Draco!" she blurted, "What about the Maiden's Blush that we'd be selling? Would people be able to trace it to me? Would they be able to use it like that?"

He chuckled quietly. "Don't worry about it, Hermione. I know of several procedures that erase the magical signature of the donor while preserving the intrinsic magical properties of the ingredients. How else would we have wand cores made of phoenix feathers and Veela hair?"

"What do phoenix feathers have to do with Maiden's Blush?" she asked, confused at the linkage between them.

"You know that the core of the Dark Lord and Harry Potter's wands was a feather from Fawkes?" She nodded and he continued explaining. "If Fawkes' magical signature would not have been erased before the wands were made, the Dark Lord could have walked into the Headmaster's office at any time."

"I see..." She said, noticing how Draco avoided mentioning both Voldemort and Dumbledore by name.

"But we were taking about blood. For magical purposes, its power decreases the longer it is away from the human body, so we have to be very careful with any open cut."

She listened attentively as Draco returned to their original discussion of the reasons for this particular pure-blood practice.

"More than that, as long as the skin is open, there are plenty of spells that can enter the body through the cut and lay dormant for a period of time; anything from Imperio to debilitating curses, including addictive curses and torture curses. All are exponentially more dangerous if they can be activated from within the body, and can rarely be traced back to the perpetrator. That is another reason why most witches choose a trustworthy wizard to rid themselves of their maidenhead early on. Do you remember third year, when that nasty Hippogriff attacked me?"

Hermione's mouth fell open, her mind quickly making the connection. "Back then I thought you were a hemophiliac!"

Draco frowned, losing the thread of his argument. "A what?"

"A hemophiliac. You know, the genetic disorder that impairs blood clotting or coagulation?"

"No, obviously I don't know. Where did you hear about this disease?"

"It's not a disease, it's a disorder," she explained patiently. After all the lecturing Draco had been doing tonight, it felt good to be the one that knew something he didn't. "It is a defect in the X chromosome that makes those who have it bleed for much longer than a person without it. For example, a minor cut could keep bleeding for days or weeks, sometimes never healing completely. Any injury to the brain or organs can lead to internal bleeding that may be fatal."

Draco frowned, deep in thought. Given his recent exposure to genetic science through his apprenticeship, Hermione was surprised when he asked, "So, this is a trait that primarily affects men, but is propagated by women, right? Because females have two X chromosomes while males have only one, so if a man inherits the defect from his mother..."

She smiled, impressed with his grasp of the subject. "Yes, that's exactly right. Women are asymptomatic carriers of the disease, as it tends to be present in only one of their inherited X chromosomes. It is extremely rare to have it occur in both of a woman's X chromosomes."

"What made you think I would have it?" He asked, unconsciously playing with the spoon.

"Well, it is famous in Muggle history because Queen Victoria had this genetic defect, and most European royalty wound up carrying the trait."

"Because of inbreeding," he stated flatly, gazing off into the distance.

She nodded. "It only became known that they suffered from it in the 1920s and 30s. The son of the last Tzar of Russia, Tsarevich Alexei, and two Spanish princes, Crown Prince Alfonso and Infante Gonzalo, were hemophiliacs."

Draco's frown had deepened, and he was leaning forward as he concentrated on her words. Encouraged by his interest, Hermione continued explaining everything she knew about the royal hemophiliacs. "They were kept in special padded clothing, but it did not make much difference," she sadly explained, "The Spanish princes died quite young as a result of internal bleeding from minor car accidents, although neither appeared injured nor sought immediate medical attention."

Several minutes passed, as Draco seemed lost in thought. Finally, he sighed. "I will have to look into it in depth. This genetic disorder could explain much in pure-blood families." Shaking his head sadly, he continued, "I can see how you would think that, given how inbred we pure-bloods tend to be. But you may rest easy," he assured her, "I am not a hemophiliac."

"So why the performance, making Hagrid carry you and all that? You were not badly injured, were you?"

"No, it really did not hurt that much," he agreed. "But I had grown up being taught what could happen once the cut was open, what could have happened already. For all that we were youngsters, there were kids there that day with an impressive repertoire of Dark arts knowledge."

When she looked up at him, confused, Draco continued explaining. "I had to leave as soon as possible, make sure my parents were summoned, and that someone trustworthy would be able to check for any of these curses. Being thought a whiner, spoiled, weak, and anything else was better than the alternative. Anyhow, most of our peers knew what I was about."

"I had no idea --" she started to say.

"And that's without taking into account the creatures whose interest is piqued by any trace of blood. Given how close we were to the Forbidden Forest, my leaving was also a kindness to you all."

She chuckled, teasing him. "So altruistic, Mr. Malfoy."

"At your service," he said, miming a grand gesture as if he was removing a bulky hat. "You see how having Hagrid dismissed as an instructor was important for Lucius and other pure-bloods in the Hogwarts Board of Governors? He was unnecessarily putting the students in harm's way, without even realizing the danger!"

His voice had risen as he presented the situation in a way she had not expected.

"And you can see why Severus was completely angry at the Headmaster," Draco continued, "As if having a werewolf for an instructor was not enough of a risk; Dumbledore was also risking the students' welfare by letting uneducated teachers bring in dangerous creatures to the school without the necessary precautions!"

Out of loyalty, Hermione gathered a deep breath to intervene in defense of Hagrid. "Come now, Hermione." He stopped her. "As good a friend as Hagrid might have been to Harry, ignorance is no excuse for exposing children to life-threatening situations."

"There was Lockhart and his pixies, too!" She retorted, indignant.

"We must not forget the handsome one, eh?" He teased, making her blush as she recalled the unfounded admiration she had for that liar.

"The Ministry wanted to intervene back then," Draco spoke again, "but Dumbledore convinced them that Moody and Crouch Sr. could keep an eye on things. With all the international attention on the Triwizard Tournament, the Ministry believed that Dumbledore would take particular care to make sure every precaution that could be taken, would be."

"Then you have Potter becoming a participant in the Tournament, followed by Crouch's death, and culminating in Diggory's unexpected demise. Even without Potter frightening the pants off everyone with his news of the Dark Lord's return, the Ministry had to do something to reassure families who feared for their children's safety. That is why they sent the Umbridge scourge to Hogwarts," Draco used the spoon to emphasize the point he was making as he spoke, "and why she had the support of many pure-blood parents and children, even when we did not agree with all her proclamations."

She squinted, beginning to see the episode in a different light, still incensed at that horrible woman.

"Soon enough we realized she was a loose cannon, wanting to dose students with Veritaserum, among other things. All we could do at that point was moderate her impact, try to curb her outburst as we wrote home asking our parents to get the Ministry to intervene. That's why we formed that stupid Inquisitorial Squad -- well," he amended bashfully, "that and the fact that you rule-breakers had your own little club that excluded most of the school!"

They were quiet for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts.

"Enough reminiscing," he suddenly said. "You see what I meant by pure-blood traditions: that as a Muggle-born, you were taught the spells needed to protect yourself, but not the reasons behind them." He twirled the spoon as he spoke. "With time, it is too easy to forget these origins and disparage the older customs as old-fashioned or outdated. And families like Hagrid's and the Weasleys often do not pass on the important reasons behind some of these older customs. Between limited access to education, and their rejection of pure-blood supremacy arguments, they may --"

"It's like that saying of throwing out the baby with the bathwater!" she interrupted.

"Precisely. Most pure-blood children are taught to avoid physical combat. Not because we're nancy boys, or unwilling to get our hands dirty, but because it could lead to the spilling of blood --"

Excited, she interrupted again. "That's why, when I punched you our third year, you wrote to me that if I was a 'real' witch I would have cursed you with my wand!"

"Yes," Draco nodded patiently at her as he continued explaining, "A witch that had grown up in the wizarding world would not have taken the risk that her knuckles would get scraped, the risk of giving me an inadvertent taste of blood."

Hermione tried to remember whether she had scraped herself when she'd punched Draco back then. It had been such a long day, what with the extra stressful hours to rescue Buckbeak and Sirius. She, Ron, and Harry had gotten pretty beaten up throughout. Who knew if she had indeed scraped her hand when she punched Draco? Would he have tasted her blood? And the opposite could be true too -- she had to ask him. "Oh, God! Did I split your lip when I punched you?"

"Protective spells, remember? You would not have gotten my blood on you accidentally." Draco smiled, emphasizing his point. "You see now, how easy it is to invoke blood magic?"

She nodded, narrowing her eyes as she realized Draco had not answered her exact question. Was it just a coincidental selection of words on his part, a strange turn of phrase? Or did was it a skillful evasion, hinting that their blood had mixed together? What might it mean if it had?

Unaware of her wandering attention, Draco followed with another example. "Take for instance a couple of kids playing rough, say one of them splits the other's lip with an uncoordinated elbow. Imagine what happens if there's a little bit of blood on the lips of the kid that was hit, as he promises retribution. This is not a problem for Muggle children, but it is only too easy for a young wizard to inadvertently make a life-long binding vow of revenge for a minor slight when blood is involved."

Beginning to understand how this particular pure-blood etiquette rule could have come about, Hermione asked, "Is that also where the medieval custom to slap someone that offended you with your glove came from? You know, as a declaration of intent to duel?"

"Possibly," Draco admitted, "I'm not sure, honestly. But that is why we always considered the Weasleys to be uncouth and uneducated. No one who truly understood the reasons behind this particular custom would start that many fights."

"Weren't most of them fighting with you?" she teased.

"Perhaps. Note that I had never before engaged in such physical fights," he said, and teased her back. "And you see now, Miss Granger, how unfair it was of them to physically attack a defenseless boy?"

She shook her head, negating his point. "You were never defenseless, Draco. Your tongue was sharper than any blade, and you wielded it with deadly accuracy."

"Was?" His eyes smoldered as his voice dropped seductively. "It still is, Hermione. I believe you had a demonstration earlier. But perhaps you are asking for another?" He offered with a smirk.

"Wait!" She scrambled to say something, to catch up to the dramatic change of mood that had just taken place. "You haven't explained what it was about the exchange of blood that you were going to request as a condition!"

He gave a long-suffering sigh before answering. "Isn't it obvious? There are too many ways in which, in an intimate situation, one could say or do something that would unintentionally turn into a magically binding vow. Avoiding blood exchanges is paramount in a temporary relationship of the kind I thought we were entering into."

She thought this through. "Are you telling me that you never -- you know, had sex -- with a virgin? Or a menstruating woman?"

"That is correct," he assented, "though the way you are asking makes it sound medieval and misogynistic."

"That's because it is! Don't you dare tell me that the medieval custom of keeping women locked up during their menses is actually a pure-blood tradition too?"

His eyebrow rose as he smirked, but he remained silent, in itself an answer.

"So the belief that menstrual blood was poisonous back then..."

"Is another bastardization of a pure-blood tradition, another case where the reason became decoupled from the practice, yes," he agreed. "And I prefer to see it as precautionary rather than discriminatory."

Frowning, she asked again, "What do you mean?"

"I mean that I am not opposed to having intercourse during menstruation, or with a maiden. I am logically wary of doing it, given the possible repercussions when there's blood involved. But," he added with a grin, "given how taboo it is in pure-blood society, the idea is quite... " He paused, dropping his voice to a purr for the rest of his explanation, "...titillating... for any pure-blood wizard."

She blushed hotly, averting her eyes, and opened her mouth to continue asking questions.

Before she could speak though, he wagged his fingers in response. "No, no, Hermione. That was more than enough of an answer for a single question. Now, what about my taste of tiramisu, hmm?"

This chapter comes with a heartfelt "Happy New Year" to you all from me, and courtesy of UnseenLibrarian. Throughout the holiday season, she was the super Beta-elf who got this chapter in shape, and for that she has my gratitude!

I hope this chapter answers some of your questions, even as it brings out new ones! Because there were no correct guesses as to what Draco's third condition was, one of the promised "Delete Scenes" is up for grabs! And, oh, I have so many questions where I'd love to know what you think! It was hard narrowing the choices, yet below are the top THREE:

-- Did Draco end up smeared with a little blood from 'Mudblood' Granger when she punched him? If he did, did he do anything about it? Draco says he needs to consciously want to spill his bodily fluids, and Hermione doesn't know whether she broke his lip or not. So it's not just her blood that *could* have been spilled. Did their blood mix? Did he want to have his blood on her?

-- Just how many different kinds of magical creatures are attracted to blood? Surely not all of them are contained within the Forbidden Forest...

-- Did Hermione ever get an answer as to what Draco's third condition was? Do you think he's changed his stance on blood exchanges with Hermione?

Let me know in the reviews your thoughts on these THREE questions, and the I will send the best three respondents the unclaimed "Deleted Scene." Hurry though, you have until January twentieth (20) to submit your answers!

Heartfelt thank yous also to those of you that have already reviewed the story! I have read and appreciate every single one of them!

Lest you think that Draco is letting Hermione get away with all those questions, he makes up for it in spades in the next chapters. Trust me on this, the next 10,000 words are pure lime and lemon flavors, coming soon to a screen near you!

The information on hemophilia (or haemophilia) was summarized from wikipedia . org.
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