Getting to Know You, Getting to Know All about You

Draco loved Mexico City! It was sort of like Colorado, but more Spanish, and with a denser magical population. Most importantly, that was where he'd gotten the book. There was a gypsy woman in Mexico City who had told him this was the book that would bring his mind together with Hermione's completely. From what he had read, he was certain she was correct. They had only been in the city for four days when Draco made solid connection with Hermione. He knew, because the dream did not go as he had planned.

Hermione and Acara were walking through a busy plaza in a city. This was why she was so surprised to be met by Malfoy. Acara was never in the dreams about her and The Ferret. That was how she knew that they were his dreams and not hers. Acara was always in her dreams.

Draco smiled in a soft, genuine way that she only ever saw in his dreams. "Finally."

"Sod off, Malfoy." Hermione moved to push through him, knowing it was her dream, so she could do as she pleased. Only she didn't pass through a Malfoy-shaped vapour, but pressed against his broad muscular chest. "What the...?"

Draco was about to wrap his arms around her when Acara growled. They both looked down, and Hermione smiled, stepping away from him slightly.

"We meet again, darling." Draco leaned in to touch her hair. This was his marker that she was actually here. In his dreams, she always had hair like she'd had at Hogwarts, light brown curls down her back. Now her hair was cropped at the chin and deep chocolate brown; it was amazingly fetching.

Hermione bobbed away from his hand and sucker punched him in the gut. "Leave me alone."

"Merlin's balls, Granger," Draco wheezed as he curled over himself. "What the bloody fuck was that for?" The girl could probably take out Goyle with a punch like that. He had been so distracted by actually meeting her that her increased muscle tone and strength had gone completely unnoticed.

"Unless a girl says 'yes', Ferret, the answer is 'no'." Hermione opened and closed her fist, considering hitting him again and again, once for each dream he'd sent her. Hermione looked at him viciously. She leaned down and scooped up Acara and draped the cat across her strong shoulders. "Go home, Malfoy."

Draco looked up at her. She was a goddess. "Am I to understand that you haven't liked my gifts?" he grunted, moving to kneel in front of her as his lungs filled back in.

"Gifts!" Hermione screeched incredulously. "You mean branding me without my knowledge, let alone consent? Or trying to buy me from the Ministry as if I'm just an incubator for your seed? Or maybe you mean berating me for six years because of your prejudiced views?"

"I mean the dreams, Princess." He paused to really look her over, savouring the way her face flushed under that nickname and the new image of her body in lavender mage's robes. She certainly wasn't the girl he'd been dreaming of lately; she was even better.

"Oh, you mean using me sexually without my permission. I would have to say, no, I didn't like your bloody gifts," Hermione sneered at him.

Draco looked into her darkened eyes, and he continued, "I could give you books, and jewels, and more orgasms than any woman could want. Tell me you haven't woken up with your tight, virgin cunt aching for me. I know I have for you."

Hermione couldn't dispute his claim, unfortunately. As loath as she was to admit it, part of her had enjoyed the dreams. However, another part of her wanted to ask Draco Malfoy about his virgin cunt. Instead, she just smirked at him and said, "Oh, Malfoy...I hate to burst your bubble, but I haven't been a virgin now for years." Hermione felt an evil delight in watching his face fall as he understood what she was saying. She almost laughed when his face clouded over and his grey eyes promised a violent storm.

"Potter? Or Weasley?" Draco ground out through his teeth, his fists clenching at his sides. Acara began to growl in return.

"Oh, no, not Harry or Ron, silly. A nice Muggle boy from my old neighbourhood. We used to play football together. He was very fit." Hermione finally laughed out loud, remembering how good it had been after the first couple times. Acara slithered down her arm as she bent over in mirth.

Draco stood up, barely controlling his rage. "You let a Muggle defile you?" He couldn't hide his disgust. "You let some Muggle prick take what was mine?" Draco's nostrils flared, and his eyes took on a look of great menace.

"I'm not yours, Malfoy! Go home!" Hermione was unimpressed by his behaviour. Classic Malfoy.

Draco couldn't take it anymore. He lunged for her, thinking only that he had to shake some sense into her. Hermione didn't even flinch, except when Acara jumped up into Draco's chest, knocking him onto his back. Her jaws slid over Draco's neck, and she held him there, growling lowly.

"Tell me, Malfoy, if Acara kills you in our dream, will you really die? Do you care to find out?"

"Granger, pl-lease," Draco whispered, unwilling to literally risk his neck by speaking too loudly.

Hermione liked hearing Draco ask nicely. That was certainly a first. She knew that if she yielded now, Draco would become even more relentless, but she couldn't risk a killing in cold blood. Hermione had seen more than enough blood to last her a lifetime. "Acara, come," Hermione whispered and knelt down to receive her. Acara slowly pulled off of Draco's neck and backed away, turning to pounce on Hermione and lick her face. That's how Hermione woke up, with her cat licking her face and purring lovingly.

It was the pitch black of extremely early morning, but Hermione knew she wouldn't be sleeping any more tonight. First thing, there would need to be a councillors' meeting. They would have to plan out how to welcome their impending guests.

The morning after her dream found Hermione kneeling on the doorstep to the councilor's home. She assumed Draco was in a comparable time zone because the dream had ended in the middle of the night. When she first started having the dreams, she'd awaken well before midnight and could go to sleep without worry of another dream. Waking up more toward the morning had to be an indicator of his proximity, Hermione was sure.

Hermione was in deep meditation when the door cracked open. Marcela, the standing Earth Mage, opened the door and yawned deeply. Hermione was relieved, as she had been confiding her dreams to Marcela from the beginning. Hermione stayed perfectly still, kneeling with her head bent.

"You dreamed?"

"Yes, ma'am, they are coming."

"How will we recognise them?"

"Unless they use a disguise, which is unlikely as he gives himself away all of the time, they will stand out. They are blond giants." When Hermione first got to the colony, she'd been a little surprised to find she towered over the women, none reaching five feet tall, and finding the men only three or four inches taller than she. Draco was easily six and a half feet. Lucius, she was unsure of, but he had to be over six feet as well.

"Fine. We will announce it at midday. Then, my girl, you will have your work cut out for you."

Draco woke up on the wrong side of the bed. His mood was thunderous when he met his father for breakfast. Lucius folded his paper and looked cautiously at his son. This was by far the greatest amount of concentrated time he'd ever spent with the boy, and he was surprised at an even higher level of closeness than they had had at home.

"It did not work?"

"No, Father, it worked. She is... stunning now." Draco sighed.

"You are terribly melancholy this morning."

"Muggles." Draco hated Muggles more than ever. They were nothing. They were ants. They were barely human. Now this.

"Elaborate, please."

"She let some Muggle..." Draco trailed off and looked sternly at his father.

Lucius wasn't sure at first what was meant by this, but once he realised, he could see how this would put his boy in a mood. "This is why we like to keep the blood pure, son." Lucius did not look at his son but around the beautiful courtyard where they were taking their respite.

"She is an oasis, Father." Draco pouted over what he would describe as a Mexican pancake. The flavour was slightly different, and it was coated in spices and sugar. Draco really enjoyed them.

Lucius ignored his boy's mood. He had watched Draco mature in these scant few weeks. He was not amused to find this version of his son across the table from him.

"Shall we go home, then?" Lucius hoped not; quitting was not what he'd instilled in his son.

There was a long pause as Draco savoured his morsel. Finally, he said, "Of course not."

Lucius beamed proudly at his son, and they finished their breakfast in companionable silence. Afterward, they strolled through the markets. It was nearly lunch when Draco paused mid-sentence and rushed into a stall and began interrogating the shopkeeper.

"What is this animal? Where is it from?" Draco smoothed his hand reverently over a pelt.

"It is a jungle cat from Peru. I have many more, much finer examples, if you like." The shopkeeper smiled broadly and nodded slightly in encouragement.

Draco looked at the pelt and smiled, but said, "No. Thank you. You've been most helpful." He threw a large wad of bills on the counter before racing back to his father. "She's in Peru. I'll explain in the hotel," Draco said before Disapparating his father away to pack their things.

It was two nights later before Draco had the courage to reach out to Hermione as they slept again. She didn't know that he was half a day's travel from her now. It was like the night after the law had passed for him, again. Draco's adrenaline was running fast, like he was flying high and fast on his broom, the Snitch just a hair's breadth away.

This time, he set his dream to a hillside outside of Colchis before he reached out to her. When she appeared, she was not in her mage's robes, which had clung to her delightfully. This time, she was in heavy canvas shorts dyed an olive green and a linen shirt. She looked a little like a Muggle on safari, but he would not complain about that...her shapely legs were on display. There was one problem: that damned cat was with her. They were sitting on the hillside a little bit away from him, the beast's head in her lap as Hermione pressed her hands into the scruff at the back of the cat's neck.

Draco walked over to Hermione and knelt behind her. "Does puss follow you everywhere, Granger?" he asked with his head beside her left ear. Draco wanted to start out light, knowing he had lost major ground last time when he'd let his temper go. It had been so long since he'd even really seen his little spitfire, he'd almost forgotten how she was.

"Yes, and unlike with you, she's appreciated." Hermione leaned her body away from him. Well, she tried, but his hand came to her arm and held her gently in place.

Draco fought the smirk off his face as she berated him. He'd thought she would give him the cold shoulder. He looked at her, smiling. She returned his gaze with a neutral face, and they stayed like that for many moments.

Finally, Hermione lost all patience. "What the bloody fuck are we doing here, Malfoy?" She whipped her arm around, and he lost his grip.

Draco's smile broadened, and he lay down on his side casually, as if they had been old friends and lovers all these years. "If I can't hold you in my waking hours, at least I can see you in my dreams." Draco's fingers were itching to twist one of those new dark curls, but he held back this time, not convinced that the cat was as docile as it seemed.

"So you plan to haunt my dreams until we die?" Hermione eyed him and sighed exasperatedly.

"No. Soon you'll be in my arms." Draco rolled to his back, missing how Hermione's jaw clenched and her teeth began grinding. In the dream, he was wearing a blood-red linen tunic, cut close to his torso, and white trousers embroidered in the same red as his shirt. It was the height of fashion for wizards in Mexico City, and as Hermione watched him relax carelessly, she berated herself for seeing him as attractive at all.

She knew this was his doing...Hermione had never even considered Draco Malfoy to be anything but a ferret-boy; he certainly was not a man she might consider snogging. Then Draco had started toying around in her subconscious. He was attractive. He was broad-shouldered and thin-hipped. He was deliciously tall, especially compared to the mages she'd been living with for nine months. Worst of all, the dreams where he'd made love to her had been exquisite.

Hermione needed out of this dream. Unfortunately, the landscape was so peacefully constructed, and Draco was doing nothing to make her uncomfortable, really, so she had nothing to jar her out of it. If it hadn't been set in the mid-afternoon, she could have easily dozed off. Not that she would doze off in the presence of Malfoy...who knew what he would try to do then. "Where is this?"

"Still with the questions, Granger?" Malfoy smirked at her arrogantly, even though he looked like he was about to doze off himself. "Let's make a deal...I'll answer your questions, if you'll answer mine. You already owe me two."

"I'm not making any deals with you," Hermione said and followed it with a clicking noise. The cat got up and stretched, as did Hermione, and then she bent down and picked the beast up to carry her on her shoulders. Hermione knew that this was as much her dream as it was his. She didn't have to stick around.

Hermione had finally gotten to where she couldn't sense Draco anymore, when he materialised next to her, walking in time. She was irritated by his continued presence, but felt good that something was finally happening.

"Which dream did you like best, Hermione?" Draco asked with an intense gaze on her.

"Don't call me that." Hermione looked away from him. She would be as little a party to this as possible.

"It's your name. What else am I to call you?" Draco reached down and grabbed her palm. He held it softly and stroked her smooth flesh with his thumb.

"You have no right to call me that." Hermione was about to turn and confront him when Acara's paw swept out and slapped Draco upside his skull. The move tossed his hair into his eyes, his jaw clacked, and his step stuttered. Hermione couldn't contain herself and she laughed, loudly at first, and then chuckled. Draco had dropped her hand upon the assault, and now she walked with her hands held together in front of her. She didn't even try to wipe the smile off her face.

Draco scowled. He was really liking that beast less and less. He would not be goaded. He was a Malfoy. Malfoys were always in control of the situation. He pressed on, saying, "I think it was that time on the beach."

Hermione remembered that dream vividly. She couldn't help but blush scarlet over her tan despite the aftermath of the incident. Annoyed with herself, she growled low in her throat. That dream was the second time she had woken up to an orgasm. Bloody fucking arse-faced ferret! Oh, how she hated him! Feeling her anger grow, she knew it was the way out of the dream, so she'd play along. "There were no times, Malfoy. This whole mess is part of your own delusional mind."

"Oh, my darling Granger, that's where you're wrong. Well... maybe you were less co-operative before, when we were students, but now...now when we are together in these dreams, it's us. The subconscious doesn't lie, Granger."

Less co-operative? Hermione's mind raged, and finally, her feet halted. The sodding prick stalked me for four months, and he's calling it less co-operative. Oh, and the subconscious lies all the time, Ferret, that's why dreams can be so ridiculous.

However, she didn't voice these points. She just stopped and turned to look at him, making a clicking noise that caused Acara to slither down her body and coil around her legs.

"Malfoy. I'm out of your league." She poked his chest with her finger. "You come near me, near my new home, and your life, as you know it, will be over."

Draco grabbed her finger and pulled her against his body. "Why do you fight it, Granger? I can give you everything you want, if you'll just give in."

"I already have everything I want, and it certainly doesn't include you!" Hermione couldn't move her legs because she didn't want to kick Acara, who was pinned between her and Draco. Hermione could feel the magic welling up in side of her; she'd be out of this soon. She sighed heavily and leaned into Draco's body, momentarily giving in as he pressed his fingers through her hair and down to where her brand was, pulling their lips together. Just before they touched, though, Hermione sent a wave of fire through her skin.

She and Draco both screamed in their sleep, not unlike when she had broken her wand. For Hermione, it was just a vocal release of her magic, even though her skin radiated heat, especially on the brand. When she woke, Acara was purring happily on Hermione's chest.

Meanwhile, in a city a little north of where Hermione lay resting, Draco had roused his father with his cries, the dragon on his chest burning hot like Fiendfyre on his skin. Neither would get much sleep after, as they called in the local Healer, who could only offer the strongest cooling balm and prescribed bed rest. Draco would be convalescing for another week.