Disclaimer: All the rights to HP belong to JKR and all the song lyrics belong to Dashboard Confessional. I don't make any money by writing this.

A/N: This is just a little songfic inspired by the lyrics 'Ghost of a Good Thing' by Dashboard Confessional. Hopefully it isn't too confusing, just know that after every lyric of the song the scene changes. It is rated for adult sexual content and language- you have been warned!

As always, please read and review : )

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I guess it's luck but it's the same. Hard luck you've been trying to tame.

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She kissed him, long and hard. A single finger traced his spine until it met with the base of his freckled neck. She pulled him to her, deepening the kiss while her tongue gained control of his and she forced entry into his waiting mouth. She could feel his hard length pressing into her hip. Her hand tangled in his shaggy red locks, her eyes closed and body oddly sensitive to every touch- The hand, rough from gripping a broomstick for long hours, that gently cupped the curve of her arse, squeezing whenever her tongue performed a particular move as it explored his own. The vibrations whenever she coaxed a low grown from deep in his throat. His hot breath on her ear as he broke away and gasped for air, whispering hoarse words of love and longing.

Her eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling of the small flat they shared in Diagon Alley, unseeing and void of any emotion. Ron Weasley bent lower to trail kisses down her collar, nibbling and suckling until he seemed satisfied that he had marked her as his own, then continued on his way to the valley of her supple breasts. Hermione blinked hard, determined to hinder the course of a single tear that threatened to spill over.

So many feelings, and yet she felt nothing.

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Maybe it's love but it's like you said. Love is like a role that we play.

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There was a time when it was love. When they were in school, and so caught up in the war against Voldemort that their lives were put on hold. At the time, any good news was a driving force, something to concentrate on when she was being tortured by Bellatrix, while he was forced to watch. He couldn't be there for her, couldn't let what they had be anything more than a dirty little secret. Those feelings that she felt for i him /i were automatically transferred to the next best thing- the only real thing she had. Ron had been there, had fought beside her, cared for her, loved her even…

She did love him then. Once. It was the midst of the final battle. She felt like they couldn't possibly all make it out alive. Death and destruction littered every square inch of a place she had once called home. She had felt so hopeless, especially seeing him again. He was just as scared as she was, she could see it in his eyes. He may have been a skilled Occlumens, but he could never fool her. She knew him too well.

He had eyed her coldly, his fellow Death Eaters flanking him on each side, but that was all he did. No curse was fired, but when he turned his back on her and stalked off to rejoin the battle, she had felt her world fall away from her all over again. The urge to run after him and cradle his face in hers like he had done for her so many times was overwhelming. She felt her knees give way, tears splashing down her splotchy cheeks, but before she hit the ground, he was there. It wasn't him, it was Ron. Ron her friend… Her not always loyal, insanely moody, emotional capacity of a teaspoon- friend, but he was there. He was holding her in the midst of the battle and pulling her with him to safety when her legs seemed unable to move.

She could love him… She could…

He did impress her at times. He fought like a hero and helped those he could. He even spared a hand to the house-elves. She couldn't tell if he just did it for her, or if he genuinely cared for the little creatures. Either way, she was deeply touched- in awe of the red-haired man by her side for the first time since he sacrificed himself to the Queen in their first year.

They kissed and she had sworn she felt something.

When Harry finally won, in that very moment when time seemed to stand still and all that could be heard and felt was the deafening cheers of the Light side, Ron had embraced her. She was weighed down with the intense emotions around her. Sadness at the losses, fear for what was to come, the clenching in her chest when she saw that he had made it. He was watching her, breaking through her barriers with those penetrating grey orbs… His parents hugging behind him; his mother tear-stained, and his father haughty and stoic as ever. They wouldn't notice where their son's attentions were focused, or else he would never have spared her a glance.

They still couldn't be together.

Then Ron had kissed her for a second time, and she had kissed back with such passion and intensity that he almost pulled away from her, but she refused to let him. All her emotions had poured out of her in that kiss, so much so that by the time they broke apart, her eyes were red-rimmed and the tears could no longer be held back. She cried for a long, long while. Mourning for the loss of Fred, and Lupin, and Tonks, and him…

Ron held her the whole time. Later that night he told her he loved her… She told him she loved him… For the first time she had really meant it.

For a year after the war had ended they enjoyed the perfect life. They had moved in together in the perfect flat above Flourish and Blotts. They built their life into a routine like a typical couple would do. After a trying day at the office she would come home and make dinner, and Ron would arrive just as she was placing it neatly on the table. He would kiss her cheek and thank her for being so wonderful.

She had introduced him to television. Each night they had a different show that they would watch religiously. He would rub her shoulders and ask her about work. She would tell him about the most recent book she had read and he would tell her the latest news from the Auror department. They made love on a regular basis, which, according to Ginny Potter, was a very big deal. It was a perfect life, and Ron really was the perfect boyfriend.

But soon after their one-year anniversary, things started to change. She spent more and more meals alone. If Ron was going to be late at the office, he would call… most of the time. Eventually she just began to expect it. Their sex life dwindled into non-existence.

But she had to admit he still had his moments. He would sometimes bring her flowers for no reason, 'just because.' Other times, he would just hold her at night, lightly fingering a stray curl that had fallen into her eyes. He would smile down at her and mouth the words 'I love you.' She would smile back.

Her heart yearned for it to work. In her mind the pieces all fit so perfectly.

Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger- the perfect, billboard-worthy couple.

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But I believe in you so much I could die for the words that you say.

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"Granger, it's been-"

"Five years."

"Yes, well…"

"Well nothing! Why are you even here!? Ron could be back any minute and if he sees you-"

"I won't be long. I had to come."

"Why? Why now? It's been five years without a single word and now this!? Maybe I don't want to see you!"

That was a lie.

"Maybe I've never been happier in my life since I've gotten away from you!"

That was a bigger lie. The second he stepped out of her fireplace she had felt more alive than she had in years.

"Oh… nevermind then…" he scowled at the floor, turning to leave the way he had come. Before she could stop herself she had grabbed his arm. The sparks were instantaneous. Her breath hitched in her throat and he practically moaned at the contact.

"Hermione…" he whispered in his low husky voice, the one he had always reserved for their nightly sexual encounters around the school. He leaned into her, his lips seeking out her own. Her rosy pout met his for a brief second and nothing else mattered. A second later she had pressed roughly into him, devouring his lips until they parted to allow her entrance.

She pushed him back against her couch- her and Ron, her boyfriend's- tan leather couch, but it was Malfoy who voiced the concern.

"What about Weasel?"

"Don't care," she mumbled, nipping at the lobe of his ear as she pulled at his wizard robes. He didn't argue, instead he grabbed her hips and easily lifted her so she was straddling his lap. He went for the hem of her button-down blouse, but she shook her head against his chest.

"No time."

She leaned back and reached for her wand on the coffee table. A simple wave later and they were completely nude, their breaths heavy and their eyes darkened with lust. His eyes raked her body, pausing briefly to take in her perfectly round breasts, and the dark curls that hid the precious jewel between her legs. He smirked.

"That's not like you, Hermione."

She blushed and turned her head to the side, one ear placed on his broad shoulder.

"Well, it's not like I expected this and- me and Ron we…."

"It's fine… Makes you look like a woman, not the little girl I used to shag against the dungeon walls…"

"I wasn't some little girl, I was seventeen!"

"Yes, and if I recall, you melted when I touched you here," he purred, reaching out to flick the hardened bud of her nipple. Her sharp intake of breath was his reward. "And here…" His other hand snaked between her parted legs, and he traced a single finger along her folds as she shuddered above him.

She blindly grabbed for his manhood, stroking him until he was painfully hard. He redoubled his efforts on her most intimate place, dipping inside her and withdrawing her now freely flowing juices. When he swirled the moistened finger over her engorged clit she threw her head back and cried out, coming with such force and pleasure her vision blurred.

Before she could come down from orgasmic bliss, his fingers were replaced with the head of his manhood. He slid it up and down, hissing as the liquid heat sent shivers straight through him. If he kept it up he would embarrass himself, and it was not his intention to spoil their reunion so soon.

"Oh Draco… Please…" she begged, panting hard and unable to control the noises that were erupting from deep within her.

The wait was worth it just to hear his name come off her lips. Without warning he grabbed her hips and impaled her on him. Her breathy moans filled the air and once again threatened to take him off the edge. She gripped the couch on either side of his head and roughly slammed down on him, over and over again. His hips bucked to meet her. The sitting position they were in gave him a glorious view of his throbbing erection disappearing into her tight sheath. He couldn't take his eyes off of their adjoining parts.

When her walls began to spasm around him, he could hold out no longer. He held her hips to him, buried to the hilt, as his seed spilled into her in rough spurts. Her second orgasm left her completely sated, her limbs like jelly, covered with a light sheen of sweat. She fell against him, content to just feel him still deep inside her, and listen to his ragged breathing. Nothing else mattered.

"My arse is stuck to your couch," he mumbled after a few more minutes of silence. She giggled into his chest. He found her wand and took hold, and not for a second did she think he would do anything to wrong her. He was her sworn enemy and yet she trusted him with her life. It didn't make any sense whatsoever, but no part of their relationship ever had.

Still connected, he rolled her over so she was lying back against the couch and he was on top. She heard the squelching sound as his sweaty rear parted with leather, and she giggled again. He smirked down at her. If he wasn't already inside of her, she would have jumped him.

She let out a squeal of protest as he slowly withdrew his now slightly flaccid member from her warmth. She could feel their mingled fluids coating her inner thighs, a second later to be replaced with cool cloth. He had conjured a wet towel and was now lovingly wiping her clean of all the evidence of their encounter. She closed her eyes and just felt the sensations. She was hot all over despite the coolness of the wet fabric.

She was feeling, and it felt amazing.

Their eyes locked when he seemed satisfied she was squeaky clean. He looked sad for a second, but before Hermione could be sure his eyes were wiped free of all emotion and his lips curved back into his trademark half smirk.

"That was fun," he grinned down at her.

"Yeah…" was all she could reply. There was silence until she found her voice again.

"You should go. Ron… Ron will be home soon."

He nodded coldly, dressed, and left without another word.

Hermione cried until Ron arrived, hours later. He didn't seem to notice anything was out of the ordinary.

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But I believe in you so much I could die for the words that you say.

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"We can't keep meeting like his," Hermione whispered, frantically pawing at the buttons on Draco's sleek black pants. It had been over three months of sneaking around. This time she had told Ron she was going to visit her parents and would be gone for the night. He had asked her if she wanted him to come, but she quickly explained how much her parents missed her and were hoping for some one-on-one time. He only smiled and hugged her, telling her he would miss her. She said she would miss him as well.

It scared her how easy it was to lie to him.

They were in the Leaky Cauldron. Draco had rented a room for the night just for the occasion. The bulge in his pants served as the warm welcome, their mouths too busy tasting every inch of one another to exchange greetings. The sheer want, need, and pleasure drove away the nagging voice in the back of her mind, telling her how wrong this was. Especially now…

That wasn't important though. For the time being, all that mattered was Draco's lips on her hardened nipple, and that his tongue never cease the flicking motion that was driving her quickly over the edge.

His mouth was soon replaced with his fingers, her breasts replaced with her waiting core, and his fingers replaced with his throbbing length.

"I fucking need you so bad. I've thought of nothing but being inside of you for the past week. I was so close to just marching into the Ministry, tearing your clothes off, and screwing you on your desk..." He groaned as he slowly drove into her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and she dug her heels into his arse to guide him in deeper. He grinned to himself and nipped her ear.

"You- oh Merlin- you should have. I didn't get any work done- oh, fuck yes... right there- anyhow."

Their screams of ecstasy filled the air as they cried out their release minutes later. This time it was Draco who collapsed. When his rabid heartbeat returned to a more normal pace, and his breathing evened out, he rolled over to lie beside her.

That night they made love three more times before the sun rose and they went their separate ways.

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But you're chasing the ghost of a good thing. Haunting yourself as the real thing is getting away from you again, while you're chasing ghosts.

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Only four days passed before they met again. Hermione's conscience was eating away at her. Ron had made her dinner, and she had rushed off, claiming she had left her planner in her office. Instead she had met up with Malfoy in a muggle bar, then fled with him to a muggle hotel. They were halfway undressed before they even got off the elevator. Two rounds of hot, steamy shower sex later and they were wet and sated, sprawled out on the flowered duvet cover of the luxurious, king-sized bed.

"Fuck… Hermione I lo-"

"Don't," she instantly cut him off, her voice cold and serious despite just having had one of the most intense orgasms of her life. "You can't."

"Why?" he challenged, not even bothering to hide the hurt from his question. "It doesn't matter anymore. The war is over now. My mother, well, she says she just wants me to be happy. There aren't enough purebloods left to care about blood status. We can be together… Really be together."

"No…" she choked out. "Ron asked me to marry him, and I said yes. I-I love him."

There was silence- cold, harsh silence that tore at Hermione's chest and threatened to break her in half. She didn't know why she was telling him this. Trying to convince him in hopes of convincing herself that Ron and her seemingly perfect life was what she wanted.

It had been so good before. With all the simple pleasures of couple-hood; the snuggling, the casual conversation, and the sex without pressure to perform. They just were. They were completely comfortable with one another. Whereas she and Malfoy had a history of hate, it was the opposite with her and Ron.

Besides that, there was no drama involved when together with Ron. No one telling her it was wrong, and everyone telling her how right it was. Everyone viewed them as the perfect couple. They were almost as notorious as Harry and Ginny, only Ron didn't have the crazy stalkers that Harry did.

That was another thing. With Ron she could attend double dates with her other two best friends. She couldn't imagine Harry or Ginny warming up to Draco Malfoy. It was much more likely that Harry would curse Draco into oblivion, then ignore Hermione for what she had done. Harry would view what she had with Draco as the deepest kind of betrayal.

"You don't mean that," Draco whispered, cutting through her thoughts. His voice was trembling. The Draco she knew was cold and distant, and his emotions were harder to read than the Quibbler. This Draco seemed more sure of himself and what he wanted, but also afraid.

He was afraid- afraid of losing her all over again.

"I do. We can't see each other anymore. The wedding is in three weeks. His mom planned the whole thing… I'm even wearing her white dress robes." She was determinedly not looking at him now. Her voice threatened to crack at any minute and reveal the true emotions she couldn't let him see.

"Fuck you," he snarled, grabbing her hand and placing it on his bare chest. "You feel that!? That's what happens when I'm with you." He roughly jerked her hand from himself and pushed it against her breastbone. "Now you fucking feel that!? They're the same... our heartbeats are the same... So don't fucking tell me you love him. Don't fucking tell me you don't feel this. It was there in sixth year and it's here now. It never left. The only difference is that now we are adults, and we don't need our friends to make the decisions for us. You want it to work with the Weasel because it's easy, because it's what you're accustomed to, but don't fucking tell me it's love."

Tears streaming freely down her face, Hermione dressed, gathered her things, and left.

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Just bend the pieces till they fit. Like they were made for it. But they weren't meant for this. No, they weren't meant for this.

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Hermione stared unblinkingly at her reflection. Her hands trailed down her stomach, fingering the delicate white lace there. Her hair was pinned up, with only a few loose tendrils hanging down in soft ringlets. She looked the part of the perfect bride- the perfect bride about to marry the perfect groom.

She was going to be sick.

She rushed to the powder room and emptied the contents of her stomach into the porcelain bowl. Her heaving alerted Ginny, who rushed to her side.

"Hermione, are you ok?" she asked, sounding sincerely concerned.

The youngest Weasley's alarm was met with more vomiting.

"No!" Hermione wailed, mascara running down her cheeks. "I can't do this. I don't love him."

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Chasing the ghost of a good thing. Haunting yourself as the real thing is getting away, 'way, 'way, 'way from you again…

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Draco wouldn't answer her owls and had wards placed around his fireplace, making it impossible for her to floo. She had spent a month alone in her little flat over Flourish and Blotts. The temptation to owl Ron and apologize getting stronger by the day…

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Chasing the ghost of a good thing. Haunting yourself as the real thing is getting away from you again, while you're chasing ghosts…

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She spent an entire day composing her letter to Ron. Her workload was pushed to the side as she painstaking inscribed every letter on the parchment. It had to be perfect- the perfect letter of apology to win back her perfect life with her perfect fiancé. She didn't want to be alone anymore.

But when she got home she was not alone. Her very un-perfect dirty little secret stood in her doorframe.

The neatly folded parchment fell to the floor as she embraced him. With her ear pressed against his chest she could feel his rabid heartbeat, and it matched her own. Perfectly.

Suddenly, the perfect life didn't seem so perfect after all…

"I love you Draco," she whispered hoarsely.

It wasn't a lie.

"Fucking Hell, I thought I'd never hear those words from you… Are you sure this time? We can't just do this in secret anymore. It's all or nothing."

She raised her head and nodded up at him.

"I'm done with chasing ghosts…"