Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or the song Let me be your Hero by Enrique Iglesias.

Notes: A Draco/Hermione story. Lyrics are in bold. Thoughts and emphasized words are italicized--I think you can tell the difference being the smart people that you are.

Rated: PG-13, just to be safe.

Author: Pensive Puddles

Dedication: Bozena, who's always been there since my first chapter in my first story, reviewing for my stories and pitiful poems, for encouraging me to write more. This is for you, Bozy!

Behind the Masks

Part I. Is it worth it?

By Pensive Puddles

Let me be your hero

That was all he wanted. He wanted to shine in her eyes, reflect in them when they gleamed in pleasure and joy. He wanted to make her as happy and carefree like what Potter and Weasley did to her. He wanted to hold her at night, calm away her fears whenever she dreamt of the dying faces. He knew she dreamed of them. He could always hear her moans and yells while she slept in her Head Room. They would leak into his room, keeping him awake. Her pain was his pain. Since when did that happen? he thought in sad disgust.

Would you dance if I asked you to dance?

He bowed low, his cloak falling over his shoulder elegantly. His blond hair covering his face. In his most courtly, charming voice, he asked, "Can I ask you to a dance, Miss Granger?"

A slight pause in surprise. Then her face broke into a smile. She held out her hand, "I'd be honored, Mr. Malfoy."

Draco sighed, leaning back into his chair. He'd give anything for her to say yes to him, to smile at him. But they were so different. Yet, why should that stop them? Why should that stop him from asking her? The worst that could happen was that she would laugh, Potter and Weasel would beat him, his father would send him a Howler, he'd be humiliated in front of the whole school, he'd be shunned from his House…

He let out another frustrated sigh. That was his life. Draco Malfoy predicting the consequences of his actions. He'd grown up with that strategy, he'd probably die with that strategy.

He watched her as she twirled around on the dance floor. She looked gorgeous in her green dress with black trimming. It should have been silver trimming. Then she could be his Slytherin Queen. She would look so lovely on his arm. No, she was already lovely, even without her being next to him. She didn't need him.

It hurt to think about it. She never needed him for anything. She had everyone else to help her. He figured he was the last one on her list to ask for help, if on the list at all.

No, he could only admire her from afar, admiring her wavy brown hair sweep across her open back dress. The dress clutching onto her curves for support, the straps wrapped around her neck in dire need. Her brown eyes glowing in excitement. Her red lips moving whenever her melodious voice rang in soft words. And he could only watch.

Ask her to dance? How could the devil ask an angel to dance with him?

Would you run and never look back?

They could escape. They could run, run from the Wizard World, and just explore the Muggle World together. He never knew the muggle world exactly. They'd discover it together. Anywhere she'd want to go, he'd take her. He'd carry her if he had to.

"Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape barked suddenly," What is the ingredient used in the potion Helorose?"

"Trick question," Draco responded absentmindedly. He continued to gaze in a jaded manner, secretly trying to control his quick beating heart. "Helorose is a powder, not a potion. However, it is made when the moonlight touches the blood of an innocent girl, turning it into its powdery state. It's illegal now."

"And why is that?" Professor Snape demanded. He ignored the waving hand in the corner of the room, although his eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Draco chuckled inside. Only Hermione Granger could be the biggest teacher's pet and annoyance.

"Because wizards started to kill girls by the hundreds. The wizards occasionally kidnapped them, or they took orphan girls and drained their blood. If all the blood of the girl is spilled, it can produce about a pound of fine Helorose powder. It's only used in the Dark Arts," he said in a drawl.

"Of course it'd have to be involved with the Dark Arts somehow for you to know it, considering you're practically the son of You-Know-Who," someone snickered. It was said low, quiet, yet loud enough for Draco to hear. And it was only meant for his ears.

Unfortunately for that person, nothing seems to escape the ears of a teacher. "Mr. Weasley, I suggest that you keep your rude opinions to yourself. Detention, my office, tonight for the rest of the week, including the weekends. And 35 points from Gryffindor."

A small amount of groans where heard and Weasley's face turned a dark red, both in anger and embarrassment.

"As for your descriptive answer, Mr. Malfoy," Snape continued as if the incident with the Weasel had never happened. "45 points to Slytherin, a most satisfactory answer. Another five from Gryffindor! I suggest, Mr. Potter, that you stop rolling your eyes behind a teachers back."

Draco and his fellow Slytherins grinned nastily at the Gryffindors who returned it with icy glares. Even after seven years together, they could not stop hating each other. Draco snickered hollowly with his fellow classmates. He glanced at Hermione. His eyes almost seemed to travel there on their own. She was looking straight at him with a nasty little glare. He smirked, revealing a small sliver of his perfect white teeth and he winked at her. She scowled at him, glaring even fiercer as her face turned red (from rage or discomfort, he didn't know) and she turned her head away, with her nose in the air.

Would you run away with me? He asked her in his mind, reluctantly turning his head forward to listen to Snape. He answered his own question, When hell freezes over.

Would you cry if you saw me crying?

Innocent question, anyone would ask that, would wonder. How fragile was a person? He knew she seemed fragile, yet she was unbreakable. How the two mixed together so perfect, he'd never know.

She wasn't even gorgeous, slightly pretty at most. Yet she was beautiful, in an intriguing sort of way. He didn't understand it, yet in some unexplainable way, it made sense.

He walked down the hall, hands buried deep in his pockets, his mind twisting around the thoughts of Hermione. He sighed. He really needed help.

A quiet sniffle reached his ears. He stopped, his heavy footsteps silenced abruptly in the halls. Still the whimpering continued.

Trusting his ears, he rounded a corner and peered into the dimness. Straining his eyes, he saw a hunched figure in the corner. Curiosity made his feet move towards the person. Who would cry in the hall? He wasn't in a talkative, snappish mood that day, and so he reached out and touched the sobbing person's shoulder, alerting the figure of his entrance.

She jumped, startled and looked up at him with deep, wet brown eyes. He had never seen those brown eyes look so beautiful.

Silence made the air thick, yet they did not thin it. They just stared at each other, brown eyes admiring blue and blue admiring brown. No hatred shinning in them, just sadness that was slowly departing, living a swirl of confusion and peace. It was a moment he had longed to happen, with no interruptions.

Her tears finally came to an end, drying slowly on her face. She grabbed her bags and stood up, breaking the eye contact between. Yet as she stood to her feet, she did not pass him. She stood in front of him, head bowed and looking at her brown shoes.

His hand longed to touch her skin, to test the softness. The emotion lifted his fingers to her face, wiping the crystal like tears away from her face. She glanced at him, startled and bewildered at his gentleness. He was just as flabbergasted.

"Dra--Malfoy, I have to go," she said quickly, stumbling past him and jogging down the halls, never once looking back.

He stood there moments later, eyes staring at the spot where she had retreated from him. A smile touched his lips. She may not cry for him, but she had almost called him by his first name, and that was a start.

Would you save my soul tonight?

He laid in bed that night, his chest heaving and shaking with unsteady breaths. Tears streaked down his face. His shirt was soaked with cold sweat. His hair stuck to his forehead in damp locks.

He closed his eyes, quickly opening them as he remembered why he woke up in the first place. Dead faces, pained faces…the green light still fading as their bodies fell to the floor in lifeless heaps.

A small sob racked his body and he covered his mouth, silencing it. His eyes darted around his rooms. Paranoid, perhaps, but his spies were everywhere. He was never safe.

Kicking back his covers, he staggered to the bathroom, he legs threatening to collapse under him. He walked to the bathroom, slamming the door behind him. He cursed and winced at the loudness. He stood still for a moment, and then stumbled to the sink. Turning the cold faucet on, he ducked his head down, gulping the ice cold water as it streamed down.

He let the water fall down his throat, piercing his insides with its iciness and plummeting painfully into his empty stomach. He hadn't eaten since breakfast.

He splashed water in his face, shuddering at the coldness. Sighing, he turned off the water and stood up, looking in the mirror to see himself.

He yelped at seeing another person next to his reflection.

Spinning around, he looked at the small girl. His face flushed at screaming in terror and his eyes glared at her, demanding to know why she was there.

"Just wanted to tell you not to slam the door on your way out," she said.

He scowled but did not say anything. He was relieved inside. She could not tell his was petrified of falling asleep. Ever since the end of the summer before his last year at Hogwarts, Draco hadn't had a good night sleep. Something had to haunt him.

He turned to leave, escaping to the darkness of his room when a hand touched his cold arm. It burned. He looked up at her, wondering why she would touch him. She usually wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole, at least after she had hexed him. Yet here she was, touching his arm freely and without disgust.

"You look horrible," she remarked. He smirked. I look like shit, he corrected her silently to himself. He didn't deny it.

He shrugged.

She looked at him, eyebrows raised. "Malfoy? Not defending his looks? Are you sick? Do you have a fever?"

She placed a hand against his head, as if checking for a temperature. Her smile disappeared as quickly as it came when her hand touched his skin. Her hand was ice against the sweat covered forehead.

"Malfoy! You're burning!" she remarked. Instantly, she observed him, checking him for other signs of illness.

"Granger, I'm fine!" Draco snapped when she checked for his pulse. She looked at him, still looking concern. She didn't seem to hear him for she said, "We have to go to the hospital wing."

She dragged him towards the door. He stood his ground and watched in amusement, as she seemed to walk in place, thinking she was pulling him.

"Granger! I said I was fine," he said again, growing irritated as she kept walking in place while rambling on what to do with him. She turned to look at him.

"Then why are you burning? Why is your shirt soaked in sweat? Cold sweat, I might add," she observed.

"Nightmare," he said smoothly, getting out of her grip and walked to his room. He glanced back as he closed the door to see a stoic girl standing in the middle of the bathroom in her pajamas.

Right when the door closed, he distinctly heard her soft voice whisper, "At least now I know I'm not the only one having nightmares."

Somehow, that comforted him. He went to bed, his eyes gazing at his enchanted ceiling to look like the night sky. The stars made his eyes grow heavy and he closed them. No dead faces screamed. No blood splattering over walls. It was just pure, blackness. Tranquillity hovered over him as he thought of the girl of his affections, remembering how her touch sent such odd sensations through him.

He had never had a better night's sleep.

Would you tremble if I touched your lips?

They avoided each other. Actually, she avoided him. He still kept a watchful, admiring eye on her. He caught her in the hall as they were walking down to Potions class.

Surprisingly, she wasn't with her two bodyguards. Then again, neither was he. They were late for class and they jogged down the hall, hoping that they'd make it in time. Of course, luck was not with them and Hermione's bag burst at the seams, thanks to her multitude of books and papers.

"Damn it!" she hissed. It was her language that made him pause. He had never heard her swear. And he liked it.

He bent down, picking pieces of paper, books and quills off the floor, helping her. Helping her, now he really wondered if he was sick. She seemed to be thinking the same question for she gazed at him with cynical eyes.

He looked away and stood up, extending a hand to help her to her feet. She grabbed it after a moment, a jolt shot through him and pierced his heart in a painful, pleasurable feeling.

He yanked hard, not contemplating her small figure and underestimating his strength. She fell forward and he caught her in his arms. How perfect she fit into them! Every other girl felt entirely different, odd. Yet it worked with them. It seemed like there bodies were meant to be together, made to fix each other so perfectly.

She looked up at him, her face flushed. His face burned as well as he noticed how close they were. He titled his head down, an impulse, and he noticed how soft her lips looked in the dim light. He wondered what it'd feel like to touch them, how she would react. He leaned down slightly, and he could have sworn she was titling her head up in response.

Yet that moment never came. Draco couldn't remember how they had parted, only remembering it felt unnatural to be by himself again without her next to him.

She was already rushing down the hall, brown hair flying behind her shoulders and broken bag clutched in her hands with her books.

His licked his lips. Next time, he'd taste those lips…he swore he would.

Would you laugh?

Oh, please tell me this

The shadows covered him, hiding him from the eyes of others. He enjoyed the darkness, especially since it closely resembled him.

Loud yet pleasant laughing echoed clearly in his ears. He glared at him. Why was it that Scarhead and Weasel, the most annoying brats in the whole friggen school could make the girl of his dreams laugh? He could make her laugh. He knew he could.

Draco observed under his shady tree as the poor Weasel jumped up and down, his mouth gapping open and his lanky arms flinging about. He snorted. He had to give the red headed freak credit for looking so stupid.

In the mix of the Boy-Who-Is-Incapable-Of-Dying grating laughter, he could hear the tinkling mirth of her laughter. It was the sweetest sound he heard. Some girls had an annoying laugh. Some laughed through their nose, making snorting sounds. Some paused in-between their laughter to take a sharp intake of breath, resembling a squeaking door that Flinch had forgotten to grease. Others had the obnoxious fluttery laugh that was far from being natural. But her laughter…it was the most beautiful thing he had ever heard.

Would you laugh for me? He asked silently as his eyes grew heavy. Laugh for me, Hermione.

Her butterfly like laughter whispered in his ears, cooing him to sleep. And sleep he did.

Now would you die for the one you love?

Hold me in your arms tonight

He opened his eyes slowly, a loud sound jerking him out of his sleep. He cursed the beard of Merlin as he lost the image of her. He couldn't even remember what he had dreamt, only knowing that it was a good one. Where was he anyway? He looked around, trying to remember. Soft grass felt like velvet under his palms, he looked up at a sky full of leaves. He was still under the tree. But why hadn't anyone gotten him? It was evening; dinner was probably in five minuets at most.

A piercing cry broke the air. It was filled with anguish. He knew that scream, he had heard it once or twice before. Her scream.

Jumping to his feet, his heart beating like thunder in his chest, he sprinted towards the entrance of the school.

It was as if he was running in slow motion, like he was running in a dream. Each motion seemed to take an age. Yet somehow, he reached the doors he had felt he had been running to for an eternity.

Flinging them open, his eyes beheld the sight of burning tapestries and portraits. A limp child lay here and there, some bleeding, some crying while holding onto some broken part of his or her body. Draco stood dumbly in the middle of the doorway, his shaky breaths loud in his ears. He could distantly hear the sound of battle, of screams. He could smell death and pain in the air.

A little girl tugged at his shirt. He looked down. She was a first year; he could vaguely remember her walking up the long aisle just like he had walked up years before, waiting anxiously for the hat to call out the house he would enter.

"Help…" she whimpered. He looked dumbly at her, as if she had grown another head.

"Please…my…my arm and head…" she said tiredly, reaching behind her head. When she removed her hand to touch her arm again, it seemed her hand was painted red.

A blast sounded down the hall. An impulse overcame him and he grabbed the girl, flinging her to the ground and covering her already bloody head with his body. When the explosion ended, he scooped the girl in his arms and ran down the hall. He didn't know where he was going. He was just running.

His feet pounded down the hall to the Infirmary and he burst threw the doors. Hundreds of other kids lay on beds, bleeding and bruised, crying. The old nurse ran about hysterically, trying to heal them as quick as she could. She did not cry like Draco knew she must have felt like doing. She must feel so hopeless…Draco thought, setting down the girl on the nearest cot and dashing out of the room, hoping to escape the despair.

He ran, screams still echoing. He passed the body of a Death Eater that lay stunned under a suit of armor that had landed on top of him. So that was the reason. He should have known. Voldermort had excused him from the last meeting considering he had disappeared from school too much already. It would have been extremely obvious. They must have planned to hit Hogwarts at that one meeting he hadn't attended to.

Children bumped into him as he ran the opposite direction. Some sat curled in corners, trying to hide, crying. He didn't blame them. He had wanted to do that once. But he had learned to cope with it, as they would when they got a little older.

Loud chants streamed down the corridor and a bright light filled the hall. Draco was hit from behind and he flew forward. His head connected with the wall and the world was captured by darkness.

"…here…others…care…" broken words sounded loud in his ears.

"He may…dead…"

"Dumbledore told me to…" Two voices argued, one an aggressive male, the other a soft female. His ears came back to life. The male stomped away, his feet sounded like drums that were being played a foot away from his head. Draco winced, the movement causing him more pain.

He groaned in agony. Damn, this hurts…he thought.

So the thought of him being dead was out. "Draco? Draco? Open your eyes if you can hear me…do something!" the girl's voice pleaded.

Draco…it sounded so nice when she said it. He had always heard it with scorn, with anger, with command…not with such concern. He opened his eyes.

Black.

Panic filled him, his heart almost bursting. "I…I can't see!" he stammered, overcome in fear. I'm blind!

He blinked once. He blinked twice. He closed his eyes and opened them after a brief moment. The blackness slowly turned to small dots. And through the dim haze, he saw the person who had been ordered to stay with him.

Her face was close to his, brown locks of hair brushed again his face lightly. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

He stared for a second, trying to remember how to count. "Two…I think…or maybe four…"

Hermione giggled tiredly. "Close enough."

Her hand went around him again. She's holding me…he thought. He turned to look at her, trying to see her face. It looked so assured. However her eyes were worn with worry, with concern and stress. For an instant, he believed it was for him, that she truly cared for him. Then he saw her eyes flicker left and right, looking down the halls in anticipation. A scornful voice in his head reminded him he was too evil for good to befall him. Everyone was blessed by her concern except him. He'd be blessed by a good hex.

He looked her over. Dry blood was caked to her lip, dirt covered her face, and a bruise was forming under her left eye. "You look like shit," he said.

Hermione stared at him, eyes wide in surprise and then she laughed. A laugh that caused her body to shake. A laugh that brought tears to her eyes that coursed down her face. The pride in realizing her had made her laugh by what he had said made him forgotten his pain for an instant.

"Feel like it too," she said. She smiled, too tired to remember that in her arms was her enemy, the man she'd probably end up killing.

Draco sighed, biting his lip and clenching his head as his head throbbed in pain. He groaned.

"Rest…You'll be taken to the Infirmary soon," she said. He nodded tiredly, instantly regretting as pain shot through his head.

"Thank you…Her-Hermione…"

There was an intake of breath and a brief silence. Then in the silence, "You're welcome, Draco."

I can be your hero baby

I can kiss away the pain

I will stand by you forever

You can take my breath away

He walked down to his room. His footsteps were heavy. He wasn't entirely well, but there was no way he wanted to spend another day in that hell they called an Infirmary. The nagging of the nurse, constantly telling him to take his medicine, sleep, rest, don't talk, stop glaring at the younger children, he was frightening them…the nagging went on and on.

It probably would have been more enjoyable if the younger years would have quit crying and the ones his age from other houses ceased bickering at him, saying they knew who he was…

He knew they were bluffing, trying to show some sort of sign that they were right. Yet he just pretended he was asleep or just rolled his eyes at them, making them even more angry. How close they were to their accusations, they would never know.

A giggle caught his ears. Even in his dizzy state, nothing was better then to find something that was not meant to be found.

Flattening himself close to the wall, he peeked around the corner finding two people in the corner, completely smashed together and lips glued together. He frowned in disgust.

The girl's black hair fell away from her face, revealing almond shaped eyes that were closed, tanned skin, big red lips that once had lipstick painted over them, was now smeared all around her mouth. She pulled the boy closer to her and whispered things in his ear.

The boy with crazy black hair grunted and returned to her mouth, leaving red marks over her tan neck. Potter and Cho. Draco turned and walked quickly to his room. He felt like vomiting at the site at finding his enemy snogging a girl, especially since he knew for a fact that she was a horrible snogger and that he didn't look like a good one either.

He shuddered at his thoughts and slapped his head, instantly regretting it when pain shot through him. Still dizzy, he stumbled to the painting, mumbling the password quickly and fell inside. He landed on the floor, groaning.

He clutched his head and opened his eyes, trying to get the room back in place. He heard sniffling. Merlin help me! he screamed in pure frustration. Can I ever escape the bloody crying?!

Sitting up, he looked where the sound was coming from. The bathroom door was cracked open and he stumbled to it. He opened it, and gazed in boredom at the sobbing girl on the floor.

"Granger…would you get a grip already?"

The brown head shot up, eyes glaring coldly, although the tears falling from them did not enhance fear in him. He raised an eyebrow, as if asking," That's the best you can do?"

She lowered her head, burying her face back into the folds of her arms. He sighed and sat down next to her. He could tell she was angry at him for being so near her. He blocked out the curses that she yelled at him. If venting her anger was going to make her feel better, then let her vent it. It's not as if he took personal offense of it.

He himself was angry, fuming silently that the girl he loved was in love with the great Harry Potter and not him. What the hell did Harry Bloody Potter have that he didn't have? Did he have to go around with a big head, expecting people to bend down on their knees for him? What the heck did he have to do?

Her yelling died away and he looked at her. She was calmer after yelling at him. Her tears still fell hot and fast, and she was shaking from her sobs.

"He's not worth it, you know," he said casually, trying to swallow his heart that was thumping painfully in his throat.

She glanced at him.

"Why'd he choose Cho over you is preposterous. If he can't see that, then he's not worth your time. You're too good for him, honestly." Draco looked at her, hoping she'd be able to see he was telling the truth.

She just looked at him, quizzical eyes shinning behind the tears. "Really?"

He had just realized how close their faces were. All he had to do was lean in just a tiny bit, and she would tilt her head up…the thought intrigued him. Her red lips were calling to him.

"Yeah," he answered after a pause and leaned in. She automatically tilted her head up just like he had hoped she would and he finally tasted the softness of her lips.

They pulled apart and she looked at him in shock, and then she smiled. She leaned in again, unsure if he would let her. He smirked and showed her how much he wanted her to kiss him again. Pulling her head closer, he pressed hard against her lips.

One kiss led to two, two led to four, and four led to a ton more. As they sat back, fingers laced together, her head resting against his shoulder, he caressed her hand, feeling free to test the softness.

He sighed. He could spend the rest of his life with her. It was absurd to think that when they had just shared their first kiss. However, in the Pureblood way, marriage was set at birth, and as he recalled, no Malfoy in a very long time had thought of spending their life with another women besides the one they were forced to marry.

The thought of having to marry someone like Pansy Parkinson disgusted him, and he drew her close. She asked what was wrong. He smiled down at her, touched that she would show genuine concern for him and told her it was nothing. She curled into him. He smiled happily.

Would you swear that you'll always be mine?

He saw her walking down the hall. Warmth filled his gut when he saw her gaze flicker continuously to him.

He watched her go to her table, taking her regular seat between her two friends. He walked to his table and sat so that he was looking directly at her. He watched her eyes fall to her plate, trying to look everywhere but him. And when she did, she'd look at him for a long time.

He'd stare back, looking at her love and affection. He eyes darted to the door and then back at her. She followed his gaze and then nodded slightly. She stayed at the table for a minuet, aggravating Draco. Then after finishing her laughter with Harry and Ron, her eyes widened and she whispered something to her friends who just shrugged as they watched Hermione walk quickly out of the Great Hall.

It wasn't unusual for Hermione to leave them to perfect her already perfect essays. It was unusual however for Hermione to leave them to kiss their worst enemy. But that was something they'd never know.

Draco played with his food a moment or two longer, then yawning, he lazily got off the table, muttering he needed to caught some sleep, joking with the boys that he had had a wild night earlier. They just chuckled stupidly and let their superior leave them.

Draco walked casually out of the Great Hall, frustrated that the door seemed to take two steps back when he stepped forward. It took all his strength to keep himself from sprinting to the door. Finally, reaching it, he opened it and quickly exited out of the room. Glancing left and right, he then started to sprint down the halls, his feet barely making a sound as he ran. His father had taught him at an early age on how to run without giving away your position, a need-to-know technique for the upcoming war.

He slowed down, breathing heavily and he looked around. This was their spot, the spot they decided they'd always meet up at. The adrenaline of wanting to kiss her and touch her was slowly fading until a hand grabbed him from behind, pulling him back.

He didn't even have time to make a sound before warm lips crashed on his. He swiftly regained his composer and took action, making her melt instead of him.

He heard her moan softly, running her small fingers through his hair. He smiled against the kiss. He had wanted this for so long, it was incomprehensible to believe it was actually happening.

Yet there was a flaw to his dream. They had promised each other that their relationship would only be physical, neither would ask deep, personal questions. Neither would expect great things from the other. In their case, if he wanted to kiss her senseless, she would let him, if she wanted to bit his neck during break, he would let her.

The small, dark corner they had made for themselves grew hot and stuffy. They panted as they continue to kiss, trying to satisfy their desires that seemed to grow instead of dying.

She crashed against him, letting him do whatever he wanted with her. He held her, holding her, touching her and kissing her. Their heavy breathes deepened, falling into the same rhythm. He pulled back and he pressed his forehead against hers. She closed her eyes, breathing heavily onto his face like he was doing against hers.

"Don't leave me, Hermione. Don't leave me," he whispered before he could stop himself. It was a silent question he constantly had begged to her, but only in his mind. It had never left his lips. He felt her tense under his touch and he knew he shouldn't have said it.

"Draco…" she began, seeming uncertain on what to say.

"Sh," he hushed. "Never mind. It's not important. Just forget it."

And before she could protest, say anything to make him feel better after his stupid blunder, he swallowed her with another kiss. She relaxed into him once again, letting herself be consumed by Draco Malfoy.

A/N: So…what you think? Hate it? Love it? And yes, I know that was an incredible long chapter…and no, that is not the end considering that is only half the song. The whole piece put together was around 40 pages, and I really didn't think you guys would sit in front of the computer for hours reading my fic, although it would have been touching if you did…

This is my first song fic! Yeah…congratulations to me…sigh Writing this thing would only be pleasing if you guys REVIEWED for my story. Really, just click on the blue button, and write me something! Please!

And for those beautiful people who do, if you'd like to leave your email address, I'd be pleased to email you to tell you when the second and supposedly last chapter will be up.

One word that means everything to me: Review