Author's Note: The Harry Potter Universe belongs to J. K. Rowling, who is not me. Enjoy!

It was quite silly, really.

With Harry's defeat of the Dark Lord, many lives had been lost, but the seventh years wanted- no, needed- a break from mourning to celebrate the eradication of the shadow that had hung over the wizarding world for years.

Thus, most of the 17 and 18-year-olds who had fought met in the Room of Requirement, Firewhiskey in hand, to have a good time. House and blood status were discarded as old friends and enemies rejoiced. Hermione even noticed one Draco Malfoy slinking around.

No one really knew who made the suggestion, but before they knew it, a game of Spin the Bottle had arisen, and everyone wanted to participate; that is, everyone except for one shadow who had slipped into the hallway, almost out of the room. Hermione skipped up to him.

"Malfoy? Where are you going?" inquired Hermione, with a giggle. "Don't you want to play?" Draco, still facing the door, didn't bother turning around.

"No."

Hermione grinned. "Well, why not? Everyone else is!" Draco whipped his head around, eyes boring into Hermione's.

"Because if I did, I might have to kiss you." Hermione's mouth dropped open in shock, cheeks reddening in embarrassment.

"Are you still so ingrained in your ways that you wouldn't belittle yourself by kissing a Mudblood, Malfoy? I can't believe you! You haven't changed a bit!" She raised her hand as if to slap him, but in a few sudden strides Draco stood before her, gazing into her eyes with an emotion she couldn't quite identify.

"No," he breathed. "If I were to kiss you, Granger, it'd have to be perfect; soft and sweet yet fiery, to demonstrate how you drive me insane. I wouldn't want to waste our first kiss on a foolish child's game. You can't make me." As he explained, their faces drew closer, Draco staring at Hermione's lips in almost undisguised desire.

"I take it back. You have changed, Malfoy," Hermione whispered. Draco laughed darkly.

"Oh, no, that isn't the change. That has been fact for quite a while, Granger." With that, Hermione closed her eyes, only to feel Malfoy sweep away from her.

"But I can't kiss you, either. You couldn't understand, not even with all of your intelligence and cleverness. I'm a Malfoy, pure-blooded, snooty, pale-haired, Slytherin Death Eater. I can't allow myself." He glanced at her, frowning bitterly. "Furthermore, I will not stand to watch other boys kiss you when I myself can't, as that inexorably leads to my own desire to hex their faces off. I can't let myself have the pleasure." Hermione cautiously sidled up to him.

"Then this is an impasse, isn't it?" Draco sighed, the scowl sliding off of his face. Now he simply appeared weary, still years older than he should.

"No, Hermione, the solution is for me to leave. I'll go marry some pure-blooded girl that I'm distantly related to, who has been raised her whole life to be the perfect wife for me, and try to redeem my family name; you go and marry Weasley. We're each pawns, our places predetermined. Forget me. Forget this ever happened. Live your life like you never met this poor soul." A small smile flitted across his face, then he was gone.

"Draco!" Hermione called, her eyes threatening to release the cascade of tears down her face. He peeked his head back through the doorway, a quizzical look creasing his brow. She gulped. "You called me Hermione." A wistful half-smile graced his face.

"So I did." With that, the door slammed shut, and Draco Malfoy was out of Hermione Granger's life.

Ron came bouncing in the room, supporting a giggling Harry on his shoulder. The redhead beamed at her. "Hermione! You going to come play? We're waiting for you!" He chuckled.

Hermione was still staring at the closed wooden door. "I don't want to play anymore."