A/N Just a short story that pushed itself onto me when I least expected it.

Let me know, what you think!

Enjoy

He was walking along the dimly lit corridor leading to the library without really knowing where he was going. Tonight they would be coming. Tonight was his last chance to fulfil his orders. Voldemort's orders. Tonight his life would be ending, one way or another.

She was his only salvation. If she would be willing, he might have a chance to survive. If she rejected him, he would die.

He carefully opened the heavy door leading into the hushed space where the rustling pages of old tomes and new parchment reigned. It was not long till curfew. All other student were long gone. She would be still here. He knew. She was always here.

His only chance was somewhere amongst these rows of infinite knowledge. He wanted to feel love. Just this once. And she was the only chance for him to ever feel loved.

He quietly stalked through the rows of shelves, searching. He had nearly reached the back of the library, the area where several tables and comfy chairs were assembled in an orderly chaos. His gaze fell onto the curls framing her face. She was bend over a book, trying to read some fading text. She hadn't heard him.

He slowly approached her chair. He stood directly behind her. She was still oblivious to his presence. She leant back, rubbing her eyes. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up. She shrieked. He turned her to face him. A face expressing surprise, shock and something bordering on repulsion was looking at him.

"Draco Malfoy!" She hissed.

He pulled her away from the table moving her backwards. She felt her back hitting a wall.

"What are you doing?" She spat.

He looked at her. She froze. His body moved against hers. She was pinned against the stone in her back by his slender but strong frame. He didn't say anything, he just looked at her. The grey of his eyes was dark, brooding and speaking of danger. She licked her suddenly dry lips.

"Please." He whispered. "Hermione."

She couldn't think. Everything seemed to have turned into this surreal scenario where malice incarnate in the form of Draco Malfoy was asking her to... To do what? She wasn't sure. She didn't know, if she really wanted to find out in any case.

"Please."

His face was barely more than a couple of inches away from hers. She blinked. One of his arms had encircled her waist, the other was finding its way to cup her face. There was this urge surging through her to embrace him. Not just hug, no really embrace him. To welcome him. Slowly her own hands found his shoulders to hold onto.

She saw him lean closer, his eyes shyly fluttering shut. His lips brushed over hers. She found his surprisingly warm and soft. He was gentle, very gentle. While closing her eyes with a soft moan she found herself wondering, if he was kissing all his girls this way, but discarded that thought as soon as it appeared. Feeling him moving over her mouth she knew that this was special. For both of them. He tenderly bit her lip. She sighed. His tongue followed the contours of her now slightly opened mouth before slowly deepening their kiss. Hermione felt her head spinning. How could it be that she became light headed just by being kissed?

His warm body was pressed against hers and for a moment she had the vision of them doing a lot more than just kissing. She felt herself blush when thinking about him wrapping his body around hers in heated passion. She moaned.

Moments later his lips were gone as unexpectedly as they had arrived. She felt him slowly pull back. She opened her eyes half expecting to see him smirk, sneer or scowl in triumph, but what she actually saw was a face softened by true feelings of contentment and acceptance. His eyes were still half closed and when he looked down at her, her knees turned into jelly. He leant his face close again, his cheek touching hers, his lips caressing her ear for the shortest of moments.

"Thank you." He whispered.

He let go of her and stepped back, still facing her. As he reached the table he turned and vanished behind the shelves as quiet as he had arrived.