Simple? Never

How could she do it? How could she sit there, seeing him every day and not act on it? He himself probably knew, and her friends definitely knew that something was wrong with her. But could she do it?

Hermione sat back in the uncomfortable library chair and let out a deep breath. In front of her was not a school book, it wasn't even a novel. It was her diary. In it lay every thought that she had ever had since she started writing; everything, from problems with Harry and Ron to feelings that she was losing her parents in another world.

On the particular page in front of her was a list, two of them, in fact. One of them comprised of all the good things that would come from doing it – the sense of relief, the loss of that secret, the resolution of conflicting emotions. The other, however…the other… she sighed, frowning at the paper. The second list held more points, more reasons not to tell him how she felt.

It was this list that held her back.

She had known when it had first started that he wanted to keep it "simple," as he had put it. The party had gone on without her as they had hidden in a small room outside of Gryffindor Tower. They had kissed and she had known that nothing could come of it. Her brain had battled with her hormones, the latter urging her on.

Three times she had to stop his hands from wandering too far, before – for the only time that evening – her hormones won and she enjoyed the sensations first his hands, and then his lips, had brought to her skin.

She'd had to stop it then. Any further and she knew that she'd not be able to separate the physical from the emotional.

Hermione shifted in the seat, feeling a wave of pleasure wash over her as she remembered that night a month ago. She groaned as her back protested at the uncomfortable setting and thought back to the past few weeks.

Despite what she had thought at the time, Hermione had started falling. She couldn't help it. He had started it – he was the one who'd leant in, pressing his lips to hers.

But she was the one who'd allowed it to continue. She'd allowed herself to think of him as more than he was – more than the blond bastard who taunted and bullied. She saw him as she once had Ron. As a boyfriend.

A cool voice pulled her out of her thoughts. "Granger."

Inside, she was panicking. What if he…? But her outward appearance remained calm as she closed her diary and turned to face him.

"Malfoy."

Just the sight of him was enough to make her smile inside. His hair was in disarray and his usually pale skin was wind-burnt. He had obviously been outside.

"I thought I'd find you here," he said – his trademark smirk tugging at his lips.

"Congratulations; it took you seven years to figure out what took everyone else two months, that I spend time in the library." Sarcasm dripped from her mouth easily.

"What is your problem?" Malfoy snapped at her.

"You. You're my problem. You with your perfect hair, your gorgeous eyes and your sexy smirk. You just had to go and kiss me, didn't you?" The rhetorical question hung in the air. "You know what? Leave me alone." Hermione gathered her books up and was prepared to leave when his hand grabbed her wrist.

"Don't." He whispered.

"Don't what? Don't leave the library? Don't leave you here? Don't develop feelings for you? Well it's too late…for all three." She tugged her arm from his grasp and was barely two steps from the door when his hands grabbed her shoulders and spun her around.

His lips crashed against hers and, as she started to respond, his grip loosened and hands dropped to her waist.

This is what she wanted, what she needed.

Hermione slowly placed her hands on Draco's chest and pushed him back – painfully reminiscent of that night a month ago.

"I can't do this." She stepped back and took a deep breath.

"Hermione…?"

"I can't keep kissing you. Because I know it'll hurt when it stops and you ignore me for another month while I over-analyse things and…"

"You're over-analysing now, Hermione." Draco smiled, tucking an errant curl behind Hermione's ear.

"You called me 'Hermione'," she muttered bluntly.

"It is your name, isn't it?" he asked rhetorically.

She glared at him, crossing her arms over her chest. "You never call me Hermione. It's always 'Granger', or 'mudblood' if you're in a really bad mood with me or my friends."

"It'd be strange if I called you by your last name after kissing you, don't you think?" The blond stepped closer and Hermione took a step back – or tried to. He'd backed her against the door to the library. Where is Madame Pince? She thought looking about for the woman. It was just her luck that she was re-shelving the Restricted Section – about as far from Hermione and Draco as she could be while still being in the library.

"Draco…" she started. She drew another deep breath and tried again. "Draco…" But she couldn't. She couldn't give him her rational, well thought out argument while he was standing so near to her. All she wanted to do was kiss him again – or run, she couldn't decide which. Running had the difficulty of actually being impossible due to her proximity to both Draco and the closed door, and she knew she shouldn't kiss him.

Or did she? Suddenly, with his body practically smothering her own, she couldn't remember the argument. The stroke of his hand against her cheek pushed all rational thought out of her head and pulled an abnormal amount of strength from deep within her. She pushed him off of her and somehow managed to manoeuvre it so that he was now backed against the door.

She blinked as conscious thought returned to her – kicking the animal instinct to the back of her mind for now. She looked at Draco and saw his signature smirk. He was no doubt about to deliver some innuendo that would just make her blush so she cut him off before he could start.

"I can't keep it simple with you. Whatever we're doing here – it's not simple, not for me anyway. I can't not make an emotional attachment. I'm not like that. I'm not someone who can…can do this and not feel something. I like you and if you can't say the same about me then…" Draco's lips cut her off. They moved gently against hers until he pulled slowly away.

"I can." He whispered, resting his forehead against hers.

"Hmm?" A questioning noise came from Hermione – her train of thought was lost in the kiss.

"I can say the same about you. I do like you, it just…took me a while to realise it." Hermione grinned as Draco kissed her once more – more passionately than the last time – pushing all his emotions into that one kiss.

AN I know it's been a while since I posted anything but I've been feeling upset and emotional - which really aren't as good for writing as I thought they'd be. Grrr stupid boys! Anyway, poor excuse for an apology over, read and review. Oh, and bear in mind - the events of "that night" were based on a true story involving a friend of mine. See ya! xxx