Start 10-10-11 at 949pm

Disclaimer: As always, the characters of the beautiful Dramione belongs to none other but JK Rowling. And credit for the song, 'Marvin's Room' goes to JoJo. Although there are many versions of the song, I prefer this one.

Thirteen Nights

She knew that she shouldn't, but like the past nights she just couldn't sleep through all the tossing and the turning, and the turning and the tossing. Her mind was on an overdrive, and every time she shut her eyes she could just see him – him; the bane of her existence right now. The reason that her already bushy hair looked as if a family of crows had attacked it, the reason that her caramel colored eyes were drooping with lack of sleep, and bloodshot from the admittance of missing him; him – oh how much she hated him… sort of. She wished she could hate him, but if she really did hate him she would be sleeping right now instead of making what she knew would be one of the biggest regrets of her life.

Leaving her bedroom door open, she walked over to his door. The large silver painted door, with the giant 'DM' in emerald letters on it. For the months that she's been living across from him in their shared head dorms, it always just looked like a door across the hall from her. Until recently… now she saw it for what it was; a death trap. The way it stood right across from her room taunting her, haunting her, calling her out. It would be the death of her. She once thought it would be such a sweet death, but now…. Now she knew how wrong she was. It would be a long, slow, painful, torturous death.

Pounding on the door, she could hear the light snoring stop. That was the first thing he threatened her about once they moved in together. She teased him the next morning about how his snoring kept her up, and he threatened her, reminding her of how much of a filthy little Mudblood she was, and of how lucky she was to be able to even sleep in the same facilities as him. She never thought the day would come when she would be close enough to him to feel the vibrations that his gentle snoring created, but now that she had felt it, she never thought it would be possible to miss anything so simple so much.

Standing her ground as the door flew open, she saw the confusion take over the sleep filled face as steel colored eyes landed on the bottle in her hand. For a second her voice got caught in her throat. How could she forget that he slept in only boxer briefs? The grey colored underwear did nothing to really conceal the bulge it was meant to protect, but she found her eyes lingering instead on the chiseled perfection that God must have intended to be the replica of a statue. The statue of another God. Most likely a Greek God, they were always built so perfectly.

I have been up three days;

Adderall and red bull.

This call is a mistake,

There's something strong in this water bottle.

I heard you got a new chick,

But that's a little Barbie doll.

I feel so pathetic.

But you still haven't heard it all.

"Granger?" his voice; thick with sleep sounded confused as the palms of his hands rubbed into his eyes. He tried to blink at her a couple of times, as if unsure if she was real or a dream. If only he knew how much she longed to be a dream of his.

"Granger?" she questioned. "Since when have I just been Granger again to you, Malfoy?" she put an emphasis on his surname, as if pleading him to be hurt by the informality of how she addressed him.

"It's two in the morning, Hermione," he noticed how she called him by his family name, and he found that he didn't very much like it. "Why aren't you sleeping?" moving his eyes back to her bottle, he raised a questioning snow colored eyebrow at her. "Are you drunk?"

Trying to tell her beating heart to stay still for a couple of seconds, she begged her eyes to stop noticing the way his snow colored hair fell gracefully along his face with every motion his head made. She knew that he asked her a question. No! - Two questions, but her mind hadn't registered what he asked. It wasn't until she saw his gaze on the bottle that she realized what he asked her. "I'm not drunk," she shook her head. "I haven't slept in a couple of days. I can't sleep."

"Is anything wrong?"

She wanted to cry right now. Was that even a real question? How can he ask her so plainly if anything is wrong, when he knows damn well what it is. "I-I just don't get it."

"What?"

Fuck that new girl that you like so bad

She's not crazy like me, I bet you like that.

I said fuck that new girl that's been in your bed

And when you're in her I know I'm in your head.

I'm just saying you can do better.

Always turned you out every time we were together.

Once you had the best you can't do better.

Baby I'm the best so you can't do better.

"What we had-" she paused to think of the right words to say, but she saw the look that shadowed his face once she said the three words. Biting on her lower lip, she felt herself lean more pressure onto the soles of her feet.

Scratching his chest now, he avoided looking at her eyes. He avoided her entire face actually. "I'm dating Pansy now."

"I know," she nodded her head. Why wouldn't he look at her, dammit? "But why? You can do better than her, Draco. I know you can. You deserve someone better," someone like me; her heart sighed.

"It isn't that," sighing loudly, Draco crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned against the doorway of his room, not realizing how much hotter it just made his bad boy persona. "Pansy and I are both pureblooded. Our parents have arranged our marriage from when we were just born. Now that the war is over and Potter won, they want us to get married once we leave school."

"So you don't even like her then?"

Chuckling, Draco looked up, but stared past her face. Instead, he chose to stare at the wall just to the side of her head. "She's my friend, Hermione. And I do love her."

"But you don't love her like how a husband should love his wife though?" she meant for the sentence to come out as a statement, but it sounded more like a plea. When he shook his head, she felt the relief run through her every vein. "Why take her to your bed then? You haven't married her yet. And I know that you've been shagging her. My room is only right here. You don't even bother to place a silencing charm on it."

Scratching his head, Draco shook it once more. This time his eyes met hers, and he saw the gleam. She already knew the answer to it, but she wanted to hear it from him. She had to hear it from him. She needed to hear it from him. "I am a male, Hermione. And what I do with my fiancé when I do it is none of your concern. We are all old enough to know that it's normal, so I shouldn't have to place a silencing charm on my own room, in my own house, just to make you comfortable," he knew what she wanted, craved, needed, but he wouldn't give it to her. He just couldn't give it to her.

"Fuck Parkinson!" Hermione ended up stating through clenched teeth. Balling her hands up, she could feel her nails cutting deeply into her skin, but she didn't stop. The pain felt better than she ever imagined. "Fuck her! And the reason you should place a silencing charm on your room is so the next time you decide you want to shag her to get your mind off of me, I won't hear you shouting out MY name!"

Leaving Draco standing there with his mouth wide open, Hermione went back to her room. Not caring if she woke up all of Hogwarts, she slammed her door shut harder than she thought possible, causing the windows to shudder from the impact. How dare he? How fucking dare he! Who the hell does he think he is? It's one thing for him to end what they had just to fulfill his parents pureblooded tirade, but it's another thing for him to avoid answering her question. He knew she knew the truth, so why the hell couldn't he just say it? Why the hell didn't he just answer her? Lying in her bed, wide awake, Hermione began to plot what she would do. She already made herself seem like a desperate fool, but she wouldn't let him win this one.

She loved him. The day had come that Hermione Granger, Gryffindor bookworm, had fell in love with Draco Malfoy, the prince of Slytherin. And she would NOT allow him to be stuck in a loveless marriage with Pansy Parkinson! Or shag her anymore! She was the one on his mind. She was the one who was supposed to be with him. She would fight fire with fire! She would get him, anyway that she had to!

I ran into your homeboys,

They're all fucking idiots!

You're not even my boyfriend,

But they're tripping because I'm in a club.

Yeah that's right I'm dancing.

And something cool is in my cup.

I'm a send a sexy picture

To remind you what you're giving up.

Groaning as he heard the excessive pounding and shouting of his name, Draco looked over at the muggle clock on his desk; it was two in the morning. Again! Hearing his name being shouted more loudly as his door began to shake with the pounding on it, he ran over to open it. His jaw dropped at what he saw. Hermione was standing there just like she had the week before, but this time she didn't look as if she were losing her mind. She was… she was hot.

Clutched in her blood red painted nails were four inch high, open toed blood red heels that sparkled. The tiny excuse of fabric that she wore covered just enough skin, but not as much as he would have preferred her to hide from anyone who isn't himself. Bulges of creamy milk skin popped out from the top of a strapless blood red colored dress. It hugged every inch of her body, stopping right on her thighs. It looked like if she were to take just one step, he would see every male's favorite anatomy on a female body. Golden curls fell from her head in tight little ringlets, resting against the midsection of her back. He never knew her hair could be so relaxed. Black feathers hung from her ears, while her face was decorated with light touches of black eyeliner, a light red eye shadow, and blood colored lipstick. There were flames in her eyes.

"You aren't my boyfriend, Malfoy!" she shouted at him.

"I know that, Hermione," how dare she not talk to him for one week after pointing out that she knew she was the one he thought of while he shagged Pansy, then wake him up looking like this at two in the morning and call him the name his enemies know him as. How fucking dare she!

"So tell your damn friends that I'm allowed to dance with whomever I want to dance with. Who the hell do they think they are?"

"You were dancing with someone?" he crossed his arms over his chest to ensure that he didn't punch a hole in his door this time – the week before, he had crossed his arms just to prevent himself from pulling her into his arms. Last week she had seemed to be hurt, but now she seemed like she was just pissed. Had she moved on already? He was kind of a prick to her the week before. Please don't let her have moved on, he prayed to a god that he truly didn't believe in.

"We aren't together," she reminded him. "We are both adults here, Draco! Last week you made it clear to me that you're with Parkinson. As much as I still think you can do better, I understand that I'm just a filthy little Mudblood, right. And she's a precious fucking pureblood bitch."

Good! She was talking shit about Pansy – she's jealous. That can be the only reason her voice is poisonous at the moment. "So because I'm with Pansy, you're going out to the club and shagging any guy you meet then?"

"I was dancing!" she shouted, ready to lunge at him. Her face turned scarlet while her hands flew up in the air, causing her heels to fall to the ground. "Dancing! And even if I were to shag him, that's my business. I am a female, Draco, and what I do with someone is none of your concern. Besides we are old enough to know that it's normal," she threw some of Draco's words back into his own face, causing him to cringe a bit.

Draco didn't know what to say to that. It was true. And it was also what he told her the week before. It annoyed the hell out of him though. He didn't like hearing that. "So who were you dancing with then?"

"Urgh…" bringing her hands back down, she wanted to lift them up and just slap him like she had in their third year. "That isn't the point Draco. Tell your fucking friends to mind their own business. You aren't my boyfriend. We're not dating. I can dance with whomever I want to dance with. So tell them to leave me the hell alone."

"It was the Weasel wasn't it?" then shaking his head, he smirked, "No, I don't think it was. You have better taste than that. I'll bet it was Finnegan, eh? I know how much you have a thing for light colored hair."

Pinching the bridge of her nose, Hermione was annoyed. "We aren't dating. You have Parkinson. I'm allowed to go out, and dance with anyone I want to. And it's none of your business about who it is."

It took all week, but Hermione finally had the perfect plan thought up. She would make herself as hot as possible then go out to that new club that opened up in Hogsmeade that she heard a couple of the other eighth years (after the war, all the seventh years returned as eighth years to get a real education) and some of the younger years all talking about it. She planned on only looking really hot, and dancing with a couple of guys. She even thought of taking a couple pictures then "accidentally" leaving them in the common room, or even showing them to Harry and Ron while in class on Monday, but then the stupid Slytherins had to show up and scare off the seventh year Ravenclaw that she had been dancing with. She wasn't Draco's property – or anything to do with him – they had no right to do that to her, or that boy she was dancing with.

Fuck that new girl that you like so bad

She's not crazy like me, I bet you like that.

I said fuck that new girl that's been in your bed

And when you're in her I know I'm in your head.

I'm just saying you can do better.

Always turned you out every time we were together.

Once you had the best you can't do better.

Baby I'm the best so you can't do better.

"Fine!" Draco nodded his head. He meant to shout at her, and pull her into his room, but for some reason his head started to nod, and the word just came right out of his mouth.

"Fine, what?" taking a step back, Hermione cocked an eyebrow.

"I'll tell them to leave you alone. You're right. I'm not your boyfriend. And you're not my girlfriend. It's none of my business who you're dancing with, just as it's none of your business what I do or don't do with Pansy," he didn't mean any of it, but it just kept pouring out of his mouth. He wasn't that stupid to mean what he was saying, but he just couldn't stop saying it.

Before she realized what she was doing, Hermione was letting out a scream. Draco took a step back as her mouth opened widely, and the loud excruciating sound escaped it. After ten seconds of just screaming, she threw her hands up in the air once more. "Urgh! Fuck it! Fuck Parkinson! Fuck the Ravenclaw! You love me! ME! I know you love me! You may think that you like her, but you don't, and we both know it. I see the way you two are in class. You can't even stand to hold her hand without looking like you want to gag. Fuck Parkinson! Fuck her to hell! And fuck her pure blood! I pity her actually. The poor little fool. No matter how pure her blood is, and no matter how much she has you to herself, you don't love her. She may have your body, but I… I have your heart Draco Malfoy! And we both know that's true. And when you're shagging her, I know that I'm the one you're thinking of. So fuck Parkinson! And fuck you! Fuck you both to hell!"

Draco was stunned for a minute. It was true. Every word of it. He stood there frozen. He couldn't speak, move, blink, or even twitch his fingers. He could only stand there taking in what she shouted at him. He had never told her that he loved her. They were nothing serious, just a sneaky couple that liked the thrill of never being caught… until he had to end them because his engagement to Pansy got called into motion. He didn't even know that he loved Hermione until he was with Pansy. Love was something that he didn't know could exist until he no longer had her. It's only been thirteen days totaled since he ended things with Hermione, but he never missed anyone so much in his life. She may have been in the room just across from his, but he had never felt so alone before in his life. How could she have known that he loved her when he didn't even know until thirteen days before? Unless…

"Wait!" he hadn't meant to shout it, but by the time his mind finally registered what was happening, Hermione was about to shut her room door. Quickly walking across the hall, he held onto her wrist, pulling her out of the room, and against his chest. "Why did you go to the club tonight? You don't like being anywhere too loud, and crowded areas annoy you."

Refusing to be the one who loses tonight, Hermione refused to look anywhere but in his eyes. His confused gaze stared back down at her. "To show you what you were losing."

"What?"

"My blood may not be pure, but my heart sure as hell is. I know everyone only sees me as the bushy haired bookworm, but that's not all I am. I helped win the war to, you know. I fought alongside Harry every year we've been at this damned school. I'm the one who solved the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets in our second year, and I'm the one who had the time turner in our third year. I'm not just brains, but I'm strength as well. And when I want to be, I'm also beauty."

"Huh?"

"Dammit Draco!" pulling away from his grip, she tugged on her dress, "The guys always only go for the hot girls. But you… you were with me when my hair was a nest, and my nose was always buried in the books. But I can be hot to if I want to be. I just don't like to be. I don't want someone to want me just because of the way I look. But I-I just wanted you to see this side of me for once. You fell in love with my dorky side. But it's over. I get it now. No more tricks. You're with Parkinson."

Draco heard everything she said. He heard her say that she was the one who solved most of the things leading up to the war, and how she fought alongside Harry, which was no surprise – she wasn't put in Gryffindor for her brains, not to mention he saw her in the war. She was scary with a wand. But his mind was too focused on how she went to the club just to make him jealous. What? She always looked like this, but she just didn't want to show it because guys are only into looks. Huh? He fell in love with her without knowing this side of her was even possible. True. But now… now she wasn't going to be jealous anymore? What? She was going to just give up, and let Pansy have him? Huh? What? Why? The hell?

"The hell?"

Staring at him as if he were mental, Hermione shook her head, "What? What don't you get? Do I need to bloody spell it out for you?"

"No," shaking his own head, Draco moved in closer to her. "I-I-I" sighing, he rubbed his forehead. "I just… I… erm… well…"

"Just spit it out already," Hermione tapped her foot. "I'm not going to stand here all night just to listen to you tell me how stupid I am."

"Why would I call you stupid?"

"Because I love you."

Draco intended for his jaw to drop, but instead it formed into a wide grin. Not a smirk or a scoff. But a genuine grin. Hermione took a step back in fear when she saw it; it was something he had never shown to her before. "You love me?"

"Yes," inside she was shaking. She got petrified by a Basilisk when she was only twelve years old, chased by a werewolf at thirteen, fought in a battle against Death Eaters at fifteen, and sixteen, she was tortured by a madwoman, and fought in a war at seventeen, and she stared Voldemort in the face, but she had never been so frightened in her life. Here she was admitting her love to Draco Malfoy, someone who she had convinced herself that loved her as well, but never proved it. Yes, inside she was shaking, but she never showed it. Her voice came out smooth while her face tricked itself with confidence.

Reaching his hands out to hold onto hers, Draco pressed Hermione against the wall so that his lips were barely connected to hers. He could smell sugar. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

"Why didn't you tell me?" of course she knew he could never love her, but she already shouted at him that she knew he did. No sense in backing down now and allowing him to call her bluff.

"I told you I didn't love Pansy like that, that this is a forced marriage. And obviously you know I'm thinking of you while she's in my bed, since you can hear me shout your name and all. I thought I made it obvious enough for you. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I couldn't sleep for days, and I got drunk, waking you up at two in the morning while practically demanding that you can do better than Parkinson. Then I go to a club just to make you jealous, and show you what you're giving up by agreeing to this forced marriage. I thought I made it obvious enough for you. So again I ask you… why didn't you tell me?"

"I love you," tracing the side of her face with his index finger, he chuckled as she shivered beneath his touch. Something that Pansy never did. "I'm telling you now."

"But you're with Parkinson."

"Fuck Parkinson!"

Grinning, Hermione wrapped both her arms around Draco's waist. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Just thirteen days ago he broke up with her because he was being forced to marry Pansy Parkinson. She would lay awake in her bed, listening to Parkinson moan while Draco shouted out her own name, forcing her to never sleep again. She tried everything she could to get him back: she got drunk and shouted at him, she eyed him out, she accused him of things she didn't even know she was saying, she tried to make him jealous, she tried to get him all hot bothered, and she even shouted at him some more, but all it took to get him was by simply telling him how she truly felt. All he wanted to hear was that she loved him. If she only told him the real reason she cried when he broke up with her, the past thirteen nights never would've happened.

Now here they were. Her back pressed against the wall in the hallway, with her arms wrapped around his waist, and her head against his chest while he pressed his body against hers, holding her tightly in his arms, and resting his head on her hair. All it took was for her to admit that she loved him, for him to finally see what she had been trying to tell him the week before. He didn't deserve some pug faced Slytherin slut. He could do way better than that. And now… now he finally realized it. And he got the whole package deal. Hermione was the brightest-witch-of-her-age, as well as the bravest witch he had ever known. She didn't just sit on the sidelines, directing Potter on what to do, but she fought with him. Not to mention she cleaned up extremely well when she wanted to. Also, he spent enough time with her behind closed doors to know that she was very un-lady like in the bed, or on the floor, sometimes in the shower, and up against walls, also the occasional table, once or twice a chair, oh, and that one time in the Great Hall. There were so many things about Hermione Granger that nobody knew. And now that Draco had her, nobody else would ever learn these things.

"Let's go to sleep," he said when he heard her yawn.

"Okay," she nodded her head, "But let's sleep in my room."

"Why?"

"Because I heard Parkinson in your room last night. So let's sleep in my room tonight, and when we wake up, you'll burn your sheets."

Laughing, Draco pulled Hermione into her own room, keeping her hand in his while leading her to the bed. "Alright."

Fuck that new girl that you like so bad

She's not crazy like me, I bet you like that.

I said fuck that new girl that's been in your bed

And when you're in her I know I'm in your head.

I'm just saying you can do better.

Always turned you out every time we were together.

Once you had the best you can't do better.

Baby I'm the best so you can't do better.

A/N: This one's pretty lame. Sorry about that! I'm currently working on the second part of my other Dramione one-shot, 'Barefoot Cinderella,' but I've had this song stuck in my head for literally the last 24 hours, and I just had to do a Dramione one-shot to this song. Not to mention that I'm currently in a one-shot addiction spree. It seems like every day so far I'm doing a one-shot.

Pau 10-11-11 at midnight on the dot

(Re-edited 5-30-12 at 11am)