Chapter 2

She wished someone had told her, well, she didn't really know what she wished someone had told her, but something would have been nice. Maybe then she wouldn't be in this horrid predicament. No, that's a lie. In all honesty, it wouldn't have done a bit of good because she probably wouldn't have listened anyway. She was stubborn like that. You know when mothers tell their children don't touch the stove because it's hot? She was that kid, the one that had to go touch the sodding stove.

They (who in the bloody hell are they anyway, and why are they always right? A bit irritating really) always say to never fraternize with the enemy, let sleeping dragons lie (how fitting), etc. In the back of her mind she knew all of this, and if she had just listened then she could continue living in her blissfully ignorant little world, which at the moment was completely tilted off axis. All because she had to go fraternize with the enemy, tickle the annoyingly arrogant sleeping dragon, etc. Well, nobody is perfect.

With a rather loud, obnoxious groan Hermione buried her head into her hands, earning several concerned glances from her friends, as well as a few startled glares from many of the other scattered occupants of the Gryffindor common room.

"Alright there, Mione?" Ginny asked as she curiously observed the obviously distressed girl sitting in the chair opposite of her.

"Fine," Hermione muttered from behind her hands. No, I'm not bloody alright! She wanted to shout out at the top of her lungs. She wasn't alright! Hermione Granger had finally lost her marbles; she had gone stark raving mad. It was bound to happen sooner or later, some would say, and it was all the sodding ferret's fault.

"I need to take a break," she stated with finality, removing her hands from her face and standing up out of the chair. "I think I may go pay Dobby a visit."

Well that was a bold faced lie if she ever heard one; she had no intention of going anywhere near the kitchens—not if it meant she would be closer to him. She wanted to be as far away from him as physically possible, thank you very much. Just knowing the fact that he was lurking somewhere in the castle irritated her to no end. How dare he.

"Do you want some company?" Harry questioned, already preparing to pack away his materials.

"No," she held out her hand to stop him. "You guys need to finish that essay. Besides, I won't be gone long; I just need to take a breather."

"Okay, if you're sure…"

"Could you bring back some of that treacle tart?" Ron asked excitedly, his eyes lighting up at the idea of a snack. "All this homework has really worked up my appetite."

"Sure," she replied with a smile, though inwardly she was groaning. Now she had to go down to the sodding kitchen. "I'll be back in a little while."

As she turned to walk out the portrait hole, Harry stopped her from across the room.

"Wait, at least take my cloak with you. No telling where Filch is hiding."

Oh! Why hadn't she thought of that? Merlin, maybe she should just go to bed, and forget that this day ever happened. If only.

"Thanks, Harry," she responded as she watched him bound up the stairs two at a time, only to return a few short moments later with the cloak in hand.

"If you're not back by morning we'll just assume Filch got a hold of you," Harry teased as he passed the cloak to her.

"Har Har," she replied with a grin. "I'm too smart for Filch"

"That you are," he grinned, saluting her. "Be careful."

"Will do," she said over her shoulder as she disappeared out the portrait hole.

Once outside, she wrapped her self tightly within the safety of the invisibility cloak. Her feet began to move down the cold stone staircase, and she wasn't really sure where they were taking her at all, and she didn't really care either. She just wanted to go—somewhere, anywhere. Restlessness didn't settle easy with her (it didn't settle well with anyone, though, if she really stopped to think about it. She didn't). No, usually she was calm, cool, collected. That was usually, though, this is now. Now she was an absolute mess, and she wasn't sure if it was because that prick of a pureblood had the gall to actually kiss her (among other things that she was trying desperately hard not to think about because, oh, it had felt so good) OR because she had submitted and thoroughly, thoroughly enjoyed it. The world was ending, the apocalypse was nearing…she could feel it. There was no other logical explanation.

Something in the back of her mind told her that this went completely beyond logic. Hell, it was miles and miles down the road from logical, and that, she reasoned, was why she found her mind, and hormones, in complete upheaval. Hermione Granger based her life on logic, and this, this was just way beyond her comprehension. She didn't like that at all.

Nor did she like the fact that maybe, just maybe, she had been wrong to leave the warmth and comfort of the common room. Hogwarts was the safest place in the world to be, but that didn't nullify the fact that it was also the scariest—at night that is. Long corridors shrouded in darkness so thick you could practically feel it weighing against your skin, disembodied, ghostly sounds echoing off the stone walls, stairs creaking and stones grinding, the gentle snores of the paintings occupants…it was definitely something straight out of a horror movie. You never knew what was lurking in the darkness, although in all likelihood the only things roaming the halls that she had to be nervous about were Peeves, and of course Filch and that blasted cat of his. Miserable man.

None-the-less, she quickened her step, feeling the insane urge to glance over her shoulder. She had no idea what she expected to see really, because she couldn't see anything. Not even her nose (and yes, she did try). She wrapped her fist tightly around the wand in her back pocket, and that familiar feeling of security calmed her. Paranoid bint, that's what she was.

With a sigh, she continued on with her aimless journey, trying desperately to expel all thoughts Malfoy from her mind. Pink butterflies. Fluffy bunnies. Cute round babies. Did this actually work for people? She sure as hell hoped not; it made her want to gag. Malfoy standing in a field surrounded by fluttering pink butterflies and fluffy bunnies hopping at his feet. Oh look, a butterfly just landed in his hair; and that sickeningly cute baby just shat all over him.

There, much better. Pink really wasn't his color, though.

She hated him, she loathed him; there really was no way she could put into words exactly how strongly her feelings ran because there were no words to describe. He made her insides boil, her teeth grate, and her mouth spit fire. So what was the issue? Ha, easy for you to say.

She had kissed guys; she had kissed lots of guys. Guys that she actually liked, and kisses that she enjoyed; but none had left her reeling in their wake. Except this one. It was mortifying. It was beyond mortifying; it was unthinkable, blasphemous, and down right ridiculous. She felt like a silly little school girl pining away over some silly little boy. Hermione Granger did not pine. She wasn't pining. Honestly! She was…

Damn him. She really did loathe him.

Climbing the spiral stairs to the divination tower, Hermione paused for a moment to gaze out the window. It was a beautiful night, clear black skies specked with millions of glowing diamonds. The moon hung high overhead, big and white, illuminating the expansive fields below, reflecting off of the great lake, and filling her with a great sense of peace that was sorely welcomed. Hogwarts really was a fantastic place, she admired. The beauty outlaid before her nearly made her forget all of her troubles, but only nearly. It would be so much more beautiful if he wasn't there.

He was the 'enemy,' it was plain and simple really—and there in lie the attraction, she decided as she clambered the rest of the short distance to the divination class room and found a comfy cushion on the very top row. Malfoy was the forbidden fruit; he was the apple and the serpent combined into one very tempting package. If she wasn't careful she could easily give into temptation, and, well, we all know the disastrous results that would bear. It was unthinkable.

Hermione sighed—a deep, defeated sigh—and rested her head gently on the wall behind her. How is it possible to dislike someone so strongly, yet still have this inane, stomach wrenching desire for them? It was a matter that went completely beyond her comprehension, and that was the most maddening part of all. It wasn't as if she cared for him, she could really care less about him. It would be a lie to say that she didn't want him, though. Merlin's beard, what had she gotten herself into?

It was all sodding Snape's fault.

Enough! She mentally scolded herself with a tightly clenched jaw. Musing over the situation wasn't helping anything at all; it only resulted in one very large, very painful headache, and that made her hate him even more. She didn't expect a damn thing from him, so what good was it doing her to think the situation to death? Well, naturally, she was a girl, and girls do tend to over-analyze every minute little detail. It's a bloody menace.

The familiar image of a red-headed freckle-faced boy-not-quite-a-man popped suddenly into her mind, and she groaned out loud. Hmm, not exactly the change of thought she had been hoping for. Arithmancy would have suited her just fine. Yet the image was there, and more than likely was there to stay until she figured out a solution to her pending dilemma.

And to think, life had been so blissfully simple yesterday.

Well, the best thing to do was to approach the situation head on, but with grace and couth. She would have to be honest with him, while sparing his feelings at the same time. Ron was a sensitive sort of fellow, so no matter how she handled the situation the outcome would not be pretty. Maybe honesty wasn't the best way to go, but honestly, what other options were there? Why couldn't he have just kept his feelings to his self? Stupid boys, always had to go complicating things…

It was enough to make her want to claim celibacy for the rest of her life; at least that way she would never again have to go through the trouble she was going through now. There were more logical things to worry about—like N.E.W.T.S.

Yeah right.

With the impending doom of her already barely existent romantic life hanging about her like the plague, it was difficult really to focus on anything else. When had she become such a girl? She blamed it on the war; it seemed to have put her rather meaningless existence into a very harsh perspective—matters of the heart were beginning to take precedence over matters of the mind. How utterly irritating.

Would she ever be normal again?

Her mouth settled into a line of grim determination. Yes, yes she would—starting now. No more, she decided with finality. She was astounded that she had allowed herself to waste so much time concerning her self over something so trivial, but she also knew that when the heart is involved, nothing is ever trivial.

Thankfully, her heart wasn't involved. It was other parts of her…anatomy…that were the problem, and that is something else entirely. Not to mention, a problem easily dismissed…

There's nothing wrong with fooling yourself every now and then. It was her only chance for survival.

With determined resolution she stood, feeling better about her self than she had all day. Hell, she felt better about herself than she had felt since…well, in a long time to say the least. Control, logic, priority…those were things that she understood, matters that she was familiar with, and it felt good to have them back after a momentary lapse of sanity. She would handle the 'Ron situation,' and would then proceed to erase the episode with Malfoy from her mind while very effectively pretending like he doesn't exist.

The sound of feet shuffling across the stone floor caused her eyes to widen fearfully and her breath to hitch. Filch. With a speed she didn't know she possessed, she sunk back down to the cushion and barricaded her self behind Harry's invisibility cloak. Just in time, too. A large black figure came stumbling into the tower, and as her eyes adjusted she realized that it wasn't Filch at all. Bloody brilliant.

There he was, the source of her turmoil, the bane of her existence, the…well you get the idea; and he wasn't alone. Well that was an understatement…wrapped around some bimbo while effectively trying to swallow her whole would be a bit more accurate.

Clenching her jaw tightly, she squeezed her eyes shut and breathed slowly through her nose. Ten…nine…eight…a deeply aroused moan exuded the bimbo as he backed her up against a table, causing Hermione to just sort of…snap. Her patience level really just wasn't what it used to be. She wasn't even jealous, not even close; she was just so damned tired of that smug face of his. It was plaguing her.

"You have got to be kidding me," she spat out heatedly as she stood up and revealed her self from underneath the cloak. The couple in question broke apart abruptly, startled and disheveled, two heads whipping in her direction so quickly it almost looked painful. She almost laughed out loud at the expression on their faces, the personification of a deer caught in headlights, but her annoyance prevented her lip from even so much as twitching.

Malfoy quickly regained his composure, unlike his little companion who looked to be on the verge of tears. That infuriating smirk settled across his features as he turned to face Hermione fully. With the first few buttons of his Oxford dress shirt unbuttoned, the tail pulled out of his trousers at rather odd angles, and his hair disheveled in all directions, Hermione couldn't help the images of earlier that evening that flashed through her mind. She wanted to scream.

"You wouldn't be stalking me now, would you Granger?" Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, her face displaying nothing but contempt.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you Malfoy?"

He glanced over his shoulder to the girl who had managed to right herself during their brief exchange. Hermione caught a glimpse of her face in the light through the window, but didn't recognize her.

"Run along now," he ordered loftily to the girl. She stared at him wide-eyed and disbelieving before realizing that he was indeed serious. Shooting Hermione a rather venomous glare, the girl glanced once more toward Malfoy before storming out of the tower.

"You'll thank me someday," Hermione called after her, poor girl.

Malfoy crossed his arms over his chest, mirroring Hermione's rather annoyed stance, and leaned casually against the table behind him with his icy gaze fixed intently upon her. She returned the gaze heatedly, absolute abhor boiling inside her.

"Alright Granger, you have my attention…now that you've ruined a perfectly good evening." He was annoyed, she could tell. Good, let him be; it was the least she could do after the turmoil that he had caused since their incident earlier that evening. Bloody hormones were a menace. As much as she hated him at the moment, she hated herself even more. Not only because she had allowed herself to be completely defenseless against his charms, but also because even now she wanted nothing more than to lay him out across that table and have her way with him. So much for the resolve she had conjured before he had so rudely interrupted her solitude. She had to get out of that room and as far away from him as possible.

"I have nothing to say to you," she stated with finality as she climbed her way down the rows of seats and onto the ground level. It took all of her self control to not simply run for the door. She would like to think that she had more dignity than that. Instead, she turned and walked slowly, with her head held high, towards the door.

Just as she reached the door, though, he pushed his way off the table, and his solid frame was in front of her, blocking her way to freedom. How in the world had he moved so quickly? With her face set in grim determination, she prepared to push past him, but he wrapped his long fingers around her wrist, locking her in place.

"Ah, ah," he tsked quietly, his breath warm on her face. Oh Merlin he was so close. His body was pressed tightly against hers to keep her from moving, and his face was so close to her own. Please Gods, she begged silently. She was a good girl. Sure she wasn't perfect, but what had she ever done to deserve this?

"Let me go," she hissed, trying to twist her wrist from his vice grip, but he was too strong for her. She wanted to scream; scream and scream and throw a complete mess of a fit, but, well, she'd look rather loony if she did, wouldn't she? Maybe she could settle for a swift kick to the shin, or even better, a knee to his-ahem-goodies. Yes, that definitely sounded promising…

"You don't really think I'm going to let you get by that easily, do you?" he taunted, his voice much too quiet and his grin much too jovial. "Come now, Granger. I know you're smarter than that."

Hermione sighed before she turned her face to his, her expression and posture reeking of impatience.

"If I remember correctly, Malfoy, we found ourselves in a similar scenario not even hours ago; I'm really not in any hurry to see a repeat performance. Once in this lifetime is once more than I would have ever liked to experience. This story needs a new ending."

"I agree." She raised her brow in question before glancing down to where he still held her wrist in a firm grip.

"I hear what you're saying, yet I can't figure out for the life of me why you still feel it's necessary to man-handle me. So help me Malfoy, if I have a bruise on my wrist in the morning you will regret crossing paths with me."

"Is that a threat?" He seemed almost impressed.

"Consider it a warning."

"Such animosity from such a tiny creature," Malfoy grinned, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. His piercing gaze cut into her, and she felt as if he could read her every thought. She thanked Merlin, Morgana, and any other deity that she could think of that he indeed could not read her thoughts. She was already mortified enough with her self for the desire she felt toward him. His grin melted into an expression of contemplation. "You're not fooling anyone, Granger. I can see it in your eyes."

Damn him. Damn him straight to hell. Was she really that transparent? Or was he just much more perceptive than she gave him credit for?

"You wish," she stated quietly but firmly, looking him squarely in the eyes. Malfoy sighed before hesitantly releasing his grip on her.

"You irritate me."

"Likewise," she glowered, gently rubbing the circulation back into her wrist.

"Unfortunately, that doesn't change the fact that I want you."

Hermione looked up sharply. Merlin, that was…quite unexpected. Her stomach fluttered uncontrollably at his words; had Draco Malfoy just openly admitted to treachery? It gave her a little consolation to know that she hadn't been the only one affected by their earlier confrontation. She didn't know how to react to his confession. Should she tackle him to the ground? Should she walk away and pretend like none of it happened? Luckily, she didn't need to make a decision. He made it for her.

He lowered his face to hers, so that only mere centimeters stood between them. Her breath stuck in her chest as she anticipated the feeling of his lips on hers once again.

"I always get what I want," he murmured huskily before joining their lips in a gentle kiss. Hermione released the breath she had been holding as their lips touched, but her heart seemed to pick up pace three-fold. She couldn't even begin to understand the affect that he had on her, and in that moment she made the resolve to not question it. It was above her; just let it be, she decided.

This kiss was so much different from the kiss they had shared earlier. He was gentle, and she was accepting, and together their mouths moved slowly, almost hesitantly together--so much different. She purred into his mouth as his hands carefully grasped each side of her face, and her arms wrapped around his lean torso of their own accord. It would seem that something very, very small inside each of them had changed in the few hours that had passed since they had left each other at detention; something so small that she could barely feel it, yet it was there. Tolerance? Acceptance? She wasn't sure, but it was quite enjoyable, whatever it was.

Begrudgingly she pulled away from him; he was such a delicious kisser. As delicious as he was, though, she was still Hermione Granger, and like hell she was going to let him keep the upper hand. She looked up into his face, her hands resting comfortably on his chest, and his arms slid down to her waist. She enjoyed the feeling. It almost felt normal. Quietly, she took in the sight of him, and she could tell that he was as affected as she. The thought delighted her.

"I'm going back to my room now," she informed him as she stepped away slowly and began to head for the door.

"Can I join you?" he asked with an impish grin. She paused mid-stride and turned slightly so that he could see her smirk.

"No. I'll see you around Malfoy." And she strode confidently out of the room, leaving a grinning Malfoy behind her.

Once the door closed behind her, she sighed, and couldn't fight the smile that was pushing its way to the surface. And so the games have begun. Malfoy had proved himself a worthy opponent, and she knew to expect retaliation. The prospects were exhilarating.

Life, she could tell, was about to get a lot more interesting.