Chapter 2

It had been a week since that night. Hermione had replayed the events in her head an unhealthy number of times, and each time brought a fresh wave of sickness and shame.

She could still hear his words, whispered so callously into her ear. She could still feel the way her palm had stung after she had delivered a resoundingly loud slap to his cheek. He had barely flinched, but it had been so satisfying, nonetheless. But the worst of it had to be how her expectations and girlish notions had shattered in those few seconds. It had left her feeling hollow.

But what could she really have ever expected from the likes of Draco Malfoy? The common sense part of her knew that years and years of bad blood between them had ensured this outcome. Regardless of whatever feelings she may have been harbouring for him, Hermione had to remind herself that he clearly did not feel the same. Nor was he under any obligation to.

But did he have to be this cruel?

Hermione brushed the self-pitying thought out of her mind. She had stupidly fallen for him and that had automatically given him the upper hand. It was her own fault for believing that a dragon could be tamed. Dragons were vicious creatures -beautiful to look at from afar, mighty in their powers of destruction, but vicious nonetheless.

It didn't matter now, anyway. It was all over.

Hermione hadn't returned to her room that night, sharing a bed with Ginny in the Gryffindor tower instead. To Ginny's credit, she had asked very few questions upon receiving Hermione in the early hours of the morning

"Everyone needs at least a night away from that horrendous git." She had mumbled sleepily, moving over to make space in the bed. Hermione had responded with a watery smile and silent thanks.

She had delivered the new Prefect rotation schedule to Professor McGonagall the next morning and had received no complaints so far. Not that she had expected any complaints -she had thrown herself into the task after the debacle with Draco and had delivered stellar results, as always.

Avoiding him turned out to be an easier task than usual and it was certainly helped by the fact that he also seemed to be avoiding her. In fact, she wasn't entirely certain that he had even stepped into their living quarters since that night. That suited her just fine, although at some point during the week, Hermione had come to the conclusion that if she happened to face him, so be it. She had been exposed and rejected by him and there was nothing left for either of them to hide or discover. It was better knowing, than not. After all, she was a Gryffindor, for Merlin's sake. The best way to deal with something was to tackle it head-on.

It was with this renewed sense of self that she was enjoying breakfast with Harry and Ron on Saturday morning. The boys were laughing over some joke Ron had made and Hermione smiled along indulgently. It was nice to see them, especially Harry, so carefree. The surging battle and violence taking place in the Wizarding World had everyone on edge, but those closest to Harry could see the toll it was taking on him. He had resumed his Occlumency lessons with Professor Snape and Hermione was pleased to see him taking it seriously. She knew he missed Sirius dearly and she knew he still blamed himself for his death. She sometimes wished that it were possible to physically take all his guilt away. She wished he'd talk to someone about it. Instead, Harry had manifested his emotions by training hard. Almost every evening, he would either be in an empty classroom practising his spells, or at Quidditch practice, or Occlumency with Snape, or discussing the progress of locating the remaining Horcruxes with Dumbledore. Hermione tried to help him as much as she could by researching new spells to add to their repertoire and potions she felt would be useful to have on hand. She had also gathered as much information on Horcruxes as she possibly could, but even books from the Restricted Section only provided a limited amount of information on the taboo subject.

"We should take a trip to Hogsmeade today." Ron suggested, breaking through Hermione's musings. "I'm itching for some Butterbeer."

"Sure, that's what you're itching for Ron," Ginny piped up good-naturedly. "I'm sure Madam Rosmerta has nothing to do with it."

Ron turned an interesting shade of puce and started to splutter a denial at the mention of the busty barmaid.

"Yeah, I wouldn't mind going to Hogsmeade.I need some broomstick cleaning supplies anyway. Hermione, want to join?" Harry looked at her.

As tempting as it was- "I wish I could, but I have to work on my Charms essay. I'll be spending some time at the library today."

"Come on, 'Mione," Ron complained, rolling his eyes. "It's the weekend! Live a little! You can work on it tomorrow."

"Thank you for your input, Ronald, but you'd do well to remember that you'll most likely be copying off my work tomorrow. It's really in your best interests that I get it done today."

Ron wouldn't even attempt to argue that. A few minutes later, they all gathered their belongings, bid each other goodbye and headed their separate ways. Hermione fell in step to her familiar route to the library, lost in thoughts of her Charms essay. She had traversed these hallways so many times, she could probably make her way there with her eyes closed.

The comforting smell of books alerted her to the fact that she had reached her destination. She smiled at Madam Pince as she walked in and dropped her backpack on a chair to save herself a spot. It wasn't really necessary, as the library was nearly empty. She recognized a couple of Sixth Year Ravenclaws sitting a table further away, but the tables closest to hers were empty.

She walked through the dimly lit aisles of bookshelves, quickly locating the books she needed for her essay. She knew the library like the back of her hand -of course, she had spent a significant amount of time here over the past six years. It was a mystery to Harry and Ron why she loved the library so much. It was hard to explain and even if she could explain it, she wasn't sure they'd understand. Hermione had an insatiable thirst for knowledge. It wasn't that she wanted to be the brightest student of the year or that she wanted to outsmart everyone. She just had various interests, and once something piqued her interest, she wanted to know as much as possible about it. She had been that way since she was a child, often foregoing playing outside for the company of books. When she found out she was a witch, it opened up a whole new world, literally, for her to explore. The Hogwarts Library was one of the most well-stocked libraries in the Wizarding World and had books on practically every topic imaginable. This was Hermione's idea of heaven.


Hermione completed the last sentence of her essay and set down her quill. She had extended it by twenty inches over what was required -surely Professor Flitwick wouldn't mind. A quick glance at her watch confirmed that a few hours had gone by (in the blink of an eye, in Hermione's opinion). She leaned back in her chair and stretched her arms over her head, satisfied with her work. This was the first time since the beginning of the new school year that she had truly felt at ease. Yes, Voldemort was still out there, yes, they were in the middle of battle, yes, Malfoy was still a prick who had caused one of the most embarrassing moments of her life, but in this very moment, Hermione was able to put it all out of her mind and just be.

Harry and Ron would be getting back soon, she thought. It would be nice to spend some more time with them. She decided that she would wait for them in the Gryffindor Common Room. She cleared her belongings off the table and walked back into the aisles of bookshelves with the textbooks piled up in her arms. She could have just handed them back to Madam Pince, but the librarian already had enough to do and Hermione knew exactly where the books belonged. As she slid the last book into its place near the end of the aisle, she heard a familiar voice. What really peaked her interest was who they were talking about.

"-and Draco told me he'd take care of it."

Was it really eavesdropping if they were speaking loudly enough for people around them to hear? Granted, they didn't know that anyone else was around them. A short mental debate later, Hermione cautiously tiptoed over the row of books to catch a better glimpse of her present company. It was for purely research purposes, she argued. Know thy enemy, and all.

Astoria and Daphne Greengrass.

"Tori," Daphne sighed, "I don't know why you're so fixated on this. So she has a little crush on him, big deal! Half the girls in the school do."

A sense of foreboding creeped up Hermione's chest.

"Half the girls in the school don't live with him, Daph! And Merlin knows she's smart enough to whip up a love potion and slip it into his drink!"

Hermione slapped a hand to her mouth in horror. Were they...talking about her?

"Have you met Granger? She's the epitome of Gryffindor, Tori. Not exactly the kind to slip a love potion into anyone's drink. I honestly cannot figure out why you're acting like this."

"Because," Astoria huffed, "she's really getting on Draco's nerves! He can't stop talking about her, Daph! We were fooling around in the Astronomy Tower the other night and he seemed distracted. So I did what any good girlfriend would do and asked him about it and then he just wouldn't shut up about her. How he can't get her to cooperate with him on Prefect duties and how she's such a know-it-all! It ruined my entire night!"

"It sounds like he hates her and you have nothing to worry about," Daphne countered dryly.

"You didn't hear him. He sounded...different when he was talking about her. I need to get his mind off her, Daph."

"So what're you going to do, then?"

"Oh, I don't know," Astoria's voice turned playful. "I was thinking of surprising him in his room -"

Hermione quietly backed away from her spot and hurriedly made her way back to her table. She had heard enough -no, more than enough. The sick feeling was back and she wished she hadn't decided to listen in. Curiosity did kill the cat after all.

She stuffed her belongings into her backpack mindlessly. Suddenly the library didn't feel like a sanctuary anymore. It felt as though the walls were closing in on her and she couldn't breathe. She needed air.

She walked through the hallways briskly, on autopilot, with no precise destination in mind. She just needed to get out.

She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt someone grab her arm and pull her behind a tapestry and through a concealed door. She would have put up more of a fight had she not recognized his distinct scent.

No...

She wrenched her arm out of his grip as soon as they entered the room and she turned around to the sound of a door clicking shut. She breathed in deeply to calm her nerves as much as she possibly could and looked squarely at her interceptor.

"What's the meaning of this, Malfoy? Where are we?"

He looked perfect, as usual, and not in the least bit affected. Every strand of hair in place, impeccably clothed in a dark set of expensive-looking wizard robes. She immediately felt self-conscious about her uncombed mass of curls and her slightly too-large t-shirt and old jeans. They were her comfortable, I'm-going-to-spend-a-few-hours-at-the-Library clothes. They didn't quite give her an upper hand at a face-off with a Malfoy. She tried to avoid staring into his eyes and focused her gaze somewhere around his forehead. She had read in a Muggle magazine that that gave off the impression of maintaining eye contact.

"This is an old Transfiguration classroom, Granger. I'm surprised you didn't read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

"They don't really have blueprints of the castle in the book, Malfoy. What do you want?" Her voice sounded tired to her own ears and she cursed herself for showing signs of weakness.

He shrugged and leaned back against the wall, arms crossed. He was the image of casualness but Hermione could sense the tension coiled up inside of him. His movements were too tight, too calculated. "To see you."

Hermione wanted to yell at his response. The conversation between the Greengrasses had been bad enough. This was the last thing she needed right now.

"Come off it, Malfoy," she bit out, "what do you want from me? I didn't think there was much left to say between us. And certainly nothing that requires being dragged into an old classroom."

"Au contraire, Granger. There's a lot to say. You seem to be forgetting that you're Head Girl and I'm Head Boy and we have to work together. I won't have you jeopardizing my performance because of your -needs."

Hermione's mouth fell open in indignation. "I'd ask you what you think my needs are Malfoy, but if my memory serves me correctly, we've been down that rabbit hole before. I don't need you, Malfoy, nor do I want you. And I was fully prepared to work with you this year until you pulled that little stunt the other night."

He suddenly pushed off the wall and stormed towards her. She hurriedly took a few steps back to keep a safe distance between them. Her foot caught against something and she landed on the floor with a painful thud. Draco was crouched over her in an instant. If it was concern she was expecting, she was sorely mistaken. He had her legs trapped between his own, his hands were planted on either side of her head and his face was a mere inches away from hers. The sides of his heavy robes fell around him, and she was engulfed by him. She hoped he couldn't see the fear in her eyes. Not that she was scared of him, no. It was more so her reaction to his proximity that she hoped would remain undiscovered.

"Get off me, Malfoy."

"My stunt," he spat, "was because of you, Granger. You with your constant fucking staring, your eyes following me around, you think I can't feel it? I've felt it since Fifth year and I fucking hated it. And the worst part, Granger, is that other people see it too. They see you staring at me with your big, brown eyes, devouring me, like you own me when you fucking don't. I've had to deal with my friends, my girlfriends, convince them that there's nothing between us. Can you imagine?" Draco laughed softly. "Me being with Potter's precious Mudblood. Priceless. So I kiss you because I hope that's enough for you, enough of me for you to just *fucking stop*. But it's not, is it? You want more. I could see it in your eyes that night and I can see it in your eyes now."

He paused to take a deep breath.

"I can't give you more, Granger, you know this." His whisper was harsh. She had a fleeting thought that this statement was directed to himself more than at her.

Hermione was frozen in place, unable to move or speak or even blink. She could feel nausea rising because she recognized the truth when she heard it.

"And now that you've realized this, you can't even look at me anymore."

He was right. She had made concerted efforts in not letting her eyes roam to the Slytherin table in search for him at mealtimes or during class. If they did happen upon him, she forced herself not to linger.

"Wasn't that your ultimate goal then, Malfoy?" Hermione choked out the question. "I've stopped staring at you, so you don't have to feel repulsed all the time now."

"Is that it then, Granger? You're done with me?"

"Yes." She wanted it to be the truth. She really did.

"Liar."

"You should just take my word for it and move on, Malfoy. For your sake and -Astoria's." She finally met his piercing gaze for the first time in a week. There was no change in his demeanour at the mention of his girlfriend's name. Rather, he seemed to be examining her face, looking for something. She didn't understand why he was doing this, why any of this was happening. She didn't understand what had triggered him to act this way.

"I can't, Granger. I thought you Gryffindors were honest to a fault. You should leave the lying to nasty little Slytherins like me."

"Just get off me, Malfoy. I'm done with this conversation."

"You're not in any position to be making demands, Granger."

"You're acting demented!"

"Maybe I am demented." He dipped his head and nipped at her ear lobe. She gasped and pulled her head away to escape his attentions, while pushing ineffectively at his shoulders. Undeterred, he brushed his lips against the sensitive spot where her neck met her ear, down the column of her throat, dipping his tongue into the hollow of her throat and continued around the edges of the V-neck of her t-shirt. Hermione let out an involuntary whimper and immediately bit her lower lip to suppress the sound.

"Is this turning you on, Granger?"

The question was cold, taunting and something inside of her snapped. Two years' worth of confused attraction and frustration flooded through her veins. He wanted honesty? She'd give it to him. He thought she was a psycho with some crazy, fatal attraction? So fucking be it. She was so over this.

"Yes."

She looked back at him defiantly, daring him to open his mouth. He looked slightly surprised. Finally, finally, the tables were turning. She hoped. She continued, her voice thick with sarcasm.

"Doesn't that just make your skin crawl, Malfoy? Little old Mudblood me, turned on by you. Actually enjoying feeling you on top of me. Doesn't it just disgust you, Malfoy? You had to put your lips on me, on my dirty skin, just to prove a point, and it didn't work because I loved it. So what are you going to do now?"

He wore an unreadable expression on his face, save for his eyes, which had darkened considerably. He was silent for what felt like a long time. When he finally did speak, it was to say the last thing Hermione expected to hear.

"I'm going to kiss you now, Granger. Are you going to have a problem with that?"

Hermione expelled a breath she didn't even know she was holding in and slowly shook her head.

"Good."

He gently grabbed her arms and pinned them over her head with one hand, effectively stretching her out below him, while propping himself up with his other hand.

He slowly kissed along her chin until his lips were on hers. His tongue swept over her sensitive bottom lip and sucked it gently between his own. She gasped into his mouth and tried to release her hands, unsuccessfully. Physically, he was much stronger than she had imagined. His lips were soft and massaging against hers and she could feel her own tingling. She felt heady, aroused, at being dominated by him in this way. He had fully lowered himself onto her now and she revelled in the feel of his body against her own.

In this moment, there were no thoughts of obsessive stares, or girlfriends, or erratic behaviour. All there was was a desperate hunger, which was matched equally by him. Hermione was logical enough to assume that his feelings, whatever they might be, did not match his words.

Draco deepened the kiss, seeking her tongue out with his own. The hand restraining her arms had moved away and was now tangled in her hair. His other hand was on her hip, massaging her over her t-shirt. With her own hands free, she began to explore the expanse of his back, his sides and back up to his arms. He groaned at the feeling of her hands on him. She could feel his hardness pressed into her thigh and felt a rush of wetness soak her knickers. She had done that.

His fingers came into contact with a patch of skin that had been revealed by her t-shirt riding up. She could feel them still for a moment, and then they resumed their stroking motion. He seemed to be stopping himself from going further.

How he still had that self-control was beyond Hermione. She sure didn't.

Must be all the practice he's had.

The thought doused Hermione like a bucket of cold water. What was she doing? She had meant to crack his facade with her earlier outburst, not prolong her own torture. How had she fallen in so deep?

She disentangled her arms from him and pushed him away. He must have sensed the change in her, because he offered no resistance to being pushed away. Once she was no longer being pinned down by him, she hurriedly scrambled away, putting as much distance between them as possible. She pulled her knees up to her chest and observed him as he sat up slowly. They were both breathing hard and fast. Neither said anything for a long time. She continued to stare at him, waiting for something, anything to happen. He didn't meet her gaze, opting to stare at the floor instead, seemingly deep in thought. What did people do in these situations? The silence grew until it bordered on suffocating.

Finally, just as she opened her mouth to speak-

"You should go."

The words were spoken in an emotionless, disengaged voice. Hermione didn't need to be told twice. She left.


A/N: Sorry for any formatting issues -I typed out and posted this through my phone! I'll fix the formatting when I have a chance. Again, review and leave me your thoughts :) Also, if you're wondering why the writing is garbage -it's because I don't have a beta.

I'm trying not to write Draco's perspective at all -I want this to be from Hermione's point of view. Let's see how that goes!