Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter! Though I wish I did!

Thanks to everyone who reviewed and added this story to your alerts list!

This chapter is pretty much a background to their relationship!

Hope you like it and please review!

"Should I go?" she muttered to herself, her voice a tad hysterical. Probably not. It would just open up old wounds but, maybe, she should give herself a chance to explain. After all, she had left without a word; crept out into the dead of night. It was a heartless and cruel thing to do but Hermione was certain that it would have been ten times easier for him to move on then it was for her. She didn't eat, didn't sleep, and hardly talked. She wasn't herself…without him.

But it wasn't like she had a choice. It was during the War. They couldn't have been together; something would have forced them apart…or someone. Her friends, his family, Voldemort, Death Eaters…even her family would have been outraged and shocked if they'd known. She hadn't made it a secret when she came home for the Summer Holidays that she had despised him.

But that had changed; gradually. She didn't know why. It wasn't like he had abruptly transformed into a nice, decent, caring guy. He had still been a Slytherin through and through. She hadn't changed either. She had still been the intelligent, thoughtful, stubborn Gryffindor then too. They hadn't changed, not outwardly or inwardly, but something had. They had started to…notice each other. One accidental touch had led to undesirable feelings which had given rise to heated battles of wits as they tried to forget the lust that had consumed them. Then one day someone lost control, they would argue over who had later, and somehow they'd kissed. It had been fiery, passionate, forceful and most of all…a battle of wills. Neither would let the other win dominance and so, as the desire for more became completely unbearable, they had started, angrily and vigorously, to tear off any unwanted garments. And later as they lay, exhausted and panting, on a classroom floor they began to regret. The question "What the hell did I just do?" echoed in both their minds.

They didn't move. They didn't touch. They didn't cover themselves. They just attempted to digest the events that had just unfolded until one; unable to say a word, sat up, trembling and unsettled, and gathered their belongings. The other followed suit; dressing slowly with shaking hands. They couldn't even make eye contact as they disappeared in opposite directions; hoping never to see the other again.

But they did. They had to; they went to the same school. They avoided places where they thought the other might be. He didn't go to the library. She didn't go to any Quidditch matches; no matter how much her friends pestered her to be there. She always found some assignment to occupy her mind in the library. He trained the most of all the pupils in the school at Quidditch and he, in turn, was rewarded with an obsession that would engage his attention, and drown out every moan, groan, and scream that echoed non-stop in his head, and leave him too exhausted to think as he lay in bed at night. He had discovered it was a lot worse at night.

They carried on like that for months; not having anything to do with one another. Nobody else noticed; it wasn't like they were in any way close before. It wasn't strange or startling. The only thing different was the lack of insults, and really, wasn't that just a sign that they were maturing? Well, that was the accepted view by the majority anyway.

One night though, unbeknownst to each other, they had both ended up by the lake. She had tried to make a hasty exit but he had been sick of dancing around the incident. So he grabbed her arm. It seemed innocent enough but it evolved, as it had done before, into ripped robes and ferocious feelings of lust. This time they talked; staying up till dawn. They didn't bond; not then. But they decided that if they couldn't control the desires, that they might as well give into them. So they did. They didn't exchange many words but that was alright. They mutually thought that they were connected by lust alone and not love; never love… but how wrong they were.

One night months later, in the moonlit darkness, he whispered a phrase in her ear. She didn't understand it so, being Hermione Granger, she researched it. In the Languages of the World section of her beloved library she found a book. And that book awakened her mind to a new language. Irish. She translated his phrase and stared in awe at the parchment before her. He couldn't have meant it…could he? Tá cion agam ort…I love you. She sat at that table for hours; disbelief in her eyes. Finally, Neville awakened her from her trance, as it was nearing curfew, and helped her back to the Gryffindor Common Room.

After midnight, two days later, she borrowed Harry's invisibility cloak and walked towards the dungeons of Hogwarts. She was frightened of what she might discover. She had crawled undetected into his bed. She wasn't self-conscious…what would that solve now? He had jerked awake at the feeling of his bed drooping under both their weights. She had covered his mouth, and she whispered "why did you say it?" into his ear.

He had frozen so she took away her hand and proceeded to take off the cloak. "Well?" she questioned quietly as she folded the cloak beside her.

"I felt it…I mean…" he tried to get his thoughts straight. "I think I love you."

"It would never work." She said as she propped herself up on her elbow; shaking her head.

"I know" he had said softly; his eyes filled with quiet yearning.

She looked him in the eye, they never did that, and she felt something change. His feelings were genuine; she was sure of that. But she needed to clear her head first. She needed to think about this. "I'm going to go back to my dorm." She murmured as she picked up the Invisibility Cloak.

He had just nodded silently as she departed.

Two weeks later, when he had given up almost all hope, they were both stuck in a traffic jam in the hallway. Peeves had been up to some kind of mischief. Hermione had brushed up against him and spoken an order into his ear; amidst the chaos. "Teach me Irish". He looked up at her in shock and then a smile had spread over his features; for a brief second. Then he masked it and sauntered off to class.

She had smiled joyfully after him. She had figured out that she loved him too. And she had decided that she had to at least try. If she didn't try…how would she ever know what might have been?

And so it began: the Prince and the Princess…but from two opposing kingdoms. They spoke only in Irish; to avoid other students overhearing their conversations. She was a quick learner and he was a good teacher. In classes they would exchange smiles and glances and, if possible, terms of endearment. He would walk behind her to the Store Cupboard and whisper sweet nothings.

He called her m'anam cara; my soulmate.

Please Review!

Lots of Love,

Shadowdustxxx