Hermione,

Not speaking to you is tearing me apart. This letter has been written and re-written so many times...I was never good with words. Not like you are. Your intellect is what interests me most. As a Malfoy, I hold many traits and pride is one I hold dear to my heart. Unfortunately, regarding schooling the only lesson I am at all good at is potions. You are under a promise not to tell anyone that of course, I can't have my reputation tarnished. Just kidding.

I'm undecided as to what I want to say to you. I want to tell you so many things; I want you to know that your intensity is not only attractive and alluring but enticing, and your personality so complex I cannot seem to figure you out. What did that kiss mean? Did it even happen? I've spent so many nights unable to sleep, turning the events of the Yule Ball in my mind until I'm unsure what is fact and what is fiction.

If anything, I want you to understand that I am not the Draco Malfoy that everyone else sees. I may be shallow (perhaps a complement to yourself, also?) and extremely proud, selfish and slightly prejudiced, a few months of self discovery have also told me I want more for myself than this name.

I want to see you.

Draco.

Hermione stood, resting against the smooth wood of her kitchen cabinet. She was, understandably, nervous. Brown hair tickled her open shoulders, enhancing the subtle tones of her floral summer dress. The middle of July allowed her to dress daintily despite the prickling heat of the evening sun. She had recived Draco's letter two weeks prior to this moment – a well-written letter, she had to say, especially in comparison with the ones she usually received from Harry and Ron. It had taken her days to decide on her reply. Draco had ignored her for the remaining school year. Although the taunts had subsided, she had hoped for any contact at all. She finally convinced herself that the night had never happened, that she had simply gone straight to bed once the end of the dance had come around. And now, anxiety had found a faithful friend in Hermione.

Through the doubt, she realised she wanted to see him. Needed to see him, perhaps. It was all very confusing. Putting her mind to rest, she replied that her parents would be out of town soon. If he wanted to see her, he could travel to her house for the weekend, and that was all. He was not to contact her for the summer (she would be leaving for Grimmauld Place in a matter of days, however, she was not to mention this to Draco). He had replied quickly. "I will be there."

And so, here she was. Hermione felt a breeze stroke her cheek through the open window, and turned to see a taxi cab pull up in front of her small house. For a moment, she felt a brief stab of shame. Surely, Draco must be used to fancier homes? She shook away the feeling, remembering she only wanted to discuss what happened. It was in her nature to calculate facts, to analyse ideas. She had to know, and that is all there was to their meeting. Or so she thought, as she watched a blonde head emerge from the car, sun reflecting on the almost white hair. Draco looked towards the house, straight through the glass window and into her eyes. Grey meeting brown. Hermione was frozen, until Draco uncharacteristically smiled. A smile to melt the ice she had felt forming in her bones.

Hermione walked around to open the door, slowly, forcing her mind into a state of stability. Draco stood on the doorstep in his usual black trousers and shirt, the sleeves folded up to his elbows to reveal the pale skin beneath. A backpack was slung carelessly over his right shoulder, and his hair was abnormally messy. His look was uncontrolled, and Hermione was instantly attracted to his attitude.

"I told my parents I was staying with a school friend. You wouldn't believe the amount of questions I was subjected to! Urgh. Also, there is a reason why I've never used muggle transport before – it smells positively filthy!" Hermione instantly remembered her reasons for his arrival with this arrogant tone. She took a step backwards, just in time for Draco to flash perfectly white teeth into that melting smile.

"Sorry. It's so good to see you." Draco apologised. When Hermione made no move to speak, Draco leaned forward. He brushed one hand against her cheek, pulling her in to a warm kiss. Hermione was shocked, and instead of breaking the kiss she softed into his arms. After a few moments, Draco moved away, the air between them thick with awkward tension.

"I made us dinner." Hermione managed to stutter out. "It's pasta. Unfortunately, I'm not as great in the kitchen as I am in the classroom."

"I feel sorry for your future husband" Draco laughed.

"On to the sexist jokes already, I see. You sure know how to win over a girl." Hermione smiled in return. Even though Draco's joke went far beyond all of her morals, she appreciated his capacity to be comedic, something she didn't expect. She was enjoying learning new things about someone she never believed she'd be interested in.

After dinner – superbly cooked, Hermione even surprised herself – and a shared bottle of her parents wine, the couple were becoming comfortable with each other. Both giggling and joking, they cleaned up and decided on sitting on the patio table in the garden, watching the evening sky turn from blue to orange tinged pink while the summer sun set.

"Be honest. Why did you write to me?" Hermione asked Draco.

"I couldn't tell you. I don't know. Something about you is so different to all the other girls."

"Well, you're only really acquainted with Pansy... it's not as if she's very deep, is it?" Hermione watched as his face turned from party offensive to broken with laughter.

"Who's the joker now?" Draco's face become serious. "Why did you invite me?"

"I guess I couldn't tell you. I wanted to understand why you kissed me." Hermione could feel the warmth of the alcohol in her stomach giving her a sense of confidence she had never before found.

"I barely understand myself. It was as if I was watching myself from a distance, and had no control over the events that happened." Draco reached for Hermione's hand. "I don't regret that kiss." Hermione realised that for once, she could not answer the reasons behind her twisted relationship with Draco. If you could call it a relationship. For the moment, she was free. She had no control. She was a cloud drifting through stormy winds toward an inevitable crash of thunder, and she wanted to enjoy it before Draco was dragged from her outstretched hands.

Draco stood up. Then, he bent over Hermione, cupping his hands behind her back and underneath her legs to pick her up. She could feel his tensed arms around her. She felt surreal. In silence, Draco carried Hermione up the stairs of her house and into her room without her directing him. They were floating on luck tonight. He released her onto the bed, and when she sat up he pressed her shoulders back onto the layers of white cover. Before she knew what she was doing, Hermione was pulling him against her, pushing her mouth onto his. She wasn't herself. There was no space in her mind for anything but the feeling of Draco's lips, his hands. She was unbuttoning his shirt, almost ripping the buttons off. Her hands searched over his chest, around his ribs and spread out over his back. Draco parted her legs with his own while she tore his shirt from his shoulders. Hermione had never felt this way before. She was passionate, she was an exaggerated picture of lust and longing. Draco was overwhelmed by her reaction to his kisses.

"Hermione," he gasped, "Hermione, we don't have to do anything."

"Don't try to control me." Hermione pushed into his arm, turning him onto his back and straddling him. Her hair was fire, falling in waves around her flushed cheeks.

"I promise I'm not. I just don't want to you to regret this evening. I don't know what I'd do if you ignored me all year. I can't handle not having you."

"Then have me." Hermione was softened by his sweet words, but not enough to calm the flames licking her body. Draco, however, seemed to be encouraged by her words, whispered in a husky tone into his ear. He reached under her dress, into her underwear. Inside, his head screamed nervously. Draco was scared. His emotions didn't translate on his actions though, as he reached further until he could feel the wet folds of Hermione. He rubbed her clitoris cautiously, but her heavy moaning urged him on, towards her opening. Hermione anticipated the entrance. Her whole body wanted it, and she dug her nails into Draco's arms to hurry him. He entered. She only felt a small discomfort, and then bliss as he worked his fingers, pumping them in and out of her wetness. He was unexperienced, but searched until he found her spot. Hermione gasped, her legs slightly shaking as she moved with his hand, making her climax come quicker and heavily. Draco gave her on final stroke before pulling his hand out. Hermione collapsed on his chest. She looked up into those intense, grey eyes. A thousand words spoken in the silence that passed. She felt free.