A/N: Just a bit of a warning, there is a tiny bit of "smut" in this chapter. Nothing too graphic, that'll be for later, but it is here. Enjoy!

Woes of a Coward

Chapter Four

Madame Pomfrey left the two students on their beds at the far end of the infirmary to attend to some Hufflepuff first year that had fallen off his broom during flying practice, and seemed to have broken his leg. The older witch had cut off enough of Granger's hair so she could breathe and see again, and had just trimmed Draco's out of his eyes before she'd left to take care of the child who obviously needed more medical attention.

Draco huffed angrily when she retreated. He could really care less if someone had been brought in throwing up blood and missing limbs. Nobody just walked away when he needed them. He felt certain he was going to die of a bloody heat stroke. He was sweating in crevices he'd never even realized he had before, and he was starting to get light headed.

Granger watched him silently, for the longest time, as he grabbed lengths of his hair and choppily cut them off. His arms were tired from how hard it was to do something like that, especially with his hair so heavy. The exhaustion of working so hard, not to mention the excessive amount of heat, was really starting to get to him. When it looked like he was about to cut his ear off she jumped in, the Gryffindor in her coming forth. "Let me help you," she said, walking over to him, and taking the scissors from him before he could object.

He wanted to retort back that he'd rather die than have her touch him. That it was bad enough to have an old witch who didn't even know how to brew the correct counter potion fiddling with his hair, he didn't want a Mudblood doing it. But, unfortunately, he knew if he didn't let her, he would probably pass out soon. He was beginning to feel sick to his stomach and sway dizzily, even though he was sitting down.

Granger worked at a steady and precise pace. At first he thought she was doing it slow on purpose, but after a length of silence passed, and he could see again, he witnessed her fondly hold onto his hair and place it carefully on the bed beside them, as though it were delicate. "What exactly are you doing?" He snapped, when finally his entire face was free and he could feel cold air blowing on him. He took a deep breath to let it in. It felt like heaven flowing through his lungs.

"You have…really nice hair. I didn't know you were naturally curly," she replied, avoiding answering his question.

Draco turned red again, this time not from the heat. "Yes, well, I've spent a fortune on hair potions to keep it slicked back and straight like it is. I don't like people to know my hair has a curl to it. It came from my mother's side of the family. It's feminine." He wasn't entirely sure why he felt as though he needed to explain anything to her. He thought it probably had a lot to do with the fact that he'd almost died, was feeling very weak, and her perfume that he loved so much was caressing the inside of his nostrils like someone would touch a lover. "And that still doesn't answer my question." He added, quickly.

"I just thought… Well. There are muggles who suffer from cancer. They get really sick, and a lot of them die, but a lot of them live, too. But part of the treatment for it causes them to lose all of their hair. You and I have grown so much extra between the two of us that I thought…Well, that I could donate it to them. So they could make wigs." She said it all fast, as though knowing that he was going to tease her relentlessly for it, and wanting to get it all over and done with as quickly as possible.

Draco held back his insults. He wanted to yell that no way was she giving his perfect hair to a bunch of Mudbloods, that he could care less if they were bald, it would affect his life in no way whatsoever. The only thing that stopped him was that she seemed so passionate about it. Not to mention she was holding his hair in her hands and had a pair of scissors very close to his ear. "That's nice," he replied, sarcastically.

She didn't reply.

After she'd finished cutting Draco's hair so that it was just cut at his ears, she moved back to her bed and pulled a book out, ready to study some more until her hair grew over her eyes and had to be cut again. She used her wand to close the curtains around them so the large crowd in the front of the infirmary couldn't see them, and made herself comfortable.

Draco had nothing to read, nor anything to do. Madame Pomfrey had calculated that it would probably take about six more hours before the potion wore off and their hair would finally stop growing. There were still two hours before dinner in the Great Hall, but the two students had agreed to have a tray brought to them and eat in the infirmary. Draco hadn't had a single visitor stop by all day. Granger had turned her boyfriend and Potter away when the medi-witch had announced they were there to see her a few minutes prior to the Hufflepuff boy and his broken limb.

Draco attempted to take a nap out of boredom, counting hippogriffs jumping over fences to try and make him sleepy. He got to two hundred and fifty seven before he sat up, sighing, and grabbed the scissors that were located on the desk beside him. He could literally feel his hair as it grew; it was such an odd sensation that it was hard for him to have nothing to distract him with. It made his scalp itch slightly; it was uncomfortable.

He glanced over at Granger, who was still engrossed in her book. Since she was a woman, after the first hour of being in the Hospital Wing her beard had disappeared. Her unibrow hadn't grown back after the first time she had used her wand to get rid of it, so she was only suffering from the hair on her head growing at an alarming rate. Draco had to admit, rather begrudgingly, that now that her hair had more weight to it, it looked rather nice. It was a perfect shade of chestnut, and not nearly as curly as it had been. The frizziness of it had also gone away with the excess weight, and now it caressed her face and complimented her body in more feminine ways. In all the years Draco had known her, her hair had never grown much longer than her shoulders. He had a feeling that when it came time to cut it, she was going to keep it at a longer length than it had ever been before. She'd have to be blind not to notice how much nicer she looked now. She probably should be thanking Draco; otherwise she'd never know that it was possible to have nice, tame hair.

"What are you reading?" Draco said when the boredom became too much for him to bear. He'd rather make small talk with her than try to ignore the urge to scratch his head raw with his nails.

"Hogwarts, A History," she admitted, sounding almost sheepish.

"Oh, yeah? I've read that a few times actually. Some of the charms that they put around the place are fascinating."

Granger blinked, as though surprised. "You've…read this before?"

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?"

"It's not…It's just that I thought I was the only one who had ever really read it. I'm always telling Harry and Ron things that the book says because they've probably done nothing more than glance at it once or twice," she closed it suddenly, and set it onto the table beside her, glancing thoughtfully at the younger Malfoy, as though she wanted to discuss things about it that she'd read.

Draco quickly changed the subject. In all honesty, he'd only read the book when he was in his Sixth year, and needed to figure out a way to get Death Eaters inside. It was a good thing he had, because some of the protective charms placed on the building could actually seriously injury someone if they were breached. He didn't want to admit any of that to Granger. "Speaking of the Golden Boys," he said, since it was the only thing he could think of to talk about, "Why did you send them away when they came?"

She blushed, furiously. "Oh, I…Well. I just didn't want to have to deal with them teasing me," she admitted.

"Funny that you have to turn away your own boyfriend simply because he hasn't learned how to be tactful… I would have figured that after being around you for so long, he'd be a bit more mature than he is," he waited for Granger to snap something back at him about how he had no right to preach about maturity after he'd thrown a handful of nightshade in her potion to make her hair blow up, and was rather surprised when she seemed to shake her shoulders in an almost agreement.

"I really would rather nobody see me right now," she said quietly. "I just want to focus on schoolwork so I can get the job that I want, and try to go back to living a normal life. Being best friends with Harry for so long can make you long for something mediocre," she chuckled at her attempt of humor.

Draco felt bitter at the mention of Potter, and turned his head away from her to hide his scowl.

Granger cleared her throat, as though realizing she had crossed a boundary she shouldn't have, and piped up quietly, "So, I've always wondered…are you and Pansy an item?"

He snorted. "She wishes that were the case." He wanted to say something sarcastically about how long she'd actually wondered about his love life, but he swallowed that down. He was finding it increasingly harder to keep up conversation with her when it came to not being rude. He'd never held back so many retorts before in his life.

After awhile, their small talk increased to broader subjects. He learned that though she didn't exactly love Quidditch, that she was quite knowledgeable when it came to the teams and the players. She knew nearly as many stats as he did, especially when it came to Viktor Krum. They spoke briefly on him, too, and the Yule Ball. They talked about their favorite, and least favorite classes. They even spoke a bit about what went on when they were in the midst of the war. When they got to the day that she'd been tortured in his house, there was a long, awkward pause, as they tried to figure out whether or not it would be safe to continue on that topic. "Why did you lie and say you weren't sure who we were?" she questioned, after awhile. "I know you knew it was us."

He cleared his throat, suddenly very hot and uncomfortable. "By that time I was done with the war. The things that went on inside of our manor… I just wanted everything to be over."

"Then what about what happened in the Room of Requirement?"

He blanched there. He had been afraid the conversation would be getting to that point, and wasn't entirely ready to talk about it. "My family was suffering. They were wandless and held prisoners. We all were. For over two years…I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't trying to kill you-"

"You would rather Voldemort have done it instead?"

Draco cringed at her use of the name, and found himself unable to continue talking to her. He had nothing else to say, except to admit that he'd taken the cowards way out. That was, unfortunately, his biggest issue, though he never liked to admit it. When he was afraid, and he often was, he immediately made some else suffer so he could get out. He knew it was a horrible trait to have, and that Granger would never understand, especially considering she was a Gryffindor, so he dropped conversation, mumbling that he wanted to take a nap, though he never fell asleep.

Over the following few months that passed, Hermione grew increasingly more confused about her feelings for Draco, and her relationship with Ron. Her and the Pureblood hadn't had anymore conversations since the night they'd spent together in the infirmary, aside from an occasional "hey" or a brief nod of acknowledgment if they were ever paired near each other in Potions again. She wasn't entirely sure why she was suddenly so infatuated with him, expect for the fact that he was the first person that was close to her age where she could have a decent and stimulatingly intellectual conversation. After they'd finally been released from the Hospital Wing and she had stopped to check out her new hair style in the mirror after they'd stepped out, she had caught him glancing at her out of the corner of her eye. He mumbled something about how her hair looked "a lot better without that old bush for birds to make nests in" and suddenly her world had gone topsy-turvy.

Ron paid Hermione almost no attention. She knew that he loved her, but most days she wasn't sure why. He seemed to care more about Quidditch, food, and hanging out with the guys than he did sitting with her. The longer she thought about it, the more she noticed that Ron really only went to her if he needed help with homework, or if he was wanting her to come into his bedroom late at night so they could explore each other's bodies.

It was on a particularly cold November evening that she finally gave in and went to his bedroom. She'd come up with as many excuses as possible for as long as she possibly could, before it seemed that Ron was just growing increasingly angry with her. They'd now been in a relationship for six months and she had allowed nothing more than for Ron to fondle her breasts. True, he'd gotten a little better at it, but she still didn't find it exciting like she'd read about in books. In fact, she was starting to feel slightly sefl-conscious. She figured a lot of it had to do with the fact that she was just a B-cup and Ron's hands were the size of baseball gloves. Her breasts probably felt small and odd when he held them, unlike Lavender, whom Hermione shared a room with.

That was a problem within itself as well. It seemed that Lavender had ill feelings toward Hermione for "stealing her boyfriend" even after all the years had passed since their break up. She liked to belittle the less experienced girl, and flaunt what she had. She was a D cup, and her breasts were large, perky, and supple. She had cornered Hermione once in the washroom to ask the girl if Ron liked to play with hers by bouncing them around as he'd done with her so often, and laughed when Hermione fumed and said no. Her breasts probably wouldn't bounce as Lavender's did. In fact, her breasts seemed smaller than they really were the longer she was around the blonde.

A lot of her reasoning for finally giving in and going to her boyfriend's dormitory had a lot to do with the fact that she didn't want Lavender to think that Ron didn't find her as fun or as attractive. Hermione knew that the two of them had suddenly become on slightly friendly terms again, she would often find them walking to classes that Hermione didn't have together, or Lavender would join them in the Great Hall for meals and laugh loudly about old inside jokes her and Ron had made. Hermione wasn't really the jealous type, most of the time, but she didn't like that the blonde was trying to create a chasm between her and Ron.

It was that motivation that Hermione found herself in Ron's bed, and nearly completely naked, only clad in her knickers.

Ron's eyes were lust-filled. She knew when she looked at him through the moonlight that he liked what he saw, and she closed her eyes as his mouth and tongue trailed along her neck; exploring the area he'd never before had the opportunity to get intimate with.

Hermione found the sensation to be good, but not nearly as great as she had expected. It seemed like Ron was always just an inch shy of the area she could tell would feel amazing, and though she craned around and moved to try to get his lips where she wanted them – he never obliged. It was like trying to teach an old dog new tricks.

As he seemed to get more excited, his mouth became harsher on her skin, and he began to use his teeth. When he grew dangerously close to her nipple she became frightened that he might actually bite it off, and instead pushed his head down, in an attempt to move it away from there, not thinking about what might be on his mind at that motion. "Impatient, are we?" he asked, and before she could say another word, he'd spread her legs wide, and brought his tongue down on the most personal part of her body.

There was a moment when she jerked to pull away from him, feeling suddenly embarrassed and exposed, but when she lifted up to move away, he took the opportunity to pull her knickers down her thighs, and continue where he had left off.

She tried to distract her thoughts, and think of anything else. She thought about the war of the giants, the Goblin civil rights movements, and how muggle money converted into Wizard money to take her mind off of what he was doing… At first.

Slowly she felt her body begin to grow warm, and she forced herself to relax. Whatever Ron was doing (she was too afraid to open her eyes) she was really enjoying it. His tongue was softer, slowly running over her sensitive spot, and his hands, that were resting on the outside of her thighs, felt like they were warming her entire body. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt so good before, it was almost overwhelming.

She tried to hold off whatever sensation she felt building inside her by focusing on other things, when really she wanted to grab Ron's head and push him against her more, and scream for him to stop being so fucking soft, that she needed more pressure or she was going to explode. She could feel her body begin to quiver in anticipation, her fingers were twitching on the bed, grabbing at the blankets because she felt as though she might lose control if she didn't have anything to hold onto. Her breathing was increasing to a dangerous speed, she was almost there-

Just as suddenly as the good feeling had started, it diminished. Ron had sat up, and buried his face in his hands, looking depressed. "I'm rubbish!" He cried, facing away from his girlfriend.

Hermione lay there blinking for a moment, the loss of what would have been the best orgasm of her life thus far causing her brain to be unable to function at the time. Her body was having a hard time accepting the fact that the thing she had been so close to achieving was taken from her. It was a lot to take in.

"What?" She said, after what seemed like an eternity had passed.

"I'm rubbish. You don't enjoy a thing I do. That's why you never want to come in here when I ask. Why you always have excuses." He was still talking into his hands, where his head was hidden, his voice came out muffled and it took Hermione a second to decipher what exactly he was going on about.

"Oh…Ron, that's not true," she lied.

"I know when you're lying," he snapped, pulling his hands away and turning to look at her. "Why else have you been making so many excuses and wanting to go to bed so early all the time?" He demanded.

She swallowed. She hadn't been expecting Ron to ever bring this up, and it was a conversation she really didn't want to have. Though she'd enjoyed his tongue action, she really hadn't enjoyed anything else he'd done, and to be honest she didn't want to suffer through anymore make-out sessions. They left her more unsatisfied than if she'd just gone to sleep in the first place, not to mention twice as frustrated. She'd relied on her hands her entire life to get her off, but it had always been a rare occurrence that she'd felt the need to do it, up until she'd started dating Ron. Now she found herself always sexually frustrated and angry, and her hands just never did the job that she craved. She always wanted more as soon as she was finished.

She had no idea how to tell Ron that, however. She didn't want to hurt his feelings, and she knew him well enough to know that once his pride was ruined there was no making things better. He'd probably stop doing everything entirely, and then she'd probably explode. It felt safer to lie. "That's not true," she said once more, and took his hand. "I really like what we do…especially that, just now, that was amazing. Yes, it was." She insisted when he shook his head. "You don't give yourself enough credit. I'm sorry that I've been so distant with you. It's just with N.E.W.T.S and everything I've got a lot on my plate, and I don't want to be tired in classes and miss out on important information. I thought you knew that."

Ron seemed to accept her excuse, and after a moment he turned and smiled at her, putting his arm around her and pulling her close to him.

She bit her tongue as they laid down and he wrapped his arm around her, keen on going to sleep. She wanted to finish so badly that it prevented her from drifting off. As soon as he was snoring she untangled herself from him and went back to her dormitory, to temporarily take care of her problem.

When Draco woke up the following morning he was confused for a moment as to where he was. He'd dreamed of Granger the previous night. It wasn't anything sexual, just that she was sitting next to him in the library, and they were laughing and talking and thoroughly enjoying each other's company. It was so realistic that when he woke up he wasn't even sure if it had happened or not. The only thing that let him know it had to have been a dream was the fact that he was still feeling ridiculously lonely. He felt for sure if he woke up knowing he had a friend, even someone like Granger, that he would be happier as the days passed.

He thought about her a lot as he got dressed and when he went to the Great Hall he was disappointed to see that her usual seat was empty. Her boyfriend was there, along with Potter, and after Draco had finished eating his toast he watched as some big breasted blonde took the spot beside Weasley and flipped her hair behind her shoulders flirtatiously. He couldn't hear whatever Weasley was saying to the girl, but he knew whatever it was, it couldn't have been that funny for her laugh to carry all the way to the Slytherin table.

All throughout breakfast he tried to block out how loud the blonde girl was, but he couldn't help but glance over there from time to time. Weasley seemed as though he had completely forgotten that he even had a girlfriend by the way he was looking at the girl sitting beside him. Potter and his red-headed girlfriend were also shooting the tall boy daggers with their eyes, as though they, too, were annoyed with the blonde girl's presence and wanted her to leave. Wanted, rather, for the Weasley to shoo her away.

After breakfast was over, Pansy fell into step beside Draco as she usually did, going on about her dream the previous night, and trying to hook her arm through his despite the fact that he was continuously pushing her hand away from him. "Pansy," he interrupted suddenly, moments before the exited the Great Hall. "Did you see the slag that was hanging all over Weasley?" He questioned.

She narrowed her eyes at him. For a moment Draco swallowed, unsure as to what he could have done this time to upset her. "Yes. Why?"

"Who was it?"

She let go of him, her face turning a shade of red. "Lavender Brown. She used to date him in Sixth Year. Did you forget?"

"I knew she looked familiar, I just couldn't remember her by her face," he admitted, after a silence.

"Well," she said, not bothering to hide the scathe in her tone, "I guess you weren't that interested in him back then. He wasn't with the Granger girl, so you had no reason to pay him any attention."

Draco felt his face heat up. She'd said the words loudly enough so that a lot of people around them heard, and he wasn't sure how to make up for it. He wasn't even sure if her words were the truth or if she was mind fucking him. All he knew was that a long silence had passed in which he had not spoken, and he needed to say something before people believed what she said. "You know what, Pansy, I'm done with you. First you claim me like I'm some sort of trophy and tell people we're betrothed when really I can't stand to be near you. Now you talk to me as though I'd be interested in some Mudblood who isn't even remotely attractive? This is over. All of it." He spat, knowing that what he'd said about Granger was very far from the truth, even though he wished those were his actual thoughts.

A lot of people had grown completely silent after his outburst. Pansy looked as though she were going to burn the place down, and Draco stepped down slightly, fearing the worst. "You know what Draco? That's fine. I don't want to marry you anyway. I mean, we'd have nothing to eat, nothing to wear, and nowhere to live, as I've heard that your father is currently unemployed and you're on the verge of losing your house, just as you've lost the majority of your possessions. I'd much rather be with someone who had more going for him than just a name that no longer means anything. Go ahead and marry the Mudblood. You're filth anyway!" She cried, before storming off down the corridor.

"I'd rather be broke than marry you! Or the Mudblood!" He cried, helplessly, after her, in one last attempt to sound like he was on top.

People had begun walking away as soon as Pansy's outburst had ended. It wasn't until immediately after Draco had spat out his last bit about the Mudblood that he smelled a strong burst of flowery perfume and watched the bookworm hurry passed him. He wasn't sure, but he thought she was crying.

Fuck, he thought, resisting the urge to punch the wall beside him. He stormed off, angrily, though he was unsure if he was mad about the fact that Pansy had finally blurted out his family's secret, or that Granger had overheard his lies…Or maybe it was the fact that he felt like he needed to go and apologize. Whatever it was, he hated it.

A/N: Once again, thanks to everyone who reviewed and who added this to their alerts, and favorites. I love seeing everything, it'd be nice if you could drop a line and let me know what you think, though! And thanks of course, to my beta Brightneebee, who has also helped me figure out a plot for later chapters! Love you all!