Chapter Six

It was with no small amount of trepidation that Hermione allowed Draco to lead her toward a dimly-lit, secluded area of the expansive terrace which stretched along the back of the manor and nearly equaled the length of the enormous house.

Neither spoke as they walked; both were consumed with their own thoughts. The silence was horribly awkward, but Hermione had no intention of speaking first since she had not fully recovered from her earlier embarrassment - not to mention the fact that she had absolutely no idea what to say. She merely followed mutely behind as Draco ambled slowly toward the opposite end of the house. Roundabout the midway point, roughly thirty meters from where they started, Draco stopped suddenly and strode toward the ledge, turning his body to face the gardens and leaning forward so that his elbows rested on the balustrade. The silence hung thickly between them for several long moments. He wouldn't even look at her. This made Hermione nervous and she began to wonder if he'd led her this far away from the ballroom on purpose so that he might berate her for her disgraceful stunt during the auction without having to make a scene in front of his guests.

Expelling an exasperated sigh, Draco finally broke the unbearable tension.

"Did Krum ever tell you where he went that night at the Yule Ball when we first danced?"

Whatever Hermione was expecting Draco to say, it wasn't that. Though she still felt rather ill-at-ease and didn't have the first clue as to what Draco was getting at, she thought it safe to answer the question.

"Er…I don't really remember. I think he said something about walking back to the Durmstrang ship, but I can't be sure. I do remember that he seemed rather disoriented at the time…" she said, feeling rather confused herself.

"I'm surprised at you Hermione. Brightest witch of the age and you didn't notice… Though I suppose you were rather distracted yourself that evening…" he said, more to himself than to her.

Hermione still didn't have any idea what Draco was on about, but she relaxed a little when she saw the ghost of a smirk flash across his face. Apparently he was indulging in a humorous memory and she waited patiently for him to clue her in on the joke.

"I confunded Krum that night," he said after a moment's silent musing. "I had been watching the two of you all evening, waiting for my chance. I had to endure several hours of watching as you danced with him, smiled at him and held his hand. It was intolerable. I was so jealous I could barely see. You looked so lovely that night," he added with another sigh, still resolutely avoiding Hermione's questioning gaze. "When Krum finally left you to go to the refreshment table, I snuck up behind him and cast the charm. I made him think that he'd forgotten something on the ship so that he'd be out of the way and I'd have a chance to be alone with you, if only for a moment…"

Hermione was stunned speechless. All the years they had spent together and she had never known. Too shocked even to register her feelings on his declaration, she continued to listen raptly to his monologue.

"Naturally, the moment Krum had gone some other Bulgarian bloke tried to catch your attention, but I wasn't about to be so easily thwarted. It had been my intention to ask you to the ball all along, you know. I had been observing you for months and I was in the library the day Krum asked you. If only I'd gotten there five minutes sooner… though perhaps that wouldn't have mattered. Your opinion of me was pretty firmly decided by that point," he said, turning to look at her for the first time since they'd left the ballroom.

"Draco…I…I had no idea," Hermione said, completely flabbergasted. "Until that evening at the ball, I'd always assumed you hated me. Even after we danced... If there hadn't been over a hundred and fifty eye witnesses, I myself wouldn't have believed it had actually happened."

"Hermione I never hated you. How could I? You were smart, kind, beautiful and the most magically powerful witch I'd ever met - you still are all of those things. I merely teased you when we were children because I was too young and too stupid to think of a better way to get your attention."

"I hardly think calling someone a 'mudblood' can be classified as mere teasing," she said matter-of-factly, choosing to ignore the butterflies in her stomach that began fluttering the moment he'd said that she was beautiful.

"You know how I was raised. That word got thrown around a lot in my house. I just thought it was another curse word. When I finally learned what it really meant, I stopped using it."

That much was true. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't remember a single occurrence of Draco calling her 'mudblood' after their third year. Before she could ruminate any further on the subject, Draco looked her full in the face, his eyes practically boring holes into her own and her breath caught in her throat at the intensity of his gaze.

"Hermione, will you dance with me?" he asked solemnly, his expression almost pleading. "This is the last time I'm going to ask."

The bottom of Hermione's stomach dropped to her ankles as he stared at her. She clenched her fists tightly by her sides in a desperate attempt to keep her hands from shaking. She tentatively met his gaze, swallowed nervously to forestall speaking and frantically willed her cheeks to stop blushing. She had never met another person who could make her feel so thoroughly undone.

"Alright," she said quietly.

Without another word Draco approached her and coaxed her hands to relax into his with only the slightest touch. Unlike their first dance all those years ago he didn't bother to start them off in the proper waltzing position, pulling her instead into a close embrace. Hermione melted into his strong arms as he pressed her cheek firmly to his chest and she inhaled his familiar scent. He had one arm wrapped securely around her waist, while the other played absently with one of her curls. The distant sounds of the orchestra floated out to the terrace where they revolved slowly on the spot, illuminated only by the faint glow of the moon.

Hermione recognized the tune at once – an orchestral arrangement of Debussy's Beau Soir. It was a song that she and Draco had danced to many times in the past. In fact, it was the last song they danced to at the Hogwarts graduation ball, moments before his parent's whisked him away to France to get married. As much as the memory depressed her, it was impossible to dwell on such thoughts as Draco held her closely and whispered the song's lyrics in her ear…

Lorsque au soleil couchant les rivières sont roses

Et qu'un tiède frisson court sur les champs de blé,

Un conseil d'être heureux semble sortir des choses

Et monter vers le coeur troublé.

Hermione felt both his breath whispering against her ear and the low rumble of his soothing voice reverberating in his chest beneath her fingers. She was blissful in that moment. Nothing could touch them in their perfect bubble of warmth, both reveling in the melancholic beauty of the winding melody – rising and falling as they breathed.

Un conseil de goûter le charme d'être au monde

Cependant qu'on est jeune et que le soir est beau,

Car nous nous en allons, comme s'en va cette onde:

Elle à la mer, nous au tombeau.

They continued to dance long after the orchestra stopped playing, neither one willing to break the spell. Hermione kept her face buried in Draco's chest so that he wouldn't see the silent tears streaming down her face. Despite her attempt to hide them, Draco brought a hand to her face and gently brushed the tears from her cheeks.

"Why are you crying Hermione?" he asked in a voice so tender that it brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes.

Why was she crying? She was crying for what they had lost and for what they might have been. She cried because she knew that the moment they ended the dance, he would be lost to her once more. She cried because she still loved him and it didn't matter whether he loved her or not because in the end he would have to marry a pureblood. Although he was of legal age and free to make his own decisions, she was sure that there would be some stipulation in his wife's will to the effect that if he didn't marry a pureblood then he would likely lose his fortune. Deciding it was best to avoid that topic, she opted to tell him half-truths.

"It's just that song…it's so sad and so beautiful…and I haven't heard it in such a long time. I forgot how much I loved that song," she sighed. "I'm just feeling a bit nostalgic I guess."

All of those things were true enough and though he could probably tell that she was withholding something from him, he didn't press her and she was grateful for it. He simply held her to him and Hermione knew that he understood.

As they clung to one another in the waning moonlight a clock chimed midnight and over the tolling of the bell they could hear the distant chattering of the crowd as the guests made to take their leave.

"Do you need to go in and say a proper goodnight to your guests?" Hermione asked, trying not to sound too disappointed at the thought of losing his warmth.

"No. The house elves will show everyone out. The only thing I need to do is be here with you," he said and he smiled a broad, genuine smile.

Hermione said nothing as Draco led them over to the balustrade and pressed his body up against hers. He stood behind her, rested his chin on her shoulder and wrapped his arms securely around her waist so that they were both looking out over the moonlit lake.

"Are you warm enough?" he asked softly in her ear.

"Mmmhmm," she hummed.

She couldn't remember the last time she felt as safe and content as she did in his arms at that moment. They stayed like that for a long time, watching the moon's reflection shimmering on the surface of the lake, not saying a word.

When the last of the voices of the retreating guests finally faded, Draco turned Hermione so that she was facing him.

"Would you like to come in for a drink?" he asked in a voice that was smooth as silk.

Normally Hermione never accepted late night drink offers, knowing full well what such invitations usually implied, but she decided that tonight was not the time to worry about propriety. She would let herself have this night because it would probably be the last of its kind – her last chance to say goodbye to Draco once and for all.

She nodded in acquiescence and linked her arm through his as he escorted her into the manor though the nearest door. Though it was pitch black, she could tell by their echoing footsteps that the room was very large and had extremely high ceilings. The most striking feature in the room however was the familiar scent. She felt as though she had been there before and thought she knew where they must be.

Hermione allowed Draco to lead her over to what felt like a soft leather sofa or large loveseat. She could hear his careful footfalls on the marble floor as he made his way across the room. With a muttered Incendio, Draco lit a roaring fire in the enormous hearth which cast an orangey glow on the magnificent room.

She was quite right to think that she had been in the room before. This place was one she often visited in her dreams - for a variety of reasons. At face value, the library at Malfoy Manor was nothing short of spectacular. It was a great deal larger than the library at Hogwarts, or even the research library at the Ministry. Two full floors of wall-to-wall, floor-to-ceiling books on every topic imaginable. While the sight of all those ancient tomes was awe-inspiring in its own right, for Hermione this library held much more personal significance. For it was here, in this very room that she and Draco's relationship was truly manifested for the first and last time…

Hermione clutched Draco's hand tightly as he led her into the dark, cavernous room. She couldn't be sure if the room was actually dark or if it was simply the effect of the magical blindfold Draco had forced her to wear, but she could tell by the way their voices and footsteps echoed off the walls that the this was by far the largest room she had yet to 'see'.

After a blissful day of picnicking on the perfectly manicured manor grounds and exploring the extensive gardens enjoying the first truly warm day of the season, Draco had taken her on a tour of the manor itself. While there wasn't time to see the whole manor - that would have taken weeks judging by the sheer size of the place - he had shown her all of his favorite spots and this room was supposed to be the last stop on the tour. He had forced the blindfold on her arguing that he wanted the grand finale to be a surprise. Though Hermione typically didn't care for surprises, she trusted Draco implicitly and she was therefore more than willing to, quite literally, blindly follow wherever he led.

The moment they had crossed the threshold Hermione was struck by the oddly familiar scent of leather and old parchment. As Draco led her further into the room she turned her head from side to side in a fruitless attempt to get her bearings and she absently swatted at the black cloth magically obscuring her vision in frustration.

"Not yet," Draco whispered in her ear, effectively catching her off guard and sending shivers running down her spine. "Haven't you guessed where we are yet?" he asked as he took her hand and ran her fingers over something cool, hard and smooth immediately in front of her.

Turning to one side, Hermione felt her way along a seemingly endless wall of…

"Books!" she suddenly cried. "We're in a library!"

"Full marks Ms. Granger," Draco teased. "I swear you are the only person I know who could sound this excited to be in a library during the holidays," he said with a smile as he waved his wand lazily over her eyes and cast a non-verbal Finite, causing Hermione's blindfold to disappear.

Hermione could only gasp when the Obscurus charm had finally been lifted. The library was large enough to comfortably fit an entire Quidditch pitch inside. She didn't know where to look first. It was all too much to take in.

"I've pulled a few things that I think you may find interesting," Draco said, diverting her attention to a table at the other side of the room. She joined him at the table and nearly burst with excitement when she saw what had been laid out before her.

"You have a first edition of Advanced Transfiguration? And A History of Magic!" Hermione exclaimed with a mixture of disbelief and glee as she removed the first two tomes from the pile revealing a third beneath them. "Holy mother of Merlin…that's never-"

"…a first edition of Hogwarts: A History?" Draco finished for her as she reverently caressed the binding of the beloved book. "It is indeed. In fact, this entire wall is made up of first editions," he said, gesturing to the wall behind him, sounding only a little bit smug.

"Draco this is magnificent. Thank you so much for bringing me here. I love it," she said, smiling broadly at him and pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. He grabbed hold of her arms before she could pull away from him.

"No, you're magnificent and I love you."

It wasn't the first time he had said those words, but they never failed to cause a flutter of butterflies to erupt in her stomach. Before she had time to reciprocate the sentiment his lips were upon hers in a bruising kiss that was far from chaste.

Draco moved his soft lips expertly against her own, at first slow and deliberate, but growing in intensity and need with each passing second. He slid his large calloused hands down the sides of her body, rested them on her narrow hips and pulled her forcibly against his tall, lean form, causing her to gasp in surprise. The moment her lips parted Draco took full advantage, thrusting his tongue into her mouth, seeking to deepen the kiss. Hermione readily complied, entwining her tongue with his and moaning into the warm cavern of his mouth, eliciting a throaty growl from deep within Draco's chest.

Draco's kisses nearly always succeeded in bringing Hermione to her knees and this kiss was no exception. Within moments he had quite literally pulled her down so that they were both kneeling atop a thick rug in front of the fireplace. Hermione clung to him with one arm wrapped tightly around his neck while the other hand ran through his fine blonde locks as he lowered her even further onto her back allowing her hair to fan out behind her like a halo.

"You're so beautiful Hermione," Draco whispered, briefly breaking the kiss to come up for air. Propping himself up on one side to lay beside her, Draco peppered the shell of her ear with kisses as his free hand continued to stroke the side of her body, just brushing the outside of her breast over her jumper. Hermione craned her neck to one side allowing him greater access as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down her long slender neck and over her collar bone, stopping only to suckle her pulse point, causing liquid velvety warmth to pool between her thighs and another moan to escape her lips.

Encouraged by her response, Draco slid his hand up under the hem of her jumper and began massaging her naked torso before boldly moving to cup her breasts over her satiny bra and coaxing her pert nipples to attention. Hermione's hips involuntarily bucked as the sensation shot straight down her spine to her thoroughly damp knickers. Draco slid his leg between her thighs and Hermione immediately and unconsciously began to move her hips searching for more friction while Draco continued his ministrations with his fingers and lips.

This was about as far as Hermione had ever physically gone with anyone. She was very serious about her position as Head Girl and would never sacrifice her badge by breaking curfew to meet Draco for a late night tryst. Draco on the other hand, was far less concerned about being Head Boy, but he respected Hermione's wishes and gladly took what little he could get in dark corners of The Three Broomsticks or The Hog's Head on Hogsmeade weekends. That's why he was so surprised when Hermione had agreed to come home with him for the Easter break, knowing that his parents would be away on holiday in Greece. Hermione knew that Draco's parents would never approve of their relationship and she couldn't be sure about what would happen after they graduated from Hogwarts in a few months, so she decided to accept Draco's invitation with a plan already formulated that she would to take the opportunity to give her virginity to the only boy she ever loved.

Firm in her resolve, Hermione dislodged her hands from Draco's hair and with slow, deliberate movements she began to unbutton his shirt. Draco, who was far too preoccupied with his own exploration of Hermione's delicious curves, didn't notice her busy fingers until she started to slide his shirt from his shoulders. Without a second thought Draco removed the offending article and threw it carelessly to the floor. Seeing him shirtless wasn't exactly a first – they had been swimming in the black lake before and she had been a spectator for many casual 'shirts and skins' Quidditch matches on warm days – but never before had she seen his perfection in such an intimate manner. She ran her hands freely over his pale, lean, but surprisingly strong form. She thought that he could have been carved from marble if he wasn't so warm beneath her fingers.

Extricating herself from another one of Draco's soul-searing kisses, Hermione gently pushed him off of her and rolled him onto his back so that she could make her intentions clear. With a determination which Draco found irresistible, Hermione straddled his lap and slowly pulled her jumper over her head. Before Draco could take the time to appreciate how luscious she looked in her pink satin bra, Hermione reached behind her back, unclasped it and dropped it beside her jumper. Draco had never seen her breasts before. They were absolutely perfect – large and round, yet still pert and firm with rosy nipples that were begging to be kissed.

With the reflexes and abdominal strength of a Quidditch player, Draco sat up and immediately took one of the rosy peaks into his mouth. He hungrily licked, sucked and nibbled at her flesh until she was panting and gasping for breath, grinding her hips onto his now obvious erection. Her mewling cries of pleasure combined with the proximity of her wet heat to his throbbing member made it difficult for Draco to maintain his well practiced restraint. Wanting to regain some semblance of control, Draco rolled them back onto the carpet, being careful to cushion Hermione's head with his hand on the way down.

The moment Draco resumed his position atop her writhing form Hermione dove for his belt and began unfastening his trousers. Though his first instinct was to let her have at it, as he wanted nothing more than to sink his aching cock into wet, willing folds, his accursed morals kicked in at the last moment and he stayed her hand.

"I'm not sure that's such a good idea Hermione. If you want me to behave myself at all, then I think it's best if the bottoms stay on," he said firmly, hoping the longing in his voice didn't make him sound too desperate.

"Draco I love you and I want this. I'm ready. I want my first time to be with you."

Her words effectively floored him as they so often did. For several moments he just looked at her, gazing into the chocolaty depths of her searching eyes and dimly recognized that he was the luckiest wizard in the universe to have been offered such a gift from such an incredible witch.

"Are you sure?" he finally asked. "I mean, we don't have to. I hope you don't think that's the reason I invited you here this weekend…"

"I know you would never do a thing like that. That's one of the many reasons why I love you and why I'm sure that I want to do this with you."

He dove for her lips once more, unable to find adequate words to articulate his feelings. After a few moments of heated snogging, Hermione placed her small hands on his broad shoulders to stop him.

"Draco…" she breathed as he moved down to kiss her collar bone once more. "There is one thing I'd like to know before we…" she looked away, cursing herself for voicing the one concern that had been nagging at the back of her mind.

"I'll tell you anything you want to know. Ask away," Draco encouraged as he continued to place gentle kisses upon her neck and shoulders.

"Well…um…have you ever…" she started awkwardly. "I mean…is this your..."

"…first time?" Draco finished for her, lifting his eyes to her face. Hermione nodded mutely in embarrassment. Not that it really mattered. She knew that Draco loved her and that this was right, but she just needed to know.

"Yes, of course it is," he continued solemnly.

"You mean…you and Pansy never…?" she questioned tentatively.

"No! Merlin Hermione, we were only fourteen when we dated, if you can even call it that," he said, half laughing now.

"Good," Hermione said, releasing an audible sigh of relief.

"Did you seriously think that I had slept with Pansy?" he asked incredulous, his attention diverted.

"Well, you know…in the girl's loo…you hear things from time and time and-"

"Wait - Pansy said that we'd done it in the loo?" Draco asked, thoroughly confused.

"No!" Hermione laughed in earnest. "I just heard her talking in there one day. Bragging, more like, about your…erm…for lack of a better word…prowess."

Draco laughed in earnest at her pronouncement.

"Well I can guarantee that anything she said was absolute bollocks, now can we please stop talking about Pansy so I can go back to ravishing you senseless?"

Her answering smile was all the assurance he needed and he lowered his lips to hers once again, more slowly this time, fervently trying to express all he felt for her by pouring all of his love, passion and gratitude into the kiss. Hermione matched him stroke for stroke and he could practically feel her buzzing need through the thin strips of cloth that separated them. He removed a reluctant hand from her breast and began a slow decent to the hem of her simple skirt. Hooking a finger into the elastic waistband, he easily tugged it down so that it bunched around her ankles. Hermione kicked it away as she resumed the task of relieving Draco of his trousers.

When they were both finally down to their last remaining barrier, Draco gazed at her intently with a seriousness that plainly implied that this was her last chance to back out. Without a word, Hermione brought her hands down to her hips and began, slowly and purposefully, to slide her pink satin knickers down her thighs. Her eyes were locked on his as she bared herself to him fully for the first time.

Draco stared down at her hungrily, taking in every inch of her perfection. He moved a tentative hand down to her hip and laid his hand on top of hers, entwining their fingers. Then he kissed her again, attacking her lips with such force that it stole her breath. At that moment Hermione felt a need unlike anything she had ever experienced settling deep in the pit of her stomach. The feeling was indescribable and yet she could feel it acutely, thrumming throughout her entire body. As Draco continued his assault on her lips Hermione moved their hands, still tightly interlaced, to her dripping core, searching desperately for some kind of release. It took only a moment for Draco to catch the hint and, extracting himself from her now bruised and swollen lips, he freed his hand and began to tenderly caress her most intimate area.

With deliberate, unhurried movements Draco slid his long fingers along her wet folds, stopping occasionally to rub gentle circles over her engorged clit. Hermione threw her head back, gasping and moaning with each pass, bucking her hips searching for purchase. After another moment's worth of exquisite torture, Draco inserted a finger into her virginal canal, causing Hermione to hiss in pleasure. She continued to rotate her hips in time with Draco's rhythm as he slid a second finger into her aching core, his thumb still teasing her pearly nub.

The combination of sensations was almost too much for Hermione to bear, especially when Draco dipped his head to capture one of her nipples between his teeth. She suddenly felt a coil tighten in her womb and unsure of what she was doing, she ground her hips down onto Draco's hand even harder. The keening and mewling sounds escaping her lips inspired Draco to add a bit more pressure and increase the pace. Within seconds Hermione was groaning as she felt her inner walls clenching around Draco's fingers. She felt as if wave after wave of electrical current was exploding out of her every pore and sweeping through her entire body.

Draco watched her face completely transfixed as she rode out the wave of what he assumed was her first-ever orgasm.

"You look absolutely gorgeous right now, love. You're glowing."

She smiled up at him as she released a shaky breath and tried to calm her shuddering limbs.

As she came down off her high, Draco, who was amazed by his own self control up to this point, shucked his pants and positioned his engorged penis against her still pulsating core.

"Are you ready?" he asked, hardly able to control himself.

She merely nodded breathlessly.

Slowly, and with the utmost care, Draco pushed himself into her, joining their bodies for the first time. When at last he entered her to the hilt Hermione gasped in surprise at the feeling of fullness and cried out in pain as he broke through her barrier.

"I'm so sorry Hermione," Draco rushed apologetically. "I love you so much," he added quickly before covering her face with soft kisses.

"It's ok," she panted, willing the pain away. "I love you too."

They both lay perfectly still with their foreheads pressed together for several moments, Draco apparently waiting for some unknown cue to continue. At long last Hermione began to move her hips experimentally and discovered to her great relief that the pain was slowly ebbing away.

Draco, who had been too terrified of hurting her to move a muscle, took Hermione's movement as a sign that she really was okay and with long slow strokes he began to move in and out of her tight entrance. He knew almost immediately that he wouldn't be able to last very long.

"Oh god Hermione…you feel so good," he grunted, thrusting harder and faster now.

All feelings of pain long since forgotten, Hermione grunted right along with him, totally overwhelmed by the fullness of Draco's thick cock moving within her. She felt complete and right with Draco's sweaty forehead pressed up against hers, his hot breath mingling with hers while their hips moved together in a frantic rhythm.

Once again Hermione began to feel the sensation of a tight coil ready to spring apart deep within her womb. As the spasms overtook her for a second time, Draco shouted that he was going to come. A few moments after her own release Draco came deep inside her, with her name on his lips.

"Hermione," he breathed reverently. "I love you. Oh god, Hermione…"

"Hermione?" Draco asked interrupting her thoughts.

"Hm?" she mumbled, as her attention snapped back to the present.

"I asked if you'd like a glass of wine." Draco repeated.

"Oh yes. I'd love one. Thank you," she fumbled, embarrassed. She was extremely grateful for the firelight at the moment and hoped that it would help to conceal the blush suffusing her cheeks.

He looked at her with concern for a moment before handing her a glass and joining her on the small sofa.

After several awkward moments spent silently sipping their wine and staring into the fire, Hermione spoke.

"You've redecorated in here. The décor is lovely," she added lamely.

"Thank you, though the design is my mother's. She redecorated much of the manor a few summers ago. We actually had a terrible row when it came to this room…"

"Oh?"

"Yes you see, mother wanted to replace everything and start from scratch, but I was quite adamant that the hearth rug remain for…sentimental reasons," he affected an airy nonchalance that did not go unnoticed by Hermione. "I have many fond memories of afternoons spent sitting by the fire…" he continued, his eyes locking onto hers with a searching gaze.

It was almost as though he had performed legilimancy on her, or perhaps she was simply too easy to read, but Hermione could feel another hot flush creeping into her cheeks.

"…one afternoon in particular," he finished, moving closer to her on the couch.

Hermione feared that the wine must have gone to her head because she suddenly felt the flush from her cheeks creeping down her chest; her pulse quickened and her breath caught in her throat.

Draco slowly lifted a hand to her face and caressed her crimson cheek. Hermione's heart fluttered in response to the sudden contact and she reluctantly allowed herself to melt into his touch. His fingers languidly traced a path along the curve of her jaw before gently grasping her chin and drawing her towards him.

As Hermione closed her eyes in anticipation of the kiss, her brain chose that moment to catch up to the butterflies in her stomach. Just before their lips touched for the first time in five long years Hermione stopped herself and turned her face away from him.

"Draco…I…I can't. I'm sorry."

As much as she wanted to give in to the wonderful sensation of his soft lips, she was still too afraid to trust him with her already battered heart.

"Yes you can," he coaxed, moving closer still. "Just let go."

"No. I can't," she repeated more forcefully this time, rising from the sofa and moving to stand by the fire. "I need to know if there is any truth to what they've been writing in The Daily Prophet."

She felt as though history was repeating itself. She couldn't believe her own insecurity. Why couldn't she be like a normal witch and simply enjoy the attentions of a handsome wizard for what they were, instead of over-analyzing everything? Of course, she answered herself; Draco wasn't just any old wizard. He was her first and only love and she wasn't about to give herself up to him again knowing that he would likely marry another and leave her broken hearted for a second time.

When he didn't answer right away, her suspicions increased.

"Well? Is there?" she asked desperately.

"Which bit are you referring to?" he countered evasively.

"I'm referring to the part about your pending engagement, you prat!" she fired at him, as unbidden thoughts of Pansy Parkinson drifted into her head.

She was staring daggers at him and when Draco didn't immediately deny the accusation, her ire grew.

"There may be some small amount of truth in that, yes," he conceded at long last.

Hermione turned away from him once more. She couldn't believe that he'd managed to put her in this position again. She stood silently staring into the fire for several long moments debating whether or not she should leave at once or stay just long enough to demand some answers.

Choosing the latter, she quietly asked, "Why?" and hating herself for sounding so thoroughly broken she continued, "How can you possibly be ready to marry again so soon after-"

"Because," he said, interrupting her, "I've already wasted five years of my life and I don't intend to waste another minute."

"Even if it means marrying someone who only loves you for your money?" she asked, unable to suppress the hurt and anger in her voice.

"That…won't be an issue," he said cautiously.

"So you're in love then," she said, defeated.

"Hermione, I…" he started, but quickly changed tack. "Suffice it to say that my fortune won't be an issue because in the event that I should ever remarry I'll lose everything."

"How is that possible?" Hermione blurted out, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"It's quite simple really. My darling late wife added that delightful stipulation to her will shortly after our wedding."

"I see," she said through gritted teeth as the reality of the situation dawned on her. "So I needn't have worried about some vulture trying to use you for your money when it's the other way around!"

Her head was positively spinning. So it wasn't Pansy that was using Draco after all - he was using her. Suddenly visions of a smiling Pansy and a smirking Draco peering down out of a wedding photo on the cover of The Prophet began to swim through her head, making her feel ill.

"Hermione…please…that's not…it's not about the-" Draco stammered, quickly getting to his feet.

"You are UNBELIEVABLE!" she shouted over his weak protests. "Though I don't know why I should have expected any better of you," she added mostly to herself as she furiously gripped the right side of her dress in her fist. "And is Pansy aware of that particular stipulation? Of course she isn't," Hermione answered before he could get a word in. "But you can be assured of my secrecy Malfoy, any woman stupid enough to fall for you deserves what she gets."

"Her-"

"Shut it Malfoy," she spat, training her wand on his chest. She was extremely grateful for Madame Alessia's addition of the hidden wand holster to her gown, at least until she saw the stricken look on Malfoy's face.

As they stood staring at each other from opposite sides of the hearth rug Hermione watched as Draco's expression shifted gradually from fear to defeat until finally his eyes took on a sad, hollow look that left her feeling quite unnerved. She slowly lowered her wand and stood frozen on the spot for a fraction of a second waiting, or perhaps hoping that he would say something to stop her from going.

When no other protests were forthcoming Hermione took that as her cue to leave. Turning toward the giant fireplace, she reached for a tiny silver box of floo powder sitting on the mantle and pinched some between her trembling fingers. She tossed the powder into the fire and watched as the flames instantly turned green. She hurriedly stepped into the flickering fire, shouted the address of her flat and felt a familiar spinning sensation before she was whisked away. The last thing she saw of the manor was Draco, staring dejectedly into the dying flames.

A/N: Sooooo I guess that by projecting the idea that this chapter was going to be difficult to write it became a self-fulfilling prophecy. Remind me never to do that again. I hope I made up for the delayed update with the length and lemony flavor of this chapter! I probably should have broken this up into two chapters but I've always had this idea in my head that this story would only have seven chapters. After all, they say seven is the most powerfully magical number right? Anyway, with luck I'll have the final chapter up in a few weeks.

What did you think of the sex scene? That was my first time writing anything like that. I wanted to make their first time sort of innocent and fun with just the right amount of awkward. I thought it fitting that my first time writing a sex scene should be their first time experiencing one! Let me know if I hit the mark.

A poetic translation of Beau Soir by Claude Debussy, poem by Paul Bourget:

When streams turn pink in the setting sun,
And a slight shudder rushes through the wheat fields,
A plea for happiness seems to rise out of all things
And it climbs up towards the troubled heart.
A plea to relish the charm of life
While there is youth and the evening is fair,
For we pass away, as the wave passes:
The wave to the sea, we to the grave.

If you want to hear one of my favorite renditions of this song go to:

http :/ www . youtube . com / watch ?v = fzNASDPXbMw (just remove all the spaces) I must have listened to this song a hundred times while I wrote this chapter!

Please review :)