I can't even tell you how much I appreciate those who are still reminding me that my writing isn't finished. It's been so long, I know! I bought a house, got married, got fired, got a new job, life is insane. It's so different from the last time I was writing and the break was sorely needed. I can't promise I'm going to get right back into this but I have found some inspiration. Thank you, all. And as always, please let me know what you think. :)

LCailan


7. The Weasley Complication


It was a few days later and only when the demon of desire within Hermione had fallen dormant that she found herself purchasing the lavender and silver frock from Gladrags. She knew that it was out of the ordinary for her, and in fact had to convince her parents to send her money for it, promising them that the dress would be her birthday present that year.

She sat on her four-poster, staring down at the pretty taffeta and sparkling silver accents. She had taken the previous evening to try out her knitting charms and with Ginny's help, had fixed the dress so that it fit perfectly. Ginny had told her she looked beautiful and Hermione knew it but she didn't feel right.

Draco had awoken something in her, something no one else ever had. And now it was hungry; it was something like a curse, always inside her, waiting, wanting-

What is the matter with me?

But just like every other time she had asked herself that question the answer remained elusive.

I let him touch me…I let him look at me! I let him kiss me and – oh sweet Fanny Adams! I liked it, I wanted it, and I want HIM-

Hermione felt something inside of her twisting with her tumultuous thoughts. Was she wrong to feel this way? Was it somehow wrong or dirty? It felt that way, at any rate. She was afraid of what her friends would think and especially how it would make Harry and Ron feel. She thought of how angry Ron would be and the reproachful looks that Harry would give her.

Hermione was certain that Harry and Ron were as close to her best friends as was possible. She had never kept anything from them; they had always been close, always together, forever the trio. And now she felt like she was lying to them! She felt more separated from them now than ever had – even in those moments when she had realized that they were closer to each other than they were to her. This was worse than feeling left out of Quidditch conversations or being teased about spending too much time in the library and even more so than those moments when she felt they weren't interested her life as much as she was in theirs.

What am I supposed to do now?

Hermione knew that telling Harry and Ron what was going on would just pit them against Malfoy – just like every other time that they had come to her defense when it involved him. That might solve her problem even if it did result in some sort of fight. But something with in her nagged her mind: what if coming clean to her friends didn't kill the beast within her?

She was terrified of that.

Deep in the dungeons of the castle Draco sat before his mirror in the Slytherin boys' dormitory wearing a crisp, white shirt and holding a dress tie in his fist. Behind him there was only light from the flickering candles set around the perimeter of the room and beyond the large, wooden door he could hear talking and laugher coming from the nearby common room. It was too early in the evening for the other boys to be in bed so Draco had the room to himself.

He sat watching his shadowed reflection in the mirror and his fingers ran along the length of the silver material of his tie.

Silver like the accents on her dress. The dress she so willingly let me remove-

Draco had told himself that it was because silver looked good on him and he was supposed to look good at his father's business events, wasn't he? The dress robes from Gladrags' had arrived the day before and he had tried them on several times now – only this time he was thinking of her in the lavender dress with the silver accents.

Merlin's balls.

He undid the knot on the tie and tossed it aside with a huge sigh before throwing himself onto his bed and rolling over to stare up at the darkened ceiling. He could deal with being horny – after all, Granger wasn't the first girl at Hogwarts he had snogged. And he could maybe understand his late realization that even though she was a complete harpy she was quite shaggable. It was simply that she was too much of an annoying know-it-all bookwork for any normal boy to notice. Not even Weasley and Potter who spent the most time had bothered to try and shag her!

What Draco was having trouble understanding was why he couldn't stop thinking about her. He had been with a few girls, all in Slytherin house and they didn't cross his mind after the deed. He wasn't thinking of them when he was choosing a tie or when he was getting out of the shower. He wasn't wondering what they might look like in the throes of pleasure, or how their skin would feel under his fingertips or how their lips had tasted of sugar-

It was almost as if kissing Granger was like sipping from a cup of the most power love potion ever brewed, leaving him thirsty for more. Draco wondered how much he would have to drink before he was satisfied.

Hermione found herself near the entrance to the Great Hall just after the rush for afternoon classes had passed. She hesitated only a moment before pushing the doors open and glancing quickly towards the Gryffindor tables. Just as she had thought, Ron sat alone, stuffing his face with the mealtime offerings. Only a smattering of students remained, most of them having classes early afternoon. She knew her best friends pretty well and that if either Harry or Ron had plans the other would stay behind in the Great Hall eating as much as possible. Ron, especially because Hermione suspected he possessed a sort of bottomless pit of a stomach.

Normally she would have been with them but she had taken to avoiding them, staying long after dark in the library or rushing away after classes were out. Harry had already asked her what was the matter and Hermione continued to blame her health. She wasn't sure how long she could keep up such a charade. It wasn't that she wanted to avoid her friends; it was just that she didn't want to run into Draco Malfoy afraid that he controlled the sleeping desire within her.

She thought of the conversation that had played out with Ginny at Gladrags.

He needs a girl like you, Hermione.

Ginny was right. Ron needed Hermione; he had always needed her – for homework, long nights of studying, lazy afternoons of walking around the Black Lake, Christmas in the Great Hall and whispers in the common room long after all the other Gryffindors had gone to bed.

Yes, Ron needed her and she needed him. She needed him because he was the boy that made sense, the one she ought to have been wanting all this time. He was comfort and certainty in Hermione's eyes, the one that wasn't going to let her down or make her feel dark, terrifying, exhilarating feelings. If she was going to have a boyfriend she wanted it to be Ron Weasley. Surely…..surely if she dated Ron the sleeping desire within her would finally go away. Surely.

Ron was everything she needed it was a simple as that. With a sudden flood of confidence, Hermione moved towards the Gryffindor tables. She paused by the long wooden table and Ron looked up, mouth full, his eyes lighting up with surprise.

"'mione!"

He swallowed and gave her a smile.

"How are you? Have you had anything to eat yet?"

Hermione sat down feeling instantly better at the happiness that shone on Ron's face. It felt nice to be wanted, cared about. She didn't often feel that way when it came to her male friends.

"I'm not hungry," she replied pushing her rucksack to the side as she faced him.

"Hermione, we've been worried," he continued in a nervous way. "You've not been yourself."

The girl sighed.

"I know it and it isn't anything you or Harry have done."

Ron watched her and then spoke slowly, as if choosing his words carefully which was very unlike him.

"Do you need to talk about it?"

"I do," she forged locking eyes with him. It was the oddest feeling, Hermione realized. She was about to change the relationship between them forever.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking."

"When do you not do a lot of thinking, Hermione?"

"Ronald!" she exclaimed. "You're the one who wanted to discuss this!"

Ron looked properly put in his place and cleared his throat.

"So…you were thinking?"

"About something in particular," Hermione continued. "Something that seemed quite silly at the time and honestly, is probably quite silly now. But it's bothered me."

Ron's face had grown somber.

"So?"

"Do you remember the Yule Ball?"

Ron's freckled face turned a slight shade of pink.

"Blimey, Hermione! I don't want to remember that bloody night. It was horrible! Remember those dress robes Mum made me wear? They were awful, weren't they? Ruffled and moth-eaten! And the fact that we had to dance?!"

Hermione watched her friend oddly. Perhaps that was the difference between boys and girls. She remembered having the loveliest time in Viktor's arms, dancing to the beautiful waltzes amidst the glittering, icy Great Hall. It had been like a fairy tale and now she found herself wondering if Malfoy had enjoyed himself. She knew he had gone with Pansy Parkinson but couldn't recall seeing him that night. Somehow though she imagined Malfoy being a bit more mature about the whole ordeal.

"Ron, it was a ball. That's what people do at balls; they dance."

Ron watched Hermione grumpily.

"I don't even know why you brought this up!"

She sighed with exasperation.

"I brought it up because you never told me why you didn't ask me to go to the ball with you."

Ron's mouth fell open in surprise.

"That's what you've been thinking about?!"

Hermione turned pink with indignation.

"And why not? I'm a girl, aren't I? I spend nearly every day with you and you never bothered even considering me? I had to wait until Viktor asked me and even after that you acted like a complete arse!"

Ron looked flabbergasted.

"But that was a year ago!"

"Well, I apologize for having feelings, Ronald! I don't understand, you know? For ages I've been as close to you and Harry as possible! I'm good enough to be your best mate, your classmate, the girl you go to when you're in a bind with school work but not as anything else? You know, as well as you know me you've never truly noticed me."

The speechless ginger gazed at the angry brunette.

"You've gone completely mental," he decided shaking his head.

"No, I haven't. I'm simply sharing the facts with you and you're too thick to understand! But you know what, Ron? I had a fantastic time at the Yule Ball with Viktor until right at the end. Do you remember that? The way you acted, how jealous you were? Why was that, have you ever wondered?"

Now, Ron's face was turning a rosy color, the freckles fading with the bloom of color.

"I was never jealous!"

"You were," countered Hermione calmly. "You were jealous because another boy asked me on a date and not you because you were too stupid to notice me!"

"I was angry because Viktor Krum is a right wanker!"

Hermione smirked.

"I think you like me."

Ron gasped and turned a brilliant red.

She sat back looking rather happy with herself and he jumped to his feet, scowling as he began to shove schoolbooks and leftover food into his bag. When he was finished he gave her a glare.

"You're completely barmy, you know that?"

Then, his face reflecting a mixture of shock and anger, he hurried away leaving Hermione alone at the table in the Great Hall.

Draco sat in the corner of the library an hour after leaving his friends behind in the Great Hall. The sun had set over the castle, illuminating the cavernous space with brilliant oranges and golds from the cathedral windows on the far side of the room. The tables were littered with books and quite a number of students were trying to get their last-minute work finished before closing.

He couldn't concentrate, however. The Advanced Charms book that lay open in his lap had been long abandoned in favor of furtive glances in the direction of a certain bushy-haired Gryffindor lioness that had somehow eluded him for the last week. Draco hadn't seen her since their few stolen moments in the dressing room at Gladrags.

He wondered if she was avoiding him.

Granger had been there for the last hour, sitting alone at a large table near the Restricted Section with her head buried in a book and quill in hand. Occasionally she would scribble something down on parchment but what Draco liked more is the way her fingers wound themselves in that glorious riot of amber and honeyed curls. It made him think of the way those fingers had touched him-

Draco's body responded with a familiar stirring and he shifted, the book falling from his lap onto the floor. Without thinking, he stood and began walking towards her, uncertain of what he would say once she was within earshot. The seat in front of her was empty but before Draco could occupy it and insufferable, ginger-haired blood traitor beat him to it. Before anyone could notice, the blond Slytherin slipped in between the dusty bookshelves where he would not be seen.

Hermione was surprised that it had taken the remainder of the day for Ron to come crawling back to her. Ginny's words had somehow emboldened her and when she looked up to see Ron staring down at her uncertainly those words were confirmed.

Ron needs a girl like you.

He cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry I got angry with you earlier, Hermione."

He didn't sound like the Ron she knew; he seemed shier, more uncertain.

"Do you want to sit down?" she offered.

Ron slipped into the wooden chair gratefully. His eyes locked with hers and his cheeks began to flood with color.

"You were right, that's why I got angry. I was jealous of Krum. I should have asked you to go to the Yule Ball with me. I'm-I'm asking you now. To go with me. To-to Madame Puddifoot's."

Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she felt a flood of warmth fill her. There it was; an unspoken confirmation that Ginny had been right and that Ron had feelings for her even though he was utterly hopeless in how to share them.

Ron was now beet-red and mumbling his words, unable to meet Hermione's eyes.

"I thought about what you said and I didn't want, erm- didn't want to miss…in case you were interested in someone else. I didn't want to mess up again."

He heaved a huge breath and looked up at her hopefully. There was a moment of silence before Hermione's face lit up in a grin and she reached over to grip Ron's hand across the table.

"I would love to go to Hogsmeade with you, Ron. Thank you."

There was a goofy grin on Ron's red face.

"Right then, so we should, you know, make some plans for the next weekend we get to go and-"

"Sure, yes we can do that-"

"-should tell Harry-"

Hermione only half heard Ron's words when she suddenly noticed that nosy ferret had been listening in on her conversation. She jumped up suddenly feeling slightly ill as something impossibly magnetic rushed through her. It twisted her insides and jumbled up her already unorganized thoughts.

"Let's get back to the dormitory, shall we?" she suggested much too quickly, avoiding eye contact with the blond-haired Slytherin who had just emerged from the shadowed stacks of books where he had been hiding like some kind of-

I won't think of him now. Things will be different; there's nothing he can do now that I've decided to drop this whole insane thing between us.

Ron was standing up to help Hermione with her books and they awkwardly bumped into one another causing her to utter a choked giggle. She grabbed the rest of her things and whirled around to leave the library. The room had taken to shadows as the sun had fallen behind the windows behind her. Now the candles began to illuminate the space and she suddenly found herself face to face with Malfoy, his silver eyes gleaming like those of a wolf.

"Well, well, well."

Ron, who was still glowing with the triumph of a boy who had won the girl, glared at the blond boy.

"Get out of our way, Malfoy. We've got somewhere else to be."

The Slytherin laughed.

"Of course, I wouldn't want to keep you from doing important, Gryffindor things," he drawled with unmistakable acidity. "But I couldn't quite help overhearing the good news! You and Granger?"

There was a mocking quality to his words and when Hermione glanced up at him again she saw a flash of menace in his eyes.

"Leave us be, Malfoy."

The boy laughed and then turned his attentions once again on Ron.

"Weasley, I suppose you're not as stupid as I thought you were. Staking your claim, are you?"

"Piss off, Malfoy," spat Ron his eyes narrowing and his face turning red – only this time from anger.

"Thing is, you don't get it. You can't claim something that isn't yours to claim."

Hermione, horrified, began to yank on the sleeve of Ron's worn school robes. She could feel Malfoy's eyes boring into her head but refused to look back, fighting the urge to curse him, to scream at him to fall apart and admit everything-

But, no. She wouldn't give Malfoy that satisfaction. He was nothing to her – nothing.

"Come on, Ron," she hissed between clenched teeth. "We don't have to listen to this rubbish another second."

Ron complied, turning with confusion first towards Hermione and then back at Draco Malfoy's smirking face.

"What's that supposed to mean, Malfoy?" he asked over his shoulder as Hermione continued to yank him towards the exit of the library. The blond Slytherin only grinned.

"If you have to ask, you'll never know. Have a lovely night, Weaselbee!"

The smile he wore did not fade until Granger and Weasley were gone and Draco was alone in the shadows. His face turned down into a scowl as he threw himself into the seat that Granger had so recently vacated.

"Bloody hell."

His jaw was set stubbornly.

"No way am I going to lose to that blood traitor trash. No way."

He stared up at the doors through which they had disappeared.

You can't get rid of me that easily, Granger. You'll see.