Author's Note: This is a one-shot, requested byVanessasfilms. A love triangle with lots of Draco angst, ending in his room.

It Should Be Us

Draco Malfoy walked into the garden of the Manor with his betrothed's hand in the bend of his elbow. It was the evening his engagement to Astoria Greengrass was to be publicly announced to the world and a grand ball was being held in their honor. It had been three years since the War, and two since Draco had completed his eighth year at Hogwarts. He waited for Astoria to finish her schooling before actively pursuing a courtship with her, and in the last year, he'd begun to care deeply for the witch.

Astoria was the picture of a proper pureblooded upbringing—graceful, respectful, subservient, beautiful. Draco knew they were an attractive couple—she had dark, bouncy waves that framed a porcelain face, so delicate she looked as though she would shatter at the slightest of nudges. She'd fancied Draco throughout the entirety of school, he'd always known this. So, on that fateful warm June night exactly one year prior, he had decided to give in to her advancements.

They were in attendance at one of the Greengrasses fundraising galas. Draco had been bored out of his mind the entire night, wallowing in lonesome self-pity. That was until she whirled into the room, greeting guests and thanking everyone for their contributions. Ever the picture of the proper pureblood daughter. And she was beautiful—he'd never taken true notice of her before that evening. He'd been far too caught up in a witch he could never have.

That was the night Draco would claim his entire life had changed. He'd shot back a few fingers of cinnamon flavored liquid courage and marched right up to where she stood, watching other couples dance. He'd offered her his hand and they'd waltzed around the dance floor, fitting one another like something out of a whimsical fairy tale. Astoria had made polite conversation and laughed at all of his jokes, no matter how corny or flat they'd fallen.

They'd gone out to the gardens at Greengrass Manor, hidden in the rosebushes. Astoria had batted her eyelashes and stroked his ego. Draco had flirted and laid the charm on thick. One thing had led to another and they had ended up in a passionate kiss, full of promise and excitement. After that night, Draco had put the pureblooded, aristocratic charm into full gear. He'd sent her flowers, bought her the finest chocolates, taken her to the most expensive restaurants. And she had eaten it all from the palm of his hand. And, Merlin help him, Draco craved that positive reinforcement.

In that year, Draco had fallen for the witch and she for him. But, even as he relished her company both on the streets and in the sheets, there was always something missing. Astoria was almost too properly brought up. She lacked fire and passion about anything in life, stifling her opinions and instead referring to him on all matters that involved the two. They never argued, and while most people would say that it was a blessing, Draco craved a good, heated, sexually charged row on occasion.

Astoria was not stupid by any means, but her knowledge was limited to much of what they'd been taught in school and nothing beyond. Draco found that conversations with her would often fall flat and he'd have to carry it along on his own, all the while with her agreeing with everything he said.

And her beauty was almost too perfect. There was never a single hair out of place. Even after they got done with a romp that left Draco glistening with sweat and Astoria breathing heavily, her hair looked as though it had just been styled by a team of ten witches. Her lip color was never smeared. Her cheeks never stained with a blush.

Draco knew that he should feel lucky to have Astoria Greengrass. He had played a role on the wrong side during much of the War. After, he'd fought hard and still continued to fight to repair his family's tarnished reputation. He was lucky any witch wanted anything to do with him. And he did, feel lucky that is. Every time he entered a restaurant with Astoria on his arm, he felt a surge of pride that someone so classy and gorgeous would want anything to do with him.

Astoria also served to fill some of the void that she had left in her wake after Hogwarts. She gave him unconditional love, listened to him drone on about his insecurities, and provided him with a feeling of safety that he had been lacking in the year between his graduation and hers.

As the couple made their way into their ball, Draco smiled down at his betrothed. She was the picture of perfection in a Slytherin emerald silk gown, mermaid shaped so that it hugged her shape in a flattering way before flaring from her knees down. Her brown eyes glittered up at him and he tried to fight the thought that they weren't the right shade of brown. Her engagement ring—a Malfoy family heirloom—glittered in the twinkling lights that hung all around the garden. He smiled widely and charmed his way around the party, greeting some of their guests and making polite conversation.

Draco truly cared for Astoria Greengrass, deeply and genuinely—much to even his surprise. But nothing would have prepared him for the punch to the gut he received when he caught sight of the specter that haunted his every dream. Walking out of the ballroom and into the warm night air was the last witch he ever expected to come into contact with again.

Hermione Granger was a vision. Her dress was plum, more conservative than Astoria's but all the while flattering to her hips and slight bust. The dress shimmered as she walked, a necklace catching the light and bringing his eyes to her face. She had her hair tied back in an elegant chignon, with a few wispy curls framing her face, a mauve lip color shaping her lips. Lips he'd had the pleasure of kissing once upon a time.

She was alone and looked uncertain about being there and Draco absently wondered who would be callous enough to invite his first love to the engagement party he shared with his second. He nearly screamed when he looked to where his mother was smirking in Hermione's direction. But he stayed silent, a lump in his throat making all speaking—and breathing—impossible. She moved toward him and Astoria and he felt his betrothed stiffen next to him.

"Astoria, Draco. The party is lovely…the gardens are simply magical," Hermione commented, leaning first in to give a cheek to cheek kiss to Astoria.

She then moved to Draco, who, just as he had to every other witch in attendance, dipped his face and brushed his lips against her cheek. At just the slightest brush of their flesh, he was certain there was enough electricity generated to power all of muggle London. He could feel it crackle between them and wondered if Astoria could see it. He moved away and placed a hand over Astoria's in his elbow. "Hermione. How lovely of you to attend this evening. It's been, what? Two years now? How have you been?"

Hermione gave him a small smile, and if he didn't know her so well, he would have mistaken it for genuine. But he knew her better than that. She was trying to mask her anxious disappointment. He didn't know why she was even there—surely she knew that her attendance would be painful for the both of them? "I've been well. Mostly working, you know?"

There was an awkward pause, wherein Draco surveyed the witch before him. Not her body—Merlin, how he knew those curves, the taste of her, the feel of her. No. That was dangerous, especially in front of his wife-to-be. He studied her face. Hermione's eyes were shining with unspoken words and emotion and Draco recognized it—it was the same words and emotions he'd tried to suppress for so long. She looked a little older, wrinkles around her eyes—from laughing or crying he didn't know.

Astoria clucked her tongue. "Well, Hermione, it is lovely to see you. But we've got more guests arriving. Please, make yourself at home."

And with that, Draco allowed Astoria to pull him away from Hermione. Away from the witch who had captured his heart so long ago. The way his heart was beating, Draco was certain he was dying. There was no way a man could survive that many forceful heart palpitations in such rapid succession.

As they continued to greet guests, Draco's mouth moved almost mechanically. He was certain there were words falling from his lips, perhaps even coherent sentences if the laughs of his guests were anything to go by. But he could hear nothing over the ringing in his ears. When it came time to dance with Astoria, as the guests of honor in Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy's party, Draco led her into the Manor's newly remodeled ballroom.

They began a waltz, just as they had that first time the year prior. But Draco's steps were wrong, he was miscalculating the sweeps, ending in stepping on Astoria's feet. It seemed as though Hermione's eyes followed him all around, like those creepy muggle paintings she'd taken him to see in Paris nearly three Christmases ago. No matter which way he turned Astoria, Granger was watching him. Her face was everywhere, all at once.

Every fiber of his being was screaming. Once upon a time, he had truly and madly loved the witch that was watching him from the outskirts. If he were honest with himself, he hadn't ever stopped. Simply coped. Hermione had broken things off after their combined eighth year had ended. She hadn't wanted him to lose his inheritance on her behalf, knowing how important it was to his family to produce a pureblooded heir. He had argued, screamed, begged for her to reconsider—he didn't give a good god damn about money. She told him that she would be busy with her new apprenticeship within the Ministry. He cried and told her he'd wait up every night if he could only hold her. Finally, she told him she was still in love with Ron Weasley. And Draco had broken into a million little pieces, dropping to his knees in the middle of a side street in Hogsmeade where she'd insisted on meeting.

She hadn't returned any of Draco's correspondences for the six months after their break up. Their school-year love affair was over and they were to move on with their lives. Draco had spent months upon months wallowing in self-deprecation and depression. And then Astoria had come along and he'd taken to sweeping this new witch off her feet. A way to recover from the broken heart that barely beat within him some days.

Draco watched as Hermione stalked out of the ballroom just as the song was ending. He could feel his hands shaking and he knew that Astoria was certainly aware now that his focus was on someone entirely different. "Draco," Astoria's soft voice pulled him back to where they stood in the middle of the dance floor.

He looked down at her, a pain evident in his normally stony façade. Astoria raised a hand to his cheek and cupped it, running her thumb over his cheekbone. "Draco. I will not play second string chaser to someone else. If we are to marry, you need to be fully focused on me. And only me."

Draco felt a sharp pang in his chest. Was it possible for a heart to actuallybreak into two? Astoria was asking him to choose. And two hours ago, he would have said the raven-haired beauty all day long. Now, after seeing Hermione Granger in the flesh, he wasn't so certain. There had been static electricity between them. There was a history—both good and bad, cherished and forgiven—between them. His lips parted and he knew he should say something to her. They were standing in the middle of their engagement party, for Merlin's sake. But when he tried to bring forth any coherent thought, he fell short. And so he closed his mouth.

A single tear slid over Astoria's cheek and she brushed it away quickly before it was evident that an aristocratic pureblooded female was showing emotion in public. "Go. Go talk to her. If you can honestly end things, I'll be here. But…you need to listen to what your heart says, Draco."

He looked into her eyes, sparkling with tears threatening to fall. "I'm sorry, Astoria. I never wanted this. Especially not here, not tonight of all nights."

"I'll handle the guests," she told him. "If you haven't returned in one hour, I'll handle the guests."

"I'm sorry—" he tried again, the last year with the Slytherin flashing through his mind.

She put her fingers over her lips, trying her hardest not to cry and shook her head. "No, Draco. Don't apologize. It's always been there. This…underlying distraction. I've always known I haven't held your heart solely."

Draco opened his mouth to speak once more. She shook her head. "Go."

Draco felt like the shittiest person in the world. Here he was in the midst of a party being thrown for he and the witch in front of him, to celebrate what everyone hoped would be a long and happy life for the pair. But his every thought was on the witch that was currently hiding somewhere else.

He rocked on the balls of his feet, uncertain of what his next move should be, when Astoria turned away from him and held her head high. She marched up to a few of the closest guests and began a cordial conversation with them. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the room.

He met the Malfoy's house elf by the entrance. "Bips, have you seen Hermione Granger come through here?" he nearly demanded.

The small elf was taken aback and pointed up the stairs. "She went to Master's room."

His room? How would Hermione have known where his room was? He took the stairs two at a time and hesitated when he reached his bedroom door. His heart was still hammering crazily within him, fighting to escape through his chest. He opened his door and stepped into the dimly lit room. The doors leading to his balcony were open and there, in the moonlight, stood Hermione.

He felt his feet carry him to where she leaned on the bannister. He leaned next to her. "What are you doing here, Hermione?" he asked, his tone biting.

The party was mostly inside now, couples dancing merrily on his behalf. They looked out over the garden, a few people eating and drinking instead of dancing inside. "I came to offer my congratulations to the happy couple," came her small reply.

Draco scoffed and his face pulled into a grimace of emotional pain. The sound of her voice was bringing back so many memories—kissing alongside the Black Lake, working into the morning in the library as they prepared for NEWTs, her stretching nakedly in his room after a night of getting lost in one another. They had been so happy, her voice had once soothed every worry, every nagging feeling of unworthiness he had. He looked to where her hands were grasping the bannister, seemingly holding herself up. On her left finger rested a modest engagement ring. Weasley had gotten to her.

"What are you really doing here, Hermione?" he asked once more, knowing there was more.

She tapped her hand against the railing twice and turned to him, as she leaned against it. "What do you want me to say, Draco?" she asked him weakly.

Draco fought to stay angry with her—angry that she decided to skip into his engagement party. After ignoring his repeated pleas. All of the letters, flowers, gifts he'd sent. "I wrote you, repeatedly. I begged you not to leave me. I lovedyou more than anything in this world, Hermione."

His anger began to waver, just as it always had, at the sight of her large, expressive eyes welling with tears. "I did, too, Draco. I still do."

Draco stepped back a pace from where she was staring up at him. She brought a hand up to cover her mouth and he could see that it was shaking uncontrollably. He turned around, unable to look at her for fear his entire being would fall apart once more. She still loved him? "Why, then?"

Hermione was silent behind him, only her soft sobbing breaking the still night air. Draco brought both hands up and ran them through his hair. "Why did you wait so long to tell me, Hermione? And at my engagement party, no less?" he asked and he could feel hot tears in his own eyes. "Do you know how many nights I wished for this exact moment?"

He looked to the stone wall before him, absently noting the ivy that climbed in the mortar. He swallowed hard, twice, and the hot tears that threatened to fall did. They were searing on the apples of his cheeks. All of the feelings he'd been through since she walked out of his life—anger, resentment, longing, brokenness. They crashed down on him once more. "What you've done is selfish!"

He felt Hermione's soft hand on his back and he whirled around and backed up once more. "Please don't touch me."

Hermione looked like she was going to faint with distraught grief. "Draco…you need to understand. I never wanted to end things. But…I just…I wanted you to have the best life. Your father threatened your inheritance—"

"I told you I didn't care about any of that, Hermione! I told you repeatedly!" he whispered forcefully.

She stepped closer to him. "I know, Draco. I know. I have screwed up royally and ruined everything we had. I thought I was doing the right thing. I thought I was saving you."

"You didn't ruin everything, Hermione. You ruined me. I fell into a very dark place after we broke up. I lovedyou. I bought a ring for you! I was going to propose—on that trip we were supposed to take to Venice!" he told her, certain his insides were ripping into two.

"Draco. I was scared and I wanted what was best for you. Your parents…they never would have accepted us!" she told him, putting a hand on his arm.

"Then, why are you here?"he demanded once more.

Hermione bit her lip in the way that had made his knees knock as a man of eighteen. "Because you can't marry her."

Draco grabbed her hand forcefully and her engagement ring glinted in the moonlight. "Rich, seeing as you're betrothed to the Weasel!"

"I don't love Ron. I never have. And I'm certain he knows this…we're engaged because…of convenience. Just as you and Astoria are. I told him I was coming here tonight. And he knew. He knew."

"I actually care for Astoria. That's where you are wrong, Granger."

Hermione looked as though he'd slapped her. "Draco…what we had…what we still have…"

"We don't have anything anymore, Hermione," he told her, and he didn't sound convincing enough to convince himself.

"You can't lie to me. I know you too well," she told him. "Please don't marry her."

Hermione put her other hand on his other arm, and Draco could feel the old emotions and longing stirring within him. His heart was aching to be reunited with that of his first love. "Give me one good reason."

"Because it should be us."

He'd always thought it would be them. They'd fallen quickly into love upon their return to school, and with no war to separate them any longer, they'd loved fiercely and wholly. Draco had never thought that it would have ended. And for him, where his heart was concerned, it hadn't ended. It should be them.

He was overcome with the feelings that had lain dormant for so long—raw, unadulterated love and fierce, passionate yearning. Draco grabbed both sides of Hermione's face and dipped his head to meet hers in one fell swoop. His lips pressed into hers and she opened them with eagerness and skill. Their mouths fell into a familiar rhythm, unique to the two of them joining.

Hermione wrapped her hands up and around his neck, fisting them into the hair at the nape of his neck and tugging in a thrill of pain and pleasure. Draco backed her against the bannister of the balcony, one hand on the back of her neck holding her steadfastly to himself, the other on the balcony, holding himself up. He was having difficulty pulling in deep enough breaths to oxygenate his brain, his thoughts coming ragged and disjointed. In the back of his mind, he remembered Astoria was down in the garden—he could vaguely hear her saying goodbye to guests. Weasley's face flashed in his mind for a moment as well. What they were doing was going to hurt the two others immensely.

But as Hermione suckled at his bottom lip, Draco couldn't find it in him to care. Everyone in his life had, at one time or another, called him selfish. He had put aside what he wanted for so long, trying to please his parents, the Dark Lord, Astoria. He was finally taking what he wanted. He was going to be the selfish bastard everyone always expected him to be. Hermione Granger was all Draco Malfoy had ever wanted. In all his days at Hogwarts, it was she that had struck his fancy. And he'd finally had a taste of the long-forbidden fruit and had never stopped yearning for it. Hermione Granger had nestled herself deep into his heart.

"Draco," Hermione said, pulling her mouth away to speak as he dragged his lips down her neck, "I am so sorry for everything. I love you. I love you, and I always have."

Draco lifted his face back to hers, kissing her lips over and over again. "You stupid witch," kiss, "you thick, idiotic witch," kiss,"you nearly ruined everything."

Hermione giggled nervously, pulling his head back with her hands in his hair. She kissed him once more, devouring him completely. Draco couldn't find it in himself to stop what was transpiring. Because this is what was meant to happen. Astoria Greengrass. Ron Weasley. They were distractions. Pleasant distractions, but distractions none the less. As much as he cared for Astoria, he didn't love her.

Hadn't he always compared everything about her to the witch currently making his resolve and knees weak?

Draco began to back her into his room, his heart and body responding to her and muddling his mind beyond repair. He navigated her back, his fingers pressing into her hips. She tripped on a heel nearing the bed, his beautiful klutz, and fell back. She landed in the bedding with a bounce and he responded with a hoarse laugh. "Still the same klutzy mess," he mumbled as she sat up and gripped the lapels of his suit coat to bring him in for another kiss.

He allowed her to pull him forward, responding to her with equal fervor. His body was nearly quaking with unbridled desire to be united with his witch once more. He'd loved her for so long. Draco pushed her back into his bed, running his hand up her calf to her thigh, pushing her dress with it. He broke his lips from hers to pepper wet, open mouth kisses along her neck, sucking her sweet flesh as he did. She tasted exactly as he remembered all those night alone in this very bed—sweetly salty and intoxicating.

Draco fisted the silk of her gown in one hand by her hip, running his other hand long her side and under her to grip her arse hard. His mouth moved from the tender spot on her neck, over her collarbone and he licked at the hollow of her neck, just between the collarbones. He breathed lightly over it, remembering how it used to raise gooseflesh over her entire body. He smiled as that exact reaction took place—he knew her better than he could have ever hoped to know Astoria.

"Draco," she breathed and he'd forgotten how sweet his name sounded falling from her lips as his were on her body.

He hummed a deep rumble in his chest and the feeling of it reverberating made her pull his head even closer to her, her back arching as he nipped at the soft swell at the top of one breast. They didn't have the time for him to lay her down and make love to her properly—he could practically hear the guests asking after his whereabouts. But if he didn't take this witch, he was going to spontaneously combust. She seemed to be having the same thoughts, as she ran one strappy heeled foot up the back of his calf, grinding her hips against his. His cock throbbed painfully against his trousers, straining almost uncomfortably.

Draco ran his hand over her breast, leaning back to watch her face as he did. The fabric of her dress created a barrier, but somehow the fact that they had to remain almost clothed for fear of getting caught made it that much better. She brought her hands to his belt and he slipped his suit coat off and dropped it to the floor. He watched as her nimble fingers undid the belt and then the button and zipper of his black dress trousers, his hands holding her hips firmly against the bed.

Draco had always enjoyed watching her every movement, her every reaction. It was the most pleasurable part of sex with Granger. She jerked his trousers down slightly, his underwear with them. Hermione wrapped her hand around him and began a slow rhythm up and down, and he had to take a sharp breath in. "Fuck, Granger," he muttered, his hips thrusting lightly to meet her movements.

Astoria didn't like when Draco spoke during sex—she was always silent and insisted he be as well. But not Hermione—she enjoyed hearing him whisper into her ear. He pulled her knickers down and she lifted her arse and legs to allow their removal, ceasing her hand's work only momentarily. Draco removed her hand from him and pressed it back into the bed, taking her other and doing the same. He kissed her, not a sweet delicate kiss, but one that was fierce and bruising. He ran his tongue along her bottom lip and then took it between his teeth, causing her to wriggle beneath him.

He lifted his head and smirked down at her. She'd always been impossibly impatient. He held her hands above her head with one of his, knowing she wouldn't fight it and brought his other hand to her hip. He ran it down over her leg, brushing his fingertips over the inside of her thigh. She subconsciously spread her legs a little further in anticipation. "Quit teasing, you prat."

Draco laughed, a heady gleeful laugh, and brought his fingers to where she ached for them most. He nearly groaned at the feel of her silken core. "So wet already. Is that for me, love?" he whispered, running a single fingertip down the length of her slit.

He lowered his face to hers as he dipped one finger into her and her hips lifted slightly to meet him as he slowly pumped in and out. He freed her hands and brought his thumb to her clit, massaging circles lightly with the exact pressure he knew would start her off right. He used that same hand to press her firmly down into the bed. She let out a low moan and gripped his upper arms.

Her hands ran over his shoulders, neck, chest, searching. Skin on skin contact would feel so right, but what they were doing currently was so wrong. There was so little time. Her nails dug into the fabric of his shirt sleeves as he brought a second finger to join the first, coaxing that spot within her that made her legs shake around him. "Faster," she instructed, clenching her eyes closed.

Draco was more than happy to oblige his bossy witch. His two hands worked in tandem with one another, increasing in pressure and tempo until he found one that had her back arching, her hips bucking despite his firm hand steadying her. Hermione let out a series of quick, panting breaths before a satisfied, "Oooh!" Her body quaked around him and he slowed his ministrations as she rode out her orgasm.

He gripped both sides of her hips and pulled her closer to where he stood, pulling her up to meet him. His cock slid against her slick heat and he could no longer hold onto his self-control. "Tell me what you want," he told her, sliding along her once more.

She twitched, her body still sensitive. "Oh, gods. I want you."

He looked at her and she nodded once and he thrust forward. At the feel of him filling her wholly and completely she sighed and he groaned. Finally. Finally. He'd only dreamed of this for so long. The feel of her was unlike any other.

She wrapped her legs around his back, pulling him closer to her. As he thrust, she rolled her hips in time, creating a careful dance between the two of them. Their bodies knew one another, each movement, each touch sending shivers through them. Her hands gripped the edge of the bed at either side of her hips, fisting handfuls of the bedspread.

Draco leaned forward, closing the gap between them as he continued his thrusting. Hermione lifted up to kiss him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. With their breathing becoming steadily more ragged, their kisses were quick and heated. Their noses brushed when their mouths separated to breathe, moans and grunts sounding between them. "You feel so fucking good, Granger."

"I've missed you," she agreed, attempting another kiss despite her quick breaths.

"Tell me when," he whispered, nuzzling and suckling at her neck once more.

Draco was pretty adept to picking up on the cues Hermione gave off. The steady shaking of her legs, increasing in veracity the closer she got. The way her breaths quickened and a blush crept up her chest and into her face. The way she would arch into him, pressing into him fully as she would softly say his name, half a sigh, half a declaration. When all of these things began to occur, he brought the pad of his thumb to her clit once more, running circles over it as his hips snapped into her repeatedly. She mumbled "Now," in her dazed stupor.

He leaned forward and sucked hard at her neck, knowing that she enjoyed the pain of a love bite mixing with the pleasure of an orgasm. Her fingernails bit into the nape of his neck and he found his release as his name fell from her lips in a contented moan. He dropped his slick forehead to her shoulder as he caught his breath. She ran her fingers through his hair and pushed his sticky fringe away from his forehead. "It should've always been us. I am so sorry," she told him.

The severity of what had just transpired suddenly weighed on him and he moved to stand fully, mumbling a scourgify to clean them up. "Astoria is downstairs," he commented, to which Hermione raised her eyebrows.

He pulled his trousers up once more, tucking his shirt in. "Don't give me that look, Hermione. We fucked up."

"So…so you're going back to her, then?" Hermione asked, pulling on her knickers under her gown.

Draco gave her an exasperated look. "Of course not. Do you think I could return to another witch after that?"

"So what are we going to do?" she asked him, pushing her hands over her hair to smooth it back into its elegant style as he pulled on his suit coat.

"We've got to face the music," he replied with a shrug. "We're fucked. Hopefully the press has already left."

It was only then, after Hermione's powerful, bewitching spell had dissipated some, that he realized what he'd done. His betrothed was somewhere downstairs, bidding their guests adieu as he fucked his ex upstairs. Draco looked at Hermione and knew he could never go back to the way it was before she waltzed back into his life tonight. Astoria was a lovely witch and she deserved so much more than him. So much more than to be second string chaser to the girl who'd always had Draco's heart.

When they were sufficiently dressed, all scratches, nips and love bites glamoured and their hair righted, Draco straightened and held his chin up. "There's no time like the present."

Hermione worried her bottom lip between her teeth but nodded. "I'm so sorry for this."

"Me, too," Draco replied, taking her hand.

They descended the stairs and immediately Draco was aware of a storm brewing. There was no happy clinking of glasses or Viennese waltzes playing. There was the sound of his parents in a heated debate. "How could you invite her? You knew this would happen!" his father demanded.

"He deserves to be happy, Lucius!" his mother countered.

"He was beginning to be happy with Astoria, Narcissa! You meddlesome witch! Now look!"

It was then that his mother looked around his father's side and her face broke into a strained smile. "Looking, I am. And look how happy he looks, Lucius!"

"I thought you were happy with Astoria, Draco? How could you do this?" he bellowed.

Draco's grip on Hermione's hand tightened and he jutted his chin out defiantly. "I care for Astoria. But…"

"But you were never happy. There was always something holding you back," Narcissa finished for him. "A mother knows, Draco. I could see it in your eyes."

Lucius was giving Hermione a look that would cut any weaker witch in half. "You know the repercussions of your actions, Draco. You give up your inheritance."

Draco nodded once. "Fine."

"The Malfoy inheritance. Not the Black's," Narcissa said from behind her husband.

Lucius whirled around. "You wouldn't! You wouldn't go against me in such a defiant manner!"

"I would, and I already have," Narcissa said proudly.

Draco's mouth fell open and Lucius looked murderous. "Narcissa. I wish to see you in the study. Alone. Now."

Narcissa nodded and led the way into the study. Lucius slammed the door hard enough to shake a painting of Abraxas Malfoy from the wall. Draco pulled Hermione's hand toward the back door. "Your mother stood up for you," Hermione mentioned weakly.

Draco bit his lip and sighed. "This is not the last of this."

He walked into the back garden and nearly ran at the sight before him. Astoria was sobbing at an empty table as Ron Weasley paced a path beside her. He turned and stopped short when he saw the couple, hands clasped, exiting the ballroom. "You!" he bellowed, drawing his wand.

Hermione stepped in front of Draco. "Stop, Ron!" she screamed.

Ron's arm was shaking as he held his wand in the air, pointed directly at Draco's head. Draco came to stand beside Hermione. Weasley looked between the two before a defeated slump set his shoulders. "I am so sick of trying to live up to him," he told her. "You need to decide, Hermione."

She looked at the redhead and Draco's heart began beating wildly again. What if she chose him? It was easy to say she didn't love someone until he was crying and hurting in front of her. There was a moment's hesitation and then she dropped Draco's hand and slipped her engagement ring from her hand, holding it out to him.

Weasley took it from her and looked down at it. "For the last two years, I have tried my hardest to be better than him. But your heart was never with me. I've got to get out of here. I'm going to the Burrow. If you could have everything out of the flat by Monday, that would be great," he told her and he apparated on the spot.

Astoria looked up and stared at Draco and Hermione. "I wish you never would have kissed me that night in the garden. I wish you never would have pursued a relationship with me. Proposed to me. Allowed me to embarrass myself here tonight!"

Draco felt the guilt slip into his features. He did care for Astoria. But he just didn't love her. "I wish all of those things, too. I care for you, Astoria. I really do. But…what I did was not fair to you. I wanted to forget Hermione and I used you to try and achieve those means. I am so sorry."

Astoria marched forth and slapped Draco, hard, across his face, leaving a red handprint to rise on his alabaster features. She looked to Hermione. "You slag. You ruined everything!" she screeched before she, too, apparated.

Hermione and Draco stood in the garden of the Manor, looking out over the empty tables and still twinkling lights. Hermione drew a heavy sigh. "I wish I could say I feel worse about all of this than I do. Does that make me a bad person?" she asked seriously.

"We are both complete and total fucking arseholes," Draco replied, feeling truly terrible for Astoria but lighter than he had in a while as he held his love's hand once more.

o-o-o

A/N: Yikes, guys. Yikes. I'm not a smut writer, by any means…

Please review! This is not exactly a great tale, but love triangles are never easy. Someone always gets hurt.