Little note at the end, with apologies and all that! Happy reading x

Chapter 10

She must've been dreaming. That was Hermione's conclusion: a dream within a dream. How else could she have woken up to him standing in front of her?

Blood roared in her ears. She felt disoriented. She wasn't in her bed and she wasn't in the common room, the place she fell asleep the most. There was a painful crick in her neck that told her that she had fallen asleep in an extremely uncomfortable position. It wasn't a surprise to her that she had fallen asleep in the first place. She had been so tired lately that she wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if she passed out in the middle of an earthquake. She had come to the library in hopes of getting any one of her essays completed, but that plan was thrown completely out the window now. There was no way she would be able to hand in any of her essays on time.

On top of that, none of her exhaustion had worn off with any of the sleep she had gotten. In fact, she felt more and more tired as the days dragged on. Her moment with Malfoy was no help to that at all. She was beginning to think of him beyond her sleep. Just that morning, she missed almost an entire half of a lesson because he had been fiddling with his quill. She found his hands too distracting for her own good. She caught glimpses of him every now and then, chatting with Blaise, eating with Crabbe and Goyle, or flirting with just about any girl in the halls. Not once did he meet her eyes again.

That prick was the source of all her problems and she absolutely hated him for it. She hated that his hands were so distracting and that her eyes couldn't stop wandering over to him. And he was indifferent to it. And she hated that the most.

"What, Granger?" Malfoy smirked. "Winded at the sight of me?"

Hermione glared at him. "Only in your wildest dreams."

"Any dreams with you in it would be a nightmare, I assure you."

Her cheeks flared. Whether the insult was ill-intended or not didn't matter to her. Shouldn't matter to her. When did she begin to care so much about what Malfoy thought about her anyway? "Well then, I assure you that I was not winded at the sight of you."

"You're only lying to yourself, you know."

"Am I?" She hoped that he didn't hear the waver at the end. She also hated that he probably knew her better than Ron or Harry without even knowing it.

Malfoy shrugged and then turned serious.

"What are you doing here?" he said, watching her intently.

"I was reading," said Hermione irately, grabbing her books. She was desperate to leave. "And now, I'm leaving."

"No, you were sleeping."

She inhaled through her nose and closed her eyes. He was pressing her buttons and she knew it. He knew that she knew that he was pressing her buttons. Prick. "Then I fell asleep."

"Then you should have said that, you—"

Hermione jumped up and slammed her books onto the table. She didn't care that her hair-elastic snapped. Or that her fingers were caught underneath the books and now throbbed painfully. Or that she was probably giving him exactly what he wanted by reacting to his goading. She was hungry and frustrated and bloody tired and all three were successfully caused someway by him.

"You what?" she snapped. "Filthy Mudblood? Stupid little Gryffindor? Say what you want, Malfoy, but I don't care anymore."

She picked up the books from the table and stuffed them into her bag. She was angry, so angry. She was angry at Harry and Ron for being unbelievably annoying and constantly bothering her about helping them with their work. She was angry at Malfoy for being unbelievably annoying by just being himself. She was angry at herself for being so angry in the first place and for even getting herself in this mess anyway. And despite all that, she still couldn't stop thinking about him and wanting him. And that made her even angrier.

"What are you doing?" asked Malfoy.

"I am getting away from you," Hermione replied, hastily pushing in her chair on turning on her heel.

"No, I'm not done with you."

Hermione took a deep breath. Just keep walking.

"Granger!"

Don't stop.

"For fuck's sake! You'd think that a slut like you would stop a—"

In a split second, her rationality broke. Everything she had been holding in since the beginning of term rushed into her veins and her vision turned red. She spun around and whipped out her wand.

"Stupefy!"

Blue sparks flew out of Hermione's wand, and across the room, Malfoy flung from of his stance across the room. His foot caught onto the end of a shelf and sent the books nearest the edge airborne. For a three fluttering heartbeats, there was silence. Then, there was a loud thud as Malfoy landed an old, battered, couch, followed by small clunks of landing books. He laid there unmoving.

Hermione took in three heaving gulps of air before the reality of her situation hit her. She stood in shock and stared in horror in his direction. There was a small tiny part of her, probably the same part that broke her rationality, that told her she was still dreaming. Or maybe if she wasn't dreaming, she ought to leave him there.

She quickly abandoned the thought. Even if it was Malfoy, she didn't have the heart. Hell, it could've been Bellatrix laying there on the couch and she still would've felt the need to go check up on her.

Oh God, oh God.

She didn't know what happened to her. He had just made her so unbelievably furious. It paralleled the same feeling she had a while ago in their third year. The result was her giving Malfoy a good dent in the face. But this time it was different. She could've seriously hurt him, and not just his ego. And then again, she wondered why she cared so much.

She wasn't even sure why she cared so much. The obvious reasons she knew, of course – if he was badly hurt, it would be a lot more than detentions for her. Other than that though…she was clueless. If she was really honest with herself, it was pretty obvious she cared a little too much. Without even putting much calculation into it, Hermione was sure that her sixth year interactions with Malfoy was much greater than all of her other years combined. How much more intimate the interactions were didn't make anything better.

A part of her wondered why she cared so much that she cared. So what? She was fully capable and allowed to care about whoever she wanted.

But Malfoy…

It was Malfoy, wasn't it? Him in his green robes and haunting grey eyes. That was the problem. Had it been anyone else, hell, maybe even Cormac, Hermione would not be having this problem right now. No one else would be capable of pushing her buttons until she exploded, but it was still the same. There were too many things that set them apart. Blood-status, house, beliefs, friends… And then, past all of that, there were their similarities. She wasn't sure what they were, and truthfully she was scared to start listing them, but they were there. They had to be, or else she didn't know what she was doing.

Her feet moved themselves and inched across the room. It was as if she was having a silent argument with herself in her head. She couldn't justify what she had done or what she was doing now. It was her Gryffindor senses, she decided. She couldn't just leave him there.

I just need to see that he's okay. And then I'll leave.

The promise sounded empty in her head, but it was better than nothing.

Malfoy was still lying across the couch, but with the small slivers of moonlight shining from the windows, Hermione could see that he was breathing – faintly, but still breathing. It was like a huge weight had been lifting off her shoulders and she felt her pace quicken.

Ten more steps and she hovered over him. She stared at him, strewn across the couch, and felt her chest squeeze. Slowly, she lowered herself onto her knees and planted her hands against the edge of the cushion for support. Her movements were minimal, as if she was scared that any sudden outburst would break him.

Unable to stop herself, Hermione reached out a hand and brushed the hair away from his face. There was a slight cut just above his left eyebrow and when her finger grazed over the wound, his eyes snapped open.

Hermione's breath caught in her throat. She didn't dare move, and, from the looks of it, neither did he. There was an unreadable emotion in his eyes and it scared her to death. His eyes were never unreadable, even when his face remained slow seconds passed and it felt like an eternity. Finally, the silence broke her.

"Malfoy?" Hermione's voice cracked.

There was no reply but his eyes fixated on her.

"Are you – are you alright?"

Another slow second passed.

Hermione's heart pounded in her chest. Then, Malfoy offered a low grunt.

It felt like a million weights fell off her shoulders. She let out a shaky breath of relief, but didn't move.

I just need to see that he's okay. And then I'll …

And then what? Her mind was blank and he was still staring at her.

An eternity passed. Then, "Granger…"

She felt like a cornered rabbit staring into the eyes of a fox. Even if Malfoy was seriously injured, he still held power over her. And at that moment, she felt vulnerable. Pathetic.

Her reason and logic flooded back into her mind. She blinked once, twice, her eyes flickering over his face one more time before raising herself into a standing position.

He was okay and now she was leaving.

The sound of her shoes against the wooden floors was drowned by her frantic heartbeat.

.

Draco woke alone in the library. He laid sprawled across a sofa with little recollection of the night before. A beam of sunlight peeped through the windows of the library, burning his eyes. He shifted his position and almost passed out in pain. The painful throbbing started from his back and ebbed to every part of his body. He had never experienced anything like it. It was unbearable.

He groaned. What had he done to deserve this? Something stupid, no doubt. Then again, he had been doing stupid things for a while now. He flipped through the blurry images of the night before. All he could remember was that he couldn't sleep. And then what?

The more he tried to remember, the more he couldn't remember and the more his head hurt. Wonderful.

His odd positioning felt uncomfortable and he pushed himself upright. All at once, blood rushed to his head and his vision was blinded. Draco leaned against the back of the couch, ignoring the sharp pain that occurred as he did so, and waited to be able to see again.

His surroundings slowly came back to him. Draco looked around. The library seemed fine; he deducted that he hadn't gotten into a serious fight, else there would have been a terrible mess. He was still alive, which meant the obvious fact that he hadn't been killed. But if it hadn't been that... Then what?

He sounded fucking pathetic, was his next thought. The first thing that comes to mind was fights with Death Eaters or death itself. He almost felt like Potter, calling Voldemort left and right.

A smirk tugged at his lips. It always felt better to take a stab at Potter. Or any of the Weasleys. Or definitely Longbottom. Lovegood. Abbott. Finnigan. Thomas. Granger.

A wave of pain hit him. Draco winced in pain. His sharp intake of breath resonated through the large, empty room. Before his echo died down, another filled its place.

"Who's there?"

Madam Pince. He was not in the mood to deal with her again. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. Before he could stop himself, Draco let out a groan. As soon as he had done so, he cursed himself aloud for being so stupid. And then he cursed himself again, this time silently.

"Now I know you're here."

Ignoring the painful throbbing coursing through his veins, Draco carefully slid off the couch onto the cold wooden floor. Great. Each movement he made stirred a new soreness in his body and by the time he reached the great doors of the library, he was practically twitching with pain. What happened to him?

He quietly slipped through the doors into the empty corridor outside. It couldn't have been too late in the morning. There were no students or teachers roaming this hallway and he couldn't hear any noise beyond his own breathing.

Draco slumped against the cool stone wall. The rough, jagged surface of it rubbed against his bruised back and he quickly leaned away. He debated his next step.

He knew that the best place for him to be was the infirmary. There was no way he'd be able to endure a whole day of lessons with this amount of pain. Besides, if he was lucky, he would miss Defence Against the Dark Arts and Snape all together. But what was he to tell Madam Pomfrey? He had a feeling she would get all motherly-concerned and summon Dumbledore at once. Which could only lead to trouble. And Snape. And Draco was not in the mood to deal with neither motherly-concerns, Dumbledore, trouble nor Snape.

He made a frustrated grunting sound and rocked on his heels. His back hit the wall again, and this time he made no move to change positions.

Despite his distaste for visiting the infirmary, he had no intention of heading back to his room yet. He could just hear Blaise firing questions at him. How was he to answer questions he didn't know the answers to?

Draco stood upright and began making his way down the empty hall. He was still unsure where he would go, but he figured that he would know sooner or later. Within three steps, his head burst into a frenzy of pain. He grabbed his forehead in an effort to subdue it. It felt wet and soft. When he pulled his hand away, it was smeared with dark red.

Shit.

Turning on his heel, Draco headed the opposite direction to the infirmary. He rubbed his blood-stained fingers against his trousers quickly. Well he'd be needing another pair of those.

.

He entered the Potions classroom halfway into the lesson. The note from Madam Pomfrey was clutched in one hand, while the other held a small bottle of Pain-away. His eyes roamed across the class and saw Granger sitting with her back to him, scribbling notes on her book.

"Sir," he said to the professor, keeping his eyes on the Gryffindor. Her head lifted, but didn't turn back.

"Ah Mr Malfoy." Slughorn gestured for him to take a seat.

Draco ducked his head and trudged to the table that he shared with Pansy. She automatically shifted her book over so that they could both share. He stole another glance at Granger, who was still indifferent towards his arrival. Which was why Slytherin girls were far more superior than those in Gryffindor. Not that he was taking the time to compare.

"What are we doing?" He nudged Pansy with his elbow. Slughorn's incessant yapping droned on.

Pansy pointed her quill at the top of the page. "We're at- Draco." Her voice shook.

He turned his head to look at her concern-filled eyes. "What?"

"Your forehead," said Pansy, a little more loudly than necessary. Her eyes brows wrinkled. "You're hurt."

Before Draco could get a word out, Granger yelped. Followed by Weasley's angry voice.

"Hermione you got ink all over my notes!"

Draco glanced over to see Granger frantically tidying up paper and Weasley trying to mop up the ink with a piece of parchment. They both seemed to have forgotten that they have magical abilities. She threw a look over her shoulder and their eyes met immediately. As quick as it had come, Granger looked away and returned to cleaning up the mess. Her hands shook.

He watched her for a couple more seconds before turning back to copying his own notes. For the rest of the class, Granger didn't move her gaze from Slughorn and sat in a way that Draco couldn't even see her profile. When the lesson ended, she almost tripped over Seamus Finnigan's chair just as Pansy began fussing over Draco's injuries again. Then, she was out the door.

Draco walked down the hallway towards the common room with Pansy. The corridor was packed with students leaving from their lessons but there wasn't a bushy brown head bobbing amongst the crowd anywhere in sight. His eyes scanned the sea of students without seeing anything. She had gotten away. Fast.

The wheels were turning quickly in his head. Could it be… Draco shook his head adamantly. No, Granger wouldn't. With a last fleeting look amongst the crowd, he followed Pansy down the hall. It wasn't Granger. Absolutely not.

.

.

A/N: Well yeah. SOOOOOOOOOO sorry about the wait! It's been like... how long? a couple of months? Ukjdhgjsdgh i don't even know how to explain myself. I just got a HUGE writer's block but my love for Dramione finally prevailed! Hope this chapter is okay, seriously.

Plus, i wanna thank everyone who reads this story and continues to read it! and every who put it on alert and favourited it and reviewed it and honestly you don't even know how much that means to me! i'm forever grateful!

so i promise i'll upload sooner and hopefully you continue to read this fic and review!

oh and happy new years!