~*~Ten~*~

Hermione followed Harry as they wove through the stacks in the library, returning various books for Madam Pince. It had been two weeks since everything had changed. She felt more alive than ever before. Her veins hummed with energy and she felt she could touch the sky. Each morning she sprang out of bed, knowing she would be satisfied just catching a glimpse of him passing in the halls.

Draco hadn't changed his behavior, he was distant as ever, his eyes full of frost. But every time she caught him looking, his silver orbs thawed just a bit. It was hardly notable, likely invisible to anyone else, but utterly monumental to her.

She'd done her best to avoid confronting him, instead waiting for him to come to her. Whatever had grown between them was fragile and one missed step could shatter it all. Hermione couldn't risk that, not with so many lives on the line. So she watched from a distance, her heart skipping a beat at the very sight of him around a corner or across the room.

Harry and Ron had continued their observations, indicating that Draco was still spending time in the Room of Requirement. Now it was up to Hermione to find a way to enter with him. But she didn't dare try until she'd spoken with him again, until she knew she'd definitely cracked his icy veneer.

Harry nudged her shoulder, drawing her back to the present. "Why is she looking at me like that?"

Hermione followed his gaze, finding a dark haired girl with a predatory smirk on her face. "Ah. That would be Romilda Vane. Word is she's perfecting a love potion to give to you."

"She's what?" Harry looked deeply disturbed.

"That's what I heard from Parvati. Who knows how good she is at it though, you might end up getting poisoned instead." Hermione narrowed her eyes at Romilda until the other girl turned away.

Harry shuddered beside her. "I think I would rather be poisoned, if it's all the same."

"Yeah, me too."

A flash of platinum blonde had her head jerking toward the Restricted Section. Draco leaned against one of the stacks, his dangerous eyes locked on her. He held her captive for a long moment before ducking around a shelf and disappearing into the stacks beyond.

Hermione shoved her half of the books into Harry's arms. "Can you get these? I forgot I needed to check on something."

Bewildered green eyes shone back at her, but Harry merely shrugged. "Sure."

"Thank you! I promise I'll make it up to you," She planted a kiss on his cheek before walking quickly in the direction she'd seen Draco disappear.

He was waiting just beyond the entrance to the Restricted Section, his posture casual as he leaned against a shelf. She took a moment just to drink him in, the memory of him gliding against her skin, a wicked shudder running down her spine.

His eyes slowly rose to meet hers. There was a storm there, a war between fire and ice. Hermione stopped mere inches from him, savoring the heat radiating from his tall frame. His full lips twisted into the ghost of a sneer.

She didn't let him speak. He groaned as her lips descended on his, his hands burning through her clothes as they ran down her back. He was pure sin and she drank it all in, heedless of their location, knowing only that she would finally be sated.

He pulled back, his liquid silver eyes devouring her. His lips moved as if he was going to say something, but then they crashed back down and it was only pleasure. Her hands twisted in his hair, drinking in his groans as she tugged his silken locks. She needed him closer, now.

It was senseless the way he made her surrender completely. She honestly didn't know if she could pull away if she wanted to. He was the spark to her fire and she was blazing. Her entire body was trembling with a need so intense she could barely concentrate.

His hand slipped between them, edging her skirt up, creating impossible heat between her legs. Hermione whimpered as he pushed the only remaining material aside, his hand caressing her in the most wonderfully debauched way.

She mourned the loss of him as he withdrew to unbuckle his belt, but he was against her within seconds, spinning her to face the bookcase. The heat of his breath ghosted across her neck as he drew her hair to one side. Then his lips were writing wicked tales across her skin.

His first thrust into her drew a loud moan. He shifted to cover her mouth with a hand, his long fingers caressing her jaw. She barely remembered how to breathe as he claimed her again and again, writing his name across her soul until all she could imagine was him, like this, forever. When she tumbled over the edge, it was with a messy scream against his hand. His teeth latched onto her neck, marking her, as he followed suit. His hand released her mouth, dropping to her hip as his other clung to a shelf above them.

The books in front of her came into focus as reason slowly descended upon her. It was the cursed and charmed objects section, the same one she'd been standing in front of before he'd cut her. It seemed a lifetime away. He'd scared her so much that day, but not as much as she'd scared herself. And now look at them, joined in the most intimate way possible, so far away from her blood staining his shirt.

But that had been intimate too. The Wizarding world had taught Hermione that blood had power in ways far more nefarious than giving life. Had that been the moment when the cord snapped and they'd begun their crash course? Or had it been earlier? The moment her palm met his face in their third year? The moment their eyes met across the Yule Ball. When had this become their destiny?

Draco pulled slowly away from her, a flick of his wand cleaning away the evidence of their liaison. She turned to face him, her pulse fluttering at his utterly depraved appearance. His full lips were red and swollen, his hair sinfully disheveled, his eyes promising pleasure unknown. She wanted him to take her all over again.

Hermione took a deep breath, reading book titles until she her pulse had slowed from its frantic staccato. "We should talk."

"We really shouldn't." His voice was rough, sending tremors of need piercing through her.

"Draco."

His eyes narrowed at his name on her lips. "Don't assume this has changed anything, Granger."

She knew better than to believe that lie. "Fine, pretend what you want, but that doesn't change the truth."

"The truth that I'm a Death Eater and you're Potter's Mudblood?" The words were spat, but his eyes didn't match the venom.

"Yes, that truth." Hermione raked a hand through her hair, fingers catching on tangled ends before she finally pulled it free. "I can't let you go through with this."

Draco sighed, staring sullenly at the floor between them. "That does put us at a rather unfortunate impasse since I can't let you stop me."

"Do you really believe in that Snake-Bastard so much?"

A scoff tore through his lips as he tilted his head to face her again. "Of course I don't. He's half-blood scum, but right now he's the only thing keeping my mother alive." He flinched as he completed the sentence, clearly not having intended to share so much.

Hermione blinked back at him, pieces rearranging in her mind. Of Course. Why hadn't she seen it? He may have been a right bastard, but he'd never seemed the type to sign up for murder. Not that she doubted he could kill, she knew better than to underestimate him now. "Is that what he has on you? We can protect your mother."

"How exactly well did that protection work out for Potter's godfather? You lot always underestimate him. No one is safe, not me, you or anyone else in these castle walls. If he wants something, he gets it." His silver eyes flashed with a foreign emotion until Hermione realized it was fear behind them. He was afraid. The boy who'd successfully cast the Cruiatius Curse on her was terrified. Chills stretched across her skin as she stared back at him.

"Not so brave now, are you?" He shook his head, fear fading into something more desolate. "The best thing you can do is stay away from me. If you get in the way, I will have to remove you."

"You don't have it in you," she protested, the words lacking certainty even as they left her mouth.

He stepped forward, crowding her against the shelves. A different kind of shiver slithered down her spine. "Make no mistake, Granger, just because I don't want to hurt you doesn't mean I won't. Don't trust me. I can't make you any promises."

Hermione hated Voldemort more than ever in that moment. She hated what he'd asked of Draco, what he'd done to the boy she suddenly cared so much about. She knew Draco wasn't lying, she could see it in his clear silver stare. He would hurt her, he would hate it, but he would do it. He had done it. The memory of the Cruciatus seared through her with a vengeance.

"Stay away," he warned again. His gaze was a tangle of emotions, each one piercing though her. She wished she'd never opened her mouth, never made him tear her hope into tiny shreds of despair.

He leaned closer, his lips just brushing her forehead before he turned, never looking back as he disappeared into the myriad of shelves. Hermione was back where she'd started, no wiser to his plan, no more able to sway him. She could feel the ghost of his lips trailing down her skin. She could feel the pain of his curse within her soul. How had it all gotten so complicated?

When Voldemort stole their childhood from them. Her jaw clenched, resolution filling her. She would not let that deranged monster win. She would stop Draco, save him and his family. She had no idea how that would happen, no plan at all, but she had the will. That monster would not take everything from her, and now everything included Draco Malfoy.