Of Heart To Hearts And False Starts

A/N: Hello all! I'm back with another installment of The Best Laid Plans! I really would love some reviews… I'm rather disappointed that no one reviewed that last chapter. I really thought that I'd get at least one. But, alas, no. Anyway, I'm hoping you enjoyed it and will continue to enjoy my fanfic until its completion and possible sequel. As always, nope… not making any money. These aren't even my characters. I just have fun putting them in fun situations for everyone's amusement.

"Me?" Draco said weakly, his brain unable to comprehend why Ron was charging him, head down, like a bull about to gore a matador. He was even unable to move when Ron crashed into him, throwing them both into the wall. All of the frustration, the anger, the confusion exploded in Draco's head. He saw stars, either from the eruption of emotion of from the rather hard hit he took on the back of his head as he thudded audibly into the wall. He pulled his fist back and felt it crunch satisfyingly into Ron's jaw. Pain exploded through his fist, reverberating into his elbow and shoulder.

Ron's head jerked to the side and he growled, almost feral, and he was saying something, but Draco wasn't sure it was English. Guttural noises flew from his mouth with angry spittle. They might have been hexes, or curses, or even just swears. Ron punched Draco in the gut, and he doubled over, his air forcibly expelled from his lungs. They tussled weakly for a bit, neither one having much energy and the initial burst of adrenaline that the anger flooded them with was waning quickly. It took a lot of energy to remain at such a heightened state of emotion. Between the constant fear everyone felt, the recent attack, the demoralization of failure and Harry's near-death experience; they were worn completely out emotionally. Finally, Ron sat down on the ground, tears leaking from his eyes and rolling hotly down his cheeks.

"You didn't hurt me, Malfoy, just so you know." He said, defiantly jutting a rapidly bruising chin in the air.

Draco slid down the wall, his eyes closed. He raised a hand and moved it in a dismissive gesture. "Fine." He had only the energy left for one syllable words. Even that was a strain.

Ron looked over at Hermione who was sitting up in the floor, eyes wide, mouth pressed into a tight line of anger. Apparently, she'd seen most of the fight. She was now completely beyond words. She struggled to her feet, completely forgoing the attempt at grace (she knew it was futile), and simply walked away.

"I'm fine, thanks!" Ron called after her as she disappeared into her room. He strongly suspected that the glistening in her eyes wasn't anger, but unshed tears and at the moment, he didn't care if he was hurting her feelings. He fought the stupid ferret for her, for her honor, and she couldn't bloody say one thing to him, ask if he was alright. No. She just got up. Fine, if that's how she wanted to be, just fine. He flopped back on the floor, wiped his cheeks with the back of his hand and sighed.

"Brilliant. Just… bloody brilliant." He left his hand over his eyes. Belatedly, and begrudgingly, he asked, "You hurt?"

"No." Draco opened one eye. "You?"

"No." He lied. He was hurt, but his physical wounds would heal. It was his heart that he was afraid would never beat the same again. He saw the look on Malfoy's face. He knew that look, saw it on Harry's face when he watched Ginny. He also knew that he watched Hermione the same way. The worst of it, however, was that Malfoy might be some kind of competition. Hermione had always had a way of taking in strays. That's what he and Harry had been. She even loved that ridiculous cat, Crookshanks, and it was almost as detestable as Malfoy. He couldn't deny that Malfoy was what a bird might call 'attractive', but for the love of Merlin's pants, there was more to a man than broad shoulders and a nice arse! Ron mused momentarily on himself, wondering for the first time in his life if he had a nice arse. He decided quite definitely that his arse was much better than Malfoy's. At least he didn't have a broomstick fixed with a sticking charm up his. The image of Draco Malfoy dancing about, screaming like he had when he learned that a troll was let loose in Hogwarts, a piece of thick wood sticking out of his pants filled his head so completely that he had to laugh.

Draco opened both eyes to look at Weasley, lying on the ground, having had a sound beating, and laughing uncontrollably. He felt the edge of his mouth turn up and wanted to laugh, too, but completely unsure why. The absurdity of it, he supposed, but he suppressed the urge and instead, asked, "What's so funny, Weasley?"

"Nothing… nothing…" Ron gasped through his laughter. He couldn't possibly tell him what he'd been imagining. The laughing subsided as quickly as it had come upon him and he sighed as he sat up. "You… you like her, don't you?"

Draco narrowed his eyes at his opposition, thinking rapid fire about how he should respond, if he should respond. He still didn't have the energy to get up and go check on Hermione. There would probably be a row. He'd seen the look on her face, and previously, he'd only ever seen it aimed at Weasley, there, but… he had a sneaking suspicion that he was going to be in the line of fire as well, this time. "I trust her." Is all that he said.

"You… you trust her?" Ron cocked his head, rubbing his cheek for the first time. It was painful and hot to the touch. He doubted that Hermione would fix it for him. Ah, well. Another battle scar. Trust. He trusted Hermione. This… could be very, very bad. Because if he trusted Hermione, that must mean he had a reason to. Aside from the fact that Hermione was a trust worthy person, he had to have a reason, had to have talked to her. Really talked to her.

"Do. You. Like. Her." He asked again, slowly, emphasizing each word.

"Are you going to hit me again if I tell you the truth? Because I really don't have it in me to have another go at you. I'm very tired, Weasley." He sounded bored, but in truth, he was wrung out. He wasn't used to having to analyze emotions so much. Gryffindors were very emotional creatures and it wore on him.

"If you don't answer me, I'll beat you senseless when I can stand up again." His threat was somewhat less scary when modified with 'when I can stand up again'.

"I do, Weasley. Like her, I mean. She's quite fun to fight with." He smiled then, a predatory smile. He was admitting it to Weasley, telling him that he did 'like' Hermione. He was testing the waters. He wondered what his face would look like if he told Weasley about watching her eat that dessert, or how she kissed, or what she felt like when she napped on his chest. Probably contorted in rage. Emotional Gryffindors. They were so easy to goad.

"I don't trust you. I've been in love with her for ages. I've called dibs. You back the hell off and we'll be fine." Ron pointed a finger at Draco's chest, but was unable to poke him threateningly as he didn't have the energy to move forward. But, he was sure that Malfoy got the idea.

"You can't just… 'call dibs' on her, Weasley. It's not as if she's the last piece of cake or the front seat on a broomstick when you ride double. She's a person, if you remember." He was scathing. Hermione was a person, for Merlin's sake. How do you call dibs on a person?

Ron fumed and shook his head, "You can't. Just leave her alone. You'll just hurt her. I'm meant to be with her."

"Since when? I've never heard of a Prophecy that says that a red-headed git must marry a beautiful, intelligent and deceptively innocent Gryffindor or the world will end. That's bollocks." He could feel his ire rising again, but really, he just wanted to go to Hermione's room and nap. Then, once he was refreshed, he could fight with her, fix everything, and they'd go on about their business of taking down the Dark Lord. So much easier than this conversation.

Ron was fumbling for words in his head and when none suited him, he could only growl angrily.

"Most eloquent argument, Weasley." Draco sneered, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure Hermione loves that you're such a charming conversationalist most."

"Listen, Malfoy, I'm just going to tell you this. If you hurt her, I will kill you. I won't think twice about it. I never wanted you here in the first place. It's your fault that Harry's in there. It's your fault we were attacked. Hermione would have seen it and we might've been able to handle the harpies if she were there! I don't want you here, no one does! Hermione's vulnerable. And she wants to fix you, like a broken chair. You're just a project to her. Don't ever think you're more." Ron pushed himself up with a visible effort, every muscle and sinew in his body aching and screaming in protestation. He strode to Harry's room, the tension in him radiating out like ripples on a calm pond.

Draco didn't want to admit it, but that stung. He felt sure that whatever was happening between himself and Hermione was more than that. He couldn't be 'just a project'. He wasn't going to be turned in for a grade at the end of the year. What he'd felt when he touched her hand, kissed her lips, smelled her hair… that was real. He'd seen it on her face and knew that she felt something very real, too. Nothing Weasley said was going to dissuade him from thinking that, but a tiny seed of doubt had been planted in his heart now. He had been let down so many times before in his life, most of all by himself. He would need to guard himself even more, though he'd rather just go sink into her arms and sleep. He winced as he stood, raked his hands through his hair and decided that the wall was most definitely harder than his head. Hermione's door was left ajar and light spilled onto the dark carpet like a negative of an ink stain.

Draco stood by it and heard soft snuffling. She was crying. Brilliant. He had never been very good at fixing that problem. When Pansy had cried, which was when she wanted something, he just bought it for her. Simple fix. He doubted Hermione was crying because she wanted new dress robes or a necklace she saw in a window. He couldn't buy his way out of this one. Dammit. He walked in quietly.

"Hermione?" The name was still unfamiliar on his tongue, but it was nice to feel he was able to say it anyway.

"What do you want?" It wasn't harsh, or even angry, just defeated. That was more disturbing than angry. Suddenly, he wished she were angry at him.

"To see if you're okay."

"I'm not. Now, go away."

Instead, he sat down on the edge of her bed. She was laying on her side with her back to him, curled up in a little ball.

"Harry's going to be okay." He tentatively laid his hand on her calf, trying to be tender and supportive, things that were very unfamiliar territory.

"I think so." She answered curtly.

"Then why are you crying?"

"I'm not crying." Hermione paused, "my eyes are leaking."

"Then why are your eyes leaking?" He smiled faintly. Absurd. Were all women so strange?

"I heard you two. I wake up, laying on the floor, everything on display," she paused, rolled onto her back and eyed him suspiciously as though she thought he might've arranged her limbs in that pattern so as to get a better look-see at her. "And then you two are at each other's throats. Like always." She sighed, sitting up and scooting up so her back was against the ancient headboard. "I just realized that some things will never change and that's not always a good thing."

"Hey. We did just have a nice little chat." He tried to smile encouragingly, but his hair was mussed, his clothing was ripped here and there. The effect was a bit disturbing.

"I heard part of that, too." Her eyes darkened with anger. "The nerve of him! DIBS! Oooh.. sometimes, Ronald Weasley makes me so mad!"

He patted her leg, afraid to come much closer in case she turned her rage toward him. "I told him he couldn't call dibs. Besides, I'm calling dibs, now." He shrugged and smiled a genuine smile. This time, the effect was much better. A Hugh Grant kind of charming.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, looking at him shrewdly. "And what makes you, Draco Malfoy, think that you can call dibs on me when Ron can't?" She crossed her arms over her chest. Sure, they'd kissed, but they certainly hadn't had any sort of conversation about whether they were an item. That thought rocked her. An item. With Draco Malfoy? That was insane. Wasn't it?

"Because," he thought fast, "You kissed me. Obviously, you can't resist my charm, good looks, quick wit, and intelligence…"

"So modest," she cut into his sentence.

"And if you can't resist me now, when I'm not even trying to seduce you, well… obviously, it's only a matter of time before you fall into my lap and beg to be my girlfriend." He smiled brightly, toothily. Draco hoped she knew that he was trying to lighten the mood the best he knew how.

Hermione laughed. "Oh? See, the way I remember it, was you begging to kiss me, trying desperately to touch me…" The memories clouded over her eyes and she felt a warm blush rising in her body. She wasn't a prude, per say, but she was inexperienced. Saving the wizarding world and getting all O's on your tests didn't leave much time for romance.

"A Malfoy never begs." He stood up, pushed her over on the bed, sat down next her and kissed her full on the mouth. His hand gently cupped her cheek, pulling her face into his more. His fingers slid down her neck and tangled themselves in her hair. It was soft, very soft. He broke away slowly, his lips lingering on her. "We take what we want."

She didn't move away from him, but whispered, "And do you want to kiss me… or do you want me?"

Draco backed away far enough to look her in the face. Certainly, she didn't mean it the way he thought. "Ah…"

She shook her head and started to get off the bed, "Fine.. I knew you wouldn't want a relationship. I knew that."

"Oh! Oh!" Draco shook himself, "That's what you were talking about! Oh, that's fine, then. Yes, of course I want you." He laughed, pulling both hands through his hair. For a moment, he had thought Hermione was offering herself to him, like some virgin sacrifice.

Hermione eased back down, frowning in confusion, "Well, what on earth did you think I meant?" It still hadn't hit her that Draco Malfoy had been so blasé about yes, he did want a relationship with her, of some sort. The parameters hadn't been discussed, but certainly this wasn't the time.

Draco laughed again, a genuine laugh and it always made her warm. Strange how circumstances can completely change the way you see a person. "I rather thought you were…" he thought about how best to phrase it, "offering yourself to me."

Hermione began to laugh, "What kind of woman do you think I am, Draco Malfoy?"

"The randy kind?" He smirked.

"That… is neither here, nor there." She paused, cocking her head to the side. "Did I just hear you say that, yes, you would like to try some kind of relationship with me?"

"What did you think this was, Granger?" He teased, "I don't just go snogging girls I have no real interest in." Okay, so that wasn't entirely true. He was a teenaged boy. But this time, he did have a genuine interest in his particular snogging partner.

Hermione snorted, "That's not what I heard."

"Hermione Granger, I didn't take you as one to gossip! Perhaps I don't know what kind of woman you are, after all. Maybe you were offering yourself to me," he said playfully. "And you, of all people, should know that not all gossip we hear is true. Unless you really were boinking Potter and Krum at the same time. In which case, I certainly do not want a relationship with you."

"You read Witch Weekly, too?" Hermione sighed. Would that retched Skeeter woman never stop haunting her?

"Maybe." In truth, it had been Pansy reading aloud to everyone in the common room. But he had certainly heard most of the undeniably untrue stories, amusing as they were.

"I'll have you know that Harry Potter and I have never been and never will be more than friends. And I certainly never… ah.. boinked" her face flushed red, "Viktor Krum."

"You just said boinked." Draco pointed out, smirking.

"So did you!" Hermione said, half plaintively.

Draco laughed and kissed her again, this time on the tip of her nose. "So, are we agreed, then?"

"Agreed on what?" Hermione wanted to know.

"That you are now my girlfriend and Weasley has absolutely zero chance of getting into your knickers." Draco said, completely earnestly.

"Ron never had a chance of getting into my knickers, as you so politely put it. And yes, I think we are agreed. I'm… ah, I'm your girlfriend." A sudden bout of shyness rose in her, but only momentarily. She supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. "But perhaps we shouldn't go shouting it from the rooftops, just yet?"

Draco agreed, more enmity among the ranks could do nothing but hinder their ability to work together.

"Now, I'm going to nap, Granger, and you are going to lie next to me and keep me warm. Understood?" He spoke haughtily, but they both understood it was meant playfully.

"Absolutely not, Malfoy. I will lay here and nap, and you will keep me warm. That's the boy's job."

"I never thought to hear you say that a woman can't do something that a man can. Alright, if you're admitting I'm better than you are, then I'll be happy to warm you, Granger." He smirked, again.

"I never said that! I could keep you warmer than you could keep me!" She curled around him, thinking 'that'll show him'. Until she realized, a little belatedly, that had been his ploy all along.

"You are such a Gryffindor. Now, let's just.. sleep for a bit. Shall we?"

They both drifted off quickly, their bodies unable to keep from shutting down.

Ginny was sleeping next to Harry, her head on his chest and Ron was sitting in his own room, looking at his hands. He'd cleaned himself up, mostly. Perhaps he should go to Hermione and talk to her, warn her… apologize. There was always something he should say he was sorry for with her. But she was right. He got up and began walking the silent hallway toward her room.

A/N: As always, please REVIEW! I need to know you still want me to continue, or this might fall to the wayside in favor of my continuing Coloured Grey.