Hermione was dressed in a strapless red dress that clung tightly to her, perfectly showing off her figure. Her hair was down, soft curls framing her face. Black heels crisscrossed her feet and ankles adding six inches to her height. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror, before she made her way down the stairs, and into the living room. She smiled at the three faces staring up at her from the couch.

"How do I look?" She gave them a flirty grin and twirled.

Graham let out a low whistle, "Stunning," he said appreciatively, and then looked pointedly at Draco, "You might want to keep a tight grip on her tonight."

It was Friday night and it was Harry's birthday, and they were all meeting at Hermione and Draco's before heading out to celebrate. Blaise and Graham had already arrived, and they were just waiting on the others.

Draco smirked at Graham, "You on the turn, mate?"

Graham laughed and squeezed Blaise's thigh, "Not a chance. I'm just appreciating the beauty that is this woman...who is also smart and talented and-"

Hermione held her hand up, "Stop," she laughed, "You'll make me blush."

Draco stood, holding out his hand. She took it and smiled at him, her heels bringing her height even with his. He brushed his hand down her arm, causing her to shiver slightly, "You look amazing."

She kissed him, "Thanks, you don't look too bad yourself." He was wearing black jeans that sat perfectly on his hips, and she was sure that if he turned around, would be perfectly hugging his arse as well. A simple washed-out grey fitted button down shirt finished the look, casual yet amazingly stylish.

"Seriously, you two? Do we have to hear this every time we get dressed up?" Blaise raised his voice mockingly, "Oh, Hermione, you look amazing; Oh Draco, let's just stay here and get naked and fuck!"

Hermione stepped closer to Draco and ran her hand seductively across his arse, and winked at Blaise, "You want to stay and watch, Blaise? I know you're into that kind of thing."

"It was one time Hermione," Blaise objected, "One time, almost five years ago. How was I supposed to know what the hell you were doing with our boy? Are you ever going to let it go?"

"No," she laughed, "And I'm still waiting for my chance to return the favour."

"Any time, baby," Blaise winked at her, "Any. Time. You. Like."

"Excuse me!?" Graham choked out, "Do I get any say in this?"

Hermione dissolved into a fit of giggles, stepping away from Draco to hug Graham, "It's okay Graham, I love you both, but I don't ever want to see that."

"Pre-drinks drinks?" Blaise said with a nod to Draco's impressive bar, just as Ron and Pansy sauntered into the living room.

"Always have to be the centre of attention don't you Granger?" Pansy said, giving Hermione the once over. She looked stunning herself, dressed in an electric blue halter-neck dress, "Even I'd do you looking like that."

"Ron," Hermione groaned, "We tell you all the time; if you bring her, you have to control her."

"Yeah right! Like that's ever going to happen." Ron laughed, taking the drink Draco handed to him. They all looked surprised when Pansy said no when Draco offered a glass to her.

"Seriously Pans?" Draco was looking at her perplexed. Pansy never said no to whiskey.

"Seriously," she said with a sideways glance at Ron.

"No fucking way!" Hermione cried, startling them all. Pansy grinned at her, "You're not?"

"I am." Pansy said and Hermione engulfed her and kissed her cheek. She flung her arm around Ron, pulling him into the hug as well

"This is awesome!" Hermione said planting a kiss on Ron's cheek.

"You mind telling the rest of the group what's going on?" Blaise was watching the squealing girls with confusion.

"Pansy's pregnant," Ron told them, "Eight weeks."

A chorus of cheers from the guys went up. They all hugged Pansy and slapped Ron on the back, "Well done Weasley," Draco said, "I didn't think anyone could get the Wicked Witch pregnant."

"Arsehole." Pansy said, punching Draco's arm, before he pulled her into a bear hug and congratulating her.

Harry and Ginny arrived in the middle of the celebration, "Stealing my thunder, Parkinson?" Harry said with a smirk. Clearly he and Ginny already knew the news. Another round of cheers went up, and a spontaneous, yet terribly out of tune rendition of Happy Birthday followed.

"Wait!" Draco exclaimed, "Did you say eight weeks?" Pansy nodded, and Draco frowned, "But that would mean...No, you didn't"

Pansy was already laughing, "Oh, we most certainly did."

Draco had a disdainful look on his face, "So, my birthday, when you were too drunk to apparate home and you stayed here?"

Ron clapped him on the shoulder, "Maybe we'll call it Draco, in your honour."

"What if it's a girl?" Ginny asked, laughing.

"Draco still works." Pansy replied.

"Okay," Draco said, "Are we just going to stand here and take the piss out of me, or are we going to go and drink ourselves into a stupor?"

They had chosen a muggle bar because it was easier to just enjoy themselves. In a place like this they were unknown, just as random as the rest of the patrons were. And the chances of them being spotted out were slim. Once they were inside, the pounding base of the music drew the girls and Graham straight to the dance floor; the guys watched as they pushed their way through the sea of bodies and disappear into the crowd

"Drinks?" Blaise asked and they all nodded.

Draco's eyes scanning the dance floor. Harry laughed and clapped him on the shoulder, "Are you ever going to get over this jealousy thing?"

"Shut up Potter," Draco growled following Blaise to the bar.

The other three laughed, "Look at all those guys looking at her," Ron taunted him, "I'm pretty sure that red dress has been mentally stripped off a hundred times by now."

Draco clenched his jaw, biting back his reply to tell Weasley to fuck off. He was well aware of all the male eyes on her. She stood out in the large crowd on the dance floor, dancing with Ginny, Graham and Pansy in such a carefree manner. Her gorgeous smile, her head thrown back, laughing at something Pansy had said.

He smirked at Ron, "What about Pansy? I'm surprised she hasn't actually stripped and shown herself off."

"I'm happy for her to do it," Ron said casually, not taking the bait, "See that ring on her finger? It means no one is looking at her. Maybe if you'd just grow some balls and do the same, you'd have nothing to worry about."

Ron and Pansy had been married for almost a year and half, and Ginny and Harry just over a year and they'd all been relentless in their taunts about when he was going to finally ask Hermione to marry him. He planned to, of course, but like he had told her, he would ask when she least expected it. And he didn't want to become a cliché, and ask her just because all their friends had gotten married.

"It's been almost five years mate, when exactly are those balls due to grow?" Blaise asked with a grin.

"The same time yours are due," Draco countered, "I don't see a ring on Graham's finger."

"That's because he has to ask me," Blaise informed him.

Draco laughed, "I always knew you were a girl!"

Blaise opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out. He laughed, "Touché," he said, handing them their drinks - 25 year old Macallan's – and they all tipped their glasses at him, saluting his choice. Blaise raised his own glass, "Happy birthday Potter, I hope Ginny puts out."

"Cheers, mate," Harry laughed, "And who says she didn't already?"

"That's my sister,' Ron pointed out.

Harry slapped him on the shoulder, "And you should be very proud."

Blaise snorted and covered his mouth, almost choking on the mouthful of whiskey he had just swallowed. He glanced towards the dance floor and let out a low whistle, "I didn't think the junior Weasel had it in her."

"Oh, she most definitely has," Harry said with a smirk.

Ron squeezed his eyes shut, "I'm not hearing this."

"Right," Blaise said, "Weasley is embarrassed, Draco is about to kill anyone who looks at Hermione and our significant others are enjoying themselves. I can only see one objective left; we men need to get shitfaced and celebrate another year that the Chosen One didn't die."

"Oh, shit," Pansy said, sucking in a breath. Ginny turned her head, following Pansy's gaze, and she grimaced. They were headed back to where the guys were sitting, and Pansy had noticed Draco at the bar.

Hermione frowned at her friends, before her eyes caught sight of what Pansy was staring at; Draco at the bar, a woman standing beside him, her hand on his forearm. Her spine stiffened and goose bumps broke out on her skin. What the hell was this?

"Hermione?" Ginny said cautiously, "I'm sure it's nothing."

Much to their astonishment, and her own, Hermione simply smiled and tilted her head to the side, "Well, this is interesting."

"Do you want me to go over there and slap her?" Pansy said sneering at the woman beside him.

Hermione shook her head, "It's fine, let's just see what he does."

Graham almost slammed into Ginny when they had suddenly stopped walking, "What's going-...Whoa!"

"Yeah," Ginny agreed still eyeing Hermione, "But apparently we're waiting to see what he does."

"Really?" Graham looked surprised, "This'll be interesting."

"Yeah, I'm not so sure," Pansy said glancing at Hermione. Her eyes were narrowed, her jaw clenched. They'd seen Draco jealous, but the sneer on Hermione's face was something new. She evidently wasn't' happy about this, but was holding her temper in check

They all watched as Draco conversed with the woman, waiting for the bartender to finish preparing his drink order, while the woman openly flirted with him. She smiled and flicked her hair back over her shoulder, her hand touching his arm.

"Hi," she said, "I'm Erin."

Draco smiled back, and simply said, "Draco."

"Oh, wow," she laughed, "Your parents must have really hated you!"

Draco's eyebrows raised, and the infamous Malfoy sneer crossed his face, "Excuse me?"

She laughed, a high, flirty sound that had Draco wincing, "Well, that's not the most common name now is it?"

Draco shifted his feet, moving slightly away from her, but she followed his movements, "Why would I want to have anything that's common?" He sneered.

Her smile grew wider, completely oblivious to the vitriol being aimed at her, "I've been watching you all night, Draco. You and your friends have expensive tastes in whisky," she glanced down at his hand on the bar, "I wouldn't mind three fingers myself."

Draco almost choked at the innuendo. He blinked, as she pressed closer to him, her shoulder touching his. Draco flinched when the woman leaned closer. He stepped back from her, "You should go back to your friends, I'm really not interested."

But she didn't back off, "Oh, that's only because you don't know me. I'm actually very interesting."

"I'm not interested because I have a girlfriend." He told her, but she only laughed.

"Nice story," she said, "I don't see her anywhere."

Draco looked over his shoulder, his eyes landing on Hermione, his eyes going wide at the unreadable expression on her face. He cast her a look that said Help me.

She took pity on him and crossed to the bar, walking with an exaggerated swing to her hips, "Hi," She said with a devilish grin, and stepped between Draco and the woman.

She felt a slight shove at her shoulder followed by a high pitched yelp of "Hey!" Hermione turned to face the woman, "What the hell?" she demanded.

Hermione shot her a derisive look and arched an eyebrow at her, then shrugged, "I saw him across the room, and I just had to have him."

The woman shook her head in disbelief, "Um, well, I saw him first. So you need to leave."

Hermione turned back to Draco and pressed herself against him, "Is that true?" she asked, sliding a finger across his jaw, "Did she really see you first?"

Draco bit his lip, trying not to laugh. He had not expected this from Hermione, this was something he would have done - marked his territory - but he was thoroughly enjoying the display. He looked up at his pursuer, "Well, she might have," he drawled, "But you are my girlfriend, so you get dibs."

The woman's eyes went wide, "Girlfriend?" she spluttered, "You weren't lying?"

Draco nodded his head, "No I wasn't. Like I told you, I have a girlfriend. This is Hermione." Hermione turned in his arms, and smiled at the woman, and Draco made a show of kissing her neck. He slipped his arm around her waist, pulling her to him, "Sorry Erin."

"You have amazing taste in men though," Hermione told her, "Kudos on your choice."

Erin's face flushed red, "I'm so sorry...I didn't mean to...I just...I'm sorry." she stammered before turning and fleeing.

Hermione turned to face him, "What the hell? I can't even leave you alone for twenty minutes and you've got women hanging off you?"

"What!?" Draco exclaimed, "I did nothing, I was just standing here and she approached me! Fuck Hermione, as if I'd do anything."

"Hey," she said softly, pressing her hand to his chest, taken aback by his outburst, "Calm down. I was only joking."

"Sorry," he said, "It's just that's it's usually me that gets jealous. Nice to see that it's you for a change."

Hermione stuck her nose in the air, "I was not jealous."

Draco leaned in and kissed her, "Oh, I know jealous, and my dear, you so were."

Draco had grown strangely quiet as the evening wore on. They had all teased him mercilessly over being hit on at the bar, and he had taken it good naturedly, but Hermione had noticed him slowly drawing into himself, appearing deep in thought and distracted.

She shook her head and focused on her friends, she would ask him about it when they arrived back home. But she was taken by surprise when they finally left at one am. They apparated into their bedroom and Draco slammed her against the wall, his mouth descending on her throat, his hands pinning her arms above her head.

Hermione gasped at the sensation, at the urgency with which his mouth was exploring her. His mouth crashed against hers, forcing his tongue between her lips. She moaned, enjoying the roughness, the warmth of his mouth. He pulled back, nipping at her shoulder, her jaw, his teeth grazing her ear lobe.

"You're mine," he growled, his tone almost feral, angry, "Mine, you hear that?"

"Draco?" Hermione said in a breathless voice, but he ignored her. She could feel the anguish in him and she knew his mind was elsewhere. She tried to pull her arms free but he held them tight and continued to attack her neck and shoulder.

Draco had an overwhelming sense of urgency to feel her, he needed to show her how much he loved her, how much she meant to him. He pushed his hips against hers, roughly forcing her back into the wall. His teeth bit into the sensitive skin of her shoulder.

"Draco, stop!" They'd had angry sex before, they'd had rough sex, but this was something different. This was not angry, this was desperate, thoughtless. Her heart was racing, she didn't want to use magic on him, but if he didn't let up, he would find himself flying across the room. Hermione's voice rose and she yelled, "Draco! Let me go!"

Draco's hands dropped from hers, but his mouth remained on her. She slammed her hands hard against his chest and forced him back, the sensation of his mouth on her disappearing instantly as he stumbled backwards. She could barely breathe. She was staring at him, her hand massaging the wrist he had gripped, a mixture of disbelief and confusion on her face, "Draco, what-"

He was breathing hard. His eyes were glazed over, a distant, lost look in them. He felt a raging anger rise within him and before he could stop himself, he punched the wall behind him, crying out an agonised howl. He had hurt her, frightened her, he could see it in her eyes. This was the woman he loved, and he had treated her with utter disrespect, like a piece of meat. He looked down at his hand, his knuckles raw and bleeding; it was much less than what he deserved.

"Draco, talk to me, please," Hermione said taking his bloodied hand, "This is not you. What's going on?"

Guilt washed over him and he couldn't look at her. Embarrassed and ashamed of himself, he shook his head and turned on his heel, headed through the walk-in wardrobe to the bathroom, slamming the door.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. How could he have done that? How could he have hurt her, frightened her? He held his hand beneath the running water, watching as the blood mixed with the water and swirled down the drain. He was disgusted with himself, taking out his anger - anger at himself - on her. It wasn't her fault, it was all him; his pathetic, jealous self, rearing its ugly head again.

Hermione winced at the sound of the slamming door. She pressed her head back against the wall and waited a full minute before she moved, steadying her breath, forcing herself to calm down. Something had gotten into his head, forcing sullen, angry Draco to appear again. She was at a loss as to what it was, her mind replaying the night and unable to come up with even a minor insult that would have set him off.

She stepped into the dressing room, removing her heels and placing them in their rightful place. She was deliberately taking her time, allowing him the time he needed to calm down. She reached behind her back and unzipped her dress, letting it fall to the floor. She pulled on a pair of sleep shorts and a matching camisole and stepped towards the closed bathroom door.

She took a deep breath and pushed the door open slowly, finding Draco with his palms pressed onto the counter, his head lowered, eyes closed. She noticed his hand was wrapped in a towel, and she winced. What the hell was going on in his head? She pressed her hand gently to his back, feeling him flinch.

"Where did you go?" Hermione asked him in a whisper.

"Nowhere, sorry," he murmured. His chest felt heavy, his breathing had become constricted. He grimaced at her touch, disgusted with himself.

"Draco, that wasn't nowhere, talk to me, tell me what's going on."

He turned to face her, "Are you okay? Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head, "No, I'm fine," she took his wrapped hand in hers, whispering a healing spell and he felt the tingle of his skin repairing, "But you're not. What happened?"

"Nothing," he said, "Nothing...I'm sorry."

"Everything was fine," she wracked her brain trying to remember if she spoke to another man, if that's what set him off. She was sure she didn't, "Draco, I don't understand what-"

"I thought about fucking her! That girl at the bar, I thought about it!" Draco yelled yanking his hand from hers, he didn't deserve her touching him, "The thought actually went through my head, the thought of fucking another woman. Just for a second, I actually wondered what it would be like to be with someone else." His hands went to his hips and he stared at the floor, "What does that say about me? About us?"

"Oh," Hermione sat on the edge of the tub. One-thirty in the morning in the bathroom was not when she envisaged having this conversation with him. She had always assumed it would come up, but she was not completely prepared for it right now. "Is that what you want?" Her voice was surprisingly calm.

Draco looked up at her, "What?"

"Is that what you want?" She repeated, "Do you want to take a break from all this, from us?"

"No, that's not-"

"Draco, if we're going to be together, if we're going to be us, I don't want you to ever think what if, or I should have. I don't want you to have any lingering doubts about being with me and don't want you to have any regrets, or think that you may have missed out on something. If you want to take a break from this, or even end it, you need to tell me now, not in five years, or ten years, when you decide that you did miss out." Hermione's heart was racing, belying the calmness in her voice. If he did want to end this, her currently racing heart would break in two.

He stared at her, not sure how to respond. He thought she would have flown into a rage and told him to get out. It's exactly what he would have done had the roles been reversed. But she was giving him options, a choice. An out, if he wanted.

"A break?" He finally said.

"If that's what you want." Her fingers gripped the side of the tub, her knuckles turning white and her heart felt like it was about to slam through her chest. Was he actually considering this?

"And you'd be okay with that?"

"No," the anger was rising in her and she had to force the words out, "I would hate it, but if it's what you want, I'd have to deal with it."

"So, what are you saying? If we just took a year off you'd be perfectly fine with it. No questions asked."

"No, you fucking idiot!" the calmness was gone, replaced with a white hot anger at the fact that he was even considering this, "I would fucking hate it. I pretended indifference to that...fucking slag...talking to you, but I hated it. I wanted to slap her for simply talking to you. And when she touched you? Fuck!" she took a breath, forcing her tears back, "And even if we agreed to take a break, I'm not sure I would take you back, could take you back," she swallowed the lump that was threatening to burst from her throat, "Are you ever going to get over that I've been with other guys? Believe me, if I could take it back, I would. I wish I'd not been with anyone else. I wish it had only ever been you. I wish it with my whole heart." The tears that were threatening finally fell. She tried to storm past him but he grabbed her wrist, stopping her.

"Take your hand off me," she said icily, and he immediately dropped her arm from his grasp, "You know what? You go ahead, go out and spend the next year fucking every woman you can, because clearly you've already made your choice."

"Hermione, that's not-" Draco began, but Hermione cut him off.

She held up her hand, and shook her head. She had a look of complete pain and distress on her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was a choked sob. Her tears were streaming down her face and it was the last sight he had of her before she disapperated away.

Draco gripped his hair in his hands and let out a frustrated howl, the sound echoing of the tiled bathroom walls. Fuck! He thought, Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

What the hell had he just done? He'd promised himself, and her, that he would not let his jealousy get the better of him again. And this time it had nothing to do with her. It was all him. For a split second he'd wondered. Wondered what it would be like with someone else. Wondered at the feel of another body. Would it be the same? Would the sounds of someone else's breaths and groans have the same effect on him? It was only for a second, but he instantly knew he didn't want it. He only wanted Hermione. And at the same time he hated himself for thinking it. It felt like he had betrayed her. And he was disgusted with himself for taking out his own frustrations on her.

And then panic hit him. Where the hell would she go at this hour? If he called around, or even disapparated, he'd have an enormous amount of explaining to do, and at this hour, he didn't think he was capable of dealing with their friends' rants. He picked up his phone and called her, the familiar chimes of her phone ringing from her discarded purse on the floor.

Of course she didn't take it, you idiot! he cursed himself, And she wouldn't answer it anyway.

He had all but attacked her and she still managed to be patient and calm, and tried to make him feel like he'd done nothing wrong. He looked down at his hand, no trace of his fist hitting the wall existed, thanks to Hermione. He repeated his own question; what the hell had he done?

Hermione had apparated into the flat that Draco had bought for his mother - the Malfoy fortune still being partially hers – and she collapsed onto the couch, hoping Narcissa wouldn't hex her when she found her there.

In the year that had passed since their first meeting, the two had become firm friends, and it was as much a surprise to Hermione as it was to everyone else. They had more in common than either had expected; books, museums, old libraries, and Narcissa's insatiable thirst for knowledge was probably the biggest surprise of all. She was as curious about everything around her as much as Hermione was.

They had decided to meet weekly, both telling themselves that this was for Draco, to make things easier for him. And it was thanks to a muggle book that had really brought them together. Hermione had been reading Jane Austen's Emma when she had arrived early for one of their weekly catch ups. Narcissa had gasped in surprise, her excitement evident as she explained that it was one of her favourites, that while everyone went for Pride and Prejudice, she loved this one more than anything. Hermione had agreed. And it was through Jane Austen, they found themselves enjoying each others' company. The conversation becoming easier, chatting about the world around them, their favourite books and even wandering around the London's museums together. Draco had, of course, been smug. Telling her that he knew they'd get along.

It wasn't until she shivered that she realised she had disapparated wearing only her sleep shorts and a singlet. Fuck she thought; this was going to be awkward enough without her being half naked. She transfigured a large pillow into a blanket and threw it over herself, and waited for sleep to come. But her head was swirling, the possibility of she and Draco being over was tearing at her heart.

She wasn't sure what she had been thinking when she disapparated, she just wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Narcissa's flat may not have been the best place to hide, it seemed more of a side step than actual fleeing, when she thought rationally about it. She knew that running and hiding was childish an immature, but she also knew it would be driving Draco insane not knowing where she was, and she was sure that Narcissa's was the last place he'd look. She guessed subconsciously that she knew that and it was the reason she was here.

She had never done this before. Never gotten so angry, so upset that she thought her only option was to run. But the irrational side of her brain had taken over and brought her here. She curled her knees to her chest and stared into the darkness. Had their fight ruined everything? Would he actually take her up on her suggestion of a break? A wave of nausea rolled through her at the thought. If he did decide that he did need to sow his oats, as it were, she was sure that would be it. She wouldn't be able to take him back, and she knew that she was not being entirely fair, considering her history. But that's what it was, history. It had happened in her past, and she didn't see anyone else but Draco in her future.

In her head she was ranting at him, silently shouting all the things she should have told him instead of running away. She should have told him that she didn't want him to leave, that she was with him and would always be with him. She should have told him that she didn't care that he thought about being with someone else, because that's all it was, a thought.

But her Gryffindor courage had failed her and she had taken the coward's way out, and her internal rant turned onto herself; telling herself how selfish she was. That she wasn't sure she had the right to be so angry about the whole thing. He hadn't actually said that he wanted to end it, or even take a break, and she certainly hadn't given him the opportunity to explain what he wanted.

A heavy weight settled in her chest, a tight knot of pain and despair, and it felt as though it would suffocate her. Her eyes welled up again and a small sob escaped her. This couldn't possibly be how it ended. She loved him far too much for it to be over.

Another sob shuddered her body. She closed her eyes. Surely things would look better in the morning.