Disclaimer: I own nothing, NOTHING I SAY! Well, that's not quite true…I own some things, but nothing nearly so valuable nor so wonderful as Harry Potter.

Chapter Ten: Letting go and Holding on

The next morning Hermione returned to the ministry and Draco with a heavy heart. She kept going over and over her encounter with Ron, trying to sort out her feelings on the matter. She cursed Ron's unfortunate timing, knowing how simple things could have been for the two of them if he had simply told her how he felt a year ago. At that time, her heart had seemed so clear, her desires so expected. She knew exactly what life with Ron would be like, and there was comfort in the relative predictability of that life. She loved his family and would have been honored to join their ranks; she loved him, in all of his childish, thoughtless, yet truly kind and courageous splendor. She loved him still, and a part of her still longed for that life.

And then, of course, there was Draco.

Draco, who seemed to be Ron's opposite on so many levels. Draco, who offered only the unexpected. Draco, who was still surprising her every day. Draco, who made her blood boil and her hands shake. Her responses to him were so raw, she hardly recognized herself around him.

If she were expected to choose between the two, she knew what the smart choice would be, the safe choice. Unfortunately, her body was currently warring with her mind on the subject, screaming to forget stability and choose passion. Her mind, meanwhile, was busy categorizing and analyzing the pros and cons of each potential relationship, weighing each factor based on cool logic and reason. Logic had never failed her before; she had no reason to believe it would do so now. She was so caught up in her great internal debate that she failed to notice that half an hour had gone by in complete silence, as well as the fact that Draco was watching her closely, seeming to interpret her thoughts effortlessly.

And he was. Hermione was not incapable of dishonesty or concealing her true thoughts; she was in fact perfectly adequate at deception when the occasion warranted it. It just so happened that she was making no efforts to do so that afternoon, so Draco could almost hear her inner monologue. He watched the battle rage on across her lovely features and was privately fighting a battle of his own.

Draco wanted her. Not just physically, and not just for the time being; he wanted her. Always. He wanted her voracious intellect, her inexplicable compassion, her unfathomable courage, her unshakable integrity. He wanted to hold her, to teach her, to learn from her, to cherish her. He'd seen more good in three weeks of Hermione Granger than in the combined 18 years of his life spent without her. She was the light of the world, shining brightly in his once-dim corner, and he never wanted to let her go.

However.

He loved her. It seemed so pathetic and absurd to have come to such a conclusion after only three weeks, but he did. How could he not? But, as Draco was finally beginning to learn, loving someone means putting them first. It means forgetting and forgoing all of your own wants and desires to give that one person everything they deserve and more. And one thing was certainly clear to Draco; Hermione deserved so much more than him.

So he watched her emotional battle while fighting one of his own. Should he tell her everything, selfishly hoping she'll choose him, despite everything, or should he remain silent and leave her to Weasley? Had he changed so much in three weeks that he would give her up without a fight? That he would completely ignore the pull in his chest and the itch in his arms begging him to keep her? Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, depending on one's position on the subject, fate intervened and his decision was made for him before he could even comprehend what he was doing.

Hermione let loose a sudden little sneeze, tossing her curls forward and cupping her delicate hands around her mouth. The movement served to free her from her trance, and she looked at Draco before uttering a quiet "Pardon."

Draco was done for. He cupped her face and crushed his lips to hers, swallowing the shocked little "Oh!" before it had completely left her lips. He kissed her tenderly, reverently; desperate to convey everything he was feeling with just his touch. She responded with a contented sigh before wrapping her small arms around his neck, pulling herself closer until she was sitting directly in his lap, her chest pressed tight against his.

Hermione's brain had been effectively shut off for the time being. She was all nerve endings and taste and smell, drowning in her passion, her need. She kissed him, giving back all he was offering and more, running her hands over his body, committing the feel of him to memory. She was no longer analytical, no longer thoughtful or reasonable, she was a woman and she needed. As she let go of her inhibitions, her practicality, she felt lighter, freer, and simply brazen. She pulled back from the kiss, fixing Draco with an intense stare, and then grabbed her shirt by the hem and pulled it up and over her head, dropping her curly locks back onto her bare shoulders.

Draco was stunned into stillness for approximately half a second before his lips were on her collar, his hands stroking the smooth skin of her stomach and on up to her silk-covered breasts. She let out a breathy moan when he bit lightly at the thin skin of her neck, arching her back while she reached behind herself to unclasp the soft, black garment, letting him pull it away and fling it to the floor.

Taking full advantage of her unanticipated boldness, Hermione pushed Draco back until he was lying flat against the cot and she sat straddling him, topless and panting. Draco's eyes were wide with shock as he took her in, his own breathing ragged, his pale cheeks tinged with pink.

Hermione scooted back, keeping her eyes locked on his, before tucking her fingers under the waistband of his pants and tugging down. Draco automatically lifted himself to aid her movements, shocked and unaware of her intentions. When she started to lower her head, however, he shot a hand out to her shoulder, stopping her.

She raised her head to look at him with questioning eyes that still burned with passion. He had to clear his throat before he could speak to her.

"Hermione, you don't have to."

Her eyes narrowed infinitesimally, but lost none of their heat. "Are you telling me 'no'?" Her voice sounded sultry and almost dangerous, and Draco felt his cock twitch in response.

He gulped audibly in reply, but didn't say anything else. Hermione slowly lowered her head again, keeping her eyes glued to his, watching his response. When the only change she noticed was his breath speeding and his eyes clouding over, she smirked at him once before running her tongue up the length of his cock. She took him in her mouth, running her tongue around his head before lowering around his shaft, sucking gently on the way back up. She used her hand to stroke him as she worked, marveling at the unique textures. His skin was silky smooth, stretched tight over his rock-hard length. Draco's hands twisted themselves in her hair, tugging gently, and she moaned in response, sending warm vibrations through him. Hermione's body was in control now, and she was reeling under sensory overload.

Draco was completely enraptured by her every movement, every look, every sound. He couldn't take his eyes off her; seeing her pert little mouth wrapped around him was the single most erotic thing he'd ever witnessed. Period. A very, very small part of his brain was wondering how she was so good at this, but the overwhelming majority was simply caught up in the intense feelings of the moment. And they were intense.

After a while she felt him grow impossibly harder, his grip on her hair tightening, so she increased her pace and her efforts, now taking him in until she could feel his weeping head bumping the back of her throat. He tugged back on her tangled hair, trying to pull her off before his climax, but she simply gripped him harder, running her tongue in dizzying circles around him until he came hard in her mouth with a low oath.

She swallowed his cum, gently sucking him clean while his body relaxed and his breathing slowed. When she'd finished, she sat up with a flourish, wiped her chin and said with a cheeky grin, "There now, that wasn't so bad, was it?"

Draco looked up at her in shock before pulling her down to lay on top of him, laughing breathlessly. "Merlin, Hermione! You certainly are a surprising little thing, aren't you?"

She just shrugged and nestled into his chest, breathing in his scent and letting it relax her, body and soul. She hadn't actually worked out her earlier internal conflicts, but her body had made its opinion on the subject unequivocally clear. Her mind was still leaning towards the 'safe' option, but her heart appeared to be torn down the middle. She decided to actually not decide anything just then and simply enjoy the moment.

Draco ran his hands in long, gentle strokes from the top of her head, through her wild hair, and down her bare back. He'd just proven to himself how selfish he could be in regards to Hermione Granger, and he was struggling with some serious guilt over the matter. Just when he'd been thinking he could actually give her up for her own good, he let her do that to him, and dear god had he enjoyed it!

He began to imagine a life with the tenacious little witch atop him, spending every night just like this; holding her, kissing her, touching her, loving her whenever he wanted. He pictured curly, sandy blond-headed children running through the Manor gardens. Family picnics, story time by the hearth, days filled with laughter and nights filled with warmth. The whole thing hinted at something bigger, something elusive and intangible…happiness. He could be happy with Hermione Granger. Hermione Malfoy. Draco and Hermione Malfoy. Mrs. Draco Malfoy—no, she would probably hate being called that. He smiled widely to himself, in spite of himself and his residual guilt. He decided to let that guilt go. He may have changed, but he was still a Malfoy, and he refused to feel guilty over having what he wanted. He wouldn't scheme, he wouldn't manipulate, he would just let her choose. And if she chose him, he would live his life to make her happy.

A/N: Reviews make Hermione brazen.