HERMIONE:

Honesty was a fickle thing. In a relationship, it had a profound ability to make or break a couple. So, when Draco had returned to their Heads dorm one night and confessed speaking to none other than Theodore Nott about their relationship, Hermione had almost instantly become a little apprehensive. It worked out for the better, much to her surprise. Draco practically insisted that she meet him, to which, she inevitably conceited, after some rather tantalizing convincing on Malfoy's part. After officially introducing herself, Hermione never realized how much she needed something like this – this validation.

Theo was a diamond in the rough, and quickly became integrated to an inner circle Hermione had no idea existed. He added a comical flourish that she could appreciate, and never once thought she would find in the likes of a Slytherin. In one fell swoop, Theo had shattered the standards that Hermione held practically all Slytherins to. She was pleasantly surprised by his good-natured pranks, and was particularly giddy over the ones he continued to pull on Pansy, even offering a few ideas of her own. On this account, Theo pestered Draco with a sly grin, stating that perhaps they were having more of an effect on her by the day, and 'she'll be one of us soon'.

Now, they had abandoned the likes of any crowd, and were thankfully walking in a stagnant sort of peace along the hallways of Hogwarts. Patrols, classes, Heads dorm, it never really mattered what their location was. As long as they were in the same proximity, the tension was just as palpable as it was the very day they had met, but in a very different way.

They were bickering about something. Hermione had just brazenly managed to forget what they were bickering about. This was mostly on account of the heat rising to her cheeks with the few subtle, sleuth, and intimate touches Malfoy had been initiating since they began their rounds. Normally, these gestures were a bit more lax, having gotten their fill earlier, but tonight was particularly tense. They had forgotten that they were even on the schedule to begin with, and had been in the beginning stages of a beautiful something when Hermione's eyes shot open and she remembered what they were supposed to be doing.

Now, just walking next to him was a viable amount of torture. She could hardly think straight, always finding herself gradually drifting closer to him when those little touches were initiated.

"Stop that!" She hissed, slapping at his hand when it brushed hers again. She tried to stop the blush that hit her cheeks, along with the smile playing on her lips. It was difficult to tell him 'no' when there was already a fire raging in her gut. "We're on the main floor." A simple reminder that this was a higher-traffic area of the school.

DRACO:

He hadn't realized quite how happy it would make him to know his best friend liked Granger. It was like everything he had ever thought about Granger was confirmed by Theo and in a way it made him feel better about the relationship, and actually being able to be open and touchy in front of one person, if not everyone. Theo was one of the most important people that he had wanted to have aware, anyway.

Walking the halls with her usually had him in some state of control given that it was a bit riskier. Students were always fluttering through the dark halls even when they were told not to and so they had just taken the initiative not to be intimate in any high traffic halls. Naturally, this would have been followed closely to if she hadn't interrupted what they had been doing before she remembered the schedule and forced him to change and do rounds.

It was torture to just stop touching her and return to acting as if he didn't want to at every second of every day. It was the fourth time that his fingers brushed be her own when she slapped his hand away and he couldn't help but smirk at the way her cheeks flushed. She wanted him just as much as he wanted her.

"Yes. That is correct. The main floor which has many classrooms that aren't being used at night like. . Ah. This one."

And before she can speak he's gripping her elbow and tugging her into one of the many abandoned classrooms. It was night. Who would catch them? Who would truly care? One hand is already curled in her hair and the other grips her hip just as their lips crash together. He can't go without this for long. Not without touching her in at least some way, if not for shagging. Although he did prefer shagging.

His arms easily lift her up to sit her on the desk and drag his lips down the hollow of her throat where her pulse point throbs and he knows she likes when he pays attention to it.

HERMIONE:

Malfoy was, indeed, a weakness. Hermione had suffered this revelation several times, normally when he managed to distract her from her studies, which was nigh impossible. He seemed to lose himself the most during the times he supposedly couldn't touch her, or when she appeared to be in her busiest state. She never quite understood why, yet rarely voiced a complaint over it… especially when his mouth managed to clasp over that spot.

By now, any and all thoughts of slipping through this patrol unscathed to finish what they had started in the dorms were swirling the drain in the back of her mind. Truth be told, she knew she was damned the moment their lips met and the classroom door was closed with a controlled click behind them. The moment she was lifted onto the desk, she was grasping pathetically and desperately at the collar of his robes with one hand, simultaneously slipping her other into his hair and admiring the softness that spilled through her fingers.

She let out a gentle squeak when the most pleasant spot on her neck began getting all the attention, half-grinning as she leaned her head back in encouragement. As her knees cradled his hips, they tightened like a vice, mutely encouraging the actions she knew she ought to stop. They were, after all, Heads. They still had jobs to do.

Hermione could have sworn she opened her mouth to protest at least once, but it appeared as though she had no voice when she was in this position… or any position. What came out was a mere succession of whimpers and whiny moans. Every perfectly-placed kiss on her neck made the fire roar in her gut.

She couldn't hear anything outside of this world. Perhaps she should have, because the door had been pushed open. There was a flurry of racing steps. Before Hermione even had a chance to react, Malfoy was jerked off of her by the collar. She saw a flash of red hair and freckles before the blonde was catapulted to the floor by a single fist.

"RON?!"

DRACO:

When she was completely available for kissing and his touches he of course complied but there was a certain rush for him when she wasn't. When she was busy studying for tests or when they were supposed to be doing something Head related and all he could think about doing was pushing all the parchment off the table and laying her out on it. Even in the Great Hall he had trouble focusing on only his friends and the Slytherin table because it felt as if her presence was so drawing he couldn't shake himself of it.

Her skin tastes sweet and earthy and those damned fingers curled in his hair like magic when he hit just the right spot. They were often a tangle of limbs and passion and need. He wouldn't have it any other way, honestly.

The door opened and then there was nothing but pain and redness. His face hit the floor exactly where the punch had been and it was as if someone had taken a shovel and whacked him across the face with it. Ron? Ron.

Weasley?

Oh.

There's a single push so he's standing again even with his throbbing jaw and Draco knows this. He knows anger and rage and sheer urge to hurt or maim and in a second he's throwing a punch right back at the moronic ginger's throat without any care for anything else. He'd been waiting years after all.

HERMIONE:

Hermione's hands immediately flew to her mouth from the initiation of the battle, frozen in place. It wasn't until Malfoy had leapt to his feet and charged with a fist of his own where she had jumped off the desk and attempted to grasp at least one of them. In this case, she went for Ronald. Malfoy might have been positively furious, but at the very least, he would register that she was there, and wouldn't charge as long as she was in the way.

When Ron had fits like this, he was blind to all reason. His rage became red as his hair and cheeks and all he wanted to see from the other end was blood. Hermione knew he needed to be stopped first, and so she took to action, crying out multiple times for both of them to cease and desist. Nothing seemed to be working.

After half-a-year's worth of tears and heartbreak, Malfoy had snapped. After whatever Ron was going through during their months apart – and after their horrid breakup – it seemed this made him snap as well.

"Ron, please! Please, stop!" She shouted, finally finding the courage to dive into the fray herself. Sacrifice was, after all, the Gryffindor way.

Hermione struggled, but managed to get a hold of Ron's arm. She was satisfied with the accomplishment for all of a few seconds, but instantly regretted it when a punch that was meant for Malfoy was instinctively thrust backward as he whipped to face her.

It was an accident, of course, but that didn't stop the smarting in her jaw. She felt as though someone had struck her across the face with a brick. Her cheek and mouth were almost trying to go numb, just to soften the trauma. The world spun a little and she steadied herself on the desk she had once been sitting on.

There was a pause in scuffling, though, which had been reassuring at first, but Hermione could feel the fear creeping back up her spine. The shock of something like this could only mean one thing…

"I'm fine, I'm fine…" she managed, weakly at first. She was trying to gain her bearings again so she could stop this before it turned deadly.

She tasted blood and hid it behind her hand from Malfoy. As if the strike wasn't bad enough, Hermione was frozen in fear by now, knowing – just knowing – that after this, nothing was going to end well.

DRACO:

He had to listen to for months to this girl cry alone in her room or mope around the dorms because Weasley hadn't sent her a proper message in months. Of course, he hadn't liked her then, but he still detested Weasley and used any excuse to be mad at the ginger-haired prick. For months she pined over him and for the months following he had to pick up the pieces of their shit breakup. He had been dealing with it. Not Weasley. Not Potter. Him.

He barely registered Hermione was there, but he'd stop if she got in the way of course. He was angry but he wasn't stupid. Fists continued to fly and Draco could taste blood flooding his mouth and knew something had to be broken by now. The crack of knuckles against flesh was something he had needed since he got back to school. He needed to fight and not care if the person lived or died.

The sound of the impact is what stopped him first. There was blood dripping down his chin but he stopped moving and so did Weasley so they could stare at Granger. Before her hand covered her face he saw the blood forming at her lip and then her words came spilling out.

I'm fine.

He thought of her laying on the ground at Malfoy Manor and being powerless to do something about it.

He wasn't powerless anymore.

There's something that takes over his entire body and catapults him to Weasley who he knocks down and pins to the stone floor with his knees on either side of the redhead's torso. Hit after hit after hit rained down on the redhead's face to the point of where Draco didn't know if it was his knuckles breaking or the other boy's face that was making all the disgusting crunching noises.

Blood was rampant, but he just kept going and going and going not caring where he was trying to get or who it was at that point anymore. He barely knew where he was. All the anger and sadness and repressed emotions over the war he never spoke about had come to the service and spilled out as soon as he saw that speck of blood on her lip and quite honestly he was going to kill Weasley. He wanted to see brain matter by the time he was done.

He could rot away in Azkaban for all he cared. It would be worth it.

HERMIONE:

Of course, that was the end of it. Rage boiled over until fury and bliss became one and all that was left was an innate, animalistic longing for bloodshed. This was how wars started. It was also how they were won. Still, Hermione couldn't let her protests end here. She had taken worse beatings in worse places and seeing Ron and Draco tear one another to shreds was not going to happen on her watch.

She couldn't even hear herself begging anymore. Granger had skidded across the classroom when Malfoy managed to subdue Ron, desperately grasping at his shoulders and trying with all her strength to pull him back. Nothing was working. The boy was blinded by hatred and PTSD. There was no amount of pushing or pulling that could possibly satiate this hunger long enough for him to back off and get a solid grip on his mind again.

So, Hermione did the first thing she thought of. She leapt for him, wrapped her arms around his torso, and buried her face in his neck, more than willing to take on whatever flying fists he could conjure. If he needed someone to strike for a while, she could be a shield. She had done it before. She would do it again.

Her tears were expected at this point. Blood leaked from the cut on her lip and salt water rained into his shirt from her eyes. Broken pleas ghosted over his pale skin as she begged for stillness and peace.

The war was over. This needed to be over too.

DRACO:

Each hit of his fist against the other boys face was like something he couldn't say when he wanted to. Something he repressed and never spoke aloud during the war.

THWACK

I don't want to be a Death Eater.

THWACK.

I don't want to kill people.


THWACK.

I can't stop crying at night. I want to go home.

THWACK.

Help me. Fucking help me.

His fists are coated in red blood and her touch to his shoulders to try and pull him away does nothing. He barely even notices the insistent pulling of her at all. It isn't until her arms wrap around his torso that some humanity comes back to him at all. She's gripping him and his fist is raised to strike again, but if he does he'll hit her. He'll hurt her. He's never wanted to hurt her.

His chest is heaving with heavy pants and sweat collects at his brow, but she's sobbing into his chest and her fingers grip him like talons in his heart just begging him to stay still. To remain still. He falls back to sit and remove himself from Weasley, arm curling around her shoulders and holding her tightly against his chest while his vision begins to clear slightly and see the true havoc he caused across Weasley's face. The boy was still responsive and moving but didn't even bother due to the pain.

"I'll fucking blind you if you touch her again." Is the first words that choke out of his mouth as he stares at Weasley not caring if the boy really hears him or not. It's not about Weasley. It's about him.

HERMIONE:

It wasn't his fault.

It wasn't anybody's fault.

He didn't mean to.

Perhaps these were all things she should have said. Maybe she did say them. Briefly. Buried mouth in his chest, the words were probably loose and without meaning. She stumbled with him when he shrank back from the mess he had made, still clinging to him with a newfound need that she never understood until now. The war was declared finished half a year before this moment, but everything felt like yesterday. It wasn't over for them; it was just over for those looking through the glass.

They would need to move soon. Ron was moving and conscious, but there was no doubt in her mind that she needed to get him to the hospital wing. Still, whatever urge Hermione had to help her best friend was momentarily subdued by her need to hold Malfoy in her arms. His wounds, like her own, ran far deeper than surface cuts or scrapes. Ron's were different – they were scars. Draco's were still open and oozing, even though the war may have been a world away.

It had taken her a moment to gather herself. She left some blood on him without realizing when she had pulled away. Hermione's palm pressed very lightly to his jaw, being careful not to tease the bruises that seemed to decorate him everywhere. To seal the moment in understanding, her lips descended to his own in a gentle, chaste kiss. She winced from the sting in her lip, but the action was enough to soothe her a bit. Like him, she was just as much a ruin.

She whispered to him when she generated space between their mouths again.

"We need to get him to the hospital," Hermione said, her voice a quivering whisper. Shaken to the foundations. "We have to. Please."

DRACO:

When the war ended Weasley and Potter and even Granger were the heroes. They were the names that everyone shouted in triumph and victory and swore loyalty to those names as if they were godly and the people were just waiting to be swept up in the presence of them. They came away from the war with trauma but always support for it. Everyone telling them they were loved and appreciated and hailed above all the others.

When the war ended, he was put on death row. These people would never understand that being a Death Eater was punishment enough for his crimes. The torture and abuse and the things he was forced to do was far more than any teenager should ever be under. He had been punished by being forced to live. Potter had saved his family but that wasn't the point.

The point was that they were seen as animals and disgusting because of things they had no control over. He never liked Muggleborns but killing them? When he truly saw what that meant and how it was done he wanted no part in it at all. The others were heroes and they were just the fallen enemies who could never be light again. None of them understood him.

She brings him out of his thoughts with her touch to his jaw and her lips and although it hurts he still kisses her back and the blood on her lip means nothing to him now. Once upon a time he would have flinched away from it. The mention of bringing him to the hospital wing has Draco tensed but she pleads and he's never been good at denying her anything.

Leaning down he grips Weasley's arm and hoists him up with a grunt. "Walk. Fucking prick." His voice is a bit strained due to the blood in his mouth but Weasley seems to get the memo and begins to limp out of the room with the support of Draco's shoulders.

HERMIONE:

Hermione had known that when the truth surfaced, something like this was bound to happen. All this time spent with pent-up aggression had to take its toll, and Ron and Malfoy were the worst when it came to suppressing their tempers at all. A part of her knew – and dreaded – what was going to happen next. McGonagall would get involved; Madame Pomfrey, Harry… oh Merlin, Harry. Hermione's owl to him would be inevitable at this point. The rest of the Weasleys would hate her for allowing this to happen. Hermione's stomach was sinking with each shuddering step she took.

At first, she had instinctively attempted to go to Ron's free side to help, but the look he gave her stopped her in her tracks. Seething hatred. Her heart nearly burst in sorrow, but she stepped away and instead, turned to the door of the classroom, which was wide open. Hermione remained there until both boys were through, then shut the door behind her. She adjusted her robes a little before she continued on the journey to the hospital wing with the two.

None of them said a single word and it was almost stifling.

Once they reached the infirmary, Hermione had pushed the door open for Malfoy to worm Ron through. He was still limping, but he seemed a little less dazed now. Still with a scowl on his face that settled on her whenever she managed to get within eyesight. Hermione pretended not to notice for the time being. Instead, she went to alert Madame Pomfrey.

The resident medi-witch eventually emerged with a large robe over her nightgown, looking rather furious that she had been woken up so late at night.

"What on earth is going on here?" She hissed at the trio, who looked far worse for wear than she imagined. Pomfrey put the equation together and tutted briskly at them. "Fighting in school," the medi-witch said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. "Honestly, hasn't this school seen enough destruction?"

Pomfrey began tending to Ron first. Hermione opted to tend to Malfoy, since his injuries weren't half as bad, and Ron wanted absolutely nothing to do with her. Granger was tender with him as she dabbed away some of the blood around his face.

"I told you that was a bad area to snog in," she said. Hermione meant for it to be a bit of a joke, even though the humor was incredibly weak. She just wanted some part of this to feel less like the end of the world.

DRACO:

He hadn't said a single word on the way to the Hospital Wing because quite honestly if any words were exchanged he might just drop Weasley and actually finish killing him which would seriously injure Draco since he was also pretty badly banged up. The silence was deafening and thick and he hadn't felt so utterly seething in his life. What a way to tell her friends. Fantastic. It was only a matter of time until it got out to the public, if Weasley knew.

He'd have to owl his parents tomorrow. That was going to be fun.

The scolding from Madam Pomfrey did little to nothing to quench his anger and righteousness in beating Weasley senseless. Someone had to do it. The redhead had gone too long, riding his best friends coat tails to victory and fucking everything up along the way. He needed some sense knocked into that fat empty head of his and Draco had always been an eager and frequent volunteer.

Granger stood in front of him to tend to the injuries he substantiated, although nowhere near the level of horror he had inflicted upon Ron. He flinches slightly when she presses to a part of his jaw that is a bit indented and he assumes it's because it's fractured.

"Hilarious." His voice drawls although there is a sick dry humor there as if they were both forcing themselves to feel better about the situation.

"I didn't know that your ex moron would come showing up at a school he doesn't even attend anymore, smelling like he just walked out of a brewery." His features hardened in a scowl until the throbbing of that scowl broke out over his face and he relaxed his features again. A part of him was thumping with smug pride that Granger was the one tending to him. She was the one so close and cleaning his face of the blood.

"Kiss me." He grunts because him moving his neck forward to capture her lips is going to sting and he wants to save the reality of having to fight through pain for when he's actually kissing her.

HERMIONE:

Everything was out. Like hanging dirty laundry. Hermione's hands were shaking a little and she didn't know how to feel about it. She was shocked enough that the events of the night even unfolded the way they did. In the distance, she could hear Pomfrey reprimanding Ronald for snapping onto the premises drunk the way he did. By Hermione's notion, he might have apparated into Hogsmeade and taken one of the secret passageways into Hogwarts just to have… whatever confrontation he wanted to have with her. When it came to Ron's life choices, they were questionable at best, even when he wasn't completely plastered.

"I didn't know either," Hermione replied, though her tone was hardly defensive. Simple statement of fact. Neither of them had anticipated something like this unfolding. She let the silence fall between them, sensing his scowl as it melted away.

She succumbed weakly as he demanded a kiss, but she was gentle with him, and kept it short, chaste, and sweet. Helpless to stop the tender blush that reached her cheeks, almost making her skin match the blood on her lip, Hermione allowed some distance between them and forced herself to continue her work. The sooner he was healed, the sooner they could deal with the true issues at hand. Information would leak, both of them would be forced to face the music, and everything would be bared. Out in the open.

Hermione didn't even know how she was going to explain all of this to Ron or Harry. She didn't know how she was going to explain this to her parents – who had been kept in the dark on most things. It was difficult to miss her being tortured when it was the talk of the wizarding world for a time.

"What are we going to do?" Hermione murmured softly. Her tone sounded worried. She tried chewing on her lip, but winced as she remembered the cut on it. She kept her eyes averted from Malfoy while she occupied herself with her work, even being kind enough to wait until he was finished speaking before she murmured episky and waved her wand at his jaw to reset the bones.

DRACO:

The kiss is chaste and gentle and he hadn't wanted it any deeper than that. Just something to remind him why he actually cared about any of this situation in the first place. He'd be dealing with his family and also the backlash of the Pureblooded community along with the reporters and the cameras when they went on break or finally graduated. This was just the very beginning of a long trail of agitation and anger on his part.

He waits until after the sharp searing pain of her wand repairing his jaw for him to take the warm wet cloth from her hands and began to gently dab at her lip, considering that to be more important. What would they do? Well he'd be a bit more civil to Potter than he had to Weasley that was for sure but the rest of it? He had no idea.

"Calm down." His words are firm and precise as if he wouldn't allow the mention of her freaking out or being scared. He'd deal with the fear for the both of them on his shoulders. Watching her stand in front of him with shaky hands and wide eyes just pained his chest. "I'd owl Potter tonight, so it gets to him by the morning. Weasley is going to be so out of it that he'll probably sleep through the morning and into the afternoon and you talking to Potter first is. . .Preferable." The redhead would run to his best friend and spout his mouth in ways that Malfoy didn't even want to think about understanding. ". . .I'll owl my parents in the morning. Times run out. Our little bubble seems to have been popped by an obnoxious ginger." It was only a matter of time after all. A secret never stays one for long.

HERMIONE:

Gradually, Hermione felt herself slipping into a calmer state. Even though he needed to be tended to far more than she, the gentle motions were soothing. She had seen him in most intimate lights, but not like this. Not so tentative or ginger as this. His moments of gentility spurred when they lazed on the couch reading, or in post-coital bliss, where she was lulling into slumber and he was still wide awake. Not like this, where he seemed more concerned for her than himself.

She nodded along with his words, knowing that he was right. Now was as good a time as any to get the secret out themselves and deal with whatever consequences that sprung up from it. Naturally, they had spoken about this a few times, with a few words of advice given from Theo, who – oddly enough – always seemed to have a square head on his shoulders when it came to these things. They both knew this day would come. It seemed better that they handle it on their own terms.

Hermione scoffed slightly when he mentioned their little bubble being popped by Ron, shaking her head as she gently eased the cloth from his hands. Not entirely playful, but in a much lighter mood than she had been moments ago, Hermione began tending to the last of his wounds in her own tender way.

"I doubt you helped that situation either, Malfoy," she teased lightly. "Beating someone to a bloody pulp hardly screams civility."

The witch could only assume that all of this had transpired through built-up tension… and the fact that Ron did strike first. Still, feeding into someone else's violence only seemed to breed more violence. Nothing got solved or situated, and everyone was left to pick up the pieces. Everything just became volatile.

Madame Pomfrey wordlessly dropped off a healing potion at her station, then stated that she was heading to bed. Ronald already appeared to be asleep on his own bed, which Hermione was thankful for.

"Here." She offered Malfoy the potion. "Drink up and we can get out of here. I'll write the letter and send it off before we go to bed. Do you mind if I use your owl?"

DRACO:

How would he start the letter? 'Dear, Mother. I've been shagging Hermione Granger' seemed a bit too much. Maybe 'Sorry to be a disappointment to the family line but-' seemed more appropriate. Accommodations would have to be made for the summer because surely his Mother wouldn't be over it by then and staying at the Manor just seemed absolutely out of the realm of possibility. Theo would probably be the next place he would go considering he truly had nowhere else.

Pansy would know and for an odd reason he did feel a bit of tightness in his chest about it. He didn't love her the way she had loved him, but they'd been raised together since babies. She was agitating and full of herself, but had still always been there even when he was fucking up. It wasn't a big loss, but it was still a loss all the same.

Her tease made him snort and shake his head slightly. There wasn't even a thought of civility in his head when Weasley was concerned and especially after he got swung at when all he was trying to do was snog Granger senseless. It was a bitter sort of feeling when you got punched, trying to shag your girl.

Taking the potion he uncorked it and finished it easily before standing up from his seated position on the bed with a slight groan. "Of course, yeah. The fucker is probably dead asleep, but I'll kick him or something." It was ironic that his barn owl was named such a looming name as Hades when in reality the thing was quite goofy and jovial which was quite a disappointment to his Father who bought the damn thing.