"Where's Hermione?" Ron demanded of his little sister when the boys reached the common room.

"No idea." Said Ginny. "What's with you?" she grinned at the stupid look of determination on Ron's face.

"Look, Ginny, this important. I haven't got time to explain myself!"

"Well," Ginny squared her jaw against the obvious implication that she was, yet again, not important enough to be included in the goings on of the golden trio and said, "I haven't seen her since she ran off at breakfast, so there's no point trying to get help from me."

"Come on, Ron, we can try the library." Harry grabbed his friend by the arm and steered him toward the portrait hole.

On the other side of the castle, in the darkest, most remote corner of the library Ron and Harry were now treading toward, the muffliato spell had been thoroughly cast in all directions. A sturdy torso, porcelain white, was dripping with sweat as the well defined stomach muscles contracted tightly and their owner muttered, "Oh, god," between clenched teeth.

The ancient carpet burned against his back as he rubbed against it, again and again, but he paid it no heed. His hands, just as strong and pale as his chest, dug into the supple, freckled thighs that were gripping his waist. One of the hands that matched those legs rose from its position, flat on the floor on either side of his face and slapped him.

He grabbed the wrists that attatched those hands to the long, graceful arms above him and rolled over, pinning them in the ample amounts of bushy brown hair that fell to the floor as he kissed her and began pumping, faster now, into her. Now it was her turn to have her back rubbed raw by the carpet. He released her wrists to slide his hands down so they gripped her back, just below her shoulder blades and lifted her, slightly to him, just in range that he could suck on her breast, just in range to make her scream with delight and her recently freed fingers scrape painfully along his back, unable to control them.

"Draco, I'm going to—" she panted, but then her words were lost as they both started the special moans reserved for the last seconds of passion. "Oh, Draco, God, oh, Draco, ahhh, ahhhhh…"

They both cried out, and then relaxed. He fell forward onto her and the rolled sideways, maintaining his grip on her so she rolled on top of him. He pulled her hair out of her face, where it was clinging in her sweat, and they kissed. There was passion in this kiss, yes, plenty, but there was a tenderness that betrayed the truth of this tryst. It was a kiss that could only be shared in true love.

The kiss ended and they lay, Draco on his back, Hermione on her side, draped across him, their legs and fingers intertwined, him stroking her hair with his eyes closed and a smile broad across his face.

There were a few minutes perfect silence, which felt strange in their little bubble that had been filled with the sounds of lovemaking for the previous two hours.

"Draco," Hermione punctured the silence after a reasonable waiting period.

"Hmm?" was all he could manage in response.

"Do you think we should, um, talk?"

"Talk? We talk. We talk plenty."

"Yes, we do, but I mean, specifically…"

"Oh." He said, opening his eyes and frowning at the ceiling. "That."

"Draco," she said, propping herself up on one elbow and running her fingers in loving circles across his chest. "I wouldn't mind doing what we're doing for a while and figuring it out later. In fact, I could do this forever! But I can't because, well,"

"The Weasel."

"Oh, don't call him that." She pulled her hand off of his chest.

"Sorry." There was a long pause while they both stared into space. "Do, um, do you love him? I mean, you two have been mates since you started here, practically, and you've been through so much together and everyone expects you to get married and have babies and everything. I mean, I would understand."

Hermione sighed and rolled onto her back so they were lying side by side. "Harry and Ron are my best friends. They have been for so long. With Harry there was never any question. He's my friend, its ridiculous to think of him as anything else. But with Ron… oh I don't know. It never occurred to me until fourth year, and then he was such an asshole about the whole thing with Viktor. It wasn't even until after we'd made up that I worked it out, and that was with Ginny's help. Then there was sort of this thing in our relationship, this weird… thing. And it didn't come to anything for so long! But I guess I liked the idea. I mean, I wasn't particularly fanciable, and—"

"Sorry to interrupt, I would just like to state for the record that we differ on that point."

"Very well." She grinned. "Consider it noted. But boys just didn't notice me that often and I think I liked the attention. Then, out of the blue two years ago, okay, not the blue, we had been fighting, but it took us all by surprise, anyway, he goes off and hooks up with Lavender Brown! I think that was when I realized how I felt about him. I was so jealous and actually a little heartbroken. That's when I realized I thought we were… I don't know… supposed to be together." She stopped here, feeling the hurtfulness of this statement on the person lying next to her.

"Do you still feel that way?" he asked, quietly.

"I don't think so. No. Maybe. Its like you said, mates for ages, went through so much, and he really loves me, besides! And it would work, you know, if we ended up together. It would last, I know it would. It would be a good marriage. But maybe there's something better, and I didn't think of that before and now with you… I cant help but think there's another option and maybe I shouldn't rush into anything."

"Well, I think I'm on that team."

"Draco, we've only been… you know, for a couple of days, but I want you to honestly tell me, do you think what we have could be something. I mean something real, something that would last."

There was silence. Malfoy ran through everything that had been filling his mind so completely for the past couple of weeks. Could he marry her? Could they have a life together?

"My father," He said at last, "would disinherit me."

"Oh." Her breath caught. That was it? His father would disinherit him? The man for whom he had expressed such loathing would take away his money and that was all there was to it?

"All my job options would disappear. He doesn't have the ministry influence he had just a couple years ago but he still has loyal ties enough and more importantly, enough money to send me shooting through the ranks or keep me unemployed as he sees fit. If I choose you, I can't promise any kind of life for either of us. And I'm not assuming you'd have me, either, but—"

"Hermione?!" Harry's voice rang from somewhere far off in the library.

"Oh my god." Hermione sat bolt upright.

"But, wait, see, the thing is—" Malfoy tried to finish his sentence.

"Hermione?!" This time the voice was Ron's, and it was getting closer.

"Oh my god!" Hermione leapt up and started pulling on clothing.

"Wait, no, I have to tell you this, just let me finish—"

"HERMIONE!?" Harry and Ron's voices together, just a couple of bookshelves away. Any second they were going to come around the corner and see her, half dressed, Malfoy naked on the floor.

She pulled on the last of her clothes and pointed her wand at herself for a fleeting moment, so the sweat and smells of love vanished and stepped out from behind the stack. "What?"

Malfoy could see the tips of noses and feet. She had just stopped them.

"Hi, Hermione, can we have a sit down?" They tipped alarmingly towards her.

"Not there, its covered in study stuff. I've been here all morning, working. Let's go anywhere else, I'm sick of this place.

Malfoy crouched in the dark, barely breathing, as the love of his life walked away, wishing he could scream the words he had been bursting to say, wishing he could call her back and declare his love for her, proclaim before everyone that nothing else mattered, that it was only the thought of offering a mediocre life to her that gave him pause, that we would never truly be happy with anyone else.