Disclaimer: I own nothing. J.K. Rowling owns everything...except my ideas...because if she did, that would be creepy.

Author's Note: please read and review! Thanks...oh, and there's a smut warning on the beginning of this chapter.

Chapter Twelve

(A moment later)

The proximity of him makes me hot all over…like lighting a torch.

"You're right," I loosen the top of the towel, "I want you."

The towel hitting the floor is equivalent to a releasing of the snitch to start a Quidditch match. His lips are on mine in flash, lips moving over mine expertly. I accept him, loving that his kisses skip the nice and delicate stage and go right to being aggressive, biting and sucking deliciously at my neck and shoulders. Draco's hands are at my waist, one sliding down and around to cup my arse as he pulls me forward slightly to press against him.

He's hot and ready, and this want of him fills me like a tidal wave…it takes every fibre of my being to keep from moaning in his mouth. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth and tugs playfully before letting go.

Next, his clothes are coming off in record time and it's a good thing too because I can't, no, I won't wait. Shirt and pants and vests and whatever else flies off, I don't care where they go, I don't care about anything at the moment. Only his lips on mine. Only his hand throwing my robe aside. Only…damn, everything about him.

Somehow he puts his hands on his wand, mumbles a quick protection spell. No kids, not today at least, thank you very much. The telephone starts ringing and try as I may I can't ignore it and immerse myself in everything that's happening right now.

"Fuck that phone," I growl and before he can say anything else, I snatch his wand and blast the offending phone into a million pieces.

In a flash, I perch myself on the marbled counter of the sink and pull him to me, wrapping my legs around him. Draco tries to tease me, just for a bit, but I'm in no mood to be teased, I'm only in the mood to get shagged...hard, "Don't make me wait anymore," I mumble, my voice low and strained as I tilt my hips to receive him. He's always like this when I'm rushing. I think he likes seeing me unruly and horny…the feeling is mutual.

He's right there, but going so slow, too slow…just so damn slow.

"Now!" I plead firmly, writhing to get him inside. All I accomplish is getting myself more and more excited as he bumps into my sensitive clitoris.

I don't know what possesses me, drives me, other than the uncontrollable urge to have him inside me.

"Stop moving," Draco says huskily, "I can't shag you if you're moving already," he puts one arm low around my back, while the other braces him against the mirror. Quickly, he clenches me with that one hand, hard, behind the waist to make me be still.

And in one violent thrust he's inside me.

Merlin, this never gets old.

"Oh fuck yes," I murmur, my arms around his shoulders, fingers tangled in his hair. He's saying something as he shags me marvellously, but it's lost to me because his lips are everywhere, on mine, my neck, and my shoulder…shit, everywhere. His lips make me shudder just as much as the movement of our bodies, this push and pull that leaves my body shivering from the sensations. This is going to be too quick, I feel it building already. My legs wrap around Draco's body better, giving him free reign and control over me.

Of course, he takes it, thrusting hard and fast like mad. A loud moan escapes my lips. He's whispering in my ear, but everything is incoherent, a mix of sighs and moans and words I don't understand as his hips undulates against me just right. Just how I need it. As if he's completely out of his control, Draco's fingers dig in my back, my arse, as he helps me lift to meet each one of his sharp, short strokes. It's happening so fast, the pleasure rising is us both, and there's no stopping, waiting, thinking, speaking, nothing.

My teeth dig into the soft skin where his neck meets his shoulder and a high-pitched whine comes from somewhere I don't even know, but I do know it's mine.

His hips are steady hitting the counter and I'm sure it doesn't feel good, "Fuck," he mutters, wraps his hands around my waist tighter, and lifts me up, turning, bumping me into the wall, mumbling an apology. I don't care. What wall? All that exists is me and him…not to mention this incredible shag.

I'm reminded of our first time in my office and the mere thought of it makes me crazy, gripping onto him, meeting his drives. He falters for a moment, but I don't stop the short and brutal thrusts.

Draco throws his head back in ecstasy, moaning loud as hell, "Hermione, slow down," his voice is throaty and his entire body is shaking harder than ever before, "I-I," he gasps when I buck down particularly hard. "Can't hold on!"

Neither can I…I want to tell him this, but I can't speak in complete sentences. I'm not going to make it. My toes curl, muscles tense, and I still hear that high-pitched, wild moan. I still don't know where it's coming from. I bite down on his shoulder to stop myself from screaming because if I do, the entire neighbourhood will be able to hear me.

"Stop! Stop! Too fast!" His voice is desperate, and I know he's one step from losing his mind from the movement of my hips, the speed of my thrusts.

Closing my eyes tightly, I bury my face in his neck, moving against him as hard as I can, "I-I can't stop."

All of a sudden, his arms wrap around me tightly and he burrows himself inside me, giving up on holding back and pumping with no abandon, meeting my thrusts almost savagely. I bite down harder, "Oh, shit, shit, shit…"

"Hermione!" I feel his orgasm hit him and it's a brutal one. Draco actually yells and nearly drops me, but somehow, by some miracle, he doesn't, instead he keeps shagging the hell out of me through his orgasm. He hisses and moans very gruffly, "Come, right now."

I do.

My orgasm hits me full force, takes the breath right out of me and there's no way to stop it. I just come ferociously, screaming, arms and legs locked and frozen on him, quaking and whimpering. Weakly, he sinks us down to the floor. Just the feel of him helps me through this orgasm that's long and surging, the orgasm that obliterates every thought in my mind.

It's a drawn out sensation I've never felt before; has no beginning or ending, it just fades into an emotional quiet we share.

(Four hours later)

After ravishing each other again on the floor and once more in the shower, we finally arrive at the Burrow…early.

It's an uncommonly nice day in October and I dress accordingly. Smoothing down my knee-length black skirt and quarter-length cream shirt with little black designs on the front, I pull nervously on my curls as we amble up the walkway, hand-in-hand.

Of course, Draco stops me from tugging my hair out with a kiss on the hand that's entwined with his.

He knows I'm edgy, which is why we drove and didn't take a portkey or floo. The ride was quiet; he kept one hand on my knee as I sped down the road.

"Everything is going to be fine," he kept saying with comforting touches that made me warm.

Merlin, I hope he's right…but I'm doubtful.

I know Ron. I also know that I don't even want to do this, not today, but Mrs. Weasley insists that I bring Draco to dinner because she really likes him…and since Draco's here, there's no sense in not telling Ron about us. He needs to know. I just wish I could hold back until the time is right…the day after never sounds good. Maybe then he won't freak out.

"You look beautiful," Draco whispers, tucking my curls behind my ears with his free hand.

I smile for the first time since we left my house, "Thanks."

The door flies open before we can get there and a proudly beaming Harry comes out carrying a chubby, babbling eight-month-old James. The sight of Harry carrying a baby, his baby, makes me grin.

"Hey!" he exclaims, "You're just in time. Ron will be arriving in fifteen minutes by Portkey."

I hug him and take James, cradling him in my arms.

"Oh, you've gotten so big! Yes you have," I raise him over my head; he giggles excitedly when I bring him back into my arms.

I could get used to this, the thought shocks me to the core, but I've embraced the truth now.

Reading stories and running around with Teddy and Victorie, holding and rocking James to sleep, healing "boo-boo's", and watching the kids interact makes me want to be a mother more...well, more than anything. All I can think about these days is having a child. All I can think about is what my child will look like, what my child may do when they grow up, what house my child will be in at Hogwarts, what books my child will like, how I will hold my child, how I will rock my child to sleep at night, how I will send my child to my parents house so they can dote on them…

James' laughter breaks me from my thoughts.

He really likes to be power dunked, but I don't like to do it outside.

James starts babbling enthusiastically and playing with my necklace, fascinated, and I let him because it has an anti-breaking charm on it.

Looking over, I notice Harry is talking to Draco…and he's not paying much attention. Instead he's looking at me with a strange, almost…just an odd look on his face. "Are you okay?"

Draco nods wordlessly; I kiss his cheek, and take James inside. They follow me in the house a few minutes later.

I'm standing in the dining room chatting with George, who's telling me about some new products he came up with and Ginny, who's laughing.

When George sees Draco, a wicked smile spreads across his face, "Well, today just got a little bit more interesting."

I know exactly what he's talking about. It's the day of the set wedding date between Ron and me…and here I am, bringing Draco here today. Honestly, I didn't realise the significance of today until Draco said something about wanting to take me to Sicily for our six month anniversary. I almost wrecked the damn car. He spent ten minutes trying to calm me down and drove the rest of the way.

Before I can give a stiff warning to George, Teddy, whose hair turns green when he sees Draco, and little blonde Victorie come running in the room, loud. They launch themselves at Draco, knocking him off balance; he lands on his arse with a small, "Oof!"

I burst out laughing along with everyone else, but inside my heart swells when I see how good he is with them.

He shoots me a wicked smile before picking up both children effortlessly, like a sack of potatoes, "Alright you two," He says, walking towards the back door, "Who wants to be first to fly with me on my broom?"

Both their hands shoot up, "Me! Me! I do!"

Draco sits them down on the ground, "Hide and seek, the last one found gets to ride first. You have to hide outside though," he looks at Teddy, "and absolutely no cheating."

"Aww, man!" the six-year-old whines.

Five-year-old, Victorie, points and laughs, "Ha, ha!"

Draco closes his eyes, "One…"

The kids scramble out the door. He opens his eyes, smiles at me, and goes outside to resume counting.

"Is 'ze a good flyer?" Fleur, her English is considerably better these days, looks worried.

"One of the best," Harry assures.

After handing James back to his father, Ginny and I spend the next ten minutes helping the excited Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, fixing all of Ron's favourite dishes. A few quiet minutes pass, leaving us standing around, waiting for everything to finish cooking.

She grins at me, "You look radiant. I really like the tamed curls look. You look beautiful."

I blush, yes, I feel radiant, "Thanks."

Mrs. Weasley peeks out the kitchen for a minute, "Where's Draco? I thought I specifically told you to bring—"

Replying, "He's outside playing with Victorie and Teddy."

She smiles very motherly, "They've been waiting for him all day."

Ginny nods in agreement, "I could hardly get Teddy dressed this morning because all he wanted to do was run downstairs to see if he was here yet. Fleur said Victorie was just as bad."

We look out the window, spotting Draco sneaking up and finding Teddy in his hiding spot…and Victorie running from hers triumphantly. Teddy pouts, his hair turns red, and Draco swings his around until he cheers up. He goes to the garage to grab a broom.

"If someone told me my 4th year that Malfoy would be good with kids," Ginny shakes her head, "I would've committed them to St. Mungo's because clearly they're having a psychotic break."

Mrs. Weasley laughs. I smile.

Harry bursts in, "He's here."

(Ten minutes later)

I'm the last one to leave the kitchen, hanging around just a little bit longer to give Ron time with his family before I make an appearance.

With my arms folded, I watch Draco fly around the backyard with Victorie, never going above five or six feet off the ground. She looks thrilled.

For the first time since this overwhelming want to have children flooded me, I allow myself to entertain the thought of having children with him. To be honest, I can't see myself having kids with anyone else. I love him. I really think I want to spend the rest of my life with Draco, but I think it's too early to think about marriage. It's only been about four and a half months, but I really in my heart, believe he's it.

I don't even know if he feels the same way I do, but I don't care now. These things take some time.

He's a great boyfriend, he'll be a great husband, and he'll be a great father. He's so determined to separate himself from his background, so determined not to be the kind of man or father Lucius was to him. I just know he won't be. I just know he'll be perfect…and this knowledge makes my own self-confidence swell.

I'm so confident of this, so confident I'll make a good mother, it's startling. I was never this confident with Ron, but now I know why. I didn't love him so the thought of having children with someone I didn't love really made me not desire to become a mother at all. And so it wasn't even because I was afraid of messing them up, it was because—

Ginny interrupts my thoughts, "Hermione."

I turn around, "Yes?"

"C'mon." She takes my hand and leads me out.

Everyone's sitting around the table, talking to Ron, asking him questions, and telling him how much they missed him. He's smiling radiantly, looks like he's extremely happy, and youthful. Looking at him now reminds me of the time before we started dating…that is, until he notices me standing next to his sister, holding one hand and quietly smoothing down my skirt with the other. The look on his face now is one I recognize; it's a mix of lust, love, and awe…and I don't ever want to see him look like this again.

"Hermione…you look," he stammers, rising from his seat and walking to me. He hands James to Mrs. Weasley, nearly breaks a water goblet, bumps into George and Harry, and totally ignores his mother's doting, "stunning."

"Thanks," I smile politely, "You look good too."

Ron hugs me awkwardly…or maybe I feel awkward because he hugs me.

The room falls into a pregnant silence. He takes a deep breath and holds on longer than expected. Uneasy with his grip on me, I'm the first to pull away, stepping back and turning away, "It's good to have you back…I'll go check on the food," turning on my heels, I head back into the kitchen, slipping back into the apron and checking the stove.

With a wave of my wand, I pull the chicken out and start boiling the potatoes.

I'm getting better at cooking charms and I'm in such a trance for I don't know how long until I hear someone enter the room.

"I see you got my letter."

Nearly losing my concentration, I almost drop one of the kidney pies I'm levitating, but I manage to hold on to it before placing it on the countertop.

Slowly, I turn around to see Ron standing there, "Yes, I did."

"I'm glad you came…why didn't you write back?"

Lying, "I was busy, sorry."

Nodding understandingly, "It's okay," I try to step past him, but he blocks my way, studying me closely, "You look different…better. Your hair is curly…you look wonderful."

"Thanks, Ron."

"We need to talk, Hermione."

I look him in the eyes, "Yes, as a matter of fact, we do, but I hardly think this is the time…or the place, you've only just arrived." From the corner of my eye, I see Draco flying around with Teddy while Victorie picks flowers, probably to make a crown.

She does that a lot. I smile to myself, secretly wonder what my daughter would be and look like. Will she have blonde hair like her father or brown like mine? Will she have his cheeks? My smile? His eyes? My nose? Will her hair be bushy? Merlin, I hope not. I do know she'll be brilliant and stubborn, that's for certain…

"…this is the perfect time, and I think that you coming here tells me what I need to know," Ron snaps me from my daydream; he's on bended knee…bloody hell.

Finding my voice, "What—"

"I love you. I can't waste one more minute around you without knowing that you're mine. I want to spend the rest of my life proving to you just how much I really love you…"

He is not about to propose again. "Ron, stop. Don't do say any—"

"Just hear me out. I had this speech—"

"Stop!"

"Listen, Hermione!" He is not about to—"Marry me?"

Staring at him with wide eyes, my answer flies from my mouth before I have a chance to soften it, "Ronald Weasley, are you bloody mad? Of course I can't marry you…and you know why: it's absurd, rash, and not to mention, I ended our last engagement."

His face flushes bright red and he gets off his knee, "Why not? Why won't you marry me?"

"I don't love you," I tell him simply, "I. Do. Not. Love. You." I repeat slowly, "I told you that the night I caught you."

"But you were angry that I cheated with—"

"No, I wasn't. Not at your infidelity…but because you tried to blame me for your actions—"

"I did not—"

"Don't. Start." Irritated, I feel my voice start to rise, "Don't you dare start this with me now. I don't even want to discuss this nonsensical topic anymore. I can't marry you. I won't marry you. Not for all the galleons in the world."

"I made a mistake, Hermione, one mistake…I thought you forgave me."

"And I did!" I stomp my foot, feeling frustration and anger increasing. It's a foreign feeling because I haven't been truly angry in so long, "But you're a git if you think I can forget this fast and throw myself back into your arms. Did you honestly think it would happen that way?" He looks guilty, my eyes widen in disbelief, "Oh, Merlin, you did! Wow, you thought that after six months I'd just throw myself back into your arms and all would be forgotten!"

"It's been six months! Why can't you get over it? I cheated, okay, I cheated!" He yells, "Why do you feel the need to punish me for the rest of my life for one stupid mistake?"

Covering my ears, I can't listen to him, not anymore. I'm so angry I'm shaking. It takes a few minutes to salvage a shred of my self-control. "Ron, I'm not punishing you," I finally say in a cool voice, "I don't love you. I'm as sure of my feelings today as I was that night. I don't love you anymore; the cheating just made me really see things for what they really were. I was only marrying you out of obligation, because we'd been together so long, because you and your family wanted it, but not for love…never for love. I want to marry for love, not duty. I want to live my life without regrets, and marrying you would've been my biggest."

"You don't mean that," he says, voice breaking.

"I do. I can't make me love you, I don't even think I would if I could."

He looks incredibly hurt, "Why did you come here today then?"

"I came because I'm your friend, or at least I hope I still am…because I want to be. Ron, we've been through a great deal together to throw our friendship away. I came because you invited me under the premise of friendship…and I came today to tell you that I've moved on."

His body tenses, stammering, "You…you've moved on?"

I nod slowly and carefully watch his eyes cloud with anger. Shit.

Ron's blue eyes narrow as he speaks rudely, "You could've told me before I got down on my knee. I feel like a fool."

"I tried to, but you weren't listening—"

Smouldering in anger, he back away from me, turning away as if the sight of me repulses him. This is going downhill fast and all I can do is stand here and watch it crash and burn around me. Ron grabs me by the arm roughly.

I jerk my arm away, pushing him off me, but he's stronger than I remember and grabs me again, just as rough, "How can you move on so quickly?" Ron screams in my face, completely incensed, "Who is he? Is he here? Where is he?" I think he's about to lash out and slap me, but he stops himself. And it's a good thing too because I would've blasted his arse back to wherever he came from.

"You knew I loved you still and you moved on? How could you do that to me? How could you, Hermione?"

"Easy," I spit coldly, "But I'm not about to justify anything to you because what I do is none of your concern. I'm a grown woman, we're finished, you cheated and I dumped you, I don't love you, I'm free to do and be with whoever I want, and contrary to popular beliefs, we're not destined to be…and the sooner you realise this, the better off you'll be."

"Of course we are…who else could deal with such an insufferable, dry, snobby little…bitch?"

When in doubt, insult Hermione…that has to be his motto whenever we argue because he always insults me in the most painful ways.

Like in 1st year when he made me cry about not having friends, after that I learned not to let my anguish and sadness show, but every insult, every jab, everything…just hurt me deeply. I used to spend countless hours crying because of the things he's said and the things he did...and then got attacked by a troll. It's like he deliberately uses painful words against me and that's not what real friends do. But this time, it's more than just pain. It's more than anything I can explain.

Bitch. I've never been called that by a friend…by one of my best friends.

I just never, ever, not even in my wildest imagination, thought that Ron would direct that derogatory word to anyone, much less me.

The shock hits me like a spell to the chest and my heart breaks. He doesn't care and value our friendship like I do. He can say he does until he's blue in the face, but he doesn't.

Mistakes.

I've made nothing but mistakes since setting a foot in that door. Coming here today was a mistake. Caring about someone who clearly doesn't care about me is another mistake. Thinking that the bonds of our friendship were strong enough to get over this was another mistake…and I'm getting sick of making mistakes.

Bitch.

The word brands not just my skin, but my soul, searing through my skin…and right now, this strange feeling builds up in me.

Hate.

A nasty little four-letter word I'm not too familiar with these days.

I hate him for hurting me with his callous words.

I hate him for thinking that my heart belongs to him and he can do with it what he feels.

I hate him more than anyone or anything.

And as of right now, in the heat of my hurt and anger, I could never see him again and it'd be too soon.