A/N: Helloooo readers! I admit I'm guilty, because this chapter could have been up a lot sooner… but my life has pretty much been consumed by Emily Bronte's "Wuthering Heights." Oh gosh, that book. *Wipes tears.* To anyone who likes classic literature, I recommend it 100% !

Anyway, I'm on holidays now so I'll be writing way more and most likely uploading a lot more frequently! Oh and I will try make chapters a little longer after this one, but it's because of their current length that I can post them quicker.

Ok, on with the story ~~ :)

"Now what?"

Hermione looked down at him, at the way her fingers looked tanned against his sun lit white hair, and noticed his pale eyes were pinned to her own. They didn't look icy, not anymore, the edges were red beneath his lashes, but the grey within his irises was deep and inviting. Normally it would be such a cold colour, yet to Hermione, at this very moment, it made her heart melt.

"What do you mean? Now what?" She replied quietly.

Draco sighed, "You probably think I'm a lunatic sissy."

Hermione frowned and gave him a slight tap on the back of the head. "No. I don't… But, I am starving…"

Draco grinned. It startled her, the way the past few minutes of anguish could transform into such a smile in only a matter of seconds. But it was an off grin, as if below its surface there lay a hundred unvoiced doubts. Nonetheless, he got to his feet and stretched languidly. It reminded her of a cat, the way the sun enhanced every inch of him, like he fed off it. It suited him so much better than the dark.

Hermione watched as his arms rose over his head, as he lowered them to rub at his eyes, only to move them higher again, bringing the hem of his shirt and jacket up with them. She tried not to stare at the light trail of hairs there, yet her blush failed her, because when she saw him watching her he was smirking.

"So, lunch, then?" Draco asked, needlessly lending his hand to her as she pulled herself up from the swing. She still took it anyway.

"Lunch." She agreed. "Oh, uh, I just remembered, I left my bag back at the school with Harry and —"

Draco snorted, and it annoyed her because she couldn't tell if it was directed at her forgetfulness or at the mentioning of her two friend's names. As she was guessing at the latter, she reminded herself to have a word with him later about getting along with her friends. For now, she daren't say anything, because the hole his tears left behind in her chest was still rough and raw around the edges.

"We'll go get it, after lunch?"

Hermione blinked, surprised at his evident suppression of any kind of spiteful comment. "O-okay. Then what?"

"Then what what?"

"Well — we missed camp, so I suppose we have to attend school like normal, just as Slughorn said —"

"I'm not going back."

"Draco —"

"Not today. Don't see why you should, either."

Hermione sighed. "Exams are coming —"

"In three weeks, Hermione."

She had to pause when he said her name, it sounded good, and it made her want to shiver.

"Three weeks. Right. We still need to organise days to study in our off lessons —"

"Later."

"What?"

"Later. Forget everything till later. For now, it's just us, okay? Us and lunch." And then he grabbed her hand, and Hermione couldn't decided which sounded more appealing, his use of the word 'us' or the prospect of food to her very hungry stomach.

"Draco, can I ask you something?" Hermione sounded wary, and she saw that Draco noticed it, as he looked at her funnily over the spilling contents of his bagel.

He chewed slowly, and Hermione's eyes were drawn to the way his adams apple bobbed when he swallowed. Her throat went suddenly dry.

"Hermione, I thought we already went over this. Ask me what you want."

She didn't say anything, and neither did he for a brief moment, as if they were both remembering what had just happened in the park, and what they were desperately trying to forget as they sat in the quiet nook of a small cafe.

Hermione bit her lip, hesitant, because the last question she'd asked him hadn't gone very well. "It's just a bit — a bit personal."

Draco shrugged, feigning indifference as he chewed another bite. "I don't care, as long as it's not — not about family. Or any of that crap."

Hermione nodded and took a sip of her milkshake. "Alright. Well… how come you stopped being a Paperboy?"

Draco looked surprised, then dark, then became a mixture of the two as he tried to school his features. "Same reason I was being an ass."

He said it so seriously, with a sad little frown between his brows, that it made Hermione want to reach across the table and hug him. All she managed though, was to slosh some of her milkshake down her jumper, and give a frustrated groan.

When she looked up, Draco's face was a taught composition trying to retain its amusement. She scowled. His laughter burst free.

Hermione smiled.

Was this real? Or was this just a continuation of the dream which started with Hermione on his doorstep? He'd broken down like an utter imbecile, acted in a way which would make any smart person bolt, and yet here she was, the girl of his dreams, walking beside him as the sun began to set.

And she was grinning, her teeth glinting in the afternoon light as she told him about her parents. Draco liked to hear about her parents. He liked the way it made her whole face ten times brighter, and he wished that maybe there'd come a day when she would look the same way when talking about him.

"— and they're absolutely crazy about teeth! I mean, obviously, otherwise they wouldn't have become dentists. But they've even gone away for a four day convention — a dental convention! What sort of things do they even sell at dental conventions? Toothpaste? Dentures? — and they won't be back till Thursday —" She broke off abruptly, and when Draco looked at her he was surprised to see she seemed suddenly shy — her eyes were following her feet across the pavement, she was biting her lip, and her cheeks appeared too rosy to be a result of the cold.

"What's wrong?" He wanted to touch her elbow, to know if she was okay. Maybe she was sick of talking so much, maybe she wanted him to do the talking — dammit he was overthinking things. He stopped walking, and hitched her camp bag higher over his shoulder — they'd found it in lost property in the front office (fucking Potter and Weasel's fault) and the receptionist had given him a suspicious look, because Draco Malfoy was known for taking things from lost property that weren't his.

She still wasn't looking at him. What if she was replaying the embarrassing scene from the park in her head? What if — he shoved down a growl as he told himself to mentally shut up. "Hermione?"

She stopped too, and opened her mouth to issue a torrent of worrisome thoughts. "It's just, well I've missed out on camp, and what if the teachers don't now where I am — what if Harry and Ron are worrying about me? And what about my parents? What if they get called and someone tells them I'm not there? Then what will they think? They'll ring me and I won't know what to say — oh goodness, I've been such an idiot!"

Draco couldn't help but release a sigh of relief. This was all she'd been concerned about? "Hermione. Relax, it'll be fine. I'll text Theo. Bloke's probably already got it all covered, anyway. You said he'd tell them you were sick, right?"

Hermione nodded — but she still wouldn't meet his eyes, still had that gleam of heavy thoughts weighing behind her eyelids.

"And? There's something else? What is it?" And because he cared, and because he wanted her to tell him, he took her hand, and the feeling of her fingers tentatively wrapping around his was one he'd never forget.

"Well… I… I thought maybe… But it's nothing — I'm sure your parents would worry about you, so…"

Lucius? Worry about him? Bullshit. "What? Hermione, say it."

"Okay, okay. I — I thought since my parents are away, and because we didn't go on camp, that — that you could stay at my house. With me. If you want to, that is — I mean —"

"Hermione."

What was this feeling? This feeling that was building inside of him like a golden brick wall — brilliant and light and like every good feeling was going to come up and swallow him whole. It was like nothing he'd ever felt — and he was going to kiss her — because there she was, standing right next to him with eyes so wide he might fall in — fall in and never emerge, fall in and never have to worry about anything ever again. There was worry in her eyes right now, worry because he'd been silent for too long, worry because he'd interrupted her, and was now staring at her like someone helpless and in love.

And if she thought for a second that he might say no, she'd have to be crazy.

He gave her the answer they both wanted to hear, the answer that was tingling through the veins in his arm as he moved it to curl around her neck, pulling her forwards until he could feel the soft heat of her breasts as they pushed against his chest — could feel her breath as it passed against his jaw. And then they were kissing, open mouthed and hot and wet and everything that Draco had desired for the countless weeks in which he'd deprived himself of her.

He wasn't gentle as he grabbed her face, his thumbs dancing over her cheekbones, his fingers digging into her scalp and relishing in the never-ending waves of her hair, and his lips prising hers apart until his tongue could graze over her teeth — could taste and lick and just devour every part of her.

Her hands were in his hair now, pulling, maybe even ripping, but he didn't care, he only cared about her — and her warmth, and her lips — oh god, her lips. Sweet and soft and just — fuck — if there was ever something he could do for hours on end, could do for the last few minutes of eternity, it would be kissing Hermione Granger.

He didn't want to break apart from her, he didn't want to breathe, he didn't want to move from the spot that was just the two of them — but then a car honked as it drove by, and the driver wolf whistled and expelled a bout of obscene laughter.

Slowly, after placing one, two, three more kisses on her swollen lips, Draco moved back, resting his forehead against hers and dragging his thumbs back over her cheeks — why were they wet? Why was she crying?

"Hermione?"

She giggled, but it was also kind of a sob, and Draco didn't know whether to be glad or concerned. But then she laughing — laughing but crying too, and her golden eyes were so rich and welcoming and looked so goddamn happy that Draco didn't know why the hell they were still leaking tears. "Herm—"

"I think I love you."

I think I love you. Love. Him? Draco? No one should love him — no one had ever loved him before. He'd thought his mother had, but how could she, with such a son? Love. Draco loved Hermione, but he couldn't believe that a girl like her would — should ever love someone like him. I think I love you too. Draco didn't need to say it. He didn't think he loved her. He knew he did.

"I —"

But then he realised Hermione wasn't waiting for him to say it back. It wasn't a confession — maybe she didn't even know she'd said it. She was looking at him the way someone looked at a painting — studying the shadows and the nuances. What did she see in the portrait that made up Draco Malfoy?

"Hermione — I —"

She shook her head, told him to be quiet. He thought maybe she'd say he was an idiot, he thought that's what he'd like to hear, but all she asked was if he was sure.

"Sure about what?" His voice was quiet.

"Sure about staying at my house?"

He found he could raise an eyebrow, and with it went his spirits, higher and certain. "Of course." He smirked. Two nights alone with Hermione, it was an offer he wouldn't pass up for a million quid.

"Good," She grinned, "But there's one condition."

"Oh, yeah? What?"

"And technically you've already agreed, because you just said you were sure." Giggling again.

Draco moved his hands to her waist, held on tight, as if telling her she couldn't run away even if she wanted to.

"Sounds like cheating to me," he said.

"No. It was in the fine print."

What was happening to his mouth? Draco wasn't used to smiling — he smirked more than what was good for a person, yet smiling, this truthful, skin twisting urge to smile, was entirely foreign. He did it anyway — smiled — and it felt good, felt good to know it was only for her. "Is that so? You didn't ask for my signature…"

Hermione laughed, and to hear it felt even better than smiling. "You signed when you kissed me."

"Miss Granger," he pulled her closer, "I sense fraudery. But never mind, let's hear it then."

"Alright. You can stay at my house until my parents get back… as long as you come to school with me."

Draco growled in good humour, chuckled, and squeezed her. "You devious sneak."

"Goes to show, one should always read the fine print." She kissed him, slow, brief and perfect and then said, "We should probably drop by your house then. To get your uniform and things."

And every good feeling plummeted to the bottom of Draco's stomach. He squeezed his eyes closed, counting to ten inside of his head, trying to push away all his ill feelings towards his father. He wanted to please Hermione, he would go to school with her, but to do that he would need his uniform — he would need to go back home. He only hoped that his father wouldn't be there.

"Yeah. You're right. It's not far from here," he sighed, and the remembered something. "That reminds me, how did you find my house this morning?"

Hermione looked alarmed, then brightened, "Oh, Theo told me."

Theo. Did he really have Theo to thank for all of this? He huffed, "Figures. Let's go then."

Their hands met, their fingers entwined, and together they continued walking, and for some reason, Draco found the fact that he was going to face his father wasn't nearly enough to outweigh the joy and excitement that kept begging him to smile at the girl he loved.

I'm sorry not much happened in this chapter, things will get going in the next one — I promise!

Thanks for reading :)