A/N: I know, I know. I don't update regularly. If I could, I would. Luckily, a 15 hour car trip back from a trip to visit grad schools up north resulted in the sudden end to the most recent bout of writer's block. See? Boredom can be productive!

There was a slight possibility that Hermione had made a small mistake.

No, that was wrong. There wasn't a slight possibility. There was a very uncomfortable reality that Hermione had made a huge mistake.

She absentmindedly stroked Crookshanks, who had curled up on her lap when she sat down for her morning coffee, her hair still damp from her shower. She couldn't seem to tear her eyes off her bedroom door, behind which Malfoy still slept. Hermione's eyes flicked over to the clock by the oven. He probably wouldn't be asleep for much longer, which meant Hermione didn't have long to figure out how the hell she was going to deal with what had happened the night before.

Hermione had briefly considered taking the cowardly route and leaving her apartment to put it off as long as possible, but she'd rejected the idea almost as soon as it had popped into her head. Running away was the easiest route to take, because all it required was the quick acceptance of having made a mistake followed by taking equally quick action.

And Hermione had already made the acceptance that would lead to the action.

For, though it had never crossed her mind the night before, she'd realized quickly after she'd woken up that last night had meant something different for Malfoy than it had for her. Because though he'd apologized for his actions in Australia, he'd never taken back anything he'd said.

Including telling her that he loved her.

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut. Last night had been physical for her, but it had been emotional for Malfoy, and having realized that had caused Hermione's stomach to start twisting into uncomfortable knots.

She had been on his side of this before. When her and Ron's almost-relationship had started to flame out, it hadn't been clear at first that their relationship had devolved into something more physical for Ron while it remained more emotional for Hermione. The first night she'd denied him after she'd realized that their relationship wasn't going where she wanted it to, an unspoken agreement had passed between them, and they soon found themselves back in friendship mode, with Hermione patiently waiting for Ron to make up his mind.

But that had been a different situation. Hermione and Ron had been friends for years, and more than friends for a few of them. With Malfoy, there was only a recent friendship and no relationship beyond that, not even an almost-one. Hermione couldn't decide which was worse.

And now she had to decide was how she was going to handle the situation. Hermione felt her stomach twist again, for she didn't think there was any way this would end peacefully. She had known how he felt (or how he thought he felt) about her, and he knew that she knew. More than likely, he was going to accuse her of having taken advantage of him.

Hermione agonized over the thought for another quarter of an hour, when her bedroom door creaked open and a sleepy Malfoy wandered out.

When he caught sight of her, he visibly stiffened. Hermione realized too late that she'd still been frowning.

"Hey," he said carefully.

"Hey," she replied faintly, wishing beyond all reason that she was the kind of girl who didn't analyze things endlessly. Malfoy had emerged from her room only half-dressed, having only pulled on his pants from the day before. The sight of him brought her back to the night before, when she'd been flying so high she'd never wanted to come down.

But tousled hair and bare torsos weren't enough to shut her logic off, and Hermione – for a brief moment – bitterly resented the fact that she was and always would be the type of girl who followed her head.

Malfoy took a few steps towards where she was sitting, not taking his eyes off her. He stopped when Hermione averted her eyes.

"So we should probably talk," she said, focusing her eyes on the oven.

"Probably." Malfoy sat down across from her, at which point Crookshanks crawled off Hermione's lap and made his way to his spot on top of the refrigerator.

Hermione was only able to glance back at him for a moment before averting her eyes again. "I think last night was a mistake," she rushed, forcing herself to say it before fear made her back out.

She saw Malfoy lean back in his chair out of the corner of her eye. She risked a glance back to him, and his expression was like a punch in the gut, a reminder that her actions would only result in hurt. "A mistake?"

"I'm sorry if I led you on, but I shouldn't have let things go as far as they did. It was wrong of me."

"What do you mean?"

Hermione forced herself to continue. "I was so wrapped up in the tension from our argument, I wasn't thinking straight, and I let it get the better of me-"

"So you used me," Malfoy cut her off, his voice so cold Hermione felt chills.

"I didn't mean to do any such thing, but I have to be honest because I don't want to damage our friendship-"

"Friendship?" he asked incredulously.

"Yes-"

"Save it, Granger." Malfoy shoved away from the table so violently that Hermione sprung to her feet in surprise. "I'm sick of your bullshit."

"Excuse me?"

Malfoy took an angry step towards her around the table. "After last night, are you really going to stand there and tell me that the only thing between us friendship? That all you care about is being friends?"

"But that's-"

"Are you not getting this?" Though he exuded nothing but anger, there was a definite strain of pain in his voice. "I can't be friends with you!"

Hermione took a step back as she shook her head. "Stop, just – god, this is all my fault!"

"Do you not understand how hard it is to be in love with someone and constantly hear them go on and on about how much they want to be friends with you? It is miserable. Miserable. And I can't do it anymore."

"Don't say that!"

"You can't say you don't feel anything for me, because you obviously feel something."

"I-"

"You can deny it all you want but you and I both know you do."

"Don't assume you know how I feel!"

"What other option do I have but to assume?" Malfoy shouted. "If you don't want me to assume then stop being such a coward and tell me!"

"I don't know!" Hermione shouted.

"You – you don't know?" Malfoy asked in confusion, taken aback.

Hermione dropped her face into her hands. She had given an honest answer on reflex, and she already wondered if she had made a mistake in not keeping her cool.

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know," Hermione said, dropping her hands. "I just don't know."

"Whatever," Malfoy said disgustedly. "I'm not interested in your games. I'm done with this," he spat before storming towards the front door.

"Malfoy, wait," Hermione begged, reaching out to grab his arm. "Look, I'm sorry-"

He pulled his arm out of her grasp, glaring down at her. "You are unbelievable."

"I'm sorry," Hermione begged, tears welling her eyes at his fiery gaze.

The anger receded from his eyes for a moment, as if he were tempted to accept her apology. But just as Hermione felt the hope flare inside of her, his steely glare was back.

"Good for you," he bit out sarcastically, and without another glance at her he wrenched open her front door and slammed it behind him.

"You're being unreasonable. He's not the same gross addict that came begging for your help all those months ago anymore, Hermione," Ginny said seriously. "He's not broken."

"But he was, very much so. He might still be!"

Hermione had spent an entire week stewing in misery before she had cracked and fled to Harry and Ginny's place, where the redhead was mercifully alone. Hermione had spilled everything to Ginny, desperate for consolation. Ginny, however, was not telling Hermione what she wanted to hear (that she had been right) but was successfully making her feel even worse.

Feeling worse was something Hermione hadn't thought possible. She felt positively disgusted with herself for leading Malfoy. She also felt a an absurd amount of guilt over how confused and indecisive she had felt after Malfoy had left her flat. The way Hermione had dealt with the entire "morning after" situation had been a disaster, but Hermione felt that she deserved the hurtful words Malfoy had thrown after her. She had acted selfishly and gotten a fitting comeuppance.

Now the question was how to go forward. Malfoy hadn't come by all week, and the letter she'd sent a few days after the fight had been returned yesterday unopened. This had effectively caused Hermione to break down and seek out Ginny.

"Is he the same?" Ginny asked with honest curiosity. "I mean, is he not different?"

"He is, but that doesn't mean-"

"Then what's the issue here? If he's not a sick loony anymore than what's the problem?"

"Because – because," Hermione stammered. "If he's not still the Malfoy who needs my help, if he's just a normal person, what if he's just the same Malfoy from Hogwarts?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "You'll stop at nothing to find an escape route, will you?"

"Huh?"

"Can you honestly tell me that Malfoy – who is not a pitiful loser in need of your charity anymore – is the same as he was back in school?"

Hermione looked at her feet. "I don't think so."

"Then we're back to the same question: what's the issue?"

Hermione rubbed her temples but didn't answer.

"Please don't tell me this is about my brother," Ginny said suddenly, not hiding the exasperation in her voice.

"What? No, of course it isn't," Hermione said with honest surprise, snapping her head up.

"Because I know you were still hoping to turn things around with him," Ginny continued.

"I was, but I'm not anymore. I haven't hoped for that since..."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Since Malfoy?"

Hermione thought back. The redhead was right – not that it meant anything, of course. "Since about then, yeah, I guess."

"Now that that's cleared up, I'm going to ask one more time. Keeping in mind the fact that you're obviously attracted to him-"

"I-"

"Don't even start denying it, Hermione. You wouldn't have slept with him if you weren't," Ginny said slowly, as if Hermione was stupid. "Now, once more: what's the bloody issue?"

"No matter what you say, he isn't back to normal. He's still damaged, and I don't need that," Hermione said simply, smoothing down the front of her shirt to hide the fact that her hands were shaking with the effort to appear nonchalant.

Ginny sighed in exasperation. "After all that happened when we were growing up, we're all damaged."

Hermione shook her head. "No. Not in the same way, at least."

"Listen to me for a minute, Hermione, because I know where you're coming from. I went through this with Harry."

"Harry was different."

"You think Harry wasn't traumatized after-"

"I know he was, Ginny, and for you to suggest that I don't is insulting considering I was with him the entire time," Hermione snapped. "You can't say that – not even Ron can!"

Ginny stepped back, hurt flashing briefly in her eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry," Hermione sighed. "I didn't mean to say that I know Harry better than you and Ron, but you're missing the point. We all dealt with what happened. We dealt with it and we got through it. Malfoy didn't."

"Just because he's weak-"

"He is not weak!" Hermione bristled again.

Ginny gave her a smug look. Clearly, Hermione's defensiveness was being interpreted in a way it wasn't meant to be by the youngest Weasley. "He's not anymore," she said.

"Not being weak doesn't equate to an ability to cope with one's demons."

"But he has now," Ginny responded quickly.

"How could you possibly know that he has?"

"How could you possibly know that he hasn't?"

"Well, I spend a great deal more time with him than you."

"And?"

"And what?"

"And so how do you know that hasn't dealt with his issues?"

"We've been through this, Ginny. I know him."

"Yet you still haven't given a satisfactory answer, which is a bit unusual for you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the playful jab. "I resent that."

"And I resent you still not giving an answer!" Ginny said in a sing-song voice.

"His attachment to me," Hermione offered. "He's mistaken gratitude for romantic feelings because he lacks the capacity to separate the two emotions."

Ginny blinked at her. "So what's your excuse?"

"My what?" Hermione asked, confused.

"What's your excuse for your attachment to him?"

"I consider him a friend," Hermione said firmly.

"That you're attracted to," Ginny said with a nod. "Right."

Hermione felt like strangling her friend for a moment out of frustration that their conversation seemed to be covering the same things over and over. She opened her mouth to retort, but Ginny cut her off before she could start.

"So where are we then? Okay, so Malfoy has admitted to being in love you. You told him he was delusional. You both acted like pricks to each other and many arguments ensued. You kind of make up and stop fighting for a while, before a monumental argument results in the two of you in bed together. You told him it meant nothing, he told you to rot in hell. Did I miss anything?"

"No," Hermione answered miserably. "Well, there was the bit where I said I didn't know how I felt about him."

Ginny winced. "No wonder he was upset."

"It was honest."

"Still," Ginny said with a shake of her head. "That's rough."

"I know."

"And you should have brought that up earlier," Ginny said with a glare.

Hermione shrugged. "It doesn't matter."

"Of course it matters!" Ginny nearly yelled, throwing her hands in the air in exasperation. "If you aren't absolutely positive that the only thing you feel for him is friendship then you ought to consider giving him a chance."

"And this is why I didn't mention it earlier. It doesn't matter if I don't know how I feel about him because he's-"

"No. Stop," Ginny cut her off. "You need to talk to him about this."

"I don't think he wants to talk," Hermione insisted. "He didn't hear what he wanted to, so he bailed. And that's what would happen if I tried to talk to him again: if he didn't get the answer he wanted off the bat, he'd leave."

"Look, you may be right. But you won't know unless you try."

Hermione sighed. "Fine. I'll think about it."

Hermione knocked on the door, taking deep breaths to calm herself.

It had been almost two weeks since Malfoy had stormed out of her flat, and after not getting any responses to the letters she'd sent him after seeing Ginny asking to talk, she had finally made the trek down to the house he shared with Addison.

Addison opened the door after a few moments, and Hermione instantly noted his face drop when he saw her.

"He's not here," Addison said awkwardly before Hermione could ask.

"Where is he? I know he's not at his mother's place," Hermione demanded. She'd sent a note to Narcissa, but the Malfoy matriarch hadn't heard anything from her son all week.

"I don't know." Addison scratched his neck, one of his hands still on the door as if he were itching to shut it in her face. He was usually fairly friendly.

"What's wrong with you? Are you okay?" Hermione asked.

"I'm fine," Addison sighed. "It's just that-"

"What was that?" Hermione asked, pushing past him into the house and looking up the staircase.

"What was what?"

"I heard voices." Hermione rounded on Addison. "He's here, isn't he?"

"Uh, well..."

Hermione glared at him.

Addison, scratched his neck again. "He told me to tell you he wasn't here. Sorry. But I think it's for the best, you should probably-"

"Is there someone else here?" she demanded. "Unless he's gone round the bend and is just talking to himself."

"Um..."

"Fine. I'll see for myself."

Addison moved to stand in front of the staircase. "I don't think you should go up there."

Hermione felt a sinking feeling in her stomach, knowing he was probably right. "I have to talk to him."

"It's not the best time, really-"

Hermione shoved past him. "I don't care."

"Hermione," Addison grabbed her by the wrist, halting her progress. "Look, I don't know what happened between the two of you, and I don't really understand your relationship. But I understand it enough to tell you to trust me when I say that you don't want to go up there."

She looked down at him, sorely tempted to take his advice. But his ominous warning meant that she couldn't.

"I have to," she replied, pulling her wrist from his grasp.

Addison sighed, but didn't try to stop her again when she turned and continued up the stairs.

Hermione didn't hear anything once she reached the upstairs hall, but she didn't count this as a good thing, an instinct that was confirmed a few moments later. As she stood outside his door, she hard the unmistakable sound of a female giggle.

He wouldn't, Hermione thought desperately. Would he?

A/N: Hmm. Yeah. We'll see.