A/N - S'up guys. My life is boring, but this chapter isn't (or at least it shouldn't be!). Now, I will say it for anybody who hadn't twigged by seeing the rating of this fic: It is rated M for a reason.

Mature content features in this chapter... full steam ahead, yes? Oh, and massive thanks to the wonderful MrsBates93 for beta-ing the latter half of this chapter.

As he brushed his teeth and stared at his sleepy reflection in the mirror, Draco couldn't help but notice how quiet the dorm was this morning. He'd slept badly last night, as he knew he would. Not having Granger around was a change.

This morning, her red toothbrush stood bone dry and untouched on her side of the sink; there were no damp footprints tracking from the shower cubicle to the door; he couldn't quite smell the lingering scent of her perfume as strong as usual, because she hadn't been around to spray it.

It wasn't as if his daily routine even included her. By the time he rolled out of bed and made his way blearily to the bathroom, she'd generally already showered, dressed and was about to leave for breakfast. But her absence had highlighted for him how much he'd come to want having her round, even for the little things that meant nothing.

God, his newly discovered emotions were making him a sentimental bastard.

With little regret, he left the empty dorm and wandered slowly down to breakfast, dragging his feet. He wanted to head up to the hospital wing to see Granger, if only to catch a glimpse of her for a second, but he refused to let himself go.

The morning passed by in a haze. The only thing he was actually aware of was how strangled he felt wherever he went, and somehow, he connected that it was not to do with how much he missed Granger. The school was quieter than it should have been, as though everyone was on edge. But apart from that, he didn't take in his surroundings.

Instinct kept him maintaining some sense of routine – eat, walk to lesson, take notes, leave lesson, repeat the whole thing again – but he didn't feel quite right. He couldn't concentrate.

His thoughts kept wandering up to the hospital wing and to Granger, and his lack of attention led to his cauldron exploding in Potions and showering the whole class in Wit-Sharpening Potion. Though incomplete, the droplets that had splashed on him did give him some clarity. He'd have to visit Granger later anyway, to deliver the day's work, so why was he bothering to daydream over her? Then it wore off and he was back in a mess.

By lunch, he didn't know what to do with himself. After the disaster that had been Potions he was about ready to just run up to the hospital wing and scream at her for making him so crazy, and added to that, he noticed Theo look up at him a few times from where he was sat, alone, on the table, looking at him like he had at the end of the corridor yesterday. It was like he was searching for something in Draco. After their argument , he decided he really would have to be careful around Theo.

Draco was rescued from his madness when Blaise sloped over and sat down on the opposite side of the table.

"Alright?" he said lightly, as though nothing was wrong with them.

Draco simply stared at him with cold eyes. What did he want now?

"Don't give me that look, ferret," Blaise said with a shake of his head as he heaped potatoes onto his plate. "Girls are the ones who give each other bitchy stares. If you've got a problem with me sitting here just say something."

Still, Draco said nothing. He looked away and continued eating his steak and kidney pie instead. Seconds later there was a clattering of cutlery and he looked up to see that Blaise had put his knife and fork down and was watching him carefully.

"Will you just say something, you ignorant prick?"

Provoked into a response, Draco chewed thoughtfully for a second.

"You seem different today," he said simply.

"Well, I shouldn't do. I'm still as handsome as ever," Blaise smirked. "Although, I did do something different with my hair this morning. I'm glad you noticed."

And just like that, Draco felt inclined to be less cold to Blaise. He was being more like himself than he had done in a long while- he was being jokey and fun. But of course, he didn't let his happiness show.

"Decided to stop the pity party then, have we?" he asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

"No," Blaise answered quite cheerfully. "It's still a fully-fledged raging celebration, just a sober one. Even though they're no fun."

He began tucking into his food with gusto. Draco had missed this side of Blaise.

"You ditched the whiskey then?"

"I pretty much had to after you left me in Hogsmeade and ran off in a tantrum. After all, you need me, Draco. Without me your life would be utter shit."

Despite himself, Draco smiled. "Sure. It's not like I'd have any less problems or anything without you to babysit."

They lapsed into comfortable quiet while they ate.

"So you've been missing for a few days. Have you heard the latest news?" inquired Blaise. "Somehow, someone else found out about Daphne and Dean and now the whole school knows."

He felt slightly uncomfortable now. Blaise had said it casually enough, and had even dropped Daphne's name without so much as flinching which was quite an achievement, but Draco would be a fool to think Blaise was no longer hurting about it. Still, at least he was making some attempt to cope, and he was just grateful for that.

"No, I hadn't heard. Are you ok?" he said.

"Not particularly. But I'll get over it. I have to, right?" said Blaise in a calm enough tone, though his hands were quivering slightly. "Anyway, where were you that you missed out on all the excitement over it?"

"I was busy," he said vaguely.

"Busy with what?"

"Nothing much. Just busy. Head Boy stuff, you know."

Blaise's eyes narrowed in suspicion. Draco couldn't tell him where he'd been. Blaise would think too much of it and he'd never let it go. No, the only people who could know were him, the matron, Weasley and Granger herself.

"Speaking of Head Boy, your little Mudblood colleague has ruined the rest of the year for us all," said Blaise, his eyes widening. "They've banned all Hogsmeade trips now, so we're all trapped in this bloody castle like rats. All because she was stupid enough to get herself attacked. You probably already knew that though, right?"

"Yeah, I knew," said Draco, trying not get angry at his friend because he wouldn't understand. Granger hadn't been hurt because of her own stupidity. She'd been near enough hunted.

The rest of the day passed without incident. Draco forced his mind onto his schoolwork and managed not to blow up anything else, though he was hardly back to his usual self. At last, when classes were over for the day, he was free to give into his urge to go and see Granger. But he waited, purposely delaying his visit as long as possible to test how long he would last. He barely made it past dinner.

It was already dark by the time he arrived at the place that had occupied his mind all day, and the second he saw her it was like he had got his fix of some kind of drug; her presence soothed and calmed him as it had done on occasions before, to his resentment, but yet he couldn't have cared less. He felt peaceful now he had finally got what he'd wanted.

Slowly, he ambled towards her. She was reading what looked like a very boring book on healing plants and their uses in potions, and she looked up when she heard his steps.

"Finally! I've been waiting all day for you!" she said with a slight smile.

Damn her. Why did she have to say those words? Why? Merlin, she was mind-fucking him. Did she want him? Did she not? She seemed to when she kissed him but then she'd ignore it or pretend that nothing happened. And he shouldn't want her either. He shouldn't fucking want her. She was a Mudblood goddamn it – how had he forgotten that? He wasn't allowed to want her.

He must have stayed quiet for too long.

"I've been bored out of my mind since I woke up. Madam Pomfrey's book selection leaves a lot to be desired. Do you have my schoolwork?" she asked cautiously, closing the tome and placing it on the cabinet next to her water jug.

Draco was by the side of her bed now. The calmness had disappeared somewhere between when she had first spoken and when she had finished and a prickling anger was creeping up on him. He took the work out of his bag and dumped it unceremoniously on top of her sheets. She glanced at him uneasily.

"Thanks," she mumbled.

He wouldn't stay very long, he decided. He didn't need her. Or at the very least, he didn't want to need her.

Madam Pomfrey suddenly came scurrying in and silently began examining Granger, prodding her and starching out various limbs.

"Am I allowed to leave tonight?" she asked the matron as she messed about with her left arm.

For a while, it was as though she hadn't heard; she continued to work wordlessly over Hermione, looking for something Draco didn't know. Then, she spoke.

"Hmm," she murmured, looking unsure. "I don't know. You haven't fully recovered. You're still in pain, yes?"

"A bit," Granger admitted. "But please. I just want to go and get back to normal."

"I really don't think it's the best idea. I suppose I could allow it… But you'll be unsteady on your feet for at least the next few days. You might not even have the strength to walk back to your dormitory," said Madam Pomfrey. Granger looked disappointed.

"I can take her," interjected Draco abruptly.

Why the fuck had he just said that? He should be keeping his distance from her; he should be trying to get back to how he used to be, with his haughty superiority and his mocking of her dirty blood. Yet here he was, offering to help her, and Granger was a bitch because her eyes had snapped up to him and were shining with what was maybe gratitude. Those eyes… How could he possibly try to hate her when she had those eyes?

"I suppose if you're accompanied you can leave. But you're not to exert yourself. Rest as much as possible. You're very weak still," agreed Madam Pomfrey.

She left briefly then returned with Granger's belongings in hand – her clothes, some jewellery, and the bag she'd been carrying before she'd been attacked. Draco politely turned away as Granger struggled out of the hospital pyjamas and into her clothes, all the while still sat on the bed.

"You can look now," she said softly after a minute.

He turned to face her again. She was clothed and still as appealing as ever to him. Fuck. He was so far gone.

At last, she stepped out of the bed. She was tentative, swinging her legs out carefully then gradually easing weight onto them, before at last straightening up and letting go of the support of the bed. For a second she stood, triumphant though her legs were wobbling dangerously, but then her smile slipped, they gave out and she tumbled to the ground. Or she would have, if Draco hadn't automatically darted forwards and caught her.

She fell into his grip and he cushioned her before planting her back upright. Her face was flushed in embarrassment and shame, though her hands gripped his arms tightly, so he didn't release her. At the moment, he didn't want to touch her – he should be objecting more; she was a Mudblood, a filthy little Mudblood, he had to remember that – but he couldn't let her fall.

"Don't let Madam Pomfrey see," Granger whispered hurriedly, glancing nervously at the nurse's office. "She'll make me stay."

"I suppose I'll have to hold you up then," he replied begrudgingly.

He moved his hand from her wrist to just above her waist, reluctantly allowing it to rest there. She squeezed his shoulder determinedly as he waited patiently for her to step into her shoes and grab her things, and then they quickly left the ward before Granger could be ushered back to bed.

After their hasty exit, progress to their dorm was slow. Though they said nothing out loud, it appeared that both he and Granger had decided to take the most secretive route they could think of because their current position was so intimate that they couldn't risk being seen. Not only that, but Granger was clearly weak and in pain and could only manage a very slow walk.

The silence was becoming unbearable. She was so close but apart from occasional whimpers of pain she made no sound. Her vanilla scent was clogging his nostrils and lungs, making him lightheaded and angrier. What was she doing to him?

By the time they reached the third floor, Granger looked terrible. Madam Pomfrey had been right- she shouldn't have left today. Her skin was pale and she looked like she was sweating from exertion; it seemed that at any minute she'd keel over from exhaustion, yet still she struggled on, refusing to be beaten. Stupid, stubborn Gryffindors. They never knew when to give up, even when they were obviously defeated.

Two minutes later, he couldn't watch her struggle anymore.

"Granger, have a rest. You're killing yourself," he said.

"No… it's not too far now," she panted.

"Just rest for a second."

"Honestly, it's fine, I don't need to-"

"For fuck's sake Hermione, just sit down for a minute!" he snapped.

Perhaps it was his rare use of her first name, or his language, or just his tone in general, but she stopped and looked at him with wide eyes. She bit her lip and glanced around.

"Ok," she murmured, overcome. "But in here," she said, gesturing to a nearby tapestry.

As a mess of entwined arms, they hobbled over together though Draco didn't know why. Then she peeled back the tapestry to reveal a small passageway that he hadn't known existed. Granger stumbled in and then collapsed on the floor. He followed her, allowing the hanging to fall back into place.

"How did you know about here?" he asked incredulously as he sat down.

"Harry," she replied simply, before leaning her head against the wall with her eyes closed and breathing deeply.

Of course. Because precious Potter always knew everything. For the first time, Draco wished he was a little more like The Boy Who Lived. Life would be so much easier then; every choice would be much simpler because he'd just have to pick the right thing, instead of improvising at every new confusing situation. Maybe if he was more like Potter, he could have just been with Granger from the start. She'd have probably had him if he had been born a good guy. He shook his head to clear away such pointless wishes.

"Why do you do that to yourself?" he asked after a little while, staring at Granger intently.

She opened her eyes and looked at him.

"Do what?"

"Carry on, even when you know you can't."

Granger laughed darkly. "What do you think I've been doing all year, Malfoy?" she said sadly.

Her words struck him. She was struggling still, wasn't she? Just like everybody else. In fact, probably more than everybody else – she just hid it better. Draco was relieved that he wasn't alone in feeling like everything was too much.

"Ready to try again?" he asked after about ten minutes had passed.

She was still very white, though she had regained a little of her colour. After a second, she nodded grimly and he helped pull her to her feet.

This time, they made it to their dorm without having to stop, though by the time they'd gotten there they were pushing curfew. Granger was putting most of her weight on him as the portrait granted them entrance. They staggered into the centre of the common room and then suddenly she made him stop.

He stared at her, and once more she seemed embarrassed.

"Do you…do you think you could…help me to my bedroom?" she asked hesitantly, not able to meet his gaze.

"Sure," he said, as though it was not a very large thing to ask of him.

They walked together up the steps to the raised half of the room, past his door and towards hers. He pushed open her door with his shoulder and helped her in.

The room was almost identical to his, except where his furnishings were green and silver hers were red and gold. But it was not what he had expected, though he was unsure why. Maybe he'd thought it would be more personal than his sparse chamber, but it was not; there were no trinkets or pictures or ornaments. It was just as bare as his.

Crossing the room, he eased her weight off him and dropped her into a sitting position on her double bed. She mumbled her thanks and slipped off her shoes, and though he'd told himself he must be distant from her, he walked over the crimson carpet and closed her curtains, so that the only light came from some candles around the place. Then he thought he better leave.

"When did I get like this?" Granger asked suddenly as he neared the door.

He stopped, unsure whether she was speaking to him or to herself.

"Like what?" he said finally, turning back around to face her.

"Different. Sad, hopeless, and lonely and… welldifferent. I'm changing," she explained.

Draco took two steps closer to her. He certainly knew how that felt.

"Are you?"

"Yes. I'm not the same as I was a few years ago. Or even at the start of this year. I'm losing touch with myself."

He sighed. God, she had no idea how much everything she was saying fit in with him too. Why had she suddenly decided to get all philosophical on him?

"Nobody stays the same forever. Changing is part of life. It's inevitable. It just…happens."

"But I don't want to change," she said miserably.

"Granger, you're changing all the time. Everyone is. It's not something you can really control," he replied.

"Yes, but I only started noticing how fast it was happening recently! With everything that's happened with me and you!" she snapped.

So this was where it had all been leading. She wanted to talk about them, finally, after she had gone to such extreme lengths to ignore everything in the past. He moved closer again and leant against the bedside table, running a hand through his hair.

"Don't you think I know what you mean, Granger? I feel the same."

"And how are you dealing with it?" she queried, as though genuinely searching for advice.

"I don't know…by just telling myself that those situations are just examples of unexplained little things that happened in life without reason or purpose. By convincing myself that they're nothing to do with me - I'm just a pawn of the universe," he admitted.

"Do you believe that?"

He didn't know what he believed anymore. He had absolutely no clue.

"Maybe. But if you can't believe that, then just put everything behind you. You've said it time and time again: those things meant nothing. Or at least, you thought it. That's why you ignored them, isn't it? So leave them behind, and learn to ignore the past, disregard the future and just live in the present. Life's easier that way."

"Is that what you do?" she demanded, in a way that was almost accusing.

"Yes," he said.

"Is it?"

Was it? If he truly was going to forget everything but the present, what did he want to do? There was a gleam in Granger's eyes that told him the answer.

And that was what made him close the gap between them and latch his mouth onto hers. He'd live in the moment, and fuck everything else, even if it would make him hate himself later.

Maybe she was doing it too because she grabbed him tightly, digging her nails into the flesh of his upper back, and suddenly she found strength from somewhere because she pulled him down onto the bed with her. She hadn't even frozen up in surprise. Always the clever one - she'd been expecting it, hadn't she?

He hoisted her onto his lap, just like last time, and she hooked both her legs around him. He hoped that this time, just maybe, she wouldn't make him stop. He didn't think he'd be able to take it if she stopped. Not again.

Luckily, she didn't seem eager to end anything so far. She sighed and let out a little whimper of pleasure as her hands stroked his back, and her mouth opened. To his surprise, when he opened his too her tongue slipped into it. She really was letting this happen. She wanted it. She wanted him.

He felt a twinge in his groin. Slowly, he lowered himself and Hermione down so that they were lying back on her bed, and he propped himself up on his hands as he began nibbling at her bottom lip, holding himself up so he wouldn't crush her with his weight. Another whimper - he felt her clutch at him harder.

He parted from her, planting tiny, barely-there kisses down her chin and across her jaw, stopping at the sensitive part of her neck just below her ear and sucking and kissing it, drawing a breathy gasp from her. She tasted as good as she smelt, her skin warm and creamy, like vanilla. He lifted his weight onto one arm, stroking her hair as he bruised her lips once more with a passionate kiss.

"Damn you," he muttered against them, as his skin began to prickle and warm shivers ran down his spine. "Damn you so fucking much. How do you do this to me?"

She answered only by pulling him closer and gripping his neck to pull him in as her other hand trailed down his chest before she let out a shuddering moan when his mouth left hers again and licked and nipped at her earlobe. His free hand began tracing circles on her waist through her clothes.

She was incredible. He wanted her so much he could barely make sense of it. Normal thought processes seemed to fail him but he knew he could feel something, something so strong it threatened to blind him, but it wasn't his physical need. It wasn't the same as the tightness he could feel in his groin. It was in his chest, in his eyes, in his head and his entire body. But it felt foreign and somehow wrong. He tried to ignore it and just enjoy what was happening.

He was on fire all over. Every inch of his skin tingled with anticipation and desire. He wanted her – why had he ever thought he hadn't? He couldn't remember, couldn't think straight… she was clouding and ensnaring all of his senses.

Her breasts were pushing up against his hard chest, and he could feel them rub against him as her breath hitched and she panted. He was so caught up in the euphoric feeling of the moment that he almost didn't register when her fingers began clumsily fumbling with the buttons on his shirt.

For a millisecond, he almost stopped. But he refused to let himself pull away from her. She wanted his clothes off… Oh Merlin, this was too fucking good. His dreams had absolutely nothing on this.

Her trembling hands finally undid the last fiddly little button, and without breaking their kiss she slipped it from his shoulders and threw it somewhere, somewhere far away. She'd hidden this side of herself so well. But she was a demon. She craved him as much as he desired her. Her left hand began to trail down his back, down his waist and hips, and then tentatively and delicately brushed against his most sensitive area. It was barely a touch, but he had to fight hard to stop himself losing control right there at that second.

He kissed her neck, clamping down hard on it, trying to express with his movement just how much he wanted her. Just as he softly bit down, pressing his teeth against her hot flesh, she shuddered and pushed him away. No, no, no, he thought. He knew it. He knew she didn't really want him. She was such a tease.

But she didn't push him offher. Instead, her eyes raked his exposed flesh, gleaming with what he recognised as lust. There were flecks of golden desire as well as a cloud of fear in her beautiful, big eyes.

"What are you doing?" he queried. His own voice sounded laboured and croaky, he noticed.

"Shh!" she hushed him, and he stayed silent. He didn't want to do anything to convince her she didn't want this. He didn't want to make her realise her mistake.

She seemed to just be taking in the sight of him. He noticed her bite her lip and it ignited sparks of heightened need in the bottom of his abdomen. Dear God, she was amazing. How had he not seen it in all the years he'd known her?

After a second of staring she hesitantly began to ease herself out of her shirt.

He stared at her swollen red lips for a second before he reached out and touched her wrist, stopping her. Why?! his head screamed at him. Because he had to be sure.

"Do you know what you're doing?" he asked her.

Her eyes lit up almost devilishly, but she did indeed look terrified. Yet she remained so sexy and radiant that it was almost excruciating.

"No. I have absolutely no idea," she replied softly, and then removed her top completely and pulled him back again.

Want and raging hormones were overriding her fear and probably her rational thought, but he could live with that. He had essentially just gotten consent to continue, so he crushed his lips to hers and pressed himself against her, his now painful erection brushing against her thigh through his trousers. Once more her nails scraped at his now bare back, stinging wonderfully, and he slid one of his hands up her leg, drawing a line from her calf all the way to her inner thigh, eliciting from her a moan of guttural delight. It spurred him on.

With great delicacy, he removed her school skirt, throwing it backwards somewhere into the darkness that was their surroundings. They could have been anywhere right now, and he wouldn't have known or cared for that matter. It was him, her and a bed- that was all there was in the entire universe. Then she began fumbling with the button at the top of his pants. Bloody hell; this was really happening.

Now both in just their underwear, he could feel her soft flesh against his, and it was burning hot, like fire solidified. Perfect, smooth, freckled fire pressing against his own icy pale flesh- except for the blue and yellow bruises marring her legs in places. He slid down her figure and kissed each blemish on her naked legs, and she tousled his hair. Then he reached her face once more, and claimed her mouth.

Deftly, he reached one hand behind her back and unhooked her plain black bra. She helped him slip it off and he couldn't help it; he unattached himself from her, sat back and stared at her free breasts. Merlin, they were perfect. Like everything else about her. Round and supple and begging to be touched. He planted a kiss near her collarbone and began to caress her, causing her to arch her back and whimper. That did it.

He ferociously attacked her mouth, and used the hand that wasn't occupied to pull off her knickers. They were a boring, bland beige, much more like the Hermione he thought he knew. He flung them aside. As she writhed and moaned beneath him, her hands scrabbled desperately at his boxers and he bit back a moan. No other girl had ever done this to him. Ever. Somehow, she managed to pull them off, releasing him from the confines of the fabric straining against him.

She was as beautiful naked as she was by moonlight, sunlight, firelight, or at any other time. Flickering shadows of flames cast by the candles danced across her face and she was biting her bottom lip, her eyes closed as he continued to kiss her and stroke her soft skin.

Then he removed his hand from her glorious chest, trailing it downwards, looking to her face for any sign that she was unsure or regretful. He'd never been so happy to see her eyes. Nothing but need.

Soon, she was moaning and panting, and clawing at his back and breathing his name, his surname, over and over. He alternated between looking at her beautiful near-orgasmic face and kissing her forehead; her stomach; her legs; any part of her flesh he could reach, all of which was breaking out in light beads of perspiration.

He loved the way she looked. He loved how vulnerable she seemed. He loved…

He tensed up. That's enough, he told himself sharply.

And then suddenly, he saw all of her muscles tighten; she took in a great shuddering breath, a striking staccato of pleasure, and finally - sweet release. She whimpered and groaned, gripping his shoulders tight, and he tried not to explode at the mere sight of her. He kissed her softer than before then he knew he could hold himself no longer. He repositioned himself so he was leaning over her and looked her in the eyes.

"Do you want this? Really?" he asked.

She stared at him. She was so fantastic. Her mind was probably addled with endorphins, but he did note there was still apprehension in her gaze. Her whole face was flushed.

"Yes."

The one word he desperately wanted to hear came from her but he still wasn't sure.

"Granger, are you absolutely certain you-"

"Bloody hell, Malfoy! I'm living in the moment, like you said!" she snapped. "I want this," she whispered desperately, so he gave her what she desired.

She clenched around him and squeaked. He saw her face screwed up in pain and he felt sick for having caused it– this was her first time after all. He was her first, he realised with a shock. She could say what she wanted after this, but she could never take that away from him. By all intents and purposes, Granger was forever his now. He'd staked his claim. The thought made him want to smile smugly and shout it to the world, though it shouldn't have. But hell, he shouldn't have wanted to have sex with her, and that was happening.

He gave her a few seconds without moving, trying to ignore how warm and incredible she was, breathing deeply so he didn't finish too soon. A single tear rolled down her cheek and she gripped his forearms so fiercely he could see the skin around her fingertips turn white.

"I'm ok," she murmured at last, opening her eyes.

So he slid himself in fully, and she gasped, but not totally with pain this time. He tried to move slowly at first, gradually building up a rhythm and gathering speed, and she wriggled a little beneath him. He fought to keep hold over himself. After a minute or two, she began clinging to him again, her flesh slowly becoming damp just like his as sweat trickled down their bodies.

All his muscles were beginning to clench up. He fought to maintain control, wanting her to have her release before he had his, and soon he felt her begin to convulse and spasm beneath him and around him. She was whimpering again, her bottom lip wobbling, and he rested his damp forehead against hers. The noise was so delightful and amazing that he nearly lost it for the fourth time.

But then she began to shake as everything overcame her. So he indulged, moving now with increased speed and power in a frenzy of desperate desire. He felt her squeeze his arms tightly, and she let out a sighing moan of his first name and around two seconds after, the world went white, sound failed him and he felt his own total and utter release as his body exploded with pleasure and he let out a groan as his body began to shudder.

At last, spent, he collapsed on top of her, naked flesh meeting naked flesh as they panted and the last waves of delight overtook them.

For five minutes they lay, gasping and tangled together, a mess of heat and dampness and heavy breathing, struggling to return from the heights of their ecstasy now that it was over.

And then the full force of what had happened struck him.

He'd just had sex with Hermione Granger. And not only that; he'd taken her virginity too. Fuck. This was insane.

Just after he realised this, Granger disentangled herself from him and felt around for her clothes. She pulled her wand out of her pocket and muttered a common contraceptive charm. For a moment, she glowed blue and then she was back to being sweaty and a mess and flawless. Draco wondered how she knew about the spell - from a book, no doubt.

She looked at him, but there was no wanton lust or desire in her eyes anymore. They were empty and dull. Then horror crept into her gaze and his stomach sunk almost painfully. As if suddenly aware of her nakedness, she pulled up the sheets around her. For about a minute, she just stared and struggled to form words.

"I think you should go."

He nodded, her words crushing him though he didn't know why, because he'd expected her to say them. He slipped off her bed and pulled on his pants which lay abandoned nearby, gathering up the rest of his clothes in one arm.

"It was a mistake, Granger. Just…just another one of those unexplained things," he said, because he knew that was what she would want to hear.

But as he slipped out of her room, he wished it wasn't the way it had to be.

Ok, be gentle. I've never written anything like this before. Feedback would be very much appreciated. Love you all!