Okay I would be LYING if I said I haven't waited impatiently along with you guys to finally hit this chapter. I'm not going to delay you too long, but I really want to extend a massive thank you for your support with this story. The feedback on the last chapter was so, so wonderful to read. Huge thank you to all the guest reviews, and to everyone who took the time to fave and follow too. (And for reading, of course!) And thanks very much to Nicole and Meghan for being an extra set of eyes for me.

~ Anna =)

Disclaimer: Nothing that you recognize is mine.

I had only made it through a few (admittedly marvellous) seconds before Malfoy pulled away from me. He looked around the bathroom slowly, with a greatly unsettled and confused expression on his features, before his eyes snapped down to mine. That was when the sweating started.

"Zabini, did you just kiss me?"

I blinked, unsure at which point he'd decided that the answer to this was up for debate. I had put my mouth in the correct place … hadn't I?

"I…"

Alright, so primal language of the body did not land in the seamless way Parkinson liked to swear that it would. Fine. There was always Plan B, and it was always the same with me: blurt everything.

"Right, okay — I can explain how we got here completely rationally, if you'll just hear me out. It should only take a second, I swear," I pleaded.

He responded with silence.

"Okay, so, we'll just wind it back to when it all started: April twenty-third, nineteen eighty — I am born. Then, like … what? Two months later? One and a half?" I counted on my fingers to make sure. "Right, so around one and a half months later, you are born. I lay eyes on you at some point soon after, and, through my blurry baby vision I realize that there is nothing more that I would like than to punch your smirking baby face. Fast forward a year; I now presumably gain the dexterity needed to accomplish this task and—"

Without warning, Malfoy grabbed hold of my arm and began to drag me out of the boys' toilet.

"What are you doing?" I blubbered, trying fruitlessly to dig my heels into the ground and slow him down. "Where are we going? Are you angry with me? Look, I know—"

"Shut up a second, Zabini! I can't think," he said, his grip still firmly on my elbow as we stopped in front of the blank stretch of wall that housed the door to our room.

"Don't tell me to shut up!" I demanded. "What do you even need to think ab—"

The carved wooden door to the Room of Requirement began to materialize. I stared at it, and turned furiously to him once realization dawned.

"No. No, you are not bringing me in there to yell at me for kissing you. If you don't like what I did back there, then you were at perfect liberty to say so! But you are not isolating me in a second location just so you can yell at me louder."

Malfoy, apparently suddenly unable to hear me, pulled the door open and shoved me through it before slamming it closed after us. I hardly managed to take a step inside before I found him pushing me into the cold stone wall where the door had been seconds before. Before I could ask him what the hell he thought he was doing, he answered my question unprompted by pressing his lips into mine.

This was nothing like the sad little kiss we'd shared in my bedroom at home, or even the one I'd planted on him in the bathroom moments before. This was more. Better. Nothing about it was accidental — it was brimming with intent. Every nibble, gasp and moan was because he wanted it to be there. Because he wanted to kiss me. Suddenly, after Merlin knows how long, he was moving down my neck, planting tiny pecks that made me shiver.

"Wait! Wait," I said, taking little gasps of air now that I had the chance. "Maybe we should talk about this," I suggested as he ran his lips gently over my jaw.

"We are talking, Zabini," he murmured, before trapping my mouth with his once more.

This was not at all what I pictured would result from my sudden gathering of courage. I thought I'd get to kiss him briefly just to quash the urge, and then go off on a monologue that he'd ever-lovingly deem a new level of idiotic. I though we'd part ways — maybe permanently. I thought he'd lodge a complaint for lewd behaviour with his head of house, scoring me about a million detentions. I did not think he would be grabbing my waist like that.

I was mortified to hear myself give a tiny moan as he slid his tongue along my bottom lip. Reluctantly, I opened my mouth a little, but it was more than enough of a cue for him to pick up the pace. A little more kissing. A lot more mint.

Suddenly, and perfectly on time, he resurfaced and straightened his tie; I had messed it up in the process of pulling on it.

"Here," he said, handing back my hair clip. I didn't bother asking about the logistics of how it had gone from my hair to his hand during this rather physically involved few minutes.

"What are—"

He flashed me his watch, and I was satisfied to see him looking a little winded and dishevelled despite his best efforts.

"Potions," he muttered.

I nodded and gathered my bag, before following him out of the room. My brain was moving at a shockingly accelerated pace for something that had been so fuzzy only minutes ago. I had kissed Draco Malfoy, and then ... then Draco Malfoy had really kissed me. I had next to no idea what this would mean for us as people, or if it would ever repeat itself. Knowing Malfoy, that would be a hard no.

I found the rest of the day's lessons to be an utterly horrible endeavour — even worse than when he refused to show up at all. I had no idea what was going through Malfoy's mind the entire time; the only words he'd bothered to say were requests for me to hand him ingredients and tools for plant care. By the time we'd hit Transfiguration, I had come crashing down from my earlier high. He didn't want this. He didn't want anything to do with this. He had his parents, and his stupid allegiance to scum, and if he even wanted to leave a little bit of room in his life for something romantic, then I was quite certain Daphne Greengrass took up much less space than I did in all regards.

I straightened up rather stiffly when Professor McGonagall dismissed us an hour later, and slung my schoolbag over my shoulder with a lot more might than usual. I had made up my mind on how to handle this.

"Alright, Malfoy, I'll see you tomorrow. I suppose. And er … thank you for earlier, it was quite—"

"Should I bring some food up for you?" he interrupted.

"What?"

"I'm not sure if you're going to eat in the Great Hall before coming up to meet me or if you're still avoiding Scarhead and company. I'm just going to eat upstairs, personally, so if you want to save time…?"

I hesitated.

"Oh. Well in that case, yes. You can bring me some dinner."

Malfoy nodded expressionlessly and left in the direction of the Great Hall, leaving me somewhat stunned in his wake. I didn't realize he had still planned on meeting in the Room of Requirement. I figured our last meeting there covered just about every possible item on the agenda that could exist.

And then some, I thought as I rubbed my neck, re-living the trail that Malfoy's lips had taken down it. I shook my head and went back into the room to wait for him.

I tried to distract my fragmented thoughts by doing homework, humming the Weird Sisters' new song, and taking a little walk deeper into the room to explore the parts I seldom went to. I paced around the troll in a tutu, leaned thoughtfully against a large stone pillar, and ran my hand over the talking wardrobe that he'd once walked in on me changing inside of, but everything I did was overridden by the taste of him.

Twenty minutes later, I heard the click of the door, and found Malfoy shutting it with two shrunken plates of food in hand. He gave me a civil nod and set everything down on a side table. I thought, during a brief moment of hopeful delusion, that he would sit next to me and silently carry on where we'd left off hours before. I was wrong. He took his usual seat, which was worlds away from mine, and I suddenly found myself with no appetite. I could only hope he'd make the inevitable letdown as quick and painless as possible.

"When did it start?" he asked bluntly.

I glanced at my watch. "About five hours ago, give or take? I think it officially started when you did the thing with your tongue where—"

"When did you start having feelings for me, Zabini?" he said.

"Right. That. I'm not entirely sure. I think it was some time after you wished death upon my family, but some time before—"

"I'm being serious."

I huffed.

"I don't like this interrogation, alright, Malfoy? I really don't! If it's anything like the last time we kissed, then you're just trying to suss out my feelings so you can stomp all over them and I am not going to let you—"

"This isn't last time," he said quickly. "Believe me, Zabini. This is nothing like the last time."

"Then why do you get to sit in the next chair over and ask difficult questions!" I snapped.

He got up from his armchair to move over beside me, and took one of my hands into his. He began to rub gentle circles into the back of it with his thumb.

Alright, so it wasn't like the last time.

I swallowed nervously.

"I guess … I guess when we spent all that time together at St. Mungo's and in the city, I started to realize you weren't so bad. It was actually quite nice to have you with me. And then Christmas came, and you kissed me — which you still haven't properly explained, I don't think, because the Weasley twins are funny and I don't think I've ever wanted to kiss either of them, and Myrtle cries a lot but I've never tried to kiss her to shut her up — and that sort of … showed me what it might be like to actually be with you. And it was a very good kiss at first. Probably a favourite. Definitely a top three. And then … then when you nearly … when Harry …"

I shook my head, still finding myself unable to talk about it.

He squeezed my hand tighter. "It's alright, Zabini, I think I get the idea."

I nodded, relieved that I wouldn't have to go into detail.

"What about you? When did you start feeling this way?" I asked. Malfoy stayed silent for just the right amount of time to make me question my sanity. "Oh. So you erm … so you don't feel—"

"I think it really began the first night we slept in the same bed at Hogwarts," he said.

"Because I flashed you in that wardrobe back there?" I asked uncertainly.

Malfoy snorted. "No, Zabini — because I realized that you were wearing maybe the most disgruntling piece of clothing I had seen on a human being, and I still wanted to spend the evening with you. For a male used to a particular type of bedroom aesthetic—"

"Attractive Slytherin girls in lace slips?" I suggested. He ignored me.

"—I came to realize that this was due to be the first of many times that you'd romantically do my head in."

"What were all the other times?" I asked, nudging him with a grin.

"Nice try, Zabini." His face turned serious. "Who else knows about this? Did you tell anybody about these … feelings? Did you tell Granger?"

"No, of course not," I said. "This isn't exactly something I can comfortably advertise to anybody."

Malfoy nodded. "We're on the same page, then."

"Wait, what do you mean?"

He looked at me pointedly, making me squirm.

"What?" I pressed.

"Look, I refuse to have this whole 'what are we to each other' talk that girls love so much. It's boring and idiotic, and I think we both pretty much know what we are to each other by now."

"Sure, sure. It's a very conventional relationship you and I have. Extremely self-evident," I said sarcastically.

"Zabini…"

"I mean we're obviously not-friends that kiss each other," I carried on. "Freshly rehabilitated enemies. Reluctant co-sleepers. D'you think they make holiday cards for those?"

"Look, whatever it is you want to call it, you know that we can't just … parade it around, right?"

I snorted. "And here I was thinking I could finally bring out the massive poster of your face I keep under my pillow and show the school." I clapped him on the shoulder. "Relax, Malfoy. I'm perfectly fine with you not telling anybody that I'm your shameful Gryffindor secret."

"You aren't shameful, Zabini," he told me, and I'd be lying if I said it didn't make me light up inside. "I mean you're a little weird, sure, but under any other circumstances I'd have just told everybody to sod off if they had a problem. It's just that this year … the attention it might bring … I really can't have Potter sticking his nose into my business right now."

I nodded. "I get it."

"We'll have to act normal," he concluded. "Or what used to be normal, I guess. I'm sorry."

"Well, I'm personally glad, because it's a little bit difficult for me to teach myself out of trying to hex you every time you say something infuriating in class," I said. "At least this gives me some buffer time to work on it."

"So you're alright with hiding it? Just like that?" he asked, clearly waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Yes, Malfoy, I already said I am. But if you want to keep kissing me, then you have to be honest with me in here at least. It's too hard otherwise, trying to figure out what's going through your head."

"You recognize this means that I can't be romantic with you in the corridors?" he pressed.

"Malfoy, what does that even mean? What are you supposed to do in the corridors, set up a candlelit dinner?"

Malfoy scoffed. "Ask Pansy; she seemed to have a very clear idea. Not that she'd ever communicate it to me."

"I'll make sure to do that," I said with a half-smile. "Speaking of your friends… specifically Blaise…"

"I'm not telling him shit. I don't know which one of us he actually likes, if either, but the fact that I'm necking his sister can only go over badly."

I could feel my face getting hot at his liberal use of the word 'necking'.

"What? Why are you making that face?"

"This is just so mental, Malfoy," I said, barely containing my laughter as I buried my face in my hands. "This is so, so mental. I can't believe it's happening."

"Well you only have yourself to blame," said Malfoy. "You're the one that launched yourself on me. And in the fucking toilet, no less. What would you have done if some other bloke was in there, mid-business?"

"I'm sorry," I said, tears of mirth now springing from my eyes. "I should have done it somewhere a little more visually pleasing, I admit. I just wanted to hurry up and get it over with. It's been torturing me for weeks."

"Of course. You devised a plan, took matters into your own hands. I get it, Zabini. You know, one time when a girl really liked me, she invited me to the balcony of her villa in Spain at sunset. We were only thirteen then. But what's the difference, really? A view of the Mediterranean Sea and a view of that Creevey kid's trousers around his ankles from under a stall is the same concept when you really think about it."

"Who were you kissing in a Spanish villa at thirteen!" I couldn't help but splutter.

Malfoy smirked and leaned in, cupping my face with his hand. "One truth at a time, Zabini."

"Did you really hate what I did today?" I whispered, our foreheads touching.

He laughed and shook his head. "No. It was fucking ridiculous. I expected no less from you."

I frowned. "What's that supposed to—"

But instead of letting me finish, he cut me off gently with his lips for the second time that day.

It was shockingly easy for me to override the natural state of my brain and get used to getting little tastes of him. It was even easier to justify making room for them in my life. I should've predicted then that that meant I was doomed.