Vonne: This is going to be the last short chapter submitted, and also the last chapter that I feel might "drag on". I have this worry that you will all loose interest if I feel this fiction continues to do as such, however, I feel that this chapter was necessary to show how alike Hermione and Draco Malfoy really are. Besides, I have this planned out in my head straight up to the ending and I'd love for you to continuing enjoying this.

Anyway, I will respond to all of your reviews below and then get started on the next chapter as soon as possible-- in fact, chapter fifteen will be up probably sometime tomorrow. So, please, bear with me! I hope you do like this, anyways. :) Thanks guys!

Thwarted Moony: HA! Well, good! I was hoping that it wasn't going to be expected! Anyway, have faith that I will fix this. :) It is a Hermione x Draco fiction, after all. (:

Isabella120: No! I don't mind if your review was short- I just liking knowing that people read my stuff. I'm totally glad you enjoyed the first chapter- which hopefully served its purpose as being suspenseful. But remember that it leads up to something in this story that is coming up soon, so hopefully you will like that chapter just as much as the first, too.

VoldyismyFather: HA! I love your response. I kind of felt bad for Draco, too. Though, I'd been sure that many would be angry with him. Glad you had that reaction, though. (:

Dramione1996: HA, perhaps Draco only thinks he is a good liar, when really he's just shitty at it.

Lumiere du Soleil: Thanks so much! I hope that this fiction doesn't drag on TOO MUCH, but this is my last written chapter where nothing truly exciting happens. However, as stated above, I really feel like it was necessary to build believable tension between both Hermione and Draco-- they both think alike without even knowing it. I just hope people see that effect I was trying to bring across with this. And I promise to have much longer chapters from now on.

Jade2099: Ha, Poor drunken Draco. :)

Shining Bright Eyes: He is going to be pretty sore in the morning, that's for sure. Anyways, I love that you keep reviewing my fictions over and over. I really appreciate it and I love reading them. Thanks again!

Now, chapter fourteen! (:

Chapter Fourteen:
Hello?

Quite honestly, Hermione was not in the mood for the circumstances that her life had dealt her with this morning.

She was sitting with an uptight aroma, unkempt and sloppy, on the living room couch, in a considerably bad mood. And all the while, she didn't bother to deny the cause of it: it was that dammed radio. Because of that stupid toy and, of course, the boy on the other end, Hermione had not gotten an ounce of sleep the previous night. She detested the fact that she could remember every worrisome moment of it. Even embarrassed by her unconventional worrying, she tried to push the previous night's frustration from her already infuriated thoughts, and focus her energy into mentally burning a hole into the air in front of her. However, her company did not seem to quite catch on. Both Ron and Harry seemed to be furthermore oblivious to her frustration. In fact, the two seemed to be enjoying their own personal mornings as much as physically possible.

After striding into the living room early that morning, paper in hand, Ron had pretty much painted the smile forever on his face. He inhaled the living room air, tossed a grumpy Hermione a vibrantly enthusiastic nod, and flopped onto the couch, slipping loosely from the armrest into the seat cushion completely. "Lovely day out, isn't it, Ron?" Harry asked his friend as he raised his eyebrow inquisitively. He watched Ron whip out the paper, wave it fantastically in the air before him, and wink lively back at the two.

"It is a brilliant morning!" Ron quipped. "Hey, Harry," came Ron's free voice again, which seemed unfailingly joyful, "did you read the morning's paper?" He had been holding in his slender hands the floppy thing as if he'd just won it.

"Can't say I have," Harry responded, arriving around the kitchen island with a single cup of tea in his hands. He then lifted his wand and watched the second cup float towards Hermione, who caught the steaming cup with jittery aggression before downing it desperately. He exchanged a quick glance with Ron and the two shrugged cluelessly in unison. "I'm guessing," Harry continued, nodding towards Ron's prized paper, "that it's good news this morning then?"

He lowered his head into the depths of the news and spoke loud, in a clear and unshakable voice. "'Draco Malfoy," Ron read a loud, squinting back into the thing, "was spotted last evening at a local diner alongside known ex-Death Eater Gregory Goyle.'" Instantly, Hermione's morning worsened. She should have known that any smile belonging to Ronald Weasley that was that large couldn't have meant anything good.

"Harry," Hermione grunted, feeling more and more in the mood to remain grumpy, "I thought you said this nonsense was over with."

"Nonsense!" Ron retaliated, scrunching his face up in confusion, "this isn't nonsense, Hermione, this-- this, is news!" Biting her bottom lip carelessly, Hermione mumbled brashly to herself, eying the newspaper with renewed fury. She decided she loathed the media just as much as the loathed her sleepless night. As Ron read on out loud, she took to scrutinizing the paper harshly. The putrid thing flashed its dancing pictures before Hermione with an attitude that she considered completely unnecessary, even if for merely a paper object. In the black and white picture, the repeated image of a slender figure that could have very possibly been Malfoy, slipped carefully inside a dinner pub. He had a newsboy hat pushed so low over his face, however, that it was practically impossible to tell. She grimaced, taking on Ron's vibrant beam, and crossed her thin arms across her chest, resisting the urge to tear the paper from Ron's grip completely. She sustained herself, however, even if just barely.

"Why do you care so much about this kind of thing Hermione?" Ron asked, his shoulders slinking down low. He looked slightly sheepish, despite the previously welcoming expression that once graced his face. "It's Draco Malfoy. It's not like it's anyone we were ever friends with in school."

"It's immature and overdone, Ronald," Hermione spat, smoothing her messy head of knotted hair aside, "besides, it's been five years, as I've already said." Then, she narrowed her eyes, leaned slightly forward, and winced testily, "are you saying you still hold a grudge?"

Ron stammered over himself, glancing up towards Harry with desperation. Harry, however, only turned away, deciding himself unable to deal with the situation anyway. He poured himself a second cup of tea and leaned back against the island, and crossed his legs at the ankles. Sure, he'd wanted to hear the rest of the paper, perhaps receive some insight into what Draco Malfoy had been up to over the past five years, but this wasn't worth fighting over. "I..." Ron started anxiously, "I... well, yeah, Hermione. What if I do still hold a grudge? Don't I have every right to?"

Hermione Granger: 0; Useless Brainwashing Media: 2.

Perhaps Ron Weasley had every right to hold a grudge and, quite honestly, perhaps they all did. Hermione had even carried such anger for a while after the whole battle had ended. With bitter resentment she'd recollected it. Having lasted for years, she not only hated Draco Malfoy, but she couldn't stand any of the bunch- Gregory Goyle, Pansy, Lucius and Narcissa. Now, she'd seemed to have finally let herself go. It didn't exactly feel as freeing as the therapists claimed, but the lack of resentment had felt somewhat... emotionless, She no longer felt the boiling anger, no longer desired to seek any revenge. All she wanted was the peace that the new Wizarding World so often promised.

And, really, she wasn't completely at terms with the surviving ex-Death Eaters , but at least she could let things go.

"Alright," Harry interjected, lifting the empty tea cup from Hermione's white knuckles, "end of conversation, Ron. How about we go get lunch?"

Hermione glowered. Truthfully, she would have liked to go to get something to eat, but agreeing upon such a thing would only taint her goal of appearing miserable. "Nah," she said, shaking her head just as she noticed Ron pop up, eager to stuff his face, "I'm just going to stay here." Ron and Harry's face doubly dropped. They opened their mouths to suggest otherwise, but Hermione only held up her hand. "No, really," she insisted, "I've got some studying to take care of," she lied. "Now, go."

And as the two exited sluggishly, Hermione directed her wand and allowed the leftover paper to catch instantly in flames.

"Draco!" Came the call of a beautiful voice, even in the most exaggerated of tones. She was singing ever so slightly, and the figure of her body strode halfway across the room, stopping at the curtain covered windows. "Draco, wake up."

Groggily, Draco Malfoy pulled open his half crusted eyes. Saying that he was hungover was ultimately an understatement and as Pansy pulled the heavy curtains aside, he turned over on his side, curling up tightly into himself. With his face pressed against the soft mattress, Draco could instantly tell that his current conditions hadn't changed an ounce from the previous night before. Against Pansy's nice white sheets, he could see the smeared vision of his own maroon blood. From his mouth, there was the crusted stain of dried saliva. Moaning, he could feel the thundering beat of his own throbbing headache. As each moment passed by, the thing doubled, pumping almost literal battery acid. "What time is it?" he moaned, keeping his face pelted against the bed, blocking out the sunlight that the woman had just allowed in.

With a giggle, Pansy responded, "it's noon, Draco. Noon! Do you always sleep in that late?" Malfoy grimaced; no, not usually, though only while having been previously intoxicated. He'd hoped Pansy could get used to such a bothersome habit, now possibly quite a significant trait. However, in the back of his mind he knew that Pansy was going to have much worse to try and get used to.

There was an instant weight on the bed and Draco felt Pansy scoot her body close to him. A cold shutter ran up his spine and the previous night's activities rung slightly nauseatingly back to him. But if Pansy could manage to get used to Draco Malfoy, then he could surely spare her the time of day. He didn't fully loathe her, and love... maybe he would in due time. Though as he felt Pansy's hands creep up his shoulder, ignorantly massaging his sore shoulders, he couldn't help but feel a little sick. "You can't lay in bed all day, Draco. Let's go get lunch."

Lunch. In reality, Draco would have loved to go get something to eat, however, right now he was more content with remaining in a lazy and difficult mood. However, to spare Pansy the worst side of himself, he pulled himself up, ignoring the aching that tortured his entire body. He winced at the light and wondered why Pansy insisted on keeping the curtains open. She did seem concerned about Draco's appearance, though. Reeling back instantly, Pansy's face melted into a disgusted grimace. "You should probably clean yourself off," she suggested. "You look awful."

Malfoy raised his hands to his eyes, rubbed them lazily. With his renewed clear vision, he could see Pansy in all her complete exterior. She was, even early in the morning, as put together as he'd remembered. Already she'd applied her makeup, looking glowingly gorgeous behind all her concealer. At the moment, all the disguise made Draco temporarily curious- he'd never quite seen Pansy without makeup on her face. However, he ignored the fact, slipped off of the bed, and obliged Pansy's suggestion. He grabbed his boxers and dirty white undershirt as he slipped groggily off of the bed. As he staggered into her bathroom, he stopped carefully in front of the mirror, gripped the bathroom sink, and caught himself in the reflection of the mirror.

His eyes were merely only slits. Around his left, a rather large purple bruise wrapped around his entire eyelid. His bottom lip was busted open completely, giving him quite an enthusiastic pout. He felt strange standing there half naked, but all the while his mid was buzzing. Fuzzy and aimless, he couldn't quite manage to think straight. Sluggish, he slid his hands across the wide sink, and stood in front of the mirror in a drawl, his head lagging down to the tiled floor. "I have some spare concealer, if you'd like to use some," Pansy suggested all too seriously and she pounced off of the bed, wrapping her coat around her shoulders.

Malfoy only stood there frozen. Over and over in his head he told himself that he'd done the right thing the night before; that in ten years, when he was 'content', he would thank himself for all of it. "No," he shook his head, feeling foolish to even have to answer such an obvious suggestion, "I'm... fine, thank you."

"Surely you can't go out in public looking like that!" Pansy accused, striding over to him. With slippery hands, she wrapped her hands around Draco's shoulders and perched her chin on his shoulders. All the while, Malfoy only remained unmoving. It bothered him that she hadn't pressed on her concern for what had happened to him-- even if he had no plan of telling her. It bothered him that she kept the curtains open, despite his obvious discomfort.

It bothered him that she couldn't tell that he was extremely hungover for fuck's sake.

But he did this for his future. For himself and his family and for everyone that wanted him to improve his misery. He did this for eventual happiness and satisfaction. He did this to move on and away from the current mess that marked his life. He did this, most of all, to completely and utterly forget. "Actually, Pansy," Draco contradicted, spinning around into Pansy's front, "I'd like to stay home this afternoon."

"Stay home?" Blinking, Pansy's voice rose, as if she'd never heard such a completely absurd desire. "But the weather's only going to clear up for a couple hours before raining again!"

"I know," Draco nodded, lifting a hand to pat her slender shoulder, "but... you should go out." Then, sweetly, he offered her a small smile before slipping away from her grip. As he strode back towards Pansy's bed, he made for his clothes, pulling his pants over each of his pale legs before making way towards his discarded button up. "I'd like to see you tonight," he asked, despite himself, trying to make an effort. "Maybe for dinner or..."

Pansy, looking slightly flustered, continued towards him with confusion etched on her face. "okay," she started, slightly uneasily, "do you want me to put in reservations?"

"Actually," Draco murmured, wincing with every loud noise that Pansy subjected him to, "actually I was thinking someplace out of the spotlight."

"Come over here!" Pansy all but yelled, a desperate smile on her face, "I'll cook some dinner and we can just... relax. Okay?"

"Okay," Draco agreed, and then his head fell downward slightly. With his fingers moving in unison, he buttoned up his shirt and made for his scarf. Then, with more desperation, he lowered himself to his coat on the ground, felt quickly for something inside of his pocket, and wrapped it around himself eagerly.

However, as he sat back down to slip on his shoes, Pansy's confusion only seemed to deepen. "I thought you didn't want to go out," she asked him, meekly.

"I dont," Draco added, carefully. He could see that somehow he was hurting her feelings and, despite himself, he found that he actually cared. Much more softly, he approached her, taking her face in the palms of his hands. He wished he could feel the feeling that he wanted to feel, wished that he felt the butterflies that he'd heard so often associated with love. And as he stomach felt nothing but ill, and his heart beat at a normal pace, he felt the sinking feeling of disappoint riddle horribly inside of his skeleton. Perhaps love was not in the books for Draco Malfoy. "I just need to get some sleep, okay?"

Pansy seemed to fall for Draco's faux affliction. She smiled proudly, and her hands made eagerly towards the collar of Draco's coat. Without asking, she took to pulling it once again off his shoulders, ignoring his stammers of protest, and her fingers took to undoing his buttons all over again. "Okay," she nodded, grabbing his hand and leading him back to the edge of her bed. "I'm going to go out by myself-- just like you suggested. You can stay here and relax as much as your little heart desires. How's that for an idea, hm?" Malfoy blinked, almost surprised to find himself having been coaxed back by her bed. With a shocking amount of force, Pansy pushed him back on to the mattress and brushed his blond hair behind his ears, whispering, "I'd like it if you stayed."

And how could he argue? This was very possibly his future wife that he was staring back at. For a reason unwillingly beyond himself, Malfoy watched Pansy stride away from her, a twinkling glisten behind her eyes, and laid back against the head rest, defeated. He laid against the wall still until he'd heard the descending heels of Pansy vanish down her staircase. Then, when he'd heard the front door to her house shut close, he slapped a clammy palm against his sweaty front.

Then his hands found the circumference of the radio, pulling it from his jacket pocket with instant desperation. What was it about the times that made him revert to the toy radio so instantly? He had never even met the girl on the other end, didn't know very much about her anyway, so why of all people did he feel so attached to her? "Are you there?" he croaked into the machine tiredly.

But nothing came back as an answer. Not a noise even bothered to give him the time of day. And a ping of guilt infiltrated him. Feeling strange and sheepish, he tried again with a hoarse tone of voice, "hello?"

And when once again, his only response was that of undeniable silence, he leaned his head back once again, and felt himself dissolve into nothingness.

Vonne: REVIEW! (: