A/N: Warning: Explicit sexual content incoming! Please see end notes for more commentary to avoid spoilers.

November 1998—

Hermione sat in her bath with tears rolling down her cheeks. She felt like the scum of the earth. The last hour played in her head over again. She had not technically done anything wrong, but the look of hurt and betrayal on Ernie's face told her otherwise. And Malfoy, of all people, came to her aid to fix things.

Draco. His voice still rang in her ears.

"It's not what it looks like!" Hermione had blurted out right after jumping from Draco's arms.

"What's it supposed to look like!?" Ernie had bellowed again.

"Calm down and let her explain," Draco said evenly.

"What's going on?" Padma's voice floated over to them. Of course she chose that exact moment to arrive back into the Head common room from her late night with Terry.

"These two are sneaking around behind my back, is what's going on!" Ernie yelled and pointed an accusing finger at Draco. "I may not have my wand, but I can still knock you senseless, Malfoy!"

Draco rolled his eyes.

"Hermione?" Padma asked.

Hermione squeaked. She could feel her panic rising, and she started to shake. She brought her hands up to cover her face, then grabbed fistfuls of her hair. An attack was coming, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. She crumpled to the floor. The next thing she knew, cool arms were lifting her and depositing her on the sofa. A calm voice was speaking to her.

"Granger? Can you breathe for me? Deep, steady breaths; just think about that." Then, slightly more distant he said, "Patil, there's a Calming Draught in her room. I don't know if these staircases are bewitched, but I'd rather not test right now."

In seconds, the potion was at her lips, and she swallowed reflexively. She was face-to-face with Draco. Her vision expanded to see both Ernie and Padma behind him looking anxious.

"I'm all right," she said, and she felt the heat rising in her cheeks. She felt weak, pathetic. "I just—"

"Granger," Draco interrupted, and her eyes snapped back to him, "three deep breaths."

She nodded and counted each inhale.

"I'll tell them what happened, if that's okay with you."

It was better that the truth came out. She shut her eyes and nodded again.

Draco sat down in the chair opposite her with Padma to his right. This left Ernie to sit next to Hermione on the couch.

"Can you show them?"

This caught her off guard. She looked to Draco, trying to figure out what he wanted, and his gaze drifted slowly to her left arm. She understood and raised her sleeve. Ernie and Padma both gasped.

When Malfoy began to speak, his voice was so closed off, it was almost lifeless. "Earlier this year, Granger was tortured by Bellatrix Lestrange, who unfortunately was also my aunt. That insane witch left her with this scar from a cursed blade. It happened in my house, which was occupied by the Dark Lord and his followers, after some Snatchers caught her. I was made to watch. I—" he swallowed hard. "I did nothing."

"And saved our lives." Hermione found her voice at last. She needed Ernie and Padma to know the whole truth, if they were going to share any of this at all. "I was with Harry and Ron. We all were caught. If Draco had done anything, she would have killed me. If he had showed any emotions, they would've known who we were and called Voldemort to the Manor. We would have all been dead and lost the war. You have to understand, he saved us all that night."

All three of them turned their gazes to Malfoy, but he just hung his head.

When Malfoy recovered himself, he said, "What you saw, Macmillan, was an intimate moment, yes, but not the type of intimate you assumed."

Ernie looked forlorn.

"You can give your apologies to Granger. I don't need any." With that, Malfoy got up, held Hermione's gaze for a fleeting moment, then retreated up his staircase. She watched him until the back of his white-blond head disappeared.

Hermione took Malfoy's lead and put her hand on Ernie's arm. "Malfoy and I were just trying to work through what happened to us."

Ernie nodded. Several questions from him and Padma later, they all finally went to their respective bedrooms to sleep.

Yet now, she was sobbing in her bathtub for the lies she did not tell. She had kept to herself the fact that she kissed Malfoy once already. And, if Ernie had not come down when he did, she may have done it again. She admitted to no one that part of what she and Malfoy had to work through was why he was okay that she had kissed him, and why she was not. She could not even explain this to herself.

Worst of all, there was no one she could talk to. Her parents were unaware that she existed. Ginny would fly off the handle if she knew Hermione was confused over Malfoy. Harry would have her committed. Ron would murder someone. And even Mrs. Weasley, who Hermione was not really close to in that way but knew cared for her, would be furious to know she had given up on Ron. Malfoy obviously was out of the question to talk to. And, she really doubted Viktor wanted to hear her dating dramas. No, she was alone in this, and it was her own doing.

Before slipping in bed, she wrote, 'Thank you,' to Malfoy. That was it, just the two words.

He replied, 'You're welcome.'

There was nothing more to say.

On Sunday, Hermione's eyes were bleary and stinging. What she could see of herself in the mirror was not a pretty sight. She skipped breakfast in favor of toast and tea in their kitchenette. A taping on her window produced an answer from Viktor to her last letter, but she has no mental energy to read it. She took another bath around midday and finally felt up to spending some time in the common room. She figured she would be alone, since everyone else would be out with their friends or studying. Malfoy might be around, but she assumed he would stay locked in his room.

Hermione settled herself down and began to read. Her book was only mildly entertaining, so she spent half the time gazing into the fire.

"Hermione?"

She whirled around. It was Ernie of course.

"Oh, hi. You startled me."

"Could I have a word with you?" he asked as he fidgeted with his jumper.

"Of course you can," Hermione said as she worked her mouth into a smile. It refused to cooperate.

Instead of joining her, he just stood there staring at her.

"Er, do you want to come sit?"

"Well, actually, could we have a word in private? It's just, I think Malfoy's up there, and I don't really want him to, er, see."

"Oh, of course. No problem, I get it. Where did you want to go?" Hermione collected her book and walked around the couch.

Ernie finally smiled down at her when she got to his side. "We could just go up to my room if you're comfortable."

She nodded and followed him up his stairs, her curiosity piqued. Ernie's rooms were similar to hers, but with Hufflepuff colors. His belongings were sparse and tidy. Almost too sparse, actually, like he had shoved things away in anticipation of bringing her up. There was nowhere to sit but on the bed or at the desk, and Hermione suddenly realized they would have to sit on his bed together. She sat on Harry and Ron's beds plenty of times before, but this time it felt different.

He took her hand and guided them exactly where she suspected. They sat on the edge of the bed, and Ernie took her other hand too. Then, he took a deep breath.

"Hermione, I have something to ask you, and I want your brutal honesty."

She hesitated. "Okay…"

"Are you interested in me?"

She blinked at him.

"What I mean is, do you want to keep dating me."

"Ernie, I—"

"Because it's okay if you don't."

"It's not—"

"I've just noticed that whenever we kiss, nothing else happens. So, what I'm asking is, is it just bad timing? Or, is it something else?"

Hermione pursed her lips and eyed him, making sure this time his mouth would stay closed. "Ernie, I have't been physical with anyone since the battle at Hogwarts. To be honest, I'm not sure if I'm ready yet."

Ernie thought for a moment. "It sounds like you need to conduct an experiment."

"I do?"

"Yes. Here's what I'm proposing. Let me be your test subject. We may not quite be there yet, but we both know where this is heading."

We do? she thought.

"So, let's just let it happen and see how far things go! Do whatever you want with me, and when you're done, say the word, and we stop." He leaned in and kissed her cheek. "What do you say?"

Hermione took in Ernie's posture, the tension in his body, and the eagerness in his eyes. He was wound up and ready to pounce. She blinked.

"What, now?"

"No time like the present," he grinned. "Look, it's up to you. Like I said, nothing you don't want will happen. I just feel so close to you right now, and I think if you let it happen, you'll feel the same."

She tried to think through this proposition, but her head was in a fog. Really, she was struggling to think at all, then Ernie leaned in again, but this time he captured her lips.

"The whole point is not to overthink it, love."

He kept kissing her. It was not bad, but she did not really feel much of anything. It was nice to be kissed, at least. She forced herself to kiss him back.

Ernie let go of her hands, which he had been holding the entire time, and traced up her arms to her shoulders.

"Still fine?" he murmured between kisses.

"Yes," she whispered, and his tongue dove into her mouth.

She considered this and rationalized that she had French kissed him at least once before, so this was surely still fine. She recalled liking it more in the past. His hands traced down her back, and she enjoyed the feeling of warmth on her spine. They rested at her waist while his mouth kept kissing hers. His lips pressed at hers with more intensity. Then his hands slipped down and gripped her backside. She stiffened but did not stop him. After a few more kisses, he squeezed and pulled her closer to him. In order for them to be any closer, she would have to be in his lap.

He changed tactics and released her mouth and started trailing kisses down her neck, starting at her ear. There were no bites; he just moved her hair aside and pressed his lips to her skin.

"See, this is good, right?" he asked her as he whisked off his jumper. He was still wearing a soft T-shirt underneath. "Still good?"

"Mhmm," was all she could make out as he attacked her mouth again.

Then she felt him tugging at her jumper. She too had a T-shirt underneath, so there was nothing risqué in taking off the outer-garment. As soon as it was over her head, Ernie was dipping his tongue back into her mouth and running his hands over her waist and up her back. She did like having her back rubbed.

After a few more minutes like that, his hands wandered to her stomach and moved quickly up to palm her breasts. He moaned into her mouth. Hermione analyzed this new development and found that with her hard shell bra and T-shirt on, she could not feel much of anything except a little bit of pressure. She was not bothered by his gentle groping, but she was not excited either. Next, he slid his fingers under her shirt, and her hands moved automatically to block him. Immediately obliging, he went back to palming her breasts outside her shirt for a bit, then roaming back to squeeze her bum, all the while kissing her with abandon.

It was only when Ernie lifted her into his lap and leaned against his headboard that she began to realize something was definitely amiss. She could feel his erection against her leg, but she still did not feel like she was aroused at all. What am I doing wrong? This should feel good by now.

With one hand still on her breast, he used the other to grip her bum and rock her hips against him. He must not have realized he was positioned oddly, because she felt his firm length rub against the inside of her leg instead of her center. She felt no stimulation at all as he moaned against her, but she also felt no desire to reposition him. She idly wondered if this meant she should stop him, but he was moving so urgently. Both his hands were now gripping her ass and gyrating her hips against him.

Oh, I'm wearing jeans, she thought to herself, and she wondered if Ernie realized that his motions had no effect on her whatsoever.

He was wearing softer trousers, she realized, and she wondered if he had chosen them specifically for this purpose. He mercifully released her mouth and went back to kissing at her ears as he rocked his hips back and forth against her. A moment later he jerked oddly, let out a stuttered moan, and was still.

Hermione felt a twisted sense of pride that he was this attracted to her. She eyed him, not daring to move just yet. That was when it hit her that her eyes had been open for this entire experience. Ernie dropped his head to her shoulder and circled her with his arms. His breathing was labored but starting to slow. Finally, he looked up at her, and she tried to smile.

"That was great, wasn't it?" he asked.

"It, it was fine," she said in a small voice. For some reason, this made him smile.

"Maybe next time, we can try a little more."

Loud warning bells finally went off in Hermione's head. "I don't know about that."

"It's okay! We can go at your pace."

"Er, thanks." Hermione extracted herself from his lap and pulled on her jumper. She stood there awkwardly in the middle of his room. She could not stop herself from glancing down, and she saw that his erection had not yet relaxed. She quickly averted here eyes.

"Well, I guess I better clean up," he chuckled. "Do you want to use it first? It's clean, I swear." He gestured toward the loo.

"Oh, no, I'm good." Hermione turned to go, then stopped. She turned back and, for the first time that day, knew exactly what needed to be done. "Listen, Ernie, there isn't going to be a next time of this. I'm not ready. I wasn't uncomfortable or anything, but it just… it didn't feel right for me."

He sighed. "I understand," he said. Hermione doubted that he did but let him continue. "Look, I don't mind waiting until you're ready. I know you've been through a lot."

"NO! No. I can't have you waiting for me. I don't want pressure. I think it's best if we just—"

"Pause? No problem. Just promise me that when you're ready, you'll come to me first."

"Sure," she said absently, "but you need to promise me that you won't be waiting around for something that won't come. Go out and date and enjoy your life."

"Hermione—"

"Ernie, I'm asking you to do this. It's what I want. I want to see you happy."

He beamed at her. "Okay, I promise that if another amazing girl comes along, I'll dive in head first. Good?"

"Yes. Thanks."

"I'd get the door, but…" He winked.

Hermione hurried out of the room and hoped her grimace passed as a smile. She flew down the stairs into the common room and realized she left her book behind. She froze, debating, but decided against retrieving it. She certainly had other books. Instead, she started to make her way to her own staircase when she heard a shuffle in the kitchenette and looked up. Malfoy was staring at her with an apple in one hand and a cup of tea in the other.

"It's not what you're thinking," she blurted out.

He raised one pale eyebrow. "Who said I was thinking anything?"

Her face flushed with heat, and she flew up her staircase and slammed her door as all of her feelings finally started to hit.

Later that night, after Hermione had recovered and fed herself, she sat down to her letter from Viktor. The more of it she read, the deeper her frown grew. Was she so out of touch with herself that she sent off signals every which way she went?

You letter gives my heart reason to sing.

Your happiness is everything to me.

I will be happy to go to Britain anytime. Our schedule is not yet known.

You forgotten to tell me of your family. Are they well?

There was much more, but Hermione tucked the letter away. Any thought of a reply would have to wait.

"Granger," a seductive voice whispered into her ear, "does that feel good? Do you like my fingers on you?"

"Yes," she breathed and tangled her fingers through his soft, blond hair, pulling his mouth to hers. He tasted like heaven, and the heat between her legs was rising. His fingers circled the exact right spot with perfect pressure, and she moaned.

"Tell me where else feels good. I want to make you scream."

She moaned again as his fingers moved faster, and she moved his free hand to cup her breast. He immediately squeezed then began teasing her nipple.

"You wants me to play with you there, my sexy minx?"

"Yes, touch me. Touch me everywhere."

He placed biting kisses down her neck, all the while never stopping his ministrations at her core. One finger slipped inside her, and she cried out. Then, a second joined while his thumb danced over her clit. She was moaning his name and thrusting against him.

"Yes, faster, oh gods yes," she was gasping as he sucked her nipple into his mouth, flicking with his tongue. His hand inside her moved faster and faster.

"I want you to come like this," he said, and his breath was cool against her sensitive skin. "I want you to come on my fingers, then on my mouth, and then on my cock. Can you do that for me, Granger? Can you come for me?"

Hermione moaned and bucked her hips against his hand. She wanted nothing more than to oblige, and she was so close. His lips met hers, and she kissed him desperately. He moaned against her lips, and she swallowed it greedily. She reached for his cock, which was rock hard, and began pumping him in time with his hand inside her. He pulled away from their kiss, and the image of him with a sheen of sweat on his brow, blond hair a mess and falling in his eyes, and breath panting was a thing of beauty. To know she had put him in such a state drove her to the brink.

"Come with me, Granger," he breathed raggedly, snapping his hips against her hand as she ground against his. "Tell me you'll come for me. Tell me—"

"TELL THE TRUTH," another voice screamed in her ears, and all pleasure fled her as knives stabbed at her from every direction. Hermione's screams mixed with Bellatrix's until she sat up in her bed, mercifully awake and alone. Her face was streaked with fresh tears and her knickers were soaking. She let out a strangled, frustrated sob.

The room was dark except for the embers of the fire. It was still the middle of the night. She needed something to help her calm down, urgently. The solution came to her easily this time, and she Accioed her journal (not Malfoy's journal, which had been hidden away again) and her quill. She gripped it tightly and began to write through bleary eyes by the light of her wand tip.

I've had another dream again. It ended in his drawing room, as usual, but I can't even explain how it started. I was with him, and it was very… sexual. I know it was a dream, but everything felt so real and SO good. It was fire and electricity and better than how I imagined being with someone in that way should be like. It was a thousand times stronger than what I felt when kissing Ron. Or anyone. It was like our one kiss in the kitchenette, but more. And, my gosh, we did so much more than kiss. I wanted everything he did desperately, in a way I've never felt with anyone. I don't even know where my mind came up with this fantasy. I'm still shaking, and I'm sure in the morning this will be so unreadable that I won't need to feel embarrassed for writing this down. The things his hands did, his amazing, wonderful hands… I can't explain. And the things he said to me and the way his body felt... It was incredible! Until it wasn't. It morphed in a flash to echoes of the Cruciatus. My head is so thoroughly fucked with. At least tomorrow is Tuesday, so I have a free period first class.

Oh sweet Merlin, it's TUESDAY!

Hermione dropped the quill at the sudden realization:

' Our Tuesdays are the same, Granger, in case you haven't noticed. '

She was going to have to see Malfoy all day. After everything that happened this past weekend, she doubted she had the strength to bear it. She threw the quill and journal aside and buried her face in her pillow.

Malfoy had finally been dozing when he awoke to the sound of a quill scratching.

Bloody hell, he thought. His dreams were already permeated with her moans and stifled screams, and now she decided was the time to write to him?

Fuck it.

He rolled over, ignoring her frantic scratching, and pretended to sleep.

A/N: The scene between Ernie and Hermione is 100% consensual. I do not write anything non-con. I tried to make that very clear, but in case there was any ambiguity, Hermione knows what she is doing and is willingly making this choice and mistake.

Please don't kill my for this third cliffhanger in a row. :D