AN: Like I said in the last chapter, I know this story isn't very good, lol. However, it is still very fun to write and the fact that its (in my own opinion) mediocre rubbish will not stop me from proceeding. And if you don't like Dramione, don't read it. It's as simple as that.

Also, there's a bunch of you out there who seem to actually really like this fic! Thank you so very much for your reviews, I am so glad you want to see what happens and I hope you continue to enjoy.

If you're into Peter Pan at all, you should check out my fic When the Body Speaks. It's my favorite story I've done ever. It's not complete but it's four chapters in and I have a lot of plans for it. Also, if you like Fremione at all (Fred/Hermione) check out my fic Those Summer Nights. I'll be updating it again soon.

Thanks again for reading, I hope you all have a lovely week and are having a wonderful summer.

We Always Have A Choice
Part Three
-o-

Draco had never felt so foolish in his entire life. He cursed his own stupidity for not realizing sooner, an inkling of the thought in the back of his mind somewhere clawing to get out. It had taken him far too long to understand why, why Hermione Granger had smelled so good to him.

The intoxication of her sweet scents, the pheromones embedded within her skin, her hair. She was the epitome of the mysterious smell from his Amortentia which he had previously been unable to identify. It was not as if Draco thought he would ever actually meet the person whom his Amortentia smelled like, let alone know them already.

He had no idea he would come to the conclusion only after he had drank his fill of her flooding, nectarous juices, and fucked her so thoroughly in a storage closet. He was a bloody dunderhead. There had been signs. It had been hitting him in the face the whole time but he had been so thick, so caught up in the moment. Nothing had felt more important than kissing her, than sticking his pulsing cock inside her soaking, tight cunt. Why doing these things with her had been so important was a question he'd pushed away for later.

Draco was blinded by his lust for her, lust which had usurped his control, and overthrew all logic. He had been blindsided by the dilemma she brought to his plate, jarring his soul.

It had just all fallen into place, and Granger, she... she felt so right.

Draco loathed it. This was not how the end of the year was supposed to play out. If he did not further improve the shields in his mind, his Occlumency, the Dark Lord would surely see right through him. He and the rest, his Aunt Bella, they all saw through his crumbling façade already. Draco had too much to hide, especially now. After all this, he could not allow the Dark Lord, nor anyone for that matter, to see how he felt about the enemy, Potter's mudblood.

It was clear he felt a lot more than he cared to admit. The Gryffindor witch was infuriatingly difficult to resist, but remained a liability to his plans. He could not avoid her forever.

As he had decided, Draco skipped classes and meals that whole day after their morning tryst in that closet. He had finally rolled out of bed the following break of dawn and in contrast, had shown up to every class, making up for any lost work. He barely spared Granger a glance all day, to her obvious dismay. He could feel her big brown eyes searing into him, but Draco persevered. He wanted her to squirm, to sweat, wanted her unable to think of anything else but him.

After dinner, he headed straight for the Room of Hidden Things to finish what he started. Draco would have willfully waited another day or two before going back, in order to bide some more time with Granger, but Tuesday had been an agreed-upon night between him and Mr. Borgin. He was unable to change this now.

Hours later, and the Vanishing Cabinet was top tier. What was left now was to wait, but Draco's issues were far from over. He had to do something about Granger, but he had no clue as to what. He had a feeling, he already knew he was utterly screwed beyond repair.

-o-

Hermione had endured a grueling Thursday, especially while in Herbology. The greenhouse had been stifling hot, and she also had to sit through a painstakingly long double Charms class feeling uncomfortably grimy. A quick Tergeo had not been enough, she wanted a real bath.

She had not been able to contain herself as she hastily made her way toward that large, Grecian tub inside the exclusive Prefect's bathroom. Hermione fell into the bubbling spring with aching limbs and relished the steam as it rejuvenated her skin, her senses. She washed away the dirt, the musk, and cleansed and conditioned her long, unruly curls.

It was still broad daylight, just before dinner when she finally exited the bathing quarters.

"Squeaky clean, Granger?"

His silky drawl almost startled her right out of her boots. She'd held a hand to her thumping chest, her eyes wild. "Malfoy!"

He snickered, seemingly amused with her reaction. "Yes?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, a stitch of agitation between her brows. His air of nonchalance had her incensed – as if she were the one bothering him. "What are you doing, waiting for me outside the bath?" It was not as if he had been standing around for his turn to get in, she thought. Draco had relinquished his awarded Prefect badge at the very start of term, therefore he did not have the privilege to use the beloved amenity.

"Come now," he clicked his tongue, his demeanor cool and coy as ever. "You know we have unfinished business."

She scoffed, but he was right. Hermione had made this her business from the get-go, from the moment Harry first accused Malfoy of being a Death Eater all those months ago. Nevertheless, if it involved anyone's lives at stake there at Hogwarts or otherwise, it would most definitely be her business. Anything she could do to prevent a murder in this war, a crime, Hermione Granger vowed to be there.

Her irritation with Malfoy was ascending, her patience wearing thin. She could only throw a dog so many bones before he would have to take the extra step to retrieve them. "There's not much more to say, is there? You've heard your options, Malfoy. I've given you a way out. If you don't go to the Headmaster by tomorrow evening and turn yourself in, well... you know what I'll have to do."

Draco cackled dryly, taking a smooth, slow step toward her. Hermione had already been grasping her wand in her pocket tightly, prepared to strike him down if needed. "Just as I thought you would. Finally, you admit you weren't ever going to keep this between us."

"This was never only just between us, and you know that. I could never stand idly by and allow you to-to –"

He was chuckling darkly now. "Go on. Say it, you little liar. What am I going to do?"

She almost stomped her foot at him. She hadn't felt she had been lying, per say. He should know with everything she had told him that she was only giving him a chance to help himself before she did what she had to. "I'm not going to say it out here, in the daylight. Don't be daft,"

"Don't want to incriminate yourself, surely."

"Surely."

Hermione turned from him and restarted her trek to Gryffindor Tower but Malfoy snatched her wrist up with the firmest of grips. "Don't walk away from me."

"Do not touch me!"

Draco released her instantly, begrudgingly. His silver eyes were imbued with flames of fury, flashing deviously as he loomed above her smaller form. A wry grin spread along his lips, showcasing his perfect white teeth. "Heh, didn't have a problem with me touching you the other day, did you? Touching me?"

She groaned at his childish comment, "Urgh! Shut your mouth, you vile –"

"What a change in you," he ignored her, visible hurt in his expression and Hermione didn't know why she felt surprised by his audacity. "Regret it all now, just as I concluded."

He was so fucking sure of himself, she wanted to put him in his place. "You are bloody lucky I haven't hexed you, Malfoy. I know some nasty little incantations. Don't presume, don't conclude to know anything about me."

Draco remained towered above her, staring down, his breathing uneven. If this had been a couple years ago, he might've hexed her first for the way she was speaking to him, for speaking to him at all – but that was before they shagged, before he knew she was what made up his Amortentia. "So you haven't come to regret it, then?" he queried lightly.

Hermione's eyes did not leave his, brow quirked in confusion. "Do you?" Her breath hitched as one of his hands came upward, tugging on one of her wet curls and stroking it between thumb and index. Draco then brushed the lock of hair beneath his nose and practically vibrated as he inhaled the scent of it.

He leaned closer to her by instinct, his hip pressing into her stomach. He spoke lowly, so that even if anyone happened to show up in that corridor, only she would be able to hear. "No, Granger. I don't regret fucking you."

Draco heard himself speak the words and knew at once, that he had already lost the battle with his logic. In what world could he and Granger ever actually work out? He was doomed, alive or dead, and they would kill her.

Hermione instantly trembled, flashbacks of silver hair falling into his confounded but loving gaze while he recklessly drove into her from above. She had been doing everything in her power not to think of him like this, and all the things he'd clandestinely whispered... but now the floodgates had opened.

He dropped her curl, befuddled as she sidled around him, back toward the Prefect's bathroom. She turned, beckoning him to follow her inside and Draco obliged though unsure of her intentions.

"Let me see it," she ordered once the door had locked.

For a second, Draco thought she meant... but then he realized, and he clenched his jaw in resistance. "No."

She stepped nearer, "What do I have to do to get you to trust me?"

He studied the warmth in her cinnamon eyes, swallowing as he spoke. Hermione licked her lips as she observed the bob of his throat. "I can... trust you to get me all messed up."

"Good one, if you weren't already messed up to begin with," she quipped cheekily and Draco growled down at her lowly, like a wolf offended. Hermione tried to ignore how his reaction was turning her on, his voice igniting desire within her core. "Show me," she tried more gently. "I want to see it."

"Why do you want to see it?" Draco didn't understand, and the smell of her was suffocating him.

"I just do." She felt like she had to.

He raked a jittery hand through the front of his mane, a shaking breath falling from his lips. In one fluid movement, Draco undid the button at his wrist, peeling the sleeve to his elbow. If one had asked him why he had agreed, he would not have known the answer.

Her eyes fixated on his Dark Mark and before she had time to even think, Draco was over top of her, his palm on the wall above her head. He brought his branded wrist up to her field of vision, the gnarled black stain angrily swirling inside his snow-white skin – like an angel tainted by a demon. "Happy?" he seethed, fumigating.

He smelled sort of nutty and sweet, was that his new cologne? It was faint compared to the apples lingering potently from his open mouth. Hermione gulped, her knees suddenly wobbly at what that could all signify.

A sweet and smoky, nutty scent was what she had recalled of her Amortentia, that along with freshly mowed grass and parchment. At least apples had not been anything she'd picked up at the time. Hermione was wondering then if she should check the potion's storage for a spare bottle to see what it smelled like once more.

She collected herself, saying nothing while she inspected his mark closely. She took her hands between them and timidly curled her tiny fingers around his forearm. Draco allowed this, watching with bated breath as she smoothed a thumb over the dark tattoo.

To his amazement, she then pressed a soft, wet kiss to it, right onto the welted imprint he felt no pride for. It had Draco shivering involuntarily from the sensations, a warmth spreading through him from the affectionate gesture. He wanted to rip himself away from her, afraid the darkness would swallow her up like it had him. Yet at the same time, he felt himself purify from the contact, her tenderness.

"Do you really think me beneath you?" Her question battered through the thickness of the air like a bell before war. "Really, do you think my blood's dirty?"

Draco snickered dolefully, fully exasperated. He was going to lie and tell her what he ought to, that yes, she repulsed him but he could not fight it. "I'm supposed to," the statement came out strangled, forced. Sweat beaded his brow, his heart rate reaching new skies.

"No, but what do you think, Draco?" There was his first name on her lips again. "What do you think?"

He stuttered, taking a step away from her, his arm falling from her grasp. "I don't... I don't fucking know, alright?"

"Would you have actually killed me? When you said you'd take me away so that no one could find me – did you really mean it?"

Her incessant nagging and interrogations were getting under his skin nice and good. She had to understand already, why did he have to say any of this aloud? "What do you think?" he countered. Draco reckoned that if the Dark Lord had a dagger against his throat, demanding he kill her that even then, Draco wouldn't be able to do it.

Her gaze softened a little, sighing. "No, I don't think you would." He could hardly meet her eyes. "But with that said, I..." she was right before him again, staring up into him with a gleaming sadness that wrenched his heart. "I mean, if they ever got a hold of me, would you not be... upset?" He was so close, his crisp apple breath careening across her in little puffs. Hermione wanted to taste him again.

Draco tried not to groan out-loud. What was she doing to him? Why was she doing this? He was ruined, absolutely done for. His limbs moved against his own will, cupping one of her shoulders and wrapping his arm around her. She melted into his embrace, resting her hands at his sides. "Fuck Granger, if anyone touches you, I... I couldn't..." he ground out brokenly, unable to fathom the consequences. "Anyone lays a hand on you, they're fucking dead."

Hermione shut her wide eyes, moaning at his protectiveness as she listened to his heart pumping wildly in his chest. She wanted to tell him how Gryffindor of him that was but she refrained, not wanting to ruin this moment.

He couldn't believe what he was saying, but somehow time and again, this witch summoned the honesty from him, and in the most frightening of ways.

Hermione wished to encourage these compassionate feelings in the Malfoy heir. "Don't let them get me, Draco," she leaned on her tiptoes, kissing hotly his throat. He breathed in sharply through his nose, gingerly sweeping his fingers across her cheek.

He took the side of her face in his hand and dipped down, skimming his lips over hers. It was like the first time again, a spark of electricity, a rush of blood. Like a magnet her mouth to his, her soft delicate mouth once kissed, Draco could not get enough of.

His tongue glazed into her mouth, greeting hers as Hermione's fingers found the tapering pieces of hair at the nape of his neck. Draco backed her into the wall, ravaging her clothed body and they kissed each other tenaciously, greedily for several minutes.

After a sufficient amount of heavy petting, Hermione allowed Draco a lasting, bruising kiss before they parted with one final thought, "Don't you want to be there with me, to fight by our side? You are not evil, you deserve to make your own decisions. You don't have to –"

"I can't." Draco turned away from her, his gaze despondent and countenance heavy.

"Please," Hermione was begging him now, but she knew he felt he could not surrender to her because of his intolerant, selfish father. "You don't have to say it. I know what you really want. I want –"

"We can't!" he snapped behind him, unable to cast his eyes upon her for if he did, he would crack. He pulled down his sleeve, refastening the button with haste. "Stop trying to –"

"Don't make the biggest mistake of your life, Draco, please. You've got to know it will be."

"I don't fucking know shit." Draco exited the private bathroom, running as fast as he could to the Great Hall where he entered with a steely mask of indifference and a heart of black ice.

-o-

AN: This was a pretty short chapter but I wanted to get out what I had finished. I hope this story found you well. If you liked it, let me know in a review! Them things are the bee's knees. Anywho, thank you so much for reading and have a great week :0)