A/N: Thanks for the continued support. It's been fun writing! Hope everyone enjoys the next chapter.

It had been a hot day that summer in Italy and the pool looked too inviting. They'd all received their Hogwarts letters and Mrs. Malfoy had organized for Draco and his friends to spend their last days, before starting school, at the Malfoy's holiday home in Sardinia with them. The villa was a large eight-bedroom property with a crystalline swimming pool, enclosed by rich green gardens covered in wildflowers. Pansy remembered how it sat atop a hill overlooking the northern coast, hidden by way of wards and charms, from the local Muggles.

Neither Blaise's mother nor Theo's father had joined them, but her mother, Patricia Parkinson, who had always been close friends with Draco's mother insisted they make it a family trip and dragged her poor father along as well.

Pansy and her family arrived by Portkey just before noon. Their house-elf had arrived the day before with their luggage so that their belongings would already be unpacked and arranged in their rooms.

"Isn't this view just breathtaking?" her mother sighed removing her sunglasses. "We should really look for our own property in Italy."

Reginald Parkinson, whose mind seemed to be constantly distracted by work, merely made a hum of approval.

"Will you then, will you, my darling?"

"Yes," he said quickly. "Yes…but what of our ski chalet in—"

"Reggie, I simply must have the sun! What use does one have of snow—it is cold and wet—don't you want to see me in my summer dress, to see me glow, don't you want me to be happy?" her mother cried hysterically suddenly on the verge of tears.

Her father began to stammer and stutter that he would look for a villa at once, perhaps even grander than this one, somewhere in Greece, more isolated with fewer muggles around and that he would fill it with pink Bougainvillea for her.

"Oh, you do love me, Reggie, you do," she beamed kissing him on the cheek. "Pansy, won't that be lovely?"

Pansy nodded eagerly looking all around her. Everything was pretty.

At that moment Mr. Malfoy walked out and greeted them. He explained that his wife had stepped out with Draco and would be back any minute. The two men began to speak about Ministry affairs and continued to do so as they entered the house. She went to join her mother who was walking around the lush property in a sort of trance.

"Imagine," she said turning to Pansy. "One day this will all be yours."

Pansy looked up at her mother a little uncertain.

"It will?"

"Don't you know?" her mother laughed gleefully. "Silly girl! You and Draco will get married, just as Narcissa and I have planned, and you will be the next Mrs. Malfoy. Oh, how utterly wonderful the wedding will be... and I am so jealous... if only I could go back and relive such a fairytale dream… remembering is so different."

Pansy turned three-sixty, enamored by everything.

She'd love to live a fairytale dream.

On their third day there, the adults apparated to visit a nearby Wizarding town for the day. Blaise had arrived that morning and the three of them were by the pool. Draco stayed sheltered under the shade of the terrace and seemed the least bit interested in getting in with them.

"Come on," she called out to him. "The water's so nice."

"Mother told me to stay in the shade," he said in a snooty, serious voice. "The Italian sun is very harsh Pansy. It'll give you blemishes."

Blaise, who'd been tanning laid out by the edge of the pool suddenly barked out a hearty laugh, exclaiming gleefully, "I bet he doesn't know how to swim!"

Pansy giggled as Draco turned red. He looked a little like a tomato.

"I do too!" he said holding his chin high in the air.

Quietly she admitted, "I never have seen you swim Draco. Get in, it's so much fun!"

"Get in," chorused Blaise. "Get in, get in, get in!"

Draco was flustered.

"I will," he declared suddenly.

Blaise stood up and with his arms folded, waited.

Draco was peering into the water suspiciously. "Just how deep is it exactly?" he frowned.

"It's not that deep here," Pansy replied reassuringly. "This is the shallow end."

Blaise was getting impatient.

"I… I should get permission from father."

"He's stalling," Blaise chuckled to Pansy. "He's scared."

"I'm not scared," he hissed scowling.

Blaise tried gently coaxing Draco toward the pool, urging him along but he panicked and lost his footing, falling with a loud splash into the water. He came up for air, coughing and spluttering as if he were drowning but Pansy could almost touch the bottom with her toes so Draco should've been able to stand.

He struggled toward the edge and lifted himself out. His eyes darted between them both as if they'd just tried to murder him.

"Wait till my father hears about this!" he shouted. Then he ran into the villa.

"Now look what you've done," she scolded, splashing Blaise.

He turned to her with his mouth hung open.

"I barely touched him!" Blaise scoffed shaking his head. "You always take his side."

"You scared him!" she argued as she got out of the pool.

"Well if you ask me, I bet he won't be sorted into Slytherin—"

Pansy gasped.

"He'll be sorted into Hufflepuff."

Wrapping a towel around her she gave Blaise one last reproachful look and went to find Draco.

She went to his room which was next to his parents, the Master bedroom. He was sitting on his bed, a perfect picture of pathetic; soaking wet and pouting.

"Don't be mad Draco," Pansy said with a sad tone. "He didn't mean it."

"I don't like that Zabini, he's an arrogant snob," he muttered.

Pansy bit back a laugh and sat next to him on the bed. "He's actually really fun—"

"He could have killed me!"

Pansy fought the urge to roll her eyes. He exaggerated everything.

"It's okay to be scared sometimes," said Pansy without looking at him. She understood that he was afraid of the water and it was alright because surely everyone was afraid of something.

Draco was quiet.

"When does Theo get here?" she asked feeling awkward.

"Tomorrow morning. Father's arranged for a Portkey…. he wants to run away," Draco said lowering his voice. "He told me he was going to and then asked if I wanted to go with him. Between the two of us—and don't say I said anything—but I don't think he likes it at home, not since his mother… well… you know."

Pansy's eyes stung and she whispered fearfully, "Will you run away together then?"

"No, of course not!"

"Oh, good," she said with a sigh of relief. "Because you're my best friend Draco."

Eyeing her skeptically, he said, "But I thought your best friend is Blaise."

"But I've known you longer," she argued.

He slowly began to nod. "Alright, you're my best friend but don't tell him or Theo. I don't think they'll like it."

"Do you really mean it?" she asked beaming.

"Yes," smiled Draco. Pansy blushed looking away.

"If you ask me," he started to say scornfully. "Blaise is the reckless sort, I bet he'll be tossed into Gryffindor—" Pansy gasped. "—with the Mudbloods and the Blood traitors, but don't worry I'll be in Slytherin with you and Theo will be there too."

"Don't say that! Blaise will be with us, his family has only had generations of Slytherins."

Draco's face fell into a stubborn pout as if to tell her he didn't like that idea at all.

"Want me to teach you how to swim?" she asked trying to distract him.

"No!" he balked. "I'll never hear the end of it from him."

"He won't say anything I promise."

"Alright," he said seeming to have cheered up.

Just then Blaise came running in.

"Come look, come look!" he cried smiling excitedly. "I accidentally froze the pool."

The three shared a look and burst out laughing. Together they ran out to see firsthand the results of undisciplined magic.

The memory faded away and Pansy was back in Potions with Theo and Blaise. After class Professor Snape had asked them to stay back and informed them that Draco was awake now and that he'd only be in the hospital wing another night. They left immediately to visit him.

As soon as they entered, Madam Pomfrey stopped them at the door.

"Mister Malfoy has requested not to have any visitors," she said.

All three of them were speechless.

"Oh, except you Miss Parkinson."

"What?" Blaise snapped. Even Theo looked a little put out.

"No visitors," she repeated curtly. "Except for Miss Parkinson."

She blinked in surprise. They'd barely spoken since that day in the Great Hall when she'd revealed her feelings for Blaise. Pansy looked at the dark beautiful boy standing next to her, asking, without asking, for permission. He wore an irate expression but gave an imperceptible nod.

"Alright," Theo shrugged. "Tell us how he's doing later at lunch."

They left and Madam Pomfrey went back to puttering around with the supply cabinet. She walked across the large room to the curtain surrounding his bed and pulled it aside. Draco seemed to be sleeping on his side but when she sat by him on the bed he stirred.

Turning his face, he saw her and began to sit up a little.

"Hi," she said weakly. "How are you feeling?"

"Better... thanks."

"Snape said you'll be out by tomorrow."

"That's good," replied Draco nodding his head. "Feels like I've been in la-la land the past few days."

Pansy stared at her lap.

"Why didn't you want to see Theo and Blaise?"

Draco shrugged.

"I can't deal with them right now... they'd be asking far too many questions."

"And I won't ask questions?" she challenged.

"Well technically that was a question," he retorted half-smiling.

Pansy glared.

"You really scared us Draco."

His face fell and he glanced away from her.

"You could've died."

"Far worse things than death Pans," he frowned.

She furrowed her brows not understanding.

"You got me in trouble with Blaise you know," she said chastising him.

Draco's forehead creased in concern.

"I did?" he asked and it was his turn to look confused.

"Well, you said no visitors except me."

He bowed his head bashfully.

"I didn't think… didn't mean to stir things with him."

Pansy sighed.

"I'm really sorry," he whispered and it was so low she wasn't sure she'd heard.

"It's fine, he'll get over it—"

"I mean... for everything," he said meeting her eyes. "You're still my best friend, aren't you?"

She took his hand in hers.

After a long pause, she smiled and said, "Don't let the boys know that."

"I won't," he chuckled.

And she knew he was remembering that hot summer in Italy when they'd all gotten too much sun and had eaten too much gelato and life was far, far simpler.

Then she squeezed his hand tightly, thanking the stars that he was alright.

When she was very young, Hermione's family used to have a Sunday morning ritual of walking to the café down their street to eat a full English breakfast. They'd been walking along the pavement on that cold crispy morning, with Hermione skipping excitedly ahead, when suddenly she saw, as if in slow motion, a passing car skid and swerve right into another, in a deafening crash.

Watching Draco Malfoy confess his love for her was a little like watching that again; an accident in slow motion. She'd just stood there allowing it to unfold and it would've been beautiful if he hadn't been choking on the words, so unwilling to say them.

And she cried because deep down she'd known. Known that there was something terribly wrong with the way he looked at her, terribly wrong in the way he touched her and she'd pretended not to see it.

Because it was impossible and she'd told herself so every time she began to wonder. She'd even said it to herself that night at the Three Broomsticks when he had leaned in and whispered her name.

It'd had been close to two weeks since the awful episode in the hospital wing and Hermione had spent almost every night lying in bed barely able to sleep.

She sat up in the dark. Everyone was fast asleep in their beds and there wasn't a sound to be heard in the dormitory or outside. She slid her wand from under her pillow and tiptoed to her trunk. It made a slight creaking noise as she was opening it and had to stop to see if it had woken anyone. The room stayed silent, no one seemed to stir.

Pursing her lips, she opened it the rest of the way to look for the Marauders Map. She'd been daft to take it again knowing full well that Harry could notice it missing from his things at any moment but she just had to check where Draco was from time to time. She lit a low lumos. Tonight, he was in the Slytherin dungeons, presumably fast asleep, the day before yesterday he had disappeared off the map, which meant that after everything, he'd returned to the Room of Requirement. For the life of her, Hermione couldn't understand what he was doing, and everything hurt when she tried to. She put the map away and crawled back into bed.

She had tried to apologize. Her coin was cold to the touch with his silence despite the numerous messages she'd sent him. She'd tried to catch his gaze in class but he was making a diligent effort to ignore her completely. Then one day by pure chance, she'd run into him in the library. Hermione had been looking for a Herbology book and had come across him in one of the aisles. She approached him, unable to let the opportunity pass, but as soon as he saw her, he slid the book he'd been browsing back into the shelf and brushed right past without a word.

She'd thought that giving him time would make him see that she hadn't meant to hurt him but all she'd succeeded in was understanding just how horribly unforgiving Draco Malfoy could be, and it was so much worse because he hadn't returned to his old ways of calling her a Mudblood. There were no dramatics, no insults, she was just… invisible.

Hermione returned the map the next day and vowed to put everything in the past... and she did. For two whole days, she felt like her old self again and it was easy. It was the weekend and she spent it with Ginny, Harry & Ron, immersed in homework and on Sunday they'd played a tournament of exploding snap. Even she and Ron were on good terms again. Everything was coming up roses.

Then Monday morning came and it all went to hell. Ron was being particularly boisterous in D.A.D.A class that day, eliciting a laugh out of everyone at the Gryffindor table, including herself. He seemed to be in good spirits having won yesterdays exploding snap tournament and despite herself, she thought it might have something to do with the fact that they were once again friends. The first time Ron was caught talking, Professor Snape deducted house points. The second time she thought he was going to give Ron detention but instead he did something that shocked everyone.

"Weasley," he sneered. "Switch seats with Malfoy."

Ron paled as he glanced over at the Slytherin table. Draco looked furious. It might as well have been announced in the Daily Prophet—young master Malfoy no longer in Snape's good graces.

"Now," he ordered.

Looking sullen, Ron obediently packed his things and went to sit next to Nott. The Slytherins were all frowning in disapproval at this obvious slight against their friend who had, had nothing to do with Ron's unruliness. Draco reluctantly left to sit between her and Harry. The two friends shared a look between them before Draco pulled the chair out and sat down. With a swish of his black robes, Snape had turned back to the blackboard and proceeded to instruct the class.

Hermione's entire body grew rigid with nervous tension. She caught a whiff of Draco's cologne and had to fight the urge to lean toward him, to press her nose against his robes and breathe in deeply. Her cheeks burned. She wondered if he could smell gardenias.

The last time they'd been this close he'd told her he loved her.

Out of the corner of her eye she watched as he set his parchment and ink on the table. Then her eyes snapped up to Professor Snape who seemed to be in the middle of giving them important information. She'd missed it. Draco was writing, she'd just copy what he wrote. She watched the way he dipped the quill in the ink, and let the excess drip before moving it back to his parchment, how his long fingers moved as he wrote cursive with tight neat loops.

Hermione stared and thought about how they had dug into her thighs, leaving small bruises. She squeezed her legs together. Those fingers had ripped the buttons off her shirt, traced the scar on her chest, all over her breasts, and caressed her legs. Those hands had pulled down her skirt, tugged down her knickers… and then her thoughts came back full circle to the bruises and how they'd gotten there.

His fingers had pressed hard into her skin when he was trying to steady her, when she started to feel the momentum of something, wanted to chase it, to finally grasp it and she thought her body would break by the sheer magnitude of feeling it—

"Miss Granger."

Hermione blinked.

"Professor Snape," she said quickly.

"We're waiting…"

She was flushed and confused and for the first time in days Malfoy wasn't looking through her, he was looking right at her and he was waiting too.

"I… I'm sorry could you please repeat the question?"

Snape frowned, appraising her.

"Who was the first prisoner in Azkaban to be given the Dementor's Kiss?"

Hermione froze. She knew this… it was… it was on the tip of her tongue. She swallowed and caught a glimpse of Harry who was trying to subtly mouth it to her. Harry knew and she didn't know?!

"I don't remember," she said finally and she was so ashamed with herself that she couldn't even look Snape in the eye when she answered.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen," mocked Snape. "That's ten points from Gryffindor for not listening and another ten for trying to give her the answer, Potter."

She heard Harry make a noise of exasperation and blushed crimson as she felt Draco's eyes still on her.

Hermione spent the rest of the day with her head bowed in disgrace.

That night she was so angry with herself that she read and re-read everything about dementors, then she summarized the information and made short notes.

After close to two hours she conceded that it was time to get to bed. It was only when she was twisted in the sheets, later that night did she open her eyes heavy with sleep and think of who had been the cause of her distraction.

Draco Malfoy and her head had been screaming with him.

She allowed herself to imagine he was there, stroking the smooth of her skin, his tongue unrelenting against her and she was squirming, her body hot and she found her fingers caressing her breasts trying to rouse the same feelings. Finally succumbing she let her hand slip beneath her knickers, burying her cheek into the pillow mortified by how wet she was by her reenactment of the way he'd touched her.

And it was awful because no matter what she did, it didn't feel as good, couldn't rouse the same intensity, yet she wanted so desperately to feel it again.

She fell back asleep unsatisfied and woke the next day in a terrible mood.

After having managed to get through the day without screaming bloody murder, she sat down to dinner with everyone in the Great Hall. She couldn't help when her eyes lifted to the Slytherin table to catch a glimpse of him. He wasn't there. She did, however, see Pansy Parkinson, who had seemed to make up quite nicely with Zabini. He was in the process of serving her food on a plate for her. Hermione rolled her eyes. Then suddenly her eyes snapped to the double doors as she saw from the periphery of her vision a shock of blonde hair.

She watched as Draco walked in with Tracey Davis. They were both absorbed in conversation and continued to talk animatedly after having sat down. Then she laughed, her head thrown back at something Draco had said. He smiled back and it was as if her laughter was infectious because soon he was laughing too.

Hermione frowned forking a pumpkin pasty.

Couldn't have been that funny, she thought.

Then she was touching his arm, practically fawning all over him.

Just what did that blonde-haired, long-legged tart think she was doing?

"That's a new development," commented Lavender to Parvati. "Honestly, she has no scruples moving in on him like that. It's so obvious."

Hermione, who had never been interested in any of their gossiping was suddenly listening attentively. Harry who was still obsessed with Draco was immediately curious as well.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Ron winced and she could tell that he had grown weary of the topic.

"Oh," Parvati replied addressing Harry. "Tracey's always had a huge crush on Malfoy. She's a real go-getter."

Smirking Ginny said, "He doesn't seem to mind the attention."

Standing abruptly Hermione excused herself claiming that she still hadn't finished an essay for Herbology. She walked out but not before taking one last long look at Draco.

He was listening to something Tracey was saying and Hermione wondered how easy it was for boys to fall in and out of love, especially when there was someone else.