Hermione had been honest when she'd told him she hadn't meant for it to go that far. Her body was dangerous when it was near his; it felt strange and new, it wouldn't listen to her instruction. She'd known magic, had felt it in her far before her Hogwarts letter had ever arrived, but this was altogether different.

This was better... but addictive.

Maybe they'd been put under a spell, or a potion with the similar effects of Amortentia, except there was something else— a sharp awareness of each other and who they both were. They couldn't escape it, even in lust. It was Draco's fingers moving inside of her, his breath on her neck, his tongue on her nipple and she didn't want it to be anyone else's. She was sure he'd felt it too, made his recognition of her clear by the way he touched her and whispered her name. And they hadn't been able to stop, as if to do so would rip something away from the other.

Staring at herself in the mirror, she ran a hand down her side, studying the curve of her waist, tracing the soft mounds of her breasts. She was surprised that she'd only noticed these changes when he'd started to touch her, bringing attention to every detail.

The weekend had gone by without hearing from him. She was reluctant to be the first one to message, not after practically throwing herself at him.

God, if anyone knew. She couldn't help the burning shame she felt. It was bad enough to have done those things with any boy but to have done it with Draco Malfoy, of all wizards... this was so much worse than the first time because she'd encouraged it, asked for it without knowing what she was asking for.

Monday came and she was dreading the week. They saw each other in class and it was strange to pretend nothing existed between them. And it infuriated her to no end when, at lunch, Tracey Davis sat opposite him and they were chatting happily as if her outburst last Friday at dinner had never happened. There was something ugly gurgling at the pit of Hermione's stomach watching and waiting with clenched fists for the Slytherin girl to touch him, almost daring her to.

But they just sat there speaking.

"Earth to Hermione," said Harry.

Her eyes snapped to his.

"What?"

"You were daydreaming again. You've been doing it a lot lately."

"Have I?" she asked innocently. "Sorry."

Ron joked that her mind was probably on something like the horological properties of a time-turner or something equally brilliant. Hermione was about to chastise him when she realized it had been blatant flattery. She gave him a half-smile a little surprised that he knew anything about horology let alone the Muggle word. Then again she'd always known Ron was smart despite acting daft most of the time. That's why she'd felt the need to avoid his gaze these days. Because she thought he'd be able to sense it before Harry did. Because maybe when you did those kinds of things with another person, it left a mark on you that other people could see.

Maybe she had Draco Malfoy written all over her.

Without meaning to she found herself sneaking glances of him throughout the day, praying she was being as discreet as she believed herself to be. It was in Transfiguration class that he'd caught her. She peered up at him beneath her lashes and met his eyes; he'd been waiting for her to look at him.

He smiled. Not a smirk, not a sneer—a roguish smile. She blushed, biting her lip from smiling back. He looked down at his parchment, still smiling. She waited and sure enough he raised his eyes again. His smile was turning into a grin. He looked to McGonagall, his expression suddenly serious. And then she remembered where she was— in Transfiguration class surrounded by her friends. Hermione fought the impulse to go to him, to sit close enough so she could breathe his cologne in. She felt pressed to ask why he hadn't messaged her. Didn't he miss her? What did he do on the weekend? Did Tracey still think there was something between them? Was it necessary for him to speak to the opposite gender? Could they go somewhere to kiss?

The coin warmed on her skin.

She almost jumped and it was a miracle she hadn't squealed in excitement.

He wanted to meet her tomorrow night.

Without a moment's hesitation, she replied. Okay.

Leaving class her mood fell. A crushing disappointment weighed her. She was worse than bloody Brown. Running after Draco Malfoy as soon as he yelled fetch. She squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to be a clingy, whiny needy girlfriend like Lavender was with Ron.

Girlfriend.

The word felt heavy.

She'd never been anyone's girlfriend before. Was that what she even was? What were they exactly?

Hermione internally groaned chewing on her lip. No, this just wouldn't do. She couldn't lose herself. All she needed was a plan, a systematic way to ensure her sanity.

That evening she retired to the library and devised it.

The wind swept across the Quidditch grounds and sent a shiver down Draco's back. It felt like years since he'd stepped onto it with his broom. Urquhart, was all too happy to hear that Draco was going to take up his position of Seeker again. The Slytherin Captain had been understandably miffed with him, but when it came down to it, there wasn't anyone to replace him. The team had lost badly to the Gryffindor's and if they had any chance of winning the Quidditch Cup they'd have to beat Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw by a landslide.

The drills were physically exerting and he felt like smacking himself for allowing his training to slip. He made a resolute decision to begin the routine he had practiced during summer every day either in the early morning or evening. This could very well be the last year he spent at Hogwarts, or his last year period. He'd make every moment count.

Urquhart was rounding up the team at the end of practice to give them what he called his notes. They were doled out like what Draco's mother used to refer to his father's advice— acid pops. Harsh criticism peppered with sweet encouragement and compliments. From what Draco had seen though, other than for his own poor physical form, the team was looking strong. Even Vaisey seemed to have recovered well from his injury and was ironically outdoing himself. It said a lot about a person when you got a bludger to the head and seemed to come out of it for the better.

"Draco."

It was his turn and he braced himself for an onslaught of negative feedback.

"Stay on the field and run a couple more drills. It's good to have you back."

Relieved that he wouldn't be reprimanded, he nodded in agreement knowing that he most definitely needed the extra practice. More than feeling guilty for having let his team down, there was the underlying disappointment he had in himself. Potter was captain of the Gryffindor team and he'd yet to beat the tosser to the snitch. After an additional thirty minutes of extra flying time, Draco placed his feet on the uncut grass. He was in the midst of removing his arm guards when he saw the Gryffindor team walking up to the pitch.

Brilliant.

Potter was at the head glaring, Weasley striding beside him.

The two sped up marching toward him, the rest of the team dawdling behind.

"The pitch is reserved for the Gryffindor team," said Potter in a right tizzy. Ginny Weasley was suddenly behind them, a little breathless from having run over.

"What's going on?" she asked.

Weasley nodded toward him as if Draco's mere presence answered everything. He noticed how she stepped closer to Potter with a steely glare. He caught the doe-eyed look he gave her and wondered how Weasley didn't see it.

He'd never felt so dumb. What had ever made him think that Potter was after Hermione?

"I'm leaving," he said in a curt tone.

He began to walk past them looking straight ahead when Potter called out to him. "Thought you were ill Malfoy."

And he didn't know why he peered back over his shoulder and bothered to answer. "Feeling much better now."

The wind was beginning to howl and the day suddenly felt strange.

His hatred of Potter had always felt natural but he no longer had the urge to pick a fight with him. It had become clear over the last months that his father's imprisonment had begun the moment he took the Dark Mark, many, many years ago and for the first time he understood how truly shite it must be to be 'famous Harry Potter'. After all, Draco had only recently gotten a taste of what it was like to have the Dark Lord ruin him and his family while he'd been ruining Potter's since his birth.

Much later Draco found himself in the library. Sick of looking like an idiot, he was determined not to receive another detention. By the time he finished, it was late and all he wanted to do was get to the dungeons and collapse on his bed.

The common room was empty when he entered, all except for Tracey and a few fourth years. It was obvious she'd been waiting for him and he was unwilling to engage with her. He was in no mood to be shouted at again. Normally he'd never stand for such unseemly behavior but he'd felt so guilty for leading her on. Part of him, hadn't meant to, had truly believed that he was doing the right thing and then there was the other part that subconsciously knew it was all a charade; an act, for Theo, for Hermione and for himself.

Reluctantly he approached her, they were in the same house and it was unavoidable.

She stood slowly.

"Look, I'm really sorry," she said first. "I don't react well when I don't get what I want… the only disadvantage of being a spoilt brat."

He couldn't help but snigger.

She stepped into him and he was instantly aware of how close she was.

Draco cleared his throat.

"Are you sure this isn't what you want?" she asked softly.

He stepped back.

It had nothing to do with what he wanted. Everything now was a matter of necessity.

She was necessary.

Getting rid of the Dark Lord was necessary.

Protecting his mother was necessary.

"Tracey—"

"Don't. I already know what you're going to say." She smiled sadly at him. "I'm just too fabulous for you."

He put his hands in his pockets and looked sheepishly at his feet.

She left.

His father's words echoed in his memory.

Sometimes Draco, you have to be cruel to be kind.

He'd woken the next morning and desperately wanted to see Hermione. He'd returned to the dungeons after his early morning training and showered. The opportunity to be alone never presented itself and he thought longingly to the coin sitting in his trunk. Then when he thought he might finally be able to get a moment to himself Blaise had been adamant that they sneak off to Hogsmeade to help him pick out a gift for Pansy.

When Theo had asked what the occasion was Blaise had merely shrugged.

"Because I feel like it," he'd said.

Draco hadn't laughed because he'd done much stupider things; like giving a girl an expensive love bracelet and then asking for it back. The irony wasn't lost on him. There he was, helping one of his good friends choose something for his ex-girlfriend while he was secretly dying to see Hermione Granger, his sworn Mudblood enemy.

His life was all kinds of fucked.

But it was okay because he'd get to see her tomorrow in class.

Eventually, Blaise settled on buying Pansy earrings. They were suspiciously expensive to be a gift one just bought on a whim, but Draco agreed all the same that she'd love them. Nott agreed too.

The next day was not the sweet relief he thought it'd be. It was torture. There she was, close and untouchable. He wasn't even able to look at her for too long without worrying that someone would notice his wandering gaze.

Then at lunch, Tracey had sat opposite him and he was relieved to find that she wasn't upset over things. There was a part of him that believed that what had really irritated her was the thought that he was still hung up over Pansy. The two were friends but Draco had always observed the competitive edge that nurtured their friendship. He was in the middle of telling her about the topic he'd chosen for his Herbology report when he felt the strange sensation of being watched. He took a quick glimpse over at the Gryffindor table and saw Hermione glaring daggers at Tracey's back.

Draco swallowed nervously, wondering if he should've made it clear to her that he wasn't seeing Tracey anymore. He excused himself and left the Great Hall.

He went to get the coin.

During Transfiguration he caught her staring at him. His hands moved to the coin and he wrote her a message under the desk while the class's attention was on Professor McGonagall.

He wanted to see her tonight but knew she had Prefect duties.

Tomorrow ROR 2100

A reply appeared instantly and he already felt a little lighter.

He had to physically stop himself from smiling.

Merlin, he was worse than Zabini.

Later that evening he went a little overboard with Theo and Blaise. Maybe it had to do with the fact that things were going well for everyone.

Theo and he were back on solid ground. Instead of apologizing to each other though, they'd gone on as if the incident had never happened.

By nine o'clock, the three founding members of the Chess club were fairly sloshed and by ten, Theo had fallen asleep across the large sofa, his mouth slightly parted revealing his inebriation.

Zabini and he were miraculously still conscious on the other side of the common room sitting in armchairs by the fire. Perhaps it had less to do with miracles and more to do with the fact that Theo had lost badly to a tournament of Black Witch, where the loser had to drink each time he lost a round.

"How's your father?" asked Blaise.

Draco gave him a listless shrug. "As well as can be expected."

"Do you write him at all?"

He shook his head. He hadn't spoken to his father since the last time he'd visited him in Azkaban at his mother's insistence.

Blaise was smiling into his glass.

"What?" snapped Draco.

"When you hold a grudge, you really hold a grudge," he slurred.

The languid tranquil feeling that had set in Draco's bones immediately vanished and he was instantly on guard. Too often he forgot how sly Zabini could be.

"Don't know what you're on about," he mumbled.

"You're still pissed at him for putting your precious little princess in danger."

Draco opened his mouth to deny everything but was overcome with a wave of exhaustion. How many times had he denied his feelings for her, to others and to himself? Couldn't he just once acknowledge that they were there?

"Father didn't do anything," he said softly. "Dolohov hurt Granger."

Blaise's eyebrows jerked up, clearly surprised by his admission. He looked down into his drink as if it would make sense of things.

"But that's not the way you see it," he said after a while.

Draco glanced at Theo, who was still unconscious on the couch, worried that he would suddenly rouse and want to put his two cents in. But the bloke was out cold.

"I won't lie," said Blaise scratching his jaw looking thoughtful. "When you were bragging on the train ride to Hogwarts, telling everyone about your service to the Dark Lord, well I thought, what a bloody hypocrite."

Draco drained the glass of firewhiskey. He didn't want to talk about this, he knew all of this already, and he didn't need the great Blaise Zabini to tell him anything.

"Thought I'd give you a bit of grief, that's why I made the blood-traitor comment, I mean... course I think Weasley's hot, she's like a ten—don't tell Pansy I said that—but yeah, just wanted to rub it in your face a little. Guess it was a bit of a low blow but your head was on Pansy's lap at the time, so…"

Then he waved it off and began to pour himself another glass as if the conversation was taking a toll on him rather than on Draco.

"You're not. You're not a blood traitor—well no, you are— but I don't really care. I don't think less of you for it. Do whatever you like. I certainly do."

Only then did it dawn on Draco that this entire evening had been an elaborate plan.

"Merlin Zabini, is this why you suggested a drinking game, to get me good and drunk just so you could bring up Granger?"

"No... well, yes, only a little... Theo has no tact for these sort of things."

"You're a first-class prick."

"No need to get all shirty. After all, I am your best friend. If you can't talk to me then—"

"Theo's my best friend."

"Dragonshit! Theo's a prat. Remember when he tried to get you to eat those Doxy eggs?"

Draco hiccuped.

"That was you."

Blaise frowned in thought. "Oh yeah." Then it turned into a lopsided smile and he sniggered, "You almost did it too you wanker!" They looked at each other and burst out laughing as Draco remembered how close he'd been to putting those disgusting things in his mouth.

While he was catching his breath Blaise said in a quiet tone, "Seriously though, I think you should write to him. He's your father."

Draco sighed. Blaise wasn't allowing him to run away from this.

"And say what?" he whispered, almost to himself. "I don't have anything to tell him, at least nothing he'd want to hear."

There was an awkward pause.

"How do you know?" Draco suddenly asked unable to hold his tongue. "About her."

"I was at the Quidditch World Cup too Draco," he said furrowing his eyebrows. "I saw you trailing her during the Death Eater riot."

Draco heard a humorless laugh leave him. "Brightest witch of her age, you'd think she'd have enough sense to realize she was in danger… stupid fucking girl."

Another awkward pause followed.

"I don't know what's wrong with me."

"No, I get it," said Blaise. "Granger's gorgeous… she's got these…" His words died on his lips as Draco's eyes narrowed into threatening slits.

He leaned forward and tilted his head. "She's got what Zabini?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. "I'm sloshed, dunno what I'm saying."

Draco clenched his jaw.

"So," he drawled after a minute trying to cut the tension. "You and the Weasley girl…"

Blaise picked up a cushion and threw it at Draco, making him spill his drink everywhere. He laughed and continued to taunt his friend about his secret affair during fifth year with the redhead. The dark skinned boy cracked a smile when Draco inadvertently complimented her ability to cast a good Bat-bogey hex and then it was Zabini's turn to laugh.

"Want to know something?" said Blaise scanning the room.

He nodded greedily in return.

"Cast a Mulfitto, a Mufflato, fuck, cast a silencing charm."

Draco frowned but did as he was told.

Blaise took a deep breath. "When you were in the hospital wing, I thought Pansy was still hung-up on you… I was real cut up and I did something bad… I kissed Gin."

Draco's mouth fell open. "You didn't." He watched as his friend drained his sixth glass of firewhiskey and it dawned on him why he'd gone out and bought her those earrings.

"How could you do that to Pansy?" Draco asked angrily.

Suddenly Blaise's expression turned. "Fuck you Malfoy," he spat pointing a finger at him. "Between the two of us who's hurt her the most?"

"I never cheated," he retorted.

"You did," said Blaise starting to count with his fingers. "Every time you looked at Granger across the Great Hall, every time you picked a fight with Potter, every time you insulted Weasley, the Yule Ball— and let's not forget the shit you've done to Granger herself. She'll never let you have her—"

"FINE!" he said bounding from the armchair. "Since we're on the subject of who's more of an arse, let's talk about what happened at Daphne's fifteenth birthday party."

Draco watched triumphantly as Blaise's face fell. He couldn't believe how riled up he was. It was probably because he'd kept it bottled away for so long. When he'd seen them, he'd not been as hurt as he thought he'd be, so he'd just let it go without confronting them— till that night after the Yule Ball when Pansy was giving him grief about being jealous of Krum. He'd threatened her; he'd told her if she brought up Hermione one more time, he'd leave her for snogging one of his closest friends and tell everyone what a cheating slag she was. It shut her right up and seemed to be having the same effect on Blaise. He was as quiet as a door mouse.

"Didn't think I knew about that, did you?"

"No, I didn't," he mumbled. "I'm sorry. I felt awful 'bout it afterward."

Draco huffed. "Bet you fucking did."

"Who told you—was it Nott?"

"Saw it with my own eyes," he said. "Theo doesn't know a thing."

Blaise looked dazed. "Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.

Because I didn't care enough to…

"Dunno," he lied, suddenly feeling deflated.

"Mate—"

"Look, it's in the past, it doesn't matter. Let's call it a night, get Theo to bed."

Blaise nodded in agreement. His body swaying as he stood.

They levitated their unconscious friend to his bed. Poor fellow would need it for his impending hangover. Draco realized he wasn't going to fair better either because as soon as he lied down he felt the world spin before falling into a deep comatose state.

Draco opened his eyes. His mouth was dry and he felt like a bunch of centaurs had trampled his head. Yesterday was a little blurry but despite his best efforts, he could still remember bits and pieces of the conversation he'd had with Blaise. He'd said too much, far too much. He'd have to oblivate him… unless… Blaise had drunk a lot too, much more than Draco. Maybe the alcohol had done his job for him. Entering the common room his hung-over friend was already there, sitting down hunched over while Pansy was gently rubbing his back.

He let out a miserable groan.

"Honestly Draco!" admonished Pansy. "You shouldn't have let him drink that much. No more firewhiskey for you boys." He was taken aback. Well, this was new, Pansy had never told him off for their antics before. Zabini let out a small whimper and buried his head in her lap. She cooed and fussed over him, asking if he wanted more anti-nausea potion. Blaise grumbled something incoherent.

"Where's Theo?" she asked ignoring him. "We'll be late if we don't leave soon."

Draco explained how he'd tried getting Nott out of bed but had been threatened with bodily violence repeatedly. It was safer to leave him where he was.

Pansy tutted. "Serves you three right."

Blaise turned his head a little and pouted at her. "I feel like I've been Avada-ed."

She made a sickly sweet sound of affection and placed a kiss on his forehead. If Draco didn't leave he'd most definitely throw up.

The day went by at an agonizingly slow pace. He waited with patience he never knew he had for the clock to strike nine. He was surprised to find a message on his coin from Hermione letting him know she was already in the room, waiting. Moments later he was standing in front of the door to the room—apparently their room.

"How did you get in here?" he asked as the door shut behind him.

She shrugged casually. "I thought of you and it appeared to me."

Draco supposed that made sense.

Then he realized they were finally alone together. He wasn't sure how to act.

He watched as she fidgeted; her nervousness was infectious.

Hermione cleared her throat. "How was your weekend?"

"Good... I wanted to see you but I had so much homework to do and it was hard to shake off Nott and Zabini. Plus I told Urquhart I wanted to play the Quidditch games against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw so I started training again. It's been exhausting."

She looked surprised. "And he just took you back?" she asked.

He nodded. "It's either me or Harper and frankly I'm better on a broom."

Hermione gave him a small smile. "I'm glad you're back on the team."

"Listen," he started awkwardly. 'This thing with Tracey... we're just friends."

She crossed her arms defensively. "I didn't say you weren't."

"I saw you at lunch," he sighed running a hand through his hair. "Nothing ever happened between us."

Quietly she murmured, "that's not what it looked like at the Three Broomsticks."

He glanced away from her accusing eyes.

"I was considering it at one point but—"

"It doesn't matter," she interrupted taking out two sheets of parchment from her pocket and beginning to unfold them.

"What is this?" he asked as she handed them to him. His eyes were tired and he skimmed everything.

Rules & Regulations

Feeling the bile rising up his throat he repeated the question. "What is this?"

"Rules… and I've made a schedule," she added. "I mean, I can write in your Quidditch practice times and… I just thought, considering how crazy things have been, we could... take things slow."

Draco blinked, re-reading everything. He didn't have the patience to deal with this today; his head was still pounding from last night. Part of him wanted to tear it to pieces in front of her but it would be pointless to argue it out now. Pursing his lips he took what was essentially a timetable of when and where they could meet every week and looked it over. She'd cross-referenced each other's classes, study periods and Prefect duties to see which available times overlapped.

"So?" asked Hermione in a small voice. "What do you think?"

She was wringing her hands and he realized with incredulity that she was actually waiting for his approval.

"It's very thorough," he said tightly. "You've color-coded it and everything... impressive."

Draco bit the inside of his cheek. What this really was all about was setting boundaries; restricting when he could see her, what they could do, how much they spoke each week. She had outlined, in meticulous detail, the rules and regulations of their relationship, or if rule four was anything to go by, their open relationship.

Either party can enter into relations with other persons without pre-approved consent from the other.

No. She really fucking couldn't enter into anything with anyone. Bloody Muggle-born witch. He'd kill her.

She was staring at him chewing her lip waiting for him to say more but he was speechless. He could only imagine that she still harbored feelings for Weasley and wanted an out if the opportunity ever presented itself.

Taking the parchment from his hand she looked it over.

"We can meet once a week," she surmised. "If time permits."

He hummed, as if in approval, but inside he was seething. No, this wouldn't work for him at all… and yet he knew Hermione well enough to know that he couldn't come right out and say it. He couldn't possibly tell her that she didn't belong to herself anymore, that she now belonged to him. She wouldn't have that.

Zabini's words from last night floated up from some drunken ether.

She'll never let you have her.

His stomached twisted.

There was the estate in Valencia. His mother was the only other living person who knew of its existence. She'd bought it with her own money and Draco had never questioned why she'd kept it a secret from his father but he was beginning to understand. Like father, she too, had contingency plans.

If he took Hermione, no one would think to look for them there, except his mother of course. Although if he disappeared his mother would be punished so he'd have to take her too—and that sounded awful. He'd just have two furious women on his hands, his father none-the-wiser in Azkaban and dementors hunting him down.

Couldn't he just keep her, here, in this room? He'd give her things, books, that muggle TV thing. It'd just be for a little while. Until it was safe... until she understood how things would be. If anything, she should've known better than to come to him, in the night, alone. It was her fault. She was cruel really, offering herself one day, forbidding it the next. He really ought to teach her a lesson...

If he could just get to her wand—

"Draco."

His eyes snapped to hers.

"Are you alright?" she asked, placing her hand on his arm.

"Fine."

She frowned. "What are you thinking?"

Don't lie… don't lie.

He covered her small hand with his. They would be so easy to bind.

"Just thinking about contingency plans," he admitted.

She smiled shyly. "I already have that covered. If for some reason we can't see each other on Tuesday night, we can meet on Thursday instead."

"Brilliant… that's just brilliant."

Hermione was frowning again, her eyes on the schedule. She almost seemed sad and he was worried that she'd picked up on his sarcasm. And sarcasm wasn't a lie, was it? Misleading perhaps, but surely not a lie.

"Is something wrong?"

"No," she said quickly. "It's… it's a good plan."

He hummed again.

When the time was right, he'd clarify the way things would be with them.

Until then he'd play along.