Draco was still asleep, only just leaving a dream. He felt exposed. He'd lost something but couldn't remember what it was, only that it should be near him. With his eyes still closed, his body rolled over as his hand reached, searching the sheets for it. He sighed, glad to have found it. He loved it, all of it, the softness, the scent, the folds, and mounds of it. Even in his semi-conscious state, Draco recognized the warm body lying next to him as solely his. At some point in his deep sleep, he'd rolled away and he didn't like that. He nestled himself close, his nose buried in thick hair.

Draco inhaled deeply, the mild scent of gardenia.

Hermione.

His hand slid over her hips and rested on the soft flesh of her stomach.

He could hear their breathing.

She stirred a little; her back pressing against his.

They were perfect like this.

He stroked her sleeping form gently.

She was perfect.

Draco brought his lips to her neck to feel her pulse against them.

She sighed, a hum of contentment.

Even the sounds she made were perfect.

Then he remembered a list.

Vaguely recalled someone telling him that she'd never let him have her.

It made him want to ruin all that perfection; to ruin her till she was a limp body no other boy wanted.

Because this was his. All his.

He'd tear her open, wrench all her cries from her so that there'd be none left for the wizard after him.

There was too much of her and so little of him.

Surviving meant devouring her.

Draco's lips brushed the skin of her neck, gentle and light, preferring not to wake her.

She'd be angry at him, wouldn't allow it.

His open palm moved slowly under his jumper and she squirmed against him as his fingers grazed the underside of her breasts.

All of a sudden, a chill ran down his spine.

There were voices.

Noises coming from outside.

Draco jolted, sitting up, his eyes flying open.

It was dark and he stumbled to find his wand and cast a lumos.

He listened intently once again.

"Fuck!" he cursed, under his breath and lit the room.

Hermione was still fast asleep and he shook her.

"Wake up," he whispered.

She murmured something intelligible.

"Wake up!"

Her eyes fluttered open.

"Mm," she groaned rubbing her leg up and down his. "Let's sleep a little longer."

"We overslept! Everyone is up and we have Snape first period, so get your fucking arse up!"

Hermione jumped out of bed so fast she swayed a little, still dizzy with sleep. "Oh my God!" she cried.

Draco watched her stumble as she tried pulling on her pajamas.

He rolled his eyes getting out of bed slowly. Taking out his wand he transfigured her clothes.

"Didn't you set an alarm?" she scolded.

"I thought you would," he retorted. "I could barely keep my eyes open last night."

"God, Draco, what do we do?" she began in a panic. "Gin's probably realized I'm missing and asked Harry and Ron, what will I say, what will they think, oh God, I'll be branded the slag of Hogwarts—"

He grabbed her face with both hands and pressed a bruising kiss to her lips.

She sighed against his mouth as he released her.

"Just breathe, alright?"

Hermione nodded mutely in a daze.

"We have to wait till the very last minute while everyone is in the Great Hall for breakfast to leave. Go get your books and things from your dormitory and then go straight to class. If anyone asks, you got up early and went to the library to finish—I don't know—an essay or something. Don't hesitate or fidget when you lie, just sound casual. And for the love of Merlin, whatever you do, don't lick your lips."

She looked into his eyes and he could tell she was struggling to say something.

"Can't I say… can't I just tell the truth?"

He recoiled from her as if she'd slapped him. "Are you insane!"

Hermione's face twisted as if in pain. "I hate lying, Draco, and really, I've given it some thought. Eventually, it'll blow over and—"

"No!" he spat transfiguring robes for himself. "Just suck it up. I thought I'd made it clear to you that no one can know."

He caught a glimpse of her while changing and saw how his words had hurt her.

"I'm sorry," he sighed. "I… I shouldn't have snapped…"

She stood with slumped shoulders, staring at the floor, defeated. In a barely audible tone, she said, "I don't want to hide you."

Draco paused. When Hermione had agreed to keep it a secret, he'd just assumed she was happy because it meant she wouldn't have to tell her friends about them, but here she was, claiming that she wanted them to know, wanted everyone to know.

Sensing which direction her thoughts were taking her, he cupped her cheeks, gently coaxing her to look at him.

"We can't be together out there," he explained slowly. "It's not in the cards for us… because of who we both are... but believe me… every moment I'm not with you, I am waiting to be with you... I'm just... I'm waiting."

In one swift move, Hermione reached up and kissed him; an urgent desperate kiss.

He broke away a few moments later. The halls were quiet now and she had to go.

"Tell me what you'll say," he demanded. "Lie to me."

Without blinking, she answered in an even tone, "Oh, I was in the library. I realized late last night that I'd made a mistake on my Arithmancy homework so I got up early to fix it."

"Good," he swallowed, moving a strand of hair out of her face. "Good girl."

"What will you say?" she asked softly.

He gave her a small smile. "Don't worry about me." He could easily say he'd woken early to practice Quidditch. He did on most days so it wasn't a far-fetched lie.

Draco opened the door and peeped through. The corridor was empty so he led her through quickly.

Watching as she walked to the Tower he regretted instantly how he'd coached her. Casting a disillusionment charm on himself he vowed never to teach her anything again. He didn't want her to be anything like him.

The door to the Owlery was open as Draco made his way up the winding stairs. He paused making sure to soften his steps as he approached. There was no reason to be discreet but he rather liked the idea of creeping up on people and it came naturally to him to do so. Peering through the gap he was surprised to see Theo. He'd rarely ever known him to send or receive letters. His father was in Azkaban and Draco couldn't think of anyone else he'd be writing to so he figured it had to be a letter wooing some poor unsuspecting witch.

Smirking Draco asked, "Sending Lovegood another love letter, are you?"

Theo startled, a look of irritation passing over his face as he turned back around and sent the owl off quickly without saying a word.

His friend had been in a grumpy mood since yesterday and for a moment Draco wondered if he was still angry about what had transpired between them after he'd been released from the hospital wing. But he wasn't going to apologize to Theo, not after the tosser had provoked him. As far as he was concerned, they were both at fault and he'd just have to get over it.

"Or is it the Italian girl?" asked Draco trying to lighten the mood. "Whatever happened to her?"

Theo scoffed. "Sofia?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "That ended as soon as I left Italy mate."

Draco shook his head. His friends were truly unbelievable. He attached the letter he'd written to his mother and watched as his owl took off into the horizon.

"So things with you and Tracey…?"

Draco shrugged, his back to him. "Guess it just didn't take."

He turned to face Theo who was staring at him with an inscrutable expression.

They both started making their way down and Draco couldn't help feeling like there was something Theo desperately wanted to say— or worse, ask. He figured it might also have something to do with his relationship with Lovegood. Theo had never spoken about it, with either him nor Blaise but he'd seen them together around the castle and he knew the bloke well enough to know that he wouldn't waste his time spending it with a girl he wasn't interested in. Yet for some reason, he didn't once bring up Luna. Other than the fact that the girl was seriously barmy, he didn't see why Theo would be so cagey about it. Wasn't as if she was, for example, a Muggle-born. And she was barmy but in Ravenclaw, that sort of balanced things out. So what the bloody hell was his deal?

"How's our team looking? I'm glad Urquhart took you back. We might have a winning chance."

"Yeah, winning seems like a bit of a stretch but doesn't mean we won't try. We're playing better than ever actually," said Draco. "We have practice this evening and—oh fuck—I better run if I want to make it on time."

With that he left Theo and headed back to the dormitory to change into his Quidditch gear. When he was alone, his thoughts returned to his witch and he smiled. Thanks to her idiotic rules, he wouldn't be able to see her till next Tuesday, or Merlin forbid Thursday if by some fortuitous hell something came up. He hated being patient, it wasn't something he'd ever practiced, but he did have things he needed to do. Quidditch practice, a potions essay, patrol tomorrow, plotting the Dark Lord's demise, oh and Apparition class this Saturday— honestly he was really up to his neck and she'd just distract him anyway.

Running some water through his hair and over his face he got ready and made his way to the pitch.

The school week finished on a good note. Draco already felt his flying had improved. He'd been eating properly and exercising again, sticking to the routine he'd laid out. The downside was that he'd been too busy exerting all his energy on Quidditch and his classes to find out anything more about Tom Riddle. Snape had raised a suspicious eyebrow at him as he handed Draco his marked essay.

"Welcome back," he'd said dryly. "You are once again meeting the rigorous standards of academia."

Draco had to physically bite his tongue to hold back the vile spew that threatened to spill from his mouth. Finally having felt like he had found a firm footing with his classes and Quidditch he decided to spend the night in the Room of Requirement ravenously consuming anything he could get his hands on that would give him more information about the Dark Lord. It was surprising the things he'd been able to dig up by knowing what to search for, or more precisely whom to search for.

Tom Riddle.

It was a name he'd never heard of but he surmised quickly that if the Dark Lord had opened the Chamber of Secrets all those many years ago that meant he was heir to Salazar Slytherin.

It didn't take him long to uncover certain facts. Others, of course, were harder to come by.

One fact specifically that threw Draco off-kilter was the truth of the Dark Lord's blood status. The lying hypocritical snake was a Half-blood. All this time he'd spouted off about blood purity and he himself wasn't Pure! Anger radiated off Draco in waves but he embraced it happily. It only spurred him on to stay up later, to search for more and he did so till he could no longer keep his eyes open.

He woke a few hours later, his head on one of the books from the family library. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he went straight to the dungeons. It was still early and no one else would be up just yet. He contemplated squeezing in some morning exercise when he suddenly realized that Apparition class was this morning. Changing quietly into his flying gear while the others slept he left to the grounds in the cold morning air. By the time he was done he knew he was running late. He raced back to the dungeons and found that almost everyone had already left. Groaning he turned the shower cold to wake himself up noticing how the hot water was lulling him back to sleep.

Draco arrived just as the large doors to the Great Hall swung open to allow everyone in. The crowd shuffled through the entrance. Just as he'd got inside he heard a familiar voice.

"Pst!"

He turned around to find Crabbe.

"Where were you?" asked Goyle who was standing next to him.

Shrugging casually Draco replied, "Quidditch training."

Just then Wilkie Twycross, the apparition instructor, a ministry fellow that Draco recognized from one of his visits there with his father, began to speak.

"What's going on with that other thing? Don't you need us for... you know... we can still help."

"For the last time, no," snapped Draco. The two lugs had been following him around irritating him the last few days about wanting to help.

"I would like each of you to place yourselves now so that you have a clear five feet of space in front of you," ordered Twycross.

There was a great scrambling and jostling as people separated, banging into each other. The Heads of House moved among the students, organizing them into positions and putting a stop to petty arguments. This school really was a bloody joke.

"Pst!"

Merlin, give me strength.

Crabbe was about to open his big stupid mouth and Draco just knew he was going to ask what he was doing, for what felt like the hundredth time.

"Look, it's none of your business. I don't need you two to keep a lookout anymore, now stop pestering me about it—"

"I tell my friends what I'm up to if I want them to keep a lookout for me," a voice said from behind him.

Draco snapped his head around so fast he thought he felt his neck crick. His hand instinctively went to his wand but at that precise moment the four Heads of House barked, "Quiet!"

Malfoy turned slowly to face the front. Potter… it was always Potter. Draco hadn't even noticed boy wonder standing right behind him. Between Crabbe's incessant prying and Potter's spying, he'd burst a blood vessel.

"Thank you," said Twycross. "Now then…"

He waved his wand. Old-fashioned wooden hoops instantly appeared on the floor in front of Draco. He gave himself a mental shake. He really hadn't been looking forward to these lessons but Apparition was important to learn so he put everything on his mind aside to concentrate on the task in front of him, or more specifically the wooden hoop.

"The important things to remember when Apparating are the three D's!" said Twycross. "Destination, Determination, Deliberation!"

Draco wanted to roll his eyes at whoever had come up with that little ditty.

"Step one: fix your mind firmly upon the desired destination," said Twycross. "In this case, the interior of your hoop. Kindly concentrate upon that destination now."

He stared in deep concentration at the space within his hoop. Destination.

"Step two," said Twycross, "focus your determination to occupy the visualized space! Let your yearning to enter it flood from your mind to every particle of your body! Step three… only when I give the command… turn on the spot, feeling your way into nothingness, moving with deliberation. On my command, now… one—two—"

Draco closed his eyes imagining the hoop; repeating the three D's.

"— THREE!"

He spun on the spot, swaying a little off-balance, but nothing had happened. He was not the only one. Everyone else was staggering and falling; Longbottom, he noted with amusement was flat on his back; he looked over to the far side of the hall to see if Hermione had succeeded. He smirked as he saw her face scrunched in frustration at having failed.

"Never mind, never mind," said Twycross dryly, who did not seem to have expected anything better. "Adjust your hoops, please, and back to your original positions…"

The next attempts went just as badly. On their fourth try, there was a horrible screech of pain and Draco looked around, horrified, to see Susan something, wobbling in her hoop with her left leg still standing five feet away from where she'd started.

The Heads of House all ran to her. He couldn't see what they were doing; there was a great bang and a puff of purple smoke, which cleared to reveal her limb attached back to her body but she was sobbing, obviously mortified at the ordeal. Draco grimaced, feeling a lot less reluctant to try Apparating again.

"Splinching, or the separation of random body parts," said Twycross dispassionately, "occurs when the mind is insufficiently determined. You must concentrate continually upon your destination, and move, without haste…"

There was something about Twycross' words. That had been Draco's problem; he was 'insufficiently determined.' He didn't actually want to apparate. He really wanted to avoid the entire thing and it was perfectly reasonable considering what had happened the last time he'd done so. Albeit, he'd practically been a toddler, it still wasn't reassuring. He tried clearing his mind. Destination. Determination. Deliberation. Destination, determination, deliberation. He kept repeating these words to himself and was about to turn when—

OOF!

Something had collided into him knocking him back onto the floor.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. Goyle, the clumsy oaf—

He heard a gasp. Opening his eyes, he found Hermione beside him struggling to stand up. she swayed, folding over as if she'd been winded, and Potter rushed to her side to steady her.

"Hermione," said Potter. "Are you okay?"

Draco blinked in confusion. His head was throbbing.

Everyone had turned and was looking at them, speaking in whispers.

"Hermione," said Potter. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I..." she swayed, folding over as if she'd been winded, and Potter rushed to her side to steady her.

Had she just—

"You Apparated!" he exclaimed with an incredulous expression.

"I guess…" she trailed off trying to regain her equilibrium. She shot Draco a nervous look. "I… I must've gotten distracted thinking about…about you Harry. I was thinking about how you'd done this before—well not you—but, you know, side-along Apparition and, well…"

Draco bit his cheek, fuming. Yes, he thought. Tell them all how you apparated to your precious Potter. Hermione threw a quick glance at him, clearing her throat, her eyes asking for help. Then he noticed that Crabbe and a few other students were snickering. He clenched his fists angry at how easily he'd forgotten that everything outside of their room was a pretense. They hated each other and that had to be made transparently clear to every person in this room.

"Watch where you're apparating Mudblood," he hissed low enough so that none of the teachers at the front heard. Potter had his wand drawn so fast it was as if he'd been waiting for the opportunity to do so.

"Harry, stop," said Hermione. "You'll get into trouble." Draco was itching to reach for his own wand but he didn't, instead, he looked at her, wondering if this was how it was always going to be. Her standing next to Potter and a fucking wand in his face.

Looking right at her, he sneered mockingly, "Yes, Harry, stop, you'll get into trouble."

Before anything more could be done McGonagall was marching over.

"Wand down Mister Potter!" she shouted. "Everyone back to your positions." Draco watched as Potter dropped his arm with great reluctance and the crowd began to disperse back to their places.

Twycross was clapping awkwardly, praising Hermione's success and urging everyone to continue trying. Draco's gaze drifted from the apparition instructor to Snape. The Potions Professor was staring at him with narrowed eyes; the two-faced Death-Eater was becoming increasingly problematic in an already complicated situation and Draco could only guess as to how long he could keep his Head of House in the dark.

Ron had had a sour look on his face the whole weekend. He'd been deliberately ignoring Hermione and when she'd asked if he wanted any help with his homework he'd shook his head without saying a word.

"Let me guess," she finally snapped. "You're sulking because I was able to apparate and you weren't."

His eyes darted to Lavender who was sitting on the couch by the fireplace talking animatedly with Parvati.

"Sure, whatever."

"Unbelievable!" she said exasperated. "Honestly, what is your problem? Harry doesn't care I was able to apparate before him, but, of course, you disapprove. Heaven forbid I do anything to hurt your precious ego."

Ron glared at both her and then Harry, in an accusatory manner.

"Mate," said Harry, "It's not like that."

Hermione looked at him questioningly.

"No," said Ron rising from the rug. "Let me give you two lovebirds some space."

Her mouth fell open as he marched out. Horrified at the implication, she quickly told Harry that it hadn't been intentional and she'd meant nothing by it.

"You realize he's jealous," he replied, looking at her pointedly. "Right?"

Hermione took a moment to process what he was saying.

"I wasn't going to butt in but… if you haven't already noticed… Ron's not keen on Lavender anymore."

Lowering her voice, she hissed. "Well, I'm not second-reserve! I gave him chance after chance and he chose her over me!"

Harry cringed, no doubt, at the bare truth of it. "Are you saying there's no chance at all," he asked hopefully, "no chance of changing your mind?"

Simmering beneath Hermione's resentment was a long-forgotten daydream, one of her and Ron together, living in a home much like the Weasley's burrow, Ginny, her and Harry going on double dates, traveling the French countryside… she'd once even envisioned a little girl with curly ginger hair. It was a dream she'd dared to imagine a long time ago and she understood that there was the potential for it to be more than that one day. Even in her anger, she loved Ron. Would always love Ron. If she wanted to pursue something with him, she could. She wasn't bound to Draco. In fact, he'd agreed to the rules, one which so clearly stipulates that she'd be well within her rights to do so.

And then with stunning clarity, Hermione knew.

She drew a deep breath. "It's too late for other choices," she sighed, echoing Draco's words. "I'm sorry."

Because she finally grasped just how desperately she wanted to be with Draco and no one else.

Harry seemed to deflate a little at her words. She really did feel bad, Harry was always getting caught in the crossfire between her and Ron. Feeling at a loss she gathered her things.

"I'm going to the library," she announced. "Talk some sense into Ron, I can't be bothered dealing with him anymore. When he's done acting like a child I'll speak to him."

Hermione was relieved to get out of the common room and retreat to the familiar shelves of the Hogwarts library. If she was being honest she felt like a neurotic mess most of the time. Her eyes were always searching for his blonde hair; in class, in the Great hall, in the corridors, the courtyard, everywhere. The knowledge that she'd see him again on Tuesday kept her sane and the week couldn't go by any slower.

But he was waiting for her. Waiting, the same way she was waiting.

She gave a tired sigh, replaying his words. The sheer intensity of the way he'd spoken them frightened her. The undeniable desire to consume him after he'd said them was even more frightening.

Hermione was no longer down the rabbit hole. She was most definitely in Wonderland now; a place where nothing made any sense.

Standing, she made her way to one of the shelves, her fingers tracing the books as she searched. There was a particular ingredient she wasn't sure about for a potion and—

Someone covered her eyes.

"Don't scream."

"Draco," she said surprised. "What are you doing? I thought we said Tuesday."

"We did," he agreed and she could practically hear the smirk in his voice. "But if you keep your eyes closed, then technically this doesn't count."

His hands fell from her eyes and wrapped around her waist, his face nuzzling her neck.

She gasped.

"Someone could see," she swallowed nervously.

"I checked," said Draco sounding certain. "You're practically the only swot in the library this late on a Sunday."

Hermione pursed her lips to suppress a smile. "Were you here looking for a book Mister Malfoy?"

Draco kissed her below her ear. "You apparated," he said abruptly. "You apparated to me."

She turned opening her eyes.

"You just broke the rule," he chided pointing his finger at her.

Hermione ignored him bowing her head shyly. She pushed her hair behind her ear.

She explained how she'd been thinking about the time he'd apparated into the lake, the story still fresh in her mind and suddenly the next thing she knew, she was on the floor next to him.

Smirking, he asked, "Think about me constantly, do you?"

A blush crept up her neck and to her cheeks. "No-no, I—"

He slid his hand around her neck and pulled her close to him. Punctuating each word with a kiss, he whispered, "Destination—determination—deliberation."

She laughed against his mouth. He laughed with her. The sound of it was drugging. The tips of their noses brushed and she wondered if he'd ever heard of Eskimo kisses.

"I miss you," she admitted breathlessly.

Without a word he pressed her against the shelf and kissed her again; a kiss absent of any humor.

His hand was tangled in her hair, the other frantically caressing her. Part of her wanted to let go but the other reminded her that they were snogging in the middle of the bloody library.

Hermione pushed on his shoulder. "Someone might see," she said anxiously peering over him. She certainly wanted to end all the secrecy but had no desire for anyone to find out this way.

He sighed as he created distance between them.

A look of yearning flashed across his face and then it was gone.

Hermione watched him walk away.

She learned at that moment that she could spend an entire lifetime kissing Draco Malfoy and it still wouldn't be enough.