Hermione

Hogwarts

November 1996

The long awaited quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was finally upon them, and the rivalry between the two houses was coming to a crescendo.

Slytherins, led by Pansy, launched an all out assault on Ron's psyche that week. He really was the perfect target for it, Hermione thought sadly, watching Ron's head dip lower and lower at the Gryffindor table during meals every time they shouted taunts at him. He wore his heart on his sleeve, and was incredibly sensitive. It was clear as day their offensive on Ron's nerves was working.

Hermione tried her best to comfort him. In fact, it was beginning to feel that they were growing closer than they had been all year since she had asked him to be her date to the Slugclub party.

She had taken to placing a sturdy, warm hand on his arm, mostly out of view, whenever she could tell that the taunting was getting to him. Normally, he would return the gesture with a warm smile, which months prior, could have melted her in her place.

On one occasion though, Ron returned her touch by placing his hand on her knee. It was during a Charms lesson, right after Pansy had berated Ron upon entering the room. Hermione froze when he did it. For one, she now felt uncomfortable with such an intimate touch by Ron. And two, she could have sworn she felt eyes boring into her from somewhere else in the room.

The morning of the match, Hermione walked down to breakfast with Ginny, bracing for high emotions from Ron in the leadup to the game.

"He needs to get over it," Ginny grunted referring to Ron as she readjusted her Quidditch bag on her shoulder.

Hermione returned a stern look. "He's not like you. He's more sensitive to it".

As she said it, the two passed a group of Slytherins that were painting a "Weasley is our King" sign in the courtyard.

"If they did it to me, I would take it as a mark of pride," Ginny snuffed, looking haughtily down at the sign as the Slytherins returned a snarky glare back.

"Of course you would," Hermione laughed. "and that's why they don't do it to you."

"Which brings me back to my point," Ginny said, "he needs to get over it!"

There was no arguing with her as the two entered the Great Hall to grab food before the match.

Even though it had been almost two months, Hermione still made a habit of casting a glance at the Slytherin table. She sought out the flash of blonde which provided her a sense of relief each time.

"Merlin," Ginny groaned. "Ron looks green"

Approaching the Gryffindor table, Hermione was surprised to see Ginny's comment wasn't a figure of speech. Ron did in fact look green.

"Put Cormac in Harry," Ron mumbled in a panic as Hermione and Ginny took a seat.

"No," Harry said flatly. He tried to be kind to Ron when he got like this, but Harry was also the captain, and had more on his plate than Ron's existential crisis.

Ginny leaned over the table, brushing in front of Harry which caught his attention, to address Ron in a low, angry, whisper.

"Get yourself together," she growled at her brother. Ginny really was a site to behold when she was fired up like this, Hermione thought. Her hair seemed to dance like licks of fire around her face.

Instead of being roused to his senses by Ginny's command, Ron merely groaned, and put his head down on his crossed arms that were splayed out in front of him.

"You should put in Cormac," Ginny said to Harry dismissively as she settled back into her seat.

"No," he said after a beat, although softer this time.

The four ate quietly for the remainder of breakfast, not having much to say. Hermione at one point put a few strips of bacon on Ron's plate, growing anxious that he hadn't eaten anything.

"You need a pumpkin juice mate," Harry said, placing a jug in front of Ron.

Ron's eyes were unfocused, looking down, but Hermione clearly saw that as Harry placed the jug in front of Ron, he tipped something into it.

It wasn't until Ron had finally reached out to grab the jug that Hermione shook herself out of pure shock at what Harry had done, and then spoke up.

"Ron don't drink that!"

Irritated, Ron gave Hermione a side glance. "Don't tell me what to do."

Hurt, Hermione turned to Harry. "You put something in his drink"

Ron's eyes widened slightly, but Harry looked unbothered.

"No, I didn't Hermione" Harry said in a forced casual way.

Ron, his interest now piqued, grabbed the cup and brought it to his lips. Before he could sip its contents, Hermione put a hand on his wrist, trying to stop him.

"Ron don't drink it. You can't be under the influence of anything for organized sporting events. You could get in a lot of trouble."

Ron gave her a withering glare, and in one gulp, drank the entirety of the drink.

She felt her eyes twist in disbelief. It was like she was looking at a total stranger in front of her. The way he spoke to her, the way he dismissed her. He treated her like she was a gnat in his way, and it made her feel like nothing.

Ron smacked his lips, unbothered by the bruised look on Hermione's face. Harry, on the other hand, began to realize the impact of putting Hermione in the middle of his ruse.

Grabbing the bacon Hermione had put on his plate, Ron got up looking like a new man.

"I have a good feeling about this match," Ron said, shoving a piece of bacon in his mouth. "Lets go Harry"

Harry got up slowly, monitoring Hermione as he did. He did not say anything to her, but it was clear from his expression that he knew the damage he had just done.

—-

Without a doubt, Ron had the match of his life that afternoon. Hermione watched on with mixed emotions as she saw his confidence grow with each save, so much so that he began to engage with the crowd and feed into their attention.

Gryffindor won, and by the rowdiness shown from its students in the crowd, Hermione anticipated an all night rager in the common room that evening.

Harry had stayed behind with Hermione on the walk back up to the castle, with soft chants of "Weasley is our King" guiding them from up ahead.

"I didn't put anything in his mug," Harry finally said, his eyes not meeting Hermione's.

"I figured," she said with a sad sigh. Harry looked up. "Not at first though, but halfway through the match, I realized you wanted me to see you tip something in and tell Ron. You only wanted Ron to think you dosed him with Felix"

Harry stopped, and turned to Hermione. "I'm really sorry I did that. I didn't think he was going to be so…" Harry didn't finish his thought.

Hermione's throat itched, threatening tears. She coughed softly, pushing down the urge to fall apart. "Well, at least you won the match" Hermione said, trying to infuse some pep in the sentiment.

"Hermione!" Ginny shouted the moment Hermione came through the common room doors, beckoning her towards the group Ginny stood in. The red head held a butterbeer, and was clearly in good spirits.

The celebration in the cozy room was infectious, Hermione reasoned, even if her mood was tempered by the events of the day. The space had become stifling hot, and the humidity from all of the bodies crammed together was almost unbearable, but all together the overall effect was that of pure celebration.

As Ginny pulled Hermione and Harry over to a group in the corner, Hermione felt a butterbeer get shoved into her hand. It was cool in her palm, and dripped with condensation.

"I played amazing!" Ginny yelled, leaning over to Harry with a coy smirk.

A grin played at Harry's lips as he was about to respond, that was until Dean Thomas revealed himself, and snaked a hand around Ginny's waist, planting a kiss on her temple.

"You did babe," Dean said affectionately. Hermione watched curiously as Ginny leaned slightly away from Dean as he brought her in closer.

Hermione took her first sip of the cool, sweet, and slightly alcoholic drink. She didn't often drink at house events despite ample opportunity to do so. Butterbeer was contraband afterall, and she was a prefect who had to uphold the rules. Also, she was a complete lightweight when it came to anything with alcohol content. But, after the events of the day, she felt like she deserved to break the rules.

Ginny leaned into Hermione, as if to say something, when a brand new chant of "Weasley is our King" broke out. Hermione looked over to see Ron being hoisted into the air, looking enamored with the adoration being paid to him.

Hermione brought the bottle to her mouth once again, and found herself drinking more than a few mouthfuls this time.

—-

"Hermione, you drink two," Seamus said over the sounds of the party.

She looked down at the card she had pulled from the deck: a three. "What does this mean?" she asked.

"You drink two!" Seamus repeated, looking annoyed at her inability to keep up with a simple drinking game.

She took two sips of her butterbeer. The bottle in her hand was about half finished, and it was her third. Despite feeling the beginnings of the alcohol coursing through her veins, she remained her quiet, reserved self; even while playing a drinking game.

"Who wants firewhiskey!" someone shouted from behind Hermione.

Butterbeer was one thing, but Firewhiskey was much stronger and shouldn't be allowed, Hermione judged through a Prefect's frame of reference. The hard alcohol was rarely passed around at these events. How did they even get it on school grounds with all of the restrictions…

Cutting through her Prefect train of thought, new sounds filled the air. It started with overdramatic "Oooooooos" which was then accompanied by raucous wolf whistles. Hermione's eyes moved about the room to make sense of the change in atmosphere.

On a raised landing towards by the girls dormitory, Hermione watched as Lavender Brown draped her arms around Ron's neck, with every body in their close proximity howling and egging them on. Ron eventually caught on to what was happening, then laughing to himself, looked at Lavender who gave him the most come hither look Hermione had ever seen, and then Ron kissed her.

The room erupted. Another chant of "Weasley is our King" made its way around the room as the red head Quidditch hero and the blonde fan girl snogged publicly for all to see.

A ripping sensation blossomed through Hermione's chest. Slowly she began to unravel as she watched the wizard she thought she may share something deeper with, who began to give her inclinations he may feel something towards her, put on such a public display of affection right in front of her with someone else. The noise of the party began to sound muffled to her.

It wasn't clear what the two of them could be. But in that moment, a piece of her that had felt innocent and hopeful, perhaps a little romantic even, began to gasp for breath.

Thankfully, she did not cry. Too many people were looking at her. She hadn't realized how many of her classmates assumed how she felt about him.

When she turned back to her friends, mysteriously, the firmness of a glass of firewhiskey took hold in her hand. Did she grab it from someone? Did someone give it to her? Who was to say.

Without a second thought, she tipped the liquid to her lips, letting the contents do their magic. The firewhiskey burned more than she thought it would have. She nearly coughed, but steadied her facial expression quickly enough not to embarrass herself and her inability to handle alcohol.

Seamus, none the wiser of what had just taken place, called back to the group to play the next round.

"Dean, you pick," Seamus yelled out over the crowd.

But before Dean could draw a card….

"Hey! What are you guys playing?" Ron asked loudly over the sound of the crowd, wedging himself between Harry and Ginny, pulling Lavender in behind him.

Ginny looked sympathetically at Hermione, knowing in some way that she harbored something like feelings for her brother.

"Didn't Ron play amazing today? I just knew he would!" Lavender shouted to the group at large, snaking her fingers through Ron's hair, twirling little bits of it as she went.

"See Hermione, Lavender knew I could do it," Ron commented antagonistically towards Hermione. Her eyes flicked down momentarily and caught the amber liquid of Firewhiskey in a glass he held by his side.

"I never said you couldn't do it…" Hermione muttered back, too faintly to carry over the sounds of the party. Her whole body had gone cold, and her vision felt like it was blurring.

Ginny and Harry both turned on Ron at the exact same moment and pulled him out of the group, likely to speak to him about his antagonistic behavior towards Hermione. It wasn't clear what they would say to him, seeing as how none of them would ever talk plainly about the complicated relationship her and Ron seemed to be navigate.

Hermione did not care to stick around though. She took that moment to fade away into the crowd, pushing through bodies towards the portrait to find somewhere, anywhere else to be.

Before she got to the exit, again, somehow, a shot of Firewhiskey appeared in her hand.

Draco

Hogwarts

November 1996

Weeks had gone by since his rushed attempt to kill Dumbledore with a cursed necklace.

Disturbingly, because Draco had nearly killed a fellow student, the Dark Lord was satisfied that he had truly made an effort and would not be rushed in future endeavors to vanquish the head master.

Even with the allotment of time, he now knew he had to make progress. Gone were the days where he could blissfully ignore his responsibilities. That went away when his Mother became a target.

So ever since his wrought attempt, he began parsing out new options to give himself plausible deniability that he was making a concerted effort.

The young Slytherin was still at odds with the idea of casting a killing curse. It wasn't likely that method would even work, but all the same, he hadn't crossed a point where he considered it. So instead, he looked into indirect means to kill his head master.

His detentions had given him the idea that perhaps he could concoct a lethal potion to get the job done. But, Draco had long known of a charm that would alert the headmaster when any ingredient was used that could contribute to a lethal or dangerous potion. He wondered drolly if Dumbledore even paid attention to those alerts, given that him and Granger were tasked to create a class three potion which did have ingredients that could contribute to lethal potions.

In a move he could only categorize as being pulled directly from the book of Granger, Draco began investigating ways to disable the charm on the ingredients, and if successful, then attempt a potion that would aide him in his mission.

Overall, Draco had withdrawn from life at Hogwarts. He was akin to the Ghosts that hovered the hallways; he was neither here nor there.

Pansy and Theo had grown concerned for their friend as he continued to slip away from everyday life at the castle, but the harder they tried to get him to talk, the more he closed himself off to them.

Frustratingly, the only thing that tied him to any semblance of reality was Granger, try as he might to do away with any thought of the witch.

He knew he should tune it out, but he found that he couldn't help himself. He would catch her honeyed brown eyes nervously look in his direction over a book during Runes, or when she'd cast furtive glance as she entered the Great Hall. He resented her persistence. Because he had to reject it despite wanting to give in.

The entire day of the Slytherin and Gryffindor match passed where Draco had full, unobstructed reign of the castle for his research to his newest lead, but his efforts were fruitless. Even after the match had ended, and by the sound of it, Gryffindor had won, he couldn't drag himself back to the Slytherin common room. While Slytherin may have lost, they were known to still get right and proper wasted regardless in their common room after any match.

So Draco walked aimlessly through the corridors of the castle to clear his head. He needed to consider other approaches to kill Dumbldore, and more importantly, he did not want to be around other people.

He was about to pass the Library when he noticed the door had been cracked open. Draco checked his watch to see it was 11:40pm. Madame Prince had never failed to lock the doors at 9pm on the dot, and he knew this because he had tried countless times to gain access to the library after hours in order to review the restricted section.

Feeling like it was a sign of some solution to his problem, he pushed the doors open carefully and made his way in.

Draco was about to light his wand to guide his way when a glimmer of soft blue light towards a row of tables caught his eye. The glow was powerful enough to cut through stacks of shelves that divided him and the light. For a moment he thought it could be a hovering patronus.

Edging his way discreetly through the darkness, he peered around a shelf to see that the source of the light was three glowing orbs, each bobbing up and down over the body of the assumed castor.

When the castor's identify was revealed, Draco's breath caught in the back of his throat.

It was Granger. And of course it was. Who else would break into the library to read a book after hours?

He observed her silently for a moment, seeing that her head was propped up against her hand, her chin tucked in and looking down at what he surmised to be some ancient text. Her hair was braided to the side, and she wore different pieces of Gryffindor clothing items, likely still on from the match earlier that day.

He took advantage of his unrestricted vantage point to spy on Granger without risk of being caught. That was when he noted that there was no book under her. His look narrowed and he saw her shoulders shake and quiver, accompanied by the sound of a soft sniff. She was crying.

An intense feeling pounded through him which made his feet move without consciously deciding to do so.

"What's wrong?" Draco demanded to know urgently, emerging from the shadows, his voice sounding hoarse. He realized then he wasn't sure when the last time he spoke out loud was.

Granger was a blur of movement taking up a defensive stance. Her wand was pointed and rigid in the direction of where his voice came from from.

When he stepped into the light, her wand lowered once she saw it was him. Which meant she trusted him, Draco presumed dangerously.

Her eyes were red and glazed causing his jaw to tighten, and his fists to clench.

"What happened?" he repeated, his voice low and even as he moved closer to her.

Granger looked him up and down in a dismissive way before speaking.

"Are we talking now?" she asked, her voice attempting to feign authority but the fire did not reach her eyes. Looking tired, she poured herself back a seat, and slammed her wand down.

Draco took the opportunity to move closer to where she sat. He stared down at her figure, her head again in her hands, and her attention focused aimlessly at the wooden grains of the table.

"Granger tell me what happened," he said trying to get her to speak, and his voice sounded softer than he expected it to.

Her eyes flicked up to him when he suddenly stopped in front of her. Yes her eyes were red from crying, but they were glassy too. She swayed a little in her seat.

It dawned on him then that there was more going on than he first thought.

"Are you drunk?"

She held his stare with a fierceness that flirted with vulnerability that he found only she could demonstrate. His pulse quickened once more, and the pragmatic part of him that recognized the pull she had on him told him to leave right then and there.

But then her features turned mournful as she nodded miserably at his correct assumption. His chest coiled and became very tight.

"It has not been a good day Malfoy," she offered in a strained way, still keeping her eyes on him.

"What happened?" his voice was urgent and the tone of it sounded foriegn to Draco. He hadn't cared about anything in weeks, other than not protecting his mother from torture. But this was something he deeply needed to know.

Her eyes welled up and his feet yet again moved on their own. He was nearly on top of her when her eyes widened slightly stopping him in his tracks. He shook his head, trying to shake loose the overwhelming feeling in him that needed to fix whatever did this to her.

Granger's body moved vaguely as her eyes settled back into something forlorn.

"It looked like Harry poured something into Ron's drink this morning before the match."

"That illegal for sporting matches," Draco replied in a flat tone. Hermione nodded appreciatively.

"That's what I said. Well turns out Harry only wanted me to think he did it, so I would say something to Ron, which I did. Ron was, well he wasn't very nice about me speaking up."

Hermione took a deep breath. Her eyes moved away from his; she coughed nervously.

"Ron and Lavender Brown snogged pretty publicly after the match. Ron then said something about me not believing in him, and how Lavender did…" her voice hitched as Draco looked on helplessly. "It wasn't that I didn't believe in him. I thought they would get in trouble" the frazzled Griffyndor finished, now settling her head back on her arms that were crossed in front of her on the table.

Draco had always known Weasle to be a talentless git, but it now struck him as absolute lunacy that there was a world where Granger would give that hack the time of day.

Not to mention how her so called best friend Potter put her in that shitty situation.

She deserved more than what they gave her.

"Are they still in your common room?" Draco asked roughly, his brain eager to do something reckless. She lifted her head slightly and looked at him.

"Who?"

"Potter and Weasley"

"Why?" her brow furrowed deeper in confusion.

"Don't worry about it," Draco mumbled angrily as he looked to the Library door.

Her eyes widened when she put two and two together.

"Oh no. You will not." she told him firmly as she stood. They were face to face; and her pouty lips were now angled up to him with a scowl.

"Clearly you're not going to do anything about what they did," Draco cut back at her. She crossed her arms and jutted out her chin.

"So what, you're going to break into the Gryffindor Common room while the entire house is there and, I don't know, attack Harry and Ron?" she summarized snarkily, lifting a brow. "All because they hurt my feelings?"

There was a tense moment where neither said anything. But then Granger's whole expression morphed into indignation.

"Wait a second! You haven't talked to me in over a month. Yet you want to get involved in this?" she accused in a terse, dismissive tone.

"It doesn't take much for me to want to hex those two, so I wouldn't give yourself that much credit, Granger," he deflected, trying his best to remain neutral behind his eyes.

But what was he suppose to say to her? I can't avoid my responsibilities with you anymore, I have to kill Dumbledore?

"And another thing," she went on, taking a fraction of step into him which eliminated all space between them, but as the smell of lilacs wafted around him, she went unsteady misjudging her intoxication. Her frame collided into his chest, to which Draco steadied her by the elbows, ensuring that she did not crumble fully into the floor.

"Merlin Granger how much did you have?" Draco responded keeping his hands on the bare skin just above her elbow. His finger moved ever so slightly against her, reminding him of how soft she was.

"Why do you care?" she asked in a mistrustful tone, their bodies at a near total embrace. But after her eyes locked on his, the edge of her glare softened.

Again, he didn't have an answer for that. All he could focus on were those eyes that for weeks had been the only thing keeping him grounded. Now, he could drink them in without reprieve.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter" she answered for him, jerkily moving out from under his grasp and making her way towards the book stacks.

He followed her silently, not wanting to leave her alone. As they both moved further into the library, the light from the orbs slowly faded and became blue streaks between the shelves.

He could barely make out the outline of her figure when she rounded on him.

"I want you to tell me why you stopped talking to me"

He tried to find her eyes, but they were shadowed from where they stood. "We don't talk Granger"

"We did," she asserted, "or we were starting to" she corrected, then sighed. "I don't understand you" she said forcefully but at a whisper, still obliging the library rules despite no one there to enforce them.

"Join the club Granger," Draco replied with a hint of sad humor in his voice.

Then her finger was poking him in the chest. They both looked down at the gesture, each equally surprised. He watched as her stare went from her fingers on his chest, up to him, and then back down again. She looked confused.

He felt that familiar lightness tug at him that only seemed to happen in her presence.

"What are you doing?" He asked, looking down at her finger.

"Telling you off," she answered, waning conviction.

"For what?" he questioned. Slowly, he took her wrist in his hand, and started to navigate it away from his chest.

Hermione stilled, now looking down through the faint light where his hand connected with her wrist.

"So now you just touch muggles all the time now?" she questioned with false aggression but her conviction seemed to wane.

In the shadows of the library, late at night with no one to catch them, Draco did not make a move to release her. His hand moved around until his hand enveloped her small fist that had previously been thrusted into his chest.

Her breath quickened as her hand turned to meet his. Each of her fingers undertook the task to explore the plains of his palm like a cartographer mapping new land.

She stepped into him tentatively, bringing their bodies flush against one another. Draco could feel the warmth radiate off her, and his senses were overrun with her scent. Through the soft glow of the orbs, he then saw the outline of her head tip up to his.

A door crashed against a wall towards the entrance, and then a shrill voice.

"Ron! We could get in trouble!"

Hermione's hand clamped around Draco's in fear, and instead of moving away from him, she moved even closer, her body pushing up against his as if he was her shield.

"That's Lavender," Hermione whispered up to him, and her voice sounded devastated. "Why would they come here?"

Draco had a strong suspicion as to why Weasle turned up at the library with Lavender at nearly midnight after Granger had left him in the common room, and he felt a nefarious pull to murder him for it.

"Stay here," Draco whispered gruffly into her ear, snaking his hand out of hers reluctantly.

"No…" Hermoine tried to protest but he leaned down closer to her, placing a steady hand on the small of her back.

"Granger, let me handle this."

Draco turned on a heel and made his way back to the orbs that gave the library it's blue light. Just as he expected, Weasley was standing by the tables, glancing at the orbs and then around the room, with Lavender Brown's limbs entangled in his.

"Weasley," Draco drawled, strolling out from the shadows.

"Malfoy!" the red head barked back in surprise. Weasley's eyes went to the orbs, back to Draco, and then to where the Slytherin had walked out from.

Draco closed the distance between the two, keeping his eyes cooly on Ron's. Lavender's attention was unsteady, flickering between the two wizards.

"What are you doing here?" Ron asked, his eyes darting back to the shadowed abis of the book shelves he had emerged from with suspicion.

"Reading," Draco answered simply, leaning casually against a table he happened to saunter up to.

Draco saw that Lavender was pulling at Ron's sleeve to leave. "Lets go Ron," she whispered into Ron's ear timidly. "Lets go find some other place. I didn't want to come here anyway."

Draco blood ran hot when his suspicions of Weasley's motivations proved to be true.

Ron finally looked as if he were about to leave at Lavender's insistence, but then the red head abruptly stilled and turned back to Draco.

"Is Hermione here?" Ron asked forcefully. Draco could see over Weasley's shoulder that Lavender's cheeks paled.

"Why would Granger be here?" Malfoy asked back innocently enough.

Again, Ron looked at the orbs. "That's her spell."

"Hmm," was all Draco said in response, crossing his arms defensively over his chest.

Lavender pulled at Ron's shirt once more trying to get him to leave. The witch was clearly uncomfortable with her hookup's vendetta.

But Weasley did not turn away, nor break his stare with Malfoy.

Ron took two steps towards Malfoy, closing the distance enough so that Ron could speak without being heard by Lavender.

"What is your deal with Hermione?" Ron asked Draco in a hushed whisper.

Draco took a slight step closer to Weasley. He was only slightly taller than the Gryffindor, but he could sense that in the way he held himself, Weasley felt small.

"Here is how I see it," Draco began coldly, keeping that same hushed tone Ron had established as to not be heard by Lavender. "It looks like you expected Granger to be here. Funny, because you brought that slag along with you. I wonder why you'd do that?"

Ron's face tightened, glaring into Malfoy's haughty expression. The purple that tinged under Draco's eyes made him look all the more menacing.

"Fuck you Malfoy," Ron spat back finally after a lengthy stare down.

"The feeling is mutual," Draco replied, nonplused. "Now if you don't mind, I'd rather continue my work without having to watch you two sloppily shag in a corner."

Ron turned quickly and made his way out of the Library without another thing to say. Lavender glanced back once more, and then scurried off after Ron.

As soon as Weasley was gone, Draco retraced his steps back to where Granger was. She was now sitting on the floor with her back against the bookshelves, her legs pulled up to her chest.

Hesitantly, Draco approached her, then brought himself down to a seated position next to her.

"Thank you," Granger said in a tiny voice to his side.

He couldn't find the words to speak back, but he nodded, and she appeared to notice the gesture.

The two were in near darkness with only the faint outlines of their features visible from the available blue light.

After a moment, Draco felt the soft pressure of Granger's head tilt against his shoulder. His body froze.

"I miss talking to you," she whispered sadly into the darkness.

He took a breath. "I miss it too"

"But we can't do that anymore, can we?" she asked in a knowing way.

His head dropped. "No, we can't"

"And you're not going to tell me why," she didn't frame it as a question, rather a fact.

"No, I can't," Draco replied simply.

"I'm really good at solving problems," she offered hopefully, her head nudging into his arm. "I could help you, if you're in trouble."

He couldn't help but laugh. "No Granger, I don't think even you could help with this one"

He knew he was being too candid with her, but it was becoming abundantly clear that his better judgment deteriorated when he was near her. Plus he hoped in her drunken state she would forget all about their interaction.

"Are you OK?" she asked timidly. "I'm worried about you."

Something warm splintered throughout his chest. It felt almost painful. Why would she care at all about his well being?

"Yeah, I'm fine." he finally answered, lying through his teeth.

He felt her shift from where she sat. She turned towards him and sat back on her knees, her features now more visible to him in her new position in front of him.

"Can I do something?" she asked tentatively. The waiver in her voice reminded him that she was likely still very intoxicated, but the innocent nature of her request was heartbreakingly perfect.

"Sure" he replied, despite knowing he should have said no.

She crept closer to him on her knees, positioning her body directly in front of his. Then, she leaned forward and gently extended her arms and took the sides of his face into her hands.

Currents of something that felt like static zapped back and forth between her hands and his jaw. He shifted slightly, careful to not deter her.

"I think I wanted to do this, the night of our last detention," she said sadly as she moved one hand towards his hair, brushing it softly with her fingers. "I've always wondered what your hair felt like"

"Always?" he asked, barely audible.

"You've been a prat for as long as I've known you," Hermoine smiled serenely at him, with liquid courage appearing to be her guide. "But for as long as I can remember, I've had this urge to feel your hair," she ran her fingers from the nape of his neck up his scalp. Every part of his body went taut under her caress.

He clenched his hands at his sides, forcing his fists down and stopping them early from doing anything stupid. She was drunk. They were already operating on stolen time. He shouldn't do anything back.

"Granger," Draco whispered warningly as she leaned further into his body. She moved her hands back to the sides of his face and brought her face closer into his, looking at him desperately.

"I think you are good, Malfoy," she said like she was begging for him to believe her "...and bright, and intelligent, and funny" she went on, her voice sounding so strained. "I wish you didn't hate me."

Everything in him wanted to grab her, to tell her that it all could be different, that they could figure something out. And above all of that, that he didn't hate her.

"You were going to kiss me, the other night," she declared, not as a question but as a statement.

A beat. He roughly swallowed, feeling her hand near his neck as he did. "Yes"

"Good," she breathed out as she leaned forward on her knees, then softly pressed her lips to his.

He didn't kiss her back. Fuck, did he want to. He felt like his whole body was on fire; a painful twang thrummed in his chest.

After a moment, she leaned away, her hands falling numbly to her side and her head sunk.

"I just wanted to know what it would have felt like," she remarked with insurmountable sadness, like she perhaps had misjudged the situation. "Now I can say I know. Thank you Draco."

Her words lingered around him, and something flipped. It could be the way that she was sitting there, her eyes turned down displaying her long lashes. It could have also been how in that very moment, he saw all the freckles that dusted over her face. Or it could have been the way she said his name.

But he knew then that he would regret it for the rest of his life if he didn't kiss her back.

In a swift movement, he took her face into his hands and brought her lips back to his. He felt her delicate hands grab hold of his wrists as he grabbed her tighter.

He held her there, the two connected softly at the lips, for a long moment. He pulled in a ragged breath through his nose and his senses were overwhelmed by lilacs, fresh linens, and books.

He deepened his kiss with her, his mouth guiding hers to open to him. His heart hammered as she gave way to him happily, moaning softly as her tongue reached to find his.

It was all too much and also not nearly enough. He pulled back for a moment, her mouth reaching for his wanting more.

Draco pulled her up by the hand from where they sat, and took her again, leaning down from his tall stature to pull her up into him, pressing his lips firmly on hers. Her mouth hummed and it nearly broke him apart. His brain was on fire with every sound she made while he consumed her.

Her hands found their way around his neck, and she urged him down closer to her, taking his mouth with hers just as greedily as he did to her. She pulled his body against hers until she bumped up against a book shelf, the force sending a few books to the floor with loud thuds.

His hand coasted downward, first grazing her neck with his fingers, scraping her soft skin gently as he navigated. The act of him doing so caused her to make a deep sound in her throat. He groaned back throatily, pleased at what he could do to her.

Dropping his hands he took hold of her hips, brushing the small of her back as she pressed into him more firmly. Her tongue dove to meet his and he felt a smile linger at his lips.

Inching his way up her ribs, he searched for the outline of her breast. As he grew closer, she pushed herself into him more, edging him on.

His finger tips brushed against the curve that gave way to her breast and a pang behind his navel thrummed and he feared he wouldn't be able to stop if he went any further.

"Granger," he gasped gruffly, his mouth hovering over hers as he pulled away. Her soft pants lingered between them as his forehead fell softly against hers. "We have to stop."

She gripped at his neck like she craved more, but sighed knowingly. "Yes. You're right."

"I shouldn't have let it get this far" Draco growled, gripping her tightly at the waist. The feel of her, and how she adjusted into him at his touch tested his resolve.

"I wanted to," she told him, angling her head away from his forehead just enough to brush her lips once more to his. The feeling in his chest threatened to undo him.

"You've been drinking," he finally said, more to remind himself. He then reluctantly stepped back from her. His jaw clenched as he took in the faint flush of her cheeks, and how her lips were slightly swollen from what he had just done to her.

His body tried everything in its arsenal to override his brain. He nearly gave in, but then Granger stumbled slightly from where she stood without his body firmly against hers. Swiftly, he stepped in to balance her and was reminded that she was in no condition to make a decision on what the two should do with one another.

"I wanted to know what it was like," Granger muttered wistfully into his chest, then began to sink back down into a seated position with Draco's help. He settled in next to her.

She continued. "I didn't know if I would have another chance. And I think, I do think I'd really regret that"

Draco risked a glance down at the witch on his left. Her eyes were trained up to his face, taking him in like it was last call. He drank her in just as liberally.

"Let me take you back to your common room," Draco offered softly, his lips pressed against her temple. "I'll go under a disillusionment charm. No one would know."

"So chivalrous" she laughed to herself. "I didn't expect that."

Draco waited a moment for her to respond to his offer. When she said nothing, he made to ask her again, but she stopped him.

"Can we just sit here for a while?" she asked, her voice sounding hopeful.

"Sure," he answered her back. She scooted closer to him and once again leaned her head against his shoulder.

He breathed her in, knowing that what they had that night couldn't happen again. Even if he wanted it to.

In his mind, he thought tasting her, knowing what it was like to take her the way he did would quell whatever thirst he had. But instead,new gateways lurched open that challenged him even more than before.

He let his jaw rest on the top of her head, nustling into her tamed, plaited hair. He had hope that she would not remember what happened that night, or at the very least, have serious doubts about her recollection. If she could forget this, maybe he could too.