A week went by and it was time for Quidditch try-outs. Ron was a nervous mess and honestly, Hermione wasn't sure whether Ron was the best candidate. But she didn't hesitate to use magic to improve his chances of getting the position.

Turns out that Ron wasn't terrible after all. With a little bit of mind games, Harry was able to add to Ron's confidence and they one their game against Ravenclaw.

The Gryffindors were so happy that there was a giant party back at the tower. Hermione was excited to congratulate Ron, after all, he had played wonderfully. But that was before Lavender kissed him in front of everyone and something in Hermione deflated.

Already hidden by so many other cheering people, she made her escape, tears nearly spilling from her eyes. She couldn't quite decipher what was making her upset. She obviously had felt something for Ron, and watching him kiss someone else had clearly affected her. But did she fancy him that much? Maybe she did or maybe she was overwhelmed. Overwhelmed at the idea that she was determining whether she felt relief that Ron had kissed someone else. Relief because maybe it would give her the chance to focus her feelings on someone else, someone who wore a green tie and had silver eyes and light blonde hair.

Someone who evidently was standing in the same place she had found herself in. She gasped as she took the last few steps onto the landing. "I-"

He looked at her, but she was surprised when he said nothing. In fact, it seemed like he was studying her. Probably wondering why there were tears in her eyes.

"I'll be on my way," she mumbled, her heart racing. She realized then that she had no idea how to even talk to him. Not that she ever really had.

"Wait," he said and she froze, her back turned towards him. She heard him come closer, she could smell the cologne that made her head cloud over with desire. "Why are you crying?"

She ducked her head, still turned away from him. Why was he asking?

"It's nothing," she said.

"Congratulations on winning the match." He continued, circling her until he was standing in front and she had no choice but to look at him. His eyes glowed with the reflection of the moon and it was as if they were sending shivers up her arms.

"Thanks," she said. "Thank you," she cleared her throat.

"Shouldn't you be celebrating?" He asked, his hands were tucked into his trouser's pockets, he looked rather casual.

"Why do you care?"

His eyes moved away from her, observing the alcove they were in. He was studying the stone walls.

"Malfoy?"

His eyes bore into hers and she nearly took a step back. He was intimidating and mesmerizing, scary and sad. Hermione couldn't keep up with her emotions.

"You have been on my mind," he stated. As if it were a common fact. Her stomach plummeted with that all consuming idea.

"I have." But Hermione didn't phrase it as a question, more so a fact as well. A convoluted, confusing, overwhelming fact.

He looked down at his shoes and she took a second to take a deep breath. "I'm not sure what spell you casted exactly, Granger, but you-" he looked up at her again and she was biting her lip. He clamped his lips together and took a breath.

"I didn't," Hermione started and then whispered.

Malfoy laughed.

"You" she began. "You've been on my mind," she looked at him. "Too."

He hummed and rocked back on his feet.

"You're not being yourself, Malfoy."

"Myself?"

"Mean."

He laughed again.

"I mean, we are speaking and being civil. And to make matters worse we are not exactly talking about the weather," she paused. "Rather our… feelings." He didn't say anything so she continued, "for each other."

"You're lucky." He took a step closer. "You can cry and people will run to help. People will empathize with you, Gryffindor Princess." His voice faded and Hermione didn't know how to reply. She simply shrugged. "I on the other hand, fight battles in my head. Alone. Frankly, I have no fight left in me. I don't care to be mean tonight."

Hermione stayed quiet, observing him. "I see," she finally said.

He took another step closer and Hermione began to play with the skin on her knuckles in hopes of ignoring her nerves. "You are someone who has been in the back of my mind ever since the Yule ball." Another step. "I am tired of fighting with myself," another step, "about what I'm feeling."

Hermione breathed in and she realized her hands were shaking. Malfoy was standing in front of her now and she had to crane her neck to look at his face. It felt like he was towering over her.

"What are you feeling?" she whispered, her voice breathy.

Her lips parted in a silent gasp when his hand touched her waist. Her body was humming. He pulled her even closer and their bodies met. She watched as her hands made contact with his chest. She was surprised and relieved when she felt how frantically his heart was beating. At least they felt the same.

She jumped when his hand cupped her cheek, making it so that she was looking at him again. His thump ran past her chin, his hand descending the length of her neck and stopping at her collar bone.

"Do you understand that we're touching, Malfoy?" Hermione asked. "You are touching someone who's beneath you." She took a breath. "A mud-"

"Stop," he said quietly. "I'm sorry."

Hermione didn't speak. She didn't know what to say.

"You're not beneath me." Her fingers subconsciously scrunched at his robes, almost pulling him closer. And with the little courage she had left, she let them snake up to his neck, feeling the warmth beneath them. And with that she began to pull him down towards her, ready to satisfy any and all fantasies she ever had.

But they both froze when they heard a step above them and then another, and another. They separated quicker than lightning striking earth.

"Mione?" Harry's voice rang from the top of the stairs.

"Harry-" she panicked. "What are you doing here?"

By the time Harry was at the bottom of the stairs, Malfoy was gone and Hermione was left sad. She wanted to know what it would be like. They walked around the castle with Harry for while, just talking, before making it back to the tower, Ron long gone from Hermione's mind. Now all that was left was her added fantasies of Draco running his hands over her and his lips on her body.