But the tears didn't stop. For a week she cried before falling asleep at night, waking up to puffy eyes. She was sad that he had been such a prick. But her tears were angry tears as well. Angry that she let herself believe he could be different. She had let him kiss her, touch her, reach for her most intimate place. She had wasted time fantasizing about the idiot.

She was angry. Very angry. And people could tell. She stormed into the great hall Sunday morning and startled both Harry and Ron when she slammed her cereal bowl, crunching away at her food.

"Umm," Ron wavered. "Mione, are you okay?"

"Yes."

"You don't look it," Harry added. She stared daggers into him. She went back to eating.

Minutes later, Harry tried again. "Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with us today?"

Hermione sighed, letting some of her anger seep away. "Sure."

So they went. Hermione put on three layers. Three, so she wouldn't easily feel anyone touch her, because she was still angry that she had even let someone do so in the first place.

"So do you want to talk about what's up with you?" Ron asked as they walked, snow crunching.

"It's whatever, a bad score on an assignment."

"What did you get?"

"Doesn't matter."

"Hermione's bad is probably our good," Ron said and Harry chuckled.

Hermione stayed quiet as they went on and on about Lavender. She honestly didn't want to hear it because it reminded her of her embarrassing, failed, disgusting thing with Malfoy. She glared as she stared long into the distance. She could hear the chatter of people in the town and it momentarily distracted her to see all the folks walking about, students walking in and out of Honeydukes.

"Are we stopping here, first?" She asked.

"Yes, Mione. Were you not paying attention?" Ron asked and Hermione rolled her eyes.

Grabbing a bag as they entered, Hermione decided to mourn the rest of sorrows by buying herself a bag of candy and then eating it later that night. The last thing she needed was to regret not getting anything. One chocolate frog, five fudge flies, and a Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans later, she was ready to leave but Harry and Ron weren't.

"How long will you two take?" She asked, as she stared at her candy bag. Ron was chewing on a peppermint toad. "Have you even paid for that Ron?"

Ron grinned. "I will when I get to the front." Hermione made a face.

"I fancy popping in to get a butterbeer. You two up for that?" She asked.

"Yes, yes. We'll be right there."

Hermione sighed. "Good grief," she muttered to herself, unaware that someone was watching her from afar.

Stepping out of Honeydukes, she turned left towards a tight alleyway, disappearing from view, a shortcut she had found that led her straight to the Three Broomsticks. Popping a fudge fly into her mouth, she hummed. Her mood was lifting, the cold weather pleasing her. She loved the winter months.

Suddenly she heard steps and then someone cleared their throat. She already knew who it was. She didn't stop.

"Wait." She didn't.

"Granger, please. Wait."

Again, Hermione wanted nothing to do with the insolent, immature asshole. There was no way she was going to turn around. Her main priority was getting out of that alley.

"I'm sorry, Granger."

She made it out the and thankfully, Malfoy didn't follow.

While her day was filled with a mixture of bliss and anger at Hogsmeade, it was all ruined when on the way back to the castle, Katie got cursed with a necklace. It was like nothing Hermione had ever seen before. She had been rushed to the infirmary and all Hermione knew was that they were keeping a close watch on Katie, nothing yet on her health status.

"It's Malfoy," Harry declared when they were talking to Professor McGonagall and Snape. Hermione's heart sank. Harry was adamant on the fact that Malfoy was a Death Eater.

"That is a very serious accusation, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall.

"What proof do you have of this allegation?" Professor Snape asked.

"I just know."

Later that night when she opened her chocolate frog, the card that stared back was Salazar Slytherin. She seethed. Why couldn't Slytherin leave her alone. What had that apology even meant. It made her blood boil. This is what she didn't like. The overthinking that never stopped. The questioning as to why he had chased her down to apologize. But why hadn't he followed her to the pub? What had been the point of apologizing when she knew damn well they wouldn't speak again? Did he hate her? She hated him for sure. But well, did she?

And that's what bothered her the most. She hated him for how he made her feel. Hated that she thought about him. Hated that a twisted part of her brain still wanted him. Part of her tears were due to the fact that two nights that week she had silenced her poster bed and thought of him longer than she should have. What was wrong with her? It disgusted her. Because she knew that every climax she gave herself ended with thoughts of his lips on her, his hands, his body.

And the worst part was that his words kept replying in her head. "You're only worth it when you spread your legs open." Was that how he felt? Or did he say that in anger. And when those words echoed in her brain she did nothing but hate him. And hate herself.

Two days later, Hermione sat in the dining hall after class, playing with the peas on her plate. Harry was talking to Ginny and Ron was off with Lavender somewhere. Out of habit she looked up and her eyes found Malfoy's. She had not meant to look for him but her brain had done it subconsciously. What surprised her was that he was looking at her and when she caught him he didn't look away. So, she finally did after a few seconds and went back to lamely eating her dinner.

That night she was back at the library working on a paper for the following day. She was hidden among shelves, lost in the world of charms when she heard him clear his throat.

"What," she muttered darkly.

"I'm sorry."

Hermione didn't respond. Frankly, she didn't know how.

"I'm angry… about a lot of things and I took it out on you."

"Sorry means nothing when you keep making mistakes, Malfoy."

"I know."

"Well, I don't care."

He stayed quiet; Hermione's back was still turned.

"I didn't mean it."

Hermione slammed her book shut and forced it back in to the shelf and then took out another book.

"What I said to you has been repeating in my head for a week. I seriously... didn't mean it."

"Funny how I've been repeating it in my head too, actually considering those words to be true." She said as she turned around slowly.

"They're not," he said quickly, taking a few steps towards her but she glared at him and he stopped. "I respect you, Granger. Y-you're amazing. Intelligent, strong-" He dug his thumb into his palm. "Nothing like me."

She rolled her eyes and watched as he tentatively took a few more steps towards her. She could feel his warmth, smell his cologne. "I wouldn't be surprised if you thought of me as a means to an end, a fantasy. You get the girl who's taboo."

He shook his head. "No."

She raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms, hiding the pain she had felt for a week. "That's it? That's all you're going to say?"

He grinned, ruffling his hair. "Well I won't lie, there's something appealing about what's taboo." She rolled her eyes again. "But-"

He walked up to her then; they were standing close enough where one more inch would make their bodies touch. "You mean more than that to me. You're not just a fantasy. I want more than just a fantasy."

Hermione ducked her head, not knowing how to feel about his words.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I promise I regret those words. If anything it's good that you're not quick to jump into bed with-"

Hermione scoffed. "Why, because you like the good little girl? The girl who has no experience, the shy girl who can't-"

"No, because it shows that you're genuine, that you respect yourself, that you're more than just a hook-up or a one night stand."

Hermione swallowed and leaned against the books. Malfoy grabbed her hands and her mouth parted with a silent gasp. Warmth spread over her like a wave at sea.

"I'm sorry."

"So you've said a thousand time."

"And I'll say it a thousand more if that's what it takes."

"Takes for what."

"To gain your forgiveness."

She looked up from staring at their hands and into his eyes. She was searching them for malice but she only found genuine grief. Or Malfoy was a talented actor; she wasn't sure. Maybe she could forgive him. But would she need to spend the rest of whatever this was with walls up?

His thumps were rubbing circles on her hands and she had to break eye contact, her insides filling with nerves. "Just... give me some time."

"Okay," he whispered, letting go. He picked up the book that Hermione had left on the shelf and flipped it over. Chadwick's Charms. Then, he handed it to her with a small, sad smile. She watched him leave and for a second she contemplated calling after him. But, she knew it was best to make him wait.