Disclaimer: None of these characters are mine. JK owns all that is Harry Potter.

Many thanks to my fantastic beta, Jennifer Moorman!

___

"I am ready for love. If you'll take me in your hands, I will learn what you teach and do the best that I can…"

-India Arie, Ready for Love

The game had gone badly. That was the understatement of the year.

He had thought the first game of the season had been rather rough and odd… But these things were what Quidditch was made of. First year there was the spell on Harry's broom… Second year, there had been the rogue bludger after Harry… Third year… the Dementors…

So when, at the Gryffindor/Hufflepuff game, the first of the term, the bludgers had started brutally attacking people on both teams, it hadn't caused much of a ruckus. After all, this is what bludgers were for. These were just more… aggressive than usual.


The Crucio bludgers hadn't actually come into play until mid-game. It was then that the bludgers began to produce screams from their victims like no Hogwarts student had ever heard. After the first one, Dumbledore was standing. The second one had just had time to come in contact with Hannah Abbot before he raised both arms and both bludgers hit the ground.

The investigation had turned up nothing.

So, with a cranky student body, angry parents and no concrete evidence, the games were allowed to continue.

Ron was fairly sure that after this one, there would never be Quidditch at Hogwarts again.

The Crucio bludgers didn't make an appearance until almost the end of the game. The first one, reaching a Slytherin Chaser, had coincided with Cho reaching the snitch. What made this game different than the last was the petrification. As soon as she had touched the golden ball, she froze and the stadium full of students watched in horror as she plummeted. She wasn't moving and she certainly wasn't flying. She hit the ground with a sickening 'crack' and that was the end of it.

The Slytherins hadn't been without their casualties. Otherwise, he certainly would have been inclined to blame them for the problems. Two of their Chasers had been hit by Crucio bludgers. Their Keeper had started to bang his head on the left goalpost and had to be removed from the field, blood trickling down his face.

He still hadn't figured out if that had anything to do with the rest of the mishaps, or if Bletchley was just as stupid as he looked.

Dumbledore had ended the game as quickly as he had the last, but the damage had been done. Ron had heard that Cho was in the hospital wing, with several broken bones and awaiting mandrake roots.

***

Harry frowned and pushed back his hair again. He couldn't wait to get out of Transfiguration. It was, by far, the most boring part of his day. All he could focus on was retrieving his Firebolt from his room and heading off to that night's Quidditch practice. Draco was getting much better and if he wanted Gryffindor to win any games against Slytherin this year, he would have to –

"Harry!"

He glanced in the direction of the frustrated voice. Ron's face was a shade Harry had never seen. He must have been yelling for awhile. That was when he realized that class was over.

"Sorry Ron. What was that?"

Ron sighed, picked up his books and turned once again to Harry. "I'm going up to take a nap before dinner. I'll see you in the common room whenever you're ready to return to this world. Maybe we can play some exploding snap later on."

Harry watched Ron's retreating back, unable to focus on Ron's words or come up with an adequate response. Slowly, he gathered his things and strolled from the classroom. Feeling the familiar rumbling in his stomach that suggested hunger, he decided to drop by the kitchens for a snack.

As he rounded a corner in the first floor corridor, he wished dearly that he hadn't.

**

A little dazed after the long Transfiguration class filled with taking notes on things she already knew, Hermione Granger shuffled from the classroom, idly wondering if time would permit her to make a stop in the library before dinner.

Before she could wonder much more, a hand fastened itself to her shoulder.

"Don't scream, it's me. I want to talk to you. Just follow my lead."

Shivering involuntarily at Draco's whisper, she moved numbly in the direction his hand steered her. With a gentle, constant pressure, he guided her towards the dungeons.

With each step, Hermione's dazed feeling wore off a little bit. When they had just the first floor, she began to panic. She stopped.

"Draco, what exactly is the meaning of this? Why couldn't we just talk in the library?" She spun so quickly that she almost knocked him over.

After recovering his balance, he grinned. "Shh, now. Don't panic. I said I wanted to talk to you and I mean it. Besides, you know we aren't really supposed to talk in the library." He winked at her. "I want to talk about our deal. You obviously aren't comfortable getting books for me from the Restricted Section. You didn't seem comfortable with a physical…exchange either… at least you didn't say that you were comfortable with it… I suppose, if actions speak louder than words then, well..."

Draco coughed, bright pink. Hermione supposed that this was the first time she had ever seen him blush. "Look, Draco… It's not that I wouldn't be comfortable… that is… It's not that I would mind so much… I mean… Okay… The thing is…"

Draco was suddenly very close to her. She didn't remember him moving, but suddenly she could feel his breath… and it wasn't necessarily unpleasant.

"Yes? You were saying?"

If a voice could ever be described as silky, his was now. The blushing boy was gone. She wondered, momentarily, if she had imagined it. She could smell him now, that brilliant, spicy lemon smell that had permeated her robes after their first… interaction. His hand had suddenly found its way to her hair – twisting and untwisting curls while he watched her. His other hand was… oh Lord… how had it gotten there? She shivered, glanced at his hand gently tugging on the hem of her skirt and looked back up into his eyes.

And oh, those eyes… If it wasn't for that nasty smirk, she would have believed that he loved her… or at least that he liked her. But that smirk was always there, like he was laughing at a joke she didn't know she had made.

His proximity alone was enough to cause shortness of breath. She was beginning to wonder if she'd hyperventilate when she felt the same loss of control she had experienced the first time. This time, she knew what was coming and fought it. And fought it… and… Oh hell, anything to wipe that smirk off of his arrogant, know-it-all face.

Hermione allowed herself to take just one step closer to him and before she could second-guess herself, their physical dialogue picked up right where it had left off.

***

The common room was filled with first and second years. He should have known he'd never get peace and quiet. He tried to climb the steps to his room quietly, but then –

"Ron! Ron! Over here!"

He sighed and turned to face his younger admirer. "Alright there?" He had no idea what this boy's name was. At the moment, he didn't much care, unless it was "sleep".

"Ron! I'm sorry about the Quidditch business. I think it's awful that they've just quit… I mean, I know that game was horrible but… I mean, we're witches and wizards. We can handle it. Right? Well, anyway, I'm sure you can. You're amazing."

Ron smiled, said his thanks and stumbled up the steps. He had always loved Quidditch and always wanted the spotlight. But since he joined the Quidditch team at Hogwarts fifth year, he had come to reevaluate his true desires.

And now he desired sleep.

***

Harry, startled out of his seemingly constant reverie, was suddenly and unwillingly reminded of fifth year by the sight before him. Neither wanting to be a peeping tom nor wanting to be reminded of the more unpleasant part of his past, he turned and ran.

He couldn't escape those memories though.

Had her eyes always been so beautiful? Harry doubted it, although he had had little reason to notice before.

She smiled and blushed, noticing his gaze. "Harry, really. Don't be so shocked. I'm proud of your improvement. I think this is one of the best essays you've ever written."

He coughed then, turning red, and moved slightly away from her.

"Harry? Harry, what's wrong?" She was now sitting next to him, tilting his chin up to meet his eyes. Oh Merlin, Hermione. Don't you know what you're doing to me? He doubted it, until their eyes locked. That was when it happened.

That kiss should have never happened. That kiss, borne of false feelings and confused emotions, caused more trouble than anything else could have. If only Ron hadn't walked in when he did, if only he hadn't been in love with her…if only it had been a one time thing…

But it had happened. He had told her that he loved her, and she believed him, although he had yet to convince himself. Ron had wanted a scapegoat desperately – someone to blame for the pain and the loss he was experiencing. Harry eventually broke down and allowed him to find one in her.

And oh, bless her. She was the real victim in the mess that their friendship had become. He let his own anger, guilt and confusion find an outlet in her. She should have known… She should have never let it happen… She should have never loved me.

Later, these same reasons for hating her became his only console late at night. She loved him. She wanted him. She would never have left him. He told himself these things repeatedly, as if that would make them true.

Deep down, he had always wondered if he had been wrong. And now, she was with Malfoy, and he knew… He knew now, without a doubt, that he had lost the Hermione he had loved long ago – that he had never really had her to begin with.

***

And she had thought the kissing was amazing. That was before his hand was moving up her thigh, underneath her skirt…

And her hands… She felt like she couldn't touch him enough. She was constantly moving them across his body, in a frenzied sort of desperation.

It was then that she realized something – something that had just escaped her conscious thought process in their last snogging session. Her thoughts flew over her recent, more intimate interactions with him, to the day Ron and Harry abandoned her and Draco 'came to her rescue' in the library, to the time she slapped him and missed a class because she had been focusing so much on what had happened between the two of them… She remembered all of these times as she kissed him, all of the things he had said to her in the years and the responses she had given him – and she realized something. She had always wanted this. She had always wanted Draco. Maybe it was the typical, cliched Good Girl/Bad Boy attraction, but she knew now that it wasn't a recent development. There had always been this passion here. The difference now was that they were allowing it to be released.

And it was certainly amazing. She had never shared such a passionate exchange before… She didn't ever want to stop… But lungs do require oxygen and so Hermione Granger finally pulled away.

"Draco." She paused before she finished her sentence, gasping for air.

He smiled, breathing rather heavily himself. "And you, my dear, are Hermione."

She smiled involuntarily. It wasn't the lame joke as much as the sound of his voice speaking her name – her first name – which pleased her so much.

"If you really want to incorporate… this…" at this, she paused, looked at her feet and blushed.

He smiled, waiting for her to continue. When she didn't, he cleared his throat. "Yes? What if I do?"

She coughed, although he could have sworn he heard a giggle, which seemed oddly incongruent with Hermione's persona. "Well, I mean… I don't think that we'll have time for this, along with my lessons, all during the midday break. Do you think that we should set up another time? Or… how... um… regular… did you want to make these… times?"

Draco smiled and bit his lip. It wasn't an act of modesty, more of pent-up energy. "So, the new deal is apparently good enough for you." At her nod, he continued. "Alright then. How busy are you at night?"

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "I… well… um… that is to say that I – "

"Relax, Hermione. Would it make you feel better if I referred to it as 'evening'?"

She smiled and forced a laugh. "No, that won't be necessary. I'm usually free for an hour or two, if I don't have any major projects due the following day."

Draco grinned. "Okay, well, how about we meet at ten o'clock every weekday, unless you have a 'project'?"

Hermione opened her mouth at once, then shut it, as if thinking something over. Finally, she spoke. "Well, the thing is… the library closes at eight."

Draco laughed. Her attention to detail had the amazing ability to make her seem naïve. And she, the know-it-all bossy girl that she was, was definitely at her cutest when she was naïve. "We'll meet somewhere else, then. How about the Charms classroom?"

Hermione shuffled her feet nervously, although her eyes displayed no fear. "Al-alright. Charms classroom. Ten o'clock. Right."

As she turned to leave, Draco touched her arm, causing her to jump slightly. "Hermione. It'll be okay. I'm not going to let us get caught."

She nodded, smiled at him and trotted up the stairs towards Gryffindor Tower as quickly as possible.

He sighed, shook his head and turned towards the dungeons. He knew, somehow, that that wasn't all she was worried about.

***

By the time he had reached the Fat Lady, Harry had decided not to tell Ron. He could only imagine two reactions; cold indifference or dangerous, red-hot anger. He didn't think he could deal with either right now. Right now, he needed someone who would console him. Right now, he needed… Hermione.

As he trudged through the common room, various other ideas came to mind. Sleep seemed a viable option, although he had, as of late, been afraid of sleeping, afraid of the nightmares he would have.

It was then that he thought of flying – his one true repose from life.

Without further contemplation, he grabbed his broom from the dorm and sped towards the Quidditch pitch.

***

Ron yawned and stirred at the sound of his dorm door opening. He cracked his eyes open just in time to see Harry rushing back out with his broom in hand.

He groaned, rolled over and flopped onto the floor. He knew precisely how much trouble Harry would be in if he got caught. 'Quidditch practices are never cancelled for no reason, Harry.'

He stood and stretched, as he contemplated how to deal with the situation. Dumbledore had cancelled any further Quidditch until the cause of the accidents was discovered. Apparently, Harry either didn't remember this or didn't care.

What a stubborn git he could be.

With a heavy sigh, Ron shuffled out of the dormitory, down the steps, through the common room, and straight into a flustered Hermione at the portrait hole.

"Hey-" she paused and gasped for breath, "Ron."

He smiled, opened his mouth to greet her, and closed his mouth again. "Umm… Hermione? Are you okay? Perhaps you ought to come in and sit down."

She laughed. "Well, Ron, that's just what I had planned to do, before I knocked skulls with you." She rubbed her forehead and smiled.

Ron grinned sheepishly and ducked out of her way. When she collapsed on the couch, he followed suit in a nearby armchair, watching her.

It was odd now, to sit here with her like this. He remembered when he had been head over heels in love with her – when he would jump at the opportunity to sit near her, to defend her honor, to strangle anyone (aka Viktor) who constituted competition. She had been his childhood crush. After her and Harry and the fight that Ron had instigated over it, he had had plenty of time to reflect on this crush. He had also had plenty of time to mature. When he stopped being selfish, when he stopped wanting everything that Harry had, when he began fighting the Dark Side on his own, he stopped wanting Hermione. He loved her – he always would – but he didn't want to have what her and Harry could have – should have – had. This realization had been a difficult one for him to reach, and when he finally accepted it, he had experienced more guilt and regret over his actions than he had ever imagined he would feel. He bit his lip, banishing these thoughts and watched her busily scratching down notes in a book he hadn't even seen her carrying.

After a few moments of awkward silence, she looked up at him with an odd expression on her face. "Weren't you going somewhere when I came in?"

Ron cursed under his breath. He had completely forgotten about Harry. After explaining the situation to Hermione, she wrinkled her nose in thought.

"Well, he's certainly done worse before. I'm sure he'll be fine. You know they'll excuse almost anything he does anyway."

Ron rubbed his eyes and looked at her again. No, this wasn't Hermione. Hermione would never be this calm about someone breaking rules, especially Harry, and especially if she thought that he might be in danger.

"What… What if something happens to him?"

"Oh what, like a mysterious Quidditch accident? I'm sure that's a load of rubbish anyway, Ron. I mean, Quidditch is all about accidents and disappearances and the like, I thought that's what made it – "

Hermione paused, mid-exasperated babble.

Ron, who now realized that she hadn't been at either of the games, cocked an eyebrow at her. "Hermione?"

She flew from the room with no explanation other than a few muttered curse words on her way to the portrait hole.

Ron sighed, glancing first at the portrait hole and then towards the dormitory. The best solution to this confusion, he felt, would be sleep.

Tonight would be a rough one. He had received an owl from Dumbledore this morning. The Death Eaters were moving in on Hogsmeade, and Hogwarts had to be protected at any cost.

***

Hermione's thoughts were racing faster than her feet would agree to move. 'Why didn't I see this sooner? How could I have been such an idiot? Where in the bloody hell has my mind been lately?'

When she reached the Quidditch pitch, she found a very dazed Harry, circling aimlessly and rather close to the ground.

"Harry!"

When he failed to react, she stepped closer to his circling figure. "Listen, Harry, you should really come with me."

As if hearing her for the first time, he slowed down, landed shakily and met her eyes. "What?"

"Harry, I really need you to come back to the castle with me. I think that something bad is going to happen."

Harry frowned, as if he was trying to remember something. After what seemed like an eternity, he shrugged and followed her off of the pitch. She tried and failed to start an interesting conversation with him. Finally, she gave up and allowed his thoughts to drift back to wherever they had been residing lately.

Merlin save Malfoy should she get a hold of him tonight.

***

By ten o'clock that night, Hermione wasn't as mad as she thought she would be. In this situation, the more she thought about it, the less angry she became. It was almost to the point where she didn't really care.

But her curiosity wouldn't quite let her get that far.

She had made her way stealthily to the Charms classroom a few minutes early, and wasn't the least bit surprised to find him there already.

He nodded at her and waited. It was as if he knew she had something else on her mind.

"Malfoy, I need –"

"No Draco anymore? Granger, I'm hurt."

She sighed. "Sorry. Draco. Look, I want to ask you something, and I don't really know if we're on the sort of terms that you would confide things like this in me, but I really need to know and so I thought that -"

Draco sighed and held up his hand. "Hermione. Ask me the damned question already."

She glanced at her shoes and took a deep breath. "Have you had anything to do with the recent Quidditch accidents?"

He stared at her but didn't respond.

She sighed. "Have you had anything to do with Harry's recent behavior?"

Again, she was answered with silence.

She took a deep breath and rubbed her forehead. "Look, I didn't put it all together until today, but come on Draco… The books on the Sleeping Beauty curse? The Daydreams curse? The book on Obsession Potions?"

He still stood there, watching her, refraining from comment. She could have sworn she saw his eyes twinkle.

"Jesus, Draco. How about the one I got you entitled Deadly and Illegal Quidditch Spells? Was that one subtle enough for you?"

Then he laughed. He laughed and ran his hand through his hair. Finally, he stopped laughing and lowered his voice, approaching her as he spoke. "I was wondering when you'd figure it out, of course… it's really not as simple as you paint it." He was so nonchalant that he could have been discussing the merits of dryer sheets.

She was overcome with shock. Did he expect her to discover that he had been trying to kill her best friend and then just giggle about it and make out with him?

"Draco…"

He stopped centimeters away from her. "Yes, Hermione?"

"Why?"

He frowned then. "I thought you just figured that one out on your own. I needed them to assist me with some… special magic."

She resisted the urge to grind her teeth. "No. You know exactly what I'm asking. Why are you doing this?"

He sighed then, stepped away from her and took a seat on the window ledge across the room. "I thought you were learning so much."

"This has nothing to do with what I'm learning."

"Au contraire. This has everything to do with it."

She stared at him for a few moments, then at her feet. It wasn't so terrible, hearing this from Malfoy. What was terrible was that it was true. Hermione felt suddenly that everything that she had been mastering lately was now mastering her. She didn't feel guilt at what was happening. She didn't feel as though she should protect Harry anymore; she hadn't in awhile now. She supposed that she only did so out of habit now.

After a long while, she looked up. "Draco?"

"Yes?"

"Just don't let me be an accessory to it. Don't rub it in my face. And please, please, don't allow me to hurt him, willingly or otherwise. It's the least that I owe him… If I forsake my last ounce of loyalty."

Draco nodded, without even a hint of a smile in his face and approached her again, this time enveloping her in a hug. "You'll have nothing to do with any of this."

His nearness made her smile, and almost forget about the hatred she felt towards herself at the moment.

***

After returning to the Gryffindor common room, Harry flopped on the couch. There was something about Hermione – something important, and he couldn't for the life of him remember what it was. It tickled the back of his mind mercilessly, but as much as he cried uncle, it refused to give in.

He sighed heavily and returned his focus to the broom in his hand. Why had he stopped flying? Oh, right. Hermione. And what else was there about Hermione?

He was starting to get a headache. With a loud groan, he rubbed his face and rolled over onto his back. He found Ron staring down at him.

"You missed dinner Harry."

Harry frowned. He knew that he'd come back from the pitch before dinner. Had he been lying there, on the couch for that long? It didn't seem possible.

"Ron."

Surprised, Ron raised his eyebrows. "Yes, Harry?"

"What on earth is going on?"

Ron took a deep breath. "That's precisely what I've been wondering. Let me know if you figure it out."

With that said, Ron shuffled his way over to Seamus, for a game of exploding snap.

Harry watched him go and reflected on what a fantastic Keeper Ron had become. With that segway, he became lost in the world of Quidditch once again.

***

Hermione smiled into her pillow that night. She wasn't proud of her feelings, but she couldn't help them. On the one hand, she was angry with herself for not being upset about what Draco was doing to Harry. On the other hand, she was really learning something now, and through that knowledge she felt as though she was gradually becoming more powerful.

Draco had even said something about the progress she was making. She frowned, thinking back on what he had said.

"I can't tell you how impressed I am. I always knew that you were brilliant but I never really expected you to be anything special…"

She watched him, waiting for him to speak again and he returned the stare. Finally, he spoke.

"I gave another innocent Gryffindor lessons in the Dark Arts once. She wasn't nearly as capable as you are, however. I wasn't expecting you to be so talented."

Hermione had blushed at the compliment, but the little details in that sentence had had time to fester now. And it bothered her. A great deal more than it should have.

Just who was this other girl? Had he had a similar deal with her? Was she just another one on his list?

She was suddenly angry. Angry at him for not seeing her as special and angry at herself for caring. She was also angry at the jealousy she had no right to feel.

Godammit. She was falling in love with him.