Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns it all. I can't think of anything witty to say. ^_^

When Draco woke, he allowed himself one minute to wake up fully, then swung his legs out of bed and got in the shower, his expression grim. He'd had a letter last night from his father, and it hadn't been a particularly nice one. But then, he thought in annoyance, were they ever nice? Usually he would have skimmed it and thrown it away. But this one had disturbed him. The word "rumors" had immediately caught his eye, and he had stilled and read the letter fully.

Draco,

Several rumors have come to my attention as of late, and they disturb me greatly. I've heard of your romance with some person of rather unsavory birth, and I must insist that it cease, Draco. If it does not do so, then I will have to take drastic measures. Both against you as well as this girl. Watch yourself, Draco. It would not do for you to step out of line.

Things are accelerating in terms of our group. Soon your time will come to join, Draco, and you must be ready. Over the summer holidays we will have to make sure that you're properly trained. I suggest that you attempt to facilitate the skills that you've already been taught. And don't forget to take care of that girl. You're forsworn, Draco. Don't forget it.

Your father,

-Lucius Malfoy

Draco gritted his teeth. He wanted to know how the hell someone had found out about his relationship with Hermione. He had been sure that they had been careful so that no one would know that there was anything between them besides hate. As time progressed, he had seen the sadness deepen in Hermione's eyes, and knew that she would be all too willing to make their relationship public. But he wasn't.

The letter was only a mild warning compared to what would happen if his father found out that his pureblood son was in love with a mudblood. It was bad enough that his father even knew that they were involved. He probably thought Draco was just using Hermione to get laid. If he found out that Draco was emotionally involved with a mudblood. . . .There would be hell to pay, and Hermione would be the one paying. Draco wasn't willing to take that chance. If he couldn't protect her with anything else; he'd protect her with his silence.

He had gone to her room last night to talk to her and try to talk about what they had seen in the abandoned classroom that day. But her window had been unlatched, and through the rain-soaked glass he had seen her sprawled on the bed. She had been utterly gorgeous, a creature rising from myths and dreams instead of real life. He had stepped into the room and touched her, hardly breathing, half afraid that she wasn't real, just another figment of his heated dreams. But she had been real and soft beneath his fingertips, and arched up to meet his touch even in sleep. She had murmured his name, and it slid through him like the finest brandy.

He had undressed and climbed into the warm bed with her, and she had turned to him eagerly, her hands sliding over his cold skin and sending tendrils of fire through him. They had lain together for what seemed like hours, touching and caressing. But he hadn't taken her.

Perhaps it had been a foolish moral--the damned woman seemed to somehow instill them in him--but he hadn't finished what they had started. But it had been close. Too close. She was getting all tangled up inside him so that he wasn't sure where he ended and she began anymore. He had risen from the bed they had made and saw her lips curved in a lovely smile, and felt his heart swell within him so that he wasn't sure that his chest wouldn't break from the size of it.

He had conjured a rose for her and laid it beside her. When she had drawn him down into a sleepy kiss, his resolve had nearly broken. But he had left before he broke. Now he damned himself for it in the morning. He felt uneasy and antsy. He wanted to tie her to him so that she couldn't leave him. If nothing else, the bonds of the flesh would do that. He wanted that strong tie between them to offset the uneasiness that he felt today. He had asked her to meet him at noon, knowing that they would be virtually alone on the grounds, as everyone else would be making the trip to Hogsmeade. But there was unfinished business to be taken care of before he met her.

He stepped out of the shower, his gray eyes hard. He might have been distracted by Hermione's nagging, but he hadn't forgotten that bracelet of bruises on her wrist. That he would take up with the Weasel in just a little while. He had already sent Ron an anonymous letter, asking him to meet him alone. He knew that the Weasel would respond--after all, he was so neglected, Draco thought with a sneer. Nobody ever wanted to meet just Ron, they always wanted Potter.

He dressed, then glanced at himself in the mirror. His blond hair was shaggy and unkempt, but he didn't gel it back. He knew that Hermione liked to play with it, and he liked when she did. So he left it, then went into the Slytherin common room.

Crabbe and Goyle were already there, concentrating hard on trying to play a game of chess. He glanced at the chessboard and noted in disgust that the morons had barely even moved, and yet they both seemed thoroughly stumped. "Idiots," he muttered under his breath. Blaise was sitting on a couch, his gaze faraway and his eyes glittering. Draco sighed and wondered who Blaise was planning on bothering now. Sitting beside Blaise and admiring her nails was Pansy. Draco mentally swore when Pansy's gaze narrowed on him and she rose in a leisurely movement.

"Get lost, Pansy," Draco said shortly.

She ignored him and sidled up next to him. "Draco, honey," she purred. "You haven't been to. . .visit me lately."

"Did you ever wonder why?" Draco snapped.

She laughed lightly and tip-toed her fingers over his shoulder and down his arm. "Yes, I have. And I can only think that you have some other whore that you're putting it to."

Draco felt the sweet rush of rage fill his veins. He turned his head slightly to look Pansy in the eyes, and had the vicious satisfaction of watching her take a step back, her eyes huge with fear. "You're nothing but a two-bit tramp, Pansy, and I wouldn't sleep with you even if I was paid to."

Pansy glared furiously. "You weren't so picky before!"

"That's because I was thinking with my dick, not my brain," he said shortly. "Get lost, Pansy. I don't want you anymore."

Her eyes filled with tears and her lip trembled. Draco watched her emotionlessly. "How--how can you say that?" she sniffled. "We had some good times, didn't we, Draco?"

He arched one eyebrow sardonically. "Did we, Pansy? I thought it was pretty much just fucking." He used the crudity purposefully. If it had been Hermione, she would have been hurt, and backed off. Instead it seemed only to incense Pansy more, a fact that he watched in resignation.

Pansy started to cry, but he stared at her and saw the calculation gleam in her eyes through the tears. "How can you say that?" she repeated, sobbing. "That's not true, Draco!"

"Then what would you call it?" he said cruelly." 'Making love'?" Unexpectedly, his mind flashed back to the night before. Hermione's body gilded in pale moonlight, her brown hair fanned out on her pillow. He shook those thoughts away savagely. It felt like sacrilege to remember something so beautiful when he was faced with something so sordid.

He felt his temper surge again. "I don't have time for your bullshit, Pansy," he said curtly. He strode away from her and out of the common room. Once he was gone, Pansy's tears immediately stopped, and she glared at the place where he had been.

Blaise watched her from his seat on the sofa, his eyes calculating. "Pansy," he called, and she turned to look at him. Her mood swung instantly to coy, and she fluttered her lashes at him.

"Yes, Blaise?" she cooed.

He gave her a scornful look. "I'm not interested in your services, Pansy."

She huffed. "Why, you filthy lout!"

Blaise waved that away impatiently. "Let's not rehash this, Pansy. The common room's already seen it once this morning. I have another proposition for you."

"What kind of proposition?" Pansy asked suspiciously.

Blaise's eyes started to glitter. "You've obviously been replaced in Draco's bed, haven't you, Pansy?" he said sweetly. "You'd like to get your place back, wouldn't you?"

Pansy licked her lips and stared at Blaise. "Yes," she whispered, mesmerized by the look in his eyes.

Blaise's lips curved in a cruel smile. "I think I can help you," he crooned. "If you'll help me."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N: Yeah, it was pretty much just a fairly short, fluffy chapter. But oh well. ^_^ I swear some stuff will turn up later and actually have been important. :) It's all a big, tangled skein of drama. *winks*

Reviewers:

SIaSD Reader~ You amuse me. I write a blatantly OC CAST of characters, and the only thing that you have to offer by way of criticism is that Harry doesn't cuss?? Hell, for that matter, none of them cuss in the books. *is amused* Well...not much anyway. That potty-mouth Ron. :)