CHAPTER SIXTEEN

"My only love borne from my only hate…!"

Juliet, ROMEO AND JULIET

He was waiting for her in the bathroom when she left the hospital wing. Having gotten some sleep, and feeling and looking much better, Madame Pomfrey had said she was free to go. "Now, mind you stay out of trouble this time," she said, half sternly, half gently.

"I will. Thanks very much," said Hermione, and gave the old nurse a kiss on her wrinkly cheek. Opening the door and walking down the chilly corridor was as good a rush of blood to the head. Never in her life had she felt so very confused.

Draco had kissed her. Or had she kissed Draco? Whatever, in any case it had been threatening to happen for weeks, and now it had finally happened. Forget confused, she didn't think she'd ever felt this guilty in all her life. This was a thousand times worse than not telling Ron about the tutoring thing. This was- though it sounded ludicrously soap-opera-esque to her practical brain- cheating. This was betrayal to the highest calibre, because not only had she kissed someone else, she'd kissed one of the people Ron hated most in the world.

Not only had she kissed Ron's enemy- she'd liked it.

God, how her skin had tingled- how her mouth had quivered, covered by his own. Had she ever felt that way with Ron? (It was enough to make her weak at the knees…!) It was sinful and horrible and at the same time wonderful and romantic and goodness wasn't he a terrific kisser!

Her insides besieged by guilt, she stopped for a moment outside the bathroom, knowing that she had to go back to the common room and face Ron- she'd been thinking about him all day, and God, wouldn't he look so hurt…

But before she could let out another guilty groan, the bathroom door swung open, and someone grabbed her arm and dragged her inside. Before she could cry out, something soft covered lips- someone else's mouth. Before she knew it she was melting into strong arms, taken over by that familiar smell, of cologne, of chilly wind, and she was wrapping her arms around his waist and dragging a hand through his blonde hair. He was a terrific kisser.

He was also Draco Malfoy. But she had already known that. Thoughts of Ron were pushed out of her head as he whispered "Lumos" and the tip of his wand began to glow with a faint golden light. For a moment their eyes met. Then they both grinned, tentatively, at each other. "Sorry," he whispered.

"For what?"

"I had to see you. I can't stop thinking about you. I haven't- I mean…" he stopped and dropped his gaze. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you. Not for ages."

He seemed so far removed than the Draco she used to know. This Draco was vulnerable and tender and strong and confident at the same time. And because her heart beat a little faster when he said that- basically admitting that he did like her- she knew that she did too. Just as quickly, guilt rose up her throat. When he moved forward and kissed her again, she knew she should have told him to stop. But she couldn't have even if she wanted to. His hands grazed her back, drew up to tickle the back of her neck and stroked down again, down into the small of her back, pulling her closer. Hermione felt as though she were about to burst. When his kisses grew slightly firmer, she responded, knowing that it was wrong. (Then why did it feel so right?) Who cared about Ron? Why should she care for someone so distant and cold- someone who didn't even come to visit her in the hospital wing- when Draco was here in front of her, as warm and loving and golden as Ron had ever been? Even more so.

He saved my life, Hermione reminded herself, I would be dead if it weren't for Draco… It was terrible and beautiful at the same time, that time in the bathroom. As much as she tried to block it out, Ron's face kept on appearing in front of her closed eyes. Eventually she couldn't take it any more.

"Draco…" she sighed, reluctantly breaking away. "I have a boyfriend…"

His breathing was ragged. "I'm sorry," he said, after a pause. "I'm so sorry. I just had to see you- I'll leave you alone, I promise. I just, wasn't sure what you wanted… I mean…in the hospital wing, I thought you wanted what I wanted, but if you think you need to stop and stay with Weasley- with Ron…"

"But what do you want?" she asked him. "What have you ever wanted from me?"

In answer he kissed her again, just softly. "I want you," he whispered, sending thrills up her back. "I want you to be my girlfriend. When I see you with Weasley…" he shook his head, "I can't stand it. I can't stand not being with you any more. I've liked you for so long."

"Draco…"

"Look, if you don't feel the same way- if you still love Weasley- then I'll go away and I'll never bother you again, I promise. But even if you tell me you still love him, I'm not going to believe you." He stroked the side of her face with a finger. "Because you're looking at me with something in your eyes that's definitely not platonic."

"No?" she said faintly.

"I know you, Hermione. I've gotten to know you. I've gotten to…" he kissed her again, and he didn't need to finish the sentence. When they broke away, Hermione nestled into his arms, unable to believe it.

"I don't love Ron," she said finally, and as soon as she said it, she realised there was a resounding finality to it. She'd said it aloud. The sentence that had been playing in her head for weeks. Of course she loved Ron- she would always love Ron. But not in the way that Ron wanted her to. Only as…a friend.

And now all that remained was to tell him that.

"Meet me at the statue of Rowena Ravenclaw tomorrow at one," Draco said. "Sort things out for yourself. Then come and talk to me. I'll be waiting for you."

And with a last lingering kiss, Hermione stumbled out of the bathroom. I don't love Ron, I don't love Ron, I don't love Ron… It kept echoing in her head. Had she really said that? it had been so long since the word "love" was connected to anyone but Ron. Was this bound to happen, one day? Their relationship was stalling after only seven months. If they were really as permanent a fixture as everyone wanted, shouldn't this be the early glorious days of their relationship, full of fun and love and random make outs in broom cupboards? Apparently not. Basically all they were, all they had ever been, was…

Friends who held hands. "I knew it," Hermione whispered aloud as she stopped in front of the portrait hole, and then wondered why she was beginning to cry.

If I don't love Ron, why do I still feel so guilty?

"Persnickety," she said to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who obediently swung open. Taking a deep breath, Hermione climbed in. It was after dinner by then- Gryffindors befuddled by food were lounging around while the fire crackled merrily in the corner, too full and satisfied to even think about homework. Hermione's eyes strafed the room- Ron wasn't there. But a commotion of noise started up as she wandered through the common room, towards her friends.

"Welcome back!"

"Feel better then?"

"Don't worry, the Bastard Slytherins have been expelled."

Apparently everyone knew that there had been an attempt on her well-being. Did they know the full story, though? That Draco Malfoy had been the one to save her life? Before she could find out though, Lavender fell of the arm of the chair she had been perched on and stumbled over to her, finally landing in Hermione's arms with a great big hug. "I was so worried!" she squealed. "I went to visit you today but you were asleep! Oh god, you've still got a bandage on you- oh look there's one on your wrist too! Oh, was it terribly frightening?" she said all of this in one breath. Dazed, Hermione gave the answers she thought sounded right.

'"I'm fine, don't' worry- oh thanks for visiting- no, I can't remember any of it." Seamus and Dean accosted her then, equally as enthusiastic about her recovery.

"Poor darling," Seamus crooned, kissing the gauze on her head, "boy it's lucky those Bastard Slytherins have been expelled, or I'd be on 'em like a shot."

"Oh please, Shortie," said Dean scornfully, "Millicent could only take you on with both arms- and her trunk- tied behind her back."

"Oh, up yer bum, Thomas,"

Hermione laughed automatically, feeling a thousand miles away from the familiar bantering of her friends. (What would they say if they knew she had just spent the last half hour in a bathroom with Draco Malfoy, every Gryffindor's sworn enemy? Would they be as happy to see her? Would they shower her with so much love?) There were other sacrifices besides Ron that would be made. But maybe they would forgive her. Perhaps. Harry had forgiven her for not telling Ron the tutoring thing, after all…

And speaking of which…

He was sitting at the homework table by himself, poring over an Astronomy chart, not even looking up at the happy throng that surrounded her. Hermione begged her friends excuse her and then came and sat next to him. She was slightly hurt. Harry hadn't come to visit her in the hospital wing either- or at least, not while she had been awake.

"Hi." Hermione said. He looked up at her with stormy green eyes.

"He knows."

For a second, Hermione's heart stopped beating. "Wh-what?"

Harry tapped his quill pensively on the table as he looked at her. "Ron knows. He knows you've been giving private lessons to Malfoy. He knows you lied to him."

Hermione's heart resumed beating. It struck her as pretty terrible that that indiscretion seemed unimportant now, compared to what she had done most recently. Harry's eyes were raking her face, searching for a reaction that Hermione couldn't give. She cleared her throat.

"You told him?"

"I think he figured it out."

"How did he take it?"

Harry tilted his head to the side. "He threw up."

Hermione's mouth went dry. "He did?"

"Yeah. He was really upset. He took off on my Firebolt for the better part of the day. He's only just now gotten back."

Hermione's stomach was doing a nervous little fox trot. This was it. "I'll go and talk to him."

"I think you'd better." Harry's voice was cold- very cold, as was his manner. He was mad at her. But Hermione didn't think there was any point in fixing it, as he was going to get madder at her pretty soon. "He's up in the boy's dorms."

And so, feeling heavy, feeling indescribably awful, Hermione mounted the steps and ascended, feeling as though she were about to throw up herself. She wanted to sit down, figure out some dialogue in her head, what will he say? What will I say? And she realised that the stinging in her eyes was tears, and before she could stop them, two had spilled down her cheeks, one from each eye. They were going to break up, and she was going to have to do it. A million and one images of familiarity ran through her head, of Ron's smell, of Ron's hands, of Ron's lips, of the Burrow and summer holidays, of Christmas with Ron, of white winter sunlight beating down on their heads as they shared their first kiss…

Just ghosts, just phantoms. It had never meant a thing, any of it. And now it was going to end. She opened the door.

Ron was lying stretched out on his bed, his brown eyes turned upwards to the ceiling, hands behind his head. He looked up at her, and in a split second, Hermione wanted at once to turn and run- or to run at him and kiss the hurt away. I don't love Ron.

"I think we need to talk," he said.

The whisper started somewhere between breakfast and morning break; by lunchtime, all of Gryffindor house knew, and by the end of dinner that evening, it had spread through the ranks of students right through to the teacher's table. People claimed that Dumbledore was distraught, and he could not disprove that rumour personally as he was away on business. In any case, none of the rumours regarding Weasley and Hermione's condition could be disproved either, as neither of them were present for meals at all that day. Nor, for that matter, was Potter, although Finnigan seemed unusually morose, and that Muggle-born Brown girl actually started to cry during lunch- although that could have been for any particular reason. There was only one thing people knew for sure:

Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger had broken up.

"Did you hear?" said Pansy, as she passed Draco in the hallway. She had begun to talk to him again three weeks ago for no apparent reason, and for Draco's part he was inclined to be civil. At least she was talking to him, even if it was very snippily. No one else seemed to want to, except (hopefully) Hermione.

"Hear what?"

"Granger's broken up with Weasley."

Draco's heart leapt into his throat. He'd been on his way down to the Great Hall against his better judgement- thinking that perhaps seeing her before their proposed meeting at the statue that afternoon would be a mistake, as it might prompt him to do something romantic and stupid- but he said a quick thank-you to Pansy and ran down to the Hall as fast as he could manage it. But he was to be disappointed: Hermione was nowhere to be seen- and nor, for that matter, was Weasley. Potter's little gang of groupies sat at the end of the table, as usual, minus one Potter. The doors opened behind him, and a host of Gryffindor girls chattered past.

"I heard it from Sally. She says that Ron broke it off with Hermione 'cause he thinks she's been seeing Dean behind his back."

"Really? I heard Hermione broke it off with Ron, because he went to Quidditch training on her birthday."

"Did he? Surely not. No one would do that."

"I agree, especially not Ron…"

Draco followed their idle chatter as far as he could, straining to hear more. Weasley, break it off with Hermione? Or was it really the other way round? There were so many questions he needed answers to…

"Watch it," came a rough Irish snarl behind him, and Draco turned in time to all five feet of Finnigan bearing toward him. The stupid grin that usually adorned his freckled features was nowhere to be seen. Draco took it as a good sign.

"Finnigan, quick," he said, grabbing Finnigan's arm. The Gryffindor looked revolted, and positively leapt away from him.

"What? Don't touch me!"

"Is it true? What they're saying?"

"What who's saying? Saying what?"

Draco tried not to get frustrated. "About Weasley and Hermione."

The shorter boy stared up at him with malevolent brown eyes. "None of your business," he said curtly, after a pause, and turned to walk away. Draco grabbed his arm again, and this time Finnigan raised his fist.

"I'm warning you, Malfoy-"

"Don't be an idiot," Draco snapped, "Cracking over me addressing you may be a sign that socialising isn't for you, Finnigan! I'm just asking a simple question: are they broken up?"

Finnigan tore his arm away. "Why d'you want to know? You've no right to be concerned about them. Surely you don't think knocking about with Hermione in the library at all hours makes you some sort of human being?"

Ah. So Finnigan knew. That meant most other Gryffindors knew. "I'm not concerned about them, I'm concerned about her." The moment the words left his mouth Draco knew it was the wrong thing to say. Finnigan's large, usually vacant eyes, narrowed considerably, filled with suspicion. He'd given too much away, and both of them knew it.

"You son of a bitch," Finnigan breathed, after a few seconds of silence. "Yeah, they're broken up all right- and I'm beginning to understand why."

"Oh come on!" Draco said desperately, collecting himself and trying to right the situation with a disparaging smirk. "You don't honestly think Granger and I…oh, please. That's fanciful even for you, Finnigan. And I know how much you Irish appreciate fairy stories. What are you going to do, go back to your table and tell all your little friends?" He tried to make the question sound as casual and as non-assuming as possible.

"Wouldn't dream of it," said Finnigan nastily. "Why would I do that to one of my best friends? Only the lowest of the low are connected with you, around here, Malfoy."

For once, Draco was grateful of the spite his name brought. Finnigan was being serious- nasty, but serious. There was no way he'd tell anyone about it Draco's little slip up, for fear of damaging Hermione's reputation- already called into question because of the mystery surrounding her and Weasley's break-up.

Evidently some people remembered the articles that Rita Skeeter had written years earlier on Hermione's supposed relationships with Harry Potter and Viktor Krum. Draco knew the entire thing to be a fallacy of course- he didn't believe the stories then out of sheer spite for Granger but he didn't believe them now because of the fact that she had told him the articles were untrue. But this did not help Hermione's situation- throughout the entire day, everywhere he went, people were talking about it. It made Draco angry. Livid, even, when he heard some of the more spiteful rumours. ("That Hermione Granger's always been a bit of tart, you know. Anyway, didn't she steal Ron away from Parvati Patil last year?") It seemed people were less inclined to believe bad things about Ron, not only because of his status around the school as a star Quidditch player and fighter against Voldemort, but because of his apparent "family man" values as well as being "really very dishy". Girls, who were more inclined to gossip than boys, sided with Ron. Such was the speed of gossip at Hogwarts school that by the time one o'clock came, several bad stories had always been unearthed about Hermione, which made Draco wonder if she would show her face outside at all.

"Someone as sensitive as her won't take this very well," he told himself, as he waited for her- not without some feeling of futility. The day was chilly, with a light fall of rain, but nothing to make Draco scurry inside. He did, however, wrap his cloak a bit tighter around him as a cold breeze blew pas, taking several dead black leaves with it. It looked as though there were going to be a bit of a thunderstorm later, judging by the black clouds thronging over the mountains. Draco squinted as he looked again, past the Quidditch pitch- on which a solitary figure circled. It didn't take long for Draco to recognise the lanky figure and bright red hair- it was Weasley, without a doubt. And he was being quite reckless, too, rising as high as he could into the air and then dropping back down to earth, laying out at the last minute. Perhaps he was practising his diving. Or perhaps he was trying to kill himself. Either way the melancholy droop of Weasley's shoulders and clumsiness of his turns spoke volumes: Weasley was upset.

This, is anything, clinched the rumours for Draco. Surely Hermione had broken it off with him and not the other way round? Did this mean that that Hermione sacrificed the dying ends of her relationship for him? And, if she did, did that mean his relationship with her was about to begin? He hoped so, very much.

There had been no doubt in his mind when he saw her, lying in the hospital wing with those horrible bandage around her head, that he wanted to kiss her. Which got him thinking: why? He had been out with girls who were certainly more attractive than Hermione- but none of them were quite as…beautiful. There was something about Hermione that had been making him yearn for her these past months. She was so firey, so interesting, so different… She was clever and fun and she always listened, even if the problems were nothing to do with her. She was kind and tender and sensitive and adoring- and a very good kisser. And I love her…

"Draco?" Her voice prompted him to turn away from thew sight on the Quidditch pitch at once. There she was, all confused doe eyes and nervous hands. He leapt down from the statue at once and pulled her into an embrace. Her hair smelt of rain and shampoo, and as she wrapped her arms around him, she buried her nose into his neck.

"I thought you wouldn't come," Draco said, immediately voicing the fears that had been gnawing away at him, and as usual giving into the urge to tell her everything he was feeling. (Because he knew she would always listen.)

"I wasn't sure if I would," she whispered, as usual being incredibly honest and trusting. "Everyone's talking…"

"Of course everyone's talking," Draco said, drawing back a little to look at her face. "Everyone always talks about you and Weasley…"

"I know," Hermione whispered, "This isn't going to make things any easier."

"I know," said Draco. They embraced again, this time for ages, both trying to hug their fears away. Draco wanted nothing more than to kiss her and hold her like this for as long as he wanted.

Eventually though, they sat down and talked about it and Hermione was insistent that relationship, at least presently, remain a secret. "Just until things settle down," she said, firmly. She looked at him carefully. "Is that okay?"

Draco could think of nothing less okay. But he smiled and said. "Of course. Good idea."

"I knew you'd understand," she said, and hugged him. Which just seemed to make up for it. A very faraway part of Draco knew that his defenses had been laid to rest too easily; that any of his emotional barriers had been crushed into dust under Hermione's velvety gaze. A far more prominent part of him, however, didn't care. And after they had sat and talked and hugged and kissed until the sluggish clouds above their heads had moved on, to make way for a few strangled beams of sunlight, Draco finally couldn't take not knowing any more. "So….what happened when you talked to Weasley?"

A long pause. "Um," was the eventual answer.

"You don't have to tell me…" Draco said, not meaning a word of it. There was just some things he was dying to know, one of them being how much Wealsey knew about their fledgling relationship. "I just wondered how many curses I'm going to have to avoid from him and Potter in the next few weeks," he added, trying to play it a little cooler.

Far from being amused, Hermione looked quite upset. "Oh…. Um. I don't think you'll need to worry that much. Ron…doesn't know the full extent of it."

Draco blinked once or twice, not fully realising the implications of that. "Oh, I see…" he said, for lack of anything better to say. "But, um…what did you tell him when you broke up with him, then?"

"Oh, no. I couldn't say anything. You see, he broke up with me."

Draco was aghast. 'What?! But- how could he? What possible reason could he have?"

Hermione was silent for a while. Draco yearned to know what she was thinking, what parts of her and Weasley's conversation were replaying in her head, and how much she was hurting. "He had a few reasons," she said eventually, softly. "He knows that I was giving you tutoring but that's about it. I just…couldn't tell him. He was already so hurt and so…so vulnerable…" A long empty sigh. "I deserved everything I got yesterday."

"Surely he didn't get angry?" Draco said incredulously.

"No, he just…made me realise what I've done. The full implications of it. How much I've hurt him, and…oh, I don't know. Everything."

Draco's breath suddenly stuck in his throat. This did not sound good- this was certainly not going to work to his advantage. A girl like Hermione- virtuous and moral and so very honest- wouldn't want to associate with the horrible, upper class, devious Draco Malfoy. Would she now? he was the boy who broke up her relationship with Wealsey- who, selfish and maladjusted as he may be, was genuinely good-hearted, and who, Draco had to remind himself, was her friend for years before they became lovers. Surely Hermione wouldn't just see it as the maltreatment of the feelings of her lover but as the maltreatment of a very dear and most beloved friend? And surely- Draco's heart shuddered at the thought- surely she wouldn't want to associate in any way with someone who would do that to a friend.

Draco waited for Hermione to clarify this. But she didn't. She just sat there with her head leaning against his knee.

"Hermione…" he said eventually, after impatience got the best of him. 'Aren't you going to say anything?"

"About what?" she said, surprised.

"About…well…what I've done. I know that Weasley was your friend first- and he may be now-"

"Oh, no," Hermione said firmly. "He made it quite clear to me yesterday how he feels about us being friends."

"Oh, I see…" Draco said, trying not to feel pleased about it (quite frankly the less contact Weasley had with Hermione, the better, in his opinion). "But that doesn't change what I've done. You must think me horrible."

Hermione slowly looked at him with the utmost pain in her eyes. "But Draco," she started, in a halting voice that betrayed her anxiety, "Draco, don't you see? If I didn't want this to happen between us, I would have made sure it didn't. I would have told McGongagall to shove her favour up…well, someplace not nice. I would have neglected to turn up at every opportunity I had. But I didn't. Don't you see? i wanted this to happen. Even without realizing it, I made this possible. And if you're horrible- well, then I'm ten times more so." She looked straight ahead. "And it's something you can't ask me to forgive myself for."

A long silence. Draco took her hand eventually. "If you can't forgive you," he said softly. "Then I will."