CHAPTER SIX: SO CHOKE ME

Even though we had already finished our assignment in Snape's class, he was still hostile toward everyone. I was sitting between Ron and Harry, and listening half-heartedly to Snape's lesson, because I felt ill. Harry, occasionally, would rub my shoulder, or squeeze my knee. We weren't "together" yet, but everyone was sure it would happen soon . . . Except for Ron, I suppose, who was completely blinded by "his love for me" to notice anything out-of-the-blue. Oh, I tried so hard not to look over at the Slytherin table where Draco sat - but it was hard. He was magnetic to my eyes, and try as I might - I looked at him often.

He seemed the same. Same platinum hair, same silvery eyes, same posture . . . Only something was different about it. Something about the way he took notes was different . . . I couldn't find it - until he caught my gaze. He was bleak looking. I couldn't read his expression. He was beating himself up over our incident, and wasn't as angry as he normally was. He no longer hated the people around him - but more he hated himself.

He looked apologetic, at first, but it went away and was replaced by a glare. I was stricken, for that moment, but then realized that Harry had followed my gaze and was watching Draco intently. And that was when I looked away, and back at Snape. "Why do you look at him so often?" Harry murmured.

"I felt someone staring at me, so I wanted to see who it was."

Snape surprised the class then. "Guess what?" he said, sarcasm dripping from his words. "We're going to have another assignment. Same groups as last time, only the assignment has changed. I noticed that . . . most of you didn't bother to attempt your project, so I'm going to be generous. You'll have a chance to make up for those last points-"

Draco raised his hand. "And what about those who did finish the last project and got top marks?" he was equally as sarcastic.

"Would you like some extra credit?" Snape snapped back at him.

"I don't need it." Draco said, not very loudly, but Snape heard it anyway.

"I'll tell you what, Mr. Malfoy. If you don't do this project you'll fail my class. So whether or not you did or did not do the last one, you'll do this one as well. And, if you have no more questions, then shut up and listen." the room seemed to pause as Snape's outburst. On a Gryffindor, this would be completely normal. But to a Slytherin and Draco Malfoy of all people? "Very well." and Snape told us the newest project. Considering we were nearing the end of year, and never got along very well, we would be doing a project on our partner. We had to write a paper on them, six pages long, on their positive side - the things a lot of people wouldn't know. It had to get deep, from what I gathered. Looks mattered none, but things kept hidden were the ones he wanted, obviously aware that would be torture on some people in this class.

I had to give Snape some credit. This was, after all, a great way to make many people fail. Nobody seemed to want to do it. Heck, even I didn't want to.

This time I walked over to Draco, his eyes were averted. "Good morning, Granger."

"Morning, Malfoy." it was our first time talking in over a week or two.

A silence then lingered across us. I could feel the tension in the air. I could have grabbed it and tied a knot in it. He wasn't yet ready to apologize, and I wasn't yet ready to accept it. "Some paper we have to write, huh? I don't really know you that well. You're going to have to open up to me a little more."

"I doubt it."

"Then we'll fail." he said this pointedly.

"Why don't you open up to me Malfoy? This paper isn't one sided, though you may think of it that way."

For a moment he sat there, then he cracked a smirk. "Oh, right, Granger. I'm not going to tell you anything personal about myself. You want personal?" I looked at him pointedly, this time. Daring him. "When I was seven I watched my father beat the shit out of my mother, and was permanently scarred because of that. My father pushes me around more than Snape does the Gryffindors. I like to write poetry, though damned if I'm going to let you see it . . . Sometimes I have freaky dreams . . . About Voldemort. About death. About the future - and I'm terrified of dying. I hate racoons because I woke up once with a dead one laying beside my head on my pillow. Sometimes I wish I was dead, because I think that I've been growing up dead anyway. My father is a Death Eater, but you can't write about that - though I'm sure everyone knows . . . I've gotta be one too - but fuck if I want to . . . And . . . though I'd kill you if you told anyone . . . I really kind of - and only a little - a really little - like Potter. He's okay . . ."

It didn't seem I would get much more out of him at that moment, but oh, I was glad he raised the white flag first. I was so glad he was going to apologize when he found the words. "I guess it's my turn then?" he half-nodded, his face flushed. He had opened up to me and nobody else. I was flattered in a sense that it wasn't something I wanted to keep hidden on me. "Er . . . I was brought up as a Muggle my whole life . .. Strange things would happen - and then I got my letter . . . Nothing really great. I was an only child . . I wrote a poem once . . . It wasn't very good . . . I have a journal that I've written in nearly every day of my life . . . I don't really have very many personal things except - well . . . I'm not as smart as you'd think. I struggle every day to get by here, but nobody would know because I'd never tell . . . I'm insecure about myself. Partially because of all the things you had to say about my body . . . and others as well . . ." he swallowed. "That's that, eventful, huh? Well . . . I'm sorry if you wanted a big story - but I don't have one."

"It's okay . . . I expected as much . . . You know - you and I aren't that different- when it comes to a pseudo . . ." he paused a moment. "I don't know how to be . . ." he cringed for a second. "nice - but I'm trying around you. I've never said an apology in my entire life - but I have to - to you. Because what I did was . . ." he faltered here. "The dumbest mistake I've ever made in my life."

I wasn't ready to say anything back - but it slipped out. "I'm not accepting your apology." I said quietly. "Because what you took from me . . . I'll never get back. And I hate you so much right now, for fucking up my future."

He stared at me, blue eyes growing back to how they normally were. I wanted to touch his lip, or hug him, or something . . . "This is my fault? I fucked up your future?" his voice was cold. I wanted to suffocate. "I don't think you're aware, Granger,that you were the one who started this. I'm a guy, for christ sakes! You were skimpy clothing, and touch me all the time, and then refuse to follow through in the end? You're a fucking cocktease. You got what you wanted, alright? You made me believe that I could trust you, and made me think that I might . . . that I do . . ." he abruptly broke eye contact, and I realized what he was saying. Truly noticed it.

Malfoy liked me.

Or, at least, he thought he did.

It seemed as if he figured that I had set out in the beginning to make him fall in love with me, and then break his heart. Which wasn't true, at least, I'd never thought it was true, until I really looked over all that I'd done. Re-read my journal entries.

Maybe I had just been in this to hurt Malfoy. Just so I, for a change, could win, and never be taunted by him about my body, and my hair, and me being a snob.

I could win, I thought, as I sat down on my bed, resting. I could take all of this and use it to my advantage. I could hurt Draco almost as badly as he hurt me - and I'd never have to see him, or deal with him again.

But was it what I wanted?

Harry, Ron and I sat in the Gryffindor Common Room, the two of them looking at me from time to time, as I wrote my report on Draco. "Hey, er . . . Mione?" Ron began, smirking.

"Ron, I'm busy." I was busy, but most of all upset. I'd been depressed ever since that night with Draco, and nothing seemed to be working for me anymore. I really wished I hated him. If I'd never loved Draco in the first place - nothing bad would have happened. I was the one who had caused all of this. I knew what I was getting myself into from the start, and I shouldn't have even attempted it . . . But, oh . . . It was so nice to see him smile.

"We . . . er . . . need your help."

I sighed and put down my quill. They hadn't even attempted to do their work. It had been me doing mine, me and Draco doing ours. None of the other students even knew what it felt like to be under Snape's deadline, because none of them cared.

I, however, did. And Ron and Harry were messing with my schedule. "Yes?"

"We were wondering if . . . you knew any spells . . . to help us read minds."

"No. I don't. Why?"

"Because I'm with Millicent," Ron cried. "Shouldn't that be enough?"

I gathered my things together. I was turning into a total brat, and I knew it. Maybe I even liked it. It was hard to tell exactly what I wanted anymore. What with the way I'd been changing my mind over and over. "Look, Ron. Harry. I got stuck with Malfoy, and he and I did fine. We passed the project, and we got high marks, and we worked well together. You two haven't even attempted to do anything! You're just sitting around complaining and you never even tried! I'm tired of being the one to carry you two around! I'm not your maid - I'm supposed to be your friend!" with a sudden burst of tears, I dropped my parchment, quills, and books, and hurried into my dormitory, laying on my bed and crying.

The tears were a relief. I'd been holding too much in, and I was tired. I shouldn't have blown up on Harry and Ron, but they were major causes of stress in my life as well.

It took awhile for the tears to finally go away, and by that time all I wanted to do was work on the damn paper and go to sleep. So many thoughts ran through my head, and I couldn't concentrate on the task at hand. I knew I had the homework to do. But I wouldn't be able to do it.

The common room was nearly empty, however, Ron sat in a chair by the fireplace, holding my things. He was sleeping, snoring loudly, and some drool ran down his chin.

It would have been hideous to anyone else - but to me . . . He looked so adorable.

I didn't want to wake him, so I gently pulled my things off of him, only to find myself gasping when he grabbed my hands tightly. "Hermione?" he said, letting me go, and wiping his face.

"Hi, sorry. I didn't mean to wake you . . ."

"What's going on? We can't help you if you don't tell us anything."

"I'm fine, really. It's just that I've been spending way too much time with Malfoy. His manners are beginning to rub off on me . . . Maybe that's a good thing."

"Why the bloody hell do you say that?"

"At least, when your Draco, you don't get too attached. He's so used to disappointments, that he doesn't expect anything better. I love that about him. Admire him."

" . . . You care about him?"

" . . . Very much so."

There was a silence, and I looked down at the floor. "Are you saying . . . you have a crush on Malfoy?"

" . . . It's . . . It's more then a crush, Ron."

"You're dating him?! Him?! That bloke?!"

"No. I'm not."

" .. . Maybe we should talk about this . . ."

"I've tried to tell you before."

His cold fingers grazed my face, and I looked away, shying from his touch. "When?"

"When you thought I liked Revine."

"Oh." his cheeks turned red. "Listen, Mione ... You're my friend. You're not my maid. You're not my love-interest ... You're just my friend. And I support you. So ... If you like Malfoy then I'm all for the two of you ... Though i wish you wouldn't."

My eyes welled up with tears. "Thank you ..." I wiped them away quickly. "But I doubt anything will happen between us ... Due to ... current events."

"Really? What happened?"

"Nothing. It's not important."

His lips lightly touched my forehead, and I smiled. "Alright, then, Hermione. Was that so hard?"

"No. It wasn't ... Can I trust you not to tell Harry? I kind of ... want to tell him myself ... he deserves to know ..."

"Sure. I won't tell."

I said goodbye to him, and hurried up to my bed again, to continue writing.

My quill poked my finger, causing a little bit of blood, and I turned on my lamp before . . .

My paper.

"I want to like Draco.

I want to love him.

I want to hate him.

I want to hurt him.

I want him to want me like I want him.

I wish I could make up my mind.

God, Draco, you're stupid!

Maybe you're just blind.

I HATE THIS.

I HATE LYING.

GOD. JUST DIE ALREADY!"

And I tore it apart, and stuffed it in my journal.

::DRACO::

He was hurrying down a hallway, holding his bag onto his shoulder, and attempting to juggle all of the books he held in his hand.

A spell he had used earlier changed the title to them, on the outside, so that to anyone who happened to walk by him in the corridor's saw books on dark spells, and the Dark Lord, and everything that he could thing of that could help him keep his reputation.

But the books, they weren't about that.

These were potions he wanted, and books on the information that he just needed to know before he went ahead with anything.

A book on love. He wanted to test it. Sure, he felt strange feelings toward Hermione lately, but were they what he thought they were? Was he that shallow and conceited that he purposely would take her virginity just because of a face to fuck?

No, he thought, piling his books on the desk beside his bed. It's deeper than that. I know that it's deeper. I'm not even that attracted to her looks . . . she's really not that great looking.

Yet, for some unexplained reason, he'd never been able to get her off of his mind - especially lately.

He'd been dreaming about her, and they were good dreams, that replaced the nightmare he'd been having since the night has arm was broken. He liked to see her at night, in the privacy of his bed, and feel comforted, and loved - because he knew that she loved him . . . He thought he knew that she loved him.

Hermione used to be like a book to him.

He could read her from everything she said, the way she moved, the smile on her face. To make her upset, well, that was what everyone wanted. She was a total bitch, and it was relieving to others to make her cry, so Draco hadn't been different. He'd just been the one to push her a little too hard. Maybe this was the worst kind of revenge.

When he'd kissed her . . . she hadn't responded. Her lips were softer than he thought, her tongue was sweet, and his fingers through her hair had felt like fire. Like an electric jolt that had shivered up and down his spine.

So, it was one-sided, whatever it was. Granger would always just be the girl he'd never had.

He opened the book back to the anti-love potion. ("To work the potion, he who is casting it must drink it himself. The ingredients are natural, and the potion only takes an hour at the most to be made, and drunk.

"After drinking it, there will be some discomfort in the stomach, which will pass soon.

"He must kiss the person he wants to fall out of love with him, before the night is up, and come morning the love will be broken.")

And as of later on tonight, I'm not going to want her anymore. He thought, bitterly, before making a mental notes of the ingredients needed.

::HERMIONE::

Harry and I sat outside, looking at the lake with the giant squid, not really saying much. His hand was resting near mine, and slowly, and tentatively, he laced our fingers together, so that we were holding hands, and I looked into his emerald eyes, but felt nothing. "Hermione, if you were leading me on, now would be the time to tell me."

" . . . What??" where had that come from?" We were sharing a moment that could have been considered very romantic, and he assumed I wanted to hurt him.

Of course, the only reason I'd asked him out there was to tell him about Draco . . . Still ...

" . . . Look, I think I understand what's going on. I think you're using me to hide what you're feeling for Malfoy. Or Ron. Or someone else. . . If I'm wrong, then tell me now, and we can continue where we were going, and if not then . . . It's fair that you tell me . . ."

I watched him for a moment, looking into his eyes. And, oh, I wanted to cry. "No, Harry . . . I . . . I like someone else."

And it hurt, to watch him stand up.

"But - I'm trying to get over him. That's why I want to be with you. So I can get over him."

"It's Malfoy, isn't it?"

" . . . Yes."

He took a glimpse at my tears, and looked hurt. Angry. "I should have known from the beginning."

"Harry-" I went to touch him, but he pulled away.

"No. Just . . . just leave me alone." and then, he disappeared inside, leaving me by myself.

I looked out into the lake. I'm screwing everything up.

I rose to my feet, flattened out my robes, and hugged myself.

A little later, I heard a stick crack, and turned around, to see Malfoy standing there, heaving, looking strange. His hair was free of the glue he used, and it was as tousled as Harry's. I felt a weird aching in the pit of my stomach, and watched him, curiously.

"Hermione." he said, quietly, and then moved toward me, wrapping arms around me, tracing my lips with a cold finger of his. He was shaking slightly, and it scared me, to see him like that. So uncollected. It was hard, because this wasn't the guy I'd fallen in love with.

"What're you doing out here, Malfoy?" I questioned. "What do you want?"

"Please stop - stop calling me Malfoy."

" . . . Draco . . . what're-" and then he kissed me, with a passion I couldn't have matched, even if he were himself. It was soft, but deepening, when he knew I thought it was okay. And his fingers travelled over my cheeks, down my shoulders, across my back . . . I felt my knees weakening. This wasn't happening. There wasn't a way in hell all of this was happening. I had Malfoy. I won.

He pulled away, and looked into my eyes. "I'm sorry." he said, finally.

"For what?"

"For all the times I hurt you in the past . . . and all the times I'm going to hurt you in the future."

"What're you talking about?"

He pulled away. Let go of me. "I think I love you." he said, and then hung his head, as if waiting for my response.

"Malfoy I . . ." he cringed. "Draco . . . I don't understand."

"Forget it." he said, finally. "It doesn't matter." and then he left.

There was a bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, but I knew better than to follow him.

-Authors Note-

Thanks to all of my reviewers! I still love you! Tell me if you liked this chapter, because I wasn't entirely sure if it really captured what I was trying to make it . . . That Draco is in love with her, but doesn't want to be . . .

I'm aware at how badly this turned out, forgive me, I apologize.

All I have left is the epilogue, and then this baby is finished.

(Sorry about my lack of updating . . . sheepish smile I was stuck for an ending, just until a few moments before this chapter was type . . . hugs everyone)