Wince. Sorry about the wait.

Kaori: And sorry that last chapter was sorta weak.

Well, I thought it was sweet.

Kaori: Yeah, well, I thought it was weak. But we did have to get through some stuff. Actually, we're still getting through some stuff. Bear with us. This is the last "Getting Through Stuff" chapter. Thanks to all of you who reviewed: oreo69not96, abbi, Katie, and Da-ReDhEdEd-WeIrDo.

We don't own Harry Potter. Or Draco.

Kaori: We would sell our soul for Draco Malfoy. But nobody's buying.

Weeks passed. Hermione and Draco were calling each other by their first names now, at least within the confidence of their private chambers. In public they were neither openly friendly nor openly hostile. If they passed in the corridors or in the Great Hall, they would exchange nods and little else.

Draco sank weakly onto the sofa, wiping his mouth. He had been ill every evening for the past few days and his hands shook as he rested them on his lap.

"All right?" Hermione said, rubbing his back tenderly.

Draco nodded, leaning forward onto his elbows. He liked the feeling of her hand on his back. It had been over seven years since his parents had so much as laid a finger on him, so he had been essentially isolated from human contact ever since his breakup with Pansy.

A certain question had grown heavier than a succubus in his head. He wasn't sure if he was comfortable talking about it with Hermione yet, but she was the only one who knew his secret. And she was the first person he had ever had who he could really consider calling a friend. When he reached out for comfort, she had been there, and maybe she would still be.

"Hermione," he said, still staring at the ground.

"Mm-hm?" she said, buried in a book.

"Well, you already know I like boys," he began.

"Yes?" she said, closing her book and laying it on her lap.

"And," he continued, struggling for the best words. "I think I might like girls, too, but I'm not entirely sure." There. He had said it.

The expression on Hermione's face was nothing like what he had expected. Instead of shock, or surprise, or even disgust, there was the strange look of someone who has just been reminded of something.

"I'm not the first?" Draco said.

Hermione shook her head.

"Who was it?"

She shook her head again. But then, her eyes lit up. "Wait just a minute, I'll be right back." She sprang off of the sofa and dashed to her room. She pushed up the lid of her trunk and rooted through the remaining contents. There it was, still in its department-store box.

It had been a present from Fred and George, a joke, really, (or so she hoped). It had come with a note saying, "If you ever begin to think that books aren't quite enough, just swing by the store wearing these and we'll take care of you." Fred had read it aloud to wild hoots of laughter.

She took the box back to the sofa before the fire. Draco raised an eyebrow as he watched her open it. In amongst sheets of white tissue paper there was what appeared to be a lingerie set made out of black leather and lace.

"It was a gag gift," she said quickly. "I've never worn them, but I thought maybe, if you... imagined..." she trailed off awkwardly, realizing the impracticality of her suggestion. "I'm sorry, it was a stupid idea," she said.

"No, that's all right," Draco said. "It's just... I think I'd need to - erm - see it on someone, to really know."

Hermione nodded apologetically and carried the box away, cursing herself. She tossed the box onto her bed, angrily. "Why does he make you so fucking stupid?" she muttered. She looked back at the box.

Draco felt a slight embarrassed blush colour his pale cheeks. She had meant well, but he wasn't sure why she had thought it would help. He returned to studying the shadows cast by his scars in the flickering firelight. He looked up when Hermione entered again.

His jaw dropped.

She was standing just at the edge of the circle of firelight, looking nervous, vulnerable, and uncomfortable. She was wearing only the lace and leather ensemble she had shown him just before. He now realized that it was garnished with a motif of black butterflies, gently fluttering and glittering as she moved.

A surge of desire burst through him like a tidal wave. For just a split second, all that existed was her and him and now and all he wanted was to feel her beautiful, curvy body pressed close to his, to be inside her, with her completely.

Hermione shivered slightly, a little disoriented. She concluded that she had suffered a minor lapse of sanity that had cause her to waltz out of her bedroom in ridiculous underwear.

Draco looked away quickly, afraid that she would see the lust in his eyes or the bulge in his pants. He wanted to hit himself. She was a friend, yes, beautiful, yes, sexy, yes, but she was a Mudblood, for crying out loud.

"Wear that for Longbottom," he said. "It'll drive him crazy."

Hermione crossed her arms modestly. My god, you're an idiot, she screamed at herself. "I-w-does this help?" she said.

"Yeah," he muttered.

"Listen, Hermione," Draco said, combing his fingers through his hair. "About the other night..."

Hermione looked up from her book, but couldn't bring herself to look into his big grey eyes.

"I just wanted to say thank-you," he said, willing himself to keep his eyes on her face. "And I - I promise not to tell anybody."

Hermione said nothing. She returned to her book.

"Are you angry with me?" Draco said. "Did I do something wrong?" He felt his old temper beginning to flare up again. It wasn't as if he had asked her to model lingerie for him. She had done that on her own.

"No, I'm not angry with you," she sighed. "I just had an argument with Neville, that's all."

"Oh," Draco said. "I'm sorry." He looked up, out the picture windows across the room. They had a beautiful view of the sunset. A familiar lurch of nausea twisted in his stomach and he rushed to the bathroom, making it just in time to vomit into the toilet.

As he rinsed the bitter sting from his mouth, he wondered if he should go to the hospital wing. He had never been sick for so long before. He spat into the sink just as a chill ran up his spine. A strange, ominous feeling sank like ice into his stomach as he slowly raised his head to the mirror. A golden-eyed lupine stared back at him. He stumbled backwards with a yell, and the spectre was gone again.

He was still shaking when he returned to the sofa. He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to shake the shivers from his bones. He opened his eyes again, leaning over towards Hermione.

"What are you reading?" he asked. She didn't answer, but a line of text caught his eye.

"In fear I hurried this way and that. I had the taste of blood and chocolate in my mouth, the one as hateful as the other."

Hermione closed the book. "I've got something for you," she said.

Draco raised an eyebrow. Hermione stood quite suddenly, her school skirt rustling as she passed. He couldn't help snatching a glance at her legs as the headed for her bedroom. She returned with a small bottle full of some thick, murky liquid. She dropped it into his hand.

"I made this potion for you," she said. "It's the full moon tonight, and this is supposed to keep werewolves from being dangerous. Professor Lupin..." she trailed off, not really wanting to bring up that she had been in contact with Professor Lupin through the Order of the Phoenix.

Draco looked at her, then at the bottle, then back up into her warm, chocolate-brown eyes. She smiled weakly. "I was worried about you," she said. Draco just stared up at her. "I mean," she continued, trying to fill his silence, "we are friends now, aren't we?"

Draco blinked up at her for another moment, then grabbed her and pulled her into a tight, brotherly hug. "Thank you," he said. Hermione's heart thundered in her chest. She enjoyed the feeling of his body against hers. He was warm, and his muscles had the strong, slightly yielding consistency of tire rubber. He felt completely different from Neville.

"Well," she said, breathlessly, as he released her. "I think I'm going to... erm... take a bath..." she rose, slightly disconcerted, and walked guiltily from the room.

Draco's eyes rested on the coffee table, where she had abandoned her book. His gaze fixed on the title.

Steppenwolf

Draco sat at the edge of his bed, contemplating the bottle in his hands. The sun was finishing his descent, and the moon would soon rise. He was sure that if she had really made the potion she said she made, it would work. She might have been a Mudblood, but she was a very good potion-maker. He uncorked it and took a tentative sniff. It smelled disgusting. He held his nose and swallowed the potion in one gulp. It left a foul taste in his mouth, but it did settle his queasy stomach. He lay back on his bed and waited, watching the sky change from orange to pink to deep blue.

Wow. That chapter seems really short. Sorry.

Kaori: And this one's pretty iffy, Ichigo.

Shut up! It's just like you said, we're getting through stuff.

Kaori: Please review! Review, and please forgive any editing errors, as it is currently three-o-clock in the morning. Thank you!