Title: And She Will Be Loved

Author Name: Melissa Spitfire

Author email: melissa underscore spitfire at yahoo dot com (links screw up, but this isn't meant to be one)

Category: Romance

Sub Category: Angst

Keywords: Draco Malfoy Hermione Granger Auror

Rating: R

Spoilers: SS/PS, CoS, PoA, GoF, OotP, a little HBP there but I won't tell where

Summary: She never ever felt that she really belonged; never ever felt that she was really wanted. She is nothing but a shadow. But he is the ground where the shadow was cast, and it is in his deepest desires to make her see herself otherwise.

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

A/n: Highly inspired by Maroon Five's "She Will Be Loved." So I don't suppose I should say that this is a songfic? Anyways... My first ever attempt on a Harry Potter fic, so please take this easy on me! ::grins sheepishly::

BTW, this is kinda R, so… Read at your own risk!

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Verse Six: Silver Shining

I don't mind spending everyday

Out on your corner in the pouring rain

Look for the girl with a broken smile

Ask her if she wants to stay a while

And she will be loved

And she will be loved

And she will be loved

And she will be loved

"Hermione!"

Hermione looked up from her book and saw Pansy running towards her, her soft pink robes flying behind her as the Slytherin rushed to the bench she was sitting at. She smiled at the girl in return. "Pansy!"

Pansy stopped just in front of the bench and sat down unceremoniously. "I-I'm sorry, Hermione. Father was rather hard to wriggle out of." She panted out, clutching her chest.

"That's quite all right, Pansy." Hermione nodded slightly, reverting to her book. "Take a breather first before we go."

Pansy tried to calm her breathing, heaving huge amounts of oxygen into her lungs, and glanced at the book her companion was reading. "What's that?"

Hermione closed the book immediately, feeling abashed. "I-It's nothing, really."

Pansy grabbed the book from her and read the cover, much to Hermione's indignation. "Memoirs of a Geisha... A muggle book?" Pansy looked at the other witch. "You read muggle books?"

"Well--"

"That's great! Do you have other books like these? I never really had a chance to read one, Father made sure I couldn't take hold of them. Can I borrow this, please?" Pansy shrieked, or a tad less than that.

Hermione chuckled at Pansy's enthusiasm. "S-Sure, sure. I have lots of others in my flat. If you want we could go there later." She was practically ecstatic!

"Really?!" Pansy asked, and saw Hermione nod her head in response. "This is just way... Cool... Do you have romance novels?"

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Umm, no... No... But I'm sure we could arrange a lending agreement with Lavender regarding that."

Pansy's eyes were glittering with joy while talking about whatever Hermione tuned out, and Hermione couldn't help but feel good that she had once again made someone happy, though a twinge of sadness nagged in her.

Does it always have to be someone else that she could make happy? Does it always have to be her parents, Harry, Ron, Neville, Ginny, the other Gryffindors, Dumbledore and the Wizarding World? Does she always have to stick to the conventional, because it would make everyone happy?

She always convinced herself that as long as the ones she loved were happy, she was happy. She ::should:: be happy. But isn't it about time she got her own happiness? She is but human, too -- imperfect and lacking of certain abilities, needing air and water and food and shelter, thriving for knowledge and wisdom, wanting for worldly satisfaction only Malfoy could give her that would make her experience heaven on earth...

Hermione blushed. Did she just think that last bit?

"Hermione?"

Hermione snapped out of reverie and turned to look at Pansy, who was eagerly staring at her. She felt stupid, actually, tuning her out like that. "O-Okay, we'll go to my flat later."

Pansy frowned slightly. "I wasn't talking about the books, Hermione. I was saying how you should go to Venice and spend the summer with Blaise and me. You weren't listening."

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "Oh, sorry..."

"Is something wrong?"

Hermione shook her head profusely. "No, no... Just some things about work, don't worry." She got up, straightened her olive robes and slung the strap of her purse on. "Let's get those butterbeers I promised." She smiled slightly at Pansy before hiding her face from her by turning to walk ahead.

She didn't notice how Pansy's smile turned lopsided and diabolical behind her.

Pansy had been eyeing her since she tuned her out. At first, she felt furious at Hermione for not listening, but when she saw the distant and strained look on her face, she had a good idea at what was going on in her brainy friend's mind.

For years even before the Astronomy tutorial she had with Hermione, Pansy observed her from a distance. She really didn't find the idea of pureblood-mudblood classification quite convincing, but as the Slytherin Princess, she had to keep up the tradition of that twisted concept and the forever-winding house rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor. Hermione was, after all, the Gryffindor Princess, and their respective best friends positively loathed each other. And honestly, she didn't think calling Weasley the Gryffindor Pauper was justifiable. It wasn't his fault that he was born penniless!

She wanted to befriend her at least, not really a best friend, but someone she could casually talk to. Good thing Sinistra suggested that tutorial, because she thought that the Fifth Year events would finally crush her hopes in doing so.

And somehow, much to her luck, even her childhood friend managed to see her in a different perspective. Draco Malfoy never wavered in his opinions, save for the Death Eater issue and of course, Hermione.

She knew what happened a few days ago, and she was actually looking forward to going into Hogsmeade with Hermione. Draco was very distracted, and his attempts in preoccupying himself with work were futile. Even Blaise got away with sitting on the wing chair in his office! After much pestering and coaxing, Draco reluctantly told them what happened that fateful night, and how he decided that enough is enough and that he should forget whatever happened between them for the past few weeks. "That is," she could still hear Draco's weary voice telling them, "If there really is something between us." She had to admit, she was a bit shocked when she heard him retell the events, unlike Blaise, who remained very receptive of the idea of the odd. But then again, Blaise was another story.

But that doesn't erase the fact that Draco was just as befuddled and disturbed as Hermione is.

"You're just as confused as Draco is," Pansy whispered, her smile fading into a worried one. "Smart people. Always bonkers when it comes to matters of the heart." She shook her head, before finally standing up and running towards Hermione, who was already almost a block away. "Hermione, wait up!"

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It took all of his willpower not to throw the mahogany table in front of him and stalk out of the conference room. The old coot slash one of the company's business partners has been at it for the whole meeting! It had been two bloody hours since they started!

As he finally adjourned the gruesome meeting, he immediately slipped into his office, threw on his coat and walked, more like stalked, towards the door.

A flash of silver on the head chair caught his eye, and he stopped from slinking out of the room to turn back and stare into a pair of dark gray eyes.

"Draco."

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"And he just... Began running about with his hair on fire! I had to hold my stomach to prevent myself from bursting out, he looked so utterly ridiculous!" Pansy finished jovially, recounting on one of the many funny things she saw during their stay in Hogwarts.

Hermione chuckled lightly and half-heartedly. She isn't really in the mood for a laughathon with anyone, but she knew she should be. Aside from it being rude and offending to Pansy, there were things she had to allow herself to indulge in. Laughing was not in her normal routine (since Harry and Ron always talked about three blasted balls, six hoops and fourteen people flying about on what could be a venue for studies instead), and baking or cooking the muggle way could be a very interesting hobby, but strangely, she had a very... Interesting vision about sheets, lights and greens just that moment. Now ::that:: was queer.

"And you're not at all listening, you know that?"

Hermione's gaze suddenly focused at Pansy and she smiled shyly. "I-I was just thinking about work, a-and I think I left--"

"Is anything wrong, Hermione?" Pansy set down her butterbeer and plucked at the kidney pie on the small tray placed in front of them. "You're not yourself. Is there a blast-ended skrewt on your dress?"

"N-No, no, Pansy. Thanks for your concern. Don't worry; if that happens, I'll have Colin Creevey take a shot." Hermione smiled despite herself. "It's not likely to happen anyway."

"Don't you want that shepherd's pie? You haven't touched it one bit." Pansy enquired further.

Hermione shook her head. "I'm not that hungry... You can have it, if you like." She grinned slightly, before her face turned into a wistful frown.

Pansy moued in indignation. "Then why are you spacing out? I thought your parents are faring better now, and that you've gone to visit them...?"

"Yes, they're faring much better now, but I haven't visited them." Hermione lied, and honestly, she didn't like lying from those around her. Well, she couldn't just go about telling anyone in public that she just used Dark Arts to go through the barriers that the Ministry set for muggle-borns, it would cost her her job, not to mention they'd be shocked to find out who her conspirator was...

"But I thought Draco helped you--"

Hermione's eyes turned upward to stare openly at Pansy. "Draco what? I-I mean, Malfoy what?"

Pansy stopped from eating and stared back. "You know very well what I mean, Hermione. It's not that big of an issue."

"That git," Hermione tsked. "And to think he promised not to tell anyone. I should have known."

"Merlin's bathrobe, Hermione!" Pansy exclaimed exasperatedly. "It's not like I'll be going around babbling about that to the Ministry!" She gulped some butterbeer before continuing. "Do you think that once the Ministry gains knowledge about your illegal crossover, it's just you that they'd be punishing? Draco took a risk of Azkaban just to help you!"

"Well..." Hermione felt dumb. But of course, it isn't likely that Pansy would do that, even if she weren't friends with her. It would put Draco in great danger.

And besides, she wouldn't want that to happen.

Hermione fought the blush from showing. No, she is ::so:: not thinking about what happened after they had arrived from muggle London, really. It was something else... Like concern for her own skin... Rescuing one's hide... "I-I'm sorry, Pansy."

Pansy smiled. "It's okay. And besides, you really couldn't blame him. The Malfoys, like us Parkinsons and any other pureblooded families out there, are Machiavellians. Even the Weasleys."

Hermione laughed. "Yeah. That was really foolish of me." She placed some honey on her scones.

"So..." Pansy drawled out and gave Hermione a meaningful look.

Hermione looked up at Pansy and caught the evil glint in her eyes. "So...?" She repeated, unsure of Pansy's apparent use of her facial features, before she saw Pansy shake her head and smile slightly. "What?"

"Aren't you going to tell me something important?" Pansy retorted.

Hermione pursed her lips in thought. "... No..."

"No?" Pansy mirrored her gesture. "Hmm... You're not a boring person, Hermione. Surely there ::is:: something interesting that happened to you lately. Well, aside from crossing over."

Hermione had an unsettling feeling that Pansy was thinking along the same lines that her thoughts were running. That is, about bloody annoying blondes and roaming fingers. "No, sorry. N-nothing's up with me." She said rather stiffly. Later on, she would find herself justifying this denial as to private and clandestine affairs not meant to be shared, however splendid and amazing the experience may be.

Uh... Did she just think that?

"Ah..." Her thoughts were interrupted by Pansy's voice. "Nothing at all... All right, whatever you say..."

Hermione wondered if Pansy was indeed talking about what she had in her thoughts just that instant. Because if she was, half the population would most likely want to march up to the Malfoy Manor and demand that Draco be hanged for the crime of touching even a smidgen of skin on Hermione Granger's body.

The thought just made her want to laugh out hysterically.

Pansy ignored the fact that Hermione seemed oblivious. It was quite obvious that she was not used to people listening to her stories. To quote Draco, "she was stuck with two prats prattling endlessly about Quidditch." She'll come around eventually. 'And what better timing,' she thought, 'for our evil little plans be set into execution!' Schooling a dismissive face, Pansy cried out as casually and out-of-the-blue-ish-ly as she could. "By the way, you're going to that Yearend Ball, right? Blaise asked me if I could ask you to go with him to the Ball. Bloody git has no date."

"Blaise?"

"Yeah. That bloke just made me, once again, a messenger." Pansy rolled her eyes in exasperation. "But you'll go with him, right? Potter and Weasley are in Würzburg."

Hermione's mind went into overdrive at the mention of her best friends. 'Oh no, what would Harry and Ron say when they find out?' The thought of her best friends and their reaction towards what was happening to her now that they're away never even crossed her mind. What would they say? What would they do? Will they be furious at her? Will they go up to... Him, and try to kill him?

Or better yet, would they even react violently? Do they still care that much for her to even attempt to do something as drastic as that?

Come to think of it, she hadn't bothered thinking about her troubles regarding Harry and Ron these past few days, simply because of Malfoy.

Malfoy...

Almost instantly, all the feelings he evoked from her began reeling back into her memory. The fleeting touches, the soft and gentle caresses, the intense kisses and...

"Well?"

"... Haah?" Hermione retorted rather funnily. 'Oooh, that git!'

"Are you going or not? You see," Pansy pulled on a worried face. "I kind of... Dropped him like a hot potato when Father, well, asked me to go with Draco."

"Dropped Blaise? Why did you drop him just like that? W-w-why didn't you just tell your Father that you were going with Blaise?" Hermione was baffled.

"Well, this will be the last favor I'm going to do for my Father before I..." She trailed off.

"Before you...?"

"Before I tell him that I don't want to end up with Draco." Pansy ended confidently. "He'll have apoplexy when he finds out I'm dating Blaise instead of Draco." Pansy smiled crookedly.

"Your Father doesn't like Blaise?" Now that was something for Witch Weekly to feast on. Who would have thought that Mr. Parkinson didn't--

"No, no, Hermione. I know you think it's Witch Weekly material, but Father likes Blaise too. He just thinks that I should end up with Draco because he wants Millicent to end up with Blaise. A resident matchmaker, if I may say." Pansy finished.

"Oh."

"Go with him? Please?"

Hermione nodded. "Sure."

"That's good..." Pansy trailed off. That's very good, indeed. Hermione didn't need to know that some of it was just weaved to... Fit her and Blaise's evil little ploy. "Let's apparate to Madame Malkin's after this."

"M'kay."

Once Hermione went back to her little world, the Slytherin girl's smile turned into a malicious grin. Hermione didn't need to know that her Father wasn't a resident matchmaker, or that she didn't drop Blaise like a hot potato (well, in front of Draco, that is), and that she was very sure that evil, ickle Drakkie-poo would be very, very vexed when he finds out about her very interesting fabrication of the story.

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His eyes widened at the person sitting on the wingback chair.

The other person seated on the chair gave a deep, condescending chuckle. "Or should I say Mr. Malfoy?" The other person stood up to his full height, albeit still a bit short compared to Draco's towering built.

"Father!" Draco smiled, a genuine one, before walking rather faster towards the man to give him a hug.

Lucius stiffened considerably before he returned the gesture of affection silently, tightening his arms around his son a bit before releasing him and patting him on the shoulder. "I see you haven't changed, Draco. Still the cunning, dashing, handsome and emotional trash of an heir you always were." He smiled at his son kindly.

Draco shook his head. "I am, Father, much to your chagrin. But it's been a long time."

Lucius crossed the room, the echoes of his ever-present cane tapping on the carpeted floor giving Draco a comforting feeling. He then opened a drawer and brought out a bottle of white wine and two goblets. "Drink with me." He poured some wine into the glasses and plopped down the upholstered chair gracefully, like only Malfoys could do.

He walked towards his father, accepting the proffered goblet, before sitting across him on the settee. He sipped on his drink a little, before setting it down on the polished table. "How long have you been... Out?" Draco ended rather pathetically, still comprehending the events happening in front of him. He didn't want to give his father an impression that he was thinking of him as a lunatic on a straight jacket placed under a mediwitch's guidance, but... It wasn't something he expected! "Has Mother seen you?"

"Ah," Lucius began in his usual distant voice. "A few weeks ago, before Christmas. I spent the holidays with the elder Zabinis and Parkinsons together with your Mother in Moscow." He smirked at his son.

Draco gaped (yes, Draco Malfoy can gape!) at his Father, totally forgetting that it was his perfectionist parent in front of him. "You've been out since... Why didn't...?"

Lucius sipped confidently on his wine. "Your Mother insisted for you not to meet me yet, albeit the atrocity in that crazy twat's idea, but I'm here. And you might want to close that," he gestured his goblet with his hand towards Draco's slack jaw, "you're putting your parents' teaching skills into shame."

Draco flinched at the tone of his voice, yet he knew that there wasn't any form of malice on it. It was just a reflex action, one he used to do whenever he shouted hexes at him before.

A few minutes later, Lucius brought down his goblet and tucked his hands together on the table in a business-like manner. "You've brought a great deal of change in the Wizarding Business World. I never thought you could do so much in such a short time, Draco."

"I try," Draco averted his eyes slightly. He was a Malfoy, all right. But when it came to his Father staring down at him, he couldn't use his stare-down-at-the-enemy-and-show-them-who's-the-boss technique. "Is it good enough, though?" He always gave importance to his Father's opinion, because even at the unstable mind he had then, and the sky-high expectations he had of him, he was thinking clearly just like he had always been, even before the incident.

Draco brought his eyes to his Father's face, shivering involuntarily at the unpleasant grimace on his face, and almost felt like fainting when Lucius shook his head. "... No?" He mumbled faintly.

Lucius brought the butt of his tobacco down on the ashtray. "Hideous taste. Didn't you ever take time to throw this filth that has been sitting in your drawer for months?" He pointed at the pungent tobacco.

Draco almost felt his nostrils shatter at the smell the tobacco emanated, and he immediately cleaned the mess with his wand. "I apologize for my shortcoming, Father."

"Very well." Lucius waved his hand at him in dismissal, breathing slightly on his gloved palm and sniffing to see if the smell mingled with his breath, before he cleared his throat. And then, he whispered slightly, just above a puff of breath. "I'm proud of you, son."

Despite the undistinguishable volume, his words sounded as clear as a Death Eater's scream. Draco could almost see some dark clouds break open at the sky, and the bright sunlight happily streaming down on him. He never heard such a compliment from his proud father!

Lucius felt a smile tugging at the corner of his lips at watching his only child brighten up considerably. "Draco. I am fairly sure you know how I treat people who do great things that would be of the Malfoys' advantage."

Draco nodded dumbly, still too shocked to even utter a sound. His Father actually praised him! His Father, Lucius Malfoy! High, unwavering, hard-to-please Lucius Malfoy!

Draco struggled valiantly to suppress the goofy smile forming on his lips, trying to keep his Father from seeing it. He had worked his little arse off more than needed, and invested all of his blood and sweat -- and not to mention a few thousand galleons -- for what he so closely cherished now, and he sure as bloody hell wouldn't let any other person take advantage of the Malfoy businesses. Any outsider would definitely ruin his perfectly-carved sculpture... At that thought, an idea began to form in his head; and when he finally found his voice, he managed to speak his mind clearly. "Father... It's not that I doubt your word or anything, but I would like an honest answer from you..."

Lucius stayed silent, and a few moments later gave him an almost imperceptible nod. Taking this as a sign to continue, continue he did. "Father... Do you wish to go back to your position as the Head of all the Malfoy businesses?"

Lucius eyed his son for a long time, weighing his son's words. "Draco," he began. "... Even if I am one of the major stockholders of our companies, you have to be reminded that you are the head of the business now. And as the President, you should do what you think works for everyone's advantage."

At Lucius' words, Draco took a shuddering breath, still not used to the new and improved Lucius Malfoy sitting across from him. In his opinion, this decision is by far the most feasible course of action at the moment. "Father, you... I-I reckon it is time the company be handed back to its original owner." He smiled slightly. His Father is undoubtedly in good condition, so there really is no reason why he should just stay at the manor all day with his Mother... Well, unless they want to have a go at it in every part of the manor every two hours. He remembered clearly how they unabashedly told the Zabinis over dinner that their only heir was conceived underwater...

He shuddered visibly at that, the wine he just drank almost finding its way from his insides back up to his throat, and he felt like regurgitating his last meal. Ah, perish the thought!

His face brightening several degrees, Lucius beamed at Draco. Had Draco been sixteen, he wouldn't even spare a thinking moment to consider handing back the business. He knew, from the looks of the business and the news he has been hearing since his Mungo days, that Draco made a big difference in the Wizarding Market ever since he took it from Narcissa. Not that Narcissa didn't run the company well; his wife even handled the company well through the business crisis that the industry experienced after stupid, gullible, Cornelius pudgy Fudge's resignation, the Malfoy Group of Companies being the only corporation that survived the prolonged crisis unscathed. But it was in his son's term that the notable and splendid changes occurred. And obviously, he outgrew his whiny side.

His son had matured over the years, and however unsettling it is for him, he had Albus Dumbledore to thank for that... Him, those self-righteous members of the senile old coot's Army, and that blasted Order of the Phoenix, even if he absolutely loathed those lot whom he waved wands against. "Thank you, Draco." He intoned with much indifference. However, this would not do; it isn't that easy to transfer powers of authority from one person to another. "Are you certain this is the right decision?"

"I am, Father."

"All right." Lucius, though very willingly accepting authority over the assets again, still doubted if it was, indeed, the right decision. He stood up to walk over the huge window behind the desk.

Draco watched with interest as he saw his old Father in his office, looking as imperious as ever, illuminated by the bright and green-colored rays of the sun flitting from the glass-stained window. He was startled when Lucius turned abruptly to sit himself on the chair, before clearing his throat.

"Well, then. As the recently-appointed head of the Malfoy Group of Companies, Draco Malfoy, you're fired from being the President of this company." He drawled out imperviously.

Draco didn't know whether he should laugh at his Father at the irony of the situation or hex him into next month for not giving him an honorable (and graceful, that of which a Malfoy always deserved) exit. Well, Lucius is indeed his father, and long before he was born, he had always been like that, so it wasn't questionable. As he was fond of talking to himself at that moment, he almost didn't hear what Lucius said next.

"And as the new Head, I free Draco Malfoy from all the unpleasantries and inconveniences that his rash decision would later exhibit." Lucius smiled a smug one, just as the younger Malfoy's looked like. "Furthermore, said individual would go on an indefinite leave, only to come back when the new President sees a suitable place for him in this company."

Draco's eyes widened. "Father! I refuse to be not given any responsibility...!"

Lucius shook his head. "Draco, you're barely nineteen. You're fresh from Hogwarts. You're a Slytherin. Cunning and ambitious. Surely you have ambitions and plans for your life other than following my footsteps. I recall you taking interest in working for the Ministry." He spoke tightly, not allowing any room for his son to protest. "And besides," he continued, twiddling with the exquisite quill on his hands. "I take it you've been... Quite taken with a schoolmate, or so I have been told."

Schooling his face in a stoic mask, Draco replied. "Taken? I beg to differ."

"Tsk, tsk. Denial. Quite understandable. The disadvantages of being smitten, such hold emotions have over humans." Lucius pushed his fringe out of his eyes. "You are of legal age. I want you to do what you want, Draco. And make sure of that, because I know all about you and your mudblood."

Draco scowled. "She's not a mudblo--"

"Which leads me to believe and conclude on your rumored love affair." Lucius scoffed lightly.

"Whoever told you of such a disgusting news?"

"Someone reliable."

"Skeeter, I presume?"

Lucius' lips quirked. "No. Someone I've long trusted and have had confidence in. Bloody animagus could be easily squashed." He stared at him hard. He wasn't even surprised when his son equaled his condescending stare, and he regretted the fact that as a recently released patient, no magic could be performed for three weeks. Stupid Legilimency... His son was using it on him!

So instead of fabricating thoughts, he looked away and shifted through the folders on the desk. "I don't need to hear any more of your pathetic excuses. I still have a considerable amount of confidence, albeit very diminutive, in your decision-making skills."

Draco preened visibly, before heaving a breath of confidence. "Are you implying that I do what I want?"

Lucius made a grunting noise at him as he pushed his spectacles up the bridge of his nose. "For a smart kid like you, you're quite slow. I told you before to desist reading that good-only-for-gossip Witch Weekly. It seemed to have rubbed off on you. Such low pick up is a disgrace to the Malfoys."

Draco bit the insides of his mouth so hard that he could almost taste blood on what he felt was a bruised part of it. He needed to make sure he wasn't hearing things, although he seldom questioned his Father. Of course, he could always be wrong about it, but maybe… Just maybe… He heard him right. "W-What about… Hermione?"

"I don't like her." Lucius replied almost at once, and his eyebrows creased as he stared at the folder atop the table. "She's a mudblood. She's a know-it-all. She's a bushy-haired, buck-toothed bint. She had caused me disgrace seven years ago in Flourish and Blott's." Lucius scowled and his face went grim.

Draco clenched his fists and gnashed his teeth in annoyance. He never thought his description of Hermione Granger way back second year still remained in his Father's mind, and he never really thought he'd come to see Hermione Granger in a new light... And the Wizarding World as well, but still...

"Though if his grades don't pick up," he could well remember his Father respond icily back then in Mr. Borgin's store, when he stupidly expressed desire to have that bloody Hand of Glory that worked well for thieves that his Father described as most definitely way lower than the most dishonoring Malfoy ever, "that may indeed be all he is fit for --"

"It's not my fault," he retorted then, feeling very offended. "The teachers all have favorites, that Hermione Granger --"

But his Father simply scolded him in front of the old storeowner who even spared a breadth in thinking he was to be a thief. "I would have thought that you'd be ashamed that a girl of no wizard family beat you in every exam..."

That comment made him most bitter about everything, as if he never did anything right and favorable.

"Receiving two OWLs more than you and --" continued Lucius.

Okay, so he always did terrible things in front of those malicious and judgmental "Harry-Potter-the-Golden-Boy-and-his-groupies-are-our-heroes-and-defenders-of-justice" groveling kind of people, but really, was he that bad?

"... Appointed to work beside you as the Head Girl--"

Oh, and wasn't he that disgrace of the Malfoy clan?

"... And inadvertently stole what rightly belonged to our family for ever since Hogwarts' foundation."

Draco was shaken out of his stupor when the deep voice of his Father penetrated his thoughts.

"And to wrap it all up, she is Harry Potter's best friend." Lucius' nose twitched in annoyance, the mere mention of Draco's arch-nemesis seemingly revolting to him.

What Draco imagined as thick clouds that began parting to let the rays of the sun grace him and shine on his dark life began to cloud drastically.

"But given the implications of this non-negotiable quandary my foolish son jumped into..." Lucius' gaze remained fixed on the papers, but he looked up for a split second at his son through his cumbersome bangs, shielding his eyes from him. "... I just might."

For a few moments there was but silence in the air, where Lucius surreptitiously glanced at his stupefied son and gauged his reaction. Judging by that, it was a shocking and hard-to-digest information. Pulling on an annoyed façade, he craned his neck to see his son while sifting through the papers, his reading glasses falling off slightly. With an indignant tone, he drawled out. "Well, what are you waiting for, the tedious resurrection of that lame excuse of a Dark Lord? Get your lazy arse out my office and go about with your unfinished business!" He boomed harshly, before simmering into an imperious threat. "I don't settle for anything less, Dragon. And you won't be back in this company unless you've settled all your extra-curricular activities."

Cold gray eyes bore through mercury-silver ones.

Draco stood there for a few seconds before nodding slightly at his father. "A-All right. I'll be off, Father." He turned to walk out of the office.

After closing the door behind him, Draco felt very cold. That was the most memorable conversation he ever had with his father. It was difficult to take in all at once, considering it was the first time his father uttered something that made his heart almost burst out of joy. For years, he'd been waiting for his father to show him of his approbation on his chosen decision -- a nod of approval or a snort disguised as an affirmation would have been bearable, but what came was rather much better -- his father actually complimented him, told him he was proud of him, and told him straight and in person at that!

It felt good; and he suddenly felt a surge of energy in him, his nerves silently shouting: "Eat my dust, Potter! I have a Father. A Father who just told me how great I was."

He wanted to taunt Potter and see how his I'm-a-hero-the-baby-who-thwarted-a-pathetic-excuse-of-a-Dark-Lord demeanor crumble into the ground with jealousy, but over the years, he had come to have at least a little (just a teeny bit) degree of respect for the Golden Boy. How it happened he didn't know; only that it occurred when the greatest war in their time commenced, and that it was mainly due to the fact that he began to understand Potter's unexplainable outbursts in Fifth year. But that doesn't erase their animosity totally.

He kept the semi-evil thoughts he had momentarily, and focused instead on what to do with his free time, now that his Father practically kicked him out of the office and forced him to an indefinite leave. After all, he would only have the Yearend Ball to worry about. His Father and Mother would be representing the Malfoys, and he was sure his Mother would only coax him to attend that bloody Ball and reprimand him endlessly about it if he didn't turn up. And besides, he couldn't back out on Pansy. And he has to make sure Blaise wouldn't make a fool of himself that night. He wasn't going to attend that blasted Ball because of Hermione, really. He was just ::forced:: to attend to see to it that Blaise wouldn't make a fool of himself in front of Hermione, not to see her, because Blaise needs to be guided so as not to shame himself in Hermione's midst. He was ::so:: not going there to see her.

So much was his reasoning clouded by emotions that he never realized he was rationalizing too much, and that he had been reasoning and thinking things repeatedly about Blaise and Hermione.

His heart clenched involuntarily. Blaise and Hermione... Ah, he really didn't know what to associate with it; but he had a vague notion about it, and he absolutely begged to differ that it had something to do with an eight-letter word that starts with 'j.'

Maybe around amusement or sommat. Or apoplexy. Whatever.

Draco walked towards the doors of the lift as it swung open, and he stepped into it rather brusquely. He figured a visit to Hogsmeade and a bottomless mug of firewhiskey was in order.

------------------------

"Pansy!" Hermione called her companion as she glanced at herself from the mirror. "I think it's too tight..."

Pansy, who was busy looking at the other dress robes, pulled three more from the rack and brought it with her as she stepped up to Hermione. "Too tight, you say?" She looked her over. "Turn around." She gestured, and Hermione complied. "Nonsense, Hermione. It's just the right fit. Now go remove that dress and try these three on." She pushed the Gryffindor into the fitting room again, this time with three more bulky dress robes to try on.

"But Pans--" Hermione tried to protest, but Madame Malkin herself appeared to be agreeing with Pansy.

"Dear, the robes are spectacular, but I'm pretty sure there's a specific dress that would fit you perfectly. Now, try those on and I'll look for others." Madame Malkin, the storeowner, disappeared into another aisle.

"Yeah. Go on!" Pansy pulled the curtains close.

Sighing, Hermione extricated herself from the heavy clothing and began to fit the robes Pansy handed her.

Seeing Hermione preoccupied with fitting dress robes, Pansy stepped out from the dress chambers and into the front of the store as stealthily as possible. Reaching the more-lighted portion of the shop, she rolled her eyes at the sight that greeted her. "I thought you're ending all ties you have with her. What ever in Merlin's name are you doing here then?" cried Pansy mockingly as she stood leaning on the alcove opening that led to the dress chambers with her arms crossed.

"I just happened to pass by the shop, and I could not help but notice that my dearest childhood friend is here. I just thought I should drop by." The figure sitting on one of the upholstered chairs facing the fireplace stood up to face Pansy before giving her a wry smile. "You don't mind that, do you?"

Pansy shrugged. "The shop's not mine, so I have absolutely no right to forbid you." She walked towards the other person and grinned. "I'm guessing you're wandering around again? Merlin's beard, I am terribly awed by your extraordinary talent of running a company by just sauntering about."

"I'll have you know," he retorted, "that as of eleven thirty-nine this morning, I was fired from my position by my Father."

"Fired? By Uncle Lucius? What a pity." Pansy gave Draco a buss on the cheek. "And now you're back to being a slack, boring and good-for-nothing poncy git. Shame." She shook her head.

"You knew, yet you didn't tell me." Draco raised an eyebrow. "I'm deeply hurt."

"What can I say? You never inherited Aunt Narcissa's conniving nature. Blaise and I were simply captivated."

"And I see Blaise did too. And here I thought I was of importance to you." Draco scowled.

"There, there." She placed her hand on his shoulder and began to pat him like a child. "Say Draco, would you be a dear and do me a favor?"

Draco's scowled couldn't have been more grim. "What?"

"Kindly sod off now, so I could help my ever-lovely friend, Hermione, to get some robes for the Yearend Ball." Pansy pushed him towards the door. "I'm quite sure you're practically ::dying:: to see her dress robes, but I suggest you disappear from my sight because I might change my mind about being a very nice childhood friend to you and--"

"Pansy... I think it's too revealing... And too tight..." Came a voice from just a few yards in the room.

Draco perked up considerably. "Too tight? Revealing?" He took a step towards the changing room.

Pansy smiled slightly as she stopped the tall figure from his intentions.

"Must... See..." Draco murmured, as if in a trance, as he struggled to break free of Pansy's unbelievably strong grasp.

Pansy could practically see the thoughts running through Draco's head. Honestly, could hormones be more compelling? And besides, has he not ::seen:: every inch of Hermione's body already? Or could he just not get enough of it?

"Dray... Dray... Draco!" Pansy snapped her fingers for quite a number of times in front of him, trying to remove him from his untimely daze.

"... Whipped cream?"

"Ugh!" Pansy groaned. "Dray! Draco! Draco!" She slapped his face lightly. She almost heaved a sigh of relief when Draco shook his head, but the sound of footsteps getting louder by the second reminded her of her predicament. "Draco! See what I mean?" She pushed Draco out of the door. "Now there's no need for hormonal gits to be hanging around while I help my friend choose dress robes, so off you go! Bye bye!"

Draco stumbled out of the door and glared at Pansy. "You silly bint. You'll pay for this dearly!"

"No I won't! You still owe me a lot! Bye bye Drakkie-poo!!!" She called out, effectively making Draco flinch and walk away faster than usual. She just knew how to tick him off.

"Pansy, where are you?"

A set of footsteps walked around the other side of the store and towards the glass display window; immediately, Pansy pulled Hermione away from it. She couldn't risk having Draco see her; he'll have to die of anticipation first. "I-I-I'm here, Hermione!"

"There you are! Who was that you were talking to a while ago?"

"Uh..." 'Think, Pansy, think!' "The, uh, chauffeur! Yes, the chauffeur!" Pansy smiled rather funnily, gesturing wildly. "H-he said he was just going to look for a... Gift! Yes, a gift! A... A b-birthday gift for his, uh, uhm... Son at the, uh..." She trailed off, her eyes scanning the street for a signboard. "Quality Quidditch Supplies! Yes, y-y-you know, quidditch and boys." She rolled her eyes in mock indignation. "Anyways, you were saying?"

"Oh, right. You see Pansy, I think this--"

"For the fifth time, Hermione, it's not too tight. It fits you just perfectly! And its not revealing, you're just not used to short articles of clothing! I remember seeing you in your flat in that yellow dress... Now have you tried the green one?" Pansy steered her into the chambers and out of Draco's possibly still lurking around sight, smiling extra sweetly, yet heaving huge sighs of relief deep inside. But at the back of her mind, she snickered at the thought that Draco was, once again, defying his own bloody promises. It hasn't even been a week since he made that supposedly firm promise, and a promise sworn in the name of Salazar Slytherin at that! The old chap must be rolling in his grave in revulsion right now...

------------------------

The fifth glass of firewhiskey failed to serve Draco drunkenness. Ever since Pansy's rude shoving of him from that shop, he wandered about aimlessly around Diagon Alley, glancing around with a huge amount of disinterest painted on his features. For all his futile efforts of sorting himself, he ended up in Knockturn Alley and had the sudden urge to get himself drunk.

Failing in his mission, he paid for his drink, gave a huge amount of tip, stopped and winked arrogantly at the girl who was practically drooling at the sight of him before heading out of the dingy pub.

He walked out of the shop and headed to Quality Quidditch Supplies, intent on looking at the newest edition of the famous Firebolt XX. He may be busy with business and all that, but he still held fascination over the brooms and snitches that fly about. In fact, he could very well consider playing for the English Team if he didn't have anything to do (though he knew that was highly unlikely) after graduating.

Draco suddenly missed the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch, the elusive snitch, the blasted bludger that hit him square on the ribs on his sixth year (courtesy of that blasted Gryffindor beater who, up to now he still didn't know the name), the dank dungeons, the restricted section of the library, the Potions classroom, and so with the Arithmancy, Transfiguration and Occlumency classrooms, the greenhouses, the lake, the phantoms and the paintings, bullying the first years, his petty fights with Potty and the Weasel... Heck, he was even starting to miss the old croon and his bloody twinkling eyes!

Silently reprimanding himself for his softness, he pushed the door to Quality Quidditch Supplies rather roughly, the bells clanging against each other so loud that most of the customers turned their heads to look at him. One of his barely noticeable eyebrows shot up slowly, his eyes darted around confidently, and obviously undeterred, he walked towards the brooms section.

While marveling at the shiny broomstick on display, a blur of brown and yellow passed by the window, and he suddenly had the instinct to look up. He was surprised, to say the least, but not so surprised, when he saw that it was Pansy and Hermione. He knew that girls love shopping, and a first-hand experience with Pansy whining about the dress she couldn't buy way back fourth year made him learn not to offer to accompany girls while they went shopping. But he admired Pansy for being so patient and virtuous when it came to that; she practically raked the whole of Hogsmeade that weekend without even stopping for a drink!

The next thing Draco knew, he was walking down the street, leaving the fantastic broomstick behind, his coach following him, and him hiding behind the lampposts and trailing them. He justified that as to making sure they got home safely.

When they got on Pansy's carriage, he jumped into his as well, and followed the other carriage, a short distance behind them. He already knew where they were heading, for the angel of winter that stood in the middle of a now-frozen fountain came into view; and he was glad that they were indeed heading for home, because it was already seven in the evening. Their carriage slowed, and he told his coachman to slow down as well and go into hiding. It stopped in front of Hermione's flat and dropped Hermione off, before turning back and skidding away into the night.

His coachman steered the horse to follow the carriage, and Draco suddenly felt reluctant to leave. He already told himself that he was going to stay away from her; forget that something akin to a relationship transpired the few weeks that they saw each other. He wanted to settle his feelings, his thoughts, mend (or end, in a certain brunette's case) his relationships with those around him -- everything -- so that he could go back to work. But half of his system wasn't cooperating at all.

Sighing audibly, he drew the curtains of his coach and poked his head out, glancing at the circular fountain behind him. Why did he suddenly feel like he was leaving a part of him behind?

"Stop the carriage." He commanded. The vehicle halted, and Draco jumped out of the warmth of the vehicle and into the dark, cold and snowy night, walking briskly back to where it all began. 'This will be the last time, Malfoy,' he told himself, as he headed to the low gate with the number 14 in intricate brass lettering on it.

------------------------

From her carriage, Pansy grinned devilishly as she passed by Draco's personal coach. 'Of course, Draco's stubborn side always wins the game,' she twirled a lock of her hair between her fingers and reclined further in the plush seat. Blaise and she would have a fairly good time laughing at Draco's antics; he couldn't even keep a promise to save his arse!

The mental picture projected by her imagination of her and Blaise trotting over to Draco while laughing hysterically at his foolishness made her laugh. Boy, would Draco be furious at them! But really, it was his fault that he always broke such promises. Or was he just born under an unlucky star?

Pansy shook her head in resignation. Draco Malfoy will always be Draco Malfoy; there really is nothing she or Blaise could do to change him. She could only pray that Hermione wouldn't push him away this time like she did many times before.

------------------------

After giving her heartfelt and sincere thanks to Pansy and her coachman and waving her goodbyes at them, Hermione began the gruesome task of unlocking the sealing contraptions on her door. A few minutes later she got in, plucked her gloves out of her hands, untied the laces of her boots and removed it, and shrugged off her outer robes and hung it on the coats hanger. Afterwards she walked towards the fireplace, started a fire in the furnace and fed Hedwig and Crookshanks.

She climbed up the stairs, flicked the light switch open and dropped her purse on the table beside her bed. She expected a sound of clattering, or of the metal clasp of her purse hitting the glass surface, but when a muffled sound came, she frowned and drew out her wand before noticing a rolled up magazine on the bedside table. Hermione replaced her wand on the table, picked up the magazine and recognized it as last week's issue of Witch Weekly; Cho Chang and Penelope Clearwater graced the cover as they stood vis-à-vis on the snow-covered ground dressed as Babushka, the Russian female Father Christmas, with a broomstick on each hand (she could tell it was Nimbus 2020) and whose ends crossed just behind them. Cho had her black-brown hair sleek and shiny falling behind her, while Penelope's curls looked bouncy on her shoulders.

She couldn't help but smile at the two senior Ravenclaws, both Head Girls of their years and achievers. To top it all off, they were among the most beautiful faces in Wizarding London. 'They're so beautiful...' She sighed, and an unexpected twinge suddenly sprung from her heart; she could feel a spark of envy spreading like a virus in it. She didn't want to feel this way, she was happy for them, really! All she thought was that they were lucky because--

"Green monster eating you?"

Hermione gasped and jumped slightly from her place at the edge of the bed, accidentally dropping the magazine on the floor. Her gaze flickered to the full-length mirror across her, and from her angle, she saw a figure leaning on the door. She couldn't be mistaken -- those cold silver eyes, the startling platinum fringe, the almost-luminous skin...

"Did my use of suspense make you jump? Probably yes; I'm a Slytherin, after all."

"M-Malfoy!" She choked out, as if running out of breath. How in the bloody hell did he manage to get in? When did he get in? And why is he here?

"Back to last name basis, are we? And here I thought you liked my name so much." Draco grinned from his place as he looked around Hermione's bedroom, the things and objects, the corners, nooks and crannies, the atmosphere... Everything reeked of the know-it-all Hermione Granger. "I remember the last time you said it, you were crying out my name. And where the hell are your ::amazing:: Auror skills? Did Potty and Weasel borrow them for their honeymoon?"

She fumed. He shouldn't speak about Harry and Ron that offhandedly! They may have been neglecting her lately, but... Hermione suddenly turned bright red, blushing to her roots. She couldn't deny that she did cry out his name several times, but it isn't like it was just she, he did the same. "I-I thought you're a busy man. I-I mean, you rushed out at once without me noticing at all." She unconsciously fiddled with the edge of the viridian comforter covering her bed.

Draco found the makeup kit on her dresser very out of place. For all the Hermione-ness of the room, the colorful plastic artifact that contained whatever muggle invention used to apply artificial glamour on a girl's face definitely reeked Pansy Parkinson to him. Had Pansy been in her room? Or was this Pansy's Christmas gift? Crossing the room towards the dresser, he picked up the offending box and placed it on the floor before pushing it under the bed using his feet. "I'll have you know that my Father is back. He manages the company once again."

She stood up from the bed, eyeing Draco carefully moving on the other side of the room using the mirror. "L-L-Lucius Malfoy? Out of St. Mungo's? T-T-That's good to hear..." She cleared her throat. "Though I'm quite sure I know the implications of his return, i-is it right to assume that you were demoted?"

"That, and on forced leave, my darling little mud-er-muggle-born." He faced her in the mirror, eyes piercing through hers. "Care to give me a tour of your flat?"

She scowled in return. "That's not what you came here for."

"Really?" He shot back, exaggerating the opening of his mouth. "Then," he knit his eyebrows in mock consternation, "what did I come here for?"

Hermione stood silently, finding the fallen magazine suddenly interesting. With a shrug, she bent down to pick up the magazine. "I don't know..."

"Oh?!" His other eyebrow went up as he stifled a laugh. "Wait, wait... Do you have that silly muggle item that makes you hear another person from a distance? Just like Wizarding Wireless or something... What's that called, a mobile scone, or tome?"

"Mobile phone... A mobile phone..." She trailed off, before turning back her attention to him. "What ever does his powerful and pureblood highness need a filthy, lowly, plain and mudblood article for?"

Draco flashed a cocky grin. "Granger, I think I really need to call all the Wizarding press for this! I could see the headline now... 'Boy-Who-Lived-to-Rescue-the-World-From-the-Clutches-of-Evil's Know-it-all best friend Admits Being Stumped'... I'll have to let them know as soon as possible." His cocky grin turned into a knowing smirk.

"Oh, sod off, Malfoy!"

"My, such use of colorful language... I'll have to keep that in mind for the Prophet, Granger. Imagine... What would they say? Their holier-than-thou Gryffindor princess swearing?"

Hermione's grip on the magazine tightened. "What do you want?"

"The question is," he drawled out in his usual manner. "What do ::you:: want?"

Hermione could see her fingers digging deeper on the helpless magazine. What is Malfoy doing, talking in circles again? 'He's confusing me all over again. I'm not going to allow him to do it.' "If you're here to blackmail me about... About my parents, then you're not going to succeed." She lifted her gaze to look at him, and she was startled when she saw Draco standing directly behind her, eyes smoldering with such intensity that it scared her.

"Blackmail, you say?" Draco placed both his hands on her shoulder. "Granger, you think so low of me." He whispered to her ear.

She felt angry with herself for liking the feelings he was giving her. She tried to turn it into revulsion, but her stubborn senses responded in another manner. She felt a cold shiver run through her body as she stared at him at the mirror. The sodding git was smirking like there was no tomorrow! "Low? What do you expect?"

Draco shrugged. "Oh, I don't know, honestly. And you?"

Hermione closed her eyes and sighed in resignation. "Look, Draco. I don't know what you came here for, but... Please, just--"

Her eyes flew open and saw Draco's silver eyes, piercing and domineering, staring at her while he placed a tender kiss on her neck.

His hands crept from his side to her hips to circle her body and secure her there, while his mouth trailed butterfly kisses along her jaw up, all the while inhaling her scent. In his mind, Draco fought the urge to throw her on her bed and shag her senseless; he couldn't just do that. He may know his own charms, but definitely, he wouldn't stoop as low as to commit rape or coercion.

"... You silly, beautiful girl..." Draco whispered against her skin.

Unbeknownst to him, Hermione was fighting an inner struggle too. She could feel her hormones raging silently in her body and her desire slowly overpowering her rational thinking, but she found herself unable to move. She was unsure of what to do, and she knew the consequences of whatever her decision would be.

There were always two ways to deal with a situation -- the easy way, and the hard way. The easy way would be to give in to what her senses were screaming -- to lift her hands, touch his pristine skin, tangle her fingers through his platinum locks and succumb to his irresistible charms for the second time; to hold him and cling to him like he was her lifeline. All she had to do was to give in.

"... Why do you always make things harder...?" She felt his lips touch her cheek with each syllable he said, his hot breath caressing her cheek.

But Hermione knew that there would be much to pay after that. There's Harry and Ron, Ginny, Neville, Lavender and Parvati, the Weasleys, the other Gryffindors, her parents, everyone else... They would most likely react violently (or in Ron's case, curse and throw a fit and whinge unnecessarily), or worse, disown her (in the case of the Gryffindors). They wouldn't be too pleased with her actions. She could almost hear their reactions now, how their rational, levelheaded and always in control Head Girl suddenly became a careless, irrational and impulsive teenager. She would let them all down once she chose the easy way out.

... But then, does she always have to consider what ::they:: think of her? Was it always their happiness first, their expectations to meet, their reactions to gauge? Can't she just, for once, follow what her body is dictating, which, in this case, is to succumb to Malfoy's touch?

Hermione felt nimble fingers pushing the neckline of her blouse aside, and hot breath graze her skin. And then she saw Draco watching her intently from the mirror, and she found it unnerving that his eyes held such confidence that reflected control over his life.

Draco's hands dove under the fabric of her clothing, skimming her belly and the small of her back, then trailing up her torso agonizingly slow, enjoying the feel of her creamy skin beneath his palms. He watched her as she fought an inner battle, and he could tell she was having a hard time in choosing. He settled for just waiting for a reaction from her -- a shove, a slap, a moan or a simple arching of her body to his hands. He couldn't just go on doing this without her consent; that would be coercion. Maybe pushing the line a little bit more would do the trick...

Draco latched onto her ear and began alternately nibbling and licking the sensitive skin below it; his right hand brushed at the underside of her mounds while the other hovered dangerously at the waistband of her skirt and tugged gently on it. He then felt Hermione lift her arms and place her hands on top of his. This made him stop nibbling at her ear and focus his gaze on hers; she was staring at him squarely from the mirror.

Hermione valiantly held his gaze as she placed her hands on where his were, and with an audacity she didn't know she possessed, used it to press his hands and dig his fingers into her skin, urging him to go further.

He then bent his head to kiss her fully on the lips, while his hands roamed her body with barely suppressed control. Her hands led his to the zipper of her skirt and the cup of her brassiere before releasing it to settle on running her fingers through his soft hair and pulling him closer. He opened his mouth, licked her lips using his tongue before parting them open and plunging into her dark caverns. He felt, rather than heard, Hermione moan in satisfaction and he couldn't help but smile against her lips.

He used his probing tongue to lift that identical part in her and coaxed her to participate and explore in return, and was glad when they clashed and fought for dominance. His right thumb and forefinger pulled at her nipple slightly and tweaked it repeatedly, causing her to arch her body towards his palms. His other hand successfully dove into her knickers and inexpertly slipped a finger into her hot core.

Hermione pulled away from their lip lock with a gasp, surprised at the sudden intrusion at the juncture of her thighs. From the mirror, she could still see Draco gazing at her, silver eyes penetrating and smoldering, and her toes curled when she felt a second finger being inserted into her body. "Oh, Merlin...!" She cried out when his thumb brushed her most sensitive spot, and she bucked her hips against his fingers' movements, sending his fingers deeper into her opening.

Draco began to flick his thumb against the extra-sensitive flesh quicker and thrust his fingers faster and deeper, all the while enjoying the grunts of satisfaction he elicited from her. He watched her reaction from the mirror, and admired how her face turned up in ecstasy. He never really got the chance to see her face whenever she was aroused, and he marveled at her beauty. Her eyelids fluttered sexily, staring at him through half-lidded eyes, her lips parted, sweat trickling down her temples deliciously, skin glistening with perspiration and all the while struggling and screaming out silently.

"Ahh... Draco, Draco... Oh gods, oh gods..." She gasped out as she felt her walls tighten around his fingers, and she gripped unto his neck tighter to buck her hips harder against him. She couldn't control herself anymore; heat began to spread throughout her body. "P-Please, D-Draco..." She breathed out rather airily, pleading for him to increase his pace.

"Please what?" She became aware of the air just at the back of her ears.

"Draco, m-make me... Oooooooohh!" He felt his chest rumble from her back, something she thought that was a grunt in response, paired with heated actions as he paid heed to her request. Lips forming a perfect 'o,' Hermione began to tremble as she moved with increasing pace and rougher movements against his hand. She could feel Draco's fingers pumping in and out of her rapidly; faster and faster he drove, his thumb brushing against her at the same speed as his fingers entered and slipped out of her. She could feel her control slipping away, she could feel it, her release...

"HERMIONE!!!"

"Harry!" She managed to break through her catatonic bliss, jerked out of her near-heaven experience and blinked twice, eyes darting quickly around the room before extricating her body from Draco's grasp. Everything looked and felt clearer now that the stars in front of her eyes dimmed drastically.

Draco was stunned, to say the least. "Wha... What?" Was it really that, that... Easy to get over the ecstasy...?

Hermione looked around and began fixing her dress. "Draco... Harry, he's..." She pushed him in the general direction of the dresser, intent on shielding him from the impending havoc one of her friends would surely wreak once they caught sight of him, all the while refastening her barrettes and straightening her robes in a futile attempt to right herself before running out of the room.

"... Harry?" Draco stood rooted to the spot as he listened to Hermione's footsteps eerily echoing throughout her flat; he didn't know what brought about that... That... Her sudden outburst...

With a feral growl, Draco ran his right hand through his disheveled locks and seethed silently. 'Damn you, Potter! Damn you to the fucking Hell!'

------------------------

"Harry? Ron?" Hermione shouted as she leaned over the ledge of the stairs, anticipation filling her. She didn't expect them to be back at such short notice! They didn't even write her to inform her about it!

She flew down the stairs hurriedly, jumping the last three or so steps at the bottom, and dashed towards her kitchen. Whenever they arrived in her flat, they would always head to the kitchen and rummage through her pastry cabinet... Well, Ron does, and Harry just kind of follows him to make sure he doesn't make a mess of her kitchen...

Hermione stopped when she reached the doorframe, expecting to see Ron's mouth stuffed with numerous chocolate frogs he acquired from his raid from her candy jar and Harry's sheepish grin while holding a choice or two of sweets, but all she saw was the memorandum pinned on her fridge about the Yearend Ball, glaring ominously at her." "Harry? Ron?" She called out again, but her voice only echoed throughout her flat. "Where are you...? I thought..."

Pulling a stool towards her bar, Hermione plopped down ungracefully, placed her arms on the counter, rested her forehead on it before banging her head on her folded arms. But of course, Ron and Harry were supposed to be in Würzburg and wouldn't be back for a month, what was she thinking? She propped her chin on her forearm and pouted in indignation. That Harry and Ron would be back within a month when they have made it clear that they wouldn't is a very foolish thing indeed. She reached out and plucked a printed paper towel from the holder and began fiddling with it, like she always did to pass time, folding it this way and that, 'Wingardium Leviosa'ing the tissue paper until she made a number of paper cranes floating about on and near the counter.

Hermione plucked a paper crane and examined it closely before she felt a laugh rise up from her chest. She chuckled lightly and humorlessly. "Hah... I can't believe it, I'm hearing things..." She shook her head, trying to clear her fogged mind. She couldn't really think of an explanation about what happened; all she knew was that she was up in her bedroom, standing in front of the mirror, thoughts about everyone milling about in her mind violently as Malfoy's fingers drove on and on...

She gasped; she totally forgot about him!

"Draco! Oh Merlin, I can't believe it, I totally forgot about him!" Hermione jumped from her seat and began ascending the stairs, taking two steps at a time. "Draco...!" Called Hermione from the hallway. Her footsteps echoed loudly at the silence of the night, and it didn't help that it made her feel much more in solitude. She reached her door and turned the doorknob open.

"Draco!" She cried out breathlessly. "I'm so sorry! I just thought Harry arrived... Draco?"

Hermione blinked rapidly, taking in the current state of her room. She could still remember clearly where he stood just a while ago, while she allowed her body do the thinking for her, but now all that remained was his smell of winter breeze mixed with lemons and his musky and expensive perfume lingering in the empty bedroom.

"Draco..." She whispered into the room, finally realizing her mistake. She shouldn't have been thinking about Harry, Ron, or anyone else at that moment; only the two of them should have mattered. How she wished she had taken Neville's word of advice; that she should stop doing a gazillion things at once. Now she could see the consequences clearly right in front of her eye, mocking her without abandon.

She walked towards the looking glass and traced the wooden frame with the edge of her fingers, stared at her reflection before closing her eyes and heaving a sigh. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid!' She thought as she left the full-length mirror and threw her body on her queen-sized four-poster face-first.

Hermione felt the loneliness and solitude engulf her in a tight, saturated embrace as she thought of Draco, of her falling friendship with Harry and Ron, and her constant solo non-existence to everyone's euphoria induced by the Boy-Who-Lived. Because instead of trying to make a sound decision in choosing who to maintain closest to her heart, she felt that she lost all of them.

"Ron, Harry... Draco... I'm so sorry...." Tears began to seep through her plump pillows as she cried, for the first time in her life, for herself and no one else.

------------------------

»Some Additional Notes«

Firebolt XX and Nimbus 2020 - pathetic attempts at naming non-living things that fascinate me. It was brought about by a strange fixation on what Muggles would gladly refer to as Wrestling, that even if it was staged and all, I still couldn't resist watching all those Incredible Hulk wannabes get it on and go pound each other into staged smithereens that sometimes result to real nasty injuries, or to some extent, death. (God Bless Owen Hart) As much as a diabolical creature I am, I still hate seeing someone die... I just like seeing them slamming against each other and fighting for a stupid piece of gleaming tin on a leather strap or something. So to be specific, I named it after WWE's immortal Wrestlemania XX. As to the Nimbus, obviously it's from Sealab 2020. I just couldn't find a number to place there, haha. Please excuse those lame attempts, J.K. Rowling, and find it in your kind heart to forgive me for my shortcoming. I could now imagine you tutting and shaking your head in disapproval, muttering 'Poor broomsticks...'

A/N: Sorry again for that lame attempt at smut. I'm not good in that, I swear...!

Sw33tdohtee – 'I can really see this happening after their year at Hogwarts.' Damn right it ::should:: be happening… Oh well, fanfics are the realms of the impossible, so I won't be forcing JKR to change her story anymore… Bittersweet? Awww, you're soooo sweet! ::grins stupidly:: No, really, I mean it! Your review just made my day! D And yep, I took your advice on the anonymous reviewers… Man, I thought I already unchecked that horrid box, but, oh well… Maybe I overlooked that one. Heh. Speechless? Was I really that… stumping? Thanks for that wonderful review, by the way.

HogwartsBoizRHootiez – I agree with your pseudo! ::glomps Draco plushie:: Plain amazing? Thanks for the heartwarming compliment! I appreciate it, honestly! And thanks for taking time to review!

Shikiburei – Watashi wa anime otaku desu! Ano ne, shikiburei-san mo anime otaku desu ka?! Hehe, gomen ne… ::sweatdrops:: I think it's pretty obvious… An anime fan, a j-rock/k-pop fan and a Harry Potter fan—er, Draco Malfoy fan, all in one package! Anata mo desu ka? Yes, it's mushy, and sappy, but I really tried my best not to be mushy in a negative way… D I also loved the Drawing Room and Narcissa here… Honestly the 'history repeats' was just an afterthought, and I'm glad I did it! You liked it! Thankies! Domo Arigatou Gozaimasu!

Kace08 – Yes, Draco is hostile… But we love him anyways, right? RIGHT?... Er, sorry, did I scare you? That wasn't meant to be scary! Draco and Pansy and Blaise and Hermione… What say you if I decided to leave it that way? Hmmm… I'm betting you'll throw a fit and scream my head off… And I don't want to get my head bitten off, so… Whatchathink? ::grins::

Spaceyksee – Aww, I'm touched by your words! It only goes to show that you really do appreciate my work! Thank you very, very, ::very:: much! Eep, no threats, please! I still plan to take up German and Latin!

Venus 725 – Oh I love the song too! Definitely one of my all-time favorites, I'd say. I think it touched most of the hearts of the listeners of the song. And Maroon 5 is a really cool group, and aside from "She Will Be Loved" I especially liked "Sunday Morning" and "Harder to Breathe." Draco's an idiot. Yes, yes, very sad but true… But not for long! Mwahahahahahahahaha!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The Sweetest Things – thanks for that review! I really appreciate it, promise! Little words of encouragement are what I feed on nowadays, did you know? ::smiles enigmatically:: That was meant as a joke, dearie… Thanks again!

LiLy MaLfOy13 – 'love your story it is really good' thank you! I try to give it my best, so thanks for noticing the efforts!

Jocelyn Padoga – You think the relationship is kinda rushed? Hmmm… I think I'm going to have to edit that… Or insert other scenes… Or at least flashbacks… Argh. But thanks for that, I think I'm having ideas for another fic!

DSMelody – this is really meant to be a one-shot, but unfortunately it evolved into a very lengthy work. I think for the most part it is dragging, considering there are waaay too long characterizations, but, oh I dunno… but still, having this much positive response from readers like you definitely encourage me to improve my skills. Thanks!

B-a-B-i – Yep, mothers really know their children well… And I'm glad I made Narcissa nice here, because I think that it really isn't in her nature to be bad, ne? Thanks again!

Princess JB – Nope, no need to be sorry at all! I was honestly very motivated by your… squeal? I dunno if I took it correctly as a squeal but nonetheless, it is something that spurred me to write even more! Thanks really!

LegallyBrunette2126 – here's a long chapter… And I think it's the longest so far. Hehehe. Unjustified? You think so? Hmmm…

Thanks also to those who read it without reviewing! I know I'm no in the position to be angry or miffed because you all don't review so just a huge thanks to those who read! But bigger thanks go to those who read AND reviewed! ::snigger snigger::

Next Chapter: Hogwarts, Head Girls and Prefects, discussions, mandrakes and a very… interesting… flash of lightning. You know what I mean. Oh, and let's not forget a pack of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. Hehehe.

It's one am, I've got make up classes on my Social Science class tomorrow at eight, and my insomnia's bugging the hell out of me again. So I'll try to sleep this off… I think this is the effect of too much coffee…

Comme Tojours!