Recap:

"Now we have two more weeks," she whispered into his ear, sending shivers down his spine.

"What—"

"Take your own advice," she said. "Shut up and kiss me."

Chapter 6: Nothing More

Lying. Cheating. Stealing. Going out after hours.

Something in Hermione's chemistry had certainly changed. She was acting like all the students she hated most. She had become her worst enemy. But the worst part was that she didn't even care; not in the least. She figured she would eventually, but, right now, her nerves still sore from yet another brush off from Ron, she could care less if she got caught by anyone for any of the things she was doing wrong.

As she rounded the corner—for a split second—she thought twice about what she was doing. If anyone found out then she would hurt a lot of people, not to mention her reputation and possibly her future career. But the thought went as quickly as it had come, and she pulled Harry's Invisibility Cloak down a little to cover her feet completely. This part of the school was where Filch was most likely prowling—or at least his precious, and only, friend. She had to be extra careful.

She was just about to her destination, when, out of nowhere, an arm lashed out and yanked her into a completely pitch black corridor. Harry's cloak fell to the floor; forgotten. She gasped for breath and fumbled for her wand, but the instant she felt that all too familiar pressure on her lips, her body relaxed in complete submission.

"Malfoy," she whispered, her voice heavy with desire. "How did you see me? And what are you doing? We're supposed to meet—"

"We're not the only students who had the idea to use that abandoned classroom tonight. And I didn't see you. I heard you. You breathe unbelievably loud."

"Shut up," she snapped, though she was anything but angry. "What are we supposed to do now? We can't stay in the hall. Filch is bound to pass by sometime."

"Easy," he said, grabbing her wrist. "We're going to my room."

He managed to drag her several yards before she was able to bring them to a halt.

"I must have heard you wrong," she said, yanking her hand free. "I thought you said we were going to your room. As in the Slytherin House."

"You heard me perfectly well," he sighed. "Pansy never sleeps in my room. And if I tell Crabbe and Goyle to beat it and sleep in the common room then they will."

"And how exactly am I going to get in and out without anyone seeing me?"

"You're too dense to be as smart as you seem," he laughed. "The Invisibility Cloak."

"Won't they question why you're sending them away?"

"No. They don't question anything I do. Besides, Goyle owes me big."

Hermione was about to ask why when she realized that she knew the answer. She decided to drop the argument and agree to go with him, otherwise she would end up in bed alone, again. And if she had to spend another night like that then she would have a nervous breakdown. Or so she surmised.

"I have to be gone before sunrise," she said, pulling the cloak over the both of them.

"No one will see you," he assured her, "because I don't want anyone to see you. This is not something I'm proud of."

"Likewise," she retorted sharply, though inside she was slightly wounded. He had been the one to make the initial advances on her. He had wanted her. And before this moment she had foolishly thought that that was true, that he wanted her and not just another girl to fill in for when Pansy went astray.

Perhaps there was still time to back out. But, before she knew it, they were before the Slytherin entrance and Malfoy's hands were over her ears so she didn't hear the password. She was shuffled into the common room and was left beside the fireplace. Malfoy disappeared up the boys' dormitory stairs, and, moments later, Crabbe and Goyle and another boy she recognized but didn't know his name, came traipsing down the stairs and found semi-comfortable places to sleep for the night. Once they were settled Hermione carefully, holding her breath, climbed the stairs and walked until she found the only door that was open. Malfoy sat suggestively on his bed, his day clothes having vanished in the short time they were apart, replaced by green plaid pajama bottoms and a tight white tank top.

He looked divine.

"I didn't know this was a pajama party," she said, trying her best to cover her trembling, nervous voice. She knew exactly what was on his mind and, as much as she knew she would love it, she also knew that in the morning she would regret it and her conscience would force her to cave and tell Ron. And then everything from there would crumble. "I should have dressed better."

"Come here," he all but demanded, patting the place beside him. He would have to be more gentle with her at first. Pansy was a veteran to Malfoy's roughness in bed, to his roughness period. Hermione would need some work. But, in time, he knew she would mold nicely for him, and then his revenge would be exacted on Pansy.

What was worse than cheating? Cheating with a Gryffindor. And a mudblood at that. Pansy would be so sore and embarrassed that she would never look at Goyle again. And then he would toss her aside, like so much dirty laundry.

Hermione sat slowly beside him, her hands folded in her lap, her heart racing faster than she thought normal.

"Relax," he whispered, kissing her neck with unbearable lightness. If he had been forceful with her, Hermione could have easily made herself believe that she was raped. But he was allowing her to make moves, to take it slow, to think about what was going on. "Take off your shoes."

If he had said "clothes" she might have slapped him and stormed out. But he hadn't, so she slipped off her rubber-soled tennis shoes—she wouldn't dare wear her clunky black school shoes trying to tiptoe in the halls at night. She had to admit, she was slightly more comfortable, and tucked one leg under the other, leaning back on her hands.

Malfoy frowned and sat back.

"I didn't come here to have sex," Hermione blurted out, then wished she hadn't.

"I didn't bring you here for sex," he half-lied. If that's what had happened he wouldn't have stopped it. But them getting together tonight was about a deeper need. And even Malfoy couldn't deny that. As much as he tried to hide it, he was truly lonely, and so was Hermione, and so she was the only person who could fill that empty void. "Don't get me wrong, that would be great." Hermione rolled her eyes, shaking her head as if disappointed. "But I doubt you're anywhere near ready for that."

"I'm not a virgin," she said, sounding almost hurt.

"I didn't say you were. What I meant was you're not ready to be with me."

"You really do think highly of yourself, don't you?" If she was going to get through tonight then fighting was necessary.

"Stop turning my words around." Now he was getting agitated. "You're not ready to be with someone other than Weasley. Your conscience is still fighting with kissing."

"And what makes you think I'm ever going to sleep with you?"

He smiled knowingly and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him. And very slowly, giving her ample time to stop him, he leaned them back so they lay beside each other on his bed. His lips found hers in that perfect way they always did, and instantly she was a puddle of a girl in his arms. She only half noticed as he pealed off her heavy gray school sweater, leaving only the starched white button-up dress shirt and her red and yellow Gryffindor tie.

The tie was gone in a matter of seconds, tossed to the floor with her sweater and Malfoy's tank top, another detail she only noticed after the clothing was completely gone.

His fingers toyed agonizingly at the first button of her shirt, teasing her emotions, his hot lips suckling sweetly at her neck. He managed to unbutton half the buttons before she was able to clear her head and push him away.

"I can't do this," she whispered, going to button her shirt back up.

"You can," he insisted, and finished taking off her shirt. The only thing left from her waist up was a lacey red bra, embroidered with gold flowers and curlicues. "I already told you this wasn't going to end in sex. Trust me a little."

"You can see where I'd have a problem with that."

"I won't even touch you below the waist, alright?"

She nodded and immediately his hands went to undo her bra. Her mind went instinctively to all those firsts with Ron; their first kiss, the first time he tried for first base, second base, third, and then the night they finally made love. It had taken almost six months for them to reach that point. And for a long time things had been so passionate, they were so in love and nothing could separate them.

But then they became so comfortable that, little by little, things started to slip away, and soon holding hands became almost a chore. How could she marry someone who wasn't passionately in love with her? For so long Ron had been that guy, the love of her life. Why had things changed? Why didn't he love her that way anymore? What was she doing wrong? Clearly she was desirable enough; Malfoy's teeth nibbling at her earlobe and his hand massaging her breasts told her that much.

Somewhere somehow things took a drastic turn. And she doubted that they would ever be the same.

But she wasn't giving up on him. Not yet.

"Loosen up, Hermione," Malfoy said, grabbing her attention. "I'm not a necrophiliac."

"I think I should go." She sat up, covering her bare chest as best as she could. "I have too much on my mind tonight, Draco." She kissed his cheek quickly, then went to gather her clothes and put them on as fast as possible.

"Hermione?"

"Hmm?" She looked up as she buttoned her shirt.

"You just called me Draco."

"So?" But she knew what he was getting at. It was the first time she'd called him Draco. Malfoy was a demeaning term, what she used out of anger and hatred. But calling him by his first name meant something, something huge. Because now they were no longer strictly enemies. But in order to escape tonight with her dignity, she had to act like this was not a big deal.

"Fine," he sighed, and stood. He snatched her sweater out of her hands and helped her put it on, stealing a kiss here and there. "I'll see you tomorrow night in detention."

Without acknowledging his words, she pulled the Invisibility Cloak over her and quickly and quietly found her way downstairs and out into the hall.

If only she didn't have to face Ron tomorrow.

Hermione stood in the center of the corridor, her eyes misting as Ron and Harry walked off towards a last-minute Quidditch practice. Tonight they were supposed to have a quiet night, alone, in his room, discussing wedding plans. Instead, Ron ditched her for his first love: anything but her.

Her heart was still fluttering with pain from rejection. For a moment she didn't even realize that people were bustling all around her. And then, very suddenly, she was yanked back and around the corner, into an empty hall.

Her lips were pressed firmly against another's, her back against the wall, her knees weak and ready to give at any moment. It was Malfoy, there to sweep her up and put the pieces back together after Ron so perfectly shattered her. And it was the second time this had happened. And she was so confused that she wouldn't even allow herself to think about making a solid discussion.

"What are you doing here?" she whispered, burying her head in his shoulder. He smelled wonderfully like the cold; he must have just been outside. She wanted to wrap herself up in his arms forever in that moment. But why, oh why, did she want him so badly? Only two weeks before she had hated him to her very core. Now she fought to keep his lips from her thoughts when she lay beside Ron in bed.

It was all happening so fast; she didn't know if she could stop it.

"Saving you," he answered, his voice husky and inviting. He was not the Malfoy she knew and hated. He was still rough and hard-eyed, but there was a tender undertone now, a gentleness she never knew could exist within him. Though he was by no means good to her or right for her. He was Draco Malfoy and she was Hermione Granger. He was oil, she was water. They could not mix. "You're so…" He paused, searching for the right word. "Limp," he finally said, pulling his head back. He had that devious smirk on his lips. "What happened to the stiff, rigid Hermione I knew? You've gone soft," he chuckled.

"I can't be hard all the time," she sighed, unaware of the single tear that managed to push its way out. And, almost instinctively, Malfoy reached up and wiped it away, kissing her lips softly. "I don't know what's wrong with me, but I can't keep doing this. It's gone on long enough, Malfoy. I can't see you anymore."

"Long enough?" he scoffed with a laugh. "It's been two weeks, Hermione. Not a lifetime. Besides, what's wrong with you is what's wrong with me. We're unhappy."

"I'm unhappy," she said, looking into his eyes. "You're angry. There's a difference. And this is helping neither of us. We'll only get more unhappy and more angry in the end."

For a moment she thought he might have actually listened to her words. And then, as his lips made firm contact with hers, she knew he hadn't and would make it all the more difficult for her to push him away.

"Nothing is going to come of this." She shoved him back, a little more forcefully than she meant to, and averted her eyes. One look into his cold blue eyes and she would be done for, yet again, and guilt-ridden the moment she saw Ron. Not that he noticed she was acting different. But Ginny was beginning to, and, in the right circumstances, Ginny could get anything out of her. "So stop it. I won't do it anymore."

"Do what?" he laughed. "Kiss? Fool around? Really, Hermione, it's not like we're having sex. And, even if we were, you're right, nothing would come of it. But why does anything have to happen?"

"Then what's the point?"

"Oh I see," he sighed, shaking his head. "You're being regretful."

"Of course I'm regretful!" she snapped.

"But why?"

"Because it's wrong."

"Why is it wrong?" he pressed, taking a bold step forward. That first night of detention after the initial kiss had been the only time in the past two weeks that Hermione had made any sort of move.

"Because I'm with Ron." She crossed her arms over her chest to prevent him from getting too close. "I love Ron," she added, almost as a side note.

"But you're miserable. What's a silly thing like love matter when you're not happy?"

She opened her mouth to retort, but there were no words. He was right and she had no counter. Her heart skipped a beat and she felt almost lightheaded.

"Hermione?"

She looked at Malfoy, her vision hazy. And, just before everything went black, she felt the press of strong arms catching her, protecting her, saving her from a fall.

It was well into the night when Hermione opened her eyes again. She sat up and looked around. She was in the infirmary and Madame Pomfrey was nowhere in sight. A few other students were scattered in beds here and there, but the room was in complete silence.

The last thing she remembered was Ron leaving her for Quidditch practice, and then Draco stealing kisses in the hallway. And now she was here and no one was around to tell her what had happened.

Checking herself over, she surmised that she wasn't injured. She did feel slightly woozy, but not in a sick way. And then she remembered. She had fainted in Draco's arms.

With a heavy sigh she climbed out of bed, leaving a quick note on Madame Pomfrey's desk before heading back to the tower.

All the while when she walked back she debated fiercely with herself. Her guilt was too much, and she knew that now. And Ron didn't love her. A million and one emotions had bombarded her in an instant and so her body shut down. Absently she wondered how she ended up in the infirmary. Surely Draco hadn't taken her. Everyone would have seen him carrying her through the halls.

But there were more important things to think about right now. Her guilt was becoming so bad that she could hardly think about Ron without wanting to cry. Yes he was being distant and inattentive, but that didn't mean he deserved to be cheated on. But if she told him she risked losing more than just Ron. Harry and Ginny would undoubtedly be angry. It was Draco Malfoy after all, their sworn enemy, and a Slytherin. Her and Ron's parents would be upset at the break-up and the reason behind it. She would be cast aside by everyone she grew to love and all for a few weeks of making out with Malfoy.

In the end, as she climbed the last few steps to the Fat Lady portrait, she decided not to tell Ron. She would stop seeing Draco and eventually her conscience would clear. Everything would go back to normal. She might be miserable, but at least she wasn't hurting anyone, and especially not the people she cared most about. Because she did love Ron, though after her interventions with Draco she doubted it was the passionate true love she had thought it was in the beginning. He was a wonderful friend and she would always love him as such.

But then the problem was that she was engaged to marry him. How could she live the rest of her life knowing that her true love was out there somewhere and she would never know because she chickened out and married her best friend? She knew he only thought he loved her. And he was being safe. If he married Hermione then he wouldn't have to go through the stress of dating again and potentially having his heart broken. She was his best friend and that was better than no marriage, or a loveless marriage. He wanted children and a happy family, like his family, and in order to get that he needed a wife. Hermione was the best candidate and so he proposed. She doubted very much that he knew all this, but, perhaps, in time, he would come to realize it. And hopefully it would be before the wedding, before any children came, before it was too late.

If only there were some way to break it off without causing a big fuss.

And that's when she made her decision. She would talk to Ron tomorrow, about their future, and how committed they actually were to fully loving each other. It would be a trying and long conversation, that could end miserably. But at least she was trying. It was more than she could say for him.

By the time Hermione got into the common room, it was past two in the morning and everyone was in bed. Or so she thought.

She was halfway to the girls' dormitory stairs, when suddenly she was captured in a constricting bear hug. Immediately she smelled Ron's aftershave and eased into his arms.

"What's wrong, hun?" she asked, kissing his forehead tenderly. But all the while she was thinking, I'm a whore, I'm a slut, I wronged you and I can never undo that, and I'm so sorry.

"Where were you?" His eyes were frantic in the little moonlight that came through the windows.

"I woke up in the infirmary," she stated flatly. "I think I fainted in the hall and someone brought me in. Madame Pomfrey wasn't there, so I left. I'm fine."

His brow eased slightly and he loosened his grip.

"Are you sure? Me and Harry and Ginny have been worried sick? We looked all over."

"Apparently not," she chuckled, kissing him on the mouth this time. "Trust me, I'm good. I really am." And she truly thought she was.

Well there's another chapter for you all. Hope you liked it. I know not too much happened, but at the same time a lot was realized. There will be tons more action next time, I swear :) How could Hermione think she could leave Draco? What a kidder :P Heehee!

REVIEW! Please :D