A/N: I'm sorry that it's taken me so long to get this chapter up. Don't worry though, I haven't given up on you guys! I moved to France 2 months ago, and it's just been so hectic... I only managed to get back online a week ago. But I'm back in business, and aside from this chapter I've written 2 other stories which I will upload soon.

Also, just a warning that this chapter contains a couple of massive cliffhangers - you're going to hate me.

Enjoy the story though :o)

x Mikhaila

Three days later, Hermione made her way down to the library. She had religiously avoided Malfoy since they had… Merlin, she didn't even want to think about it. Since they had done what they had done. And she thought that she had done quite well. Not even a sight of him. She had gone down to meals when she knew he would have gone, and other than that had mostly kept to her room, aside from the times when she was helping Madame Pomfrey.

She didn't want to admit to herself that this upset her, just a little bit.

She was going to the library today, because the thought of spending another day in her room, alone, was driving her insane. Although the alone part didn't overly bother, it was actually what she needed at the moment, she felt the need to sit somewhere that she felt safe. Somewhere that she could just empty her mind and deal with everything that had happened over the past week. The library was the perfect place for her to go.

Settling into her usual corner, she pulled her knees up to her chest and looked out over the snow-covered Hogwarts grounds. She'd taken her father's knife with her - not for security or anything, as a witch she was more than able to take care of herself. But… there was just something comforting about it. It was had been given to her father by his father - it was a family heirloom, handed down through generations. With the death of her father, the knife was now passed along to her. It was her most prized possession now, all that she truly had left of her father, besides her memories. That knife meant a lot to her.

Resting her head against the glass, she drifted off into a haze, finally able to let her mind wander, finally able to find some peace. She had been right to come to the library. Surrounded by so many books, by the dark, musty scent, she felt her body relax to the point where she felt that she might fall asleep. Resting her eyes briefly, she was surprised when she felt someone shaking her. Grey eyes stared deeply into her own, and she could see the emotion dwelling deep with in them. Jerking away from him from an innate desire to separate herself, she looked up at him.

"Draco. What are you doing here"
"Looking for you. Have you been avoiding me?"

Lowering her eyes to stare at the knife in her hand, Hermione debated what to say next. She didn't know whether to tell him the truth or not. Yes, she had been avoiding him, but she was still so confused that she didn't know what to say to him. Did she apologise for her momentary insanity and beg him not to tell her friends? Or start hexing him for taking advantage of her when she was feeling emotionally vulnerable?

Or should she just snog him senseless and forget all reality?

Looking back up into his silver eyes, her mind seemed to shut down completely, leaving only instinct. She gave in completely, and stood up to face him.

Before she knew what she was doing, she found herself wrapped around Draco once more, devouring his mouth with her own. All thought stopped, all time, and all her surroundings disappeared. At this moment, there was just the two of them. Her and Draco, and nothing else in the world mattered.

She could feel him lowering her back down onto the seat from which she had risen. However, her mind was only slightly aware of this fact. For the most part, all she could think about was the fact that once again, Draco Malfoy was wrapped in her arms, kissing her, and Merlin take her magic if it wasn't the best damn kiss she'd ever had. This was nothing like the few innocent, chaste kisses that she had shared with Viktor. Every single part of her body felt as if she were on fire. It seemed as if heat were radiating from his lips and from his hands, which he had currently threaded through her hair. She could feel her heart racing and blood rising towards what must be a danger zone. Gone was the sweet innocence of the last kiss that they'd shared. All that remained now was a smouldering passion, one that she just wanted to give in to until in consumed her whole. She felt like she was drowning, drowning in Draco and all she wanted to do was continue sinking until she lost all thought, all reason, and all pain.

She felt him move his hands from her hair down her body, and she whimpered as he stopped kissing her. Her whimper quickly turned into a moan as he started attacking her neck. Her temperature continued to rise until she thought she would explode, and she knew that she had to get rid of her clothes. And his. She knew that it was sudden and impulsive; they'd really only stopped hating each other less than a week ago. He was a Death Eater, the whole school knew that.

Her logical mind seized that fact, and she started to panic. What was she doing here with Draco fricking Malfoy of all people? She started to pull away, but he chose that exact second to slip his hands under her sweater, and all further thought left her mind, and all she could concentrate on was the feel of those hands.

Her feelings escalated, and she knew that he was heading in the same direction. Time ceased to have any meaning. All the existed in this moment of time was the two of them. Hot, sweaty. And naked.

Hang on… naked? What the hell had happened to her clothes? She remembered hearing him muttering something, earlier when he was struggling with her bra, but… clothes?

She felt him kissing her again, and responded immediately. She knew what was about to happen, and knew in that instant that it was what she wanted. She tried to process everything, but in that moment he pushed into her, and everything went dark.

My flower withered between

The pages two and three

The once and forever bloom

Gone with my sins

Draco rested his forehead against Hermione's, panting after the completion of what had happened between them. He couldn't believe what had just happened, that he had just… that he had just… had sex with the Gryffindor Princess. He had betrayed countless generations of Malfoy's, including his father, his mother… he had betrayed everything that he had ever believed in.

And for once in his life, he didn't give a damn. It didn't matter. All that mattered was Hermione, and the fact that he knew that he was increasingly falling for her, and falling hard.

She was panting beneath him now, exhausted after the climax he had given her. She'd actually passed out for a couple of minutes, and he felt a smug sense of pride that he had been able to do that to her. Who ever knew that Miss Prim-and-Proper could be so passionate, could have so much fire? He had a feeling that only he could bring this out in her, remembering their past fights, and the one other time he had made her lose control - when he had slapped her in their third year.

Feeling quite tired, he collapsed on the seat next to her, realising that they'd actually just had sex in the library. How fitting, he thought momentarily, before his thoughts were interrupted by the delectable witch lying next to him.

"Um, Draco?"

He looked down into her adorable brown eyes as she said this, and seeing a look of confusion in them, he knew that she was about to condemn him for what had just happened, that she was about to take away the best thing that had happened to him this entire year. However, the next words that fell from her lips made him practically fall off the bench in laughter.

"What happened to my clothes?"

He let his laughter out, and she looked hurt and slightly angry. Pulling her to his side, he informed her of what had happened.

"Well, you see Hermione, I've never had much patience with female undergarments. I find a quick Evanesco will usually take care of things like that, which meant that I could concentrate more on you."

She smiled up at him as he said this, and he commenced to run his fingers through her hair.

"Oh, okay then. Do you think that you could get them back for me now though? I don't particularly fancy running up to my dormitory naked."

He smiled at her and retrieved his wand from where it was lying, next to her father's knife. He picked up both, examining the knife with an expert's eye. It was old, and although not a magical object, still held a lot of power within its depths. Magical or not, when a knife killed a person, it absorbed their energy. This knife must have killed a lot of people to hold this much power… or a witch or wizard. But that was highly unlikely - Hermione came from a long line of Muggles, there was no way that any of them would have been allowed within striking distance of someone with magic. He could see a faint line of blood around the edge - it was probably used as a hunting knife now, the last person to use it must not have cleaned it properly. Muggles, he thought, feeling slightly exasperated that they wouldn't know how to take care of such an object as this.

Restoring her clothes, as well as his own, he also handed her the knife, before threading his fingers through hers in a romantic gesture that made him cringe at how corny it must look. She didn't pull away though, so he resolved to ask her about the knife - she obviously treasured it.

"Where'd you get the knife, Hermione? It's enchanting, the workmanship is astounding."

She turned to face him and smiled. He noticed that she couldn't keep from smiling at him - maybe she was feeling the same depth of emotion that he was. The thought both elated him and frightened him at the same time. Before he had time to think that train of thought through, she spoke again.

"It was my fathers. It's a family heirloom. It's been handed down to the oldest child in the family for generations. With the…" her voice faltered for a few seconds before she was able to carry on, "With the death of my father during the summer holidays, it was passed to me. He used to love this knife, telling me stories about it when I was a little girl. It means a lot to me."

He smirked at her. Trust her to turn some immensely powerful object into a memory of her childhood. He could feel her playing with his palm, when suddenly she stopped when she reached the ring on his middle finger. Her felt her turn his hand over, and watched as she examined the ring. He could understand why she would be fascinated with it - it was a truly beautiful piece of goblin-worked sterling silver. It had two serpents intertwining around the edge of a circle of emeralds, and in the centre the Malfoy family crest. All male members of the Malfoy family had them.

"That's a beautiful ring, Draco. Where did you get it?" He could tell that she was only asking this because he had asked about her knife. Trust a bloody Gryffindor to try to be fair.

"It was my father's. All male members of the Malfoy family are given them when they turn 16. However, I lost mine during the summer holidays. I've searched the Manor high and low, I can't seem to find it anywhere. My father was never aware of that fact, had he not been in Azkaban, he would have killed me. With the death of Lucius last week though, my Mother had the ring sent to me. So I suppose that in a way, it means the same to me as your knife does to you. It's a reminder of my family."

Hermione looked pale at this news, and he supposed that it was the mention of Lucius that had done this, after all he had put her through before being incarcerated. He could understand the emotion. However, she also started to pull away from him, moving rapidly towards the entrance to the library. She turned and faced him, and she was fidgeting with the hem of her jumper.

"I'm sorry Draco, I just remember that I promised to help Madam Pomfrey with something, and I'm running late. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

With that, she turned and ran out the door.

Draco looked after her, confused. The whole interaction had taken maybe 20 seconds. One minute she was all cuddly, and the next minute she couldn't wait to get out of there. Oh well, she had always placed her academic obligations above all else, he thought, as he leant against the window and smelt her remaining vestiges of her perfume. Drifting off into a haze of memories of what had just happened, he didn't see Pansy emerge from behind the stacks, a look of shock and malevolence on her face as she headed out of the library and towards the Owlery.

My flower withered between

The pages two and three

The once and forever bloom

Gone with my sins