Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of these characters. This silly plot is mine.
Summary: This chappy has a more angsty/fluffy tone. Not sure I succeeded as I find myself stressing out whenever Draco and Hermione get really um, serious :p

Hermione was both elated and on edge as she entered her flat.

On one hand the plan was coming together. On the other, she hadn't seen Draco since their near-miss row in Colin Creevey's studio dressing room a day earlier. He would be coming over that evening to talk. Hermione was so anxious she considered calling her mother to see if she could swipe a Xanax, magic be damned. Even Snape couldn't whip up a potion as effective as that dream drug to soothe the nerves.

But it was too late to reach for the muggle medicine chest, as Draco would be over within the half-hour. So instead of rushing to her mum's, Hermione made herself chamomile tea and changed out of her work clothes into a comfortable jogging suit. (Terribly misnamed a such since Hermione didn't even entertain the thought of actually using it for--gasp--physical exertion.)

She collapsed on the couch in her tiny makeshift living room, settling into her thoughts. Draco would want answers and she dreaded having to provide them. It wasn't as if she'd intentionally hidden anything from him. Neither of them had discussed past lovers. Of course there was some common knowledge, like his relationship with Pansy during Hogwarts, or hers with Viktor Krum and Ron. But all of those had taken place years ago, when they were still on the cusp between childhood and adulthood. They didn't really count.

Over the years since they'd been friends--the evolution from enemies to "frenemies" to friends had taken place during the emotionally turbulent years of 18 to 25 and they were now 33--they were aware of different people in each others lives here and there, but never knew about anything significant.

The truth is, there hadn't been anyone serious for either of them. With one notable exception: Fred Weasley. Hermione was pretty sure he had loved her once (he'd said as much), but it hadn't been enough. As for her feelings for him, she had cared very deeply--had believed it to be love at the time. But with hindsight, Hermione saw her feelings for Fred as more in the realm of "extremely fond" versus "in love." That said, he'd been her most meaningful adult relationship up until Draco.

A sudden knocking on her door startled Hermione out of her nervous meditation and she got up to answer. She stole a peak through the spyhole and sure enough, a rather surly looking Draco stood in the hallway outside. Tentatively, she opened the door to his inevitable ire.

His accusatory eyes rested on her briefly before he rushed inside, throwing his robes unceremoniously back into her arms and then planting himself on her sofa. She got the sudden sensation of what it must feel like to be one of his house-elves and cringed. However, rather than challenging his belligerent mood, she quietly hung up the robes, hesitantly sat next to him and waited.

Draco just stared at her for a few minutes, making several false starts at conversation before finally blurting out, "So, do you plan on telling me what happened between you and the Weasley twins or do I have to break out the veritaserum?"

Hermione was taken aback for a moment. "You think I was involved with both of them? What kind of tart do you take me for?"

He let out a breath, seemingly relieved that at least his worst nauseating nightmare was not about to come true. This revelation gave him the presence of mind to recognize that his assumption of a Hermione/Twins sandwich had irked her considerably. As such, he steadied the disapproving tone. "Alright, I shouldn't have drawn that particular, vile conclusion," he made a face for emphasis. "I'll blame the whiskey and the barmy presence of Creevey--now there's a strange encounter if ever I saw one. But you owe me the truth, so out with it."

Hermione began by carefully putting her involvement with Fred in the proper context. "First of all, this happened more than 10 years ago, before you and I were even friends."

"We were friends back then," he protested.

She gave him a sharp look. "You tolerated my attempts to save you, yes. But we were hardly friends."

"I considered you a friend," he stubbornly insisted.

"What we were to each other back then is hardly the point," she saw him start to open his mouth so she put a hand up. "What we are to each other now is important, which is why I'm explaining this to you. But I can't be bothered to try and defend myself for falling for another man a decade before you and I even considered being together."

He looked like he wanted to find a loophole to her argument, but it was frustratingly rational. "Fine, go on."

"I guess it had all started around Harry and Ginny's wedding."

"Which," Draco said angrily, "I wasn't invited to."

Hermione gritted her teeth but ignored his whining. "Anyway, Fred and I had always flirted, but nothing had ever happened."

"So what you're saying is the thought of your friends getting married gets you horny--thus Fred then, me now."

"Shut it." She was seething. "I don't want to fight about this with you, Draco. It's ludicrous."

"I'm not fighting, just making an observation," he offered. "So you hooked up with one of the Tweasel's -- how long did it last?"

"About three and a half years," she said quickly.

"Three and a half years? Merlin's balls, Hermione. That's no fling," he was leaning back on the couch now, methodically rubbing his temples.

Hermione went to reach out to him, but thought better of it. "Draco, please just listen to me. It was...complicated. We were involved but he was never really a boyfriend, per say. We were just sort of testing the waters with each other." And, as she recalled the waters had run pretty damn deep.

"Did anyone know? Did Ron know?" he asked.

"Harry, Ginny and George were--up until right now--the only ones to ever know," she said. She put a hand on his arm and he flinched slightly but--thankfully--didn't pull it away. "Ron and I hadn't been together for a while but there was lingering...awkwardness."

Draco's eyes were closed as if in deep concentration. He opened them and looked at her with bewilderment, "How did you keep it so quiet?"

"If you recall, I was doing my healing residency at St. Mungo's around that time. My hours were odd and so were his," she said. "That alone meant he was practically the only person to see me during that time vacuum. It wasn't that hard to keep it a secret."

He shook his head in acknowledgment. "Okay, so what happened?"

"It just didn't work out. It wasn't meant to be," she said. Hermione did not regret the experience itself, just the deception, as she and Fred flirted with the idea of something meaningful without ever quite grasping it.

Things had ended amicably enough when she realized that Fred wasn't likely to settle down anytime soon. She was starting to think marriage and family, but for Fred, being part of the Weasley clan --what with his siblings, their spouses, nieces and nephews--was enough family for him.

"And that was it?" Draco asked.

She looked him steadily in the eye. "He wasn't the wizard for me."

Draco still felt uneasy about everything, but the intensity of her brown eyes sent a warm rush through him. But it didn't completely quell the insecurity he'd felt since yesterday afternoon. "Things are good with us, Hermione?"

"Yes."

"I feel," he searched for the right word. "Fortunate."

"Then what's the real problem?"

He swallowed his pride and then confessed. "I'm scared of losing you to him...to anyone, really."

"That's not likely to happen unless you push me away."

"How can you be so sure? You had feelings for Fred, right?" he asked.

"'Had' being the operative word," she said, growing exasperated.

"And how do I know your feelings won't change again," he stammered. "About me."

"I don't know," she admitted. "Neither of us does." She threw her hands in the air. "You could decide I'm not what you want. This is all so new to both of us."

Draco's grey eyes burned into her. "These recent developments, yes that's true. But this," he gestured between them, as if tracing an inextricable connection, "at least for me it isn't new at all. I've felt...this way...for a long time. Longer then I realized. Well before your little episode with Triblehorn."

Hermione was speechless at his words and the obvious sincerity. "Draco, I've felt it for a long time too." She moved closer to him, fully into his personal space. "Which is why it's bloody ridiculous for you to concern yourself with Fred Weasley or anyone else." She averted her eyes. "Besides, if anyone should worry it's me. I see how other witches look at you, they melt in your presence and I know they're all thinking, 'what's he doing with her' or 'that'll never last.'"

Draco grasped her shoulders tightly, "Look at me, Hermione." She reluctantly lifted her gaze back to his. "Those silly bints don't mean a thing to me. Can you say the same of Fred? Or of Ron?"

"Of course they matter to me Draco, they're my friends. Just like Pansy matters to you," she said.

"She hardly counts. I never had real feelings for her beyond friendship and I know you can't say the same of either Weasley," he said, still not letting go of the doubt.

"Maybe, but you're different," she pressed. "Can't you get that through your thick, Slytherin skull?"

"How am I different?"

"I never loved them!" she shouted.

Her statement sucked the wind--and the absurd fight--out of Draco as effectively as a punch to the gut. Hermione was also a bit unsteady, cursing inwardly at her lack of restraint. She had promised herself that such declarations would not be uttered unless they came from him first.

Draco had released her and leaned back again. The silence stretched and Hermione felt herself getting upset by his lack of response--or his seemingly negative one. "Draco I..."

But as fast as he'd moved away, he closed the gap between them and captured her mouth greedily as his hands trapped her face in a vice-like grip. His tongue possessively parted her lips, hungrily devouring her, not thinking of anything but consuming Hermione in that needy moment. She responded to him with a powerful yearning all her own and they spent the next few minutes lost in each other, nothing and everything. A simple, but ardent kiss.

Finally, he released her. His voice was breathless and a little shaky, "I'm sorry."

Hermione titled her eyes up to his, confused. "Sometimes I just don't get you."

"Did you mean what you said before?" he asked suddenly. "What you implied."

She wanted to answer yes, that she loved him desperately and completely, that she'd never even had an idea of what love was before him. But she was terrified. "I shouldn't have said that," she choked on the words. "You're--we're obviously not ready to deal with that sort of thing."

"Hermione, are you daft?" Have you been paying attention at all?" He had moved his arms down, embracing her tightly and nearly pulling her onto his lap. Trepidation battled to squelch the hope in his eyes. "Didn't you hear what I said? That I've felt this way for...a long time. Did you think I was referring to friendship? I fucking love you."

He kissed her again, hard, then pulled back, his eyes now those of a child in solemn prayer. "Tell me, do you honestly feel the same way? Or do I need to find a nice cliff to walk off of without a broom?"

"You insufferable prat, of course I love you. Why else would I put up with you even a minute longer," as she said the words she was still scared, but it was mixed with a lightness she hadn't felt in, well, ever.

His smile finally broke through the clouds. "You realize we're perfect for each other, right?"

She rubbed her nose against his cheek. "Yes, perfectly insane."

TBC