Bad habits.

Disclaimer: Don't own any of the characters or setting.

Lyla: thanks for reviews! They're so nice! But I'm not really sure where I'm going to go with this…I guess it will just sort of happen. Thanks for the support though x

Sunday afternoon, and Draco felt that discontented, awkward feeling that everyone always feels on a Sunday afternoon. It was the end of long week for Draco. Tiring, being the first week back, miserable, seeing as it hadn't stopped raining, and complicated, because of a certain brown haired Mudblood. He'd avoided her the whole week, and he suspected she'd been avoiding him as well. He went to every meal in the Hall early, and she went late. They chose seats on opposite sides of the classroom in potions, and had cut off all contact towards each other. No more snide remarks and quick curses while the professors weren't looking, no more anything.

He sighed and decided to take a short walk round the lake to get some fresh air, to clear his head, anything to get away from groveling Pansy and blundering Crabbe and Goyle. The rain hadn't entirely stopped, but it wasn't very strong, just that weak dribble that sprinkles on your face. Draco pulled his coat on and headed out onto the damp grass. A melancholy feeling lingered in the air as he trudged across the slightly muddy ground towards a huge oak tree. He studied the raindrops on the grass, thinking deeply.

"Ow!" he heard someone squeak, as he was jolted out of his daze. He looked down to see none other than the very girl that was causing him, a Malfoy, to 'deep think'.

"Watch where you're walking Malfoy," she snapped from below him, rubbing her arm.

He couldn't help but smile inside, even though his subconscious was disgusted that he was smiling at her.

"Well you shouldn't have been sitting here in the first place!" he quipped, smirking at her. He could almost see a smile flutter across her face, but he wasn't sure if he was imagining it or not.

"I have as much right to be here as you do." She stated coolly, her eyes sparkling mischievously. Draco shook his head, unable to control his grin.

"What are you doing here anyway Granger?" he asked, staring out at the lake, where she was staring.

"I could ask you the same thing." She replied.

"Wouldn't you rather be inside with your little weasel and pothead?" he sneered, thinking about the way that he had seen Harry looking at her at breakfast. Not that he had been looking at her or anything. She rolled hers eyes and stood up to face him, hands planted firmly on her hips. Those hips…

"Why do you always have to be so retched? You aren't half the man Ron and Harry are. Mind you, you are a ferret" she shot at him. He felt that deadly, passionate anger beginning to surface in him again.

"Shut up Mudblood," he growled, "Harry and Ron are pathetic, useless arseholes, they're everything I hate and what I'll never be, and trust me, Granger, they will never be half the man I am."

Hermione felt her insides squirm at the low huskiness of his voice, and her heart was pounding so strongly she was certain it was going to shoot right out of her chest. She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could Draco's was there and melting into her and sending sparks up her spine. His lips were searing into hers, and his hands slid round her waist, pulling her towards him eagerly. She couldn't stop, and her hands moved around his neck, savouring the warmth of his body. Draco felt like he was dying, painfully slowly and in a sickeningly sweet pair of lips. He couldn't get enough of her, enough of this guilty pleasure that was her. His tongue slid across hers, hot and wet and sinfully, but in the back of his head he could here a little voice. You are kissing a Mudblood, a filthy Granger Mudblood. He tried to shake the thought aside by deepening his kiss, delving his tongue further into her mouth, pressing her next to him and massaging his hands around her waist. He heard her make a small noise of pleasure, you shouldn't be doing this. It's sick and wrong. Then how come it feels so good?

Suddenly he broke their intense, burning contact, lifting her arms from his neck and stepping back. He looked at her, and those big brown eyes, that were questioning him.

"Dammit Granger!" he shouted, turning and looking down. She pressed her lips together, and folded her arms. He looked back at her, and could see a flicker of hurt across her face.

"I can't keep…we can't keep doing this!" he said, frustrated. He ran his hands through his messy blonde hair. She was silent, looking out at the lake, arms folded and head slightly bent. He looked at her for a response but didn't get one.

"For Merlin's sake say something Granger!"

She looked at him and shrugged.

"What? What do you want me to say? I know this is…this is, insane." She finally said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Insane? It's…it's wrong!" he said loudly, seeing her flinched ever so slightly at the word wrong, "It is! What are we doing? What are we thinking?"

"I don't know! I don't know ok? I don't know what we're doing." She said, confusion and an air of sadness masking her striking face. She shook her head and her eyes started to well up with tears.

"Don't cry." He said softly, reaching an arm out and pulling her to him.

"I'm supposed to hate you." He whispered into her hair.

"I know," she sobbed, "and I…I'm supposed to hate you. I mean I do...most of the time anyway. Oh I don't know, I don't anything anymore." She cried onto his shoulder, for the second time. He didn't know what to do. What to think, or what to say. After a while of holding her, he stepped back slightly, his hands resting on her arms.

"We're making this whole thing too much of a bad habit." he said quietly. She nodded, before his hands fell from her arms and he strode away, not daring to look back. This time it was her turn to watch him walk away.