A/N: I know, I know… "WHY THE DELAY!" Don't be mean to me…I'm doing the best I can. After one computer was taken from my room and the other one just DIED, I was left without resources. Plus I had a bad cold. But now both computers are replaced and my phlegm levels are down to a minimum and I found some spare time and some motivation. SO! Here's chapter 8. Meep! I love this chapter so very much.…I hope you do too. (And I hope you like sexual tension, teehee…you'll see…) And thanks for all the reviews on chapter 7! They were wonderful. : )

Chapter 8: The Reappearance of Ron

Disclaimer: All characters and such belong to J.K. Rowling.

When Draco and Hermione were about halfway back to the room, Draco realized he was still smirking and quickly wiped the expression off his face. His reaction of amusement to Granger's "I need to get you into bed" comment suddenly seemed inappropriate to him. A stern voice inside his head seemed to be telling him, that shouldn't be amusing. You should feel only repulsion for anything sexual having to do with Granger.

Right? Yes. Repulsion. Disgust. It wasn't funny. Not funny at all.

Okay, it was a little bit funny. Granger's embarrassment, anyway. She blushed so easily, Draco observed.

You see, in a normal situation, with a girl who wasn't repulsive, (i.e., a girl who wasn't a mudblood gryffindor) Draco's natural reaction to a slipup like "I need to get you into bed" would be to flash the blushing girl his trademark smirk and maybe drawl out some suggestive comment. But with Granger…he couldn't do that. She was in league with Potter and she was a mudblood and was, therefore, not really a girl.

So why had he smirked at her like she was some normal girl?

It was a reflex, he told himself. Just a reflex.

But it meant he would have to watch himself and make sure it didn't happen again. Granger was Granger and that was that. He would treat her like he always had. No exceptions.

But it was getting harder and harder to judge what was right and what was wrong in this messed up situation. Was it wrong that he currently had his hand around her waist as they made their way down the hallway?

No, he thought. I can't walk on my own. I need the support. That's all. I'm using her for support.

Okay. But was it wrong that he felt like his hand was on fire? Was it wrong that his heart was beating like a rabbit's, for seemingly no reason at all? Was it wrong that a small corner of his mind was noticing the warm, gentle curve of Granger's side under her drab black robes?

Well, yes. That was all a little bit wrong. But he could explain it easily in his mind. He was sick. Feverish. Of course his heart would be beating fast. Of course he would feel a little bit hot. And not hot like that. Hot as in, extremely warm. Yes, it all made sense.

Except for the information his hand was sending back to that small corner of his mind. It seemed to be tauntingly saying, "Ha! Hermione Granger has a woman's body and you're noticing it! You've sunken to a new low, Draco! Take that, pride!"

Draco would have felt shameful if not for the quick excuses some other portion of his mind was offering. "You can't help it, Draco. You're a man. It's only natural. It doesn't mean anything. You're just a red-blooded teenager. She has a nice body. Big deal. Get over it."

Yes. Get over it. That's all. Recognize it for what it is (absolutely nothing) and forget about it. It's just a weak sort of animal attraction. Forget about it.

Suddenly, shaking Draco from his thoughts, a pair of voices could be heard drifting up from the stairs. Two voices which, when paired together, made Draco's blood boil. He stopped dead in his tracks.

And then the heads of Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley popped up at the top of the stairs and their conversation stopped abruptly as they spied the scene before them: Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger standing stock still, each with an arm wrapped tightly around the other's waist, both breathing hard, one looking pale and angry, the other looking like Christmas had just arrived.

Draco glanced down and noticed with dismay the broad grin that painted Granger's face and brightened her eyes.

"Ron!" she squealed, immediately reclaiming her arm and tearing herself away from Draco's grasp to practically skip over to Weasley and throw her arms around his neck.

Disgusting, thought Draco, teetering on his feet slightly, finding the wall behind his back with his hand and leaning against it for support.

A strange and unwanted feeling of possessiveness suddenly rose inside of him as he watched Weasley wrap his arms happily around Granger's small waist. This was his nurse and she was supposed to be helping him. He was in a lot of pain and needed to get back to bed and these two goons were trying to steal her away.

These sudden thoughts filled Draco with both anger and repulsion. Anger at Potter and Weasley for said reasons and repulsion at himself for having these weird feelings regarding Granger.

Why should he care if she wants to run off with those two and leave him alone? Hell, that would be great. Get her out of his hair for a while. Right? Yeah, that's how he felt. Definitely. Let them have her. He didn't need or want her.

With a glare that was lost on all three of the stupid Gryffindors (seeing as they were currently blinded by their happy glow of friendship), Draco began making his own, slower way back to his room, mustering up all the pride he had and converting it into energy.

He felt extremely vulnerable at the moment. Having all three of them together right in front of him made Draco feel very uneasy. Especially since he had no wand and no Crabbe and Goyle. It was just him versus the insufferable trio. And he could very well see that they had the upper hand.

He was almost to the door when Granger turned around to look at him and Potter and Weasley turned their attention on him as well. Their grins ebbed away as they seemed to remember he was there and whatever mindless conversation they had been having dissolved. Draco glared malevolently at them.

Granger sighed and walked over to him, saying, "Let me help you, Malfoy," a phrase that caused Weasley's eyebrows to skyrocket off his face. As Granger went to take Draco's arm, Draco pulled away violently and hissed, "I don't need your help, mudblood."

Her eyes rounded in shock and Weasley immediately began shouting some incoherent words of outrage. But Granger's expression was all Draco really noticed, even though he could hear Potter and Weasley scuffling in the background, probably one holding the other back from an attempt on his life. He currently didn't give a shit.

For a moment it was just his eyes and Granger's eyes, hers asking his, Why? Why would you call me that after we made an agreement?

And then the red-headed beast broke free and stomped towards Draco, drawing up his wand with a murderous gleam in his eyes. Funny. This scenario seemed very familiar to Draco. Only last time, there were slugs.

But before Weasley could do anything stupid, Granger tore her eyes from Draco's and twirled around on the spot, planting herself firmly between the two boys. In a cold, authoritative voice, she said, "Ronald Weasley, put that wand down."

To Draco's amusement he actually froze, like some obedient mutt, and lowered his wand. But the anger in his eyes was not extinguished and Potter was standing at the ready with a restraining hand on Weasley's shoulder. "Mudblood" was apparently a very, very powerful word with these people.

Draco was about to smirk at Weasley when Granger turned on him, eyes flashing angrily.

"And you," she said, standing with her hands clenched up in little fists at her sides for a moment.

Then she grabbed Draco by the front of his shirt with both her hands and pressed him backwards through the open door of the bedroom, pausing for just a second to slam the door closed behind her before shoving him onto the bed.

Draco was too surprised to resist, or even react for a few moments. Mostly he was filled with outrage because of the way she had just—man-handled him. But, appallingly, a very, very small part of him was…dear God…turned on by her actions. The way she had just pushed him onto the bed…if that had been done under different circumstances…no, wait! This was Granger! And he was turned on? By Granger? What the hell was wrong with him?

"What is wrong with you?" asked Hermione in an incredulous voice. "One moment you're almost tolerably well-behaved and then Harry and Ron show up and you call me… that name— even though you said you wouldn't anymore—and you act like I haven't spent the last few days bending over backwards to make sure you wouldn't die, barely getting any sleep myself, listening to your insults and your complaints…and then when I finally begin to think that maybe we can get out of this situation without wanting to kill each other, you go and call me…that…again. What is your problem?"

Malfoy had just glared at her silently all the time she ranted on, propped up on his elbows on the bed, apparently waiting for her to shut up. His silence and calmness only fueled Hermione's fury and there were angry tears in her eyes when she was done.

He seemed to notice her tears quite suddenly. He sat up and scrutinized her. "Are you—what the hell? You're crying because I called you a mudblood? That's…pathetic—"

Slap.

Hermione, hand stinging, eyes blazing, stood staring down at the unbelievably furious, freshly-slapped face of Draco Malfoy. "Well you really wouldn't know how it feels, now would you," she said quietly, hastily wiping the tears from her eyes and taking a step backwards. The look on his face was frightening and her anger quickly dissolved into unease.

And for good reason. Because suddenly, with speed she didn't even think he was capable of in his debilitated state, Malfoy reached out, grabbed her by the front of her robes and yanked her down on the bed beside him. Within moments, in which Hermione was far too shocked to even think about fighting him, he had her pinned beneath him, one knee on each side of her hips, his hands holding her wrists down, his face very close to hers, their chests only inches apart.

"Do not hit me again," he said with an intensity that made Hermione's breath hitch in her throat.

She tried to gather sane thoughts for some kind of response, but it seemed this kind of sensory overload, these feelings of Malfoy on top of her, had overwhelmed and fried every circuit in her brain. What was this heavy, churning feeling in the pit of her stomach? And why, WHY, was she suddenly imagining what this would be like if Malfoy had no shirt on?

That image shook her back to reality. Her overactive imagination had taken it too far this time.

One little word surged to the front of her mind, a word she had hated passionately since the first time she heard it. Mudblood. It reminded her of just why she was currently trapped under the hot, shaking body of Draco Malfoy.

"Do not call me a mudblood again!" she cried, struggling underneath him. "And get off of me!"

It really didn't take much effort for her to escape. He was so weak. She shuddered to think of how things might have happened differently if he had his full strength.

She freed her wrists from his hands and then shoved him, both hands on his chest, onto his back beside her on the bed. Then she scurried to her feet and ran to the door, looking back at him for one last mutual glare before exiting.

Ron and Harry were waiting outside.

"What the bloody hell was going on in there!" asked a red-faced Ron. It appeared that Harry had been holding him back from barging into the room the entire time.

Hermione was shaking and upset and she really didn't feel like explaining anything right now. But it was Harry and Ron. She had to tell them something.

"Everything's fine," she said in a voice she hoped sounded calm. "We were just having an argument."

Ron was by no means satisfied. He turned on Harry. "How can you let her be in a room alone with him? Are you bloody insane!"

"Ron, calm down, please," said Hermione. "You don't understand the situation."

"I don't understand the situation? It's Malfoy!" he continued. "I'm the only one who understands the situation. All the rest of you have gone blind or stupid or—"

"Ron, really," interrupted Hermione. She loved Ron…but sometimes she just wanted to choke him. "If you don't calm down I am going to just walk away and not speak to you anymore."

He didn't seem to hear her. "I leave you two alone for a couple of weeks and you lose your minds and decide to invite Malfoy in for a little stay—where are you going?"

Hermione was striding angrily down the hallway to her room. She had heard about enough from Ron. He was acting like they wanted Malfoy here. And he was directing all his anger at her. But who was it who brought Malfoy here in the first place? Harry! And Harry wasn't even saying anything to defend them!

Ron hurried down the hall after her. "Have you forgotten who Malfoy is? How can you help him, how can you—" a look of disgust contorted his face, "—touch him?"

She jerked her wand out of her robes, whirled around, and pointed it right at his chest. "That's enough," she said dangerously. "You have absolutely no right to just come in here and judge us. You've been at the Burrow all this time with your family and we've been stuck in this dreadful house and now, on top of everything, we have to take care of Malfoy. And you just waltz in and start treating us like criminals. You're our friend, Ron, you're supposed to be supportive. You think we want Malfoy here? You think we're having fun?"

Ron was silenced. After a moment, Hermione lowered her wand and turned back around and continued walking to her room.

"Wait," said Ron.

Hermione turned back around and looked at him expectantly.

"I'm sorry. I overreacted, I guess."

This kind of admission was extremely unusual coming from Ron. They stared at each other for a few silent moments until Harry stepped up beside Ron and said solemnly, "We have to stick together on this. Otherwise Malfoy will tear us apart."

Harry and Hermione shared a serious glance.

"Like that could happen," said Ron with a crooked grin.

And then the tension left Hermione's body and she realized how good it felt to have her two favorite men standing there right in front of her. The three of them were reunited at last.

She sighed. "No more arguing. For now, anyway. Let's get something to eat."

And the three of them headed down the hallway to the stairs, Ron's face bright with the prospect of food and Harry looking very content to have his two best friends with him.

Now why had he gone and done that? All Draco could think of now was the sight and the feel of having Granger underneath him. He wanted to burn the image from his mind. It was too much.

But she had slapped him. What was he supposed to do? Just let her get away with it? Hell, no. He was Draco Malfoy. You don't just slap Draco Malfoy and get away with it.

Well…apparently you do sometimes, since Granger escaped with the upper hand in their argument and no bodily harm. But only because Draco was so fucking weak. For the millionth time, he wished he had his strength back. Oh, how different that confrontation would have been if he did.

He could just imagine it: They would argue. She would slap him. He would grab her and trap her under his body on the bed. But this time, when she tried to argue and struggle, he would…he would…

The next image that floated to the surface of his mind was something he squashed immediately. No, no, no, he would not do that.

He suddenly wanted to throw things, to punch something. He wanted to punch himself. He was so repulsed and ashamed for having these thoughts towards Granger. But once again, here they were, cropping up when he least expected them.

Where had they even come from? It was like one minute she was a disgusting mudblood and the next she was some sexual object he was lusting after. It was so screwed up, he couldn't even think about it.

He longed to be able to go back to a time when he could just think of her as Hermione Granger, bushy-haired mudblood, know-it-all friend to Harry Potter. Now all he could think about was taking her robes off.

Get a grip, he told himself. This is ridiculous. It's completely insane.

Despite his swirling thoughts and troubled mind, Draco managed to fall asleep after a few minutes. His dreams were…interesting.

The three of them were sitting over a heaping plate of sandwiches at the table, each with a cool glass of pumpkin juice.

"It took me two days to convince mum, but she finally gave in," explained Ron. "When I heard Malfoy was here…well, if she hadn't said yes, I think I would have snuck out anyway."

"Well I'm glad you came," said Harry. His cheeks turned slightly pink as he asked, "How's Ginny?"

Ron gave him a sidelong glance. "Fine. I suppose. Holding up."

A shadow passed over Harry's eyes. There was an awkward silence between the three of them.

Thankfully, Lupin walked in at that moment, a large black book in his hand that Hermione recognized.

"Hello again, Ron," he said with a nod. Apparently they'd already seen each other. "I'm about to get started on that potion, Hermione. It should be done within the hour. Perhaps Draco should eat something before I administer it."

"Then perhaps he should go out into the woods and forage for nuts and berries," said Hermione with a huff.

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Have a falling out?"

"There was never a falling in," said Hermione. She scowled into her pumpkin juice.

Harry and Ron glanced at the suddenly sullen Hermione and then shrugged at Lupin. Her mood swings were beyond male comprehension.

Hermione soon became immersed in her own thoughts. She kept playing that scene over and over again in her mind: Malfoy grabbing her and pulling her onto the bed and pinning her beneath him. It was making her head feel fuzzy. But why? Why such a strong effect?

I'm just not used to physical contact with the opposite sex, she told herself. It was true. She had kissed Victor Krum and she had kissed Ron…but there was no real bodily contact involved with either of them. Certainly nothing involving beds and having someone on top of her. That was an entirely new experience. One which she did not want to repeat with Malfoy anytime soon.

Or did she?

NO! She didn't. Of course not. Gross.

It was Malfoy, for Merlin's sake. He wasn't attractive. It was silly just to think about it. Absolutely ridiculous. What a laugh!

Okay, well…she would be lying to herself if she absolutely denied the possibility that his face might be handsome and his body might be…well-formed. She could look at him objectively. All mental attributes aside, strictly physically…yes, he was attractive. So what? Just the fact that she could admit that, Hermione reasoned, showed that it didn't matter. There were plenty of beautiful people in the world with black souls. Draco Malfoy was one of them.

"Hey. Hermione. Snap out of it," said Ron.

Hermione broke from her thoughts with a start. "What?" she asked.

"You look like you're off in another land. Are you okay?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she said, blushing slightly. "I'm just going to, umm, bring some food up for Malfoy."

She gathered some sandwiches on a plate and poured a glass of pumpkin juice while Harry and Ron looked on with concerned expressions. Lupin was busy stirring something in the cauldron over the fire.

"Call me when the potion is ready," she said before making her way over to the stairs.

On the way up, she wondered if Malfoy would still be angry when she got there. After all, he had just finished attacking her the last time she left. She opened the door to bedroom cautiously, preparing herself for some kind of sneak attack—but Malfoy was asleep when she entered. He was curled up facing in her direction, his eyelids fluttering slightly, his lips parted, his breathing heavy. She wondered what he was dreaming about. She set the tray down on the chair and knelt down beside him quietly, knowing she should probably just wake him. But he was interesting to watch in his sleep, when his face was relaxed and there were no angry eyes open to glare at her. A lock of his pale blond hair had fallen over his eyes and she had the sudden inexplicable urge to push it back. His hair looked really soft when it wasn't slicked back. Maybe if she just…did it really lightly, he wouldn't wake up. No. That was ridiculous. She wasn't going to touch his hair. But maybe just once…it wouldn't matter. Her hand, seemingly of its own accord, began to rise slowly to his face. Closer…closer…almost—

His eyes opened lazily and focused on the hand that was currently frozen right in the center of his field of vision. Then they shifted to the stunned face beyond the hand and flickered with some kind of recognition. The expression on his face confused Hermione. It wasn't angry or surprised but rather…calm, like he had quite expected to see Hermione sitting right beside him when he woke up. Before Hermione could lower her hand, Malfoy took it lightly in his. And then he took Hermione by the front of her robes and began pulling her in close, staring into her face.

Hermione's brain was temporarily unavailable at this point.

Malfoy was glancing back and forth between her eyes and her lips, mainly her lips, pulling her closer and closer. A dozen alarms began going off in Hermione's head, screaming at her to GET AWAY NOW because WHAT THE HELL WAS HE DOING! But she couldn't move, she was so shocked.

Their faces came closer and closer and Malfoy was staring only at her lips now and Hermione was just about to scream and run away—when Malfoy blinked…and blinked again…and knitted his brow…and abruptly let go of Hermione and practically jumped out of his skin trying to get away from her.

Hermione thought she would faint, she was so relieved.

"What are you doing!" exclaimed a severely confused Malfoy.

It took a second for Hermione to find her voice. "What am I doing? Just—trying not to be sexually assaulted, that's all!"

He was breathing heavily, looking at her wildly. "Get out!" he shouted after a moment, eviction apparently the best solution he could think of.

Hermione did not wait to be told twice. She wanted out of there as much as he wanted her gone. She was off the floor and out the door within two seconds. Then she ran to her own room and vaulted onto the bed and tried to make sense of what is God's name had just happened.

A/N: You like? Tell me your thoughts. Review, my loyal band of reviewers! Some of you may have loved this chapter, some of you may not have. I don't know, you'll have to tell me. And please don't hesitate, even if you didn't like it. Thanks! Review! (Oh and if you'll notice, I used mum, not mom. I'm getting better, haha…)