Title: No Looking Back (III of IV)
Author: Miz Thang
Characters/Pairing: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Ensemble, HG/DM, RW/PP
Rating: FRM / R
Word Count: 5956
Warnings: Completely and utterly cliched. AU Year 7. Not HBP-compatible.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the little story's idea. Everything else belongs to who it belongs to.
Summary: In Seventh Year, Head Boy and Head Girl, Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger, are forced to attend a ball together in their last few days at school. What results isn't anything they'd ever expect.
Notes: For the Fantastic Clichés And Why You Should Write Them Ficathon. Requirements posted at the end. Amazingly, I signed up intending to be completely and utterly serious, and what I've got is serious with a side of funny. Especially from Harry, Ron and Pansy. And not only that, but because of a massive dose of writers' block, it became a three-part fic. Written for gleamingeyes.
Chapter Notes: It would be nice to pretend that they go to the ball and they're in lurve, and crap, the end, but requirements are requirements, and this story is officially, Romance/Humor/Angst. And I'm glad with that because angst is my genre.

Thank you to everyone who reviewed Part I and Part II.

III. The Revelations

The days after the ball were very surprising for all. Hermione was tempted to blame everyone's peculiar behavior on the N.E.W.T.s they were all faced with in these final days, but that would be a lie. The ball had changed a lot of things, especially among the seventh years. And Hermione supposed she was a prime example of change. Well, she and Draco, of course.

A while after she had finished her N.E.W.T. for Potions, she'd found herself sitting by a tree out in the courtyard, watching her fellow schoolmates enjoy their last few days together in school before they were to leave. Hermione didn't want to be nostalgic, but she supposed she would miss Hogwarts. It had been a very altering part of her life, and without it, she most likely would not have met Ron, or Harry (and Draco).

After graduation, she, Ron and Harry would be adults, expected to do adult-like things, and, in the times they lived in, expected to go to war. As would Draco, she knew, and she found it weird that she hoped that something would change the obvious path for him – after a week of trying to figure out what they were, what they could be – she didn't like the thought of him dead or in Azkaban.

She supposed it was awfully foolish to let the ball take away the perspective she should have kept on what their world was really like, but she did recognize that the ball may have finally given Hogwarts just what the sorting hat had been searching to get for nearly four years – some kind of unity.

"You really do think too much."

She looked up sharply to find Draco blocking her sunlight. She lifted her arm to shield her eyes and smiled at him, almost charmingly. "Should I even give that an answer, or can you already guess what it is?"

He gave her a withering look before taking a seat beside her. The both sat in silence, leaning on the tree she had found shelter under, and she watched the younger years play around. She hoped nothing happened over the summer and that they were safe at Hogwarts. They had to be safe at Hogwarts.

"I'm worried." She said, smiling softly as one first year turned a flower into a butterfly. If only she could go back to when she didn't have to worry about anything, that would be nice.

"About what?"

"The summer. The War. What happens after the war? When we're in either utopia or hell?"

"You won't know until you get there, will you?" Draco said, almost dismissively. "Nothing's set in stone, Granger. And, unless there's a prophecy with the winner's name on it, I'm thinking that now may the time for a vacation – we do have a summer house in Brazil."

Hermione frowned, because he was talking about going away and leaving England (which was bad), but it also meant not being involved in the war in any way, shape or form (which was good) and that meant – Hermione didn't want to, nor was she one to, get her hopes up, but still, this meant a lot for the future, their future, so how could she not be excited?

"Why?"

He turned to look at her. "Why what?"

"Why are you going to avoid picking a side?" She asked as if it had been obvious. Maybe it was and he hadn't realized it. Though the same could probably be said about his answer. Maybe that was obvious and she hadn't realized it.

"Besides being in trouble if the other side wins? What if we come face to face in the middle of the war? That defeats the purpose of our little experiment if one of us dies, doesn – "

Hermione kissed him, not caring who saw, just because she could.

-

Hermione had been disturbed when she'd seen Ron and Pansy standing in the middle of the entrance hall, arguing over nothing in particular. And nothing in particular actually equated every and anything. She and Draco had finally decided that it had been enough with sitting outside, and on the way to the great hall for lunch, when they'd seen the couple yelling at each other at the top of their lungs.

That wasn't what had really disturbed her, of course. Ron and Pansy had been arguing more and more throughout the year, so that was nothing new. No. What had disturbed her was Draco saying, "Do they remind you of anyone?" before leaving her to stand and watch them for a while longer.

She'd watched Ron's face turn an impossible shade of red and Pansy clenched her fist as if she was about to hit him. And then she'd caught onto Draco's question.

Ron and Pansy were suspiciously acting out in ways she and Draco had during the course of the year. Worst, even. Much worst.

She shook her head to rid the scene from her mind and entered the great hall, immediately catching sight of Harry sitting at the Gryffindor table while staring off into space. She looked in the air for a moment to see if there was anything interesting there, because she didn't know Harry to daydream. Ever. And then she approached him cautiously once she realized that there was nothing of any real importance there and that Harry was in fact daydreaming.

When he didn't notice her taking the seat across from him, she said, "Harry."

He started and finally noticed her presence. "Hermione."

"What were you staring off at?" She asked. When she didn't get an immediate answer, she continued. "Never mind. What are you doing on your free period? You and Ron could use that time to study, for once, before the Transfiguration N.E.W.T. tomorrow."

Harry shifted in his seat nervously and Hermione's eyes narrowed at her friend. "Harry, what did you do?"

"Do? I didn't do anything. I just – "

"If you didn't do anything, why can't you just give me your excuse for not being able to study?"

"Ipromisedlunai'dgoteedletweedlehuntingwithher." Harry rushed to say under his breath. Hermione looked at him blankly, because he should know better than to think she'd caught a word of that, and he repeated himself. "I promised Luna I'd go teedle tweedle hunting with her."

Hermione smiled sweetly. "So, you and Luna?"

"Me and Luna? There is no me and Luna. All I did was agree to go looking for teedle tweedles with her." Harry protested.

"Harry," Hermione said, her voice managing to be a bit disapproving and dubious that the same time. "You and I both know teedle tweedles do not exist."

Harry smiled, if only a bit knowingly. When she thought about his facial expression later, she realized that he probably hadn't meant to be so obvious. Except he was. "But Luna doesn't."

It was official – the entire lot of seventh years had lost their minds.

-

"Everyone's saying you and Granger are dating." Pansy said as she took her seat across from Draco at dinner. There indeed had been mutterings amongst the students that the Head Boy and Girl had been seen sitting by a tree outside kissing. How Pansy had managed to pull herself away from Ron for enough time to hear any of these rumors was another manner in and of itself.

"They're also saying that you and the Weasel should just find a broom closet." Draco said nonchalantly. "Should we believe everything we hear, Pansy?"

Pansy rolled her eyes at Draco. "I thought we'd already settled that whatever I did at the ball was purely a result of someone spiking the drinks."

"Spiking the drinks, Pansy?" Blaise asked as he took a seat beside her. "That's low, even for you."

Pansy very noticeably bit her bottom lip and filled her plate moderately before she turned to Blaise and said scathingly, "Some of us, have shame, Blaise. We can't all be like you and look for the title of that bloke that slept with every girl in our year." Then she smiled brightly. "But, this isn't me be condescending of your life style – not at all. Though if you happen to catch something from one of those mudblood bitches, I wouldn't be surprised, and I swear I won't say I told you so."

"And you say that as if whatever you did with Weasley is any better." Blaise said, his voice chilling to a temperature that almost matched Pansy's.

"It is. Because here in lies the difference, Zabini. For me, we are only talking about one person – for you, we are talking about every seventh year girl, with an exception of myself and Granger, I'm sure. As far as I'm concerned, there is nothing worst than trying to shag everything with two legs. And I am more than a little doubtful that I have ever done that. Can you say that for yourself, Blaise? Or would that make you just a bit delusional? Perhaps you and Loony Lovegood have something in common. Perhaps you would like to discuss teedle tweedles and zumbas with her – I'm sure she'd appreciate it. And if you think for one moment that you sleeping with fifteen girls in the past three years is in any way equivalent to the two boys I've been with, you are very sadly mistaken. Though, I'm sure you've gotten a head start on the sixth years – after all, Ginny Weasley hasn't been all that honest with Michael Corner, anyway, has she?"

She eyed her plate with distaste, practically turning her back on Blaise. "And now, I think I've lost my appetite." She stood from her seat and left the great hall, her confident walk not breaking, even when she bumped into Ron. In fact, she sneered at the redhead, most likely reminded of why she was so angry, and shoved him out of her way before leaving the room.

Draco noticed, with an odd sort of detachment, that Blaise's facial features were darkening with every moment that he had to sit and think about Pansy's words, and it didn't help that Tracey and Daphne were trying to pretend that they hadn't heard any of it all (Millicent didn't have any of that sort of etiquette, openly staring). Now, Draco wasn't one to mind his business, but Pansy and Blaise had almost always found a way to argue on this topic at least once a year for the past four, and this was no different than the previous ones. Draco had reached that point when he didn't really care anymore – that is, unless they decided on an encore on the train ride home. Then, he was going to hex someone.

Blaise stood, undoubtedly angry, and stalked out of the great hall, predictably to be in a bad mood for the rest of their N.E.W.T.s.

He wasn't surprised either, to notice Ron follow Pansy out of the room, almost like a pet and its owner, in Draco's opinion. They really do need a broom closet so they can just get it over with.

-

By the time Hermione was making her rounds at midnight, she'd been asked an astonishing twenty-seven times if she was dating Draco. And, because she didn't know what his own reply had been, she'd said that there was no relationship between herself and the Slytherin Head Boy. Even when one of the girls had mentioned that someone had seen her kiss him.

Of course, once the news spread about Ron and Pansy, she and Draco were virtually off the hook. Especially considering that Ron and Pansy weren't doing as well a job as she and Draco to keep anyone from putting the puzzle pieces together.

Thankfully for Hermione's sanity and already scarred innocence, no one was hiding out in houses they didn't belong in tonight, and Hermione resigned herself to head back to her common room. And to think, they were going home in two days. Two days and all this childish stuff would be behind them. Surprisingly, Hermione wasn't as ready to leave it all behind as she had been six years ago.

"I don't know why anyone believes that stupid rumor. What's so great about her anyway that they'd think Malfoy would even consider a relationship with a mudblood like her?" A voice asked in the darkness, none too quietly, and Hermione turned towards the voice, ready to deal with whoever it was that had decided to violate curfew.

Her job as Head Girl was never done, was it?

"You might as well come out so I can take points, give you detention and finally return to my room for the night."

A girl with long dark red hair and chilling hazel eyes stepped out from a corner of the hallway. A blonde, and a girl with dark skin flanked both sides of her. Hermione noticed that they wore Slytherin badges, and filed that information away for later, should they escape.

"I doubt you'll be returning to your room, mudblood." The blonde sneered.

Hermione didn't really know whether she'd have seen the attack coming even if she had realized that this was a dangerous situation earlier. But it had come, and Hermione hadn't been expecting it, but she'd resolved to put up a fight for as long as possible.

-

Pansy wasn't half as angry as she had been at lunch, which was saying a lot. She'd just been in a sore spot because everyone wanted to know if she and Ron had really done something the night of the ball, and Pansy would much rather everyone stayed out her business (yes, she was a hypocrite in that way).

And not mention, she was under the impression that her shame stemmed more from the fact that she was actually considering a "real" relationship instead of that non-committal policy Blaise had (a policy that she might be just a little jealous of). And maybe that was why she snapped. Maybe it wasn't. The point was, Blaise hadn't been who she was angry at – herself, Ron, those twittering bitches that wouldn't leave her alone maybe, but not Blaise.

She groaned softly in the dark corridor, because this revelation meant she'd have to actually apologize to him tomorrow morning.

"Mudblood!"

Pansy froze in her tracks as various other insults reached her ears and turned towards the direction she could hear that voice, and the ones that followed, from. She realized that this was not very Slytherin of her to go looking for a problem instead of heading to bed, but, she figured, if a bunch of Slytherins had decided to play a game of near death with a mudblood, this was going to be either her, or Draco's, problem tomorrow morning.

"Filthy, dirty, mudblood!"

"This'll teach you – stop poisoning the only purebloods left!"

Pansy liked to think she was a person that thought before she acted. She really did. She prided herself on it in fact, as a Slytherin. She liked to think that she'd scout out the situation before reacting. No such luck tonight. She decided that she'd just blame it on some of Weasley rubbing off on her.

She pulled her wand out and stupefied three of the girls with quick succession the moment she rounded the corner, before they could realize what was happening (Pansy was not stupid; if these girls would do so far to attack another, then they wouldn't likely hesitate to hurt her either). She managed to catch another two once they realized they'd been found, but the last escaped and she committed the girl features – mainly the flaming red hair – to memory.

She took careful steps towards the victim in this entire mess, only to start at the sound of a voice.

"What the hell is this?"

Pansy, as much as she would like to not admit it, would recognize Blaise's voice anywhere. It was just a random fact that should be known by the general public, Slytherin was the best house at Hogwarts, and Pansy could recognize Blaise anywhere (because he was her best friend – not that she'd ever tell him that). She spun around to face him, and wished that they were on good terms – like before lunch. She smiled, if only a bit bitterly. It was only a reminder that places that they could call safe, weren't that much anymore. "Our younger generation. Where we thought a hex that made someone up heave toads was entertainment, they get their stimulation from trying to kill other students. How times have changed."

Blaise eyed her, and then his gaze drifted to the huddled figure on the floor. The one that was bleeding. The one that also wasn't moving. Pansy turned back to the girl, and then kneeled to reveal the person. Though the last thing she wanted to do was touch the person, she turned the person over and became very aware that what she'd simply thought was a bad situation, was now a terrible one.

Because she'd recognize that head of hair anywhere.

"Oh, fuck."

"Pansy?" She could almost feel him take a step forward.

"Blaise, please run and get Draco." Pansy said distantly, not taking her eyes off Hermione; the girl was barely breathing. "And I do mean run."

-

He'd been waiting up for her. His Potions book had extinguished its use a few days ago, and he now scanned his Transfigurations book in a last attempt to understand some of the finer points the subject before his N.E.W.T. when the usually quiet woman appeared in the portrait in the common room.

"I think you have an emergency, Mister Malfoy." She said, her voice not very much higher than a whisper.

"What kind of an emergency?" Draco asked, looking up at her with his eyes narrowed in suspicion. If it was Lavender Brown claiming she needed to show him to state of the seventh year Gryffindor girls' dorms again…

"Well – there is a boy, yelling, loudly I might add, that you get your arse outside right now."

Draco closed his textbook and reluctantly got out of his seat. The walls in the room were amazing, because Draco hadn't heard not hide nor hair of it all. The portrait swung open to reveal a very out of breath Blaise, looking as if he'd run an impossible distance. And, as Draco found out in the next few seconds, he had.

-

Pansy didn't dare touch her. She couldn't even bare to sit next to her until Blaise returned. She'd picked a far wall and sat against it, her dark eyes never leaving the beaten body of the Head Girl. There were some things that just didn't happen. Slytherins didn't date Gryffindors, and Head Girls didn't get attacked. And the first had flown out the window a long time ago.

Her lack of ease with the situation was palpable and relief, therefore, clearly showed on her face when Blaise and Draco appeared around the corner.

"Who – ?" Draco asked.

"Them." Pansy said, pointing at the stunned girls. "One got away, but I'd be able to pick her out in a crowd."

Draco nodded, never taking his eyes off Hermione. Pansy realized something as she watched him kneel beside the girl. Draco had been bluffing at lunch. Just as she'd been bluffing and maybe Ron was bluffing too. All in all, it was an amazing epiphany moment for Pansy. Well, it'd be more amazing if Hermione wasn't very much on the verge of death – because then, Pansy would be able to make the stupid idiot admit to it.

"Can you and Blaise go find her? The last girl?"

Blaise narrowed his eyes at her and Pansy looked at Draco as if he may have been insane, but seeing how this was every bit a dire situation, simultaneously, they both said, "Yes."

After they found away to carry five girls down to the dungeons so they could wake Snape at half past midnight, they left Draco to do whatever he felt was needed to help Hermione. When they rounded the corner and took the stairs that lead down to the dungeons, Pansy said, "Don't think I'll ever say this to you again."

Blaise gave her the faint traces of a smirk, and she thought it was because he knew exactly what she was going to say. "Say what?"

She rolled her eyes in annoyance. "I'm sorry. About earlier."

"I know." He said. "Just for the record though, about five minutes after I left the great hall, I forgave you."

It was only when they were under the deadly glare of their Head of House with five very unconscious fifth years, did it occur to Pansy that she and Blaise may have what constituted a real friendship.

Pansy almost smiled.

-

As soon as his friends had rounded the corner of the hallway, Draco had tried to concentrate on the task of healing Hermione (and make sure she didn't do anything – like die – on him).

The part where he got her back to their common room was easy; the quiet lady opened the door sans the password, smiling at him in sympathy (which he didn't actually need or want) when he looked at her in surprise.

Once he made sure that Hermione was as comfortable as possible, he set about to inspect her injuries and calculate how many spells he needed. He supposed he'd be better off if he had po –

A knock and the quiet lady's calls for him interrupted his thought and he, reluctant though he couldn't quite see why, left Hermione alone in her room, her skin deathly pale against the red sheets, to find out who had to nerve to bother him at this time of the night.

Before he could reach it, however, the door swung open and Pansy slipped inside, quickly shutting the door behind her. "It's nice to know nothing's changed about these rooms in two decades."

"Pansy," Draco started. "Why are you here?"

Pansy held up her right hand in which she held three tiny vials. "I stole these from Snape's personal supply while Blaise kept him occupied." She held them out to him. "Here."

Draco eyed the potions for a single moment before reaching forward to take them. Pansy moved them from his reach and he glared at her. "What?"

"Now, Draco, I'm sure your mum has taught you better than that." Pansy said, eyebrow raised. "Snape could have caught me, you realize."

The blond let out a heavy breath and muttered as low as possible, "Thank you, Pansy."

She smiled at him. "Was that so hard? Here."

He gave her a look as he took them, a sneer threatening to appear on his face. A moment later he gave up and rolled his eyes, instead turning his back on her to return to Hermione's room.

Pansy trailed behind him. "So, er, you care about Granger, don't you?"

"Now what makes you say that, Pansy?"

She watched as he sat on the bed and gold bed and inspected the potions' bottles. "The look you give her." Pansy said. "Sort of like the one you're giving her right now."

Draco looked at Pansy in slight annoyance, but either the brunette didn't notice or didn't care – it could also be a combination of both. "It's like, like the only two people in the world are you and her, and everything else can go to hell but it wouldn't matter. I used to think you only picked on her to get to Potter and Weasley."

"Did we change subjects – because it sounds as if you're talking about yourself." Draco replied, facing away from her once more to administer one of the potions to Hermione.

Pansy smiled a bit, though she knew he couldn't see it. "I suppose I may be." She said, watching Draco check a book, undoubtedly belonging to Hermione, to find the various spells that would heal her before Snape put Blaise's story with the missing potions and came storming upon them as if he was a bat out of hell. "Weasley – sometimes I'm delusional enough to think he looks at me that way."

"There's the chip on your shoulder then. Biting into Blaise like you did at lunch." Draco said, if only a bit distracted. "You and the Weasel may be serious."

"There's a possibility." Pansy said. "And that thought scares me, because Ronald Weasley and Pansy Parkinson? Not only will I get the lecture on what it means to find a husband of suitable wealth, I'll get the lecture on what is means to pick a blood traitor over your family, and on how idiotic listening to your heart is."

"It is."

"Hmmm…and I suppose you're thinking logically, aren't you?" Pansy asked, crossing her arms over her chest and knowing that she'd hit a nerve when Draco's back stiffened. "Because, the last time I checked, If any of us were thinking logically, Granger would be dead, Draco. And, let's get one other thing straight, I'm not Blaise, or Daphne, or Tracey, or Millicent, or Vincent, or Gregory, or Theodore, nor am I comparable to any of them. I'm not stupid, and I'd greatly appreciate it if you didn't pretend I am. It's slightly condescending."

Draco turned back to face Pansy. "Pansy – "

"Something else to think about; if I was as in the dark as our other dear friends, I wouldn't have sent Blaise to find you of all people – especially when I could have called our dear Head of House or Madame Pomfrey like we're supposed to."

"Thank you, Pansy, for reminding me why I talk to you as little as possible."

"And thank you, Draco, for reminding me why we barely lasted three months into fifth year."

"Bitch."

"Thankless git." The corners of her mouth lifted into a slight smile and Draco decided it'd be best to ignore her before he did something his mother always said doing would have great consequences (hexing a girl – according to his mother, it hadn't had such great results for his father).

She watched him as he returned to healing Hermione, and thought, maybe foolishly, on where she could work after Hogwarts. She did always want to be an Auror, and, as she proved an hour ago, she wasn't bad with the wand work, or the instincts. Well, it was possible, wasn't it?

"Draco, have you ever considered…being a healer? Or maybe there's some politically correct phrase you'd prefer I use?"

"Pansy, do you think it's ever crossed my mind?" Draco retorted.

"Anything's possible, Malfoy." She paused. "I should get back to Slytherin. There's a girl for me to identify."

Draco didn't answer, instead listening to Pansy's soft footsteps that stopped halfway out the door way. "Oh, and I do believe that Granger just may be what you need in your life, Draco; Merlin knows you were incorrigible before her."

"Pansy – go fall on a wand."

Her laughter drifted to him as the portrait closed behind her and Draco focused on Hermione, settling on the edge of her bed to wait for her to wake up and rejoin the land of the living. That way he could call her stupid for one – letting six fifth years get the better of her, and two – for making him worry about her.

-

When Hermione woke up, she felt as if she'd been trampled over by a hippogriff. A very large hippogriff. And, evidently, he'd stood on her head for longer than was necessary.

"Draco?" she called out, pushing herself up onto her elbows and blinking against the darkness of the room, even though the action made her a bit dizzy. She noticed that it was still dark outside and decided this was one of those long nights – and they had a N.E.W.T. tomorrow afternoon. "How did you – ?"

"Pansy." Draco answered. A moment passed before he said, "I was almost worried about you."

Hermione smiled gently and figured it was a step in the right direction. "Well, that's good to know, I supp – "

Hermione had never been as off-balanced as she was when Draco suddenly kissed her. Not that she was one to complain – there was something to be said about the swirling feeling in the pit of her stomach when Draco kissed her. Mainly, that there was nothing to complain about except for the fact that it would have to eventually end.

She gently pulled away to look at him, but she didn't move too far. She figured she was close enough that if he felt so inclined to take a breath, she'd feel it. And she didn't mind that one bit. "What was that for?"

"I don't know." He replied.

"Oh." She leaned forward to join their lips once more – relieved, maybe, that the attack from earlier that night was not going to dampen their relationship – if that was what it was. When you weren't sure whether or not you could handle all that dating someone would entail, you didn't deeply kiss them or –

Somehow, it was a blur to her as to exactly when they had landed in the position that left her above him, her arms locked around his neck and his about her waist. She noted their position as if only idly aware of it and only noting that it was a fact. She was aware that she'd be more concerned of it, however, if it wasn't for the fact that she was curious as to where this would lead.

"Pansy seems to think you're good for me." Draco said, his lips moving against hers.

"Does she? I always knew she was smart – underneath everything."

Draco did not answer however, and Hermione smiled into the kiss as he reversed their positions and his mouth trailed to the edge of her own, then her left cheek, and her jaw line as his nimble fingers undid the buttons of her dress shirt and it was pulled from how it had been neatly tucked into her skirt.

Hermione was slightly aware that everything – mainly the transition of this relationship – was happening quickly, maybe even too quickly, but she wanted to see where this could lead with Draco, what the outcome could be. And, somehow, the quickness of it all seemed to make sense, because she wanted this and because with the times they lived in – evidence provided by the five stupid little girls that had inserted themselves into something larger than themselves – she didn't really know when her last moment was. So, was it really all that "not her" if she wanted to be in the here and now?

It was possible, yes, that Draco did not have the same intentions for this relationship as she did. Hermione was not naïve enough to assume he would. But Hermione had decided that she would rather act now and think on the damage she had done later, where she could decide properly on how to fix everything and she wouldn't be distracted by Draco's hands on her bare skin.

"I had," She took a deep breath in as he undid her bra. "I had plans for this year."

Through her hazy vision, deeply obscured by the lust now racing through her system (and, yes, maybe now she understood why Lavender and other girls always acted like a pack of bitches in heat around Draco and Zabini because, believe her, she didn't understand the infatuation before), she noticed Draco toss her bra onto the floor at the side of the bed. Just as her brain was coming to grips with the fact that she was now topless on her bed before Draco Malfoy, he was kissing her skin again, between her breasts, and her navel.

"Did you?" he asked, and she nodded dumbly as he started to undo the fastenings on her skirt.

And then she realized that he didn't know he answer because he couldn't see her nod (which had been a foolish thing for her to do to begin with) and said, "Yes. Yes, I did. I was…" she trailed off, the most functional part of her brain zeroing in on the fact that he'd just kissed her hip, and now her thigh, her inner thigh…

"You were…" he paused to look up at her.

In hopes that maybe if she kept talking, he'd get back to kissing her, she said, "I was going to pay absolute attention in class…and not…and not be dis...tracted. Not even by you."

And then she'd caught on to the fact that he was now kissing the far inner part of her thigh. Which meant that she barely heard his next question, and had to concentrate. "What?"

He was smirking at her. Bastard. "I said – were you?"

"Oh." She tracked his hands as they ran over her body, from her thighs, all the way to her hips, and her eyes fell shut when they came at rest to her breasts. "Yes. I was. And, I was going to stay away from you. I was…oh my…I was…"

His mouth…was on her breast. And, if she'd had known he could do that and make it feel so good, she'd have put in a request for a ball all the way in September.

She moaned, a slight grin on her face at the thought. "What was I saying?"

"Something about staying to yourself."

"Yes. I was going to stay to myself, away from you." She pulled on his shirt collar to indicate that he come back to her and they kissed, somehow managing within it for Draco to end up on his back with Hermione straddling his hips. "You ruined my post-Hogwarts plans, I'll have you know."

He only raised an eyebrow at her as she undid his tie and tossed it to the floor, where it landed on her clothing. "And, how exactly did I accomplish that, Granger?"

She undid the buttons of the shirt as if they were just another set of obstacles to a goal – a very good one, a part of her mind said as she ran her hands over his exposed skin. "Well, I fell for you. In case you have yet to notice."

"I've noticed." He replied.

She nodded, reaching to undo the zipper of his trousers. "And a stupid idea, that was. You are incorrigible, and I'm sure still extremely supremacist – only you've considered me to be an exception – "

"Incorrigible?" Draco asked, as she hurried to get his pants off, with his help. It was the second time he'd been called that in a number of hours. "I think I'm more charming than anything else."

"Of course you do. That's part of what makes you incorrigible." Hermione said, the tiniest smile on her face as Draco pulled her closer to him. "Or, maybe," she whispered, her lips less than an inch from his, "it's the good looks – I couldn't have fallen for your brain power."

"You wound me with your insults." Draco replied sarcastically.

Hermione barely took a minute to think about what she was seconds away from doing with Draco. For some reason, she had it set in her head that thinking would ruin it. And she wanted it to be perfect, or at least, to seem so when it finally happened.

And, it was. Well, she'd say it was perfect, but she'd already decided that there would be an instance in which herself, Draco, and their intimacy would be better than this sudden calming feeling that was flooding her entire being and made her want to sigh – except, you know, she didn't. Sigh, that is.

And she decided, that this moment, the one she'd hold out for, will be when Draco admitted to himself, and even to her, that he'd fallen for her as hard as she had for him, and only then.

End Part Three.