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Chapter Three
Walls And Bars

Draco Malfoy strutted down the hall moodily, brooding about the fact that he was feeling. The thoughts running through his head couldn't have been more unwelcome. Here he was, wanting nothing more than to cling to the principles he'd known his entire life, and one glance at the mudblood witch in her sleeping attire threatened to rip him away from all of that. He wanted to hate her in peace. But presently, all he could think about was the way his heart had sped up when Hermione had tackled him.

He pushed open the doors to the Great Hall almost violently and stalked over to the Slytherin table, not even glancing around. He plopped down next to Vincent Crabbe and stared straight ahead, his eyes narrowed.

"Hey, Draco," said Vince through a mouthful of toast.

Draco grunted in acknowledgement and continued staring. His mind was uncomfortably crowded.

"Hey lover…" said a flirty voice from his other side.

He turned scowling to find Pansy Parkinson's dark features staring avidly at him.

"I told you not to call me that, Pansy…" Draco grumbled irritably. "Especially not in public."

"No one heard me," she whispered, grabbing hold of his arm. God, she was so obvious.

Draco rolled his eyes and looked around the room reluctantly. His eyes fell upon the Gryffindor table, specifically on Granger and the gofers she called friends. He scowled again, shaking Pansy's arm loose.

"So how is your new dorm, Draco?" Pansy asked, her voice dripping with sugar. "I can't believe that mudblood slag got Head Girl." Her voice took a vicious tone as she continued. "It must be hell to know she's that close to you all the time, huh?"

"Tell me about it…" Draco muttered grumpily.

"I know what you need," whispered Pansy, a little too close to Draco's ear for comfort. She slipped her fingers up his thigh and just then something happened that distracted him from whatever Pansy had planned.

-

It was surprisingly easy to push the scene with Draco from her mind. Only moments after she sat down, she was laughing with her friends and enjoying a full breakfast.

"Seriously, Hermione," Ron said. "Is it okay up there?"

Hermione looked patiently at Ron. She didn't really want to talk to him about it, but she didn't want to be rude.

"Yeah, Ron. It's not a big deal. I can handle him."

"Yeah…" Ron muttered darkly. "Or he'll handle you."

Hermione rolled her eyes at nothing.

"I just – I want you to be careful, okay?" Ron said tentatively.

Hermione sighed and decided to ignore Ron. Honestly, she knew he was right. Draco Malfoy was no one to be trifled with, but she didn't want to admit to Ron that he was right.

"Hermione, are you listening to me?"

"Yes I'm listening, Ron," she snapped.

Ron reached across the table and took hold of her hand.

Hermione jumped, startled. She looked at her hand almost perplexedly and wondered why it was in Ron's. Before she had time to think, Ron was leaning across the table and then…

She didn't even have time to react. Ron's lips were on hers, almost smothering her. She hadn't even closed her eyes. She was acutely aware of the dreadful silence that had fallen around her.

A crash from the other side of the dining hall made her jump about a foot. She was vaguely aware that something was going on at the Slytherin table. But she was currently more concerned with what was going on in front of her. What the hell had just happened…?

Ron just kissed me. Why did Ron just kiss me? In front of everyone…bugger.

Hermione's mouth fell open as she looked at Ron, wide eyed. She glanced around in trepidation for a moment and found Harry and Ginny looking dumbfounded. Ginny recovered first.

"Ron!" she snapped.

Hermione found her voice and said, "Why did you do that?"

Ron looked just as surprised as the rest of them. "I don't know…" he breathed. "I just, wanted to."

A million things were going through Hermione's brain and for once, she couldn't think fast enough to sort them all out.

Ron kissed me…why now?
Why not a year ago?
Why in front of everyone?
I wish they would stop staring.
Please, stop staring.

Just…talk amongst yourselves.

Leave me alone.

Hell.

Hermione cleared her throat and quickly grabbed Ron's hand and pulled him up.

"Come on…" she muttered, not daring to look around. Ron obeyed her and the two of them walked out the doors quickly, Hermione feeling like she couldn't breath and couldn't move fast enough.

She walked quickly down the hall and out the front doors onto the lawn, and then turned to Ron. Her first instinct was to be angry. She wanted to yell, "What the hell was that?" But she controlled herself.

"Explain," she said surprisingly calmly.

Ron gaped at her for a moment then said, "Hermione…I don't know why I did that."

Wrong answer.

She wanted Ron to either want her or not. Not knowing was not good enough.

"You don't get to do that, Ron," she spat.

The truth was – if the kiss hadn't been so rushed and surprising, it might have been nice.

She'd spent a long time wondering what kissing Ron would be like. But never in any of her daydreams had she pictured that he would just, come at her out of nowhere. It was all wrong. He'd ruined it by being…Ron.

"Do you know how long I've been waiting for that?" she said, glaring at him. "And then you just blow it in the middle of the great hall, with everyone staring."

"I'm sorry, Hermione. I didn't mean to…I just…" He came closer and said, "Let me try again."

She wanted to tell him to sod off, but a large part of her was curious.

"Okay," she said, after a long silence.

Ron didn't need to be told twice. He moved in and put his arms around her waist. She just stood there, waiting. He put his lips gently on hers, lightly testing her. When she didn't push him away he slipped his tongue inside her mouth and commenced exploration.

This was more like what she'd pictured.

"I've wanted you for so long, Hermione," Ron whispered, then continued to kiss her, his hands moving up to her hair.

She'd wanted him too. She'd wanted him since their second year, even though she hadn't admitted it to herself until about a year ago. But did she want him now? She focused on the kiss.

It wasn't uncomfortable. In fact, it was the opposite. It was…comfortable. It felt normal, like anything else felt. She had expected to feel something different, something…more. She focused on her stomach and realized she didn't feel it flipping. She focused on her head and realized that she couldn't hear blood rushing in her ears. She didn't feel short of breath. She didn't feel any tingling. These were all things she thought she'd feel.

As it was, she felt…nothing…at all.

She pulled away and looked into Ron's eyes.

"So?" he asked breathlessly.

"Ron…" She looked at him and knew she couldn't lie. "It just not…there."

Ron looked away quickly, his jaw clenching. Then he looked back at her with a plea in his eyes.

"Don't say that, Hermione. It is there," he insisted.

"Not for me…Ron," she said, knowing and hating that she was hurting him. "I'm sorry. You're the best friend I've ever had. I don't want to hurt you."

Ron flinched as she said 'friend' and glared at the ground.

"Too late, Hermione."

Ron turned and walked away. This was not how she'd wanted it.

"Ron!" she yelled after him. He quickened his pace.

"Ron!" she yelled again.

"Just leave me alone, Hermione…" she heard him say callously.

"Ron!" she cried pleadingly. "Please try to understand!"

Ron disappeared behind the doors and Hermione gave up following him. She sank down heavily onto the front steps and began to cry.

I just lost my best friend.

-

What the bloody fuck!

Draco stood up violently, knocking several dishes off the table in front of him. They crashed loudly to the flood but Draco didn't notice. Pansy jumped aside in shock. No doubt she figured he was reacting to the hand she had been sliding up his thigh.

She moved to touch him again but he shrugged her off absently. His attention was entirely on what was going on about twenty feet away at the Gryffindor table.

The Weasel had his foul lips on Granger.

Draco didn't even have time to berate himself for the misplaced anger welling up inside of him. If he had been thinking clearly he would have told himself to look away and stop thinking about the stupid Mudblood. She wasn't worthy of his thoughts and more than Weasley was worthy of her lips…what?

Push him off…slap his ugly face.

He silently commanded, no, begged. Granger pulled away, looking flustered and Draco felt a triumphant smile cross his face. It all happened so fast. Just as Draco felt a little calm returning to him, he saw Granger take the Weasel's hand. Draco's face tightened at this and quickly turned to a scowl as Granger stood up and walked out of the hall, pulling Weasley after her.

He couldn't stop himself. He followed. He walked out the doors of the Great Hall and saw Weasley disappear out the doors to the grounds. He felt his feet moving and wondered what in the Devil's hell had control over him. He certainly didn't.

He stopped in front of the window next to the door and watched as Weasley and Granger argued. Then very suddenly he kissed her again. She didn't push him away. She didn't slap him. Draco felt blood rush to his face. His eyes narrowed as he turned and walked down the hall, wringing his hands in disgust at himself and the situation.

What the hell was wrong with him? Following a Mudblood. Wanting a Mudblood, if that was what you could call it. And not just any Mudblood. Granger. Hermione fucking Granger. He hated Hermione Granger. He hated everything about her from her bushy hair to the way her hand automatically shot into the air like a fucking roman candle every time she was asked a question. He hated the way she walked. He hated that she wasn't afraid of him. He hated her sidekicks, and he hated himself for forgetting all those things for even a moment.

And on top of that, she was snogging Ron Weasley.

Ron Weasley. Publicly!

Well they deserved each other. The Mudblood and Blood Traitor. Draco scoffed loudly, shaking his head.

As he strode down the hall to his first class, the walls that had surrounded Draco Malfoy for seventeen years rebuilt themselves, stronger than ever. The bars that he had situated to protect himself snapped back into place. He was a rock. He always had been and he always would be.

No Mudblood girl was going to change that, no matter how much her eyes sparkled when she laughed.