Chap 16: Breaking The Same Old Ground

"Ron..." The one syllable word disintegrated from her lips, escaping with a low breath of deep-seated resignation.

He smiled a toothy grin, which maybe would have been fine if they were still friends, but under the circumstances, it only sent shivers tracing over her spine. His eyes raked over her stock still form and as his gaze settled on her bare legs, he licked his lips. Disgust roiled through her and she had no choice but to slam an oft-practiced expression of indifference over her countenance in order to keep the precarious situation in check.

His gaze met her eyes and, again, he thrust the beat-to-hell package in her direction. Inadvertently, she flinched, taking a step back into one of her many overfilled bookshelves. His face pulled into a frown as his hand fell to his side. Puzzlement and anger warred across his features.

"'Mione..." he started.

"You shouldn't be here." Her voice surprised her with such a firm statement, refusing to betray the sheer nervousness she was feeling, her insides fraying from the building anxiety of the situation.

"But it's your birthday." He was clearly confused and very drunk. Even now, she could see him sway in his stance.

Her wand. She needed her wand. Accio wand, her mind pleaded in vain. It was to no avail. Her wandless magic was sketchy at best and he was standing directly between her and the kitchen counter, blocking it from her view. She could maybe chance it and bolt for the hallway but she couldn't risk taking her eyes off of him, even for one moment. She'd never make that mistake again.

His hand twitched at his side. A subtle sign that he was considering going for his own wand, probably hidden in his sleeve. Her stomach twisted.

"Why are you here?" She kept her voice even and low, after all she wouldn't want to wake her houseguest... or alert the shabby redhead to his presence.

"To give you your gift..." He gestured at the wrapped box then proceeded to lay it on the coffee table, seemingly oblivious to the fact there were two mugs left there instead of the typical one. He met her gaze as he straightened, shrugging, "And I wanted to talk."

She gave a slow shake of her head, "And you assumed illegally Flooing into my home in the middle of the night was the best course of action?"

His features darkened, "What choice did I have? Harry and Ginny blocked me from attending your dinner." He spat the names of his best mate and his own sister with venom.

"Can you really blame them?"

Red colored his cheeks and he looked at his feet in shame. "No. I know who is to blame."

Her heart beat a bit harder in her chest. Was he finally willing to accept the consequences of his actions? A small ray of hope cracked through her ambivalence. She swallowed. "Ron," she spoke slowly, choosing her next words with care, "Perhaps we c-can meet another time... m-maybe at The Burrow... and we can have that t-talk… but not here and definitely not right now."

His eyes seemed to brighten at her acquiescence. "Truly? You...y-you would do that?" There was a catch to his voice that triggered warning bells in Hermione's head.

She slowly shifted to her right, effectively placing her Wingback reading chair in-between her and her would-be intruder. "Of course," she replied, "Maybe even Harry could join us..." A flicker of anger in his eyes, "...You know...like old times..." She swallowed again, past the lump forming in her throat.

His brow furrowed in consideration of her words. "Like old times," he repeated. His hand clenched into a fist at his side and he abruptly took a step towards her.

Thankfully, Crookshanks took that opportune time to scurry from beneath the couch directly in Ron's path, tripping the drunken man. He slammed his shin into the coffee table, letting loose a slew of expletives as the orange cat hissed and swiped a claw at him before leaping onto the back of the chair and butting his face against Hermione's chest.

"Bloody beast!" Ron swore, rubbing his injured leg and giving the cat a glare of hatred. Hermione picked up the half-Kneazle and cradled him close, loving how he had tried to keep his owner safe. Crooks had never liked Ron and she was beginning to understand why.

For one brief second, as Ron was slightly bent over, Hermione caught a glimpse of her vinewood wand. Ron looked up at her and she jerked her attention back to him but it was too late. He turned to follow the direction of her gaze, his eyes immediately landing on the non-descript piece of wood, and he reached one beefy arm over and picked it up.

He turned to give her a quizzical look. "Isn't that strange?" he questioned. "You're never without your wand... not since..." He stopped talking, his mouth slamming shut.

No, no, no... not again... Her heart started to thump wildly in her chest and dread took root in the pit of her stomach. Yet she refused to answer him.

Suddenly, Ron whipped the deluminator from his pocket, bathing the small living space in bright light. His eyes were wild, frantically scanning the brightly lit room and noticing the dishevelment... not one but two half-drank mugs of tea, a dinner jacket folded over the back of her chair, a pair of men's shoes beside the sofa, a discarded Oxford shirt, there, hanging off an askew cushion and... oh god... her knickers balled up on the floor... He took it all in, only a matter of seconds ticking by for understanding to dawn on his face, quickly replaced by maddening anger.

"Hermione, is there someone here?" His voice was cold, hard as granite but his gaze blazed with pure hatred.

She shifted Crookshanks from her arms, easing him back into the chair. She crossed her arms over her chest and met Ron's glare with her own equally unforgiving gaze. "That is none of your concern. Now give me my wand and kindly leave my flat. Or I will be forced to summon the Aurors." She was done playing nice.

"It's him... isn't it?" Malice dripped from every word. His grip tightened on her wand.

"Ron," she warned, "leave right now and no one needs to learn of this." She knew it was futile but what choice did she have? She could only pray he would see reason and leave before the situation escalated.

"Malfoy..." he gritted through clenched teeth, obviously not listening to a damn word she was saying. He sneered in her direction, eyes once again roving over her, sheer disgust coloring his features now. "You whored yourself to him, didn't you? Spread your legs so willingly for that Death Eater scum, hmm?"

"Ron!" she admonished, still taken aback by his disparaging way of speaking to her, even after everything that happened between them. Righteous indignation flared inside her, "You have no right..."

TELL ME!" he bellowed his interruption, causing her to flinch.

"Watch yourself, Weaselbee," oozed the subtle baritone of Draco Malfoy, his voice surprisingly calm but no less commanding, "That's my soon-to-be wife you're yelling at."

Two sets of eyes snapped to the entrance of the hall where Draco stood leaning casually against the door frame, arms crossed over his bare chest, his patented look of boredom highlighting his handsome features. Thankfully, he'd had enough sense to throw on his trousers before leaving the bedroom.

"You!" came Ron's accusatory voice, waving Hermione's wand in the direction of the other man, "How dare you touch her?! You defiled her!"

Draco cocked one arrogant brow, his eyes trained on Ron's gaze, not even acknowledging the wand he now had pointed at his chest. Hermione took the opportunity of Ron's momentary distraction to leave her place from behind the chair to come to Draco's side. He immediately straightened and folded one arm around her waist, securing him to her side. She recognized it as his attempt to easily shove her behind him if the situation warranted it, but, to Ron, it would look like the two of them were meeting him as a united front.

Perhaps they were, she reasoned, leaning towards Draco.

"That's enough, Ron," came Hermione's firm statement. "This is my home and Draco is my guest... not to mention, my betrothed. You have no right to come in here and question who it is I've invited... whether it's for a friendly cuppa or to shag my fucking brains out!"

Ron's face was a fine cherry tomato red now, his anger rising to epic proportions. "No right?! NO RIGHT?!" he exclaimed. "He's a sodding ferret! He bullied you... and called you names... all the while I defended your honor!"

Hermione scoffed, "I can defend myself, thank you very much!"

"I suggest you listen to her, Weaselbee. I have the sore jaw from her third-year punch to prove it."

"Shut it, Malfoy!" He looked Draco up and down, giving him the rudest sneer that could rival this particular Slytherin's own. "The great Draco Malfoy... sullying his precious bloodline with Ronald Weasley's sloppy seconds."

"Ron!" Hermione gasped, her expression nonplussed.

But Draco simply smirked at the redhead, "Tread carefully, Ronald. For you to insult me, I would first have to value your opinion, which I do not. Granger here, however, still has some sort of misguided allegiance to your mockery of a friendship. I was a gentleman when we last met out of respect for the past you two shared, but I won't make that same mistake twice." The smirk faded as his expression darkened. He pulled his arm from around Hermione, letting it drop to his side as he balled his hand into a fist. He took one sure step, effectively coming between Ron and Hermione, and she could feel the air in the small room charged with the heated electricity she was beginning to recognize as his magical signature.

Draco leveled his gaze at Ron, his voice low and calm. "Do as Granger says, little weasel, and run along. Perhaps I will even let this moment of insanity go unavenged." His voice dropped an octave now, leaning a fraction closer to Ron, "But if you stay, you're going to see first hand why The Dark Lord so desperately wanted me within the ranks of his Death Eaters."

Ron's blue eyes narrowed, "Is that a threat?"

Again, that Malfoy smirk and a casual shrug, "Merely stating a fact."

Ron raised Hermione's wand and aimed it at Draco, "I'm the one who is armed so I have you at a disadvantage..."

Hermione reached out and laid a hand on Malfoy's bicep in obvious warning. He shrugged her off, taking one more step towards Ron so the tip of her wand grazed the flesh of his chest.

Draco's smile widened and he clucked his tongue admonishingly, "Tsk. Tsk. Malfoys don't need to hide behind their wands, Weasley. You want to settle this? Then let's settle it like real men..."

Ron laughed, a cruel and disconcerting sound from deep within his throat, sending a shiver down Hermione's spine. Then he looked at the wand in his hand for a moment before returning his gaze to Draco, "You're right, Malfoys don't hide behind wands..." He lowered his hand so it rested beside his leg then gave Hermione one more once over, "They prefer their battles to be fought by their filthy Mudblood whores..."

Several things happened in the next few seconds. Ron dropped the wand in his hand, crouching low. Giving up his advantage, Draco briefly turned towards Hermione, shoving her out of the way as Ron rammed his shoulder into Draco's solar plexus, knocking the tall, athletic blond to the floor. The two men tumbled together, Ron falling onto Draco just as Hermione bashed into her bookcase, causing several tomes to fall on top of the two men struggling with one another.

Fists flew as each searched for the other's weakness. Draco was sober and more muscled, making him stronger and he easily flipped the inebriated Gryffindor over, scrambling on top of him, landing punch after punch to the redhead's face. But seeing as how Draco had just spent most of the last few hours testing his stamina in Hermione's bed, he was running out of steam, giving Ron the brief opening to shove Draco off of him.

Draco pulled himself to his feet easily enough, his breathing labored but his stance still ready for a fight. Ron wasn't as light and quick, having trouble scrambling to get back up. But he did and he immediately put his fists up, eyeing Draco carefully.

"What?" Draco asked, "More?" The two men didn't hesitate, lunging at each other at the same moment, Draco's fist colliding with Ron's cheek, causing him to stumble. But he regrouped rather quickly and he punched the blonde square in the chin.

"Stop! Stop it! Both of you!" Hermione screamed, dodging out of the way of the tussling men.

Neither seemed to hear her though. Ron shoved Draco and he fell into the Wingback, sending Crookshanks scurrying for refuge. Draco barely registered the cat, kicking Ron's leg out from beneath him and he tumbled into another bookshelf, Hermione's most prized possessions scattering.

Draco cornered Ron there, landing a hard fist to the other man's face, shattering his nose. Blood poured down his face now, but Ron was so filled with rage, he hardly noticed. They both were on their feet again, locked together, fists flying. Draco landed another hit to Ron's torso and as he doubled over, Draco ran his knee into his face. Ron fell to his knees, clearly dazed.

Hermione took the opportunity and grabbed Draco, pulling him to turn around. "Draco, enough!"

Undiluted hatred filled his grey eyes and Hermione remembered that look all too well, being on the receiving end of it for much of her childhood. He was out of breath and he yanked free of her grip, causing her to flinch. It must have been enough to jolt the man to his senses because Draco frowned and took a step forward to pull her to him. He was covered in Ron's blood but she didn't care, letting him embrace her.

"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." he was whispering to her, his palms resting on her cheeks.

"I know... I know..." came her response, equally as quiet. It was wondrous, watching the shift in him, seeing that hatred dissipate, replaced with so much remorse, something she'd never believed he was capable of.

She caught movement from the corner of her eye and turned just in time to see Ron dragging himself to his feet, his fist pulled back to sucker punch Draco while he was distracted. But before she could react, Draco whipped around, his conjured wand appearing in his grip, a muttered stunner hitting Ron in the chest, knocking him back into the shelves, finally breaking the battered bookcase.

Draco's reflexes were quick but his swiftness didn't account for the closeness of Hermione and she caught his elbow directly to her face, causing her to cry out.

"Hermione!" The two men shouted simultaneously.

She turned away from both of them, her palm covering the left side of her face for a moment, coming away slightly rimmed in blood. Her eye and nose had caught the brunt of his elbow and her lip felt split, accounting for the blood. Her head suddenly spun from the blow, and she staggered, Draco catching her before she could accidently fall.

"Let me see..." Draco cradled her to him, examining her injury, her lip already swelling from the impact.

"I- I'm fine, Draco..." she tried, but it was spoken halfheartedly. She knew if she didn't get to her first aid potions, she'd likely be teaching her classes tomorrow with a very awful looking black eye.

Ron was at her side too. "'Mione, I'm sorry. 'Mione, please..." But she wouldn't look at her old friend, choosing to clutch at Draco instead. This sent Ron's rage over the edge and he shoved at Draco, the other man releasing her and hitting the back of the sofa. "Don't touch her! This is all your fault!"

Draco's fury returned and he stepped forward towards Ron but Hermione quickly cut him off. "His fault?!" She was both mentally and physically exhausted but finally, she had enough. "You ruin everything, Ron! First it was the Yule ball; then it was practically the entirety of my Sixth Year; every one of my birthdays; my fucking engagement... EVERYTHING! Get out of my life!"

Ron's face was crestfallen. "'Mione, y-you don't mean that..." Then he turned his glare towards Draco, "This is his doing!"

Hermione shoved Ron, jostling him, "No! You cannot blame your mistakes on anyone else ever again! You did this! Draco is the only one who has consistently strived to make my life better... unlike you, who has done little but to make everything worse. You fucked this up! You - Ronald Weasley! You!"

Ron narrowed his gaze, "He's a raging narcissist who sucks the life out of people! Look what he's done to your face!"

"This," she gestured to the bruising, "was an accident, easily fixed! What you have done to my soul won't ever heal!"

Ron reared back like she had just slapped him, his eyes widening in horror at her implicating statement. "I... I..." he stammered.

"Get. Out." Her hair crackled with her magic, any friendship or fear she once had of Ron, vanishing in the wake of what had just transpired.

Draco came up to her then, laying a comforting hand on her shoulder. She wanted nothing more than to melt back into his embrace and allow him to comfort her, but she needed to remain strong.

Ron looked from one to the other until he finally sneered, "You will regret this."

She wasn't sure if he was talking to her or Draco but it didn't really matter anymore. "I assure you, I won't."

Ron snorted his derision. "Just wait. Once he's wed you and has you securely under his thumb... you'll come begging me to help you escape."

"Ron, Draco is my perfect match in every possible way." She couldn't help but dig the knife in just a bit deeper.

Ron backed away from the couple then, moving to the coffee table to pick up his birthday present for her. He gave her a devilish smile that made her skin crawl, "Is he perfect for you, 'Mione? Or did you tell him what perfect meant for you and he's just pretending he fits the mold..." He pulled at a piece of the tape, activating what appeared to be a portkey and vanished into the night.

She released a shuddering breath of relief before feeling her knees wobble, threatening to give out on her. Draco's strong arms encircled her at once and he eased her to sit on the sofa. She leaned forward to support herself on her thighs, one hand straying to feel the damage her face had wrought, the flesh tender and bruised.

A portkey... her mind reeled, a bloody portkey. The knowledge he had tried to trick her into accepting the package earlier caused a shudder to rake down her spine and a repressed sob to escape her trembling lips. She hung her head in her lap and covered it with her arms, suddenly bawling uncontrollably - partly from relief she had trusted her instincts and partly from the knowledge that whatever friendship she and Ron may have had was definitely over in the wake of this evening.

A firm hand clasped on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze, and she cried harder, her whole body shaking from the tears. He withdrew his support and allowed her a brief respite to wallow in her emotions.

"We need to summon the Aurors," he finally spoke.

"No!" She lifted her head, her bleary eyes finding him leaning against the kitchen counter, his arms crossed on his chest. "W-we can't."

Anger flitted across his features and he huffed his indignation.

"They'll take you in for questioning... I-I can't... I won't put you through that."

His anger faded a bit and he tried to soften his tone, "Then summon Potter. Weasley has to answer for this."

She wiped the tears from her face, wincing from the pain, "You're covered in Ron's blood... he saw you hit me... he will spin it so it looks like you were the aggressor...and having you arrested means he wins. We can't tell anyone." She started to shake, knowing from past experience, it was the horrible truth. Who was going to believe a former Death Eater over a sanctified Weasley?

Her head started to pound and her vision blurred. "Pl-please...just close the Floo..." she begged, pulling herself to her feet. Bracing herself first on the sofa then the wall of the hallway, she made for the loo. She could feel Draco's magic fill the small flat, the heat of it almost stifling from his anger, as he shut the Floo connection down.

She leaned on the sink for support and swallowed before meeting her gaze in the bathroom mirror. It was worse than she thought, the whole of the left side of her face swelling with discoloration from the impact, half of her lip split open and still bleeding. She reached for the flannel hanging on the wall beside her and fumbled to turn on the cold water. But her vision swam and suddenly she couldn't breathe… couldn't think... as the ramifications of what had happened hit her. She dropped the rag into the basin and clutched at the vanity, squeezing her eyes shut as her breaths went shallow, the warning of another panic attack threatening.

A hand settled on the base of her back and she was turned and easily lifted to be seated on the counter. "Breathe, Granger..." Draco murmured, rubbing small circles alongside her ribs, "In and out..." he coached.

She did as he commanded, taking small gulps of air until she could manage deeper breaths. She leaned into his embrace, the thudding of his own heart lulling her into peace.

He let her cling to him for the space of several heartbeats then nudged her with his shoulder, urging her head up so he could look at her. He released a heavy sigh, whispering, "Did I just lose you?"

"W-what?!" she exclaimed, "N-no...of course not..."

He cast his vision down, avoiding meeting her gaze. "I allowed myself to be goaded by that heathen... you're well aware I have a temper... and he somehow manages to always bring out the worst in me… This was a side of me I never wanted you to see again."

"Draco, no! None of this is your fault..." She lifted his face to look at her, "Please... do not blame yourself..."

"You were hurt."

"It was an accident... I'm fine..." She searched his eyes, silently pleading with him to understand, "I'm fine..." she whispered, reassuring him.

He cupped her cheeks in his palms and pulled her in for a kiss. She welcomed the contact, his soft lips a gliding caress. But in the next instance, when he tried to deepen the exchange, she yelped and flinched from the pain.

He reared back. "S-sorry... Here, let me have a look." He carefully took her chin between forefinger and thumb, turning her face to the right to better see her injury. With a quizzical eye he examined the bruising, lightly running the tips of his fingers just under the eye. "The cheekbone is fractured..." he replied, more to himself than her.

"There's some bruise salve and a pain potion in the far cabinet..."

He snorted, "Amateur... hold still... this might hurt a little..." He didn't hesitate, firmly pressing the point of contact his elbow had made, causing the pain to radiate throughout her cheek for the briefest of moments and then suddenly, it was gone.

"Wh-what just happened?' she stammered.

"A quick healing spell... it will still be rather tender but the bruising should be gone within the hour." He picked up the flannel she had dropped in the basin, wrung it out then placed it against her split lip. "Try not to catch anymore elbows to the face until it's fully healed."

She smiled then cringed as the lip pulled. "I'll keep that in mind..." She paused then dared to ask, "So... did you study healer training during your house arrest, as well as obtaining a Potions Mastery?"

He snorted, "Hardly. But I've played a fair bit of Quidditch throughout the years. You pick up a thing or two in the locker room." He drifted the pad of his thumb along her bottom lip, "Episkey..." he murmured, the skin stitching itself back together immediately. "There... all better now..." He leaned forward, his tongue tracing against her mouth before she opened her lips, allowing him entrance.

I love you... I love you...I love you... her mind chanted as her heart seemed to beat the same rhythm. But it was too soon to declare herself... and so she settled for just enjoying the tender albeit brief moment.

Draco broke the kiss far too soon and she actually whimpered at the loss of contact. He caressed her cheek, pushing tangled curls back behind her ear. "Superficial wounds aside, I think you owe me one last confession, Granger, and I will have it here and now."

She closed her eyes in resignation and took a deep breath, waiting for his question as a prisoner might await an execution.

"What did Weasley do to you?" He finally asked.

Nothing worse than what I did to you, her mind whispered. But all she could manage was a shake of her head.

He stepped back from her and her eyes opened, a silent plea for him not to do this.

"Tell. Me." His words were bit out through clenched teeth.

"I… I can't. I swore to never speak of it."

"Swore to whom?!" His anger overtook him and she flinched. He didn't seem to notice, now pacing the small bathroom, his hands on his hips. "Was it to Potter?" he demanded. "Or did that fucking red-headed tosser swear you to the Unbreakable Vow?"

"N-no," she stammered, cursing the tears that were now tumbling down her cheeks, "It-it's not like that... I swore it to myself... I won't destroy any more lives!"

"So you're protecting him?!" he raged.

"I-I... no... I mean... I don't want to..."

"Fuck, Hermione, just listen to yourself!"

She slid off the counter, wrapping her arms around herself as if it was some form of protection. "Y-you wouldn't understand... you weren't there... we had to carry around pieces of Voldemort's soul for months... it affected Ron the most..."

"I lived with the monster for years! I subjected myself to his torture... I've done things that would make you hate me... but I would never stand there and blame my shortcomings on him! Weasley needs to own his mistakes."

"It's not that simple..." she tried but only half-heartedly, because deep in her chest, she knew Draco was right. But she had her reasons... then and now. "Draco, please... try to understand... if I tell you... it would only cause more hurt... more pain..."

"For him or for you?" he demanded.

"For you..." she whispered, her heart breaking, "...and for me..." You'll kill him and I will lose you all over again...

He studied her for a moment, his anger and rage evident in his eyes...the way his breath quickened... the muscles of his chest bunching tightly... He suddenly turned and thrust the bathroom door open.

"Wh-where are you going?!" she stammered, that queasy feeling roiling in her abdomen.

"I need to think," was all he said, before slamming the door in her face.

She stood there… minutes passed… maybe hours… hell, it could have been days. She lost track of everything, standing there in shock, willing the door to open and for Draco to come back. She strained to hear the Floo Network being revived… any sort of noise alerting her to his continued presence in the flat.

But her heart thundered in her ears, drowning out everything else. She had fucked up. He thought she was protecting Ron but she wasn't… she wouldn't dare, especially after tonight. But how could she explain herself without causing more questions to be raised… by Draco… Harry… everyone?

She leaned back against the vanity for support. Too many secrets, she whispered in her head.

One lone tear trickled down her cheek.

It was one truth, her heart yielded. An abbreviated version, but still a truth. What would it hurt to confess it to this man… a man she loved… never stopped loving….

She cringed. He'll take it badly, her mind warned. He'll kill Ron and stamp his one way ticket to Azkaban.

She would lose him… perhaps forever.

But wasn't she also losing him by keeping quiet?

Her hand trembled as she turned the door handle and hurried into the hall and out into the living room, her mind and heart at war but she cared naught. She would fight for Draco… no matter how much it may hurt.

She was greeted with cold darkness. The Floo remained shuttered, all the lights out, save for the small one over the sink she always kept on to ward off the feeling of being alone.

He had fixed everything from the fight, the bookshelf mended, her chair righted. His clothes were gone, however, and the two mugs of tea had been left in the sink.

Her legs gave out and she sank to the floor. As if on cue, Crookshanks appeared and crawled into her lap, meowing loudly as he batted her hand.

"I messed up, boy…" she lamented, burying her face into the cat's fur.

"So fix it," replied the male voice behind her.

Hermione startled, jumping up to find Draco, still wearing just his trousers, casually leaning against the doorway of her bedroom. He had his hands buried in his trouser pockets, his vision cast down, studying the pattern of her carpet.

She closed the distance between them, careful not to touch him for fear she'd somehow change his mind.

"I thought you left," she whispered.

He looked up at her through his lashes, his grey eyes two storm clouds forecasting his mood. "I am exactly where I want to be."

"I'll tell you…" she tried, choking on the words as tears threatened to fall.

He reached up and caught one tear on his thumb. "You don't have to."

"I know," she replied and she saw the small chance of hope extinguished in his gaze just before he lowered his head in resignation.

She swallowed, "But I want to."

His head rose and suddenly he reached for her, pulling her into his embrace. She wrapped her arms around him, burying her face against the hard planes of his chest, breathing in the unique scent that was all him.

"Hold me?" She murmured against him.

"Always, Hermione."

Somehow they made it to her bed. He sat with his back against the headboard. She laid with her head in his lap. Somewhere a clock chimed one am.

And Hermione Granger told Draco Malfoy exactly what happened between her and Ron Weasley.

September 19, 1998 (4 months post Battle of Hogwarts; exactly 20 weeks pregnant)

Hermione squeezed her eyes shut as she splashed cool water from the faucet on her flushed face, letting it run and drip into the basin for a moment before she moved, groping blindly for the orange towel she knew resided just to the right of her. She pressed the worn, rough fabric to her skin, patting it dry before she finally raised her head and looked at her reflection.

Even though her breathing, still hard and shallow from her most recent panic attack, caused clouds of puffed steam to fog the mirror in the overheated bathroom, she had already seen enough. She fucking looked like hell... face thin, cheeks sallow, dark circles rimmed beneath her eyes... dulled, whiskey-colored eyes that no longer held any warmth in them.

"Merlin," she mumbled, quickly turning away, only to now catch herself in the full-length mirror on the backside of the door. The plush red Gryffindor robe she wore practically swallowed her whole, draped over her small frame like a death shroud. Heaving a sigh, she slowly untied the sash, letting it fall open to reveal the small bump of her belly that stuck out against her otherwise gaunt frame. She covered it with her palms, a small flutter of movement rippling beneath the press of her fingers. A lone tear streaked down her face unbidden and she quickly wiped it away.

A wave of nausea gripped her and she leaned one hand against the sink until it passed. Taking small breaths, she pulled the robe closed and averted looking in the mirror anymore, quickly retying the sash.

She exited the loo and hurried into the small bedroom she shared with Ginny, just down the hall. She had packing to finish; and she was altogether very thankful the Burrow was practically deserted for once... everyone out and about, enjoying the fine weather.

However, she drew up short in the doorway when she saw the tall form of Ron hovering over her bed, his back to her as he gazed down at her half-packed luggage splayed out before him. He ran the tip of his index finger over the pink jumper she had been in the process of folding when she had been overcome with a sudden deluge of emotions that had her fleeing to the loo to begin with.

She cleared her throat, catching her intruder by surprise, as he quickly whirled around to face her.

"Thank fuck it's you, 'Mione! Merlin's balls, for a second there, I thought you were Ginny!" He grabbed at his chest, pretending like she had given him a heart attack.

Hermione inwardly flinched at Ron's blatant audacity at being in her room, only uncomfortable if his own sister had caught him snooping instead of her.

"So... Ginny frightens you... but me, not so much..." she replied coldly, moving further into the room, both of her hands clutching the ends of her robe closed, more from a sense of self-preservation rather than propriety.

Ron chuckled, shoving his hand through his already messy hair, "Nah...you're pretty scary too but not likely to hex my bollocks off like Gin..."

Her anger flared and she swallowed thickly. "Is that why you thought it was okay to go through my personal belongings?" she bit out, her teeth clenching in frustration.

Ron's normally pale complexion turned pink and he tried looking sheepish (a trait she found endearing once upon a time), "Oh, uh... yeah... I mean, no, I wasn't... going through them, I mean...I just..." He stammered, shuffling from one foot to the next at being caught out. He grabbed the pink jumper, twisting it in his hand, "You wore this…" he tried, stuttering as he desperately searched for a way to change the subject, "…that day... of the final battle...didn't you?"

She cocked a brow, trying to seem aloof even as a strange pit of dread settled over her then. It took root, deep in her gut, and she suddenly felt the strange urgency to take a step back from Ron. She folded her arms over her chest, shrugging nonchalantly, "I guess so... maybe..."

She swallowed nervously, hoping… no, more like praying, Ron would just let the matter go.

Of course, she knew he was correct... that jumper just so happened to be the only memento she had of her time with Draco in the astronomy tower, making it rather difficult for her to part with quite yet... It was also the reason for her earlier panic attack, dredging up those painful emotions she had spent the last five months trying to suppress. Strange how a simple jumper, discovered jammed in the back of her dresser, could garner such a visceral reaction.

But how in the hell did Ron fucking Weasley remember such an inconsequential fact as what she was wearing during the final battle?

She swallowed thickly, looking anywhere but at the boy who had been her friend during her formative years.

Ron looked down at the jumper, and for a brief moment, something akin to anger crossed his features, but as quickly as it came, it was gone. He gave her his patented lop-sided grin, answering her unspoken question, "I remember thinking how pretty you looked that day... right before you kissed me."

A shudder crept up her spine as uneasiness settled over her at his words. She moved to the foot of the bed, casually picking up her jeans to throw in her trunk, her tone kept light so as not to betray her true emotions, "Pretty? What…with my riotous curls and soot smudged face…?" She scoffed.

She felt him slide in behind her. "Especially the curls," he murmured. She turned just as he cautiously reached out a hand to lightly pull at one stray curl for emphasis and she shrank back.

"Th-that's sweet...Ron...really..." she tried, moving towards the window by Ginny's bed to put some space between them.

Ron heaved a heavy sigh, "Sweet, huh?" A sneer now pulled at his lips, "You do remember kissing me, don't you, Hermione?"

She was surprised by the sudden venom in his words, "Uh, yes.. of course, I do."

The sneer faded as he released a breath, "Good... that's good." He ran one hand through his hair, casting a shifty glance at the open bedroom door before returning to stare at the pink jumper still clutched in his hands.

"Ron, surely you must know… th-that kiss… it was…" Her voice trailed off. A mistake. That kiss had been a mistake. A foolish way to try and feel something more before they were inevitably killed in battle.

"You're leaving again, aren't you?" He suddenly interrupted her reverie, his eyes flitting to the clothes and toiletries strewn across the bed's duvet.

"For-for a short while," she stammered, his shifting moods giving rise to warning bells in her mind. "Kingsley has need of me... urgent business for the Order and such…."

Ron snorted in disdain, "Kingsley has need of you, does he?" He threw the jumper down then took a menacing step towards her, forcing her to take a step back as he jabbed his index finger at her. "What about my needs, Hermione, hmmm? Did you ever stop and think about how maybe all of this..." he gestured towards the mess on her bed, "... how it would affect me and my feelings?"

"Ron... I..." she started but stopped short as he suddenly drew close, effectively pinning her against the wall, the hulking shadow of his Keeper physique dwarfing her considerably.

"This isn't just about you, no matter how much you'd like it to be," he spat at her. His breath was hot in her face and she could smell the faint whiff of strong alcohol, giving rise to bile in her throat that she forced herself to swallow back down.

But she refused to be intimidated by him, taking her forearm and shoving at him. It must have taken him by surprise because he stumbled back and she moved away from him, quickly crossing back to her bed where her wand lay. "I think it's time for you to leave, Ronald."

"Accio wand," he growled, her own wand flying just out of her reach and straight into his waiting hand.

Her heart started racing, his quick draw on his magic shocking her. "R-Ron... what are you doing?" she tried, hating how her voice trembled a tiny bit.

He shook his head, "I need this to stop," he snapped.

She swallowed, her eyes briefly glancing to the open door for a brief moment, "Wh-what do you need to stop?"

"All the feelings..." he mumbled. He looked up at her then, a wildness in his eyes she had never before seen. "I need to make all the feelings stop," he thumped his chest, "...in here... Don't you see, 'Mione? It's all too much..."

Moving just a fraction towards the bedroom door, she tried to keep her voice calm, "I... I can try and help you, Ron. Truly..."

He shook his head, "No. You're too different now…closed off... too fucking cold…" He lifted his gaze to look at her, "He did that to you."

Hermione froze. "He?" Surely, he didn't know… She shook the thought away. No, she told herself, it wasn't possible… She had been careful. Too careful, her heart reminded her. Now, no one knew the truth except her.

"Don't play the dumb bitch with me..." his words were clipped, his voice menacing. "I'm not as stupid as everyone thinks I am..."

"I…" she searched for something to say, caught completely off guard by his words. This wasn't like him; something must have happened to account for such a dramatic change. Suddenly and without preamble, Hermione was thrust back to that time in the tent, when he had all but accused her of cheating with Harry.

Except, now, there was no Horcrux to blame for his rash and hateful behavior.

And no Harry Potter to prevent his narcissism from giving in to his penchant for violence.

Tread carefully, a voice inside her head warned.

"I have never thought you were stupid, Ron...never. But something is wrong... I think you need help..." Another step towards the door under the guise of approaching him. "I can help…"

Suddenly the bedroom door slammed shut behind her, causing her to jump back. Waves of his magic shimmered in the air then, and she could feel the tendrils of fear threatening to choke her as she realized dishearteningly that he had cast a Muffilato.

Sheer panic rose inside her. She looked over at him. He was breathing hard from the exertion of his magic and it was obvious his anger was squashing all rational thought in his thick head.

"Ron..." she whispered, "Please don't do this. Whatever you think you know... You- you don't understand..."

He took a step towards her, strategically placing himself between her and the door. "Oh, that's where you're wrong. I understand perfectly." A wicked sneer played on his lips, "You're the one who needs a little reminder."

Her eyes widened in fear as Ron lunged at her. She managed to dodge him, trying in vain for the door but he grabbed her from behind, dragging her kicking and screaming to her bed. With a swipe of his wand, he cleared the mess to the floor then flung her haphazardly onto the mattress. Hermione quickly shielded her stomach as she landed hard on her back, knocking the wind out of her. Ron was on top of her now, his weight crushing her, one of his large hands wrapping around her throat, squeezing, preventing her from drawing breath.

Her only thought, in that moment, was for the safety of her baby, so she dug her nails into his face and raked her fingers down his flesh. He hollered, rearing back just enough, that she was able to jam her knee straight into his groin. He tumbled to the ground in a huff, both of their wands hitting the wooden floor and rolling away. She didn't hesitate, scrambling to her feet, frantically searching with her eyes for the missing vine wood. Spotting it at the far end of the room, she started for it but he grabbed her ankle, yanking her so hard that she fell to the ground. Thankfully she had enough sense to put her hands out, stopping herself just in time before her belly hit the floor. But her palms and knees took the brunt of the impact and she cried out from the intense pain.

Ron was on her again, flipping her onto her back as he straddled her hips. "Stop fighting, Hermione! Ours is a great love! We are soulmates. You just have to remember, that's all! Whatever they've done to you... I can fix it... you just have to let yourself feel it."

She fought hard, scratching and clawing as he tried to secure her hands, his beefy fingers encircling her wrists in a crushing grip. "You. Love. Me." He reiterated.

She struggled in vain, "No, Ron. Stop. Please..." Tears started to leak from her eyes, falling down her cheeks.

He slammed her hands against the floor, causing her to cry out. "Let yourself love me!"

"I can't! Please, let me go...please...Ron..." she sobbed, the fight leaving her.

Ron's grip lightened just a fraction on her wrists as he stared down at Hermione, her body wracked with sobbing tears as she cried beneath him. He brought one of his palms to her cheek, cupping it, as the anger melted from his face.

She cringed at his touch, "Don't...don't touch me..."

The darkness shadowed his visage once more and he tightened his grip. "You loved me once. You will do so again," he bit out.

"No! Stop, please!"

But Ron ignored her pleas, his free hand yanking at the belt of her robe until it gave way. He made quick work of shoving it open, pausing briefly to gape at her breasts for a moment before reaching down to undo the buckle of his trousers.

Hermione realized, right then and there, that she'd defend her child until her last breath rather than allow Ron to violate them. She released a blood curdling scream, her legs kicking, her hands bucking at his restraining grip.

"Stop fighting me!" He slammed her wrists into the floor, stunning her with the sheer pain as the frail bones snapped from the force. He took the opportunity to rearrange himself so he was between her legs, shoving her thighs apart with his knees. "You'll be free, 'Mione... I'm saving you…trust me..."

She could feel his hardness against her inner thigh. Bile filled her throat and she choked on a sob. She closed her eyes, cutting herself off from the reality of the situation, and desperately tried to remember Draco in that one moment when he had been hers, and she was his. She only needed to survive, then, maybe one day, they'd have that again.

Ron leaned down, forcing a kiss to her lips. She surprised him by opening her mouth, knowing he'd shove his tongue inside her. And as he did what she predicted, she bit down with all her might. Ron screamed, throwing his upper body back as blood poured from his mouth. She gagged and sputtered at the metallic fluid, spitting it back into his face. He reared back, his hand clenching into a fist and she squeezed her eyes shut and tensed for the incoming blow.

But it never came.

Ron's heavy frame was wretched from her and she could finally breathe again. She coughed, the blood and air being sucked too rapidly into her warring lungs. She didn't hesitate, gathering her robe closed as she scooted into a seated position, her back pressed against the bed, her arms wrapping around her middle in her effort to protect her baby.

A heavy thud shook the room and she finally looked up, the imposing figure of George Weasley standing over Ron's prone body which he had just slammed to the floor. Ron tried to scramble to his feet but it was to no avail. George landed his heavy booted foot into his younger brother's abdomen, knocking the wind out of him.

"Tell me you weren't doing what I think you were doing!" George bellowed. "Tell me!" Another kick and Ron rolled over, spitting blood all over Ginny's threadbare carpet.

"It...it's not like that..." Ron sputtered, "We... we are in love..."

"She said no, Ron! I heard her! She fucking said no!" George landed a punch to his face, followed by another... the bones heard splitting beneath his fists.

Hermione looked away. Still cradling her small bump, she pulled herself warily to her feet then moved to pick up her wand. Once she had it, only then did she drag herself over to the two men, George pummeling Ron with closed fists, his own tears sliding down his face.

"George..." she whispered hoarsely. "George... stop..."

She wasn't sure if he heard her or if his body simply gave out from the exertion, but George suddenly stopped, sobbing over his brother's bloody form. She placed her hand on his shoulder then and he sobbed even harder, his bloody hands covering his face. She pulled him towards her and he turned, burying his face into her robe, the sobs wracking his entire body.

"Thank you..." she whispered.

"I had to do it... you said no..." George cried.

"I know," she whispered. She ran her hands through his red hair in a comforting gesture. "I know."

"Traitors..." Ron gurgled, more blood coming from his mouth. "Fucking traitors... the both of you..." Ron laughed then, gingerly pulling himself to his feet. "My own brother... defending a Death Eater's whore... Fred must be rolling over in his grave."

George made to lunge at him again but Hermione moved between them, trying in vain to hold George back. "Enough, George... it's over..." She then turned to look at Ron, "Ask me again why I could never love you," she bit out in disgust.

Ron just chuckled. He looked at her for one brief moment then spat a glob of blood at her feet. "This isn't over." Then he turned and made his way to the door, "If mum asks where I've run off to, just tell her I popped over to St. Mungos." Another manic laugh preceded him as he finally left the room.

George released a shaky breath and Hermione turned to him. "How? How did-did you hear? He silenced the room…"

George pointed to his missing ear, "Muffilato doesn't work on me…."

Thank you, Severus Snape.

"Oh," was all she managed in response. She knew she should be relieved but was surprised to find that instead she felt… nothing. A numbness was invading her now… her thoughts and emotions were too chaotic for her to properly compartmentalize what had just transpired, and her mind was shutting down.

George reached for her and she instinctively shrank back. He let his hand drop to his side. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She swallowed, "M-my wrist is broken… maybe some bruises."

"Come. I'll apparate us to St. Mungos," he offered, weakly gesturing towards the door.

She vehemently shook her head. "I-it's nothing I can't heal myself…"

"Hermione….," he started.

"You cannot tell anyone about this, George," she hurriedly interrupted.

"Wh-what? You need help… He needs help.."

She shook her head again, "You know as well as I do he won't get it from the magical community…" She turned away from him then, staring at the smeared blood on the floorboards. "The locket… the war… He needs time to process. They'll just throw him into Azkaban. I-I can't live with that."

"And what about you? He just tried to rape you, Hermione. I can't live with that."

She knew at that moment, more than just her wrist had been broken… a brothers' relationship had been forever fractured. She closed her eyes to the pain ripping apart her chest, but another flutter of movement in her abdomen washed it away.

"I'll be okay," she whispered. She turned and met his gaze, an attempt at a small smile etching her face, "We will be okay. We just… have to forget."

"What?!" George bit out in anguish. "I'll never forget this, Hermione. And something tells me, neither will you."

She bit her lip. He was right, of course. "Then… we move on… distance ourselves from it… from him and from each other."

She met his gaze in earnest. "I'm leaving, George...today. I've already got a portkey... I'm going on a special assignment for The Ministry... He'll get better without me here as a distraction...And…and, in time, perhaps you'll both be able to put this behind you…"

"Hermione, are you daft?" He grabbed her hands, dragging his thumbs over her already bruising wrists, "He assaulted you!"

"They'll crucify him, George. Molly... Arthur... they've already lost one son... I won't let them lose another because of me..." She started to cry, the tears coming fast and furious. "Swear to me, George. Swear to me you'll tell no one about this... and I promise, I'll stay away… Everything will be okay if I just stay away…"

George, flummoxed, searched her pleading eyes for the space of a heartbeat then gave her an imperceptible nod. "For you, I will… try…" He practically choked on the last word.

She grabbed him in a hug, "Thank you..."

He didn't return the sentiment, instead, pulling away and walking to the door. He paused before leaving, refusing to look at her, "I almost forgot," he whispered, "Happy Birthday, Hermione."

She didn't reply… she couldn't. She knew it wasn't fair to make George carry this burden but she felt she had no choice. There was no other way.

Her hand covered the small swell of her belly. If she turned him in, how soon before they all saw the evidence of her betrayal? There would be an investigation… It could take months. She didn't have that long.

With a flick of her wand in one terrifying moment during a battle, she had ruined everything.

They'd all be better off without her.

As soon as he was through the doorway, she slammed the door closed, warding it before she sank down onto the bed and wept.

Present Day

His hand, which had been gently caressing her matted curls throughout the retelling of her tale, now froze against her, stilled by the revelation of her attempted rape by a boy she once upon a time fancied herself in love with….

….at least until the Fourth Year Yule Ball, when a certain blonde snake slithered his way into her heart.

"Say something," she murmured, afraid of his reaction.

He stirred against her uncomfortably. She knew what he wanted so she reluctantly sat up. He immediately left the bed, pacing her room.

"Please say something…" she begged, her teeth worrying her bottom lip, that queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach once again posing a threat as she became virtually sea sick watching his predatory strides. "Did I just lose you?" she whispered.

He ceased all movement and shot her a glare, "That won't ever happen." He began pacing again, hands clasped behind his back, "I'm….", he glanced at her briefly, "...processing…"

"Oh," was all she could manage. She lowered her head, her fingers twisting in her lap from the aching need for something to do.

"Why, Granger?" He finally asked.

Why? She gave him a puzzled look. "Why did he attack me? You'd have to ask him."

"Why didn't you tell anyone?" He reiterated.

She swallowed. She knew this was where it would lead. "I-I don't know…" A lie. She took a deep breath. Be convincing, she coached herself. "I was still suffering from the trauma of the war… I had lost my parents… one of my best friends had tried to assault me…I just wanted to run away…" Another deep breath. "So, that's what I did. I ran." Truths… all of them. Just not the whole truth.

I was protecting our baby! Her mind screamed, I was lost without you… I wanted to die from loneliness… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I ruined everything….

Please forgive me.

"You left England?" A curious question.

She nodded. "Kingsley arranged it. I traveled with the International Ministry Commission for a bit… then settled in Germany for a spell… Berlin, actually…"

Stop talking! Her mind whirled with a plethora of information. He's going to see through your lies, you silly bint!

But Draco had resumed pacing once again. "Explains why we never crossed paths then…."

A piece of her heart swelled at his statement. "Were you looking for me?" She teased.

That got his attention and he stopped, staring at her with one skeptical brow raised, "Your absence was noted…"

A strange statement.

She looked away from him then, concentrating on a frayed piece of her duvet now. "Yes… well … I thought if I stayed away… distanced myself from Ron…. he'd somehow get better…"

"Time heals all wounds," he replied.

"Precisely." She took a deep breath, thankful that perhaps Draco understood.

"Bloody nonsense," he shook his head.

Okay, maybe not….

He stepped towards the bed. "Clearly your ex is still unstable."

She groaned, "Please don't call him that."

He cocked that arrogant brow, "What? Unstable? Or your ex?"

"The latter. We were never together…never…"

"Obviously he thinks otherwise." He was eyeing her with uncertainty and his unspoken question hung heavy in the air : Care to explain why that is

She sighed resolutely. "We kissed… once… during the Final Battle… I never meant for it to happen and I regretted it immediately. But it was like he became a man…"

"Obsessed…" he finished. Their eyes met and there was something unrecognizable in his gaze which Hermione could not pinpoint. Before she could ruminate on it, it was gone, his Occulmency shields slipping into place.

"Now what?" She whispered.

He shoved his hand through his hair then met her gaze. He crooked his forefinger at her, "Come here."

She crawled to the edge of the bed, tucking her legs beneath her. He reached down and cupped her cheeks in his hands, careful not to apply too much pressure to the left side of her face, "You're mine, Hermione, and no one will ever touch you again."

"Draco…" came her murmured plea, and she turned her head to lay a gentle kiss on his palm.

With one hand, he freed her curls from the lopsided bun then carded his fingers through the bushy mass to bring her lips flush against his. He thrust his tongue into her mouth, kissing her thoroughly.

She breathed him in, opening herself completely to his invasion. In a matter of seconds, he had her on her back, his hard form covering her, pressing her into the mattress.

"Draco," she urged softly, her thighs drifting apart instinctively. Her nails skimmed over the length of his well-muscled back as he settled in the cradle of her body.

"Let me take care of you…" His words were a plea, whispered into her ear as his tongue traced over the shell.

"All right," she conceded. She could do this… the very notions of feminism and Gryffindor bravery being cast aside in favor of stroking his ego. What harm could come from relinquishing just a bit of her self-imposed need to control every aspect of her life? They were going to be partners, and Merlin above, she needed the mental break.

Except….

One nagging thought intruded through the haze.

His hands were tugging on the hem of her t-shirt, his mouth sucking a bruise on the tender flesh of her throat.

She placed both of her palms against his chest and nudged. "Draco… wait…."

Instantly he paused and their eyes met, worry etching his brow. "Too soon?"

She shook her head. "No… I…" She swallowed, "Promise me, you won't go after him."

He reared back, his concern changing to anger. "No." He sat back on his haunches now, another hand shoved through his hair as he avoided looking at her.

She pulled herself into a sitting position, "Please, Draco…"

His mouth was set in a firm line, "Sorry, Granger, it's non-negotiable."

"He's seen us together… it may have been enough to push him over that edge…"

He snorted his disdain, "And? You think that makes him more dangerous than me? Clearly, you haven't been paying attention."

"He is more dangerous… because he has nothing to lose."

That seemed to get through to Draco, his posture relaxing just a little.

She pressed on, "He'll switch gears… antagonize you until you draw first, giving the Aurors a reason to send you right to Azkaban."

He huffed in response, knowing she was right but refusing to verbally acknowledge it.

"So you're suggesting I let him come around and gloat, is that it?"

"I'm suggesting we don't let him win. He loses the second we take our vows."

He crossed his arms in resignation, settling back against her headboard.

"Draco…" she bit her bottom lip to keep from saying anything else. She was learning he needed time to think it over.

He sighed, muttering, "Fuck."

And she knew she had him.

His eyes found hers, "Two conditions, Granger." He didn't hesitate, holding up his forefinger, "First, you tell Potter everything."

She released the breath she was holding, "He'll tell Ginny, who will in turn tell her parents…" She gave him a defeated look.

He shrugged, "What he does with the information is up to him. And if I know Potter, he won't turn Weasley over to the Aurors. But it's best he knows… neither George, a struggling alcoholic, nor I, former Death Eater and all-around bad guy, make the greatest of witnesses."

"All right. I'll tell him."

"Tomorrow," he stated with finality.

It was her turn to cock a brow, "Is that an order, Malfoy?"

"The sooner, the better, Granger. Before Weaselbee forces my hand."

"Fine. Tomorrow… or rather today, I suppose."

The clock in the hall struck the hour, chiming twice to signal two am.

"And on that note, you had better try to get some sleep, Professor. You still have to teach in a few hours," he replied, rising from the bed.

"Are you leaving?!" Her voice was more panicked than she would have liked. She could chalk it up to the Ron debacle but in truth, she really didn't want to think about being left alone.

His hands went to the button on his trousers, "Relax, Granger, just getting comfortable."

The tension in her belly eased as he unzipped and discarded his pants, leaving him once again in just his boxers. He climbed back into her bed and didn't hesitate in pulling her against him, settling her in the crook of his arm. She sank into his side and almost as if on cue, had to stifle a yawn. He chuckled low, his hand getting lost in her curls as his fingers caressed her scalp.

They lay like that for several minutes, silent yet contemplative.

"Draco?" her sleepy voice questioned.

"Yes, Granger?"

"You never told me your second condition."

"Didn't I?" He feigned innocence.

"Prat," she mumbled.

He snickered. "It's a fairly easy one, I assure you," he replied. He paused for a moment, then continued, "Move into Malfoy Manor."

She furrowed her brow, "I already am..."

He scoffed, "In a month, yes... But I mean now... today, in fact."

She rose up on her elbow to meet his gaze, "I... why?"

"So I can protect you." He brushed a curl behind her ear, "Move in with me or I stay at your flat until the wedding. Either way, I'm not leaving you alone."

"A-are you sure that's what you want? I-I mean, I could stay with Harry and Ginny..."

He rolled his eyes, "Do you really think I'm the sort of man to offer something out of the kindness of my heart? I'm a manipulative, selfish bastard, Granger, as you well know." He smirked at her. "Having you so easily accessible means shagging you into the mattress at every opportunity…."

She smacked his arm, "Draco…." She flopped back down, mulling over his offer.

He continued, "Your room is ready… the Floo has been connected to Hogwarts… and I assure you, Weasley won't be able to come within 100 feet of you without me knowing."

"And what of your bachelorhood? Ready to give that up a month early?" She countered.

"I'm already yours, Granger… Thirty days or so won't change that fact."

She sucked in a startled breath. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and averted looking at him. "Your mother won't mind?"

"Seriously? She'll have you so busy with all the wedding nonsense, she won't even notice you never leave."

"I doubt that," she mused.

"She won't care, Granger. Trust me."

"Said the cat to the mouse…."

"More like the dragon to his lioness…" he murmured. He lifted his hand and delicately pulled on a curl. "Say yes."

That brought a small smile to her face. "Fine… but… no shagging at the Manor until after the wedding… out of respect to your mother."

Draco groaned, "Granger….for Salazar's sake…"

"That's my offer, take it or leave it."

He eyed her curiously, that devilish smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Take off that repulsive Gryffindor shirt and you have a deal."

Hermione looked down at the faded grey and red shirt then, without thinking, pulled it up and over her head, baring her breasts to him.

"Fuck…." He licked his lips before caressing one pink nipple with just the tips of his fingers.

She drew in a shaky breath.

"Come here." He didn't wait for a response, his hand clasping to her waist and drawing her close. They lay down together. He surprised her by arranging her on her side, her back pressed to his front. With the flat of his palm, he slid along her curves, imprinting his touch into her skin.

"You drive a hard bargain, witch," he growled, pressing his hardening cock into the groove of her arse.

"Mmmm… I'm afraid you're not much of a negotiator, Malfoy. Had you tried a little more, I might have even agreed to let you eat that cake off my arse." To give her words the heightened effect, she circled her hips, grinding back against him.

"Then I wish to amend our deal…" he purred.

"Too late. Another time, perhaps."

"Temptress…"

"Git…" she yawned.

She felt his chuckle vibrate through his chest. He pressed a kiss to her hair then her cheek, settling his hand to cup one of her breasts. "Sleep, Hermione."

Hermione acquiesced, letting her eyes drift close, the need for sleep suddenly overriding the burgeoning desire blooming in her core.

Being in this man's arms was the safest she had felt in a very long time.

Draco cracked one eye open, a stream of early morning sunshine peeking through the curtains, hitting him directly in the face.

Fuck, he felt like hell. Laid out on his back, his body was stiff and sore. For the life of him, he couldn't remember why, the unmistakable grogginess of too little sleep fogging his mind.

He tried to move, but there was something heavy and warm on his arm. He flexed his hand, trying to encourage the blood to flow through his appendages. The heavy object moaned and curled deeper into his embrace. A mass of brown curls tickled his nose.

Both of his eyes flew open. Granger. He had fucked Granger last night, and it had been glorious. And beat the shit out of Weasley. Also fun, but not as much as fucking Hermione had been.

Damn. Had he used his wand against the tosser? Were the Aurors already surrounding the Manor, looking for him?!

Potter. He had removed the tracking spell during their duel. Had he replaced it? No. No, he was sure he hadn't. Besides, the Aurors would have broken down Granger's door hours ago. Right?

Draco relaxed. He was safe. No one was looking for him. And he was in Granger's bed…. With a very nearly naked witch currently pressing her delicious curves against him.

He flexed his fingers again. Pins and needles danced beneath his flesh as the blood tried to circulate. He rolled to his side.

She was still asleep, softly snoring. Granger snores… he chuckled. File that bit of knowledge away for later use

The covers were tangled around her calves, giving him a delectable view of the pale, creamy skin of her thighs, her summer tan already fading in the Scottish fall season.

A smattering of freckles danced along the curve of her hip, disappearing beneath the fabric of her little grey shorts. He had the urge to trace the trail with his tongue, to arouse her from her slumber while bringing her to another shuddering orgasm.

Inadvertently he leaned over her, desperate to taste her but stopped short of actually touching her. He didn't dare violate her trust. He wasn't Weasley.

Draco swallowed the bile in his throat. He leaned back onto the pillows, folding his right arm beneath his head. He cringed when he felt pain shoot through his wrist and fingers. He pulled his hand from behind him to see the damage. His knuckles were split and bleeding, his wrist strained from the fight. He hadn't even noticed the previous evening, all his focus on making sure Granger was okay.

Huh, he thought, how unlike me to be so… thoughtful

The witch stirred beside him, her luscious body stretching languishly like a cat. Carefully, he let the fingers on his right hand drift over the planes of her abdomen, tracing a path to her breast.

"Draco…" came her murmured response, even though her eyes remained closed.

He leaned over her and brushed his lips over hers. She practically purred as her lids fluttered open.

She lay on her back now, finally releasing his left arm. Her own hand traveled through his hair as her other fingers found his.

She pulled his mouth to hers while dragging his palm down the length of her naked body to settle between her thighs.

Draco used his left hand as support, holding himself above her as his right hand slipped beneath those shorts to tangle in the soft hairs of her cunt. Fucking hell, she was already wet!

Coating his middle finger in her juices, he suppressed a groan as he slid it through her folds into her tight channel.

"Oh!" She gasped, followed by a hiss of discomfort.

He withdrew from her body, settling his hand on her thigh, giving it a firm squeeze. "Sore?"

She hesitantly shook her head. "More like..." she drew her bottom lip between her teeth, an action he found rather endearing, as she contemplated her next choice of words. "...sensitive..." she breathed out.

He gave her a knowing smirk, choosing now to softly brush the pads of his fingers against her clit over the fabric of her shorts. "Perhaps a lighter touch?"

Her eyes closed and she moaned at his ministrations. He sucked two of his fingers into his mouth then slipped them beneath her waistband, circling the swollen bud with a wisp of his fingertips, causing a burst of pleasure sounds to escape her lovely mouth.

He could drown in her mewls and pants of ecstasy and die a happy man. But when she cried out his name… fuck, he'd kill for her and not think twice.

He was going to murder Ron Weasley and make it look like a bloody accident.

He increased the pressure on her clit just as he lowered his head and drew one beautiful pink nipple between his teeth to suck.

"D-Draco…" she whimpered.

Yes, Granger, scream my name. He pulled harder at the stiff peak, the tip of his tongue flicking in rhythm as his fingers dipped into her folds once again, pressing at her entrance.

"W-wait…s-stop…." She flinched against him.

He paused, his hands going up in mock surrender. "Sorry…"

"Don't be. I guess it is a little sore…" She blushed prettily.

It made his cock swell even harder.

"There's so much about my own body I've yet to learn..." she replied shyly.

Her innocence was touching. He gazed at her, the way her sleepy eyes were filled with such warmth and how her tousled hair fell across the pillows. If he thought she was gorgeous last night, in the early morning light, she was simply breathtaking.

It was unnerving. It caused a lump to form in the back of his throat and he tried clearing it away with a choked cough. "Something we can perhaps do together," he whispered.

She bestowed on him the sweetest of smiles. She reached for him, pulling him down for a quick kiss, which ended far too quickly for his tastes.

He needed distance. She was too intoxicating this close. So he abruptly sat up, his arousal all the more obvious in the way his boxers tented.

She rolled over on her belly, a coquettish grin on her lips. Cautiously she reached out, the tips of her fingers sliding experimentally down the length of his clothed shaft. It visibly twitched, growing harder, if that was indeed possible, and it was his turn to groan a most pleasurable noise.

"Seems there's more I should learn about yours, as well…" she teased. She drew up to her knees, her fingers toying with the waist of his boxers. "May I?"

Was she fucking serious? He practically tore the offending material from his body, his cock springing forth hard and ready. The witch actually giggled and suddenly Draco felt like an adolescent teen in the Slytherin common room.

Hell, he half expected Professor Snape to come barging in any minute to ruin it all.

His eyes shifted to her bedroom door for only a moment then back at her, watching as she tentatively eyed his erection.

Gently he gripped her wrist, bringing her hand close to him. "I've always found a hands-on approach in learning something new to be most effective..."

She laughed out loud, "Oh yeah?!" But she grew bolder, her hand curving around his growing length, and she pumped it twice within her grip.

Draco's head fell back against the headboard and he growled, "Fuck..."

Hermione paused, concern furrowing her brow like she'd done something wrong.

"Don't stop, Granger... For Salazar's sake, don't you dare fucking stop..." came his agonizing plea.

She released a shaky breath, running her hand down the smooth flesh then once again back up to the tip, marveling at the way he shuddered beneath her.

With the tip of one finger, she traced the indent in the tip, swirling the pre-cum around to coat the heated skin. She knelt before him, hesitating for only a moment, licking her lips to get them nice and wet.

She took him into her mouth.

He moaned her fucking name.

Breathing deep through her nose, she lowered even further, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked his member fully between her lips and down her throat.

He was big and she gagged a little but after a few strokes, she seemed to find a nice rhythm, sucking and caressing him, alternating her mouth with her fist.

His hand fisted in her curls but she didn't seem to mind. He thrusted into her welcoming warmth and she took all of him deep in the back of her throat. She pulled back a little, laving his dick with her tongue, getting him good and wet before once again taking him fully inside her and sucking.

He tightened his grip on her hair. "Hermione… stop… I'm going to come…"

She released him with a loud, wet pop, gazing up at him through her lashes. "Good. I want you to."

He practically choked on his groan.

"I want to taste you, Draco."

For the first time in his life, he didn't wish to argue with her. He released his hold on her and settled back onto the pillows, watching as she bobbed her head again and again, speeding up and slowing down until his entire body tensed in release.

He filled her mouth with hot spurts of cum and she swallowed it all, even licking her lips as if she enjoyed it.

Both of his hands encircled her biceps and he hauled her close. His thumb pulled at her lower lip and stared at her in awe, mesmerized by this woman he barely knew yet already he was completely taken with.

"Your turn." And before she could protest, he had her on her back with his face buried between her legs.

"Draco… no… I don't think I can…"

"I'll be gentle," he replied, laying reverent kisses on the sensitive skin of her inner thighs.

She gasped and squirmed under him, his tongue teasing figure-eights to her clit through the fabric of her shorts.

"Oh… oh god…" she panted. "Oh… oh… oh fuck! Is that the time?!"

Suddenly she jumped, her knee crashing into his nose as she tried to leap from the bed.

"Bloody hell, Granger!"

"Sorry… sorry…." She apologized, dropping a kiss to his cheek. "I'm so late!"

She was bustling around her bedroom, pulling on last night's t-shirt before rummaging through her closet for an outfit, whinging about McGonagall having her head for missing breakfast.

He would have found it amusing if his face didn't hurt so damn much. Luckily his nose didn't seem broken and there was no blood.

He was pulling on his trousers when she hurried over to him, inspecting his face. "Well, you seem alright… nothing broken… feed Crookshanks for me, will you? His pate is in a container in the refrigerator." And then she was out the bedroom door, a mess of chaotic energy. Seconds later he heard the shower turn on.

Another twenty minutes passed and he was standing in her kitchen having a stare down with said feline as he leaned against the counter. Crookshanks had just finished whatever disgusting grey mass she insisted on feeding the ginger beast and now he felt like he needed to assess Draco with a critical eye.

He watched as Draco lifted his cup and took a sip of his tea. Draco cocked an eyebrow at him but the cat was not impressed nor intimidated.

Both males turned their attention to Hermione as she whirled into the living room, her school robes swishing around her. She was tearing apart her small desk lamenting about her keys when Draco calmly walked up to her.

He placed both hands on her shoulders to cease her movement. "Relax, Granger," he said, massaging the tension in her neck. She took a breath, melting back into his embrace. He laid a small kiss just behind her left ear which made her whimper in response.

He patted her bum, "Come. I've made you tea and toast."

Turning away from her, he headed into her small kitchen. She followed him and when she took a drink of the black tea he offered, she closed her eyes and savored it.

"I never would have imagined you could be so…." She paused.

"Unbelievable in bed?" He offered with a smirk.

"Domestic…" she finished with an eye roll.

He sneered at her but there was no malice behind it.

She took a deep breath now and set the cup down. "I was thinking…"

"Merlin, help us all, Hermione Granger was thinking…" he interrupted.

She gave him a look of disapproval before continuing, "Perhaps… if you're not busy, that is, I could… um… grab some takeaway for dinner and… maybe invite Harry over… so we could tell him together about R-Ron…"

Draco stared blankly at her. "You want me there when you tell Potter?"

"Yes, of course," she was clearly taken aback. "I mean, unless you don't want to be…" She focused her attention on the piece of buttered toast, picking at the crust.

Draco pondered her offer for a brief moment. "I was going to spend the evening fucking my fiancée, but I suppose that can wait until after."

She playfully smacked him in the arm. "Draco!"

He grabbed her wrist and gently pulled her towards him, laying a brief kiss to her lips. She opened her mouth and welcomed his tongue and soon they were snogging like hormonal teenagers.

She ended it much too soon, her finger pressing against his mouth as she pulled back, "I have to go."

He tried to playfully bite the tip which caused her to giggle. "Stay."

"I cannot," she lamented.

He sighed heavily. "Fine. Abandon me here with only your atrocious cat for company."

She was gathering her things when she stopped and turned to look at him. "You're staying?"

He leaned back against her counter, shoving his hands in his trouser pockets, "Thought I'd get a head start on packing your belongings."

Her eyes grew painfully wide.

"You do remember you agreed to move to the Manor?"

"I-I do…" she stammered.

"Is there a problem?" He questioned, noting how uneasy she had become.

"No….I-I just don't want you to feel obligated to pack my things…" she swallowed nervously.

He pushed away from the counter and stepped towards her. He placed a kiss on her forehead in reassurance. "Not obligated… I want to help."

She sighed wistfully and allowed him to embrace her. She pressed her face into his chest and inhaled deeply. "Sorry… I'm just not used to having someone to rely on like this. It's been me against the world for a long time now."

Something akin to regret pulled at his insides but he quickly squashed it down, burying it deep behind his walls. "Well, get used to it, witch. I'm not going anywhere."

"Thank you," she mumbled.

He answered her by placing another kiss on the top of her head. What was it about this woman that made him so weak?

"Stay," he said again.

She groaned. "I wish I could." She snuggled against him.

"Hermione?" He whispered.

"Hmmm?"

"It's 9 am."

"Oh fuck!" She pulled free, hurrying to gather her things.

He couldn't resist chucking.

As he was settling down on her sofa, Crookshanks jumped into his lap, turned around three times then plopped himself down on Draco's legs.

"Draco Malfoy," Hermione chided, "Do not summon Flinty to do all the work while you lounge all day with the cat."

Giving Crookshanks a scratch behind the ears, he feigned innocence, "That doesn't sound anything like me…" He yawned then.

She approached and leaned down to peck him on the lips. "Liar."

He sneered up at her.

She hurried to the Floo but stopped and turned back to him, "I almost forgot, Gryffindor plays Slytherin tomorrow night. Attend with me?"

His sneer melted into a smirk, "Watch Slytherin trounce your lions… no place I'd rather be."

"Wanker." But she smiled as she said it.

"Swot."

"Come up with a better disparaging nickname, Malfoy. I'm actually growing fond of that one." She rolled her eyes, grabbed the Floo powder and stepped into the fireplace, calling out her destination.

As the green flames dissipated, carrying her off to her office at Hogwarts, Draco released a sigh.

Was this what it was like - to miss someone? She had only been gone a minute and there was a shallow ache in his chest.

He laid his head on the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. His last thoughts were of her, her mouth wrapped around his cock as the early morning light highlighted the strands of burnished gold in her hair, before he drifted off to sleep.