Sorry for the wait, here's chapter 9! Please review!

It felt as though someone had attempted to hit her over the head with a brick. Her eyes were glued together, with great difficulty she pried them open to gaze out at the familiar surroundings of the library. Confusion crinkled her brow as her vision cleared and landed on Draco asleep on his armchair. Judging by the soft light pouring in from the window, it was early morning. A worried shout drifted from the house below and as her ears tried to remember they were awake, she realized that it was her name being called. That would explain why she was awake far before she wanted to be. The library door burst open to reveal an anxiety ridden Harry.

Relief seemed to drown his features, "Oh thank Merlin." He turned away from the door to shout down the stairs, "It's alright Ginny, I found her!"

"Found me?" Her voice was hoarse and barely louder than a whisper. Draco was stirring in the seat beside her, clear annoyance at having been woken.

"We put you to bed at 11:30 last night, but when I came in like 15 minutes ago to check on you, your bed was empty." He sounded slightly out of breath, "We were worried, you were pretty drunk and so were we, we wanted to make sure you were okay." Harry suddenly seemed to realize who else was in the room with them, most likely due to the death-inducing glare shining out of Draco's steely eyes.

"Good morning Potter. What a pleasure to see you first thing when I wake up, the stuff of dreams really." Draco slightly grunted as he got out of his chair and walked towards his room "if you two wouldn't mind having this lovely chat somewhere else, I still have some beauty sleep I'd like to get in before breakfast."

Hermione attempted to rise from the couch, but was hit with a wave of nausea and the sound of her heart pounding in her ears. Perhaps it was just that brick she could have sworn someone had attacked her with…but as the memories of the night before began to filter through her consciousness, she had a sinking feeling it was merely the 6th shot of tequila she had taken.

"Hermione…" Harry began cautiously, "why don't I help you up?" She could hear Draco laughing from his room and mentally threw a middle finger in his direction.

"I'm fine." She snapped. Except the world was currently tilting and the back of her tongue definitely still tasted like lime and salt. Harry grabbed her hands and delicately pulled her up from the couch. She leaned into his arms before bolting into Draco's bathroom and emptying the contents of her stomach into the toilet. All things considered, she thought it was impressive she hadn't given anyone a reason to clean the floor.

"Granger." Slight concern watered down Draco's voice behind her. She could sense both men standing in the doorway and her cheeks burned in embarrassment.

"I'm – fine." Another round of nausea sent her back to the toilet, "please go. I will be up in a moment."

"I'm not leaving you here in this bathroom." Harry sounded indignant.

"Potter, if she wants to be left alone, then leave her alone." She silently thanked every god known to man for Draco at that moment. The last thing she needed was an audience to her hangover. "She's a big girl. If she can't handle it, she'll let someone know." The door closed quietly behind her, muffling the sounds of Harry arguing with Draco. All she could focus on however was casting a quick silencing charm before her stomach protested once more.

She finally joined the rest of her friends downstairs later that day, with an icepack Draco had conjured pressed up against her head.

"Well how kind of you to join us, Hermione." Ginny was smirking from her spot at the kitchen table where she was playing a card game with Hannah.

"How are you not dead right now?" She replied irritably.

"We all warned you not to try and keep up with her." Ron laughed as he walked up behind her with Harry following behind. Harry however, did not seem as entertained as the rest of the room.

"'Mione?" He gently grabbed her elbow, "Can I talk to you?"

"Sure Harry." Had everyone else been able to hear the obvious insincerity to her voice? The nervous shaking of her last syllable? They went into the tapestry room, which now housed beds for Order members who needed to stay the night.

Harry sat on a bed near the window and she joined him. He opened his mouth to speak three times before finally addressing her. "How did you end up in the library with Malfoy, Hermione?"

"Well to be honest Harry, I was a tad inebriated so I'm not sure I'm the best person to be asking about this. Did you try asking Draco?"

He slightly flinched at her use of his first name and dread settled over her heart like a raincloud as it dawned on her that Theo and Luna might no longer be the only ones onto her secret. "See, I tried asking him about it. But all I got were sarcastic comments and nearly kicked out of the door. And I very distinctly remember putting you to bed in your own room last night."

She sighed as she weighed the options of lying or finally telling her best friend the truth that had sprouted in her heart for the past eight months. "I…I went up there after you left my room." She tried to avoid his gaze but the genuine concern that flowed out of his brilliantly green eyes forced the truth past her lips, "because I have feelings for him."

Harry grasped the bridge of his nose, his hair falling over his forehead masking his all too famous scar. "Oh Hermione…"

"I'm not going to sit here and explain myself."

"I wasn't going to ask you to," he looked up at her, "but I really can't express how bad of an idea I think this is."

"You think I meant for this to happen?" She said incredulously.

"Well no…" he trailed off, "I just…I guess I'm not surprised."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Fire flipped off her tongue.

"You tend to fall for the less fortunate, the broken ones."

"He isn't broken." Anger was like a dragon flying through her entire system. "You don't even know him."

"Do you?" He tried to hold her hand in his but she pulled away, "or do you just know his sob story? His failings and his achievements and his regrets? Look 'Mione, I love you and I think you're the smartest bloody person I have ever met, but you have a soft spot for sad stories and for fixing things."

"I don't like him because he has a traumatic past Harry." She spat, "He's not a house elf I'm trying to free with some knit hat. He makes me laugh, challenges my view on everything I've ever known, makes my blood boil and then three seconds later makes me smile. He makes me feel alive."

"Oh c'mon Hermione, this isn't a Jane Austen novel."

"Harry I don't think you've ever even held a Jane Austen novel in your hands, so please don't start with me." She rolled her eyes, "Nothing is going to happen anyways. It would be idiotic to think it could work. So you have nothing to worry about." She stood from the bed and faced away from him, "It was a moment of drunken poor judgment and I'd like to stop discussing it now." She was too infuriated to realize it had been the first time she'd audibly confessed to her feelings for Draco, the first time she'd tried to put into words what had been brewing inside of her for months. The truth of her emotions, of how she had described him to Harry, scared her more than she cared to admit.

"Hermione get in here! We're finishing up lunch and Neville made that soup you like!" Ginny's voice distantly called from the other side of the house, oblivious to what she had just interrupted.

"Please just be careful, yeah?" Harry gave her a hug and left the tapestry room before she had a chance to assure him there was nothing to be careful about in the first place.

His arm was bleeding. And his idiotic wandless magic seemed to think now was a perfect time to be difficult. With sweat accumulating on his brow, he finally patched up the slice down his skin. Despite the pain of the cut, adrenaline and triumph pumped through his veins. He'd apparated from his bed to his chair in the library. A small feat that made him taste hope on the tip of his tongue.

It had been over two weeks since Granger had ended up in his room, kissing him as the year turned anew. Over two weeks since he'd sat outside his bathroom door, willing himself to grant her the privacy she so desperately had demanded. Over two weeks since he'd conjured nausea medicine and an ice pack from the infirmary downstairs and forced her to use them.

Neither had mentioned the events of New Years, but he found himself dreaming of the feel of her lips nearly every night. Despite his body's inability to forget her taste, he had a sinking feeling she didn't quite remember what had transpired that night. He'd stopped the kiss almost as soon as it had started, rebelled against the butterflies that had turned into a greedy monster in his abdomen. They wanted more of her, he wanted more, more.

He was many things, but he would not force himself on a woman. Not when she was so drunk she didn't know what she was doing, not when the only way she'd allowed herself to kiss him was with every one of her walls dismantled by tequila. Well, all but one wall. He was ashamed to admit he'd briefly attempted legilimency on her, but damn if that witch wasn't nearly as skilled in the magic of the mind as he was. He'd gotten a flash of his face, before the fortress of her mind had angrily kicked him out. If he couldn't get a reading on her, he wondered if even Voldemort would struggle to break her down. The thought of Voldemort within a fifty-mile radius of her however made his stomach twist so violently he was nearly ill.

"Draco?" Theo poked his head in through the door, apprehension like a mask over his face.

"What do you want Nott?"

"I spoke to Harry about your mum." Draco's silver eyes shot over to his former friend, his interest suddenly piqued.

"And?"

"He thinks that she is still alive. The spies we have on your family –"

"Excuse me? For fucks sakes you angels really don't know how to just leave people alone, do you? Are we interesting, make for some good spy stories? I just love the one where my father tried to beat me senseless because I refused to murder a muggle child. Did they share that little tidbit over the campfire?"

Theo bit his tongue, still standing with his back against the door to Draco's room. "It's purely a precaution." He cleared his throat, his tan hands nervously wringing together, "they haven't reported any kind of funeral or service of the like. Harry went as far back as last February in the files to be sure."

Gratitude slammed into him like a train, gratitude for saint Potter and his determination to consistently do the right bloody thing. For Theo, who despite his betrayal, seemed resolved to extend him a helping hand no matter how many times he got stung. If there hadn't been a funeral service, then surely his mother had gone undetected, was surely still alive, still laughing and fretting over her grey hairs. It made his sense of urgency to escape seem to triple, his chest aching at the thought of seeing her again and saving her from her fate. He had not a single clue how Voldemort had not cracked her yet, she had never been talented at legilimency, but somehow, some way, she had held on.

"Thank you, Theo." He meant it, more than he could express through words and he steeled himself to show it with his eyes, to drop down his walls for just a moment and let the emotion tumble through.

The corner of Theo's mouth lifted in a smile, "Of course." He made to turn away but then looked back, "Oh and also, Hermione will be going on a little girls' trip this upcoming weekend so you're stuck with me for a few days." Mischief sparked in his eyes, "maybe you can kiss your pillow to make up for her absence."

Draco tossed an empty plate at Theo's head as the turncoat chuckled and slammed the door behind him, leaving the plate to shatter against the ancient wood.

Her bags were double, no, triple checked. Had she made sure she packed toothpaste? She checked for a fourth time, anxiety had taken her body hostage. The idea of a girls' weekend, of a few days for blissful escape from the bloody reality of war, made her heart pool with guilt. What would her parents think? Their own daughter erased their memory, sent them away never to again return, and instead of fighting day and night for the war she deemed more important than their claim to their own consciousness, she went to southern France to get drunk with friends?

Frustrated tears burst from her eyes and landed on her open trunk. She spied her toothpaste through watery vision and zipped up her things once more.

"'Mione?" Ron sounded soft behind her, as though he may break her if he spoke up. She hurriedly wiped away her tears before he took her into his arms, hushing into her ear. "It's okay. It'll all be okay. They would be proud of you."

She silently thanked how well her friend knew her, how well he knew what would have caused her to break down in a fit of sobs hours before her holiday. She nuzzled into his shoulder, his familiar scent, and held her tongue from apologizing for the snot that was inevitably getting into his shirt. He'd only hush away her words as soon as she spoke them.

"I know it's hard," he said into her hair, "I cannot imagine how hard it is to go through what you have gone through in this war, but you will get through it all. We. We will get through it. Harry and I, we will be by your side, no matter what."

"I don't deserve the two of you." She sniffled

"Don't deserve us? Bloody hell Hermione do you know how many times we would have died if it hadn't been for you over the years? I thank god we were all stupid enough to take on a troll together at 11 years old." They both laughed at the memory, of their childish belief in invincibility. How blissful it had been, convinced they could never be touched.

"Thank you, Ron." She wiped her eyes once more, "Now let's go find Ginny. I can only imagine the tantrum she will throw if we are late."

"I'm pretty sure she's already slightly drunk."

"I would expect nothing less." She hauled her trunk down the stairs, denying Ron's help to lift it despite its weight and went into the kitchen.

Pure chaos ensued as soon as she opened the door, her friends running in every which direction in an attempt to prepare for the coming trip. Ginny was sitting on top of the table with a bottle of tequila in her hand, but no glass in sight. Luna and Theo were arguing over how many special sets of eyewear she needed to pack in order to see specific creatures. Neville was attempting to peel a banana but every time he pulled down the skin, Hannah secretly waved her wand behind him and pulled it back up, her face red from suppressing laughter. Harry stood next to Ginny, yelling at Padma to stop encouraging Ginny to drink from the bottle of alcohol as Dean drunkenly defended that Padma and Ginny deserved all the liquor their hearts desired. Fred and George, from a hidden corner of the kitchen were currently sending fizzing whizbees towards an unsuspecting Hannah. Trust the twins to prank the pranker.

Warmth radiated through her chest at the sight of her friends, they were an absolute disaster, but she wouldn't have it any other way. Ron whispered down in her ear, "now you know why I came up to find you." He winked playfully before going to join his girlfriend and warn her of Fred and George's impending attack.

Ginny caught sight of Hermione in the doorway and lifted her bottle in salute, "Finally!" She yelled, "Hermione come take a shot, it's almost time to go!" The memory of the tequila from New Years still sat unpleasantly at the back of Hermione's tongue, she playfully declined. Soon enough however, Dean was pushing her into the table, Harry shaking his head in defeat as amusement shined out of his eyes while he gazed at his girlfriend.

They left for France an hour later, Hermione wasn't sure if it was the floo or her own alcohol induced mind that caused the journey to spin so much she lost her balance, but it felt good to end up on the floor of their cottage in a laughing heap with her chosen family. There were some things even war couldn't rip away.

They spent the entire first day and night running around their cottage or into the ocean that sat just outside their front porch. The waves kissed their toes, making them all squeal in delight no matter how sure the next wave would be a moment later. The day blended into the night and then into the early morning, their intoxicated laughter enough to fill her soul. Not once had she thought of battle strategies, healing techniques, lost friends, broken promises or bloody scars. It was exactly what she had needed, a chance to breathe without feeling the crushing weight of her life, of her choices.

The second night found them on the floor of the cottage, surrounded by pillows and blankets. She felt as though she'd been transported into one of the many muggle movies she had watched in her youth. They were the ideal slumber party, no evidence of the crimes they each carried in their hearts.

"Ginny so help me god if you describe yours' and Harry's sex life one more time, I am getting a bin to vomit in." Hermione feigned being sick to the laughter of her friends.

Ginny shrugged, "I'm just saying, the boy who lived is more like a man."

"Stop!" Hermione yelled, putting her fingers into her ears.

"Oh you're just mad because you're not getting any." Ginny joked, but Hermione's cheeks reddened against her will. Luna immediately looked to the ceiling, as though she hadn't heard the conversation change direction.

Hannah clapped a hand to her mouth in surprise, "What? Is that our Hermione, blushing?"

"I am not blushing!"

"You so are!" Padma said in delight.

"Who is this mystery man in your life?" Ginny wiggled her brows, "or woman."

"There is no one!"

"God I wish I'd taken you up on those legilimency lessons now." Ginny grinned

"First of all, you still should practice. And second of all, you'd never get past my walls even with the training."

"So you're saying there's something worth mentioning, past those walls?" Hannah smirked.

"Or someone?" Padma half yelled.

Her mind immediately sprung to a certain blonde, to the way his tongue had felt in her mouth, how eager she was to taste him again. "No!" But her voice has slightly broke, her friends smiled evilly at her, Hannah throwing popcorn into her mouth.

"How did you even find the time to find a man?" Ginny inquired, "you spend more time with Draco than us some days, where would you have found another…" her voice trailed off, suspicion clouding her features. Hermione did her best to look quizzically at her best friend, but the gears were turning in the fiery redhead's mind, placing the pieces together.

"No." She whispered. The rest of the girls were looking back and forth between the two, only Luna seeming to understand the exchange.

"I need some air." Hermione jumped up from the floor and ran to the back porch, tossing her head back to look at the stars and grounding herself in the shine of the sky and the feeling of wooden planks beneath her feet, instead of the panic creeping over her shoulders.

"Hermione?" Luna's melodic voice came from the porch door, almost drowned out by the sound of the waves crashing against the sand. She came to stand beside her friend and wrapped an arm around her shoulders. "You know when Theo first pursued me, I wouldn't even look him in the eye for a month. I was cruel to him, harsh against my better nature because I was ashamed at the way he made me feel, the glances I stole every moment I could." She turned to look at Hermione, who was still looking up at the night sky, "but I learned, through trial and error, the things that make us feel alive, that light our souls on fire, they're fate whispering in our ear, praying we'll finally catch the hint. You don't need to tear yourself apart with guilt for the way you feel, you don't need to explain the storm raging in your heart – to anyone."

Hermione sighed, turning her face away from the stars and to look into Luna's, "yes but your precious fate pushed you towards someone good, and my fate has not." She didn't know why she played along with Luna's metaphor, the pure concept of fate was highly illogical, and if it did exist, a real sadistic bastard. "It's not a big deal, hardly anything has even happened anyways."

"It's a big deal, if it matters to you."

"It shouldn't matter, it won't. Once I figure out how to get this under control, it won't matter. I hardly even know him, he hardly even knows me."

"That's not true," Luna said quietly, "I saw the way you looked at each other on Christmas. Your room is right next to mine; I've noticed the nights you don't come back until the early hours of the morning, humming melodies to yourself, as you get ready for bed. It matters." She smiled, "and perhaps the best things aren't meant to be under control anyways."

"I don't know if you knew this, but I'm a bit of a control freak."

Luna laughed so hard she snorted and took Hermione into her arms for a hug, "You? I had no idea."

She knew she'd have to go into the cottage and face Ginny and the others, face the emotions she hadn't wanted to give a name, attach to a person. But for now, she watched the ocean pull itself up onto the sand, as sure and steady as the beat of her heart and the twinkle of the stars above.

His brow was covered in sweat, his breathing heavy. It was the early hours of the morning, and as the rest of the house slept, he disappeared and reappeared into every corner of his room, then into every corner of the library. He'd done it. Months of practice, of research, and he'd been able to disable the wards for the briefest moment to apparate a foot away, then two, then ten.

He grabbed the bag he'd conjured and threw some of the books into it, then the cloth she'd given him. It made him stop and stare down at his hands. He'd do anything to ensure her safety, and yet he was positive he was about to hurt her in a way he'd never meant to, in a way she didn't expect.

Paper and a quill flew across the room to him and he scribbled a note, first to Theo. He owed him that much, after the trouble he'd gone through to ease his worries. Next, came her. He held the quill above the parchment; a blot of ink dripped from its tip and stained the crisp surface. He yearned for her touch, to be able to look her in the eyes and explain, it wasn't her fault – any of it. To thank her for his life, his sanity, for her warmth.

A moment later and he was pulling his bag into his arms, casting a last look over his all too familiar quarters before summoning every ounce of strength he had and turning on the spot with a loud crack. The parchment rustled on his desk at the disturbance but then laid stagnant, still wet with ink.

Please, forgive me.

Sorry I've been mean with the cliff hangers lately...also sorry I had super bad writers block so this chapter might not be great, who knows. Please please review, tell me what you think! Thanks!