Happy Halloween! I realise it was yesterday, but I couldn't upload yesterday (for some reason). So, for you all, here's another chapter. Another gift for all of you, who have read, reviewed, followed, favourited and supported this story.

Your reviews mean so much to me. Thank-you, from the bottom of my heart. I apologize for not updating as regularly as I would want to.

On with the story! :)

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.


Year 1997, December

Prefect Meeting Room

"Right, does anyone have any questions?"

You could almost hear the crickets outside, due to the amount of silence that followed her question.

She sighed before addressing the room one last time:

"Well since everyone's clear, I declare this session to be over, I guess…"

You couldn't hear the crickets anymore, as everyone that was gathered began to pack their things and make a literal dash for the door. She sighed again, collecting her own quills and parchments, stuffing them into her bag.

Hermione hated these meetings. She felt like no one was ever listening to her and you could hardly call these gatherings "meetings", due to them being pretty much like a one woman dialogue show. She stood before all the other prefects, did her best to understand if everything was running smoothly, stressed the importance of rounds, paperwork, protection, asked some questions that were met by silence and told them all to leave.

And that was on a good day.

If a few Slytherins were pissed off, they would make these meetings feel twice as long, as they kept interrupting her with silly questions or defying her authority, claiming that her blood status prevented them from obeying her. As for the other houses, they kept mostly to themselves; even the Gryffindors seemed rather distant and withdrawn. Hermione couldn't blame them, really. The weather was cold, the days were shorter, darker. No one had the capacity to think about school, paperwork, homework. Everyone was afraid of what was going on out there and inside of these halls. These meetings had no significance whatsoever. What was there to talk about? If they were doing their jobs properly? How could they, when everything was this messed up?

"That went smoothly, don't you think?"

She turned her head to face her companion in these meetings and also Hogwarts Head Boy, Anthony Goldstein. He was smiling sympathetically at her, also knowing how useless each and every one of these conventions were becoming.

Hermione game him a small smile in return "Yes, lovely. Well at least they didn't try to turn my hair into octopus tentacles this time around."

"See? We are improving!" He chuckled, slinging his own bag over his shoulder.

She chuckled alongside him, the light humour making her feel slightly better. He was a rather charming boy, intelligent and friendly. He made a good Head Boy, even though he was in the same boat as her when it came to the Carrows or the other Slytherins. She knew they were pissed that both Head Girl and Head Boy were not Purebloods. They had McGonagall to thank for that. Before Snape took over as Headmaster, McGonagall made sure that both Heads were firstly, not Purebloods, and secondly, not Slytherins. Hermione presumed that Snape had called on that act of injustice, arguing that all students must be treated equal, but she knew that it was all a load of crap. McGonagall simply gave them a taste of their own medicine, picking a Muggleborn and a Half-Blood for the top student positions, knowing perfectly well it would not sit well with the current Hogwarts Administration.

Both she and Anthony were perfectly aware that they were the main targets for hatred and judgement, even more so when the school was practically run by Death Eaters. Luckily, Anthony did not seem all that affected by it and backed her up whenever he could, proving once more that he was more than just a pretty face.

She blushed slightly at the thought, remembering how she used to have a brief crush on him during her Fifth year. And he hadn't been indifferent to her either, always being extra charming when around her. He never made a move though. They only saw each other in Prefect and Head meetings and in common classes, him being from a different house, and Hermione simply assumed that he was just as shy as she was about these things. Even though they were older now and worked great together, the mere act of inviting each other for coffee or tea had never occurred. Maybe she was just imagining things when she had thought he was looking back at her or that he was smiling a little longer than necessary.

Hermione forced those thoughts out of her head. There was a war at stake and here she was thinking about boys. Snap out of it.

"Want me to walk you back to your dorm?"

See? Like Prince Charming. How can you not think about boys when Anthony Goldstein was right in front of your face, being a gentleman?

"It is not necessary Anthony, thank-you. I still want to go to the library before calling it a night."

"Don't overwork yourself, Hermione."

"I'll try not to."

He gave her one final smile, before turning around and heading out himself.

She waited until he left the classroom to utter a small, almost dreamy like sigh.

Hermione sometimes wondered about the future, even if it was only for a brief moment. What would happen after this war? What would happen to her, to Harry, Ron, Anthony, her friends, all the other students, her professors, everyone?

Before knowing she was a witch, Hermione had already made serious, well planned plans for the future – well, as serious as a 9 year old can be. She was going to be a dentist like her parents or if not a dentist, a doctor of some sorts, possibly a vet. She would study hard and make it to the top and she would be the best dentist/doctor/vet the world has ever seen.

She would then find someone suitable to marry, a proper companion who would accompany her in her road to success. The kind of man who would not laugh at her failures and demises and the kind of man who would never bring her down, making her feel less than him. A man who would understand her goals and dreams and who would not feel undermined if she had a better salary than his own. Someone who would challenge her mentally and intellectually and who would love her exactly for who she was, every aspect of her, every flaw, every detail. Then she would have a family of her own and her children would also grow up to become dentists/doctors/vets and she would die happy.

That was the picture perfect of Hermione Granger, until magic came along. And then she became best friends with Harry Potter and now there was a war and she was one of Voldemort's main targets and she could die at any moment.

Not at all like she had planned.

Don't get her wrong, she loves magic. She feels extremely blessed to be a part of this amazing world, to have met the most amazing people and discover all these new creatures. But sometimes, she just wished for… normal. Normality. Common. Boring. She wished she could think about boys and not worry about the fate of the Wizarding World. She wished she could almost flirt with Anthony and not feel guilty about it, not worry about enjoying herself when there were students and friends that needed her help; students and friends that were struggling every day.

Sometimes, she wished she could just be normal.

But she wasn't. She was a witch, a Muggleborn one. And she was Head Girl at the greatest institution of the Wizard World. And she was best friends with Harry Potter. She just had to live with the consequences.

Taking a deep breath and overlooking the desk to see if she had missed anything, Hermione didn't even notice that someone was also still in the meeting room, observing her.

And Draco was observing her. He was observing her quite well since she had started this bloody, useless assembly until the very moment that fucking Goldstein had gazed over her face and hair for a little too long. Oh yes, Draco Malfoy was observing and the view wasn't to his liking.

Fucking Granger and her fucking goody two shoes Head Girl attitude. That prudish, righteous, annoying speech she gave was just for show, wasn't it? It was all a façade. She'd come here, make them all sit through this tedious reunion, speak about magic and Hogwarts and students as if she owned the place and then she would fuck the Head Boy in between meetings! Who knew fucking Granger could be such a hypocrite?

He had tried to stay quiet, he truly did. He was just about to get out of this fucking waste of time when he noticed Goldstein eyeing Granger, probably wondering what to say to her. Draco then was actually curious to find out more, if Mudblood Granger was finally getting any. And if she was, by whom. It seemed like she had snatched herself a Half-Blood and that he was, coincidentally, the Head Boy. Fucking perfect shit fairy tale.

Only she apparently forgot: there is no such things as fairy tales.

"My, my Granger. Who would have thought, you and Goldstein? Bet you've been fucking since Fifth Year."

Hermione was startled by the sudden intrusion into her bubbly world, looking at the back of the room, only to see Malfoy getting up from one of the chairs, making his way towards her. Her hand instinctively went to the wand in the bag she was currently holding, the incident that happened almost two months ago, still fresh in her memory.

Even though Malfoy and she had not crossed paths, seldom on these meetings and classes, she had maintained her close watch on him, more and more convinced that something was definitely off. His behaviour was right down bizarre.

There were moments where he would be extremely cruel to those around him, lashing out and being your typical bully. And there were others when he didn't seem all quite there. He would look detached, apart from everything and everyone. Those were the moments that would stump her the most. She had even witnessed him helping a frightened first year once, who was trying to desperately reach the wand a couple of fourth year Slytherins had placed strategically on a very high shelf, back at the library. She was just about to help the kid when Malfoy appeared, easily grabbed the wand and gave it back. And the first year wasn't even in Slytherin. Hermione remembered her jaw hanging open, long enough to touch the floor.

But never the less, even though Malfoy's actions were incoherent and her thesis on him regretting everything gaining more and more strength, Hermione would not allow herself to be caught off guard around him. He was still Malfoy, he was still vile and he still tried to kill Dumbledore and herself. Nothing could ever change that.

"I knew that cheeky prim was just for specs." He continued, walking calmly in her direction.

Hermione notice his robes were nowhere in sight, Malfoy simply dressed in his Oxford white shirt, which was currently untucked and wrinkly, and a pair of black trousers. She wondered if he had his wand on him and gripped hers tighter, inside her bag.

"What are you still doing here, Malfoy? Meeting is long over." She asked defiantly.

"You call that fucking bore a meeting? Having you frolic around these halls is hard enough. Getting stuck in the same room as you, for an hour, and hear you fucking hammer non-sense is my idea of hell." He was standing right in front of her desk, lazily putting his hands in his pockets.

Hermione's knuckles were turning white.

"Don't feel obliged to come."

"I have to, don't I? One of the hazards of being a fucking Prefect."

"Well if you hate it so much, how come you are still here?" She asked.

He seemed to think for a bit before replying "Curiosity? Wanted to see if Goldstein was actually sticking it in you."

"You are disgusting, Malfoy."

"Me?" he scoffed, a hand going to his heart "You haven't looked at yourself in the mirror lately. How Goldstein can even think about shoving his dick inside your filth is what is disgusting."

"Will you quit that? There is nothing going on between me and Anthony!" She scowled "And even if there was, it is none of your business."

"The hell it isn't my business! I can't let your kind mingle with other fucking wizards, even if he's a fucking Half-Blood, blood traitor."

Hermione groaned in annoyance. It was always the same argument with Malfoy: blood status. Everything was about blood status. It was getting old.

"Whatever, Malfoy. I'm not in the mood for this."

She grabbed her bag and made her away around to table, heading for the exit.

"Who says you have to be in the mood to talk to your superiors?" he called after her.

Hermione didn't reply and tried to open the door, only to find it locked. She groaned again, her head falling towards the wooden surface. She was so not in the mood for this. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? Why couldn't he just leave her alone, for Merlin's sake? Why? She had more pressing and urgent things to do than sit here and listen to fucking Malfoy talk bullshit.

"Don't even try to Alohomora it. It won't work."

Great.

She turned around to face him, a tired and weary expression on her face, too exhausted to even fight anymore. She was sick of these games, of these pathetic displays of superiority. She was worn-out, completely drained. She was tired of everything and everyone always questioning her – her authority, her heritage, herself. She was tired of this fucking war, of this school, of Voldemort. She was fucking fed up with it all! So fed up she had wished for some kind of normality. For a few seconds there, she had wished she wasn't a witch. And how could she even think that? How could she even think about giving up, about turning her back on all of this and just forget everything?

They were to blame. All of them. Malfoy, Zabini, Snape, fucking Carrows and Voldemort. They had turned her fucking life into a living hell and Malfoy had the audacity to come here and complain about his fucking ridiculous problems? Fuck it all.

She snapped, throwing her bag into the floor, wand forgotten.

"You want to talk, Malfoy? Fine, let's talk. Let's start by the reason why you were crying that night, back at the Astronomy Tower. Remember that night? I found you and you were just a mess? And then you put a wand to my neck? You remember? You must remember! How about we talk about that?"

His expression immediately turned sombre, a deep frown across his features as his eyes pierced her, warning her to shut up.

"Or how about we talk about you saving me from Zabini? What was that about? One night you are trying to kill me and on the other you are saving me from your best friend? Saving the Mudblood? A Malfoy protecting a Muggleborn?"

"I didn't fucking save you!" He replied heatedly "I was preventing Blaise from signing his death wish and owling his head to the Dark Lord on a fucking platter. I couldn't care less if you fucking die, Granger, on the contrary. You'd be doing us all a favour. But don't worry, your time will come. And when it does… I'll be there to watch, Granger."

"You'll be where? With Voldemort? Ha!" She snickered, throwing her hands up in the air "After you chickened out on murder, which is like, the top one requirement if you want to be a Death Eater? Don't kid yourself, Malfoy. Voldemort wants nothing to do with you, not after proving, once again, you are a fucking coward."

"I'm not a fucking coward! Don't call me that, you bitch!" He growled.

"Then what should I call you? I'm really at a loss here, because, what the fuck are you? You call yourself a Malfoy, always so proud of your name and family. And what a family it is! Your father's in Azkaban, your – "

"Don't you fucking mention my father, Granger!" He took a menacing step towards her, his eyes wild with anger.

But Hermione wasn't listening. She stopped listening. She stopped caring.

" – mother is back home, probably crying her heart out. Her husband locked away, her son a hated criminal. Your family is torn, over, gone and you still consider it to be a good thing to be a Malfoy? And what more are you? A Death Eater? One that can't even go back to his peers because you know if you do, you'll be smashed to pieces? A student? Everyone here hates your guts, Malfoy. Those morons you consider your friends? They would turn on you in a heartbeat if they knew that you were walking around a Library aiding first year Hufflepuffs!"

"You really need to learn how to fucking shut it, Granger." He warned again, taking another step in her direction.

"And here you are, again, talking about blood status and heritage and fuck knows what is going on through that head of yours, Malfoy! Here you stand, acting all mighty and proud when we both know it's all for show. You are the one that is all for specs, Malfoy. You turned into something so rotten, no one can even swallow what's inside of your skin."

"If anyone here is rotten, Granger, it's you. All of you! You want to know why you try so hard to be the best? To be the best student, the best Prefect, the best Head Girl, the best Witch? You want to know why you try so hard to climb up the ladder? Because, secretly, you wish you were one of us."

"Don't kid yourself, Malfoy. You are wrong."

"Am I? Don't you think I notice? How you always want to be right, how you always hold your chin up high when speaking and how you always try to hide your insecurities with some witty, smart ass response? You never let yourself relax, Granger. You are always working, always trying to overcome everyone, always stating you are a Mugglborn and that you are proud of it and that –"

"I am proud of it, Malfoy! All that I have done, I'm proud of it and I'm proud of my heritage."

"Wrong. You make yourself and everyone else believe that, but deep down, you envy us."

"For Merlin's sake, Malfoy. You are so far off on this one!" she exasperated, shaking her head.

"Am I? Is that why you try so hard to get noticed? Why else would you befriend Potty?"

"I didn't befriend Harry because of fame or to get noticed, Malfoy. Unlike you, I don't choose my friends by those standards! I love Harry. He's like a brother to me. I care about him and I stand by him. It has nothing to do with glory or reputation!"

"If you love Potty, why were you in here getting it on with Anthony?"

Hermione widen her eyes at him, disbelief drowning her features. How can he get things so messed up in his head?

"Did you listen to a word I said? Harry is like a brother to me! I love him like a brother. And why the fuck does that even matter?"

"It matters, Granger, because you are a hypocrite. You come to these meetings talking about the importance of house unity and hard work and love and sticking together and all that bullshit, but while your precious Potter and Weasel are out there, risking their lives, you are back here, getting shagged by the Head Boy without a care in the world."

"I'm not shagging Anthony!" she shrieked, the part about Harry and Ron going on without her, striking a nerve. "And I'm doing my part on this war, I've never worked so hard for anything in my life. I'm – "

"And for what, Granger? Nothing will ever change! You'll still be a fucking Mudblood!" he yelled.

"Don't fucking call me that, you coward!"

"DON'T FUCKING CALL ME A COWARD!"

His roar surprised her and she finally noticed that once again, he had gotten much closer to her. He was a mere foot away from her, his chest heaving, his body trembling. She was breathing deeply as well, desperate for some air.

Malfoy stared hard at her, inhaling and exhaling soundly. She was… Merlin, he couldn't describe how much he hated her. Everything about her, he hated. He couldn't fuck stand her. Why couldn't she just die already? Put him out of his misery. Fuck her and all the things she had said. And how on earth had she seen and heard so much? He had been trying so hard to stay the fuck out of her way and here she was, proving that, again, he wasn't stepping up to his game. And she had seen his flaws, his cuts and bruises.

She had no right to. She had no fucking right to anything!

"Everything you think you saw, Granger, everything you said I was…" he said, advancing on her, until her back was against the locked, wooden door. "Everything that comes out of your mouth, Granger, is foul. It reeks. It poisons."

"I know what I saw and I know, that deep down, you are lost, Malfoy. You are fucking lost. You have no place to be, nowhere to go, nothing to hold on to." She answered, refusing to give in to fear like she did last time.

"Bollocks!"

"Is it? Is it really? What have you got going for you, Malfoy? Friends, family? Who is there to protect you now that Lucius is locked away for good?"

"I told you not to mention my father!" he snarled, his two fists hitting the door behind her.

But she wouldn't stop. Not anymore.

"And why the hell not? Why can't I talk about the man you look up to? The man that used to mean so much to you? The man that taught you everything you know? The same man that tried to fuck us all up, that hit your mother, that sullied the Malfoy name and –"

"SHUT UP YOU FUCKING BITCH, FUCKING SHUT UP!"

Malfoy's fists came down on the door again, harder. His breathing laboured, his face red, veins popping out of his neck. His eyes. Merlin, his eyes were wild, frenetic and bulgy.

She looked back at him, as his fists hit the door again and Hermione thought they might break from the force. She was staring straight at him and squealed fearfully when the door banged a third time. Malfoy was literally punching the door. She knew he wished he could be punching her face. She couldn't hide the fear anymore, especially when there was a fourth bang, that seemed louder than all of the others, the noise resonating piercingly in her ears, it was almost deafening.

He was so enraged, hitting the door near her head, making her squirm and yelp every time his fists came in contact with the wood. He was quaking with fury, his chest almost pressed into hers, his face so close, as he bared his teeth and growled, more punching being dealt. The door shook under her back and she wondered how he seemed not feel bothered by the pain.

He kept hitting it and Hermione started to panic, not knowing what to do, cursing herself for the wand in her bag, at her feet. He was hitting the door, but nothing could assure her he wouldn't hit her anytime soon, his fists so close to her head. She had to do something.

Mastering her Gryffindor courage, she made a move to push him by the shoulders, but as soon as her hands were in his line of sight he quickly grabbed them with both of his hands, putting them against the door. She struggled, her current position bringing up too many bad memories, but he kept them in place using his body weight to keep her steady.

"Get off me, Malfoy!" she cried.

But now he was the one who wasn't listening. And he looked at her, right there, again, flushed against him, powerless. He looked at her, at her eyes, her face, her nose, her lips. He looked at her again and this time, this time, he couldn't take it. He couldn't fight it anymore. His fists were red and already bruising and as he tightened his hold on her wrists, he gazed at her lips again and that was it.

Hermione's brown eyes widen twice their normal size when she saw him closing the distance and his face leaning into hers.

No.

No, no, no. Stop, Malfoy.

But he didn't stop. And when she gave another loud yelp, the sound was muffled by his lips on hers.

All the air seemed to have been sucked out of the room and time stood very still. Hermione had literally stopped breathing, her chest coming to a halt. His lips felt soft against her own, too soft for such a harsh mouth. Her eyes were so big, staring right back at his. She couldn't make out his emotions, as she drowned herself in those pools of silver, too afraid of swimming any deeper. His hands were a hard grasp on her numbing wrists and the pressure on her lips came back as he kissed her again, harder this time, his body pressing up against her.

No, no, no.

NO!

Hermione was yelling. Her mind was yelling.

No, no. They didn't do this.

He closed his eyes and nipped at her lower lip, roughly.

No, no, no.

She could smell him, all of him. She could feel him, all of him. And his lips… His lips were trying to pry hers open.

No, no, no.

She felt his tongue on her lips and couldn't stifle a gasp.

And that was it.

He opened her mouth with his own and his tongue was wrapping itself around hers, slowly.

And that was it.

Hermione closed her eyes and couldn't yell any longer.

His tongue was dancing around her own and she, finally, joined the dance as well. And Draco groaned loudly from the back of his throat. He was kissing Granger and Granger was kissing back.

Fuck.

He deepened the kiss, taking a deep breath through his nostrils, trying to battle for dominance. She fought back, just like he thought she would. But it wasn't enough. He needed more.

His hands let go of her wrists and for a split second he got afraid she would try to push him away, but all doubts dissipated, when her hands came to rest at his shoulders. With another suck to her bottom lip – Merlin, her lips – he fisted one hand into her hair, gripping the back of her head, pulling her face closer to his. His other came to pull at her waist, as his body pushed her further into the door, his chest feeling hers, their hips aligned. He nipped, sucked and lavished her mouth, marvelling at the taste and the feel.

He was fucking kissing Granger. And it felt like nothing he had felt before.

Fuck.

The hand at her waist moved to her thigh and easily hoisted it up, allowing him to nestle himself against her. And he was sure she could feel him even through her thick robes and skirt. And he was getting harder by the second, especially when she would moan almost silently when his tongue would do something to her mouth that she enjoyed.

Fuck, Granger. How the fuck do you do this to me?

He grinded into her and she gasped, not bothering to muff the sound. He longed to hear it again.

He let go of her mouth, his left hand still nestled inside of her hair, holding the back of her head. He looked at her and almost groaned helplessly at the sight. She had opened her eyes as well and was staring right back at him, her head resting on this hand. Her eyes were dazed and glossy, her cheeks flushed, lips parted as she took deep breaths and her chest rose and fall with each intake. Her wild hair was even messier, framing her rosy features. She looked sexier than ever and she wasn't even trying.

How the fuck could that be?

They kept staring at each other, chests heaving, mouths opened. Malfoy gave her thigh a light squeeze and she panted. Her hands had left his shoulders and were now resting against the door at her back, as she tried to regulate her breathing. But he wanted none of that. He wanted to hear the beautiful sound that was Hermione Granger's moan. So he rolled his hips against her, looking at her intently and suggestively. Her breath itched and small "Ugh" came out of her perfect, swollen, red lips. Her eyes fluttered as she continued to stare at him through her eyelids.

And he couldn't help but kiss her, close his eyes, feel her lips and tongue and get lost all over again.

Hermione's hands couldn't keep still any longer and came to rest at the back of his neck, pulling him closer to her. Again a roll of his hips and again she felt him. And she enjoyed it. Merlin, she did. She was drinking in his lips, like she was dying of thirst. This kiss was much more aggressive, much more passionate. Malfoy was sucking on her lips hard enough to draw blood and when their tongues clashed sometimes their teeth clashed but she didn't care. She stopped caring. She stopped yelling. And here she was, dry humping Draco Malfoy, minutes after another threatening argument.

He was pulling on her thigh, the hand on her head going to her waist, hauling her into him. His strong legs kept her in place, as her feet almost didn't touch the ground and his hips kept their friction against her own.

Merlin, this was too much. It felt too much. How can something so wrong, so sinful, feel so good? She toyed with his hair and it felt so soft. She had secretly wondered, sometimes, when no one was around, how his hair would feel like. He used to wear it gelled back, but not anymore. It was everywhere, tousled and rumpled. And she lavished the feel of it underneath her fingertips. She pulled on it, scratching his neck lightly and she honestly believed she had heard him purr. Merlin, what was this?

Draco kept grinding into her, feeling closer and closer to madness if they kept this up. He broke the kiss, needing air. He needed to breath, he needed oxygen, he needed to think clearly, because as long as she kept kissing and caressing him like that, he couldn't function properly; he couldn't breathe properly, as his chest might burst from the intensity of it al. He took in a deep breath and buried his face into her neck, not wanting to feel the loss of her. The hand on her waist journeyed up, struggling with her robes, reaching her sweater, fingertips on the underside of her breast.

She gasped again, loudly, when she felt his hand at her left breast, palming it clumsily through her clothes. Her head fell back into the door with a loud 'thump', her legs trembling slightly, as she struggled to keep standing, while his hips found a torturous rhythm. His lips showered her neck with kisses and nips, biting her when he felt her hard nipple, pinching it with his thumb and forefinger. Her eyes almost rolled to the back of her head, her own lips closing in on his ear lobe. Merlin, this was sin, this was pure sin. It was killing her. It was killing her… and she had never felt so alive.

Suddenly, muffled voices could be heard through the door.

Draco froze, his hand still holding her breast, his lips grazing her pulse. Hermione had stopped as well, her eyes on alert, her breathing stilled. She couldn't understand what the voices were saying, nor could she identify them.

"Don't make a sound."

She couldn't help the shiver in her spine at his words, at his hot breath in her ear. She didn't respond, the voices getting louder and louder.

Merlin, what would they say if they saw her now? What would they think of this? Of Hermione Granger, being felt up by the Prince of Slytherin, Death Eater and Albus Dumbledore's supposed murderer. Merlin, what would they say?

She shuddered in doubt and the yelling was coming back. Everything was coming back. The spell was being broken, regret quickly settling in. What would she do if they found her like this? What would be her explanation for this? She closed her eyes. There wasn't any. She didn't have one herself. And that feeling settled itself in the pit of her stomach.

Malfoy was still holding her, silently praying that whoever it was, was not headed this way. The door was locked, but anyone could get suspicious. He could feel her breathing soundlessly against his own neck and his cock twitched, despite his best efforts. He was so hard, it was almost painful. And all of this from a little over the clothes fondling. Merlin, he was fucked up.

The voices reached their peak right by the door, but continued on their way until they were surrounded by silence again, the only sound being their intake of oxygen.

Hermione still had her eyes closed, too afraid to open them up and face the sick and ludicrous reality of the situation. Malfoy still had his hand over her breast and she could feel him hard against her. She released a shaky breath and swallowed, trying to prepare herself for the horrible aftermath, where they both had to come headfirst with the current outcome. It seemed Malfoy had silently agreed with her, for he released her breast and thigh and stood up straight. She followed his lead, unlinking herself from the warmth his body, avoiding eye contact as she found herself once more, resting her stance against the door, cornered by Malfoy's tall frame.

He didn't say anything and for the longest time they stood like that, both of them in silence, Malfoy's hands back in his pockets, eyes directed at the space over her head. She kept her face down and blushed hard, when she noted the visible bulge in his pants. Merlin, this was embarrassing. This was too awkward.

Hermione was afraid he might say something or do something. Maybe try to humiliate her or denigrate her just to make him feel better about himself and his actions. But for now, he seemed settled in just standing there, looking over her shoulder.

Part of her still didn't believe in what just happened. Part of her was revolted, ashamed, confused… While another part of her, a part she decided that would be the smaller part, shamelessly wanted more of it.

And that scared her to death.

That was the part of her that needed to be shut down, immediately. That part must be broken or drunk. It needed to be eliminated.

Hermione needed to get out of here. Fast.

Just when she was about to speak, Malfoy muttered some incantation and she felt the lock on the door clicking. This time, she did look at him, but he wouldn't meet her gaze, his brow burrowed as if in deep concentration, his expression guarded. She wondered if she should say something.

She waited to see if he would threatened her, alarm her or make her promise not to tell anyone. She waited to see if he would feel sick, just as he had said so many times; she waited to see if he felt disgusted. She waited for regret to settle in his face, but it never came. He just stood there.

She quietly grabbed her bag from the floor and turned to open the door. Should she say something?

Like what?

She struggled to find some words to form a sentence, but lamely discovered she had temporarily lost that ability. Hermione had no idea what to say, for she had no idea of what she was feeling. And she could only assume Malfoy was struggling as well.

With one tug at the handle, she opened the door and left.

Draco stared at the now open door, a slight breeze chilling the empty room. His head hurt, his fists were swollen and his stubborn cock was still hard. He released a heavy sigh, not sure what to do next. His thoughts were jumbling around, his lips still reminiscing on the feel of her skin. He closed his eyes and allowed himself a moment of yearning and longing, before having to deal with the world outside of this room; a world of façades and dangerous games and pitiful existences. He allowed himself to think about it again, to take a deep breath of her lingering perfume smell and he almost, almost, smiled.

Draco Malfoy had just kissed Hermione Granger and it had been the best feeling of his life.


Ok! I hope you enjoyed it :) I know I enjoyed writing it! Let me know what you think by reviewing or if you have any other issue you want to discuss with me, PM me!

I'm off to work now! But first and foremost: Have a wonderful day/night wherever you are in the world :)