A/N: Chapter Forty-Two! Long one.

Here's the thing, about mine and Draco's relationship. I cared for him, deeply. Yes, he made mistakes and acted on instinct, rather than logic, but the same was true for me. We were imperfect creatures. In fact, all the characters in this story were (and still are) imperfect in some way or another. Astoria was vindictive. Blaise was indecisive. Ron was distrustful. Daphne was bossy. Harry neglected his wife. Ginny cheated on her husband. Nott—yes, even Nott—was self-sacrificing to the extent that I questioned his sanity on more than one occasion.

Then there was Miguel.

I didn't know much about him, other than the fact that he was a good man to have at ones side — be it on the battlefield or in life — and that his wife had passed only a couple years before Yellowknife. Carmen. It was a shame to me, that he couldn't find it within himself to go home and visit her resting place, but I supposed different people mourned loss in different ways.

Luckily, I had Nalini, for when the weight rested too heavy.

One Week Later

It was raining that afternoon, mid-February.

In the back of my mind, I was aware that the fourteenth was fast approaching. Most women at work were seen with flowers and chocolates and teddy bears, speaking of celebrations for Saint Valentine's commemoration. I, on the other hand, had no such plans, as my relationship had been left on an indefinite break. Draco wasn't pleased when I told him about the kiss(es). Naturally, he was ecstatic to know his best friend was back, but there was an air of distance between them, even then, and it didn't go unnoticed. It was my fault. I had toyed with both their hearts (à la Elena Gilbert) and in doing so, created a rift between the two.

Quite heedless, now that I think back. Though, as the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20. At the time, I felt I owed it to myself to visit with Nott and explore the complexities of our open-ended relationship, but I had not anticipated the feeling that swept over me, seeing him again that first time. It was reckless and stupid to kiss him, whilst I was in a relationship with another man (his best friend, no less). For that reason, I had no qualms about taking full responsibility for my careless actions. I mean, yes, I was feeling insecure and uncertain about my relationship with Draco — given what happened the night before I left London — but cheating was unforgivable and inexcusable.

I think the worst bit was Draco's lack of surprise. He expected it. More than that, he accepted it, making a point to ask me whether the kiss was about closure or renewal.

Right on cue, my indecision widened the figurative distance between us, and with that, we were on one of those undetermined and frustratingly ambiguous breaks (à la Ross and Rachel).

I tried not to think about it like that (as most of us know how that situation turned out). Instead, I focused on work and sleeping at a decent hour. Even one week later, jet-lag was a struggle. It was such a struggle, in fact, that Daphne had been forced to prescribe me Sleeping Draught. Without the potion, I woke up multiple times during the night and couldn't sleep for more than thirty minutes at a time. There was a lot on my mind, a lot I had to mull over and a lot that worried me.

More than once, I wrote to Nott, unable to sleep until his response came soaring in through my bedroom window, proving to me he was still alive and breathing. Upon his return to England, he found residence at the Puddlemere house, as most of his belongings were still there. For obvious reasons, I didn't visit him as often as I would have liked, having only seen him once since his return. Even then, the entire gang had been there. Including Draco.

Awkward.

Either way, the situation didn't appear as though it would sort itself out with time. I had to do something. I had to make a decision and stick with it.

Bearing that weight, I continued to work through the stack of parchment on my desk, filing and marking, with the occasional look at my wristwatch, checking more than once too see if the minute-hand was stuck in the same position, pointing at nine o'clock for what felt like an eternity, until someone knocked on my door. With an almost possessed state of delight, I waved the door open with wandless magic and found Corvus Carrow standing there.

"Corvus," I acknowledged, rather astonished. "Pleasure to see you."

The young man entered, leaving the door open, thinner than the list time I'd seen him, but still healthy. I learned from Sinead that he had recently crossed over into the second stage. "Ms. Granger," he started, looking at me, bearing an uncanny resemblance to young Harry, with dark hair and with a certain weight to his gaze that was unusual for someone so young. "I'm sorry to bother you at such an inconvenient time, but I hoped to gain your assistance on a rather crucial matter."

There was a raise in my brow, before I beckoned him forward. "It's no problem," I assured him, having waited hours for something or someone to distract me from certain things. "What can I do for you?"

"I…I need help with an important document," he explained, hesitant.

It should have been obvious, by that point, but I remained ignorant. "What sort of document?"

Corvus shifted his attention to the floor, clearing his throat. "My…will."

"Oh."

His face blanched. "I…I understand this puts you in a rather difficult position, and I apologize for that, but, as you may know, I have neither a parent nor an older mentor to help me with this matter, as they've either passed or been sentenced life in Azkaban, and…and Sinead always has the best things to say about you. Even so, I'll hold no grudge…should you decline."

With moist-eyes, I listened, heart swelling the size of Jupiter. "I'd love to help."

"Really?" he asked, dropping the formality, eyes bright.

I nodded, smiling at him now, thinking about all the wonderful things Sinead had to say about him, and the manner in which he treated her, with such care and compassion, that it was shocking he shared the same bloodline as Alecto and Amycus. It was then, watching as he pulled a chair to my desk, bright and filled with eagerness, that I realized how…unfortunate of a circumstance this truly was.

"Corvus," I started, catching his eyes. "If you don't mind me asking…how old are you?"

He paused, as though he'd realized my train of thought. "Nineteen."

Something clasped around my lungs, forcing the oxygen out. I exhaled, deeply worried that Nott's cure wouldn't be legalized in time.

"Is something wrong?" Corvus asked, unbeknownst to the recent development.

I lapsed in thought, reminded that I had to keep certain pieces of information a secret, before shaking my head and turning the corners of my lips into a caring smile. "Come. Let's have a look at that will."

Later That Evening

Daphne spun in a dazzling circle, allowing the skirts on her dress to fan out in waves upon waves of ivory. I was, for lack of better words, jealous as fuck. Not so much over the dress or the fact that she was getting married (to my ex cough) but more so over the fact that she had such an amazing body. I wasn't lying, in the earlier chapters, when I described her as tall, thin and beautiful. She was a vision, and I was actually a little emotional over the fact that she and Ron were finally tying the knot. In a good way, of course.

"He did a banging job," she remarked, standing in front of the three-way mirror propped in her massive, walk-in closet. "Just look at the detail around the waistline, my goodness! And to think, he won't accept payment for his work."

I raised both eyebrows. "Draco designed that for free?"

She nodded. "An early wedding present."

"How…thoughtful," I voiced, blinking. "So, when is the wedding exactly? I don't remember receiving an invitation in the post."

Daphne tossed me a cheeky wink. "We're trying to decide between June 10th and June 12th. I know it's last minute and that we should have sent the invitations months ago, but the venue was fully booked for an entire year, until a couple of cancelations late last week, which has really put all the planning under a massive time crunch…but…both myself and Ron decided it would be better to have this wedding sooner rather than later, as we want all our friends and family to be there." Her voice wavered a little, during that last bit, confirming to me that Nott's life expectancy played a part in hers and Ron's decision. Needless to say, I was touched. "Anyway, the planner has arranged for our invitations to be delivered next week, so, make sure to check your post!"

I smiled. "Will do."

"Also," she started, turning to me, smiling something sinister. "I've a surprise for you."

"Will it hurt?"

She paused, laughing. "What? Never…"

I laughed with her, shrugging as she led me from the closet to the upstairs lounge, where there was a box laid out on the leather ottoman, white and rectangular, distinctly familiar.

"For you," Daphne smiled.

With a curious look on my face and an audible voice in the back of my mind, telling me what was about to happen, I carefully opened the box and found a single card with my name on it. "Dearest Hermione," I read aloud, falling to one of the sofa's, beside Daph. "I've tried, time and again, to write this message with as much care and adoration as I feel in my heart, but I always seem to fall short. Why? I'm not quite sure, though I feel it has to do with how much respect and admiration I have, for you. To put it simply, I look up to you, to your intelligence and your bravery and your compassion. Never in my life, have I met anyone with quite as much room in their heart, as you, and for that reason, I am deeply proud to have you as a friend, and if you would allow it, a bridesmaid as w —" Something pooled over my heart, and I turned to Daphne, actual tears in my eyes, joyful and surprised, reflected in the hazel of hers. "Daphne!" I exclaimed. "Oh, my goodness! Yes! Yes, of course I'll be your bridesmaid!"

The soon-to-be bride laughed with me, smiling, tearing up, returning my embrace with heartwarming sentiment.

From there, we dabbed the corners of our eyes and I turned back to the rectangular box, lifting the tailor made bridesmaid dress out of its confines, whilst Daphne waved at her face with both hands.

"This is absolutely stunning," I voiced, divinely taken by the design. It was a floor length emerald green number, reminding me of Keira Knightley's famous dress in the film Atonement, sultry and romantic. I couldn't wait to wear it, unable to tear my eyes from the gorgeous material, until it dawned on me. "Did…Draco design this?"

Daphne moved her head yes, unaware that we were on a break. "He was very adamant about that colour on you, and I have to say, it suits Astoria, Ginny and Tracey, as well," she explained. "I'll admit, the man does know a thing or two about fashion."

I absently nodded, wondering how long he'd been working on the dress with me in mind. In that moment, something unexpected tugged at my chest muscles and I forced a smile, setting the dress back in the box, as to not damage it with my terrible luck, and met again with Daphne on the sofa. From there, we fell into discussion about floral arrangements and partners for the wedding party. Where things stood, Astoria and Neville were paired; Tracey and George were paired; Ginny (who was four months along and would then be eight months) and Harry were paired; leaving yours truly to be paired with none other than Charlie.

Greeeeat.

It wasn't ideal, but I couldn't object. To my knowledge, Daphne and Ron remained unaware of the details involving mine and Charlie's almost-hook-up. I'm sure I could have changed Daphne's mind and instead been paired with either Neville or George, but I figured someone as mature and levelheaded as Charlie—well, sort of levelheaded—would be no problem.

Two Days Later

She walks in beauty, like the night

Of cloudless climes and starry skies;

And all that's best of dark and bright

Meet in her aspect and her eyes:

Thus mellow'd to that tender light

Which heaven to gaudy day denies.

One shade more, one ray less,

Had half impair'd the nameless grace

Which waves in every raven tress,

Or softly lightens o'er her face;

Where thoughts serenely sweet express

How pure, how dear their dwelling place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow

So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,

The smiles that win, the tints that glow,

But tell of days in goodness spent,

A mind at peace with all below,

A heart whose love is innocent!

Thought I'd slip in some Lord Byron for Saint Valentine's Day. I always felt a little deprived at Hogwarts, as there were no classes for the arts, but I did have the breadth of poetry within my mother's and father's collections to fawn over during break. Regardless, before any of the men written about in this memoir, I had a long, drawn out love affair with Lord Byron and his tastefully erotic soul searching. You question is, did I masturbate to poetry as a fourteen-year-old girl? My answer, how dare you, madam. Stalks off. Point is, men with impressive vocabularies and the skill to translate their words into soulful lyrics were right up my alley.

That in mind, I spent the night of Valentine's Day preparing something special for someone special. It was important to me, that I tried and put in the effort I had neglected in the earlier months. Also, there was an obvious trace of guilt within me, for which I had to compensate with something stronger, and much, much less painful than spending the night alone.

I wore an auburn wrap dress, with my hair falling to my elbows in soft, but tight chocolate curls and with some strategic lingerie underneath. The last bit was Astoria's recommendation. I popped into the shops with her earlier in the day, where both of us made some last minute purchases in preparation for our last minute plans. Blaise was back in the country, after touring for a solid two months, having caught an early Port Key home. Cute, aren't they? It warmed my heart when I thought of my friends and their respective relationships. I was happy for them, and because of that, I felt it my duty to make things right.

With that, I dragged my arse to the tall, luminous building roughly ten minutes from where I lived, and proceeded to the highest floor, after which I knocked on the polished, wooden door.

"Hermione?" Draco voiced, holding the door open, eyes dancing down the length of my body. "You…you look stunning…"

I smiled, marching past him as he moved aside, and slowly, making my way to his dimly lit bedroom. I could feel him near, hovering a little, deciding whether it was safe to approach me. In truth, we had not been intimate since the night before I left to find Theo. Part of me felt the rising tension and the outward remorse rolling from his tall, toned physique in waves. But another part of me, could see that he wanted me. I had planned the entire night around the last part, because what I wanted him to know, was that the feeling was mutual.

Despite what I had done, despite kissing Theo, there was still something I harboured for Draco. It wasn't the same, but no romance is ever the same as others. Like snowflakes, there are differences and intricacies that can't be seen upon first glance.

Bearing that philosophy, I faced the door, with my legs and lower torso draped over the bed, and found an intense, vehement storm brewing in those smoky grey eyes.

I bit my bottom lip and felt that storm sweep over me, willing me to bring my hair to the left side and then trace the tips of my fingers down the front of my dress, before finding the sash that held it in place. Draco watched on, as though he couldn't help himself, and with that, I gave the sash a soft tug and felt the dress loosen all around me, eventually dividing near the middle, where wisps of my black, lacy lingerie were visible to his naked eye.

He then exhaled, in a way that told me he'd been holding his breath.

It was clockwork from there, as I shrugged the dress off and slowly tossed the fabric to him, with a hint of a smirk on my lips, as he eagerly caught it, smoothing the silk between his fingers as though I could feel it all over my body. I did feel it, surprisingly soon, someplace secret, where the storm intensified, following the rise and fall of the monsoon, as I moistened my lips.

A visible shiver ran the length of Draco's long body, and for a moment I thought to beckon him closer, but I didn't. I kept at it, rolling my head, feeling the feathery ends of my hair brush along my arms and back. I couldn't tell what felt better, doing this for him or doing this for me.

Nonetheless, we needed a night like this — a night for me to be in complete control.

I continued, arching my chest forward, curving my body towards him, teasing him. I liked seeing the way his eyes and his muscles and his overall demeanour changed, in response to my subtle movements. It was visible, lower down his body, that he desired me, and in those eyes, that he wished to curb that desire into slow, passionate love making. On the bed. Between the sheets. His body against mine. Now heated in too many places at once, I looked away from him and focused on the left strap of my negligee, as it sunk an appropriate distance down my shoulder, on cue with the feelings coursing through my bloodstream. In that moment, I brushed my fingers along the strap and dragged it lower, keeping a precise, painfully slow rhythm, as the attached fabric cascaded down my breast, hovering a millimetre of two above the skin of my aureola. I did the same to the other side, refusing to look at Draco until swaying my shoulders just a little, enough that the fabric pooled around my hips, revealing my breasts to him.

His eyes devoured my nipples, coaxing them into tight, tense points with the depth of his longing.

Seconds later, those eyes found mine, begging me.

But I hadn't the intent to beckon him forth.

Instead, I slid from the bed, still wearing my high heeled shoes, and stepped out of the negligee, as it fell to the floor. From there, I moved onward, diminishing the distance between our bodies, and hovered inches from him. His torso drifted forward, drawn to me like north to south. It was then, that a touch of surprise coloured both his cheeks, as I didn't move away from him, as though he expected me to repel his natural incline. I didn't. I stood my ground and felt my eyes flutter shut, as his quickened breath feathered over my cheeks, lips and then my neck. It was long, drawn out, and the just way I wanted it. Only then, after several minutes of this, did I find his hands and intertwine them with mine, before bringing them to me, dragging the tips of those long, slender fingers over my closed eyelids, cheekbones and then lower, to my lips.

There, I released his hands, vibrations running through my body, as the bud of his thumb coaxed my lips apart with a delicate pop.

Still, no words.

Draco focused on my lips, running his thumb over them, over the softness and then the moisture, as the muscle I used to snap various expletives at him both during and after our time at Hogwarts, came out to play. Again, his breath quickened and I felt the hardness that ran through him, in the exact moment those eyes steeled over mine.

"Yes…" I breathed, before he had the chance to ask. "Slowly."

The inward nod was evident in those orbs, and without further word, he brought his lips to mine and kissed me, as I had requested, slowly and softly, with his hand curved along my neck and then through my hair, carefully, with each second, drawing me closer.

I allowed him to kiss me, with no reciprocation, for about a minute, relishing the way his lips and the tip of his tongue lapped mine, moaning words of praise and then, a minute later, sliding my arms around his neck and kissing him back.

Another shiver ran through him, and then through me. I stood high on the toes of my shoes, still so much shorter than him, even with the added height. He compensated by carefully lifting me to him with one arm, as though I weighed nothing, providing me with the proper height and angle to devour him any and every which way I saw fit. I ran my hands through his hair and along my back of his neck, grazing his skin with my nails, lightly marking him as the kiss deepened.

"Hermione," he breathed, in almost a whimper, an ache, one that ran through his body and back, where I could feel it in his touch and between my legs, as I wrapped them around him.

Draco trembled then, making an honest effort to stay true to his word.

There was no repulsion, just magnetism. Hard, unyielding energy between us, as our mouths and tongues moved together in slow, sweet surrender. I gave into him, unbuttoning his shirt as far as I could, before I couldn't reach any lower. Then and only then, did he take me to bed. I collided with him, into the firm, but soft mattress and felt the duvet curve around me, adjusting to my shape, as I watched on, practically salivating as he undid the remaining buttons and tossed his shirt to the side. His torso was lean and hard, riddled with muscles and through the corner of my eye, his Dark Mark hovered along his left forearm. I felt him watch me, as I studied it, waiting for me to react.

It wasn't the best tattoo for a man with whom a Muggle-born such as myself was about to have sex, but on him…Merlin, it was sexy.

I backtracked to his eyes and leaned upright a moment, curving my arms around his neck and bringing him down, with me. Then, we kissed again, with him on top, though leaving me enough room that I still had control, should I wish to wield it. I didn't. I plastered my chest to his, smothering my breasts against his defined pectoral muscles and moaning into his mouth, as he used one hand to carefully cup my right breast and knead the pillowy flesh in soft, circular motions. He repeated the same with the other hand, readjusting his knees on either side of me, using them to support his weight.

Through all of it, his lips never left mine.

He couldn't stop kissing me.

"Let me…make love to you…" he breathed, punctuating his request with another soft, sensual kiss that left me tingling in all the right places.

My inhibitions melted against the heat of his desire, and within that second, I nodded. "Yes…please…"

Before me, he leaned back, making quick work of his black trousers; so quick, in fact, that I didn't notice the slip of parchment that left one of the front pockets, until it fluttered to the bed. I thought not to look at it, to instead focus on the energy between his body and mine, but I was Hermione Granger for a reason. In an instant, curious waves wafted over me, beckoning me closer and closer, until I couldn't take it. I turned to the side and snatched the parchment, jerking the parchment out of reach, as Draco moved to snatch it from my grasp.

"What is this?" I asked, surprised by his reaction and at the same time, worried.

His cheeks turned beet red, and he opened his mouth to explain, but no words came out. I flicked one look at the parchment and then at him, before unfolding it to read another woman's name, at the end of a rather lascivious note.

Sensing the stillness that found me, he crawled backward and watched as I dragged my knees to my chest and read the note again and again and again. Finally, around the seventh time, I looked up at him, noting the colour on his cheeks, neck and along his shoulders. "Who's Isobel?"

In response, his eyelids crumpled shut, a freight train of emotions twisting and tugging at his facial muscles. "Model," he answered, swallowing hard soon after.

I heard the voices in the back of my mind, but I refused to believe them. "Did you sleep with her?"

Again, he swallowed. "Yes."

"…When?" I blinked, dampening my lashes, feeling his answer tear a hole through my heart.

Draco looked at me then, begging with his eyes, apologizing to me, concentrated on the single tear that slid down my cheek, in response to his deafening silence. "Isobel doesn't matter," he quickly said. "I — I don't care about her. I care about you," he furthered, bringing our hands together, unimaginable hurt in his eyes as I pulled my hands free. "Please…you have to…you have to believe me…"

I hurriedly wiped the moisture from my eyes and moved away from the bed, holding a single sheet to my naked body as I gathered my belongings.

"Hermione," he echoed after me, finding my side, searching through the coldness of my expression for any indication that I was willing to hear him out. "Hermione, please —"

"Don't —" I fired back, nudging him away from me. "Don't touch me."

"I won't…I won't…" Draco vowed, holding his hands up in surrender. "Just…Just let me explain…"

I closed my eyes hard, breathing heavily, as I slipped my clothes back on. "Explain what? How you slept with another woman?"

"She —"

"When?" I cut through, looking at him, fastening the wrap dress with a tight knot. "Better yet, where?" I then asked. "On that bed?"

Draco held a hand to his face, rubbing the frustration from his features. "Hermione…don't ask questions you don't want to know the answers to."

If there was a single response that I could have deemed the worst possible one, it was that. I exhaled, hard and heavy, slowly shaking my head and backing away from him. "I can't believe you would let me do that for you, with another woman's lip stick prints all over your cock. Tell me, Draco. Did you like it? Did you enjoy it as much as she did?" I furthered, shaking now. "Did you tell her you were 'on a break' from your relationship? Hmm?"

"Listen to me," he stated boldly, catching my maddened eyes. "Isobel means nothing. Less than nothing. I promise you."

"Why?" I willed myself to ask, vision blurring under the weight of my tears.

His conviction wavered then, and he glanced down, only for a moment. "I…I was feeling insecure about what happened between you and Theo…and…and I'm not absolving myself of the responsibility but…but I won't lie to you either," he explained, bottom lip quivering. "Isobel was a mistake…a massive mistake…and the entire time I was with her…I couldn't reconcile over the fact that she wasn't you. Please, you…you have to believe me…"

I blinked the moisture away, reminding myself to breathe, in and out, before formulating a response. "Is that supposed to comfort me…? The fact that you let some random bimbo bounce on your cock, with me in mind…?"

"Don't," he inserted, something different in his tone, and with an indiscernible look in his eyes. "You've been bouncing on my cock for months now, with my best friend in mind."

The concentrated weight of his words thrashed over me, tearing another hole through my heart. I blinked, unable to speak or move. It was too much. It was all too much. "I…I can't do this. I need to get out of here."

With that, my legs carried me through the passage and into the corridor, where Draco hurried behind me. I wiped at my eyes and nose, angry and humiliated. Suddenly, the dress weighed heavy on me. The lingerie, too. I didn't belong in those clothes. I belonged in my flat, in my favourite tattered robe, with a book in my hands, where I could immerse myself in a universe starkly different from this one.

"Hermione, wait —" he broke through, skidding in front of me, blocking me from the exit. "Please. I'm sorry for saying that. I just — I'm an idiot."

"No," I voiced, folding my arms. "You're a cheater."

It took a second, but his face muscles slowly tensed. "Are we going to ignore the fact that you cheated? Because if that's the case, let me know right now and I'll cater the rest of this conversation to your needs — like everything else in this relationship."

Following that, there was a sharp twinge in my lower abdomen, as though his words had been delivered to me in the shape of a knife, and with every second he stared, the knife twisted, sinking deeper and deeper. I did nothing but look at him, silenced under the pressure and the simultaneous truth that echoed between us.

"What?" he probed. "Truth hurts, doesn't it?"

I said nothing, which he took as his cue to press on.

"Try being in a relationship with someone who thinks meaningless sex is worse than a kiss between two people so wrapped up in each other's bullshit, that they're blind to everyone else around them," Draco said to me, a shine to his eyes that I had failed to notice until then. "I said I would wait, and I wasn't lying to you, Hermione. I would have waited for you as long as you needed me to. I would have followed you to the ends of the fucking earth — but I can't do any of that, if you refuse to let go of him. One weekend. One bloody weekend, and you still couldn't resist him. Isn't that right?"

Fresh tears cascaded down my cheeks, seeping into the fabric of my dress and causing several shivers to run the length of my spine, as Draco neared me, using the softness of his hand to brush those tears away.

"Just…Just tell me what it is…" he murmured, so close to me now. "What is it about him that you love so much, that I don't have…?"

I shook against him, crying with a mixture of emotions as he embraced me, tapering my earlier emotions with his warm, intimate lock.

"I'll change. I'll be whoever you want me to be. I…I'm not perfect and I don't know everything about you, but all I'm asking is for the chance to learn, to know you the way he does," Draco furthered. "Just let me love you, Hermione. Please. Because I do, so, so much. I…I haven't always been the nicest person to you, but that doesn't mean your brilliance or your beauty or your compassion is at all lost on me. Even as a kid, I knew. I saw you then…and I see you now…and I can't believe we're the same people. I…I want to travel back in time and I want to tell that scrawny white-haired ferret that…one day…a bright, beautiful brunette is going to wander into a little dress shop on Oxford Street and take his breath away…"

It happened to me then, that slow, steady incline, the one I felt so many years ago. I thought back to the moment in question, to the moment I stood in front of that three-way-mirror and found Draco Malfoy in the same vicinity. Not just that, but near me, with his fast, precise hand movements shaping the dress to me, learning my curves and the feel of my skin against his, never forgetting, never letting go…

"I'll wait longer…" he then whispered, brushing my lips with the bud of his thumb, again. "I'll follow you to the ends of the earth…"

I breathed, feeling my chest press against his, endless thoughts but no words to convey them.

Sensing this, he carried on, using that thumb to separate my lips, again, enamoured by the wet heat inside. "How many times, I've dreamt of tasting you here…" he mused. "Do you believe it now? Do you believe that I'm uncontrollably and unabashedly in love you…?"

My eyes fluttered shut. "Yes."

His muscles softened then, against me, warming me to him. "I'm sorry for ever hurting you, Hermione…"

"I know…" I whispered back, realizing, only as the words left my mouth.

Then, despite what had happened, despite the underlying tension and the argument that brought us to this point not moments ago, our lips danced and our hands followed. It was the warmest, most intimate kiss of my life, and I couldn't believe it was given to me by Draco Malfoy…

But even that, in its unrelenting, inescapable acquiescence, from which I had spent countless years hiding and running, convincing myself that none of it was real, found an end, as a letter came soaring towards us, in the clutches of a Barn Owl.

It was a letter from Daphne.

Puddlemere, the letter read. One word. One simple, powerful word. One word to waver the heat and the intimacy between us. One word for the world to come crashing down. Puddlemere.

A/N: *ahem* yeah.

Cheers

xo.