Ah-so. I hate this chapter. I totally think I'll delete it.

But I don't have the heart to.

But I love the next chapter so much and I love my reviewers so much that the next chappie is fluff.

Unfortunately it is not Hermione Draco fluff. They're too angsty. Anyways, enjoy the next chappie.

You can hate this one or skip it, I know I would. At least this way I hit 60,000 words and more people will find me through the filters! That is, if they can bear to read this far.

Thank you to everyone reading, thank you to everyone reviewing!

It was her first night that her mind was not restricted. Her first night back. There were plenty better things she should be doing than spending an evening with someone so simply attached to…

To sex.

And yet, as much as she now believed she was not to be affected by him, Hermione found herself telling herself not to even think of him. What he had said.

And why shouldn't she be a virgin? She frowned. Her wording put her image in a rather detrimental position.

No, no, the question was why should she not want to be a virgin. Yes, that's it. It was not as if, with Kyle, she hadn't had opportune moments. Even a few where she could've looked back on it romantically. So then why…?

She wasn't to lie and say she didn't enjoy what he considered 'foreplay,' until he realized that they would never follow up with his relieving satisfaction. It was even fun, in a way, but Hermione, despite her courage, was afraid she would regret it. Regret giving herself up to something she didn't truly believe in. Just some boy.

If Hermione wanted to just get it out of the way, as she had been reminded the other night, with Harry, of what Lavender had said, she could. Hermione could… could find someone…

Hermione sighed. Why was she even thinking about this? Sex was just another stupid indulgence that, as an aberrant teenager, she did not want to get involved with.

So just to make sure of her innocence, Hermione sat down and began to write a letter to her parents, as she had not done so this year.

-

Sighing, she finished her letter, which basically told her parents what they really needed to hear, that she was doing well, her schoolwork was interesting, that she missed them.

No, Hermione did not even want to grow up just yet. She was not interested in telling her parents, as many of her friends had, that they needed to back out of her life. Not when they'd hardly been a part of it.

So why should be even be upset about Malfoy? If anything, this should be comforting. That, while she had been of questionable consciousness, she had not missed some great change in him. So far as she could tell the only change in Malfoy was that he was now willing to fuck her.

She was hardly taken aback at how blunt she was, even to herself, when some part of her felt that she should be defending him. Should be in constant habit of using euphemisms for everything she didn't approve of.

And yet, she thought as a smirk crossed her face and she fell onto her bed, it was so invigorating to be honest with herself. Malfoy, should he have developed an emotional attachment for her, was still concerned with her ability to fuck him. He was pursuing her so that she would fall for him and she knew of it.

But in a momentary lapse of curses, Hermione, lying in her quiet room, not knowing who to talk to, was reminded of the boy that would generally be replacing this silence; would be replacing every one of her companions.

As if he could surpass all of their worth, and such a mighty pursuit it would be for him.

'for the past two weeks I've thought you an exception to what I've so easily categorized you into… nearly as exemplary…crazy, brave, intelligent… nearly as beautiful as the witch in front of me I have come to fall for most dangerously.'

She turned on her side, curling her arms into herself, watching out the window to the graying clouds outside.

Snow would be nice, she thought.

She bit her lip. But oh, did he know how to speak to her. Wasn't he just perfect for proving to her that she did have a linguistic counterpart out there, to argue with.

And so who was to say she wanted this, this attention, this poor replica of a romantic summer. He was just as soon her enemy as her lover.

Fuck it. They'd gotten along just fine, progressed and developed just fine, loathing each other. Saving their best insults and reserving their highest contempt.

But this entire night, the way he wouldn't stop looking at her when they left the hospital wing, after that… that kiss.

She shivered. Just cold, is all.

But oh, did he know how to get her.

She would write him that novel, of everything she hated, she would make it her catharsis and if he could bear to confront her afterwards, if he could bear to change or consider what she disapproved of...

If he changed for her it could mean that he was not leading her on, nor using her as a sexual pursuit.

But if he knew what he was doing that she hated... maybe he would only fake these things, to become her perfect man, so perfect she would forget that he was, in fact, a Malfoy, and she was, in fact, a conquest.

Hermione dropped her head into her hands, pulling at the short strands curling in.

Where was she going with this?


Yes, yes, she's bipolar and we all hate her for it.

The next chappie will hopefully make up for it. I've been waiting to update all week and, if any of you are interested, I'll be moving three thousand miles away from my home. I'll be leaving in a week and a half and I won't be able to update for a very long time, and I'm very very apologetic.

And I don't think I'll miss more than half a dozen things.

While I should be sad and running around saying goodbye to everyone, I feel the same way I told all the graduating seniors to feel. Get out there and forget about everyone from high school.

I feel like i just broke up with my boyfriend, and I freaking love it. I feel chirfugging free.

Right, well, this is a dumb digression.

I am quite apologetic.