Erstwhile on TUB:

"Draco tripped the alarms when he flooed Hermione out," he explained, smoothing her hair. "We can't attack again until we can surprise them; it'll be months, maybe years before we're ready. This time we'll plan the battle, instead of just following love-drunk Harry into suicide fire. I'm here to stay." Janelle, in spite of the part of her heart that went out to the woman in their concentration hell, squealed, launching herself at her husband and capturing his lips, the tension gone without trace from her body.

-

Chapter Ten: Evergleam

Harry could hear nothing but the beating of his own heart and rapid breathing as he burst through the front doors of the farm house and sprinted his way around the corner and down the length of the side yard. He stopped immediate the corner and his breath hitched in his throat. He could do nothing but stare; she was there. After all this time, she was there, stretched over the little bench and petting Tully the cow slowly across her big pink nose. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He couldn't move.

"Hermione!" he called, hearing his voice echo over the yard. She spun, startled, and Tully dashed away in fear. Harry ached to touch her, to hold her; to make sure she was real. He ran then, and before he had even realized his feet had been freed from their shackles, he was beside her, pressing her figure to his chest.

-x-

Hermione spun as she heard her voice called from afar and stood as she saw a man running toward her. At first, she felt disappointed that it hadn't been Draco, and frowned in confusion as she tried to place the man's features. His disheveled locks fell into his dirty face, hiding any element that might spark a memory in her mind, and Hermione was left to wonder as she watched him quickly gain ground. Then, when just the expanse of a few meters separated them, he looked up and connected their gaze with his brilliant green eyes. Hermione gasped, instinctively letting her hands fly to cover her gaping mouth. Her eyes watered at the surge in her chest.

"Harry," she whispered, too quiet for even herself to hear. He was with her in a second, lifting her from the ground in a crushing embrace. Harry spun around twice before placing her back on her feet and tying his arms securely around her. Hermione closed her eyes and inhaled the scent of his robes, no different now than it had been in seventh year. She held balls of his vest in the palms of her hands, squeezing to quell her shaking fingers, and cried softly into his chest while he held her. Harry made no move other than to rock them slowly back and forth. Hermione wasn't sure if he was even breathing. She sniffled, tears leaking from her eyes, and Harry started at the sound as if from a dream. He sprang immediately to life, placing kisses along the side of her face and scattering them in her hair.

"God, Hermione," he whispered, and Hermione could hear the strain in his voice, as if he wanted badly to scream. She basked in his attentions until he finally pushed her shoulders, bringing her to stand just decimeters away. Hermione could say nothing as she stared at him, gaze locked on his troubled face. Harry brought his hands to hold her cheeks, touching her as he would a frightened child; with tenderness and care. She smiled a moment later, lifting her hand to run her fingers over his cheek.

"Harry," she said softly, sounding amused. "Where are your glasses?" He studied her, etching each of her features into the slate of his mind and trying to absorb all there was to feel. A shaky smile graced his lips at her question, and Harry pitched forward once more to mark a train of kisses along her forehead. He laughed aloud, pressing his brow to rest against hers.

"I had a procedure; I don't need them," he answered, despite all that was happening, and Hermione laughed, her face aglow from the light of her smile. Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I wouldn't anyway, not now. I don't need them; I don't need anything. You're home again." Touched, Hermione shied away.

"Harry," she said, almost in a scolding manner, and he smiled dashingly at the brilliant blush which lit her cheeks. Slowly, she turned her gaze to meet his jade colored eyes, and saw the humor fade from his face.

"I told you I was coming," he said, tone grave. "How did you get here? Why didn't you wait for me?" Hermione looked honestly confused.

"What do you mean, Harry?" she asked, letting his name roll off her tongue, so sparsely used. "Justin called us this morning and said you'd gone crazy and planned to storm the castle; Draco flooed us out."

"I told you I was coming," Harry repeated. "The books, didn't you read them?" Hermione nodded slowly, tilting her head to the side. "Pride and Prejudice; your favorite... three ten, I wrote a note; didn't you see? October third, Hermione. That's today." Memories came rushing back to her; sitting on the floor of Draco's bedroom and pondering the meaning of the message; thinking through it in arithmancy; conversation concerning Harold of Mandisa Field.

"I didn't know what you meant," she admitted, speaking softly. "Harry, why did you do it? You shouldn't have come; you could've gotten yourself killed; I'd never forgive myself..."

"I missed you, Hermione," he said, running his thumbs over her cheeks. Her anger was quickly sobered and she regained her emotional low. "All the time; every waking hour and often in my dreams. I... I thought I'd never see you again."

"Oh, Harry," she returned, frowning sadly, and moved to place a comforting kiss on his cheek. "I'm sorry." He grew instantly rigid, but his grip remained soft. Harry lifted his forehead from its rest against hers and eagerly shook his head.

"No," he said. "Don't say that, Hermione. Don't you ever say that. Everything that has happened has been completely my fault; you should be cursing me for it, not apologizing. You have nothing to be sorry for, Hermione. Nothing."

"Harry..." Hermione said, surprised, and tried to console him. "You didn't know..."

"But I did, Hermione. I'll admit that what happened that day in the great hall wasn't anyone's fault, not really... but I should have done something. Afterward, when word spread and we were back on our feet... I gave up on you. I left you for dead. God, I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm so sorry."

It was Hermione who pulled a tearful head to her chest this time. She enveloped Harry, watching with unease as the grief washed over him, and seated them both on the little wooden bench. Harry cried as she had never seen him; his frail body wracked with sobs and shaking under the pressure of his thoughts. She whispered softly to him, promising that she felt no spite or anger for his deeds and understood the intentions behind his motives. Harry said nothing more for a long while, keeping his arms wrapped around Hermione's waist as she ran her fingers through his tangled hair. Hermione, too, kept quiet, allowing the surreal silence to cocoon them in a web of silver moonlight as the lunar body replaced its predecessor. When Harry had calmed to mere trembles, Hermione heaved a heavy sigh, and his head lifted slightly from her chest.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but no words could explain all that he wanted to tell her, and he was left with nothing but a silent exhale. Hermione smiled softly, kissing his forehead to assure that she understood.

"It's getting dark," she noted conversationally, glancing up at the moon. Harry joined her for only a minute before returning his eyes to her calm countenance. "And a bit cold, don't you think? Maybe we should go inside?" She was speaking just above a whisper, but her words hung in the heavy night air. Harry sat up at her suggestion, wiping at his eyes and putting on a more masculine face. Hermione smiled amusedly at him, remembering an awkward looking raven haired teenager with incorrigibly broken glasses and a perpetual blush. She really had missed him.

Harry nodded firmly and stood from the bench, chivalrously offering her his hand as assistance. Hermione was glad for it; she was both emotionally and physically exhausted, despite her long nap the passing afternoon. As they started back toward the humble building, Hermione limped slightly on her left leg. She had just begun to suspect that she may have pulled something through the exertion she had undergone post leaving the front doors of the farmhouse, when she felt herself being lifted from the ground. She tried to shriek but made not a sound and clutched Harry's shoulders, holding on as if her life depended on it. It was not a moment later that the origin of such a phenomenon reached her; Harry had lifted her in his arms, carrying her like a damsel as he quickly made his way toward the patio doors.

"Harry," Hermione hissed into the night, tightening her grip on his shoulders and nestling her head against the cradle of his neck. "What are you doing?"

"You're hurt," he said, shifting her in his arms. "I'll take care of you, Hermione." She could feel his arms tighten. "I won't let anyone hurt you; never again. I won't fail you a second time." Hermione frowned, but did not have the heart to tell him she had inflicted the wound on herself and shatter his dream of repaying her for his previous shortcomings. Instead, she remained silent and closed her eyes, welcoming the warmth Harry offered to her.

He carried her over the threshold and through an empty dining room before entering the foyer and starting toward the stairs. Janelle appeared in the doorway to the kitchen, holding a hand over her stomach and leaning against the frame to take weight off her swollen ankles.

"Harry?" she asked tentatively. "What's happened? Do you need help?" Janelle took a step into the room and Harry shook his head decisively, moving backward and away from her. Hermione could feel him tense, tightening the hold he held over her. He acted as if Janelle had wanted him to give her up, to hand her over to her care; he was afraid of losing her.

"No," he said, turning away and starting slowly up the stairs. "No, Janelle. We're fine." She looked skeptical, but gave a nod nonetheless.

"All right. Dinner should be ready in just an hour or so," she called up to them, but Harry made no move to show he'd heard her. With an etching of worry marked into her brow, Janelle returned to the kitchen to continue directing her sister around making a roast. The girl could rewire an entire house and have not an inkling of idea on how to make an egg.

-x-x-x-

Harry brought Hermione to the second story hall, and made his way to the very end, opening a door and displaying a disaster of a room. His bed left unmade, books and paper littered the floor, clothes lay strewn over chairs and atop his desk and armoire, and Hedwig's empty cage looked as if it could use a scouring charm.

Paying no attention to anything but the task at hand, Harry closed the door behind him and brought Hermione to his bed, setting her softly in a reclining position and placing a hand on her chest to keep her there. She complied with a frown and remained still even as Harry moved toward her feet, lifting the skirt of her dress to better view her damaged leg.

"Where does it hurt?" he asked and began pinching portions of muscle between his fingers. Hermione lay motionless until he touched a sensitive spot at the side of her knee, and flinched, biting her lip to hold back a whimper. "There," Harry determined with less than astute conviction and bent his head to place a kiss over the spot. He fished his wand from its pocket in his robes and placed the tip to the locus, lovingly whispering a delicate spell. His wand tip grew icy within seconds, making Hermione squirm in discomfort, but Harry held fast and it soon grew warm, relaxing the muscles which had caused her such pain. Hermione noticed the difference immediately, and Harry slipped his wand back into his cloak.

"Thank you," Hermione said, allowing herself to sit upright beside him. He gave her a boyish and crooked smile and leaned in for what would be the umpteenth kiss to the skin of her face. Whether by mistake or disguised intention, Harry's lips made their first contact with Hermione's and he did not pull away. It was a chaste kiss, close lipped and off guard, which ended slowly with simultaneous exhale. "Harry," Hermione breathed, surprised at him, and Harry did not move away as he answered her unspoken questions.

"Hermione," he said softly, licking his lips. "I have to tell you something. I have to; now, before I lose another chance." He paused. "That letter, that I sent through the floo; do you remember?" Hermione knew instantly what his next words would be and tentatively nodded, keeping eyes closed to avoid contact. "I meant it. I love you, Hermione; I had, for years, and never spoke it to a soul. I think Ron knew, but I never told him, not until you were gone..." He smiled. "But you're back now; we can finally be together. We can tell the world; we can go anywhere you like, and just live, how we should have for the last half a decade. Together, forever."

"Harry," she said softly. "I... I don't know what to say."

"Say where. Say you'll run away with me," Harry suggested, moving ever closer. He swallowed. "Say you love me. Please, Hermione; I don't know what I would do if... if..."

"I do love you, Harry," she promised him, finally opening her eyes to stare into his with conviction. "We've been friends for thirteen years; if I said I didn't love you I'd be lying. I'm just confused, and tired, and dirty... I don't know what to make of anything."

"Come with me," he pleaded again, taking her hand in his. "I'll help you; we can put our lives back together and make things the way they used to be. We'll be happy; I can make you happy, Hermione."

"I know you can, Harry. I am happy, right now, just sitting here with you; I've missed you too," she said, smiling, and Harry returned it. It was only a moment later that Hermione's face slightly fell and she sighed. "I just don't know what to tell you, Harry; I've just gotten here. I don't want to leave everybody all over again... Ron, Neville, everyone from Hogwarts... Janelle and I have a lot in common and I haven't been properly introduced to Teige yet. It's too fast, Harry. I haven't even seen my parents. I don't think they know I'm here."

"It doesn't have to be now," Harry told her, lifting a hand to touch her face. "When you're ready, we'll go. Just the two of us, together. Come with me?" Hermione blinked as he stared intensely at her, waiting and hoping for the answer he wanted. She knew Harry had only the best intentions and would commit murder before harming her, but something inside was wary of him. A piece of her conscious forgotten with all that had happened within the past week, reawakened and sending alarming signals to her brain.

"All right, Harry. I'll come with you," she said softly, eyes trained on the cotton sheets below her. Harry scarcely breathed.

"Really?" he said after a moment, needing verification of her answer. Hermione smiled for his benefit, tilting her head upward.

"Of course, Harry. Why wouldn't I? If it's what you want, then of course I'll come," she repeated, and Harry inhaled sharply, pitching forward. Instinctively, Hermione concluded that he was about to kiss her, and readied herself for contact of their lips. Harry, however, stopped himself just as they touched, marking a feather light peck on the coral pink of her mouth. Hermione exhaled tentatively, surprised and at an odd high induced by lack of anticipated climax.

Harry moved slightly forward, as if asking permission to her mouth, and Hermione allowed him, seeking some way to relax from the rush of adrenaline his quick movement had caused. Harry wasted not a moment more before he kissed her, holding the nape of her neck to his fingers ends as his mouth worked against hers, instigating a deep and loving kiss. Hermione kissed him back, as she knew not what else she could do, and waited patiently for the embrace of lips to end.

Harry broke away only for a moment, gasping great amounts of air before beginning again a lover's act which lacked half the required love. This time, he grew bolder, pushing her down on the mattress and shifting to loom over her. Hermione's brow creased in confusion, but she continued to humor his intentions. He mumbled declarations of love and breathed words of nothing into her skin, his voice growing heated and slurred. Hermione played along, leisurely kissing his swollen lips and displaying mild reactions to his touches and the things he said. She felt amazingly awkward, knowing she was snogging the man who was supposed to be her best friend, and slightly guilty, as if betraying some unknown person. Still, she let Harry have his fun, assuming no harm could come out of his schoolboy exploration and that it would allow him to release some of the bottled up feelings he seemed to have harbored for years.

It wasn't until Harry's hand found her knee that Hermione had a negative reaction to his displays of love. She was wary of this placement from the moment it was felt, and as Harry's hand inched upward, moving aside the thin fabric of her summery dress and scaling the length of her thigh, she tensed. Harry felt this and kissed her softly, as he would a nervous virgin, before continuing the escalation of his hand. When the pad of his middle finger lifted the hem of her underwear and slid down the length between her legs, Hermione gasped, pushing against his chest. Surprised, Harry moved back, resting his hand on the bed between her legs. Hermione was breathing rapidly, her chest rising and falling with incredible speed, and her hair was disheveled, making her look more frightened than she was confused.

"Harry?" she whispered, questioning him as she locked her knees tightly together. He gave half a smile and leaned forward, pressing a tiny kiss to her lips.

"I love you, Hermione," he repeated, breathless. "I'm going to show you; prove it to you. Don't be scared; relax..." Harry leaned forward again, and Hermione could feel his fingers lingering under her thighs, brushing at the fabric of her panties. Just as he touched his lips to hers, Hermione shoved him hard in the chest, growling in frustration. Harry was pushed only a few decimeters, but leapt away from her in sheer shock of her reaction. Hermione sat up and promptly smacked him across the face before swinging her legs over the side of the bed and stomping out of the room. Harry was behind her the moment he could compose coherent thought and realized that she was walking away from him. "Hermione!" he called to her, but she continued at a hurried pace, stomping up the stairs to the third story and making her way down the hall to her room. She was in the midst of closing the door when Harry impeded it with the rubber of his shoe. "Hermione, please; what's wrong?"

"What's wrong?" she asked, eyes alive and livid. "How could you, Harry? You know what I've been through... how my life has been. I haven't been celibate for a week and already you're trying to take me. I can't believe you. Harry, I thought I knew you; I thought you understood," Hermione continued, her anger leaving only to be replaced by sorrow. "You've changed, Harry. I hoped I could come back here and fall in love with you... that I could compile all the times I'd missed you, and cried for you, and mourned you... and let all that feeling give birth to something more... and maybe I could have, if you were still that boy I loved all those years ago. I didn't think I'd know so soon; you aren't him. You can't be." She closed the door and turned the lock, not wasting a moment to wait for a response. Harry was stunned to silence for a time, then suddenly burst out, slamming his fist to the door.

"Hermione!" he shouted. "Hermione, no! You can't leave me again; you can't! I'm sorry!" Harry slammed his fist against the door repeatedly, calling out to her and pleading to be forgiven; he hadn't wanted to hurt or scare her. He'd wanted to love her. "Please don't leave me!"

-x-x-x-

Draco stumbled out of the dining room fireplace with a groan, pulling toward him the nearest chair. He sat down with an exhale of relief, and closed his eyes as he leaned back. Having heard the distinct swish of an incoming floo, Janelle walked swiftly into the room, carrying in her arms a breadbasket and water pitcher. She stopped still when she saw Draco, having expected a letter or some other means of post.

"Draco?" she asked, making him crack open one eye. Draco closed it again and sighed as Janelle scurried toward him, placing the basket and pitcher on the table. "God, Draco, what happened? You look you've fallen under a street sweeper." He moved a hand to rub at his eyes, which were raw and suggested he had done it frequently.

"Nothing," he said. "I'm fine; I had to walk two leagues just to get to the nearest town, now that Hogsmeade's been abandoned, so I could floo back. It'd have been four to get to apparating ground." He sighed. "Damn, I wish I'd brought my broom." Janelle laughed and stuffed a roll into his mouth before moving back toward the kitchen for more cargo.

"Draco, we have a serious problem," she stated as she placed a stack of plates at the end of the long dining table and began to set one to each of the placemats. Draco, chewing gratefully, tensed.

"What?" he asked, sitting straight. "Is it Hermione? What happened?" She tilted her head to the side.

"Well, somewhat, but she's fine, don't go balmy on me, now. I've had enough of that for one day."

"Well, blimey woman, what is it then?" Draco demanded, taking a more than modest bite of his roll. Janelle paused, sighing as she leaned her weight on the back of a chair and maneuvered to seat herself upon it.

"You see," she started, settling in. "Harry's come back." Draco stopped chewing instantly, and a pause ensued.

"Does he know she's here?" he asked, and Janelle nodded expressionlessly.

"It was all right for a while, I saw them outside having a teary reunion hugging and crying... and then he carried her in here, just ten, fifteen minutes ago, and brought her upstairs. I didn't hear anything for a while and I don't know what happened, but it wasn't good. He's pounding on her door, now, and she won't let him in. I don't know what to do, I'm frankly a bit afraid of Harry right now, and since... you seem to have a form of relationship with Hermione, I thought maybe you could...?" Draco nodded, popping the remainder of his dinner roll in his mouth and forcing himself to stand.

"I'll go see what's going on," he agreed, and slowly made his way to the foyer and up the stairs, looking very much in pain to be doing so. Draco wasn't big on exercise and walking an unexpected ten kilometers had understandably taken a lot out of him. Wondering why she had bothered to sit down, Janelle hoisted herself up with a sigh and went back into the kitchen to begin filling bowls of soup.

-x-x-x-nly burst out, slamming his fist to the door.

ou can't be." She closed the door and turned th

"Harry?" Draco asked tentatively as he peeked around the third story corridor, knowing through Janelle that Harry was trying unsuccessfully to breech Hermione's threshold. Harry was crumpled in a mass on the carpet, fingers tracing patters on the grain of the simple plywood door with a galled fingertip. "Harry?" Draco said again, approaching cautiously. "Are you all right?"

"She hates me," Harry said softly, resting his head against the doorframe. "She hates me." Feeling almost as if he were intruding, Draco shifted his feet.

"Come on, Harry, that's not true," he started awkwardly, and Harry lifted his head a few centimeters from the wall before slamming it again against it. With a sigh, Draco stepped forward and knelt beside Harry, placing a palm on his shoulder. "She doesn't hate you."

"She does, Draco. I fucked it up. I lost her. Again," Harry said turning to his friend with eyes full of inner torment. He sniffled slightly, and sat up moving a hand to the left side of his chest. "I think my heart's stopped beating," he said softly, as if the realization had just occurred to him.

"Harry..." Draco started, as if asking him to be rational.

"Really," Harry pressed, moving his palm slightly. "Go on, feel it. Tell me if there's anything."

"Harry, I can feel it from here. You have to calm down; you'll have an aneurism if you keep this up. I'm worried for you, mate," Draco said, giving Harry's shoulder a squeeze. Harry ignored him, moving his fingers to prod his neck, still searching for a pulse. Draco sighed. "What happened?" Harry paused, placing his palm gently back onto the door.

"I just wanted... to show her. How I felt, what I wanted. What it could be like. I never meant... never meant to hurt her," he said softly, whispering to the wood. "I'd forgotten what she'd been through. It's surreal, like she's back from the dead. I still can't believe she's been alive all this time." Harry slowly brought his hand to the little pearl which dangled from his neck, lacing the chain in his fingers. Suddenly, he turned to Draco. "You believe me, don't you? I didn't want her to leave."

"She hasn't gone anywhere, Harry. She's right here, behind this door... a little angry and hurt, but it'll pass. She'll forgive you, I promise you that. You've just got to be careful, Harry. She's fragile."

"God... Draco, I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm sorry..."

"Did you tell her?"

"She won't listen. I don't blame her," Harry said, closing his eyes and knocking his head again to the wood of the door. Draco sighed.

"I'll talk to her," he declared, releasing Harry's shoulder and getting to his feet. Harry shook his head, still crouched on the floor.

"No... she won't listen."

"It couldn't hurt," Draco persuaded, and Harry heaved a deep sigh.

"Tell her... tell her I'm sorry," he pleaded, moving away from the door to allow him to enter. Draco nodded.

"Of course," he agreed before slowly turning the door knob and sneaking into the room. Hermione was curled in the corner of her bed with her back to the door, hugging a pillow as she wrote something on a slip of parchment. Fagan, the little owl, sat perched on her headboard, picking at her hair as if to comfort her. Draco shut the door noiselessly behind him and whispered a silencing charm over the bedroom. He had a feeling she would be in some way enthusiastic to see him, after what had occurred with Harry, and did not want the pitiful excuse for a man outside the door to hear her shouts. "Hermione?" he said softly, but his voice sounded foreign to him, and he cleared his throat. Hermione tensed from her place in bed.

"Harry, please," she said softly, squeezing the pillow to her face. "Just go away. Please."

"He's sorry, Hermione," he tried again, this time with a voice unmistakable as his own. "He told me to tell you that." Hermione spun her head to view him, writing piece forgotten and pillow loose in her grasp.

"Draco," she whispered in disbelief, before rolling out of bed and running to him, leaping into an embrace that was quickly returned. He held her close, holding her head to his chest and pressing his lips into her hair. She pulled back a moment later, placing her hands to the sides of his face and pulling him into a kiss of which he was tentative to respond. Ultimately, he couldn't help but do so.

"Hermione," he said when they had broken apart to breathe. "Please don't cry." He lifted a hand to brush away some tears, and Hermione looked up into his eyes.

"Draco, I thought I'd never see you again," Hermione confessed, sniffling, and Draco frowned, brushing hair behind her ear.

"No..." he assured, attempting to comfort her. "Now, why would you think that?"

"I was sure they'd kill you," she said, slamming her head into his chest and keeping her hands filled with the fabric of his cloak. "For treason. Assisted escape; maybe even espionage." Draco chuckled heartily.

"Oh, Hermione," he said. "Your imagination astounds me."

"Draco," she whispered, tilting her head upward. "What happened?" Draco smiled into her hair, twining his fingers into it, and closed his eyes.

"When I flooed back, it was just in time to have my door broken down by a bunch of Mauriz' cronies. He wasn't there, of course; god forbid he leave his study. Anyway, they wanted to know what happened... evidently, we set off some sort of alarm by leaving. I told them my wife had escaped me and flooed to somewhere called Benin, which I believe is in Africa, and that I couldn't remember her number. Which isn't really a lie," he said, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. "I don't know your number. They told me that was bad practice, and I took the opportunity to bite back and claim that they should know. They're not really all that organized. I faked a tantrum and stormed out under the guise of being horribly disappointed in the establishment. Which allowed me to come home and see you... but unfortunately means I can never go back. Harry won't be happy, I..." He paused, and pushed her back a bit to face him. "Speaking of Harry," he said, lifting an eyebrow. "What's going on there?" Hermione's chin began to tremble. She hadn't been crying when he'd arrived, and Draco was beginning to feel guilty for making her do so afterward.

"He touched me," she admitted. "Just like... like them. You were right, Draco. Harry is the same as all the others."

"Hey, now wait a minute," Draco said, but softly as not to upset her further. "I never said that; you're putting words in my mouth." Hermione shook her head.

"Maybe I said it. It doesn't matter. It's true. God, Draco... everything's different than I thought it would be. Harry's different, Ron's different... I can't stand to be around anyone. I almost want to go back. These last few days were the best of my life. Everything that happened before was worth it, now that I've had them, with you. Now I just want everything to go away."

"Hermione, will you listen to yourself?" Draco asked, seating her on the bed and taking the spot beside her. He tried not to look too relieved to be sitting down. "Look, Hermione... Harry isn't like them. He's about as far from it as you could possibly hope to be; He just wants to prove to you how much he cares about you. I'm like them. I used sex to get to you, to make you trust me. You can hate me for that, but don't misjudge Harry. He only has the best of intentions."

"That's easy for you to say," she said, taking his hand between her own and squeezing it as she continued. "You didn't feel it, Draco. I didn't want it. I didn't want any of it."

"He knows that now," Draco promised, bringing their hands to his lips and kissing her fingers. "He won't do it again. I can promise you that." Hermione paused a moment to think over Draco's words, then sighed and cuddled up to his side.

"God, Draco," she said softly, almost as if speaking to herself. "Why weren't you here when I needed you?"

-

A/N: Unaltered version available at http:tangledupinblue.