AN: Wow. Even in my wildest dreams, I would have never anticipated that it would take until the new year for this next update to make it.

It was hard, in a way. I already know how this plot will go, and there are main points in my head. The difficult part is making it go from one point to the next. Sometimes I'm not sure what the best way to maneuver is. And I end up getting stuck. But I finally sat myself down and forced myself to pound out this chapter, and it turned out much better than I would have expected. It's also frightfully long. It was either going to be really short or really long, so I opted for the latter. Don't expect subsequent updates to be this long! It just happened that this chapter flowed naturally like this.

Thank you to all my reviewers. Without you - and the persistent reminding from my dear friend Olivia - this chapter surely would not exist. So this one is dedicated to you.

Stand and Watch It Burn

XX. As Long as You're Mine

Draco let his eyes glide over to the curtained windows and noted with little shock that the early rays of dawn were starting to peek through the gossamer fabric. He knew he had been sitting there, in that chair, for a very long while. Seeing the sun start to rise merely confirmed that.

The events of the previous night still had him reeling. He had wondered, usually under the cover of darkness and between the realms of conscious and unconscious, what it might be like if Hermione ever chose to leave Ron. He imagined this perfect world for himself, where he and Hermione lived and loved without fear of retribution. But he had never dared to allow himself to hope. Imagine, speculate, wonder – yes. But hope? The disappointment he would have felt might have been enough to destroy what little shreds of humanity he had left.

But now, every dream, every fantasy, every wish was coming true. And if he ever started to doubt that, all Draco had to do was to look to the sleeping form on the bed for proof.

She was there. And she had come to him the night before.

Hermione had been in quite a state when he first saw her, but as time passed, her sobs became less frantic, and she grew calmer. Finally, she had fallen asleep out of pure exhaustion. Draco had taken her into his arms and brought her up here, to one of the guest rooms. As he laid her down, she briefly opened her eyes and begged him to stay nearby. He consoled her, saying he would and she contentedly returned to sleep.

Truth be told, Draco would have stayed even if she hadn't asked. Nor would he have fallen asleep. No, he would have been too afraid that it was all a dream. He would be too afraid of closing his eyes and then awaking to find her gone.

It was surreal. Draco stared into her lovely, serene face, her brown curls messily framing it. He smiled softly. She was so beautiful. He realised that he had nearly forgotten that and mentally reprimanded himself.

He didn't want the night to end. Everything seemed… felt… was so perfect. Draco couldn't remember ever feeling so perfectly whole. His eyes traced the soft contours of Hermione's face. Such pure bliss was something almost completely foreign to him; an empty childhood and three years in Azkaban had made sure of that. If it weren't for those few months with Hermione three years ago, he might not have even recognized it. But here it was, again. And he didn't know how long it would stay.

Draco knew he had to protect her. She seemed so vulnerable. And she had been. Last night. Yes, he had to protect her, to shield her, to hide her away…

The bed sheets rustled softly. Hermione opened her eyes and gazed around confusedly before her eyes finally rested on him. She gave him a bemused smile. "What are you doing?" Her voice was soft, with traces of sleep lingering.

"Watching you," he replied, leaning over. "Protecting you."

"I don't need to be protected," Hermione replied, feigning indignance.

Draco smirked. "That scene last night would prove otherwise."

Hermione grinned and then yawned. "Draco."

"Mm?"

"I was thinking…"

"You often do."

Hermione shot him a dirty look. Draco noted that Hermione was starting to become more alert, and that it would probably be wise to be aware of that.

"I'm serious," she said. This time, the irritation in her tone was authentic.

"All right, what?"

"I was thinking about Aiden." Hermione sounded wistful. "I… I don't know what to do… Last night I was in such a rush to get out of there as fast as I could, I just left him back there. I love Aiden. I can't not be with him… so…"

Draco shushed her and stroked her hair. "Hermione, I love you," he said plainly. "Anything you want is yours. If you want Aiden here, bring him."

Hermione's brown eyes were wide with wonder. "Thank you," she whispered. "You don't know how much that means to me."

Draco pulled her gently into his arms and felt her collapse against him. He breathed in her scent, never wanting to let go.

x x x

Kiss me too fiercely
Hold me too tight
I need help believing
You're with me tonight
My wildest dreaming
Could not foresee
Lying beside you
With you wanting me

x x x

"Ron, you better have a good exp… bloody hell!"

Harry stared at the mess before him. The usually orderly home was in a state. Cushions of the pillows were strewn on the floor, wall hangings had fallen off their hooks, the kitchen was covered in flour and dirtied pans. Nobody had bothered to draw the curtains so the entire room was dark. Harry shook his head. "Lumos," he muttered. He didn't want to trip over the clutter.

"Ron?" he asked, beginning to fear the worst. "Hermione?"

In the distance, he could hear muffled wailing. "Oh, Merlin, Aiden," he exclaimed. He dashed up the stairs and made a beeline for Aiden's room. Harry paused at the doorway, his Auror instincts taking over. He held his wand ready in front of him and cautiously entered the room.

Nothing. No one. No sign of Dark Magic. Just a crying baby.

Perplexed, Harry walked over to where Aiden lay, wailing. He frowned. Something wasn't right. It was nearly eleven. Why was Aiden still in his bedclothes? Hermione would have…

The blood drained from his face. Hermione.

Harry picked Aiden up and made for the master bedroom. The door, as he had suspected, was closed. He knocked firmly.

"Ron, open up."

No response.

Harry let out a sigh of exasperation. He tried the doorknob, but it was locked "Ron, I know you're in there. Open the bloody door."

Silence.

"If you don't open this damn door, I will." Harry adjusted his glasses, preparing himself for physical exertion. No doubt Ron had put all necessary charms to keep people out. As a trained Auror, Ron had to know about these things, and doubtless, knew every way Harry would try to get in. But Ron didn't know about Muggle tactics – that is to say, breaking down the door.

Setting Aiden down, Harry stepped back and rested his right foot against the door. Taking a deep breath, he prepared. He lifted his leg and was about to try to kick the door when it swung open.

Harry gaped at the sight in front of him. He thought the house was in a state, but it was absolutely nothing compared to Ron. Ron hadn't bothered to change out of his work robes, but they were disheveled and slackened. Though he was still standing, it was clear from the unsteady wobbling Ron was doing that he had been drinking. A lot. The room reeked of Firewhiskey.

"'Arry," Ron slurred, tilting a lopsided smile. "It's youu."

"Ron, what the bloody hell?" Harry ran his hand through his hair. "What is all this? Is this why you didn't come in to work today?"

Ron hiccupped. "Wan' som firewhiskee?" he asked, holding up the bottle.

Harry grabbed the liquor out of his best friend's hand. "I think you've had enough."

"Give it back!" Ron reached forward, stumbling as he did.

Harry levitated the bottle over their heads, above Ron's reach. "No," he said firmly. Ron scowled and stomped back into the room, throwing himself onto the unmade bed.

Harry leaned over and picked Aiden up and walked into the room as well. Aiden had stopped crying and now was looking around intently, wondering with confusion what was happening.

"Ron, what happened?" Harry started to feel nervous now. The anger was leaving him and slowly he began to recall what he had been thinking earlier. "Did something happen with Hermione?"

"Oh, God," Ron moaned. He covered his face with his hands. "Oh, God, Harry."

"She told you," Harry deadpanned.

Ron sat up. "You knew?" Ron seemed to be sobering up slightly. "You knew?!"

"So she did."

"You knew and you didn't tell me?"

"It wasn't my place." Harry shook his head. "Ron, I love you and Hermione, but I can't get in between you two and mix in your affairs. That was something between you – I had no place in dealing with that. It was something she had to tell you…"

"YOU SHOULD HAVE TOLD ME!" Ron roared. Aiden burst into tears at this loud explosion of noise.

Harry gently shushed Aiden. "Ron, keep your damn voice down," he muttered. "Your son, for Merlin's sake. How could you leave him there crying, unchanged and unfed?"

"Why do you care so much?" Ron leaped up, flailing his arms. "Since when didyou care so much about me?" He turned round on Harry. "Or maybe it'syou. Maybe it's not Malfoy she's seeing. Maybe it's you. Is that what you've been bloody hiding from you? You rat-faced bast…"

With his free arm, Harry punched Ron across the jaw. Ron recoiled, clutching where Harry's fist had made contact with his face.

"Get a bloody hold of yourself," Harry growled. "You're acting like a loony."

Harry heard some laboured breathing, and for a while, he was worried he'd punched Ron too hard. He had intended to snap Ron's insanity, not to actually hurt him. But soon, Harry realised Ron was sobbing.

"Harry, it was terrible. I was terrible… I said… I did…"

Harry set Aiden down and knelt down by Ron, putting a comforting hand on his friend's back. "What happened?"

Ron stared up blankly at Harry, tears rolling down his face. "She told me."

"What did you say?" Harry asked gently.

"I… I told her I had no choice… I called her a terrible mother… Merlin, why? How could I? She loves Aiden… I said she didn't care about him… Why did I do that?" Ron dropped his head into his hands.

Harry's blood ran cold. The accusations sounded familiar. He knew too well how Hermione would react to that.

"I called her a whore," Ron whispered.

"Ron…"

"And then," he continued, his voice barely audible, "I hit her."

Harry was sure his heart stopped.

"You… You did what?"

"I hit her," Ron repeated with more conviction. "I called her a dirty whore and then I slapped her across the face."

Harry straightened up. "Ron, what the fuck were you thinking?!"

"She's been seeing Malfoy." Ron slumped against the wall.

"I know that, Ron, but she was trying to talk to you, for Merlin's sake. You hit her? You bloody damn fool! Now you've done and driven her off right into Malfoy's arms!"

Ron laughed humorlessly. "I didn't need to do that," he said. "She was already his. She was always his."

"Ron don't you bloody say that. She loves you and you know it."

"Does she?" Ron looked up at Harry. "For three years, we hid the truth from her. She never knew she stopped loving me. Maybe she's right. Maybe it's all a lie."

"Ron…"

"Oh, God." Ron groaned. "I've lost her. Again."

"You don't know that."

"She knows." Ron stared blankly at Harry. "She asked me if I was the one who modified her memory. She knows."

Harry opened his mouth several times before he managed to get the words out. "Did you at least try to explain…?"

"What good would it do? She's listening to everything he's saying. And nothing we're saying."

"But…"

"It's no use, Harry," Ron said, defeated. "I've lost her. Merlin."

Neither said anything for a while. Harry shifted his weight from foot to foot. "There has to be something…"

There was a loud clang from the living room. The two men stared at each other briefly before both bolted downstairs.

Harry nearly crashed into Ron who stood fixated at the foot of the steps. He followed Ron's gaze to the figure standing in the doorframe leading to the living room.

"Hermione?"

She blinked and then set her jaw. Hermione looked very put together and clean, though her eyes were still swollen. She had cried, Harry thought.

"I'm here to take Aiden and go," she said, her tone very businesslike and formal. "I had thought you wouldn't be here," she added, clearly meaning Ron.

"Hermione," Ron rasped, reaching out toward her.

Hermione brushed by him, pushing his arm aside. "Where's my son?" she asked, this time addressing Harry.

"Upstairs, in the hallway," Harry replied softly. He leaned to the side, allowing Hermione to pass.

The two stood in silence, listening to the sounds of Hermione moving about upstairs. A few minutes passed before Hermione descended, a bag slung over her shoulder and Aiden in her other arm. She walked by the two again, not once even looking their way. Hermione passed them and headed toward the fireplace.

"I'll be going then," she said, her head turned back over her shoulder. Hermione conjured up some flames and threw Floo Powder into the fireplace.

The bright green flames seemed to revive the comatose Ron. "Hermione, you –" he shook his head violently, as if to clear it, Harry theorized – "you can't do this."

Hermione abruptly stopped her movements. She turned around slowly. "What?" she asked. Harry recognized the tone she was using – and instantly knew this coming altercation would not end happily for either party.

"You can't do this," Ron repeated, more loudly this time. "You can't just take our son and g-"

"He'smy son," Hermione shot back, wrapping a possessive arm around Aiden.

"Ours," Ron said again, taking a step towards her. "Hermione, please, don't… you can't do this to Aiden… he needs a family. He needs a father. You can't just take him away…"

"He doesn't need a father like you." Hermione's eyes were dark. "And I can. And I will."

Ron was still moving towards her. "Hermione, listen. Please, listen," he pleaded. "You know I love you and would never, ever hurt y-"

Hermione laughed, sending chills down Harry's spine. Her laughter was completely devoid of emotion or joy, something Harry would have never thought Hermione was capable of.

"Never hurt me?" Hermione asked, her voice hollow. "Do I need to remind you of what you did last night? You hit me, Ron. You hit me and you called me a terrible mother – "

"Hermione, please!" Ron tried to throw his arms around her, but Hermione quickly stepped backwards. Her face contorted with disgust.

"You're drunk, Ron."

"Hermione, I can't live without you." As much as Harry sympathized with his friend, it was starting to get a bit pathetic. Harry watched as Ron fell to his knees and wrapped his arms around Hermione's legs.

"You should have thought about that before, then," Hermione said, stepping outside his grasp.

Ron fell over on his side, sobbing. Hermione stood, staring, not moving.

Then, the silence was broken by mumbling from Ron.

"What did you say?" Hermione asked.

"Where are you going?"

Hermione visibly stiffened.

"You're going to him, aren't you?" Ron's fists were clenched.

"I don't know what you mean," Hermione said.

"I'm not stupid, Hermione. Maybe you think I am, but I'm not. You're going to him, and you're taking our son with you." Ron straightened up and looked down at her. "You are, aren't you?"

"And if I am?" she asked defiantly.

Ron grabbed her arms and shook her. "Hermione, what are you thinking? You can't… you can't do this… Hermione, look at me. Please, just look at me!"

"Let go of me, Ron." Hermione squirmed, trying to get out of his hold.

"Hermione,please…"

"Let go! Ron, you're hurting me!"

Harry strode across the room and pulled his friend away. "Ron, stop."

Ron stared blankly at his wife, who refused to meet his eyes. "Mione – "

"Don't call me that."

"Do you love him?"

Hermione took a deep breath, but did not answer.

"Do you?" Ron repeated, more insistently.

"Yes," she answered quietly.

"And me?"

Hermione finally looked at him. "Is it possible to love two people at the same time?" she asked.

"I don't know," Ron mumbled.

"I don't either," she replied. After one last fleeting glance, Hermione turned back to the fire and disappeared.

x x x

Just for this moment
As long as you're mine
I've lost all resistance
And crossed some borderline
And if it turns out
It's over too fast
I'll make every last moment last

As long as you're mine

x x x

Draco paced back and forth in front of the fireplace impatiently. She had been gone too long for his liking. He checked the large grandfather clock for the tenth time in the past three minutes. He crossed his arms as if the timepiece had offended him somehow. Too much time had elapsed, he thought. How long, he mused, until he should go after her?

"Young master?"

The words snapped Draco out of his thoughts. "Hetty?" He turned around to face the house elf standing in the doorway.

"Mistress would like to know if sir will be joining her for tea this afternoon."

His mother. Draco felt his stomach twist slightly. How on earth would he explain his… guest? "No, I will not," he said smoothly, his voice not betraying any of the turmoil he felt inside. "Tell her I shall be tending my gardens if she needs me."

Hetty nodded. "Where is sir's young miss?"

"She will be here soon," Draco replied, shooting a look at the empty fireplace. He kneeled down so he was looking the elf in the eyes. "Look, Hetty, you have to remember –"

"Not to mention her to Mistress," Hetty finished for him. She smiled affectionately at her master. "Hetty knows, sir."

"Good," Draco said. Behind him, he heard some noises and coughing.

"Looks like young miss has returned," Hetty commented. "Shall I get tea and biscuits?"

"That would be perfect, Hetty. Bring them to the garden. And prepare one of the guest rooms for Hermione and her son."

Hetty bowed her head and disappeared with a crack.

Draco rose from his kneeling position and turned to face the fireplace. An ash-covered Hermione was coughing as she made her way across the room.

"You really should clean your fireplace," she commented wryly.

"I like my guests blackened," Draco replied, kissing her on the forehead.

"Ha ha." She twisted her lips, trying to hide her smile. "Sorry about making you wait," Hermione said softly. "I ran into a few unexpected problems."

Draco looked into her troubled eyes. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine – I think," she added uncertainly. Hermione shifted Aiden from one arm to another. "Aiden is not quite as fine though. He needs changing and food."

Draco looked at the little red-haired child in Hermione's arms. A fleeting feeling of disgust for Weasley rushed in before his devotion to the child's mother swept it aside. "Here," Draco said, "let me hold him. You must be exhausted."

Hermione nodded and placed Aiden into Draco's outstretched arms. Aiden protested meekly, wailing weakly.

Draco was rather inexperienced with children. He had never before come into contact with babies other than the passing glance or perfunctory meetings. He stared dumbly at the crying baby.

"Comfort him, silly," Hermione chided.

"How the bloody hell do I do that?"

"Sing. Rock him back and forth. Pat him on the back. Shush him."

Draco hesitated slightly before he began rocking Aiden gently. "There now," he said when Aiden's crying had died down, "you're all right." He looked down at the little boy. Aiden was staring up at him, this stranger, his bright blue eyes still wet with tears. There was something in his gaze, Draco thought. His red hair may have been distinctly Weasley, but there was something in the boy's eyes that Draco recognized – something wholly Hermione.

"Well, we should go," Draco said, finally glancing up. He noticed Hermione looking at him rather oddly. "Hermione?"

"Wha- oh, yes," she said, sounding slightly distracted.

"What's the matter?"

Hermione pressed her lips together. "I was just…" she cleared her throat. "I was worried, Draco, about how you might treat Aiden…"

"Because he's Weasley's son?"

Hermione nodded mutely.

Draco moved in next to her, leaning in closely. "But he's also your son, and I love you. More than anything. Whatever matters to you matters to me. I never want to lose you again, Hermione, and I'll do everything and anything I can to protect you from being hurt. I don't want to… I can't lose you," he added with a whisper.

Hermione gently placed a hand on Draco's face. She smiled softly. "You won't," she replied before closing the minute distance between them. Her lips on his sent jolts through his body.

She pulled away much sooner than he would have liked. Draco frowned in protest. "Well," Hermione said teasingly, a smirk growing on her face, "I think it's time for tea."

Draco laughed. "Let's get you two cleaned up."

x x x

Every moment
As long as you're mine
I'll wake up my body
And make up for lost time

x x x

It was a relatively cool day. The sun was shining bright, but the warmth was tempered by a comfortable breeze. The colourful blossoms swayed gently in the wind, and the soft rustle of leaves chimed in the air, singing their sweet song.

Hermione felt a smile spread across her lips. She closed her eyes, letting the sun warm her face.

"Hermione?"

She turned around. "Draco," she replied, smiling and holding her hand out to him.

He returned her smile and took her outstretched hand. "I went to your room to look for you, but you weren't there. Hetty told me you decided to go ahead to the gardens first, and I see that you've found them."

"It's beautiful. Even more so than last time we were here."

Draco's smile widened. "You remember." He pulled her in towards him, wrapping one arm around her waist.

Hermione leaned her head against her shoulder. "I do."

- - -

"I still can't believe you convinced Harry into this."

"There was nowhere else safe left for us. Where else could we go? Besides, they would never suspect this."

"Are you crazy, Draco? If they caught us here, we'd be done for!"

Hermione waved her hands wide as if to demonstrate just how done for they would be. Draco merely smirked and kissed her on the cheek. "You look really beautiful when you're frantic," he said, ignoring her.

Hermione brushed him away. "I still think this is ridiculous. And unsafe. Are you trying to die, Malfoy?"

"Oooh, ouch," Draco said, holding a hand over his chest. "Usage of the surname. That hurts."

"I'm serious, Draco."

"I know you are. And so am I. Lupin and Potter agree. We'll be safe here in the Manor until the necessary changes to the cabin are made, so we can go back. Hermione," he said, his voice suddenly lowering, "I would never, ever put you in a position where you could possibly be hurt. Don't you know that?"

Hermione blinked. "I just think you're letting your emotions cloud your judgment."

"Emotions?"

"Your mother's not there, Draco."

His face immediately darkened. "I know that," he said, scowling.

"But you're holding out hope she will be, aren't you?" Draco did not immediately respond. "Draco…"

"Don't." He stepped away from her. "Come on," he finally said after a while.

Hermione sighed. "Draco," she said softly, "it's all right. I'm here." She gently placed a hand on his face.

His hand covered hers. "I know," he said, finally looking her in the eyes. Hermione felt her world slowly go on tilt. Even now, one look from him could make her feel weak.

- - -

"You really were crazy. And lucky we weren't found."

She saw his lips curl into a smirk. "No, Hermione. I'm just damned clever. Why can't you just admit that?"

Hermione had opened her mouth in protest but the words died in her throat when she looked into his eyes. Damn him, she thought.

"Where's Aiden?"

"In his room sleeping." Her fingers traced the outlines of his hands. "Where's your mother, Draco? I haven't seen her since I've been here."

"Never mind her." Draco had tried to keep his tone light, but Hermione knew him. His eyes remained steady and his face unchanged, but there was a slight unsteadiness in his voice that betrayed him. "There's something I want to show you."

He was trying to redirect the conversation. Hermione briefly considered pushing and asking again about his mother, but quickly changed her mind. She could ask again later. "Fine," she said. "But don't think I don't know what you're trying to do. Don't think you can try and pull a quick one over me. I know what you're doing."

Draco smirked. "I would never dare to assume that I've fooled you, Granger." He winked roguishly at her which elicited a genuine laugh from her. "But really, there is something I want to show you."

Hermione raised an eyebrow with curiosity. "What is it?"

Draco sighed dramatically. "Always so impatient." He crossed his arms and shook his head. "Now if I told you, what would be the point in showing you?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't be so patronizing," she said, playfully hitting him. "You know I hate it when you do that."

He grinned at her and took her hand. "Come," he said.

Hermione let him lead her down the stone path. Everything seemed so oddly familiar. She'd been here before, she knew.

- - -

"It's beautiful, Draco."

He had smirked widely when he heard her gushing. She hated it, but she let him have his moment. If she had been the reason behind these beautiful gardens, she would feel rather smug too. Most of the garden was still covered in snow. A light layer covered most of the flower beds, but the winter greenery was impeccable, considering that their master had not been there to tend to them for the last few months. Archways entangled with vines soared over stone pathways that twisted through the expansive gardens. The whole place was simply exquisite. In her mind, Hermione coloured in the green and white canvas with blossoms of every shade and hue.

"I wish I could see it in the spring," she mused, pulling in her jacket around her as she made her way down one of the paths. It was a particularly cold winter this year. "It really is beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," he replied, shooting her a sideways glance.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Lame, Malfoy. You're losing your touch."

"I mean it," he said. She felt as if his grey eyes boring in to her soul. "You're the most beautiful thing in this world. I don't feel as if I ever knew anything until… I knew…" He hesitated. "You know, all my life, I didn't understand. I couldn't, really. And being here again –" his eyes quickly glanced around – "I'm reminded again of who I used to be… what I used to be…" Draco's eyes left hers. She wanted desperately to look him in the eyes and tell him it was all right. But he avoided her glance. His hand gently brushed the bush to his side. "I tried so hard to get cold, heartless statues to feel. How I tried to express something to someone who didn't understand. And all the terrible things I did –"

Hermione reached out to him. "That's in the past now…"

"No, it's not!" He pulled away from her. "It never will be. Not as long as I live," he said coldly. "It'll always… always be a part of me. And I can't run from it. It's all around me. It's all… here. Even when I'm not here. I'm just pretending. I can't lie to myself…"

"Draco…"

"You don't understand." He sounded bitter now. "You couldn't. You've always been good. You've never done anything as despicable as I have. I don't deserve happiness, do I? If I suffered for the rest of my life, it wouldn't be enough…"

"Draco, stop." Hermione grabbed his hand. "Draco, look at me." He pressed his lips together and determinedly refused to meet her gaze. "Look at me," she repeated. Draco finally complied with her order. "You are right. You have done terrible things. But things aren't black and white. You can't just put everything in nice neat columns of 'right' or 'wrong'. That's not how things work." Hermione smiled wryly. "I never thought that until you happened to me."

The distraught look on Draco's face melted away slightly. "I love you," he said.

Hermione felt her heart stop and then race with ecstasy. "What?" she whispered, trying to hide her elation.

Draco, understanding her more perfectly than she understood herself, smiled and kissed her.

"I love you, too."

- - -

Hermione pulled on Draco's arm, making him stop. He turned around, looking at her curiously. "What?" he asked.

"It was here." She looked around. Yes, it was. She remembered, though when they were last here, there hadn't been an abundance of poppies, dotting the flowerbed. "When you first said it."

"You remember," he said softly.

Hermione smiled. "Of course I do."

The look in his eyes made her feel so perfectly content, she would have been happy just standing there, just staring into them. But Draco was insistent. "Come," he said, tugging on her arm yet again.

Hermione sighed loudly. "What is so damned important that you want me to see?"

Draco didn't respond. "Close your eyes."

Hermione stared. "What?"

"Just do it."

"Why?"

"Because I want it to be a surprise."

"Why?"

"Granger, you ask too many questions," Draco said dryly, barely hiding his irritation.

"Fine." Hermione huffed. He was being silly, but she'd humour him. She closed her eyes. She felt him place his hands on her shoulders and allowed him to guide her. A loud metal gate slammed behind them.

"All right. Open them."

Hermione gasped at what she saw. She had thought the gardens outside were lovely, but nothing compared to the sight before her now. Clearly, this was where most of Draco's efforts went. Everything looked perfectly attended to. And in the middle of it all was a beautiful, flowering bush of white roses.

"Oh, Draco," she cried as she ran towards it. "Did you…?"

"Yes," he replied, anticipating her question. "For you."

For whatever silly reason, she felt tears well up in her eyes. "Oh, Merlin, now I feel stupid," she mumbled under her breath.

"Really?" Draco made a face of pretend shock. "Merlin, I've accomplished what no wizard has done before and what all the wizarding community had deemed impossible: make Hermione Granger feel stupid!"

"Shut up, you stupid git," she said, hitting him. "It's beautiful. I can't believe you remembered."

"How could I forget?" Draco murmured, wrapping an arm around her waist. "Ever since you were young, you loved white roses. And after you read The Secret Garden, you always dreamed of having your own secret garden full of them, but your parents never were the gardening type." He kissed her head. "Well, now you have it. I planted it here three years ago… but it didn't bloom until a few weeks ago. Almost as if it knew you were coming," he added wryly. "There's a bench by it too. I always imagined you could read by it."

"Oh, Draco." Hermione shook her head. "I… don't know what to say… or how to thank you…"

"You don't need to say anything or thank me. I did this for you, and after everything… it's the least I could do. I really don't des-"

"Draco, what is the meaning of this?" A cool voice Hermione did not immediately recognize cut in.

Hermione saw Draco's eyes suddenly narrow. After composing himself he turned to face the speaker. "Mother," he said evenly.

Hermione, too, turned and saw Narcissa Malfoy, standing in the gateway of the garden, arms crossed and face fuming. Her sage green robes set off her complexion, which, Hermione realised, was turning more green by the second…

"What is this… thing doing in our household?" she asked icily.

"Hermione is here as my guest."

"I suppose her brat is here as well?"

"Mother, you will be civil or you will hold your tongue."

Narcissa shot her son a glare. "That is no way to speak to your mother," she said angrily. "After all of this, you still won't listen to me? Do you want to suffer again?" She turned on Hermione. "What are you doing here? Are you trying to destroy what little my son has left?" she asked in a low, menacing voice. "Leave him! You're no good for him, you cheap, slut…"

"MOTHER!" Draco roared.

Hermione couldn't stand to hear anymore. She ran away, tears clouding her vision.

x x x

Say there's no future
For us as a pair
And though, I may know
I don't care

x x x

Knock, knock, knock.

"Hermione, I know you're in there." Draco leaned against the door which Hermione had magically locked. He rapped against the door again. "Hermione, please, open the door. You didn't come down for dinner. You must be starving."

No response.

Draco sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He should have anticipated this and mentally berated himself for not preparing for this. Though, his mother's outburst had surprised him. He had thought she would at least have put on a false pretence of politeness. He had expected his mother to be upset – what he hadn't expected was her screaming and shouting at Hermione. Mother rarely raised her voice, let alone show emotion. Well, at least now he knew his mother was human.

But now, Hermione had locked herself up and refused to come out. He could open the door, overriding her charm, but he didn't feel right doing that. He wanted Hermione to open the door herself… though he was starting to doubt she would. He had been standing, knocking, and talking to the door for about ten minutes now. And she still hadn't responded.

"Hermione, please," he said, banging on the door again. "Let me talk to you."

Draco was about to give up when the door finally swung open. Hermione's hair was frazzled and her eyes slightly puffy. She had been crying, Draco realised, his heart sinking slightly.

"What?" she asked, her voice slightly hoarse.

"Hermione… I'm so sorry…"

Hermione laughed dryly. "It's not your fault that your mother thinks I'm a slut, Malfoy."

Draco grimaced slightly. He deserved that one, he reckoned. "Hermione, please… My mother is just… overreacting and being ridiculous. She doesn't…" His voice trailed off.

"She doesn't what, Draco? Mean it?" Hermione shot him a look. "We both know she does. She hates me."

"But I don't," Draco cut in. "Merlin, Hermione… I'm so sorry… I didn't want that to happen. I don't want to see you hurting… ever. Please, just… I love you and I can't… I can't lose you."

Hermione looked up at him. "Draco, why are you always so afraid of losing me?" she asked quietly.

Draco hesitated. "I…"

"I told you before," she said, her tone softening, "You won't. And I meant it. Look, I'm here. I did what no one thought I could do – I left Ron. Twice now. Both times, for you. Do you need anymore proof that I love you, Draco?" She looked at him, eyes wide. "Do you?"

That's not the problem. "No," Draco said aloud.

"Good," Hermione said, smiling.

"So… you forgive me?" Draco asked, grinning rather ridiculously at her.

Hermione laughed. "There's nothing to forgive." She kissed him softly, breaking away before he could deepen it further. "God… I almost forgot how wonderful this could be." Her eyes sparkled.

"Then let me remind you," Draco said, smirking. Hermione's scowl quickly changed to a look of surprise when he lifted her up off her feet. She dissolved into giggles as he carried her around, finally settling her down on the bed. He leaned in next to her.

"Draco… I love you."

Draco kissed her again. He felt her wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him in closer to her. He moved on top of her, so he was more comfortably positioned. One of his hands was reached out, stabilizing him, while the other was lost in Hermione's hair. Hermione's hands had left his neck and were now trailing up and down his back. Her kisses were growing more heated. Her hands were now moving to a place from which there was no returning. Draco could feel himself starting to lose control. Summing up what was left of his will, he reluctantly pulled away.

Hermione's eyes opened with surprised. "What's wrong?"

"I just –" Draco tried to catch his breath. "We shouldn't… I don't want to do something you'll regret tomorrow."

"Don't be stupid, Malfoy. I'm a big girl. I know what I'm doing." Hermione put her arms around his neck again, pulling him back down.

"Are you sure?" Draco's mind was already clouding with desire.

Hermione nodded. "More sure than of anything else."

x x x

As long as you're mine

x x x

A mile away from Malfoy Manor, someone was watching.

Hidden away in the thicket, there was someone.

Watching. Observing.

Deep in the shadows, there was a figure. Not moving. Silent.

Thinking. Planning. Plotting.

Soon. Very soon.

AN: I've never been very good at writing "lovey" scenes, so hopefully it wasn't too cringeworthy. Anyway. There it is! For those of you h8ing Ron, he'll have his moment. I endeavor to make every character as realistic and complete as possible. You will find that no one character is completely bad or completely good. Hermione and Draco are happy now, but how long will it last?