A/N: It's been forever, guys, I know. I started university; it's been really chaotic, and I've been trying to focus more on original writing as opposed to fan stuff. But one night I came back to this piece and decided that I just wanted to at least try to keep it going. There will probably be pretty long breaks in between updates; I don't have a lot of spare time these days, so I won't make any promises about when new chapters will be up. I'm terribly sorry about how long I've been away from this, and I hope it doesn't happen again, but I can't guarantee anything.

Also, there's smut, but it's not like…it's not great smut. I've been out of practise for a while, guys. I'm sorry.

*****
Hermione's POV

"I don't want him to hate me," I tell Fred and George. Katie is in the kitchen of their flat, busying herself making tea for us. Cho is sitting next to Fred, looking strangely placid and not fully present. She's gazing out in the other direction, looking lost in thought.

"Do you hate him?" George asks. Between the twins, George is the calmer, more level-headed one. He's the better mediator because he's marginally less impulsive than Fred.

I sigh heavily as Katie levitates five mugs of tea to the table, letting one gently float down in front of me. "I don't know. I hate what he used to be, but he's changing. I can sense it." I wave my wand over the tea to cool it down. "He still throws insults at me but his heart's not in it, you know?"

Fred grins. "Yeah, I think I know what you're getting at."

I glance at him, trying to take everything in as discreetly as possible. The way Cho's leg brushes his, his fingers drumming against the side of her knee, these light, nearly hidden touches that indicate that maybe their contempt is falling away. The bracelets, funneling fake love into them when it shouldn't be there. I catch Fred's eyes and he looks at me as if to say, "I can explain."

"Later?" I mouth, and he nods. I don't blame him for his reaction to feelings he's being forced to feel, but that doesn't mean it's not hurting to watch his fingertips drawing circles over Cho's knee the way I used to trace the scars on his chest. Suddenly all of the innocuous, platonic things that passed between us seem magnified, somehow as intimate as him taking my virginity.

"Hermione, do you feel anything for him?" Katie asks. She brushes her dark hair from one shoulder over the other and summons the sugar from the kitchen counter. I notice the large "G" on her oversized sweater; she knicked George's Weasley sweater, which means that if they haven't been having sex, they should be starting to soon. I know he wanted Angelina, but he could be doing far worse.

"I don't know. I don't love him. But I think that he could be a decent person, you know, if he wanted to be. I think he's acting like he still hates me because he's too proud to be any other way."

"Talk to him," George says. Just take him aside and say, "'It's time to drop this ridiculous act, now let's be friends.'"

Fred snorts derisively. "Or, we could just—"

"Hex him six ways from Sunday?" George finishes. They flash me their trademark grin, making me smile slightly, but it doesn't last. After this, I'm going to stop by Number 12. Harry and Ginny haven't consummated yet; if they had, one of them would have mentioned it in their letters. Ron and Luna have been "working up to it," as Ron has written, whatever that entails. But after that, I'll have to go back to my cold, lonely room in the uninviting Manor, home to an empty bed and a spiteful husband, home to night terrors and flashbacks and nobody but portraits to keep me company.

"Have sex with him, Hermione," Cho says abruptly. I stare at her in surprise. She's a quiet, modest girl, and up until a couple seconds ago I don't think I could've imagined the word "sex" coming out of her mouth. Occasionally, you just meet people that you can't imagine ever having sex, and for me, Cho was one of them.

"That's—that's a bit more than—" I sputter.

"No, no, really," she starts. "You'll have to do it anyway. You might as well use the physicality to overcome the emotional barriers he puts up."

Fred and George shrug, pulling faces that say "you might as well try." Katie chimes in, "That's actually not a bad idea."

I shake my head. "Even if I wanted to, he won't let me in the same bedroom as him."

"I think you'll find he might, if you tried," Cho says knowingly.

I don't cast Silencing Charms on my room because when I have nightmares, I want him to know about it. I want my trauma to wake him up, to ruin him with guilt, I want to make him suffer the agony of remorse. If he tells me to keep away from him and doesn't lock his door, he must be waiting for me to break my way in.

I look at her over the rim of my mug. "Maybe." I watch her fingertips dance lightly over Fred's hip, where his belt loop would be. I bet she couldn't trace the scars on his chest as well as I could. Maybe that doesn't mean anything in the grand scheme now, but it means something to me, and it must mean something to him.

*****
"Hermione," Fred says later, when Cho has gone into their bedroom to study. George and Katie have gone out to lunch, trying to make their friendship into a spark of passion that will carry them through the next three years. "Sit down," he says amicably, waving his wand at the living room couch. The pillows resting against the armrests fluff themselves up and I oblige.

"I'm not upset," I tell him, because I'm not. Or at least, I'm not angry at him. "It's the potion, I know. And I would much rather you fall in love with her if that makes your time with her bearable. I never expected anything from you, really."

"Hermione, I don't love her. Maybe I will one day but if I do, it'll just be chemicals."

Chemicals one way or the other, from the bracelet or from the sex; the thought that Cho and Fred will never be real is comforting in a vicious way. "I know."

We stare at each other for a long moment. I want to go back to the night we were together. It was such a spur of the moment decision but it was somehow the best, strangest thing I've ever experienced. I want him again, if I could ever have him, if there was a way. They say the first time is always awkward, that it's sometimes painful and it's hard to finish but if only I could keep with it, if only I could stay with him. "Hermione?"

"Hm?"

"Can—can I kiss you?"

"You have a wife," I answer with a quiet sadness, because she's not really a wife to him, but I'm afraid of hurting her in some way. She's a person too, and I know this isn't easy for her. I don't want to be the one to make it harder than it needs to be.

"She's not my wife," he whispers. His eyes lock onto mine. Gently, he brings his hand up to my face, cupping my cheek. "She's not," he repeats sadly.

I nod slightly, and he leans in, his lips meeting mine for a few seconds, just a brief, sad kiss that can't lead to anything more. His lips are warm against mine, moving nearly imperceptibly. When we break apart, his hand lingers on my cheek for a long moment, and I relish in the warmth of his skin on mine before he finally removes it. "I'm not going to fall in love with her," he insists, but I think it's more for himself than it is for me. I don't have anything to say in response, so I just reach for his other hand and squeeze his fingers.

We kiss one more time, halfway down the staircase out of his flat, his lips against my cheek, his hands on my hips. I rest my palms on his chest, mapping out his scars in my mind. It's so chaste, for a moment it seems perfectly decent.

*****
"Don't think of Fred when you're with Draco," Luna advises me. We're sitting at the table of Number 12, eating a dinner that Harry and Ginny made together.

"I don't see why it matters."

"Sex is a special thing, Hermione. It's a joining of two people in a very intimate way. You can't think of one person and have sex with another. Each person is so different, you'll miss out. Even if it's nothing serious, you should try to enjoy the moment for what it is."

I look at Ron and he shrugs. Earlier, they had informed me that they still hadn't consummated, and neither had Harry and Ginny. I had told them they might want to get on it soon, but none of them had given me a straight response.

"I'll, um…I'll keep it in mind," I assure her. "Thanks, Luna."

She smiles her odd, wistful smile with her grey eyes a million miles away. I can see the end of her wand sticking out of her bun. I try to imagine sex with Malfoy. I've always pictured him as the type to be into the kinky stuff. I wonder if he'll insist on tying me up or hitting me. I sincerely hope not; I don't trust him enough to try those things. He'll probably think of some other way to hurt me.

Ginny squeezes my hand. "You'll be okay, I promise. I think it's really brave of you."

"You can tell us what it's like afterwards and we can all laugh about it together," Ron offers, coaxing a small laugh out of me.

Harry pipes up. "You can do it, Hermione. If you could deal with Bellatrix, you can deal with Draco."

"I bet he has a micropenis," Ron grins.

"Ron!" I exclaim, blushing and reaching out to smack his shoulder, but I can't help the giggles that escape me.

*****
Draco's POV

It's nearly midnight when I hear my bedroom door creak open. I've just barely begun to fall asleep. She finally figured it out, then, that I never really wanted to keep her out, I just wanted to see if she'd come to me herself. I want redemption, I want second chances, I want all that I do not truly deserve, and she's the way I can get it. With her, I can be a better person, I can be the man my father was never decent enough to be.

She creeps in, tiptoeing to the edge of my bed and silently pushing the curtain aside just enough to sit down. Her bare skin is white as paper in the moonlight that spills in from the window. She's wearing knickers and a loose vest. It's not lingerie, but it's not terrible. The vest hangs off her. I never realized how small she was. The bed dips as she sits down. I haven't moved from my position, lying flat on my back with one arm over my stomach and the other above my head. I don't know if she knows I'm awake. "I want to know you," she says quietly. I heard her say that same thing under her breath a while ago. A few weeks, months, I'm not sure anymore. I never knew what sense she meant it in.

"I want to know you too," I say, barely audible. The Manor is empty yet we still whisper. These are secrets, the fact that we don't truly despise each other, things that we and our respective sides are not supposed to feel for each other. These are words we will never admit to speaking come morning.

Her head snaps toward me. Her brown eyes are wide and terrified. "Don't say anything," I whisper quickly. I sit up, letting my sheets fall away from my bare chest. I shift so I'm kneeling.

"But—"

"We can talk tomorrow," I say, and she nods. She stares at me with the fearful eyes of a deer in the headlights. "I won't hurt you." I lean forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I won't hurt you," I repeat as I inch closer to her. Again, I think, I won't hurt you again. "I promise," I whisper, but by that time my lips are already against hers and I'm not sure I actually spoke out loud.

I kiss her like I'm going to take her apart piece by piece, vivisect her and examine each bit of her being. She responds in turn, coming closer to me. She's shy and unsure of herself as her fingertips ghost over my chest, tickling my skin like feathers. "Hermione," I ask, breaking away from her briefly. "Are you a virgin?"

"I've—I've only had sex once," she mumbles.

I nod before going back to her lips, slowly pulling the straps of her vest down. Her collarbone juts out like her skin's been pulled over it too tightly. Vaguely, I wonder who the first was, which one of the Weasels it was, how much she would rather be with him than with me, with the one who tormented her for so many years, who parroted his father's vile lines in her face for so long.

She's like smoke. Her skin is white as sea foam. When I touch her, I feel like footprints left on sand; when morning comes, she'll do her best to forget me, to erase the memory of my skin against hers. She pulls the sheets around herself, hiding her naked body from my view, even as I move down her body, trying to get her as ready as she can be. She stops me before I can move past her breasts, grabbing my shoulder and pulling me back up. She looks small and shaken with me looming over her, resting in between her knees. "I'm ready," she says.

"But—"

"Don't say anything," she echoes.

As carefully as I can, I slide into her, feeling her walls constrict around me. She shifts and groans, trying to adjust. As I start to move inside her, she moves her arms up from her sides and wraps them around my shoulders, moving one up and down my back. Her eyes are closed. I wonder who she's thinking of, whose face is on the inside of her eyelids as I shag her in this strange, semi-impersonal way. Occasionally she opens her eyes and they meet mine, but she looks so stunned by the reality of the act that she closes them immediately after.

I can tell she has no idea what to do with herself, so I start to move her around. I pull her legs so they're around my hips, whispering for her to bring me closer. She moans in response. I want her to come, but I don't know if she'll let me try anything other than this. Her heels dig into the small of my back, pulling me into her.

In the darkness, I pretend not to see the "Mudblood" carved into her arm, and she doesn't say anything about the Dark Mark on mine, but I can't help but hear her screams echoing around the cavern of my skull, and I wish that I could make this act an apology to her. But I can't because I know she'd never be with me if she didn't have to.

"Draco," she whispers, and I can't tell what she feels, but all I can focus on is the fact that she said my name and not somebody else's, that she's thinking about me, if that means anything at all, if that makes anything better.

"Tell me what you want, Hermione," I whisper to her, but she doesn't respond. I kiss her again, whispering a "please" against her lips that goes ignored completely, trailing kisses across her neck, collarbone, shoulders.

When I come, I bury my face into the crook of her neck, whispering things into her skin that I don't even hear. Her hands press against my shoulderblades. I hear her moaning my name, but I know she hasn't finished.

I rest against her for a moment, and when I pull away, I want to kiss her again, but she turns away from me and cleans herself off with her wand before getting dressed again. She doesn't make to leave though, just sits on the end of the bed with her back to me, one hand fiddling with the canopy.

"You can stay," I say quietly.

Without a word, she slips under the covers. She turns onto her side, facing me, and twines a leg around mine, but makes no other contact. I can feel her eyes boring into me as I slowly drift into sleep.

*****
A/N: Again, I'm so sorry about the ridiculously long delay, and I'm sorry that I can't really offer any regularity with this story. I'll get back to it when I can. I really enjoy writing it, but I just don't have the amount of free time that I used to have. If you have any comments or suggestions about the direction of the story or anything else, leave them in the reviews section, or feel free to message me. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter. And of course, thanks for reading!