Hello everyone! I missed you all! and I have a nice chunk of story jsut for you! rememberto read and review. reviews are like cookies. they make me happy:) so i hope you like this one. more conflict. oh noes! enjoy!

~FlamingRose

The holidays were coming rather quickly. She had to finish a few projects, but other than that she was nearly finished. She still felt bad about the kiss. She didn't want to, but she couldn't seem to shake the incident from her mind.

He was hurt. That's all he knew right now. He was alive, he existed, and he was hurting. He needed something to get his mind off of it. He needed to get his mind off of a lot of things. He heard giggling, and then Pansy Parkinson's fingers running through his hair.

"What do you want Pansy?" he drawled.

"Oh come on Draco," she huffed, "you've been moping around this common room for way too long. I mean, I know your father has you doing all of these terribly great things that just seem to stress you out," she said, her fingers dancing along his shoulders dangerously close to the buttons of his shirt, " but you have got to relax." She bent down to kiss his neck. He hated Pansy right now. He hated how pushy she was. He hated that she was trying so hard. Mainly he hated that she was right. Who was he kidding? There was no way he could be perfectly happy being miserable, and he had been moping too long. And for what? A girl who didn't share the same feelings as he did? A muggle born witch he wouldn't even be friends with if she could have just stayed out of the private car, hadn't held his hand, hadn't made a peace treaty with him, hadn't helped him realize he was human, hadn't touched his mark without fear, hadn't told him to call her Hermione, hadn't kissed him. If only she hadn't told him it meant nothing. Then, for sure, he wouldn't be in this situation. He sighed as he thought about it for a second, if you could even call it that. He stood up and headed out of the common room. He took Pansy's hand.

"Let's go."

Detention. Not because she had to. Because she wanted to. McGonagall promised not to put it on her record, but that yes, if she really wanted to, she could clean her room. She was grateful. After all, she needed something to keep her mind off of this Draco dilemma she had encountered. She couldn't get the sight of his calm face out of her mind. It just didn't look like him anymore. she could almost see the walls rise up more quickly than they had come down, and now, she knew it would probably take a miracle to knock them down a second time.

"Professor McGonagall," she called.

"Yes Miss Granger?"

"Is it alright if I go to get a broom? These floors have way too much dust on them."

"Quickly," said McGonagall. She knew something was bothering the poor girl, but she wasn't going to soften. That would just make it easier for her to think about whatever it was she wanted to avoid. She knew the girl would have to face it eventually, but she wasn't going to make her face it now. Everyone needed a break every once in a while.

She walked down the halls, and of course, thinking about Draco. Against her will of course, but she couldn't seem to help it. the next time she saw him she would tell him how she really felt. She had to tell him that kiss meant something to her, and she hoped it meant something to him. She started reciting possible speeches, but none of them seemed to go right. She was in the middle of thinking up a new one that seemed rather promising when she came to the broom closet she was looking for. She opened it to fetch a broom, but instead of just dust and clutter she was met by two forms joined at the lips in what seemed like a permanent lip lock. She was shocked in complete immobility. Draco with this- this- this- girl. This other girl. A girl that wasn't her.

She looked at him with the most awful face. Something like shock, sadness, anger, and betrayal all wrapped up into one. It hit him at full speed right in his chest, breaking a hole in his defenses where his guilt came flooding back. How could he be so stupid? In a flash she was gone again and the door was closed. He heard Pansy giggle and drag him back to her. He pulled away.

"Pansy," he said, "I can't do this."

"Of course you can," she taunted, "don't be silly." She kissed his neck temptuously. He pulled away.

"No, I can't." he got up from his place in the closet and walked out into the corridor in search of Hermione. Where could she have gone? He turned just in time to see a lock of brown hair disappear around the corner. He ran after her.

"Hermione, wait!" he called, "Hermione hold on!" He took hold of her arm.

"Can you just stop for a minute? Please? Let me explain." She spun around to meet his gaze.

"Explain? You want to explain? Let me save you the trouble Draco. You decided you were going to just go off and have a meaningless make out session with one of the girls from your common room. It's nothing out of the ordinary. I don't see why you would have to explain to me. I don't care what you do with other girls Draco. I'm your friend, not your girlfriend. It's not like we have some kind of secret relationship or anything."

"Secret relationship? What do you think our friendship is? I don't tell my friends I am friends with you, and I doubt that you tell Potter and Weasley what happened between us in the owl tower. You know how they would respond, and so do I. Do you have any idea what they would say? The press would have a field day. You, a brilliant witch and friend of the famous Harry Potter, and I, the son of the Dark Lord's right hand man, and a death eater." He spat the last word with disgust dripping from his tongue like venom. Hermione looked down at her feet. He was right. She hated that.

"Every interaction between us has to be a secret," he continued, "I already risked uncovering our relationship by walking away from Pansy. You have got to understand." He reached out to touch her shoulder, but she shied away from him.

"I do understand Draco. I understand completely. You don't have to be so condescending. And for the record, you didn't have to walk away from Pansy. Don't worry about me," she said coldly with a small brave smile that didn't meet her empty eyes, "I can take care of myself. And you can be with whoever you want." The look in her eyes, no matter how much he searched, was void of feeling, and that pushed another blow to his chest. He didn't like this hurting.

She walked as quickly as she could back to McGonagall's room without running, tears running down her face. She didn't like this. She didn't like the way he made her feel, how he could make her elatingly happy, how he could make her hurt so much she couldn't breathe, how even when he did hurt her, she couldn't help but think about him. She went into McGonagall's room, grabbed a rag, and began to polish the goblets in the cabinet vigorously.

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall called.

"yes?" she responded, not looking up.

"The broom?"

"oh," she said, wiping her tears and standing up as straight as she could to face her professor.

" I decided the floors were okay," she lied. McGonagall nodded. The poor girl had been crying. Whatever it was that was troubling her, she would leave alone. It was not her business, and something inside her told her she had better not know.

"Very well," the teacher said, "once you have finished with those goblets you may go." Hermione gave way to a small smile and went back to thinking about work, but not succeeding. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't help but think of him.