Well, would you look at this: it's an update! Can you handle it! Even after a horrifically long day (and an amazing performance of Shostakovich's Piano Trio *dies*), here you have it.

I have a few other fics in mind for the future, for any Ginny fans, it's very much orientated on her (a lovely long one - hopefully - and musical too ^^). I have another SiriusLily one, which also has a SiriusRemus bit in it too. Anyway, I just want to finish most of my other fics first. There's a concerto festival happening in a few weeks, so hopefully it will give me inspiration for the DracoGinny fic too ^^.

Anyway, forwards to the story (as not to keep you from it...I drabble about my love life, but I think some of the flashbacks give a bit of insight ;)).

Enjoy, and see you...at the bottom!

Oh, and I don't own HP.

Hermione stirred. Her eyes were still closed, her senses foggy with sleep. The one thing she noticed was sunlight on her face, warming her. It was pleasant, lovely to wake up to. She listened to her own breathing, deep and peaceful, as if she were still sleeping; it coincided with someone else, close to her, in a tranquil counterpoint…hang on. That wasn't right.

Hermione then noticed that her whole body was warm, and not just because of the blanket that covered her, nor the sunlight on her face: there was someone else with her. She slowly opened her eyes, wondering if she was still dreaming. She was alarmed to find that she wasn't frightened. It seemed like the most natural thing to wake up to. She first noticed the pale arm draped around her, so that she wouldn't fall off the couch. She then saw the small table in front of her, on which two cups of cold coffee stood, still untouched.

Not sooner than she woke, the other being beside her stirred and shifted slightly. Hermione held her breath. Her mind immediately jumped to one particular person, the same person that was impeding on her brain for the last few weeks. Can it really be…? Is it really him? Is this really a dream? Would she wake in her own bed, alone, without him?

All the answers to the questions were answered when the other person propped himself on his elbow and looked down at her. For once, his hair was dishevelled, falling and framing his pointed face. Hermione noticed that his usual grey eyes looked ice blue first thing in the morning, but perhaps it was the light from the window. And oh, what light! What beauty it shed on the room, glistening like golden droplets in his pale blond hair. Such a majestic sight, one that took Hermione's breath as she beheld it.

"Good morning, Mademoiselle," Draco said in dulcet tones, his eyes looking at Hermione almost lovingly. "I trust you slept as best as you can on a couch."

It took Hermione a few seconds to orientate herself, remember where she was and who she was with. "I did," she replied simply, smiling fondly. She lifted a hand to cup his face. Draco returned the smile with the same warmth, turning his face into her hand. What Hermione then saw was not the cool, calm and collected Draco Malfoy she came to know. This was a sappy, romantic and deliriously happy…I'm getting ahead of myself, she thought to herself. Maybe this is how he normally is in the mornings.

"May I offer you some coffee?" Draco went on to say. Hermione nodded sleepily, a strand of hair falling on her cheek. Draco lifted his other hand and tucked the strand behind her ear before kissing her gently. "Be back in a few minutes," he whispered. He gracefully extricated himself from the blankets and moved through to the kitchen.

Hermione took her time to sit up, clutching the blankets around her, until she realised that she wasn't naked. Only her shoes and socks were on the floor. Her hair was loose and wild, falling around her shoulders and face. Taking her hair clip, she gathered her hair into the neatest possible bun and kept it together with the clip. Several strands of hair decorated her sleepy face.

As she heard Draco puttering around the kitchen, Hermione couldn't deny that this wasn't a dream anymore. If that wasn't a dream, then the night before wasn't a dream either. She could still taste Draco in her mouth; feel his soft lips on hers, on her neck. His hands were so soft; he handed her gently with the utmost care. It was unlike anything that she'd ever experienced. Not that she experienced much, it was only Victor and…Hermione held her face in her hands. Ron…

She'd cheated on him.

Her stomach churned with guilt. This was the first time she'd done this. She couldn't tell anyone, she couldn't bear their judging looks or the condescending stares. No, she couldn't tell anyone, especially not Ron. Although something in the back of her mind niggled that she should, that he had the right to know. If she withheld the information any longer than she should, it would cause serious damage to the relationship…What about Harry, Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys, and Luna? Everything would be ruined because of what she did.

But did she regret it?

Her head snapped up as Draco returned, with two new steaming cups of filter coffee, looking all the world like nothing happened. She accepted the coffee with a smile, her grateful hands hugging the mug, but she didn't sip the stimulant. She stared at the mug's contents blankly, her body hunched over it.

"Is everything all right?" Draco asked, placing a reassuring hand on her back. Hermione looked at the blond in response to his touch. She opened her mouth as if to say something but then thought better of it. Draco pressed on, "You know you can talk about it, if you need to."

Hermione surveyed Draco through worried brown eyes, full with various emotions and confliction that she didn't know what to start with. Anything, just say anything!

"I have to go," she blurted out.

Draco let his hand fall gently, and nodded. "I will call a cab, then," he said, almost sadly.

Hermione was curled up in a ball on the couch, clutching her knees against her chest, a cup of tea steaming next to her. The television was on in front of her, but she wasn't paying any attention to the trivial soap opera.

Her parents were busy when she sneaked back into the house; she made it into her bed unnoticed. If her mother knew she didn't sleep at the house, she didn't say a word. Hermione appreciated that. But after a few days, Hermione grew despondent as the feeling of guilt gnawed at her stomach. She didn't care about how she looked, nor bothered with going out of the house. She sucked herself into her studies quickly, as to distract herself from wandering thoughts and sleepless nights. Her mother tried not to ask what the matter was, thinking that space was necessary for her daughter to comply with her wishes. Hermione merely waved her mother off with her vague question, replying that it was nothing and that she was behind on studies.

Despite her parent's encouraging, she stayed inside and continued to study until she finished her three textbooks in the space of six days. Then, there was nothing more that she could do. Now she was forced to do nothing until term started. Now she was forced to think about the situation. She didn't talk to anyone about it, and it was getting to her. She needed some kind of advice.

If she thought about things too long, she could feel Draco's hands on her hips, his needy lips pressed against hers, his smile against her neck, his excited breathing, his body pressed against hers…Hermione shook her head quickly. Get out! She chided herself. But at the same time, she longed to feel it all again.

Something was terribly wrong with her. She needed to sort herself out. She needed to tell someone. She then unfolded herself, took her cup of tea in one hand, went upstairs and started typing.

"Boy, get out of your room," Blaise said impatiently through the door.

"Why?" came the reply from the other side.

"Because you're a twat, and you're over-thinking things." The voice didn't reply. "Look, you've been in there for two days straight. You gotta eat or something, otherwise this thing's gonna eat you!"

"Since when did you care about my well-being?"

Blaise sighed emphatically. "I'm your best mate, yeah? It's what we do."

It was a couple of seconds before the door opened. Draco looked dishevelled and worn, like he hadn't slept in days. His hair was out of place, his eyes had bags underneath them, he was wearing clothes from three days ago, and he was more pale than usual. "You look awful," Blaise said bluntly.

Draco didn't look impressed. "I thought you said you were my best mate," Draco said, raising an eyebrow slightly.

"Exactly. The other part of being a best mate is to be forward about things. Now, sit down, lemme make you some food, yeah?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "The last time you tried to make food you almost burned the place down, Blaise," Draco said impatiently.

"Oi, give me a break, all right? I think I've improved since then."

Draco said nothing and folded himself onto the chair. In a few minutes, Blaise brought him a cup of strong coffee. "Now tell me what's been on your mind," he said. It wasn't a question.

Draco took a long sip and sighed contently. It was exactly what he needed. "You remember Hermione Granger," Draco started. Blaise voiced his affirmation from the kitchen. "Okay, well…I don't know…she's a lovely girl. She loves theatre, and reading, and she's so beautiful…"

Blaise spared Draco a look from his preparation. "Sounds serious."

"I think I messed things up," Draco said, running his hand through his bedraggled hair. He looked at his hand in disgust. He wasn't used to being unkempt. "I kissed her," he then said, sighing. "It progressed to something else…it was wonderful. A night of magic, if you want to look at things like that. But then the next morning, she took off as soon as we woke up. I messed everything up," Draco repeated. "I shouldn't have invited her here in the first place."

"You guys looked cozy enough on the couch," Blaise commented from the kitchen.

"You saw that?" Draco moaned.

"Yup. You're right, though. She's really pretty. You two suit each other well."

Draco didn't reply to this. His eyes were fixed on the wall opposite. "Listen, just give her time," Blaise said kindly, putting down a sandwich in front of him. "Then ask her on a coffee date again, nothing scary or anything. Just make it casual."

Draco looked at his sandwich and said, "I don't like mustard."

"Tough." He stood up. "I'm gonna head out. You eat. Think about what I said. When I come back, I'm taking you out. You need it."

Hermione hit send. She didn't expect an immediate reply, but she couldn't help checking her inbox constantly over the next few days. But she felt like a weight had lifted off her shoulders. Telling someone was the right thing to do.

She went out regularly with her parents now, shopping, theatre and dinner usually. She felt better about herself and she almost, almost forgot her predicament. But late at night, she couldn't shake the feeling of Draco from her senses. He was like a parasite, infiltrating her thoughts and dreams. She didn't like it at all, especially when she was supposed to be with Ron. This wasn't fair to anyone.

Finally, she got a reply. Her computer beeped excitedly and Hermione rushed to it. She sighed in relief.

She replied.

Hey Hermione!

You have no idea how much trouble I put in, just so that I can read and reply to this e-mail. Ron was stressing about the lack of contact and wanted to read it immediately. So I freaked out on him, and then he ran to Mum (wow, what a grown-up he is!). I was so scared that Mum would let him read the e-mail, and then locked myself and the laptop in the room. So with literally the whole family wanting to break down the door, I write you this e-mail!

First of all…you and Draco kissed? 'Draco from school' Draco? The guy that kept on teasing you when you had braces and bullied Ron and Harry with his two monster cronies? Are you serious? How did that happen? From what you tell me, though, he seems to be a decent guy, and grown up, for that matter (not like Ron – sorry). I guess you can explain why you feel guilty; I know you're supposed to be with Ron and all. But Malfoy seems like everything Ron…isn't. I mean, isn't it difficult to relate to someone who doesn't understand you completely? This sophisticated version of Malfoy seems…rather attractive actually. He's not bad looking, come to think of it.

Listen, I know this sounds wrong, but I think you should give Draco a try. I will keep Ron at bay, don't worry. I'll spin some story, and he won't come near you until you say so. Otherwise, go have fun, it's the summer holidays. You deserve it!

Now I have to explain to Mum and the rest of the family why I locked myself in the room…wish me luck!

Love you plenty!

Gin.

Hermione couldn't believe what she was reading. Was Ginny telling Hermione to carry on cheating on Ron? She had a point though: Draco understood her in a way that Ron never could. He was tender and comforting and such a good kisser…Hermione shook her head to get the image out of her mind. However, come to think of it, Ron kissed like a slug. He never complimented her when she made an effort to look good for him, he wasn't interested in theatre or musicals, and he never read a book voluntarily.

Hermione re-read the e-mail, biting her lip in thought. Ginny was right, in some ways. But she couldn't do this to Ron, no matter what story Ginny spun to keep his mind off things.

Although it was viable to give Draco a try. Hermione and Ron were in the early stages of their relationship, so if anything progressed, it wouldn't be too difficult to break it off…or would it? Hermione clutched her head in thought, her hands going through bunches of frizzy hair. What to do? Please let there be something to tell me what to do, she thought wistfully.

It was then when her computer beeped.

Another e-mail.

Hermione sat bolt upright in her chair. It couldn't be…would it…?

It was.

She swallowed as she opened it, her stomach suddenly exploding into a haven of butterflies.

Hermione

Would you care to share a cup of coffee with me tomorrow afternoon at Café Divine, three o'clock? If you don't want to see me again, I understand. I will be there.

Draco.

Hermione put her hand to her mouth with an intake of breath. Of course, he didn't know about Ron, and so he would've been so confused about her reactions. Now she had to decide whether she should tell Draco the truth, or not to.

She arrived at Café Divine fifteen minutes early. She just happened to finish getting ready early, or perhaps it was the gnawing feeling of uncertainty in her gut. She still didn't know what to say to Draco yet. She was still getting over the shock of the reception of the e-mail. She thought he would be upset with her not talking to him. The fact that he wanted to meet again, actually meant…Hermione shook herself. No, you can't think this. Don't get hopeful.

She only hoped for a revelation to suddenly come upon her. She thought that when Draco sat down opposite her, she would know exactly what to say. What was he? Just a man. Exactly. You hardly know him, she told herself, as she sipped her camomile tea in reassurance. What if she took a chance on him? Hermione drew a blank. A nibbling fear entered her stomach. Fear of the unknown. Ron was safe, she knew Ron, Ron was familiar, but Draco…he was a mystery. A shapeless shadow…Hermione knew only shallow things about Draco. She spent her whole school career with Ron.

Which brought up a question: Then why don't I feel the same about Harry? She brooded silently over her tea. Ginny had him since she and Harry first met. Hermione and Ginny became fast friends soon after that. Harry was untouchable; Hermione got that point very quickly. Ginny could be very convincing when she wanted to be.

Then, before she knew it, Draco walked into the café, all his coolness restored. After Blaise talked him out of his room, Draco pulled himself together. It was time to act mature about things; which was why he asked Hermione to meet him again. When his eyes fell on Hermione, he almost breathed a sigh of relief…and there might have been a flutter of hope in his heart. She doesn't hate me, he told himself.

Of course, it was his fault, all of it. I shouldn't have kissed her in the first place, he thought as he walked towards her. But as he got closer, he saw her bold brown eyes; he remembered the smell of her soft, brown hair; he felt the press of her lips against his…he wanted that all, he wanted it all back. It was then Draco realised that when he first kissed her, everything slotted itself into place, everything was finally…right.

Draco seated himself opposite Hermione, absorbing her image. It was a week and a half since they last saw each other. Separated, it felt like a year; together, it was no time at all.

Hermione cracked a weak smile. "Hello," she said, her brown eyes softening.

"Mademoiselle," Draco replied with his usual inclination of his head. He's not cold, Hermione noticed. She felt her shoulders relax; maybe it was the tea, it might have also been Draco's appearance. She didn't care. He was here.

But the matter still hung on the tip of her tongue, willing to show itself, pressing itself against her chest as though it might burst at any second.

"Draco, I have to –"

"Listen, it was my –"

The pair averted their eyes sheepishly as they tried to speak over one another. Draco was the first to lift his eyes.

"Ladies first," he said.

Hermione met his gaze, her heart drumming against her chest, her cheeks flushing wildly. "No, you go," she allowed.

"Fair enough." He cleared his throat unsteadily. "It was my fault…what happened the other night."

"It wasn't entirely your fault," Hermione replied kindly. "I reciprocated. Neither one of us deserves the blame."

"I'm not going to accept that," Draco said stubbornly.

"I'm not going to give you my part of the blame, Draco," Hermione said sharply. "You never forced me into anything. I have free will too!"

The pair glared at each other for a few moments before breaking into uneasy laughter. "We're bickering like children!" Hermione exclaimed.

"Or lovers," Draco pointed out. Hermione immediately fell silent. Draco chose the moment to speak. "Listen, you can't deny what's going on between us."

"Draco, I –"

"No, please, just hear me out first," Draco pleaded. Hermione made to open her mouth. "Please," Draco repeated softly, his grey eyes looking intently into hers. Hermione sighed and nodded her head for him to proceed. "To get straight to the point…" Draco took a few moments to run his long fingers in his hair. "Why don't we give us a try?" he burst out. "Even if it's just a few weeks. I can stop seeing you in September, when term starts again, that I can promise you. I can stay far away from, I will move again if I have to. Just…you invade my every thought, every memory, and every movement. Everything reminds me of you." He laughed uncertainly, leaning back in his chair, his hands going through his pale blond hair again. "I can't believe I'm saying this…"

Hermione was taken aback, to say the least. Draco was actually opening up to her. It wasn't about the poor acting at the theatre, or his favourite musical, or his favourite holiday location. This was Draco. This was Draco, admitting feelings…for her. She never thought she would get this far.

"Okay," was all she managed to say.

And the look on Draco's face was all that she could ever ask for.

I'm sorry if this one seems short too (that seems to be everyone's issue with it :/). But I don't want to wind on too much, if you get my drift.

Sorry if things sound South African (obviously I don't revert into Afrikaans :p). It's just that some of these things I have experienced, or taken from interacting with other people...

The next chapter will involve drama and stuff :D (I now know vaguely what to do with the fic now ;), just playing it by ear where detail goes. Whatever grabs me). Anyway, will be working on pieces and things for the end of year exams, so might be scarce or very active. But I will update, I promise.

Signing off

Caneater