SURPRISE! Here's another chapter for you, but don't thank me just yet, you might hate me by the end of it. :P Special thanks to harrypottergeekychick16, TheWritten, ariadne0318, 4littlemckay and resina for the reviews - as always, they are very much appreciated :) keep forgetting to mention this, but I am not JK Rowling, I am just borrowing her world for a little bit. Enjoy!
Somewhere deep in the castle, a clock chimed midnight.
Draco felt Hermione flinch in his arms and all too soon, she was twisting away from him to look at her watch.
"Oh no! We've left it far too late! If Filch sees us…"
Draco swore, running his hands through his hair. Hermione was frantically stuffing their books back into her bag, and with one swift wave of her wand she vanished the last remnants of their wine. She looked up at him, her brown eyes frantic.
"I won't have time to get back to the Slytherin dorms," he said, slinging his bag over his shoulder, "not from the top floor."
"And Gryffindor Tower's on the other side of the castle," muttered Hermione, biting her lip. Draco felt himself growing incredibly hot as he watched her, and tugged self-consciously at the collar of his shirt.
"Do you think we could make it to your office?"
She shrugged. "Maybe, it's not far. It just depends on who's in the corridors."
Hermione stared at the door, absent-mindedly, and Draco coughed.
"We could…we could stay here, if you wanted."
She went scarlet.
Draco knew exactly why she was blushing. Everyone who knew about the Room of Requirement always had a story about a friend of a friend who'd snuck in there with a boy, or a girl, or sometimes both. The stories varied about what actually happened in the room – Crabbe had said the room provided handcuffs to one of the seventh years, and Goyle had sworn that one of the fifth year Ravenclaws had been spat out into the corridor the second she had started kissing her boyfriend. He was willing to bet that Gryffindor Tower had its fair share of stories, too, judging by the beetroot red shade of Hermione's face.
"Or we could not stay here," he amended hastily, and for a second he could have sworn he saw Hermione's shoulders sagging with relief. Of course she wouldn't want to do anything like that, she'd just broken up with Weasley…
"Why don't we try and get back to my office?" she whispered, her cheeks still burning.
He nodded, and the two of them stepped out into the deserted corridor.
The full moon shone through the windows, bathing the corridor in silver light. Hermione's hair was almost black in the moonlight, and as he crept along behind her Draco could see the strands gleaming silver as they passed each window.
They moved slowly, silently, listening for any sound in the sleeping castle. The creaking of a pipe would make Hermione flinch, and the distant wailing of the castle ghosts would send a shiver down Draco's spine.
Finally, Hermione's office door came into view. The two of them sprinted towards it, forgetting the quiet, and hurtled through it, slamming the door behind them. Hermione locked the door with a wave of her wand just as Filch's voice rang through the corridors after them, and they both staggered into her office, pressing their hands over their mouths to stifle their giggling. Both of them collapsed on the bed, still laughing.
Draco glanced up. The red lilies he had given her were still sitting on the mantelpiece, as fresh and beautiful as ever. He smiled at them, heat creeping up from underneath his collar.
"You haven't thrown those things out yet?"
She shook her head. "I like them too much to throw them out."
He smiled. "I thought you would. Chose them specially, you know."
Hermione rolled over and looked at him, smiling. He wasn't sure if it was just the results of the haze of alcohol that had descended over his brain, but suddenly her hair was a tumbling mess of curls splayed out on the bed, her eyes were gleaming, her lips were redder than he'd ever seen them and heat was creeping across every inch of his skin.
She smiled. "And here was me thinking you'd just nicked them from the greenhouses."
He leaned forward and tried his best to look offended. "I shall have you know that I am a gentleman, Hermione Granger. Gentlemen do not 'nick' things."
She raised her eyebrows.
"We merely borrow them, on our impeccable credit."
"You did nick them!" she said, giving him a playful shove, "I knew it! You nicked them from the greenhouses, you bad man!"
"I borrowed them from the greenhouses, you mean…"
She laughed. "Get off my bed, you thief."
He stuck his tongue out at her and folded his arms. "No. I am sleepy."
"You are not!"
He closed his eyes. "I am. I've got my eyes closed and everything."
She gave him another push and he sat up. Her eyes were gleaming, her hair was a mess and there was a wild grin on her face. She smirked up at him.
"Awake now, I see."
"No thanks to you," he said, and before she could so much as open her mouth to reply he was tickling her. She was laughing, shrieking, tugging herself away from him but he wouldn't let her go. His hands were on the curves of her waist and she was laughing so hard her face was red and thrashing around like a fish out of water. He stopped, just for a split second, and she reached up and grabbed his hands, forcing them away from her, and they both collapsed back on the bed, panting and giggling.
He looked at her.
She was still holding his wrists against his chest, her thin fingers cool on his skin. She was gasping for breath, her chest heaving, and he felt his face grow hot again. Long, brown curls fell across her face, sprawling out over the bedsheets. Her lips were slightly parted and her eyes were dancing, full of a bright, burning energy that he'd never seen there before.
"No tickling," she said, her voice little more than a whisper.
His hands slid down to her waist. She did not try and stop him.
He nodded. "Okay."
She was close, now. Close enough for him to see every single one of her eyelashes and every single freckle on her cheeks. He could feel her warm body against his and her lips were parted, waiting, and so he leaned forward and…
A blinding pain stabbed in his left forearm. He jerked away from her, swearing, clutching his arm in pain, and for the briefest moment he saw a dark, deserted forest in his mind's eye. He doubled over, clutching his arm as pain burned right the way up to his shoulder.
"Draco? Draco!"
He staggered away from the bed, gasping, as the Dark Mark burned on his arm.
Somewhere, a Death Eater was trying to contact him.