This chapter feels too short to me, but I had more in it and it started to feel forced, so I'll finish this particular moment in the next chapter. Sorry if Hermione's POV seems too short. Also, I think I'm going to change the summary for this story, because I am no longer happy with it!

Chapter 11

It isn't necessary that Hermione look at Draco Malfoy to know that he was staring at her, and in fact, she was dead set against returning his gaze. They left the ministry building around 5 minutes ago- a moment of her life she would scarcely be able to forget as it was so embarrassing- and the entire time his eyes had been glued to her.

She found it down right disturbing. His silver eyes were locked to her as they walked down the sidewalk.

"Hey Granger," His voice would have startled her, but it was too soft and too quiet to do so. It did startle her in a different way though. In a way that sent chills down her spine. "You realize that wherever we go today it will be in the paper tomorrow. So I suggest we find some place discrete."

His voice told her that he already had somewhere in mind "Like where?" She said on a sigh.

"Your place or mine?"

Though she expected it, it still made her a bit intimidated having to choose between having a private lunch at his house or her own, with Draco Malfoy no less. "Well, I guess we can go to mine." She began and his jolly voice interrupted her.

"Excellent, because my manor will have my mother, and I'm sure that's something you aren't in the mood to repeat."

That was something she could agree with whole-heartedly. "So it's settled then. My place?" Even saying it felt weird, and maybe somewhere deep down, very naughty. Once again she fell victim to an unwanted shiver.

She felt an intrusion at her side as a surprisingly warm hand grabbed her own, and then lead her down an alley. She tried her hardest to make her hand go limp, not returning the grasp even a little, but it only made him squeeze it tighter. "Lead the way, Granger."

Reluctantly she pulled out her wand, checking both ways for muggles before casting the spell and apparating them away.

With a pop they arrived at the flat that apparently belonged to Hermione Granger and Draco looked around appreciatively. The walls of her living room were tan, the furniture was all warm colors, her kitchen the same. He turned around, there was a door behind them leading into the bedroom. From the view he had into it, it appeared to be quite quaint. The walls were a creamy color, the woods were all dark woods, and her bed was in a cool shade of blue. Over all, the place was simple, clean, and tasteful. It wasn't too bad. A bit catalogy, but not too shabby.

He nodded in approval and decided to tell her so. "Nice place Granger."

She was awkward beside him and he watched her cross to the kitchen quietly, without looking at him. She opened the refrigerator and peered in. "I might have something left over," Her voice was muffled as her head was in the freezer and he laughed, walking towards her, stopping only inches from her back. From his close he could smell her, and once again, he grew euphoric thinking about the very strange, but pleasant night they had after the ball. "I'm not all that hungry anyways." He informed her, causing her to shut the door and turn to face him, her nose very close to his chin.

He smirked down at her. "You're nervous." He pointed out.

She nodded and he frowned this time. "Why?"

"I assume that you're going to hurt me." There was an honesty in her voice that made him have to close his eyes in order to get his emotions under control.

"I didn't hurt you after the ball. And in that case you were the one who initiated the meeting anyways Granger."

When she spoke, her voice was almost too quiet to hear. "I-I don't know why I did that."

"Was it?" He asked lamely, unsure of what else to say. As she continued to stand with her back against the refrigerator, he boxed her into the small kitchen.

She shrugged. "I don't think so."

He nodded. "I'm not that bad. So I have a terrible past, so what?" He knew it wasn't a very convincing argument but he trudged on anyways. "I can't promise I won't say something to piss you off, but I'll hardly hurt you."

For a long moment she stood there, quietly, her eyes pinned to his neck then his chest, then his shoulders, anything but his face, before she looked up and gazed at his lips. "Why did you kiss me."

Returning her gaze he felt his stomach clench. Why had he kissed her that night? "Because I wanted to." He answered honestly.

"Why?" She squeaked.

"I merely kissed your neck Granger..." But she cut him off by repeating the small word and he sighed. "I've never seen anyone more vulnerable than you were, and I just wanted to prove a point I guess."

"Prove a point?"

"Yes," He spoke very slowly, "I wanted to prove that I'm not a bad guy, that I'm on the same level as you, that you're better than you think you are, and I guess I just wanted to feel what you felt like. I've always wanted to feel it, some how. In Hogwarts, you were always better than me, and you didn't want anything to do with me. That made me crazy. Always has. I just wanted the chance to be equal." He let out a long breath.

She let out a wobbly breath and he swallowed loudly. "You scare me, Granger."

She laughed weakly this time. "I scare you?"

"Most of the time, yes."

"Why?"

"The fact that you're better than me. The fact that I-" He stopped and she reached her hand up to his chest, slipping it inside the flaps of his robe, against the thin shirt that laid there. He shivered. "-That I can't seem to stop."

"Stop what?" Curiosity now touched her voice.

"Wanting you. Dreaming about you. Thinking about you. All the things I tell myself daily aren't real." The admission almost hurt him physically.

Her hand dropped from his chest, dangling uselessly at her side. "You can't be serious."

His laugh came out pained. "Trust me, I tell myself that everyday."

This was something he didn't expect to happen today when he woke up that morning. He hated feeling insecure. "I don't think I can believe that."

"Want me to prove it?" He croaked. "I can."

She shook her head quickly, a strand of hair sticking to her lip. He reached a finger up and freed it before running his finger over her cheek. "I hate my life." He whispered.

She winced like it pained her to hear such a confession. "I hate feeling insecure, and I hate that I can't have what I want." He smirked sadly, "Mostly because I won't let myself have what I want. I'll always try to talk myself out of it."

Taking a big step back he walked back to the living room, keeping his back to her.

He could hear he taking steps towards him, and he remained facing the opposite way as she walked around, looking up at him. Her big brown eyes were sad too, like she could almost understand what he was feeling. She lifted a hand out and grabbed his own. It trembled with in his fingers. "I'm sorry." It was simple, and the only thing she said. Meek and genuine, almost upset, and it felt like a knife to his heart. Why did she always have to be like this? A bundle of emotions? Once second she was funny and intelligent and attractive, the next she was bitter and quiet and genuinely disgusted by his presence. He wondered how her friends ever knew what she was thinking.

Taking great care, he lifted his hand and brought it gently up to her head, running it through her hair before pulling her forward. Surprisingly she didn't resist him as he pulled her in, putting two arms around her upper shoulders. "I know you hate me, but can you just pretend, for a second." He breathed and even though she didn't speak or move, he accepted that her answer was her lifting her hands and wrapping them around his waist. He felt his knees go weak, but he held it together.

What was it about this girl that made him feel this way? She wasn't all that beautiful, well, she was beautiful in her own way, but her beauty wasn't special. She wasn't magnificent. She could talk her way out of a paper bag, and she was intelligent to boot, but what was it that made him feel this way? That made him want to protect her and keep her safe. Especially when she clearly didn't even like him, and therefore could never love him, or even come to accept him. Maybe it was her kindness, or her big loving brown eyes. Those brown eyes which, even when they glared at him with a cold displeasure, made him feel hopeful.

He wasn't sure, but he knew he had to get out of this situation. He must do one of two things. He must either 1. Have Hermione Granger for himself, or 2. Shoot himself in the foot and leave town. Because this was just plain pathetic.