Author's Note: So, here's the next one-shot songfic for this series. It's inspired by the second song on The Cab's album Symphony Soldier, Temporary Bliss. I did my best to let the song inspire the flow of this one-shot. I hope you enjoy it! Again, this story is a stand-alone, not related at all to the previous one. It's quite canon, so the characters who have died in the war and before that… regrettably remain dead. For this chapter, at least.

Additional Note: This one-shot is also the rewritten version of the one originally posted in this series.

Rating: M

Genre: Romance/Angst

Disclaimer: The song and the characters are not mine.

With a moan, Hermione came undone at the hands of Draco Malfoy.

"Hermione." He breathed heavily, trailing kisses on her thighs as she writhed in pleasure beneath him. Her hands were still in his hair, where they have been entangled for the past few minutes.

"Draco." With another moan, she pulled at his hair and brought his face to hers, closing the gap between them with a kiss. He groaned, and she felt his arousal once more. With a sly smile on her lips, she pushed against him, putting as little distance as she could between their bodies.

"Fuck." He cursed, thrusting into her.

Hermione lay on her side, clutching her side of the blanket with such ferocity one would think that someone was actually trying to take it from her. But the other occupant of the bed was sleeping peacefully, where he had lain since he rolled off her a few minutes earlier, both of them having reached blissful climaxes. Draco Malfoy looked peaceful when asleep, Hermione mused, running her gaze from his blonde locks to his closed eyelids, where she knew pools of silver lay beneath, to his lips, swollen from her kisses and from what he'd been doing to her… Hermione blushed, her gaze continuing its journey to his chest, to his navel, stopping short at the point where the silk green blanket covered the rest of his body. Hermione's eyes clouded over at the thought of what lay beneath, but she clutched her side of the sheet even tighter across her chest when she noted where Draco's hands were. One was cradling his head, and the other was settled by the blanket on his hip.

The sky had started to change into a bluish hue, and Hermione sighed, knowing that it would be sunrise soon. She hoped to catch some sleep once she got home so she eased herself off the bed, picked up her wand and collected her discarded clothes on the floor and wore them, silently muttering an accio to summon her blazer, which, by some unexplained circumstances (or not, on second thought), had found itself on top of the bookcase in Draco's room.

"Good morning, Mister Malfoy." greeted Hermione Granger cordially with a slight edge to her voice as she passed by his office in the Ministry, heels clacking in her hurry to reach her own without being late.

He looked up from his paperwork with a smirk. "Morning, Granger. I trust you had a wonderful evening?" he grinned maliciously, looking at the hickey on her neck she had forgotten to put a concealing charm on in her haste.

With a hiss, Hermione started running full force, greeting the people she passed by with a breathless smile, leaving an amused Draco Malfoy to his paperwork.

Sometimes she wondered why she even bothered.

Before lunch had even rolled by, Hermione found herself staring blankly at the papers on pureblood laws on her desk as she thought about how she had gotten in such arrangement with Draco Malfoy in the first place.

It was just after the Malfoys had gotten released from the time they served in Azkaban (with Lucius getting a time just as short as his wife's because Narcissa had lied to Voldemort about Harry, and Draco getting the same time because it had been to his defense during the trials that he was just threatened to do most of the things he had done for Voldemort). Most of the other Death Eaters were serving life sentences, while the Malfoys only had to stay for two years. Because most members of the wizarding world still harbored hatred for the family (mostly directed at Lucius, as most felt a tad bit indebted to Narcissa. Draco was ignored for the most part), Narcissa and Lucius agreed to quietly retire to an undisclosed Muggle country where they will live as Muggles, surrendering their wands and their rights to use magic to the Ministry under one condition: That Draco got to stay and keep all of their possessions, and get a second chance. Shacklebolt had agreed with the consent of the remaining Order members.

That year, it was announced that a celebration will be held at the Ministry to commemorate the end of the war and the lives of those who had been lost in the process. Some thought it was rather callous of the Ministry to do this, since most of them had just, if not haven't, gotten over their grief for those they lost. But war hero Harry Potter had given a public speech about how they all had to stand together even two years later, to keep each other strong, and that they owed it to their lost friends and family to move on, together. His speech had been met by tears, but on the day of the commemoration, people began to arrive, albeit with somber expressions on their faces. As the evening progressed, more and more people came, and the first hint of a smile was seen, the cheerfulness slowly spreading all throughout the hall in no time.

At some point, as if a gigantic monkey wrench had been hurled in the middle of the then quite cheerful event, heads started to turn to the group of people who stood awkwardly by the door. And then people turned to Harry Potter, the betrayal stinging. How could he do such thing to them? How could he cause them that much pain during such a 'celebration'?

For there, by the door stood a group of former Slytherins, sons and daughters of the Death Eaters that had given the people in attendance so much grief in the first place. Draco Malfoy, Pansy Parkinson, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, and a handful others were there without the familiar cockiness in their features, replaced by an obvious desire to run for their lives.

Glares turned to puzzled expressions when they saw that Harry Potter was just as shocked and frozen as they were. Then, with a maddening calm, the girl sitting beside him stood up.

Hermione Granger, Gryffindor's golden girl.

She walked over to the group cowering at the door, and with a shaky but friendly smile took Pansy's hand and led her inside the hall. The tension increased, and Ron and George Weasley visibly bristled as the rest of the group took tentative steps forward. The hall was eerily silent, someone having turned off the festive music when they realized what was going on. Soon the group was standing in front of Kingsley Shacklebolt, where Hermione released Pansy's hand, a shudder running through the girl as she inched closer to her housemates once more. Hermione stepped forward and murmured something to Shacklebolt who gave her a look before nodding once.

"Hermione." The pained voice of George Weasley rang throughout the room, his voice tight as he stood, ready to voice out the question that had been running around everyone's mind at that point. "What are they doing here? What are you doing?"

Hermione regarded him with the same calm expression. "They lost people they loved too, George. Not unlike us, they too, were victims of the war."

George laughed, as if he couldn't believe what he just heard. "Victims?" he laughed. "Tell me," he hissed, turning his eyes to Pansy, who flinched and took an instinctive step towards Blaise. "Have you stopped looking into a mirror, because every damn time you look, every fucking time, you see the person you know you want to, desperately want to, but could never bring back, ever?"

Ginny Weasley buried her head into her father's robes, the thought of Fred bringing back so much pain. Arthur Weasley put his arm across Molly's shoulder to steady his wife, who breaths had begun to become uneven.

Theodore opened his mouth to speak but quickly clamped it shut, shoulders slacking as more and more people began to reach for their wands.

"Granger, we'll just leave." Draco Malfoy muttered to Hermione, who had positioned herself in front of them in a protective stance.

"No." she replied stubbornly. "Dumbledore would have wanted you here." She said, her voice breaking as she mentioned their departed headmaster's name.

The seconds ticked by so painfully slow, people getting more and more agitated by the second, until a small voice shattered the silence that had followed George's outburst. "Auntie 'Mione." Warbled a sleepy Ted Lupin's voice as he slowly but steadily made his was towards the group Hermione was currently protecting. When he was close enough, he blinked sleepily up at Hermione, his locks changing color with each blink. "Who are they?" he asked, pointing to the Slytherins. Seeing her opportunity, Hermione seized it. She dropped down on one knee to be face to face with Teddy and smiled.

"Teddy, this is your Uncle Draco and his friends." She said, pointing to Draco.

Teddy looked up at the blonde, confused. "Uncle?"

Hermione nodded, praying silently that this would work. "He's your Mom's cousin."

Draco's eyes widened. He had never even talked to his cousin Nymphadora. The kid was her son? "Um, hey." He croaked with a nod to his young nephew he hoped was deemed acceptable.

The young boy beamed. "Wotcher." He said, his hair turning golden, obviously pleased that a grown-up had talked to him. Ignoring the fact that Draco looked like a mess, with dark shadows beneath his haunted looking eyes and a gaunt frame, he ambled over to where Draco stood and raised both of his hands up in front of him expectantly. Lost on what to do, Draco eyes frantically searched for answers before catching Hermione's stare as she mouthed the words carry him. Fumbling to pick up his cousin's son, Draco breathed in relief when Teddy gave a happy gurgle, his eyes turning silver, a smaller reflection of the young man carrying him.

Remus Lupin, his former DADA professor was this child's father. His aunt Bellatrix and Dolohov had made this child an orphan, Draco realized in comprehension. His own aunt killed her sister's own daughter. Guilt-ridden with a shame brought by a sin not his own, Draco made a move to set his young nephew down. But before he could, he realized that Shacklebolt had finally started to speak in an attempt to appease the people. "Listen, kid." Draco mumbled, looking into the shockingly silver orbs of Teddy.

Teddy pouted. "My name's Teddy."

"Okay. Teddy, listen, I'm not someone you should trust, okay?"

Teddy's eyes and hair lapsed into shades of brown that Draco noted were similar to Granger's before he looked at his 'Auntie 'Mione'. "But auntie 'Mione trusts you." He said, seeing Hermione's encouraging nod. "And I trust anybody she trusts. They say she's the bri'est witch of her age." Teddy beamed, obviously proud of the muggleborn witch. Looking back at Draco, he started chanting louder and louder. "I trust you, I trust you, I TRUST UNCLE DRACO!" he said, dissolving into a fit of laughter. His voice echoed all around the room, shocking all of the people.

"But I..."

Young Teddy Lupin looked around the room, and with a wreckless bravery his father (and mother, without the wrecklesness) would have been proud of, interrupted Kingsley's speech and shouted at the top of his lungs. "I trust Uncle Draco and his friends! Anybody who's got a problem with that should go tell me!" he bellowed, throwing his arms around Draco protectively. His locks and eyes were once again in the same shade as his first cousin once removed.

That sort of sealed the deal, and Draco and the other former Slytherins were allowed to stay. Needless to say they stuck together and no one wanted to approach them anyway. The celebrations continued, and soon almost everybody was enjoying themselves once more, casting an occasional furtive glance or two in the direction of the group. Teddy absolutely refused to let go of Draco until he had fallen asleep, then came the second shock of the night as Harry Potter went over to the back of the hall where Draco and the others were to get his sleeping godson. Draco handed him over wordlessly and Harry gave a short nod before heading back to his seat.

The third shock came shortly, and it was when the celebrations were well underway, the cluster of former Slytherins having shaken off some of the tension they felt to nibble on the refreshments offered. The middle of the hall had become a dance floor, and people eventually tired of glancing every so often at them, and most were now on the dance floor enjoying themselves. Ron Weasley walked over to where they were, and had asked Pansy Parkinson for a dance. A whisper fell over the room before a very shocked Pansy said yes and they made their way over to the dance floor, the crowd parting to let them through. Ginny followed her brother's lead and had asked Blaise Zabini, and he too agreed with shock evident on his face. Soon most of them were mingling with the rest of the crowd, the tension in the air gone and replaced mostly with silent forgiveness. Draco had just grabbed a glass of punch when he caught sight of Hermione at the bar, a contented smile on her face.

"Is it true?" Hermione jumped, surprised that someone had spoken to her so suddenly. Some of her friends were still a bit miffed with her actions earlier in the evening, even though they've gone down the path of forgiveness themselves. She turned and saw Draco Malfoy standing a few feet behind her.

"What is?" she asked, sipping her firewhiskey, curious as to what made him approach her. Most of the mingling had been the result of the majority of the crowd approaching the Slytherins, not the other way around.

"What the ki- Teddy, said earlier. Do you really trust me?"

She shrugged. "Kingsley invited you lot, didn't he?"

He nodded. "Yeah, though with the stunt you pulled earlier, people probably think you did."

"I'm a believer in second chances, Malfoy…" Hermione quietly admitted, downing the rest of her firewhiskey. "And that sins of the father… are not for their children to bear." She finished, looking at Pansy, who was now looking absolutely mystified at something Luna had just told her, then to Theodore who was tentatively smiling at Hannah Abbot as they danced, to Blaise as George slipped him a ton-tongue toffee, to the Greengrass sisters who were animatedly talking to Neville and Professor Sprout about Herbology, one by one she looked at the children of the Death Eaters that had brought chaos and destruction in their lives two years ago, and finally she looked at Draco's downcast expression. He looked up at her as she finished speaking, a new shine in his eyes as he offered her a broken smile.

He took a step towards her. "Then I hope you forgive me for this." He said before capturing her lips with his own.

Hermione sighed, trying to shake herself out of her reverie. Her mind kept wandering to the events that followed that kiss. They had found themselves apparating to the Malfoy Manor (wards had been taken down for routine inspection after the war and Draco never bothered to put them up again, apparently) after a series of kisses had turned into a full-blown make out session, no words passing between them except moans and occasional growls laced with each other's names and a handful of curse words as they fumbled to remove each other's clothes. What happened next, Hermione blushed, was history.

She had found herself staring at the sleeping form of Draco Malfoy, both arms instinctively wrapped around himself, as if the Dementors would come to him even then, in his sleep. Slipping out during the wee hours of the morning, Hermione was thankful that the wards around the Manor were removed during the investigations and that Draco had neglected to put them back up.

The following weeks, she tried to justify what had happened but only came up with cliché explanations like the 'I was drunk, and he was lonely' excuse. Variations included the 'we were both drunk' and 'we were both lonely' ones and the other explanations she came up with were just as cliché if not downright unbelievable. It took her quite some time to realize that she needn't justify what had happened because apparently no one knew about it save for the two of them. She didn't see him until three weeks later, bumping into him at Flourish and Blotts. He had smirked at her, looking very much like the Draco Malfoy she had known at Hogwarts. The pallor of his face had noticeably decreased, or in his case, gone back to the same shade it was before he'd been sent to Azkaban. But the pain was still quite visible in his metallic eyes, something that Hermione didn't fail to notice.

That night she had received an owl from him, asking her to come over to the Manor. Worried, she did, and had found him curled up in the library, staring wordlessly into the night.

"Draco?" he made no move to indicate that he heard her, but when Hermione sat down beside him on the floor and touched his arm comfortingly a lone tear found its way down his cheek.

Hermione realized that yet again, she was sneaking out the following morning. With a frustrated sigh, she vowed to never again let him use her like that just because he was hurting and lonely. A month went by after that, with Hermione not running into Draco once more. She heard word from time to time about the witches that were seen with the Malfoy heir, and she felt relieved that if he was back to his womanizing ways and not bothering her, then he must have at least moved on. She was perfectly fine with it.

Until the owl came again one night, tapping urgently on her window. With a grimace, Hermione looked at her bedside clock and muttered that Draco Malfoy would pay for waking her up at 2:30 in the morning.

And so began the series of early morning owls and trips to the Manor where Hermione always ended up mentally scolding herself for letting him use her yet again as she apparates home and promptly falling asleep as soon as she reaches her own bed.

He never held her afterwards, anyway, so why bother staying there?

Realizing with horror that she had daydreamed the past two hours and that lunch was in a few minutes, Hermione scrambled to actually get some work done before Kingsley decides to fire her for her excessive tardiness and idleness while she has some work to do. Narrowing her eyes, she looked suspiciously at the ivory colored paper folded on top of her desk. That wasn't there earlier, was it?

See you later.

The note was written in Malfoy's practiced script. Hermione sighed.

"I don't understand why you always arrive quarter past two." Draco said, a slight smirk on his face as a frazzled Hermione arrived with a pop.

She sighed. "Because I spend the whole night debating on whether or not I should come here. By one I've concluded not to, and by one thirty my mind will have changed again. By two I'd decide not, and yet I always find myself apparating here minutes later." She muttered under her breath.

Draco regarded her with an amused look, "What was that?"

Another heavy sigh. "Nothing."

He didn't speak, instead opting to kiss her. Her body responded almost immediately, the heat pooling between her legs. No matter how much she hated being treated like some easy girl, Hermione still couldn't help but love the things Draco did to her.

But that's not what hurt the most.

He only called her over when he was in a bad mood. At least that's how it started. Hermione couldn't figure out why he didn't just call all of the other girls at his disposal if all he wanted was some "comforting". But soon the owls came within smaller intervals, until she realized she didn't even bother to question it anymore.

She realized why one night as Draco rolled over to his side and his angelic face caught the light of the moon from outside. Hermione let her hand brush over his face once.

"I love you." She heard herself whisper, her words lost in the wind while he continued to sleep peacefully, hands cradling his head. Her eyes widened at the realization that she had fallen in love with Draco Malfoy in the midst of this… thing between them.

Hermione didn't sneak out that night.

She fled.

Draco stared at her. "What do you mean, you're not doing this anymore?" he asked, his hand reaching out to cup her face.

Hermione took a step back, though she desperately wanted to feel his touch. She hadn't responded to his owls for a week, and she firmed up her resolve to put a stop to this. "Exactly that. You're messing me up, Draco."

He chuckled, but the mirth didn't quite reach his eyes. "I tend to do that."

At the sound of his laugh Hermione just wanted to close the distance between them as much as she could, but she held her ground. "We're not even friends with benefits, hell, we're not even friends."

His eyes bore into hers. "Granger, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying I can't keep doing this, I don't want to be some girl you can just call when you're lonely. It's driving me crazy!"

Draco crossed his arms in front of him, his jaw clenching. A pained look found its way to his face.

"And it sucks, because I can't help but answer your calls, like some pathetic puppy. I can't keep doing this, being with you like this."

"Hermione…"

"Don't you 'Hermione' me! I am not your bitch. I don't want to be your slut! It hurts, Draco, it fucking hurts to be used like that."

Draco sighed, the pain exploding in his chest. She thought he was using her?

"It's hardly fair." She cried, the tears streaming down her face as she backed away from him step by step. "Because I find myself falling in love with you. And that's not fair."

The morning after that first night, Draco found himself waking up from a nightmare, hands instinctively reaching for the woman beside him.

Or at least, for the woman he thought was beside him.

Blinking the tears from his eyes, he desperately grabbed the sheets that had been on her earlier. They were cold. She was gone. With a strangled sob, Draco buried his face into the pillow she had lain on, flashes of his dream coming back and filling him with intense fear.

"Hermione…"

He had trouble sleeping all the time, and his instincts urged him to call her. Somehow he felt peaceful with her. He'd tried dating other girls, but they were only interested in using him as a ticket to fame. They never genuinely cared about him, and he'd dropped them like hot potatoes. No one would ever be the same as Hermione. He was afraid though, that she'd leave him again just as she did that night. Until one night he couldn't take it anymore, and he found himself writing a hasty note and sending his owl to find her. He was haunted, and being with her made him forget about his demons and feel whole again.

Still, every morning, she'd leave him, once again broken.

If the only bliss she could offer was temporary, then so be it. He just needed her, and having her in this manner was better than nothing at all. He couldn't hold her because if she didn't want to stay then he didn't want to give her any reason to not come at all. She probably slept with him purely out of pity, but he doubted she could ever love him.

He couldn't offer her his heart. He was already broken, and he couldn't offer her someone as broken as himself, so he was surprised that she kept coming for him, even if he didn't offer her anything in return. He was afraid she'd laugh at him, at his impertinence to love her, the war hero's best friend. So he couldn't give her his heart. But he couldn't help it.

She'd taken it without her knowing.

His sanity was always on the brink when she'd arrive, and he'd mask his relief with witty remarks. Unwittingly, little by little, she'd helped him move on with his life, and he even got a job at the Ministry. He made love to her, his heart bursting every time because she actually let him be with her. Without her he was lost, and soon he found himself getting more and more addicted to her.

Which is why he felt as though his world was tearing at the seams once more when she told him she was done with him.

She turned on her heel and started to walk away before he grabbed her hand and pulled her to him in a kiss so different from the ones they had shared before. "Don't leave me. I love you." He whispered, his voice hoarse from the tears he had started to shed.

"What?" she asked in disbelief.

"I couldn't… I couldn't offer you my heart because I was afraid you'd think I was too broken. I was scared. I'm sorry. I love you Hermione, please don't go."

She looked at him in shock. "I…" she saw a tear fall from his eyes and she instinctively wiped it away."Draco, I – I…"

"Marry me, Hermione Granger."

Author's Note: Aaaaaand, I leave the rest to your imagination.

*crickets*

:)) What do you think happened afterwards? Leave your speculations in your review!

And this is probably the longest one-shot I've ever written, celebrations! :D And yes, I know it's a bad case of misunderstandings. I keep on writing angsty romance, I'm afraid I'm actually quite angsty deep inside. I'll try to avoid angst in the next one-shots, just to give you readers a taste of something new. And yes, this is the first time I tried writing sexual situations (not even close, eh?) so pardon me if it sounded like a burning and dying hopeless romantic had written it.

Stand by for the next one-shots! I don't think I'll stop until I finish all the songs in the album so... ;D