Chapter Forty-Three

The room inside was wide and circular, made of stone and nearly unremarkable. There were neutral paintings hung on the walls – one of the Hogwarts crest, another of several horses grazing in a meadow. Autumn leaves were falling on a snoozing bard in another.

A large woven rug of orange, red and black took up the majority of the stone floor and a fire was roaring in the grate of an enormous fireplace. On top the mantle were several framed pictures, all moving. Two shelves stood on either end of the fireplace, the first containing a number of Hermione's favorite books from home, and many that she wished to read – including, she noted with humor, A Revised History of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, dated only a month prior. The other bookshelf contained mostly books she'd never read before.

A small wooden table stood by a double window, on it stood a vase containing fresh sprigs of lavender. Some practical-looking chairs sat around the table. A mix of both comfortable and uncomfortable-looking armchairs were scattered around the room.

Hermione glanced at Draco, who was taking in the room as if personally appraising anything. She was pleased to see that he hadn't yet seen anything he didn't like.

On the opposite side of the window was a short passage, which split off into two directions, each containing a bedroom: one, Hermione was relieved to see, for each of them.

"This isn't so bad," she admitted aloud.

"No, it isn't. Circumstances what they are, this is nice," Draco agreed.

Had either been paying attention, they would have noticed this was the first time they'd ever fully agreed on anything without contempt.

The two of them stood awkwardly at the fork in the passage – Draco's room decorated mostly in green-and-silver, Hermione's in red-and-gold.

"Well, good night, I suppose," Hermione said quietly.

"Yes, I suppose so," answered Draco, Malfoy-like. Then, less slimily, "Good night."

"Good night, Draco," she murmured, reaching quickly for the handle of her door, shaped like a leaping Gryffindor lion. It reminded Hermione of her grandmother – the front doors of Callidora's mansion were shaped like enormous leaping zebras.

Forgetting herself a moment, Hermione turned back to Draco to point this likeness out, but found him still standing there looking at her with such an odd expression on his face, she was stopped before she'd even begun.

Draco's eyes were rooted to her face with an intensity that frankly frightened her. There was no other word for it: he looked positively PISSED. Seeing the look in his eyes, the angry glint of fire bursting to life was frightening on the pale, pointed face with his usually steely grey eyes.

Hermione, at first, thought to run into her room and lock the door. But that is not what Gryffindors did, and Hermione had been placed in that House for a reason.

Her second instinct was to brace herself for some sort of angry vent from him for reasons she couldn't understand. This, she expected – based on his strange and terrifying expression.

What she was NOT expecting was for him to kiss her. Which is what he did.

With a purpose, he closed the three-step distance between them and took both her hands into his, pulling her into his chest. Though there was no way she could have expected any of this, she did note with some surprise the gentleness of his hands on hers, given the hardness and anger in his expression.

Anger still boiling in his eyes, he leaned in toward her, lips a little strong at first, but then more gently… his lips were soft, if a little thin. Hermione shuddered. A stray strand of platinum hair fell out of place and gently brushed against her cheek, tickling the sensitive skin there.

For a moment, time and space did not exist; for a moment, he was not Draco Malfoy and she was not Hermione Granger – they were two nonentities, melting into the other. Their hands brushed, shoulders touched – they were nearly the same height, he not more than a handful of inches taller than her.

When it ended, Hermione was assailed by an emotional shit storm. Draco saw it all pass through her eyes – enjoyment, confusion, anger, more confusion, hurt… lots of hurt, even hints of despair. Tears threatened, but she refused them control, at least for that moment.

With a look he didn't understand, Draco watched the waves of chestnut hair that made up the back of Hermione's head retreat into her bedroom and disappear behind her closed door with what seemed to be a pungent resentment that meant, to him, a finality of some sort.

"You always have to push it," Draco muttered angrily to himself under his breath.

He stood there a moment longer before turning on his heel and hiding himself and his emotions in his own bedroom.

"Why did you do it?" He had no answer for himself, so instead he punched the pillow on his bed.

All his things had been moved into the room, but that did not impress him. He peered into the mirror hanging on the far end of his wall – the young man that stared back at him did not impress him either.

"Always have to ruin things, don't you?" he demanded of his reflection. "You're given a choice to join with the Dark Lord and you screw it up by picking the wrong thing. You're given a job, and you screw that up too. You're given an opportunity to start over and you just can't get over yourself."

He was building himself up into a frenzy. Next door he could hear Hermione's muffled sobbing.

"And now," he whispered to his reflection, anger glinting dangerously in his eyes, "you're married. Married to a girl you couldn't even STAND until a few months ago – and she's damaged. But no matter, Draco – damaged doesn't last forever, unless YOU stick your face in it. YOU had to go and muddy it all up, didn't you? It wasn't even that awkward anymore until you had to KISS the bloody girl. Why did you do it?"

He punched his pillow again and flopped face-down onto his bed.

"I hate you!" he finally screamed into his pillow – but whether he was screaming it at Hermione or at himself, even he wasn't sure.

Before he knew it, tears were streaming down his cheeks, moistening his pillow. In this manner, he fell asleep – fully clothed and completely miserable.

.

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Author's Note: That's right! The chapter you've all been waiting for! Snuck up on you, didn't it? :-D But yeah, I decided to make up my long absence from this fic to you by giving you a semi-steamy chappie (although short) and by updating quickly. Forgive me?

Anyway, thanks to xshaiyaxstar, ebbe04, CountingSheep123, Edana Alary, dg17, Professor Rose and InvisibleLilacNights for the reviews. (Especially so quickly after not updating in... ever).

xshaiyaxstar - I like your new screen name. FanFiction doesn't make me split it into sections when typing it. :-) Loved the review, because I seem to recall you leaving a similar one over a year ago about exclaiming in the middle of class. Your classmates must think you're quite the character!

ebbe04 - I agree with you about thanking people for reviews. If someone has taken time out of their day to read something I wrote and also felt compelled to comment on it to let me know they enjoyed what I've written... well, that's really neat! And I also really appreciate it.