Draco had been silent for quite some time to allow Hermione to calm down. But, he wasn't able to avoid the bruises that would show up on his skin tomorrow. She had given him quite the beating. It was enough to tire herself out; she was now curled up on the couch, Draco sitting awkwardly on the corner, watching her. She was crying into the cushions, her head buried in her arms.

"I c-can't believe you," she whispered. "I c-can't believe y-you'd g-g-give us away. . . . I h-h-hate you. . . ."

He shrugged. "I don't blame you. If I were you, I'd hate me, too. . . . And I never would've loved me, either."

"I n-never loved you," she said, raising her head to glare at him. "I could never love you."

"That's a lie, and you know it."

She sat up quickly, wiping the tears away. "Don't make me hit you again."

"You're not going to hit me," he said firmly.

"I just did, why wouldn't I?"

"Because you can't." He narrowed his eyes. "You know what I mean, Hermione. Don't act so stupid. You didn't want to hit me just now, you were being emotional."

"Of course I wanted to hit you, you're completely two-faced and selfish!"

"No, that's not why," he said. "You're just upset with me. It happens. But I know you won't care about that tomorrow or anytime in the future. You still care about me."

He raised his eyebrows at her. She still looked completely lost.

"Didn't you open that package Ginny sent?" he asked. "You know, that 'secret diary' of yours? I found it . . . I also returned it to you."

"What?" She shook her head furiously. "You had the diary for how long?"

He scratched his head awkwardly. "Er . . . quite some time now."

"You just hate me, don't you?" she cried, throwing a decorative pillow from the couch at him. "You just love to do anything that makes me miserable ―"

"Oh, yes," he said sarcastically, "because you know how much I just hate to be around you all the time. That's why I spend every moment I can with you. I hate you so much that I'm just naturally drawn to wherever you are. . . . Logic, Hermione."

She glared at him for a moment, but took a deep breath to calm herself. "How did you get it . . . you know, the diary . . . ?"

"You dropped it that one day," he replied. "You know, the day I told you I didn't care that you and I hung out at all?"

"What a pleasant reminder," she said.

"Don't get upset on me or anything," he said. "I'm just trying to give you context. . . . Anyway, when you ran off ― after I tried to talk to you after that row with Pansy ― it fell out of your bag. I couldn't help myself. I thought about not opening it, but I didn't know it was a diary, of course. I mean, I guess it looked like one, but I wouldn't really know."

She hung her head down in embarrassment as she recalled her entries. There were so many dedicated to how much she liked him, and he knew the entire time.

"What ― what did you see?" she whispered, tears forming in her eyes again.

"Oh, everything," he said, with a light smirk. "I finished it in one night, but I made sure to write some quotes down to memorize them." He pulled a sheet of paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, raising his eyebrows at her. "These were some of my favorites to memorize, but I'll just read them for accuracy's sake. . . . All right, you know how I feel about you. I'm not taking that back. I think we should talk about this like adults. That means no hitting, no screaming, no tantrum-throwing. Please just be calm. I just want to understand what you've been feeling this entire time . . . ever since that night I told you how I felt, I've been wondering why you were so reluctant. It hurt, Hermione. But I want to get over that. . . . Would you mind explaining these quotes for me?"

She knew there was no use at this point, and she didn't even care anymore. It was too late for her to try and pretend like she didn't mean any of those things. She slowly nodded, curling her legs up under her chin and staring straight at the rug under the couch.

He nodded back to her and looked at the paper. "Here's the first one: 'I felt so bad for him.'"

"After you told me about your family issues," she said.

"'Draco and I have come to a bit of a common ground.'"

"I felt like I could relate to you, or at least figure out where you were coming from. I never felt like I could do that before."

"'He isn't heartless.'"

"You . . . I could tell you could care about things."

"'He's a not-bad person who does bad things.'"

"You're a bully," she said firmly. "You can't deny that. You're horrible to my friends. But I know that you have the potential to be nice. If you really wanted to be, that is."

He nodded and looked down at the paper again, his eyebrows raised. "Er . . . 'I'm getting really nervous around Draco Malfoy'. . . ?"

She flushed red. "Yes, that's exactly what it sounds like. I don't need to elaborate."

"I liked it," he said. "But I think my favorites were the ones right after we hung out, like 'I feel so girly and stupid' . . . 'getting shivers from a simple touch' . . . 'I think I actually like Draco' . . . 'full-on crush' . . . 'I think I realized it when I wrapped my arms around him' . . . 'I don't think I've been terribly obvious about it' . . . 'not that I think he likes me' . . . 'I was feeling jealousy when Charlotte was flirting with him' . . . 'oh, Hermione, you've really changed' . . . I couldn't have said it better myself.

"You clearly have feelings for me. Or you did, I don't know. You seemed mighty defensive over Krum."

"I'm not in a relationship with him," she said. "Well, I won't be, anyway. I think he still considers us a couple. . . . That's where I was headed when you ran into me, before we came here? I was going to my room to write a letter telling him I wanted to break it off with him. . . ."

"Oh." He raised his eyebrows curiously. "And might I inquire about your reasoning behind it?"

"You know my reasoning, Draco. You'd know it better than anyone."

Silence filled the room for several minutes. She still stared at the ground before her, trying to process exactly what was going on right now. They were talking about feelings. What male ever wanted to talk about feelings? Yet here they were, talking about how they felt about each other openly and freely. She knew that he had to care about her to a very large extent if he was this comfortable talking about these things, and initiating such conversations. He was fifteen and absolutely and completely in love.

"So, the diary," she said, breaking the silence. "Did — you didn't show it to anyone, did you?"

He smiled warmly at her. "No."

"You truly didn't?"

"No, I didn't show it to anyone. I really just didn't want to. I think I enjoyed it more with just me reading it. You know, like our little secret."

"But I thought maybe Pansy or Charlotte or anyone would've found it in your hands, and —"

"But they didn't."

He readjusted his position on the couch so that he would be closer to her. She looked up to find him mere inches away from her, and stared him straight in the eye.

"That — that was nice of you," she said, nervous from how close he was.

"Don't get me wrong, Hermione; I do hate you," he said, "just not for the reasons you might think I'd hate someone."

Hermione was bewildered. "Then why are you — ?"

He gently laid his hands on her shoulders, immediately silencing her. She let out a little whimper, but didn't physically resist.

"What — what are you doing — ?"

He let out a dry laugh. "Hating you, obviously."

"That's not how you usually let someone know you hate them," she said, her voice breaking.

"I'm only hating you the way you want me to, and I don't think I can express exactly how I hate you any other way."

He moved his grip from her shoulders down to her hands, gently holding them in his, and looked her in the eyes.

"I'll explain," he said, "because I feel like I'm being vague. I hate you because you're gorgeous. I hate you because you're brilliant. I hate you because you're funny. I hate you because you're the sweetest person I've ever met. I hate you because it took you over four years to let me have you, even as just a friend. I hate you because my parents won't want me to have you. I hate you because you made me mad for you. I hate you because you're perfect."

She was internally going insane. Something didn't feel right. Or, maybe it was right, but the feeling was so foreign. When she had been with Viktor, they did things like this. They held hands and said sweet things to each other like it was nothing. What was the difference?

"Draco, this is wrong —"

He laughed quietly. "And you like that, don't you?"

"N-no, I don't —"

"Then why haven't you let go?" he whispered.

He began to lean back into the couch, his hands still in hers. He stopped momentarily to let her decide if she wanted to lean back as well, and when she slowly began to lean back, he laid down with his head down on the armrest, his arms wrapped around Hermione. She wanted to let go, to escape, to do something. . . .

The fact was, she couldn't let go. Why couldn't she let go? She wanted to break free, she knew she had things she should be doing instead . . . but she was helpless.

He evidently read her mind. "Don't act like this isn't what you want. This is the way we both want it to be."

"But we . . . we can't —"

But he was right. This was exactly what she wanted, and she couldn't deny it to herself. Her heart was telling her where it belonged. It belonged with that pure-blood git, Draco Malfoy. And for once in her life, she was going to follow what her heart told her, and not what her mind did.

Of course, I think my mind might be there, too.

She soon realized that she couldn't take it anymore. She was a goner, and she knew it all too well when it was too late. . . . But at least she knew. And she didn't want it to be quite so awkward; she wanted to make the most of it.

She turned herself around, still held closely in his arms, so that she could face him, her hands placed gently on his chest. He kept his gaze averted, his face scarlet and beads of sweat forming along his hairline. She smiled softly at him, and lightly tugged his shirt to get his attention. He regained his confidence, met her eyes, and smiled back.

"I've changed my mind," she said. "You — you're right. You're right about everything."

He smirked. "Of course I am. Aren't I always?"

"No, but this time you were. You put away your pride for me, and I'm going to do the same."

"You know I don't usually get like this," he said. "I've never gotten like this. I feel so stupid ―"

"It's cute," she said, now bringing one of her hands up to brush back the strands of hair that had fallen in his face. "It's a human reaction, it's perfectly normal. You don't have to keep everything bottled up all the time. . . ."

Gently stroking his hair, she felt tears welling up in her eyes. She allowed herself to snuggle up to him, her head laid on his chest and his arms still wrapped firmly around her.

This was what she wanted, wasn't it? This was the stuff of fairy tales, where the princess always found her way to her Prince Charming in the end.

I guess I never dreamed that Draco would be my prince.

She began to cry into his shirt, so overcome with emotion that she couldn't handle it anymore. She had to let it out, everything was so beautiful and perfect and dream-like. . . .

"Why are you crying?" asked Draco quietly. "Is something wrong?"

"No," she said, her voice trembling. "No, nothing could be more right."

She placed her hands on his chest to push herself up slightly, moving her head away from its resting position. Her face was mere inches away from his as he placed his right hand under her chin.

"So here we are," she said, giggling quietly.

He smirked and placed his free hand on her shoulder. The hand on her chin was still resting in place, his thumb gently brushing her cheek. His fingers caressed the back of her neck, pulling her in closer. She rested her forehead on his, as he moved his left hand from her shoulder to her hair. He dropped his voice down to a whisper, as he himself felt the intensity of the moment.

"So here we are."

He gently pressed his lips to hers, causing her to shudder. They were pouring every ounce of passion and pent-up feelings that they had into this kiss. In a world filled with witches and wizards, neither of them had felt something so magical. Everything was just right. This was the way it was meant to be.

As they pulled away, he sat upright on the couch and looked her in the eyes again. The reality was beginning to set in. He had just kissed Hermione Granger. . . and not as friends. He pressed his forehead to hers again and they couldn't help but laugh. It wasn't a mocking laugh; it was one of true happiness and contentment.

He grinned at her and wrapped his arms tightly around her, his head resting on her shoulder.

"I — I'm not sure what to say now," he said breathlessly. "I just . . . everything is just so . . . this is nice."

She giggled and tightened the embrace. "Yes, this is very nice."

"So . . . this is us, then?" he asked.

"Yes, Draco . . . this is us."