A/N: Well, I just have to say, that I am so overwhelmed by the reviews I received on the last chapter, it made my week. Thankyou for all your comments, its nice to get some constructive thought provoking responses. I was also suprised by the number of people who now have this story on their favourites/alerts. Would love to hear your thoughts on what's keeping you interested! :p

A more contemplative chapter ahead, with a few admissions to rock the boat, and perhaps help Hermione sought stuff out.

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Hermione awoke as a harrowing discomfort registered. Her body ached, a dull throb coursing through her lower body. She found herself on her back, her body concealed by her bed covers which had been thrown over her from the opposite end of the bed, so that she was cocooned into them.

She was alone in her room.

Hermione sat up, rubbing her face; she could smell the scent of Malfoy on her skin. A natural reaction proceeded. The series of events that had unfolded in her room hours earlier came flooding into the frontline of her memory.

Her retina burned with images that made her blush.

She had...she couldn't even say it to herself.

Malfoy had instigated it.

She had allowed it.

Lifting the covers and glancing at her bare self confirmed it.

'Oh', her lips parted as a veritable awareness overcame her.

She moved to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her bedroom door, which was now closed. He never should have come in here.

Something on her bedside table caught her eye. It was a small glass vial of purple liquid with a note under it. She lifted it up, scrutinizing it before tentatively reaching for the note. The piece of parchment was folded over. She opened it:

If you're not on anything, take this.

No guessing what it is.

DM

Her eyes moved from the note to the vial. She stared at it momentarily.

"Shit," she mumbled out loud. Could she have been any more reckless?

She quickly removed the stopper and sculled it. The taste made her grimace and cough as it tickled her throat.

"Hermione, how could you be so stupid?!" she shook her head in self reproach.

How on earth had she let herself go that far? And, with Malfoy? The whole ordeal was cringe worthy. How could she walk the corridors with that secret weighing on her conscience?

Hermione stood up, shifting slightly in discomfort as she made her way to the bathroom. A bath was in order, one with plenty of scented bath products to rid her skin of any evidence.

As the bathtub filled, she sat on the edge, staring blankly at the running water as it gushed out. The outpour of liquid mimicked the running tears that had graced her face involuntarily. The more she thought about it, the more fathomable it became.

She was not upset that she had lost her virginity to Malfoy; it was the fact that she would have to go on pretending like nothing of the sort had happened between them. It wasn't that she expected things to change; it was more that she would have to lie about things being the same (well as far as she could claim they were).

Hermione slid into the bathtub, relishing in the almost too hot water as it attacked her skin. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Malfoy looking at her, his face inches from hers. The silver speckles of light amongst the darkened depths of his eyes haunting her.

She wasn't naive to think that his pleasure was attributable to any true feelings. It was entirely the potion's doing, and she knew he hated every minute of his reaction to her. After all, he had blatantly told her that he was going insane because of it. This...thing between them...only served to appease the effects.

Should she feel used?

Well, it wasn't as though she didn't want it. He wasn't the only one suffering from this...compulsion.

"Infernal prat!" she muttered.

Albeit, a somewhat considerable one. Then again, the last thing they both needed was a by product of their stupidity. His father had probably drummed it into him to ensure the blood line wasn't tainted.

She snorted, imagining Malfoy being on the receiving end of a 'birds and the bees' lecture from Malfoy Senior.

Her stomach flipped and her cheeks scorched with heat as the natural progression of her thought process led her back the event.

She groaned out loud.

Was she ever going to get over her embarrassment?

There was no way she could keep up the charade around Harry. He already knew something, of which she was yet to determine.

Realising that the longer she bathed was not analogous to a greater prospect of getting over the ordeal; Hermione lifted the plug to drain the tub, sighing at her childish rationalisation. She stood up, and reached for a towel and went to her room to change.

She was Hermione Granger: valiant and smart.

That meant she could deal with it. She had to.

The common room was empty, the only movement being the flames ricocheting against one another in the confines of the open fireplace. Hermione made her way over to a bean bag, and sunk herself into comfort, pulling out her transfiguration homework, feeling suddenly relaxed as if the natural order of things had realigned. If she was going to proceed as usual, she may as well make a start on her homework. She pulled out her wand and began practicing her spells, with perhaps more rigour than what was customary.

The dying embers heralded a hunger which overcame Hermione so suddenly, she was feeling rather faint. Of course, she hadn't eaten since dinner yesterday. Placing her books to the side she figured she would need to make a trip to the kitchens for a snack. She was not going to last until dinner.

She stepped out of the portrait entrance, into the hallway. It was almost conciliatory as her fear of a change in her character did not permeate. In fact, she didn't feel any different than she had when walking the hallways only a day earlier. With a new found confidence, she decided to stop by the Gryffindor tower first.

Harry and Ginny were seated together chatting idly and stealing kisses. It was almost an invasion of privacy when Hermione spotted them in the corner. She turned her head in search of someone else.

"Hey, Hermione," she tilted her head in the direction of the the male voice. It was Dean. She frowned at his civil greeting. He ushered for her to join Seamus and him.

She unwilling walked over and sat down opposite them.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Seamus and I were just discussing yesterday's victory, which got me thinking."

Hermione raised an eyebrow in amusement. "About what exactly?"

"Well, as you know, it is common for Gryffindors to wish their team luck before the game. But it struck me as rather odd to see you talking to Zabini, a member of the opposing team, before the game. Were you wishing him good luck instead, Hermione? We were just wondering if you're happy that Gryffindor even won." Seamus snickered.

Hermione could not believe she had fallen for this, or that she had given Dean the benefit of the doubt. Clearly the lowly idiot was still overcome by insecurity from his little scare.

Hermione glared at Seamus, who immediately shut up and looked apologetic. She was silent for a moment, wondering how best to shut down the Gryffindor. She stared at him with a calculated cool reticence, timing her response. He wanted a reaction, she would give him one.

"Well, I promised to keep it secret, but I guess the cat's out of the bag. You guessed right, I was wishing Blaise good luck. It's only natural that I do if he's my boyfriend."

Hermione could see him staggering to respond, his mouth agape, Seamus's eyebrows disappearing into his hair line. She remained seated, soaking in their reactions with obvious mirth.

"I knew you were consorting with the enemy," Dean blurted righteously.

"Congratulations Dean, you're not as dense as I thought," Hermione retorted.

"You've got to be kidding, Hermione," Seamus interjected, his surprise wearing away. Hermione smiled knowingly. At least Seamus had his wits about him.

"Of course she's not; you should see them in potions." Dean barked.

His insularity was grating on her nerves. She stood up, staring him down. "Dean, there is no reason for you to be so interested in my personal affairs. Get over it."

"I am merely pointing out the fact that you've taken your inter house unity ideas too far. Everyone knows that Slytherins and Gryffindors don't mix. I'm sure Harry agrees," he defended hotly.

"I agree with what?" Harry was standing behind Hermione. She turned, slightly shocked by his presence.

"Hermione's just confessed that she's dating Blaise." Dean offered.

"She was kidding Dean, you idiot," Seamus corrected, shaking his head.

"Whatever," Dean stood up. "It doesn't change the fact that Hermione was on the Slytherin end of the pitch before the game."

"That's enough Dean," Harry said flatly.

Hermione looked at him, but was not relieved with what she saw. He was eyeing her carefully, almost as if he were putting two and two together. Dean looked mighty pleased with himself at that moment.

"Is that why you were eager for us to get down the pitch?" Harry asked. Hermione was silent.

"Harry, I can explain," she offered lamely.

Wrong answer.

"What's there to explain? She was looking rather cosy with Zabini," Dean interjected. Seamus nudged him one in the shoulder.

"I really don't need your thoughts on this, Dean," Harry turned to him. "Can you guys leave us alone."

"Sure, Harry. C'mon you goose, you've already stirred the pot," Seamus pushed Dean who reluctantly moved away.

Hermione sat down on the couch, knowing she couldn't escape this confrontation, no matter how hungry she felt. Harry sat opposite her, leaning back.

"Hermione, I haven't pried into whatever's been going on with you, but you've been acting really distant, and I've been hearing all sorts of things which are really out of character for you."

"Harry, it's not like I've had much of a choice. I realised I've isolated you, and Ron, but I didn't know how else to deal with everything," Hermione implored, trying to make Harry understand.

"So, should I believe what I've been hearing?" he studied her pensively.

"What did Malfoy say to you?" She did not need to second guess what he was referring to.

"How do you know I heard it from Malfoy?" he asked, his demeanour guarded.

"C'mon Harry, you totally ignored me after the game yesterday, and everyone saw you and Malfoy having a heated discussion about something. I think it's safe to assume..." she shrugged.

"Hermione, ever the smart Gryffindor," Harry smiled, shaking his head, somewhat downtrodden. "Malfoy made some rather hyperbolic statements."

"Harry whatever it is, I can handle it," she assured.

"You're not going to like it, but he said, that you, and I quote, "want to get in his pants, or any Slytherin, at that." He looked slightly amused by it.

Hermione could only respond in one way.

She laughed.

It was laced with nervousness, incredulity that Malfoy was talking about her in the middle of a Quidditch match, and embarrassement that Harry had to think about her in that light.

Harry looked baffled.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

"Yeah," she breathed, shaking her head, focusing her attention on her hands.

"Did he say anything else?"

Harry fidgeted, avoiding her gaze. "I'd rather not repeat it, but I got rather angry. He was being quite...well...he was being a typical guy. He pretty much said you and him had, you know, been meeting up."

She figured as much.

"The only thing that doesn't add up, is Dean saying that you were talking to Zabini?"

Hermione nodded. "We're kind of, well, on speaking terms. He is my potions partner Harry."

"You sure there's nothing else going on with you two?"

Hermione was silent.

"Hermione, I think I deserve to know. Especially since it's a bunch of Slytherins we're talking about."

"Harry, I never meant to get this involved with any Slytherins...it happened after an incident." How much was she going to admit?

Harry was considerate enough to not interrupt and remained silent.

Hermione looked around to make sure that no one was in earshot. "By accident, I found out that a few Slytherins were taking this potion, which they had brewed themselves, and happens to be on the illegal register. I found this out, after Malfoy provoked me, and in an act of stupidity, I submitted to his dare to drink some of it," Hermione almost whispered.

"So you're blaming it all on the potion? It must cause one hell of a reaction." His sarcasm did not escape her but she chose to ignore it.

"Well, I soon learnt that this potion was more trouble than I anticipated, and that it had considerable side effects, which I have been suffering. Blaise asked for my assistance on trying to find an antidote, that's kind of how we started talking."

"So you and Blaise?" Harry prompted.

"Not quite," Hermione sighed. Images of Malfoy overthrew her train of thought.

"What does that mean? You and...Malfoy?" His look of disdain was enough to warn her to tread carefully.

Hermione remained silent.

"Only because of the potion, Harry, we still dislike each other, immensely. I can't explain it, or excuse it, but things have happened between Malfoy and me." She paused to take in his reaction.

"Hermione, this sounds like a load of rubbish. It's not like you've take a love potion, for crying out loud," Harry was becoming agitated, unwilling to accept her explanation.

"Well that's just it Harry, everyone whose taken it is somehow connected. But, it's been much worse for Malfoy, he needs my help."

"So snogging Malfoy is helping Malfoy?" Harry spat. She was not going to correct him.

"Damn it Harry, just understand that this is not easy for me. It's not like I wanted all this. Blaise asked for my help, I ignored it for a while, but now it's become a real problem. The batch I took was incorrectly brewed; I almost fainted from my body overheating." She was appealing to his compassionate side.

Harry's face fell, he was angry at her, she knew it. "Hermione, how could you get yourself into this mess? You're supposed to be the smart one. I'm the one who reacts emotionally and does stupid things in the heat of the moment," he gritted, trying hard to keep his voice down.

"Harry, I know, I didn't think of the consequences. To be honest, I don't think Malfoy did either. It was just a bunch of boys thinking they had an edge in their stupid competition. They hadn't considered any consequences."

"So because of this potion, Malfoy wants to snog you? I find that hard to imagine," Harry scrunched up his face.

Hermione was feeling rather irate at his comment. Her eyes narrowed at his statment, "What's that supposed to mean? Have you thought that I might not want him to?"

"Hermione, please, of course I didn't mean he wouldn't want to. Any guy would want to, but it's Malfoy: number one Slytherin and all the bigoted mentality that goes with it."

"He doesn't want to; he reckons he's going mad. I think I have, too." Hermione muttered. It brought things into perspective. What had happened in her room wasn't real.

Harry laughed, in a mollifying tone. "So, in summary, you want to jump Malfoy?"

Hermione shoved him, shaking her head and smiling slightly. "If only it were so uncomplicated."

"I just didn't appreciate hearing it from the mouth of the prat himself, you should have told me Hermione, and I might have been able to help. I don't know how bad things are now, but I'm finding it hard to come to terms with the fact that you and Malfoy have been sneaking around, all because of a potion."

"I wouldn't believe it either," she replied, a tone of defeat apparent.

"I'm not judging you Hermione; I just need some time to think. Especially because I have this urge to go after Malfoy and hex him, right after I throw a punch at him. I can't help how I feel Hermione, Malfoy is not my favourite person, and I will be trying hard to restrain myself."

"I appreciate that, but please don't make it worse. The last think I want is for the whole school finding out." She was pleading with him now, a sense of guilt overcoming her.

"So that whole ordeal in the Great Hall at dinner. What was that about?" Harry asked.

"Malfoy doesn't want me hanging around Blaise."

"I wouldn't want either of them hanging around you, but why Blaise?"

How on earth could she describe his possessive behaviour? "He found out Blaise likes me." Her explanation did not go down well.

"Oh well, now that's just the cherry on top." Harry scolded. "So Dean is right then, you and Blaise too, huh? Well Hermione, I 'm not so sure I want to hear anymore. It might substantiate the crap Malfoy told me." Harry stood up, looking at her as though she were a stranger. She could feel her heart being wrenched out from her throat.

"Harry, please – " She stood up to face him.

"You're throwing this at me all in one hit, I need some air," he broke her off. She could see the betrayal in his eyes, their bright emerald shade dulling with disappointment.

Hermione could only nod, he had taken it well, for the most past. He walked out of the common room. She waited a few minutes before exiting to go to the kitchens. She needed comfort food, a large dose of it.

She was a long way off from a reprieve.

A/N: Ah, Harry. :p I am already excited about the next chapter. When Hermione comes face to face with Malfoy for the first time, and Blaise. hehehe