Again...still beta-less. I'm posting this before my night class (87 days until my Master's Degree is finished!). I'll reread tonight and search for any errors. Enjoy!

Draco woke up the next morning and glanced at the clock. 9:00am. He panicked momentarily that he overslept for work before remembering he sent an owl to Kingsley, asking to take the day off in case Hermione needed anything. Harry suggested the idea before he left last night and after toying with it late into the evening, he scribbled on a piece of parchment before sending his owl out with his request to Kingsley, who approved it with no questions asked.

He found a white t-shirt in a drawer and threw it on over his head as he walked out of his room. He didn't want to scare Hermione if she was already awake by walking around just his boxers. Quietly, he made his way down the hallway only to stop in front of Hermione's room. Saying a quick prayer, Draco slowly opened the door to see if she was still sleeping. What he found was Hermione Granger laying diagonally on the bed, the bedding wadded and rumpled into a haphazardly constructed mountain. One of the fitted sheets was even popped off the corner. Her head was partially hanging off the bed, along with an arm.

"Merlin's beard, woman," he mumbled softly. Draco internally debated repositioning her. On the one hand, she could wake up and by the looks of the bedding, he wasn't sure he wanted whatever she was packing with those chicken arms. On the other hand, if he didn't move her, she would wake up incredibly sore. She looked like a broken doll - it wasn't exactly the mental image he had in his head when he summoned the guts to peek in to see if she was awake. He could see the faint scar on her arm where his aunt carved 'mudblood' into her flesh. It probably wasn't noticeable to anyone if they ran into her on the street, but they didn't witness the heinous branding, either.

Draco didn't want to leave her sleeping in such an awkward position, but wasn't brave enough to touch her, either. He retreated to his room and grabbed his wand before reappearing and carefully levitating her up and back into a more human way of sleeping in the bed. With another flick of his wand, the bedding magically fixed itself. "Perfect," he whispered before backing out and shutting the door without making a sound.

Downstairs, Draco brewed a fresh pot of coffee and pulled ingredients out of the fridge for some omelets. As he made breakfast, he caught notice of his dark mark and quickly muttered his daily concealment charm, watching it slowly fade away before he continued to beat the eggs with his whisk. The weather outside looked dreary, but then again - it was London, and rain was a part of its charm. One got used to the rain after awhile. There were a lot of things Draco found himself getting used to over the past few years. One of those things was an increasing tolerance for people in general. If university taught him anything, it was that everyone was different, and being different was something to be proud of, not looked down upon. Another thing was the hostile glares from a handful of wizards when he made trips to Hogsmeade or popped over to Diagon Alley. Not that he expected everyone to be forgiving as Harry and Ginny. He expected nothing out of life to be honest. Anything that came to him once the war ended he considered to be sheer luck, and he never thought twice about saying anything that could jinx it all.

Hermione woke to the smell of breakfast, and groaned with pleasure as she sat up and threw the covers off of her. As she made the bed, she was pleasantly surprised at how intact the bedding was. She was used to the nightly terrors in her dreams, though the milder ones she managed to get through with little damage. It was the bad ones that usually left her tangled in sheets with a numbing sensation in her leg, presumably from where the sheet wrapped around and cutting off circulation in one of her legs. She remembered Bellatrix in her dream, and those were the dreams where she fared the worst. Maybe she was getting used to Bellatrix in her dreams.

She wondered if there would ever be a week where Bellatrix wasn't in her dreams.

Catching a quick glance in the mirror above the dresser, she tried to rearrange her hair so it wasn't standing entirely on end. Deeming it somewhat appropriate, she straightened out her tank top and sweatpants and made her way downstairs, finding a humming Draco sliding an omelet onto a plate.

"Who knew you could cook?" Hermione said, announcing her presence in the kitchen as she sat down halfway up the stairs.

Draco looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Good morning. Sleep well?"

Hermione nodded. "I think so."

He chuckled, placing the skillet back on the stove and pouring the rest of the eggs into the pan to cook.

"And what, may I ask, is so funny?"

Draco shook his head. "Nothing. Are you hungry?"

"Famished."

He grabbed some silverware out of the drawer on the island and set them on the plate "I'm making ham and cheese omelets. But if you don't like that, I can put something different in this one."

She stood up and made her way to the island. "Ham and cheese is perfectly fine. Thank you."

Draco finished cooking his omelet and made his way around the island, sitting next to her, their elbows almost touching. "I dated a girl at university - she showed me how to make all sorts of things."

Hermione stopped chewing her mouthful of eggs momentarily. She tried to speak, but it was garbled. Swallowing, she shook her head. "Did you just say you dated a girl at university."

"Yes. And before you ask, because I can see it just brewing on the tip of your pretty pink tongue - yes. She was a Muggle."

She stopped herself from saying anything, only because she wasn't sure if she could keep it from sounding overly condescending or trite. Draco had been nothing but nice to her and she promised herself last night before falling asleep that she would try to see whatever it was in Draco that Harry and Ginny saw. Even James adored him, and James had always been particular to those he outwardly showed affection for.

"It's kind of crummy outside today," Hermione said, glancing out the window. The clock on the wall caught her eye. "Shouldn't you be at work?"

"I took the day off," he said proudly. "In case you needed help with anything." Draco shoveled a mouthful of omelet into his mouth as Hermione gawked. "What?" he said, albeit completely uncomprehendable with a mouth full of food.

"I just…nothing," Hermione said quickly, her attention going back to breakfast.

"Is this your new thing? Starting a question only to take it back?" Draco asked, humor in his voice.

"No," Hermione said, defensively.

"Because I feel like it's becoming somewhat of a trend."

"I just don't know -" Hermione mentally slapped herself. Why couldn't she put together coherent sentences? "Just forget it."

"Granger…"

"I'm sorry!" she gushed, feeling a verbal waterfall coming. "I just don't know what to do with this version of you and it's completely freaking me out and driving me absolutely mental! I'm sure you think I'm barking mad and you may be right. But I just feel completely overwhelmed, but at the same time, I almost feel comfortable and I don't even know how someone can feel two completely different emotions at the same time but I do and none of it making any sense which I'm clearly not handling well as you can see and I'm sure it doesn't look like it but I am trying because I told Harry I would and - "

Draco honestly thought Hermione Granger was going to implode. It was overwhelming to imagine what was running through her head on any given day, let alone hearing it spew from her mouth. He wasn't even sure if he had heard her take a breath. For fear of her running out of oxygen, he clapped a hand over her mouth. She tried to talk through it while removing his hand, but he wouldn't budge.

"Before you go completely 'round the bend and I'm forced to commit you to St. Mungo's where you'll spend the rest of your life giving yourself a hug in a padded room, might I make a suggestion?

She nodded, his hand still over her mouth.

"One - you're not the only one who feels a bit mental by this whole scenario. Potter's been warning me of your homecoming for months, and in order for us to stay friends, I knew I would have to somehow find a way to be friends with you because at the end of the day, if forced to choose, you win."

Hermione nodded again, her eyes wide.

"Two - you weren't the only person that experienced a clusterfuck of emotion yesterday. I went on quite the ride myself. I'm just better at keeping it together than you. And three - and I will continue to say this until you believe me - I want to be your friend. Not just an acquaintance, not someone you learn to quit wishing ill will towards, but an actual friend. I promise as long as I live, Hermione, I will show you every day how much I've changed, and what kind of person I wish to be. I'm still flawed, and I'm sure you'll still annoy me with your uncanny ability to…well…be you at times, but I think if we really try, we'll find that we might have more in common than you think."

Draco slowly removed his hand from Hermione, and she stared at him, stunned. If she had words, they were gone, along with her ability to locate her voice. She took a few minutes to completely comprehend what he said, and came to the overall conclusion that he was right.

"Draco?" she finally said.

"Hermione."

She rolled her eyes. "Thank you."

He stabbed the remaining bites of omelet on his fork and found his mouth. "You're welcome." He swallowed and finished off his glass of orange juice. "You're also more than welcome to stay as long as you'd need to…or like to."

"Really?" Hermione asked.

"It's not like the house isn't big enough," Draco replied.

"Maybe just until I figure out what I want to do, find some employment," Hermione mused.

Draco grabbed his empty plate and hers along with the glasses and set them in the in the sink. He grabbed a sponge and drizzled lemon-scented soap over the plates before grabbing the rest of the dirty dishes piling them in the sink, filling to the brim with suds. He could feel Hermione staring at him as he scrubbed and rinsed the dishes clean before propping them up in the drying rack. When he heard her break out into a giggle that turned into full on, genuine Hermione Granger laughter, he craned his neck in her direction. "What's so funny."

Hermione continued to laugh. She didn't know how to stop, and the harder she tried the more she laughed. Tears streamed down her face as she wiped them away with the backs of her hands. Calming down, she went to speak but burst into another fit of giggles.

"I'm about to give you a reason to laugh, Granger, if you don't knock it off," Draco warned.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" she managed to speak through her giggles. Wiping her eyes again, she held her hands up halfway in defeat. "But this entire – well, all of it really – I mean, I feel like someone's going to hop out any second with a camera and scream gotcha! You're doing dishes the muggle way, for Merlin's sake!"

Draco laughed. "I had to learn – didn't want to freak out the roommate at University when I lived in the dorms. I don't mind doing it actually."

"Please," Hermione said. "I'm a muggle witch and I cannot stand doing the dishes that way."

"I'm being completely honest!" Draco exclaimed. "Cleaning, dishes, yard work, even laundry – I find it cathartic most days. Gives me time to think about things."

Hermione crossed her arms against her chest, a glint in her eye. "You do all things my female friends beg and plead their husbands to do to no avail – muggles and witches alike. How haven't you been snatched up yet by a dashing young woman?"

"I've been too busy fixing myself to even contemplate dating anyone too seriously," Draco said, turning back to wash the rest of the dishes. He caught Hermione appearing out of the corner of his eye with a dishtowel she snatched off the oven door handle and began to dry the dishes by hand. He motioned with a shoulder or an elbow towards the direction of which cabinet the dishes belonged. "I dated at University a bit, but quickly realized that I loved magic too much to date a muggle and have to explain all the magic, and then explaining my family on top of that – it would have sent them running towards the hills. The only witches that are interested in me aren't impressed with my change in the way I view people nowadays, so I just keep to myself for the most part."

"Yes well, I find men who wish to pursue me to be of the fame seeking nature," Hermione said with a hint of disdain. "If not because I'm Harry Potter's best friend, then because I've been ceremonially labeled the brightest witch or wizard of our age. No one wants to know who I really am. Then again, if they found out, they'd also probably run for the hills, as you said."

Draco handed her the last rinsed dish to dry and drained the sink, rinsing the suds away. "And what, might I ask, would someone find if they found out who Hermione Granger really is?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as she swiped the pan dry with her damp towel. "Someone who may or may not be irreversibly screwed up."

Draco let out a half laugh. "Same here."

The rest of their day went very much like the next few weeks. The two were learning to be cordial with one another, and though neither would admit it aloud to the other, they were beginning to enjoy each other's company. On Saturdays, James would come over to play, and they would spend hours outside in the backyard, pushing him on the tire swing or playing hide and seek in Hyde Park.

Hermione wasn't any closer to figuring out what she wanted to do now that she was back in London, and she wasn't the type of person to sit around and do nothing. Kinsgley offered her any job she wanted at the Ministry, and if there wasn't a job for what she wanted he'd make a job for her. She appreciated the sentiment, and told him she'd give the idea some serious thought.

She also needed to finally decide to do with the obscene amount of money that she felt was hanging on her back like dead weight. Even if she did something significant, her children's children's children would be set for life – which was a reassuring thought in many regards, but daunting as well. One person shouldn't have that much wealth when so many others could benefit from it.

When she was in New York, she talked with a therapist often. She was a lovely Squib woman named Dr. Boughton, trained in muggle psychiatry and was well aware of the wizard war that occurred in London. Witches, Wizards, and Squibs around the world knew of the atrocities caused by the Dark Lord. Any witch or wizard who didn't know otherwise would have had to have been living under a boulder. Dr. Boughton often suggested to Hermione that she should find a cause she felt passionate about and with that cause, donate financially to help give the cause a more promising future. Shortly after that idea, she donated a large sum of money to her parents former school where they received their dental training, and the money allowed the school to completely renovate their facilities with state-of-the-art technologies and equipment. The only condition of her donation was that it remain anonymous. She didn't need – didn't want – any more glory than what she currently had. It was already too much to take most days.

Dr. Boughton also used to tell her repeatedly that the sooner she came to grips with being Hermione Granger – war heroine, the easier life would become for her. Hermione wasn't sure how much she bought into that idea. Her mother used to say there was never any time to go backwards – only forward – because it is the only way anyone gets to where they really want to go. But Hermione didn't want to be known as a war hero. She didn't want anyone to know that she had ungodly amounts of money. She never thought she'd wish for the day to return where the words used to describe her were "brainy" and "bookworm," but she'd welcome them back with open arms in a heartbeat.

Another Saturday came and went, and when Harry knocked on the front door with a sleepy James in tow, Hermione was pleasantly surprised to see Ginny walking in behind them. "What brings you here?" she asked, giving her pregnant friend a hug.

"Harry's credit card," she replied with a smirk. "James has an ear ache, so Harry thought he'd spend the day with James and Draco watching football on the telly. Apparently Manchester has a big game today – or whatever. If it isn't quidditch I could honestly care less. I do, however, need to go shopping for more clothes that fit and to fetch a few more things for baby Albus here –"

"Albus?" Hermione asked, feeling her eyes well with tears she fiercely blinked away. She rested a hand over her heart.

"Albus Severus," Ginny said with a warm smile.

"What a fitting tribute," Hermione said, hugging Ginny again.

"We thought so," Harry chimed in. James head rested comfortably on his father's shoulder, taking comfort in his father's hand slowly rubbing his back. Harry looked about as exhausted as his son.

"You're here!" Draco announced as he bounced down the stairs. He made a sympathetic face to James as he looked at his parents. "Another earache?"

"Unfortunately," Harry replied. "He didn't sleep much last night."

James saw Draco and reached for him. Harry passed his son off to Draco and Hermione watched as the little boy snuggled into Draco. "I feel yucky," he said, his words garbled as he yawned.

"Good thing we don't have anything too excited planned for today then, huh buddy?"

James nodded. "Can we watch football now? Daddy says Chester's playing."

"Manchester is playing," Draco said, holding the boy a bit tighter. He walked over and kissed Ginny on the cheek, which she returned. "Have fun burning a hole in Potter's pocket."

"I always do," Ginny replied.

Draco looked at Hermione and went to do the same before stopping quickly. Instead, he gave her a friendly nod. "Have fun, Hermione."

Hermione bit her lips together and gave him a small, awkward wave as she grabbed her tote by the door. "Thanks."

Ginny kissed James and Harry goodbye before yanking Hermione out of the door. The two of them walked over to an alley away from passersby before they apparated down to Diagon Alley. Excited for some much needed girl time, Hermione linked her arm with Ginny's as the two made their way down the street towards the various stores. She couldn't help but feel some of the stares and whispers – if people weren't aware that Hermione Granger was back – they would be after today. She laughed as Ginny glared at those for staring too conspicuously before they ducked into a baby furniture store. The two of the browsed baby cribs and changing tables, making small talk while they shopped.

"Why not just use the crib James used," Hermione asked as she saw Ginny look unenthusiastically through the varying crib styles.

"My emotional basket case of a husband says he wants all of our children to have their own crib, so they can use it for their first born child when the day comes," Ginny said with an eye roll. "James' crib was Harry's old crib that was salvaged and kept in storage with some of his parents' belongings. Harry fixed it up before James was born."

Hermione stared at Ginny. "I had no idea."

"Well it's not like he talks about it," Ginny said, laughing. "You two are the same like that. All sorts of emotion – yet none of it is ever discussed. Draco too." Ginny became distracted from cribs momentarily as she saw a group of baby strollers. "But you see – Harry thinks he's going to make Albus' crib and build said crib by hand.

"That's sweet!" Hermione clapped a hand over her heart.

"Sweet? It's bloody insane!" Ginny quipped. "Have you actually seen my husband build anything? Has anyone for that matter seen my husband build anything without a wand?"

"You don't think he can build a crib?"

"Oh I think he can build a crib. My husband can do anything," Ginny said with a smirk. "Now, whether it's done correctly is a whole other story. It's been my experience that anything the Boy-Who-Lived has done correctly was completed with extensive assistance."

Laughing at the look Ginny gave her, Hermione held her hands up. "Are you mad? I don't know the first thing about building a crib!"

"Who does? We're witches – not carpenters," Ginny replied, unimpressed with the strollers. She made her way back over to the cribs and found one that looked a bit like the one Harry was building. "Don't get me wrong – I have faith in my husband. But the baby will actually need a place to sleep when it arrives, and I'm all about back up plans." She inspected the cherry wood crib a bit more and gave it a good shake to see how stable it was. "I'm going to buy a crib, and either charm it so that it magically comes together if Harry doesn't manage to build a crib a child could sleep safely in, or I'm going to use this crib if in fact Harry doesn't figure out how to build the crib and then doesn't tell me for fear of disappointing me. But he couldn't ever really disappoint me. After all, it is the thought that counts."

A salesperson came over and Ginny instructed the young man with her wishes and handed him Harry's credit card. "So which do you think will happen?" Hermione asked.

"Right now, it's holding steady at either scenario being a plausible option. Ask me again in three months when I'm screaming at him for the pain and torture caused by bringing his children into the world," Ginny replied, taking the credit card back from the salesperson and securing it back into her wallet.

They browsed a few clothing stores, picking up some items for James and the baby, as well as Ginny. Hermione sat and watched while Ginny modeled the maternity clothes she was trying on. She found herself envious of Ginny at times – she and Harry were so happy together, they had a family, and it was as if they had life figured out. If they didn't have life figured out – they did an excellent job of fooling the world.

Ginny walked out of the dressing room in a pale green maternity top that had a dark green ribbon around the waist, tying into a bow on the side. "Too girly?"

"I think it's adorable," Hermione said. "Pregnancy suits you, Gin."

Ginny grinned. "I love being pregnant. The delivery part – you know – not so much, but I love everything else. Just wait – someday you'll know what I'm talking about."

A scoff escaped Hermione's lips. "Doubt it."

"Don't you want children?"

"Of course I want children!" When she was dating Ron, they weren't together long enough to talk about a future with children, but she had assumed since her fourth year that she would have a brood of ginger know-it-alls running around her house. Ron was however, no longer an option, and if she'd been completely honest – he was never an option to begin with. Her thirteen year old heart would always love him. Her twenty-two year old head said otherwise. "I just have to find someone to marry first, of course."

"Draco's single. Quite the catch, really."

"Are you feeling ill?" Hermione hissed.

"I'm being quite serious."

"You've lost your bloody mind."

"Clearly you must have thought about it to get this defensive about it," Ginny prodded. "Besides, I think he fancies you."

"I think the pregnancy hormones have eaten the logical part of your mind," Hermione retorted.

"I think you're afraid to admit that Draco is a different person," Ginny countered. "I think you're afraid to admit that you're a different person, and that while the old versions of you and Draco would have caused utter chaos, who you are now would actually be quite the pair."

Hermione shook her head. "It would never work."

"You don't know that."

"You don't know that it would."

"Harry thinks it would."

Her jaw dropped. "You – you – I can't believe you two have actually conversed about this!"

"Only since the day you came home." Ginny waddled over, sat down next to Hermione on the cushioned bench, and grabbed her hands. "I can't imagine what happened when you, Harry, and Ron were fending for yourselves. I know I lost a brother, and I think about Fred every day, but I know that the loss I felt is completely different than what you went through, what you witnessed, and what you lost. Your parents, your childhood, the torture – it stains a person's soul, 'Mione."

Hermione dropped her head and looked away. She felt Ginny's hands squeeze hers. "I wish I knew how to let it all go," she heard herself whisper.

"No one is asking for you to let any of it go," Ginny said. "No one expects any of us to let go of what we experienced. But because of everything we sacrificed – our futures are now unlimited. Not just ours – everyone's." She placed a hand on her stomach for emphasis. "You deserve to be happy."

Blinking back tears, Hermione nodded in agreement. She lunged towards Ginny and wrapped her arms around her, the two women silently crying as they clung to each other for comfort.

"So…how's 'Mione doing?" Harry asked, trying to sound causal but failing miserably as the two sat on opposite ends of the couch with a sleeping James between them. Manchester was massacring their opponent, and there was an entire period left to play.

Draco scratched the back of his head and shrugged. "Fine, I guess."

"Just fine?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah."

Draco felt incredibly uncomfortable discussing Hermione with Harry as of late. Every time Harry asked about her, he wasn't sure what to say. If he divulged everything and said how much he enjoyed having her in the house, how she made coming home something to look forward to, Harry would get all protective of her and it would ruin his and Harry's friendship. Harry was the closest thing to family Hermione had. He didn't want to make it awkward.

When Draco was around Hermione, he felt the weight he carried around with him lessen. Even when she was tearing into him about God knows what because the woman could go from laughter to lunacy in a finger snap, he'd rather sit there and take it than be anywhere else. They shared similar wounds and fears, and while they never got too deep into conversation about their pasts, they found themselves teetering the edge, waiting to see which one was brave enough to go first. He was deathly afraid of the conversation, but he knew the dam would have to break eventually.

Manchester scored another goal, and the cheers exploding from the television startled James. He only woke up for a second before succumbing to his exhaustion. Draco brushed a hand lightly over James' dark brown hair. "I can't wait to have kids," he admitted to Harry.

Peaking his interest, Harry cocked his head to the side and smiled. "It's the best thing I've ever done."

"I'm terrified of having a miniature version of myself as a child," Draco said, laughing through his sincerity. "I was horrendous."

"We can only hope your children inherit your future wife's personality."

"What if I marry someone who has a horrendous personality?"

"Won't happen."

"Oh yeah? Tell me, Potter, do you have my wife picked out for me? I mean, I should at least get a say in who I tether myself to until the end of time."

Harry chuckled. "I don't have a wife picked out for you. My wife, on the other hand, does."

Draco saw where this was going very quickly and he could feel his chest tighten a bit. "Oh really?"

"You know Gin. Once she gets an idea…she just kind of goes with it until she gets what she wants."

"She's a bit scary, your wife."

"I'm aware."

"So…who did Ginny pick?"

"Do you really have to ask?"

"No."

Harry reached over for his beer on the end table and took a drink. "I don't hate the idea, you know. You and 'Mione, that is."

Draco grabbed his own beer and finished the rest of it before putting the bottle back on the table. "She'll never date me, Potter, so I wouldn't worry about having to get used to the idea."

James stirred again, and shifted towards Draco. He picked up the small child and let him cuddle against his chest. Harry watched Draco with his son. Never in a million years did he ever think he'd see his child sleeping soundly against a Malfoy. For Draco, the thought of holding a small Potter without any kind of contempt wasn't a thought that had ever passed through his mind, either. Life had a funny way of working out at times…this being one of those times.

"Do you like her?" Harry asked, his face serious as he stared at his friend.

Draco's eyes met Harry's, and he knew this wasn't a moment to joke. "I do."

"Could you love her?"

"Yes." The words escaped his mouth before his head could filter the thought.

Harry grinned. "Well then, all you have to do is keep yourself from completely fucking it up."

Snorting, Draco rolled his eyes. "You make it sound so easy. If you haven't noticed – Granger is rather complicated."

"I'm going to tell you a secret," Harry confided. "From a man who married an incredibly complicated and sometimes terrifying woman. The complicated ones – they're worth it."

By the time Ginny and Hermione came back to Draco's house, they found the three boys asleep on the couch with the end of game commentary playing in the background. Quietly, Ginny woke Harry while collecting James from a sleeping Draco. Hermione's heart melted a bit as she saw Draco snuggled up to the boy. Any other man holding a small child in that way would have had Hermione won over in an instant. But was something about Draco that kept holding her back.

Even if Ginny was right – and Draco had even the slightest of romantic feelings for her – would it even work? Was it worth the risk? So what if her heart pounded a little bit faster as of late when he would walk into a room, or accidentally touch her. She hadn't been with a man in any kind of capacity since Ron. She didn't date in New York. She worked like a slave because working prevented thinking. Draco was the first man she'd been in close proximity with in years. That's all these thoughts were. If she were around any other single man she'd feel the same way.

Whispering goodbyes to the Potters, Hermione went back into the living room and stood behind the recliner, staring at Draco. He looked peaceful. She grabbed the blanket from the chair and softly draped it over him, as he'd done for her the first day she came back to London. Hermione leaned over and brushed some of his hair back away from his face. He desperately needed a haircut. His shaggy hair was no doubt an influence of Harry's. As her fingertips brushed his forehead, she felt her heart quicken.

Hermione Granger wasn't an impulsive person. She went through life with a plan. Even if the plan was on its way to hell in a hand basket, she had a plan. Plans made her feel secure. Plans made her feel confident, even if she was about to make a decision she would most likely regret. As she stood over Draco, she realized that planning was overrated. When did planning ever really work? She planned a life with Ron. All that plan gave her was heartbreak.

Hermione Granger wasn't an impulsive person. But as she felt gravity work against her heart, she leaned in and lightly brushed her lips against his.

What she didn't expect was for him to kiss her back, to wrap his arms around her as he pulled her against him. It took her a minute to register what was happening, a minute to realize how much she was enjoying the kiss as he pulled on her bottom lip and moaned, and one more minute to regain a conscious train of thought before abruptly pulling away.

Draco's eyes were still closed as he murmured her name.

She realized he was still asleep, dreaming about her. "Draco?"

His eyes snapped open. He saw her face, her swollen lips, and realized he wasn't kissing dream Hermione.