Sorry for such the long wait everyone. I was having a lot of difficulties figuring out how to continue this fic. I know I have a specific goal in mind but I just couldn't figure out how to exactly get there once I had Hermione's confession written up. But now I think I have an idea of what to do now!

I'm sorry again for the wait. I did mention that the fic was going on hiatus, so I hope nobody was freaking out too much. I also had a very busy summer; I did some traveling, lots of work, a lot of soccer, and I was doing fundraisers (my friends and I did the Weekend to End Women's Cancer walk on the 28-29 of August, which is a 60 kilometre, 2 day walk. 32km on the first day, 28 on the second. Our group raised over $8,500, and in total, our city raised $5.1million for women's cancer research, I suggest to anyone living in a major Canadian city to do it again next year if you feel physically up to it. The most amazing experience ever!).

Anyway, I'm sorry again for such a huge wait. Aside from good things, bad things also happened and I needed time to think and just be with myself for a while, too. But, I'm finally back. At least it was only a few months; it could've been way worse. I could've gone on hiatus permanently or for over a year! Think positive people!

Also, anyone who is interested in gory or dark anime, I highly suggest Shikabane Hime (Corpse Princess, you find it on youtube via FUNimation's account) or High School of the Dead (animeseason(dot)com) – very good zombie anime; I watched the first two-three episodes last night and it was AWESOME! (Although beware of intense, crazy, in-your-face fanservice. If you don't like fanservice, I suggest you not watch it).

So here it is. I'm sorry if I make any little mistakes; it's been a while since I've written and I may not 100% remember everything I've exactly written up to date, but I do have outlines! I also didn't get a chance to do a read-through, seeing as once it was done, I wanted to post it right away. (And my new Word is kinda of douchey where I actually have to click "review" in order to see all of the underlines; I'm trying to figure that out, haha). I also got a few other ideas for my next chapters!

Here it is!

Chapter 13

The Little Things

She hid in the darkness, sneaking along the corridors, pressing her body against the wall as she traveled through the quiet, darkened hallways. She wasn't supposed to be up at this hour, she was supposed to be curled in her warm bed, sleeping the night away and having the sweetest dreams of love. Instead, Pansy Parkinson was creeping her way around the school, trying to make her way into the library to find the particular documents she so desperately yearned for.

Documents that she was not supposed to touch, let alone know existed.

She had no choice, however, now that things were coming to push and shove. She had tried for the past few weeks to establish an appropriate relationship, to try to go back to the way things used to be, and every time her attempts were rebuked. She was fed up, sick and tired of the way things had become. He had become nothing but some pathetic little pet, a sick puppy trailing behind that witch who seemed to have a ruling hand over him and his actions. He defended her, fought for her, stood up for her honour and sat with her at occasional meals.

It was not right.

They should not have contact of any form; he should not be defending her in any way, and should not, at all, be her friend.

He was hers and hers alone, and she did not share.

Footsteps echoed softly in the distance and she quickly looked around, searching for some kind of hiding spot to use in order to avoid detection. She couldn't afford to be caught; the teachers would be on higher alert in the future if they found her out of bed. They would become more vigilant and search even harder, which would make things more difficult for her.

Spying a relatively large statue of a man, she rushed behind it, grateful for the shadows and the size of the statue. Just as she tucked the last bit of her robe in back of the stone sculpture, she heard the footsteps turn the corner and slowly make their way down the hallway. She wondered briefly who they belonged to, was it a teacher or one of the Prefects? She knew that it wasn't Draco; he wasn't on duty tonight. Neither was that little bitch Granger; she checked. If it were Granger, her wand would be drawn and she would be prepared to attack.

Show that little bitch not to mess with her man.

She watched the teacher walk by the statue and waited patiently for her – Professor Sprout – to round the next corner before creeping back out and making her way down the corridor.

Adjusting her robes, she hurriedly made her way towards the library, grateful that she was close to her destination. Pansy needed that book; it was the only way she would be able to get Draco out from Granger's spell and back into her arms. So what if it could have negative repercussions? So what if someone could get hurt? It didn't matter so long as she and Draco were fine.

Anyone else in the way, beware.

Another set of footsteps began, not far behind her. She hurried up, spying the great oak doors not far away. She was almost there; she couldn't afford to be caught.

The footsteps were louder, slapping rather quickly on the stone floor.

Her hand grasped the handle and pulled, the oak doors creaking softly in the silence. She wanted to hush them, but knew that it wouldn't have any effect. Instead, she opened it an inch and slipped her way in, silently closing them just as the footsteps rounded the corner.

Breathing a quiet sigh of relief, she looked quickly around the library, quite pleased to know that she was the only student who dared sneak in after hours.

Who in their right mind would, anyway, sneak into the library, of all places? Aside from bookworm Granger, of course.

She made her way around the library, noting that the bookshelves made for good cover and yet a very creepy atmosphere; they seemed to lean over, shadows reaching out as though attempting to grasp hold of her, as though they wanted to hold her in place until someone could find her. Shuddering in spite of herself and her darker past that would otherwise feel at ease with the shadows and darkness, she made her way through the shelves to the back section that was forbidden to all unauthorized personnel.

Like her.

Slipping under the sign, she made her way past the dark, cracking, fading books, not touching a single one in fear of retribution from the magic that bound the pages together. Her family had taught her enough about the dark and forbidden texts, showed her the ways of avoiding the plagues that followed their opening and made sure that she knew not to touch any in case of an exterior charm placed on the text.

She was willing to bet anything prissy, little Miss Granger didn't know that.

Withdrawing and lighting her wand, she continued through until she found the text that she had been looking for. A book that she knew was left untainted by magical barriers and charms, a text that would come to her assistance in this time of dire need.

The title was faded beyond recognition, she knew the red bind that wrapped around the spine, recognized the gold flecks left behind on the cover, so few and sparse that not one letter could be legibly formed. Caressing the cover, fingers gently tracing the invisible title, she grasped the book tightly to her chest. It was the answer to her prayers, the solution to her problem, and it would help her get just what she wanted and deserved.

The spells inside were written in an ancient language, perhaps only once deciphered by the 'almighty' Dumbledore, but she knew a fancy little spell – taught by her magically gifted mother – that would help her decipher the wording.

Slipping the small book into a pocket of her robes, she crept her way back out of the library, even more vigilant now that she had the illegal text on her. This thing could get her into a lot of trouble if she was found with it, even more so since she had knowledge of it.

But it would also give her exactly what she wanted.

Bring it on Granger; she had her own arsenal and it was made to create pain. Draco would be hers by the end of the school, and this book would make sure of it.

Every morning, when the sun rose and her alarm rang, she woke sated, relaxed, and satisfied, as though a night's rest could accomplish much more than allowing her restless brain some reprieve.

This morning, however, she woke with a pain in the middle of her back, an ache in the temples, and the strangest sensation of foreboding so powerful it made her stomach twist and knot like a pile of serpents.

Daphne Greengrass knew that something wasn't right. She just wasn't sure what it was.

Going through her daily rituals, she expected some movement to ease out the knots, but they remained tightly in place, a constant reminder of her discomfort and the mental unease. The shower did nothing to warm her cooled flesh, the brush massaged her head ceaselessly to no avail and food seemed to only make the serpents writhe more in her stomach.

Something was terribly wrong; she hadn't felt like this since the morning her family visited her uncle's only to find his dead body and the Dark Mark hovering above his house. All because he hid his Muggle-Born wife.

The sense of foreboding chased after her throughout the day, creeping slowly from the back of her mind to eventually overwhelm her thoughts, successfully distracting her from her classes and studies. Enough so that she ended the day with a detention with Flitwick for not paying attention.

It didn't matter, however; all she wanted to do was find the source of the sensation and get rid of it as fast as possible.

The answer came in form of Pansy Parkinson's creepy Cheshire cat smile as she seemed to almost sashay towards Daphne at dinner that evening. The second she saw the glittering smile, Daphne knew that Pansy was the source and she would have to try, time and time again, to unsuccessfully changed Pansy's mind.

Some days, she wondered why she even bothered trying, but it was always worth it. She may not necessarily change the girl's mind, but in most cases she succeeded in getting Pansy to do less drastic things.

Astoria leapt to her feet, rushing over to Pansy, almost bursting with excitement. "Did you get it? I didn't see you this morning, so I couldn't ask, and…"

When Pansy nodded, Daphne had to admit that her curiosity was sparked. She knew that she would find out eventually, most likely when they convened in Pansy's room that evening, but she suddenly wanted to know now.

Listen and watch; she couldn't do anything more or less at the moment but listen and watch. Observation was the greatest way to receive information about a person or situation.

She watched the girls whisper excitedly throughout the remainder of dinner as she pushed her food around; the foreboding sensation was back tenfold and her appetite hid away upon its return. When the girls got up to leave, she saw Pansy's gesture and knew it was for her; so she stood and followed suit, catching up with them on their journey to the Slytherin Common Room.

Pansy was quiet during the walk, but bubbling and jittery, as though she couldn't wait to say what she had to say, but feared to speak the words in case of being overheard. Daphne's assumption was reinforced when, after shutting the door to her Prefect's bedroom, Pansy began to cast several silencing charms and locking spells over the room.

Sitting on the bed, Daphne tucked one leg up and hugged it to her chest, resting her chin on her knee as Pansy paced excitedly back and forth.

"What's with the meeting?" Maryse, who had been dragged along by Astoria, asked suddenly from her perch on the corner of Pansy's desk. "Did you finally get to shag Draco?"

"Not yet," Pansy grinned in return, a strange gleam filtering into her eyes. "But I'm getting a lot closer to it."

"So why are we here?"

"Oh, just tell them already," Astoria sighed, breaking the silence that had followed Maryse's question. "Tell them or I will."

"Fine, fine," Pansy waved, moving to stand in the middle of the room. "Alright, well, last night I slipped out of the dormitory and made my way to the library."

"You visiting the library during the middle of the night?" guffawed Maryse. "Since when have you turned into Granger?"

"Since the book I wanted is this," the brunette replied, tugging out a nameless, red-leather bound text from her bag. Maryse looked rather perplexed and Astoria glowed with pride. Daphne squinted her eyes, seeing the faded, crumbling golden flecks that were once the title on the front, and her eyes bugged.

The sense of foreboding came back even stronger and her heart thundered wildly in her chest as she realized the implications of Pansy's actions. Her mind buzzed angrily, swarms of bees consuming her coherent thoughts as memories of the war were drug back into her mind.

They had been sitting down in the Malfoy's den, going through another lesson on Dark Arts and its history from the ever knowledgeable Carrow siblings. Alecto was in the process of teaching them about different texts that could contain useful curses to 'teaching those Muggles and Mudbloods' a lesson. One of those texts in particular was titled Vox Mors, a book contain various charms and spells that went from curse breaking, to charming and seducing, to finally having pages devoted to charms geared towards mutilation, torture, pain and death.

Alecto began stating that the book had spells in it that could easily break any other charm, successfully freeing an individual from someone else's spell. She also made sure to point out that the book contained some of the strongest spells as well, including many charms that would sway a person's thoughts or perceptions, leading them to believe falsities. It was one of the most useful texts for Death Eaters; however the only known location of the only printed text was in the Hogwarts library, in the restricted section. That is aside from the original copy being in Voldemort's hands after he hid the copy in the library. The Death Eaters were fairly certain that none of the staff at the school even knew the copy was in their possession.

Now Daphne stared at the copy in Pansy's hands, and the girl handled it as though it were the holiest of all possible holy grails.

"Vox Mors," Daphne whispered, as though terrified to speak the name any louder. "How...no, I think I know how, but why? That is…it's very drastic."

"Drastic times call for drastic measures," Pansy replied, placing the book on her dresser with tender care and love.

"Drastic times are time of war and desperation!" Daphne cried. "Not trying to get a man to fall in love with you! That book is deadly and dangerous!"

"It is my saviour!"

"It has spells of death and destruction; it won't save anyone or anything!"

"It has spells that can save people from other spells," Pansy argued, face reddening with anger and passion.

Daphne let go of her leg, stomping her foot on the ground. "You know why it has those spells? Did you even listen to what the Carrows said? It has spells that break protective barriers to make it easier cast the pain and torture spells!"

"Don't talk to me like I don't know what's in it," Pansy snapped, picking up her bag to toss it angrily and unceremoniously into a corner.

"Then you know what those spells can do," Daphne retorted sharply, almost getting ready to cut the anger and turn her words into pleads. "You know the damage it can cause and you know what will happen to you if you're caught with it!"

"I know what I'm doing," Pansy answered, tilting her head back and puffing her chest, giving herself a haughty air. "I won't get caught, trust me. Nobody will ever find out what's going on; I'll make sure of it."

"And how? I know that you can trust us, even though I don't agree with what you're doing; I'm not about to blab to a teacher." At least not yet; she wanted to wait and see what would happen first, although she doubted Pansy would ever go through with anything. She would most likely tell Draco she had the book or something along those lines, terrify him into leaving Granger for Pansy. Not necessarily the best tactic, but at least it was better than cursing someone.

Pansy's gazed softened just the slightest. "I know I can trust you girls; that's why I'm telling you all this without the Wizard's Oath." Her eyes then hardened, the rock-like gleam returning with a vengeance. "But trust me; I will make sure that nobody ever finds out about this. I have my ways."

"How? By manipulating people's minds? By torturing them? How will you do it? Is there even another way of doing it safely aside from the Wizard's Oath?"

All Pansy said was, "I have my ways," as she moved over to caress the book. Daphne's heart shuddered in disgust and fear at the sight before her, Pansy possessively eyeing the book as though it were the saviour, some godlike being that could give her all she wanted. It was not normal…

"Then what are you planning on doing with it?" Maryse said softly from her perch, swinging her legs back and forth, gently hitting the desk with her heels each time.

Pansy looked up and it seemed as though her face became twisted, shadows forming and sliding over her features to alter her expression. She looked like a strange demonic creature, or someone of demonic possession, her brows knotted and furrowed, her lips curled unpleasantly, cheeks growing gaunt as her teeth were bared in some semblance of a smile. Cruelty, malice, revenge, and pure hatred glowed in her eerily bright eyes.

"Isn't it obvious? I plan on getting rid of Granger once and for all and making Draco mine. Just like it's supposed to be."

Daphne's heart began to weep in fear.

Life moved on; it was the easiest way to put things. Life simply kept on moving. She had half expected the world to jerk to a sudden halt the morning after their talk, to have every student frozen in time, expressions of awe, disgust and confusion permanently stuck on their faces. She expected to hear an incessant buzzing of whispers, although a group of flitting bees were forever stuck hovering in the same spot.

Life, however, had other plans; it kept moving, no matter what. The world kept turning, the students moves and there was nary a sound of buzzing bees anywhere near the school in the wintry days. Life moved on.

Classes went by quicker than usual; perhaps it was because a heavy burden was finally lifted from her shoulders, weighing her down, slowing the world to a crawl. Maybe it was because she finally felt free; she could smile at her friends, could talk openly once more to Harry and Ginny without feeling like she was keeping some tumultuous secret hidden.

Her life was her life once more; she was no longer ruled by anxieties and stress. The only things that stressed her in any way was homework, but even then, with Draco helping her and she returning the favours, things were a lot less overwhelming than they used to be. Harry even asked less and less for help on his assignments.

Ron became nothing but a blip on her radar; parts of her knew that she should be more worried but she felt on top of the world, something she had never felt before in her entire life. Nothing could come in her way; things were beautiful.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Sliding the feather out of her mouth, Hermione tapped the quill on the corner of her parchment, successfully creating a little black blob of ink. "Hm?"

Draco lounged; he did not sit, he lounged, on the chair to her left, watching her with rapt attention. He answered with a small grin, shuffling his parchment on his lap. "You looked lost in thought," he answered calmly.

"Where did you hear that Muggle expression?" she asked, looking back down at her parchment as she began to note important corrections.

"I believe a certain feisty witch once asked me that very question," he replied, still watching her.

Hermione's head lifted, eyes sparkling with memories. "Well, it seems we have a fast learner. By the way, seeing as we are on the topic of learning, did you ever learn how to use a microwave?"

He grimaced and shook his head in defeat. "I tried several times in the Room of Requirement; I blew them all up in the end because they pissed me off too much."

"Does this mean you're giving up?" she teased, tucking the quill's feather back between her lips.

"I've told this before; Malfoy's do not give up," he responded in his typical pompous manner. "We merely take a step back and look at our situation in order to decide how to continue."

"So you're giving up for now?" Her eyes glowed and dimples formed in her cheeks from her teasing smile. Sweet Circe, he loved those little dimples. Although he wouldn't admit that out loud because she would tease him relentlessly.

Instead, he crossed his arms, huffed loudly, and tried not to toss the nearest pillow at her. "Must I repeat myself? We do not give up, we assess the situation. Now don't bother me, witch, I'm doing my homework and wish to continue getting O's."

Rolling her eyes at his little nickname for her, she stretched out on the couch, leaning on her left side to use the coffee table as a desk, tucking her legs a bit in case Draco decided to reach out and tickle her bare feet with his quill.

"If you must know," she sighed after a moment of examining her paper for Slughorn, "I was thinking about how things have changed."

He merely watched her from his spot, shifting so he sat cross-legged on the couch. He knew that in most cases, when she began to say her thoughts, silence was the best answer. If he pressured her, the wall would go back up in spite of everything they had been through. They still had hurdles to go over, things to deal with; there was a number of things he still hadn't told her, so he didn't expect her to have completely opened her mind to him right away. He simply knew not to prod or poke; she would speak of her volition and tell whichever tales she deemed important.

"Do you remember how things were beforehand? How we used to fight all of the time, how you and Harry couldn't get enough of fighting with each other in the hall? Things now…things are different. We don't fight as much, and ever since we had that, well, discussion with Harry and Ginny, you two hardly fight. You make not talk to each other in the halls, but at least it's better than throwing curses at each other. Even Gryffindor isn't so horrible with you and Blaise anymore. It's…nice. No more little fights, no more arguments or curses, it feels like a real school now. Slytherin and Gryffindor will always have their rivalries, but it at loss less…extreme now, don't you find?"

He nodded even though she couldn't see him. Her words were the truth; things were a lot less stressful now. He felt he could walk around the corridors now without feeling the glaring eyes of Gryffindors boring into his back. He felt, and he hated to admit it even to himself, safer. There was less tension and things felt more amicable.

"Except for Weasley," he added softly, speaking the name they had avoided mentioning for the past three weeks.

"Yes, well," she replied, "we will have to make him understand that things are different now."

"It won't be easy, you know that." He placed his papers on the coffee table, having finished correcting his assignment. "He's as stubborn as a Hippogriff."

"You think I don't realize that?" Hermione answered, putting the final dot on her paper. "He's been my friend since we were eleven. I know it's going to be difficult."

"I would ask you when you plan on telling him, but I think I'll have to just trust you on that matter," Draco added after a moment, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Cupcake, you have no choice," she answered with a little giggle to her voice. Rolling over, she stretched her body across the couch, pulling out all of the kinks and knots in her back.

"Cupcake?" he almost choked.

"Yes, Cupcake. It's more of an American nickname, but I quite like it. I find it's very cute, don't you?" she giggled.

"It's horrible!"

"Well, deal with it because it's your new name."

"No. I refuse!" His hands itched for something light to toss at her; it would teach her a lesson in giving him such effeminate and childish nicknames. He preferred Almighty Wizard God or the Great and Omnipotent Malfoy or Sex God. The last was his favourite. But Cupcake? Who the hell gave their boyfriend the name Cupcake?

"Oh, but you look like a vanilla cupcake!" she giggled. She wasn't truly serious about the nickname, but she just felt like having fun all of a sudden, and teasing Draco was the best way to do it. Give him a stupid, girlish nickname and he would go mental. It was very entertaining. "You're pale like a vanilla cupcake and your hair is like some vanilla or meringue frosting. Just add some sprinkles and you would look just like a cupcake!" Her words ended with a loud squeal as he tossed the nearest pillow at her face.

"Draco!" she shouted, tossing it back at him, disappointed when he caught it with ease. Damn those Quidditch skills.

"You deserved it," was his answered as he slipped the pillow behind his back for comfort. "And you know it."

She wouldn't admit that, but yes, she knew she deserved it. But she couldn't help it; some days she just had to mercilessly tease him.

"If you think so, Cupcake."

Whump!

"DRACO!"

He couldn't help it; he loved enjoying the little things in life, even if it meant possibly getting hurt by an angry witch. It was all worth it to see her smile.

"Do you hate me or something?"

Harry turned to face a particular redhead, whose body was equally as muddy, soaked, and chilled as his own. "Why would you ask such a thing?"

"Because you scheduled a bloody practice in this weather and purposely had me showing drills when the others were able to hide from the rain," Ginny snapped, shoes squeaking as the Gryffindor Quidditch team trudged back into the castle.

"Yes, well, remind me to never again schedule a practice while it's raining; it was the single worst idea in the entire world," Harry grumbled in response, pushing his sopping hair out of his eyes for the umpteenth time.

The whole team responded with a chorus of agreements as they slipped and slid their way towards the Tower, ready for hot showers and warm, dry clothes. Harry hadn't known exactly what he had been thinking when he decided to schedule a practice in this weather; he hadn't been thinking completely straight for some time now.

It wasn't that his mind was distracted by a particular blond-haired git who seemed to have captured the heart of his best friend of roughly eight years. It wasn't that Ginny was torn between complaining passionately about this particular thing on random whims. It was the way Ron trudged solemnly behind the group, eyes distraught, face pale not just from the rain, with his mind always seemingly in a faraway place. It was unnerving.

He knew that they had to do something soon; it was just too much to watch Ron lost in his mind, as though stuck in some kind of memory or perhaps trying to unearth some sort of answer to everything occurring. Harry couldn't help but wonder if somebody had cursed Ron in the final battle at Hogwarts and that it was having some lasting psychological effects.

Moving back into the warm Tower, the team sighed with relief at the warmth of the room while many students eyed them with a mixture of confusion and pride – only Gryffindor would be brave enough to practice during the stormy weather. He slipped into Ginny's Prefect room, knowing full well that the students were not about to blab on the Boy-Who-Lived-To-Defeat-Voldemort. They didn't care so much, given that Ginny didn't care so much when boys snuck in to be with girls, so long as it was all consensual. Let boys be boys and girls be girls.

"We have to do something," Harry sighed, yanking off his soaked cloak.

"Yeah, not schedule a bloody practice in the damn rain again," Ginny replied, plopping down on the floor to yank off her leg guards.

Rolling his eyes, he bent over to slide off his guards as well, nearly having to tear them off of his pants. "You know what I'm talking about."

Throwing her arm guards across the room, Ginny looked up to him from her spot on the floor and breathed out a sigh. "I know that you know; I just…"

"Don't want to admit it; we've just finished solving one problem and now we have another. I know, Gin, but we can't hide from the truth forever." His shirt joined his cloak and he smiled at the way Ginny's eyes hooded with desire. "Focus," he reminded her, chuckling softly.

It was her turn to roll her eyes as she began discarding the rest of her clothes. "I just don't know what to do, Harry. I mean, it seems like everything's changed so much. Hermione is with the ferret, Ron's mind is…it's like it's breaking. Gryffindors are friends with Slytherins. Everything's gone so … mad."

He fell harshly on his butt when his pants decided to glue themselves to his legs and he almost bicycle-kicked in order to get them finally off, glaring at Ginny as she giggled. "Sod off," he muttered, tossing a sock at her. "Anyway," he began, "Hermione and Malfoy are one thing, but honestly, I don't think we have to worry about them. I don't like the git much either, but he did fight with us during the war and I suppose it is possible that he has changed. It doesn't mean I'll be his best mate all of sudden just because Hermione's snogging him. But I think we should worry more about Ron. It's not healthy."

"You are absolutely wonderful at pointing out the obvious," she sighed, getting to her feet once all of her soaked clothes were removed. He grinned sensually up at her and this time it was her turn to remind him to focus. "But," she added when the glazed look of desire mostly left his eyes, "you're right. It really isn't healthy or good for him, and it is quite serious for it to make me stop thinking about how much I despise Malfoy."

Harry laughed as he stood, making his way towards her private shower. It was the one thing he wished he had; a private little spot to hide away when he wanted to. The boys' shower wasn't too amazing, given that it was just a room branching off from each year's room, a row of stalls, some for loos and others for showers. Not even a nice bathtub.

"Well, I think we should try to talk to Ron." He heard her step in after him and he reached for two towels, handing one to her. "At least get him to see some sense."

"Without breaking the Oath, of course. We have no choice on that matter," Ginny reminded him, reaching into the bathroom with her wand, which she had taken off of her dresser, to start the warm spray.

"I would believe that's a given. I don't want to end up looking like Marietta for the rest of my life."

"I heard that it actually scarred in place and that the Mediwitches have been unable to remove it," Ginny laughed, moving in to join him.

Harry couldn't help but join her in the laughter as he began to wash the grime and dirt from his body.

"So what do you think we should do, Almighty Leader?" Ginny asked after a moment's pleasant silence. He laughed at her nickname, it was something she had produced during the war when it seemed that everyone looked to him for answers and orders. At the time he found it irritating, now he found it more endearing.

Moving behind her, he pressed soft kisses to her shoulder, sliding his hands around her waist, splaying his fingers across her flat stomach. "We enjoy ourselves and figure things out later. I'm sure we'll come up with something."

Pressing back against him, she chuckled softly. "Well, I suppose I think that something has come up."

"That was lame, Gin."

"I know."

They moved against one another, the age old dance of passion and love. His hands touching and caressing, sliding over her freckled body as she let out involuntary gasps of pleasures. His touches created a wildfire older than the earth itself, trails of electricity and need following in their wake. His kisses were like little bursts of fireworks against her skin, explosions of need coursing throughout her body.

Her mouth turned to capture his as the passion built up, squirming, writhing forms under the hot spray of the shower. Her breasts were small, but always a perfect weight in his callused hands, her petite yet powerful body growing tighter with every like touch as the passion increased.

The cool tiles created a new sensation against her warm back, almost pleasurable, with heat on her front and cold pressing on her back. She bowed up against him when he moved into her, her mouth seeking his as they began to move in unison, his hands sliding over her legs to keep her firmly in place and add extra, little pinpoints of pleasure. They moved passionately, yet tenderly, their movements urgent yet slow and soft. Their mouths sought each other, their hands sliding and twining as their bodies slipped and slid against one another. Together, the pace grew more frenzied until they reached the crest together, gasping each other's names as they fell over into a sea of pleasure, grasping tightly onto each other.

When their breath returned and bodies could move less sluggishly, they shut off the water, dried off, and joined yet again in her bed, warming each other with their bodies as he placed tender kisses on her wet hair. Slowly, their eyes shut and sleep overwhelmed their sore but sated bodies.

For now, they wouldn't worry; they had each other and that was all that matter. Enjoy the small things in life and focus on the bigger later.

"Mmm…Draco…"

"I'm trying to sleep…"

She shifted against him, pressing her naked, warm body against his, and he, in spite of sleepy mind, suddenly feared that he might not be able to sleep again for some time. Her hands trailed gently down his side, fingers caressing until they reached his hipbone, her breath warm and soothing against the nape of his neck.

"I can't sleep," she admitted quietly, pressing her cheek against his back.

Opening his eyes, he stared into the darkness of her bedroom for a bit, waiting for her to continue. When the only thing that followed was a soft sigh escaping her lips, he rolled over carefully, adjusting her so that she lay half across his chest, moving her hand to lie on his ribs.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly. He didn't know why he spoke in such a low tone; perhaps it was just a habit obtained from all those days when he and Blaise would whisper to each other in the darkness of their dormitories when they couldn't sleep.

Her hair was a wild halo around her face, her lips pursed slightly, the only sign that she felt some semblance of discomfort. He could only assume that it was mental, for her body curved into his, relaxing against his form.

"Hermione?" He reached up and ran a hand through her hair, watching as her eyes faded away, mind falling into thought and memory.

"I can't sleep…everything seems so great, so wonderful, it feels like some kind of dream and I know it isn't." She smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. "You know…I never once even imagined that I would wind up falling for a git like you. I assumed that it would be someone else, maybe Harry, maybe Ron…but never you. Who would've guessed, eh?"

"Is that what's bothering you? The unlikeliness of our relationship?" He grabbed her hand as her fingers began to trail along his ribs, tickling him. Instead, he twined his fingers with hers and pressed his palm against hers, adding a soothing pressure.

"No," she said with a quiet laugh. "Not at all. I got over that before Christmas; I think I spent most of my holidays dealing with that issue."

"Then what's bothering you so much you can't sleep?"

She shifted against him, sliding her leg against his to rest her foot on his calf. Pressing her cheek firmly against his chest, she let out a quiet huff of air before deciding to move forward and speak.

"A particularly annoying and mental redhead."

His body stiffened involuntarily. He was growing more and more fed up with that Weasel managing to bother Hermione. The prat did more harm than good and even when things seemed better, when they seemed happier and life was easier; he managed to weasel his way into their minds and latch on, poisoning their happy thoughts with his relentlessness and obsessive behaviour. It was really starting to grate Draco's nerves.

"Why does that worthless git always seem to bother you so much?" he asked, knowing the answer was going to be the usual.

"He was my friend."

"Yes, but no friend would treat another friend that way," he said softly, reminding her of the harsh truth. She may not want to hear it; it seemed he constantly had to repeat it and she never seemed to really want to permanently insert it into her memory, but he was going to say it time and time again until she finally understood.

"I know," she sighed, turning her head to press more of her face against his chest. Was she burrowing against him for support or trying to hide her exhausted and anxious features? He wasn't sure…

"Then Hermione," he started after a moment during which he examined her face, "you need to either stop worrying about him and realize he can take care of himself or just get the weight off of your shoulders and tell him the truth. You only have two choices."

"I know." Her tone was a mix between whining and sighing. A part of her was fed up him always saying the same thing, but another part was constantly reminding her that he was right. He only kept repeating himself because she just couldn't accept it. She hated herself for it.

Draco reached up and ran a hand through her mass of curls, which had erupted after he nearly forced her to let her hair dry naturally without a spell. Leaning down, he pressed a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "I'll help you in any way you want, well…almost; you might have to threaten me to get me to do certain things, but well…I'm ready and willing to help, and I'm certain that Potty and Weaselette won't mind either."

"What have I said about calling them those names?"

"I'm quite certain that they still call me kind names when we are not around."

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"No, but punishing one person and letting the other get away with the same crime is favouritism and very annoying."

Her lips twitched into a smile and she pinched his ribs. "You're such a prat."

"You like me that way."

"I keep you solely for entertainment purposes."

Grinning, he rolled over on top of her, pressing his body firmly against hers. "And I keep you for my own kind of entertainment. How fascinating!"

"Oh, sod off," she half-laughed half-sighed, pushing against his chest in a half-hearted attempt to get him off of her.

"Now, honestly, Hermione," he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek, "you have to figure things out or this is going to keep eating away at you. If you don't do this for yourself, do it at least for me; I can't stand watching you like this."

"I know…I know…" she breathed out, twining her arms to drape them over his back, fingers clutched together as if she tried to keep him held tightly against her body. "I just…he was my friend, Draco," she choked out, her face pressed against his throat.

"Just as Pansy was mine," he reminded her gently, pressing his cheek against hers. "But sometimes…sometimes we need to get away from them. They're not healthy for us, they just don't understand or refuse to. Weasel…Weasel isn't good for you. He uses you, he's deluded, and he needs help. You can't keep going on like this; you'll make yourself sick, you'll let him get under your skin and then you won't be able to get rid of him. Don't let him do this to you…"

"I know," she half-sobbed, tears running freely down her cheeks, "I know…" It wasn't healthy; one minute she felt on top of the world and the next, the slightest thought about Ron brought her crashing down into depression and constant worry. She had to stop, had to let it all go, had to push it away. But she didn't know how…

"I need…I need…I need your help," she whispered into the darkness, squeezing her eyes shut as she clung to him, the tears hot on her cheeks.

"I'm here for you, Hermione," he murmured, "I'll always be here."

He was there and would always be there. He would be there to hold her when she cried, to caress her when she worried, and to support her when she was about to fall. She wanted to be strong, wanted to remain independent and self-reliant, but in times like this, she needed him and he would be there to lend her a helping hand. He would help her push Ron's poison from her veins and cleanse her, he would fight back all of her worries and free her of her stress and woes.

All because he loved her.

So? How was it? Did you guys enjoy it? I know it's almost like a mini-recap, going into everyone's lives briefly in this, save for Ron's because writing about him makes me angry, but still…I hope it was good enough.

Anyway, I should be able to get some more writing in this semester, seeing as I only have three courses (dropped my useless Anthropology that was requiring me to buy a fucking 65$ e-book to access the course website…totally lame). I also kindly told my work to go fuck itself for Fridays and I now have them off to spend the day writing.

So, I hope that it was good. I thought the ending was just…I don't know. I was listening to Linkin Park at the time and it just flowed. Some of their songs are just so damn…inspiring. I think it was Iridescent, which I was impressed with, considering their new album is kind of up-and-down. Some songs are awesome others are alright. (Weezer's Hurley, however, is 100% awesome and I LOVE All My Friends are Insects – from their deluxe version).

Aaaaanyway, so here it is. After such a long wait. I'm so sorry for everything, but I'm glad to finally be inspired once more. The summer just seemed to suck all of the energy out of me and I just couldn't find any ideas or inspiration.

I want to thank everyone for all of their patience. You guys are so wonderful and it makes me keep going. You are the reasons I kept typing and re-typing this chapter. Thank you all so much! You are all so spectacular.

By the way, if you guys have any requests, ideas or such, feel free to message me or say them in your review and I'll see if I can grant them. Please remember that even though I am now invigorated, I still have school to focus on and I want to keep my A average.

Thanks everyone! You're all awesome!

See you next chapter!