Hey everyone!

I'm glad that, well, you're glad that I'm back (try saying that five times fast, lol). I'm happy that I'm finally out of my rut and able to write once more.

I'm also happy that some of you reviewed so fast! I wasn't expected a lot right away, mainly because I've been gone for so long, but thank you guys!

Randomly placed disclaimer: I own nothing and that depresses me because owning Harry Potter would mean I would have money to pay my school fees and books without any issues.

Note: Little error in the last chapter. If I had made 3 weeks go by, then we would've passed March 1st. I shall edit it so that it says only two weeks have passed. Sorry about that!

Also, another little thing: I just realized, in writing this, that I never once thought about how Draco probably got a scar from that time Harry used Sectumsempra on him. So, I've added a little mention of it and will back to Merry Christmas Mr. Malfoy to add him mentions of the scar. Silly me!

Minor warning: uh…there may be something called a lemon in this chapter. If you don't know what a lemon is, you may learn by reading. If you know what it is and do not like it, well, then don't read it. Simple as that. I don't want to hear any childish complaints about "OH MA GAWD! YOU LIEK WROTE A LIEK LEMON! EWWWWWIE!" Just stfu.

Happy reading!

Another little note: I was tempted to wait until I've reached by 250th review, but I was too lazy to wait for three more. Haha. Don't forget to reviiieeewwww!

Chapter 14

Falling Deeper

His birthday was coming up.

It sent a pleasant feeling in his stomach, washing away the pain and hate of the last few weeks to coat it in a warm, thick layer of joy. Smiling to himself, he sat by the window and watched the late winter rain fall, even happier that he didn't have Quidditch practice today.

Now if only everything else could go his way…

He wondered, curiously, if she would be getting him a present. He likes presents; little gifts that showed his friends' appreciation of him, little things that he usually wouldn't be able to buy himself or ask for from his family. Nice little presents.

Ron Weasley sat back on the armchair, sighing heavily, a smile plastered to his face. Nothing, not the rain, not homework, not even a test could ruin his good mood today. All because, deep down, he knew that she would be getting him a present.

She had no choice, right? She was his friend and friends always got each other presents for their birthdays. And it was a big birthday, too. He was going to be twenty. 2-0! Twenty! He would finally be the same age as her and he was unbelievably excited. Was it possible that the reason she refused his advances was because she didn't want to be with a man younger than her? It was possible, wasn't it? Then that would mean, as soon as he was twenty – and older than Malfoy – he would be ripe for the picking and she would have no choice but to choose him. After all, age was a sign of maturity, was it not?

Tapping his fingers in an unknown rhythm on the armrest, he listened to the chattering of the students in the Gryffindor Common Room. A group of girls nearby were discussing their homework for Trelawney, while another group of boys were consoling their friend who had just been shot down. A part of Ron said that he knew how that felt, but another part was determined not to be shot down. He hadn't actually been shot down; she was just not ready. Deep down, she was, but she thought she wasn't. It wouldn't be long, though, before she would be ready.

Just one more day and it would be his birthday! Maybe she was waiting for his birthday to tell him; it would make one wonderful birthday present. They could embrace under the rain and make love all day long. He would show her was a true man was like, he would touch her in ways that would make her scream with pleasure, and they would never be able to get enough of each other.

It was certain.

He watched as Harry stepped into the Common Room, followed by Neville. They had probably been in the library, with one helping the other in the class they were better at. From the looks of Neville's face, Ron deduced that Harry had been trying to teach Neville more Defence Against the Dark Arts. Ron felt a twinge of pride knowing that he didn't need Harry's help in that class. In your face, Longbottom. He was willing to bet that he was even better than Malfoy! So there, Ferret Boy!

Harry looked up and caught Ron's eye, and Ron grinned at his mate as the dark-haired man made his way over. "Hey Ron."

"Hey Harry," Ron replied, still grinning. "Teaching Neville some new tricks?"

Harry let out a small laugh, grabbing a nearby chair to sit down beside his friend. No matter what, in spite of everything going on, Ron's failing sanity and everything else crashing around him, Harry still enjoyed these moments with his friend. The moments where Ron seemed more lucid than any other time, when Ron would smile and joke about mundane things, and the times when they could just talk endlessly about Quidditch and girls. These were the moments Harry missed most; they were growing fewer and fewer in the past months, and he just wished that he could find some way to bring Ron back to his old self. It may have been selfish, yes, but at the same time, he knew that what Ron was doing wasn't healthy and would not end well for the redheaded male.

"He just can't seem to get the hang of some of the new spells. You'd think he'd start learning them faster, seeing as he did fight in the war," Harry said with a small chuckle. "Instead, he's the same as always."

Ron let out a quiet laugh, a sound that Harry hadn't heard from his friend in a good while. It was a sound he missed.

"At least he's improved a bit in Potions," Ron added after a moment.

They sat back, laughing for a bit as they reminisced about the last time Neville had blown up his cauldron. Half of the mess had landed on Pansy and her gang and their hair had been dyed a pleasant shade of neon orange for a week. It had been quite the sight.

Sitting back, still smiling, Harry turned to Ron. "By the way, is there something you wanted to do for your birthday this weekend?

Ron's eyes suddenly lit up at the question and Harry wondered how long Ron had been waiting for questions about his birthday to be posed. It wasn't like Ron to wait; normally he would throw things in people's faces until they got fed up and told him to sod off.

It was just another of the many changes that Ron had undergone in the past few months.

"I'm not sure yet. It's too bad it's not a Hogsmeade weekend or we could go down and have something at the Three Broomsticks." Ron turned to look at Harry, hope glowing brightly in his eyes. "Do you know if Hermione got me anything?"

Damn it all to hell; Harry had been avoiding the topic of Hermione for a while now. It was difficult enough trying to calm Ron down when he got into his fits, but now that he knew the truth behind Hermione and Draco's relationship but could not say a word, it was even more difficult. There were some days where he wished Hermione had never told him the truth, yet he felt flattered and appreciated at the same time.

The truth was, and would always be, a double edged sword.

Harry could only answer honestly in this occasion; "I…I don't know. We haven't been speaking that much lately; I think she's been busy with schoolwork and Head duties." The last part he made up; he knew why she was not coming around the Gryffindor Tower anymore, he knew why she didn't spend much time with Harry and Ginny anymore. She did not want to hear Ginny rant and rave, nor did she want to take the risk of bumping into Ron. Outside of class, the last time she saw Ron was when she fell down the stairwell and Harry could only assume that she didn't want a repeat, of which part, he wasn't sure. Although he was fairly certain she, and any other normal human being, wouldn't want to repeat the experience of falling down a few flights and having their shoulders ripped or broken.

"That's true," Ron said, sounding more like he was trying to convince himself than agreeing with Harry. "She has been very busy. Maybe…maybe she hasn't said anything to you because you wouldn't be able to keep it a secret from me!" Lucidity was failing more and more with each passing second. Harry's hands gripped the armrests, nails digging in as he feared and waited for the snap. "She's…she's probably got something special planned. Right Harry? She always does special stuff, always gives gifts even if she got into a fight with you. I mean, she does love me, right? You don't have to say anything; I know she loves me."

As he rambled on and on, Harry felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes. What has happened to his friend? What happened to the simple, honest, short-tempered, and fun-loving Ronald Weasley? What happened to make his mind fade away, to have his old self dissipate before his very eyes only to be replaced with this new, unstable and broken man? Harry watched silently as Ron began to mumble about Hermione, obsess over how she must have a special surprise planned for him and how she knew, deep down, she was meant to be with him. It terrified Harry, and no matter what he did, nothing could break his friend out of his state of mind.

"Ron," he whispered, turning to his friend as the man's murmurs became more frenzied. "Ron." His voice louder this time.

"Ron!"

Blue eyes blinked at him, a fog slowly fading away as though it had masked his very vision moments before. Confusion glittered in them, his mouth turned into a slight frown of curiosity. "What's the matter, Harry?" He spoke as though nothing special had happened. As though it was a common occurrence for Ron to act in such a way.

That was what Harry feared the most.

The library had always been a haven; it's tall, towering shelves like a protective barrier, the calm and soothing silence a harmony of solitude, and the books were a thousand stories waiting to be told time and time again. Time stops in the library; each text pulling its reader back to an age or era decades, even centuries, before their time. It brought them into a world of fields and villages, of towering marble temples and constructions, or of gold tipped, marble pyramids that held the dead.

The library was, and would always be, her safe place. No matter what.

Perhaps it had become too widely known that she preferred hiding amongst the books and shelves, caught in another period of time, for she had not been seen there in a while save for collecting necessary texts and leaving. She had known that he would have been able to find her there, and thus hid in another spot that he would not have access to. Today, on the other hand, she missed those books and the timelessness.

Sitting at a small table near the back, the lights dim and a stack of texts to her side, she relaxed and read, trying to use the stories to push away her current problems.

Harry had come up to her the day before, telling her he needed to talk to her in private. Being free for a brief moment, they had slipped off to a quiet alcove to talk.

"You have to do something, Hermione," Harry began as soon as they were out of the crowd and in a secure place.

"About what?" She knew what he meant, but she didn't want to admit it just yet.

"Ron," the dark-haired man whispered. "He's…He needs to know the truth. You do realize his birthday is tomorrow, right?"

She fidgeted with her blouse, fingering one of the buttons as she nodded. She felt guilty, Harry realized. "Yeah…"

He continued, knowing full well that he was about to fuel her guilt. "He seems to think you'll have this surprise for him. I think that he wants you to tell him you love him."

Her eyes shimmered with a mixture of pain and annoyance. It hurt to know that he was still expecting presents from her even though she was no longer talking to him, and it irked her that he was still in this state of mind.

"Well," she sighed softly, "there's a little problem because I haven't bought him anything yet. If I do get him a present, it certainly won't be a confession of love."

"You have to do something Hermione," Harry repeated, grasping her shoulder. "It's not healthy, he stuck in these…delusions…and you have to get him out of them. He needs to know the truth sooner or later, preferably sooner."

"I know," she sighed softly. "I just…"

"Don't know how to do it," he finished for her. Squeezing her shoulder in a consoling gesture, Harry gave her a small smile. "I'll always be there to help you out. I've messed things up in the past and I don't really approve of this relationship you have with Malfoy, but it's your life and you should choose to live it the way you want to. Bill showed me that. I'll be there to support you, whenever you decide to tell Ron. I'll even force Ginny to show up if you want."

Nodding, Hermione pulled Harry into a tight hug before separating. "Thank you. I'll…I'll need some time to think, but I will let you know. I'm lucky to have a friend like you."

Harry's smile softened and grew wider. "I'm the lucky one."

She found herself smiling at the memory in spite of her internal fears. Even though she and Harry had had their issues, they had argued and annoyed each other in the past; Harry had always been there for her like a brother. Even recently, he was just trying to do the best for Ron; he just wanted the truth and was tired of being left out. She would have probably done the same.

Now, she had to focus on her current problem. Ron.

It always came back to Ron.

Rubbing her face, she stared down at the book, not really reading the passage before her. Ron was something…someone she had never faced before. A friend gone, literally, mad. It was painful to watch and even more painful to know that there wasn't much she could do. She was terrified of telling him the truth; she feared that it would only make him snap and do something he would most likely regret.

She had no choice, however; she had to find a way to tell him. Of course, she would not say anything on his birthday; it would cause him too much pain. For him to receive such horrible – by his standards – news on his birthday would be like putting salt in the wound. It wouldn't help at all.

His birthday…

Damn it all; she hadn't considered getting him a gift and she really was not in the mood to Owl-Order him a gift for tomorrow. Honestly, she didn't know what to get him aside from Quidditch items and she knew that he would be disappointed if she didn't profess her love and admiration for him. But he would be even more disappointed if she didn't get him anything.

'Oh, Hermione, what a dilemma you have gotten yourself into,' she thought, coughing quietly into her hand. Her throat was starting to bother her a bit; probably because, in spite of her love for the library, it was and would always have a stuffy air.

She should be on top of the world, she should be smiling and laughing without issue, but instead she was spending her time stressing and worrying about Ron. It just wasn't fair. Why couldn't she have some peace for even a small period of time in her life? Why did things always have to become complicated in one way or another?

Rubbing her eyes, she massaged her temples, still staring at the same page.

"What am I going to do," she whispered.

"You could always hop around naked on the lawn, proclaiming your love for Draco."

Blinking, she turned in her seat to find Luna staring at her from the end of one of the rows, smiling her usual soft, almost flowing smile. Hermione didn't know why, but when she saw Luna's smile, she always thought of a light, white dress fluttering gently in a breeze.

"I would prefer to keep my clothes on," Hermione said softly, moving to pull a chair over for Luna.

Luna gave her a knowing smile and Hermione blushed at the way the younger woman's eyes glittered with knowledge. "Even when you take a shower?"

Pausing, blinking once, Hermione suddenly snorted out a laugh at Luna's nonchalant and airheaded reply. She had done it on purpose in an attempt to get Hermione to smile and laugh.

"Thanks," she murmured, sitting back down. She watched as Luna took her seat, a book held tightly in her hands. "What brings you to the library?"

"Herbology essay," Luna replied softly, flashing the cover of the book. "I'm doing it on the properties of kurkleblooms, although it seems as though the library doesn't have much information on them." Her words ended on a sigh. "I suppose I'll have to get dad to send me some of his books."

Hermione wanted to ask what exactly kurkleblooms were but knew better than to do so. Instead, she smiled at her friend's loftiness and creativity. "You do realize that the Herbology section is on the other side."

"Oh well, I thought that since I was in the neighbourhood, I would visit."

Hermione wanted to roll her eyes at the answer. She knew better; Luna had probably crossed Draco in the halls and he most likely asked her to go to the library to find Hermione and talk to her. She knew that he was probably worried; usually she would hide away in their Tower if something was wrong, and he had most likely assumed that things were more than just wrong for her to hide away in the library.

"I guess Draco asked you to say that," Hermione said with a smile. "Honestly, that man…"

"Is worried."

Her eyes flung up to gave at Luna, wide and pained.

He was worried?

"He says that you haven't been sleeping well, been eating less, and that you haven't been smiling as much. I suppose it is true, in a way; I don't hear you laughing as often." Luna played with the end of her braided hair. "Is it safe to assume that Ron has been preoccupying your thoughts?" She didn't wait for Hermione's words, she merely continued based on her physical reaction. "I suppose it's getting closer to the time. Of course, I don't need to remind you that you have to tell him the truth; you know it already. The problem before us is how. It's obvious, isn't it? Just tell him."

Rolling her eyes at Luna's direct and childlike honesty, she let out a quiet snort. "Yes, I had that all figured out some time ago. The main problem is how to tell him. I know I have to say the words, but how do I go about doing it?"

"With the illusion that you are alone."

Arching a brow, Hermione gave Luna a mildly confused look.

"You take him off to some area that is somewhat secluded, and you make it seem like the two of you are alone. But you really have some friends – Harry, Draco, Blaise and I – hiding nearby in case something happens. I may not always seem like I see or know everything, but I do know how volatile Ron has become. You can't tell him alone, on your own. You need people to, as the Muggles say, cover your back."

"When?"

Getting up from her chair, Luna swirled towards the books. "That's for you to decide," she said quietly, disappearing in the shadows of the shelves.

At times, Luna reminded Hermione of the Cheshire Cat, always appearing to give advice then fading softly into the background, her whimsical voice following her, the words dancing to the song in her voice.

Sighing softly, she turned away and buried her face in her hands, digging her fingers into the bones just under her eyes. Pain was slowly beginning to slide down from her temples to her eyes and it irked her more than anything. This was getting to be too much on her, and she knew it. The only thing was, even though everyone was offering their assistance and support, she just couldn't find a way to break her friend's heart.

It was too painful of a thought to consider.

"Did you speak with her?'

Luna stepped out of the library, still hugging her book to her body; even though she had used it as an excuse, she actually had a Herbology essay to write. Lifting her eyes to stare at Draco, who was across the hall, leaning against the wall, she nodded.

"Of course; why would I see her without speaking with her?"

Sometimes Luna's naïve questions irritated Draco more than anything, especially when he wanted a straight answer. He, of course, was not going to say that aloud, given that she had just helped him out.

"What did she say?"

Shrugging, Luna skipped towards him in order to keep her voice hushed and avoid anyone from overhearing their conversation. "It's what she didn't say that matters most."

Rolling his eyes, he shoved his hands into his pockets and asked her to elaborate; "And I suppose that would be…?"

Smiling knowingly at Draco, her eyes twinkling in the fading light, Luna hopped on the spot. No matter how bad the news was, she always seemed to smile, if her lips were curved, her eyes were glowing, as though her mind was 'trapped' in a familiar, enjoyable world. The song that always seemed to sing with her words probably came from that same world. "She knows what to do, but she needs help. The problem is; she doesn't want to ask for it, even though she says she will. She wants to do it on her own, and that will cause problems. Stop offering your help and let her ask you; it's the only way things will work out. If you keep pushing it in her face, she will only back further away."

Some days, she sounded like some prophetic fortune teller and Draco wondered whether or not she was actually a Seer. She would make Professor Trelawney proud. He nodded to her as she began to skip away, as though she hadn't just engaged in a rather serious conversation but a discussion on puppies and all things girls found adorable. Shaking his head, he ran his hand through his hair, wondering if or when things could become relatively normal.

Turning away from the doors of the library, knowing better than to go in and interrupt Hermione, he began to walk through the halls, enjoying the cool Saturday afternoon breeze that wafted through the corridors, trying to ease his mind by counting his footsteps or glancing out of the windows to watch the snow melt in the rain.

He wasn't sure where his feet were taking him; all he knew was that he needed to find some way to think clearly. He had to assume that Luna was right; Hermione would ask for help if she needed it, and trying to get her to take his help would only make her hesitate.

Sighing softly, he rubbed the back of his neck, tilting his head back to massage and stretch out the kinks. Turning to gaze out of a window, he became lost in his thoughts and reveries, trying time and time again to find some suitable solution to the problem at hand.

It was the sound of his name that drew him out, particularly the venom in the tone of voice. Turning his head slowly, he found none other than the problem itself standing a few feet away. Draco's lips curled into a crude smile and it took all his willpower not to send Weasley flying down a few flights of stairs.

"Good day Weasel," he said flatly, not actually meaning it. It was not a good day; it would only become good once he managed to break every bone in the redhead's body. But then Hermione would get angry at him, and an angry Hermione was not one to mess with. She'd probably use some evil spell that would cause his dick to shrivel up into a raisin. Not a pleasant thought.

So instead, he continued to smirk at the Weasel, head tilted in his direction, body still facing the window. His hand, however, in the darkness of his pocket, grasped his wand firmly.

Just in case.

"Ferret."

Just that one word held all of the venom in world; yet Draco remained unfazed. He expected it from Weaselbee, who had every reason to hate the blond. He had, after all, stolen 'Weaselbee's Fated Wife.' Just the mere thought made him want to snort and his smile curved further up, grey eyes glittering with mirth and promises.

Turning now, he leaned against the wall by the window, hands still in his pockets, moving into a relaxed yet ready pose.

"You know, Weaselbee, I've been wanting to have a discussion with you for some time," Draco said softly, smile ever present.

Ron huffed and crossed his arms, standing firmly in place. He looked almost silly; so tense compared to Draco's easy pose, face turned firmly into a scowl that contrasted against Draco's smile. It was almost comical.

"What about?" he snapped. Even his voice was worlds apart from Draco's; he sounded like an angry child, ready to bitch and not listen to a word his mum said.

"I believe you know what." Draco's voice lowered, the smirk fading from his word as promises of pain slowly wove through his words.

"She's mine!" Ron almost snarled, eyes flashing angrily. He took a step forward, hands falling to his sides in tight fists. "You stay away from her!"

Moving away from the wall in an elegant manner, Draco slowly prowled, almost flowed, towards Ron to the point where he was only a few feet away. The faded smile returned, except there was no mirth in it. Only promises and threats, a certain darkness to it that revealed his darker, crueller past. It was knowledgeable, as though telling Ron that he knew a myriad of spells that could cause him eternal pain.

"I believe you are mistaken." Draco's fingers tightened on his wand as he saw in his peripheral vision Ron reaching for his pocket. "You see," he said with a soft laugh, "you are the one that should be staying away from her. You're not right, you know that? You're a little – how do those American say it? – fucked up. You see, every time you get near her, she gets hurt. So, if you were in her best interest, you would stay the hell away from her." His last words ended on a soft hiss, voice cold with malice and rage and it sent shivers down Ron's spine, although he blatantly refused to let Draco see that.

Hands shaking, Ron glared at Draco, eyes hardened with rage. "You don't know what you're talking about," he snapped. "You should stay away from her; once you started getting close, she stopped being happy. Stop manipulating her."

"That's funny," Draco laughed, "because I believe that at times, she's the one manipulating me, if you understand." He wiggled his fingers for emphasis, knowing full well in the back of his mind that Ron probably wouldn't believe him and that Hermione would give him a good smack later on. It was well deserved for messing with the mad redhead's mind.

"Liar!" Ron shouted, fist flying up to hit Draco in the face.

Draco's hand flew out, grabbing tightly onto Ron's, stopping him just a few inches away. He was secretly pleased that Ron had used his right hand; it meant that Draco's right remained free and that Weaselbee, ever so dumb, would not be able to reach his wand. Then again, in this case, he wouldn't mind a good fistfight. It would be entertaining, the repercussions wouldn't be as bad, and it would feel good to bash in the prat's face.

Digging his fingers into Ron's hand, he watched as the other man's face contorted slightly in pain as nails dug in. Draco's smile widened, eyes shimmering.

"How can you tell I'm lying?" Draco murmured softly, moving out of the way just in time to avoid Ron's second fist. Reaching out, he grabbed a hold of it too, quite pleased in the way the situation was turning out.

"Because…because I know! She's saving herself for me! You…you're just messing with me! She loves me and you're just an arse trying to get in my way!" Ron yelled, struggling to free his hands. He may have been taller, but he still lacked the strength Draco's shorter, yet tauter, body held.

Shifting his weight, Draco lowered himself just a bit before tugging Ron closer. Ducking under Ron's stomach, he curved his body and pushed up, letting go of his hands and sending the redhead flying over him to land on his back on the cold floor. Turning on the spot, he watched as Ron tried to catch his breath.

Looking down at him, Draco dusted himself off, that bloody smile back in place.

"Stay away from her, or you will have to deal with me," he promised, turning and walking away.

He suddenly spun around, ears catching the telltale sound of something being drawn from rumpled clothes. His wand was out, ready to be used as Ron shouted after him, wand drawn. "Not yet, Malfoy! Don't you dare walk away!"

"I thought that our conversation was over," Draco replied calmly, hand outstretched and unwavering. It was not the first time he had held a wand against someone and it probably was not going to be the last. It was, however, the first time he willingly held his wand against someone who was from the Order.

"It's not nearly over." Ron stumbled to his feet, wand shakily held. It was in a moment like this that one was able to determine who had more experience.

"Then please," Draco said, "finish it because I am growing rather bored."

"Crucio!"

"Expelliarmus!"

The spells were cast simultaneously, but strength typically persevered in this kind of situation and Ron's wand went soaring into Draco's hands before Ron's spell could even reach the blond. Even then, while Ron meant it, Draco merely let out a quiet hiss of pain as only a portion of the spell managed to hit him.

Breathing through his teeth, Draco tossed the wand into a far corner, walking over to Ron. When Draco was close enough, Ron tried again for a few punches and landed, a second time, on the cold floor.

"Well, ittle wittle Weaselbee seems to know a few illegal spells, doesn't he?" He stood next to the redhead looking down at him. Always looking down at him. "I'm not going to tell the teachers on you, mainly because that was one pathetic attempt at the Cruciatus Curse. My mother could probably cast it better than you and she is quite terrible at curses." He squatted down, gently pressing his hand on Ron's throat. "However; if you dare attack me again, I will not hesitate to use any and all spell it requires to take you out. Do you understand?"

Nodding, Ron's throat worked as worry more than actual pressure on his throat caused him to feel suffocated. When Draco gently unfolded himself and stood up, Ron's eyes stayed on him and watched his every footstep until the blond was finally out of sight. Scrambling to his feet, he lunged for his wand, and stood shaking violently by the window, fingers clenched tightly around the wood.

He swore, then and there, that he would do all in his power to take out Malfoy. No matter what happened, no matter who got in his wand, he would get rid of Malfoy and be with Hermione forever and ever.

When he stepped into the Tower, he found her back again, surrounded by books and holding something he had never seen her hold in his entire life.

A magazine.

It made him smile in spite of the previous situation. Then again, making a fool of Weasel always made him smile, so one could suppose that this image simply made him smile more.

He had only pocketed his wand once he stepped in front of Aphrodite; he didn't trust Weasel and had expected the ginger prat to materialize behind him, expecting a rematch. Weasel was just that stupid and determined, and Draco was just that ready and willing to bring it on.

Stepped up behind her on the couch, removing his cloak, which he had discovered had earned a slight tear on the side from the damn, failed attempt of the curse Weasel had flung at him, he leaned over the back, pressing his lips to the back of her ear.

"What are you ready, little witch?"

She jumped in surprise and he dodged just in time to avoid having her skull make contact with his nose. She had already caused him a couple of bloody noses and he wasn't in the mood for another one.

"Malfoy!" she snapped, smacking him with the magazine. "You prat! Don't sneak up on people!"

"Then learn to pay attention to your surroundings," he sighed, crossing his arms. "Honestly, I do not walk any differently from anyone else, with a few exceptions."

"You move like a bloody snake," she hissed. "It's like you just slide in or something; start making more noise when you walk!"

"Very well, I shall take walking lessons from Goyle or Longbottom; they seem to have a lot of difficulties walking silently."

"Don't bring Neville into this."

"It's not my fault he trudges around like an angry hippopotamus!"

"And now you're calling him fat!"

He rolled his eyes, loosening his school tie. It was unfortunate that, once school started again, only Sundays were free-dress days. "No, I am merely comparing his lumbering walk to that of a hippopotamus. They are not very apt at sneaking up on people on land, and neither is Longbottom. I was not comparing their actual size." He then tsked and waggled his finger at her. "My, my, Hermione, you shouldn't make such accusations. You could really upset somebody in the future."

Instead of a pillow, a rolled up magazine hit him on the back of the head as she reached over the back of the couch. His hand flung up and grabbed said hand, pressing just enough on a pressure point to cause her fingers to let go of the item. He slid it out of her hands with a triumphant look, backing away as she shouted and half-heartedly lunged to grab it out of his hands.

"Now, now, we're having a few issues with sharing, aren't we?" he tsked again, unfolding the magazine to read the cover. "Quidditch Monthly? Last I knew you weren't that into Quidditch." He opened the pages, find one covered in a multitude of notes. "Ah, planning on buying some Keeper gear, are we? Since when did you join any Quidditch team?"

She reached for her wand and summoned the magazine to her, keeping it held firmly in her hands as she glared at the man she claimed to love. At times, he was so unbelievably irritating…

"If you must know, I'm looking for a reasonably priced gift."

He grinned at her, further loosening his tie so that it remained untied, yet hanging around his neck. "Well, my little witch, if you must know, you have my position wrong. I play Seeker, the equipment will probably be found on the next page. I could use a new pair of gloves…"

Sighing heavily, she sent him another glare before sitting down on the couch, turning her back to him. "If you must know," she admitted quietly after a moment's silence, "I'm looking for a birthday present for Ron."

"Weasley!" he choked out, eyes wide in shock and anger. He had just finished putting that prat in his place, telling him to stay away from Hermione, and now he finds out she's buying him a bloody birthday present! What was wrong in this world? "Why? That little bastard deserves nothing from you!"

"Yes but…"

"No buts! He bloody stalks you, goes mental on you, and then he almost kills you. And you do what? You buy him a damn birthday present? What the hell is wrong with you?" He shouted his words, arms gesticulating widely even though she couldn't see him. He suddenly wished he had strangled the redheaded bitch.

"If you must know," she said louder this time, through gritted teeth, "Harry came and spoke to me. He said," she began before Draco could go off on another tirade, "that Ron was expecting me to proclaim my love for him. That, obviously, will not happen anytime soon," she continued, turning to face him. "So, I thought that I could at least get him something small, as a token of friendship. If I ignore him, he'll just get worse or he'll keep pestering me until I finally get him something. It was the lesser of the two evils, Draco."

Huffing loudly, he crossed his arms, sending her a firm look. "It still does not mean that I approve."

"I'm not looking for your approval; I am merely stating the facts and reasons so that you don't keep shouting like an idiot."

"I was not shouting like an idiot." His lips pursed in annoyance.

She couldn't help but grin at bit at his reaction. His childish actions always managed to ease a tense situation, even if he didn't intend for it to happen. "Yes, you were. You looked a little mental."

"I suppose I have to be, seeing as I've fallen for you."

She arched a brow at him, curving her lips in a mixture of irritation and love. "You're a prat at times, did you know that?"

"Yes, you have reminded me of that on several occasions. And, in my defense, I was not shouting like an idiot but like an enraged man trying to protect his woman."

Silence followed at his words, which quickly resulted in her cheeks growing bright red as she blushed darkly. He had claimed to care for her, they had said words that hinted that they were dating, but never had he made any true claim on her. A part of her wanted to argue and say that she was no one's woman, and yet another, the deeper, instinctive part, felt honoured and embarrassed.

He slowly moved forward, leaning down to cup her cheek in his hand. "Hermione," he said softly, a stunning contrast to his earlier shouts, "I care about you. You know that?" She nodded, watching as his grey eyes shone gently in the light. "I do anything I can to protect those I care about, and there aren't many people on that list. I just want to keep you safe; I don't think I'll be able survive hearing about you getting seriously injured again. I believe I'm…falling deeper in love with you," he murmured now, leaning down to press his lips against hers in a passionate, yet soft kiss.

She wanted to speak, wanted to tell him the same thing, but all she could do was move her lips under his as slow ripples of need slid into her body and began heating her flesh. Soon enough, her hands found his hair and were digging into the soft strands, pulling his mouth harder against hers, as though she could not get enough of his kiss. His tongue slid into his mouth, dancing with hers as they deepened the kiss, his body pressing firmly against the back of the couch as she stretched to keep her mouth latched onto his.

She moved to sit up on her knees, pressing his mouth harder against hers as one of his hands grasped the back of her neck, the other moving to hold onto her shoulder. Tilting her head back, he released her lips and moved his mouth down her throat in soft, butterfly kisses that had her womb filling with liquid heat. She let out a gasping moan, fingers digging into his scalp, the mere feeling of his silky hair erotic against her fingers.

"Draco," she moaned as he suckled on her collarbone, "I…"

In one swoop, he had her lifted over the couch and her legs were quickly twined around his waist, her moist core pressed against his heated length, thin layers of clothes feeling far too thick and cumbersome.

He whispered her name, moving his mouth up to suckle her earlobe. Heat curled in her body, spreading quickly out just as his skin grew hotter with each little kiss and touch. It felt like it had been so long since they had touched, since they had caressed. His body ached and yearned, his muscles tightening with need as his fingers dug harder into her skin.

When she moaned his name a second time, any and all control he had had snapped and he spun around, finding the closest thing – the kitchen table – to press her body down against. He leaned over her, fingers moving to button her blouse, mouth following them, licking and biting at every inch of exposed flesh. She writhed under him, legs clenching around his hips, pressing his hot length harder against her wet center.

Impatient, he tore her blouse apart and roughly yanked down her bra, mouth seeking the pretty pink nipple as his right hand slid up her thigh. She let out a mewling cry as he ripped the underwear aside and slid his fingers deep into her tight pussy, curling them up to massage roughly against that little sensitive spot.

She squirmed under him, moving her hips with his fingers as hers began attempting to open his shirt. He groaned against her breast as her nails raked his bared flesh and his fingers moved harder and faster, earning several gasping cries of pleasure from her. Buttons flew to the ground to join hers as she tore the rest of his shirt – thank Circe that the tops for the uniform were thin. Her hands were all over his flesh, tracing every muscle, sliding down his scar, before one hand disappeared past the waistband of his pants, grasping firmly onto his hard length.

Moving to pleasure her other breast, he bit down on her nipple as she massaged the tip, his fingers began to spasm inside of her just as her walls began to close tightly around his digits. Suddenly, she was crying out his name, legs tightening around his waist and her juices were flowing freely down his hand. Groaning, he licked and bit at her breast, moving his fingers, keeping her locked in a state of pleasure for as long as possible.

Suddenly, his pants were down, his erection was out, and their lips locked in another heated kiss, tongues swirling, teeth biting as their hands roamed and explored each other's bodies. Flipping her skirt and ripping her underwear away, he bit down on her throat as he slid deeply into her body.

Her nails found his back, sliding under his ripped shirt to score his flesh as she screamed out his name, beginning to spasm for the second time around his hard cock. The pleasure of his mouth on her neck and his buried inside was just too much to bear and juices slid down her legs as they gushed out for the second time.

He wanted to wait, wanted to feel her rippling and tightening around him, but he just couldn't. He needed to move, needed it so much it hurt, and he began thrusting widely into her, hands sliding down to grip her hips for added support. Her hands fell from his back, reaching back to grasp the end of the table as he slid in and out harder and faster. Her hips moved up to meet his, the sounds of their groans and the wet slapping of their bodies filling the air. Her heart ached as his lungs burned, flaming butterflies of need fluttering from their stomachs and into the rest of their bodies, infecting them with unadulterated need and desire. His mouth suckled on her breast as she writhed wildly under him, crying out his name in an endless mantra.

Harder, he needed it harder, and faster, so much faster. It felt so good, her wet heat clutching and sucking onto him, trying to pull him deeper inside of her. He couldn't get enough. He could never get enough…

Her body arched up, tightening before the spasms came again, and he bit down harder onto her breast as he couldn't hold back anymore. The feel of her massaging him was too much to bear. He moved his head to beside hers, growling out her name in her ear as he filled her with his seed, listening as she let out sobbing cries of need against his throat.

He collapsed on top of her, trying to catch his breath as she heaved for air under him. Her hands fell limp, fingers dangling on the edge of the table as she tried to slow her racing heart. Gently, he managed to move away, lifting her into his arms to carry her numb body up the stairs and to his bedroom, placing her onto the bed before joining, tugging her close to him. He had somehow discarded his pants along the way and had no clue how that happened. Pressing his mouth against her hair, she nuzzled against his throat, finally able to catch her breath. Her arm flopped unceremoniously across his chest as she turned into him, draping one leg over one of his.

She reached up, pressing a soft kiss against his cheek.

"You never let me say," she whispered softly, watching as his eyes slowly opened, glittering gray staring down at her with raw love, "that I'm falling deeper in love with you too."

Gripping tightly onto her, he held her close as their bodies, ravaged by lust and desire, succumbed to satisfaction and fell into a deep slumber. A part of her, just before she closed her eyes, reminded her that she needed to find something to buy Ron. But at this moment, that nothing but a brief fleeting thought in a mind that was overflowing with love for the man in her arms.

Here we go!

Chapter 14 is done! I'm glad I got it done now.

For the fight between Draco and Ron, I always imagined Ron as one of those wannabe tough anime kids who try to pick fights with the stronger yet more relaxed guys. Draco, I actually imagined Usui (from Kaichou wa Maid-sama!), he just moves in such a relaxed fashion, like it's nothing, and he seems to flow, which is what I imagined for Draco. Simple, basic reflexes and flowing movements that would embarrass the hell out of Ron, who tries to rely on brute strength and surprise.

I hope you all enjoyed it. There will be more action coming up in the next chapters! I promise! I'm not sure if this will be as long as Merry Christmas, Mr. Malfoy, but we'll see what happens.

Thanks for reading! You guys are amazing!

See you next chapter! I wonder what will happen…?