Chapter 9

He'd stop his heartbeats for her. Another's heartbeat for her. Anything.

"We had sex."

Ginny's eyebrows flew into her hairline. "You had sex?"

"Yes."

"You and Draco Malfoy."

"ep."

"Sex?"

"Three times."

"Well spank my ass and call me Sally."

Hermione snorted, shifting in the big leather chair that sat close to the Gryffindor fireplace. "It was a little over a week ago. I've seen him a few times since but not for a long period of time."

"And have you, ya know, done it since?"

"I mean.. not all the way.. like full intercourse."

Ginny raised her eyebrows again. "Elaborate."

"Well in the library-"

"That's kinky."

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, it is. But he felt me up in the library. The other day. There were other students around. It was very erotic. But you can't tell anyone. Especially not Harry or Ron."

"No, I would think not. They probably wouldn't take to kindly to this. I don't know how I feel about ti, either. Do you like him? Like really like him?"

"I don't know what I feel about him, Gin. I mean I like him but I'm confused. I feel like I'm drawn to him. I know where he is, or at least I know if he's nearby. It's like we're bonded, but there hasn't been any bond that I know of."

"Weird." Ginny took a sip of coffee. The girls were situated in the Gryffindor common room in their favorite chairs bye the fire. It was late, but not too late on Wednesday night. There were a few people scattered throughout the room, mostly older students, but a few first and second years sat reading or doing homework. Harry and Ron were by the window playing Wizard's Chess.

"I'm still confused.. and I don't know if I can like him. I mean, he isn't evil. I don't believe that he's evil. I don't think that he wants to be involved in what his family is involved in. But he doesn't have a choice."

Ginny nodded. "I see that point of view."

Hermione sighed, pulling her knees to her chest.

"So was it good?" Ginny's eyes glinted mischievously.

"I mean I don't exactly have the best frame of reference for that sort of thing but it was… intense. He's passionate, and rough and tender, and almost.. animalistic. It was.. incredible."

Ginny smirked. "And would you do that.. well, him.. again?"

Hermione didn't hesitate. "Yes."

October was upon them in full swing, and everyone could feel the rush that accompanied Halloween in the air. It was near, only a week away, and the decorations were being readied. A trip to Hogsmeade was planned for that Saturday.

The day dawned cold and clear. Grey sky accompanied a cold wind that blew the pretty red leaves off their trees and scattered them onto the ground. Students crunched down the path to Hogsmeade, cloaked and huddled together in warmth, laughter and chatter ringing out as they entered the village.

Hermione pulled her scarf tighter around her as she stepped into the tiny bookstore at the end of one of the roads. Hogsmeade was a charming little town situated not too far from Hogwarts. A stopping point for many people on their way south. It was also a tourist village, with multiple little inns, so there were plenty of beds. Tea shops, restaurants, and specialty stores lined the cobbled streets. There was an apothecary, where cauldrons were stacked as high as Hermione and a pretty older witch swept the leaves off of her welcome mat. There was a small ice cream parlor with white wicker chairs set up around levitating fire pits.

The bookstore was dimly lit and cozy, with shelves towering to the cielings, groaning slightly from the weight of the ancient tomes they held. There was a section for everything in the tiny shop, and if they didn't have it you were guaranteed it could be found somewhere.

She brushed her fingers over the spines, walking to the back where the oldest volumes were found. Some were in Latin or Greek, some were in French or German and many other languages that she didn't know. But they were beautiful. Some were hand illustrated account of history, their pages trimmed in gold and rich colored inks. There were large leather bound books that were too heavy for Hermione to lift, and smaller ones that she could fit in the palm of her hand.

She plucked one off the shelf at random and sat down, leafing through the pages. The musty smell of parchment and leather and ink swirled around her as she read. Soft sunlight leaked in the glass window by where she sat. She was alone, and the suddenly she wasn't.

"Shit." Was the murmur she heard from the other side of the case in front of her, followed by a thump.

Curiously, she stood up and looked around the corner. There, sucking on a bleeding thumb, was none other than Draco Malfoy.

Surprised, she spoke before thinking. "What are you doing here?"

He turned around startled. "Getting a few books to read. I could ask the same of you."

"Same reason." She crossed her arms as he took a step closer. He pulled them apart and pushed them down to her side. His face was very close to hers, she could taste his breath. And then it was just them. Not in the shop, not in the country, but in the whole universe. There was no Voldemort, no task, no war. It was just them, and he kissed her.

It was soft, and slow, and burning. His teeth grazed her lip and she shuddered, locking her arms around his neck and weaving her delicate fingers in his hair. He breathed in roughly, almost a gasp. She felt it to. Something undeniably pulling them together in a world that was forcing them apart.

She didn't know what was happening. Hermione only knew in that moment the he was her world. And that was a very dangerous thing.

He led her into the Three Broomsticks, careful to make sure nobody was looking at them strangely, and up the crooked wooden stairs to the private rooms. It was cozy, with wood paneled walls and floor, and a large fire roaring in the hearth. Hermione walked over to the little window and opened it, sitting on the bench.

"What's going on, Draco? Why me? Why now?"

He shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "Truly, I don't know. Well I might know."

She raised her eyebrows. "Care to share?"

"I don't know if I can tell you. Well, I can't tell you. I can't tell anyone."

She frowned. "Why not?"

He lowered his voice and sat down next to her. "I'm being watched."

"By whom?"

"I'm not sure of who specifically. I don't know their names. But they're watching me. They probably know about us, and they wouldn't be the only ones."

She looked surprised, a shiver went down her back at the mention of "us."

"Well, who is it?"

"Pansy." He looked guilty.

"Oh well that's not so bad is it? But she hates me, doesn't she? Is she going to tell?"

"No. Pansy can be difficult. But she's of the same frame of mind as me."

"Which is?"

He hesitated. "I want to tell you things. I don't know why I want to tell you. I don't know why I stopped hating you, but I don't think I ever really hated you. I wanted to hate you. I was told to, trained to. But I never really did. I never particularly liked you, mind. Always better than me at everything." He gave her a half smile then. "But it was never because of your blood. I only used that as an excuse. But there is nothing-" He picked up her hand, kissing it softly. "Filthy about you."

"And Pansy feels the same?"

"We are Purebloods from old families. Things are different for us, or society is not the same society. We're taught the old ways from when we're very young. We grow up with magic, and there's never a want for anything. The best clothes, food, education, entertainment. It's a lavish lifestyle that I thoroughly enjoyed, but it comes with a price. You're not allowed to think differently. You can't. Your family will ostracize you and then you'll have nothing. It's even more dangerous now, with the Dark Lord and all of his followers. It isn't just that your family will ostracize you, you could be killed. For talking to you right now, for touching you, I could be killed. I may be anyways but that's beside the point. Pansy doesn't agree with the system of thought. She and I know that there is no difference between a pureblood and a mudblood. It's just old feuds. Old bigotry. People are scared of what they don't know. It's the same reason that my family has had to live in secrecy for years. The same reason we all have. So yes, Pansy is on my side. Blaise is as well. But we have to be careful."

Hermione processed this information. "I knew it. I always knew you weren't evil. Harry is obsessed. He thinks you're a Death Eater. Working for Voldemort. But I knew. I always had a feeling."

Draco was silent. "Hermione.. Harry is right. I am a Death Eater. But not in the way that you think I am. It wasn't… my choice." His face fell, his mask fell, and Hermione could see how tired he was. Not just his body, but his soul.

She cupped her hands around his face, stroking his cheeks. His stormy grey eyes were troubled.

"It's okay. I know, you had no choice."

He shook his head, holding her hands in his. "You know, but you don't. There's so much more that I can't- I can't tell you. I want to but I-"

He was in pain, and it hurt her. "It's okay. I can be patient. I can wait. Whether it's now or tomorrow or in twenty years, you can tell me. I'll be here."

He looked up at her, eyes smoldering under his lashes. "Twenty years?"

She shrugged. "The future is uncertain."

He smiled then and kissed her softly. "Would you like a drink? There's tea, or something stronger if you prefer."

"Something stronger, I prefer."

He stood and crossed the room to a little table with different glass bottles of liquid. He selected one he knew, and pour two glasses, handing one to Hermione.

The heat of the firewhiskey burned her throat, and she welcomed it.

She looked down at the pale, slender hand laying on her knee. It was welcome, and she was comfortable.

"What are we doing here, Draco?" She whispered softly.

"Trying to survive."

Outside, the wind blew a little harder.

a/n: hehe. But seriously, give me your ideas. This story is rapidly spiraling into something.. different. I don't even know. Don't forget to favorite, follow, and review. Follow me on tumblr slytherinsnitches, and on twitter ChloeRNG