Surrounded by what Hermione could only describe as a sea of students, some dancing in pairs, some in small groups, she tightened her grip on Draco's hand as he led them through. The large round Ravenclaw common room was full, the party guests overflowing into the adjoining rooms, but a magical veil had been hung on the niche opposite the entrance to create a private room for the exclusive Slytherin birthday boy and of course, his close friends.

Draco released her hand and took an unceremonious seat on the divan. Reluctantly she took the seat next to him. Her feet ached after having danced for so long. Luna and Cho had grabbed a hold of her as soon as they'd entered and dragged her into the crowd of moving bodies. Luna was wearing a strange headdress and Hermione didn't know what she was meant to be. Cho on the other hand was clearly dressed as a mediwitch. Thankfully Draco didn't follow them onto the makeshift dance floor. It was a relief to spend time away from him. Neither were speaking to each other and although Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on why she knew it had something to do with the conversation they'd had before arriving. That conversation had gone a little like this.

"What are you wearing?"

"It's a pinafore. I'm Belle."

"Who?"

Taking a deep breath she'd explained, "She's a character from the story Beauty and the Beast."

He frowned at her, flicking the skirt of her blue and white pinafore dress. "You look like a peasant girl."

Hermione grit her teeth. "And just what are you supposed to be?"

"I thought it was fairly obvious."

"You're wearing what you always wear — black."

"I'm Death." Taking a weapon of some sort out from his robes, he said flatly, "See, I have a scythe."

Hermione's eyebrows rose in disbelief. "You're joking, right?"

"Let me guess. You don't like my costume."

"You're going as Death. You're a former Death Eater and you're going as Death. Do you know what people will say, doesn't it bother you?"

"Why would it bother me?" he said cocking an eyebrow.

Rolling her eyes she turned back to the mirror to finish braiding her hair. "Never mind."

"Truth is that it bothers everyone else more than it bothers me."

"Well what do you expect, strutting around the castle pretending to be the Grim reaper, You might as well put your Death Eater robes back on and flaunt your menacing skull tattoo—"

"Oh please, spare me the speech."

She whirled on him, her eyes aflame. "You bear the mark of everything that I hate, everything that is wrong with the wizarding world and you wonder why I — why people…" she cut herself off before she could say something she'd regret.

Draco scoffed. "Do you even know what people say about me?"

"Of course I do!"

"No, you really don't."

"Fine, then tell me. What are they saying?"

"Are you sure you want to know? I'm not sure you can handle it."

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, her eyebrows furrowing a little at what he meant by that. "Why?" she hesitated. "Does it have to do with me?"

A slow smile crept up his lips. Draco was enjoying this, enjoying her unease. "Well let's see, which rumour should I start with?" He gave a dramatic sigh. "There are different versions. My favourite is that I've brainwashed you, some go as far as saying that I've imperiused you. That I come to you, every night." He placed his index and middle finger on the sleeve of her upper arm and walked up toward her shoulder, punctuating every word with a step. "I sneak into your room, strip you down, tear off your—" A shiver ran down her spine; a result of his words or his touch, she didn't know. Unfortunately for her, he noticed it, noticed the infinitesimal tightening of every single muscle in her body.

"Sometimes you're on your knees," he continued unrelentingly. His fingers now grazing her collarbone, the only area of exposed skin. "Bound. Gagged. Apparently, you like that sort of thing. In another, I force myself on you. Apparently, you like that too." He paused, waiting and she knew what he was waiting for. For her to push him away, but she stood still as stone, listening. "I guess the common theme is we're fucking." He let out a deep sigh, his words a shudder. "Every night we're fucking."

Despite trying to act composed her voice broke when she spoke. "And you think dressing up as Death is going help change people's minds about the kind of man you are?"

His hand fell away, his gaze burning right through her. "I don't care to change anyone's mind."

"No," she said clenching her teeth. "Your solution is to remain silent instead, confirming people's sordid rumours about us."

That same wicked smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "I didn't say they were sordid."

And then she did push him away. Only to create distance between them lest she do something remarkably stupid like kill Draco-bloody-Malfoy… or worse.

"Take off your shirt," she demanded, emboldened by her anger more than anything else.

For a flash of a second, he was taken aback but the expression was soon replaced with an utterly defiant refusal to do so.

"Fine, if you don't take it off, I will. Then despite her better judgement, she began removing his buttons, one at a time; as systemically and mechanically as possible. She ignored the smooth pale skin of his chest, the silvery gleam of the scar Harry had given him, she ignored the ripples of his abdomen, the dangerous glint in his eye, the grit of his teeth. She ignored his cologne, the line of hair disappearing below the belt of his trousers.

Hermione wrenched his shirt off and took her wand. She pointed it at the infernal black shirt and transfigured it into grey. She handed it back to him and he was so enraged with her that he didn't even think to look at it before tugging it back on.

She pursed her lips to keep from laughing as he turned to the mirror, his eyes widening in horror.

"Why the fuck does my expensive dress shirt have an embroidered kitten popping out of the pocket with the caption 'Beast'?"

Putting her hands on her hips she defended. "It's cute and you're wearing it."

"No, I'm not!"

"Yes," she hissed pointing her finger at him. "You are. Because if you don't, I'm going to whine and complain to everyone at that party that my 'boyfriend' didn't want to go with me as Beauty and the Beast."

He muttered something under his breath that Hermione didn't quite catch.

"What did you say?" she demanded to know.

He shook his head ignoring her. "Let's go," he snapped angrily. "Get this over with."

"Hey, you're the one dragging me to this thing," she grumbled.

"Look, I'm in a mood as it is. Pansy's going to be there. She's always watching me these days and now you've got me wearing a ridiculous kitten shirt."

"Her mere presence puts you in a mood."

"Yeah well if you knew Pansy…"

She studied him for a moment crushing the strange nauseous sensation she felt at hearing him speak Pansy's name. "Did you two," Hermione stopped knowing she shouldn't ask, yet… "did you ever… I mean were you both… I've noticed her watching you too."

He watched her dance, his eyes squinting, assessing. "Are you asking me if we ever fucked?"

"Merlin—"

"No, never—"

"Do you have to say it like that?"

"Did you ever sleep with Weasley?"

Hermione baulked. "That's none of your business!"

"You just asked me the same about Pansy."

"That's different."

"How?"

"Because…"

"You must've, otherwise you would've just said no…"

She didn't answer him and he took her silence to mean that she had.

"Was he any good?"

"Drop it Malfoy, I'm not having this conversation, especially with you!"

"Why, it's not as if we're actually together."

"Then why do you need to know?"

"Why are you being so cagey — Merlin — you're not a virgin are you?"

"Fine. You want to know?"

"Yeah, I want to know."

"I'm not. Are you happy?"

"Not what?"

"A virgin."

"So you fucked him?"

"Yeah, I fucked him."

Things had been chilly between them since the awkward conversation. Hermione was furious with herself for having told him something so intimate, and Draco was livid for reasons Hermione couldn't fathom. Perhaps it was the kitten shirt he was livid about.

At least, thankfully, it was a little quieter in the hidden alcove. She fumbled around inside her robe for Blaise's gift and took it out, holding it in her lap wondering where on earth he was, or if there was a designated gift spot located outside somewhere in between the madness.

"Where's your gift?" asked Hermione only now just realizing that Draco didn't have the chest set with him. His eyes slid to hers, hostile and disapproving of her question that put an end to their war of silence. Still, he answered nonetheless.

"I gave it to him this morning."

"Oh."

She felt a little stupid and put the wrapped snitch back into her robes.

"So you got Krum to sign it."

A statement, not a question, so she didn't answer. The next thing though was a question, or the way Hermione heard it, an accusation.

"Excuse me?"

He wore a bored expression as if they were making small talk. "I said, 'have you slept with Krum?'"

"That is none of your business."

"I'll take that as a yes."

"No," she quickly amended. "I haven't but it's not your business who I've slept with."

He watched her, his chin in his hand, his fingers drumming his cheek. "If you say so."

She was just about to hex him when Blaise stumbled into the room, as in literally stumbled. In fact, he stumbled and then fell sprawled out on the floor. Daphne entered right behind him.

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" she groaned.

Draco went over and helped him up.

Blaise slurred, "Missed the sofa."

"That you did mate."

A moment later Theo, Luna and Cho appeared as well. For awhile they all sat talking to each other about nonsensical things and laughed. Hermione considered that now would be a good time as any to give Blaise his gift but he was rather drunk and she wondered if he would even remember tonight's events in the morning. Besides, she didn't like the idea that Draco might make some snide remark about her relationship with Krum.

She reached for Draco's hand trying to interlace their fingers. He withdrew and slipped it into the pocket of his trousers, rejecting her peace offering. She cleared her throat, grateful that no one else had noticed his rebuff. Hermione didn't know why his being angry with her was bothering her so much. He didn't have a right to behave this way after dragging her to this party in the first place. Leaning into his ear, she whispered, "Considering that I'm here at this party under your request, the least you could do is pretend you like me… if that's not too much trouble."

He turned toward her, the tips of their noses almost touching. His response came out quiet. "I need a drink."

Hermione sighed as he strode off leaving her alone with the others in the tiny makeshift room. Tonight wasn't going the way she had thought it would. Not that she had anticipated the party being enjoyable, just that she didn't think he would be in such a foul mood the whole night.

Daphne suddenly leapt up from the sofa. "Theo, they're playing my song!" And then she was dragging him from his seat and he went with a reluctant groan. To her chagrin, Daphne had decided to coax them all out of their seats and onto the dance floor. "Come on, come on, let's go."

Luckily Hermione was able to excuse herself from the group dance-a-thon. "Draco's gone to get drinks, we'll join in a bit."

With a shrug Daphne left, her hand clutched tightly to Theo's as if he were a child who would get lost in the crowd. More like runaway Hermione thought, laughing to herself. Luna must've been thinking the same thing because she threw her a knowing smile before disappearing through the veil. Blaise followed, stumbling out the same way he came in.

Hermione must've been sitting alone in the little room for not more than five minutes before she got sick of waiting. She began to stand to go look for him but right at that moment, Draco appeared carrying two goblets.

"For you," he said handing her one.

"Thanks," she said taking a big gulp without asking what it was. Red wine from the look and taste of it.

"We're supposed to join Daphne and the others to dance."

He sat back down next to her. "I don't want to dance."

And suddenly, almost painfully, she felt his palm on her bare knee. Her eyes flitted around the room. They were absolutely and utterly alone. She took another sip of her drink to mask her unease.

"What are you doing?"

"Giving you my undivided attention." His hand slid up her thigh, pushing back the edge of her dress and sliding further.

Her composure wavered and she promptly laid her hand over his, clutching it tightly. The other still holding the goblet of wine he'd given her. This time she heard the fear in her voice.

"Stop it."

Draco's eyebrows furrowed in innocent confusion. "Are you sure?" Then because his hand was held hostage in hers and he couldn't slide it further up her leg, he gently squeezed the flesh of her thigh.

A strange new sound escaped her lips. Though Hermione still had the sense to push his hand away, hers were shaking as she placed the goblet onto the table and stood to leave. He grasped her forearm, stopping her.

The tips of her ears felt hot, the music of the party had faded replaced by the sound of her own beating heart. Her body was paralyzed; her mind screaming not to kiss him, and yet…

"Sorry, it's just a dumb—"

Hermione didn't let him finish. She spun around and her lips met his, pressing forward, asking for something in return when she felt his body go still. Her fingers combed through his hair, her lips parting again in an open mouth kiss and this time, he kissed her back. She felt the fear rise, rising with every second but amidst the fear, there was relief, the sheer and utter relief of—

"What the fuck?"

Hermione's head whipped around.

Draco was standing behind her. Her eyes widened in shock as she looked back at the other Draco standing next to her… the one wearing a wide grin and his robes. Anger simmered off the other in waves, anger and some other lingering emotion beneath.

She visibly gulped. Her throat constricting with panic. Panic at what she'd just done, what he'd seen her just do. Hermione jumped away from them both as if they were on fire.

"What's going on?" she said dumbly. "I don't…" she looked from one Draco to another, "I don't understand."

"Trick or treat," chuckled the Draco that had kissed her back, his hands raised in surrender. A little nervously he said, "Look I tried telling her it was just a joke, I—"

But whoever it was didn't have a chance to finish. Hermione gasped, her hand over her mouth as Draco struck himself hard across the jaw; hard enough to knock him back down onto the sofa. A loud groan escaped his mouth as he held his nose. "You broke my nose, you bloody tosser!"

"You're a sick bastard Pucey," hissed Draco. "You're lucky I didn't do worse."

"Pucey as in Adrian Pucey?"

He used the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the blood dripping down his nose. "Not like I was actually going to do anything with her, I didn't think she'd pounce on me in the middle of the party."

Draco turned, his heated eyes regarding her. "What were you doing kissing him?"

"I didn't know it was him, I thought it was—" She closed her mouth but it was already too late. Hermione had said far too much and Draco had seen far too much.

His eyes softened, dancing over her face and she felt like a fool. An absolute fool.

Calmly, as if her heart wasn't threatening to splinter in her chest, she grabbed her robes, taking out Blaise's gift. Pushing it into Draco's chest she said, "Please give this to Blaise. I'm leaving."

Then she fled, not into a run but a fairly brisk walk, and then pitched forward into the throng of people, aiming for the common room door.

She didn't know where she was going, perhaps back to her dorm; just that she had to leave. Turning right, she headed toward the main door of the Ravenclaw common room. Luna and Daphne caught sight of her and tried calling her over but she ignored them heading straight out the door. Thank Merlin she didn't have to answer a riddle to leave the room, only to enter it. As soon as she felt the cold air hit her cheeks she stopped, leaning against the cool stone wall of the castle.

It was the night of trick or treat and Hermione had lasted all of two hours at a Slytherin party before being ridiculed. Adrian Pucey hadn't understood the damage he'd done but Hermione did.

How would she ever face Draco Malfoy again… what would she say to him?

Then she began walking, toward the only place in the castle where she felt safe, the library.

…

Sitting in the far corner of the library in the pitch black of night Hermione held her head in her hands. Of all the humiliating things that could happen, this was not one she expected. Her mind ran through all the possible excuses she could make for why she was kissing him. So far she hadn't been able to come up with any. There was no one around when she had kissed Adrian Pucey, so she couldn't say it was to keep up the pretence. She had barely drank so neither could she say that she wasn't thinking clearly. One desperate idea had flitted across her mind; she could say he had kissed her, forced himself on her. But even that lie, as cruel as it was, was far too late.

I thought it was you.

How could she have not realized? When Adrian had walked in, he was wearing robes but Draco had taken off his robes as soon as they had arrived at the party. Then there was his look of confusion at her reaction to him when he was grazing her thigh. Probably not the normal reaction you'd have to your boyfriend copping a feel. Then he'd stopped her, not to kiss her, but to tell her something and she hadn't let him finish.

She would've been saved the embarrassment if it weren't for a few simple words missing at the end of his sentence.

Hermione stared out the window trying to clear her thoughts but she was never one to be able to stop her mind from racing. Her mother would always tap the top of Hermione's head and say there's so much going on in here, it's busier than a bee's hive.

Her mother was right. She could almost hear the sound of faint buzzing but she longed for the silence, the rest… a black quiet abyss. Something to arrest her thoughts, if only for—

"There you are."

Hermione practically jumped in her seat, her hand over her chest steadying her heart.

The silhouette of Draco emerged, the moonlight barely revealing him.

"Of course, you're in the library," he grumbled rather irritably. "I've been looking for you everywhere. Come on, I'll walk you back. It's past midnight."

She frowned. Had she been sitting here that long?

"Filch has gotten wind of the party and he's around snooping. Let's go," he said again gesturing for her to follow him.

Hermione raised her eyes to look up at him beneath her lashes. She wanted to say something, something that would fix everything, but she merely nodded. They made their way toward Gryffindor Tower in silence, both walking softly by the light of Draco's wand.

They were at the foot of the stairs when suddenly his hand was on the small of her back guiding her quickly into a small alcove. He pinned her against the wall, his body pressed on hers.

"What are you—?"

He clamped his hand over her mouth, bringing his finger to his lips warning her not to speak.

Hermione's heart filled with dread. She could hear the pounding of her pulse in her ears and over that, she could hear footsteps… and then, a quiet purr. Their eyes locked in horror. Filch. If she were caught out of bed at this time of night, McGonagall would most likely take away her position as Head Girl. She'd already been given a warning. For all her thinking, Hermione didn't think enough. She felt a pang of regret that she'd refused Harry's offer of keeping the Marauders Map. She didn't think she'd need it or his invisibility cloak to hide from anyone ever again… yet here she was.

She watched as Draco slowly took his hand off her mouth and cast a disillusionment charm on them. Filch was just upon them. They both held their breaths as the footsteps drew closer… and closer still.

Mrs Norris let out another quiet purr as they passed. Filch stopped in his tracks, holding the lantern up toward them. She pressed her eyes closed against the light, her body rigid not daring to move a single muscle.

Hermione bit her lip when she felt Mrs Norris' tail upon her foot.

They were done for.

A sudden burst of laughter came echoing down the corridor. Filch swung the lantern forward. "Filthy beasts," he muttered heading toward where the noise had come from.

His cat obediently followed.

Still, she didn't dare open her eyes. It was only when the sound of Filch's footsteps petered off and disappeared altogether did she blink them open.

The first thing she saw was Draco's dark gaze. Even in the black of night, a beautiful shade of grey-blue. A few seconds passed, and neither of them moved. The air between them felt charged, almost static, the energy palpable.

"I think he's gone," she whispered softly, her voice meek and small.

Still, he didn't move.

"Draco?"

"I'm so angry with you."

She licked her lips, nervously. It wasn't what she'd expected to hear, not with the heated way he was looking at her.

"I…" What was it she had planned to say? Oh, right. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't know what to say?"

Her pulse fell to her fingertips. She wanted to say so many things but what tumbled out of her mouth was the flustered truth, "All these lies we tell… I get confused. I don't know what's real anymore."

Draco abruptly grabbed her hand and placed it on his trousers. Her breath hitched, her eyes wide searching his. His stare was unrelenting; as if he wasn't as hard as steel beneath her palm.

"You want real?" Draco breathed, his voice a painful rasp as he began moving her hand against him. "I want you. All the time. I hate how it's impossible to be around you without getting hard. Do you know how humiliating that is?" he hissed. "To have no control? And then the first time you even consider kissing me, it's not me."

"Draco—"

"No."

Then it all happened very fast. His right hand curled around the nape of her neck and pulled her lips to his. And this kiss wasn't like the first kiss, Adrian's kiss, this one was empty of hesitation and full of hunger. He held her mouth hostage, devouring it kiss by kiss; one hand gripped his hair, and the other gripped his jaw. The effect of him was drugging.

A little moan escaped her as he suddenly pulled away. She heard him whisper a spell making her braids come undone and felt his fingers in her hair, the blue ribbon falling out. Then he was kissing her again, his tongue sweeping hers, his hand buried in her curls. Hermione bit his bottom lip, her body responding to his on its own accord.

She gave a sudden gasp as his fingers dug into her hips and over her bum, pulling her into him, rubbing up against her, half-mad with want. Not in a million years would Hermione ever admit it but she lifted her leg and hooked it around his waist craving the sweet friction he was eliciting between her thighs.

"Fuck," he hissed. "Hermione." He left her lips, leaving a trail of delicious kisses down her neck to her collarbone. His breath was like fever against her skin. His fingers had found their way up her skirt to the seams of her knickers. She pressed her eyes closed resisting the urge to voice the burning desire she had for him.

Images from her dream flashed before her eyes; of riding him, coming as he impaled her over and over again. She could practically feel the ache between her thighs. The longing in her heart to be filled; completely consumed. It was all she needed to wake up. She was about to allow Draco Malfoy — the first boy to teach her the word Mudblood — fuck her senseless in a dark alcove.

"I can't," she said, breaking the kiss. "Draco, I can't."

He withdrew from her, panting, his arousal still thick in his voice when he spoke. "Why?"

Why, he'd asked. Why? And she could hear the genuine incredulity in his voice. His question angered her, angered her more than any insult he'd ever thrown her way. Because he should know why. He should be able to list out the reasons and then categorise them in alphabetical order.

"This isn't real," she spat. "We're not together. This is a — a business transaction."

Her words had the same effect on him as a bucket of cold water would.

Accusation thick in his voice, he rasped. "You're such a fucking coward."

It was habit, or maybe it was because only he could elicit such rage in her but before she knew it, she had raised her open palm to strike him. Even in the obscurity of the dark alcove, Draco managed to catch her wrist blocking her assault and then quickly he grabbed the other, holding onto her so tightly that she let out a whimper. "Now let me tell you why you can't stand me," he whispered softly.

She raised her chin, defiant even in her dishevelled state. "There are so many reasons why I can't stand you."

"You're afraid of me."

She scoffed. "Like hell."

"Yes, you are… in fact, you're terrified of me."

She let out a weak laugh. "You think because you have a tattoo of a dead wizard I'm afraid of you? I'm not the one going day in and day out hiding behind Occlumency."

He yanked her wrists up above her head and pinned her against the wall. She pursed her lips willing not to react, ignoring that even now, despite her calm expression, she was terrified.

"I hide behind Occlumency? You hide behind your hatred and do you know why? It's safer to hate me. That's why you put so much energy into doing it. Because if you let go of all your anger, even just for one moment, you'll let yourself feel that other thing and that other thing scares you, Hermione. It scares you to pieces."

In a cold voice, she asked, "What other thing would that be?"

But she already knew.

His grip on her wrists tightened. "Temptation."

Once again she tried not to react, but she was certain he could hear her heart racing, feel her chest pounding with the weight of the truth.

He leaned into her, his lips ghosting hers. "So you see," he rasped, "you refuse to kiss me because you're afraid you'll enjoy it too much. And then what kind of witch would that make you — after everything that I've done…tell me…"

She gulped, her heartbeat stuttering. "Let go of me."

Draco didn't hesitate. "Glady," he hissed. He adjusted his pants, his silver eyes raking over her as he did so. "You know what. This business transaction is over."

Her lips parted, breathless and in disbelief. Her voice sounded so small when she said, "You're breaking up with me?"

"Don't worry," he added quietly, "I've already transferred all the galleons you need to help your precious elves."

"And the bet?" she gulped.

He shrugged as if none of it mattered anymore. "Tell people whatever the fuck you like." Then with no regard for her, with no regard for Filch, he strode off, his robes billowing behind him.

Hermione didn't remember how she got back to her room, but she woke safely in her bed the next morning. With slow movements, she began her usual routine to get ready for classes; a dull ache poisoned each moment. She felt heavy and lost, and when she entered the Great Hall she almost walked over to the Slytherin table before remembering she had no business sitting there anymore.

Instead, she slowly sat down next to Luna, thankfully away from most of the other Gryffindors.

"Morning," she beamed happily. "Last night was pretty wild, where did you run off to? I couldn't find you anywhere."

"I left early," she said trying to smile.

Luna nodded. "So did you have fun with Malfoy?"

Hermione choked a little on her pumpkin juice. "Sorry," she sputtered. "What did you say?"

"The Halloween party. You came together, you left together."

"Oh, right... I hate parties."

Luna gave Hermione a gentle nudge with her shoulder. "You okay? I heard about that stupid prank Adrian Pucey played on you. He does it every year apparently."

"He polyjuices himself to look like Draco every year?"

"No," she corrected with a little laugh. "He pranks people in general, Daphne told me that last year he left spiders in her bed."

Hermione shrugged. "That doesn't sound as bad as what he did yesterday."

Luna looked down at her eggs, her pink complexion paling. "They laid eggs."

She grimaced moving her own plate of eggs away.

"So I'm guessing that's the reason for your early exit."

"I kissed him," she blurted.

"I know."

"No I mean, I kissed Draco, after the whole Pucey fiasco.

"What does that mean? Are you actually dating now?"

"No," she said shaking her head. "The deal is off."

"You broke it off?"

Hermione cringed. "He did."

"After you kissed him?"

"It's why it's off. Because I kissed him."

Luna shook her head as if none of it made sense but she sighed. "It's probably for the best. All this pretending… even I can't keep up."

Hermione dared a glance over to the Slytherin table. He wasn't seated in his usual spot, instead, he'd made it a point to sit with his back turned to her. Hermione brought her fingers to her temple, rubbing them in circles. "It's strange sitting all the way over here without him. Isn't it strange that I find that strange?"

Then Hermione felt it. The tears stung her eyes. "Merlin, I'm sorry, I don't know what's gotten into me — oh well, I have an idea, it's the arsehole who broke up with me last night. Except, of course, to break up with someone you have to actually be dating them in the first place right, so why Luna, why does it hurt to breathe?"

She stared at her friend pleadingly, "Why does this keep happening to me? It's like Ron all over again except this time…" It's my fault. I pushed him away.

Hermione felt the first tear roll down her cheek and quickly wiped it away.

"Erm, Hermione?" Luna was scanning the crowd. "Everyone is looking at you."

She cast a quick glance around the hall. Everyone was looking at her and whispering, obviously talking about her. Had news of their split already spread? Things must be really boring at Hogwarts without Voldemort for a breakup to ignite such fierce gossip.

Then Pansy was sauntering toward her, wearing a smug grin. She dropped a copy of the Daily Prophet onto the table. Hermione eyed her suspiciously while Luna reached for the paper and unfolded it. Her moony eyes if possible grew impossibly larger.

"What is it?" asked Hermione, hearing the concerned undercurrent in her own voice. When Luna didn't respond, she grabbed the paper.

"Wait—"

But it was too late. The damage had already been done. It was done the moment someone snapped a picture of her.

She was smack in the middle of the front page.

Her hands around Draco's neck, her fingers in his hair, and the image kept replaying their kiss. But from this angle, it didn't look like an innocent kiss. She looked unrestrained. Except she and only a few others probably knew that this wasn't a photograph of her kissing Draco, this was a photograph of her kissing Adrian Pucey.

"Didn't know you were such a Pureblood Lover," purred Pansy, her face lit up in some sort of sick victory. "Who knew Gryffindor's Princess was so frisky?"

Then she flipped her hair and waltzed off in true catwalk fashion.

Before Hermione even had time to panic, to absorb what she was seeing, to reel at the destruction of her life, an owl swooped down, dropping a letter.

It opened on its own. A howling shriek as the envelope warped into a twisted, angry mouth.

YOU'RE NOTHING BUT A DEATH EATER'S WHORE!