Heart of Ice

* * *

“Come on, Ron. You aren’t serious, are you?” Harry asked tentatively. Ron blinked.

“Of course I’m serious. Malfoy obviously has ‘Mione under some sort of curse. Not only does he deserve to pay, but if he’s dead the spell will be broken.” He turned and continued to walk away.

“Ron!” Ginny squealed, as she ran forward and grabbed his arm again. “Ron, you can’t! You don’t understand! It’s not a spell! Trust me!” Ron stopped in his tracks, but said nothing. Ginny saw her opportunity. “Ron, I’m a girl. I know how these things work. I’ve been watching those two for a while now. Whatever is going on, it’s completely natural, believe it or not. And,” she took a deep breath, “I’m pretty sure it’s mutual. Even if they’re not.” Ron let out a stream of curses.

“So, we just let this...this...thing continue?” he asked furiously, turning back to them. Ginny sighed and took Harry and Ron’s hands in hers.

“Listen, boys. She’s not exactly used to this either, you know? Everything has always been books and logic to her. Imagine how she feels, falling in love with the Prince of Slytherin! Yes, we are going to let things play out naturally. And we are going to continue to love and support her, no matter what.”

* * *

Draco took a deep breath and splashed a handful of cool water on his face, glancing at the mirror as he smoothed his hair back. He frowned. He felt like shit, and still looked like a marble god. He clearly recalled an event that had occured with Professor Trelawny in 5^th Year, where she had threatened to fail him if he didn’t stop ‘making the other students uneasy and disrupting the karmic energy of her classroom’. Draco had nodded silently, prompting the old bat to gaze at his face intently through her over-sized glasses. ‘Does the prospect of failing make you unhappy?’ she had asked him curiously. Startled, he had responded that it did. She shook her head. ‘Your face has no humanity, Draco Malfoy. I was beginning to wonder if you felt anything at all.’

Draco shook his head now and whipped it away from the mirror, breaking that line of thought. Emotions seemed to be pestering him quite a lot lately, he mused bitterly. He trudged into the common room and made his way to the windows, peering at the rain-filled night sky distractedly.

“Meroww!” Crookshanks came over and began rubbing up against his leg comfortingly, as if to say, ‘yeah, it’s tough being us.’ Draco couldn’t even bring himself to smile, and instead continued to gaze at nothing.

Granger.

Hermione Granger.

Hermione.

The Mudblood he was supposed to hate. The insufferable know-it-all he had mercilessly teased ever since he’d known her. If it had been her intention to get revenge on him, she had certainly succeeded. Draco frowned involuntarily. Had it been easy for her to lure him in? Was she downstairs laughing with her friends about how he’d run off just now? Potter and the Weasleys would certainly get a kick out of the whole situation. Draco paused in his thoughts. What was the situation? He had no fucking clue, and that was the problem.

“Draco? Are you alright?” Hermione. Speak of the devil. Draco felt her hand come to rest on his shoulder. The reflection of her concerned face was rippled by water droplets in the window. He took a moment to examine her delicate features, and came to the conclusion that the concern was genuinely directed towards him. Draco sighed. This would not do at all. He spun around so he was facing her, and made a conscious effort to harden his features.

“My welfare is none of your concern,” he said harshly. Hermione recoiled as if slapped.

“Well, there’s no need to get defensive,” she said hurtly. “I just wondered. . .after the dance you left so quickly. . .and just now you looked so sad. . .” Draco’s eyes widened slightly.

“What did you say?” Hermione furrowed her brow.

“I said you looked sad,” she replied cautiously. Draco felt his stomach clench.

“I looked sad. How could you tell?” he asked quietly. Hermione tilted her head slightly, and reached up to brush the side of his face with her fingers.

“It’s not easy, if that’s what you mean,” she answered softly. Draco clasped his hand over hers, halting its exploration of his features.

“How?” he asked, his voice sounding uncharacteristically desperate even to his own ears. Hermione’s eyes remained locked on his, positively brimming with emotion.

“I just could,” she said truthufully, not understanding why, but knowing that this was important to him. Draco sighed, and began raking his eyes all over body. Hermione felt herself flush as he placed his hands on her waist and pulled her against his muscular form. He gently placed his cheek against hers, and she closed her eyes as his hot breath puffed across her ear.

“What else can you just tell, Hermione?” he asked huskily. Hermione leaned against him for support as her knees seemed to lose their strength. What else could she tell? she wondered. She could tell that no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get this amazing man out of her mind. She could tell that despite what she told herself, she loved it when he touched her. She could just tell. . .

“That I’m falling in lo. . .” she trailed off, her eyes widening with shock. Hermione felt Draco tense as he too realized what she had been about to say. That I’m falling in love with you. Draco jerked back and narrowed his eyes at her dangerously.

“Don’t say that to me,” he bit out through gritted teeth. “Don’t you ever say that to me. Is that what you want me to think, Granger? Or is that what you actually believe?” he demanded, unconsciously reverting back to calling her by her surname. Hermione looked up at him confusedly.

“What do you mean?” she asked weakly, her voice cracking slightly. Draco took in her glistening eyes, shakey voice and trembling form with a flash of grim realization. She really did think she was ‘falling in love’ with him.

“Listen to me Granger. You are not falling for me,” Draco said firmly, taking her by the shoulders to ensure he commanded her full attention. (As if she could focus on anything else!) Hermione’s mouth dropped open.

“I beg your pardon?” she gasped indignantly. Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

“I said, you are not falling for me.” Hermione narrowed her eyes.

“Listen to me, Draco Malfoy, because this is the last time I am going to say this: Don’t you ever presume to tell me how I do or do not feel. And if you don’t feel anything for me, just say so!” she screamed, tears streaming down her face. Draco felt his stomach drop miserably upon seeing her cry, but he knew there was nothing to be done for it. Not only was he incapable of loving her in return, but he would be dead in a couple of months anyway. She was going to have to be hurt. Not that he cared, of course. Why would any Malfoy care? Exactly: They wouldn’t. Draco plastered his best sneer on his face.

“Oh, is that it, Granger?” he drawled amusedly. “You thought it was possible that I could have actual feelings for you?” Hermione took an unsteady step away from him, recoiling at his tone. He hadn’t spoken to her like that in weeks. Still, she did the most Gryffindor thing she could, and raised her chin proudly.

“Actually, Malfoy, I didn’t, but thankyou for the confirmation. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to be going,” she said haughtily, the tears still coming. “Unlike some people, I refuse to stick around just to play games.” And with that, she stormed into her room.

* * *

The next month and a half was relatively uneventful. There were no dances to plan until Valentines Day, and the Hogsmeade weekends pretty much took care of themselves. Other than in meetings, Draco and Hermione avoided eachother at all costs. The tension between the two was almost palpable, and the students and staff found themselves looking on with silent curiosity. They spoke to one another with a sort of frigid formality, and nobody had seen them argue in what seemed like forever.

It was for this reason that a small crowd had formed on a particularily cold Hogsmeade day. . .

* * *

“Get out of my way, Malfoy.” Hermione glared at the handsome Head Boy as he lazily leaned against the entrance to The Three Broomsticks. He quirked a brow at her.

“I don’t think I will,” he drawled, an amused gleam twinkling in his eye as she fumed. Hermione grit her teeth in exasperation. What was he doing? Why was he choosing this time to be such a prat when things had been perfectly fine between them for the past month? Well, maybe not perfectly fine, but still. . .

“We need to get in there, Malfoy. I suggest you move if you don’t want to be hexed,” she said cooly. Draco noted Potter, the Weasel, and the Weaslette standing warily behind her, with odd expressions on their faces. Well, Potter and the Weaslette had odd expressions on their faces. The Weasel just looked mad. Draco glanced back to Hermione, trying to memorize her features under the guise of glaring. It had been weeks since she’d been in his presence long enough for him to look at her. She was beautiful. The cold wind had tinged her cheeks with a natural rosy hue, and the angry glint in her big brown eyes coupled with the curls around her face gave her a sort of wild look. Draco felt his chest ache again. He barely gave it a second thought, now. She always made him feel like that.

“Er, Malfoy?” Potter asked warily. Draco was startled from his thoughts, not noticing that the same thing happened to Hermione.

“Fine, Potter,” he mumbled, stalking away with his trademark swagger. Harry watched him leave bewilderedly. That was it? The crowd apparently was thinking the same thing, for they dispersed with disappointed grumbles.

“Well, let’s go in, then. It’s freezing out here,” Hermione snapped irritably as she practically ran inside, Ron following close behind her. Harry and Ginny exchanged worried glances as they went in and joined them at their usual booth.

“What was that all about, Hermione?” Harry asked. Hermione pretended to be focused on her menu. Ron furrowed his brow.

“Hermione, we know you aren’t deaf. Why did that prat Malfoy block the entrance? And why did he give up so easily?” Hermione’s head snapped up.

“You’re never satisfied, are you? He’s doing something wrong when he blocks the entrance, he’s doing something wrong when he backs down--How about me, Ron? Aren’t you going to ask why I threatened to hex him, and why I didn’t do it sooner?” She huffed angrily before storming off from the booth, leaving her friends in a stunned silence. Ron blinked at his friend and sister puzzledly.

“Did that make any sense to you two whatsoever?”

“No,” Harry and Ginny replied in unison. They each paused in a thoughtful silence.

“This is ridiculous,” Harry sighed. Ron looked at him suspiciously.

“What is ridiculous, exactly?”

“This whole Hermione and Malfoy pretending to hate eachother thing. It’s driving me mad.”

“What?! You want her to get together with the prat? I for one was happy when she seemed to forget about him!”

“Oh, come on, Ron!” Ginny said exasperatedly. “You honestly thought it seemed like she forgot about him? She’s been a zombie! Remember last week when she forgot to put the alarm charm on her bag? She didn’t even notice when you copied her essay!” Ron’s ears went pink.

“Well, I thought maybe it was her way of giving permission,” he defended. Ginny rolled her eyes.

“Whatever, Ron. Anyway, the point is, she is dreadfully unhappy.”

“Would it help if I hexed Malfoy for her?” Ron asked hopefully.

“Hardly,” Ginny said wryly. “Malfoy is the only thing that could possibly help her, but apparently he’s as dense when it comes to love as you are.” This earned an offended ‘Hey!’ from Ron. Suddenly, Harry seemed to come to a decision.

“Right, then,” he said as he stood up and put on his cloak. Ginny watched him curiously.

“Where are you going?” Harry threw her a charming grin and pulled her up from her seat. She blushed slightly.

“To plant some seeds,” he replied jovially. He glanced at Ron. “You’re going with Ginny.” Ron stood up nervously, a confused expression on his face.

“And where are we going?”

“Just to knock some sense into Hermione. You two are good at that sort of thing.” Harry’s bright emerald eyes twinkled mischievously. “I’m going to deal with Malfoy.”

* * *

Draco took a deep breath and continued walking down the street, glancing at--but barely noticing--the many colorful shops as he passed. He had ditched his Slytherin cronies at Dervish and Banges. As much as talking to Crabbe and Goyle amused him, he needed some time to think. The day after tomorrow was the start of the holidays: December 20^th. Draco smirked. Voldemorte’s demise was almost here, and Draco relished in the burst of anticipation that overcame him. Not that he was particularily happy to die, of course. It was the revenge he was excited about, and the subsequent fame. He’d be more famous than Potter by the time he was through. Okay. So he’d be dead. Even famous people died eventually. He would just be dying a bit earlier.

Draco noticed an attractive young couple walk by hand-in-hand, laughing, and glowered at them. Stupid people, he thought angrily.

“See something interesting, Malfoy?” came a familiar voice from his left. Draco whipped his head over in surprise.

“Potter?! What the hell are you doing here?” he asked, carefully hiding every emotion in his voice but disdain. Truthfully, he was extremely curious. Potter didn’t look particularily pleased with himself, or angry, or, anything, really. So what did he want?

“I need to talk to you about Hermione,” he said bluntly. Draco stopped in his tracks and turned to The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Lead-On-The-Weaslette.

“What about her?” he asked guardedly. Outside, he was cool, calm, and indifferent. Inside, his thoughts were racing. Was she in trouble? What if something bad was going to happen after Christmas and he wouldn’t be there to help her?

“Well, see, that’s the thing,” Harry said, reaching up to scratch his hair in a habitual fashion. Draco curled his lip at the action. How common. “None of us are quite sure what’s wrong with her.”

“And what does that have to do with me?” he sneered. Potter studiously ignored his tone.

“Well, she is going to be practically alone with you over the Holidays, as nearly everyone else is going home, and I was hoping you could try to get it out of her,” he said, looking at Draco hopefully. Draco blinked, then suddenly burst out laughing. Oh, this was just too good. Potter crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him. “What’s so goddamned funny, Malfoy?” he asked angrily. Draco straightened himself up and pointed a finger at him accusingly.

“You are trying to set us up!” he said disbelievingly, starting to laugh again. Draco could hardly believe it. He never thought he’d see the day when Harry Potter tried to set him up with his best friend. Potter’s face flushed, and he smiled embarrassedly.

“Was I that obvious, Malfoy?” he asked good-naturedly. Draco looked at him in surprise.

“Well, yes, Potter. Good God, at least if there were any doubts before that you belong in Gryffindor, they can be laid to rest. No Gryffindor can scheme to save their life. That’s why they resort to heroics.” For some reason, this remark seemed to please Potter.

“Well, okay Malfoy. You caught me. I was telling the truth, though. . .mostly.”

“Oh, you were? Then what tiny bit of it was a lie?” he asked sarcastically. Potter sighed and scratched his head again.

“We do know why she’s miserable.”

“Why?” Draco asked before he could stop himself. Potter looked him in the eyes seriously.

“In a word: You. You have been making her miserable since the beginning of the year, and I refuse to put up with it any longer. I don’t know what you did to accomplish such a feat, but somehow you have made Hermione Athena Granger fall in love with you.”

“Oh, don’t be ridic--”

“Shutup, Malfoy!” Potter snapped, surprising him. “I take the happiness of my friends very seriously, as should be obvious to you by the fact that I resorted to matchmaking with my worst enemy.” Draco rolled his eyes at this.

“And here I thought Voldemort was the enemy,” he said wryly, recalling the last time he said that very same thing to Hermione.

“Well, you’re right, of course,” Harry said tentatively. Draco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Wouldn’t Potter be surprised a week from now! “But as far as Hogwarts goes, you top the list. The point is, I want Hermione happy. You obviously want Hermione. Therefore, you will make Hermione happy,” he finished triumphantly.

“Wow, Potter. You come up with that all on your own?” he drawled, although truthfully he was impressed by Potter’s maturity on the matter. If the planning had been left to Weasley, the tactic would have likely been more along the lines of ‘kill Malfoy’. Kill Malfoy. Draco closed his eyes and shook his head.

“Malfoy?” Potter asked with a surprising amount of concern.

“I’m actually really sorry Potter, but I can’t help you.” Draco turned and began to walk away.

“Wait! Malfoy!” Potter called, jogging to catch up with him. “Why the hell not? For God’s sake, be with her in secret if your reputation is so important to you, but don’t let this opportunity pass you by! No offense or anything, but I doubt you will ever find a woman who genuinely loves you again. And if you do, she won’t be anywhere near as amazing as Hermione.” Draco wasn’t offended by this remark.

It was true.

He stopped and turned to the shaggy-haired boy grimly. “Listen, Potter. I never intended for her to love me, if, in fact, she does. But I could never give her what she needs. She needs somebody like you, or. . .” he curled his lip in disgust, “well, maybe not the Weasel. The point is, she needs someone who isn’t me.” Draco didn’t even bother trying to take the approach that he still hated her. For some reason, he felt no desire to lie to Potter on the matter. And, whatever he did feel for her, he had already determined that it wasn’t hate, or even mild dislike.

“Malfoy, Hermione is the smartest person I know. She obviously sees something in you that is worth taking note of. As much as I dislike you, I trust her judgement. You ought to do the same.” Draco growled frustratedly.

“Potter, if I explain to you all the reasons why this. . .thing can’t happen, will you swear on your honor that you will never repeat what I tell you? Not in any way, shape, or form, to any person or thing, dead or alive?” Potter raised an eyebrow.

“Pretty trusting for a Slytherin. You’d take my word?”

“Of course. You’re a Gryffindor.”

“I swear it.” Draco nodded.

“Good. The reason I can not get any closer to Hermione is quite simple: Malfoys are incapable of love.”

Silence.

Then, “That is the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my entire life, Malfoy.” Draco exhaled loudly.

“Potter, you live in a perfect world where everything is rainbows and sunshine. The fact that we are having this conversation proves it. In the real world, things--”

“Don’t you dare lecture me on the real world, Malfoy. My parents--”

“Died for you. How very sweet and noble. Explain to me how that is not rainbows and sunshine?”

“They’re dead!” he exclaimed incredulously, as if he could not believe he had to explain.

“Yes, they are. And my father is alive. That’s worse.” Harry’s eyes widened in shock. Huh. Maybe Hermione was right. Maybe there was more to Draco Malfoy than met the eye. “There is also the fact that I am a Slytherin bastard, she is a Gryffindor sweetheart. I am a Pureblood, she is a Muggleborn. I am–in all practicality--a Dark Wizard, and she is about the Lightest Witch I have ever met. Oh, and we have never gotten along. Ever. Explain to me again why this would be a good idea?”

“Because you love eachother!!!” Harry yelled frustratedly. The platinum-haired Slytherin sighed.

“Love is a fantasy, Potter,” he said icily, before turning and walking away.

* * *

Hermione couldn’t believe it. Two of her best friends had just tried to convince her that she needed to ‘get it over with and shag Malfoy’. The nerve of them! Giving her advice on her love life! And who said she wanted to shag Malfoy in the first place? Oh, you mean you don’t? a voice from deep in her subconscious whispered. Well, okay, maybe Draco Malfoy gave the most amazing kisses she had ever experienced, but that wasn’t enough reason for her to just run up and shag him! What about the fact that he is all you can think about anymore? You’re in love with him. Well, too bad, Hermione thought bitterly.

Because he doesn’t love me.

* * *

Draco studied the Great Hall intently. It was Christmas Eve, and since only a small amount of people were present at Hogwarts, there was only one large, round table set up for Christmas dinner. His last Christmas dinner. He suddenly felt eyes on him and looked up to meet Dumbledore’s considering gaze. Draco forced himself to smile, and Dumbledore smiled back.

For once, the smile did not reach his eyes.

Draco decided not to dwell on why that might be. Everyone else seemed to be enjoying themselves. Hermione was sitting beside him, but Draco was too focused on tomorrow’s Death Eater gathering to notice the worried side-long glances she was sending him. He had done all the neccessery practice spells outlined in Slytherin’s instructions, and knew that he was prepared to perform Multus Abi. It was just. . .difficult, knowing that this was his last meal. It felt strange, like it wasn’t real. He would never fly his broomstick, go to a party, sit through a lesson, duel, or have sex again. Draco grinned ruefully. Leave it to him to regret his imminent death because he wouldn’t play Quidditch or have sex anymore.

“Excuse me, may I have everyone’s attention?” Dumbledore asked. The table quieted. “Thankyou. First of all, Happy Christmas!” he exclaimed. Most people laughed good-naturedly and responded with their own ‘Happy Christmas!’. “Thankyou, thankyou. Second, I would like to invite everyone here to our Holiday Snowball Fight, that will be taking place tomorrow afternoon!” Hermione turned to Draco.

“You’d better watch out, Malfoy,” she said with a playful gleam in her eye. Draco turned to her with a start, surprised and more pleased than he had a right to be that she was speaking to him. Draco started to smile, then felt the blood drain from his face. Tomorrow afternoon. By then, the deed would be done. He closed his eyes, shutting out the smiling faces around him. I can’t take this anymore. Draco bolted from the table, running up to the common room.

“Hogwarts!” he said desperately to the portrait. The Founders frowned collectively.

“Draco, are you alri--”

“Just open the fucking door!” he snapped. It swung open, and Draco ran into the bathroom and stared in the mirror. There it was, he thought grimly. The one thing about me that people will miss. “Hello reflection, I’ve come to pay my last respects!” he said with a nervous, maniacal laugh. “Get it? You’re what’s really dying! Oh, they’re going to miss you at Witch Weekly, my boy.” Draco continued to chuckle as he slid down to the hard tile floor. He didn’t care if he was about to die, right? Nobody else would. They would just miss his handsome features. And he wouldn’t miss them, that was for sure. Everyone who was supposed to love him was indifferent to him, everyone who ought to be indifferent to him hated him, and. . .and the one girl who should hate him, for some reason loved him. But he was about to die anyway! It really was quite funny.

Really.

It was.

A few moments passed, before Draco heard the portrait swing open, and Hermione’s light steps racing towards him. “Draco?” she asked worriedly as he continued to chuckle. “Draco. . .what’s so funny?” He looked up at her, and his laughter died on his lips. He shook his head.

“Nothing, Hermione. I don’t think you’d get the joke.” She frowned with concern and slid down across from him on the floor.

“Try me,” she said determinedly. Draco studied her angelic, perfect face for one of the last times.

“Life is funny, Hermione. That’s it, really.” He paused while Hermione tried to figure him out. “Have you ever made a really, really, really stupid decision, Hermione?” he asked. “No, I don’t imagine you have, have you?” He held her gaze for a second before closing his eyes and leaning back against the wall.

“Yes, I think I have,” she whispered. Draco’s eyes flew open, and he looked at her in surprise.

“When?” he asked earnestly. Draco scuffled forward so their knees were touching, and took her delicate hands in his. “Hermione, tell me everything there is to know about you. Please? I know I’m a Slytherin, but believe me, I’ve never been more trustworthy than I am right now.” Hermione’s eyes filled with tears for some reason, and she nodded. Then she began to talk. She told him how her parents used to fight, how she used to be bullied, how she always felt like the third wheel with Harry and Ron, and how ever since she could remember her life seemed to be a jumble of mishaps and instabilities. Draco never made a sound the whole time. He just sat there, staring at her as if he never wanted her to leave, never wanted to forget.

When she was done, Hermione felt oddly refreshed, like a load had been lifted. She then focused on Draco. His eyes are such a cloudy grey today, she thought to herself. And he seems so tense. Suddenly, Hermione had an idea. “Draco? Is there anything you want to tell me?” He froze.

“What do you mean?” he asked nervously. She frowned.

“I mean, like I did. You took a life’s worth of burdens off my shoulders, and I feel like I should be doing the same for you.” Draco smiled slightly.

“You could never owe me anything, Hermione.”

“But I want to know,” she insisted. “I want to know everything there is to know about you,” she said pleadingly. She took one of his hands in hers and began tracing lazy designs on his palm with her fingers. She looked up. “Please?”

Draco sighed inwardly. Like he could resist her. And so Draco did the same for her, leaving out the more upsetting details. He told her about his first mirror, and the time his father had caught him playing with a Muggle boy, and how there were certain rules you had to follow to survive as a Malfoy. Like never show your weaknesses; never show emotion. Or even better, just don’t bother feeling anything. He told her how strange it was to enjoy being who you were, and somehow hate it at the same time. How Lucius and Voldemort had put his mother in St.Mungos, then she had died. . .

“She was. . .er. . .” Draco faltered and looked up at Hermione appraisingly. He realized with a start that tears were streaming down her face, and she had her hand over her mouth. Draco cursed himself. “Shit, I’m sorry Hermione,” he whispered as he leaned forward and took her in his arms. “I forget sometimes, you know? I forget that to most people these things sound terrible, but it wasn’t such a bad life, really.” Draco stopped, realizing his slip. Thankfully, Hermione didn’t.

“What was your mother? Don’t stop,” she said, pulling back and tucking a stray piece of his hair behind his ear. “I very much doubt you’ve ever opened up to anybody before.” Draco noticed how enticing her lips looked, and forced himself to turn his head away. What could it matter? he thought. I might as well tell her.

“She was a Seer.” Hermione gasped. “That’s why I was in all that pain that night–Remember? That night you found me in the common room? Her Gift was transferred. It hurt like hell. I hate it, actually. It’s horrible for something they call a Gift.” There was a comfortable silence, while Draco simply held her in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness of her tears on his skin. She was crying for him, he realized. Nobody had ever cried for him before. It was a strange feeling.

Draco was suddenly very aware of just what an intimate position they were in. Somewhere along the line, she had come to be straddling his waist, her long legs locked firmly around him. He could feel her full breasts crushed against his chest, and the way her hot breath caressed the skin of his neck was suddenly driving him wild. He tilted his head, and began planting several slow, tantalizing kisses along the feminine curve of her neck.

Hermione gasped and looked up at him with her chocolate eyes. Draco frowned worriedly. For some reason, if Hermione were to reject him it would be different than with any other girl, and he didn’t think he’d be able to take it. She was the most beautiful woman he’d ever known, and Merlin help him, he cared for her. He had never wanted anyone like he wanted her now. He searched her face, and found that he couldn’t read her. “Hermione?” he asked softly. Instead of answering, she suddenly leaned forward and crushed her lips to his hungrily, like his mouth held the only water in a desert of desire. He moaned and stood up with her still wrapped around him and her hands running through his hair, eagerly complying with her wishes.

Draco brought Hermione to his room, and gently placed her on his bed. They explored eachother in a way that only two people in love could, with equal amounts of passion, lust, and emotion. Then, Draco was poised above her, his eyes asking the question he needed to ask. Hermione nodded, and suddenly there was nothing at all. No Slytherin and Gryffindor, no six years of taunting, no war between Light and Dark. Nothing but the feel of the man she loved on top of her, the shocks of pleasure scorching through her body, and the hope that she would be able to be with him forever.

* * *

A/N: lol! I’m sorry, but sex scenes make me laugh. Especially when the author can’t write worth shit, lol.

Do you hate me? *sigh* I tried with this chapter, I really did, but for some reason all I got out of the deal was way too much fluff, melodramatism, and a cheesy sex scene. So, I desperately need constructive criticism on this chappy, methinks. *cringes with anticipation of flames*.

Okay. Be brutally honest if you must. If enough people tell me that the same thing sucked, I’ll go back and change it.

Oh, btw, I anticipate people asking me why Draco doesn’t simply NOT GO THROUGH WITH IT! The answer is this:

1.) He does want to avenge his mother

2.) Think about it...He has just gone back to Voldemort and said, ‘ta-daa! Here’s your ideal Death Eater!’. Do you really think he’ll easily get out of this one? As if it wasn’t bad enough the FIRST time he ran from Voldie!

3.) I’ll go through his thoughts in the next chappie, ;)

As for the ending...*grins evilly*...you know, at this point I could go either way. I could easily have an extremely dramatic and tragic ending where Draco dies when he has finally found a reason to live. I could, *sighs boredly*, also have Draco live and end up with Hermione.

*more evil grinning* moihahaha! So, VOTE TIME! Yes, that’s right, folks! I am making you vote on this. And while you’re at it, tell me what you really thought of this chapter. Like I said, I’m not too proud to rewrite it if it sucks like a vacuum. Lol.

REVIEW! *begs* PLEASE!!!! (Begging. Yet another example of just how much I let my pride get involved. Lol.)

~May