Destiny Finds a Way

Chapter X - Affairs with the Night

How had it come to this? Hermione asked herself, looking over at the blond wizard who was sleeping on his belly under her favorite lilac-colored sheets. This was not how it was supposed to go. This was not how it was supposed to be. The first time, it was a mistake---a simple lapse in judgment---but now... it was just a filthy sin.

She grabbed her face with her hands in frustration, feeling as though she might be sick at any second. When had she become so fickle? She sighed and sifted through her thoughts. It must have started when she hired the monstrosity who was now all too comfortably sharing her bed, she concluded.

It had all begun innocently enough. Well, maybe innocent wasn't exactly the right word but... it was all pretty harmless if not healthily interesting. She was sitting on her desk, shielded from view by the foot-high stacks of paperwork piled in front of her. It was the day after Gathaka had so inconsiderately left her department hanging in her persuit of... more romantic endeavors.

Hermione was in the middle of an inward panic attack at the thought of all of the rolls of parchment she needed to read through and sign when there was a short rap at her door. She didn't bother to clear out anything so that she might see who it was because she assumed it was a representative from one of the offices dropping off more documents that needed her approval.

She was thoroughly surprised however that this person did not do anything of the sort and instead cleared his throat and said stiffly, "I'm here about the position in the Office of Experimental Curses and Counter Curses?"

Hermione slapped herself on the forehead. She had forgotten she was supposed to see a few applicants today since one of their employees had retired. "Oh, right. Could you pass me your resume then?" Hermione piped from behind her desk, sticking out a hand above the troublesome stacks. A folder was slipped between her fingers and she quickly placed it on her lap.

"I'm sorry about this... things here have become a bit complicated. Please take a seat," Hermione called out warmly as she started grabbing a few piles and placing them on the floor. She heard a scraping as the person took his seat.

When she had shifted enough to have only a few stacks in front of her, Hermione opened the folder on her lap. She felt her heart stop and her jaw fall to the floor as she read the name at the top of the parchment in bold and imposing lettering.

"Malfoy?" Hermione exclaimed incredulously, pushing aside the remaining stacks so she could confirm that she had read the name correctly.

"Granger?" replied the sharp-featured blonde wizard in the same shocked manner as he saw Hermione come into view.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?" they screamed at each other in unison, both getting up from their seats. Hermione slid her hand down her robes, took out her wand and thrust it out just as he did the same.

"Ladies first," Malfoy muttered icily, narrowing his cold grey eyes at her, not budging from his defensive stance.

"If you must know, I'm Junior Head of Department here," Hermione spat at him, gripping her wand tighter in her palm.

But to her surprise, at those words Malfoy lowered his weapon, looking somewhat crestfallen beneath his tart expression. "Oh great. I'll just leave then, shall I?" he said shortly before turning on his heel and walking towards the exit.

All logical reason told Hermione to let him walk out that door. But there was something in that pitiful air hidden away amidst all that arrogance that appealed to her more generous nature. Malfoy too had lost a lot during the Final Battle---both his parents and his reputation---Hermione reminded herself. He was just trying to make his way in the world without them. Though why he'd choose to work at the Ministry... was quite a mystery. Was he trying to make up for past indiscretions? She had to admit she was intrigued.

So as his fingertips made contact with the metal doorknob Hermione sighed and called out, "No, no... please sit down. I'm sorry."

"Well that really just warms my heart but I think I'll leave. I'd rather not have to work with such rubbish," he said with stony sarcasm, turning to face her once more.

"WOULD YOU JUST SIT DOWN?" Hermione yelled out fiercely. The stress from her workload compounded by the frustration from Malfoy's snobbish refusal of her munificence, had just pushed her to her breaking point for the day. Malfoy looked at her, dumbfounded, obviously not used to having this tone taken with him. Hermione flicked her wand and the chair that Malfoy had just left zoomed forward, scooped him up and brought him back to her desk.

"So... why do you need this job?" Hermione asked pleasantly, getting back into her own seat.

Malfoy glowered at her. She could almost see the inner struggle going on inside of him. By the way he was twitching with suppressed rage she could tell that for some reason or another, the rich and powerful Draco Malfoy badly needed a regular nine-to-five but at the same time his larger-than-normal ego was languishing at the chunk of pride he knew he had to give up to ask one of his longtime adversaries for such an opportunity. His eyes darted to the door and back at Hermione, his eyes like daggers.

He let out snarl and said menacingly, "Let's just say that an investment of mine didn't work out as well as I thought it would. Not that you care. I bet you think I got what's coming to me."

Hermione stared at him. She knew that this man, however beautiful was absolutely rotten inside. She had seven years worth of hatred stockpiled just for him. He had gone out of his way to make life miserable for her and her friends; he had been a Death Eater; he had inadvertently caused the deaths of so many she held dear. But then... as he sat there, daring her to confirm his statements... there was something in his eyes that was just so pitiful that Hermione could not bring herself to give him her usual nasty replies.

She cursed herself inwardly. She knew what she was about to make a big mistake but she went ahead and said, "You've got the job."

"I what?" Draco spluttered, looking at her as if he had never seen anything like her before.

"I said you've got the job," Hermione said more firmly, trying her best to remember that pitifulness she had seen in him earlier as Malfoy grew livid with anger.

He stood up, shaking as if Hermione had slapped him hard across the face. He pointed an accusing finger at her and bellowed, "Look, I'm not going to be pitied by some filthy little---"

"You finish that sentence and I will change my mind," Hermione interrupted acidly, now standing up as well.

For a moment Hermione thought he was going to get his wand out and hex her but he merely let out an angry breath and stormed off, slamming the door behind him.

"You're welcome!" Hermione called after him, slightly bemused by his little display. She should've known then that things were about to get very confusing.

After that incident, things were pretty much peaceful. There were nasty glances and annoying smirks exchanged between them if they passed each other in the Ministry but they didn't speak to each other unless it was absolutely necessary. Malfoy's pride obviously resented Hermione's philanthropy but at the same time he was in full recognition that she had, indeed, aided in him in his hour of need. Hermione didn't really mind the suppressed animosity at all. It was like being in Hogwarts again except with the option of a mute button. But unfortunately, this kind of peace did not last for long.

Malfoy was used to having the power of an irrepressible force. He was used to intimidating people into becoming his faithful lackeys. He was used to getting special treatment. He was used to not actually being expected to work. And all of this was unflinchingly denied him at the Ministry.

Nobody cared if his great grandfather was this or his great aunt did that. All they saw was a cocky, spoiled Death Eater's son who didn't have the skill to live up to his family's old glory. The witches and wizards of the Department gave him the courtesy of civility but did not extend to him the mindless adoration he was counting on.

Needless to say, the professionalism of his new workplace left him quite bored. He had no outlet for his more aggressive tendencies. And so, in obvious desperation, he decided to go back to tormenting the only person with which he had the comfort of familiarity. This was, of course, Hermione. And late one afternoon, he finally got his chance to have a little bit of fun.

Hermione was busy trying to concoct a longer-lasting Polyjuice Potion in one of the testing rooms when Malfoy just happened to pass by. He stopped in front of the room's glass panel and watched her struggling with her work. His old snicker crept back hungrily to his lips as the prospect of fresh banter lay so transparently at hand. He sidestepped so that he could face the door and he tapped its handle eagerly with his wand. A bright violet bubble appeared hovering at his eye level.

"State your name and business," Hermione muttered distractedly, her voice emanating from the orb. Draco glanced inside the room and saw she was busy measuring out some funny-looking liquids into glass vials.

"It's Malfoy. Let me in," he said demandingly at the bubble.

"You have no business here," Hermione coughed as a large puff of blue smoke erupted from the cauldron that she had just emptied her vials into.

"I know but I really need to talk to you about that Mirror Curse. Mitchell's got the reticulation all wrong and won't listen to me," he lied convincingly, rubbing his palms together in excitement.

"Argh, fine... you have ten minutes," Hermione said resignedly. At these words, the purple sphere popped and the white door swung open to admit him.

"Go on, I'm listening," said Hermione without looking at him as she stirred the nastily brown potion burbling atop green wood-less flames.

"Okay. I lied but---"

"OUT!" Hermione bellowed, pointing an angry finger at the door yet still not ripping her gaze from her work.

"You can't make me," Draco hissed scathingly, making sure his wand was at the ready and that his feet were firmly planted on the ground.

Hermione looked over at him for the first time that day. He looked a bit haggard with his white-blonde hair rumpled messily and his eyes popping. Was it really that boring for him in here? She asked herself. She still didn't like him or anything but she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. He had no friends and he had been thrust into a life he was not prepared for. Everyone needs at least one person to be on their side. So again defying her better sense, she tutted under her breathe then sighed, "Fine. Stay. But be quiet."

She waved her wand lazily and a white sofa materialized behind Draco then went back to her duties. He sank into the soft couch breathing in deeply and happily, as if something were finally going his way.

The first few minutes passed by uneventfully. He surprisingly kept his word by being silent while she worked. At first, he contented himself with looking all around the small room he had now successfully infiltrated. It was the first time he was allowed to enter one of them. As a rookie, all anyone had him doing was research. So he was very much delighted to see where the actual experimentation was being done.

All the walls, the floor and the ceiling were painted white, like every other room in their dreary department and a rectangular table was set in the middle. Hermione had placed all her ingredients on the shelves build into the white counter. Scrolls, pieces of parchment and a number of books were placed on the far right of the same workspace, a good distance away from the cauldron she had boiling atop a wood-less green fire.

Having thus accomplished his visual tour, he tried entertaining himself by conjuring a bunch of miniature toy soldiers who began violently attacking one another. But that was soon put to an end when Hermione accidentally stepped on one of them, causing mass outrage in the little figures and they all started assailing her instead. Draco then tried tracing words in the air with a dark green smoke-like substance coming from his wand. He drew things like "Hairy Potter" and "Her-heinie Granger", chuckling as he did so. But this attempt was also quashed once Hermione turned around and actually read what he was writing.

So now, there he was twirling his wand in his fingers, his eyes resting on the only other figure moving in the room. She could feel his gaze drinking in her form and it made her feel uneasy. Although she would never admit it out loud, she had always quietly thought that it was a shame that Draco was such an evil git because had grown into quite the handsome fellow.

"So... you have to tell me what you've done to your hair, Granger. You look almost human," he drawled, breaking the silence between them and successfully making all the appraising thoughts Hermione just had about him quickly disappear.

"Oh real witty, Malfoy. But didn't I say be quiet?" She rolled her eyes behind her protective goggles before picking up a book from her stack of sources.

"That's it? That is really weak, Granger---and sad. Has shagging The Weasel melted your brain matter?" He sat up, devilish delight apparent in his voice.

"No, I just don't think you're worth it. Besides, Ron and I broke up. Are you done talking now?" Hermione snapped at him, tearing herself away from the tome she was consulting to throw him a look of contempt.

"Really? So you must be shagging Potty then!" Malfoy pressed on as if he had not heard her last few words. He had left his seat and was now standing right beside Hermione, invading her personal space. The smirk he was wearing was now so inescapably bothersome that Hermione had half a mind to take her knife and slice it off his face.

"Screw you, Malfoy," she fired back at him but at the same time trying valiantly to keep her concentration on the potion she was modifying.

But as soon as she released these words, Malfoy let out a malicious laugh, put an arm around her and whispered into her ear, "Now there's an idea. You know, a few years ago that'd be repulsive but now... I think I can ignore that you're a filthy little Mudblood."

"You're sick," Hermione exclaimed in disgust, pushing him forcefully away from her.

"Maybe. But admit it... it is Potty, isn't it?" Malfoy sneered once he had composed himself.

"No," Hermione said firmly as she began stirring the potion once again (perhaps with more vigor than was necessary). But as she counted the number of clockwise stirs she was making, her thoughts couldn't help but stray to how much she didn't want the kiss she shared with Harry at the ice cream parlor yesterday to come to an end.

"Do I detect a hint of bitterness there?" needled Malfoy, his eyes dancing in their evil little sockets.

"Would you shut up?" she spat at him, a vein throbbing furiously in her temple. How dare he? After all that she had done for him, the ungrateful son of a gun! How could she have ever thought him worthy of kindness?

"I do say I've hit a nerve!" he cried in triumph, walking around to the other side of the table so that he now stood exactly opposite her. The thick potion started burbling violently and began emitting black steam.

"If you open your mouth one more time I swear I will fire you and ask security to kick you off the premises!" Hermione threatened though she could tell it was an empty one. For some reason, she didn't really want to do anything of the sort.

"Oh come on! Give me a break. All the blokes in this place are right stiffs."

"And that's my problem, is it? Get a life, Malfoy!"

"I won't have one if I go insane here!"

"Then shut up!"

Malfoy looked at her for a moment, his lips pursed in consideration. Hermione almost thought that he was finally give her some peace and quiet when he opened his mouth and asked mockingly, "Let me guess... he isn't shagging you but you so want him to?"

"Unbelievable! You know, however hard it is to wrap your puny little mind around it; not everything is about sex!" growled Hermione, finally forgetting all about the potion stewing obliviously in front of her.

In one swift movement, Malfoy grabbed her by the chin pulling her face so close to his that there was barely an inch between them, "Of course it is, love. And there is no one who needs it more than your uptight, muggle-born ass. You just call me when you've realized that the eunuch can't do for you."

"Pansy is just so lucky to have someone like you, isn't she?" Hermione exclaimed, pushing him away again before he could do anything else.

"What Pansy doesn't know, won't hurt her," Malfoy cackled at the distress that was all too obviously splashed all over Hermione's face.

This was the last straw. Did he actually have the gall to think he might have a chance with her? Hermione took out her wand and pointed it threateningly at him. "GET OUT! GET OUT OF HERE, YOU PIG!" she shrieked at him, shaking with rage.

Malfoy raised an eyebrow at her, still smiling smugly at her, bowed and left the room.

Now that she thought back on it, she knew exactly why she hadn't thrown him out sooner than she did. She was just afraid of what it meant. She still thought Malfoy was absolutely appalling but she couldn't help but feel relieved that she now had an outlet for all her frustrations. Through all his mockery, Malfoy trivialized her problems... sometimes making them even laughable.

And Malfoy needed someone to torment so that he could still feel the sense of superiority he had been brought up to have. He also needed something to keep him from getting swallowed up by monotony.

So without any of them admitting to it, a strange sort of friendship had grown between them. They weren't going to run to each other, hoping for a shoulder to cry on or anything. It wasn't that kind of relationship. They would still have to watch out in case one of them thought of putting a knife through the other's back. But on the other hand, they both had someone to talk to, someone to pay attention to and someone that paid attention to them. And that was all both of them really needed.

"I still can't believe they let that retard on their team. Standards must really be slipping," Malfoy sneered, reading the sports page from behind Hermione's shoulder. Puddlemere United Flattens The Tornadoes 270 to 0! written in big, flashing, bold letters winked up at them from the top of the page.

"And I still can't believe I hired you so... if you don't shut up, I may have to enforce those standards," she retaliated, rolling up her copy of the Daily Prophet and smacking Malfoy on the arm with it.

"You're devotion to that scar-head is pathetic. Don't you get it? He doesn't want you. He wants that tasty little Spanish dish," he teased her, allowing himself to sink deeper onto the coach they were seated in and then proceeded to plop his legs on the coffee table in front of them. Hermione had decided to take a break and stay at the employee's lounge and of course he had tagged along to bother her.

"I said shut up!"

"Really Granger, now that you and I are so close, I feel like it's my duty to be honest with you," he said condescendingly as he patted her on the head mockingly.

"Eurgh," she groaned, sticking her tongue out in disgust and moving her head away from Malfoy's hand.

"Why do you even care about him, really? I always thought he was kind of boring. And together with you? Well... let's just say you'll have no trouble putting the kiddies to beddy-bye," he said, breaking out in derisive laughter.

"I don't expect you to understand it," she said frigidly, rolling her eyes at him.

"Come on, now. I really want to hear this," Draco grinned, batting his eyelashes at her ridiculously.

Hermione looked at him, wondering how exactly to put her emotions into words. A lot of the time she didn't understand them either. She took a deep breath, collected and organized her thoughts then said to him quite seriously, "You think it's always about being entertained. Everything is fine as long as you're amused. But it's not always fun and games. The doldrums come... and sometimes you have nothing left to say. And then you need someone who can sit there in silence with you. Who'll just hold you close and make you feel that that's okay and everything else will be okay as well. And Harry... Harry is that person for me. I don't know why I didn't see it before but I suppose he always has. And I'm that person for him---he just hasn't realized it yet."

Harry was the one. Whenever she was lost, he would find her. Whenever she was abandoned, he would take her. Whenever she was knocked down, he would raise her up. Whenever she was in danger, he would rescue her. Ever since that day in first year, he had never stopped saving her. And she knew that she did the same for him.

They needed each other. They were equals, cut from the same cloth. They were soul mates in every sense of the concept. They had an incontestable bond that would never allow them to feel as truly safe or loved as they did in each other's arms.

Hermione shivered at the confidence with which she thought all these things. But that day Ron had left her, telling her he was sorry that he couldn't be Harry for her... this epiphany had struck her like a lightning bolt. All this time that she thought she had found everything she was looking for, she had missed the most important one of all: true love.

"Like I said: pathetic," Malfoy sighed, cutting into Hermione's thoughts.

"Jerk!" snapped at him.

"Bitch," he spat back.

So that was how it went for Hermione at work. She'd come in, do all she was supposed to but during her breaks, she had come to expect Malfoy's mocking presence. He would boast about all his little conquests. How he had perfected so-and-so number of curses this week, how he had picked up this witch in this pub, or how he was slowly recovering his lost fortune. She would give him cheek and roll her eyes at him and he would flare up and hurl invectives at her and say something like, "Well, if your life's so exciting, how's it going then?" She would reply but would never really tell him much about what she was up to. But then, he always managed to guess the gist of it anyway. Then the rest of their time together was spent in spiteful banter.

The more Hermione thought about it, the more she realized it probably wasn't fair that she put all the blame for the state she was in now on Malfoy. All things considered, he was just being himself. If that was more underhanded and despicable than the normal human being... well, that's just how it was. There's only so much a person could change about themselves. She was the one who had allowed him access to her in the first place. She was the one who had slowly let him in.

They had drawn their lines well and she had always thought they were both satisfied with them. But as she invested more and more of her feelings into Harry, only for them to be ignored time and time again... things got a bit complicated. And as she remembered just exactly how that came about, she couldn't help but swear and give herself a slap on the forehead.

It was the day that she had seen Harry kissing Liz in his sitting room. She almost fell over backwards in shock. She was so floored that she could hardly even remember shutting his door and apparating out of there. All she could think of was how much she just wanted to be anywhere but where she was now and how she hoped for the best the she wouldn't splinch herself in the process.

Luckily her subconscious had enough determination, deliberation and destination for the rest of her because a few seconds later she was standing on a familiar high street, blinking up at a wooden sign with a hog's head on it. Vaguely realizing where she was, she stumbled into the pub that the sign belonged to and managed to seat herself on a stool in front of the bar.

"A shot of Firewhisky---and keep them coming," Hermione mumbled at the fierce-looking barman who grunted at her before shuffling away to prepare her order. He was back within seconds pushing a small glass of steaming bronze liquid toward her.

It felt like molten lava going down her throat at first. She had never taken the stuff in her life and she didn't quite know how to handle the burning sensation she was now feeling. She let out a breath and felt the burn transform into a comforting warmth. Not even butterbeer made her feel as good. She slammed the shot glass onto the bar table, signaling for a refill.

And as she waited for her shot, she couldn't help but ponder about how sorry state was. She was hurt and quite a good deal angry at what had happened. She had done everything in her power to get Harry to see that she was the one for him but here she was, drinking her sorrows away, as invisible to him as ever. He'd rather snog someone who had repeatedly flushed his trust down the toilet than snog her. How pathetic was that on both their parts?

She downed another shot. Well, if he wanted to be stupid, then that was his business. One day, he'll wake up and realize that it was her all along but then it'd be too late. She'd have moved on and married a handsome, intelligent young wizard who thought the world of her and treated her the way she deserved to be. And Harry will live a life of eternal regret, wishing he had done things differently with her.

She was feeling much better already. Lighter, almost as if she were floating. She smiled, swallowing another helping. Who did he think he was anyway? It wasn't as if he were that handsome, that smart, that funny, or that nice anyway. And he smelled funny after his stupid little Quidditch practices.

She giggled to herself, as a fourth shot made its way down her throat. The noise inside the bar had turned into an incomprehensible buzzing inside her head. Now that she thought about it, everything was almost a bit comical. Everyone used to tease her about Harry... and for years she denied it. And now that there was no one teasing her, she realizes she likes him after all. Only problem was, it was only she who had a change of heart on the matter. It was all so stupid.

She guffawed so loudly at her own thoughts that half the people in the pub turned to look in her direction. But she didn't care. In fact, she didn't care about anything at all. She couldn't feel the pain anymore. Actually, she couldn't feel much of anything. She liked this feeling.

She raised her fifth shot glass at the bar man before draining it. Such a nice man, he was. Ugly man... but a nice man. She heard a creaking in the distance. Someone had just walked into the pub. Now this was a nice looking man, she thought, though her vision was blurring a bit. He was tall, with a perfectly shaped form, a neat pile of white blonde hair on his head and... he was sitting beside her. She narrowed her eyes at him. Actually, he looked kind of familiar.

"You! You... why are you here?" she spluttered, pointing a shaking finger at him as her brain finally registered it was Draco Malfoy. She knew she was supposed to be alarmed at his presence but she had quite forgotten why.

"Granger? I should be asking you the same question!" he replied indignantly, turning to look at her. Why was he so angry? It was a simple question. He should have some whisky too... then they could both be warm and fuzzy.

"I asked first! Oh, thank you, Mr. Head's Hog---I mean, Hog's Head." She grinned widely at the bar man who had placed another shot in her eager hands. She drank it at once, and felt the now familiar burning down her throat then the placating warmth that came after. He really was such a nice man.

"I was researching at the Hogwarts'---Granger, are you drunk?" Mafloy exclaimed in astonishment, leaning closer to her.

"No... no... I'm fine... and you have pretty hair," she giggled, reaching out and began stroking Malfoy's hair. She had always thought it looked so soft and shiny, she wondered why she hadn't done this before.

"Oh my God, you are drunk. Hold on while I take a mental picture of this." He laughed, leaning out of Hermione's grasping range while closing his eyes and trying to perfectly remember what he was seeing in front of him.

"Picture? Oh, I saw a nice picture just a while ago," she blurted out, as another shot glass was pressed into her hands. She really did see a nice picture... Harry was being so sweet to that girl a while ago... they were both so pretty, weren't they?

"Okay... no more happy juice for you," said Malfoy, stopping her hand before it tipped the liquid into her mouth. He gently pried it out of her grasp and handed it back to the bar man together with Hermione's balance.

"You know, you're not as bad as I thought." Hermione hiccupped, vaguely remembering that the nice-looking man who had just paid for her drinks was somehow supposed to be evil.

"I appreciate that, now come on," Malfoy said, standing up and placing Hermione's right arm around his shoulders and helping her stand up and walk. This feels nice, she thought happily.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" she asked him, still sober enough to know this wasn't something her companion usually did for anyone, much less her.

"Because you're drunk and I'm horny," smirked Malfoy as they stepped back out into the high street.

"What?" Hermione cried out, a strange jolt of sobriety coursing through her.

"Because you're drunk and you're my boss," Malfoy corrected himself, taking out his wand in preparation to apparate.

"Too bad. I liked the other reason better." Hermione didn't know if it was what happened with Harry, the alcohol or just the fact that Malfoy seemed extremely delectable tonight that made her say all that but right now it seemed to make perfect sense. Whatever rationale was governing her now, she gave into it. Throwing all caution to the winds, she placed her arms around Malfoy and kissed him. Surprisingly enough though, he willingly kissed back.

"Your place or mine?" he asked her as they both broke away for air.

"Mine," she breathed before forcefully pressing her lips onto his once more.

When the passion had fizzled out, Hermione and Malfoy were sitting up in bed with as much distance between as the mattress permitted. The tipsiness that hung over Hermione just moments before had almost completely disappeared. All that was left was the slight warmth and the buzzing.

She wished it hadn't disappeared though because now her mind was sober enough to understand what had just transpired between Malfoy and her. She clutched at the sheets, trying to cover as much of herself up as possible as regret began clawing at her insides like a blood-hungry beast. She wondered if she was about to be very, very sick.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was peacefully drumming his hands on his lap as he looked up at the ceiling. A tiny smirk was peaking out from the corner of his mouth saying all too plainly that he was quite delighted at this stroke of luck.

She cursed him under her breath. Here she was, silently imploding while he gloated over his performance! This had to be some kind of a mistake... a nightmare of some sort. She snuck a peak at herself under the sheets, just to make sure this was all actually happening.

"You know, no matter how many times you look under there, you're still going to be naked," Malfoy snickered.

Hermione threw him the nastiest look she could pull at that moment but it only made him laugh even harder. "You shouldn't be so jumped up. I always knew you wanted me. And really, you've got to admit, Granger... that was something else. Didn't know you had it in you!" said Malfoy, clapping Hermione on the shoulder.

"I was drunk, you moron!" she lashed out at him in frustration.

"You were sober enough just a moment ago," Malfoy replied, a smug smile dancing across his perfect pink lips.

"Shut up! This means nothing, you understand me? We are not a couple and we are not friends," said Hermione, careful to pronounce every syllable with utmost clarity.

"Who said we were?" Draco laughed.

"And not a word about this to anyone," Hermione said threateningly, looking at him with her eyes narrowed.

At this, Draco leaned over to her. She thought he was going to kiss her but he only smirked and said, "Like I'd really want to broadcast that I'm actually cavorting with someone like you."

Normally, Hermione would have hit him for a comment like that. But right now, she felt relieved at the sound of it. This meant that this little escapade could stay hidden at the back for their minds for all eternity and that Draco did not expect anything else of her. It was just what it was. No love, no strings attached.

"Good," she said simply.

"Good," he sighed, sinking back onto the bed with his head resting on the palms of his hands.

Was he about to sleep? Hermione asked herself nervously. He was an idiot but she didn't want him to leave her alone with her thoughts just yet. There was retribution to be had there.

"Want to do it again?" Draco raised an eyebrow at her. Apparently, this was his answer to the uneasiness that etched itself on Hermione's face. Wonderful... just wonderful, Hermione thought helplessly.

"I hate you," she muttered darkly, reaching for her pillow and smacking him hard across the face with it. Malfoy merely laughed.

She had promised herself then that it wasn't going to happen again. It was a mistake she had made because she had wanted to feel something other than the pain and disappointment from watching Harry snog another woman. It was a mistake she had made because she had somehow wanted to get back at Harry... and who else would get to him more than his arch nemesis, Draco Malfoy? It was a mistake she made because she was drunk and Malfoy, however loathsome he really was, had managed to come off as sweet and dashingly handsome that night when she had desperately needed to be with someone who wanted her... no matter how shallow their reasons were for wanting her.

It was an honest, perfectly understandable mistake that she would never let herself make again. And surprisingly enough that didn't seem as hard an endeavor as she thought it would be.

Although Malfoy had kept his word and did not "broadcast" their little affair, he found other ways to infuriate her. There were the sexual innuendos and the smug suggestions he let slip every now and then, the roguish winks and pucker up faces he made at her when they passed each other in the hallways, and the overall annoyingly more confident air that he had adopted that implied that she would somehow be crawling back to him for more.

Although Hermione had never explained what her motives were for coming on to him that night, she knew that he understood that she had only used him to numb some deep-seated pain. But he simply chose to act as though it was he who had had done any using, preferring to concentrate on the fact that he had successfully taken advantage of her.

He did become more bearable as the days went by (as he probably found some other witch to cheat on Pansy with) but it only intensified Hermione's resolve not to do anything to restore his more-aggravating-than usual cocky swagger. If only things were that easy when it came to Harry.

She knew that this was not a competition or a game. It wasn't a question of whether she won, lost or had the best marks or not. She was in love with Harry and she was in it for the long haul... but that's exactly what made things more difficult. There was no formula, no blueprint, no master plan on how to get your best friend for nine years to see you as more than that. All she could do was open up to him, help him do the same and hope with all her might that he'd realize just exactly how much they completed each other.

It was kind of like hitting two birds with one stone. She genuinely did want to help him with his closure issues. She would've done it earlier if things had been less hectic with both of them devoting so much time to building their careers. But the fact that she knew she was the only one who could really reach him now conveniently worked in her favor for other, more romantic purposes as well.

It took a lot of time and effort on her part but there were moments that came along that made it all worth it, strengthening her hopes and renewing her vigor. Sometimes she could almost swear that he would look at her in the same way she looked at him---as if the other was the only person in the room and that was okay. Sometimes she would feel it in the tingle in his touch or the way he fumbled with his words... that maybe---just maybe---he was falling in love with her too.

But all those fuzzy feelings soon dissipated after she took him to the Ministry of Magic. After bearing their souls, clutching each other in a tight embrace and almost-kissing, suddenly Harry was pulling away, saying it was late and they should be getting back. But the worst of it was that before they parted ways, Harry had turned to her and said, "You're a great friend, Hermione."

He could have used the Cruciatus Curse on her and it would probably be less painful than hearing those words again. This was the last straw. It had taken every ounce of her willpower to put herself forward again and push aside all of the hurt and dejection she had felt when she walked in on Harry and Liz kissing. She wouldn't and couldn't do that again.

Maybe she was wrong about Harry after all and maybe... Malfoy was right. Harry didn't want her. How many times did he have to pick Liz over her before she got that through her head? She had been so stupid. How could she have ever thought they were soul mates or anything close to that notion? If they were meant to be together, they would be by now. It wouldn't be so easy for him to dismiss her. And as she thought all of this, she felt all the confidence she had ever nursed for their love being eaten away by doubt and defeat. It was over. This was the last time she was chasing after him.

On the bright side, it all hadn't gone to waste. Harry was now truly moving on with his life. Maybe this was a sign for her to do the same. She thought of Malfoy. She didn't have to think when she was with him. He would take her, no questions asked. It was a free screw for him and she needed someone to kiss away the pain. True, it wasn't the fulfilling relationship she should be looking for but for the meantime, it was as good as she was going to get.

And that was how she ended up where she was now: on a bed next to the one person she swore she would never touch again. It was actually all her bloody fault. She was the one who hired Draco. She was the one who had blindly invested her feelings in Harry. She was the one who let everything out of control.

As she reached this conclusion, she threw the sheets draped around her body aside and walked to her shower. She felt dirty and repulsive but most of all ashamed. What had happened to her? She was Hermione Granger for crying out loud! She had always been the logical one and yet she had really messed things up for herself this time... and all for something she thought was true love.

She fumbled with the knobs but managed to turn them just right so as the temperature of the water that splashed down on her was pleasantly warm. A nice, warm shower had always calmed her nerves. She would imagine that all her negative feelings would be washed away with the grime.

"Oi! You want some company in there?" Draco called, the sound of the running water waking him from his slumber.

"No... no it's fine, Draco. Go back to bed," Hermione replied, trying to hold back the tears forming in her eyes.

"Is that a Mudblood thing? Hot one moment and cold the next? Ah, nevermind. Don't bother answering. You're just a shag, after all," he muttered tartly. She heard a rustling and guessed that Malfoy had gotten out of bed and was now getting dressed.

She waited until she heard the distinctive whooshing sound from her grate before sliding down her bathroom wall and breaking down, her tears mixing in with the shower water.