ACA: Chapters 15, 16, 17

Chapter 15

“I have found the paradox, that if you love until it hurts, there can be no more hurt, only more love.”

~ Mother Teresa

Hermione knew all happiness is short-lived. The moment she awoke from her blissful nap and became aware of the warm body lying peacefully next to her, unexplainable guilt filled her. He had slid next to her in his sleep. Their legs were tangled together and his arm was thrown carelessly across her waist. Her own fingers clutched his shirtfront, as though even in sleep she couldn’t bear for him to pull away.

Hermione closed her eyes briefly before staring at his slack features. She knew what she was feeling for him was more than friendship. How or why, she didn’t know. Only one thing made sense to her: that she wanted to be by him-wanted him to need her and seek comfort in her. But she wondered if he felt the same way.

She had confessed to him, but he hadn’t done the same. True, he had kissed her first, but…what had he meant by it? And, if he did like her, how would she break it to the others? How would she break it to Ron?

Her heart sank at the thought of her best friend. Whether he had realized it or not, she knew Ronald Weasley liked her-perhaps had liked her since their third year. But he treated her no different than as a friend, and Hermione was getting confused. What she used to feel for him, was fading now that she had Draco. She couldn’t look at Ron the same way.

Was what she felt for Ron a mere infatuation-or was that the case with Draco? She sighed and glanced at the sleeping boy beside her again. How long is he planning to sleep? she wondered. Cautiously, so as not to wake him, she took his slender arm from around her waist and slipped her fingers around his. Her hand seemed so small compared to his long one. His fingers were thin and reed-like-like a pianists’. She traced his shell pink finger nails-trimmed and polished, resembling the little aristocrat that he was.

She held up her own small hand next to his. It looked delicate, but there was nothing of the aristocrat in her coarse palm and thin, but knobby fingers. Smiling unconsciously, she twirled her fingers about his again and felt his fingers twitch. He stirred, eyebrows scrunching in some invisible annoyance as he dragged her arm toward his chest before lying still again. Hermione turned on her side and leaned over him.

“Draco?” she whispered, her warm breath ghosting over his cheek. His eyebrows rose, letting her know he heard her, but he didn’t bother to open his eyes.

“Draco, wake up,” Hermione prodded, shaking his arm.

“Hn…” came his reply and he slowly blinked his eyes open. For a moment, he simply lay staring at her, admiring the way the evening light created a halo around her brown curls, before she shook him from his thoughts with a light prod to his shoulder.

“How long do you plan to sleep? It’s almost six,” she smiled.

He mirrored her smile and yawned. “That’s the best I’ve slept in ages,” he admitted flexing his fingers twined around her’s. She watched as he turned her hand to trace patterns down her wrist with feathery touches.

His eyes met hers and read the questions swimming in her eyes. “What?” he innocently asked and she bit her lip, looking all the more nervous.

“Draco,” she began, “About-about what happened-“                                 s

“What about it?” his fingers stilled, but he still held her hand.

She shrugged, “I was just-I don’t know….never mind.”

She turned away, feeling stupid. Why couldn’t she just ask him?

Draco stared at her downcast eyes. “Did you mean it?”  he asked, and she looked up.

For a minute, they only stared, before Hermione slowly nodded. Of course she meant it. She would never lie about something like this.

“But…why me?” he asked, still holding her in his level gaze. He saw how uncomfortable she was, but he had to know. If she was merely toying with him, he didn’t think he could stand the hurt.

“I don’t know,” she quietly replied and he read the honesty in her chocolate eyes. “I thought-for the longest time that I liked Ron, but…I don’t know. Seeing you like that yesterday, I just-Some part of me just couldn’t hold back. I know I like you, Draco, but do you…feel the same?”

He cocked his head, his blonde hair ruffling beneath him. So that was what it was about, was it? He pushed himself up and held her firmly by her wrist. She looked at him anxiously as he leaned forward until their lips just barely brushed.

“I’ve never kissed anyone,” he whispered, his breath warm on her moist lips. “You’re the first girl who’s made me feel this way.”

He waited for his confession to sink in and sighed inwardly in relief when a shy smile crossed her lips.  She played absently with his collar, her cheeks a faint pink.

“Draco Malfoy…who would have thought?” she murmured, and when she looked up, her eyes were laughing.

**

“Hermione, where were you?” Harry asked, a bit annoyed as she joined them for dinner. “You know we were going to come to the library looking for you?”

“Why?” she countered, pouring herself a glass of pumpkin juice.

“Because we thought you were lost in those tomes again, that’s why,” Ron replied through a mouth full of potatoes. “And we’re going to see Hagrid after, remember?”

She did remember. They had agreed for a cup of tea with him-before curfew of course. Fang wasn’t doing so well and they thought of cheering him up a bit with their lively chatter.

Hermione glanced at the Slytherine table, searching for the Head Boy. He was sitting in his usual spot and was slowly eating an apple, his eyes on his food. Blaise Zabini was talking animatedly next to him-no doubt trying and failing miserably to engage him in conversation. The rest of the Slytherins either ignored them, or spared them a frown.

Things still weren’t looking good for Draco in his House and Hermione feared that if this kept up, Zabini would leave his side again-not that he was of much help to the blonde, but still…Hermione felt comforted knowing there was someone who would stand by Draco if he needed him.

“Hey, Hermione-“

“Huh?” she quickly dropped her gaze and saw Harry give her a quizzical look. He glanced at the blonde over his shoulder before finishing what he had been saying. “I was just wondering, how things are going in the dorm. I mean, he hasn’t bothered you has he?”

And she knew he was tactfully asking after Draco’s health. “No-not really,” she replied, feeling guilty for hiding things from them, but knowing that Draco’s illness was not her secret to tell.

“Oh, they figured out what was wrong then?”

“You could say that,” she cautiously replied.

“Well, that’s good,” and Harry looked genuinely relieved.

 Hermione gave him a smile of her own, feeling doubly guilty for hiding things. She knew that, as unreasonable as it may sound, Harry would understand. Sure, he might be angry at first, but he would eventually come around. He really did have a golden heart, and Hermione loathed herself for taking advantage of his naïve nature.

She glanced at Ron, watching him argue with Ginny over the upcoming Quidditch turnout. He looked so carefree…Sighing, she turned back to her food and forced herself to eat. It wouldn’t do to be depressed over nothing. As long as Ron kept his feelings to himself, Hermione could pretend that they were simply friends. As long as he didn’t confess, she could keep Draco a secret. She didn’t want to keep Draco hidden-he didn’t deserve that, but what choice did she have?

Hermione didn’t like it when anyone was angry at her and so, if it meant she could earn their peace for time, then she would lie-just for a time. It wasn’t the first time she had kept things from them after all, and it wasn’t likely to be the last.

**

She’s down, Draco noted as he casually glanced at Hermione from his spot in the back of the classroom. It was second period Arthimancy on a Thursday afternoon and Draco’s head was buzzing.

His concentration had, unsurprisingly, wavered the past fifteen minutes and, with class almost over, he allowed his eyes to rest on his sole distraction. She of course, was too engrossed in the lesson to feel his searching gaze. Sitting in the row below some seats down, she was bent over her desk, furiously taking notes.

Draco wondered why she even bothered. She knew the lesson by heart better than Vector could explain. He shook his head, amused, and dropped his eyes to his own half-finished notes. Sighing, he flexed his sore elbow before picking up his quill.

Ten more minutes, he reminded, Just ten more minutes till break…

**

Hermione scrabbled to gather up her things. Her quill suddenly rolled off the desk and spattered ink all over skirt. Cursing silently under her breath, she stuffed it back in her bag before following the crowd into the hallway. She meandered through the wave of students and took the changing staircase to the fifth floor where the portrait of Belladonna greeted her.

“Pink Pygmies,” she panted.

“Right you are, dear!” Belladonna hummed in her sing-song voice as she swung open.

Hermione clambered through, a bit out of breath from rushing.

“Took you long enough,” Draco greeted from where he sat on the sofa, reading a text book.

Hermione gave him a sheepish smile and dropped her things on the floor before joining him.

“Transfigurations?” she asked, pointing at his book.

“Hmm...” and he snapped it shut, casting it aside even as they both leaned towards each other as though drawn by a magnetic pull.

Hermione sighed when Draco’s lips closed over her’s. She snaked her arms about his neck, letting her fingers rake through his satin hair. Eyes closed, she savored him. It had been three weeks since they started going out and Hermione still couldn’t get over his soft, almost sensual kisses.

“It’s a Hogsmead weekend,” she said as he nibbled her bottom lip.

“Mm…So?”

Hermione pushed gently against his chest as she titled her lips out of his reach. Unperturbed, Draco simply ducked his head to tease the soft flesh of her neck.

Hermione stifled a giggle as she replied, “So…I was wondering whether you’d want to go together.”

He paused and looked at her levelly with his grey eyes.  “Together?”

“Yeah, I mean, you haven’t been out much and you haven’t visited Hogsmead at all this year. It’ll be fun to go, won’t it?”

A slow smirk lighted Draco’s lips. “Are you asking me out on a date Granger?”

Hermione blushed, but refused to back down. “It’s perfectly normal to go on dates with your boyfriend.”

“My, my Granger, someone’s grown a backbone over the week,” his tone was mocking, but his eyes laughed quietly.

Used to his sarcasm, Hermione simply grabbed his collar and pulled him down for a deep, satiating kiss.

**

The coming Sunday brought wind and a slight drizzle.

“Perfect day for going out,” Draco grumbled as he pulled on his coat.

“Oh, well it’s September,” Hermione remarked, “It’s only going to get colder.” And she pulled on a coat over her sweater, stowing her gloves in her pocket as she reached for her scarf.

Draco watched her bundle up, wishing he could take her in his arms right now and squeeze the daylights out of her petite self. She looked so warm and…squeezable.

“You look like a colorful marshmallow,” he noted as she pulled on her gloves, “A very edible colorful marshmallow. I could eat you right now-“

“Yes, how flattering,” she retorted, acting annoyed to counter the rising blush on her cheeks. “And you look like a twig. You’re going to freeze in that thin coat, Draco.”

He frowned. “No I won’t. I like the cold-“

“Say that when you’re sick in bed with the flu,” and over his protests, Hermione wound her spare scarf around his neck and made him wear her blue, woolen hat.

“I’m not wearing this!” he cried, reaching up to yank the hat off only to have it jammed upon his head further. “It’s a girls’ hat, Hermione! I can’t possibly wear it!”

“Oh, but you look so cute in it, Draco,” she cooed, patting his blue head. “Just ignore the flower there on the side and no one will be able to tell!”

He rolled his eyes, knowing that this was her revenge to his incessant playful banter.

“Fine, I’ll be your girlfriend for the day if you kiss me now-“

“Now?”

“Now.”

Hermione smiled at his pout and stood on her tip toes to press her lips against this. She felt him melt instantly and the next second, his arms were holding her to him, caressing the nape of her neck even as he let her dictate the kiss. They pulled away with a sigh.

“Was that acceptable payment?” she asked, batting her lashes and he, still dazed replied honestly, “Very.”

Chapter 16

“Remember, we all stumble, every one of us.  That's why it's a comfort to go hand in hand.” ~Emily Kimbrough

Draco was flattered, truly he was. Having known Hermione Granger somewhat intimately for three weeks now, he couldn’t imagine a more perfect girl. His crass comments about her blood seemed so petty and misinformed now that Draco cringed inwardly whenever his past memories haunted his mind.

He wished he hadn’t been so prejudiced. Perhaps then he could have won this happiness a long time ago.

But Draco, surprisingly enough, was not the type to dwell in the past. He knew what he had done, where he had gone wrong, and now what to do to set things right. Besides, with the way Fate had decided to deal his cards, he didn’t think he had a shot at winning.

No, he thought as he glanced at the pink cheeked, bushy-haired beauty beside him, I’ll take whatever hand Fate deals me and make the best of it.

He didn’t have much choice in the matter.

**

As predicted, Hogsmead was freezing. It was also less crowded than usual because many students hadn’t bothered to venture outside, Harry and Ron included. Harry had decided to spend time with Ginny, while Ron had retired to bed, tired from their endless Quidditch practices.

Hermione was secretly glad they had chosen not to come along, saving her from making untrue excuses. It didn’t escape her conscience that she was treating Draco like a dirty secret. He didn’t seem to mind or care as long as she spent time with him, but it hurt her to keep things from her friends.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Draco asked as they walked through the wintry alley, hand in hand.

She knew he was just as nervous as she was about their first real date. She felt the tremors in his arms even as he fought to keep his voice cool and composed.

“Yes, Draco, I’m sure,” she assured him. “We can’t hide forever-“

“Word spreads fast,” he interrupted her, “What if Weasel and Potter find out?”

She frowned, knowing exactly what would happen, but pushed the volcanic thoughts immediately away.

“We’ll deal with it when it happens,” she firmly replied and squeezed his hand, “For now, let’s just enjoy. Merlin knows with the exams coming, we won’t have much time to go anywhere later.”

Draco fought the urge to point out that she could take the exams now and pass with flying colors, choosing instead to lead her down a desolate street. In the cottage-like houses that stood on either side in neat little rows, they spotted floating candles and glimpses of the Wizarding life through unshuttered windows.

For a time, they simply strolled, Hermione’s arm linked in his, admiring the fairy-tale cottages before Hermione broke the silence.

“I’d like to get a house like that,” she said, pointing to the last cottage standing aloof from the rest.

It was by far the smallest they had seen, but there was something about it that just made one stare. Perhaps it was the abundance of the flora and fauna tumbling over the little white fence in the small garden; or perhaps it was the round little door with the round little windows that glowed with a warm light of a promised fire inside.

“It certainly has character,” Draco agreed, a bit startled by her humble taste.

“It reminds me of the muggle fairy tales mum used to tell me,” she said, “of Hansel and Gretel and Snow White. I think my love for reading stemmed from those picture books.”

It began to snow as they spoke, and with one last glance at the closed door, Hermione followed Draco into the bustle of Hogsmead. They roamed around the shops for a bit before the cold beckoned them to Rosemarta’s. She gave Hermione a bright smile and did not try to hide her suspicions about Draco.

They chose to sit in the back table just to avoid the narrowed eyes and frowns they received. Draco wished they would leave him alone if only for Hermione’s sake. It didn’t matter what they did to him when he was alone, but he hated to make Hermione suffer.

“Just ignore them,” he quietly told her when she sent a death glare to the nearest witch who promptly turned away with a frightened squeak.

“I can’t stand how they’re treating you!” she whispered back none too quietly. “I wished they would just forgive and forget.”

“Hermione…” and he held her gaze, calming her with his steady stare.

She sighed as Madam Rosemarta bustled over.

“And what will it be for you dear?” she asked with a smile, not even glancing at Draco.

Hermione smiled back sweetly, although Draco could tell it was fake.

“Two butterbeers for me and Draco, here,” she replied, reaching out to clasp Draco’s hand on the table.

For a minute Draco was sure she was about ready to curse the both of them out of her pub, but then she simply huffed, “Oh very well,” before clicking away with a muttered, “The wonders of this world will never cease,” floating behind her.

Draco grinned as Hermione cast him a triumphant smirk.

“That was quite Slytherin of you,” he remarked, noticing that their hands were still clasped upon the table and neither seemed willing to let go.

“I learned from the best,” she quickly replied.

“Oh, don’t you make me proud,” and his voice dripped with sarcasm.

They fell into playful banter till their drinks arrived. Draco let the ht drink warm him, shivering as his insides thawed. He hated to admit it, but he was beginning to get a headache from wandering around in the cold.

Hermione kept glancing at him tentatively over the rim of her mug, debating whether or not to tell him. Tomorrow was the Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor and she knew it was sure to draw crowds. The castle would virtually be empty and he never attended the matches anymore.

“Draco,” she began and faltered when he rested his grey eyes on her. They unnerved her at  times.

“What?” he asked and they instantly seemed to soften at seeing her discomfort.

Feeling braver, she continued, “I was wondering…are you busy tomorrow?”

He raised a thin eyebrow in an expression of amusement and curiosity. “I don’t think so-why? Planning to ask me on another date?”

She gave him a thin smile to hide her nervousness. “No-well…sort of. You see, tomorrow’s my birthday and I thought-well I kind of hoped to- “

“Granger, if you want me to spend time with you, all you have to do is name the time and place,” he cut in softly, “And since it’s your birthday, we’re going to do something special.”

She blushed. “You don’t have to go out of your way Draco. I just wanted to hang out on the Astronomy Tower, undisturbed-“

“Done. Tomorrow evening, after classes, I’ll meet you straight there before the Quidditch match.”

She nodded, her heart already hammering with anticipation.

“Now come on,” and he suddenly stood, holding out his hand for her.

“Where to?” she asked, taking his hand nevertheless. If he had asked, Hermione knew she would have walked blindly to the end of the earth with him.

He smirked, pulling her close to him and draping an arm around her waist before leading her out.

“Present hunting,” he whispered in her ear and Hermione shivered, feeling suddenly happy and elated.

**

They spent a good hour wandering around the shops, looking at trinkets, books, clothes, and the like, but Hermione couldn’t seem to decide what she wanted. Really, she knew in her that she already had what she wanted. She knew every time she looked at him, but Draco would not rest till he bought her something and Hermione was determined not to disappoint him.

He had impeccable taste. Whether it was due to his luxurious upbringing or his love for all aesthetics, Draco seemed to have a knack for spotting the very best from even a pile of junk. He made her try on various outfits and bought them all over her vehement protests. He bought her a gold watch that sang the time, a quill that was a hundred percent leak free, a book bag that became lighter the more you filled it, and was debating between entering the jewelry store or the books shop, when Hermione silenced his train of thoughts with a searing kiss right there, in the middle of Hogsmead with many eyes watching.

For a whole minute, he stood frozen against her. Then he slowly responded, parting his lips and letting her in, snaking his arms around her waist to pull her flush against him. The bags had long dropped on the snow-laden road and they were lost in each other’s arms, aware of nothing else but their hot hands, and fervent lips, and thundering hearts.

When they pulled apart, Hermione’s cheeks weren’t the only one’s tainted pink.

“Draco,” she whispered, her breath warm against his flushed lips. “Let’s head back.”

And he, dazed, shocked, and little tipsy from a feeling he couldn’t name, only nodded.

**

They walked back hand in hand, no longer caring whether anyone saw them. The moment she had decided to kiss him in public, Hermione had made up her mind to reveal the truth to anyone who dared ask. She was tired of keeping him a secret-tired of battling her conscience. She was prepared, come what may…or she thought.

They didn’t speak much as they walked. He carried the bags in one hand, the other linked with Hermione’s. She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder and letting his warmth seep into her. She felt so comforted and safe around him. It was as though his mere presence was a salve to her soul.

Draco for his part was eager to get back into the privacy of their dorm so he could snog her senseless. What she had done was both reckless and stupid, and the implication was not lost on him. He knew now how much she cared for him-how much she was willing to risk. The thought made him both happy and troubled.

If anything were to happen to her because of him…

She stopped suddenly in view of the main entrance and he stumbled to a halt beside her.

“Hermione, what-?”

But she was staring transfixed in horror. He followed her gaze and his eyes grew wide. There on the steps, stood Potter and Ginny Weasley, twin scowls painted on both their lips.

Chapter 17

“Soul meets soul on lover's lips.”
~ by Percy Bysshe Shelly

“H-Harry!” Hermione stuttered, feeling Draco squeeze her hand in his reassuringly.

Ginny’s frowned deepened when she saw their clasped hands. “I can’t believe this!” she cried, throwing a scathing look at Draco. “I thought you liked Ron, Hermione! But if you didn’t, I can’t believe you would cheat on him with-with that git!” and she pointed accusingly at Draco, who remained surprisingly silent.

“I’m not cheating on him,” Hermione replied, “We weren’t going out-“

“No, but you know he likes you! The least you could have done is given him a chance-“

“For how long Ginny?” Hermione cried, “How long did you expect me to wait? I know he likes me and I thought I did too, but-“

“What did he bribe you with?” Ginny cut in.

Hermione started. “What?”

“Oh, don’t play innocent! Tell me, Hermione,  has he satisfied you yet? Who are you planning to sleep with next-“

“Watch your mouth Weasley,” Draco warned, steeping in front of Hermione when Harry whipped out his wand.

“Don’t tell her what to do,” Harry countered, his eyes narrowed.

Ginny, ignoring them both, spoke straight to Hermione, “I knew you were desperate, Hermione, but I didn’t think you were desperate enough to have that scum! I’m glad you revealed your true colors before my brother made the mistake of choosing you!”

And with those harsh words, she turned heel back into the castle. Harry dropped his arm and hesitated just briefly when he saw the tears welling up in Hermione’s eyes. But in the end, he turned his back on her as well.

**

“Hermione, don’t do this to yourself. They’ll come around,” Draco tried to reassure her for the hundredth time, trying to coax her from the pillow she had been crying into for the past hour. They were in her room, on her bed, and Draco’s attempts at comforting her thus far had been futile.

He stroked her back, held her hand and kissed it, played with her hair, but an hour later she still hadn’t show signs of calming.

“You’re Gryffindors,” he said, “ You can’t stay mad at each other forever.”

But she shook her head. “Gryffindors value loyalty,” came her muffled sob.

“Yes, but they value friendship more.” That seemed to calm her shaking a bit. She turned her head on the pillow to look at him, her red eyes incredulous.

Draco reached out and brushed wet strands stuck to her cheek. “If I know Potter at all, he’ll come around and convince Weasley as well. Give him time. You know he’s probably battling his conscience right now.”

She smiled weakly at that. Harry is the sort of person to berate himself, she thought.

Draco suddenly took her arm and tugged. “Now if you’re done crying a river, what do you say we grab a bite? I’m starving.”

She let him pull her up. When he led her down to the kitchen, she looked at him puzzled.

“Aren’t you going to call a house-elf?” she asked when he opened the cooler and stuck his head in.

“Nope, I’m in a bit of a mood-,” he said, pulling out two tomatoes, onions, and cucumbers, “-for a healthy sandwich made by this wonderful cook with chocolate eyes.” He handed her a knife and slid the cutting table toward her. “Make me a sandwich?”

Hermione smiled and, wiping her eyes hastily on the sleeve of her shirt, began chopping up the vegetables. Draco lingered behind the counter, watching her work. He wanted to lie down on the couch, feeling the weariness creep up on him now that the recent excitement was over, but he didn’t want to give her any cause to worry.

So he braced all his weight on the counter and smiled while Hermione chatted, her voice gaining color now that she felt a bit better.

“I was acting silly, wasn’t I?” she was saying as she spread butter in the bread. “I mean, we had steeled ourselves for whatever anyone else had to say, right? And then I cried like a baby…” she laughed softly, more at herself than anything. When she looked up, there was an expression in her bright eyes that Draco could not place.

“Thank-you,” she said, reaching out her hand which he took in his warm one. “If you weren’t there, I might have said something I’d regret.”

Draco meekly accepted her gratitude, knowing that in his own shoes, he owed her much, much more.

**

Late that night, after they had retired to bed, Hermione was woken up by a knock on the door. She untangled herself carefully from Draco’s arms before silently making her way downstairs. Harry stood in his pajamas, holding the shimmering Cloak over his arm.

“Hermione, can I talk?” he asked uncertainly and she stepped aside to let him in.

They sat on the sofa, facing each other. Harry played with the loose end of the Cloak as he tried to find the right words, but Hermione, having guessed what was in his mind, spoke first.

“You don’t have to apologize, Harry,” she said and he looked up, startled. “I know I should have told you first, but…”

“No, I’m still sorry for what Ginny said. I should have stopped her,” he replied, “She’s just angry because Ron is, you know…”

“Yeah…how is he?”

Harry shrugged. “Shocked, angry, heartbroken…He was having a right fit, mainly because it’s Malfoy I suppose.”

“He won’t talk to me now, will he?”

Harry sighed. Hermione knew how much he hated being in the middle of their fights. “He may hate you for a bit, but he’ll come around. You just need to give him time.”

“And Ginny?”

“I talked to her. She’s still mad, but with time she’ll probably come to.”

Hermione nodded, glad that she had at least Harry on her side now. “What about you?” she timidly asked.

He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, but looked right at her when he spoke. “I was shocked at first too-I mean it is Malfoy, but then…I remembered how he’s changed and that maybe, if you’re such a positive influence on him, he might not be that hard to put up with. I still think he’s a right git though.”

Hermione rolled her eyes when he smiled and couldn’t help grinning back. Her heart felt light.

“How long?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she honestly replied. “We sort of became friends and then I just came to realize how much I wanted to be around him. I felt as though he needed me, Harry, and that if I left, I’d leave behind a part of me and never be whole again. It’s a really weird feeling, but…it made me realize how much he means to me, you know?”

Harry nodded. “Yeah, I sort of feel the same way with Ginny.”

“She’s not mad at you is she?” Hermione suddenly asked, not wanting her problems to create a rift between them.

“No, she’s a bit stubborn, but no. Ginny, I think, realizes that what she said to you wasn’t fair. I think she regrets it.”

Good, thought Hermione, maybe that will teach her to think before she speaks.

But of course, she didn’t voice her opinion. They chatted for a while more until neither could keep their eyes open. Hermione saw him out the door and they both parted with smiles upon their lips.

**

Sometime later, Draco awoke. He felt hot all over and wiped his perspiring forehead with a trembling hand. He was aware of Hermione sleeping peacefully beside him in the dark, one arm lying casually across his chest. He untwined his other arm from around her waist and slowly rolled onto his back.

He felt ill-not in a nauseous sense, but his limbs were weak and his head throbbed dully. He swallowed and his throat burned. Tentatively, he licked his lips, hating how dry and chapped they were.

What now? he mentally groaned. He knew he didn’t have fever because he was burning up instead of shivering, and he knew he didn’t have a cold. Was it some sort of side effect? But Draco didn’t remember taking any strange potions. He had stuck to his regular dose of pain potions and the fever reducer that Snape had prescribed.

Craning his neck, he checked the time: 4 am. Dawn was already creeping up behind the closed curtains. He lay simply watching the rosy rays for a time. His eyes drooped with sleep, but his aching limbs didn’t allow his mind to rest.

Hermione stirred next to him and pulled him closer unconsciously in her sleep. Despite himself, Draco couldn’t resist the smile that touched his lips. Slowly, he brushed the hair from her cheeks and stroked them lightly.

His smile suddenly faded though when he remembered it was her birthday today and he had promised her something special. But he doubted if he could even climb out of bed much less the Astronomy Tower. He was mentally cursing himself when she opened her eyes.

“Hey,” she smiled and made to brush the blonde strands stuck to his forehead.

Draco tried to smile back, but it came more as a grimace. Hermione’s cool hand traced his hot forehead. He could see the frown forming on her pursed lips.

Great Draco, he thought, She’s not even awake and you’ve already drained all the happiness. Why couldn’t he hide his pain better?

“Did you take the potions?” she softly asked, her hand lingering on his cheek. He nodded, but immediately stopped when his head gave a vicious throb.

“Do you want me to get someone-Professor Snape?”

He licked his lips. “No…I’ll be fine,” but his voice was far too weak to be of any assurance.

She sat up, clearly frowning. “Draco,” she began, but he, knowing what she was about to say cut in,

“I know, ‘Mione. Just…let me stay like this for a bit. I don’t think I can get up anyways.”

Her features sank into a worried mask, but she erased all traces of concern the next second and sank beside him, sidling closer so that her head rested upon his shoulder.

They lay still for a time. Hermione was content to listen to his heart beat as his chest rose and fell steadily. He stroked her hair for a bit until his hand grew heavy. Thinking he had fallen asleep, she raised her head, but found his eyes tracing the ceiling, looking tired and restless.

“I feel awful,” he whispered and then, “I’m sorry.”

Hermione blinked. “What for?”

He looked at her steadily, as though she was lying that she didn’t know, but then replied, “For ruining everything. It’s your birthday-“

“Draco-“ and she silenced him with a peck on his lips before he could finish. “It doesn’t matter. We can celebrate it some other time when you’re feeling well.”

“It won’t be the same-“

“No, but it only matters to me that you’re alright.” She traced his dry lips with her finger. “We shouldn’t have gone yesterday. It was cold-“

“Not your fault,” and he clasped her hand firmly in his. “I don’t want you thinking it’s your fault-ever, do you understand?”

Hermione disagreed, but the seriousness in his eyes made her nod in silence.  He sighed before relaxing his grip.

“Things like this will happen,” he said, a faraway look in his eyes. “I’m not the same anymore. I can’t have you feeling guilty around me and I don’t want you to treat me like glass. As long as I’m here, Hermione, I don’t want you to hold back.”

“I won’t,” she softly replied. “And I don’t pity you.” She looked into his grey eyes in whose depths she could easily trace the pain he was desperately trying to hide. “I love you Draco.”

His eyes widened just a fraction before he closed them. She felt him tremble as she leaned closer. When her lips closed over his, she let her eyes fall shut and succumbed to the feel of his hot mouth as their tongues danced together.