Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Your Right Is My Wrong	By : Quotewhore7 Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9651 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Your Right Is My Wrong
- 1
A/N: I tried to stick with the timeline from Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince as best as I could, but did take some creative license. The formatting also didn't translate that well, so I apologize for the odd line breaks.

   "I've seen you looking at me," she said. "What is it that you want?"
   "I don’t think you’ll like my answer, Granger," He drawled, sidling up to her with his hands in his pockets. She rolled her eyes, not looking up from her book. She drummed her fingers on the back cover impatiently when he stepped closer, casting a shadow over her text. She let out an audible huff.
   "What, do you want?" she asked again, shutting her book with a snap as she turned to face him. Her left hand rested on her hip as she tucked the book under her opposite arm. She raised to her full height, "Well?" she asked impatiently as she gestured for him to continue.
   He raised his eyebrows and crossed his arms over his chest. Draco smirked at her with an unrecognizable glint in his eye. She stepped closer to him and narrowed her eyes. She wasn't on a mission, but it struck her that he might be. She couldn't risk him seeing her fear.
   "Brave little Gryffindor," he cooed. “It’ll be your downfall. The Dark Lord doesn't take kindly to hubris."
   "I'm sure that Vol-," she began.
   "Don't say his name," he sneered. He uncrossed his arms and stalked toward her. Her confidence wavered as she backed into the shelf against the wall. A small book dug into her shoulder blade.
   "I'm sure that You Know Who," she said emphatically, "doesn't take kindly to his Death Eaters speaking to Muggleborns." She could tell she hit a nerve and shot him a smug smile. He glowered at her and closed the gap. She could see the light blonde stubble on his chin as she looked up at him. "I’d love to stay and chat, but it's past curfew. I need to be off to bed," she said.
   "Prefects, Granger. We don't have a curfew." A small, victorious smile crossed his face. "Don't worry, everyone’s gone to bed. They won't hear you."
   "Hear me what?" She snapped. She placed her hand against his stomach and shoved him away. He pulled her to him as quickly as she had pushed.
   "I'm a Seeker, Granger, and I often catch what I seek."
   Her breath caught in her throat. His hand was warm and calloused over hers. He smelled of soap and aftershave. She was sure that he had seen the surprise on her face when he drew her near. She recovered quickly and sternly met his gaze.
“Then why don’t you go catch some sleep. You look haggard,” she snapped. It was a lie. He looked as handsome as ever in his fitted oxford shirt. "I’m not some trophy to be won."
   "Really? Because that isn't what I heard Weasley saying."
   "How-!"
   "How dare I?" he cut off with a quirked brow. He looked down at her, amused. “And I assure you, Granger, I’ve been sleeping just fine.”
She frowned and pulled her hand from his. She was fuming. What right did he have to assume that she and Ron had been together? Ron wouldn’t have said something like that. They were friends and that was all, even if they shared a kiss once and she thought maybe they’d be together. He’d made it abundantly clear that he wanted to be with someone else and that someone happened to be blonde with endless giggles.
   “Have you ever wondered what it would be like to kiss a snake?" His voice was barely a whisper as he moved in closer again. She pressed her hands against his chest and remained silent. "I’ve often wondered what it would feel like to kiss a lion.” He leaned in, brushing his lips at the crook of her neck. Her arms felt disproportionately weak compared to the weight of his body. She stiffened as goosebumps spread over her. His chest sank under her hands as he exhaled and leaned back with his trademark smirk. He had noticed. Hermione pushed firmly on him and looked away.
   “You’re vile. I don’t waste my energy on ridiculous things like that.” Her heart felt like it was going to beat out of her chest. Hadn’t she gotten off to the idea of his hands on her late at night when everyone else was asleep? Hadn’t she taught herself the most complicated silencing charm she could find so she wouldn’t be heard? Hadn’t she wondered what he would taste like? How he would make her come over and over against this exact bookshelf in the darkest corner of the Restricted Section? Hadn’t she wanted to be the one to make his head spin?
The thought that he might want her as she did him made her wet. She would never admit it to anyone that she secretly found the likes of Draco Malfoy attractive. She detested the way that he treated her friends, but it hadn’t escaped her notice that he had been ambivalent towards her since their fourth year. He wasn’t nice, but he wasn’t mean either. She paid him back in kind. His ego was bigger than any she’d ever met, but if she happened to be looking in his direction and see him smile, she couldn’t control the Wrackspurts. She could pinpoint the precise moment when her somersaulting stomach and foggy head began to betray her. The Quidditch World Cup had been her demise. She hadn’t been able to watch the sport the same since. She was drawn in by his strong jawline and the hard glimmer in his eyes. Her attraction only grew after that moment, but she couldn’t possibly tell anyone. Instead, she had focused her efforts on someone who she thought was more attainable, but was wrong.
   His smirk grew wider. He took her chin between his index finger and thumb, slowly turning her face. He bent at the waist and looked her in the eyes.
   "I think that is a bold-faced lie," he said. He took his hand away, placing it on her hip. He inched his lips closer to hers. She did nothing to stop him as he pulled her towards him. He kissed her tentatively, moving his hands to her back as he wrapped his arms around her. Her abdomen tingled as if butterflies were ricocheting inside. She draped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. He hummed with enjoyment and pulled her tightly to him. His tongue asked for entrance and she allowed it. Their breathing was heavy and lustful. His lips moved to her jaw and then to her neck. She gave an involuntary shudder as he took her face in his hands and reclaimed her lips with his. He pushed her further back into the bookshelf and the small book pressed harder into her shoulder blade. It was the push she needed. Using all her strength, she shoved hard against him and issued a slap across his face.
   "You deserved that," she said as she slipped past him before he could reach her. Hermione walked swiftly through the columns of books praying that he wouldn't follow her. She knew he could easily catch her if he tried. With no one in her wake, she hastily gathered her bag and cloak before he could change his mind.
.
.
.
   The main corridor was busy with students rushing to their classes. Hermione had parted from Harry and Ron for her Advanced Arithmancy lecture. She waited impatiently at the top of a moving staircase before she leaped onto the landing as the staircase locked into place. The hallway was much quieter. Sun beams refracted from the frosty panes into rainbow icicles on the cold stone floor. She made her way through the maze of empty corridors before she heard several footsteps behind her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Before her hand touched the doorknob, another snuck in under. She yanked hers back and looked up at him. Malfoy sneered at her as he opened the door for Millicent who glided through without so much as a thank you. Draco raised his eyebrows indicating for her to proceed as well. She gave him a frustrated frown and began to enter.
   "Could you have run away any faster?" He asked as she passed in front of him. His hand touched the small of her back as he escorted her into the brightly lit room.
   "Not fast enough," she whispered with a pointed look in his direction. “And don’t touch me,” she snapped.
It had been three weeks since she had acknowledged him. She would have liked it to be longer. It seemed that he had been actively avoiding her as well. She took her place at the front of the classroom and forbade herself from giving him another glance, but could feel him watching her.
It had been easy for her to hide their secret from Harry and Ron. She herself, didn’t even know what to make of it, nor did she want to try to explain to them why she hadn’t pushed him away sooner. Or worse, why she kissed him back at all. She had felt guilty from her behavior, yes, but she was even guiltier of all the dirty thoughts that had followed. She had cast her silencing charm around her bed nearly every night since she had last been with him.
The lecture was long. Too long for her to stay focused. Her mind wandered to his lips. Draco Malfoy's lips, who she so willingly let kiss her in the dark recesses of the Restricted Section. They were soft and full, so gentle with her own that she felt a pang of regret for leaving the way she had. She shifted uncomfortably on her stool. What would she do if he sought her out again? She had a sinking feeling that he would. Her tie felt tight around her neck at the thought. She adjusted the knot and hoped upon hope that he wasn't still looking as she flicked her wand to spin her hair into a bun on the top of her head. She was sure she was blushing.
   The sound of scraping stools brought her out of her reverie. She quickly copied down the assignment realizing that she hadn't taken any notes. Hermione tucked her blank parchment away and slung her bag over her shoulder. Her classmates had left the room with the swiftness of students eager to start their weekend making her the last to leave as usual.
The torches were flickering to life as the last beams of sunlight died through the glass. The low blue ebb of wintry dusk fought with the amber glow in the darkened the corridor. A few students lingered at the end of the hall comparing their notes, notes that Hermione desperately wished she had taken. She shook her head, disappointed with herself.
   "I noticed."
   "Noticed what?" she sighed, pushing loose hair from her face. She knew he would be waiting. She had a sneaking suspicion that her retort before class had offered him a challenge.
He was standing in the shadows waiting for the students to leave. He chuckled lowly.
   "I noticed that you didn't take any notes."
“I have an excellent memory,” she quipped.
“What is the most significant difference between the Agrippan and Chaldean methods of Arithmancy?” he asked. She should have been taking notes. “C’mon Granger, this is basic.” He stepped closer to her with a satisfied smile. It was clear that she didn’t know the answer. Heat rose to her cheeks.
“The number nine,” he said. He had reached her. She was so flustered by his question that she hadn’t noticed the students at the end of the hall had left. He guided her hips back against the wall and took her bag off her shoulder, dropping it in an unceremonious heap at her feet. “The Chaldean method doesn’t use the number nine.”
He leaned his lips down to her ear and pressed his body against hers.
“Wha-, what are you doing?” she squeaked angrily.
“Were you thinking about me in class? Is that why you didn’t take your notes?” His lips brushed against her neck as he spoke.
“You’ll never know, will you?” she replied. She started to push him away, but he was much faster. He moved his lips posessively onto hers with a low growl. He kissed her with fervor. All the gentleness that she had earlier been fantasizing about was gone. He kissed her deliberately and passionately. She kissed him back.
She gripped his soft, blonde hair between her fingers as she pulled him closer. He was intoxicating. She could feel his erection press against her stomach. She let her arms fall around his neck and he pulled her closer. Their bodies pressed together and she felt the familiar tingles in her abdomen. His intensity slowed as he moved his mouth down to her neck. Her breath caught in her throat as he affectionately nibbled the tender skin. His hands moved down her back and slid over the back pockets of her jeans. He groaned and kissed her again.
The air grew cold around them as if Dementors were watching nearby. Somewhere in the distance the bell tower rang out for dinner. The torches danced in the darkness. Their friends were surely wondering where they were. Her hands were chilled and she moved them under his cloak. She could feel his muscular chest as she ran them up and down his gray uniform jumper. She was lost in her senses. His mouth was so warm over hers that she heard herself let out a content sigh. His hand slid under her sweater, caressing the dimples in her lower back. She arched toward him and he ran his hands back down her backside again to lift her up. She would have let him have his way, but he pulled back suddenly and looked away from her.
“Why do you have to be you?” he asked, out of breath.
“What are you going on about?” She squinted her eyes. They had been closed for so long that she was temporarily blinded by the torch light.
“Why do you,” he paused and waved his hands around her head, “have to be a Muggleborn?” He leaned down and pulled out a roll of parchment. “Here. I don’t need them. I actually have an excellent memory.” He thrust the roll into her hand and pivoted on his heel, disappearing into the shadows from where he came.
.
.
.
The Great Hall was buzzing with excitement and danishes. Slytherin had a game against Hufflepuff after breakfast. It was a very uneven match. Slytherin was projected to win by 70 points. Harry bounded up to her with a grin on his face. He loved any game of Quidditch even if he wasn’t playing. She, on the other hand, was not interested in the slightest especially if Malfoy was going to be playing. She wasn’t sure if she felt more anxious about seeing him taking unnecessary risks or of him winning and strutting around the halls. It was really a toss up.
She wasn’t sure about a lot of things recently. She especially wasn't sure if she was starting to have real feelings for him. The guilt of associating with him at all had been weighing on her. They hadn’t met again in over a month but she couldn’t get him off her mind. She had sent an owl with his notes back to him once she was done. He was quite the bright wizard and had immaculate handwriting. She was reluctant to admit that she wished her friends would take care in their studies the way he did. Instead, Harry had been on a rampage trying to hunt Malfoy down and Ron had been right alongside him under that invisibility cloak.
“This is great! Slytherin is playing Hufflepuff,” Harry said.
“Yeah, mate, but Hufflepuff is going to lose and then we’re going to have to see Pea Brain over there gloat,” said Ron with a head jerk in Malfoy’s direction. He took a bite of apricot danish and put a second on his plate. Hermione wrinkled her nose. What a statement coming from someone barely passing his classes.
“I know, but this way we know that Malfoy isn’t creeping around somewhere,” Harry replied, putting a heap of eggs onto his plate. “You don’t need to save those for Lavender, Ron. There are tons.” Harry eyed the second danish on Ron’s plate.
“What? Oh this isn’t for Lav. It’s for me.”
“Naturally,” Hermione mumbled. She saw Lavender skipping into the Great Hall, queuing her exit. She stacked her books and Daily Prophet.
“You’re not going to watch the match?” Harry asked. He eyed the books in her arms and her heavy bag. “Hermione, just come with us for once. It’ll only be a few hours.”
“You guys,” she whispered harshly. “We have NEWTs coming up. Who knows where we’ll even be next year or if You Know Who will have already come. I want to be as prepared as I can be. Need I remind you about the Hor-”
“Shhh!” Harry said, casting sidelong glances down the table. Harry’s adam’s apple quivered as guilt spread over him. He knew she was right. Of course she was right. She had to talk some sense into him otherwise he wouldn’t focus on the task at hand. He tapped his fork anxiously on the edge of his plate. She didn’t have to see it to know that he was bouncing his leg simultaneously under the table.
“Right, well, fine. I’ll meet you in the library after the match and celebrations,” he said.
“After the celebrations? Hufflepuff is going to lose.” She gave him a knowing look.
“Well, yeah, but you know we always have a get together after,” he said. Hermione shifted the weight of her books to her other arm, looking at him expectantly. “Fine, after one butterbeer. Two! Two tops,” he negotiated.
She looked at Ron to see if he agreed and rolled her eyes. Lavender had already reached him and was sucking the lips off of his face. He hadn’t heard a word that she’d said. She would have to settle on Harry. She bid them goodbye and walked down the aisle towards the grand doors of the Great Hall. A gleam of silver caught her eye before she left the room. Malfoy’s Captain’s badge had glinted in the sun. The twist of his body unknowingly angled his badge right at her as he watched her leave the dining hall. They locked eyes for a moment before she slipped out the door.
The main corridor was surprisingly warm for a cold winter’s morning. The sun shone deceivingly through the clear panes of glass. A petite, brown bird with orange breast feathers landed on the stone ledge and tapped inquisitively on the window before taking flight once more. It looked like it would be prime Quidditch weather. Hermione was almost fooled into thinking that she would take a walk outside until Hagrid came through the main entrance with slush sodden boots.
“‘Ermione!” he exclaimed with a wave. He pointed a finger into the Great Hall and raised his eyebrows.
“Just came from there,” she called out. He nodded and vanished into the hall.
She headed up the main staircase and rounded the corner towards the library when she felt herself being pulled behind a tapestry. She yelped in surprise as she spun her head around and flung her books at him. Malfoy leapt to avoid getting hit. He looked the books strewn about the alcove and laughed.
“Solid form of defense, Granger.” He smirked at her and pushed them aside with a flick of his wand before slipping it back in his uniform pocket. He said nothing else as he approached her. Malfoy took her hands and intertwined her fingers with his as he leaned down to kiss her. She drank him in, letting his hands roam freely. His fingertips grazed over a nipple and she was sure he could feel it harden through the thin fabric of her jumper. He inhaled sharply as he cupped her breast in his hand. He slid his hand up her chest and held her face. He let her go and withdrew his kiss, taking a step back.
“You look really pretty today,” he said. He brushed his thumb on her cheek and disappeared out of the tapestry.
The moment was so fleeting that she felt like she was dreaming. She hadn’t even seen him come out of the Great Hall. She took a moment to collect herself and her belongings before poking her head out from behind the tapestry. The hallway was blissfully empty as she made her way toward the library like nothing had happened at all.

“I heard you won,” she said without looking up from her book.
   “You heard? You weren’t at the match?”
   “I’m not very fond of Quidditch. Flying makes me queasy and watching people fight each other over some balls isn’t my cup of tea,” she shrugged and dipped her quill in her inkwell.
“Muggle.” He rolled his eyes and continued down the aisle and around the table. He pulled out a chair to sit. She knew he meant it as an insult but it made her stomach tumble.
   “You’re going soft,” she said.
   “What are you talking about?” he asked, pulling out his books and parchment. He placed them neatly on the table.
   “Seriously, you’re going to sit there?”
   “It’s my favorite spot,” he said.
   “No it’s not!” she hissed. “I sit in this spot everyday and you’ve never once sat there.”
   “Precisely,” he said with a smirk.
   “Oh, so we’re back to that again?”
   “We were never off, but I’ve been busy.”
   “By all means, please stay busy.” Her heart thumped. He’d been busy? Busy doing what? Where was Harry when she needed him? Was this part of his mission? Was she part of his mission?
“You didn’t seem to want me to stay busy this morning.” He pulled out his quill and looked at her with a raised brow. She rolled her eyes, but blushed despite herself. She cleared her throat in a prim fashion and dipped her quill once again.
   “You’re going soft because you wouldn’t have called me a Muggle before.”
He seemed to contemplate her statement while he took off his jacket and hung it on the back of his chair. His crisp white t-shirt looked ironed and made her wonder if he ever looked disheveled. He sat in his chair and picked up his quill. Hermione saw the muscles in his lightly tanned forearms flex with the motion. Her eyes scanned his arms, but didn’t see what she was looking for. Something inside her stirred. She wanted badly to walk around the table and kiss him. She wanted to straddle him, Malfoy the non-Death Eater, and kiss him until their lips were chapped.
“Well,” he began, “I figured that if I’m going to be sneaking around in dark corners with you, I should probably make sure you’re not going to slap me again,” he replied.
“You’re a lot smarter than you look, Malfoy,” she said with a shake of her head. She looked back down at her notes and chuckled.
She stayed in the library long past dark. The longer she stayed, the more miffed she was getting with Harry. By now he was probably in the Great Hall laughing it up with Ron and Lavender over pot pies and cranberry sauce. If she left now she could probably still catch the end of dinner.
“Are you going to dinner?” she asked, closing her book and corking her inkwell. Malfoy looked up from the essay that he had been scribbling away at. He ran his hands through his hair and stretched his arms over his head. She couldn’t help but look at his toned biceps tighten at his graceful movement.
“Is it time already?” he asked. He stood to put a book back on the shelf.
She was feeling bold, very bold. She quietly got up and followed him down the aisle. She watched him reach up and place the book back on a high shelf. His shirt lifted and she caught a glimpse of the defined v-shaped cuts of his hip bones. She imagined that his abs were just as enticing. Her body prickled in the anticipation of approaching him. It was too late to turn back now.
He gave her a small smile when he saw her. He leaned forward and hooked his fingers into the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her closer. His hands slid over her hips as he drew her in. She wrapped her arms around his neck and tiptoed to kiss him. She felt him sigh with pleasure, making her boldness worth it. Boldness or stupidity, she wasn’t sure. All she knew was that she didn’t want it to stop. She breathed him in and pressed her body against his. He was muscular as any Quidditch player would be, but she never thought it would cause such a riot between her legs. Especially not with him.
One hand trailed up her ribs beneath her shirt. He hesitated a moment at the edge of her bralette before he slipped his hand under. Her acquiescence seemed to encourage him as he fondled her more vigorously. She too, put her hands under his shirt. It had been ironed, she was sure of it now. His taut muscles felt glorious in her hands. She ran her fingers up and down his back until he lifted her with ease against the bookcase. She wrapped her legs around his waist tightly. There was no question of what they both wanted. He kissed her neck and rocked into her. She moaned softly and closed her eyes, following his gentle rhythm. He squeezed her and groaned. Her thighs rubbed against his slim waist. She wanted all of him.
He put her down and took her lips again. The sweetness of his kiss consumed her. The warm sensation between her legs moved to her stomach as the butterflies returned. The way he held her in his arms and caressed her neck made her shiver. It wasn’t simply lust anymore. He pulled away and gave her a last peck on her forehead, hugging her tightly. He exhaled and took a step back.
“You know this is impossible,” he said.
“I know and we’re going to end up getting caught,” she replied. “You started this.” She started to pace up and down the aisle and ran her fingers nervously through her hair. He casually removed a book from the shelf and read the cover.
   “Indeed I did, but I don’t think your friends will catch us,” he said. She knew he didn’t think Harry and Ron would suspect the most unlikely relationship in the school. No one would.
   “I can handle my friends,” she snapped. “What if You Know Who uses Legilimency on you and sees us together? He’ll kill you and come after me.”
   “To be fair,” he started, “he’s already coming after you.” A smirk crept to his face and she gave him a firm shove on his shoulder.
   “Malfoy, don’t joke.”
   Malfoy crossed his arms in front of him and tried to hide a smile behind his thumb. His eyes danced with mischief in the dim torches of the library. He gazed at her for a moment before he appeared to come to a conclusion.
   “I’m well practiced at Occlumency, Granger. I was trained to do what I do.”
   “And what is that? To be a spy?” she questioned irritably. He shrugged and moved his hands to his pockets, leaning casually against the shelf.
“Something like that.”
She gave him an appraising look, but didn’t say anything. She started to pace again. They had already missed dinner. She was almost certain that Harry would be making his way to the library at any moment to grovel. She glanced nervously down the aisle to make sure no one was watching. She would try to cut him off in the corridor. She put her hands on her head and spread her elbows apart to look at the ceiling. It was nothing like the Great Hall. There were no enchantments or floating candles, only simple coarse wooden beams criss crossing above their heads. The pinnacle of the room was so high that she could barely see where the beams met.
“I have to go,” she finally said. “Harry was supposed to meet me here this afternoon. He’s probably on his way now to make up for it.”
He nodded as she started to walk away. The library was dark and silent. She wasn’t even sure if Madame Pince was still at her station. It was a Saturday night, after all, and it was rare that anyone was in the library past dinner time. Hermione turned back around and walked back to Malfoy. She leaned in and gave him a last kiss before she hurried away for good. Her stomach clenched at the pained look on his face. They both knew that this had to be the end.

.
.
.
“You’ve lost weight.”
“So have you.”
“I know you’re up to something,” she said. She pointed her wand at the base of his throat. “I know you had something to do with Katie Bell touching the necklace.”
“That was an accident,” he grumbled, lightly pushing her wand away. She bristled that he didn’t take her threat seriously, but lowered her hand and slipped her wand back into her book bag.
“An accident?! She could have been killed!”
“It wasn’t meant for her.”
“Then who was it meant for?!” She shook her head, throwing her arms up in alarm. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know. Whatever you’re up to, you need to stop,” she snapped. She scanned the corridor quickly to see if other students were anywhere near before she took his hand and pulled him into an empty classroom. He linked his fingers with hers and gave no protest as he followed her into the room. “You don’t look well at all,” she said as she brushed a stray hair from his forehead. Her fingers lingered on his cheek before dropping to her side. Her forehead creased with concern when he looked away.
She took his gaunt face in her hands and kissed him. She had heard that he resigned as Seeker from the Slytherin team and had been spending more time with Professor Snape. She leaned back and crossed her arms over her chest.
“What do you want me to tell you, Granger?” he rolled his eyes at her, looking exhausted. “Stress. It’s stress.” He ran his fingers through his hair and sighed in exasperation.
“Stress from what?” she asked.
“You know I can’t tell you anything you want to hear. We don’t play for the same team,” he growled. He stepped closer and glowered down at her before he turned around angrily and stalked out the door.
His clean scent lingered in the air as she wrung her hands together. Harry’s theory that he was a Death Eater was becoming more and more convincing by the day. She had seen Malfoy’s smooth, untouched skin but was beginning to doubt herself. He could easily have cast a disallusionment charm to hide it or could have taken the mark since their last encounter in the library for all she knew.
She counted the stone pavers under her feet as she walked. Eight steps forward, eight steps back. She should tell Harry that Malfoy had as good as admitted to being responsible for the necklace. Malfoy had been right, they didn’t play for the same team and she knew where her allegiance lay. It was a shattering reminder that they weren’t fighting for the same cause. She groaned at the thought of Harry’s reaction. She had taken great pains to not encourage his obsession. Even Ron was becoming weary of Harry’s constant jabbering about him. He was so consumed by the thought of Malfoy being a Death Eater that he barely noticed anything else around him. Save for trying to retrieve the memory from Slughorn, he seemed to think of nothing else. It was as if the Half-Blood Prince was possessing him like Riddle’s diary had Ginny, egging him on to drive himself mad. She was starting to believe that the potions book had been planted there as a trap. Telling Harry what Malfoy said would only make him all the more determined.
One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight. She turned around and repeated her path. The room was dark and cold. It looked as though it hadn’t been in use for several terms. Wooden panels covered the arched windows, casting a gloomy darkness in the farthest corners of the room. Torches had lit themselves upon their entry, but without the assistance of the windows, the room was dim at best. Several desks were blanketed in canvases and a chandelier hung dismally unlit, dusty from disuse. Hermione couldn’t remember if she ever had been in this particular classroom. A high pitched cackle startled her.
“Peeves?” she called out. Her heart raced as her eyes flitted around the room.
“This can’t possibly be what I see. A Gryffindor in a room she shouldn’t be in?” Peeves cackled again. “And with the Malfoy boy. Naughty, naughty,” he taunted. The blood drained from her face. Peeves zipped across the room with a howl of laughter straight through the stone wall. For the first time in a long time, Hermione was scared.
“I know my allegiance, I know my allegiance,” she whispered, “it’s to myself.” If she told Harry about her encounter with Malfoy her story surely wouldn’t match Peeves’. She knew that the poltergeist wouldn’t keep the juicy tidbit of information to himself. If Peeves taunted Harry with her extra curricular activities, she wouldn’t know how to get the idea from his mind without obliviating him. He would never forgive her from erasing his memory. He would also never forgive her for sneaking around with Malfoy. She straightened her robes and walked to the door. It was simple, she wouldn’t tell him and if Peeves said something, she would deny it to her last breath.

   The ceiling of the Great Hall twinkled with bright Springtime stars. Ron was finishing his strawberry tart while she and Harry were watching him in both astonishment and disgust. He had a small smear of the sticky red syrup on his mouth. She discreetly brushed her upper lip with her index finger and he wiped his with his sleeve.
   “Can I have yours?” Ron asked, pointing to her tart.
   “Honestly, Ronald, I don’t know where you put it,” she replied, pushing her plate towards him. He grinned at her and swiped up her tart. She had very little appetite for anything sweet. She really didn’t have much appetite at all, come to think of it. Harry had returned his attention to the wizarding chess game that Ron was beating him at amid his mouthfuls of tart. She was glad for Harry’s distraction. Anything was better than another whispered conversation about Death Eaters.
   “You sure you want to move there, mate?” Ron asked, spraying crumbs on his half of the board. “Oh, sorry,” he said.
   Hermione squinted her eyes at him. If it wasn’t for Molly, he would be a walking, talking slob of a person. She pulled out a small notepad and wrote three words. Folding the paper neatly, she kept it in the palm of her clammy hand. She concentrated hard on the vanishing charm and she willed the note to leave her hand without the use of her wand. When she looked back down, the paper was gone. Immediately, she looked up at the Slytherin table. Malfoy met her gaze with a frown.
   “Well, if you’re going to be here for a while, I’m going to the library,” she announced. Harry glanced up from the board and nodded with his forehead braced on his hand. Ron’s bishop was crushing Harry’s rook with the swing of his sword. “Good luck, Harry. Looks like you’re going to need it.”
   She hurried through the halls to the library. Greeting Madame Pince quickly, she headed straight to the back of the Restricted Section. It wasn’t long before she heard his angry footsteps. Malfoy’s robes billowed behind him as he rounded the corner and tossed his bag on the table.
   “What do you mean Peeves saw us?”
   “It means what it means. Peeves saw us!” she said. She twisted a lock of hair around her finger and pulled it straight. He braced his hands on the back of a chair and hung his head. He stayed in that position until Hermione couldn’t stand it anymore. “Say something!” she said.
   “I don’t know,” he responded, straightening up. “I don’t know what to do.” He took off his cloak and dropped into the chair. He gave her a sideways look. “Ripping out your hair won’t do us any good.”
   She let go of her hair and fidgeted with the waistline of her skirt. She untied her tie, throwing it on the table and proceeded to unbutton the top two buttons of her shirt. He looked at her again.
   “Stripping will only make it worse.”
   “I’m not stripping,” she said through clenched teeth. She tied her hair in a ponytail and paced. She was sure she had paced so much this term that her shoes were going to wear right through. There had to be a way out of this mess. She got herself into it, she’d be damned if she couldn’t get herself out. She turned around and ran right into his chest. He caught her by the shoulders as she bounced off of him. “Ow! Why are you standing there?!” she hissed, rubbing her nose.
   “Stop. You’re making me nervous.”
   “I’m making you nervous? Malfoy, this is far beyond nerves.” She frowned up at him and he returned in kind. “You know Peeves won’t keep his mouth shut. He’s probably told the whole school by now.” She watched the muscle in his jaw work as he thought it over. It had been hours and no one had said anything yet. She hoped that no one would believe a word Peeves said. They had, after all, been arguing. That was nothing out of the ordinary. The kiss she had given him, however, was not. Nervous couldn’t begin to describe the anxiousness that she felt.
   “Tell me exactly what he said.” She told him how she had stayed only a couple of minutes and how Peeves made it clear what he witnessed. “I’m going to get that ghost,” he grumbled.
   “And do what? He’s already dead!” she said. He grumbled more and sat back down in the chair. She began to pace again with her hands on her hips. He clicked his well manicured nails on the desk impatiently. “We’re just going to have to-” she squeaked as he took her wrist and pulled her to his lap. “Have you lost your mind?!”
   “Stop, pacing,” he growled, wrapping his arm around her waist. “We’re going to have to what?” He looked at her with a furrowed brow. She felt his hand splay possessively around her hip to keep her steady. His left hand rested just under her skirt on her knee.
   “We’re going to have to deny it,” she said. He rolled his eyes. His hand crept from her knee to her thigh, making it difficult for her to focus on their current predicament.
   “Really? Brightest witch of our age and that’s all you’ve got?”
   “Do you have any better ideas?” she asked with a cocked brow. Her pulse quickened at the light strokes of his fingers. She shifted her weight and felt his own excitement against her leg. He pulled her in closer.
   “I have a few, but they have nothing to do with getting us out of trouble,” he said.
   “Focus,” she replied, poking him in the chest. “This is why we’re having this conversation in the first place.” She wasn’t nearly as angry as she should be, but she tried to give him her best frustrated look.
   “No, we’re having this conversation because you wanted me in that classroom.” He took her hand that she was still jabbing him with and put it around his neck.
   “You’re being reckless,” she said weakly, stroking the back of his neck. He smelled so good and was so close. She stood quickly, before he could pull her back down. He scrubbed his face with his hands and leaned his elbows on his knees with a heavy sigh.
   “I guess we can deny it,” he said. The chair creaked under his weight as he leaned back. He loosened his tie and pulled it off. Unbuttoning his cuffs, he rolled them just below his elbows and untucked his shirt. The motions almost undid her. She desperately wanted to sit back down and snog him until the sun came up. “Don’t do it,” he warned. “I know what you’re about to do.”
   “What?” she asked innocently.
   “So help me, Granger, if you start pacing again I will have you on this table and not let you go.”
   “Fine.”
   “Fine?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest with a smirk. “Just fine?”
   “Just fine,” she said. She leaned back on the bookshelf and closed her eyes for a moment. She took a deep breath and opened them again to see that he was still sitting in his chair watching her. “If you think of any other ideas for damage control, send me an owl.” She pushed herself off the shelf and approached the table for her bag. She neatly folded her tie before putting it away and slinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Hopefully we won’t need to,” he said as he ran his hands through his hair. He stood, towering over her. “Do you have rounds tonight?”
“No, I have them Wednesday.” She watched him put his own tie in his bag and cross it over his chest. He was so handsome when he wasn’t being disagreeable. They stood facing each other for a moment before he reached out for the strap of her tote and pulled her close to him.
“Come here,” he said softly, using a finger to lift her chin, he kissed her. She wrapped her arms around his neck and let him have her.
He was like an addiction. She tried to stay away, but the temptation was just too great. He was always in the back of her mind. She’d tried cutting him off, but she would bump into him in the corridors or they would make eye contact in the Great Hall and her senses were lost. The more often she saw him, the more often she would cast silencing spells around her bed at night.
She dropped her bag to the floor as he backed her into the table. He easily lifted her and sat her on the edge. He removed his bag and slid his hand up her thigh, crumpling the fabric of her skirt. He kissed the edge of her jaw and brushed his fingers against the lace of her panties. She was breathing heavily as she unbuttoned his shirt. The small trail of hair from his navel to the waistline of his pants was coarse against the smooth skin of his abdomen. Her hands ran up his torso beneath his undershirt. She moaned as he brought his fingers around to graze her inner thighs.
He looked down at her then. “You’re going to be the end of me, witch,” he breathed. He searched her eyes as he slipped two fingers under her panties. She gasped softly and let her head fall back. He kissed her exposed throat as he nimbly tormented her. His thumb found her clit and she nearly fell off the table as she arched her back. She moaned and breathed his name. He had heard. His teeth grazed her neck and he gently bit her shoulder. She could hear her own wetness and he moaned with desire into her neck. She hadn’t been with anyone since Ron and they had never made it this far. As Malfoy circled her clit with his thumb she felt herself reaching climax. He knew just the right time to press down. She gasped as she saw stars. She could feel her muscles clamping down on his fingers as she orgasmed. She heaved deep breaths and looked at his smug face. He pulled his fingers out of her and licked them. She wrinkled her nose and he laughed.
“I wanted to taste you,” he said as he scorgified his hands.
“That’s-”
“Hot?” he cut her off. He kissed her again, not waiting for her retort. He pressed himself further between her legs and unbuttoned her blouse, running his hands over her ribs. He broke their kiss. “You’re getting too skinny,” he said.
“So are you,” she said with a pointed look. She pulled him back down to her. His hands were warm on her back as he moved them slowly up and down. She worked on his belt buckle and found the zipper of his pants. She relished in his kiss. Despite who he was, she felt safe.
In the distance she heard voices. He had heard them too. She hurried to button her blouse and tuck it back into her skirt while he straightened himself and picked up their bags. The voices disappeared as the students headed away from the Restricted Section. She reached up and smoothed his tousled hair.
“Do you want to leave first or should I?” he asked. She bit her lip. What did it matter? If anyone was sitting nearby they would have heard something.
“Um, I’ll go,” she said. She brushed back loose strands of hair from her face and gave him a small smile. He stepped aside to let her pass. When she crossed in front of him he touched her arm. She stopped and looked up at him.
“Be careful,” he said.
“You too.” Had she not seen the concern in his eyes, she would have thought he was talking about getting back to her room. Something was coming.
.
.
.
   The rumors spread quickly about Harry’s encounter with Malfoy. She paced in the common room waiting for Harry to come back from Snape’s office. Ron sat in a fluffy armchair bobbing his knee as he chewed on a thumbnail. She knew that Potions book was bad. She should have taken it and thrown it in the fire when Harry wasn’t around. He would have been mad, but he would have forgiven her.
   The portrait hole opened slowly and Harry climbed in. She and Ron rushed towards him. He looked unhurt, but was visibly shaken. He sat down in front of the fireplace while Hermione and Ron flanked him in silence, waiting for him to recount what happened.
   “I should have gotten rid of that book when you told me to, Hermione,” he groaned, staring into the fire. “There was so much blood,” he continued. “I can’t get the image out of my head. I didn’t know what Sectumsempra meant.” He hung his head in his hands.
   “Don’t worry mate,” Ron said, trying to cheer him up. “You know that he was up to no good.”
   Hermione gripped the edge of the sofa until her fingers painfully dug into the worn velveteen cushion. Cold sweat beaded on her forehead. Her vision whirled out of her control as her heart pounded like stampeding horses in her chest. A cacophony of high pitch buzzing rang in her ears causing a stabbing pain behind her eyes. Her legs trembled against the smooth fabric of the red sofa, the delicate golden tassels quivering at her heels. The image of Malfoy bleeding out on the grimey floor of the lavatory was burned into her mind. She could see it as if she was there with Harry. Her breathing was heavy and labored as the intricate weave of the wall tapestries became bright white and indistinguishable, the picture of his lifeless figure remaining clear in her mind’s eye. She choked on saliva, though her mouth was parched and sandy. The heaving of her stomach allowed bile to rise up her esophagus, burning as she swallowed it back down. Hermione coughed and wheezed with a deep inhale as though she had been holding her breath all the while. Tears burned in her eyes. She could hear a muffled voice calling her name.
   “Hermione are you okay?” Harry asked, giving her a gentle shake. His unknowingly kind eyes were full of concern while she pined over Malfoy. Had he known, she was sure he wouldn’t be speaking to her.
   “Yeah I’m fine,” she lied. Letting go of the sofa, her knuckles regained their proper flesh tone and her breathing steadied. Colors were vibrant again. She could smell the ash of the dying fire. The embers glowed bright orange as exhaustion hit her.
   “You got really pale and we thought you were going to pass out,” said Ron.
“Harry, what were you thinking?! You could have been hurt. Or killed. Or expelled!” she screeched. Her palms were still cold and clammy, but she had regained her wits.
   “I know, I know. I gave the book to Snape and have detention for a month. He’s the Half Blood Prince. He made that curse.”
   “Blimey, you gave up the book?”
   “Of course he gave up the book, Ronald,” she said, irritated. “He didn’t take you to Dumbledore, Harry?”
   “He couldn’t, now, could he?” interjected Ron. “If Snape is the the Half Blood Prince, then he couldn’t take him to Dumbledore without incriminating himself.”
   “How do you know for sure he’s the Half Blood Prince?” she asked.
   “He told me,” Harry replied. “He knew the counter curse to stop the bleeding. I’m tired,” he said, sighing heavily as if the weight of the world wasn’t already resting on his shoulders. “I’m going to bed. Do either of you have a sleeping draught?”
   “Sorry, mate. I never have problems sleeping,” Ron replied with a shrug. Hermione rolled her eyes.
   “That’s because you eat so much that you’re nearly comatose by the time we get back here. Harry, I have some you can take,” she replied, putting a gentle hand on his knee. “I think I’ll take myself to the infirmary after. I’m not feeling very well, must have been something I ate.”
“I feel fine,” said Ron.
“Of course you do,” she snapped, standing on her wobbly legs to retrieve the sleeping potion. “I’ll be right back.”

She knew full well that Malfoy would be in the hospital wing. Her panic attack gave her more than enough reason to go. She made her way through the large doors of the infirmary. A young boy she didn’t recognize lay asleep in a cot closest to the door. His squirrely face was contorted in pain and his mouth moved inaudibly. The boy shivered as if his mound of blankets was a heap of snow. His hair was tousled and wirey like he had been struck by lightning.
The distant sound of clinking jars brought her back to attention and she continued toward Madame Pomfrey’s station. Several beds in the infirmary were neatly made with white sheets and fluffy pillows. A tall privacy curtain circled the bed directly across from Madame Pomfrey’s desk. She strained her eyes in hopes of seeing Malfoy’s shadow behind the curtain, but couldn’t see anything but clean white fabric.
“How can I help you, dear?” Madame Pomfrey asked, emerging from her store room. The witch’s long, giraffe-like neck craned to peer at her from across the room. Her graying hair was tied neatly in a bun at the nape of her neck as she pushed her spectacles higher on the bridge of her flat nose. Hermione approached her desk and asked her for a stomach easing potion. “It might be a moment. I was just reorganizing my potions when you came in,” she said. Madame Pomfrey scribbled Hermione’s request into a heavy looking log book before purposefully retreating back into the closet.
Hermione plunged her hands into the curtain frantically looking for the opening. She could hear Madame Pomfrey humming to herself as she slipped behind the curtain. His eyes were closed, but the long, deep gashes on his face were open and oozing. The cuts were red and angry against his pale skin. His nose appeared to be mended, but the discoloration that spread across his face was evidence of broken bones. Deep purple bruising formed in his eye sockets leaving his eyelids a startling reddish blue in contrast. Red speckles dotted his cheek bones where the blood vessels had ruptured on impact. She reached out her hand and touched his wrist. He slowly cracked opened his swollen eyes and focused on her.
“Ah ha!”
Hermione whipped her head around and made for the opening in the curtain. “I’m sorry that took so long, dear. I should have just accio’d it in the first place. So many potions, you know,” she said, handing over a small vail. “Take this before bed and your stomach should feel better,” she instructed. Hermione thanked the witch and cast a last look at the swaying white curtain before leaving the infirmary.
She wept all the way back to her room.
.
.
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   It was late. The early Spring days were unseasonably warm, but she shivered in the darkened corridor. She hadn’t dared go back to the infirmary. With Harry serving detentions, Malfoy in the hospital wing and Ron snogging Lavender, she had much more time to study for her exams. What she hadn’t anticipated was her inability to concentrate. Never had she ever had trouble focusing on the fine print of her textbooks, but as of late, they seemed foreign and unintelligible. Her thoughts had been wandering to the man in the dungeons and the one in the hospital wing. She had seen so little of both in the past weeks. Harry had been spending so much time in detention that he was too tired to even stay up with her researching Horcruxes. Her lack of concentration wasn’t getting her anywhere in that department either. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder and sighed.
   “That’s a big sigh for a small witch,” he said, coming from an adjacent hallway.
   “Oh!” she yelped. “You startled me. I didn’t know you were out of the hospital wing.”
   “Just got out and was on my way to the dungeons. Pomfrey was keeping me for observation.”
   “You look better,” she said cautiously as she approached him. He made a gruff sound and roughly shoved her to the wall, placing his hands on either side of her head intimidatingly. She could still see traces of bruising around his eyes.
   “Your friend almost killed me,” he growled angrily.
   “Well then maybe you shouldn’t be sneaking around doing who knows what!” she snapped, poking him in the chest. He winced and she felt a fleeting pang of remorse but she straightened her back and glared at him. “I told you to stop a long time ago.”
“Are you saying I deserved it?” he gritted out, raising a scarred brow.
“No,” she hesitated. “I’m saying I told you so.”
“You’re not my mother,” he said with a deep frown.
“I would hope you don’t treat your mother like you do me,” she bristled and crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for his retort.
“I most definitely don’t.” His eyes were angry, but his lips were not. He wrapped his arms around her tenderly as he kissed her. She immediately succumbed to his embrace and clutched him tightly to her. “I’ve missed you,” he murmured. Her heart fluttered as she held him close and nipped his bottom lip, feeling his hardness against her stomach. She lowered one hand from around his neck and rubbed his dick through his pants.
“Granger, we’re in a hallway.” His breath was labored as he trailed kisses down her neck. His hands worked their way down to the waistline of her pleated skirt. He slowly began to inch the fabric up her legs giving her goosebumps in the late night chill.
“Then why are you pulling up my skirt?” she breathed, taking his mouth back. She worked on his belt as he lifted her. He squeezed her tightly and groaned, breaking their kiss and lowering her back down. He touched the side of his dark shirt with a sigh. Blood stained his hand.
“I guess I’ll be going back to the hospital wing,” he said unhappily. He pulled out his wand to clean the blood.
“Vulnera Sanentur,” she whispered, concentrating on the incantation. “I learned it after Harry told me what happened. Do you want me to go with you?” she asked, straightening her skirt. He gave her a skeptical look.
“Have fun explaining that one,” he said sarcastically.
“I’ll just say I found you unconscious.” She smirked up at him and he rolled his eyes.
“I think I’ll be just fine on my own.”
“Suit yourself,” she said with a shrug. She picked up her bag and put it over her shoulder. She took his hand to squeezed it. He pulled her back in and kissed her softly.
“I’ll see you soon.” His whisper was a promise as he retreated into the darkness.

   The portrait hole shut lightly behind her. She let out a breath of relief at the empty room. Pushing hair out of her eyes, she quickly set out for the girl’s dormitory.
“How long has it been?” Harry’s voice rang out in the quiet room. Hermione paused, her back to him. Her shoulders sunk at the even tone of his voice. “Peeves told me he saw you together and I didn’t believe him until I was doing my rounds tonight,” he added.
   “Since the beginning of term,” she answered. She lifted her chin up defiantly and turned to face him.
   “Beginning of term? Beginning, you said? This has been going on for months?!” His face was stoney gray in the shadows. “Are you fucking him?” His voice was harsh and strained.
"That is none of your business,” she said defensively.
   “It is most definitely my business, Hermione.” He stood from his chair and swiftly crossed the room. “It is my business if one of my best friends, my confidant, is sleeping with a Death Eater.” His face contorted into an ugly sneer. He wasn’t a tall man, but still taller than she. She stiffened and stared at him with as much confidence as she could muster.
   “I am not sleeping with him,” she tilted her chin up higher. “And he is not a Death Eater yet.”
   “So you’ve had enough contact with him to see it?”
   “It, is not there, Harry,” she said. He was quiet for a moment looking a little disappointed.
“Have you learned anything valuable?”
   “Nothing that we don’t already know. He did plant the necklace.” she replied coldly. She was seething. She wanted to slap him for his one track mind. Of all the things he could have said, of all the emotions he was feeling, he had to ask that. Despite the anger and disappointment she knew that he felt, his fixation on Malfoy hadn’t waned. He was hell-bent on bringing Malfoy down and she had gotten herself stuck in the middle. She had no one to blame but herself.
“What about poisoning Ron?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask him.” she said. “We don’t talk much.” He seemed to catch her drift.
“So all this time that I’ve been going crazy following him, you’ve been snogging him behind my back? How have you kept it a secret? Why would you keep it a secret? Nevermind, I already know the answer to that. Are you out of your mind?! He’s a plotting murderer! He could have killed you in your sleep. ...If you’re sleeping with him, which I know you said you’re not and I really hope you’re aren’t, but I just don’t know. He’s bad news, Hermione. You know that. Bad, bad news. Why didn’t I see you on the Maurader’s Map? Bad news. Bad news, Hermione. Bad bad bad...” The thoughts poured out of his mouth like a rushing river.
“Stop!” she said loudly. “I don’t know, Harry. Maybe the map is broken.”
“It’s not broken.”
“Then, I don’t know. We’re not dating. We’re not sleeping together. We don’t even spend time together outside of the library. Our encounters are few and far between. Maybe you didn’t look at the right times,” she said.
Most days they met so late in the night that Harry was probably asleep. She was mad at him for being mad. She deserved it, but she was still mad. She was mad at herself for letting anything start with Malfoy, but she wouldn’t apologize to Harry for something she wasn’t truly sorry for. She felt defeated, torn between platonic love and passion.
Harry rubbed his face roughly with his hands and crouched down. He groaned. “Is that what you’ve been doing in the library? I thought you were researching Horcruxes.”
“Don’t be stupid. I was researching Horcruxes. Malfoy also spends a lot of time in the library, which you wouldn’t know because you’re never there,” she retorted.
“Don’t you dare spin this back on me,” he snapped. “How did this even happen?” he asked, hands still over his face. He stood up again looking forlorn. She didn’t know if he was asking her or agonizing aloud.
“I don’t know, it just did. He came up to me in the library one day.”
“And then?”
“Well,” she stammered, “he kissed me and I kissed him back.” Harry let out a disgusted sound and turned away from her. Shame heated her cheeks as silence surrounded them. Her shoulders slumped back down, her confidence deflated. “I don’t- I don’t know. I guess it felt nice to be looked at other than ‘Hermione Granger, brightest witch of our age’,” she continued.
“You’re barking! Do you know how many guys trip over themselves to talk to you?” he asked. “And,” he said, pointing at her, “I will have to argue that you’re not the brightest witch of our age.” She knew he was hurt and wanted to hurt her too. “How did we not notice?” he asked. This time she was sure that he wasn’t speaking to her.
“It’s simple, Harry. You were obsessed with stalking Malfoy and Ron was obsessed with getting into Lavender’s skirt.”
“I never once saw you near him.”
“You know we are in all the advanced classes together.”
“Which makes him all the more dangerous! Have you ever thought that he’s using you?”
“It’s crossed my mind.”
“And you still kissed him?”
“It’s nothing serious,” she said defensively. “I was just looking for a good snog. It’s a doomed relationship, you know that,” she said, flopping her arms in exasperation. Harry grunted in disgust again. She wasn’t building her case well at all. It really had crossed her mind that he was using her, but he had not once asked her about their mission. He didn’t seem to be interested in any of the war-time politics when he was with her.
“Good- Good snog. Hermione… no,” he complained with his hand over his eyes. “It had to be him?” He ran his hand down his face, pulling his jaw down. “It had to be him,” he said again more softly. “Are you going to see him again?”
“I don’t know, Harry. It’s complicated.”
“That’s an understatement,” he scoffed.
He didn’t say anything as she turned towards the girls dormitories, afraid that their friendship was over.
“Hermione,” he finally said. She paused and tilted her head towards him. “Are you in love with him?”
“No, Harry. I’m not.” She heard herself say the words and coldness spread across the back of her neck. She wasn’t, but she could easily be if she allowed herself. She turned to the dark staircase and ascended without looking back.
.
.
.
   “You’ve been avoiding me.”
   “Harry knows. He saw us in the corridor.” She let the information sink in. He touched her shoulder with his fingertips before retracting them again. The bruising on his face had healed, but dark red scars stitched with puckering pearly skin peaked out from the collar of his crew neck shirt.
“How mad was he?” he asked. She gave him a knowing look and he sighed. “Look, we’re going to war and we’re going to be on different sides. I care about you a lot, but I won’t be able to protect you and you won’t be able to protect me. We have very different endgames and our worlds are completely different. Potter will come around once I’m gone.” He brushed his thumb against her bottom lip. She crossed her arms and rested her forehead on his chest, letting out a doleful sigh. His words crushed her.
   “I hate when you’re being realistic,” she said, nuzzling into him. “I don’t know what to do.”
   “About Potter?” he asked.
   “About everything,” she complained as she leaned back and looked at him. “He’s been speaking to me, but he’s so angry he won’t look me in the eyes. Ron doesn’t seem to know.”
   “Weasley wouldn’t notice anything in front of his face unless it was edible.”
   “Or Lavender Brown,” she said darkly.
   “She’s a different kind of edible,” he said. “For him,” he added quickly at her glare. He stepped closer to her with a wicked smile. “Would you like me to show you how edible you are to me?”
   “No,” she said, rolling her eyes. “I need you to be more serious.”
   “Oh, I am very serious,” he drawled as he snaked an arm around her waist.
   “Draco!” She pinched him on his arm and he yanked it away. She quirked a brow at him, giving him a cheeky look.
   “There are no answers,” he finally said. “Your right is my wrong. My right is your wrong. If we both make it out alive, maybe we can work something out.”
“If we make it out alive,” she repeated quietly. “What if-”
“Don’t.”
They both looked up as they heard the scraping of a moving staircase overhead. The corridors had been dismally empty once the weather had warmed and the frost thawed. She wondered if Harry suspected her whereabouts in her absence. If he had, she was thankful that he hadn’t come looking for her. She wasn’t sure if his distance was from ambivalence or if she was slowly losing him. What she didn’t understand was why he hadn’t told Ron. She knew for certain that Ron would have tried to kill Malfoy at his first chance and then he was likely to never speak to her again. They had all had their rows in the past, but this one with Harry had been by far the most damaging.
The staircase locked into place and cast a dark shadow over them. She took his hand in silence and led him a short way to a grisly-faced gargoyle. She put her hand into its mouth and stroked its tongue with her forefinger. The gargoyle closed its eyes and bowed its head as it moved to the side. She led him into the small passageway as the gargoyle shifted back into place.
“Lumos,” he whispered. “Nice digs.” He looked around and seemed impressed that she would know of a secret passageway that he didn’t. “Where does it go?”
“It’s a dead end,” she replied. He frowned at her, looking rather disappointed. “Which means no one uses it. You can go check out the barrier. It’s just around the corner.” She cast her well practiced silencing spell on the entrance and a privacy ward while he walked away.
“Hmm, you are rather clever,” he said as he came back and stood behind her. He brushed her hair away and softly kissed her neck as he pulled out his wand. He cast his own protective wards on the entrance.
“Some would say that,” she said with a smirk. She transfigured a loose pebble into a modest twin-sized mattress on the dusty floor and heard him scoff. Before she could turn around to see what he was displeased with, she watched her mattress transform into a king sized bed with crisp white sheets. “You’re always trying to outdo me, aren’t you?”
“Always,” he replied, tucking away his wand. She tugged on his shirt and he stepped closer.
“Well then, out-do me,” she said.
“Is that a request or a demand?” he asked with a smug smile.
“Take it how you will,” she answered as she kissed him.
His arms engulfed her as he walked her back to the bed and lifted her. He lay on top of her, running his hands down her sides to the hem of her t-shirt. In one swift motion, he removed her shirt and then his own. His skin was warm against hers. She arched into him as his mouth moved from her lips to her neck. With adept fingers, he quickly unbuttoned her jeans and peeled them off. The secret passageway was cold like an underground cave, but his radiating heat warmed her. She pushed him over and mounted him with a devilish smile as she worked on his belt.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“What do you mean ‘what am I doing’? I’m going to give you a blow job.”
“A what?”
“You’re not serious are you?” she asked. She stopped what she was doing and put her hands on either side of his head, looking down at him in surprise. “You’ve never had a blow job?”
“Is this some kind of muggle thing?” he asked. She laughed and sat back on her haunches.
“How is this not a thing in the wizarding world?! Have you never gone down on a girl either?”
“Well, yes, I’ve done that,” he said.
“But girls don’t go down on guys?”
“No!” he said as if it was the most inane idea he’d ever heard.
“Well then I guess it’s a good thing for you that I’m a Muggleborn,” she said with a laugh. She moved back down his torso and removed his jeans and boxers easily. She took his cock in her hand and stroked it. His eyebrows furrowed and he closed his eyes. She put the tip of his head between her lips and circled it with her tongue.
“Ohhhh,” he let out as his head fell back into the pillows. She moved her mouth further down him and sucked as she came back up. “I need to do more muggle research,” he rasped. She stifled a triumphant laugh. The head of his dick tapped the back of her throat as she took him fully into her mouth. She stroked and sucked, sucked and stroked. He put his hands in her hair and gently guided her down. He moaned deeply when she looked up at him with his dick in her mouth. She could feel his orgasm building. He grasped the pillows over his head when she squeezed the base of his penis as he came. His cock pulsed in her mouth as she swallowed down his cum. He let out a long breath when she came up with a victorious smile. His eyes were still closed when he began to speak through labored breaths. “If they would have told us this in Muggle Studies, I would have paid more attention.” He opened his eyes and found her hovering over him again smiling.
“You caught on quickly,” she said.
“I’m a fast learner. It’s my turn,” he said as he flipped her onto her back. With nimble fingers, he unhooked her bra. He sucked on the crook of her neck and rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. She moaned and heard his amusement. “You’re not the only one with tricks,” he murmured.
He never stopped kissing her. If it wasn’t her lips then it was her neck. If it wasn’t her neck then it was her shoulder. He moved slowly over her body, not missing any part of her open for exploration. His fingers traveled down her abdomen, lingering around her belly button. He caressed her hip bone as he wrapped his arm around her waist and took a breast in his mouth. He spread her legs and wrapped them around himself, grinding his hips into her until she ached with desire. She felt his hard shaft rub against her clit, making her shudder with anticipation.
“Is there anything I should know?” he asked.
“I’m not a virgin, if that’s what you’re asking,” she responded. “And I like it rough,” she added.
“The Golden Girl likes it rough…” he said, trailing off. He gave her a mischievous smile.
“Are you going to fuck me or not?” She caught him by surprise when she lifted her hips and slid him in. He moaned and dropped his head to her neck. He took her hips in his hands and trust into her. She arched and moaned. “That’s more like it,” she gasped. She dug her nails into his back as he plunged into her until she was hoarse from screaming. It was pure, unadulterated fucking.
She rolled him over and rode him hard. He sat up and kissed her while she ground into him, nearing climax. He slapped her ass and she threw her head back, moaning his name as she came in a splendor of ecstasy. Her tight muscles clamped down on him as she fucked him and came once more. She felt him tense as his orgasm took over him. The pulsing of his cock jolted her into another orgasm. She gasped for air as her body relaxed. He bit her shoulder and pressed his thumb into her clit. She orgasmed again and felt his jizz squeezing out of her.
“That last one was mean,” she panted, as she took his lips. He thrust into her one last time and swirled his thumb. She gasped and pulled his hair as she came again. He rolled her on her back and looked down at her.
“Have I out done you yet?” he asked with a smirk. She playfully nudged him as he went in for a kiss. He felt good against her skin. She ran her hands freely through his hair and down his back. He was hers and she was sure that he knew it too. He took her hands and raised them above her head. He laced his fingers with hers and kissed her. “You may like it rough, but I like it soft. This time we’re going to take it slowly,” he murmured in her ear. “Scorgify,” he said.
He tormented her. The way his hands glided over her made her hairs stand at attention. He touched her slowly, affectionately. She fought the urge to take hold of him and have her way. He kneaded and stroked, suckled and kissed until he was ready. He easily slid into her. Though he had cleaned evidence of their first go around, she was still wet with desire. She was more turned on than she could have imagined. She moaned and gasped as he made love to her. He kissed her neck while raising her hips. His pace increased as he drove into her. She came again. He lifted her up and held her against him. She came again at his thrust. He moaned. She came. He laid her back down. She came.
“How are you doing this?” he asked, panting. She smiled at him and he came with a muscle tensing shudder. She came again. She was spent. She didn’t think her body could take anymore. He rolled off of her and groaned. “I think you’ve killed me,” he said. Raising his arm above them, he feigned a headline “Draco Malfoy: Death by sex,” he continued. He dropped his arm and she giggled. She sat up and gave him a shrug.
“It’s a gift of mine,” she laughed out. “Scorgify.” He sat up and ran his hand down her bare back. He leaned in and kissed her neck.
“Will this happen again?” he asked.
“If you’re lucky,” she teased.
“Oh, I’m definitely lucky.” He kissed her softly and summoned their clothes. She dressed slowly and stretched her arms over her head with a groan.
“Should I leave first?” she asked.
“Sure. I’ll wait a few minutes and then come out.” She nodded and removed her spells from the entrance as he did the same. She gave him a last peck and slipped out of the passageway.
She had not made it two steps when she saw Harry coming down the corridor. Dread filled her. She hurried to him to lead him away.
“Hey, where have you been?” he asked. He pulled out a note with neat writing. “Dumbledore sent me this.”
“He wants to see you?” she scanned the note, trying to read quickly and move him out of the vicinity. She handed the note back to him and took his arm to leave. It was too late. They had taken too long and Malfoy was emerging from the passageway that Harry had seen her exit. Malfoy took one look at them and smirked.
“Potter,” he greeted cordially. She thought Harry’s neck vein would burst.
“Malfoy,” he grit and gave her a look. “Hermione,” he growled. The fury in his eyes made her blanch. He stormed off. Malfoy held up his hands with a shrug before she ran after Harry.
   Harry grabbed her arm and spun her to face him. His face was contorted with anger and his other hand balled into a fist. He looked up briefly over her shoulder before he was shoved away, ripping his hand from her elbow. She whipped around in surprise.
   “If you touch her like that again, Potter, I don’t care if you’re her friend but you’ll be losing teeth,” Malfoy spat. Both had their wands drawn.
   “I’d say the same to you, Malfoy.”
   “Unlike you, Potter, she enjoys it when-”
   “You sure you want to finish that sentence?” Harry interrupted threateningly, stabbing his wand into the side of Malfoy’s neck. They were so close that their chests were almost touching.
   “Stop!” Hermione yelled, but they didn’t seem to hear her. Harry shoved Malfoy back from him. She swung her wand in a striking motion and shot out a loud crackling spark. “I said STOP!” she yelled. She grabbed Harry by the bicep and yanked him behind her and gave him a piercing glare. She turned and looked at Malfoy with raised brows, making a head motion for him to leave. He frown at her, but put his wand away.
   “I’m watching you, Potter,” he said, taking a few steps backward before turning to leave.
“Not more than I’m watching you,” Harry called out. She heard Malfoy laugh as he turned the corner. “Pussy-whipped,” Harry muttered.
“Harry James Potter!” she screeched. She shot him a second sharp look as she dragged Harry down the corridor away from where Malfoy had gone.
“What?! He is and you know it!” he retorted. She narrowed her eyes at him, but didn’t respond.
“So I take it that the map isn’t broken?” she bit out.
“I didn’t use the map,” he retorted, wrenching his arm from her. She almost had to trot to keep up with him. “I was looking for you to show you the note,” he said while giving her a sidelong look. “So you’re sleeping with him now?”
“What makes you think that?”
“Everything, but I could smell your perfume on him,” he said bitterly. He stopped quickly and looked at her. “I thought you were going to stop seeing him.”
“I never said that. And what do you mean, everything? I haven’t seen him since you saw us. That’s been...” she counted on her fingers, “five weeks!” She stopped again and crossed her arms over her chest. He gave her a sideways look and scoffed.
“He defended you against me of all people, looking way too smug for you to not have done, I might add. And he came out of the blocked passageway I saw you come from. And he left when you asked. He would have never done that before! And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And-,”
“Alright, alright, alright. I get it,” she said, annoyed.
“You could practically pick anyone in the school and they’d fall head over heels,” he told her with a grimace. He hung his head while pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I picked one and he wasn’t interested,” she replied, knowing full well Harry knew who she was referring to. She heard Ron hollering at them from behind. “Speak of the devil,” she said looking sharply at Harry.
“He doesn’t know.”
“I figured.”
“If he found out he would get himself expelled.”
“I figured that also. I don’t know how you haven’t gotten yourself expelled,” she quipped.
“Hold on,” Ron yelled from down the hall, “I just need to tell Lav I’m leaving.” Ron vanished down another corridor. Harry pulled his hair, making it stand up at awkward angles.
“It’s been,” he paused in thought, “difficult. So, is he?”
“Is he what?” she asked, not following. He raised his eyebrows at her. “Oh, no, no he’s not a Death Eater. I told you,” she said as he nodded.
“Have you been helping him?”
“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m not helping him!” Her hand trailed to her wand in her back pocket. She was ready to hex him to Hell.
“Just checking,” he said quickly. “Don’t get angry with me. You’re the one fucking him.”
“You guys ready for lunch?” Ron asked, jogging up to them with a grin on his face.
“What are you so happy about?” she asked as they started toward the Great Hall.
“I just got laid,” Ron said, puffing his chest.
“Looks like everyone did except for me,” Harry mumbled.
“What was that, mate?” Ron asked, but Hermione had heard him loud and clear.
“Nothing, I was just talking to myself.”

   Harry and Dumbledore had left that night after dinner. He had been in a terrible mood when he instructed them all to take the Felix Felicis. She knew he was in good hands with Dumbledore. They all knew, but there was a feeling of dread that spread over her. Harry drew her aside while Ron and Ginny inspected the small gold vial of Liquid Luck.
“I know he’s up to something, Hermione. I need you to see that.”
“I do,” she replied reluctantly.
“Did you see him at dinner? He looked-.”
“Lonely,” she nodded.
“That’s not the word I would have used, but, yes. He looked different.”
“Be careful, Harry,” she said as squeezed his shoulder. “Voldemort has to be planning something. Earlier Malfoy said to me ‘Your right is my wrong. My right is your wrong’” she repeated. “He believes in his cause as much as we do ours. It makes him even more dangerous.”
“And you still-”
“Yes, I did. I may never see him again. I have feelings for him and took my chance when it came, but I love you and won’t leave you. Ever.”
“Hermione, there are no words to describe you, good or bad,” he said with a heavy sigh. Harry gave her a firm hug despite his anger. “Take the potion and make sure you keep your head down.”
“You too, Harry.”

She had been guarding Snape’s office when she heard the commotion. She abandoned her post and ran toward the noise, skidding to a stop in front of a window. There, glowing in the night, was the green radiance of the dark mark. Fear spread over her.
“Hermione,” he said, looking surprised that she was in the dungeons. Malfoy had appeared from a parallel corridor. The sounds of breaking glass and screaming tore through the halls. They both looked down the corridor towards the loud banging.
“Did you do this?!” she yelled, pointing to the sky. The mark cast a green ebb on his face as he looked up.
“I told you, we’re on different sides,” he said sadly. “I had to. My family-” he trailed off. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by a vice and seizing. The yelling and screaming grew louder. “You have to go.” He looked panicked as he glanced back down the hallway over his shoulder. “They brought the Werewolf. I didn’t know he was coming. Hermione, please, you have to run. He likes,” he hesitated, “he likes Muggleborns.” He pointed his wand at her. She felt heat around her torso and her whole body vibrated from his protection spell. He nodded to her and ran towards the cackling laughter of Death Eaters.

   Spells flew over head crumbling the stoney walls. Ginny fought next to her as curses narrowly missed them both. A Death Eater grabbed Hermione from behind and wailed in pain. She whipped around and saw his hands erupt in flames.
   “Stupefy!” she shrieked.
   “What was that?!” Ginny screamed over the din.
   “I don’t know,” she lied. She cast hex after hex at Death Eaters. Dust and smoke clouded the air as the castle walls were pounded by spells. The sound of screaming echoed high into the peaks of the entrance hall. She heard a Death Eater yell that Dumbledore was back and several took off running. She looked at Ginny.
   “We have to stay,” Ginny yelled. Hermione nodded and blocked Ginny from a burly Death Eater. She didn’t know how there still seemed to be as many Death Eaters as there were Aurors.
Snape barreled toward her with Malfoy in tow. She paused for only a moment to look at them before she heard a loud growl behind her and Ginny’s scream. She turned around just in time to see Fenrir Greyback fly backwards and hit a wall. She spun back around to see Malfoy tucking his wand away in the flurry of commotion. Their eyes met. Snape paused when he saw Fenrir. He looked down at Malfoy and then back up at Hermione before he sneered, dragging Malfoy away.
   Amycus crackled and sang “Dumbledore is dead! Dumbledore is dead!” as he ran by her. There was an uproar of delight from the remaining Death Eaters. They took hold of their dead and wounded and retreated through the grand doors.
   “Snape! Where’s Snape?!” Harry yelled, running in. He threw a curse at Amycus, who scuttled away with his comrades. “Snape!”
   “Harry! He’s gone!” Hermione yelled. “He ran through a few minutes ago with Malfoy.”
   “He killed him. He killed him,” Harry screamed. “Snape killed Dumbledore!”
   The room whirled to a stop. Rubble was scattered on the floor as the dust began to dissipate. They huddled around Harry and cried. She sobbed. She sobbed for Dumbledore and Harry. She sobbed for her fallen friends. She sobbed for Malfoy. She sobbed for herself. Her heart felt broken in places she didn’t know it could break.

   She sat alone, unseeing, in the Great Hall with all of the other students. She thought she had no more tears to shed. Harry sat on the bench next to her, putting his hand on her knee. She came out of her daze and focused on him. The Weasleys were huddled in a corner being inspected by their mother. Harry’s face was dusty and tear streaked. He looked as exhausted as she felt.
   “He was supposed to kill Dumbledore,” he said softly. “Malfoy.” A fresh round of tears flooded her eyes. Harry wrapped his arm around her shoulders. “He couldn’t do it, Hermione. Dumbledore offered him and his family safety,” he sniffled and wiped his nose. “He was going to take it but Snape came in and…and…” He wiped tears away. She nodded, leaning on his boney shoulder. Harry took a deep, sniffling breath and continued. “Dumbledore knew it was Malfoy the whole time. He said Malfoy’s attempts were weak and that his heart wasn’t in it.” Hermione hiccuped out an unsteady breath. “He said he knew that Malfoy was distracted and that we could help him escape. Somehow Dumbledore knew you were involved. Hermione, I really think he would have taken Dumbledore’s offer because to be with you.” She couldn’t contain herself any longer. She held her face in her hands and cried.
   “I saw him before you got back,” she sobbed. “He said he had to do it. He put some kind of protective charm on me. I was with Ginny when a Death Eater grabbed me. His hands turned to flames. And then Snape was dragging him out and Fenrir tried to attack me, but Draco stunned him. Snape knows, Harry. He saw it all.”
   “Draco…” Harry repeated.
   “Don’t be mad. Too much has happened for you to be mad right now,” she sighed. “You can be mad at me tomorrow.”
   “I’m not mad, Hermione. I just can’t believe he’s in love with you.”
   “He’s not,” she sighed.
   “He is. Believe me, he is.”
- 1
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Your Right Is My Wrong