Hermione always thought she knew what love was. It was an emotion everyone felt, it could be explained in so many of her books. She looked it up just like everything else. There were different kinds of love. She had loved Harry and Ron since their first year, but over the years the way she loved Ron had changed. It matched all the books, he wasn't like a brother anymore. His presence made her heartbeat quicken, her palms sweat. This feeling must have been it. Only it wasn't. Not really. She wasn't to know at the time. All the signs were there. But loves lasts, and things with Ron didn't.

The breakdown of their relationship was slow, it dragged and dragged until there was no love left. Nothing. Which made Hermione doubt if there had been any to begin with? Had she been wrong? A relationship with Ron was expected of her, it felt natural when she was seventeen. Perhaps the war had more of an impact than she thought. It twisted things. The emotions were like smoke between her fingertips, that she'd never been able to catch. So, no. Hermione wasn't sure she'd ever known what love was before that.

Books made love sound simple, but sudden. Like the flick of a switch, or the slam of a door. You could wake up one day, and it just be there. Hermione found out, years after Ron, it was nothing like that. It was like missing a stair in the dark, but your foot never lands on the next step. She supposed the feeling differed for everyone. It was different for her, because she'd hated the man first. They always said there was a thin line, and she'd never believed it until then.

As for love being simple… if only that were true. Nothing was ever simple with Draco Malfoy.

Things had started unexpectedly, in a drunken haze of whispered words and hurried kisses. It was the very week she'd split from Ron, far too soon. Wounds were fresh, and Malfoy had been there to lick them. They had fucked, the only suitable word for it, on her couch. All limbs and lips, she wanted him to fuck Ron out of her system. It had worked. Only bruises and scratches remained. He left without a word, and she cried herself to sleep. She cried for the little girl inside her, who thought all the books were true. She cried because sex with Malfoy had been enjoyable, when it shouldn't have. She cried because life was not turning out how it should.

Hermione never expected to see Malfoy again. However, two weeks later there he was, stood on her doorstep at almost midnight. She never got a chance to ask what he wanted. He made it clear by barging inside and kissing her harshly, her back smacking into the wall. That was the moment she could have ended it. Should have. Just push him away and tell him to leave, but she didn't. He made her feel wanted, feel desirable. So what if it didn't last long, she deserved to feel it for a little while. They had sex right there and then, up against the wall. It wasn't as frantic as last time, and they weren't drunk. There were no excuses. Not that Hermione needed any. Malfoy might have, even if just for himself. One word was uttered before he left this time. Sorry. She didn't know why he said it, but it felt important. It felt like a milestone. He left before she could reply, but there were no tears this time. She made herself a coffee, and that was that.

Their next encounter was in public. The Ministry Ball. All employees were invited, a reason Harry gave for why she had to attend. Such events always made her uncomfortable; getting dressed up was not her thing. It was also the first time she saw him with his fiancée. Within half an hour Hermione had excused herself, to empty the contents of her stomach into the toilet. What had they done? It was all wrong. So damn wrong. This bout of sickness gave her an excuse to leave. Of course it hadn't been that easy. Malfoy managed to find her at the fireplaces, mere seconds before the floo powder fell from her palm. He insisted he'd accompany her home, but she refused. They argued and it hurt, she wasn't sure why. It just hurt, her chest and her head. It wouldn't stop hurting, even as tears started rolling down her cheeks. The blonde stopped at the sight of her tears, grabbing her fist full of floo powder and pulling her against his chest. They were back at her flat in seconds, she had no idea how. His arms were round her and she felt safe. That wasn't what they were about, she wasn't meant to feel like that. So she kissed him. It was different this time, slow and careful. Malfoy took the witch to her bedroom, placing her softly on the bed. They hadn't done it here before, but Hermione had imagined as much. He fell asleep when they were done. She didn't want to sleep there with him, so moved to the couch. There was a line, they had one foot over already. The witch refused to step over it entirely. He was gone when she woke up.

Five days later, there was a knock at the door. She knew before she answered, that it was him. It was raining out and he was soaked, already shivering in just a suit jacket for warmth. Hermione didn't have the heart to tell him to leave. His eyes and nose were red from what must have been crying, but he wouldn't talk. Malfoy just sat and let her wrap a blanket round him, before pushing a mug of hot tea into his hands. She sat across from him with a mug of tea in her own hands, staring, waiting. After what could have been hours, he gestured for the woman opposite him to sit on his lap. Hermione didn't move to begin with, but his eyes were screaming for help. After a minute she obliged. Malfoy wrapped his arms around her, pressing his cheek against her collarbone and closing his eyes. She supposed he just needed some comfort, so rested her chin on his head and stroked his hair. It felt like the right thing to do, something a friend would do. They could be friends, there was no harm in that. There was no sex like she expected. Malfoy abruptly removed her from his lap and mumbled something about having somewhere to be.

Hermione found herself working late for the next week, to avoid being at her flat. Not having sex with Malfoy the last time had got under her skin. It bothered her. That was their thing. Without it, what were they doing? Perhaps cutting him out completely was the best plan of action, even if she didn't want to. None of the work on her desk was sinking in, not one word. Events after the ball continued to cross her mind, only interrupted when her office door swung open. He was evidently angry. His eyes aflame with unresolved frustration directed right at her. She asked what he wanted, and the man stormed towards her. Hermione was scared, but didn't show it. Words came tumbling uncontrollably from his dry mouth, blaming her for his fucked up relationship. He was meant to be getting married, but she had ruined it all. The witch took his ramblings for several minutes, until Malfoy insisted it was all her fault. She wasn't going to take this anymore. She let rip, flailing her arms around as she spoke. He was the one that was engaged, he was the one that kept turning up at her flat. How was this all her fault? When she walked around her desk to square up to him, he grabbed her shoulders and kissed her. Hermione pushed him away, shouting at him to get out. It was his fault. Not hers. The blonde wouldn't budge, trapping her between his body and her desk. He asked her to tell him she didn't want it, but the words wouldn't form in her brain, let alone mouth. So he kissed her again and she didn't stop him. There was no point. Her body was screaming for his touch, desperate to feel him inside her again. Sex with Malfoy was like nothing she'd ever experienced. Who wouldn't crave it? They fucked on her desk, trousers undone and skirt pulled up. Anger still boiled under the surface, making the bruises darker and the scratches deeper. Not that it mattered, it still felt wonderful. He zipped up his trousers and left with a growl that echoed round the office.

It only took three days for him to turn up at her flat again. They knew why he was there. His fingers deftly unzipped his trousers before they even made it to the couch. He bent her over the arm of it, and Hermione decided she preferred not being able to see him. She could pretend he was anyone. Unfortunately, blonde hair and grey eyes were the only things in her mind. His fingers dug into her hips until they both came, then his body was gone and she could just hear his heavy breathing. There was no point saying anything, so she waited in silence for her shaking limbs to calm. Soon enough there were footsteps and her front door was slammed closed. So that was how things were going to be.

Exactly two days later, Hermione was bent over the couch arm again. She stared at the clock on her coffee table, noting the time was the same. It didn't take him long to come, but her body wasn't having any of it. Malfoy continued to pound into her, trying desperately to get her off as well. It wasn't that she didn't feel good physically, but something had changed. He got annoyed and pulled out, turning the witch onto her back. She stared up at him, anger in her eyes. Why was she angry? This wasn't how it was supposed to be. Malfoy swore loudly, pulling Hermione onto her feet and kissing her. He kissed her like he had that first night, trying to breathe life back into whatever it was they had. His lips trailed down her neck and across her collar bone, when they reached her breast he could feel her heartbeat. It was fast. Good. They didn't have sex again, but the blonde used his fingers to bring her to orgasm. He hadn't done that before. Hermione didn't feel angry anymore, just tired. So fucking tired. Their situation was so exhausting, and not because of all the sex. That wasn't even the half of it. He kissed her cheek before he left. Things were different. She had to remind herself, he was still engaged.

Hermione was counting down the hours until Malfoy turned up again. It had been 47 and a half. He'd be here soon. She had decided earlier that morning, she couldn't do this anymore. She was in too deep. When he'd become so intent on her enjoyment the last time, it washed over her like a tidal wave. Sex wasn't enough anymore, but he couldn't give her what she wanted. The witch jumped when there was a knock at the door. He was stood there looking rugged and sexy, his eyes already dark. No. This couldn't happen again. There was no point lying. Hermione told him sex wasn't enough anymore, she told him to go to his fiancée. Make things right. He said he would, but he didn't have one anymore. She told him to fuck off, readying herself to slam the door in his face. Malfoy actually laughed at that, grabbing the witch's arm and pulling her in for a kiss. Hermione pulled away while shaking her head.

"Don't. Get out." She tried to pull her arm from his grip but couldn't.

"I've left her, you stupid bint." He looked amused, but his eyes told her he was being truthful.

"Really?" The witch stared dumbfounded, as Malfoy nodded.

"No, I'm pulling your leg." He rolled his eyes, warranting a smack in the arm. "Yes, really. I've fucked up things with her, but I don't want to fuck up things with you." Hermione didn't need to hear another word. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. Hermione always thought she knew what love was. Truth be told, she didn't know until Malfoy carried her to her bedroom and closed the door.