This story is yet another one-shot that has been swimming around in my noggin for a while. I still am working sans-beta, so any errors are 100% mine. I'm a big fan of fluffy Dramione, but I tried to keep the fluff to a minimum here (there's still fluff, just less fluff than I COULD have put in). I hope you enjoy it, and if you do, be sure to check out my other Dramione fics!

Quick note: JK owns HP. I just like to dabble in her world.

"What do you mean we're stuck together?" Hermione asked, eyes wide, hands gripping the wooden arms of her chair.

"Just what I said, Miss Granger," Professor Snape said, sneering down at her from where he stood in front of them, hands clasped. "Because of your stupidity in my class, you and your partner are now stuck together. If you get too far from one another, you'll be met with discomfort. However, seeing as an entire batch of adhaesit puer has never been spilled on a person's skin before, we aren't sure what the ramifications might be."

Hermione looked to her Potions partner, who was staring at Snape with open hostility.

"Fix it," he demanded, his jaw clenched.

Hermione's eyes shot back to Snape, her hands gripping the chair tighter.

"You'd do well to watch your tone, Mr. Malfoy," Snape said, his voice deadly low. Hermione shrank back, but Malfoy leaned forward, a red tinge to his otherwise pale cheeks. "Do you not think, if I could fix it, I would not have already done so?"

Hermione felt her heart plummet.

"As it stands, you are stuck. At least until the Potion wears off, which could take weeks or more." Snape strode toward the other side of his desk, and sat. He took out a quill and began to write. "You'll need to be in close proximity to one another." His brow creased as he wrote. "And the longer or further you're apart, the more painful it will be." He looked at his missive and seemed satisfied, then flipped a curtain of straight, black hair off his face dismissively. "I've just written Headmaster McGonagall. She'll contact you both by dinner to tell you where you'll be staying."

"I'll not live in the dungeons!"

"You can't force me into that tower!"

They erupted simultaneously and Snape scowled at them.

"I'm sure," he drawled, "the Headmistress will find suitable accommodations for students in your position." He looked down at his desk and waved his wand over the parchment to McGonagall. The parchment folded itself into an origami hummingbird and took off like a dart. After a long moment of organizing things on his desk, his dark eyes met theirs. "You are excused," he huffed.

Draco stared at him a long moment. Hermione rose, her lips set in a firm line, and looked down at her partner.

"Let's just go," she said, her voice calm to offset his anger. "We can go research in the library."

With a huff, Draco stood and followed her out. He stepped ahead of her to open the door, letting her walk through first, before shooting an angry glare at Snape and letting it slam behind him.

"Do you really think we'll find a solution in the library, Granger?" Draco asked as they walked, a few feet between them.

"It can't hurt to look," she said, not at all sounding or feeling very confident. "What else are we going to do?"

Draco scowled and shoved his hands in his robes pockets, keeping stride with her. "Steal a Time Turner, go back to this morning, and not spill that damned Potion all over us."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "And my idea seems like a long shot," she said, and he grunted in response.

They had just over an hour until dinner. They shared a table as they worked, passing books and sharing a parchment to take notes. As they worked, Hermione thought back on the day everything changed and Draco Malfoy entered her life as a friend rather than an enemy.

"Is she OK?" Draco asked Fleur, who'd just changed the bandages on Hermione's arm. He'd arrived at Shell Cottage less than an hour before with Mrs. Weasley.

"She will be." Fleur's voice was lovely and soft, as always.

"I can speak for myself," Hermione said, her voice gravelly and weak.

"Draco would like to speak with you." Fleur put her small, cool hand on Hermione's arm, above the bandage. "Is that all right?"

"Yes," she whispered, forcing her eyes to stay open, in spite of the pain potion she'd been given, which made her very sleepy.

"I'll be right outside," she said, helping Hermione sit up a bit before leaving.

Draco took a seat in the chair just beside the bed, his hands clasped in front of him, his jaw tense. "Granger," he began. He breathed deeply through his nose. "What happened to you - "

"I felt you," she said, clearing her throat to try and make it less scratchy. "At your house. I felt you in my mind." She looked at him and waited for him to look at her. When he finally did, she said, "How?"

His expression was pained. "I'm a legilimens," he said, and she nodded. "My aunt - " his nose wrinkled in disgust, "likes to draw out her torture." His eyes darted to her forearm, then back to her eyes. "I knew she would hurt you and keeping hurting you until you broke. Until your mind broke." He chewed the inside of his cheek. "Even if it was only a small help, I couldn't just stand there and do nothing. Besides, you're the brightest witch of our age. It would be a travesty to lose that mind." He smiled a little, still holding her gaze.

Hermione couldn't help her pained chuckle, which made his smile grow.

"And - " he took a deep breath. "And it just wasn't right, Granger." He leaned forward, elbows on his knees. "I'm - " another deep breath and his expression twisted in a way that filled Hermione up with sadness for him, "I'm sorry that it took you being tortured in the middle of my home to realize where I stood in all this." His chest heaved with unspoken as he spoke. "I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner."

"You showed me Harry and Ron," Hermione said, closing her eyes, remembering, the smallest of smiles on her face. "In my head. You showed me memories of them."

"I didn't know what else could make you happy enough to stand what she was doing."

With her eyes closed, she held her hand out, palm up. He stared at it for a long moment before laying his hand in her smaller one. She gently wrapped her fingers around his and gave them a gentle squeeze. "You saved me," she whispered, and he just sat, staring at her, as she fell asleep.

Since that moment, he'd been with them. He didn't go to Gringott's when they broke in, but he gave them tips, inside information. He had to stay out of sight - the price for his head was nearly as high as for Harry's - and he did all he could to tell them what he knew, never once asking for a wand, even though Harry had taken his at the Manor. He'd been given one for the final battle, and had stuck by Hermione's side - much to Ron's chagrin at times - through the whole affair, throwing up shielding charms and disarming attackers Hermione wouldn't have seen on her own.

He followed her through the castle, never leaving her side. When she went into the Chamber of Secrets to retrieve basilisk fangs, he followed. They destroyed the locket together while Ron was up, looking for that damned snake.

And there had been a moment, after the locket was destroyed, in which Hermione had thought Draco might kiss her. But the moment had passed, they'd rejoined the others, and the war had ended, leaving Hogwarts in ruin and so many dead.

And now, they were eighth years. Hermione and Draco had chosen to return - though Hermione had had to convince him it was the right move, coming back - while Harry and Ron had gone straight on to Auror training. Harry came by every Hogsmeade weekend to see Ginny, but aside from a few owls, Ron had nearly disappeared. Hermione knew why - he'd asked her, after the battle, if she wanted to pursue something with him, and she'd told him no.

In another life, she would be sitting here with Ron, stuck to Ron, watching Ron while he wasn't looking. But as it was, it was Draco, and she was glad for it.

Hermione huffed and closed her fourth book, her gaze landing on his face. He seemed to feel it, and looked up. More often than not, Draco masked his emotions. It had taken a while for her to get used to, but once she had, she wasn't surprised to see him without any emotion on his handsome face. He looked at her wearing that mask now.

"We're getting nowhere," she said, standing to re-shelve her books. She flicked her wand, and sent them back to their spots, neatly. "And it's time to eat."

"We've only just started." He let out a small breath of frustration. "I'll fix this, Granger." His mask dropped away and she saw desperation on his face. "I promise."

"Oh, well, come on then." She closed his book and sent it, and the few others he'd looked through, to their proper places. "McGonagall will have instructions for us, and we can continue to work on a way out of this later."

He stared up at her, his brows drawn together, and she held out her hand. "Up!" she said, pulling him up and letting him go.

They walked, his head down, toward the Great Hall. "It won't be so bad," she said, tugging her bag higher on her shoulder. "It's not like we haven't spent a great deal of time together since Shell Cottage anyway."

He cringed, and his head fell forward further, his fringe of white hair falling over his eyes. "You know I don't like talking about that time," he said quietly.

She bumped her shoulder against his. "Yes, I know, but I don't mind it, and I'm the one who was tortured."

He stopped and rounded on her, his . "How can you just - " he lifted his hands, as if he wanted to shake her, then let them drop to his sides. "You just talk about it!"

"You saved me that day, Draco." She reach up and gripped his bicep. "You hated me, and - "

"No I didn't," he grumbled, and she squeezed his arm harder.

"You hated me, and you saved me. That's how I can talk about it. You stepped in and made what could have been the most traumatic moment of my life bearable." She squeezed his arm again, then let go with a smile. "You saved me, and we saved the world. After that, being forced to stand near one another isn't so bad, is it?" She smiled again, hoping any bit of insecurity she felt didn't show through.

He sighed and nodded, his hair falling across his forehead. "All right. As always, you win, Granger," he grumbled with a smirk.

"I love winning!" She grinned in return. She stood a little closer to him as they walked and hoped he didn't notice too much.

McGonagall met them at the doors to the Great Hall, her lips pursed so tightly they nearly disappeared. "Professor Snape has brought me up to speed on your predicament," she said, arms crossed across her chest. "Have you tested the bond?" She looked between them, and both teenagers looked confused. She sighed. "Have you seen how far apart you can get without pain? Discomfort?"

"Oh! No, Professor. We were in the library, trying to find a counter potion until just now," Hermione said, looking chastised.

"We'll try now," Draco said, not quite meeting McGonagall's eyes. His mask was back in place. "Stay put, Granger." With slow steps be began to walk away. From the Great Hall doors to the front entrance was roughly four meters. The first few steps were fine. Then, a tightness formed in both of their chests. Draco had barely made it halfway when he couldn't take another step as searing pain engulfed both of their torsos.

Hermione met him halfway back to her, stumbling, until they were hanging on one another, breathing deeply, the pain subsiding as soon as they touched.

McGonagall nodded primly. "As Severus suspected." She sighed. "I've had all your things moved to an unused marriage suite."

Hermione and Draco shot apart and stared at her with huge eyes.

"Professor, we're not - "

"I think you misunderstand - "

"This is not because I believe you to be in a relationship, Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy. This is because a marriage suite has a large enough bed chamber for two student beds, with a bathroom close enough for one of you to wait outside while the other uses the facilities, without pain."

Both Hermione and Draco stared at her still, still as statues.

"Eat dinner. After, I'll escort you there. And, just so we're clear," she said, taking a step toward them, "I expect you to both treat the room, and each other, with respect. Do I make myself clear?"

Draco nodded and Hermione said, "Yes, ma'am."

"Good. Enjoy your meal." And with a swish of her robes, she was off.

"OK, so maybe it'll be a tad different," Hermione said, wincing as she looked up at him. He wore his neutral mask again, and she sighed. "Let's just eat."

She didn't wait for him to follow, but knew he had, because she didn't have the uncomfortable urge to stop or move toward him, which is what it had felt like when he'd walked way. As if in unspoken agreement, they sat at the Hufflepuff table, since they couldn't sit apart, and ate silently.

McGonagall met them after their awkwardly silent meal. She walked briskly, and Hermione had to nearly jog to keep up. At one point, Draco's hand shot out, as if the steady her, but she couldn't be sure because he pulled it back so quickly.

"Here we are," she said, stopping in front of a large oak door. Hermione raised one eyebrow. She'd expected something more Hogwarts-like - a gargoyle, a portrait - and was mildly disappointed it was just a door. McGonagall tapped it and it opened a crack.

"You'll need to set a password, of course," McGonagall said, watching them with a sudden awkwardness that neither teen understood. "These rooms were made for married partners, rather than large groups of students, so you'll need to set the password and may share it with me if you so choose." She cleared her throat. "The elves switched out the single bed that is standard for two queens, and they should be close enough that you should feel no discomfort when you sleep." She sighed and put one hand on each of their shoulders. "I know this isn't ideal, and I am sorry that your lives are once again being disrupted, but I trust that Severus will figure out a solution sooner rather than later and we'll have you back in your dormitories as soon as we can." With a squeeze of her fingers, she walked away and left them to their private, very isolated, set of rooms.

Hermione looked up at Draco, who was pointedly looking at his feet. He got like this sometimes - withdrawn and sullen - and there was hardly any way to pull him out. She'd hoped they'd be able to just be like they usually were and talk, or read, or even joke around, but it seemed Dreary Draco was here for aw hile. With a huff, she pushed the door open and he followed her in.

The room was small. There was no common room, since they were the only occupants, but there was a living room with a sofa and a cushy chair before a small fireplace. There was a small table and kitchenette over to one side, and a hallway to the other. It was all done in neutral shades of beige and brown, and Hermione noted the fabrics used would accept color charms well.

Hermione shut the door behind them and stared at the back of it. The ancient rune for marriage shone in silver, pulsing.

"What should our password be?" Hermione asked.

Behind her, Draco slumped against the back of the couch, hands crossed in front of him. "Whatever you want is fine," he mumbled, and she noticed he still wasn't meeting her eyes. Anger building, she turned to the door.

"Aeternum mutantur," she said, her voice crisp. The rune flared brightly, then sank into the door, leaving it nothing but an etched bit of wood. Without another word, she spun and marched down the small hall, only slowing as the tension in her chest slipped into pain.

"What was that about?" he asked as he caught up with her just outside the bedroom door. The hallway between the living area and bedroom wasn't long - which meant the bedroom on the other side of the wall wasn't large - but it had been far enough to hurt. Which meant there would be no escape from one another in separate rooms if things go tense. Hermione was beginning to see why Draco was being so surly about this whole thing. She'd very much wanted to storm off in anger, and couldn't.

"What was what about?" she asked, her tone filled with venom.

"Storming off like that, knowing it would hurt you if you did." He still had his arms crossed, but at least his expression was angry now, rather than surly. She preferred a little color in his cheeks. She wouldn't let him slip back into that neutral-Malfoy that she didn't really know if she could help it.

"You," she said, gathering her courage and pushing the bedroom door open. He followed her in, radiating with anger.

"What did I do?" he snapped, stepping in front of her, hands out so she wouldn't keep walking. "All I've done is try to get us out of this - "

"That!" she said, hands on her hips. "That's what you've done. What is so terrible about this?" she asked, even though she knew there were some downfalls. She motioned to the room around her, arms waving angrily.. "We spend a majority of our time together anyway, except evenings. And Snape is the Potions Master who's already working on it. Which means that you must really despise the idea of spending so much time with me. I understand if there's a girl, or if you've decided, now that we're back, that you don't want to continue this friendship, but just man up and tell me if that's the case!" Her chest was heaving.

"It's not - you don't know what you're - that's not - " he growled in frustration, his cheeks stained red. "I just don't think it's fair that you're shackled to me for your last year here," he gritted out through his teeth, his voice quiet but his anger lingering in the air like fog. At this, Hermione's anger vanished as if it had gone under Harry's cloak.

"What?" A laugh burst from Hermione's chest. "Are you joking?"

"No," he sneered. "Why are you laughing at me?"

She laughed again and reached out to grip his upper arm - the only part of him she ever let herself touch, except in special circumstances. "Draco, you and I are friends. Against all odds, we've become friends. Real friends. I'm far closer to you than anyone else here, especially after all we've been through together. Why would sharing a living space with you be unfair to me in the least?"

His sneer fell away, and for a brief moment Hermione saw what she thought might be hope etched into his face, but he quickly schooled it and replaced it with his signature smirk. She used to hate it when he smirked. It reminded her of all the times he called her names and hurt her, but now she recognized it for what it was - a familiar expression that let him be himself, but stay guarded. She understood that feeling.

"Well, then I'm glad we're on the same page about this." He lifted his eyebrows and his smirk edged toward a smile. "And just so you're aware, there are no girls I want to bring here. You, er, you mentioned that earlier."

Hermione's face heated, but she just nodded and smiled - maybe a little too brightly - and gestured toward the room just past him. "We'll need to redecorate," she said, her nose scrunching at all the beige and brown.

"Let's get to it then," he said with a nod.

Hermione let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. Part of her had been worried he wouldn't be himself with her anymore, all because she'd been clumsy enough to spill a potion on them, but knowing he would be the Draco she knew and lo- the Draco she knew and was friends with, calmed her down immensely.

The following week was spent falling into a new, slightly awkward routine. The distance between the edges of their beds and the shower wasn't quite close enough not to cause discomfort, so they each showered quickly - Hermione before bed and Draco in the mornings - each day.

Their schedules had changed slightly, but that wasn't so bad, either. It wouldn't effect their N.E.W.T.s, which was Hermione's one and only concern. When she'd confessed that to Draco, he'd laughed in her face and had a pillow lobbed at him in return.

Before the potions mishap, they'd always gone to meals at the same time anyway, so there wasn't a big shift there. The biggest difference there was where they sat. After that first day, they started alternating between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Most of the Gryffindors accepted Draco readily - most of them had seen him in the battle, or knew he was there, alongside the Golden Trio, and all past hostility had been dropped. Neville, while polite, was never warm with him, but Draco took it all in stride. The Slytherins, with a few exceptions, were less accepting of Hermione, but they'd been less accepting of Draco this year a well.

The exceptions were Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott, and Pansy Parkinson. Blaise, who'd always managed to ride the line of neutrality even before the war, was the buffer between them and those students in Slytherin who had little patience for muggleborns or blood traitors, as Draco was now thought of by many - mostly kids too young to have seen what the war was about with parents too cowardly to fight in it. Theo, who's father had been an even bigger arse than Draco's, sat with them, less a buffer and more a magnet for trouble, and verbally challenged anyone who looked at them crossly. Pansy was the most surprising of the the trio. Hermione knew she and Draco had dated, but the Parkinson girl had always seemed to have a particular distaste for Hermione herself. Pansy was quiet a lot, whispering to Zabini, but when other girls at Slytherin would pretend-whisper mean things about the way Hermione looked - something Hermione had long ago learned to tune out - it was Pansy who'd lean across the table toward them and cut them down to size in a way that always made them hush, and often made them cry.

It was Hermione and Draco's eighth day as a conjoined pair, and their fourth day with Slytherin. They had spelled out the basics, not knowing much more themselves, but for the most part they'd all been ignoring the situation until now. "So, how long are the two of you stuck like this?" Blaise asked, pointing at them both with his fork at dinner. "Not that we mind you being here, Granger," he said with a slow smile. "You're much more pleasant to look at than Drake here, and nice to talk to - "

"With better table manners," Pansy added with a smirk.

"Definitely, Pans. But we were just wondering, is there a timeline?" Blaise took a bite of food, his pureblood upbringing meaning Hermione barely saw him chew. It was a vast different from eating with Harry and Ron.

"We aren't sure," Hermione said with a small shrug, always a little self conscious on this end of the Great Hall. "Snape said it could last weeks."

"Or longer," Draco added, pushing food around on his plate, not really eating. "He's looking for a way to negate the Potion's effects, though."

"I'm sure you're ready for it to be over, Hermione" Theo said to Hermione, his grin mischievous. Beside her, Draco stiffened. Unlike Draco, Theo had taken to calling her Hermione from the very start, her name rolling off his tongue, syrupy sweet. She was sure, with his pale skin, dark hair, and velvety voice, most girls would be all over him, but there was something inherently sneaky about him that Hermione couldn't quite put her finger on.

"It'll be over when it's over," she said, nudging Draco's knee with her own and allowing herself to leave it there, touching his, happy when he didn't pull away. "Until then, it's rather nice having a quiet space to retreat to in the evenings away from all the hustle and bustle of a common room with younger students."

Theo's smile grew and his eyes glinted dangerously. He was handsome, she had to admit, and he knew it, which meant he was dangerous.

"And a quiet place to shag, I would imagine." He raised his eyebrows as he spoke, then sipped his juice, licking a drop off of his bottom lip as he pulled the cup away. He was baiting her, waiting for her to get up and storm off, to make a scene. But she'd spent enough time with a Slytherin to know how to keep her cool.

"Wouldn't you like to know," she deadpanned as she stared back at him, eyebrows lifted, mouth in a neutral line. At this, Blaise laughed and beside her, Draco smirked, some of his tension leaving. Pansy, who was quiet still, grinned a little down at her plate.

Theo just wolf-grinned at her, and the silence became awkward. Draco sighed, loudly. "There's been no shagging, Nott. Granger and I are friends. Right?" He looked up at her, and there was a deep sadness in his eyes that made her feel hollow.

She nodded, then looked back to Nott, trying to maintain her Slytherin-esque countenance as she smirked at him with a shrug. She suddenly longed for the easy conversation and laughter of the Gryffindor table.

"I suppose," Theo said as he neatly cut into his shepherd's pie, "that asking you for a shag in said quiet room you would be rude." He took a bite of his shepherd's pie, never taking his eyes from her. "You know, considering Draco here would have to be in the room with us. Unless you're into that sort of thing, of course." He winked at her.

Hermione's cheeks heated - the banter going a step too far - and suddenly Draco slammed his utensils down, stood, and held his hand out to her, his arm rigid. She took his hand, let him haul her up, and felt a slight pang when he let go.

"See you in the morning!" Theo called, waving, as the walked away. Beside him, Pansy was staring at her plate, hair hiding her face in a way that made Hermione think she was upset. She looked up at Draco, worry clenching her heart, as she wondered what about Theo's joke had made him so mad. Was it the thought of Hermione with someone else in that way? Or was it the reminder that Draco himself couldn't be with someone else that he wanted? Someone like Pansy.

"Ready to try again?" Draco asked, hands in his pockets, when they reached their plain door.

"I suppose," she said with a small sigh.

Every evening, they saw how far they could move apart without pain. The long hallway that led to their room seemed a good enough point of reference, and they didn't have to go out of their way to try it. The distance varied day to day, but there did seem to be some small improvement. A week ago, Draco could make it halfway down the hallway before Hermione would take an involuntary step toward him because it hurt. Now, he could make it to the end. It still hurt, but less, and he always felt calmer after they tested their boundaries. Today, he made it to the end, took an additional two steps, and immediately started walking back when the pressure in their chests became painful.

"Aeternum mutantur," he said when he came back down the hall. The door opened, and he let her go in first, fighting the urge to put his hand on her lower back as he'd taught was proper.

They kicked off their shoes and discarded their robes to hang on hooks by the door. Draco averted his gaze when he saw that Hermione was removing her tie and unbuttoning the top few buttons of her shirt. It wasn't indecent, but he felt indecent seeing it. He felt indecent knowing he wanted to see it.

She huffed and brushed past him, shoulder checking him slightly, before she sat on the couch and drew her feet beneath her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sitting on the opposite side of the couch. She wouldn't look at him. He'd seen her do this to Potter and Weasley, but he'd never been on the receiving end of it. "Granger, what's wrong?" His voice was angry, but he couldn't help it. He felt like he'd been walking on a tightrope since this stupid potion spilled - or rather, exploded - on them, and now she was angry with him, and he had no idea why. It was all just too much.

"Is it so terrible being around me?" she asked, her voice shaking with what he hoped was anger and not injured feelings. "I know having me around your friends isn't ideal. I knew, coming back to Hogwarts, things would be different between us than they were during the summer, but - " she took a deep breath and looked at him, eyes shining with unshed tears, and he felt something inside him shatter. "But I didn't think that being asked to spend a little extra time with me would make you so, so cold." A tear fell, and Draco couldn't help it, he was across the couch and pulling her to him before he could stop himself.

She leaned into his chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered, her fingers tentatively gripping his shirt as she played with a button. Her cheek was against his chest and she snuggled in a little. Draco felt as if his heart may burst.

"You have no reason to be sorry," he mumbled, afraid of speaking fully, lest the emotion he had a very tentative grip on burst forth.

"I saw Pansy," she said, her voice trembling. "She can barely look at me. She's heartbroken. If it weren't for our being stuck, you could be with her."

Draco, who'd been absently rubbing his hand up and down her arm, stopped.

"I've been thinking," she said, pushing away from him, but leaving her hands on his chest. Her chin trembled as she spoke. "You can invite her here. I mean, there couldn't be a lot of, of intimacy, given our situation, but she can still be here with you." She sniffled once. "Our situation doesn't have to mean you have to miss out on that part of your life."

In shock, Draco just stared at her. "Pansy?" he asked, his eyebrows drawn together. "Pansy and I aren't together, Granger," he said, his heart aching at the expression of fear mixed with hope on her face. "We've not been together since fifth year. And I can guarantee she's not pining away for me."

Hermione's face screwed up in confusion. The weight of her hands on his chest increased as she leaned forward the tiniest bit. He didn't think she'd meant to, but he hoped she had. "But, the look on her face at dinner. She's been like that since last week, since I started sitting with you." She met his gaze with all of her emotions written there - a Gryffindor lioness daring him to be honest.

"Pansy and Blaise have been dating for nearly two years," he said. His arms were outstretched, still on her back from where he'd held her against him, and even though it would have made more sense for him to drop his hands, but he didn't.

"Then why does she seem so sad? Ever since we got stuck together, I've seen it in her face." She lifted her chin and set her jaw as if daring him to prove his words. She only did that when she wasn't sure, but wanted to be.

"Pansy is very sensitive," he said, unable to stop is thumb from rubbing circles in her shoulder where his hand rested. "After the war, she retreated into herself. She's just not used to you, yet. She'll open up. Besides," he said with a little smirk, "you're taking up all of the attention that used to be reserved for her."

"I don't want any attention," she said, scooting slightly so that she was closer to him. He told himself it was because her arms were tired of holding her body up.

"Which makes it worse that you can't help but attract it." He smiled and scooted a little closer, too, so that they were sitting more side by side. He let one arm drop away and instead held her to his side with one arm over her shoulder. Her hands fell into her lap. "Theo and Blaise can't keep their eyes off you, which is understandable, and even though Pansy knows Blaise would never stray - they're betrothed, after all - I'm sure it stings to see him watch you the way he does."

At this, Hermione laughed and swatted his chest. "That's ridiculous, Draco." He felt his heart stutter, as it did every time she used his first name instead of his surname.

"It's really not," he said, sighing. "Theo's conversation at dinner? He wasn't joking. He says it like he is, but he's really not." Draco's expression darkened.

Hermione sat up and spun to face him, mouth and eyes wide, cheeks red. "He was serious?" she whispered, and Draco nodded, trying to erase any emotion from his face and failing. Being this close to her was making him sloppy.

"If I'd known that, I would have hexed him right there at the table," she deadpanned.

Draco felt a knot he hadn't know was there loosen in his chest. He couldn't help but laugh.

"You find this funny?" she asked, her voice going up a notch, and he shook his head as he leaned his head back on the couch.

"No," he said, the smile still there. "It's just good to know you won't be shagging Theodore Nott anytime soon."

With a huff, she fell back against his side, turning to lay her cheek on his shoulder and letting her hand lightly rest on his chest.

"Does it matter who I want to - well, not shag, obviously - but who I want to be with?" Her voice was soft, and he felt his heart beating hard against her small hand. He wondered if she felt it, too.

"They just should be good enough for you, is all," he said, still staring at the ceiling, arm curled around her shoulders in what he hoped was a light touch.

"And who gets to decide that?" she asked, her voice a little too high, which he knew meant she was nervous. He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from hoping she was nervous for a good reason.

He lifted his head to look at her and she was already staring up at him, her brown eyes wide and waiting. He let himself squeeze her shoulder a little more than was necessary.

"You, obviously, but - " he cleared his throat, "I think your friends, like me, could share some valuable input. Especially since Potter and Weasley aren't here to weigh in." He squeezed her shoulder.

Hermione's shoulders slumped, her hopeful eyes dimmed, and she pushed away from him. He immediately felt colder."Yes. It's always good to have friends' advice," she said, pushing herself off the couch.

Draco followed her as she headed toward the bathroom, not sure what to say. They brushed their teeth, before he left her alone to shower.

"Hermione," he said as he was leaving the bathroom to give her some privacy. She turned to him and her face was so open and earnest he felt his resolve to keep his distance crack, but he held firm. "Earlier you asked if it was so terrible being around you. And - " he pushed his hair off his forehead and leaned against the doorframe, trying for nonchalance and failing. "And I just wanted you to know that spending time with you is exactly how I wanted to spend this year, only - " he chewed the inside of his cheek, "only I never wanted it to be forced on you. I wanted it to be your choice to be - " his eyes opened slightly, before he recovered. "To spend time with me."

He nodded at her once, unable to meet her eyes, and left the room before she could answer. It was long minutes later that the shower turned on, and when she finally came out of the bathroom, wafting her signature lemon shampoo scent with her, he pretended to be asleep.

He felt her stand beside his bed. He imagined her lifting his blankets and lying down with him. He imagined falling asleep holding her against his chest.

But she just stood there, breath quiet, before retreating to her bed.

Two weeks after the incident, things hadn't improved much. Sure, Draco could get nearly ten steps past the end of their hall, but it hurt more than ever when he reached the end of their invisible tether. They could be further apart, but the punishment when they tried was worse. The first time, it had been deep pressure. Now, it burned.

"I'm not sure what to tell you," Snape said from his position beside McGonagall's desk. They'd been called in to discuss Snape's progress, and the two professors' expressions were grim. "This particular potion was originally intended for parents and small children," Snape began. "The child was given a small drop, while they parent ingested more. This way, if the child were to walk away, the parent would be pulled toward them - the child was not intended to feel the discomfort." He sighed and looked to McGonagall, who nodded for him to continue. "The fact that the two of you were splashed with a whole batch, that it covered your skin rather than being ingested, and that you're both adults - for all intents and purposes - means we aren't sure how long this particular potion's effects will last."

Beside her, Draco slumped, but Hermione only nodded.

"So we'll continue as we have been, then," she stated, and the Headmistress nodded. "Well, there are worse things," Hermione said with a firm set to her jaw. "Come on, Malfoy. All this means is we won't have to change the routine we've just found for a while. I hate changing routines."

Draco met her eyes and gave a small, mirthless laugh.

"Thank you, professors," Hermione said as she stood, pulling Draco with her, letting her fingers linger in his longer than she knew she should. "We'll keep experimenting on our own, see if the potions' effects are lessening at all. Thank you for all your help."

As they left, Hermione thought she heard McGonagall laugh lightly, and thought she heard the word precocious.

They walked down the hallway silently, Draco's head down, his hands in his robe pockets.

"You're doing it again," Hermione said, bumping her shoulder against his. "Brooding when there's nothing to brood over."

He sighed and looked over at her with a small smirk. "It's just my nature," he said, bumping her shoulder back, his smirk falling. "How are you supposed to go out and live your life while you're shackled to me?"

She rolled her eyes. "Not this again. I'm not shackled to you, Draco. I've told you so many times, it's getting rather old, but potion or no, I would choose to spend my time with you."

"I'm not sure I'll ever believe you," he said as they passed by a classroom with an open door.

"Well you should - " Hermione's voice was cut off when two boys - Draco thought they were seventh year Slytherins - jumped out and grabbed her, pulling her into the room, and slamming the door before Draco could do more than take a step.

"Hermione!" Draco yelled as he pounded on the door, pulling the handle. They'd locked and silenced the room. There was another exit on the other side of this room, he knew, but to get there, he'd have to go around and it would be too far. He wouldn't make it before he collapsed. But as it was, he could feel her moving further away from him. The pain was getting worse. His chest ached, but anger burned through his limbs helping him bare it.

With hands that shook he stepped back and screamed, "Bombarda!" the door in question exploded outward. The opposite door that he'd have run for was open, and Hermione and the Slytherin boys were no where in sight.

The pain in his chest was increasing, like he was burning from the inside out. He could feel her, like a beacon, and with legs that shook he ran toward her.

They were on a moving staircase, she was rigid - they must have cast petrificus totalus - but her eyes were wide with pain and he knew she felt the searing heat radiating out from her chest just as he did. This more than anything fueled his anger.

"Hermione!" he yelled, and the Slytherin boys looked down at him as the stairs moved away and laughed. He didn't recognize them, but that wasn't unheard of. He didn't recognize a lot of the underclassmen, having been distracted the last few years.

Draco stood, waiting for the stairs to shift back, fighting the urge to leap into the air to try and get closer to her or crumple to his knees. "You're going to kill her!" He screamed, his voice breaking, and to their credit, the two boys' lost their smiles and looked at each other for a moment, confused.

The stairs finally clicked into place and the boys dragged Hermione's stiff form onto the landing, but didn't move any further away.

The stairs were moving back so slowly. The pain grew, burning up into his throat. Draco's knees buckled and he coughed, blood splattering the stone in front of him. He looked up, eyes wild, and saw that Hermione was hanging on the boys - the charm having worn off - clutching her chest and reaching for him. She mouthed his name - Draco - and adrenaline surged through him again.

The stairs were almost back. Everything hurt, but with a growl he pushed himself off the ground and jumped onto the stairs. He had to wait for them to turn and every heartbeat felt like electricity across his skin.

The boys holding Hermione were stepping back, their eyes wide in fear. Part of his brain, the part not fogged with pain and anger, told him that their actions meant they hadn't known what it would do to separate them. But that part was too quiet for him to give any attention to. Inside he was roaring to make them pay.

When the stairs clicked into place he lunged toward them. The boys shoved Hermione at Draco and he felt the pain ease as he caught her, somehow managing to stay on his feet, though they wobbled.

"Draco," she breathed, clutching him with hands that shook.

The boys were staring at them, eyes wide, and Draco's wand found its way to his hand. He pointed it at them, even though it shook. "What the fuck were you doing?" His voice didn't shake, and he tightened his one-armed grip on Hermione, trying to hold him up, running on adrenaline and anger.

"We didn't know - "

"It was a joke - "

"A fucking joke?" he growled. He could feel Hermione's heavy, stuttered breaths against him and his anger rose. "She could have died." His voice was deadly calm and the two boys - they were sixth years, not seventh, he realized - grew pale.

"Draco." Hermione's voice was quiet, but his eyes shot to hers as if she'd yelled. Tears were dripping down her cheeks. "Please, can we just go." Her voice was scratchy as if she had been screaming and he was reminded of her voice that first night in Shell Cottage. He nodded as his wand arm fell and he dropped his wand into his pocket to support her with two arms instead of one.

"This isn't over," he said, looking over her head to the terrified younger boys. With measured steps, he helped Hermione as they walked away.

When they were out of earshot of the bastards who'd played their stupid prank, Draco stopped and held her out at arms length to look at her. She whined and tried to pull close. They were touching, but his chest still ached like she was far away. "We should go see Pomphrey," he said, his hands shaking more and more as the adrenaline faded.

She shook her head and stepped into him, sighing as the pain receded a little. "No. We just need to get back to our room." She buried her face into his chest. "Please." He nodded, his throat dry.

Slowly, they made it back to their room. He mumbled the password. Once in their room, they disentangled. They removed their robes and their shoes. Draco pulled pajamas from his trunk - soft, cotton pants and a tee-shirt - and with a quick swapping spell, traded pajamas for his uniform. Hermione watched, a determined look on her face, and did the same with her own pajamas - a long tank top and fitted leggings.

"We should rest, I think," he said, the ache in his chest persistent.

"We should," she agreed.

He turned and crawled into his bed. If he breathed deeply enough, the ache wasn't so bad.

And then, she was there, lifting his blankets crawling in beside him, just like he'd imagined so many times before.

"Hermione - "

"It hurts if I'm not touching you," she whispered. She moved so that her head was on his shoulder, her arm draped over his waist, and her leg was draped over his. So intimate it made his heart hurt for a whole other reason. "This feels better," she breathed, and he shivered lightly as her breath ghosted across his throat.

"It does." His voice was gravelly, but he laid perfectly still, afraid a single wrong move would scare her away.

"Will you hold me?" she asked, her voice soft, and he nodded as he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. He didn't know what to do with his other hand, so he just left it lying by his side.

"That's better," she breathed, rubbing her cheek against his tee-shirt clad shoulder. "So much better."

The pain had lessened, but his heart still raced.

It only took a few minutes for Hermione's breathing to even out and her heart rate to slow. Only then could he relax. Her body against his was warm and soft. She'd rolled so that half her weight was over him and he closed his eyes and hoped he could memorize that feeling. With his free hand he slowly ran his fingers over the hand draped over his middle and up to her elbow, where he let his forearm rest against hers. She sighed and snuggled against him more.

As he lay there, staring at the ceiling, the pain in his chest receding, he let himself think back to the painful day everything in his life had changed.

Hermione Granger lay on the floor in his ancestral home, writhing in pain as his demented Aunt Bellatrix crucio'd her over and over.

He stood, stock still, heart racing. Sure, he'd never held any great love for the girl in front of him, but they were classmates. Peers. She was a child, like him.

This wasn't right.

When Bellatrix took out the blade, which Draco knew to be cursed, he knew he had to help, and there was only way he could do that. He willed Hermione to look at him. It was easier for him to dive into someone's mind if they met his eyes.

Hermione saw the blade, fear overtook her face, and then she looked around for help. She looked at him, her eyes wide and afraid. He caught her eyes, reached out with his mind, and he was in.

It was like swimming. All around were snippets of memories. Her memories. He looked for the ones that glowed, those were the happy ones. He found some that glowed more brightly than others - memories of Granger with Weasley and Potter - and he pulled them to the front of her mind. Memories of laughter and quiet and days spent out by the lake talking. Memories of Christmas holidays and visits to Weasley's tall, patchwork home in summers. He pulled these memories and more forward and shoved them in front of the pain of a cursed blade carving her arm, in front of the tremors and bone-deep ache from the Cruciatus curse. He pulled them forward and held them there and as his aunt carved into her, she screamed, but her eyes stayed on his and he felt her resisting the madness that the blade would have pulled forward otherwise.

He stayed with her, holding memories forward, in her mind, as the essence that was Hermione Granger washed over him like a balm.

Then, things were moving quickly, all a blur. The others burst into the room. The chandelier fell. The crack of apparition. The blade flying through the air. Draco could swear he heard it thud into someone before they all vanished.

And then, the only sound in the room was Bellatrix's angry, crazed screams and Draco's loudly beating heart.

It was hours later when he was able to excuse himself to his bedroom. After he was there, it only took a few minutes to disillusion himself - no one was watching Lucius's son who'd already fulfilled his purpose - and slip away from the Manor, off the grounds, and apparate away to find the only person he could think might help him, Mrs. Weasley.

He and Mrs. Weasley, or any of the Weasley's really, got along. But he'd seen her watching him a few times, in Diagon Alley, when his father would brush him back or bark at him if he stepped out of line, and he thought he saw pity, or kindness - he couldn't tell them apart at the time - there. He was sure that of anyone, she'd be the most likely to hear him out, just as long as he did something that went completely against his nature - he had to be totally and completely honest.

He used memories of the Weasley's home from Hermione's memories to get there, which was risky, but it was all he had. With a crack he landed on the path that led to the tall, disjointed looking house. He knew they'd come out to him, so he dropped to his knees, hands in the air. A moment later, there were loud cracks all around him as at least five people appeared, wands drawn, Mrs. Weasley not among them.

They were rough with him, but he'd expected that. Had their roles been reversed, he would have done the same. They bound his hands, searched him for a wand that he no longer had - Potter had it - then dragged him into the house.

"I need to speak with Mrs. Weasley," he said once he was secured to a chair. "Please."

It hadn't taken much convincing, especially as she seemed to be in charge here, even with Mr. Weasley in the room. She sat before him, plump arms on the table, eyes narrowed, commanding respect. "Why are you here?" she asked quietly. Around the room, others stood, staring holes in him, wands drawn.

"I have to find Granger," he said. "And the others," he added hastily. "They were at the Manor, and Granger was hurt. Badly. I need to find her - "

"And finish the job?" someone spat from behind him.

Draco's wide eyes stayed on the Weasley matriarch. She was his only chance. "No. Please, I just need to make sure she's OK. My aunt really hurt her, and I - " How did he explain that he felt responsible? That he'd seen inside her mind, had seen her goodness, her light, and he needed to make sure it hadn't been extinguished?

Mrs. Weasley seemed to see something in his expression that convinced her. "Will you take veritaserum to prove what you say is true?" She eyed him skeptically, that hint of pity or kindness still in her eyes.

"Yes," he said without hesitation.

There was a scrambling of motion behind him, but he kept his eyes on Mrs. Weasley as Mr. Weasley handed her the vial.

"It's only enough for about 30 minutes," she said, her voice surprisingly kind. "But I won't hold back with my questions," she warned.

"I understand," he said, and when she put the vial against his lips, he drank it without hesitation. He answered everything she asked. About using legilimency on Hermione to help her withstand his aunt's torture. He described their escape, his hesitancy to identify them, and his fear at being found out by his parents, or worse, The Dark Lord. When asked what Voldemort was planning, he told them all he knew, which wasn't much, but was enough.

And when the veritaserum wore off, Molly Weasley untied his bonds and gathered him to her as she would her own child, and to his own mortification, he cried into her shoulder.

It was maybe an hour later that she took his hand and let him side-along apparate with her to her son, Bill's, cottage by the sea. For the next 30 or 40 minutes, he'd sat while Mrs. Weasley argued his case. She filled them all in while Potter and Weasley glared at him and Luna smiled at him. He's snuck her apples in the dungeons, and it seemed that had been enough to earn her trust.

Finally, after the longest half hour of his life, he was being led, by Fleur - the girl from the Triwizard Tournament that he'd had a huge crush on at the time - to Hermione Granger's bedside, his heart beating in his throat.

He watched her as Fleur spoke to her and all he could think of was the way he'd felt when he was inside her mind. Overwhelming, overpowering goodness. That's what she was made of. Light. That's what made him run from all he'd known and wind up here, sitting in front of a girl he'd tormented, hoping she could forgive him.

Hermione and Draco woke the next morning - they'd slept a good portion of the day and all that night - to someone pounding on their door. They stood up together, sleep marks on their faces, hair disheveled, and walked to the door. Draco had his wand ready in case it was those stupid boys again, but when the door opened, none other than Potter and Weasley poured in.

"What'd he do to you?" Ron asked, face red as he moved between them, shoving Draco back. Draco let him, unsurprised by his outburst. He was surprised they hadn't already had a visit from them. Which he realized probably meant she hadn't told them about their predicament yet. He wasn't sure if he was relieved or saddened by that.

Before Hermione could answer, Harry intervened. "You're living here?" he asked, looking around the small living room and back toward where the only bedroom was. "You and Malfoy? Together?"

Hermione, seemingly recovered from the day before, bristled. She stepped around Ron so that she was now between him and Draco. Draco was leaning against the table to their kitchenette, Harry was off to the side, eyes wide as he surveyed the room, and Ron was standing in the middle, seething, fists clenched.

"Why are you both here?" she asked, standing with her arms folded across her middle.

"Nevilled owled us. Said you'd been cursed to be with Malfoy, then attacked by Slytherins!" Ron said, stepping toward her. Hermione took a step back, toward Draco, and Ron scowled. "Then we get here, and McGonagall said - "

"She said there was a potions accident," Harry cut in, pulling Ron back slightly. "Said you'd been living here, so you wouldn't have to be too far apart." He looked between them. "Then said some Slytherin sixth years tried to prank you and nearly killed you both when they separated you." He took a deep breath. "Are you all right? Both of you?" He looked between the two of them. He'd accepted Draco on their side much more quickly than Ron, and it seemed that acceptance still stood.

"We're fine," Hermione said, moving to lean against the table beside Draco. He shifted away slightly and Hermione frowned. "We can't be more than - "

"About 9 or 10 meters apart," Draco filled in, eyes on the floor.

"If we are, it hurts. Yesterday, those stupid boys thought it would be funny to separate us. I think they thought we were making it all up." She looked to Draco, who wouldn't meet her gaze. "But it was excruciating," she said. "Until Draco came and saved me."

Ron scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"That was yesterday, just after lunch. We've been asleep since," she said, staring daggers at Ron now. "It felt like being ripped apart from the inside. Like being on fire."

"And how do you know he didn't do it all on purpose?" Ron snarled, staring at Draco as if he might be able to force him to confess to this.

Draco gripped the edge of the table with vice-like fingers, and without even thinking about it Hermione covered his hand with her own.

"Because it hurts us both when we're apart. And I'm pretty sure, if we're apart long enough, it will kill us. Draco - " she squeezed his hand and looked over at him. "Draco vomited blood when we were trapped apart. It was awful. If we'd been kept apart, it would have continued."

Ron stared at them for a long moment, teeth clenched. His eyes went to where Hermione's hand covered Draco's. "So are you together now, then?" There it was. The real reason he was so angry.

Hermione spun to face him, and to his credit, he recoiled. "That's why you're so upset?" she seethed, her voice a whisper. She stepped away from the table and Draco and advanced on Ron with her finger out until she was pressing the tip of it into his clavicle. "Not because I could have died. Not because a volatile potion has drastically changed my life for the time being. But because you're worried I might be dating Draco? The person who's saved my life twice now?" She whispered, but her voice filled up the room like a living entity.

"You're not denying it," Ron retorted, his jaw set.

"No, Ronald. Draco and I aren't together," she said, her voice losing its heat. "And if that's all you're here for, you can leave."

Ron's face softened, and he went to comfort her, but she shoved him off with both hands. "No. My friends can hug me. Not jealous prats who only care about staking a claim they don't even have." She looked up at him with tears in her big brown eyes. She turned to Harry and hugged him. "Thank you for coming, but I'm OK," she said as she gave him a squeeze around the middle. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you about this sooner," she said as she pulled away, squeezing his arms.

"It's all right, 'Mione," he said, giving her a sad smile. He then looked up at Draco, who'd resumed gripping the table and staring at the ground. "Malfoy," he said, and Draco looked up, his mask of neutrality back on. "Glad to see you're all right, too." Draco nodded, pursing his lips, unsure of what to say.

Ron started forward, "'Mione, can we just go somewhere and talk for a few - "

"No," she said, stepping away from Harry to face him. "Even if I could, which I can't, because of this potion, I wouldn't." She looked up at him, her tears gone. "You're my friend, Ron. And I love you. But I can't handle seeing you if you're going to be horrible every time you think I might be romantically involved with someone else. I just can't." She stepped back and stared at him.

He looked between Hermione and Draco, who was staring at the floor again, trying to be invisible, and then he just nodded. "I'll owl you," he said. Then he looked to Draco and his shoulders slumped as if in defeat. "Malfoy, thanks. For keeping her safe." He sniffed.

Draco nodded, meeting Weasley's sad, blue eyes for a moment, and then Ron was out the door, still open from their arrival.

"He'll come around," Harry said, looking between them. "For what it's worth, I think it's great. You two, that is." He nodded, eyes bright.

"We're not together," Draco said, meeting Harry's gaze and hoping his face his own was blank, though his heart pounded.

Harry smirked at him. "My mistake," he said. He reached out and shook Malfoy's hand, then gave Hermione another hug. "No more omissions, all right?" he said, and she nodded with a laugh.

After Harry left, the room grew quiet.

"Sorry about that," Hermione said, turning to face him. Her hair was still wild from sleep and her eyes were bright. "That they thought we were, you know…" she trailed off, her cheeks going pink.

"They should know you're smarter than that," he said, voice gruff. He kept his eyes on the ground.

It was quiet for a long moment when Hermione stepped forward, lifted her chin, and said, "What if I'm not?"

"Not what?" he asked, heart racing.

"Smarter than that. What if I have thought about you...about us?" Her voice trembled and Draco gripped the table harder.

"I think the isolation's messing with your head, Granger." He had been going for snarky, but his voice was too quiet for that.

She took another step forward and shook her tangled hair back. "What if I've thought about it for months?" she asked, lifting her chin in that defiant, fake-confident way she had. He couldn't help but meet her eyes. "Since the battle, or maybe before."

He took a deep breath and squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't want you to feel like I'm your only option," he said, then looked at her. "I never wanted that."

"Like I've said over and over - " she stepped so that she was inches from him. "Regardless of whether or not this stupid potion had affected us, I would choose to spend my time with you."

He looked at her then, and even though all of his instincts told him to stay put, to keep himself safe, he stepped away from the table.

"We do spend time together," he breathed into the silence between them.

"Not like I want to," she whispered, looking up at him through her dark eyelashes with an expression that dared him to make the next move.

So he did.

With shaking hands, he brushed her tangled hair over her shoulder. He'd only kissed a few girls. Pansy in fifth year. Daphne and another girl whose name he'd forgotten in sixth, when he was most stressed out, but here was the only girl he felt nervous about kissing.

She looked up at him and he was overwhelmed with that feeling he'd had when he was inside her mind. Goodness. Light. His biggest fear was that his darkness would corrupt it, and yet, he couldn't keep himself away.

She stepped closer, her lips parting slightly, and even though he knew he shouldn't, he felt himself close the gap and he pressed his lips to hers.

He'd meant to keep it light - like the night before, where he felt the skin of her arm, part of her weight, and that was enough - something he could remember later with fondness, something to keep his own darkness at bay. But she wasn't having it.

As soon as his lips touched hers, she was on him. Her arms went around his neck and she pulled him to her. To keep his balance, he had to wrap his arms around her, too.

She opened her mouth and let her tongue brush his lower lip, and he moaned as he parted his lips for her to deepen the kiss.

She never broke away, but backpedaled, pulling him with her, until they were on the couch. She pulled him down on top of her, wrapping one leg around his thigh as his weight pressed her into the cushions.

Draco slowed the kiss down, but never broke away. He tried to take control from the wild lioness beneath him. He slowed his pace, drawing her mouth against his as his hands propped him up above her. With careful movements, he slid between her and the back of the couch, rolling her to one side, so he could hold her to him as he devoured her mouth. His hands brushed down her side, up her arms, cupped her cheek, and got lost in her hair.

After a little while of this slow, sensual kissing, Draco pulled away, letting his forehead fall against hers.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, his lips swollen and his cheeks warm. "I didn't mean for it to - "

"I did," she said, then laughed and kissed his bottom lip once. "Because I knew you wouldn't."

Feeling suddenly brave, Draco pulled this brazen, brilliant witch against him, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his face in her tangled mane of hair. He let himself enjoy this feeling before saying the words he knew needed to be said.

"You're so good, Hermione," he said then kissed her forehead. Her nose nuzzled his neck. "Your heart, your soul, is good." He kissed her forehead again and started to gently loosen his grip on her. "And I'm not." He sighed into her hair, breathing in the scent of lemons. "I don't want to ruin you," he said, again trying to memorize the way her body fit against his as he readied himself for her to pull away.

To his surprise, she laughed. It was a light laugh, and her arms lazily tightened around his waist as she kissed his pulse point.

"You're an idiot," she whispered against his skin. He bristled and she laughed again. "You saved me from insanity," she whispered, kissing the soft skin of his neck again. "You left your whole world to make sure I was ok." She moved up, kissing below his jaw. "You stayed with us, fought with us - " a kiss to his jaw. "You protected me over and over." She had scooted up so that they were eye to eye. "I saw you, you know? When we would fight. You were always there with me, always watching my back, never going off to find more of a fight, never caring about the people after you, always just there for me." She kissed his nose as he stared at her, unblinking. "And then, when you almost didn't come back here with me, I thought - " she leaned her forehead against his. "I just knew I needed you here." She sighed and stared into his eyes. "If I was ever going to find out if you wanted me the way I wanted you, you had to be here." She smiled and closed her eyes. "It was because I was watching you talk to Pansy, because I was childish and jealous, that our cauldron bubbled over." She opened her eyes and looked at him sheepishly.

"You mean to say, this all started because you were jealous?" he asked, his tone playful in a way she'd only heard a few times.

She nodded against his forehead and he smiled.

"I wasn't upset when we were stuck together, Draco," she said, rubbing her nose along his. "I didn't do it on purpose, but I sort of thought this was fate's way of giving us a shot."

"I wasn't upset either, but I was afraid," he said, rolling away slightly to look at the ceiling, but drawing her with him. "Afraid you'd resent me after a time." He looked down at her, and she was smiling up at him.

"Like I said," Hermione leaned up and kissed the corner of his mouth, "you're an idiot."

He couldn't help but smile in return.

By the end of the school year, the effects of the potion finally wore off. They told McGonagall a week before school was out, and she let them keep their private rooms for the remaining days.

Harry visited frequently, giving them looks that clearly said I told you so, and by the end of the year, Ron was visiting again too. It wasn't peaceful when he came, but it was civil. And for Hermione, that was enough for now.

McGonagall held a small ceremony for the graduating students - both seventh and eighth years. Afterward, Molly Weasley walked straight to Draco and pulled him into a hug that had him choking for air. She pulled his face down to hers, looked right into his eyes, and said, "I am so proud of you." Again, Draco cried in this woman's embrace, but unlike the first time, he wasn't ashamed.

"Where to now, 'Mione?" Harry asked as they sat on the edge of the Black Lake for what would probably be the last time.

"I think we're going to travel for a few months," she said, leaning against Draco's shoulder as she held onto his arm.

"He's never been to Muggle Paris," she said.

"And she's never been to Wizard Paris," he finished with a small smile.

"And after?" Ron asked. He still wasn't quite used to Hermione and Draco being together, but he was trying.

"Draco has a job lined up at St. Mungo's. An internship," Hermione said, beaming up at him. "His work with Potions, and his research - that I made him record, just so we're all clear - based on our little incident got him in."

Draco rolled his eyes. "And Hermione has applied to work in the Diagon Library. She wants to expand some of their more obscure sections about potions, and even add some Muggle literature." He gave the others a pointed look, and even Ron laughed.

They shared a peaceful quiet moment. Ron broke it, his face contrite even before he said anything. "So, and don't get me wrong, I'm coming round to the two of you, but even though you're not stuck together anymore, you still want to spend so much time together?" He cringed as if waiting for Hermione to hex him.

Hermione glared at him, but Draco only nodded. Before Hermione, he'd have wanted space from anyone he'd been forced to spend every moment with for months. But now, he was just thankful she wasn't ready to call it quits as soon as the potion wore off. Being with her was relaxing and exciting all at once, and he wasn't about to let it go until he had to. "Being stuck together is only a problem if you're stuck to the wrong person." He removed his arm from her grasp and wrapped it around her waist.

"Yeah, I guess," Ron said, looking off over the lake, a wistful look on his features. They spent the rest of the afternoon in quiet conversation before they went to find Ginny.

A little while later, Draco and Hermione packed up their trunks and said goodbye to their little home. As they were packing up books and nicknacks from the living area, Draco stopped and turned to her.

"What about after Paris?" he asked, fidgeting with a little snitch-shaped paperweight she'd bought him in Hogsmeade. "I'll be working in St. Mungo's, which will be long hours. What then?" He wasn't presumptuous enough to assume they'd continue living together. He'd already started marking For Rent adds in the Prophet. But the thought of being away from her for so many hours a day, and not coming home to her at night, made him feel ill.

Hermione put her stack of books down - how did one witch have so many books just lying around? - and stepped into him, wrapping her arms around his neck, playing with his soft, slightly too-long hair. "We'll get a flat in Diagon," she said matter-of-factly, smirking when he grinned. "We'll work, and we'll live, and we'll love, just like now. Only there won't be rules saying how and when we can be together. There won't be a potion prompting us into action. It'll just be us."

"So you're not sick of me yet?" he asked, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers.

She tugged his head down, much as she had during their first kiss, and when she pulled away, she said, "Afraid not. Looks like we're stuck together."