We made it. I can't believe we made it. This is the final chapter. Thank you so much. It means a lot to me that you all enjoyed this as much as you did. It is my first completed fic, so it's a major, MAJOR accomplishment for me.

Curious about the songs I listed? Check out my website and scroll to the bottom of the page to find the link to the Youtube playlist I created for it. :) HoneySweetWriting dot com

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Chasing Shadows

Chapter Six

Song of the Chapter: What Happened - Emilie & Ogden

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Hermione leaned back against her door, trying to catch her breath.

She felt dizzy. She couldn't believe she'd just done that, that she'd just . . . Pressed her lips to his as if it were the easiest thing in the world. As though she was his. After the turmoil of their row, what pixie dust was she smoking to believe that he wanted to snog her?

Hermione touched her mouth.

His lips were so soft. Gentle. It was everything she could have hoped for in a kiss, and yet it was nothing that she imagined. Had she ever even imagined herself snogging Draco? She couldn't recall ever thinking about it; she only remembered thinking he was lush, and wanting to know what it felt like to hold his hand. Now that she'd kissed him, she felt like she'd never wanted anything more.

She began to pace back and forth.

He'd gone rigid when she'd kissed him. It didn't seem like it was from shock. No, it wouldn't, would it? What if it was horror? What if he was disgusted at the thought of kissing a Muggleborn? He'd pretty much made it clear he didn't think negatively of her or Muggleborns, but did that mean he wanted to kiss them?

She tousled her curls, trying to get the weight of them off of her stifled neck.

No. She wasn't going to think that way about herself. She never had, and she never would. It didn't matter if he still held purist views. She may have had some insecurities about her personality, but she was not going to think less of herself for any reason.

But that didn't negate the fact that she'd just kissed Draco Malfoy.

She continued to pace, her thoughts whirling and churning in her head.

Knock, knock, knock.

Hermione nearly jumped out of her skin with terror at the loud knocking. Her hair whipped out around her as she faced the door. She stared at the wood. It looked ominous.

He'd followed her. She'd left his room multiple times that night and this time, he'd followed.

What the fuck was she supposed to do?!

"Granger." His voice came muffled through the door. "Open the door."

She covered her face with her hands and held her breath. As if she could trick him into thinking she'd disappeared.

How was she going to look him in the eyes when her lips were still burning with the feeling of his?

"Come on, love. Just open the door."

Her heart nearly tore itself into shreds. What did he just call her?

". . . Please open the door for me."

Hermione's vision blurred with tears. He didn't sound angry, but he sounded like he had something to say. She felt so ashamed, so mortified for what she had done. For giving him - no. For thieving a kiss from lips that she had no right to. For not asking his consent.

He was probably here to tell her that he didn't feel the same for her.

A tear slid down her cheek as she walked to the door and rested her forehead against it.

"I can't," she said, choking on the words.

"Yes, you can," he replied.

She began to weep, her sobs quiet. Her emotions were all over the place, punctuated by bursts of guilt.

She couldn't open the door.

A few beats of her heart thudded by, and then his voice wafted through.

"Before you came into the room, I thought about the things you were upset over. The things we argued about." A pause. "And I think I understand now what's the matter."

Hermione wiped her eyes, but the tears just kept coming.

"I think you feel guilty. After everything that I did to you, and that happened to you because of me - and all the things I did during the war . . . I think you feel guilty for having feelings for me. The fact that you wanted to unpack everything about our past in one night? You want control. You want to have control over the fact that feeling something for me makes you feel out of control. Because you feel like if there isn't some sort of explosion of dramatics, then you shouldn't feel anything for me at all."

Hermione let out a sob. He was right.

He was so right.

"Hermione," he continued. "I can be a person with a bad past, and you can still fancy me. We can be two people who went through Hell, and we can still like each other. Those two things can exist at the same time. You forgave me, yeah? Now, you have to forgive yourself."

Hermione wept harder, holding her hand over her mouth to stifle the sobs.

Part of her wondered if the reason why she couldn't trust him was because she couldn't trust herself to make the right decisions, and not because of their past. When he'd apologized earlier that year, she had meant it when she said she forgave him. But just because she'd forgiven him, didn't mean she didn't want explanations and honesty.

But he was right. They could be two people - a man and a woman - who liked each other, and have a turbulent past. They had feelings for one another. He was an ex-Death Eater.

And those two things could exist at the same time.

They could unpack the rest later.

She ripped the door open.

Draco stood there, one hand on either side of the doorframe, his head hung. At her presence, he lifted his head slightly and watched at her through his lashes. His gaze flitted about her face, taking in the sight of it streaming with rivers of tears. His hard expression melted into one that spoke of desperation, leaving her feeling like she couldn't breathe. Like she had nothing to hide her heart behind.

"How am I supposed to -"

He interrupted her.

"Do you wanna be with me?"

Hermione's chin trembled. "It's not that simple. You know it's not -"

His eyes flashed like lightning, and then the tension in the air snapped.

"It is that simple!" he shouted. "Because I'm here. I'm fucking here, and I'm not going anywhere. The reason why I yelled at you on the bridge is because I thought I was going to lose you. The reason why I gave you my jumper, and why I always look out for you in class and in the corridors and at Hogsmeade, is because I care about you. All right? I care about you. It doesn't have to be any more complicated than that!"

"Draco," she sobbed.

"I want to be with you, Hermione. I'm not scared to say that."

This was it. He was saying the words. He was making the move. She didn't have to wonder anymore if he fancied her, too. She didn't have to pine like a Third Year with a crush. She had her answer, and he looked like he was about to use the doorframe to launch himself into her.

She just had to make a decision.

"Hermione . . ." He spoke slowly, enunciating each word as though the letters were made of porcelain. "Do you want to be with me?"

Hermione dissolved into a fresh round of tears, and nodded.

"Good."

Draco crossed the threshold into her room, cupping her face tightly with his hands. He dragged her forward, until their lips met with forceful zeal. His fingers twined with her curls, dragging her head back so that he could kiss down into her mouth in a way that she had never been kissed before. She let out a low moan in the back of her throat, her lips parting like the Red Sea so he could slip his tongue inside of her mouth.

There was no battle for dominance. She surrendered.

They stumbled backward as Draco walked forward, crashing into her dresser. He reached behind her and swept her things onto the floor. Perfume bottles, hair care products, and trinkets went cascading to the carpet, but Hermione had no time to acknowledge that. Draco had already lifted her up onto the top of the dresser, and was kissing her so passionately that she couldn't breathe.

And she loved it.

Hermione threw her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through the hair at the back of his head, trying her best to keep up with the pace of his kiss. Her mind had gone blank, completely devoid of her earlier insecurities. There was nothing but her and Draco.

His hands began to roam. They skimmed down the sides of her waist, around the swell of her rear. His fingertips pressed into the outsides of her bare thighs, pushing the hem of the jumper up on their way back to her waist. She arched her back, their bodies swaying to the rhythm of their mutual desire. She felt like she was seconds away from bursting into flames.

She would gladly let them consume her, if it meant she could keep kissing him like this.

He pulled away the tiniest of distances, and their eyes met in the darkness.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I've been wanting to do that for ages."

"To do what?" she whispered back.

He smirked. "Shut you up."

It took her a moment to register what he'd just said, and then her laughter bubbled up from within her chest. Her laughs were cut off as he suddenly wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off of the dresser. They whirled around, and she let out a high-pitched squeal as she found herself lying flat on her back on her bed.

She looked up at him.

"What is . . . Going to happen?" she asked.

His gaze dragged over her face as he hovered above her with his hands positioned on either side of her head. "Nothing that you don't ask for."

She averted her eyes for a moment. She wasn't a child. She didn't want to make any mistakes, but she knew deep down in her heart that being with him was what she wanted.

But what if this was all a ruse? Some misguided attempt to get into her knickers?

She was scared.

"And what about what your family will think? Your friends?" she whispered.

"I don't care what they think."

She closed her eyes and her chin trembled again.

What if things were simple, but the wrong kind of simple? What if he was a boy who wanted to use a girl and then leave her hurting on the side?

"Hermione, I want to be with you, but I'm not going to force myself on you. I'm just kissing you."

Hermione looked up at him, and then away. "Okay . . ."

His lips met hers, his body fitting against hers, and then they were lost in each other again. They tasted one another's tongues like they were made of sweets from Honeydukes, and Hermione wondered if there would ever be anything as sweet as this.

He rolled his hips against hers, and she felt her body rising to meet his of its own accord. Her heart wouldn't stop beating, and her fear was starting to creep into the picture.

Were they actually going to do this? Was it too fast? What would people think, if they found out they were together? Were she and Draco together?

What did everything mean?

Hermione pulled her lips away from his to gasp for air, but before she could say anything, his mouth pressed kisses made of fire to the side of her throat. It felt good, and the heavier the kisses got, the more intoxicated she became with the feeling. It felt forbidden, having the tip of his tongue against the sensitive spot of flesh beneath her ear. His teeth nipped her earlobe and a soft sound from his lips echoed in her ear. It traveled straight down to her core.

Ron's kisses had never felt like this.

She wanted to do this. She wanted him.

They could unpack the rest later.

Hermione shoved her sanity to the side and threw herself into her emotions. She hooked her leg around his hip and swung their bodies around. He allowed himself to be pressed back into the mattress as she mirrored his earlier actions on his neck. To her surprise, he was groaning by the time she reached his ear.

Draco gripped Hermione's hips with his hands, his fingertips digging graves into her flesh. Graves that she buried her reservations and fear into, so that she could grind her body against his in a way that awakened something primal. The flames on her skin had saturated her, and now she wanted to drown in the inferno.

"Granger, are you - fuck - are you s-sure?"

"It's your turn to be quiet," she said, tasting his collarbone. "Shh."

Her tongue laved against his pulse, dragging a breathy moan out of the depths of his chest. He fell apart. Draco cursed and pulled her against him, his hands frantic in their search beneath the hem of the jumper and the shirt she wore beneath it. He caressed the skin on her back and abdomen, his touch somehow soft and firm at the same time. She moved her hips again, canting them forward against the hardness that had grown there, and she felt it.

She felt him.

Hermione rolled her hips downward again and again, already mindless in her search for release.

"Gonna touch you," Draco grunted, waiting all of one second for her to nod against his chest before his entire hand gripped her center. "Fucking . . . Move. Move."

Hermione saw stars as he touched her outside of her knickers, the desperate need to get closer to him pushing her legs further apart. She did as he asked her to, grinding against his fingers with a plea dancing behind what little of her trepidation remained.

And then his fingers pushed past the waistband of her knickers, feeling her body directly, and slipping inside.

"Salazar," he hissed out, and then he hummed. "Is this for me?"

She cried out at the lewdness of his way of speaking, her upper body sagging against his chest as stars exploded behind her closed eyelids. She dug her nails into the flesh of his hard biceps, holding on for dear life as she rode to her completion.

The moment her body began to shudder, she felt the last of her nerves dissipate. Her heart swelled again, bigger than before, and she whimpered his name. He kissed her temple, nuzzling her hair with his nose and whispered praises.

Hermione relaxed atop his body, catching her breath. He stroked her hair, his fingers running all the way to the ends of her curls.

This felt surreal. Like a dream that she'd never had.

"Why do you want to be with me?" she asked in a tiny voice.

"Because I've never had to be anything other than myself with you," he said, his knuckles caressing her cheekbone. "You see me."

She lifted herself up on her elbows above him. "And do you? Do you see me?"

He gazed up at her for a minute, and then sat up with her still straddling his lap. His hair stuck up in several places, and he looked for all the world like he used to look on the Quidditch field. It gave her a pleasant feeling of nostalgia for a time before the war. She could pretend for a moment that none of it had ever happened, and they were just a witch and a wizard who met at school.

"Granger, of course I do." He ran his hands up her back, stopping between her shoulder blades. "We don't have to do anything else. You know that, yeah?"

Hermione looked down at his lips.

She knew that. She also knew that she was eighteen, she liked him, and she liked the way he made her feel.

Things didn't have to be so complicated.

"I know," she said, like it was a simple choice between desserts. "I want to."

In their still-sitting-upright position, Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, her hands trembling as she slid them up into his hair. She bestowed a tentative kiss upon his lips, pulled away to look into his eyes, and then kissed him again. Vaguely, she heard him murmur a contraception spell and then a vanishing charm in-between her peppered kisses. Her knickers and his pyjama trousers disappeared.

The heat of their bodies met. She sank down onto him, and he filled her to the brim. When they kissed again, she felt his need in the way he clutched her tight. She felt their hearts beating in unison, and she knew that she was making the right decision. Draco wasn't just some boy with a temporary desire. He was someone that she'd cultivated more than a friendship with. It was time for her to stop dwelling on the complications, and just feel.

Somehow, she knew that they had plenty of time in the future to maneuver through their past.

"Fuck, Hermione," Draco groaned, and he pressed kisses to her collarbone. "You're beautiful to me. So fucking beautiful."

She smiled, held his face, and drew him into another kiss.

Hermione had been with Ron, and she'd known that it wasn't the way it was supposed to be. She'd known in an instant that he wasn't the right one for her. And even though she didn't have much experience, Hermione knew the moment she welcomed Draco inside of her body that this was right. He was right for her.

She'd never made love before, and she knew she didn't love Draco, but this was as close as she'd ever come.

"Now is not the time to be quiet," he said, breathing a laugh. "I want to hear you."

Hermione felt the tension in her body melting at the sound of his laugh, and she smiled down at him. "Oh, so you only want me to be quiet when you're the one who wants me to be?"

He gave her another of his lopsided grins, and she felt his palms on her rear. "Hermione. You know me well enough. I'm used to getting my way."

He began to move, cutting her melodic laugh off in the center. Hermione cried out as their bodies came together again and again. She felt a cocktail of elation and poignancy threatening to overwhelm her, and it caused her to let her guard down completely. She didn't hold back: she wasn't quiet.

The moment their eyes met, she felt the pleasure in her body intensifying, and any semblance of presence in her mind floated into the nothingness. She felt more connected to him than she ever had to anyone before, and it wasn't long after that that her body overcame her mind.

Draco seemed to sense what she wanted.

Seconds later, she was on her back beneath him, and he was on his knees, driving deep inside of her body with determination. He held her by the hips and hit a spot inside of her that made her go limp. Moaning louder than she meant to, she looked up at him and tried to show him with just her facial expression that this meant something more to her than it probably should have. Then, she covered her face with her hands at the sheer intensity of the situation.

Then, his fingers were on her, at the apex of her thighs, and it sent a bolt of electricity through her entire body. Her feet slid against the sheets and her back arched off of the bed as he played her body like an instrument.

"That's it," he said, his teeth flashing in his satisfaction. "You want to come, don't you?"

Hermione's cheeks burned, but she could hardly get a breath in, let alone speak. Her head jerked up and down in wild nods as her hands flew away from her face and gripped the sheets beside her hips. Her mouth fell open in a silent, perpetual scream. She'd never been spoken to like this, but she really didn't mind it.

He smirked. "I'm gonna tear you apart like you did my essay."

"Draco!" Hermione cried, scolding him even as sweat beaded on various parts of her over-stimulated body. "You're such a prat!"

Draco let out a dark chuckle, his fingers working a new sort of magic into her body while the pace of his hips grew firmer. Harder. "Tell me you want me. Tell me you want to come. Please. Fuck. I need to hear you say it."

Hermione could feel herself reaching the top of the mountain, and so she threw caution to the wind. She said whatever came to mind, whatever she thought he wanted to hear. Whatever would bring her to the precipice and drag her over.

She would unpack the rest of that later, too.

"Draco," she whined, "I want you to make me -"

Her words halted in midair as they both went soaring off of the cliff together, climaxing at nearly the same time. They collapsed in a heap, their limbs tangled and pressed close. Hermione let out a sigh of contentment, almost purring as she buried her face in the crook of his neck and inhaled his scent. As they came down from the heights of their ecstasy, she found herself wrapped completely in his arms.

Hermione shrieked when he rolled them over and over until she was on her back again.

"Thank you," he said, leaning down to kiss the apples of her cheeks.

"For what?" She wriggled, her arms trapped against her sides.

"I wanted you to stop talking."

"Oh, come off it!" she said, grinning. "You said you liked the sound of my voice."

His smile faded into a smirk. "I just needed help sleeping. Now, I'm right knackered. So . . . Thank you."

She let out a cry of indignation, and then the two of them fell into peals of laughter. She felt her heart swelling yet again, and she knew she had made the right decision. Whether she'd slept with him or not, she'd made the right decision by opening her bedroom door and letting him in.

Hermione didn't know what lay in the future for her and Draco Malfoy. She knew that they had the privilege of having been able to work through their initial issues in order to become friends. She knew that they cared for one another. She knew that he made her laugh, infuriated her, and challenged her in an intellectual way that no one else could. She knew that he wanted to be with her.

They wanted to be together, and they still had some things to unpack. Those two things existed, and that was okay.

They had plenty of time to chase the shadows of their past.

Hermione was no longer afraid.