Title: Someone Else

Author: luckdragon

Rating: oh… PG, most likely

Summary: All Hermione wants to do is study.  (A little fluff. A little snog. A little mystery.)

Disclaimer: I don't own them.  If you do, it's not worth suing anyone over – trust me, the lawyer's fees will be far more than you'll get in return.

Author's Note: This is the end of the road!  Thanks for reading!

Harry approached Hermione cautiously in the library.  She glanced up, looking frazzled.

"Hermione, can I bother you for a second?"

"Just for a second, Harry.  I'm trying to study for the Arithmancy test in three days, and I can't seem to find any peace and quiet."

"I just need a second."

"What is it then?" Hermione asked patiently, setting aside her quill. 

"I… has… I was just in the common room…"

"I see."

"Hermione, I'm going to make you shut that book.  Moving on.  I was talking… to, well, you see…"

"Harry…"

"Ginny."

"Ginny?"

"She wants me to be… well, frankly, she wants me to be her date for this weekend."

"I'm not surprised."

"You're not?  I thought she had gone off me."

"Apparently she's come back on, hasn't she?"

"And you're… okay with that?"

Hermione frowned.  "Why shouldn't I be?"

"It's just that… Lavender seemed to imply that you might have, well, feelings for me."

"Oh…"

"So it's true.  Hermione, I'm so sorry, but I –"

"Harry," Hermione interrupted, then paused, trying to formulate her reply in the best manner possible.  She wasn't certain that there was any way to send these thoughts out into the world that would be well received.  "I care for you – of course I do.  But… I'm afraid that I don't want to date you.  You're one of my best friends.  Don't you see, that's even better!"  She smiled genuinely at her companion, covering his hand with her own. 

"If it's true, Hermione, you don't have to lie to me… we can work it out.  We can –"

"Harry," she said softly.  "I'm not lying."  She looked at him worriedly.  "I'm sorry," she added.

"Oh… no! Don't be. I'm the one who owes you an apology.  Assuming things, you see.  This is fantastic, really," Harry started to ramble.  "I…" he flushed.  "I'm the one who should apologize.  I mean… what does Lavender… I'll just let you get back to your studies.  I need to go find Ginny anyway."  With this, he blushed a slightly deeper shade and hurried away.

"Of course you don't have a boyfriend," he scoffs.  "Who'd want to date a bookworm such as yourself?"

"I assure you that I've had dates, not that I'll be discussing them with you," she returns coolly.  "Now, I'll just be going."  She turns her back to heft her overloaded bag, and she imagines that he is giving her a derisive stare as she does so.  His next words do nothing to contradict this.

"Who, Krum?  A few turns around the floor at the Yule Ball?" he snorts.  "That's adorable."

Hermione, already vexed due to her row with Ron, drops her bag and about-faces angrily.  Her voice comes out as a frustrated yell.  "You don't know anything about me or about Viktor, so why don't you just sod off!"

He does nothing of the sort; instead, he advances a few slow steps.  "I may not know… but I'm willing to bet that you have no idea what it's like to have someone want you."  On the last words, his voice drops dangerously in both tone and pitch.

She frowns, irritated, mostly by two facts: first, her skin colors slightly at his words, betraying unspoken fears, and secondly, she notices a note-covered piece of parchment on the floor on the opposite side of the desk.  She sits down in frustration and reaches for it.  She wants to leave, and the blasted scrap is delaying her departure.

He, however, isn't done talking or invading her personal space.  "I'm willing to bet that you don't know what it's like to have someone transfixed by you… watching you… thinking of little else but kissing you senseless."  He is looking at her somewhat curiously now, but not in a direct fashion.  It's almost as though he's being bothered by something that's all at once related to and completely separate from the present.  He is almost at the other side of the desk.

"I've been kissed, and it was very satisfying, thank you very much," Hermione snaps, bringing his eyes back to her.  She has.  Several times on each one of her cheeks, and each time gave her a very warm, pleasant feeling.  She realizes with a shock that she is feeling something not entirely dissimilar from this at the present moment, and she doesn't like it one bit.  Annoyed, she chalks this slow burn up to anger, rather than Malfoy's peculiar expression and graceful carriage.

"Whatever you say," he says, again looking absently at her.  Suddenly, he seems to snap out of it, and shrugs.  "I just hope you haven't been dirtying any pureblood wizards with that filthy Mudblood mouth of yours."

Hermione's temper blazes lightning-quick, and she begins to vault to her feet – to do what, she's not quite sure.  She later thinks that it might have been to slap him, and it might have been to merely run from the room.  In any case, she doesn't find out.

As she pulls herself up from her seat, he leans over the desk and harshly covers her mouth with his own.

"Why did you do it?" she hisses finally, breaking their determined, angry glare.

Draco smiles sardonically, dropping her book on the table between them.  "To prove myself right."

Hermione blushes even more furiously.  "You proved nothing."     

"Oh, relax."

"Get away from me."

"Fine, fine.  It was also to make you uncomfortable.  To keep you on your toes.  You know how I love to see you and your lot squirm."

"Just. Sod. Off."  She is near tears, but she will not cry here.  (Was she foolish to think herself desirable?)  Disregarding her books, she jumps to her feet, ready to flee the library books or no books, even as he stands to go.  Her legs propel her nearly savagely.

But rather than continuing straight past the table and towards the doors, she makes an abrupt left turn.  She grasps the back of his head as he gathers her up, greeting her once again with his warm, unpredictable lips. 

This time, she twists him.  He leans against the table, moving her so that she is standing between his legs as her hands slide to his shoulders… down his chest… around his torso, which expands and contracts with his ragged breaths.  He keeps one arm around her waist, runs the opposite hand up into her hair, pressing her mouth more firmly against his.  She launches herself zealously into the embrace, clutching onto him securely.

Suddenly, he grasps her head decisively in both hands and pulls away slightly.  "I have a confession to make," he pants.

She nods.

"It was because you look positively devilish when you're upset."

"Oh."

(But, when he… isn't she always ups… oh.)

Both take a breath, then restart their prior activities with vigor.  Moments later, chased apart by the realization that they are still in a very public library, each eyes the other slightly uneasily.

He is the first to regain himself and speak.

And of course, he wears a wicked smirk. (Wicked good or wicked bad? she wonders… wicked both?)

"I'll see you later."

"Well… I should certainly hope so."

"Oh, you will."

---FIN---