Hermione had never felt colder in Draco's arms than she did right at that moment. With every shiver her body gave, the tighter his unconscious hands grew, and the more shivers she emitted. Sleep evaded her. Her heart ached. And every time Hermione made a move to climb out of bed, Draco's face nuzzled her neck and he sleepily pleaded with her not to go.

But it had been so easy to do so earlier that day?

Hermione choked back her emotions as she slid her hand over Draco's. It had been resting around her stomach as it always was when they went to bed. She let her fingers slip in between his and they reflexively squeezed hers. It was amazing really, what his body did when he wasn't in control of it. It knew every need of hers and performed them exquisitely. But with Draco at the helm –his fears, his self-image, his uncanny ability to turn everything that she does as a reflection of who he is –he couldn't love her the way that he said he did.

Hermione had once lost her friends for him. She risked all that she knew for a "rat-faced bastard," as one of them had so eloquently put it; all because she saw something in Draco that no one else could see. She saw a twisted man in all sense of the word. He was deadly when he needed to be. He was stealthy no matter what. And the same way he commanded a wand, he had commanded every action with Hermione that had led her down a path her heart couldn't (unfortunately) ignore.

Draco had not wanted her. But despite all efforts to steer clear of the woman he had deemed untouchable for most of his life, he had gravitated towards her nonetheless. Hermione had found herself backed into a corner, literally, with Draco scowling at her in a way that his mouth couldn't possibly produce without pain. She had dared him that day. She had dared him to say that he hated her. To call her a mudblood or some other insult in order to turn right-side up the world that his presence had careened out of control. Draco had done what she had asked, but not before kissing her feverishly and cursing afterwards.

And now here they were as always and had always been for the past year. In bed. In Malfoy Manor. Except this time Hermione was realizing that she was in love with a man who was in love with himself more.

Hermione couldn't take it. Despite the warmth emanating from Draco's shirtless torso, the smell of his expensive cologne, or the fact that his soft breath was coaxing her into a now unwanted rest, Hermione detangled herself from his arms and stared at him.

Her moving didn't wake him. The bedsheets had slipped down to her waist and so did the straps of her nightgown. She embarrassing pulled up the straps one by one, memories flashing across her eyes at how earnestly Draco had peeled them away during the night. She slowly rubbed her hands up her arms and over her shoulders, her eyes closed and recalling how sweetly Draco had done the same. And how calmly he had kissed her collarbone. And how teasingly his lips had glided up her neck. And how maliciously he had let his tongue do a dance just behind her ear, finishing with kiss of her earlobe and whispering, "You're mine now."

It was these actions that made her love him and that clashed with what was making her hate him. Hermione pathetically whimpered as she crawled out of bed. The air was numbing. She let her toes curl onto the lush carpet as she took small, slow steps to the French doors she didn't open and that led to the balcony. She stood there for what felt like a millennia. She was so lost within herself that she didn't hear the bed squeak. And the floor was covered in such luxury that they masked her lover's footsteps. Hermione gasped as Draco's hands wrapped around her body and his head rested on the crook of her neck.

"Come back to bed." Draco said softly. Hermione was weak at the knees. It didn't help that his hands were caressing her as he held her close. She leaned her head to the side in an attempt to block him out. It was a careless mistake –to leave such flesh exposed. Draco, the ever opportunist that he was, took advantage of that and nibbled as gently as he could.

"No," Hermione replied. It sounded neither as stern nor as rebellious as she was hoping it would. Instead it came out as a childish whine that made Draco laugh.

"Why not?" He asked. He was cradling her now, imperceptibly rocking their bodies side to side as a parent would their newborn.

Hermione took a deep, calculated breath. She kept her eyes straight ahead at the scenery outside. The big, bright moon in the sky. The countless stars. The countryside that Malfoy Manor lay. And the garden that Draco had put in place just for her so that she could have something breathtaking to look at.

"I don't sleep with hypocrites."

It was that that made Draco let go.

Hermione turned around freely and stared at Draco's bemused face. It didn't stay surprised for very long. Instead it morphed into a somber one as he casted his gaze to the ground out of either annoyance, guilt, or both.

"I did what I had to, Hermione. You know that."

"What you had to?" Hermione repeated, utterly flabbergasted. "You saw your friends coming and you literally pushed me away! You don't push people you love away."

"And if it had been Potter and Weasley?" Draco challenged. "What would you have done?"

"What would I have done, or what I have done?" She shot back at him. "I blindly followed you, Draco. Despite what my friends said, what strangers said, whoever. I've fought my battle for you, but you've barely lifted up your wand or even a shield for me."

"It's not the same, and you know it." Draco said firmly. He grumbled as he walked away from Hermione and to the other side of the bedroom to turn on the light. When he faced her again, Hermione took in a different Draco than the one she had just been sleeping with. The previously angelic Slytherin now mimicked the emblem of his House with narrow eyes and pursed lips. And even then Hermione felt attracted to the terrible beast that could easily rip her to shreds.

"Why do you do this?" Draco asked Hermione with a shrug of his shoulders. "You always ask for things you can never have. You can't have my life, Hermione."

Hermione huffed and crossed her arms. "I never asked for that. I'm asking for you to accept me into it."

"Same thing,"

"No, it's not." Hermione replied indignantly. "I'm asking you to take the love for me you have caged within these walls outside. You can't love me in here and then change your mind when you're out there. It doesn't work like that. It can't."

Draco paused. He stared at Hermione intently and swallowed deeply. "…Would you leave me?"

It was Hermione's turn to swallow deeply. "I don't want to."

"That's not what I asked you."

"…Yes, I would."

Draco stood quietly. His pallor had grown whiter and sickly at her answer and Hermione gazed at him in awe. She had been holding herself all the while they were talking, but she got up the nerve to move. Hermione took her time in walking over to Draco. He had seemed blind to the fact that she had crossed the room and only registered that she was near when Hermione placed her hands on his cheeks. Draco placed his hands over hers and rested his forehead on her own.

"Don't leave me." Draco pleaded as he intertwined his fingers with hers. Hermione sighed and closed the space between them.

"Give me a reason to stay." Hermione asked of him.

It wasn't the fact that Draco paused that made Hermione back away from him. It was the fact that he paused and then, shortly after that, he shook his head. With horror Hermione wasted no time. She ignored her name being called. She shrugged off the innumerable times Draco grabbed her hand or wrist. She fled the bedroom and went to the nearest fireplace. Simply in her nightgown Hermione took a handful of Floo Powder and half-yelled her destination. The last images she had of Malfoy Manor was a flutter of green and Draco bursting through the lounge's doors and attempting to stop her from leaving.

Hermione found herself stumbling out of her fireplace at home, her shin hitting into her coffee table and causing her to hobble around pitifully. She cried aloud in pain and then soon after that cried for real. "He can love no one but himself," Hermione recalled various friends saying. She hadn't wanted to believe it. She had hoped that he would love her more. Obviously she was wrong.

Hermione tutted disapprovingly at herself and began to make her way towards her bedroom. She was in the hallway when she heard her fireplace come to life. She had hoped that she could make it to her bedroom and magically lock it after her in time, but a soot-filled hand had caught hers. Draco pulled her close to him. He messily wiped his hands on his pants and then placed them on the back of Hermione's neck.

"I love you, Hermione." Draco said to her as he searched her face. "I love you, and that's a reason to stay."

"No, it's not..." Hermione was saying, but her words fell off as Draco kissed her. She was pinned between him and the wall and had nowhere to go. The wall felt cold, but Draco warmed her front. As the sweetness of his kiss melted into fervor, Hermione's mind flashed back to yesterday. They had been walking down Diagon Alley, happy and holding hands.

The gentlemanly kiss that Draco had planted on her forehead that day was nothing compared to the passion that he was kissing her with now. That day he was kind, carefree, and was laughing at their friendly debate. Now he was determined and focused. Hermione bit back a terrible moan as Draco held her hands and his mouth moved expertly from her lips to just below her collarbone.

That day they had walked calmly through the streets. Now Hermione found herself being lifted up from the ground, her arms wrapped around Draco's neck and her legs around his waist as he carried her further down the hallway.

That day everything had been fine until Draco spotted his friends further up the street and walking towards him. How quickly he had let slip his affection for Hermione and shoved her away from him, causing her to stumble into an alley and be out of sight from his peers. Now Draco smoothly set Hermione down on the bed, taking the time to carefully move loose strands of hair from her face and stare into her eyes with a smile.

On that despicable day, Hermione had stood in the alley ashamed. Not just because Draco had set their love aside for people he put on a higher pedestal than her, but because she had done nothing. She had simply stood in the alley, an obedient girlfriend, and waited until his friends had bid their hellos and passed. Now Hermione took her anger out on him and bit Draco's lip when he kissed her again. Where he was gentle, she was not. And when he whispered sweet nothings, she screamed obscenities.

At the end of it all, Hermione found herself in the same situation she had back in Draco's bed at Malfoy Manor when they had argued over the same matter. Amidst sweet cologne, warm breaths, and tight arms, Hermione felt cold.

Author's note: Hello to those who have read some of my stuff and those who haven't :). This is one of those lovely one-shots that came out of the blue at 3 a.m. but also while listening to the song "Something I Said" by Safety Suit. I'm very tempted to add to this and make it more than just a one-shot, but for now I'll keep it like this. Be on the lookout just in case :)

Reviews welcome!

-WP