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Cry Me Tears of Fire

by Pensive Puddles

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He buried his hands deeper into his cloak. It was cold outside, and the evening dampness did not help one bit. He pulled his hood lower and took out the lighter Hermione had given him. He could barely see it in the dark, especially with the overshadowing trees. He flicked the lighter on and off, snapping it shut and snuffing his fire creations when a dark voice spoke out in the darkness, "I could spot you a mile away, Malfoy. You'd have been Avada'd by now."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you, Flint?" Draco sneered. Flint gave a dark chuckle and Draco scowled. He didn't like Flint sometimes. No, he never liked Flint. He began to play with his fire again. His watched as Flint lit a cigarette and inhaled, the flame giving a ghastly glow to his features. The glow reached to his eyes, almost completely black by the night.

"You're missing out, Malfoy. Stuck in school," Flint drawled. The sound grated against Draco's nerves and he clutched his lighter tighter. Flint needed no encouragement. He enjoyed hearing himself speak, especially when knowing that he had an audience. "Heard anything amusing in the news, recently? That raiding on that Muggle house, the family completely slaughtered and messages on the wall written in their own blood? Guess who?"

Draco felt sick. How could Flint be proud of that? And to think, there was a whole league of them who all felt proud of horrific slaughters like these and considered them achievements. His face must have revealed his thoughts because Flint teased while flicking his cigarette, "Hey, you getting soft on us, Malfoy?"

"Course not," Draco replied automatically. He resettled his stance, his fingers twirling his wand in his left hand.

Flint looked him up and down, his dark eyes sparkling as he drawled, "It seems you are. People say you've been drifting, beating up on your own – "

"If you're referring to Tony, that boy's a dumbass. If he had actually finished what he had started -- all the Slytherins would have had their balls in a vice. Stupid punk doesn't think at all," growled Draco, taking out his lighter and flicking it in aggravation. Flint merely snorted and continued, "Someone hinted of an infatuation with a mudblood. Is it true, Draco? You've got your eye on a piece of mud?"

"Another brilliant comment of Tony's?" Draco smirked, his eyes lightening dangerously. Flint swallowed nervously. Even though Draco was a couple years younger than him, his imposing stature and air was intimidating, especially with the power he had. He tried not to flinch as Draco let out a coarse laugh, "Don't be absurd, Flint."

Flint laughed with him. "Yeah, you're right. I don't know, with these mudbloods, some of them can be pretty kinky, like that girl of Potter's...you know what I mean?"

Draco's jaw clenched as Flint laughed. He wanted to punch him but it was taking all his control to keep his mouth shut and act as if his remarks didn't bother him. He didn't want to endanger Hermione, and at the same time, he didn't want to hear stupid blokes like Flint talk about her either. She was his, and his only.

Flint noticed Draco's indifference to his comment and he smiled, "You're right. Gross thought. Oh well, we'll see what happens during the war, eh?"

Draco knew what he was referring to. He knew that the war was going to be not only a killing zone, but also a robbing and plundering and ravaging time as well. During ambushes, things would get confusing. It would be easy to slip away. It would be easy to follow a girl down an ally. It would be easy to come up behind her and disarm her and have his way. It would be so easy. Draco could tell by Flint's laugh that his mind was thinking of nasty things, and a twisting in his gut told him that those nasty thoughts were based on images of Hermione. He wished he had left her at the castle that night. He wished he had prevented her from getting drunk. He wished he were with her right now instead of out in the cold of the night with this piece of scum.

Flint only seemed to confirm his thoughts. "Abandon alleyways…who knows what might be lurking in the shadows, eh, Malfoy?"

Merlin, was he really one of them?

"Wonder if she'd put up a good fight…" Flint trailed off, his grin growing and his eyes glowing at his own fantasies as he inhaled again. It sickened Draco. No, I'm not one of them. I'm not going to be one of them.

But you are, Draco. You're just like Flint. You just don't reveal your evilness as blatantly as Flint does. But every fiber in your being, every part of your soul, every part of you is a mere reflection of what Flint is. You'll join them, you'll rule them, and you'll ravage just as many girls as they do, girls like Hermione Granger…and you'll smile just like Flint does now.

Draco felt like vomiting, but merely swallowed and demanded gruffly, "What's this all about Flint?"

Flint's smile faded at the tone of Draco's voice. Why was he getting so upset? Why did he have to ruin his fun like that? Sighing, he answered, "We're to have a meeting soon. At your next Hogsmead outing --"

"As if that's unusual," Draco snarled sarcastically. "You could have just sent me a damn note. Merlin, I can't believe you dragged me out of Pansy's bed for this…"

Yes, Draco knew that was a lie. But there were reasons for this behavior. You see, Draco knew a little secret passion of Flint's, and he enjoyed tormenting people, especially those he hated. He savored his silent victory as he heard Flint's voice grow quiet and say darkly, "You were with Pansy?"

Draco continued flicking his lighter, causing a somber glow to lighten his face every time he flicked it open. Then the darkness would consume him when it snapped shut. He flicked it on and left it on a little longer, just so Flint could see his smirk. He was waiting for Flint to explode. He was waiting, just so he could fight him, just so he could give himself an excuse to make Flint's face burst into flames. He hated him. The more he listened to Flint talk, the more he wanted to kill him. He wanted to kill him because killing him would be killing part of what he was supposed to be, what he didn't want to become.

No, I'm not going to be like him. I refuse to be like him! Draco told himself. But he knew that Flint represented only an eighth of the evil that Draco was supposed to become in order to be the Dark Lord. He shuddered, his body literally shaking. How could he become so evil? How could he kill innocent people? How could I kill Hermione?

"You think you're something, don't you?" Flint growled. The cigarette quivered in Flint's shaking hand. "Just because he chose you to be the next Dark Lord…just because you can control an Element. Well…there's rumor that there's another Controller, just like you, Malfoy. And if he's stronger than you, then there won't be a need for you any longer."

They know about Hermione? Draco questioned frantically to himself. Is he bluffing?

"Then I can kill you, Master," Flint mocked. But Draco's keen observation's skills could see right through Flint. He saw all his weaknesses, all his irritations, all his passions. He knew what he held dear and what he longed for. A dark evil seemed to swell in Draco's stomach. It spread through his chest, making him burn in hate. He wanted to destroy Flint. But Flint was holding himself back. Why?

He didn't want to wait. He wanted to get Flint to succumb to his own hatred and start what they both wanted to happen. Draco concentrated and began to whisper telepathically, Get angry. He had everything you wanted. He gets everything you never get. Power, riches, Pansy…He'll completely ravage her over and over again –

Flint screamed and charged at Draco, and the blond smirked as Flint's fist collided against his jaw. Whether or not Flint knew it was Draco who was whispering in his mind didn't matter; Flint was finally giving into his hatred towards Draco. He was tired of Draco getting everything. He was tired of being a Pureblood and still having this little punk and his family sneer down at him. He was tired of having to hold onto his title and reputation when Draco could dragged his through the dirt and clean it right back up with a little money.

He hated how the Dark Lord favored Draco and was giving him power (Flint wasn't aware of the Dark Lord's intent. Only elite members of the Dark Lord's council knew of his plans. The Dark Lord had fixed to so that the lesser members would only selectively hear what he was saying. He could say whatever he wished in front of anyone, but if he only wanted two of the whole multitude to hear, those two would be the only ones to hear). But even if there were another person chosen to be the Dark Lord's heir, Flint would be the first to kill Draco on the battlefield for one reason: Pansy Parkinson.

Flint had technically been betrothed to Pansy. Pansy had never liked him, even when they were wee children. Pansy would have been forced to marry him when she become of age if the Malfoy's hadn't interfered and proposed that Pansy marry Draco instead. The Parkinson's were ecstatic at the idea of their daughter marrying a Malfoy; the Malfoys had a higher status and more money. And so Pansy was given to Draco. Not only that, but Flint also held an obsession over Pansy and Draco knew of it too.

There was a peephole that looked into Pansy's room in the Slytherin girl dormitories. Flint spent a lot of his time looking through it. Once, Draco had walked in on him when he was looking through the hole, his eye fixed on Pansy while she undressed ever so slowly, his hand in his pants. The blond bastard had smirked at him and left. Flint was about ready to leave and see where Malfoy was going, see if he was going to tell the lads of his sick obsession. And then he heard Pansy's voice asking who was knocking on the door and he heard Malfoy's response. He heard the door open. He heard the door close. Immediately, he was on the chair and looking through the peephole again. And he watched, sickened, angry, consumed in lust as Draco made love to her. They were sprawled out in front of him, her hands groping for anything to grab to release this ecstasy that engulfed her. She cried out Draco's name and he told her to scream louder so she did, and the blond had the sick audacity to look up and smirk at him. Flint had left then, Pansy's gasps and cries still echoing in his ears.

Flint grabbed hold of Draco's shirt and repeatedly punched him in the face. Draco heard his jaw shatter. Angry at being overtaken, Draco started to fight back. He grabbed for his wand and shot Flint into a tree. Flint drew his wand and spat out a series of attacks that kept Draco hopping. Draco began to use defensive spells, blocking Flint's attacks. He was saving his energy, waiting for Flint to use most of his up before he attacked. Meanwhile, his Element was healing the broken parts of his jaw. He coughed lightly, black soot leaving his mouth in a small cloud. His strength was getting greater. Soon, he wouldn't cough at all.

Flint noticed. He taunted him. He jeered. Each cuss word boiled Draco's blood. Flint laughed, his eyes wild, "Why don't you prove your strength, Draco? I bet you can't do anything more than light a cigarette with that little fire trick of yours. Sad to think her death only gave you that small amount of power."

Draco froze, his eyes widened. Flint took this time to hit him with a spell in his chest. Draco fell to the earth, his mind locked in the past. It'll be all over soon… No! That was over! She was gone. That wasn't his fault. That wasn't his fault!

Something hit him in his head and a series of stars exploded in front of his eyes. Images flashed through his mind. The ceremony. The eerie candles. The chants. The pain. The girl… She seemed to flash between the other memories, and the more he thought about her the more he could see her, and the more he could see her the more she looked like Hermione. And suddenly, it was Hermione crying out and falling off him, naked and dead and being carried out unceremoniously away from him. Her body hung so limply, her hair dragging on the floor, her eyes open and dead and staring right at him…

"NO!!!!" bellowed Draco. Flint had resorted back to physically beating Draco. As much damage as a wand could inflict, it wasn't as satisfying as skin punching against skin. Draco had been in a state of shock and hadn't moved for quite some time. His sudden reaction startled Flint. Draco grabbed Flint by his face and Flint screamed in agony as Draco's fiery hands burnt his flesh. They could smell his skin burning. Flint pulled away and Draco rolled to his feet, his eyes dark and evil. "You want me to prove my strength?"

He didn't wait for an answer. With a quick snap of his lighter, Draco held in his hand a blazing sword. The flames flickered off the tip and disappeared into the air. His menacing appearance made Flint fumble for his wand. As Draco ran towards him, ready to swing his sword, Flint yelled out, "Aquarious!"

A spout of water flew from the wand and onto the sword. The sword hissed but didn't go out. Draco's eyes glared at Flint dangerously and he smirked. Flint licked his lips cautiously, his face paling. He could feel Draco's power radiate from him. He could almost see this aura around him; it was like a blurry outline along his frame. Flint gave a sharp whistle and several black figures emerged from the trees. Draco turned and looked at all of them, his sword raised. "Destroy him, boys!" Flint yelled.

It was five against one. Draco smirked and beckoned them on. Darkness overwhelmed him and everything smeared into something else. Suddenly, he was back in the dark room where the ceremony took place. The evil spirit that had come for him earlier returned, but this time Draco wasn't afraid of it. This time the spirit seared through him and calmed him. A man appeared before him. His father. And in the darkness of the room, he could see her. She was chained and a man was near her, another man who looked like his father. "You won't touch her!" Draco commanded, his voice low and threatening.

Luicus smirked. "Watch me, boy."

Hermione screamed and Draco's sword began to slash.

Draco woke up on the ground. He could feel blood rolling down the side of his mouth. Parts of his body throbbed in pain. He couldn't remember what happened. He coughed, and grimaced in agony as his side seemed to pulse in pain. "Careful, Malfoy," a voice sneered. "We broke some of your ribs…and some other bones as well."

Loud snickering filled the quiet air. Draco couldn't see them but he knew it was Flint and his cronies. "Interesting show there. I'm sure the Dark Lord will be pleased with your progress, although, you're going to have to control yourself. You burnt Phillips pretty badly. Oh no, don't try moving, Malfoy. Wouldn't want you to further hurt yourself. Merlin, you look like shit. You should clean yourself up, mate."

The group laughed again. "Cheers, Master."

There were a series of pops and Draco knew he was alone. As he lied on the ground, he tried to remember what happened. He could only remember the five figures coming at him, wands raised and a series of attacks happening. And then that was it.

He groaned and coughed. His lungs constricted and he wondered if this time he would suffocate. Tighter and tighter the invisible vices closed and he wondered faintly if it were physically possible for his lungs to explode out of his chest. Large cracks reverberated inside his body and he was tempted to look to see if bones were sticking through his skin. The vices around his lungs loosened and he gasped for breath. He breathed heavily and sat up, feeling his ribs. He winced. They hadn't healed yet. His head throbbed. He knew only parts of him were healing. But he was healed enough so that he could barely walk back to the castle. Damn, Flint. Damn him and his gang to hell. And Flint knew Draco wouldn't tell the Dark Lord that he had tried to kill him.

Shakily, he got to his feet and stumbled into the darkness of the trees, tripping over roots and forgotten branches. Pictures from his nightmares mixed with reality. He was delirious as he got back into the Common Room. He was retching by this time. Hermione's door open and he heard her beautiful panicked voice cry shrilly, "Draco!"

He looked up. Hermione was speechless when she saw him. His clothes were torn and covered with smears of mud and bloody patches. A gash from his temple to his chin had caused intricate patterns of blood to form along his face. His left eye was swollen shut and his nose looked broken. His knuckles were split open and the collar of his shirt was ripped and stretched. Through a fat lip, he gasped out, "You're…safe…"

He stumbled forward, about ready to fall. Hermione ran towards him and grabbed him. Putting his arm around her shoulder, she led him to the couch and made him lie down. He began to cough and squirm, curling into a ball (as best as broken ribs could allow him to), holding his stomach. "Draco, stay here. I'm going to go and get the Nurse."

He shook his head feverishly groaned. Through short series of coughing, he explained briefly, "I'm healing. The element…is doing all it…can. Don't…. be alarmed…it's alright."

"Alright?!" she shrieked. "You shouldn't have to look at yourself to know what kind of condition you're in! Draco, what happened?"

He looked at her, his eyes fixed in hers until the pain made him retch and look away. Hermione went to the bathroom and returned with a bucket, a bowl of water, and a towel. She cleaned up his vomit and placed the bucket next to his head in case he needed to throw up again. She gasped as three sharp, loud pops echoed in the room. Draco hissed but then sighed, relaxing into the couch and taking a deep breath. He looked at her and sighed weakly, "Ribs."

He looked over at her after a couple of moments. Tears beaded her eyelashes and as one fell, she quickly reached up and wiped it away. His eyes felt heavy and he relaxed, closing his eyes, his body shivering occasionally as it continued to heal. Something warm and wet rubbed against his face and he flinched.

"Oh, does that still hurt? The gash was gone and I wanted to try and clean the blood off your face," Hermione said quietly. He heard her rinse the washcloth.

"I thought he was going to take you for good this time…" he said, his eyes still closed.

"What?" she asked, confused, her voice still low.

"He was so close. I thought they were going to take you again…" He opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling. He said a little more panicky, "You died. I saw you die. And they were carrying you away. Merlin, you've died so many times. So many times."

"When have I died, Draco?" she asked, realizing he was in a delirious state, just like during winter break.

"Every time I close my eyes," he whispered after a long moment. "Every time. The blood…oh Merlin!"

He began to shudder. "Merlin, make these images stop!"

Hermione lightly grabbed the sides of his face and forced him to look at her. "Draco, look at me. Look at me! I'm right here. You see? It's me, Hermione right here. See? Can't you feel me?" she said, taking one of his hands and placing it on her cheek. "I'm right here."

His eyes darted back and forth. She wasn't sure if he really was seeing her. "Hermione. You really are…" he trailed off. His crazed eyes began to tame themselves and he grinned, the dry blood around his mouth cracking. "You're safe."

Hermione only nodded and rung the washcloth before dapping it alone his face as gently as she could while cleaning away the blood. "It was a meeting, wasn't it?"

"No, just a test of strength," Draco said, not sure why he was telling her this and not really caring. She was safe and that was all that mattered. She would be safe as long as she was near him. He'd protect her. He'd take care of her. Because she was his. Not Weasley's. Not Potter's. Not anyone else. His, and his only.

"Don't lie, Draco," she said sharply. He could see she was shaken up at seeing him like this. "I know you're involved with him. Merlin, I wish you wouldn't..."

He watched her, her hands shaking as she cleaned the cloth again and press it against his face. Her eyes were glassy and she blinked numerously to control herself. He reached up and held the hand that was cleaning the blood off his face. "Why do you care so much, Hermione? Why do you care what happens to me?" he asked honestly. Why was she here cleaning his wounds? Why was she still here and not running to Dumbledore? Why had she not told anyone else about his powers? She knew he was dangerous. Why did she protect him like she was doing now?

She looked at him, a blink finally releasing a tear. "I just do."

She wanted to say more. She wanted to say that it was because he made her feel different from what Ron made her feel. She wanted to say that he made her laugh in ways that her best friends couldn't. She wanted to say that he intrigued her. She wanted to tell him that she liked him and she was worried about him and that she wished he would give up serving Voldemort and be with her. She wanted to say so much just to hear him say back, "I do too."

But she knew it would scare him, so she didn't. She was afraid he would turn away from her if she confessed her infatuation to him, so she didn't. She didn't want to loose him, not now. And the fear of loosing him, the fear that at the end of the school year she would confront him on the battlefield and have to kill him, tears streamed faster down her cheeks. But she didn't make a sound, until his hand reached up and began to wipe each tear away. She let out a strangle sob and quickly got up. It hurt too much; these emotions overwhelmed her.

"Don't leave," he said weakly.

She stopped, and looked at him, "Why not?"

"Because I need you here," he said. The delirious look was back in his eyes. He continued distantly, "The nightmares aren't as frequent when you're near."

"What nightmares?" she asked, curious.

"I can't tell you," he whispered. He held out his hand and she reached for it.

"Not yet anyway?" she said hopefully.

He pulled her down to him and held her to him, whispering, "Not yet anyway."

She looked up and saw his eyes closed. He looked so young, so weary as if he had labored for many nights without sleep. A sudden impulse over came her and she tilted her head up to gentle kiss the side of his cheek. Then she leaned her head under his chin and put her arm around his waist. He pulled her closer and she grinned.

I could stay like this forever, she thought before fatigue took her.

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Hermione strolled into the Great Hall, feeling rather hungry from having slept through breakfast. She walked, sitting between Ron and Ginny, and licked her lips at the scrumptious food that appeared before her. As the conversations around her tried to overwhelm her senses, she still found time to peer over to a specific table to see a specific person. Instead, her eyes caught Tony who was walking rather awkwardly to a spot on the bench, grimacing while he sat down and sending her a rather nasty glare in her direction. Startled, she looked away and locked eyes with Draco instead, a questioning look in her eyes. I told you; if he even looks at you in a way I don't like…

Hermione's eyes widened in recollection and she wasn't sure whether to laugh or be shocked. All she knew was that she felt rather pleased. He was protecting her. Did that mean he liked her? She secretly hoped so, but she doubted the odds of that ever becoming anything more than a hope.

"What are you smiling at, Hermione?" Ginny asked slyly. "Thinking about that Edward chap?"

"What? Edward?" she asked, startled. Ron turned his head slightly in their direction, interested in their conversation.

"Oh, don't act all surprised," chided the bright redhead. "We all know that Edward fancies you. You fancy him, don't you?"

"What? Ginny, don't be absurd," Hermione said, laughing. "I mean, I enjoy talking to him, but I don't like him in that way."

"Why not? He's a decent looking bloke, not to mention he can't stop staring at you," Ginny added, nudging her in the side. The two girls turned slowly around to look at the Ravenclaw table, and Hermione caught the final movements of Edward's eyes averting away from her and to the person across from him. She turned back around, smiling, and pretending to ignore Ginny's comment of, "I told you so!"

"I think you should go for him," Ginny remarked while biting into another roll.

"I don't know," Hermione said and then finally added after Ginny's playful nagging, "I'll think about it."

"I think you should," she said and then leaning in to whisper so that Ron's prying ears wouldn't hear, "It's time for you to get over Ron."

"Ginny, I said I'll think about it, okay," she said harshly this time. Disgruntled, she left the Great Hall. Ginny watched her go, waiting for Ron's reaction which followed rather quickly. "What do you think you are doing, Ginny?" Ron hissed.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Ron," she said casually, pretending to be oblivious to Ron's death glares.

"Why are you trying to get her to go out with someone else?" he demanded.

She raised an eyebrow, "Because he'd treat her better than you have."

"Treat her better?" he repeated in a hushed shrill. "What do you mean 'treat her better'?"

Staring straight into his eyes, Ginny answered, "He'd apologize when he knew he was wrong."

She got to her feet and left, leaving Ron to think about what she said. But she didn't have to. He knew she was right. He knew he should apologize to her. But he couldn't. She wouldn't listen. And besides, she was thinking about getting together with Edward now, wasn't she? What was the point of him apologizing if it didn't get her back?

"Not worth a damn thing," he said out loud.

"Exactly!" Seamus said enthusiastically. "That's what I told him, but he wouldn't believe me!"

While everyone was attentive to Seamus' rant, only Harry noticed Ron's preoccupied behavior. And for once, he was mad at Ginny as well. Come on, Ginny. If you had to push any man on Hermione, couldn't it have been one with a scar on his forehead?

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Hermione sat in her favorite chair in the library. She never actually read when she was in the chair. She actually spent most of her time drifting off into space and contemplating her day, a book lazily resting in her hand to give off the impression that she was actually using the chair for knowledgeable purposes. The conversation with Ginny was troubling her. Why shouldn't she go for Edward? He was a nice bloke: smart, funny, kind. And he wasn't that bad looking either. True, he was younger than her, but his maturity made up for that. And besides, at least she could be seen in public with him. True, he didn't inspire the overwhelming emotions that Draco caused. He wasn't as intriguing, but Edward was safer. Draco was dangerous. Edward was sane; Draco had his moments of lunacy. She could read and understand Edward; Draco was a complete, chaotic mystery.

And that was why she liked him. She covered her face in her hands, appalled at the realization. She liked Draco Malfoy. All this time she had spent with him had shown a different side of him. The more she talked to him, the more she saw similarities that they shared, besides being Controllers. And that power he had within him, it drew her towards him. He was so poised, so suave. And yet he was her age. What gave him that sense of smooth dignity? She had never met anyone like Draco. Not to mention the fact that she found him quite attractive. And she knew they shared a connection. She had felt it in that kiss.

She knew he was in trouble, and she felt that if she could get close to him, maybe she could save him. She knew he was affiliated with Voldemort. Maybe if she got him to trust her, maybe, just maybe, she could save him. She couldn't stand the thought of him dying. Simply picturing his dead corpse made her shudder and want to cry. She laughed, "I can't believe I like him…"

"Like who?" Draco asked, stepping out from behind a bookshelf.

"What are you doing back here?" she asked, her face flushing.

"This is a public library, Hermione. Just because you've read every book in this library does not mean that you personally own them," he said, smirking and taking a book off the shelf before leafing through the pages.

She rolled her eyes. "You're such a smartass sometimes."

"Which is why you go for dumbasses like Edward?" he remarked casually. Draco sighed inwardly, Oh, that was smooth, Draco. What are you, the jealous ex?

"What? Me go for Edward?" she remarked incredulously.

"I saw you look at him in the Great Hall and give him that flirty look and giggle, and I just heard you confess it a couple minuets ago," Draco answered smoothly, closing the book with a sharp snap. He didn't know why he was so irritated. He wished he could hide it better. Usually, he was so good at concealing his feelings. But in front of her…She's supposed to be mine, not Edwards. Mine, and mine only!

"Why are you getting so uptight about this?" she asked, getting out of her chair. "Why do you even care?"

"I don't care," he rebuked, uncomfortable at how close she was to him.

"If you didn't, you wouldn't be making such a big deal about this," she said. She chuckled, looking up at him and watching his eyes dart around the room, trying to look at anything but her. And she wanted to tell him, she needed to tell him. "Draco, as far as your reputation precedes you, you know nothing of women. I haven't told anyone about you power when I could have. I've been by your side twice when you've needed me. I've made up excuses for you when you let your powers get out of hand. I've kissed you under the fireworks, and if you knew anything about women…"

She was dangerously close. Her boldness made her take the book out of his hand and place it on the shelf, her attraction towards him made her clasp his tie in one of her hands, her absence of any coherent thought prevented her from stopping herself as she pulled his head down with his tie and whispered, "You'd be able to eavesdrop and know who she was talking about."

A sudden burst of emotion overwhelmed him and he kissed her, enjoying the return to what he had wanted for so long. He pulled away slightly to say, "So you like me, eh?"

"Just shut up and kiss me," she ordered roughly. Draco dared not disobey.

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A/N: And there you go. They're finally together! Yeah for taking seventeen chapters to get to this point! Yes, I have no clue how long this fic is going to take, but now that we've reached this point, there's no need to drag things out, I suppose. Again, I've tried to make up for my long absence of updating by posting two chapters. I've gotten complaints from not updating soon enough – believe me, I know how irritating it is. I've been waiting for this one fanfic to update forever now, but I don't think she'll get around to updating it…it'd been almost a year and a half now I think… ::Scratches head::: hey, at least I'm not THAT bad, eh?

As it is, if you'd kindly share your opinions on my story, be they flames or not, I'd gladly appreciate it. I'm sure I've lost some of you from my delayed updates, but if you still are reading, I'd love to hear from you!

Anywhoo. Since I've missed holidays: Happy New Year, Happy Valentine's Day, and Happy Easter and I'm sure there a ton more but Happy (fill in whatever holiday).

Peaches!