It had been three weeks since Draco and Hermione had officially fallen in love and to them it seemed like there was no end in sight. Even the teachers were discussing it: McGonagall and Sprout would glance at each other with suppressed smiles when the two would pass them in the corridor, gazing at each other as if there were the only ones in the castle.

"You can see, Pamona," McGonagall had murmured one evening after dinner, "what changes war brings: they are not all unpleasant." Sprout had nodded, her eyes twinkling.

"It is nice to see true inter-house unity," she said, sighing. "I never thought I would see the day."

Just then they noticed Blaise Zabini, a scowl on his handsome dark face, plodding past them, Leila Ackerly trying desperately to tell him something as he ignored her.

"I first noticed it at the start of the year when Miss Granger and Mr. Zabini struck up a friendship," Professor Sprout added thoughtfully. McGonagall looked at her knowingly and sighed.

"Yes: that friendship is an interesting one. But, as Albus would have said, I think they might have hit a snag…" The two teachers sighed as the students continued on their way out of the Great Hall.

And indeed it was true: Blaise had been spending increasingly more time by himself: he hardly ever came up to the Head Dormitory anymore and when he did he left abruptly when Draco walked through the door, making flimsy excuses about homework or being tired. Hermione and Draco had briefly discussed it, wondering what was bothering Blaise, but neither were too concerned since they were having far too much fun just being with each other.

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"Get the hell out of here, Parkinson," Zabini slurred. He had been working his way through his second bottle of firewhiskey, and he wanted nothing more than to be alone, although when he had turned to see Pansy at the entrance to the top of the astronomy tower, he was secretly pleased. Someone as miserable with their pathetic life as I am…he thought bitterly. Pansy smirked, walking over and grabbing the bottle from him and taking a swig. She swallowed before speaking.

"Oh, please, Zabini. You know you want me here. Little Granger seems to have had you replaced, hasn't she, you poor thing," she giggled in mock sympathy.

"Shut the bloody hell up, you swine," Blaise sneered. "You don't know what you're talking about," he choked out, grabbing the bottle back from her and taking another drink. He coughed, to his horror feeling tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He swiped at them angrily.

"Listen, Zabini," Pansy said a bit more seriously, "Don't let those two prats bother you: they belong together. They're both of them idiots." She put her hand on his shoulder and he roughly shook it off.

"Hermione's not an idiot, Parkinson, she's…she's…" and he suddenly shoved the bottle back into her hands, sliding down to the stone floor of the tower, burying his face in his hands and groaning. Pansy looked at him, suddenly feeling cold. Those bloody idiots, she thought. They think they're so great, so in love, for Merlin's sake. Oblivious to the fact that their best friend is miserable. Heartless, she thought. We should get them…

"Blaise, please look at me," she said, sounding uncharacteristically gentle. "Blaise, pull yourself together." Blaise slowly looked up at her, his face a mask of anguish. Pansy again rested her hand on his shoulder and this time he let it stay there. He was too miserable to mind it. Pansy continued.

"First off, my friend, admit that you are in love with Granger." He opened his mouth to protest but she cut him off quickly. "Blaise, you're always the matchmaker, going around spreading your bloody muggle-loving joy to all who care to listen: admit that you're the one who's fallen this time." He stared at her, horrified.

"What are you saying?" he croaked, looking positively ill. Parkinson rolled her eyes, frustrated.

"I'm saying that I'm your friend, Zabini, and I see what's going on here. You may think I'm evil to the bone, but I am in your House. Remember the very first day of school, when we were all eleven? What McGonagall said? Your House is like your family. Don't shut me out," she snapped, losing her patience. Blaise looked at her and snorted, grabbing the bottle back from her and taking a drink.

"I don't like you, Parkinson. You are evil," he added, sneering at her. "I don't trust you, Slytherin or not. You have ulterior motives that have nothing to do with my happiness. You just want to get back at Malfoy because the bastard dumped you for Hermione."

At his own mention of her name, his face crumpled again and he took a deep shuddering breath as he slunk even lower to the cold floor of the tower. Parkinson's right, it finally dawned on him as he drained the bottle of firewhiskey. I am in love with her. I love Hermione. I hate seeing him with her, hate seeing him touch her, hate hate HATE the fact that he will be her first: her first everything when maybe it could have been me. Why, oh why didn't I realize this sooner, why didn't I at least try instead of screwing myself in the arse? Never before in his life had Blaise felt more like crying, not even when he was 12 and his beloved pet owl, Boomslang, had died.

"Oh, he's a bastard, now is he?" Pansy snapped, standing up, her hands on her hips. "He's supposed to be your best friend, but all that's changed, now isn't it, Zabini?" He glared up at her, refusing to answer.

"You listen to me, Blaise Zabini: I can help you. We can help each other. That's what I'm proposing. When you come to your senses, when you can tear yourself away from that bloody bottle, you come find me. Trust me: it will be worth your while." She smirked wickedly. "Because I have a plan. A plan for both of us to get what we want." And with that she turned and stalked back through the tower door and clattered down the stairs, leaving Blaise blearily staring after her.

She's crazy, he thought. I don't want to hurt them. A small voice from inside of him disagreed and spoke to him slyly: Oh don't you? Maybe not her…but so what if you hurt him? He's hurting you after all. And you want her…don't you? He shook his head to get rid of the voice, hauling himself up off of the floor.

No, he thought stubbornly. I won't stoop that low.

Oh, won't you? The same little voice whispered back to him again. And to Blaise's utter dismay, as he staggered down the tower and back to the dungeons, he actually started to listen to that voice…

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As Hermione leaned against Draco, she swore that she would melt into a puddle right then and there, right on the common room couch, if he kept kissing her neck like this.

She moaned softly as his tongue gently caressed the spot just below her ear. Draco chuckled and grinned into her neck. "That's the spot, isn't it," he said smugly as she squirmed in delight, her hands sliding under the bottom of his t-shirt. His back: it's so beautiful, so soft and warm, she thought in wonder as she slowly ran her hands up and down it.

Never before had Hermione touched, kissed, held anything so beautiful as Draco. Her fantasies of making love to him didn't compare to the mere and actual act of just being held by him, touched by him. One simple kiss on her neck sent her into oblivion: every time he touched her it was magical in every sense of the word.

And likewise, Draco was completely smitten with her. Being with Hermione, for Malfoy, was unlike any past relationship he had ever had. Never before had he such a desire to make someone happy, to hear someone cry out with pleasure. Every first for Hermione was like a first for him as well: he was positively dizzy with the desire to please her. He knew things were progressing rather fast, but he was consumed by her, she made him feel as if he had just stepped out of darkness and into sunlight.

Now, as they held each other and kissed each other, listening to the rain on the window, the darkened room lit up by the fire, Malfoy swore that he could hold her in his arms all day, every day and never grow bored. He sighed and looked down at her, her eyes shining up at him. He grinned as he thought to himself, this is the girl who punched me in third year. And now she loves me.

"What are you grinning about, Malfoy," she murmured, wrapping her arms around him, breathing deeply and loving how he smelled. He laughed.

"Oh, just remembering when we were kids. How you used to hate me," he said, chuckling. "How you punched me in third year. How you not only broke my nose but practically gave me a concussion since you had me up against a tree when you hit me."

He laughed again as Hermione's face fell.

"I…I'm sorry! I was…it was…" Draco cut her off by kissing her on the mouth. After kissing her for a moment, he pulled back and smiled at her.

"You're apologizing? I daresay I deserved more than that. I had it coming and you know it." Hermione grinned at him sheepishly.

"Well, yes, you did. I take it back, I'm not sorry, then." They both laughed. Hermione yawned as she snuggled closer to Malfoy, both of them stretching out on the couch together. "I wonder where Blaise has gotten to lately. I hardly ever see him anymore. Has he been out with Leila?" she said sleepily, laying her head on Malfoy's chest. He frowned thoughtfully as he stroked her hair.

"I saw him walking the grounds earlier, heading towards Hogsmeade. Asked him where he was going, but he said he couldn't talk, said something about going to the Apothecary."

"Wonder what he's cooking up. Love potion for some unsuspecting Ravenclaw girl?" Hermione mumbled sleepily, her hand reaching up to touch his hair.

He smiled down at her: she was almost asleep. He hugged her tightly, all thoughts of Blaise evaporating like mist.