Chapter One - The Blame Game

She decided that it was all to be blamed on stress. Stress was the ridiculous force that had driven her to tiptoe down that goddamned hallway to stand in front of his door for the first time. It had been ten days since then. She hadn't even had the presence of mind to pull on any pajama pants this time, either. So she found herself standing there, in the hallway, having already knocked on his door, for the tenth time in ten days, for some Merlin-forsaken reason, in her black lacey knickers and a tank top no less.

As she stood there, contemplating scurrying right back down the hallway to her own bedroom, her heart raced just as furiously as it had the first night. Her mind flooded with emotions and doubts as each second passed. It had never taken him this goddamn long before, had it? Merlin's fucking ass she felt like such a dumb twat. Just because he had opened the door on those other nights didn't mean that-

"'Mione?" a hushed voice asked from the other side of the door.

"Erm," she said. Her throat felt odd and her voice sounded strange and scratchy. It was all of the stress, she was sure. "Erm, yeah. Sorry I just-"

The door opened then, and they simply stood facing each other for a few moments. She watched self-consciously as he took in her attire, a lopsided grin pulling up the corners of his mouth. "I think you forgot your pants, Herms," he whispered, chuckling.

"I'm sorry," she said, running her hand through her hair. "I really shouldn't be doing this again. And I really should at least have pants on. I'm sorry. Sorry. I'm just going to go back to-"

"Oh the hell you are." He reached out and took her arm, pulling her against his chest before shutting his bedroom door. "It's late. I thought you'd forgotten about me."

She simply nodded since she was a bit too distracted by how good he smelled. Why did he always smell so fantastic? She wanted to slap herself for doing this at all. It was so ridiculous that it had even happened once, let alone thirty times. She glanced up at his face, reaching up to brush a lock of his dark, disheveled hair out of his eyes before she could stop herself.

"D'you want to sit down?" he offered, glancing over his shoulder at the bed. She bit her lip, knowing that she should say no. The proper thing to do would be to march her barely clothed ass right back out of his bedroom and down the hall into her room. She was taking advantage of him and it was blatant. She really ought to be ashamed of herself. When her eyes flicked up to make contact with his, though, she knew that she would not be leaving any time soon. She nodded again and let him slid his fingers into hers and lead her over to the bed. She was taking advantage of him, but he was using her as well.

They made quite the fucked up pair of friends, that was for sure.

"I'm really sorry," she mumbled again, pulling her knees up to her chest and hugging them tightly. "I couldn't sleep."

"I was having a bit of trouble myself," he said. She cursed the moon, then, for bouncing off of the muscles in his shoulder in such a flattering way. Not that he wasn't good looking without the moon bouncing off of him, mind you. It just seemed to be making it even worse because for some reason it reminded her of -

No. She would not think about him. She was here, in fact, to forget about him.

"I think that we should maybe talk about this," she said.

"Or maybe we could just not," he shrugged. "Unless you want to get more… serious or something, I suppose."

"No," she answered, far too quickly. She took a breath and exhaled before repeating, more calmly, "no, I don't."

His green eyes were clearly amused by this ridiculous inner battle that she was dealing with. "If you don't want to-"

"That's the problem, see," she said, chewing her lip again. "I do. Merlin I'm so confused. This makes no sense. You know that right? You know how wonky this whole thing is?"

"It's not wonky," he shrugged. "You're attractive, I'm attractive, we've known each other for years now. We're shut up together in a house-"

"With the girl that you're in love with," she inserted.

"Who I can't have," he countered, laying back on the bed and tugging her down with him. "And you're spending the entire summer away from everything and trying to forget whatever mystery boy it is that you can't have. It's not wonky, 'Mione. It makes sense. This is what friends do, right? They comfort each other."

"I'm pretty sure that what we've done goes far beyond normal friendship," she insisted, glancing down at his hand resting on her hip.

"You say potato…" he said, pulling her body against his, that same lopsided grin playing at his lips as he leaned in for a kiss. She found herself reeling for a moment as the reality of the situation hit her, as it had the last nine times that he had started kissing her. She was laying on her best friends bed - her best friend who she had always viewed as a brother - in her black lacey knickers, helping him pull her shirt off, and moaning into his mouth.

She, Hermione Granger, was going to have sex with Harry Potter.

Again.

Oh, Merlin.

He twisted their legs together afterwards, holding her close and kissing the top of her head as their breathing evened out again. He was certainly an attentive and sweet lover. She would certainly give him credit for that. It was quite humorous that she had turned to Harry after… well, after everything that had happened. He was quite the opposite of him. That was for sure.

"Is it just me or does that get better every time?" he murmured into her hair.

"That was an especially nice move there at the end," she complimented, turning her face up and kissing the underside of his chin before flatting her cheek against his skin again. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

"Thank you, Head Girl Granger."

"You're welcome, Head Boy Potter."

"Who would have thought, eh?" he asked, chuckling. "I mean, we all knew you'd be a Head, but me? That was certainly the surprise of the year."

"I won't lie," she confessed, "I thought it would be that funny-looking boy from Hufflepuff."

"Oh, right," Harry said, nodding in agreement. "Never could remember his name."

"I wish we could go back," she said, feeling her throat tighten in an uninvited way.

"Me too," he whispered, rubbing her back.

"When do we leave?"

"Tomorrow sounds as good as anytime. We can pack everything into that nifty little bag of yours so that we can keep doing research along the way. I wish he could have left us more information about those damn horcruxes. It's going to be a headache to figure it all out."

"Are you going to tell her?"

Harry was silent for several long seconds after her question before answering with a quiet but confident, "no."

"Harry," she chided gently. Everyone in the entirety of Hogwarts knew that Harry loved Ginny. Everyone but Ginny, of course. Hermione couldn't fathom how her best girlfriend didn't know. Harry had always been far from smooth and subtle and Hermione had pointed out his actions to the redheaded girl several times. But Ginny had fallen head over heels for Dean and not given Harry a second glance.

"She's happy, Herms," Harry insisted. "She loves him and everyone knows it. That bloody diamond on her finger is more than enough proof."

"It's just a silly promise ring," Hermione protested. "They're only sixteen."

"And we're only seventeen. A lot can change over time, but I'm not going to sit around sulking while I wait for it."

"I still think you should at least tell her goodbye."

"Are you going to?"

Hermione sighed in annoyance.

"Check mate," Harry said, flipping her over abruptly and grinning down at her. "Enough of this serious talk. Are you tired enough to sleep yet?"

"Are y-oh!" she squealed, squirming in his arms and giggling as he nipped at a particularly sensitive part of her neck. She moved to counter his attack but was stopped by a searing pain in her right arm. "Holy fuck," she hissed, her eyes tearing up.

"Herms?" Harry asked, immediately concerned. "What's wrong?"

"Merlin it hurts," she grimaced, grasping at her arm as the pain intensified. It felt like her entire forearm was on fire and the sensation was slowly creeping further up her arm. There was nothing there, though. There was only one reason that this would be happening. "I need to get up," she told Harry, urgently. "I think I might be sick."

Harry moved off of her quickly, watching nervously as she pulled her clothes back on. When she darted for the door, hand over her mouth, he rushed after her down the hallway to the bathroom, flipping the light on for her and managing to pull her hair back before she heaved over the toilet. The pain did not let up as she wiped her mouth off with a piece of toilet paper.

"Harry, do you trust me?" she asked, wincing as the pain suddenly shot up past her shoulder.

"Of course."

"I need to go somewhere," she said. "I swear to you I'll be back by morning."

"You're sick, though," he protested.

"I know," she nodded. "I need to go, though. It's the only way to stop the pain. It's… it's complicated, Harry. I can't explain it - not allowed - but I really need to go."

"Ok. Ok," he nodded back. "I trust you."

"I love you," she said, leaning forward to hug him with her good arm. "I'm going to be just fine, I promise. It's nothing serious, I just need to -" she winced at another jolt of pain as she stood up. "Just need to go."

"I love you, too," he answered. She looked back at him then, pausing just long enough to look into his worried eyes before leaving him sitting there on the bathroom floor squinting after her retreating form.

She threw up again in a bush next to where she had apparated and used her wand to clean out her mouth. She took a few steps before regaining the presence of mind to conjure a pair of shorts over her underwear. It was a warm summer night but she had little time to enjoy it. After a few minutes of brisk walking she had reached the all too familiar door and opened it.

He was standing so close to the doorway that she nearly stalked right into him. His arrogance never failed to impress her. He knew she would come, the bastard. He'd been standing in the bloody doorway waiting for her. He reached one long arm over her shoulder to push the door shut as she glared up at him, trying as hard as she possibly could to hate every single inch of him all at once.

And she did hate him. She hated his damn blonde hair and his damn cold, empty, blue eyes. She hated his high cheekbones and the lines of his jaw. She hated his lips. He was such a conniving bastard, Malfoy was, and she hated him for it.

Hated him for asking her to care. He knew that she would come. That's why he had cursed her in the first place, wasn't it? Because if Hermione Granger was anything, she was dependable.

"I'm sorry," he said, shifting his weight awkwardly and cradling his left arm protectively.

"So am I," she sighed, running a hand through her hair before reaching out to take his arm and examine the damage. "So am I."

"You didn't fucking need me here at all, Malfoy," she growled a few minutes later, dropping his arm. He winced and pulled it back up against his ribs again. "You know damn well that I can't do anything to heal this."

"Can't I just call you because I need you?" he asked, sounding uncharacteristically weak.

"No," she scoffed, "you can't."

"Obviously I can," he sneered. "You came."

"Yeah, because it felt like my entire goddamn arm was on fire," she spat. "It's not as if you didn't ask for this to happen."

"So if I'd just broken my arm you wouldn't be as pissed about being here?"

"Obviously not. I can fix a broken arm. I can't fix this stupid mistake."

"I didn't have a choice, alright?" He towered over her menacingly but she didn't flinch.

"You always have a choice," she said.

"So what if I just…" he trailed off, holding her gaze with his sad, pleading eyes.

"What if you what?" she growled. "I don't have time for this, Malfoy, so you'd better spit it out."

"Why don't you have time?" he asked. "Got to run back to Weasel's bed? Can't stand to be away from the redheaded fuckup, can you?"

"Ah, there you are again," she said, silently amused by just how far off he was about whose bed she had been sleeping in. She was glad that he was angry and sadistic again, though. He was so much easier to hate when he was being himself. She couldn't stand him when he was vulnerable. He was worst when he was like that. "I need you to listen to everything I say right now because I will not be repeating myself."

"I don't want to hear about your sex life with the Weasel," he said, smirking proudly at his joke.

"I'm leaving in a few hours," she said, ignoring him. "I can't tell you where I'm going or what I'm doing but you need to know that you're on your on your own until I get everything all sorted out. I can't just go apparating around to wipe up your blood anymore, Malfoy. I've run out of time and patience. Understood?"

"Fuck no," he growled, outraged. "What if I need you?"

"Find someone else to care," she shrugged. "You're not my problem anymore." She turned for the door then. She had just placed her hand on the rusty handle when she felt his hand on her shoulder. She fought hard against the urge to turn back to him. It would be so easy to do, wouldn't it? All she had to do was pivot. He was right there with his damned arms and torso - every inch of what she'd been missing. She could have him if she'd just turn around.

"Granger," he said. The fight had gone from his voice. "You can't leave me right now."

"I can, actually," she said, turning the handle and refusing to give in. If she turned around, he would be hers. But only for a fleeting moment. After that, it would be exactly as it had been before. He was a bastard and they both knew it and she couldn't stand around and wait for him to change anymore.

He would never change.

"Granger, I…"

"You what, Malfoy?" she asked, deflated.

"I've… I miss you."

"It's too late for that." She willed herself not to look back at him as she pulled the door open and slid through the crack.

She managed to apparate herself back before she completely broke down, stumbling against the outside of Grimmauld Place and sliding weakly down to the ground. It seemed to always end like this with him: an apology or admittance just a few moments too late that left her marching strongly away only to collapse into a pathetic sobbing mess.

She wanted to hit him sometimes for being such an arrogant prick. Sometimes - some of the darker times - she wished that he was dead. But she always ended up feeling guilty for those thoughts because, at the end of the day, he was still a human being. He wasn't in deep enough to have lost his humanity and they both knew it.

She wiped away a tear as his words echoed through her head again. I miss you. She found herself wishing that those words actually meant anything. But they didn't. And nothing that he said to her would because he was Malfoy - terrible, awful, heartless Malfoy.

But she loved him anyway.

Almost thirty minutes later she walked shakily back into the house and up the stairs, glancing sideways at her bedroom door as she passed it and stopped in front of Harry's instead. She didn't knock this time - didn't want to wake him up - and was sliding under his covers just moments later. She laid on her side, wiping away one last tear as he woke up just enough to pull her small body up against his, wrapping one arm around her waist and warming her instantly.

Maybe it was wrong to keep running to Harry, but it was exactly as he had said earlier: this is what friends do. They comfort each other. After all that they had been through the last year, after Dumbledore's death and the impending war, they certainly needed comforting. Harry was heartbroken over Ginny and Hermione could never seem to catch a break with Malfoy. He'd been bothering her for longer than she cared to admit, causing her endless amounts of stress.

It could be easily and accurately stated, then, that it had been Draco Malfoy - and not stress - that had pushed Hermione Granger into Harry Potter's bed ten days ago. She silently - guiltily - found herself thanking Ginny and Dean for being so obnoxiously in love.

It was so much easier to be heartbroken when your best friend was, too.

A/N

I can assure that this story is certainly Draco/Hermione. I've always kind of liked Harry/Hermione, too, though, so he will definitely be a prominent character, as well. Hopefully you enjoyed this :) I promise I'm not going to stop writing my other story ("Can You Keep a Secret") but hopefully getting this story out, too, will help me to finish the other one. Hopefully. The title of the story is a reference to the song "Love Me Dead" by Ludo. I felt it quite fitting. :)

Feedback would be loverly!