Disclaimer: I own nothing what so ever from Harry Potter, no characters, no places, nothing. It all belong to J.K. Rowling. But I do own the plot, no-one can take that away from me. And this disclaimer is for the whole story.

Author's notes: So I'm back again. Those of you who's read some of my "works" before, know that I write a lot of different stuff, and now the turn has come to Harry Potter. All though this isn't very much about he himself, it's more about Hermione and Draco.

So I hope you are all going to like this, leave me a review so I know what you think. And if you don't like it, tell me what you don't like (GAFF-people are NOT welcome!).

Enjoy!


Prologue

Hermione lay on her bed late one cold Novermber's night. She couldn't sleep. She had a decision to make. A hard one. I'm right, she tried to tell herself. This is for the best. But, as we all know, the mind doesn't always work as we want it to (does it ever?), and instead of going to sleep, satisfied with leaving it all behind, she began to remember it all over again.

It'd all began that same autumn. In fact, it'd began as soon as she saw him on the Hogwarts express. She'd dreaded the moment all summer, mainly because she'd been the one who'd killed his father in the war the previous spring. And now, because she was Head Girl and he was Head Boy, she'd have to live in the same dormitory as him for the whole year. It would be a lie to say that she didn't fear for her life.

But when she'd entered the Head's compartment, she'd seen him sitting there with his feet on the seat, and she'd stopped fearing him. He hadn't looked friendly, oh no, far from it. He'd been glaring at her, as if visualizing the best way to chop her head off, but she hadn't thought it was personal. Over the summer before their seventh and last year at Hogwarts, Draco Malfoy seemed to have developed a hate towards the entire world.

It'd taken almost three weeks before they'd started talking to each other about other things than Head's business. It'd started off with a simple 'good morning' when they met in the common room on their way to breakfast, and a 'good night' when they went to bed in the evenings. But then they'd taken to walk together down to the Great Hall every morning, trying very hard to keep a normal conversation, and they'd proceeded to read their homework together, finding out that it was much easier to ask the other for help than ponder the problem all night. And they'd also found out that the other wasn't such a bad person as they'd thought for six years. They'd even started liking each other.

But everything always ended when they were among other people. Neither of them wanted their friends to know that they actually talked to each other in normal voices. And if anyone had asked them, they couldn't have said why.

Hermione had never thought the day would come when she dreamed anything but nightmares about Draco, but one night in October, she woke up, blushing and panting. She'd dreamed that she'd been making love to him, and it'd been the most wonderful thing she'd ever done. Ashamed of her own dream, Hermione had just sat in her bed for a long time, trying to calm her racing heart. But after a few minutes she'd reached for the water glass on her bedside table, only to find it empty.

"Damn it!" she'd mumbled, and reluctantly climbed out of bed.

It'd been pure luck that her legs had been able to carry her all the way downstairs, but she'd reached the water jug in the common room in one piece, and she'd drunk her water. But when she'd turned around again to walk back to her room, she'd found Draco sleeping on one of the couches with an open book on his chest.

Hermione hadn't been able to stop her thoughts from returning to her dream, and she'd found herself slowly walking towards the sleeping man on the couch. When she'd reached him she'd knelt beside him, not sure what she was doing. But her body had seemed to work on its own, and she'd reached out and touched his relaxed lips. It'd been a gentle touch, light as a feather, but it'd been enough to wake him. When Hermione had felt him stir beneath her hand, she'd quickly pulled back, and she'd found herself looking into a pair of sleepy silver-grey eyes.

None of them had said anything, but very slowly, Draco har reached up and pulled her closer with a hand behind her head. Hermione had obeyed without struggle, and they'd made love right there on the floor in front of the dying fire.

The next morning had been very awkward. They'd woken up almost at the same time, lying naked in each other's arms and having missed their first class. Hermione had dressed fast as lightning and run up to her room. She'd changed into her school robes, grabbed her things and run downstairs again. But just as she was about to exit through the portrait, Draco had grabbed her from behind and pressed her up against the wall. After having kissed her breathless, he'd pulled back and looked at her.

"We need to talk," he'd said, and then he'd hurried off to his next class.

It hadn't become much of a talk that night. They'd ended up just like the previous, naked on the floor. But somehow they'd managed to get up and into his bed, and that'd been where Hermione had woken up the next morning. When she'd opened her eyes, she found Draco looking at her.

"Good morning," she'd smiled and stretched her arms above her head.

Draco's eyes had wandered to her naked breasts, and Hermione had pulled the cover up in embarrassment.

"No, don't." He'd bent down and kissed her, letting his lips travel down her neck. "I could get use to this," she'd heared him mumble, and that had brought a smile to her lips.

They'd walked together down to breakfast that morning, their arms around each other, but when they'd reached the Great Hall, they'd both let go and went to their seperate tables, not even looking at each other.

And their lives had kept on going like that. Loving each other in private, hating each other in public. They'd without words agreed to keep their relationship a secret, Hermione hadn't told neither Harry and Ron nor Ginny. And that was why she was right now lying wide awake in her bed, planning to break up with Draco. It's for the best, she told herself over and over again, and breaking her own heart a little every time. She was seriously starting to believe that she loved him, and that gave her even more of a reason to end it. She couldn't bare to keep lying to Harry and Ron, and she whole heartedly believed in friends before lovers.

She took a deep breath and climbed out of bed. When she stood on the floor, she closed her eyes. You can do this, it's for the best. She took another deep breath and walked out of her room, across the hall and over to Draco's door.

"Draco?" she whispered and knocked. She didn't hear an answer from inside, but she whispered the password to the door anyway, and went inside.

He was lying in bed, and she walked over and knelt beside him. "Draco?" she whispered again.

His eyeslids fluttered, and then he was looking at her with those silver-grey eyes that she couldn't resist. He reached out to pull her into the bed, but she shook her head.

"We...we can't keep doing this," she said, still whispering, even though there was no-one there she could wake up. "We have to stop it."

He just nodded, as if agreeing with her, and pulled her into his bed. Hermione let him do it, wanting to feel his arms around her one last time.

They took their time, touching as if to remember each other forever, loving as if it was the last thing they'd ever do. Hermione thought there was something final in Draco's way of holding her, and when he finally fell asleep, she lay awake, letting her tears wet his pillows, and when she had no more tears to cry, she reluctantly left his embrace and collected her clothes from the floor. In the doorway she stopped, turned around and looked at him. It's for the best, she thought, and went back to her own cold bed.


Author's notes: So this could probably go as a one-shot too, but that's not the plan. And you all know the ruels:

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