One Of Us Is Gonna Die Young

Title: One Of Us Is Gonna Die Young

Author: Reetinkerbell

Rating: NC-17

Summary: The changing relationship between Draco and Hermione throughout the war, as told in four moments of time. Mentions of character deaths (not Draco or Hermione). Written for the Spring Forward Fic Exchange of '05. AU War. Pre-HBP. Complete.

Author's Note: Thanks to Angela (spikesbint) who went through the first part and to the ever so lovely Jaqui (shag_me_draco) who stepped in and went through the rest on the first version of this story.

Distribution: Link only please.

Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is the Queen. The title of the story is the title of a song by a Swedish band, The Ark.

Inspired by: 'Unchained Melody' by The Righteous Brothers,'Bohemian Rhapsody' by Queen, 'We Are The Lucky Ones' by Bif Naked, 'The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock' by TS Eliot and the wonderful 'Red Summer of 19' by bk11.

Written for Auchic for the DMHGFicExchange Spring Forward Fic Exchange in 2005. Her request is at the end.

Edited: June 2006.



And time goes by so slowly

And time can do so much

Are you still mine

     – Unchained Melody – The Righteous Brothers.


If I’m not back again this time tomorrow–

Carry on; carry on, as if nothing really matters–

     – Bohemian Rhapsody – Queen.


I know we are…we are the lucky ones.

     – We Are The Lucky Ones – Bif Naked


Do I dare

Disturb the universe?

     – The Love song of J. Alfred Prufrock – TS Eliot.



One Of Us Is Gonna Die Young (1/1)


~*~

       July 13th, 1999 – The Beginning.

     It sneaked up on them. The War.

     Not the war that had never really ended to some with the death of the Potters or the one that silently started when Harry found out the truth about his parents and Voldemort. Nor was it the one that students whispered about in the silent hallways and in their dark dorm rooms after curfew when Cedric had died and Voldemort made his official comeback to the world of living.

     It was the war that would finish the silent terror people had lived in, Muggles and Wizards alike, as they waited anxiously for the moment Voldemort and his Death Eaters would start the war.

     Each day that passed got worse. Literally.

     Some say that ignorance is bliss.

     In this case it was the opposite.

     No one knew what they were planning. They only knew that it was going to be big.

     People fled the country. Took their children and most prized possessions and ran, not being able to live in a world where they had to spend every waking moment in fear and every dreaming one in a nightmare.

     Some stayed. Ignorant enough to think they would survive because they believed themselves to be pure enough. What they didn't understand was that, it didn't matter how pure you were any longer. To Voldemort, if you weren't a Death Eater, you were on the wrong side.

     People died. In seemingly random small attacks. Attacks that the Order couldn't – and wouldn't – help with. It was the Aurors jobs to take care of. The Order focused on Voldemort and the actual war, not the death of someone they didn't know. Someone who had been stupid enough not to see Voldemort and his Death Eaters for what they were. Evil.

     Muggles were killed by Death Eaters weekly, but the news of those deaths rarely entered the Wizarding World. The papers didn't want to poison their world with bad news about people who didn't know about them. People who if they found out, would most likely be scared of them. The worlds were divided, even more so than they ever had been before.

     The Order was all waiting for it. The first real attack. The one that started the war for real. They had all felt it coming - the air thick with worry and false reassuring words - for years.

     But despite all that, when Voldemort and his not so merry band of Death Eaters attacked Diagon Alley, in the midst of a rare summer heat-wave, the attack had still been a surprise.

     They had all prepared for it, been ready for years. The tension at No. 12 Grimmauld Place was starting to reach fever pitch and when the news of the attack at Diagon Alley came, many breathed a sigh of relief.

     Not for those who'd died - most only spared them a thought, - but because the wait was over. Months of hiding together in a cramped space, not knowing what really went on with the Death Eaters. When they would attack. Where. How. How many of them there were now. Long days of anxious waiting and redundant planning.

     Towards the end of their long wait, they were all walking around the house like zombies. Like lost children - which most of them were, their faces pale, eyes blank and always so silent…

     The demons were tearing at all of their insides, twisting and curling. Eating at them.

     They rarely slept; terrified of being attacked during the night. The lucky ones who did, often woke up in a cold sweat not long after having fallen asleep, still shaking from the terrible dream they'd had. Most of the time, it wasn't even a dream, but a memory.

     But despite their zombie-like states and sleep deprivation, they were all on constant alert.

     Paranoid Alert was what Moody called it once, just two hours before he went out on a routine mission together with Elphias Doge and never came back.

     Hermione wasn't stupid. She was well aware of what was happening when she started to notice that Ron jumped slightly at every loud noise; that Draco stiffened every time someone came too close and that Harry couldn't enter a room without checking every corner of it every five minutes, like a scared rabbit in a cage.

     It took her a while longer to realize that she'd developed a fear of having someone behind her. It didn't matter who it was, or how much she trusted and loved the person standing behind her, she just couldn't shake the feeling of dread that spread through her, or hide the visible shivers that ran down her back if someone came to close to her from behind. She also developed a habit of standing or sitting with her back against a wall, so that no one would be able to walk behind her. When she slept, she did so with her back against the wall.

     Draco almost laughed at her - but had luckily stopped himself in time when he noticed her glare, - when he found out. It had been a complete accident. He and Hermione had been sitting in the kitchen together, drinking some of Molly's famous hot cocoa while talking about TS Eliot late into the night. On their way back up to bed, Draco ended up behind Hermione as they climbed the stairs. It had been hard for him not to notice her shoulders stiffen, the shudder that ran down her whole back and the nervous glances thrown at him from over her shoulder.

     Ever since then, he made a point to protect her back. It was a man thing he suspected. Wanting to protect your woman. To make sure that she got the chair that stood against the wall when they ate. To always let her walk behind him – no matter how much he himself wanted to be the one to walk behind her, to protect her – and, without rousing suspicion, trying to make sure that no one else walked behind her either.

     Once, only two weeks before the actual war started, the power went out during a particular dark and rainy evening. The Order had decided to install electricity in the house – on Harry and Hermione's insistence - to lower the use of magic in the house in case Voldemort found a way to track it.

     That evening, when the power went out, Ron had slid up to Hermione in the dark. She hadn't noticed him until he'd laid a comforting hand on the small of her back. Only, she hadn't thought it comforting. Hermione had screamed bloody murder; scaring the wits out of Ron and everyone within hearing range. They all thought she was being murdered.

     That'd been the last time anyone touched her without permission, something that satisfied Draco immensely.

     It was an odd sort of life they lived during those days before the war. Cramped up together in a too small house. Long days of anxious waiting and worrying. Constant planning of various attacks that may or may not come.

     Living with a future very much unknown.

     Paranoia.

     When the news of the attack at Diagon Alley came, many breathed a sigh of relief.

     It was time.

     The war had finally begun.



        August 14th 2000 – The Middle.

     Draco felt as if all the months he'd spent preparing himself for this moment had been all for naught. He'd always known that they wouldn't all make it through, but he hadn't been able to fully come to terms with the possibility of losing Hermione, even after being at war for over a year.

     And especially since they hadn't even had a real chance yet.

     He stood alone, bloody, battered and exhausted, looking over what was left of the Hogwarts Grounds. It was early in the morning, - the sun had yet to rise, - and the air was heavy with smoke and mist. Draco could make out several dark clad figures lying on the ground around him - some still alive, most of them dead, - but he didn't spare any of them a thought.

     He had to find Hermione.

     He'd lost sight of her almost an hour earlier; he was running towards the forest with Ron in hopes of finding Harry; she and Tonks were running into the school to help those in hiding get to safety.

     The War had officially ended half an hour ago, when Harry sacrificed himself for the greater good; doing what he'd almost always known it would come to.

     Draco hadn't seen it happen.

     At the edge of the forest, a Death Eater had detained him and Ron, and, deciding to take care of the Death Eater himself, he sent Ron in to find Harry.

     And Ron did find him.

     Only it'd been too late.

     He'd arrived right in time to see Harry die.

     Draco had seen it on Ron's face the moment he came limping out of the forest.

     And it had nothing to do with the tears streaming down his face or by the fact that Harry wasn't with him.

     He knew, because Ron wore the same look on his face that he would wear, had he just seen Hermione die.

     He looked broken.

~*~

     Another thirty minutes passed and Draco had still not found Hermione.

     It hadn't taken him long to start searching through the people – bodies - lying on the grounds for her, but he gave up soon after and returned to Ron's side. It had been a hopeless search; too many bodies, too much blood and too much ground to cover.

     At least he knew she wasn't dead.

     He would've felt it if she was.

     Inside.

     He was sure of it.

     But that didn't mean that she wasn't badly wounded. Lying somewhere, all alone. Somewhere where no one would find her until it was too late.

     It had been a hard battle, and many lives had been lost, on both sides.

     A lot of the Aurors and Mediwitches whom weren't too badly injured were walking around, looking for wounded to take care of and take to the Hospital Wing, or Death Eaters still alive to take to the various Ministry officers who'd showed up - too late to be of any actual use-, and Draco really hoped Hermione was helping them. Which, if she was fine - and she had to be, - wouldn't surprise him one bit. Hermione was that kind of person.

     Always helping others. Even when she didn't have to.

     Draco couldn't really understand it.

     He wasn't evil, heartless or a bad person. He just rather take care of himself and his loved ones, and not someone he'd never met before and would most likely never meet again.

     But it was part of Hermione's charm. If she hadn't given him a chance - helped him - he never would've been able to switch sides, and he probably would've been dead now.

     Or awaiting a lifetime sentence in Azkaban.

     And, if he hadn't switched sides, Hermione would've never considered him a friend.

     A loved one.

     And maybe one day, a lover. Husband. Father of her children. Someone whom she could spend the rest of her life with.

     He heard a groan to his left and guiltily remembered that Ron was there too.

     Ron was sitting on the ground, leaning against the trunk of a tree, his right hand pressed against a gaping wound on his right leg. Draco had already helped him the best he could with his limited medical knowledge before he went looking for Hermione; ripping a piece of his shirt off for Ron to put on the wound, to keep pressure on it.

     Draco hadn't been able to look at him. The hopelessness and utterly devastated look on his face made it difficult for Draco to look at him and not break down too.

     Over the loss of Harry, who'd become one of his best friends; for the end of the War which he'd often felt would never come; and over the fact that he didn't know what'd happened to Hermione.

     Ron was obviously in a great deal of pain - and Draco had a feeling most of it wasn't from the wound in his leg, - and luckily for him, a Mediwitch had just arrived and was now tending to his wounds. She was fast and efficient, and didn't spend more time than she needed on him before she moved on to Terry Boot who lay a few feet away, a growing pool of blood surrounding him.

     Draco looked guiltily away. He hadn't even noticed him.

~*~

     When Draco finally made it to the Hospital Wing, almost an hour later, he was extremely relieved and worried to find Hermione.

     She was sitting on a bed, in the back of the room, a blood stained bandage around her head. He immediately rushed to her side, leaving Ron alone at the closest empty bed he could find. Ron, out of his mind with grief and pain, didn't protest to it.

     Draco had a feeling he hadn't even noticed they were inside.

     Draco really didn't care at the moment.

     Hermione was more important.

~*~

     Seven days later found Draco Malfoy – Survivor and Hero of The Great War - sitting alone in a Muggle dive in down-town London, doing his best to drink his troubles away.

     It had been seven days since the War ended.

     Since Voldemort was finally vanquished and all his Death Eaters were either killed or put in Azkaban.

     Seven days since Harry died.

     Since Hermione decided that she needed to stay with Ron and take care of him. Because, while Draco was one of her best friends, Ron was the best friend.

     And he'd just lost the love of his life, whom just happened to have been her other best friend.

     He hadn't seen her since the End of the War Celebration five evenings previously.

     That had been an amazing night.

     The celebration had only been overshadowed by the sorrow they all felt over the deaths of their loved ones. But, instead of crying over their losses, they celebrated the lives that they'd lived. They toasted to them, held speeches about them and lit candles for them.

     That night had been the third time he and Hermione kissed.

     And fourth. And fifth.

     He lost count on the number of times they kissed.

     The number of times they made love.

     It had been the best night of his life.

     The morning after however, had been an all together different story. He'd woken up, hung over and alone.

     She hadn't even left a note.

     First, he'd jumped to the conclusion that it'd been a dream.

     It wasn't the first time he'd had too much to drink only to have very vivid dreams about him and Hermione together, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

     It wasn't until after he'd taken his long cold shower and was in the process of drinking his second cup of black coffee while trying to get dressed that he found the green lace-type camisole she'd been wearing the night before, lying innocently next to his bed, that he realized it hadn't been a dream.

     And now he sat, alone, in a Muggle dive, doing his best to drink all of his troubles away.

~*~

     He hadn't expected her to find him there. That'd been one of the reasons why he'd picked the place.

     That and they had really good, cheap alcohol.

     And no one would question a stranger coming in and drinking until he couldn't drink any longer.

     Or care about him.

     When he thought about it later – as he laid alone in his bed trying to find the strength he needed to get up, make some strong, black coffee and have himself a long shower, - he realized she'd probably used magic to find him.

     After not using magic for so long other than in battles to save his own life, Draco had almost forgotten that he used to use magic all the time.

     To do the most simplest of things.

     He'd grown up a lot in the past few years, and he felt much older than his actual twenty years.

     When Hermione showed up - looking very much like she didn't belong there, - he was already pleasantly buzzed.

     He was going to ask her where she'd been, what she was doing there and why she'd left him, but he never got the chance because she kissed him and her lips were so soft and he'd missed her so much and he couldn't think about anything but her and he wanted her too much to care why she'd left him at.

     They hadn't made it further than to the alley behind the pub - from which they later Apparated to his house, - before he had her up against the wall next to a green dumpster; her breath hot in his ear, her fingers fisted in his hair and her legs wrapped tight around him as she urged him on.

     To go faster. Harder.

     He did.


       September 15th 2001 – The Ending.

     When Hermione woke up, it took her a moment to remember where she was. She had never seen Draco's bedroom bathed in sunlight before, and it had been over a year since she'd first woken up in his bed, wrapped in his arms. Before and during the War, they had often shared a bed; both wanting someone to hold onto during the night, someone who could chase the nightmares away, corny as it were. They would spend those nights, wrapped around each other and in the morning go down to breakfast together.

     As if they were an actual couple.

     But ever since they'd become lovers, Hermione had opted to leave in the middle of the night, once Draco had fallen asleep.

     It was easier for her to pretend that it wasn't real when she didn't have to face him in the morning.

     Because in the light of day, everything looked different. Felt different. Was different.

     In the light of day, she wasn't able to hide from him or his stupid grey eyes.

     But something had changed the previous night.

     She wasn't quite sure what it was, but it didn't matter.

     All that mattered was that she had finally admitted to herself that she didn't want to run any more.

     From this. From him.

     She smiled sleepily, burrowing back into Draco's embrace. He tightened his arms around her in response, and nuzzled his face further into her neck, breathing deeply as he slept on.

     The sun was already up, which meant that she had to get up soon if she wanted to get to work on time. She was tempted to wake Draco up too, but decided against it. He didn't have to get up for another few hours, if at all, as he didn't have a job to go to.

     And, he was probably hung over.

     He would need all the sleep he could get if he didn't want to have a massive headache once he woke up.

     Of course, knowing him and how much he drank these days, it wouldn't surprise her if he had plenty of hang over potions already prepared for morning after's such as this one.

     Hermione's best course of action would be to get up, make breakfast and get ready for work, the best way she could in someone else's home, before waking him up so that they could eat breakfast together again. Because leaving without him knowing she'd stayed defeated the whole purpose of her having stayed the whole night. Besides, who knew when she'd get the courage to do it again?

     So, breakfast it was. She could still easily remember what he used to eat for breakfast from when they lived together at Grimauld Place. Provided he had what she needed at home, and his eating habits hadn't changed drastically in the past year, it wouldn't be too hard for her to make it.

     Hermione carefully eased herself out of Draco's arms and off the bed, picking up the first piece of clothing she could find. It just happened to be the shirt Draco had worn the evening before, and she donned it with a smile, not bothering to button more buttons than what was necessary.

     Draco turned in his sleep - seemingly reaching for something, - and Hermione glanced down at him. He was frowning, but it didn't look as if he was going to wake up any time soon. She gave him a fond smile as she leaned down and brushed away a stray lock of hair from his forehead.

     She let her fingers glide down from his forehead and to his cheek, caressing the scruffy surface. He was in need of a shave, but Hermione would lie if she said she minded it. The wrinkles in his forehead evened out, leaving it smooth once again. He wrapped his arms around one of his pillows, and pressed his face against it, making Hermione smile.

     Still smiling, she padded out into his kitchen on her bare feet. She was pleasantly surprised to find that Draco had preformed various heating charms around the flat, making the floor warmer than usual. When she noticed the various Muggle appliances scattered around his small kitchen, she smiled even bigger, and thought, about how much he'd changed since their school days.

     She worked quickly and soon had their breakfast ready. She was just finishing setting the table when Draco came out of his bedroom, a pair of grey sweatpants riding low on his narrow hips, his hair tousled while wiping the sleep from his eyes.

     "I smell coffee," he said, almost accusingly, choosing to pretend that Hermione's presence in his kitchen - making him breakfast while wearing one of his shirts no less,- didn't phase him in the slightest.

     "That's because I made coffee," Hermione replied, smiling at him.

     Draco quirked his lips in a hesitant smile, before sitting down in his chair. Hermione seated herself in the chair opposite of his, and without a word, the two started to eat breakfast, both happily ignoring the fact that they hadn't eaten a thing together in over a year as they easily slipped back into their old breakfast patterns.

~*~*~

     Later, when Hermione ate lunch - alone in the office she shared with Ginny, - she thought about Draco.

     It wasn't uncommon for her to think about him - he occupied her thoughts more than he should - and it wasn't the first time that she thought about having The Talk with him.

     Before she had a chance to get in too deep about what she would say to him, during The Talk, there was a knock on her door.

     As Ginny was home with the flu, Percy knew not to bother her - especially after she told him that doing so would result in her hexing something off of him she was sure he wanted to keep,- and none of her other co-workers rarely came by, she assumed that it was Ron.

     Lately, Ron had taken to come by the office almost every day and take her and Ginny out for lunch at a local Muggle café. Harry's death had affected him more than Hermione had first thought and it had taken him over a year to be able to go out and have fun without constantly thinking about Harry and feeling guilty for having fun without him.

     "Come on in," she said, not looking up as she quickly hid the remains of her lunch in one of her desk drawers. Ron didn't need to know that she'd already eaten.

     "I'm not interrupting anything am I?"

     Hermione froze as she recognized the voice of the other man in her life and she looked up, shock evident on her face.

     "Draco? What are you doing here?" She asked, her voice slightly high pitched. Part of her was happy that he was there - the more time she spent with him the better, - but part of her was also confused and quite surprised. He'd never been in her office before and she wasn't sure if him being there now was a good thing or not.

     "I thought we could have lunch," he said, his voice rising slightly at the end, making it more of a question.

     "I see," Hermione replied slowly. She glanced down at the drawer containing what was left of her lunch before looking back up at him. Seeing the hopeful look in his eyes and recognizing the nervous twitch he was trying his best to hide, she smiled. "I'd love to," she said, standing up and grabbing her jacket.

     Draco smiled and held the door open for her. As she walked past, he put his hand at the small of her back. She looked up at him and when their eyes met, she gave him a brilliant smile.

     Draco couldn't resist, and right there in the hallway, he stopped her in her tracks. When she opened her mouth to ask him why they'd stopped, he leaned down and gave her a kiss. Hermione didn't waste a lot of time and was soon kissing him back, the brief and rather innocent kiss quickly turning into a passionate and mind-blowing one.

     When they finally broke apart, they were both breathing heavily.

     "So, how about that lunch?" Draco asked, reluctantly letting go of Hermione's hips as he took a step back, least he lose control of himself and ravish her in the hallway. He was sure she wouldn't appreciate that. What with it being her work place and them not being alone and all.

     "To be honest, I'm not all that hungry…" Hermione began innocently.

     "You're not?" Draco asked, frowning slightly.

     Hermione smiled mischievously and Draco raised an eyebrow in a silent question.

     "For food."

     Before Draco had a chance to say anything, she grabbed a hold of one of his hands and pulled him with her into her office, firmly closing the door behind them.

     When she turned around to face him, Draco pushed her up against the door, and without a word covered her mouth with his. Hermione gasped, and Draco used it to his advantage, slipping his tongue inside her mouth, drawing out her tongue to play.

     He pressed her against the door with his hard, lean body, as he took her hands in his. He wound his fingers with hers, and then pressed her hands against the door, just above her head as their kiss deepened.

     One of his legs sneaked in between Hermione's and he rubbed the jeans-clad thigh against her fabric covered centre, making her moan into his mouth.

     Once she was fully relaxed against him, he let go of one of her hands. He used his other hand to hold both of hers up against the door and released her lips, letting them both get some much needed air into their lungs. He started to kiss his way down her neck to her collarbone, his tongue peaking out to taste her skin.

     Hermione banged her head against the door, closing her eyes, as she moaned and angled her head slightly to the left, giving him better access to her neck. Her knickers were already soaking wet, and she gasped loudly as she ground herself down harder on Draco's leg, the friction causing bolts of pleasure to shoot through her.

     Draco's free had sneaked in underneath the firmly pressed white shirt she was wearing, teasing its way up to cup one of her breasts.

     Her nipples were already pebbled - and had been since the moment he touched her, - and when Draco palmed her right breast, kneading and caressing the soft skin, they hardened even further. Hermione moaned as Draco's lips attached themselves to a particularly sensitive spot on her neck, sucking on the soft skin there.

     When he freed her hands, her arms instantly wrapped around his shoulders, while her fingers easily slid into his silken hair, holding his head to her neck, while he unhooked her bra. As their lips meet again, and Hermione started to caress his back through his shirt, Draco began to unbutton her shirt.

     Their kiss deepened and once Hermione's shirt and bra were off, Draco squeezed her firm breasts, pressing himself harder against her centre, letting her feel just how much she was affecting him.

     "Draco please," Hermione pleaded as they broke away for air, breathing hard.

     "Please what?" he teased against her chin, his lips just inches away from her flushed skin. One of his hands trailed down her stomach and hips to squeeze her bum through the cotton of her trousers.

     "Draco," Hermione warned, opening her eyes to glare at him.

     "Tell me," he whispered, lifting her up in his arms and motioning for her to wrap her legs around him. She did so eagerly, grinding herself harder against him, eliciting a loud moan from Draco, before meeting his lips again.

     "Say it," he demanded huskily the moment their lips broke apart, pressing her against the door with his hips, rubbing his hard length against her soft centre through the fabric of their pants, as he started to massage her breasts. "Tell me what I want to hear luv. Tell me what you want. What you need."

     "You," Hermione gasped out as Draco started to suck lightly on one of her nipples. She began to rock slightly against his hips. "Just you luv. You're all I need."

     Draco grinned at her words, blowing some hot air onto her now wet nipple. Hermione shivered when the throbbing inside of her intensified as she was hit with another wave of pleasure.

     "Now," she breathed into his ear. "I want you now."

     Draco put Hermione back down on her feet – his hands caressing the curves of her body as he did so – and reached for the zipper of her trousers. Hermione began to unbutton shirt shirt, but by the time Draco had Hermione's trousers down at her feet, fully exposing her green knickers, she was still on her fifth button.

     He bent down to help her step out of her trousers, ignoring Hermione's mew of protest at not being able to fully remove his shirt. Her shoes were in the way, so he removed them as well, but ignored the socks. They weren't in the way, and it would take too long, he decided.

     When he rose from his kneed position in front of her, he quickly kicked off his own shoes. They were followed by most of his clothing, leaving him only in his boxers.

     Hermione grinned as she reached out for him. Draco came more than willingly, sliding his arms around Hermione's warm body as their lips met in a wet kiss, their naked chests and bare legs pressed close together.

     Hermione rolled her hips against his, making him groan into her mouth and grip her bum harder. Draco backed her towards the closest flat surface he could find – which just happened to be a desk – as one of Hermione's small hands sneaked down between them to caress the hard length hidden beneath his black boxers.

     Hermione breathed heavily – panting, moaning – and after Draco had removed her knickers, teasingly slow, he lifted her up to sit on the desk. Hermione wrapped her legs around his hips, and used them to pull him closer to her.

     She took a moment to glance at the clock hanging on the wall over Draco's shoulder. When she saw how little time there was left on her lunch break, she stopped the hand that'd already began teasing her slick folds.

     "No more foreplay," she whispered, her tongue sneaking out to taste his Adam's apple. "Now."

     Draco happily obliged, and after removing his fingers from inside of her, he positioned himself at her entrance. His hands were on her hips, and as he entered her, they moaned as one in pleasure.

     Once his cock was fully enveloped in her heat, he paused for a moment, trying to gather his wits.

     "Draco," Hermione moaned impatiently, her hands gliding down his back to grope at his bum. "Don't stop."

     Never having been able to deny her anything, he began to move. Their moans and gasps rose in the air of the small office as they rocked together. Draco leaned forward, lying Hermione down on her back on the desk as he covered her mouth with his, preventing her from making too much sounds. Hermione's hands slid into his hair, loving the silky feel of it between her fingers.

     Draco's movements quickened as they neared release. Hermione broke away from his lips, desperately needing more air. They were drowning in each other, falling fast and hard and neither cared.

     Hermione tensed as she came, screaming Draco's name out into her office, not caring that someone might hear, as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her.

     Draco came crashing down after her just moments later, having hold off his imminent release for as long as he could. His cry of her name was muffled in her neck as he pressed his head into it, biting down as hard as he dared on her soft skin to prevent himself from proclaiming his love for her.



       October 16th 2002 – The End.

     "I'm tired," was the first time that came out of Draco's mouth when Hermione arrived at his flat.

     "Oh," she replied, not fully understanding what he'd meant by it. "Should I just come back tomorrow then?"

     "No."

     Hermione frowned at him, confused and not just a little hurt, but Draco didn't as much as look up at her. He didn't want her to find out just how much he hurt.

     "I'm tired of this," he elaborated, his voice low.

     "This?" Hermione asked, hesitantly.

     "Us," he replied, waving a hand in the air between them in an, what he hoped, casual way.

     "Why?" she asked, worry creeping over her. She thought that what they had was good. They were friends and lovers and it bad been that way for over two years now. Why was he suddenly tired of it? He hadn't met someone else had he?"

     "I can't do this any more," Draco said, still refusing to meet her eyes. "I need more."

     "More?" Hermione asked, wanting – no, needing – him to elaborate. The worry that had started to consume her eased slightly, as the hope started to take over, against her better judgement. Did he mean that he wanted the same thing she did? That he wanted them to have a real relationship?

     Draco sighed, finally glancing at her. She stood frozen just inside the door, a hand on one of the buttons on her jacket, ready to open it. The look on her face, confusion mingled with hope, spurred him on, and he pressed forward, knowing that if he didn't get this out now, he probably never would.

     "I want us to be together."

     "I thought we were."

     "For real," Draco continued, finally meeting her eyes.

     "Oh." Hermione took a step towards him. "I... I'd like that." She took another step towards him, smiling hesitantly.

     Draco smiled back – his relief evident on his face – as he stood, meeting her in the middle of his living room in a passionate kiss. He wrapped his arms around her, resting his hands at the small of her back as her hands slid into his hair, like they usually did.

     "Wait, wait," he breathed, pulling away from her lips with difficulty. He looked down at her – her cheeks flushed, eyes heavy with desire for him, lips red and puffy from his kiss – and groaned as she pressed herself harder against him, rocking her hips against his, leaving him no doubt as to what she wanted to do. He couldn't resist leaning down and kissing her again, and she responded enthusiastically.

     "You were saying?" she asked when they broke free for air.

     Draco shook his head, trying to clear it from the hazy web of desire his mind was currently clouded in. "You do know that I'm not letting you go?" he asked.

     Hermione smiled happily. "Good. 'Cause I'm not letting go of you either," she said.

     "I love you, you know," Draco continued, his tone more serious than Hermione had heard in a long time.

     "I love you too," Hermione replied, smiling fondly at the way Draco's face lit up at her words.

     "You should've said something sooner," he whispered against her lips, his forehead pressed against hers.

     "I could say the same for you."

     "I didn't want to scare you off with too much too soon."

     "Never."

     "I'll hold you to that."

     Hermione smiled. "You do that."

     Draco gave her a quick kiss as his hands cupped her bum, easily lifting her up against him. Hermione wrapped her legs around him, holding onto his shoulders as he carried her into his bedroom, where he placed her down on her feet once more.

     She still wore her jacket, but it didn't take long for Draco to get it unbuttoned and off of her. It landed unnoticed on the floor and was soon followed by the rest of their clothing, as they undressed each other. They took their time, caressing the clothes off rather than ripping them away as they'd done so many times before.

     Words of adoration and love spilled from their mouths as they held each other close, more aroused and desperate for each other than they'd ever been before.

     When Draco finally laid Hermione down on his bed – her hair spilled out over his pillow, her arms reaching and body aching for him, – and he slid into her, it didn't take long before they came, almost as one, crying out each others name.

    The End.



Fic Request: Auchic

Rating(s) of the fic you want: R/NC-17

One tone/mood you want your gift to include: apathy

One element/theme/item you want your gift to include: sacrifice

One common cliche you don't want your gift to include: Hermione is secretly a pureblood/halfblood witch.