Hermione sighed sleepily as a hand brushed the hair away from her face.

“Hermione?” She cracked one puffy eye open and gave Harry a weak smile.

“Hey,” she whispered. He smiled back at her and withdrew his hand.

“Hey. Feeling any better?”

“I’ve got a terrible headache, but otherwise I think I’m okay. You?”

“I thought about things a lot last night,” he admitted. She clutched the sheet to her chest and forced herself into a sitting position.

“And?”

“And I’ve decided that we should just put this whole thing behind us,” he said slowly. “I’d still like to try dating you, if you’d like to try it with me.”

“I would like that,” she agreed, nodding slowly. He breathed a sigh of relief, and for the first time, seemed to realize that she was naked beneath the covers.

“I’m sorry – I didn’t know you weren’t wearing pyjamas,” he said, looking embarrassed.

“It’s all right, Harry,” she breathed, her cheeks flushing as she recalled why she was in her present state of undress. “I’m sure it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.”

“I brought you some coffee and donuts,” he said, averting his eyes. “As a sort of peace offering.”

“I’m really sorry, Harry.”

“I know.” There was a pause, and then, “I have to ask you just one more thing, though.”

“Okay,” she said cautiously.

“That guy that you were sleeping with, the one that you told me about?”

“It was him,” she confirmed, bowing her head. He nodded, then rose slowly from her bed.

“I’ll wait for you in the kitchen.”

She rose from the bed and moved towards her dresser to look for clothes. Her eyes fell on the chair of her vanity table, and she froze. In a neat little pile sat the clothes that he’d thrown into the tub. The sight of them made her heart jump into her throat, and tears sprung to her eyes. She moved forward and picked them up, pressing them to her nose.

The scent of his cologne made the tears overflow.

He’d returned sometime in the night, then, to deliver the clothes himself. Oh, how she wished she’d been awake! Then again, he’d probably done it counting on the fact that she would be asleep – it was easier that way. She slid the clothes on, not caring that they were normally used as pyjamas, and pulled the silver crescent moon out of the shirt so that it was visible around her neck.

It was all she had left of him, now.

She joined Harry in the kitchen and sipped at her coffee. He fingered his cup nervously, feeling awkward around her now.

“So,” he began, not meeting her eyes. “Would you like to do something today?”

“Did you have something in mind?”

“Ron and Anna asked me if we’d like to come to one of his Quidditch games,” he offered.

She wrinkled her nose. “Quidditch? Ugh.” He laughed.

“I guess some things never change,” he said, grinning.

“If you really want to go, I don’t want to hold you back.”

“I’d like to go, but I’d like to spend some time with you, too.”

“How long will the game take, do you think?”

“Hours.”

“Well… why don’t you go ahead and go, and I’ll just take a long bath and curl up with a good book, and you can come back here as soon as it’s over.”

“You wouldn’t mind?”

She gave him a mock severe look. “Mind? Me alone with a book and a bubble bath? Harry, really.”

He grinned again. “You’re right. I can’t compete with that. All right, I’ll be back in a couple of hours, then.”

He got up and started to walk out, stopping when she cleared her throat.

“Harry?”

“Yes, Hermione?”

“Could you –“ she took a deep breath to fortify herself. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, could you kiss me before you go?”

He turned and looked at her in surprise. After hesitating for a bit, he moved closer to her and pressed his lips firmly against hers. When her fingers caressed his cheek, he increased the pressure of the kiss and let his tongue touch her lips.

She opened her mouth to him and allowed him access, but he pulled away suddenly.

“Did I do something wrong?” she breathed, hurt evident in her features. He shook his head.

“No, you didn’t. I’m just – I’m running late. I’ll be back when it’s over.” He hurried out the door without looking back.

Draco sighed in utter boredom. He’d never cared for the Chudley Cannons, and even though they were playing his favorite team (the Falmouth Falcons), the game was the last place that he wanted to be.

After returning to the Manor the previous night, Natalia had lashed into him, accusing him of sleeping with Hermione again. She’d been right, but he’d denied it for Hermione’s sake.

Natalia had demanded that he bed her to prove it, and he had – though the experience had left him feeling empty. She didn’t incite passion in him in any form, and she hadn’t acted like she’d enjoyed it.

Afterwards she’d thrown it up to him how much better of a lover Potter was, and that had been more than he could take. He’d thrown her out, threatening that if she ever tried to blackmail him with what had happened, he’d make her regret it.

She had left without another word, knowing that he would make good on his threat.

He gazed down at the crowd from the special booth that his family owned, bored out of his mind before the match even began. It was while he was surveying the crowd that his eyes fell on a patch of raven hair. He picked up his omnioculars and gazed in that direction.

Potter sat next to Weasley’s girlfriend, talking and laughing easily. He scanned the crowd around them, looking for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. Had she stayed at home, then? Surely she and Potter had mended their fences, hadn’t they?

He shoved the omnioculars away from himself and flopped gracelessly down in a chair. It wouldn’t do to dwell on thoughts of her, he knew. He’d barely gotten a wink of sleep last night after he’d left her in that bed.

He hadn’t been able to say the words, though he’d tried to communicate them through his touches. Even the memory of the kisses they’d shared made his body ache for hers, and that couldn’t be good for him, if he was to stay away from her.

He’d wound up caring about her, despite his best efforts not to. What did that say about him, that he’d loathed Mudbloods throughout his life, and then after a few good shags, he’d begun to care about one? It didn’t bode well.

If he loved her – and he wasn’t certain that he didn’t – then it made his entire life a lie. All of the times he’d hurt her just because of her parentage, all of the times he’d hurt anyone who wasn’t pureblooded had been for naught. He’d wasted the majority of his life believing that they were lower than the dirt on his shoes; what did it mean that he’d fallen for one?

Down in the stands, Harry excused himself to go to the loo. Once he was safely inside the stall, he leaned against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut. Hermione’s kiss had excited him, but as he kissed her, suddenly the thought of her kissing Malfoy the same way had sprung unbidden into his mind, and he’d had to move away from her.

Was it going to be like this every time they touched, he wondered? He couldn’t take it, if that was the case.

Something else that had been bothering him all night was the fact that Malfoy had defended Hermione. He saw the truth; could read it in both of their eyes. They cared about each other, even if they refused to admit it. Malfoy had been willing to take the blame and be the bad guy, even if it meant that Harry would attack him. He’d seen it in the other man’s face, and wondered at it.

He didn’t pretend to understand what had transpired between them, and he wasn’t sure he ever wanted to. The only thing that he was certain of at this point was that he was keeping two people apart – one he cared about more than he could express in words, and the other he loathed with his entire being.

Still, if Hermione had been able to look past all that she hated in order to be with him…

No! He shook his head to try and clear it of the thought. It still nagged at him, though; gnawed away at the back of his mind – would he ever be able to touch Hermione without thinking about how Malfoy had done it first?

Hermione had had a very relaxing afternoon. She’d soaked in a scented bubble bath for well over an hour, enjoying every second of it, and then finished a book that she’d started reading ages ago and had never had the time to finish.

She’d dressed casually for Harry’s return, wanting to appear as normal as possible to try and soothe his jangled nerves. She wore a pair of faded jeans with holes in the knees, paired with a sky blue t-shirt. So what if the jeans were a little too tight? She wondered – it wasn’t like Harry would notice.

The thought made her sad. She’d seen the look on his face after he’d kissed her, and she’d guessed the reason behind it. He’d been thinking of how Draco must have kissed her before he had, and had pulled away because of it. Would he continue to do that, she wondered, or would he eventually overcome that and be able to touch her normally again?

Her entire body felt fevered. After the night she’d spent in Draco’s arms, more than anything she wanted that feeling again. She wanted that feeling of intimacy and comfort, and the feeling of safety that went hand in hand with it. Would she never feel that way again? Was that to be her punishment for the bitter betrayal of her best friend?

She had just finished brushing her hair and pulling it back in a loose ponytail when she heard the familiar pop of someone apparating into her flat. She dropped the brush on top of her dresser and went into the living room, smiling when her eyes fell on Harry.

“Well, how was it?” she asked pleasantly. He turned and sucked in a deep breath before smiling at her.

“It was bloody brilliant,” he exclaimed, his eyes alight with excitement. “Ron did a terrific job. It’s no wonder he’s the Cannons’ star player.”

“That’s fantastic – so they won, then?”

“Of course not,” he laughed. She shook her head as she smiled.

“But you had a good time, right?”

“Absolutely,” and then, as an afterthought, “you should have come with me.”

“You know I don’t care much for Quidditch,” she said, shaking her head. “Do you want something to drink?”

“Sure – what have you got?”

“Tea, soda, milk, coffee – what’s your poison?”

“Soda’s fine. You know, I never get one unless I’m here.”

“Too lazy to go into the Muggle markets to buy them?” she asked, amused.

“Something like that.” He opened the soda and took a long drink, watching as she poured herself a glass of cold tea. “So what did you do all day?”

“Mostly I took a bath,” she laughed. “I ran a really hot bath and lost track of time. It was relaxing – I had classical music playing, and the bubbles were vanilla scented, so they made me a little sleepy.”

“That’s all you did?” he asked, surprised.

“No – I finished a book, too. The one I bought last month about advanced Arithmantic theories, remember? You and Ron took the mickey out of me when I bought it.”

“I remember,” he said, grinning. “Hey, it’s not our fault if you haven’t realized that you don’t have to study that stuff anymore.”

“And it’s not my fault if the two of you haven’t picked up a single book since leaving school,” she shot back, poking her tongue out at him. He laughed in surprise. “Really, it doesn’t take a lot of effort to read a book.”

“Not for you,” he said reasonably. “But for those of us who lead lives of constant intrigue…”

“Intrigue, my foot!” she exclaimed. He laughed again. “He flies around on a broom dodging blunt objects all day!”

“How can you reduce it so?” he asked, his eyes twinkling. “What about me? Do me next!”

She snorted with laughter. “You? You’re easy. You dress up like Sherlock Holmes and follow villains around all day.”

“Aw,” he said, pouting. “Mine wasn’t as funny as his.”

“I only get one good zinger a day,” she said apologetically. “And that was it. Next time, I’ll try to demean you first.”

“I appreciate that,” he laughed. “So what’s on the schedule for tonight? Dinner out? A movie, perhaps?”

“Dinner sounds good, though I have to admit I’m leaning more towards ordering some take out and coming back here with it.”

“Ah, an introvert’s night out,” he teased. She rolled her eyes playfully.

“Something like that. Too boring?”

“No – as a matter of fact, I’ll even go get the food, if you’ll owl it in.”

“I’m one step ahead of you,” she said, reaching for a quill. She wrote their order down and sent her owl out with it. “I’m guessing it’ll be ready in about thirty minutes. I order from that place a lot,” she added, when he raised an eyebrow in question.

“Ah. Well, how shall we kill the next thirty minutes, then?”

“You can tell me about the game, if it’ll make you feel better,” she offered. He shook his head.

“You’re not really interested,” he said. “And it’s no fun talking shop to an uninterested party.”

“What shall we do, then?”

He fidgeted for a moment, searching his mind for something to talk about. When he came up with nothing, he shook his head. She frowned and began chewing on her bottom lip as she thought. The gesture was an unconscious one, but it triggered something inside of Harry, and he leaned forward to press his lips to hers.

She was too surprised to respond at first, but she relaxed into the kiss and responded in kind. His tongue slid between her lips, exploring her mouth and reveling in her sweetness. Malfoy was the furthest thing from his mind as he wrapped his arms around her slender form and pulled her closer.

She wrapped her arms around his neck as he kissed her, grateful that he hadn’t pulled away like he had earlier. His kisses were soft and careful, as though she might break if he kissed her too hard. All too soon, he pulled away from her, his breaths shallow and uneven.

“Hold that thought,” he whispered, touching his fingertips to her lips. “I’m going to go get the food, and I’ll be right back.”

“All right,” she breathed, letting her arms drop to her sides. He left, and she went into the bathroom to splash cold water on her flushed cheeks. As she was drying off, she heard him return.

“Hermione?”

“In here,” she called from the bathroom. He appeared in the doorway of her bedroom just as she emerged from the bathroom, and he gazed intently at her.

“The food is on the table,” he said softly.

“Oh?” she asked, her hands suddenly trembling. He nodded. “Are you going to eat?”

“Are you?”

“I’m not really hungry right now,” she admitted, her cheeks warming again. His eyes turned dark as he crossed the room and covered her mouth with his. His hands cupped her cheeks as he kissed her – again with the soft kisses. Hermione was beginning to get frustrated; she wanted kisses of more substance, and it didn’t look like he was going to give her what she wanted.

When would she be happy with what she had? She wondered.