Chapter One

Like Magnets

His lips were soft. They warmed her from the inside out, from her heart to her fingertips, and toes. He pressed himself harder on her. She felt the large stones of the wall press into her back, and her hair tug as she tried to return the furious kisses digging her nails into his shoulders. She simply couldn't get close enough.

Draco Malfoy, the Slytherin Prefect, the blonde haired, sneering, arrogant pureblood Hermione Granger hated from their first year in Hogwarts until her third year. Things changed then. Dramatically. One day she smacked him for the horrible things he said about their Care of Magical Creatures professor, and her friend, Hagrid. Somehow things changed then. His respect for her grew. She remembered the night he came up to her before she joined her friends Harry, and Ron in the common room. He pulled her aside, and told her, "you really are something, Granger. A pain in the arse, a know-it-all, a bookroom, a beaver, but you have guts. I could cause you a lot of trouble... But I won't. No one has dared stand up to me, especially some girl..." He confided in her telling him about his wishes for the future, about his family, their hatred, his suspicions, and somehow they became friends.

It was unlikely. Nothing like that was supposed to happen. They were enemies, and enemies they would remain until they died. Then why were they snogging behind the One Eyed Witch statue? Because they couldn't help themselves. They were drawn to each other like two magnets. Why? That was a story that took place in a different year.

The fourth year Draco saw her differently. When she came into the Great Hall arm-in-arm with the famous Bulgarian Quidditch player Victor Krum, he became jealous. He pestered her for six weeks until he finally pushed her behind the statue they were now hidden, and kissed her. He was rough, and demanding, and she fought back. It was a fight like any Wizarding duel, except their wands were in their back pockets, and they fought with their tongues, and they were much closer than they should've been.

She pushed his shoulders away gasping for the air she'd been lacking. "Stop... We have to go, we have classes tomorrow."

He groaned. "Fine. You'll be here tomorrow." It wasn't a question, a statement, a fact.

"Yes, I'll be here."

He backed away, and she pushed away from the wall, feeling a slight head rush.

"You okay," he asked concerned his hand constricting her arm as though she would keel over.

"I think..." Hermione held her head until it slowly passed.

"That's flattering, Hermione - that I take your breath away."

"Ha ha."

"Will you be okay? Or do I have to walk you to your floor?"

"I'll be okay," she said, now with conviction.

That was the biggest verity of her relationship with Draco. No one knew about them. Not even their closest friends, not even Harry, and Ron. Especially not them. Just like she was enemies with him, so were they. She didn't see a good enough reason to permanently damage her friendships with them, because the relationship she had with Draco was nothing special. They both recognized that they could never be. She was a muggleborn, and he was a pureblood with a prejudice family. They would surely die if anyone found out, and they knew it would be her. They both knew a war was coming. They both knew that they would have to fight against each other. It was something they didn't talk about it, it was taboo. They wouldn't think about what would happen if they faced each other. Would they kill?

"Are you sure," he asked again.

"Go on, Draco. I'll see you tomorrow."

"See you," he kissed her cheek, and disappeared behind the statue.

She waited patiently until he should have been several corridors down. That was another truth to them. They were overly careful at not being caught together, at least not without the sneers, and insults that go with it.

Hermione counted to a hundred in her head, and then went along too. It was a good thing that they were both Prefects. They both had badges to say that they were merely looking out for younger students roaming the halls. It was the perfect excuse.

Her soft footsteps echoed in the empty hallways, and she could swear that the suit of amours that lined each of them were watching her. Maybe it was just the flickering fire in the brackets, but it almost looked like they were moving. She didn't like the night. There were too many ways of taking a logical explanation for something, and spinning it out of control.

By the fourth staircase she stopped at the bottom letting herself drop on the ground. Her breath came out in wheezes. She held her tightened chest as her lungs caught up with her. It was happening too often lately. This weird... Feeling. Like she was losing her energy. She didn't understand it at first, and she didn't understand it then. She was healthy in every way possible, there was no cause for her to feel the way she was. If it was a cold, or something so mundane she would have felt the other effects, a sore throat, a headache, something besides what she was. Heart pains, loss of energy, vertigo, all of which she felt as she forced herself to stand. If she was any later to her common room then her Prefect badge, and its rights would be negligible.

It wouldn't have been a bid deal to go to Madam Promfrey to see what was wrong with her. Madam Promfrey could solve anything, she was an amazing Healer, but it wasn't worth it. Harry, and Ron would have to know what the matter was. They would dig, and hound until they got to the bottom of her sudden quietness. Being weak wasn't something she was used to. If she had to be so, if it was unavoidable then she would be the only one to know. Of course her common sense deviated that. There were no secrets in Hogwarts. The exception to that rule was her relationship with one particular Slytherin, but they themselves broke all the rules. She smiled slightly at that thought.

Dragging her feet along she yawned the password to the Fat Lady, and the portrait swung open revealing a scarlet, and gold common room filled with comfy couches, and chairs, and a dying fireplace. There were two staircases at each end of the room, one for the boys dormitory, and one for the girls. She went to the right, and entered her room. Five beds each with red curtains in a large circle around a iron heater. She heard Lavender's gurgled snore from her bed.

Hermione fell into her own pulling her wand out to close the curtain around her. She didn't bother to look at her Muggle clock, otherwise she would never sleep too alert of how little sleep she would have anyhow.

Pitching his Prefect badge over to the table beside his bed Draco pulled the green covers over himself. He grinned like a cat with a mouse thinking back over the past hour. Hermione had the softest lips, and skin ever known to man. She was sweet, but not overly so. She was strong, opinionated, and very right for him, but wrong in more ways than one that will in the end keep them away from each other.

It pained him to think of what was to come in their 7th year. Once they graduated they as a couple would no longer exist. He wouldn't be able to hold her, kiss her, tease, and infuriate her. All because of his family, his blood, the expectations placed on him. Because he was destined to become a Death Eater, to kill muggles, and muggleborns. He would be expected to kill Hermione when the second war began. That is if he crossed her, and he would make sure he didn't. If he even saw a glimpse of her he would run the opposite direction. He couldn't kill her, not now.

She was his sweet torture. Draco knew the risk he was taking with her. If he was punished for it it would matter little, but he couldn't risk her. For the first time in his life he cared more for someone else. It was an odd, unsettling feeling, and many times he thought of leaving her, but when he caught a glance of those chocolate eyes, that smile, he couldn't resist. She was his drug, he couldn't get enough. He was addicted to Hermione Granger, and it would damn him to hell to be sure. If it did, did it matter? Hermione was the closest heaven he would touch, especially in the oncoming years when he would commit more crimes than she would believe him capable of. At least, for a little while he would have his taste of a life sweeter than one he could never gain, or earn.

Draco peeked out from the silver curtains to the window beside him. In the distance was a bit of light. Soon he would have to drag himself down to breakfast. He would be tired, and irritable even when he would sleep late. Again, it didn't matter, it was worth it. For an hour he got to be with his angel.

A/N: This story is personal to me on a couple of levels, and I must ask that you please keep an open-mind for what will happen. I have debated greatly whether to write this plot at all, but I did. Enjoy.