Authors note:

Hello everyone! Thank you for sticking with this story. Only a chapter or two left after this one. I've found this one difficult to write for some reason, and have been trying to take my time and enjoy it. Please favorite and comment! Suggestions are always appreciated :)

~C.B

The moment was quickly broken by a shower of luke-warm fire whisky being spilt down Hermione's back, which in turn set forth an awkward series of events. Letting out a startled shriek, she flung her arms up over her head and struck Draco in his perfect, pointy nose. Hermione then fell backwards in her chair, slamming into the hardwood floor. Through the sea of stars before her eyes, she saw Draco's hands cupping his chin as bright red blood flowed from his nostrils like a burst tap. He appeared to be berating a bladdered, overweight male bar patron. Although her sense of hearing had suddenly gone wonky, she could foggily pick out her blonde companions voice through the thrumming between her ears,

"Drunk prick…you're sauced!...don't give a damn if you bumped into her… s'not that crowded! if you've hurt her… mine…"

Mine.

Mine.

Although she had a lump the size of Gringotts forming on the back of her scalp, Hermione felt like getting up and dancing a jig right there on the bar. Or maybe it was because she had a lump. She wasn't quite sure at this point in the story as she was almost positive she had a mild concussion.

And then she felt a hot puff of breath on her earlobe, and a deep voice behind it, "Hermione, are you alright? I'm going to pick you up now."

Blearily she blinked her eyes, and forced Draco's face to come into view. His hair was tousled across his forehead, grey eyes blazing with repressed anger and concern, lower half of his face smeared pink with blood. She'd never seen him look so sexy.

"My hero." She groaned as he scooped her up and off the dirty floor.

He chuckled as they exited through the bar doors, "Hero? That's a word I would have never expected you to keep in your lexicon filed under my name."

She "mmffd." Into his sweater, desperate to keep the world from spinning, "Shut up or I'll take it back."

Another chuckle, "Hang on Granger, I'm going to apparate now. Don't move."

"Wouldn't dream of it." Hermione groaned. The world spun suddenly, and she shut her eyes tighter, clutching to him for dear life before they stopped with a jolt.

The familiar smell of her living room filled her nostrils, and Hermione breathed a shaky sigh of relief.

"You alright?" Draco asked, and tenderly brushed a curl from her face.

Opening her eyes to quickly was what did her in. Or maybe it was her slight concussion. Maybe her nerves had something to do with it. It could have been drinking mead on an empty stomach as well. All of these ideas came to late however as Hermione's stomach lurched and emptied on Draco's shoes and her carpet.

There was an uncomfortably long pause after the ejection of her innards, and Hermione felt possibly more humiliated than she had in her entire life. Blinking slowly, she shifted her eye's to his. He looked back at her and raised a pointy eyebrow.

"I-I'm so sorry…" Hermione could feel a blubbering session coming on, her eye's beginning to sting with tears, "I hit my head hard, and I'm hungry, and you're bloody beautiful and I've mucked up your shoes and they look expensive and I will buy you another pair-"

"Granger-"

"I don't know what's gotten into me, and I apologize for crawling into your lap at the pub like some tactless tart and for streaking in front of you this morning, you must think terribly of me-"

"Granger-"

"I don't know where all of these feelings are coming from, and it's moving so fast and oh good gracious I'm so embarrassed I feel like I might throw up again-"

"Hermione."

It wasn't the fact that he'd used her given name to call her attention, it was the tone behind it. Long ago when they were in school together, she would have expected him to spit on her whenever he saw her, or maybe would will her to spontaneously combust in an acrid poof of hair. It was no secret that pureblood Malfoy hated mudblood Granger, and that any tone of voice he used with her could have made milk curdle, and make small infants cry.

But this Draco who was holding her in her own stink didn't sound like he wanted her impending death. There was no resentment, no disguised undertone of distrust or malice. In fact it sounded rather like…

"Love, you have a rather bad bump on your head, and we need to get you cleaned up. Can you stand to go change?"

Owlishly she stared at him and nodded.

Draco shot her a small smirk, and somehow managed to navigate holding her and grabbing his wand. He waved it at the rather smelly mess below them and "Evanesco'd," it into nothingness. Turning his attention back to her, he asked, "Where is your bedroom?"

"Erm," suddenly Hermione's mouth had forgotten how to navigate around her tongue. In her current state, she knew nothing should be sexy. Malfoy should have dropped her the minute she spewed and headed for the hills. But he didn't, and now the word 'bedroom' sounded like the most obscenely arousing word in the dictionary. Maybe she'd hit her head harder than she'd originally thought.

A loud yowling came from to their left, and out of the room in question came Crookshanks. Draco chuckled, "You still have that thing?"

"That thing is my Crookshanks," Hermione said, beginning to push away from Draco, "And you'd do best to not insult him or,"

"Alright, alright," Draco grinned and bobbed her up once gently in his arms to quiet her, "I'm sorry." he turned to walk into her bedroom.

Hermione began to panic, had she left anything embarrassing out? She knew she was fairly good about throwing dirty laundry into the hamper, but you never knew if something escaped onto the floor. Her lamps which she had charmed to light upon her entering flickered and came to life, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief at her clean floor, the bed was unmade but at least that made the room look lived in and homey. Draco carried her to the bed, and laid her down carefully with her head on a pillow. He lingered over her, suddenly looking very unsure, "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've made the biggest muck up of my life," Hermione smiled, "So, pretty normal actually. I'm sorry about your nose, does it hurt?"

Draco sat on the edge of the bed beside her and chuckled, "Well, you've punched me in the nose once before, so I have to say I'm used to it. You have a mean right hook."

Hermione laughed and then winced as the stinging radiating from the lump on the back of her head spread through her brain and into her forehead. He was suddenly above her again, long fingers tangling in her curly hair and thumbs rubbing gentle circles on her temples. Their eyes locked together and Draco's movements stilled, then began slowly again. "Silly woman," he murmured, "You scared me."

"Scared you?" she repeated, eye's slowly beginning to drift shut as his fingers massaged her skin. He caressed from her temples down to her cheekbones, from her cheekbones to her chin, from her chin to her lips and stopped once more. It hadn't registered to Hermione until that moment that the lights had dimmed themselves, and everything besides the sound of Draco's breathing and the heartbeat pounding in her ears had gone silent.

The way he was looking at her now made Hermione feel like she was melting into a hot puddle. His grey eyes were almost black in the dim light, his chin still lightly smeared with dried blood, and his hair looked so soft she couldn't help but reach out and caress the lock hanging over his forehead. Draco made a small noise, leaning into her touch and closing his eyes, looking almost pained, "Hermione, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" she repeated softly, still brushing back the wayward lock of hair, "For what?"

"For everything. For when we were younger, for the way we are now, for never speaking to you until today. I should have done so many things to express how I feel to you, and writing that silly, childish letter was the only way I knew I could grab your attention you ridiculous little bookworm."

Hermione's fingers stilled, the silky golden strands of hair wound between them "How…how do you feel exactly?" the heartbeat in her chest pumped louder beneath her sensible blouse.

Draco raised his eyes to hers, "Let me show you."