I know, I know

I know, I know. It's been, what—months? Ish? And I'm incredibly sorry, but you know how life is—stuff hits you right when you don't expect it. And I was hit with quite a bit of stuff /. But now I'm back, and inspired. This story—and all of my other ones—will be completed.

Thanks, as always, to any and all of my reviewers. As much as last month SUCKED, your kind words kept me going, and this chapter's for you ). As for everyone else—REVIEW! I don't care if you loved it, hated it, or didn't really feel anything. I'd appreciate any constructive criticism, any words of encouragement, and anything else you thought of while you read the chapter! Don't be scared to hit that button! LOLz. That's what she said.

As for my other stories, I'm working on those too! It might just be a while for me to get back into the flow of those…I might finish this one first before heading back to Be My Escape…

Anyway, without further ado, I give you the next chapter!

"Can I help you, sir?"

With a curt shake of his head, Draco Malfoy sent the little busy bee away, annoyed with how helpful the employees at Flourish & Blotts were. If he needed help, he'd ask for it damnit…

Looking up, he quickly realized the object of his attention had disappeared. He cursed silently; it had taken him well over fifteen minutes to find her again after he lost her the last time. Damn it all; Malfoys were anything but failures, yet here he was not even able to keep track of a single person. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn she borrowed Potter's invisibility cloak.

Carelessly placing whatever book he had lifted from the shelf back into its place, Draco pulled his coat around him in an effort to conceal himself once again before taking another round through the store. He knew she was still here; the lack of tinkling coming from the door told him that no one had come into or out of the bookstore since that raggedy hag left half an hour ago.

The fact that he felt like an idiot didn't stop him from continuing his search. True, Malfoys always got what they wanted, but that didn't mean it was simply handed to them on a Slytherin-crest engraved platter. No, a Malfoy's success was guaranteed because Malfoys were Slytherins, and Slytherins did whatever they needed to do to get what they wanted. Even if it meant following Hermione Granger around like an idiotic, lovesick Pygmy Puff.

That, of course, was exactly what he had been doing since he had Apparated from her house about a month earlier. As much as the little chit got on his nerves when she was right, he missed her—not that he would ever admit it out loud; just like he'd never admit he was wrong…though, following her around was hitting closer to the mark than he felt comfortable with. Damn Granger; always bringing him out of his comfort zone.

It irritated him to no end to find that he could no longer locate her. It irritated him even more when she found him. He wanted to laugh, for a second—she looked so surprised at the sight of him in her favorite bookstore it almost made him want to kiss her. Almost.

"Hello, Hermione," he greeted, deciding to be civil. They were in public, after all, and the Wizarding World was known for its gossips. There was no need to fuel their fire. Besides—they would speculate as to the status of the once-famous couple before the once-famous couple could decide for themselves what they were. Hermione didn't like it when people knew what was going on in her life before she did. Come to think of it, he didn't like it all that much, either.

"Draco," she nodded, looking at him with curiosity. He was relieved; at least there was no anger in her eyes. When an awkward silence followed, he took it as the perfect opportunity to make his exit. She, however, had other plans.

"Look, I," she began, before pausing. It took all of his willpower not to smirk at her; he loved it when she didn't know what to say, and this time around she was really struggling. He loved it even more when he was the reason behind her speechlessness. Who said Hermione Granger knew everything, anyway? Another awkward silence followed, with Hermione obviously trying to find the right words to voice what she felt. He would have gladly stayed longer to watch her distress, if not for the crowd of people who had gathered—obviously to watch them work out this issue. Granted, the crowed was only two or so people, but Draco couldn't help but feel they were the kind of people who wouldn't find it wrong to run to the Daily Prophet and spread the word that one of the highest-profile couples was getting back together. He didn't want to rush the Gryffindor, after all.

"Why don't we talk about this somewhere a little more private?" he suggested quietly, hoping the others wouldn't hear and she wouldn't think he was propositioning her in an inappropriate way. He was sure there would be time for that later. Sometime later…

"Why? So you can walk out on me again?" Her reply stung, but he knew just what to say to rile her up. He also knew that spewing fire to match hers would only complicate the situation further, but the Slytherin in him couldn't resist.

"Technically, I Apparated that last time, love."

"Don't you 'love' me, Draco Malfoy!" she quipped, crossing her arms.

"I rather think I do, sometimes, Hermione Granger."

His play on words was not lost on the so-called "brightest witch of the age"—though it surprised her even more than seeing him did. To be fair, he surprised himself—he hadn't meant to say that…hell, he didn't even know if he really meant it…but it shocked her enough to send her back to a state of simple babbling, which he could handle. Trying to make it seem like he knew what he was doing, he gently laid a hand on her elbow, a gesture he knew she found comforting.

"Your flat?" he asked, to which she only nodded, her face pale. Her skin, cold and clammy to his touch, still gave him gooseflesh, but he thought nothing of it; if anyone noticed, he could always blame it on the weather. Together, they walked outside. This time, when he Apparated, he took her with him.

Her flat was neat and tidy; just as it was when he left it. It came as no surprise to Draco; she was a well-organized person and he expected no less. What he didn't expect was the impassioned rant that fell forth from her lips as soon as she recognized her surroundings.

"How dare you say you love me! After everything you've done to me! You hardly know what love is, Draco! You profess love, but when you get scared, you run off as though love is something to hide from! Where were you when I cried myself to sleep from missing you so much? Where were you when I could barely bring myself to eat, and Ron and Harry practically had to shove food down my throat to keep me from starving myself? Where were you when I wanted to stop breathing if it meant I could bring you back? You love me? You love me?! I didn't even know what I did, Draco! I didn't even know what I did…"

Angry tears had begun to spill from her eyes, her words once again acting as daggers through his heart. He wanted to apologize, he really did, but at the same time, he was sick of her playing the victim in this. Hadn't he suffered as well? Where did she get off thinking she was the only one with the broken heart? After all, wasn't she the one who had repaired his own, only to have him shatter it completely? Thinking about it, he saw the flaw in his logic. Merlin, damn his Malfoy pride all the way to Hades. Damn it to the deepest pit of Hell and back.

Giving in to temptation, he lowered himself to the floor to kneel beside Hermione, who had collapsed from the intensity of her emotions. "You didn't do anything wrong, Hermione," he whispered as he gathered her into his arms. "You didn't do anything wrong."

She didn't answer. Instead, she responded by sobbing even harder against his shoulder, completely falling apart in his strong arms. He did his best to soothe her, knowing the time had come for him to console her after being the cause of the tears she so violently spilled. Running a hand through her hair over and over, he continued to assure her, "You didn't do anything wrong." Soon enough, she was asleep in his lap, exhausted by the emotional purging.

Ever so gently, he lifted her up, his eyes focused on her beautiful face as he made his way to lay her down in her room. Memory was enough to guide him. Memory was enough to bring fresh blankets and pillows to her room, and extra ones for himself. However, memory would never be enough to satisfy his need to feel her against him once again, no matter how innocent the case may be. Convinced she was still fast asleep, he lay down next to her, continually stroking her hair as he repeated, "You didn't do anything wrong." He knew that when she woke up there were questions she would ask that it was time for him to answer, and he had a few questions of his own he still burned to let fly from his lips. But that was later.

I know I said it, but please REVIEW! They make me smile like this D!