Nightswimming

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night
The photograph on the dashboard, taken years ago,
Turned around backwards so the windshield shows
Every streetlight reveals the picture in reverse
Still, it's so much clearer
I forgot my shirt at the water's edge
The moon is low tonight

Nightswimming deserves a quiet night
I'm not sure all these people understand
It's not like years ago,
The fear of getting caught,
Of recklessness and water
They cannot see me naked
These things, they go away,
Replaced by everyday

Nightswimming, remembering that night
September's coming soon
I'm pining for the moon
And what if there were two
Side by side in orbit
Around the fairest sun?
That bright, tight forever drum
Could not describe nightswimming

You, I thought I knew you
You, I cannot judge
You, I thought you knew me,
This one laughing quietly underneath my breath
Nightswimming

The photograph reflects,
Every streetlight a reminder
Nightswimming deserves a quiet night, deserves a quiet night

-R.E.M. 'Nightswimming'

For once in her life, Hermione Granger did not want to study. In the past, reading had been her solace; she had always found peace of mind in books, and the library could usually be relied on as a sanctuary. But this feeling didn't go away, no matter how hard she stared at her Potions textbook.

She was frustrated with her life. For a while, she couldn't fathom why she felt that way; after all, she was tops in her class, Head Girl, a talented and intelligent witch with a bright future ahead of her. But part of her was tired of being the same old Hermione Granger that she had been for the past seven years. She knew that there was more to her than just a bookworm who could spit out answers in class. Hermione knew that she was sensitive and caring; that she could be spontaneous and adventurous when the mood struck; that she loved pistachio ice cream and the color orange. No one else seemed interested about that Hermione, though; they only cared about the Hermione who was a smart and dedicated student.

She sighed as she sat on her bed in the Gryffindor Tower and looked wistfully out the window. It was April, and the night was mild. Hermione felt restless, so she grabbed a light cloak and decided to take a walk to clear her mind.

A light breeze ruffled her hair as she left the castle and strolled down towards the lake. The Forbidden Forest was a massive dark silhouette, and the hoops of the Quidditch pitch rose in the distance. She walked at an easy gait, enjoying the night that surrounded her. It was a night that seemed almost alive, vibrant yet peaceful at the same time. Hermione reached the weeping willow at the lake's edge, sat down and looked up at the sky. The stars were hazy and a pale halo enveloped the moon. Hermione felt so relaxed, but at the same time she was tense with pent-up energy. Who cared what her schoolmates thought about her? She wanted to do something crazy, something to make tonight special.

Swimming.

As soon as the idea struck her, Hermione was already shrugging out of her cloak, before the very practical and reasonable side of her said in a rather prim voice, "And just what do you plan to go swimming in, Miss Granger?" And her wild, spontaneous side replied, "Nothing!"

Before the practical Hermione could protest, she was completely undressed and was stepping into the lake. The water was cool as it lapped at her ankles, then her knees, then her waist. With a few small ripples, Hermione submerged herself and then came back up with a gasp. She could barely contain her excitement. She had broken her share of school rules over the past seven years, but this was different. All the other times had been with Ron and Harry, but tonight was for herself. Tonight was wild and sensuous and thrilling. She swam out farther into the lake, enjoying the caress of the water against her arms and legs. When she reached the middle, she started floating on her back, gazing up at the still sky and feeling more deliciously alive than she could ever remember.

She lost all track of time as she floated there, not thinking, only feeling. It was a release, a purging, a purification. The water was soaking away her frustration and confusion and loneliness. Everyone assumed that Hermione had all the answers, but she knew that wasn't true. She was just as uncertain about the future as any of them. But the water didn't care. The lake loved her for herself, the lake didn't judge. It was beautiful.

Hermione sadly realized that she should go back. Her other Gryffindor friends might wonder where she had disappeared to, and she had no intention of sharing this experience with anyone. With a few splashes, she twisted in the water and began swimming back to the shore. She only managed a few strokes before stopping in horror.

Draco Malfoy was sitting on the bank watching her.

"Evening, Granger," he called softly. His voice was amused, but not malicious, which unnerved Hermione all the more.

"What are you doing here? Go away!" she hissed as loudly as she dared. Most of the lights from Hogwarts were out, but Hermione didn't want to risk anyone hearing her raised voice and coming to investigate. "You've taken more than enough risks as it is," admonished her reasonable self.

"I came out for a night stroll to admire the scenery," he answered calmly and Hermione's cheeks blushed pink.

"Well you can just go and admire some other scenery inside the castle! Go away! Now!"

"Hmm," he pretended to consider. "No, Granger, I am enjoying the scenery too much right now to go somewhere else. It's a lovely view from here." Hermione's color rose to a warm red. She was close enough to make out a grin on his pale face. "So how's the water?"

"Oh, it's just delightful!" she retorted. "I love being in the middle of a lake in the middle of the night being watched by an arrogant bastard!"

"Really? Then I suppose I'll just have to stay here a little longer so you can enjoy yourself."

"I would think you of all people would recognize sarcasm when you heard it, Malfoy. Now, as much as I'm enjoying this little tête-à-tête, I would like to get out of the water."

"Then get out. I'm not stopping you."

"I am not going to let you see me undressed!"

Malfoy shrugged his shoulders. "Well then, I hope you don't mind looking like a prune, because I don't intend to leave."

Hermione was at a complete loss. She refused to let her dignity sustain any more hits than it had already taken. But she couldn't think of any way to make Malfoy leave. He was lying stretched out on the ground, propped up on one elbow, watching her. He had complete control over their situation. Malfoy's eyes glinted; he knew she was trapped. She sighed; it had been so lovely just floating alone in the lake, now the whole night had been tarnished. The disappointment was clear on her face.

"Why did you have to ruin this, Malfoy?"

"Ruin what?"

"You ruined this!"

"Would you like to explain yourself, Granger?"

"You have made my life hell from the day I first met you. Even now, you still enjoy harassing me. What kind of sadistic monster are you? What right do you have to be so cruel?"

"Cruel? I'm not cruel."

"What are you then?"

"I am Draco Malfoy."

"Yes, the arrogant bastard. The stupid git. The selfish brat. The Slytherin Prince. Voldemort's little toy. Daddy's Death Eater-in-training."

Malfoy was visibly affected by her last statements. His entire body stiffened, and his eyes narrowed. "I am no one's property. I don't belong to anyone."

"Ha! You expect me to believe that your loyalty to Voldemort doesn't control your life? You obviously aren't as clever as Snape thinks you are. The past seven years you've been strutting around Hogwarts spouting pureblood garbage and being all around nasty. I wouldn't be surprised if you already had the Dark Mark!"

Malfoy was standing now, quivering with anger. "Don't. You. Dare," he seethed. "You have no idea what you're talking about, you stupid girl. You think it's been easy for me? You think I'm just the Dark Lord's mindless little toady? I told you, Granger, I belong to no one, and no one will ever own me!"

With that, he bent down, grabbed his cloak, and stalked off towards the castle.

Hermione watched him leave, a look of complete surprise on her face. When he was gone, she quickly swam back to shore and pulled on her clothes, using her wand to dry herself.

"Well, Hermione," she said to herself. "That was quite enough adventure for one night!"

As she quietly slipped back into the girl's dormitory, Hermione was still puzzling over Draco's words.

I belong to no one and, and no one will ever own me.

What was that supposed to mean? It had sounded as though Draco didn't agree with Voldemort and his cause. Hermione refused to believe that. No matter how much he protested, everything Draco had ever done showed him to be proud, selfish, and cruel, everything that his father and Voldemort were. But as Hermione thought about him more, she realized that something about him had changed. Malfoy had slowly been abandoning his usual routine of "Harass Potty, Weasel and Mudblood." In fact, he hadn't called her a Mudblood for quite some time now. That was usually his favorite insult for her. She hadn't even noticed that Malfoy had barely spoken to her this year, much less gone about demeaning her. She resolved to watch him the next day and see what she could find out about this seemingly reformed Draco Malfoy.

The next morning, Hermione went down to breakfast with Harry and Ron as usual. She ate quietly and observed Malfoy. He was eating quietly, sitting between Crabbe and Goyle as usual. He was keeping his head down, so it was hard to gauge his expression clearly. Hermione sighed and turned her attention to her food. She heard the rustle of the mail owls overhead, but she didn't pay any much attention. Her parents were still very uncomfortable with the idea of sending letters with birds, so she was very surprised when a school owl landed in front of her plate. Hermione untied the plain parchment envelope from the owl's leg and gave it the rest of her toast. The bird took off and Hermione curiously opened the letter.

"I want to explain some things to you. Come back to the lake tonight at 11:00."

She looked up and met Malfoy's eyes. She felt an odd sensation in her stomach. What could he have to explain?

Draco did not enjoy having painful memories forcibly pulled into the present. In fact, he didn't enjoy anything he had to do forcibly. But seeing Granger last night had brought back a swirl of remembrances. Remembrances of his own night swim once early in sixth year. It was after an incident with his father, and Lucius had been very displeased with Draco's increased rebelliousness. He attacked his son; not only with the Cruciatus Curse, but with fists, and with words. Draco didn't know which had hurt him more. He could still remember the furious voice: "Worthless...disgrace...foolish...dirty...no better than a Mudblood..." That last comment had left the most lasting impression; it had hurt the longest, but it was the last straw. It had set him free. The plain logic of that statement was flawed: according to everything Lucius Malfoy had told his son, purebloods were better than Mudbloods. If Draco, a pureblood, was suddenly equal to a Mudblood, then either Lucius' entire philosophy was wrong or he had just given his son the harshest insult possible. That was when Draco realized how much his life had been dominated by his father. He felt tainted and dirty. The next night, back at Hogwarts, while he was out wandering the grounds after curfew, he had peeled off his robes and slipped into the lake. He felt a sensation of complete release; he felt alive for the first time. It was a revelation of sorts that had overcome him in the lake, the horrible realization that his life had been controlled by his father from the outset, accompanied by the great relief that he would not be controlled again. After that night swim, he still disliked the entire Gryffindor House, especially Potter and Weasley and Granger, and he continued to harass them as he always had before.

But he never said the word "Mudblood" again.

Once that line of attack was gone, he found that he had no other insults for Granger. He found it difficult to accuse her of being a walking textbook because her studying had paid off: she got better grades than he did in every single class, except in Potions, where they were tied for top marks. So he began to observe her, to find some new weakness to exploit. He found none. In fact, every new discovery made her more...endearing.

He had tried very hard to find her faults. His first recourse was to insult her looks. Granger wasn't a beauty; she was just normal-looking. She didn't have a stunning figure or a perfect face, but as he watched her study in the library, she had an incredibly serious and intense air about her that Draco was enthralled. Sometimes when she was explaining something to her friends at mealtimes, she would become animated with excitement, and again Draco found it impossible to tear his eyes away from her. A few times, he had caught her in a genuine smile, and those times he could feel himself melt from her radiance.

He also observed her behavior. He discovered things about her that he was sure Potter and Weasley hadn't worked out. He found that she was always the one who patched up minor scrapes after Quidditch matches; she was always the one who consoled friends after a break-up; she was not only intelligent, but ambitious and determined.

At the end of sixth year he didn't return to Malfoy Manor. He spent his vacation with Professor Snape outside wizarding London. Draco didn't go out much for fear of meeting his father or another Death Eater; instead he read and studied and thought about Hermione. She was no longer Granger in his thoughts. When he saw her again on the Hogwarts Express, he decided that he was hopelessly in love. He saw during the year that her relationship with her two best friends had changed. She seemed restless.

Then he saw her down at the lake. He had gone outside for a walk when he saw something pale floating in the water. He was afraid someone had drowned, and hurried to the water's edge. But she was floating peacefully, clearly not drowned, but more beautiful than Draco had ever imagined. He sat down to watch her, not caring if she noticed him. She did. And she told him what she thought of him.

She thought he was a Death Eater.

Draco was angered and hurt by her assumptions and left, too irate to try to explain to her that he was not a Death Eater and that he had changed. But why would she listen anyway? He had been unkind to her in the past, and Draco had learned enough about her to know that he would have to earn her forgiveness. He sat on his bed, deliberating. He had to tell her. She deserved to know the truth. Then maybe, he could tell her what he felt, and maybe, by some miracle, she would feel the same way, and then maybe...

"Then maybe pigs will fly," he growled to himself. Maybe he couldn't make her love him.

But he could damn well try.

It wasn't as clear as the night before had been. Hermione tensed when she saw the solitary figure by the lake. He was waiting for her. She felt to make sure her wand was tucked in the pocket of her cloak, then set off down the path to meet Malfoy. He looked surreal in the moonshine, his pale hair and skin ghostly white.

"Evening, Granger," he called as she drew near.

"Hello, Malfoy," she replied as calmly as she could. They were both silent for a moment.

"Look, Granger, I want to tell you everything. Please promise you'll listen to me."

Hermione was surprised by the urgency of his tone, but also intrigued.

"I'll listen." She sat down and looked up at him expectantly. He sat next to her and began to talk.

"I have essentially been disowned since sixth year. My father and I had a...an argument...and I haven't spoken to him since. I realized that the things he had drilled into my head since I was young were wrong. I don't agree with his or the Dark Lord's principles anymore. In the past, I've hurt you, insulted your parents, and called you horrible names; I apologize."

"Apologize? Malfoy, you are absolutely insufferable! Do you expect me to believe you?"

"I don't expect anything from you. I know your trust is hard to lose, but once it is lost, it takes time to get back."

"What makes you think you know anything about me?"

"I know more about you than your friends do. The other Gryffindors only see you as a bookworm, they don't see your compassion or your determination."

"I think you've gone mad, Malfoy. I don't know what you're talking about..."

"Why did you come here last night?"

Hermione had risen to leave as he asked her that.

"Excuse me?"

"I asked why you came here last night."

"Why do you care?"

"Because after my father beat me I came here and swam in the lake. Just like you did."

"Your father beat you? You said that you had an argument."

"We did," he replied simply. "He beat me while he, ah, rather forcibly told me how ignorant and worthless I was."

She looked into his face and saw that whatever had happened with his father was more than just a father-son squabble.

"What did he do to you?"

"He hit me, slapped me, put Crucio on me..."

Hermione gasped in shock at the fact that a father would use an Unforgiveable on his own son.

"Crucio? That's illegal!"

"Do you really think that matters to him?"

"But you're his son! What about that family pride you have so much of?"

"I'm not proud of my family any more. I'm proud of myself. I am my own person now and I won't be controlled by anyone else."

Malfoy stood and Hermione met his eyes again. "If he is lying," she thought to herself, "Then he's an incredible actor." Those grey eyes held showed the emotion that he was trying so hard to repress - hurt, anger, fear. He had been right about her; she was compassionate, and that compassion was working away at her long-time prejudice of Malfoy. "He's been hurt," she thought. "His whole life has been a fake. I wonder if he has ever had a real friend. Or even a real family. Growing up with Lucius Malfoy would make anyone a terrible person. I wonder if he's ever really been loved..."

"I...I don't know what to say. I'm so sorry."

"So am I. I'm sorry for everything I've done to you. I've been terrible and I want to fix that. I want to do everything I can to win your trust in me."

She wanted to believe him. In the back of her mind, though, there was the nagging fear that it was all a trap. But those eyes...

"Look, Malfoy," she began, "I'll give you a chance. I'll believe you whole-heartedly when I can see some clear proof that you've had a change of heart." And she extended her hand to him.

He hesitated for a fraction of a second, before reaching out to shake her hand. Then he very cautiously brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it.

"Thank you. I'll do my best to earn your trust. Good night...Hermione."

In her bed that night, Hermione replayed the night's events over and over in her head. She was a bit shocked to discover that she liked the idea of a reformed Malfoy. When he wasn't smirking, he looked...nice. Not attractive, exactly, his face was too sharp and angular to be really handsome, but when he had looked at her with such complete and utter sincerity, she found that he wasn't unpleasant to behold. And he had sounded so earnest in wanting to earn her trust. And he kissed her hand. That had been a surprise, but not exactly an unpleasant one. Hermione tried to tell herself that it was probably one big joke, that in the morning Malfoy would be boasting to the Slytherins at breakfast about how he conned the Mudblood into believing he had changed. But deep down, she found herself really hoping that he had told her the truth.

It was Sunday. Draco rolled out of bed and saw that the dormitory was empty. He hadn't slept well; his dreams kept returning to the lake, where Hermione Granger was out swimming as he stood on the bank. When she saw him, she swam over, got out of the water and walked towards him, smiling. She extended her hand to him, and when he took it, she pulled him to her and was leaning forward to kiss him and then he would wake up. He didn't feel the least bit rested, and now he would have to rush to get to the Great Hall in time for breakfast. And he had to find a way to prove himself to Hermione.

It was going to be a long day.

When Draco finally arrived, his eyes immediately swept towards the Gryffindor table. She wasn't there. So he walked over to his own table, where a few other Slytherins were still finishing their meal. Blaise Zabini was among them. He acknowledged Draco with a nod.

"Slept in today, Draco?"

"Why not, it's Sunday?"

Blaise shrugged before returning to reading the Daily Prophet and eating his bacon. Draco grabbed some toast and munched quietly. He ate quickly and then decided that the most likely place to find Hermione was the library. She was bound to go there at some point during the day.

She was there, fortunately alone. Draco breathed a small sigh of relief; his job was going to be difficult enough without the presence of Potter and Weasel. He approached her table and cleared his throat.

"Mind if I sit here?"

She looked up, and gave a small smile.

"Go ahead."

"Thanks." He took out a draft of an essay for Advanced Astronomy and then went to the stacks to find some books. The two of them worked quietly as Hermione read and Draco wrote.

When he finished, Draco looked up at Hermione.

"Um, are you in Advanced Astronomy?" he asked tentatively.

"Yes."

"Well, would you mind checking my star charts? I'm not that good at them, and I want to make sure they're correct."

"Sure," And Hermione took the papers out of his hands and perused them. "They're fine, except for this bit with Venus. When Venus is in the sixth house, Mars can't be over here. They should be next to each other."

"Venus and Mars were ancient Muggle gods, weren't they?"

Hermione looked at him, one eyebrow raised. "Yes. Ancient Roman gods."

"Venus was the goddess of love and Mars was the god of war. Isn't that right? Funny that two things so different should wind up next to each other."

"I suppose so..."

"Hmm. Well, opposites attract, don't they?"

"Yes, I suppose they do..."

Hermione was blushing a bit, so Draco dropped the subject and fixed the chart in silence. "I don't know if that helped or not. Merlin, I've never had to try to earn someone's trust before! What the hell am I doing? This is ridiculous."

He quickly stuffed his papers into his bag.

"I have to go...see Snape," he mumbled. "See you later..." And he made a hasty exit.

Outside the library he mentally cursed himself.

"Stupid, stupid Draco! Well, opposites attract, don't they? Brilliant, way to botch the whole thing. I'm not really trying to earn her respect, am I? No, I'll just sit and babble like a fool!" He rounded the corner and headed towards the dungeons. He stormed into the Boy's Dormitory, and sat down on his bed, pulling the curtains closed behind him.

"Right then, Draco, time to think. You need a plan of action. How to make Hermione Granger trust you. I cannot believe I have stooped this low. Oh, come off it, Draco, don't be so conceited. You don't have much to offer her right now except yourself and your pride. Bloody hell, I'm talking to myself!"

He flopped back on his bed, growling in frustration.

It had been a very productive morning. Hermione had finished her assignments for Potions and Ancient Runes, so she would have plenty of time in the afternoon to work on Arithmancy. And she had had a very unusual conversation with Draco Malfoy. That had been interesting. He seemed a bit nervous, but she had been as well. She was half-afraid that if she tried to talk to him he would suddenly revert to his old self. She sighed and gathered her books to leave, nodding at Madam Pince as she departed.

Harry and Ron were both in the Great Hall when she arrived.

"Where have you two been all day?" she asked.

"We had Quidditch practice after breakfast, then we played exploding snap until lunch," answered Ron as he grabbed for a biscuit.

Hermione sighed. "I do hope you're planning to get some work done this afternoon," she admonished. "Honestly, I can't believe how you both get passing marks considering how little effort you make. Just because the N.E.W.T.s are over doesn't mean that you're free to laze about all day."

"Relax, 'Mione," said Harry. "We're going to study after lunch."

She just shook her head and began to eat.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Hermione didn't see Draco again except for dinner, when he smiled at her across the Hall. She returned the grin before Lavender wrested her attention away. When she looked back towards the Slytherin table, he was gone.

That week, Draco often stopped to talk with Hermione in the corridors. She usually walked to classes alone, since all of her classes were Advanced, and Potter and Weasel didn't take many upper-level subjects. They would generally just exchange greetings before moving on, but a few times they walked to the Great Hall together for meals before leaving to sit at their separate tables.

Some of the other Slytherins had stopped speaking to him. There was only one incident, for which Draco was thankful.

It was after classes on Thursday. Draco had just entered the Slytherin dungeons when he heard a sarcastic voice cut across the room.

"Well, if it isn't the Mudblood-lover!"

Draco's eyes were venomous as he glared at Blaise.

"Keep your mouth shut Zabini before you say something you might regret." He fought to control his voice.

"What are you going to do, Malfoy? Send your dirty little friend to contaminate me? Yes, I'm just terrified of you."

"She isn't dirty. You should be more respectful talking about your betters."

"She's a Mudblood! A fucking Mudblood! She shouldn't even be allowed to carry a wand and you stand there saying she is better than me? You've sunk low, Malfoy. That bitch is nothing."

"Don't call her that!" And Draco lunged, his fist connecting squarely with Zabini's nose, making an unpleasant crunching sound. Zabini staggered before throwing himself at Draco. Pansy squealed in horror, while Crabbe and Goyle pulled the smaller two boys apart.

"You just watch yourself, Malfoy," snarled Zabini, wiping the blood from his nose. "We all know you've turned coward."

Draco wrested his arm from Goyle's grasp and retorted, "Maybe you should watch your big mouth Zabini." And he quickly retreated to his Dormitory.

He was more thankful now than ever before that seventh year students had private rooms. If it had been sixth year, his belongings would have been stolen or vandalized after that little fiasco. He flopped down on his bed to think, trying to forget about Zabini and focus on Hermione. He wanted to see her again this weekend, so he grabbed a piece of parchment to write her a note. But as he prepared to write, he couldn't think of what to tell her. He did want to see her, but he wanted to do something especially nice for her. Zabini's words had made Draco realize just how lucky he was to be free of his father and have Hermione willing to befriend him.

"Alright," he thought, "What would Hermione like? I should do something nice for her, a gift maybe. Something like...flowers. Perfect! I'll bet my last knut that she would love to be given flowers. Hmm, I may have to pay my last knut..."

He reached through the curtains and opened his trunk. It was considerably less full than it had been in other years, and the box with his money was considerably lighter. He tucked a few coins in his pocket and left for Hogsmeade.

Friday morning, one week after her night swimming adventure, Hermione received another owl from Draco during breakfast. The bird carried a piece of parchment that read:

"I have something to give you. Will you meet me again tonight? I'll be there at 11:00."

"Who's that from, 'Mione?" asked Parvati.

"Oh...from my parents." Hermione replied, feeling a bit guilty for lying. She blushed a little. She didn't want to tell all of her friends that she was going to meet Draco Malfoy that night. They would never believe her. She was worried, though. Rumors had spread about an argument between Draco and that rat Blaise Zabini that somehow involved her. She hoped that it was nothing serious. She quickly stashed the note in her bag, before excusing herself to dash off to Ancient Runes.

It was another clear, serene night. The moon hung low in the sky, a perfect circle of white against the velvety dark.

Draco looked at the small bouquet in his hands. He had chosen tiger lilies; the vivid orange color somehow reminded him of Hermione. The florist had charmed them to stay in perfect bloom. He was a little nervous, and hoped that he had made a good choice.

He turned towards the castle in time to see Hermione walking down to the lake. He smiled; this had to be a good sign if she was coming. It meant that not only did she know that he wanted to meet her at the lake even though he had not stated it outright in the note, but it meant that she must want to talk to him to some degree.

"Hi," she called as she approached.

"Hello," he answered. "These are for you." He held out the bouquet. She gasped in surprise.

"Oh my! Draco...thank you so much! They're just beautiful. How did you know orange was my favorite color?"

"I didn't," he responded, almost as surprised as she was. "I just thought it suited you well. I'm glad you liked them."

She smiled at him, and Draco mused to himself again what a lovely smile she had.

They both sat down by the weeping willow and sat in silence for a few minutes.

"Could I ask you a question?" Hermione broke the quiet.

"You just did," said Draco with a slight smirk. "But you can ask another one."

"What happened with you and Blaise Zabini?"

Draco grimaced. He had hoped she wouldn't have heard about that. But since Pansy had been present, the whole school probably knew.

"Zabini was just shooting off his incredibly big mouth."

"About what?" She obviously had heard that she was the reason for their fight.

"It was about you. He was being a general bastard and I told him to shut it."

"You mean you fought over me?"

"Well, to put it bluntly, yes we fought about you."

She was quiet for a moment. Draco wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad sign.

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Yes."

"Why do you want to earn my trust? Why not Dumbledore or Harry?"

"Because I want you to believe in me. I don't care what the others think."

"But why me? I don't understand. What do you seen in me?"

Draco turned to look at her and saw that Hermione was watching him with an expression of curiosity on her face. It was one of his favorites, the same look she often had in the library while she was reading. He knew that he wanted more than her trust; he wanted her love.

"What do you see in me?" she repeated.

Draco reached out to cup her chin in his hand.

"Everything," he replied, and softly kissed her.

It was heaven; no more, no less. Draco was lost to the wonderful new sensations he was experiencing. It was like nothing he had ever imagined. It was drowning, falling, and flying all at once. It was perfect.

Slowly, they parted. It took a moment for Draco's rational thought to begin working again. When he opened his eyes, he saw Hermione staring at him. He was too overwhelmed to discern how she felt about the kiss.

"Wha-what do you see in me?" he managed to gasp out.

She didn't answer right away.

"I always thought I knew you," she said. "But I never really saw you before. And now I see Draco Malfoy." She leaned forward to kiss him again. And again, Draco felt wonderfully whole. He had never dreamed that such depths of emotion even existed. His life had been lived in coldness, and now he was swept away by warmth and tenderness and affection, all coming from the girl in his arms. He breathed the love in from her, while at the same time giving back as much as he could. Again, their lips drew back, reluctantly, but instead of pulling away completely, Hermione moved closer to lay her head on his chest with a small sigh. Draco cradled her in his lap, relishing in the contact.

"Thank you," he heard her say softly.

"For what?"

"For making me feel so...real."

"I should be thanking you. That was incredible. I've always wondered what this would be like, and...I had no idea that it would be so intense."

"You've never kissed anyone before?"

"No. Have you?"

"No. Well, except for my relatives, but that's not the same thing."

"I should hope not."

Hermione laughed and Draco smirked.

They sat together as the night wore on; they had no conception of time. They talked and kissed and laughed. Eventually they fell asleep in each other's arms, a bouquet of tiger lilies on the ground beside them. The stars winked out one by one, and the lake reflected the first rays of daylight.

And the sun began to rise.