The Makings of an Auror

The Makings of an Auror

Chapter 05

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The fog was so thick; Draco could hardly see where he was going. He briefly thought of using his wand as a light, but he thought better of it, as there could be anything lurking in the trees. He blindly reached out, his wand in one hand, feeling his way around low branches and thick tree trunks. Something moved on his left and he jumped, bumping his shoulder against a sharp branch. Cursing, he put his wand in his pocket and went to free himself of the branch. He seized it and pulled roughly, ignoring the thorns that were slicing the soft flesh of his palms. When he was no longer caught in the tree, his glance flickered down to his shoulder, which was steadily bleeding. Cursing again, he continued forward.

"Hermione?" he whispered hoarsely, his voice cracking from tension and angst. Draco tried to ignore the audible pounding of his heart, banging against his ribcage. "Hermione, can you hear me?" The pain in his shoulder had been increasing, and he figured either there was still some thorns in there, or that the tree he had impaled himself on had poisonous leaves. He was about to sit down when something glittery slid in-between his legs, disappearing beneath the thick brake. But something else was bothering him. Twice, he thought he saw a pair of red eyes gleaming out from beneath the bushes. Staggering back, he grabbed his wand and made his way backwards, but his foot caught on a branch, and he stumbled out into a clearing.

"Draco!" someone shouted, running up to him and dropping his or her lantern. The speaker gently took his face in their hands, brushing his sweaty hair out of his face.

"Are you ok?" they asked.

"Shoulder's busted," he replied shortly. "Are you Hermione?"

But something prevented the person from responding. There was a short, stifled scream, and Draco spun around. He came face to face with...

***

Draco awoke so suddenly and abruptly that he cried out. He glanced wildly around the room, his hand clutching his shoulder, his breathing rapid. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, he lay back down on his bed, trying to slow the rush of adrenalin that was surging though his veins. He blinked a few times and looked to his left at the large, luminous alarm clock on the dresser. It read 6:15. Sighing again, he got out of bed, his feet hitting the cushiony carpeting. Silently thanking God for the carpet and not a stone floor, he walked over to Hermione's bed, his hand still clutching his shoulder. A small smile crept across his face as he approached her bed.

She had gotten the bed sheets twisted, and they were crumpled at her feet. She had drawn her legs up to her chest, her hand drawn across her hip, her legs oddly white in the darkness. Her hair was a tangled mess, splayed out across her pillow, her other hand underneath it. Her mouth was slightly open, her eyelids fluttering, her fingers twitching every now and then. Draco was tempted to reach out and run his hand against her cheek, but he thought better of it, remembering the time she had nearly scared him out of his wits by doing that. Instead, he leaned very close, so close his lips almost grazed her ear, and he whispered,

"Good morning."

The effect of these two words was instant. Hermione rolled over, stretching, and she opened her eyes slowly. The first thing she saw was Draco, and how close he was to her. She started.

"What are you doing?" she asked incredulously, her eyes growing wide.

"Nothing, just waking you up," Draco replied quickly. He suddenly felt very stupid, having done such a thing, and he backed a couple of inches away from her. Hermione sat up.

"It's 6:16?" she muttered sleepily, the dark circles under her eyes standing out against her skin. "Why did you wake me up?

"Erm," he began. Yes, he was very stupid. "I was going to head down to breakfast, and was just curious to know if you wanted to come."

"Is something the matter?" Hermione asked slowly. "You look all...bothered."

"I'm fine," Draco replied irritably. "Like I said before, I was just going down to breakfast. Do you want to come or not?" Hermione paused. Draco's being thoughtful... What's wrong with this picture?

"Amazingly, that's very thoughtful of you, but it would have been better if you could have just saved me a piece or two of toast. I'll come now," she added hastily, seeing his face contort, "since you've already woken me up." She shakily got out of bed, yawning and stretching at the same time. "Oh, and Draco...I think it'd be best if you went down to breakfast in something other than your boxers," she muttered sheepishly. Draco looked down, and indeed, he was wearing only a pair of boxers.

"Oh, yeah I was planning on doing that," he said, trying very hard not to turn red. Hermione walked past him, a confused look on her face.

"Are you sure you're ok?"

"Of course."

"Positive?"

"Yes Hermione!" he responded. "I already have one mum, I don't need another."

"Alright, just checking," she replied defensively. "You'd think I was asking you to strip and dance in front of me."

"As much fun as that sounds, I think I'll pass." He walked into the closet, blindly felt around for a shirt and trousers (it didn't really matter what he picked, as nearly everything he owned was black). He absentmindedly ran a brush though his hair, willing himself to stay awake and keep going. But his thoughts kept straying to his dream. He hadn't had a dream like that in quite awhile, excluding the one about a beach party, involving lots of coconuts, women, and bamboo shacks. There was something so real about it, that it made him almost wonder if it really hadn't been a dream, and it had been real. But there was only one thing that kept him from believing that. In his dream, he had injured his shoulder. But looking down at his shoulder before he had put his shirt on, there was only the tip of the original scar that ran clear down to his waist, and nothing else. His thoughts were interrupted when Hermione sang out,

"Are we going to breakfast, or are you just going to stand there and admire yourself all day?" Draco grumbled irritably under his breath.

"Keep your knickers on, I'm practically done." He set his brush back down on the counter and came out of the closet. Hermione had thrown on an old pair of jeans and a shirt, and her hair was messily pulled back into a ponytail.

"Finally. I was just about to start worrying that you had passed out or something in the bathroom."

"What, from looking in the mirror? It's hard to believe that I haven't given in to my own charms." Hermione rolled her eyes and stifled a yawn, walking out into the halls.

"Today is Halloween," she announced.

"It is, isn't it," Draco replied, fixing the button on his shirtsleeve. Hermione jerked her head at the decorations on the walls. A long border of pumpkins and black cats had been lined near the top of the ceiling. The cats watched Draco and Hermione as they walked by, their eyes catching the light and turning a different color.

"You seem out of it," Hermione said abruptly. "You woke me up using the oddest technique, you've failed to notice it's Halloween, and you've still got your usual sarcastic response for everything. Did you have some dream last night?"

"Oh yeah, I did, and we were at the zoo, and we were petting the cave monkeys." He gave her an annoying grin, and she sighed.

"Seriously, did you?" Draco was thoughtful for a moment. He wondered if he should tell her of the dream. But an image popped up in his head. He saw Hermione running around in a library, pulling out books on diviners and dream travelers, scolding him for not telling her sooner and frantically rushing off to find some unexplainable and incurable symptoms of a stupid disease.

"No, I didn't have any dreams last night. And please don't say 'Are you sure'," he said, because Hermione had opened her mouth. "I think I would have known if I had a dream last night." Hermione looked skeptical, and Draco sighed. "What can I do to prove it to you?"

"There is a spell..." Hermione began. Draco's fists clenched.

"A spell?" he said nervously, trying to keep is voice neutral. Hermione laughed.

"Oh the look on your face. No, there is no spell; I'll just have to believe you. Strangely enough, I've been feeling confident enough to do that." She gave him a small smile, which he did not return.

The lobby downstairs was deserted, probably because most people had left to go visit relatives or fellow witches and wizards for the holiday. Only a tall, slender woman was standing at the breakfast table.

"They sure packed this place with food," Hermione commented, grabbing a plate and scanning the platters eagerly. There were cinnamon rolls with white, orange, and black frosting, assorted dishes of candies, a large pumpkin cake, innumerable trays of donuts, pitchers of either orange, apple, or grape fruit juice, different colors of bacon and eggs, and much more. Draco looked at the food, and he felt the gnawing pit in his stomach grow stronger, but he just didn't want to eat. In the end, he ended up getting a piece of toast with charmed black butter and jelly, and a coffee. Hermione, however, had her plate stacked high with food.

"Doesn't this look fantastic?" she said, setting her plate down on one of the tables in the room next to Draco. "How come you only got toast? Look at these kippers! Here, go ahead and try some." She indicated a side of her plate where he could take some, but he only shook his head.

"I'm perfectly fine with toast, thank you," Draco responded.

"Alright, go ahead and starve," Hermione retorted, placing her napkin in her lap and taking up her fork and spoon. But she stopped. She seemed on the verge of asking him something, but she stopped, her fork still poised over her food.

"You're still not convinced that I feel fine, are you?" he replied, a sly smile on his face. Hermione bit her lip, a sign he was right on target. "Look at me." He held out his arms, giving her a full view of him. She reluctantly took note of his pale skin, the dark circles under his eyes, and how thin he looked. "Ok, now that you've seen me," he began, taking out his wallet and pulling out a picture. He handed it to her, and she looked at it. It was a picture of Draco, wearing his head boy badge, posing in what she assumed was the Slytherin Common Room. He still had the pale, fair skin, and his eyes had slightly dark circles underneath them, but he still looked healthier in the photo than he did now.

"You carry a picture of yourself in your wallet?" Hermione asked, disbelief in her voice. Draco snatched the photo away and tucked it back inside his wallet. Hermione sighed. "You look better in the photo," she replied quietly, refusing to elaborate. Draco, who was in the middle of drinking his coffee, paused.

"Well what do you want me to do about it?"

"First of all, you're malnourished, get some food in you. And perhaps I could whip up a Dreamless Sleep Drought. You look like you could use a good night's rest."

"All right, if it'll make you happy, I'll eat and sleep. Then will you get off my case?" he teased. Hermione looked thoughtful.

"Not entirely, but it'll help."

Draco threw his hands up. "Done." He grabbed one of her slices of bacon, chewing it noticeably. "Now keep your end of the deal and let me alone."

"Your welcome by the way," she responded cynically. Draco leaned back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table. Hermione scowled. "Draco, people will stare," she frowned. Draco wildly looked around the lobby.

"People? What people?" he put mockingly. The lobby was empty, excluding the woman on the other side of the room. Hermione shifted in her seat.

"It's not very gentlemanlike," Hermione scolded.

"I thought the eating and sleeping part was supposed to get you off of my case," Draco pointed out, his eyebrows raised. Hermione grinned sheepishly.

"All right, all right. Do what pleases you." He leaned back farther visibly, stretching his feet out. "So it's Halloween--."

"And this must be the umpteenth time you've said that today," Draco retorted.

"Quit being an annoying git. All I'm getting at is if we're going to go someplace today."

"I don't know about you, but I'd like to laze around and do homework," he replied, examining his fingernails with a scornful look on his face.

"That sounds fine, unless you'd rather me leave and go do something," she began. Draco looked up at her, a confused look on his face.

"Why would I want you to leave?" he asked calmly. Hermione shrugged.

"We've practically seen each other every waking moment of the day, so I figured you might like some time alone," she explained. Draco carelessly plunked three sugar cubes into his coffee.

"No, it's fine. I've gotten used to you and your strange habits anyway; I really don't care anymore. As my father used to say: omnia mutantur nos et mutamur in illis. It means 'all things change, and we change with them'."

"Draco, I have a question," Hermione asked slowly.

"Go ahead."

"You never talk about your father, and I was just thinking: is it because you love him so much--or not at all," she asked quietly. Hermione immediately regretted having said it, as his face went white and his eyes were clear of emotion. He was quiet for a few minutes.

"I think it's both," he replied after awhile. "He's so horrible to me, and I hate him for it. But Hermione, he's my father. I just...can't explain it--." He buried his head in his hands, and Hermione's heart ached for him for a brief second. She didn't know whether to apologize or keep silent. Before she could make up her mind, he sat up, his eyes clear.

"Draco, I'm sorry for asking--," she began, but he dismissed this with an elegant wave of his hand.

"It doesn't matter. You don't need to apologize."

"It just seemed like you were upset for a moment," she replied carefully.

"I was, and I really don't want to talk about it anymore."

Hermione went respectively silent; her hands in her lap, chewing on her lip. There was something uneasy between them, and she couldn't quite put a finger on it. Maybe it was just the topic of conversation, or maybe it was the weather. The sky was still dark and cloudy, despite the fact that it was nearly 6:45 in the morning, and the sun had already risen. Snowflakes were falling steadily from the sky, layering the already-blanketed ground. It was during times like this, when she was lost in her thoughts that she thought of Harry and Ron. Mostly it was Harry, because she missed him so much, that it hurt even just to envision him. She was already counting down the days when she passed the Auror Camp, and when she's finally be able to be in his arms again. Her thoughts lingered a moment longer on Harry, before they surprisingly moved on to Draco. Hermione wondered if he would still treat her differently, the way he did now, when they were back at Hogwarts. The press would have a field day with their easiness, and she could practically envision Daily Prophet reporters printing out papers that read Slytherin and Gryffindor: a forbidden friendship, or Friends or foes? Students at Hogwarts explore house-relationships. Would he stay on speaking terms with her? Or would he revert back to his old ways. She just couldn't tell.

***

(from Draco's point of view, similar to the paragraph above)

Draco felt strangely at peace as he sat at the breakfast table with Hermione. Well, almost at peace. There was something gnawing at his stomach, and he knew it wasn't from lack of food. Something about the air around Hermione and himself was irresolute, in a disturbingly calming way. He wasn't worried by it, just concerned, that perhaps his father had been right about the old Latin saying: 'all things change, and we change with them'. He didn't feel any different. Perhaps a little, but not entirely different. He didn't hate Hermione, that's for sure. But he wasn't worshipping the ground she walked on either. His thoughts went from Hermione to his dream. He recalled the night when Hermione had had her dream...damn, he thought. There I go thinking about her again. He remembered her saying that Voldemort had killed someone, and that it had been him, Draco. Then again, it could have been in a completely different situation. He'd have to ask her sometime.

"Hey Hermione," Draco said, breaking the uneasy silence between them. She looked up.

"Yes?"

"Do you remember having a dream, on the second night we were here?" Draco asked. "You know, the one where you woke up, thinking I had died?" Hermione closed her eyes thoughtfully.

"I think I remember a little bit of it," she said, her eyes still closed. "You're injured, and I'm holding this orb-type-thing. It's like we were in the forbidden forest."

"Oh," Draco replied, his heart sinking. "Go on."

"Then somebody steps out into the clearing, and you argue with the person. And then...and then..." Hermione opened her eyes. "I think you know the rest." Draco nodded, a serious look of concentration on his face. So her dream roughly took place after mine, he thought sullenly.

"Why do you ask?" Hermione said. Draco shrugged. Her eyes grew wide.

"You didn't have a dream, did you?" she asked quickly yet quietly, glancing uneasily around the room. "Something that fits in with my dream perhaps?"

"Well, sort of," he began. "I didn't see much."

"Well?" Hermione had stopped eating, her whole attention fixed on him. "What was it?"

"Hey, look at the time, it's almost seven. I'd better get upstairs, got loads to do."

"Draco," Hermione began in a warning tone. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

"I'm not telling you lot's of things. I'd love to stay, but I'm teaching my pet ferret to dance." He picked up his coffee and began to walk off.

"You don't have a ferret!" Hermione yelled after him, frowning. Draco just winked at her. "Oh fine," she muttered angrily, pushing her plate away and folding her arms.

***

Having deposited the rest of his coffee in the bathroom sink, Draco sat down on his bed, trying very hard not to think about anything. You'll have to tell her the dream someday. Draco rolled over on his side, pushing the thought away, yet a new one replaced it. You know you love--but he was cut off when Hermione entered the room, a scowl on her face.

"I'm going walking," she declared, picking up her coat, mittens, scarf, and hat. "You can come if you like."

"No, you go right ahead. Maybe I'll join you later," he replied, shooing her off with his hand. Hermione shrugged her shoulders and exited the room. Draco stood up and crossed over to the other side of the room, looking out the window down at the ground below. The people looked like tiny specs of dust, walking along the sidewalks. Once, Draco thought he saw Hermione, but as he was so high up (after all, it was the thirtieth floor), he couldn't really tell. She'd probably still be in the lift anyway. He walked back over to his bed and picked his Arithmancy book. He opened it absentmindedly, and began to read.

Arithmancy is a subject, based on the complicated wizarding math that most people overlook. It can come in handy in two ways: one, it can help the wizard to--

-Snap-. Draco closed the book and put it back on the bed, standing up and running a hand through his perfectly combed hair. Something was on his mind, but he didn't know what it was that was making him so antsy. The dream wasn't bothering him, not at all. And he wasn't angry with Hermione. Maybe he was. He didn't know.

"Homework. Excellent pastime, even if it's dreadfully boring and makes no sense at all," he said aloud. He crossed back over to the dresser and picked up some of the books Hermione had checked out of the library for him. He set them down on his bed, taking up a parchment and quill. Draco was about to begin reading, when he noticed a small, crumpled up piece of paper underneath the books. He picked it up, smoothing it out against the books. When he caught sight of what it was, a letter, and who it was addressed to, he almost put it down. But he thought he saw his name in it, so he decided to read it quickly. It read,

Harry,

I know I haven't been writing as often as I promised, but my mum has been in a stage where she needs me to go out and run errands for her. You know, driving the car to the grocery store, picking up medications, etc. But she is definitely getting better. Quidditch practices already? That's rather early. I wonder why they started them so soon.

Draco browsed through the letter, skipping a bunch of 'I miss you' paragraphs and scanning the lines. His own name caught his eye.

You haven't seen Malfoy anywhere? That's strange...I wonder where he went to. Yes, I know you're happy he's gone, but don't think too hard on the subject. You did say he was Quidditch captain right? Man. Oh well, keep hoping he'll stay gone, and that'll do us all a favor. Well I'd better run, mum's calling. Love ya!

Hugs and Kisses,

Hermione

Draco sat still, the letter in his hands, the room dead silent. Keep hoping he'll stay gone, and that'll do us all a favor. Of course she hadn't really meant it, had she? They were, after all, supposed to be pretending nothing had happened, and that Hermione was at her mum's house, and that his father needed him. But he wondered if there was some truth to her statement in that letter. No sooner had he thought this, Hermione burst into the room.

"I forgot my purse," she said breathlessly. "Need anything at the--." She stopped, seeing the letter in his hand. "What are you doing...is that my letter?"

"I believe it is," Draco replied bitterly, tossing it onto the floor. Hermione watched as he did this, her purse in her hands, her mouth open.

"You didn't...read it, did you?" she asked slowly, speaking to Draco as if he were a bit dim.

"Maybe." He opened one of the library books. Hermione was still standing very still.

"Do you not have any respect for other people's privacy?" Hermione said harshly, her purse sliding a few inches down her arm. She pulled it back up, frustrated. Draco didn't say anything to this; he just sat reading. Hermione shook her head sadly. "You know what, I don't really care."

"You don't care what you wrote in the letter then?" Draco challenged. Hermione had been about to leave the room, but she paused.

"What do you mean?"

"'Keep hoping he'll stay gone, and that'll do us all a favor'," he recited, with an annoying tone in his voice. "You mean it don't you, otherwise you wouldn't have included it in your letter."

Hermione's mouth went open in shock, a furious look on her face. "Draco, look at the day it was written!" she shouted. "Look at the top, right hand corner, and you'll see when I wrote that letter. That was practically four weeks ago Malfoy. Four weeks. Now if you want to be a...a prat," she continued angrily, words simply failing her, "then you can be one. I don't care. But if you ever try and use this against me, I have proof, that what I wrote four weeks ago on that letter means nothing to me now." And she left the room, leaving Draco feeling stupider than he ever had felt before in his life.

***

Hermione ran out of the hotel, the cold stinging her eyes and mouth, and she didn't stop until she had found an empty alley. She slid down the wall, landing on the cold, stone floor, putting her face in her knees. Damn him, she thought bitterly. Damn him and his stupid hair, and his stupid voice, and his stupid...stupidity! She lifted her face out of her knees. Now I'm the stupid one. Stupid for thinking I could trust him...it's his nerve to actually read the letter that made me mad...he should have known that it was personal! Just when I had his trust... she thought. She rested her head against the wall behind her, the dust from the ground getting on her face and mingling with the sweat dripping down her forehead. She wiped her face with the back of her hand, sniffling. The snow had started to seep into her jeans, chilling her to the bone. Hermione looked up at the sky. It had begun to snow again. Doesn't it ever stop snowing? She thought. She stretched out her gloved hands, letting the snowflakes collect and melt on them. I can't avoid him forever, I'll have to go back sooner or later, but I'm going to let him brood for a bit, and then we'll see who's the smarter one.

***

Draco cursed under his breath, shoving the books off of his bed and folding his arms angrily.

"How dare she call me a prat," Draco said aloud, feeling stupid, but very sorry for himself. "If it was such a private letter, than she shouldn't have left it laying around." Yes, he thought satisfactorily to himself. It's her own fault, the careless woman. He rolled over on his bed, gazing up at the ceiling. So much for the 'at peace' feeling. I'll bet right now, she's sitting in an alley, feeling all proud and angry. She can move there and rot, for all I care. But despite his confident thinking, he felt an annoying pang of guilt in his stomach. Oh no, Draco Malfoy. You are not feeling guilt. You did nothing. He sat very still for a minute, but he quickly stood up, grabbing his jacket, and heading out of the hotel.

***

Hermione had her head in her knees again, looking at the snow-covered ground, drawing patterns in the snow. She felt light headed, and she knew she should head back before she got any sicker, but she refused. Stubbornly, she scooted her legs closer to her chest, her chin propped up on her knees. The edges of her vision began to get a little fuzzy. Sighing, she closed her eyes, rubbing her ankles with her gloved hands. She was just about to slip off to sleep, when she heard someone calling her name. Her head immediately perked up.

"Hermione!" she heard someone say. She tried to call back, but her throat had gone hoarse. "Hermione!" The person yelling appeared in the entrance of the alley. She looked up.

It was Draco.

He ran over to her, his cheeks and nose red from the cold. "Hermione, are you ok?" he asked, and she thought she saw something that looked like concern on his face.

"I--I'm fine," she replied weakly, trying to sit up, but she clutched her head and lay back down. "Actually, I take that back." He put his hand behind her head, helping her sit up. Then he seized her upper arms, pulling her into a standing position. She immediately threw her arms around his neck, and for a minute, he thought it was because she couldn't stand, but then he heard her voice against his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry--."

"Hermione, it's fine," Draco replied, patting her back awkwardly. Hermione only tightened her grip around his neck.

"No, it's not. I lost my temper over a stupid letter, and I shouldn't have said the things I said."

"But you didn't do that much. Listen, just calm down." She pulled her face out of his shoulder and looked up at him, her arms still around his neck. Her cheeks were tear-stained, and she looked as if she would start crying again at the slightest bit of speech. Draco pulled one of his gloves off and gently wiped her tears away, surprising Hermione and himself at what he was doing. "You're freezing, let's get you back before you get frostbite." Amazingly, Hermione didn't protest as he led her out of the alley. Instead, she relied on him to keep her moving, stumbling every now and then. Once he had gotten her completely inside the building, up the lift, and into the room, she collapsed.

Perfect timing, he thought wearily. He lifted her, taking her carefully to the large king size bed, rather than putting her on her own small bed. She involuntarily clutched at his arms, as he lowered her down onto the bed. Then, she opened her eyes.

"We're there already?" she asked sleepily. Draco nodded, oddly silent. "Thank you for bringing me back," Hermione said, after a short period of silence. "I probably would still be out there." Draco didn't know how to respond to this, so he remained silent. But pretty soon he stood up.

"I'll be right back, I'm going downstairs to see if they have a potions room, don't go anywhere." He left the room carrying a small, leather bag. About five minutes later, he came back into the room, carrying a vile with some bubbling potion inside it.

"Here," he said, handing it to her. "I whipped up a Pepperup Potion. Oh, and it's best not if you ask what's in it until afterwards, because I added a few of my own ingredients." Hermione took the vile gingerly and sniffed it, pulling a face.

"It smells horrible," she scowled, but nevertheless, she took a deep breath and drank the whole thing in one gulp. Half a second later, she was coughing and sputtering, her ears steaming.

"What was in that stuff?" she choked out.

"Dragon's blood, vodka, belladonna, wormwood," Draco began. But he stopped when he spotted the look on Hermione's face. "Hey, you asked." Hermione pulled up the bed-sheets and patted the space beside her. He awkwardly sat down next to her, looking very shifty. Hermione looked at him thoughtfully, a small smile on his face. She had never seen him look so uncomfortable before, not even back when Aubrey was flirting with him.

"Thank you for the potion," she said. Draco shrugged.

"It was no problem."

"You know, I must be a psychic, because I had a feeling you were going to say that," she grinned.

"You did, did you?" Draco said, returning her smile back reluctantly. "Hermione," he began, looking very nervous. "I'm really sorry for reading your letter to Potter. I...just wasn't thinking at the time."

"That much," Hermione started, "was obvious."

"Hermione!" Draco moaned. "I'm trying to be nice here!"

"And bravo for you," she replied, applauding quickly. "I accept your apology."

"You do?" Draco asked, a confused look on his face.

"Of course, what are friends for?"

Draco's mouth went open, but he quickly closed it. Hermione inwardly smiled.

"So you'll be all right, won't you?" Draco asked, looking sheepish. Hermione smiled slightly.

"Yes, I'll be just fine." She looked down at her lap, her hands folded. "You...you know I didn't really mean what I wrote in that letter," Hermione continued quietly. "At least I did four weeks ago, but now...I feel horrible for writing it."

"Why didn't you send it?" Draco asked inquisitively.

"Why didn't I send it?" Hermione echoed. "Well, I did send back Harry a letter, but I never mentioned you."

"You love him don't you."

Hermione was startled by this question. Draco had a determined look on his faced, and she averted her gaze and stared at her bedpost.

"Yes I do."

"How much?" Draco asked, the determined look being replaced with a blank one.

"Very much."

"So much that you'd be willing to die for him?"

"Draco, I really don't see where this conversation is going," Hermione said promptly. Draco was about to protest, but he closed his mouth.

"Just curious, that's all," he replied, staring at the carpeting.

"You're a very curious person, Draco Malfoy," Hermione grinned. Draco shrugged.

"I suppose I am. There's no law against being curious. Or did I miss that memo?" Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Just as long as you don't go snooping around again. Do it again, and I'll find that velvet-covered book I've been seeing you write in lately and print everything out in the Daily Prophet."

"You can try," Draco replied. "I've got sixteen different locks on it, and once you get past those, you have to use a key, and that key, has about--."

"I believe that I get the basic idea. So your little black velvety book must be a diary."

"I beg to differ."

"A notebook?"

"It's a journal, Hermione. Honestly, a notebook? And I'd have thought that someone with your intelligence would be able to figure that one out," he retorted.

"Journal and diary mean just about the same thing."

"True, but journal is a more masculine word for a diary," Draco said thoughtfully.

"All right, whatever suits you best. I still say it's a diary."

"And I can't believe you're still arguing about this with me."

"I'm not arguing!" Hermione said promptly.

"Of course you are."

"I am not!"

"Then what are we doing now?"

"We're...having a disagreement, that's what," she replied, folding her arms.

"And that has to be the dumbest thing you've said all day." Draco gave her a simpering grin, and she glared.

"I guess you win this one then," Hermione sighed.

"I normally do," Draco assured her.

"Yeah, normally."

"Shut up."

"Make me!" Hermione sneered, in an annoying singsong voice. Draco lunged at her, and she cried out, covering her face with her arms, scrambling to the other side of the bed. But he caught her around the middle, despite her furious punches and kicking. She did get one good hit in, right on his nose, and he lost his balance, toppling to the floor and bringing her down with him. In a disarray of blankets and pillows, Draco felt his nose.

"Granger! What did you do that for?" he scowled, grimacing as he wrinkled his nose. "Hermione?" He shifted one of the pillows and Hermione's face appeared.

"Why'd you attack me?" she challenged.

"Well you told me to make you shut up," he declared, pointing this out as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it," Hermione grinned. But her expression changed, and she suddenly looked squeamish and slightly panicked.

"What's wrong?" Draco asked.

"Aside from the fact that you're on top of me, very heavy, and cutting of my air supply, everything's fabulous," Hermione said, in a strained voice. Draco glanced down and, just as she said, he was indeed on top of her. He felt her frantic heartbeat, which was beating against his own. But he made no move to get up. "Umm, Draco?" Hermione waved a hand in front of his face. "You can get up now." Their noses were almost touching, Draco's eyes sparked with amusement, Hermione's filled with apprehension.

"Yes, of course," he said, rolling off of her. Hermione sat up, pulling blankets away from herself.

"This has been an interesting day," she said, more to herself than to Draco.

"And might I point out that it's barely eight o'clock?" he responded, checking his watch and flashing it in her direction.

"Eight o'clock?" she echoed weakly.

"So you should have said, 'this has been an interesting morning'. Tsk-tsk Granger, you're forgetting your properness."

"I don't have a shiny designer watch on my wrist, thank you very much," she scowled.

"Oh no, this isn't a designer watch, it's from a French factory in Rome. I bought it there while I was on holiday."

"Fine. I don't have a fancy imported watch on my wrist," she said, correcting herself. Draco unbuckled his watch and slid it off, holding it up to the firelight. Then he took her wrist and snapped the watch on.

"Now you do," he grinned. Hermione gave him a piercing look, but she still held her wrist up, examining it carefully. The watch was just a couple of sizes bigger than her own watch. The leather on the inside was warm from where it had been resting against his skin. It had created sort of a mold of his wrist, due to the fact that he wore it nearly everyday. Funny, Hermione thought to herself. How a watch can be so captivating. She slid the watch off, handing it back to him.

"It's beautiful," Hermione told him, extending her hand out farther so he could take it. Draco looked at it thoughtfully for a minute.

"Keep it," he replied.

"What?"

"I said keep it."

"Why?"

"It's a gift, idiot."

"I have received a lot of gifts in my life before, but never one where an insult was thrown along with it."

"I want you to have it," was his short and stubborn reply. "Do I need to spell it out?"

"I'm not mental you know."

"You're doing a real good job of acting it then."

"And you're a real git."

"So much for getting you on my good side," he said, somewhat remorsefully.

"Good side?"

"Yeah, you're supposed to like me now," he teased. Hermione looked down at the watch, a thoughtful smile on her face.

"Of course I like you," she replied. "Even if you hadn't given me this, I still would have anyway."

"You would?" he asked slowly. Hermione looked uncomfortable.

"Well, yeah. I mean, it's not like I hate you or anything," she said, looking anywhere but his face.

"Of course. I mean, not that I knew you didn't hate me, or something like that, well, I don't know," he said, his thoughts getting mixed up and coming out jumbled. "What I guess I'm trying to say is that I don't hate you either."

"That's very nice of you."

"Write it down, I'm not nice too often." Surprisingly enough, Hermione burst out laughing.

"Not nice too often? I've gotten about five year's worth of niceness this morning then," she said, in-between giggles.

"Woah, five years worth? I need to cut back on my output of niceness. Besides, it's Halloween and I felt like giving that to you," Draco said, indicating the watch. Hermione put it back on.

"I don't have anything for you though," she muttered. But just then, her face lit up. Hermione scrambled out of bed. "I do have something for you." She walked over to her closet and pulled out a small black box. She brought it back over to the bed and sat down. Then she handed it to Draco. He took it carefully and examined the outside.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Well you have to open it," Hermione said sarcastically. Draco flipped the lid open, and the something inside reflected the light. It was a small, silver ring with a matching silvery chain. On the band of the ring, the initials H.G. had been carved.

"It's very--very..." Draco began, trying to find the exact word.

"Silver?"

"Shiny."

"Oh."

"It's nice," he said. "Although I think it's just a bit too small to fit. Are you sure you want to give it to me?"

"Of course I want to give it to you. Besides, I wasn't expecting the ring to fit. That's why I put the chain in. You can wear it around your neck, or wrist, or whatever," Hermione said, and turning very red indeed.

"Oh I see," he replied quietly. The room was silent again. Not a peaceful silence, more like an uneasy or nervous one. Draco could see Hermione grinding her teeth silently together, glancing around the room, not really taking the sight of it in.

"Well now that we've exchanged Halloween 'gifts', what do you propose we do?" Hermione said, breaking the silence. Draco scratched his nose, which was steadily accumulating a bluish-black bruise.

"There's a park or two nearby," he suggested weakly. "But do you really want to go anywhere, in the...erm, condition you're in?"

"Condition?" Hermione laughed dryly. "You're speaking to me as if I'm mortally wounded. Sure I'll go." She stood up and grabbed her cloak. "Unless you don't want to be seen anywhere with your, ahh, nose."

"My nose? What's wrong with my nose?"

"Nothing's wrong, it's very...red, from the...erm, weather," Hermione explained. Draco smiled slyly and touched his wand to his nose. The bruise disappeared.

"Maybe you hit your head just a tad too hard on the concrete, because you're a bit dim today."

"Me? Dim? I can be stupid at times too, you know, I'm not always top-of-the-class," she replied bitterly, pulling her gloves on.

"Stupid at times? You're stupid oftener than that," Draco pointed out. "And besides, you've always been top-of-the-class."

"And that's a good thing...right?"

"Well it depends on who you're talking to. If you ask me, it's a bit unfair being second best at all of the exams. If we're talking Neville Longbottom, that's a different story. He can't tell his broomstick from his--."

"You know, that walk sounds lovely right about now," Hermione said hurriedly, whipping the front door open.

"What? I was only going to say that he couldn't tell his broomstick from his wand."

"Funny. Very funny. Now let's go," Hermione replied firmly. Draco just grinned innocently at her and stepped out of the open door.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing is. Now move," she said, pushing him over so she could lock the door. Draco scowled. "Well, maybe there is something funny."

"Is it about Longbottom?"

"No," she replied harshly. "It's about these past three weeks."

"Ahh, so we're back on the 'what-I've-learned-so-far-as-an-Auror' track," Draco said. "What were you going to say?" he added quickly, as they walked down the many hallways to reach the lift.

"I was going to say that it's funny how we've been here for three weeks, and I still don't know more about you."

"Oh, I see. We're at the introducing ourselves thing again."

"Not necessarily introducing, we've been through that, but what are your passions? What is your plan for the future?" Hermione pressed the down button for the lift.

"Passions? That's easy. I have this thing for women in bikinis," he grinned. Hermione cast him a displeased look. "Oh, you mean as in books, or writing, or poetry."

"Of course that's what I meant."

"All right then. I do enjoy some of the books in the Restricted Section of the library," Draco began. Hermione raised both eyebrows.

"Restricted Section? You don't mean those kind of books..."

"Oh no Hermione. I'm talking about books such as Devoting Yourself to Voldemort in Five Easy Steps. Oh course I mean those kind of books. Books that we're not supposed to read yet have the advantage as Head Students. You've probably seen them before. I'm talking Theories of Transubstantial Transfiguration."

"Oh you mean those books," Hermione said quickly, her cheeks turning pink. "Yes, they are very interesting." Draco gave her an interesting look, one that looked like something between amusement and contemplation.

"Granger, Granger. What a naughty mind you have."

"Shut up," she replied angrily, walking past him and into the lift, which had just beeped at them. Draco stepped on, still looking interested.

"What I'm trying to say, is that I enjoy reading books in the Restricted Section in my spare time. I'm usually around there you know. I do believe you've seen me there, I've seen you quite often. Was that because of the books? Or was it because some amazingly good looking Slytherin--."

"Get stuffed, I go there for research, and research only. Maybe I check out a few for reading in the common room, but mainly it's for research."

"Whatever you say," Draco began, in a drawling voice. Draco and Hermione stepped off of the lift and crossed over to the front doors of the hotel. Then, they stepped outside. It was snowing slightly. Not enough to be a snowstorm, but just enough to give the area a look of enchantment. The sky overhead was a pale gray, the air filled with fog. While Hermione clutched her coat tighter around herself, Draco had his casually slung over his shoulder.

"What about your future plans? What will you do after Hogwarts?" she asked, her breath coming out in the form of water vapor, making her nose turn pink.

"This whole Auror thing has opened a new window of opportunity, but I'm not really sure what I want to do, really. What about you?"

"I've always wanted to be a librarian," Hermione replied, rubbing her hands together. "But I'd also like to be a professor."

"Really? What would you teach?"

"I'd like to teach Arithmancy or Ancient Runes. They're both fascinating subjects."

"Two of my favorites," Draco said.

"What, you don't like potions?" Hermione teased, poking him on the arm.

"Potions!" Draco laughed. "Just because I suck up to Snape doesn't mean I enjoy him or his classes," he pointed out.

"You seem very intrigued by his form of teaching. And with his potions. I see you talking to him, and he gives you some quite often." She looked up at him.

"Oh those potions," Draco muttered, and surprisingly, he looked a bit uncomfortable. "Those are just a special request of mine, nothing important."

"Special request?"

"It's nothing," Draco repeated. Hermione lowered her gaze.

"So whom do you converse with the most at Hogwarts? I see Crabbe and Goyle are still there (A/N: they failed), but you don't seem to pay much attention to them anymore," she said. Draco shrugged.

"Potter I suppose," he said, and Hermione snorted. "No I'm being honest. We have more run-ins than Filch and Peeves, and I do believe that's saying something."

"Can you think of one time that you've said something nice to him?" Hermione asked.

"Who, Filch or Peeves?"

"I'm talking about Harry, don't get stupid now," she scowled.

"Something nice to Potter?" Draco repeated, a blank look on his face.

"Yes."

"Of course I have," Draco replied, his face calm but his voice slightly shaky.

"You have?" said Hermione, in an astounded tone. "Give me an example."

"An example? Here's one. After that Quidditch game, in sixth year, I said 'Congratulations Potter' when he won. Does that count?" he added hopefully. Hermione shook her head firmly. Draco sighed. "Okay, so I've never said anything nice to Potter. Big deal."

"It is important that you two set aside these juvenile ways and become friends. What am I supposed to do when we get back to Hogwarts? He's not stupid you know."

"He's not? God I wish someone would have told me that sooner, I've spent nearly the past seven years believing he was."

"Draco please!" Hermione begged.

"Please what?"

"Talk to him."

"I talk to him."

"Can you talk to him without saying git, Potty, stupid, or pathetic in the same sentence?"

"You forgot mental," he added. Hermione glared at him. "Fine! I'll talk to him, if you'll leave me alone about it."

"I want you to apologize to him."

"What?" Draco cried out. "You've gone too far. I will not apologize to Potter for something I didn't do."

"You've tormented him, teased him, and manipulated him--."

"Enough, enough," Draco replied, with an elegant wave of his hand. "I'll...sort of tell him that it's okay, or something. I'll think of a way."

"Swear it?"

"Yes, Hermione," said Draco wearily.

"Swear it by your family name?"

"Do I have to?"

"Yes."

"Fine, I swear it by my family name."

"Excellent," Hermione beamed. "Let's shake on it." She held out her gloved hand, and Draco hesitantly took it in his own. Her hand was only a bit smaller than his, but with both of their slender fingers entwined, they looked just about the same size. He let go of her hand almost as quickly as he had touched it.

"Here's the park," Draco said abruptly, pointing across the street. The park looked like a snow globe, the peak of the trees capped with snow, the sidewalk slippery from the morning frost. They walked for a few minutes until they reached a park bench located next to the water fountain, which surprisingly hadn't frozen yet. Hermione sat down carefully, her hands in her lap. Draco sat down next to her, his arms folded. Draco and Hermione didn't speak; they just listened to the wind whistling through the trees. It blew Draco's hair into his face, and he brushed it back, irritated. Hermione studied the outline of his face carefully. The most captivating thing about him was his eyes, which were as clear as glass, yet shrouded in a thick gray mist at the same time. Thinking that to herself, it wasn't possible for glass to be clear, and to be misty gray. But it was possible for Draco. Beneath his eyes, dark blue circles stood out scarily against his pale skin, a sign he hadn't slept peacefully for days, maybe even weeks. Then, her gaze landed on his lips. Her heart did a funny flip flop as she laid eyes on them, remembering the night he had been drunk, and kissed her soundly in the snow. Of course she had punished him severely for that. But not even the harshest punishment could ever make her forget the way he had kissed her, even if he had been drunk. Her eyes wandered back up his face, and she saw a pair of cool gray eyes staring back at her.

"Yes?" Draco asked. He had turned to look at her, and had seen her staring intently at him. Hermione started and turned a brilliant shade of red.

"Ahh, nothing, nothing at all," said Hermione, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear. "Just thinking, as usual."

Draco stretched his legs out in front of himself and leaned back against the bench. "About what?"

"About the weather," Hermione replied quickly. Draco raised an eyebrow.

"The weather," he repeated. "It seems...cold. What's so enthralling about it?"

"It's beautiful," scowled Hermione, crossing her arms and holding her chin high. Draco looked like he was about to laugh, but he didn't.

"It's okay," said Draco, waving his hand dismissively. "It's cold, but it's okay."

"You have so much enthusiasm in you today, Draco," Hermione giggled, glancing at his stern face. Draco turned to look at her, amusement in his eyes.

"Oh really? I hadn't noticed." Hermione faced him too, her arm hanging off the back of the bench.

"Tsk tsk, such a grumbler."

"I am not a grumbler," Draco replied carefully, flicking an imaginary piece of lint off of his black cashmere sweater. "I am a certified git."

"Certified git indeed," growled Hermione, crossing her arms.

"I've even got a shiny plaque on my wall, you should come see it sometime!" he added.

"Is that an invitation to your house?"

"And I beg to differ that it is a manor. And it could be an invitation, if I wanted it to be."

"You're crazy."

"Am not."

"You are!"

"Am not."

"Yes, you are."

"Is this conversation going anywhere?"

"Yes, you are--oh, no, I guess it isn't." Hermione paused, resting her wrist against her temple. "Who's that?" Draco turned to look in the direction she had indicated. There was a tall man standing on the other side of the park in a long cloak, and he was watching Hermione and Draco carefully.

"I don't know," Draco said quietly. "Looks like a curious fellow, doesn't he?"

"Somebody's with him," Hermione said abruptly, as another figure emerged behind a large cluster of trees. Another after that followed.

"Perhaps it's a party group. Those happen quite often you know. And they'll be striding over here in a minutes time, shooing us off for invading their reserved property."

"They're leaving," Hermione said, after a moment. The cloaked figures all turned and left, walking hurriedly out of the park. Draco shrugged.

"How do Potter and Weasel put up with you all the time? All this detective work, suspiciousness."

"Well maybe it comes from having a near-death experience each year. You get used to it."