The Reason

Hermione gathered her things for the shower, mumbling under her breath. Why do I feel like I've been visited by a Dementor? He didn't even look at me. He didn't insult me. He was totally stoic, and yet... something's changed between us, I can feel it. Wish I knew what it was.

She clutched her things to her chest and stepped out into the hallway. Her shoulder collided with his chest as she was shutting her door, and he was knocked to the floor. Her cheeks turned bright pink.

"Damn, Granger," he said, clambering to his feet. "Are you bloody well trying to kill me?" He brushed off his shirt, and she rolled her eyes.

"Am I that transparent?" she asked in her best smart-aleck voice. He fought off the urge to grin.

"Well?"

"Well what?" she asked, painfully aware of his nearness. When did his eyes turn into melted silver?

"A civilized person would apologize for almost giving me a concussion," he drawled smoothly, crossing his arms over his chest. I wish he wouldn't do that; he looks too sexy when he does.

"Well, as I recall, haven't you said before that Mudbloods aren't civilized? That should be a sufficient excuse for me, I should think. Besides, a concussion might improve things a bit for you. Jolt some sense into you." He watched with amusement as she traipsed into the bathroom and slammed the door, then went into his room.

He would wait until after dinner to talk to her. He nodded to himself. I'm going to need that much time to prepare myself. How do I go about talking to her, and not fight with her? He sat on his bed and listened as she turned off the taps, then plodded back down the hallway to her room. He closed his eyes - he could smell her shampoo from here if he concentrated hard enough.

He racked his brains, trying to figure out how he was going to tell her what he was feeling. He was just starting to get desperate when some random lines popped into his head. He grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment, and began scribbling madly. When he had finished, he looked it over and felt butterflies invading his stomach. Should he give it to her, or shouldn't he? He folded the parchment up and moved to stand in front of her bedroom door. He could hear the soft music that she liked so much, and he slipped the parchment under the crack of the door.

The instant it was out of his hands, he wished he could take it back.

He took a deep breath, then went back into his room and shut the door. Hermione was toweling her hair dry, absentmindedly humming along with the music. She pulled on a pair of jeans and blushed at herself. They were low enough that they showed the curve of her hips and her navel. She pulled on her favorite shirt - a cornflower blue long-sleeved shirt that hugged her just right in all of the right places. She looked herself over in the mirror, and felt her face burning. Why was she choosing revealing clothing, when the only boy around was him?

She shrugged to herself, then began brushing her hair. She pulled the brush gently through her tangled locks, enjoying the feel of the bristles on her scalp. She smiled as she closed her eyes and remembered how Harry had brushed her hair for her once during the summer. Would Draco be as gentle as Harry was? Her eyes flew open, and she became angry with herself. Why was she thinking about him? She stood and moved to the mirror again, pulling her hair up into a loose ponytail. She stared at her reflection and sighed.

It's no wonder I don't have a boyfriend. Look at me. She turned away from the mirror and started to move towards the desk when her eyes fell on a note being slipped under her door. Her heart raced. She opened her door and peered out, but the hallway was empty. She sat down on her bed and unfolded it slowly.

Granger,

There's something I need to talk to you about. Wondering if you'll meet me after dinner in the sitting room, if you aren't too angry with me.

DM

She blinked in surprise. What could possibly be so important for him to talk about that he'd actually ask, and not demand for her to be there? And why would he care if she was angry with him? She was suddenly glad that she'd chosen the outfit she had, although she didn't know how she was going to make it through dinner with him present. Already a nervous flutter had erupted in her stomach.

She found herself counting down the minutes until dinner, much to her own dismay. She flopped down on the bed and began twirling a strand of loose hair between her fingers, then took her ponytail down. She examined herself in the mirror for the hundredth time since she'd gotten his note, and found herself laughing at her own nervousness. What did she have to be nervous about? After all, it was just Malfoy, wasn't it? So why was it that every time she thought about him, her heart jumped into her throat?

She groaned in frustration and moved towards the desk. Homework will distract me and take my mind off of him. Homework is my salvation. I can't think of him for another second, or I'll drive myself insane. She sat down at the desk and opened her Charms book, intent on beginning her homework. She had just gotten into the first chapter she had to work on when someone knocked on her door. Without looking up from her book, she called for the person to come in.

"Hermione," she looked up at Narcissa's strained voice, and stood immediately.

"What's wrong?"

"I've just received word from Dumbledore, and they think they may have found a place where the Death Eaters have been hiding. I'm going to have to leave you and Draco alone here for a while." Hermione's eyes widened.

"Why?" she asked, feeling the knot of panic rise in her stomach.

"Dumbledore needs me to unlock the charms that guard the Manor. He needs to know all of the spells and enchantments, and they need to be broken. The only problem is that when they were cast, Lucius made sure that only a Malfoy could remove them. I have to go."

"B-But you can't!" Hermione wailed, feeling desperation setting in around her. Not only was she going to be alone in the house with Draco, she was losing Narcissa. She'd grown fond of Narcissa; it was nice to have a sort of surrogate mother around. Besides that, she felt that it was Narcissa who maintained the fragile peace in the house in tact.

"Now, now," Narcissa soothed, wrapping Hermione in a motherly embrace. "I'll be fine, I'm sure. Dumbledore will do everything in his power to keep me safe. And don't worry about your own welfare. You know that Harry would gladly give his life for you before telling anyone where you are."

"How do you know that?" Hermione sniffled, looking up at her. Narcissa grinned, and she knew immediately where Draco had gotten his charming smile.

"I've always thought Harry was a fine boy," she admitted, surprising Hermione. "He's very brave, isn't he?"

"Sometimes he's not brave, just stubborn," Hermione pouted. Narcissa laughed.

"Well, in any case, I know that he has a fierce loyalty to you and the Weasley boy. You're well protected."

"You're right," Hermione smiled, backing away slightly from Narcissa. "Harry is the best friend I could possibly have."

"I know this seems like an odd question, Hermione," Narcissa said, glancing down briefly. "But I've been meaning to ask, and as we all might be going home after tonight, I'm going to go ahead and ask now."

"Okay," Hermione said, raising an eyebrow.

"What's going on between you and my son?" Hermione blinked at the directness of the question, then sat down heavily on the edge of her bed.

"Nothing," she said quietly. Narcissa eyed her thoughtfully for a moment.

"I think there's much more going on than either one of you would ever admit to anyone," she said, moving forward to place a reassuring hand on Hermione's slumped shoulder.

"I can't... I can't have anything with him," Hermione sputtered. "He and Harry are enemies, and it would be terribly disloyal to Harry."

"I think you're underestimating your friend, Hermione. Harry is an intelligent young man, and I hardly think that he'd stop talking to you just because you've developed feelings for Draco."

"But I didn't say I-"

"You don't have to." Narcissa gave her a knowing smile, then headed towards the door. "Just remember that my son isn't perfect by any means. He's been dominated for far too long by his father, and I'm sure he's going to have to fight those demons before anything else happens - but I'm also sure that his feelings towards you aren't what they were when you both came here." With that, she was gone.

Hermione was floundering. She didn't know what to do or who to turn to. If she admitted that she had feelings for Draco, it would contradict her perception of the world. It just wouldn't make sense to anyone - after all, it didn't even make sense to her. She stood and moved to the window, completely forgetting about dinner. She stayed there for a long time, thinking. She thought about Harry and Ron, and how they'd all risked their lives for each other so many times. She thought of this house - Harry's house - and how this could very well be her last night here. A tiny thrill went through her at the possibility of being back at Hogwarts tomorrow. When she finally turned from the window, she looked at the alarm clock that sat next to the bed, and smiled. Leave it to Harry.

Eight o'clock was rapidly approaching, and the nearer it got, the more nervous she became. She began chewing on her thumbnail as she sat down at the desk. She crossed her legs and bounced them nervously. What was he going to say to her? And what should she say? Should she tell him how she felt, or just put up a wall to block herself from his barbs? She watched as the time on the clock slowly ticked by, wishing the hands would move faster. When it was finally five minutes until eight, she took a deep breath, and headed downstairs.

**

Draco had spent most of his time in his room second-guessing himself. Had he done the right thing? Was he about to do the right thing? A million little doorways opened in his head. His mother had already told him she was leaving. While he was upset to see her go, he thought it might be a blessing in disguise. If Granger was going to turn him down and crush his ego, he'd rather she did it when there was no one around to witness it.

He paced the floor nervously, running a shaking hand through his hair. He chewed on his bottom lip, then chuckled softly when he caught himself doing it. I've been watching her too much. I've picked up her nervous habits. He exhaled long and slow, trying in vain to calm his rapidly beating heart. What had come over him? He hadn't even been this nervous the first time he'd slept with a girl, so why did he feel as though he had a mouthful of cotton?

He swore under his breath, then went to examine his reflection in the mirror. He'd left his hair down because of her. He ran his fingers through it, trying to do anything that would settle his discombobulated nerves. He smoothed out the wrinkles in his t-shirt and inspected his pants for any traces of lint. His mind wandered to her without his realizing it, and he wondered what she'd be wearing. Would she dress up and take as much care with her appearance for him, as he was doing for her? He rolled his eyes and let out a low growl of frustration.

He was obsessed. He knew it. He was in way over his head, and he felt panicked. What the hell did he think he was doing? He was finding it hard to breathe without remembering the smell of her perfume, or the wafting scent of her shampoo. Was it possible to drown above water? He wondered. He couldn't close his eyes without seeing images of her - her sitting on her bed, laughing with Potter; her drinking the fire whiskey with him; her laughing as they played truth or dare; the look she got on her face just before he kissed her. His stomach jumped around nervously.

It was time. He ran his fingers through his hair one last time, then headed down the stairs.

**

Hermione sat down on the couch. She crossed and uncrossed her legs. She didn't want to be sitting with her back to him when he finally came down, so she stood and moved to the corner of the room. From her position, she'd be able to see him before he saw her. She twiddled her thumbs nervously, feeling as though the anticipation might make her physically ill. When she heard footsteps, she tensed.

She didn't hear his sharp intake of breath as his eyes fell on her, and stepped forward hesitantly. He swallowed hard, trying to concentrate on what he wanted to say to her. She was making it difficult, to say the least. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and he could see a patch of exposed skin around her navel. He had to bite down on his tongue when he saw the outline of her hips visible just above the waist of her jeans. He forced his expression to remain normal, and nodded curtly at her.

She faltered before nodding back at him. Why had she thought that this meeting was going to be any different from any of the other times he'd met with her and totally degraded her? She folded her arms across her chest and stuck a hip out, ignoring the strange look that ran through his eyes at her gesture. He sat down on the couch and patted the cushion beside him. She stood perfectly still and arched an eyebrow at him.

"Well?"

"Well what?" she asked, her irritation growing. She couldn't believe she'd actually fallen for this dirty trick and met him.

"Aren't you going to sit down?"

"A civilized person would ask me to sit down, not bark orders at me," she said, echoing his words from earlier. He flinched slightly.

"Alright then. Would you please sit down?" She blinked in surprise, then narrowed her eyes as she lowered herself onto the floor right where she'd been standing. She crossed her legs Indian-style and rested her elbows on her knees.

"I'm here," she said. Against my better judgement, but here I am, anyway. "And I'm sitting down. What did you want?"

"There are some things that I need to say to you before we get back to Hogwarts," he started, staring down at his hands.

"Okay," she said hesitantly. Am I imagining things, or does Draco Malfoy actually look nervous?

"I wanted to start by apologizing to you," he said, his cheeks turning red. Her mouth dropped open.

"Apologize to me? For what?"

"For being so nasty to you for so long. I've been thinking about it a lot lately, and I'm starting to realize that I only did it because my father told me to." Her heart nearly stopped beating when he lifted his eyes to meet hers, and she struggled to catch her breath. How was it that his eyes always seemed to be looking straight through her?

"Oh," she whispered, not finding the proper words. She finally nodded. "Alright. Apology accepted." His eyes widened, and he gaped at her.

"You're going to forgive me, just like that?" He asked incredulously. Her cheeks turned pink, and she looked down at her feet before nodding.

"Life is too short to hold grudges," she said, trying to sound nonchalant. Besides, when we get back to Hogwarts, you'll probably forget all about this conversation and just go right back to hating me and being a complete prat. It's all you know how to do.

"I'm sorry I snapped at you in front of Potter like that, too," he said, feeling humbled by her forgiveness. She didn't look up; she only nodded.

"It's okay. I understand why you did it." His heart began to pound wildly. Did she already know what he was going to tell her?

"And why do you think I did it?" he asked, not bothering to hide the curiosity in his voice.

"You hate me and Harry. It's only natural that you'd take a shot at us whenever you got a chance." He flooded with disappointment.

"That's not why," he said, catching her eye.

"It's not?" She was confused now. What other motivation could he have?

"No. I did it because," he took a steadying breath. "Because I was jealous." She stared at him, positive she'd heard him wrong. She shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I was just hallucinating. What did you say?" A shadow of a smile tugged at his lips.

"I was jealous."

"Of what?" she asked disbelievingly.

"Of whom, I think you mean."

"Fine, then. Of whom?"

"Potter."

"Oh." He could see the confusion still etched on her face, and wanted to laugh. She's just as proud as I am, he thought suddenly. She doesn't want to admit that she's confused, just like I didn't want to admit I was falling for a muggle-born witch. Is it possible to have come this far from where we began in such a short time?

"Did you hear what I said?" he asked delicately. She turned her confused coffee-colored eyes to him, and he felt his pulse race.

"Of course I heard, I'm not deaf!" she snapped half-heartedly. He raised his eyebrows at her. She has so much spirit- how was I able to fight this for so long? "But I'm not going to pretend to know why you felt that way."

"He was close to you, and I wasn't," he said simply. Her eyes widened, but she didn't look away from him. She opened her mouth as though she was going to say something, then thought better of it and closed her mouth again. "You let him kiss you."

"So?" She bristled. "I let you kiss me, too."

"I know," he admitted, leaning back against the couch. "But I didn't like it when I saw him touching you like that."

"Why would you even care?" she puzzled, frowning. "You hate me, remember?"

"If you'd listen to me, Granger," he said, annoyed. "You'd know that I'm trying to tell you that I don't hate you anymore."

"Oh," she said, too surprised to be upset at his tone. "Well, that's nice to know. Maybe now we can stop throwing insults in the halls and just ignore each other." He blinked in surprise.

"I can't ignore you," he said, shaking his head.

"Why not?" she frowned.

"Hermione, how do you think I'm going to be able to ignore you after everything we've been through together here?"

"Just like you always-" her voice died, and her hands began to tremble. She stared at him.

"What?"

"You just said my name," she pointed out breathlessly. Her name had sounded foreign on his lips, but it had been a sweet sound all the same. He turned scarlet.

"And? I'm not stupid, I do know your name."

"I was just- surprised, that's all."

"Look," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I wanted to talk to you, not fight with you. I asked you to come down here so I could tell you that I-" he hesitated. "I like you." He was startled when she burst into giggles.

"Okay," she gasped between giggles. "Where are the cameras? Do you have some of your friends here, waiting to laugh at my reaction, or something?"

"No," he said quietly, trying to hide his wounded pride. He'd just told her how he felt, and she'd laughed at him. "I mean it. I like you."

"Y-you do?" she stuttered, her giggles dying when she saw the embarrassed look on his face. "Why?"

"We're more alike than you'd imagine," he said, almost shyly. Not to mention that everytime I close my eyes, I see you. I smell your perfume from yards away. I even dream about holding you that night as we danced.

"Are you saying you want to be friends?" He looked up at her.

"No." Her face fell, and she nodded. "I want to be more." Her head snapped up.

"What about your friends? My friends?" she squeaked. His head began to reel. She hadn't said she didn't like him - could that mean she did?

"My friends won't say anything if they want to remain my friends. And your friends will understand, if they care enough about you." He watched as she considered it, and felt his bravado returning. "Does that mean you want more from me as well?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I don't know- this is all so complicated," she fretted, wringing her hands.

"It's not complicated at all. Either you do, or you don't."

"I - I have to think about it. Can I have some time to think about it?"

"We don't have time, Granger. Tonight could very well be our last night here, remember?"

"How about giving me at least an hour to think it over?" she begged. "It's a lot to think about, and it's a big decision for both of us."

"Okay," he nodded, standing. "I'll leave you alone for an hour." He turned and headed upstairs, leaving her to stare after him.