Fidelitas

~ Chapter Two ~

The last Saturday of September, Hermione sat at her usual out of the way table in the library, running over her Herbology assignment, when a tap on her shoulder made her jump.

"Geez Draco, I should get you a little bell to wear around your neck. I nearly spilled my ink."

He grinned at her, unrepentant.

"Sorry," he lied, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"Yeah, whatever. Let's see what you've got. I added little bits to the ends of my sections so they'd lead into yours. And I figure that an introduction and conclusion could just sort of be a summary of the main points of the essay. Sound good?"

"Sure, sounds fine," agreed Draco. He handed her the scroll with his new essay. After a watching her read for a few moments he spoke again. "Look, I wanted to apologize for making you mad last week. It was stupid argument, and I didn't think."

Hermione looked up at him from the parchment, surprised and suspicious. "You're apologizing? Draco Malfoy's apologizing? Am I hearing things?" A thought came to her. "Or do you just want me to copy out the final essay?"

"No, really. I'm sorry. I wasn't trying to make you mad, and when I thought about it, I realized that what I said was stupid," Draco replied, realizing as he spoke that what he said was true. "I mean, I've never met a Muggle, really, so why should I care about them. And I guess that maybe I was a little extreme about the whole no Muggles thing. I thought about what you said, and it kinda made sense. I was just mad, okay?"

Hermione kept staring at him until Draco started feeling uncomfortable. Finally, she spoke.

"I'm really not quite sure what to think here, Malfoy. It's a bit of a 180 from what you're usually saying is all. What about all that 'Death to Muggles' stuff from last year? Cuz I thought you were pretty serious about that?"

"Well, it's not like I really thought about it. And my father says that if people cared less about Muggles, we could deal with things better. He figures that if we completely cut ourselves off from the Muggle world, we would be better for it."

"So from that you figured that it was okay to kill Muggles?"

"Look, I said I didn't really think about it, okay?"

Hermione snorted. "Obviously. Too busy sucking up to Papa, huh?"

"Leave my father out of this, Granger!"

"Fine. I won't insult the Great Lucius Malfoy. Too easy of a target."

Draco glared. "Let's just get this assignment sorted out. Obviously it was a mistake to try and talk sensibly. I should never have bothered."

"Fine."

Hermione went back to reading the essay Draco had given her, and Draco started making lists of the important points he thought should be in the introduction and conclusion. When she finally looked up again, he tried to keep his voice level.

"All right. I've listed the points I think should be in the lead in and summary. So why don't we come up with a way of tying them together. And since I'm pretty much done the rest of my work for the weekend, I'll copy out the final product. Is that acceptable?"

Hermione nodded, and for nearly twenty minutes the two worked in near harmony as they wrapped up the final details of their paper. As they worked through the layout of the essay, Draco stole occasional glances at Hermione. She'd gathered her hair into a bun and stuck a quill that had lost most of its feather through it. He found himself staring at her neck as she wrote out the outline they'd agreed upon. It seemed that now that he wasn't fully concentrated on hating her, he was starting to notice things he'd never been willing to see before. When she looked up suddenly, Draco shook his head and flushed slightly.

"So, I think we've got it all laid out," she said. "If you have any problems sorting it out, I should be here for a couple hours this evening and most of tomorrow. Or I suppose you can come find me at meal time."

"Yeah, if I want Potty or the Weasel to punch me out," he pointed out.

"Why on earth do you call Ron that?" she asked angrily. "It's not like he's ever done anything to you. I mean, Harry I can understand, he's pretty much your antithesis, but you've been nasty to Ron since before you even met him, really."

"So?" he asked. "He's a Weasley. That whole family's loopy. My father calls them an insult to wizarding."

"Good grief! Don't you ever have an original thought?" Hermione snapped. Draco stared at her blankly as she rushed on. "It seems like every second sentence in your argument is prefaced with 'my father says' or 'according to my father' or some such garbage. If I worshipped my father as much as you do yours they'd be sending me to a psychologist."

Hermione stood and gathered her books as he watched her, speechless.

"Come on, Draco, think for yourself for once. Do you actually believe anything you're saying, have you even thought it through? Or do you just accept it as the truth because," she said mockingly, "your father says ?"

With that remark, she turned on her heel and left the alcove, leaving Draco alone with a pile of parchment and a whirl of confusing thoughts.

* * * * * * *

While Draco spent the next several days writing the final essay and trying ignore what Hermione had said, it seemed the professors' experiment was working on the rest of the student body. As the majority of the fifth year Slytherins and Gryffindors began to adopt the attitude of acceptance, the lower years followed suit. It was actually being commented upon by Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws when they shared classes with the two houses. As the experiment and its outcome were explained, the other two houses began to adjust their attitudes as well. Few of the students in the potions class were upset when Snape put off administering the normalizing potions on the excuse that there were still some pairings that had not been resolved. Most had slipped into acceptance of their partners, even occasional friendships, over the weeks of the fall term. By the time the Halloween was approaching, there was greater harmony in the school than had been felt for nearly two decades. With a few notable exceptions.

* * * * * * *

"Well, Minerva, it's looking as though we have a few lost causes in our midst." Snape was looking sadly over the great hall at dinner one evening in mid October.

"Don't beat yourself up, Severus," she admonished. "There are some minds where simple magic is not enough. It is perhaps fair to say that Goyle and Crabbe were lost to us before they even came here. Living in those families, it's a wonder they have managed to keep their intentions hidden so far."

He sighed. "I know, those two I understand. And also young Collier in second year. But it's Malfoy who frustrates me. Perhaps it was wrong to let them proceed with the incorrect potion. I will only blame myself if that one joins his father. I've tried so hard to pull him away."

"Yes, Severus, I understand. But there was nothing that could be done. The Fidelitas is based on the same principles of bonds and trust, simply magnified. I had so hoped that the Granger girl could break down some of Malfoy's barriers and make him see what the others are realizing. The boy is not stupid, we know this. And I understand that they have been fighting spectacularly for the past several weeks. Perhaps she's getting somewhere."

"Well, I have been informed that he is spending less and less time with Crabbe and Goyle. Perhaps that is a positive sign. I only hope that there will be some break through soon. I can't keep coming up with excuses for why their potion's pairing drags on. Soon I'll have to let them move on, or they will complain to Dumbledore. Or worse, Malfoy will speak with his father."

"We can only hope that something will happen soon. If Malfoy has refrained from going to his father so far, perhaps there is a distance growing there. Which can only be positive. We have accomplished much so far, we must keep up hope."

* * * * * * *

Later that evening, Draco was curled up in a chair in the Slytherin common room, having turned down Crabbe and Goyle's offer to go make fun of the Hufflepuff's Quidditch practice. He really wasn't in the mood for spending time with those two. Since he'd had his last fight with Hermione, he had been spending a lot of his time on his own, trying to come up with defenses against her accusations. Trying, and failing.

They'd met one more time to work on their paper, and there had been surprisingly little said. She read over what he'd written out and approved it. He had been so furious over their last conversation that he hadn't wanted to talk, and she had rushed away as soon as they had agreed that he would present the paper to Snape. He had supposed that that was the end of his working with Hermione, but Snape seemed to have a more twisted sense of humor than anyone had realized. He had not only refused to administer the normalizing potion but also assigned another essay to be done by the student pairings. Draco nearly choked when the new work was announced. He was getting more and more uncomfortable working with Hermione in class, with the awkward silences as they brewed potions side by side. He was starting to realize as they worked together that she was actually an interesting and intelligent girl, and this wasn't helping his attempts the dismiss their debates.

The more he thought about what she had said about his father, the more he realized how right she had been. And that lead to questions about what he truly believed, which were unsettling at a time when it seemed that fewer and fewer of his fellow Slytherins shared his father's opinions. The only two he knew of were Crabbe and Goyle, and trying to discuss the issues with them was akin to banging his head against a wall. They believed what they were told so unquestioningly that it simply made Draco doubt his own convictions even more. What he really wanted was someone reasonable and intelligent to talk to about the whole issue. And the worst part of that was the only person who came to mind was Hermione Granger.

* * * * * * *

Hermione was sitting at lunch a few days after Snape had assigned their new Potion's torture, as Ron called it, when Draco walked over to where she was sitting. Ron glared as Draco approached.

"What does that creep want?" he growled.

"Probably to talk to me about out homework, Ron. He is my partner," pointed out Hermione.

"Well, can't you talk about it in class?"

"We don't have another class until next Monday, and we have to get started," she said, reasonably.

"Fine, whatever. But I don't like him coming to our table."

"Why not, Ron?" asked his sister. "It's not like you're getting all grumpy when Regina comes over to hang out."

Ginny and Hermione grinned at each other as Ron's ears turned scarlet.

"That's different," he said defensively, "Regina's nice. Malfoy's a jerk, and unlike most of the Slytherins, I don't see him turning out to be human."

"I have to agree with Ron," Hermione told Ginny. "Malfoy's going to end up following his father, turning into a Death Eater without even thinking about it. But I still don't want you punching him out, okay Ron?"

"Why Granger," Draco's mocking voice came from over her shoulder, "Rising to my defense. How nice."

She turned around slowly. "What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked coldly.

"I just wanted to know if tonight was a good time to get together to discuss our new assignment."

"Yeah, tonight's fine. Seven, at the library?"

"Sounds good. But maybe you should leave the bodyguard at home, huh?"

Draco walked off before she could respond. He had heard the end of her conversation and was shaking with fury and hurt that she could think of him that way. Well, if she thought he was a mindless pawn of his father's, he was going to prove her wrong.

* * * * * * *

When Hermione arrived at the library that evening, Draco was waiting outside the doors. As she moved past him to enter, he grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"I was wondering if we could do this somewhere else tonight," he asked. "I'm getting a little sick of getting glared at for fighting in there."

"That's assuming we're going to fight, Malfoy," she pointed out.

"Well, with us it's pretty much expected, isn't it, Hermione?"

She looked at him with confusion, as they both realized he'd used her first name. After a moment, she nodded and turned away from the library doors.

"Okay, Malfoy, where do you want to go?"

"I was thinking we could try and see if one of the classrooms near the Great Hall were open. They sometimes are, since the teachers don't leave anything important in there."

"Sounds fine by me," Hermione said. "Lead the way."

As they walked together in silence, Draco tried to come up with a way of starting the conversation he wanted to have. He couldn't seem to come up with any lead in that didn't sound argumentative or mean. By the time they reached the main hallway and had started testing door knobs, he'd pretty much given up on finding a way of saying what he wanted. Fortunately, Hermione's impatience got the better of her before he could make a fool of himself.

"So Malfoy, I'm figuring there was probably another reason you wanted to come work here rather than the library. D'you plan on keeping me in suspense all night, or are you going to let me in on the secret?"

As Hermione spoke, the door knob under Draco's hand turned. Silently, he stood back and motioned Hermione into the room. As she entered, Hermione muttered the spell to illuminate the lanterns hanging from the ceiling, filling the dusty room with an amber glow. Following her inside, Draco shut the door behind him and put his book bag on the nearest desk. He took a deep breath, still not entirely sure where to start.

"Okay, Hermione, yes, I did want to talk to you away from the library for reasons other than school. I'm not quite sure how to say this, so please be patient."

She nodded at his pleading look. Putting her books down, she perched on the desk in front of him.

"All right. You remember that fight we had the other week where you accused me of not thinking for myself?"

Hermione nodded again, not wanting to interrupt him.

"So I've been thinking about what you said. A lot. Pretty much all the time. I guess I've come to the conclusion that you're right, and that I have been pretty much a parrot for what my father says. I spend so much time with people like Goyle and Crabbe, people who've never thought about anything more complicated than what to eat at dinner, and so I never really thought about any of those things you got mad at me about. I just want you to know that what you said got through to me. And now I really need someone to talk to about a lot of things I have questions about. And I was hoping that I could talk to you."

He stopped and took a deep breath. He'd been looking at the floor while he spoke, and when Hermione didn't respond after a few seconds, he looked up at her face. She was smiling. Not smirking or even grinning, just smiling. Draco stared at her in confusion. Finally, she spoke.

"Well, this was not was I expected to hear. This is great. I mean, I'm assuming that it doesn't mean you've decided to ask if you can switch houses and join Gryffindor or anything. But wow, this is really not what I expected."

Draco tilted his head back and looked at the ceiling, relieved. He'd been afraid she was going to laugh in his face or call him some horrible names. He wasn't quite sure what her reaction could be called, but it was positive.

"So, Malfoy," Hermione continued, "what do you want to talk about? Is there some issue in particular, or do you just want someone to listen to you ramble? Because maybe rambling should be done on some night when we don't have mountains of school work."

"I don't think there's anything in particular, right now," he admitted. "Everything's kinda jumbled up in my head right now. I don't know what I think about anything. I mean, if you take away all the stuff my father taught me about life, I really don't have much of a basis for believing anything. I don't know where I stand. I guess I know that I don't think that killing people and hurting people is right. And I'm starting to think that I really don't want to be a Death Eater. But I'm not sure. I mean, what if they win? They'll kill anyone who didn't fight on their side. And I really, really don't want to die."

"Draco, they aren't going to win," Hermione said firmly. "I'm surprised you haven't figured that one out yet. No one's going to let You Know Who get away with this. Dumbledore, and Harry, and Sirius, and so many other people, are going to stop him, just like last time. Except this time he's never coming back, and people like your father are going to end up in Azkaban. And you know that's not where you want to be, right?"

"Well, yeah, obviously. But I've always been taught that you figure out which side's stronger, and you pick them. And Father always said that it's people like him that have the power. Not the Weasleys of the world. And I'm not parroting what he says here. It's true. My father has power, and respect, and I want that too."

"Respect," scoffed Hermione. "Try fear. And only some people feel even that. You don't understand what respect is, anyway. It's something that has to be earned, by doing and saying things that people admire. Not by following who ever is most powerful at the moment and then switching sides when it looks bad for you. Your family isn't respected. Everyone knows that your dad was a Death Eater and then pretended to switch back so he wouldn't go to Azkaban. And if you understood anything, you'd realize that the only reason that the people who do 'respect' him do so because they're scared."

"But he is able to make people do things, like getting Dumbledore suspended that time."

"Yeah, and that was pure blackmail, wasn't it? And generally as more people start to realize that your father is on Voldemort's side, the 'respect' will start to disappear, since no one wants to be manipulated by a Death Eater. Only the incredibly blind and stupid, like Minister Fudge, still listen to your dad. Most people, and these are powerful people though you might not have figured it out yet, know your father for what he is, and are working to pull him down."

"But..."

"Look, Draco, we can argue this point all night. I have homework to do. If you want to keep talking about things like this, why don't we do it this weekend, when I'm not trying to finish three different projects, okay? You may be having a crisis of faith, but it's not going to get me behind in my school work."

Draco smiled at her remark as she hopped of the desk, grabbed her books, and headed for the door.

"Hermione," he called.

She turned with her hand on the door knob. "Yes?"

"After lunch on Saturday then? We can talk about the Potions work and then maybe just, well, talk?"

"Sure, Draco. Saturday." And she hurried out of the room.

Draco sat on the desk beside his book bag. Saturday. Saturday he could talk with Hermione. Maybe even have a debate about some point or other. He had to think of somewhere to take her. If they were going to have a proper chat, they should go somewhere better than an empty classroom. Maybe if the weather was nice they could go out on the grounds. Like a picnic. He pictured Hermione sitting on a blanket in the sun, the wind lifting her hair, and then shook his head with surprise at the image. Although it was a nice thought. Even if she was there for the homework and serious conversation, nothing said he couldn't look. Mmm... he was looking forward to Saturday.

* * * * * * *

As Hermione tried to concentrate on her Arithmancy homework, her mind kept slipping back to her bizarre conversation with Draco. She still wasn't quite sure what was going on with him, or what she felt about him suddenly acting so differently. It was very disturbing, managing to have if not a civil conversation at least a reasonable debate with someone she'd always thought of as a complete blockhead.

"Hey Hermione, that quill done something to offend you?" Ginny Weasley's voice broke into Hermione's thoughts.

"What? No, why?" asked Hermione.

"Well, the old 'if looks could kill' y'know. You were glaring at it as though it had said something rude."

"No, just thinking."

"Hmmm... horrible thought, huh? You met with Draco earlier didn't you?"

"Yeah," Hermione admitted. "And it was weird, Gin. He was definitely acting in a non-Draco like manner. It threw me a bit."

"So what was he doing, exactly?" her friend asked. "I figured the day Draco stopped acting like a superior snot, the sky would turn pink."

"Well, you might want to take a peek out the window, because he was being reasonably friendly, and he actually admitted that perhaps he doesn't want to end up like his father. It was really weird," Hermione admitted.

"Maybe someone's bewitched him," Ginny said.

"Yeah, or maybe he grew a spine. Or a brain. Whichever one it was that it took for him to form an original thought. And he wants to spend time with me on Saturday. To talk, he said."

"To talk?" Ginny laughed. "Boys don't want 'to talk.' Are you sure you haven't charmed him with your witchy good looks?"

Hermione threw her quill at the other girl. "Get real, Gin. The day that Draco notices someone else's looks is the day I go skinny dipping in the lake."

"I'll hold you to that one," her friend threatened. "I'd be willing to bet that Draco's got just a weency little crush on you. I knew all this inter-house friendship was going to make things interesting."

"Ew, Ew, Ew," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "Can I point out how much I don't want Draco to have a crush on me? I'm still adjusting the civil conversation part."

"Oh I don't know, he's pretty cute, you have to admit. And if he gets a nice new attitude to go with those Golden Boy looks, really, what's wrong with him?"

"Oh, I don't know. I guess you're right. I mean, he does have the most incredible grey eyes. Have you ever noticed?"

Ginny looked at her friend in fake shock. "Hermione, you were noticing a boy! I think I may have to write the Daily Prophet."

"What? This was your idea, Ginny Weasley. And if you tell anyone that I think Draco's cute, I'll tell Harry that you kissed Seamus."

"You wouldn't," Ginny looked horrified, and as pale as one of the ghosts. "That was ages before I started dating Harry. But still - you wouldn't dare. I'm way meaner than you, Hermione."

"I know," giggled Hermione. "But it was great to see your face. But please don't tell anyone about this Draco thing. I have no idea what's going on. And I figure he's probably just looking for a friend to talk to. It's not like he could have had much intelligent conversation the last four years, hanging out with Crabbe and Goyle."

"You got it, Hermione. Lips are sealed here. But I expect to be the first to know if anything, happens. 'Kay?"

"Deal - but like I said, I doubt it."

"Sure."

Ginny stood and moved away from the table. ~Hermione and Draco,~ she thought ~who would have guessed? This could get really interesting.~ She smiled to herself as she headed off to have a little chat with her boyfriend.

* * * * * * *

By the time Saturday came around, Hermione was starting to get a little nervous about her meeting with Draco. She'd been interested in the idea of helping him to work out the issues in his head and turning his thoughts to a more open-minded direction. However, there was a fear lurking in her mind that even reasonable debate wasn't going change Draco and also a feeling that this afternoon was going involve a great deal of shouting and disharmony. She really wasn't thrilled at the thought of having to argue points about Muggles in the wizarding world, since the topic was a little, well, personal.

As she paced the hallway outside the library, which had become their unofficial meeting spot, she also admitted to herself that her conversation with Ginny a few days previous had been preying on her mind. She mocked herself as she considered the time she had spent in front of the mirror earlier, trying to tie her hair down into a neat braid. As much as she wanted to tell herself it was because she thought they might go outside as the weather was unusually nice for October and she didn't want her hair blowing around, her rational side had to admit that she had been trying to make herself look nice, for a meeting with Draco Malfoy no less!

Scowling to herself, Hermione turned on her heel and crashed right into the object of her thoughts.

"Oi! Watch it Hermione! Trying to send me to Madame Pomfrey?" Draco grinned at her to let her know he was joking, knowing that a remark like that a week ago would have set off an argument. He wasn't entirely sure that it wouldn't today, from the fierce look on Hermione's face. In an attempt to forestall any fighting, since he figured there would probably be plenty later on, he took her elbow and started propelling her towards the stairs.

"So, Hermione, I thought that since we're having bizarrely warm weather we should go and enjoy it. I figure that if we head towards the lake, there's plenty of spots we can chose from. And it'll be a nice change from working in the stuffy old library."

Hermione shook her arm free from his hand as they started down the steps to one of the lakeside entrances.

"Sounds fine by me as long as we're nowhere near the Quidditch pitch. I really don't want to have to recopy all my work after getting muddied by a stray bludger... or player, for that matter."

"Not a problem," he said, holding the door for her. "The place I have in mind is fairly sure to be free of flying maniacs and other interruptions."

She grinned at him as the early afternoon sun started to soak into her, pleased at how things were going. It seemed that Draco was trying to be agreeable. Perhaps today wouldn't be as bad as she'd feared.

"Fine then. Lead on, McFudd."

"What?" Draco asked, confused.

"Sorry, a joke my dad makes. Reference to a Muggle play. I think it's only funny if you're part of our family."

"Oookay." He didn't ask her to explain, though he was curious. He wanted to ask her about what the reference meant and learn about the joke, but was afraid that she would think he was being nosy and presumptuous. After all, they had yet to get through an encounter without a fight. Filled with determination that today would be the day they managed to get along, he started walking quickly towards where he'd decided to take her.

* * * * * * *

"Ta da!"

Hermione's jaw dropped as Draco threw out his arms in an exaggerated gesture of presentation. As she'd followed him silently through the trees along the lakeshore, she'd been wondering to herself whether she should turn back. For all she knew, he was dragging her to a dark, dank cave or something. Who knew where Malfoys liked to hang out. She wouldn't put it past Draco's dad to have a torture chamber as his living room, so Draco's  reassurance that where they were going was to be a surprise, really cool, and somewhere they wouldn't be disturbed hadn't entirely made her feel thrilled. But this was not what she'd been expecting at all.

"Do you like it?" he asked nervously. "I think it's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. But we don't have to stay here. We can go back."

She smiled at him. "It's amazing. Really, really amazing. We're not going anywhere," she said emphatically, sitting on a tree stump near the edge of the clearing.

It really was something, she thought. And to think that Draco was interested in somewhere so lovely. He stood in the center of the small clearing, still looking a little nervous. Around them, trees rose thirty or forty feet in the air, but the afternoon sun poured in through the opening in the canopy. There was a small brook running along one side of the area, perhaps twenty feet from where Hermione sat. She could here the water murmuring as it ran over rocks and branches on its path to the lake. The rest of the space was covered in thick grass, with several large mossy rocks and stumps seemingly set down at random. There was a sensation that time was suspended here, and Hermione could swear she could feel the tension melting from her neck and shoulders. She had never been anywhere that felt so separated from the world.

"Honestly, Draco," she repeated. "It's beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here."

"I'm glad you like it. I've never really brought anyone else here," he admitted. A wry grin twisted his mouth. "It's not like Goyle and Crabbe are great appreciators of nature's beauty."

She laughed. "I'd have to agree with you there. I don't really see them as the type who wax poetic over flowers and sunsets."

"Not exactly, no," he laughed. "I don't think they'd know a poem if it came at them with a stick."

They grinned at each other for a moment, until Hermione glanced away suddenly.

"Well," she said briskly. "We have some work to get through this afternoon. Especially if you still wanted to have a 'talk' later."

"Uh yeah, sure," Draco said as he dropped his gaze to his feet. "Well, why don't we use this stump as a table. We can spread everything out and divide up the topic like last time."

Hermione mumbled her agreement, feeling slightly guilty as she heard the excitement and laughter cut out of his voice. She just wasn't entirely sure that she felt comfortable feeling this, well, comfortable with Draco. It was odd, finding common ground with someone who had been her enemy for such a long time. She wondered if this was the potion they'd drunk a month and a half ago finally taking effect. Perhaps the difference in color had been a sign that it was weaker than the other students' brews. In her readings on the potion she had run across nothing to indicate that they had made theirs incorrectly or what the different color meant; besides, surely Professor Snape wouldn't have allowed them to drink their creations had they made a mistake. But this strange feeling of ease she felt with Malfoy today, it had to be magical. Hermione refused to believe that there could be an actual friendship brewing, no matter how Draco seemed to have changed.

* * * * * * *

After twenty minutes of reading in silence, Draco finally shut his textbook. Hermione looked up at the noise and, seeing his face, she set down the quill she'd been using to take notes.

"I'm getting sick of reading about enslavement potions and mind-link potions and all of this," he grumbled. "I understand how to make the different variations. I understand which ones are legal and which ones aren't. I don't see why we have to write a stupid essay on the misuse of the potions when there hasn't been a case in over a century."

"I don't know, Draco," said Hermione, rubbing her eyes. "Maybe cuz Snape's a sadist."

He stared at he in surprise. "Did you just say...?"

"Yeah," she said aggressively. "So? It's not like you weren't thinking it."

"Well, I suppose," he admitted. "But I just never thought that you would call a teacher names like that."

"Please, I'm human. And this paper is inhumane," she said with a grin. "So we should get it out of the way as fast as possible. Agreed?"

"Agreed," he said, nodding and reopening his book. "So what's the secret plan?"

"Well, not much of a plan, but I figure we write out the reasons why it's wrong to use the potion, then find an example to add it onto each reason. It's a good thing he only wants one scroll."

"Yeah, even with handwriting as large as Pansy's I doubt we could end up with more than one scroll." Draco grimaced.

"Oh well, let's just get it done, shall we?" He nodded and Hermione continued. "I've written out the points Snape lectured on in class and two more from the text book, so let's get an example for each. Then we can divide them up, write it out properly and combine them like we did the last essay."

"Sounds like a definite plan. Why don't we each try to find an example for every point and if we manage to find different ones, then we'll impress Snape."

"And bring in the high marks." Hermione smiled at him. "I like the way you think, Draco. Devious, but effective."

"It the Slytherin in me, my cunning will get me far," he said proudly, only to see Hermione's smile fade a little. "What? Still can't stand the thought of being near a Slytherin? And you call me prejudiced!"

"No, no Draco," she said quickly. "It's not that. The house thing doesn't bother me that much. It's the pride in being underhanded."

"Hey, you just said that you liked the way I thought. That it was a good plan." Draco jumped up from where he'd been sitting on a tree stump and started pacing, glaring down at Hermione.

"Yeah, it was a good plan," she said, also getting to her feet. "And I'm not saying that I don't agree with it. What bothered me is the attitude that being sneaky and underhanded is the way to get where you want to be in life."

"Well, it's getting us to the marks we want, isn't it?" he asked tightly, stopping right in front of her.

"I suppose, but I guess what I'm thinking of it the more dangerous and harmful devious acts I've seen used to gain power. Such as your father giving that diary to Ginny." Draco grimaced and opened his mouth to interrupt, but Hermione rushed on. "It was terribly cunning, and it got the Chamber of Secrets opened, but at what cost? Your plan to get us better marks isn't hurting anyone. What your father did hurt many people and could have killed a lot more."

Draco stared down at Hermione, watching her cheeks color in anger, her fists clenched at her sides. He finally turned away in the face of her emotion and tried to compose himself. He really didn't want to have a serious fight about this with Hermione, not today when he had hoped to have an enjoyable conversation. As he walked deliberately away from her towards a group of standing stones, he let out a slow breath and tried to formulate a way of defusing the argument. Finally he turned and sat on one of the stones, facing the girl.

"Well Hermione," he began. "I really don't know if I can make any defense for my father's actions. I agree that perhaps they were wrong in the sense that they did cause a lot of hurt and near death along the way. But he thought that what he was doing was right and for a good cause. In the long run, he was trying to protect the wizards and witches of the school."

"No, Draco, what you think you mean is he tried to protect the pure bloods." Draco tried to interrupt but again she overrode him. "But may I remind you of witch who was ensnared by the diary, which, by the way is a perfect example of why enslavement potions and charms are wrong. Anyway, the witch he chose was Ginny Weasley, who is as pureblooded as you are."

Again Draco tried to speak, but Hermione barely paused for breath.

"Your father could have left the pure blooded witch safe and sound and given the diary to me, who as a Muggle-born would have been someone he could put at risk without a second thought. But no, he decided that he would torment the Weasleys, not because of blood or heritage, but because they offend him by being well liked in a way he never could or will be."

She finally stopped her rant and Draco had a chance to say something, but he was silenced by her accusation because the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was absolutely true. Lucius was always complaining that the Weasleys were an insult to wizardry and should be gotten rid of, but as far as Draco could tell the only reason he gave to justify his hatred of them was their poverty, which had nothing to do with their blood at all. But the unspoken reason Lucius hated Ron's dad was to do with the fact that Mr. Weasley never pretended to respect the Malfoys simply because of their names and history. And the fact that while the Malfoys were a respected family, it seemed the Weasleys were a loved family even with all their foibles and flaws.

Draco opened his mouth to try another defense, this one about the fact that his father was forced to chose Ginny as the recipient of the diary. But then he remembered the confusion in the shop as his father fought with Mr. Weasley. There had been plenty of chances for Lucius to slip the diary in among Hermione's dozens of books. But he'd ignored the obvious route of using a Mudblood and hurt his own kind. Draco's head was spinning slightly as he started to realize that perhaps his father's motives weren't as obvious on a second examination.

"Are you seeing what I mean, Malfoy?" Hermione asked after he'd been silent for a while. "Your father doesn't seem to truly believe all that pure-blood nonsense he spouts. Or at least, he only believes it when it's convenient to him."

"Okay, I'll accept your point about choosing Ginny over you, but I think that was just because he hates the Weasleys," Draco finally responded. "I have to argue that my father really does believe in the supremacy of pure bloods. He's always going on about it."

"Well, I have to say that even if he talks about it all the time, what your father truly believes in is the superiority of Lucius Malfoy. And him spouting all this when his hero is of mixed blood. It's ridiculous. It's like believing a short, dark haired man declaring the Aryan race superior when he's neither blond nor blue eyed."

Draco looked at her quizzically.

"Sorry, another Muggle reference. I did a paper for Muggle studies on the Second World War and found all sorts of weird parallels to the dehumanization of Muggle-borns."

"Okay, sure, whatever. I already told you that I don't really follow all of this anti-Muggle stuff anyway. I don't care about it."

"Draco, you have to care! If you just sit back and don't argue back when people start slagging off someone for something completely baseless, you're just as bad as the overtly prejudiced. And you especially should have an opinion on this issue, considering how obvious it is what your father's opinion is."

"Well, I don't," Draco snapped. "And I don't want to talk about this anymore. So why don't we finish up the assignment."

"Fine. Whatever."

Hermione huffed angrily and settled down to her books. She wasn't thrilled with the topic of their argument, even less so by the fact that Draco, for all his supposed reawakening, was still not able to handle criticism of the great Lucius Malfoy. And most irritating was the fact that she was out here trying to convert her enemy while Harry and Ron were stuck in the castle trying to ward off a much greater evil.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Last night had been the third night in a row they had spent putting wards over new and more obscure entrances to the castle. For the past week they had watched on the Marauder's Map as Wormtail attempted to enter the castle in various ways. In September he had attempted to use one of the tunnels that Filch had blocked off, then the one which had collapsed. After both of those attempts failed, Wormtail had gained access to the grounds through the tunnel under the Whomping Willow and had been hiding in the forest ever since.

Since the night she had been injured as they pursued him, he had lain low, but obviously his need to be in the castle had become more urgent recently. There had been various attempts to creep in through dungeon windows, out of the way doors, and the lake entrance. Fortunately, it seemed that someone, perhaps Dumbledore, had blocked most of these off. But Wormtail was becoming more reckless. He had tried to come in one of the doors off of the Quidditch pitch after a Slytherin practice and would have succeeded had Harry not been on lookout with the map while cleaning his gear in the Gryffindor locker room.

There were other strange things happening around the castle. Snape kept disappearing off the map in the middle of the night, often after spending time with Professor McGonagall. The general consensus was that he was flying off somewhere to do something for Dumbledore and that McGonagall was the one giving orders. Hermione and Harry were sure that he was spying on the Death Eaters, though Ron was still convinced that Snape was too mean to be a double agent. Another name which would appear and disappear from the map with no warning was Arabella Figg, who could be seen arriving in the Headmaster's office at all sorts of strange times. Harry kept watch for a name he desperately wanted to see, but it seemed that Sirius was not one of Dumbledore's night visitors.

There had also been some strange behavior from some of the students. Crabbe and Goyle had been spending a lot of time with a Slytherin named Collier, who, they'd managed to determine, was a second year from a family with dubious connections. Ron and Harry were surprised to notice that Draco was never with his henchmen when they met with the younger student, but Hermione refrained from mentioning her theories as to why this was. Although after the argument they just had, or rather the rant she'd just had at the unresponsive boy, she wasn't entirely sure that Draco wasn't somehow still playing Junior Death Eater and simply using Crabbe and Goyle to pass on messages or orders.

"Hermione? Hermione?"

Her thoughts broke off as a hand waved in front of her face. Draco was once again sitting across from her, and he was looking at her with confusion.

"Where were you?" he asked. "I just called your name, like, half a dozen times."

"Sorry," she said, looking down, trying to pull her thoughts together. "I was just thinking about another problem, uh, assignment. What can I help you with?"

"Nothing much. I think I've managed to find examples for all of these points," he said, gesturing at their list, "and it's getting kinda cold. So I figured we should probably head back to the school before the sun sets."

Hermione looked up at the sky and realized that it was late afternoon. Not that that meant much, she thought, since it was October and the sun was starting to set earlier and earlier. Soon they'd be in winter, when the sun went down at practically the same time as the day's classes ended. She shook her head and started putting her books and papers into her school bag. Draco watched her for a second then opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it again and began to pack his own things away.

As they walked from the clearing, Draco broke the awkward silence between them, stopping Hermione is her tracks.

"Can we do this again sometime next week?" he asked quietly

"Well, we'll have to, won't we? We have to get the assignment finalized," she pointed out.

"No. I mean, can we just get together and talk next week. Outside of assignments and stuff."

"I don't know Draco," she said slowly, starting to walk towards the school again. "I mean, I know I agreed to chat today, but it really didn't seem to accomplish much, did it? I have more important things to do that have discussions with someone who can't even be bothered to have an opinion on the topic at hand."

"Okay, okay. I get your point. What if I promise to consider everything you said and come back with an opinion next time?"

Hermione snorted, then looked up at his face. He seemed completely serious.

"Sure, whatever. I suppose that since we'll have to meet to compile this essay, we can give this whole debate thing another chance then. If this is due Thursday why don't we meet Tuesday, which gives one of us," she grinned up at him, "time to copy it out on Wednesday."

Draco groaned. "Why do I get the feeling that by 'one of us' you mean me?"

"Well, I figure we should stick with the deal we had last time - y'know, whoever's less busy - that seemed to work. And I don't know about you, but I'm pretty busy next week."

"Fine, fine," Draco sighed. "I'll copy the bloody thing. But I expect you to make time for conversation next week. No picking up all your stuff and running off as soon as the essay's sorted out."

"Deal. But I will leave if you don't make some contribution to the argument."

"Have you ever known me to back down from an argument, Granger?"

"No comment, Malfoy," Hermione shot back, then lost whatever she was going to say next when a shiver caused her teeth to chatter.

"Cold?" Draco asked, stopping and putting down his book bag. His hands were at the fastening of his cloak before Hermione could respond.

"Just a shiver," she said quickly, "nothing to worry about. I'll be fine."

"I should have told you to bring your cloak," he said, pulling his from around his shoulders. "Here, take mine. Stop fighting. Potter and Weasley would kill me if you got sick after hanging out with me."

She pushed his hands away, but he dodged around her faster than she could turn and put the cloak on her shoulders. Hermione tried to pull the fabric away from her, but Draco simply covered his hands with hers, then moved to fasten the tie at the collar.

"C'mon Hermione, it's nothing. Just think of it as protecting your friends from being humiliated in the fight they'd pick with me over your sneezes and sniffles."

"Okay, fine," she said grudgingly, and waited while Draco picked up his bag and continued walking towards the castle. She fell in step beside him, feeling much better with the cloak between her and the chill of the evening.

"So we'll talk next week?" Draco asked, returning to their previous topic. "I do promise to think about everything you've said and actually be involved in the discussion. Oh man, I feel like I'm promising Professor McGonagall I'll actually participate in class or something. Ugh."

"Well, I take that as a compliment," Hermione said with a smile. "You could have compared me to Professor Binns: too boring to argue with."

"Nope," Draco replied, shaking his head, "boring you're not. If you put half as much fire into a lecture as you do your arguments, you'd be one of the best, most exciting teachers in school."

"Thank you Draco," Hermione said. "I can only hope that my students would feel the same. I mean, when I have students. If I become a teacher."

"Stop waffling," he ordered. "Everyone knows you're going to become a teacher. Probably headmaster, too. Just promise me that if you do teach History of Magic, you won't drone. I swear that if you compared Binns with a hive of bees, they'd sound the same."

Hermione laughed. As they reached the main courtyard, she handed Draco her satchel and untied the cloak from around her neck. Pulling it off her shoulders, she reached out for her bag and passed the cloak off to the boy with her other hand.

"Thanks for showing me that clearing, Draco. I'll see you on Tuesday, okay?"

"Sure," he replied and stood silently watching her walk determinedly to the door that would lead to the Gryffindor tower. Shaking his head, he wrapped the cloak around his own shoulders and moved slowly towards the entrance that would lead to the Slytherin part of the castle. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get any homework done at all that evening, far too many thoughts about what Hermione had said that afternoon were swirling around his brain.