Fair and Tender Maidens

****

Hermione settled into the red armchair near the fireplace. It was her favorite spot for several reasons. She could see most everyone in the common room from this spot. It was also the warmest spot for Hermione's often frostbitten fingers. Scribbling things with her quill did not keep her hands warm enough to keep them moving properly. And, most people tended not to like a spot so close to the fire because many homework assignments had been lost to the red flames of the fire.

She reached down into her bag and pulled out Hogwarts: A History. She flipped it open to page 266 and buried herself into it.

If you had been watching Hermione at this very moment, you probably would have sighed, thinking 'Not again. How many times is she going to read that book?!' But, if you had been sitting beside Hermione, looking at what she had buried herself into, you would have seen something else completely.

You would have seen her long fingers drumming a rhythm on her thigh. You would seen her eye concentrating not on the text of Hogwarts: A History, but on the music and lyrics of 'Fair and Tender Maidens.' You might have heard her soft humming and seen the concentration in her eyes.

But, you were not sitting next to Hermione at this very moment, so you, like all the other Gryffindors in the common room, saw Hermione buried in Hogwarts: A History.

This is not to say that no one noticed Hermione's concentration and her drumming fingers. Though, you probably are all thinking that yes it does mean that no one was paying attention any more, due to the fact that 'all the other Gryffindors' was mentioned earlier. But, there was one Gryffindor who noticed Hermione's concentration and her drumming fingers.

That Gryffindor was Harry Potter.

Hermione Granger was one of his best friends. He knew her better than anybody, which he took pride in. He was proud of the fact when someone wanted to know where Hermione was or anything about Hermione, he would know. He was not afraid to rattle off any little fact about Hermione. Even if he was not afraid to, he would not anyway. It was arouse too many questions from Hermione herself. Mainly, 'how did you know that' and 'when did I say that' from Hermione.

He did not feel as though he could answer those questions.

He studied Hermione like some people study for a chemistry test. Or a potions test. He knew little facts about her than few people would ever know. For that, he felt he ought to be recognised.

But, not yet. He wasn't prepared for that yet.

Harry watched Hermione intently as he did every night. Repetition. That was something Hermione had worked her schedule on. She worked like clockwork. Clockwork that most likely who Harry himself had recorded. Mentally recorded, that is. Written records left evidence. Evidence that could be found and exploited. Evidence that could give him away.

He left a mental note to himself to ask if Hermione had had any luck with her singer search. If she had not had any luck, she could be forced to make him sing in front of her. And, maybe, he would do well. And they could sing together.

Harry smiled happily to himself and continued on his essay.

****

Draco Malfoy stood waiting outside the practice room. She was late and that made him cross. The family of Malfoy did not tolerate tardiness. Ever. It just was not acceptable.

To say that Draco Malfoy stood would not hold true to his character. Standing is standing. No personality comes from the word standing. Draco Malfoy did not just stand. Draco Malfoy required a stance. Every Malfoy had an individual stance, so that way, in the middle of the night, on a dark alley, you could tell what Malfoy you might possibly run into. If it was the elder Malfoy, and you were on good terms with that one, then you could casually walk by and possibly wave hello, without getting your head hexed off. If it was the younger one that you did not get along with, then you could simply turn around and walk in the other direction, with the knowledge that this direction would ensure the safety and current position of your head.

Draco Malfoy was seventeen. He was a brooding young man with a hard face. He looked cross more often than not. The sneer that he once wore proudly had faded away as life got more tiring. It was becoming more and more difficult to find the extra energy to live, let alone sneer at everyone all day.

Another feature of Draco Malfoy's was that he had a tall frame, but few people knew that considering the way Draco Malfoy's stance included slouching. Draco Malfoy had long legs and long arms. His shoulders were broad, which complemented very nicely with the rest of him. At this particular moment, a glare was at Draco Malfoy's eyes. He was glaring at a few Ravenclaw girls who were walking past him. They were giggling, showing cheerfulness, and therefore needed to be punished.

Draco Malfoy's pewter eyes hardened. Granger better have a good excuse....

**

Hermione Granger ran up with her heavy schoolback banging off her left hip. She was out of breath and her calves were beginning to cramp up. She took the last ten feet to Malfoy at a limp.

He turned to face her, hearing her hobbling and noisy bag.

"You're late," he said crossly.

"And you're not," she said. She looked him over. "Malfoy, I would just like you to know that as much as you may want to get a rise out of me, that's not going to work. I really want to do this and if you don't, then you can go."

She pulled her key out her pocket and slid it into the lock.

"I said I would be here, didn't I? I said I would do this. I showed up after all. I'm not standing here for the view or the fresh air." He coughed slightly as dust got caught in his lungs. "Damn dust."

She smiled and pushed the door open. "Are you always like this?" she asked, placing her bag beside the piano.

"Am I always like what?" he said, stepping closer to her.

"Never mind," she said quickly, cracking her knuckles.

"That's a bad habit, you know," he said matter-of-factly.

"I know, but I've done it for so long that it'll be hard to break it," she said, rubbing her fingers and then placing them in her pockets to avoid cracking them.

"Well, then consider me your moderator," said Malfoy, taking her hand in his and stroking it. "I'll smack your hands whenever you show signs of cracking your knuckles."

"Thanks," she said, pulling her hand away from him, "but no, thanks."

"Well, if that's the way you want it..." he trailed off.

"It is."

"Okay."

"Fine."

They both fell silent.

"We should start practicing," Hermione began.

"Yeah, we should."

Hermione reached into her bag and pulled out the music. Sitting behind the piano, she opened the music to the first page.

"Ready?" she asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be."

*****