Shifting Perspectives

Chapter 16: Hogsmeade

By prof mary

Scene 1: the Patrol

This had to be the single most awkward ninety minutes in the history of human existence.

Or so Hermione thought, anyway.

They hadn't managed a word yet. Sounds, yes. Words, no. There had been Draco's rather startled yelp at seeing her instead of Pansy. And there had been her own attempt at saying both "Hello" and "I traded patrols" at the same time which came out sounding rather like a weird mix of a cough and a grunt.

Since then, there'd been total silence. Even the scuffing of their shoes along the stone floor seemed oddly muted.

Nervously, Hermione reached into her robes and pulled out the antique pocket watch. She'd long found the sensation of running her fingertips along the intricate indentations of the cover to be soothing.

She almost dropped the precious artifact when she heard a surprised and overloud "Oh!" from beside her.

"It's my timepiece," Draco said, almost apologetically, as if offering an explanation for his outburst.

Hermione stopped walking and without really thinking, she pulled the watch fully out of her pocket, taking care to unhook the chain, before handing it over to Draco.

"Yes, it is," she said stupidly.

Automatically, Draco's small hand rose to meet her own. Then he hesitated, waiting for her to drop the watch into his cupped hand.

Hermione took a step closer to him, noting for the first time that evening an unfamiliar fragrance. She took a small step even closer and sniffed the air.

"What is that?" she asked as she slowly lowered the watch into Draco's hand.

Draco kept his eyes averted from her own and seemed to be staring at the slow pooling of the metal chain in his hand. He seemed so intent that she wondered if she'd only thought her question rather than saying it aloud.

She cleared her throat, making a sound that seemed unnaturally loud, and was about to ask her question again when she noticed the faint blush on Draco's cheeks.

She decided to wait a few more seconds.

That was when she realized that she was still holding her hand out, just above his, and that she was still clasping the watch.

Now she felt her own cheeks begin to burn.

"Oh, sorry," she said in a rush, bringing the heavy watch down directly into his outstretched hand. As her fingers ever so slightly brushed against his own, she did her best to suppress a gasp. As it was, she was embarrassed that she pulled her hand away so quickly that she almost made him drop the watch.

She just hadn't been expecting that one simple touch would flood her with memories and images of far more complex touches.

Abruptly she turned away and thus did not notice the quickly masked look of confusion on Draco's face.

She was already walking again before she felt her heart rate return to something a bit more normal.

Silently, she cursed Pansy for making it sound so simple to actually talk to Draco. Supposedly, all she needed to do was talk about that night - to tell Draco that it had been special - that he meant something to her - and that she wanted to do it again.

And for the life of her, Hermione couldn't really understand why she was so tongue-tied. It was awful. It was like both her brain and her nerve were letting her down simultaneously. Hermione felt utterly incapacitated in a way that she'd never felt before.

Clearly, talking about that night was going to have to wait. But, it was just as clear to her that they needed to talk about something. She forced her mind to fish around for safe subjects.

Quidditch.

Just when she was going to bring up the latest series of Slytherin Quidditch sessions, a small voice piped up next to her.

"It was my grandfather's," Draco said, gesturing with the hand that held the pocket watch.

"My mother's father. He gave it to me when I was really young. I can't even remember a time when I didn't have it. Of course, my mum wouldn't let me actually wear it until I was 10. But I've worn it everyday since then... well, until, you know, we switched," he finished quietly.

Hermione didn't say anything as she pondered how inconceivable the thought of Draco Malfoy letting her wear a prized family possession would have been just a month before.

"It'd been in the Black family for generations, too," he continued. "My mum said that she wasn't even sure who'd given it to her father, just that it had already been passed down several times."

Several minutes of silence passed by before Draco spoke again. At first, Hermione had felt the familiar sense of grief for Sirius wash over her as it did whenever she was reminded of him. Then Hermione began to feel dizzy as she realized what Draco was about to try to tell her.

"I used to wrap my fingers around it and it would remind me, like nothing else could, of who I am, what's expected of me, what I'm supposed to be," he said and Hermione could hear traces of pride mixed in with other emotions in his voice.

"Now, though, I hold it and... and well, it just seems like a really beautiful old antique. Something that used to mean something. I mean look at it, it's not even practical anymore. I certainly can't wear it with these clothes," he said as he gestured to his robes.

"It's too heavy. It just doesn't work anymore."

He stopped then and Hermione stopped next to him. Then he reached for her hand and placed the watch back into it.

"No, I think it's best if you keep it," he said simply. He let his hand linger on hers, his fingers touching her around the old piece of jewelry. Hermione just stared, transfixed, and listened to the quiet ticking of the watch. Then she pulled her hand away.

It was obvious to Hermione, as she carefully reattached the watch back into her robes, that he was expecting to her say something. It was just as obvious that he'd said much much more just now than making a decision about a family heirloom.

She needed to think. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate what she thought he'd just said to her. Quite the contrary as the subtext of his words were causing butterflies to give way to helicopters inside of her chest.

But she still needed to think.

There were more things for them to overcome than just a schoolyard rivalry. Again she felt the rush of grief from Sirius' death overtake her and she remembered how Harry had been afterwards. He'd felt responsible. Hermione had thought she'd understood him then. But now... now she really got it. Suddenly, the obstacles that stood between them never seemed so stark.

Harry. Ron. Draco's parents. Her own Muggle parents. The coming war. Voldemort.

Fear.

She almost choked on a breath.

How could she have been so foolish? So selfish?

This wasn't just a crush. These feelings were dangerous. Though she could honestly admit to herself that Draco was different - that he was absolutely not his parents - she could also admit that he was still dangerous to those she loved. And as she thought through that, she realized that she could now include him in that list, too. Her feelings for him - and anything that might happen as a result from them- were dangerous to him, as well.

"Hermione?" Draco said, and she could hear the heaviness of concern in his tone.

Hermione faltered for another minute, unable to meet his warm brown eyes. She felt like she almost had the control she needed. Just one more minute to pull herself together and then she wouldn't feel so utterly compelled to draw the shorter brown-haired girl into her arms, confess a host of complicated feelings, and thus endanger not only themselves, but all the other people in her life whom she cared for.

"Hermione? What is it?" Draco said, his voice more insistent now.

Hermione shook her head and then laughed, a nervous shaky sound.

"It's nothing, Draco, nothing at all," she said, feeling the lie sit heavily on her lips. Then she put the watch back into her pocket and closed her robes.

"I think we only need to check the halls over near the Ravenclaw dormitories and we'll be done for the evening," she said, trying to keep her voice light.

Draco looked confused but nodded his head.

"All right," he agreed, his words coming slowly.

She could tell that he was trying to give her some space just as she could tell that he was hoping she'd respond to what he'd said. She was thankful that he apparently wasn't going to push for an answer.

After several long minutes of uncomfortable silence, Hermione tried another jab at conversation.

"This weekend is Hogsmeade," Hermione offered.

To her relief, this earned her a very genuine-looking smile which nearly made her walk into a suit of armor, which then was rewarded with a lovely set of giggles (as well as a few low-pitched grumbles from the armor).

"Yes, do you have any plans?" Draco asked when he finally stopped laughing.

"Well, the Potion will be ready."

Draco stopped so abruptly that Hermione almost walked into another suit of armor.

"What? Do you mean the Polyjuice Potion?" he breathed.

Hermione looked at him closely and she was surprised to find that he looked rather alarmed.

"Yes, it's been a month. Actually, it should be ready sometime tonight. I thought we'd decided a long time ago that we'd take the Potion and spend some time in our respective bodies again," she explained.

"Right," Draco said in a clipped voice, one that was agonizingly familiar to Hermione.

"Right. You want to be back in your own body and no doubt hang out with those morons you call friends. You're probably disappointed that Blaise Zabini won't want to take you out for that date- not that he ever wanted to, you know. That was me!"

Hermione couldn't say anything because she couldn't get past how disturbingly similar he sounded to the old Draco - the one who harassed her long before they switched bodies.

Draco gave her a long look, huffed loudly, and turned on his heel, angrily sputtering, "Finish Ravenclaw yourself. I'm done here."

Hermione stood there stupidly and watched him walk down the hall. Just as he turned down the corridor, he stopped, calling out, "It's a new shampoo. I liked the scent. And I thought you would, too!"

Then he left before Hermione could say a word.

"What just happened?" Hermione asked aloud, her voice not much more than a whisper.

A long low sigh from her left had Hermione turning quickly only to find a portrait of an older witch, one who looked rather unnervingly like McGonagall. But the portrait merely glared at her in disgust, muttering, "Men!" before walking out of the frame.

Hermione felt quite alone as she finished her patrol of the Ravenclaw dorms and silently headed back to her Common room. It was empty when she walked back in.

She was both relieved and deeply disappointed.

And she absolutely was not looking forward to meeting Pansy over breakfast the next morning.

***

Scene 2: The Morning of Hogsmeade

Hermione sighed deeply as she pulled on her dressing gown. She was standing in front of her mirror, watching, with a detached frame of mind, the way the cloth of her gown pulled tight across her broad shoulders. It really was her dressing gown, too - hers as in it was the one her mother had given her for her last birthday. She had traded with Draco just last night after they'd exchanged the briefest of plans about meeting this morning to take the Polyjuice Potion.

She stood there a few more minutes just staring at her grey-eyed reflection until the incongruity of the ill-fitting feminine robe finally made her chuckle aloud. It was just rather humorous, she supposed, to look so ridiculous in her own clothes.

But that was her life these days: incongruous and angular and just at odds with what her life had been before.

She didn't want to continue this line of thinking much further because inevitably it led back to painful messy complicated things - things like her feelings for Draco and the feelings he clearly returned.

That evening with Pansy in the locker room, Hermione had been convinced that all they really needed was just to be on the same page, to share the same feelings. To want to be together. But now, Hermione had had time to think things through. While she had faith that the two of them could get along, she just knew that anything beyond that would lead to a dangerous outcome for not only the two of them but for many many others, as well. And as much as Hermione wanted to explore her feelings, she wanted to keep those she loved safe even more.

With another long sigh, she turned away from the funny image in the mirror and walked out into the Common room. She'd already set out the Polyjuice Potion and two small glass beakers and two containers that they could carry with them for the day. They only needed to place a hair in each sample and then exchange potions.

She was surprised to see that Draco was already sitting on couch in their Common room. He looked sleepy still and Hermione wondered if he'd had any of the coffee she'd ordered for him. A large yawn convinced her that he probably hadn't had enough.

"Let's just get this over with," Draco snapped.

Hermione winced at his tone. It had been strained between them since their last patrol. She couldn't help but feel that it was her fault. Pansy had seemed convinced that it was and had berated Hermione so viciously that she was hard put to see otherwise, anyway.

She sat down on the couch opposite Draco and paused to note that he looked adorable with his sleep-tousled mane of curls and an overlarge dressing gown of his own. Hermione didn't laugh. She didn't fancy the glare that would surely follow if she did.

Quietly, she got to work, carefully pouring them each a beaker full of the Polyjuice Potion. Then she pulled out a short blond hair just as Draco pulled one of his long curly ones. They exchanged hairs without really meeting each others' eyes. Hermione hesitated for only a second but then dropped the curly brown hair into her potion.

It only took a few seconds for the potions to change color. Hers turned a rich golden brown and she suppressed an outward sigh of relief. She had been rather traumatized by her one other experience taking the Polyjuice Potion back in second year. The inviting toffee-colored brew simmering before her promised nothing of the horrors of turning into Millicent Bulstrode's cat.

As she raised the potion to her lips, she looked up to find Draco's brown eyes already fixed on her. At least he no longer looked angry. Now he merely gazed at her in curiosity. She imagined that she was returning a similar expression.

The tingling started almost with that initial swallow of the thick rich potion. If she had to describe it, Hermione might have said that she felt like she was imploding - like her physical space was being reduced from the inside out.

The coursing of magic through her body almost made her too dizzy to keep her eyes open. She wanted to just close them, to lean back into the couch, and then to open them when the oddity of the change was finished.

But she could not tear her eyes away from Draco's. Just as she was pulling inward, Draco seemed to be moving outward, straining at the bounds of his skin. She almost thought she could hear the stretching of skin and bones as his body rippled outwards.

And then she blinked. She closed her eyes for just a fraction of a second. When she opened them, she was immediately aware that she was still staring into Draco's eyes and that, finally, after a month, they were, in fact, his grey eyes.

"Wow," she breathed because there was really no other expression that would work here.

"Indeed," came a low husky voice. And just like that, the tension that had been building between them over the past few days seemed to dissolve.

Hermione laughed and then laughed even harder at the just the sounds emanating from her own mouth.

She wasn't surprised that Draco wasn't laughing with her but she was pleased nonetheless that his lips were screwed up because he was so clearly trying not to give in.

"Well, then," she said between chuckles, "besides the clear problem that I'm in need of more coffee, is there anything in particular that I should know or deal with before I spend some time with my friends."

He seemed to be mulling over her question so Hermione turned back to the task at hand and began to prepare their two containers of potion. No sooner had she picked up the first beaker than she promptly spilled some of the precious potion all over the table. After several more sloppy attempts, she finally got their potions into the proper containers. With a quick "Evenesco" she cleaned up the sticky potion mess.

Spying the coffee service over by his bedroom door, she stood up quickly. But she immediately felt dizzy and teetered backwards. Draco had also jumped up, his two arms shooting out to help her, and thus, promptly knocking into her and sending her careening back onto the couch.

"Oh, I'm so sorry. Are you all right?" he asked, his pale cheeks already coloring furiously. He was kneeling on the table, leaning over her, his face anxious with worry.

Hermione just started laughing all over again. Had she ever heard such genuine concern come in his voice before? It seemed mightily funny to her that she might have rubbed off on him so much.

"Yes, fine, thanks. No worries. I just stood too quickly. I think this smaller body is going to take some getting used to all over again. And maybe we shouldn't have taken the potion on an empty stomach," she snorted. "Hey, I've never seen you blush - well, not from this vantage anyway."

Hermione was now laughing so hard that she felt tears coming into her eyes. It was true, she'd never seen those pale cheeks redden with her own brown eyes. But she was rather suddenly quite aware that her words held a second meaning: she'd also never looked up at him like this, so closely, with her own eyes. She abruptly stopped laughing.

"Well, I'm not the only one with reason to blush, it would seem," he said and Hermione felt the truth in his words as her face heated up.

She waited for him to back off. But he didn't. He just stayed there, hovering over her, just centimeters from her face.

That firm resolution to maintain her distance was crumbling as she breathed in his scent - his real scent - not the one that he wore when he was in her body and not even the nice musky one she had when she had been in his body. No, this was truly Draco Malfoy - it was rich and masculine and wonderful and slowly enveloping her as she realized that he was cautiously moving forward, inching ever closer to her.

He was going to kiss her. She was certain of it just as she was certain that she was desperate to kiss him back - to feel and taste him with her own mouth. She closed her eyes and consciously called up an image of Harry, quietly mourning Sirius' death. Instantly, she felt a chill in her chest and she drew on that for strength.

"Draco," she said quietly.

She saw his familiar smirk dance across his features as he finally completed the distance between them, leaning down on one arm for support, while the other hand gently cupped her cheek.

"So lovely," he murmured as he ducked his head into the crook of her neck. She could hear him breathing deeply and his warm breath on her neck made her shudder.

She had to be strong. As much as she wanted this, she knew that it was not right. She didn't know what it would take to be right, either.

She managed a small "No" just as the first kisses ghosted across her jaw. She indulged in the fire that they brought even as she felt him moving away.

To his credit, Draco pulled away quickly, his entire face revealing confusion and disappointment.

"What?" he said softly.

He was still so close that Hermione had trouble keeping her eyes away from his mouth and the smoothness of his pale skin.

"I don't think this is the right thing to do," she choked.

He moved so fast then that Hermione was surprised he didn't just fall off the table. But he didn't. He was on his feet in seconds, already pacing across the floor. Hermione couldn't help but notice that the fine silk of his dressing gown fit him nicely and that he apparently wasn't having as much trouble getting used to the movements of his own body.

He stopped pacing suddenly, took a few deep breaths, and looked directly at her.

"Your friends," he snarled, "know about that night."

Without another word, he walked out of the Common room and into his own room, slamming the door behind him.

Once again, Hermione found herself alone in the Common room, feeling both relieved and disappointed.

***

An hour later...

By the time that Hermione was finished dressing (it had taken her a lot longer than she'd planned just to get ready!), Draco was gone. She'd heard him let Ron and Harry in as he was leaving, though. At this point, Ron and Harry had been patiently waiting for her in the Common room for at least twenty minutes.

Quietly, she stepped out of her bedroom and stood for a moment to just indulge in staring at the two most important people in her life here at Hogwarts - though she'd come to realize that they were not the only important people to her.

"Oi, Hermione, about time," Ron said when he noticed her.

"Have you done something different to your hair, Hermione?" Harry asked.

Hermione crossed the room quickly, gathering them both into a hug.

"Hermione? Everything okay?" Ron asked, his voice gruff.

"Oh, I've just missed you two! That's all. Don't mind me," Hermione said, though she didn't loosen her hold on either one of them.

After another long minute, she heard Harry chuckle softly.

"Hermione, I brought you something," he said into her hair.

Hermione pulled away slightly though she didn't let go of either one of them and looked at him expectantly, wondering if Draco had planned something that she didn't know about.

Harry fished around in his robes and drew out a good-sized piece of Honeydukes' dark chocolate.

"I'm onto to your antics, Harry Potter. I don't need chocolate. I just need some time with my two best friends," Hermione snapped good-naturedly, though she pocketed the chocolate just the same.

"Actually, Hermione, Harry and I've been talking about just that. Why don't the three of us go someplace - maybe the Shrieking Shack? We'll meet up with Ginny, Neville and Pansy, of course, after we have some time to ourselves. What do you think?" Ron asked, his face hopeful.

Hermione didn't quite trust herself to answer. Her throat felt tight and so she settled for a quick nod and gave them each another squeeze.

"That'd be wonderful," she said, sniffling slightly. "Just let me grab a few things - I'll be right back."

Hermione ran back into her bedroom, double-checking that her school bag contained the Polyjuice potion. Because she couldn't quite shake a nagging set of thoughts, she threw in a change of clothes and shoes- a set that belonged to Draco. She couldn't have explained why she did it. It just seemed prudent.

As she walked back into the Common Room, Ron gestured to something on the table and asked, "Is this yours, Hermione? It's really really neat."

Hermione saw the gleam of the shiny metal before she could actually make out the shape of Draco's old pocket watch lying on the table.

It hadn't been there before. Hermione figured that he must have left it on purpose as she'd definitely put it into his robes the night before when they'd exchanged clothing.

She picked it up, staring at the intricate engravings, and smiled. It had been just lying there in plain sight. Thus, Hermione couldn't help but to think that Draco had meant for her to keep it today.

Carefully, she placed it into her pants' pocket.

"It's not mine, Ron. It's a friend's - but I'm just holding onto it for now, I guess."

The three of them left the Common Room and made their way to Hogsmeade.