The Plays The Thing

The Play´s the Thing

by Shakespearechick

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CHAPTER VII

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Hermione made her way up to her dorm after breakfast so that she could change into her clothes for Hogsmeade. The other fifth year girls were all chattering eagerly about their plans and outfits, and clothes were thrown out of wardrobes and strewn about the floor and bed covers.

Always the organized one, Hermione had pulled out her outfit earlier. Easily she slipped the dark brown, fitted turtleneck sweater over her head and stepped into the knee-length plaid skirt that matched. She sat down on the edge of her bed to pull on her socks and the matching dark brown knee-high boots. Once she had them zipped up she grabbed her brush and made her way to the mirror.

As she ran a few strokes through her waves the mirror gave a whistle.

"My, my, don´t you look sharp and sophisticated," it cooed.

Hermione gave a small smile at her reflection and then threw down the brush and grabbed her winter robe. The day was cool for now, but foreboding clouds promised rain and even lowered temperatures. She made sure her gloves were in her pocket before exiting the dorms ahead of the rest of her roommates, who were still primping.

She skipped lightly down the stairs, eager to get the trip started.

"Well, who is that?" A sultry voice whispered in her ear. Spinning around she found herself face to face with Seamus. She smiled at him in appreciation and was about to say something when Ginny appeared at the stairs behind her, and they both glanced at the youngest Weasley.

"Why, I must be the luckiest man alive," Seamus declared with the grace of a courtier as he offered Ginny his arm. He winked at Hermione. "I am surrounded by the two most beautiful ladies in the world."

Ginny rolled her eyes at him, but smiled brightly, clearly quite flattered.

"What´s all this nonsense talk about beautiful women?" a new voice boomed from the stairway that led to the boys´ dormitory. All three heads whipped around to find Harry grinning at them. Before anyone could reply Ron emerged from the stairway at his side, about to ask him what he was talking about, but he saw Hermione and froze.

"Hermione?" The questioned escaped from his lips as he gaped at her. "You look quite... nice..." he fumbled, trying to regain his composure and keep his eyes from looking her up and down. Hermione felt the familiar blush rise in her cheeks.

"You look dainty," Seamus grinned at her. Harry nodded.

"Is that a new outfit?"

"Oh, uh, yes," Hermione answered. "Back to school gift from my parents. Uh, anyway..."

"Perhaps we should be off?" Ginny supplied, sharing a secret look with Seamus as they both watched Ron. Hermione gave him a fervent glance.

"Are you ready, Ron?"

"Um, yeah. Sure," he said, pulling on his robe. Harry shook his head with mock sadness as he watched his two best friends and then led the troupe of Gryffindors that had gathered out into the hallway. Immediately they broke off into little groups and joined up with students from other houses as they all mingled and headed for the exit.

By the time they were out of the castle, Hermione, Harry and Ron had formed their usual group of three and walked side by side in silence for a few minutes. Seamus and Ginny had gone on ahead, with Dean, Neville, Lavender and a few others.

"Where should we go first?" Hermione asked, breaking the silence.

"We´ve to go to Honeydukes," Ron said, finally recovered. Harry gave a little laugh.

"I agree, we need to stock up on some sugar."

"Okay," Hermione said evenly. "And, um, I´m meeting someone at six o´clock at the Three Broomsticks, so you boys can go off wherever you can´t drag me then."

Ron and Harry were immediately alert.

"Meeting someone?"

"Who?"

Hermione gave what she hoped was a dismissive smile. "Oh, a Ravenclaw you don´t know from my Arithmancy class. I told you we were beginning projects, correct?" she asked casually. The boys nodded together. "Well, we decided to meet up over dinner and discuss which one we wanted. Then maybe stop at the book shop or something - nothing special."

There was a pause and then Harry nodded.

"Okay, that´s fine. Ron and I can go moon over Quidditch supplies."

Ron grinned at this and Hermione felt her shoulders relax as they began talking about new equipment they longed for and other stores they wanted to visit. They had bought her excuse. Good.

The walk to Hogsmeade took about half an hour, at the leisurely pace the threesome chose. Conversation drifted from topic to topic, varying between Quidditch, school, and the play.

"I´m glad we have this play to distract us," Hermione told the boys. "This year might turn out to be pleasant after all."

Ron seemed less convinced, but nodded. Harry had a faraway look in his eye.

"At least with diversions like today I feel less paranoid about... everything..." Ron confessed. "It´s back to the normal routine: panicking about Potions assignments, Quidditch matches and fighting with Malfoy. Oh, and the play."

"I´m glad Trelawney chose a comedy," Harry said lightly. "And I guess Shakespeare is universal, even in the wizarding world."

Hermione smiled and Ron watched them both. "I guess. Though there are some references I don´t get."

"Such as?" Hermione prompted.

"Er, I don´t know. All I can think of right now is Malfoy´s last speech - with the line about being a Jew. What was that about?"

"Well, every age has a prejudice, bigotry and stereotypes," Hermione said with a sad sigh. "Back then Jews were outcasts from society, so saying if he did not love her he would be a Jew was an insult."

"I get it," Ron said.

"There are probably other things that go over some of you full blooded wizards´ heads," Hermione said with wry amusement. "But it probably makes more sense then... er... say, The Crucible."

"The what?" Ron asked, his nose wrinkling.

"Ug," Harry commented. "I read that for school. I liked it but, uh, that was before I knew I was a wizard..."

Hermione nodded in agreement and then looked up. "Hey, we´re here."

Indeed, they were. With an extra bounce to their step, the three walked onto the high street eagerly. Ron steered them towards Honeydukes and Harry and Hermione followed without complaint. When they entered the shop they found themselves in the company of many of their classmates.

"Hello, Harry, Ron, Hermione," Justin Finch-Fletchley said with a wave from the corner where he stood with some other Hufflepuffs. They were standing over a barrel of Lemon Sherbets, greedily filling up their little bags. They all waved back and walked over to the shelves full of candies.

Hermione picked up a package of Toothflossing Stringmints and smiled. "Maybe I should stock up on these for my parents. They love them."

Ron looked over to see what she was holding.

"Oh, honestly, you come to a sweet shop and pick out dental healthcare?"

Harry laughed and Hermione replaced the bag with mock annoyance.

"Here, these were made for you," Ron said, shoving some sugar quills at her. Hermione smiled and accepted the quills, looking at them thoughtfully.

"Fine. And these are for you." She tossed him a package of tiny black Pepper Imps.

"Why do these fit me?" Ron asked curiously.

"They let you breath fire," Hermione explained with a grin. "They would complement your temper tantrums."

Ron had the sense to look injured. "Hey."

"What?" Hermione asked, feigning innocence.

"You two..." Harry said with amusement. "I´m afraid to see what you´ll come up with for me."

"Oh, I think exploding bonbons sound perfect for you," Hermione announced.

"Oooh, Fizzing Whizbees!" Ron exclaimed, moving over to the neighboring shelf. "I need to stock up on these."

"I think I´ll settle for some chocolate," Harry said with an exaggerated air of maturity.

"That´s right, go for the fat instead of the sugar," Hermione giggled as she picked out a few pieces of fizzy strawberry licorice and a few more sugar quills.

After making their various purchases they stepped out into the street again and surveyed the scene. Harry glanced up and the cloudy, ominous sky.

"I predict...a huge rainstorm," he said, doing his best impression of Professor Trelawney. Ron and Hermione laughed and they crossed the street to peer at some objects on display in the windows of See & Believe - a shop specializing in crystal balls, Remberalls, decoders, and other wizarding gadgets.

"What I wouldn´t give for the occasional Earth Science lesson," Hermione expressed wistfully.

"A what?" Ron asked.

"A class about ecosystems, weather climates, minerals, natural disasters... things like that," Hermione explained. "It´s not in the general curriculum at Hogwarts. Just like the arts were rather lacking until this play."

Ron was looking at her like she was crazy. "Those sound awfully boring," he said.

Hermione shrugged and then stopped in front of the stationary shop.

"Let´s go in here," she suggested. "I could really use some more parchment."

Harry opened the door for her and Ron walked in as well.

"We should get some invisible ink," he whispered to Harry. "Think of the fun we could have..."

"I´m trying not to," Harry said drolly and walked over to the display of fancy quills, nibs, and inkpots.

Hermione walked up to them after a few minutes and handed them a few packages of parchment. "Is that enough?"

Ron´s eyes widened as he took in the volume of pages she held in front of them.

"Are we stocking up for the rest of our time at Hogwarts?"

Hermione sighed. "Come now, with all the papers were bound to be assigned? This way we won´t run out!"

Harry shrugged at Ron, as if to say they were defeated, and escorted Hermione up to the counter. They bought the paper, a few more quills and some ink and then arranged to have it delivered by owl to their dorms.

"How about we have some lunch?" Ron suggested as they left the store and Harry and Hermione agreed. Ron steered them to a nearby café where they occupied a table out on the pavement.

After the meal, they continued down the street, window-shopping, chit-chatting and stepped briefly into Zonko´s Joke Shop at Ron´s insistence.

Eventually, when Hermione checked her watch for the sixth time in as many hours she saw that it was quarter to six o´clock and decided she should head over to the Three Broomsticks.

"I think this is where I leave you," she told the boys solemnly. Suddenly she wasn´t so eager to go off and meet Malfoy on her own. She was beginning think she had arranged a miserable end to this pleasant day.

"Okay," Harry said, glancing at his own watch. "We might grab a bite of dinner on the go and then go to the Quidditch shop. Should we wait for you?"

Hermione shook her head quickly. "Uh, no. Who knows how long we´ll be at dinner, especially talking over this project. And I think we might go to the book shop and do some research there as well, so it´d be best if I simply meet you back in the common room whenever I´m finished."

"All right," Harry said, giving another upward glance at the sky. "Don´t forget the oncoming storm. It´s bound to start pouring soon, and that will make for a less-than-pleasant walk back to the castle."

Hermione nodded and gave both Harry and Ron light hugs.

"Bye, don´t have too much fun at the Quidditch shop," she smiled.

"Don´t have too much fun talking school," Ron replied. Hermione swallowed nervously and nodded, before giving a last wave and leaving them to make her way to the inn.

She walked quickly, out of nervousness combined with the growing intensity of the chilled wind. It was with great relief that she entered the warm and cozy atmosphere of the Three Broomsticks and walked back to the lavatory. She washed her hands, smoothed down her hair and waited for feeling and color to return to her cheeks and fingers before she made her way back to the crowded dining area and slid into a booth. A quick glance around determined that she was the first one there; Malfoy was nowhere to be seen.

It was two minutes to six when she opened the menu and pretended to be glancing at it, after she had informed the waitress that she was waiting for someone else. She shrugged off her robe impatiently and laid it on the seat next to her. Feeling odd about sitting alone, she turned her head and began casually looking at the other patrons around her. When she turned back around she found herself staring into the face of Draco Malfoy.

"Malfoy!" she exclaimed in shock, her hand automatically flying to her chest.

"Did I startle you?" he asked dryly, taking his glance from her to the waitress whom he motioned over with a minute gesture. The woman scuttled over eagerly and looked from Hermione´s still shocked expression to Malfoy´s relaxed arrogance with barely concealed interest.

"Sir?" she inquired politely.

"We´ll each have Madam Rosmerta´s special platter and a glass of pumpkin juice," he said handing her the menus. The woman glanced over at Hermione for concurrence, but Hermione was too busy staring at Malfoy to agree or disagree. Malfoy waved her away and she left without another word.

Finally Hermione shook herself out of her surprise. "Did you just order for me?" she asked, realizing what had just transpired.

"How did you manage to lose Potty and the Weasel?" Malfoy asked, completely ignoring her question.

Hermione sighed impatiently. "I told them I was meeting someone from my Arithmancy class to discuss our upcoming projects."

"Gullible, aren´t they?" he commented. Hermione felt the familiar agitation rise and once again regretted setting up this meeting. Was she a masochist?

"Let me guess, your cronies didn´t question you when you left?" she asked him sarcastically. He glared at her.

"My `cronies´? Are you trying to be witty?"

Hermione decided to play his game and ignored this question. However, the scowl quickly left his face and he leaned back in the booth.

"So, what did you want to talk about?" he asked, all business.

"I..." Hermione trailed off. "I just thought we should get some things out in the open. So we could be civil to each other for the play."

"And why would I want that?" he asked curtly.

Hermione groaned inwardly and checked her watch. It had only been five minutes and she was ready to give up.

"Well, I´d think you´d want to succeed as an actor in this play, and not appear a fool. And, frankly, if half the time you´re on stage with me you act like the spoiled, bigoted bully you are, that won´t happen."

The waitress delivering two tall glasses of pumpkin juice at their table interrupted Malfoy´s retort.

He pushed his to the side and stared at Hermione icily until she felt herself fidget with the glass.

"So this animosity is all my fault, is it?" he asked suddenly, breaking the silence. His tone was skeptical rather than the harshness she had been expecting.

"Well, you were hardly pleasant when Harry and Ron first met you," she argued.

He cocked an eyebrow. "Oh? Is that what they told you?"

"Yes," she answered, her voice wavering a bit.

"Hmmm..." he mused idly. "As I recall I offered friendship to Potter."

"But you said horrible things about the Weasleys," she said defensively. He looked at her crossly.

"It was your Weasley friend who was less than polite to me first," he said hotly.

"Oh?" Hermione asked, disbelieving.

" `Oh?´ " he mocked her. "Yes, he laughed at my name." Malfoy shrugged. "That´s fine; he knew I was better than him. The point is, Potter didn´t. He missed his chance."

"Ron was the first student from Hogwarts Harry met," Hermione said. "He was his first friend; Harry was hardly going to accept your friendship if you were going to be such a stuck up bastard toward Ron."

Malfoy smirked knowingly at this assessment.

"Did Potter never tell you that our encounter on the train was not the first time we had met?"

Hermione had not expected this and she hated the fact that her expression revealed to Malfoy that, no, Harry had not informed her of this fact at all.

His face lit up with the pleasure of knowing something about Harry that she didn´t. He made her wait as he shrugged off his robe and took a drink of the pumpkin juice.

"Oh no, we´d met before," he said carelessly.

"Really?" she asked, attempting casualness and knowing she failed miserably.

"I saw him in Madame Malkin´s," he replied, looking away. "I asked him if he was going to Hogwarts as well, because of his robes. I didn´t recognize him at first - not until he walked out the door." His tone almost sounded wistful.

"But... Harry didn´t seem to care for you much when you two met up again. What did you say?" Hermione asked. Malfoy´s gaze returned to her and he glared for a few seconds.

"I was perfectly polite until that oaf Hagrid showed up. I might have said something about Hagrid being a servant... or something," he spat out, unconcerned. "Anyway, I hardly accosted him like the Weasel accosted me later on."

Hermione couldn´t help but suspect Malfoy was playing down his comments. Knowing him, he had probably been quite sneering and stuck up to Harry even before Hagrid appeared. She gave a little laugh and Malfoy looked at her sharply.

"What?"

"Just your luck," she grinned. "You managed to insult the only two friends Harry had ever made. I guess that´s a side-effect of being such a snob."

Malfoy was watching her carefully as she spoke, but he gave his trademarked sneer when she mentioned snobbery.

"Oh, of course, only us Malfoys are snobs," he declared. "When I was eleven I spouted some line about Hagrid that I had been told by my father, and that makes me a snob. I dislike the Weasleys, so I´m a snob. But I´m the only one," he continued, his voice dripping with acidic sarcasm. "But never saint Potter. Oh no. Sure, he spurned my friendship because of a first impression. He refuses to associate with Slytherins. But he´s no snob. Nope. He gives everyone the benefit of the doubt and second chances." He looked at her coldly. "He´s never judged someone on appearance."

Hermione was speechless.

"He´s never... I mean... that´s not the point," she finished weakly.

"It never is," he replied. "He appears to have given a rat more chances than me." Malfoy shrugged. "It doesn´t matter. We obviously don´t get along anyway, so the point is moot."

She couldn´t help but shudder at the memory of Scabbers and looked at Malfoy carefully. She wondered just how much he knew.

"We´re not going to agree about Harry and Ron so..."

"So, we should just forget it?" he said primly. "Go ahead, be blind to the fact that Potter is just as prejudiced and as snobbish as me."

She was saved the task of replying by the arrival of their food. She had no idea what the special was, but it smelled and looked delicious.

It turned out to be a breast of chicken, expertly spiced and grilled, with a side of rice and topped with a caramelized slice of banana. She took her first bite just as Malfoy did and she had to admit he had ordered well.

"So," he said, leaning back in the booth and smirking at her. "What´s next on the menu? I´m so enjoying this discussion..."

"Fine. Harry´s not perfect," she muttered needlessly.

He gave a light chuckle. "I said we could move on."

She took a sip of her pumpkin juice and fixed him with her stare. "Okay then, how about you being more obnoxious to me than Harry and Ron combined because of my... my..."

"Your blood?" he inserted flawlessly.

"Er, sure," she muttered. She could feel her usual anger and defensiveness rising. "That seems to hinder you when dealing with me."

"Hinder is hardly the term I´d use," he said.

"Whatever. We´ve established you´re a bigoted prick, but I´m curious as to why. Obviously I can perform magic just as well, if not sometimes better than, you."

Malfoy raised his eyebrows and smiled at this. "I see. I have an immovable reputation as a bigoted prick but your reputation as a good witch is also rock-solid, eh?"

"You know I can match you spell for spell, grade for grade," Hermione hissed at him.

"Yes, because you study constantly," Malfoy retorted airily. "You have to work hard to be good." He flashed her a smile. "It comes to me naturally."

"That´s not true!" she snapped.

He leaned in towards her. "Prove it." He lingered close to her for a few more seconds before pulling back. "Prove it doesn´t come more naturally to me. Prove you´ve learned as much from all the books that you´ve read in the past five years as I have from fifteen years of experience."

"We´re constantly competing for the top spots in classes," she replied.

"Classroom spells," he said dismissively. "What about experience?"

He had her there. She was silent, and he took it as a silent admission of defeat. He grinned at her suddenly.

"Of course, you´re a more worthy adversary than Potter or Weasel and one of them is a pureblood, so there you go."

Hermione wasn´t sure if he was actually paying her a compliment.

"Next topic."

She sighed.

"You think you know everything about me, don´t you?" she asked edgily.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Don´t you and your little friends think you know everything about me? In your eyes I´m probably a Death-Eater-in-training controlled by my father, who´s bent on furthering the pureblood cause, and, as always - killing Potter," he drawled. "How original."

"Aren´t you?" she muttered.

"Are you a by-the-book, by-the-rules Gryffindor whose only interest is being teacher´s pet and Head Girl?"

"Well, maybe the Head Girl part," Hermione said, giving in to a small smile.

"Of course," he smirked. "But you Gryffindors certainly pay little regard to the rules," Malfoy said stiffly.

"You´re just jealous because when you do it you get caught," Hermione laughed.

"No, I´m mad because you aren´t clever enough to not get caught. But you get caught and the teachers look the other way."

"True," Hermione admitted with a sense of pride. Of course, she would never have been caught dead bragging about this with Harry or Ron around. The last thing they needed was encouragement. She still had quibbles about breaking the rules. But she might as well gloat around Malfoy. "But... through all these convoluted comparisons, what are you saying? Are you telling me you´re not going to be a Death Eater? That you´re not going to follow in your father´s disgraceful footsteps?"

"Why do you care?" Malfoy grumbled irritably.

"Well, I´m eating with you here. I´m going to have to rehearse with you. I go to school with you." She looked thoughtful. "Let´s just say I´m selfish and am curious about my own safety."

This caused Malfoy to laugh again. But he didn´t answer.

"You enjoy this, don´t you?" she asked.

He looked at her strangely. "Enjoy what?"

"Playing with my mind," she answered. "Insulting me and then giving me books, making a fuss about having to touch me and then agreeing to eat dinner with me?"

"Don´t you enjoy trying to figure me out?" he asked her, raising his eyebrows. "I mean, isn´t that what you do? Potter blunders into some assault from the Dark Lord and you rush to the rescue by solving the intellectual mystery?"

"Erm."

Malfoy chuckled. "I thought so."

The waitress came back around and cleared their empty plates. She was about to leave when Malfoy turned sharply towards her.

"Bring us two pints of pumpkin ale." His tone left no room for questions or for answering no, but it was obvious the waitress was considering this. Her gaze went back and forth between them, and Hermione was certain she was ascertaining the fact that neither of them were eighteen.

And Malfoy is ordering alcohol why? She thought to herself. Great. Another mystery.

"Malfoy-" Hermione began, about to tell him he was crazy and stupid. But at the utterance of his name the waitress glanced nervously at the teenager in front of her and nodded.

"Right away, Mr. Malfoy."

Hermione watched the girl scuttle away quite nonplussed. Two pints of pumpkin ale arrived on the table between them in a matter of seconds.

"You seem surprised," Malfoy said jovially.

"You ordered alcohol," Hermione said, wrinkling her nose. "Are you trying to get me drunk?"

"Hardly," Malfoy said, indicating the mug. "There´s barely any alcohol in this. But it tastes good and will keep you warm when you step outside."

He watched her with measured amusement as she slowly raised the mug to her lips. She took a small sip, prepared to make quite a face, and then realized Malfoy may have been right. She wasn´t sure about the alcohol content, but it did taste good. And even that small sip seemed to warm her all the way down her esophagus and into her stomach. He gave a smirk at her apparent approval and took a swig from his own cup.

"Can we agree to disagree?" Hermione said, breaking the silence.

Malfoy looked thoughtful and took another drink. It was very infuriating, because Hermione could tell simply from his expression that he already had his smart-alecky answer ready. But he was making her wait, just to make her... wait.

She tapped her fingers nervously on the table and took a few more drinks of the ale. As she saw the bottom of the mug she realized they must have not been filled to the top.

But she thought the foam had reached the lip...

"We Malfoys are careful what we agree to," Malfoy said finally.

"And?" Hermione asked, looking around for the waitress. She caught the girl´s eye, and with a gesture to the mug ordered another. It appeared in a matter of seconds and she grinned at it. Then she looked back up and caught Malfoy giving her a very peculiar stare.

"Are you trying to get yourself drunk?" he asked, sounding surprised at her actions.

"I´m trying to get to a place where I can talk to you and not want to wring your neck," Hermione explained to him as if he were a child. She took a sip from the new mug of ale and smiled sweetly at him. "You were saying?"

"Uh...right," he said, genuinely caught off guard. "Fine. Truce. Temporary - but a truce nevertheless..." he trailed off as it became apparent Hermione was paying the ale more attention than him. He shook his head minutely and finished off his own drink. He didn´t order another one.

A few minutes later Hermione had downed her second drink and Malfoy proceeded to push all three mugs to the end of the table. Acting on impulse, Hermione reached out for her mug. Malfoy´s hand blocked her.

"That´s enough of that," he said mildly amused.

Hermione pouted for a moment until the rational part of her brain broke through and pointed out it was definitely enough of that.

She cleared her throat and tried to regain all of her senses. Malfoy was reaching into the back pocket of his trousers and seconds later he had thrown a handful of galleonsonto the table. Hermione reached into her pocket for her own money, but his hand was covering hers before she could set it down.

"Grab your robe, let´s go. And I´m paying."

Hermione debated with arguing with him, but finally put her money back in a resigned fashion. She slid out of the bench and pulled her robe around her tightly. He waited for her to get ready before walking toward the door and holding it open for her. She hesitated a fraction of a second and then stepped out, looking at him suspiciously.

"Paying for dinner... holding the door open for me... are you trying to be charming?" Hermione asked him looking acutely scandalized. He chuckled faintly and closed the door behind them. Hermione shivered involuntarily as the cold wind hit her full force and she was thankful Malfoy had suggested the warm ale.

" `Unless one is wealthy there is no use in being a charming fellow,´ " Malfoy replied glibly.

"More Wilde," Hermione said in wonder. "Do you really enjoy his works all that much, or is the quoting for my benefit?"

They were walking leisurely down the cobbled pavement, but Malfoy raised an eyebrow and turned to her.

"You´ll find I rarely do anything but to benefit myself, and I´d never do it for you."

She smiled at his bluntness.

"I guess I just never imagined you poring over books."

"Well, some of us don´t feel the need to flaunt our intelligence," he snapped. Then more gently, "But don´t you imagine me pouring over forbidden books on the dark arts, plotting all day and night?" A shadow of a smile passed over his face and Hermione couldn´t help but laugh.

"Yes, of course. How could I forget?"

"Knowledge is power," Malfoy continued with a smirk.

"And power corrupts?" she finished questioningly. He stopped and started at her, shaking his head.

"No. `The abuse of greatness is when it disjoins remorse from power.´ "

Hermione shook her head with an exaggerated, mocking sigh. "And so, we´re back to quoting Shakespeare."

"Always," he agreed, but his face darkened. "Although, power must be completely without mercy these days."

Hermione froze at his words, unsure if he was actually revealing something important to her.

"Your father..." she began softly but he cut her off.

"Alas, Miss Granger, I refuse to let you in on all my secrets," he declared dramatically and began strutting down the road again. She walked quickly to catch up to him.

"Have you told me any?" she asked, masking her disappointment. She would have given almost anything to know more about Malfoy´s position with his father and Voldemort.

"Why yes, actually," he smirked. "I revealed to you my cunning intelligence."

"I still don´t understand you, Malfoy," she returned winsomely. "I don´t understand you at all."

They walked up to Morgana´s Book Shoppe and he held the door open for her again. Still feeling baffled by him and his actions, not to mention the turn this meeting was taking. Hermione stepped over the threshold.

At once she felt safe and at home among the crammed shelves packed with books and tomes of all sorts.

Malfoy led the way through the aisles and she found they were browsing the books on numerology and Arithmancy texts. Malfoy thumbed over the spines of the various titles: Cryptomenytices et Cryptographiae, Wizards & Numbers, Polygraphia, De usu & mysteriis notarum, Opus novum, Magical Math, and Stegonographia.

Hermione flipped through a few of the books herself, but then she found herself curious about some of the fiction titles. She wandered over to the fiction shelf and peered down at the novels: Children of the Wand, The Witching Hours, Three Sisters, Moonbeams and Magids, The Conjuring Caper, The Magi´s Footsteps...

Suddenly, a random thought struck her.

"Do they have any Muggle literature here?" she asked out loud. Malfoy turned to look at her and shrugged.

"Who knows? It´s worthless anyway."

"Worthless!" Hermione declared, thoroughly insulted.

"Yes. Aside from a few like Shakespeare - and he even got some things horribly wrong..."

"Yes, yes, the Weïrd Sisters, Prospero, Titania - I know. But not all Muggle literature is fantasy or has to do with what they perceive as magic. Not to mention, I´m sure isolated pureblood wizards like yourself couldn´t do any better writing a novel set in the Muggle world."

Malfoy looked at her as though she was a raving lunatic. She sighed and began walking around the bookstore, searching through all the topics for Muggle literature. Finally, after about five minutes - when even Malfoy had become bored and begin following her around - she stumbled upon one shelf that was half-hidden. "Muggle Literature" the sign above it proclaimed.

"Oh!" Hermione cried in joy. She knew Malfoy was probably rolling his eyes at her right this moment, but she didn´t care.

She looked up at the small selection on the shelf and suddenly began to giggle uncontrollably. There must have been more alcohol in the pumpkin ale than Malfoy had disclosed.

He stepped up next to her and regarded her, surprise evident on his face.

"What?"

"I´ve just had the funniest thought," Hermione exclaimed, reaching for a book. She held it up: Lord of the Flies by William Golding. "If you were a Weasley, you´d be Jack Merridew!"

Malfoy stared at her blankly as she dissolved into giggles again.

"Did you just equate me with a Weasley?" he asked, his eyes narrowing. This served only to spur on more laughter and she had to cover her mouth with her hand and take some deep breaths before explaining.

"Sort of. It´s this book," she handed it to him. "There´s a group of school boys who end up on a deserted island after their plane crashes. No adults survive."

"Okay," Malfoy said slowly. "So they used a dumb Muggle invention and got stuck."

"It´s more than that," Hermione explained. "The boys form groups in deciding their plan of action; eventually they begin to revert to a wild state."

"And this relates to the Weasleys and, for that matter - me, how?" Malfoy asked dryly.

"Two boys stand out among the rest. Ralph and Jack Merridew. Jack insists on being called by his last name, and he becomes the more...uh... malicious? No... savage? No..." Hermione struggled for a word to describe Merridew without totally insulting Malfoy. She gave up. "Anyway, he leads the group of hunters - these little kids are suddenly running around trying to kill food. And, eventually, each other. But - my point was - you remind me of Merridew. A bit. But he has red hair and freckles."

"Fascinating," Malfoy drawled. "I can´t believe what great literature I´ve been missing out on..."

"Oh, hush!" Hermione said as she swiped at him with the book. Malfoy backed away and successfully dodged the book.

He laughed at her and then checked his watch and glanced outside.

"It´s getting late, and, it´s going to start pouring any minute."

"Fine," Hermione said. "Shall we go?"

Malfoy shook his head. "Oh, I´ll walk you back to the castle, never fear. But before we leave I need to stop at Quid Pro."

"Oh no," Hermione groaned. "Not the Quidditch shop."

Malfoy just laughed. "Don´t worry, I´m just picking something up."

Without any more ceremony he headed for the door, Hermione following behind him, still feeling slightly giddy thanks to the ale.

By the time they made it to Quid Pro the rain had begun falling. Combined with the cold, darkness and wind it was turning into quite a miserable night. Hermione huddled in the entrance of the shop after Malfoy walked in.

The man behind the counter immediately reacted on seeing Malfoy.

"Mr. Malfoy! I wondered if you´d be by tonight."

Malfoy nodded at the man. The man walked into a backroom and came out with a wrapped package. Hermione watched this all in wonder.

And then the man unwrapped the package.

"It´s lovely, isn´t it?" the man said, proudly displaying the broomstick.

The very expensive looking broomstick.

Hermione didn´t know anything about broomsticks, but she remembered Harry and Ron´s interest in what Malfoy was flying. It seems he did own the very latest Firebolt model after all.

She stepped forward so that she was elbow to elbow with Malfoy as he accepted it and began looking it over. He rubbed the polished wood with his fingers, as if checking its apparent perfection.

"It´s true then," Hermione gasped "What they were saying at the game: Draco Malfoy owns the latest Firebolt."

Malfoy gave a pleased chuckle. "Of course I do."

"They all couldn´t understand why you were flying on your old Nimbus..." Hermione continued.

"Quite simple, really," Malfoy replied with a shrug of his shoulders. "I wanted to take the broom in for a service tune-up, and I figured I could sacrifice it to play Hufflepuff. As you saw, I beat them even on my old Nimbus." He smiled smugly. "Plus, there was the added bonus of confusing the competition - all those who had heard I had this broom."

"Oh," Hermione said quietly.

"I´m pleased it worked."

Hermione nodded slightly and then noticed the man was looking from one to the other with a strange expression on his face. Malfoy seemed to notice it too and cleared his throat. He pulled the broom carefully off the counter and nodded to the man.

"Thank you."

The man nodded at him and waved them out the door.

Hermione could hear the rush of the rain before she saw the sheets coming down from the sky. Both she and Malfoy stopped under the small awning of the shop and peered out at the nasty weather.

"We´re going to get soaked," Hermione declared. She noticed that the streets were practically empty, most people - including the other students - had returned home.

"This is ridiculous," Malfoy agreed, testing the saturation factor my extending his hand out into the rain. "We´ll be melted five minutes into the walk, let alone the full thirty minute trek back."

"I don´t suppose you know how to cast water repelling charms without a wand?" Hermione asked despairingly

"Nope," Malfoy declared with a bit of defeat evident in his voice. Then he paused. "Wait. Wait. This is ridiculous..."

"What?" Hermione asked.

"I have a broom," he pointed out. "I can fly back."

"That´s great," Hermione snapped back. "But I don´t; plus, I hate flying anyway so-"

"You can ride on the back of my broom," Malfoy said easily. "We´ll still get wet, but it´ll only be for about seven or eight minutes instead of thirty."

"Malfoy," Hermione began, trying to form a logical argument against this. "You don´t want me on your new broom, and besides, like I said, I really, really hate flying-"

"No choice," Malfoy declared, cutting her off again. He set the broom in the air on hover and mounted it. There was obviously plenty of room behind him for Hermione to sit.

"Malfoy..." Hermione whined timidly, nervousness creeping into her stomach. She hated flying. Hated, hated, hated it!

Malfoy turned around to face her and fixed her with a stare.

"Get. On. The. Broom. Granger."

For perhaps the first time in her life, Hermione finally fully understood the inner workings of peer pressure. Impulsiveness, combined with the fact that she might have done anything Malfoy asked her to do at that point, resulted in her mounting the broom hastily and taking a deep, frantic breath. Nervously her hands gripped the broom handle in front of her. She had made sure there were several centimeters between Malfoy and her hands.

However, as Malfoy allowed the broom to take off, Hermione suddenly felt her hatred of flying accost her in full force. Suddenly her grip wasn´t tight enough; it wasn´t secure enough. She had visions of herself, still gripping the broom with her legs wrapped around the broom, tipping over and hanging upside down like an opossum.

The broom jerked slightly as it rose higher into the sheets of rain, and Hermione felt desperation and adrenaline take over. She released the broomstick from her grasp and reached out for the next solid thing in front of her. Squeezing her eyes shut as tightly as humanly possible. As the wind and rain streaked across her cheeks, she turned her face to the side and pressed it to the cloth in front of her.

It was a few minutes after the broom leveled out, that she ventured to open her eyes and look around as little as she dared. Taking a few deep breaths, she suddenly became aware of her arms once more. They were wrapped tightly around... Malfoy´s torso.

Her eyes widened in horror and she almost choked on her fear and embarrassment. But currently Malfoy seemed otherwise occupied with flying the broom. Hermione decided it would be best to remove her hands, but then realized this would draw attention to where they were to begin with.

Oh God.

Her face was pressing against Malfoy´s back.

She quickly went from feeling disturbed and embarrassed, to feeling grateful when the broom dipped down suddenly and her tight grip steadied her, with Malfoy´s shoulder blocking the brunt of the weather.

Hermione assumed they must be nearing the castle, and that the rest of the trip would continue in silence.

Of course, she was wrong.

"You should see what this broom can do," Malfoy shouted over the wind. At the sound of his voice Hermione pulled her face away from his back so that she was staring at the back of his head. He turned his head around as far as possible and smirked at her. "Oh good, you are still alive."

"I told you I hate flying," Hermione replied self-consciously.

Malfoy shrugged. "You´ve just never been properly introduced."

Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but felt the words get blown back by the wind and drowned out by the rain. Malfoy didn´t seem to hear her.

"Release your death grip on me," he hollered.

"What?" Hermione cried out, hoping she had heard him wrong.

"Release your death grip; we´re going to do some flying!"

Seconds later, Hermione felt Malfoy´s fingers forcing her grip to loosen. He grabbed her right hand and raised it high in the air with his. "One arm!" he shouted.

Before she could argue or free her arm from his grasp he suddenly took a dive to the side. Hermione felt her stomach jump into her throat and then fall back down. For once she didn´t squeeze her eyes shut, but glanced down at the ground. It seemed so far away that she was about to scream - until Malfoy righted the broom and accelerated.

No longer conscious of how far off the ground she was, she began to look around at the storm clouds that surrounded them. She felt the wind catch her hair and fling it backwards. Malfoy released her hand and she let it drop to her side, no longer thinking about regaining a tight grip on anything. Her heart was pounding and she became aware of the adrenaline pulsing through her system.

Maybe this isn´t so bad after all.

Malfoy continued to fly the broom with flourish, gradually increasing the length and tilt of the dips and playing around with the speed of the broom. Despite her ignorance about flying, Hermione could tell that this broom was superior to Harry´s and that Malfoy had upped the stakes at Quidditch.

Their flight continued for a few more minutes before Malfoy began to descend. Hermione peered over his shoulder and saw the grounds of Hogwarts opening up below them and the spires of the castle looming in front.

Malfoy brought the broom down smoothly and dismounted. Hermione swung her leg over and dismounted as well, feeling a bit wistful about having solid ground beneath her feet.

"Do you still hate flying?" Malfoy asked her. She couldn´t help but grin at him, with the rain dripping from the tips of his hair and his cloak shimmering with water.

"Maybe not..." she replied mysteriously. She then became aware of the saturation of her own clothes and could only imagine how her hair looked now. She imagined she resembled a drowned rat and quickly tried to smooth down the strands and remove them from her face.

They stood there for a few moments in silence as the rain continued to pour down them. The drops began to drip of Hermione´s nose and she brushed them away in irritation. Malfoy suddenly chuckled at this.

"Maybe we should get inside... where it´s not raining."

"Good idea!" Hermione said, and turned towards the steps of the castle. She took a few steps before realizing Malfoy was not following her. She turned back around to him curiously.

He stood where she had left him, watching her as the rain continued to soak him.

"Aren´t you coming?" she shouted.

He nodded. "In a minute. No need to enter in together and start a riot between our two Houses."

"But surely..." Hermione trailed off, realizing that perhaps he had a point. Who knew what the reactions and assumptions would be if they stepped into the castle together. Besides, she didn´t want anyone asking questions. If Harry and Ron discovered who she had really gone to meet...

"Go on, it´s freezing out here!" Malfoy called at her petulantly. She tried not to laugh at him as she ran up the steps into the warm, dry hallway. Keeping her head down she passed a few students; she made her way quickly to Gryffindor Tower. She didn´t stop to look back as Malfoy made his own entrance.

***

Whispering the password, Hermione pushed open the portrait hole cautiously and discovered Harry and Ron sitting by the fire talking and laughing. Ron had his bag from Honeydukes in front of him and was obviously indulging in the various sweets.

Harry saw her first.

"Hermione! I´m glad you´re back. The weather´s getting awful out there..." he paused to take in her disheveled state; hair flat and wet against her head, water dripping from the ends of the strands as well as her cloak and clothes. "Then again, maybe it´s too late for you!" he laughed.

Hermione smiled at them and pulled out her wand. She muttered a drying spell that succeeded in reducing the wetness of her clothes. Now she just felt slightly damp and chilled.

"Evening Harry, Ron," she said simply, removing her cloak and laying it by the fire. She stood before them for a moment and then walked back over to the portrait hole. Muttering the same drying spell, she removed the small puddles her dripping clothes had created and then turned back to face her friends. Ron had stood up and now they both were in front of her.

"Glad you made it back, it was getting late," Ron said.

"Yes, well, it started raining as I left Hogsmeade. That walk is definitely no fun in the rain," she replied lightly. Ron nodded and then glanced down at her shoes.

"You´re not muddy." Hermione glanced at him in surprise and sudden horror. Of course she wasn´t muddy, she had flown back on Malfoy´s broom and what if he got suspicious because, after all, surely everyone else who had come in had tracked mud through because, well, it was raining outside and there´s a lot of dirt between here and Hogsmeade and they´re going to find out and... "Clever you. What´d you use? A charm?"

"W-what?" Hermione asked, not having heard him clearly through her irrational and rising panic.

"Leave it to our Hermione to use fancy charms to keep out of the mud," Ron repeated to Harry with a chuckle.

"Oh, yes, that..." Hermione mumbled with a strained laugh.

She was about to walk over and have a seat on one of the couches when the portrait hole opened up. In stepped Ginny followed by Seamus, Dean and Lavender.

"Oh, thank goodness you´re here and okay!" Ginny exclaimed at Hermione. Hermione turned in surprise at her voice and noticed that indeed, all four of them were splattered with mud.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked quickly.

"You should´ve asked to walk back with us!" Seamus declared.

"What are you talking about?" Harry asked. "Why wouldn´t Hermione be okay? It´s not like she melts."

Hermione gave a forced laugh and nodded. "Yes, I-I´m fine."

"Well, when we saw you on the steps..." Seamus began. "Oh, was that really a new Firebolt?"

Hermione felt the color drain from her face and felt her stomach drop again. Only this time there was no balancing high, like when she had flown.

"What are you all talking about?" Ron said, a confused look on his face.

She tried to catch Ginny´s eye, willing her to understand not to say it. She cursed that she wasn´t telepathic.

Either way, Ginny didn´t seem to notice. She stared at Hermione as if in disbelief.

"Did you really get a lift back from Draco Malfoy on his broom?"