The noises I am hearing are probably quite normal. But I keep swallowing nervously and one line from a song I have always thought was creepy repeats itself over and over again in my head. ‘If you go down to the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise.’ It’s not creepy per say, because the title of the song is ‘Teddy Bear Picnic’ and (as you could have guessed) it’s about a bunch of teddy bears picnicking in the woods. But still.

Malfoy practically bounces backwards out of the alcove.

“Er.. I’m verbally insulting this mudblood. What else would I be doing?” Malfoy sneers and comfortably he slips back into his old sarcastic routine. Nevertheless, I’m glad it’s only Crabbe and Goyle who are witnessing this, because my friends would never have fallen for it. The scene they stumbled upon was just too suspicious.

“I really can’t accept it,” Harry says, gentlemanly. It doesn’t help at all that he’s so good mannered. Ron would have taken it in a heartbeat.

“If you’re so hell bent on giving it away, why not to me?” Ron finally says and he eyes the bottle like a new broom.

“Harry, take the bottle!” I finally yell, scarcely managing to omit a justified ‘dammit’, and reluctantly Harry accepts it, while Ron huffs angrily in the background. Oh, eternal damnation! This is not keeping a low profile. I’m acting as if I’m on acid.

Now that Malfoy and me are forced to work together we’ve developed a nice routine of insulting each other while maintaining a pleasant conversation. Our secret is that we never cross the line. I’m not a mudblood and he’s not a conceited git. Well, he is, but I never actually call him that. Today we had another one of those civilized talks and somehow I got the feeling that Malfoy was flirting with me, which is not only highly unlikely, but also ridiculous on so many levels.

“So, Ron’s going to be okay?”

“Oh, yes. Do you want to go see him before we go to Hogsmeade?” he asks.

“No, that’s alright. We’re still not speaking to each other and I was going to apologise, but this isn’t exactly the right time. I’ll visit him when we get back,” I say. This would definitely not be a good time for me to apologise. Being ill, Ron will be crabby and not being able to go to Hogsmeade will only increase that and then he’s going to think I’m only apologising because I feel sorry for him, which will make him even crabbier. Best to wait.

“Correction. I was searching for the Horcrux, you have found. Give it to me,” I demand and in response Malfoy only laughs. But as amused as he started out now he’s faltering and even with his face in the dark I can see a curious expression cross his face. Realisation dawns on him and he grimaces.

“Oh, crap.”

“So… You love me?” I say and this question sounds so surreal, ridiculous and awkward, mostly because I never thought me asking him this would some day lie within the realms of possibility. He touches my wrist with his fingertips and puts his hand back in his lap.

“I do,” he whispers and I can feel a subtle change in him. Every muscle in his body is tense as he awaits my response with his eyes firmly on the carpet. I blink in confusion. This is not the Malfoy that I used to know. This truly is Draco and I’ve missed him.

“Get her! Someone get her! I want my mother!” Draco screams frantically. Everybody freezes and stares at him. He turns away from the window and grabs my hand.

“Hermione,” he pleads, desperate,” Tell someone to bring my mom. Please?”

Suddenly there’s a short struggle at the door. I take my eyes off Draco to see what’s going on. The door opens and closes again as Ron yells.

“Mom. No!”

“I don’t want to do this, but don’t you realise I have to? What if I tell him his mother is still alive and he decides not to help us? Without his help we’re not going to find the Horcruxes, ergo we’re not going to defeat Voldemort. I can’t risk that. Can you?”

“If he doesn’t want to help, than so be it."

For the time being, however, all is not well. He’s so tired and his mind is starting to play tricks on him. One good night’s rest and I will be fine, he tells himself, for the moment forgetting his nightmare and the worsening insomnia. Or he knows and is simply ignoring it. He’s such an optimist. He’s fooling himself. Take a pick. Ha ha ha. Stop it!

It's a nice night for a fight, but these two fishes only nibble, never bite.