I'm staring at her.

For no good reason, too. At least, I can't think of any meaningful answer at the moment.

She's sitting along under my favorite tree by the lake outside. Her back leans against the trunk, and there are papers and scroll, books and and quills with ink bottles to match sprawled around her in seemingly random, but (knowing her) probably strategic places. As far as I can tell from my position a good twenty feet behind on a stone bench, she's doing absolutely nothing.

I scowl, wondering why she has to be in my "I'm going to do as much as a Hippogriff's crap" spot doing less than a Hippogriff's crap. It's my place for lazing around, and she has no right to take it. Besides, I thought it was physically incapable for Granger to be surrounded by learning material and not study.

I see her heave a sigh, pulling her hardly manageable hair into a ponytail, but a few strands fall out of the rubber band almost immediately. She picks up a quill and dips the tip in an ink bottle; she leaves it there while reading something, then lifts it out with a flick to write something down.

I think about sauntering over and reclaiming my spot, but I just sigh harshly and lie down on the uncomfortable and too-short bench.

Times like these is when a man needs his lazy tree.

I roll off the bench purposely, hoping grass is softer than granite.

It is, somewhat, but it's just not the same. I'm tempted to roll down the hill to the edge of the lake, or maybe the other side of my tree, but Malfoys do not roll down hills. It's degrading, and makes one look ridiculous.

So I pull myself to my feet and wander to my tree. I plant myself on the side of the tree that faces the castle; the side opposite Granger.

I hear her mutter incoherent ramblings to herself, and I actually find it soothing; unlike the irritating buzz I would have assumed it to be.

I lay on my back to stare up at branches and red and orange and yellow leaves. Fall has just begun, along with the school year. It's finally my last year at Hogwarts, and I hope to hell it's calmer than the previous years. I was pulled out last year for reasons concerning my father's need to kiss the Dark Lord's ass by offering me up as a slave to do his dirty work.

Um.

Yeah.

Anyway, I was surprisingly excited when I was boarding the Hogwarts Express about coming back to this damned place. It's almost like home here, except maybe better. For God's sake, I've lived here for six years of my life! Excluding summers, of course.

I mean, it is school, and school's a drag, but here I can pretend my life wasn't all that effected by the war. I'm fooling myself, I know. I swear a whole layer of who I was was peeled off slowly an painfully over the last two years selectively.

Not that I'm admitting it to anyone, but I'm not half as proud or strong as before. Not that I'm admitting it, though, like I said, but after the Malfoy name was discolored by my and my father and mother's acts, well... it's hard to be left proud of a father in Azkaban (and with a life sentience) and a mother that barely got by (the same goes for myself) and a constant reminder of the deep shit I'd gotten myself into via the Dark Mark permanently burnt into my skin.

Aside from that, I'm determined to have the best school uear I've ever had, just to prove to myself I can.

I close my eyes slowly, then take a deep breath. A loud, sharp groan from the other side of the tree makes me jolt up to a sitting position in surprise, eyes opening automatically.

"Why is ink so damn spill-able?" Granger asks irritably. I hear her mutter a spell, probably to clean the mess she inevitably just made.

I resist both the urge to chuckle and to ask her what has her knickers in a bunch, and lie back down. Little bits of sunlight peek through the leaves of the tree, this being its only downfall, and fall into my eyes. I throw an arm over my eyes, not caring enough to actually move out of the offending light.

Another shriek comes from the other side of the tree and I'm forced to ask, "What now?" to the air.

Apparently, she hears me, though she wasn't necessarily intended to, because there's a short silence, followed by a pair of dull brown eyes peering around the trunk. It seems in her frustration, she didn't hear me rustling around in the grass.

"Oh, sorry," she says, her cheeks turning a delicate shade of pink. "I didn't realise anyone was there..."

My arm slides off my face, and I raise my eyebrows up then down once quickly in response.

"It's just..." She flops to her back, so from where I am, I can only see her head and shoulder. It looks like she's about to dump whatever's on her mind on me. Wonderful.

"I know you don't care in the least what I say," she starts. It's true. "But would you mind too much if I rant to you about things not concerning you?"

I prop myself up on my elbow, facing her. Resting my head on my hand, I say dully,"If you're going to anyway, you may as well start now. Just one question."

"What?" She looks skeptical.

"Why not rant to Weaslette instead of your fine arch enemy?"

"She knows practically everything already," Granger says with a shrug. "But it's all bubbled to the surface again, and I need to get it out, or I'll never get this moronic four page essay on the importance of mid-eighteenth century Dementors and how they've changed since. It's so aggravating, though, because they haven't changed all that much, and I've hardly one page down, and I'll never be able to finish the last three and a quarter if my mind is so clouded."

"Isn't there a spell for de-clouding one's mind?"

"There is?" She cocks her head t the side,

"Isn't there a spell for pretty much everything?"

"There may be... I can't believe I didn't think - I'm going to the library. Watch my things, please."

"Hey, what?" But she's already running to the castle. I don't want to watch her crap. This is my lazy tree, therefore I do nothing underneath it! I go and lie in the middle of her things nonetheless, and close my eyes again.

I must've fallen asleep, because the next thing I'm aware of is Granger screaming at me about her papers being blown all across the universe.

"I couldn't trust you to do anything," she's grumbling, picking up things the wind took at most fifteen feet from their original spot. "... idiocy... Ferret... Can't do anything..."

"As high strung as ever, eh Granger?"

"Well, wouldn't you be if you were me?"

And it approaches.

"Um -"

"I mean, Ron seems like he doesn't want to commit to anything at all between us, so I told him I was sick of his crap, so suddenly he's saying he does want to be with me. But then he goes and makes out with some random girl in a pub! And then there's Ginny, who's always either sighing and talking of Harry dreamily, or in a horrid mood and cursing Harry and almost everyone in sight to the deepest pits of hell. So she's not the easiest to talk to lately.

"And I'm behind on homework, and I fell asleep for the first time in history in Ancient Runes and lost twenty-five point, and -" She throws her papers down by the base of the tree and plops down next to me. "- school's only been going on for two weeks, and I think I've only gotten two hours of sleep since it started."

"Are you finished?" I ask in a bored tone.

She has to think for a moment. "Yes," she decides with a nod. "I'm finished."

"Good." I close my eyes. Again.

I can feel her shift so she's lying next to me.

"Sorry," she mutters bitterly, "I didn't mean to waste those precious minutes of your life."

"I didn't say anything!" I almost laugh.

"You were thinking it."

"We really are in a bad mood, aren't we?"

"Well," she huffs, and I can almost hear her pouting.

"This isn't the Hermione Granger I know," I mumble sleepily.

"Don't you have someone to hex, Malfoy?" she asks sourly.

"Not that I know of." I put the arm opposite Granger (my left arm) behind my head and kick off my shoes.

"Can't you just leave me in my state of unhappiness?" she asks me.

"My tree. I'm staying."

"This is not your tree, Ferret," she snorts.

"It is," I say, "unofficially."

"I'm staying too," she tells me stubbornly, pushing off her shoes as well.

"Whatever she of dirty blood sees fit," I say, uncaring. I doze off again, and have a short, odd dream. I swear it's of ducks with mustaches, but when I awake, it's too blurry in my mind to be sure.

Granger is still, unfortunately, next to me, and she seems to be in peaceful sleep. She's in the fetal position facing me, and the fingertips of her right hand reach over and rest on my arm. Other parts of her almost touch me.

I don't move.

I can't believe I'm actually worried that if I do move, I'll disturb her. But only because she needs sleep. Because she might come after me with the woes of her life again if she doesn't get sleep. Not because I care about her sleeping patters, obviously.

She has inadequate problems, really. If only I were to rant to her about all the things wrong with my life. That'd make an interesting couple of hours.

Granger makes a small moaning noise, and nuzzles her head unconsciously into my shoulder. Her hand forms a tighter grip on my arm.

I frown.

I really can't move now.

With a sigh, I think of how I do have homework that needs to be done sitting on my bed in the Slytherin dorms. But it's not due until tomorrow, and if I sleep now, I'll be awake enough to do it later tonight.

Contented with this, I allow my eyes to flutter to a close, and let myself drift back to sleep.

The next time I awake, the light outside is dimming. I check my watch; it's eight o' clock. We had to have been sleeping for at least three hours...

I'm on my side now, facing the girl beside me. She's in practically the same position, except this time her head is buried in my chest.

This feels right...

But wrong. Really wrong. Honestly, why am I letting this Mudblood stay cuddled up against me?

Because she's soft and warm and smells nice.

Shit.

Even so, I wonder how we even got in this position.

Obviously, we were sleeping (and Granger still is), and we didn't know what we were doing. Therefore, the way we... are... was done completely unconsciously and is entirely coincidental. After all, we fell asleep next to each other, and as it is getting chilly outside, it would make sense that we would be drawn to the only other source of warmth around us.

That'll do.

A part of me doesn't want to move.

And I don't.

I'm thinking I should wake Granger up so she can get in before curfew, but, of course, what fun would that be?

And I think curfew at eight is pure stupidity, so I always extend my personal curfew to ten. If I'm caught, it's easy to explain how I thought for seventh years, curfew was ten.

Besides, if I'm found sleeping under a tree, obviously I fell asleep before curfew so it's not like I knew...

Ah, excuses.

What fun.

I decide to simply shut my eyes and see what happens.