A/N: I was going to write another chapter on Properly In Love…but this little multi-chapter fic has been scratching at my mind since they put all those stupid stuffed bears and fake flowers in stores… Enjoy this lil fluffy fic.

The Language of Flowers

Chapter 1: Forgiveness

"These are so asinine," Hermione Granger complained to the youngest Weasley.

Hogwarts was atwitter with Valentine's Day preparations. The War was over and it seemed that the teenagers were more carefree than in any year Hermione had ever attended the magical school. The seventh years, first-time and returning, were setting decorated boxes along the corridors outside of their Common Rooms. The intent was to anonymously pass along Valentines goodies to one another.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Quit being such a stick in the mud, 'Mione. You never know…your true love could be waiting out there," she said, gesturing toward the belly of the castle.

Hermione huffed. "I highly doubt that," she mumbled, placing her sparsely decorated red and pink box on the floor next to Ginny's.

Hermione hated Valentine's Day with a passion. Her past attempts at relationships—if you could call them that—with Viktor (a study partner), Cormac (a human octopus) and Ron (her long-time best friend but awkwardly improper choice for a boyfriend) had all failed miserably. She'd completely given up trying to pursue anyone within the castle walls. There were more important things than silly teenaged crushes, anyway—like NEWTs and apprenticeships at the Ministry…

"We'd better get to Defense Against the Dark Arts. You know Professor Scylla gets when we're late," she said, taking her friend by the elbow.

When they entered the classroom, there were only two seats left. Ginny grabbed the nearest one and Hermione internally groaned as she sauntered up to where Draco Malfoy was sitting in his seat, relaxed into a slouch against the back of the chair, his arms crossed over his chest. She slid in next to him and he gave her a polite nod. "Granger."

The year was more than half-way finished and Hermione hadn't had more than a few passing conversations with Malfoy in that time. But each time they'd spoken, he'd been well mannered. Long gone were the slurs and insults he'd tossed around in childhood, instead replaced with the occasional compliment on her studiousness or quick wit, quick pleasantries exchanged good-naturedly. His newfound personality brought with it a whole new set of irritations for Hermione—like a budding interest in Draco Malfoy as a human…as a man. If ever there was a worse choice to become attracted to, she couldn't think of who it might be.

"Malfoy," she replied, retrieving her items from her bag to begin taking notes.

They were studying magical items that were imbued with dark magic and Professor Scylla, a short bald man of about a hundred and fifty whose voice was dull and droning, flashed the image of various hand weapons. She caught sight of a dagger and her hand went to her left forearm where the word MUDBLOOD had faded into a dull pink.

Malfoy saw her actions and stiffened immediately beside her. She shook her head and brought her quill to paper once more, the quill scratching furiously as she took notes. Malfoy was penning what looked like shorthand notes, nothing more than various words and symbols she didn't quite recognize. Hermione pursed her lips. He was second in their class, barely behind her in points at all, and yet this was his note-taking style?

He seemed to be thinking the same thing of her style. Malfoy leaned forward and got close to her so the Professor couldn't hear. "If you write any faster, you're going to tear a hole right through the parchment, Granger."

Hermione glared at him as gooseflesh rose over her skin at the feel of his warm breath tickling her ear. "And if you took any less information down, I'd think you weren't listening at all."

Malfoy raised an eyebrow and gave her a smirk. "I'm only teasing."

She felt her cheeks flush at the smile he gave her. Since when did Draco Malfoy make her blush? Hermione trained her eyes on her parchment once more and tried to focus on what the teacher was saying.

She was finding it increasingly more difficult, however, as her desk partner became bored with the lecture. His leg bounced up and down rapidly, occasionally brushing against her own. He was left-handed—something Hermione had never noticed before this—so his elbow would bump hers every so often. In between the quick scratch of his quill against parchment as he jotted another strange symbol or word, he would tap the feather against his chin, drumming the fingers of his right hand against the desktop. From her peripheral, she could see him bite his lip absently as he stared straight ahead. He run a hand through his white blond locks, no longer caked with gel, but soft and luxurious. Luxurious?

As she fought to concentrate, her notes became increasingly more messy and sporadic. When the bell finally chimed to indicate the end of the period, she breathed a sigh of relief. Sitting beside him had been torturous—his little ticks and nuances were highly agitating. She capped her inkpot and stowed it in her bag before swinging it over her shoulder.

Hermione was nearly out the door when she felt a soft hand on her shoulder. "Granger, wait."

Her insides did a flip, much to her chagrin. She looked up at him expectantly, an eyebrow raised. He let go of her shoulder and used that hand to run through his hair once more. The silken locks fell about his head messily, some landing in his eyes in a way that made Hermione's knees knock. "I was wondering if maybe you'd like to start studying together some? NEWTs are only a few months away, after all."

She bit her lip and watched as his eyes flashed down to her mouth for a brief moment before heading back up to her eyes. He readjusted his bag on his shoulder and the corners of his mouth twitched. "Well?"

Hermione nodded. "Sure. I go to the library—"

"Every night after dinner. I know," he replied with a laugh that sounded…nervous?

Her heart started beating rapidly at the thought of him watching her just as intently as she watched him. "Meet me in the back left corner—"

"Near the restricted section. The long table by the window," he said, flashing her a genuine smile. "See you tonight, then."

Hermione nodded and watched his back retreat as he made his way to Alchemy on the fourth floor. She smiled to herself and turned on her heel to head up to Arithmancy.

o-o-o

That evening, Hermione watched as Malfoy rose from the Slytherin table and said goodbye to Theo Nott and Astoria Greengrass. He strode out of the Great Hall and she smiled and stood to follow. She said a brief goodbye to Ginny and Neville, mentioning that they shouldn't wait up.

She entered the library and went to her usual table, but Malfoy hadn't arrived yet. He'd left before her, why wasn't he there yet? Perhaps he stopped off in the loo or the dungeons to retrieve a book. She sighed and sat down, pulling a long scroll out of her bag—her color-coordinated study schedule.

Hermione was lost in her own thoughts as she spread books out before her. "Impressive," came a velvety voice behind her, close enough that she could feel his breath tickle her crown.

"Thanks…I just like being prepared," she mumbled.

Malfoy slid into the seat across from her and he dropped his bag to the floor by his feet. He'd removed his tie and his shirt was unbuttoned up top. He had rolled the sleeves of his shirt up just twice and she saw the bright red outline of his faded Dark Mark peek out from just under his left sleeve. He seemed to notice her gaze and thrust his sleeves down quickly. "Sorry," he muttered.

Hermione shrugged. "It's all in the past, isn't it?"

Malfoy stared at her for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Finally, he leaned forward in his chair and reached across the table to where she was resting her chin in her cupped hand. He brushed a curl behind her ear and gave her a timid look. "It may have been in the past…but it's never too late to apologize, is it?" he asked, a haunting pain in his pewter eyes.

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion and she dropped her hand from her chin and leaned forward on the table. "What should you apologize to me for? We all heard what happened to you, why you did what you did. We've all come to terms with it," she said quietly.

"I have given many apologies out over the last year. But I have yet to apologize to you," he said, reaching over and placing his hand over hers. "I'm sorry for my inactions in the Manor…that day."

"Draco…there was nothing you could have done differently," she replied, staring at where his thumb was gently caressing her hand.

"I should have fought back, not cowered in the corner. I'll never forgive myself, but I hope one day, you'll be able to forgive me," he said, his voice dripping with sincerity.

She gave him a weak smile. "Why don't we go ahead and get started studying for Transfiguration. Professor McGonagall's not going to go lightly on us," she said, pulling her hand from his grasp.

He frowned but nodded.

o-o-o

"Can I walk you up to Gryffindor Tower?" Malfoy asked later that evening.

They'd gone through various Transfiguration spells, turning various objects into living beings and back. Hermione and he had both laughed when the rabbit he had transfigured from a quill nibbled at his pant leg. Hermione found him to be intelligent and witty. He could even be funny when he tried. She'd not had the pleasure of hearing too many genuine laughs from him, and the sound of it made a lump rise in her throat as her heart beat wildly.

"How about to the base of the stairs? That's half-way between our two dorms," she pointed out.

"Fair enough," he said, retrieving her sagging school bag from the tabletop. "Gods, Granger. Is there a body in here?"

"Ha ha. Very funny," she said, elbowing him playfully. "I can carry it—I'm used to it."

"What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't carry it at least to the staircase? My mother would beat me senseless at my poor manners," he laughed again.

Hermione tried to imagine Narcissa Malfoy admonishing her son for being rude to a female. The thought was absurd and laughable. "So," he started, "are we on for tomorrow night as well? I wanted to go over my Potions notes. I think I'm missing something on that Draught of Living Death."

Hermione knew good and well that Draco Malfoy did not need help with Potions—he was top in that class. She'd always assumed it was because Snape was his godfather and mentor, but his grades had kept up with Slughorn teaching it all the same. He simply wanted one more night with her. "Sure. Same time, same place."

They arrived at the base of the staircase. Malfoy held out her bag and with a tap of his wand, it became instantly lighter. "At least act like the brilliant witch you are and use a feather-light charm on the bag!"

Hermione smiled and rolled her eyes, snatching the bag from him playfully. "Goodnight, Draco."

He raised an eyebrow. "Sweetest of dreams, Hermione," he challenged as he leaned against the banister at the end of the stairs.

He leaned there while she walked up the stairs, pretending to inspect his immaculate nails. But when she got to the top of the stairs, she looked down at him and he was smiling up at her. He lifted one hand in a small wave and took off walking toward the dungeons. Hermione swore there was a spring in his step she didn't recognize.

She came upon the portrait of the Fat Lady and reluctantly looked in the direction of her Valentine's box. To her surprise there was something sitting atop it. She looked both ways to make sure someone wasn't lurking around or watching her and she nearly sprinted to the box.

Perched atop was a bouquet of purple hyacinths and white tulips, all wrapped in a dark purple ribbon. Tucked into the ribbon, a single square of chocolate. Her heart was beating so hard she could feel its pulse in her chin as she opened the card. A small, ethereal looking white dove floated out from the card and flew around her head twice before disappearing.

How can I possibly put into words the thoughts and feelings

Causing me such turmoil inside my head?

No words will ever be enough to express how sorry I am.

I can scarce breathe when I think back on that day.

How can I possibly ask you to forgive me?

When I can't forgive myself?

Please forgive me.

DM

Hermione fingered the neat penmanship, slightly slanted to the left. Purple hyacinths and white tulips—flowers of apology and forgiveness. This must have been where he'd come after dinner, why he was late getting to the library.

Hermione felt a flutter in her stomach, a kaleidoscope of butterflies flapping wickedly. She had already forgiven him, when she sat in the courtroom as he testified about his life, why he'd taken the Mark, his reluctance in following Voldemort. He was a child, caught up in a Dark adult world and she actually felt for him when he wept over his testimony.

But for him to give her a sincere apology face-to-face in the library, then by way of card and flowers, it meant more to her than she'd ever thought it could. She'd noticed all year the way he'd changed. But she knew this was the biggest change in him she'd seen yet—the ability to feel true remorse and to admit fault without blaming anyone or anything else.

Hermione ran her lips and chin over the soft flowers and stepped through the portrait hole, whispering a quick, "Lemon tart!" to the Fat Lady. Ginny was studying with Neville and nearly jumped out of her seat when she saw Hermione carrying flowers. "Who are those from?" she screeched excitedly.

Hermione didn't quite know why, but she wanted to keep this between she and Draco. He hadn't made the effort to hide them by any means, but it was special to her. "I'm not sure, there was no card," she replied, tucking the card into her chest so Ginny couldn't see.

Ginny smirked at her. "I told you! You've got a secret admirer!" she squealed.

Hermione couldn't hide the smile that spread across her face, the flush in her cheeks. She wasn't sure if Malfoy admired her, but she appreciated the effort he'd made to show his remorse and apology.

o-o-o

A/N: Gah! As of right now, there will be seven chapters to this, each one a different stage of friendship/love.

I'm making a collage for this on tumblr as well—find me themourningmadam !

Please review! I'd love some feedback on this!