Hermione tucked her hair behind her ear as she lay peacefully alone under her favorite willow tree, twirling her wand in her fingers and tapping it against her thigh quickly, making pink sparks fly out the end. It was beautiful at Hogwarts in the fall, and with only one more year to go, the most studious of the "golden trio" was enjoying every chance she got to appreciate her incredible good fortune. She wasn't around the lake, really- it was more near the Quidditch pitch that she was sitting, watching the Gryffindor team hurtle overhead on brooms. Ron was back in his element, but Harry was absolutely hopeless, still full of rage at Ginny. Hermione clucked a bit and shook her head to herself, gently hauling a huge tome out of her bag and into her lap. The light was just enough for the Old English to be read clearly, and she was halfway down the second passage when a shadow fell over her page.

"Do you want to talk?" she asked without looking up. The boy sat down beside her, answering, "I want you to listen before you say anything. Is that clear?"

"Clear, Malfoy?" Hermione sputtered for a minute before looking up at the boy Harry and Ron so hated. "I don't hate you like they do- just- please, don't act like an arrogant git." The last words were out in a rush, but she held her ground, not moving until those piercing grey eyes backed down in… embarrassment? Shame? Hermione had no idea. But she closed the book and turned to him, trying to make him see she wasn't his enemy. Malfoy turned to her, and she saw that he was shaking- minute tremors that racked his thin frame. She hadn't been this close to him in years.

"First of all- I mean, er, please. I'd like for you to call me Draco. If we're going to get into this, we need to be at least on a first name basis, mu- Hermione."

"Right, then, Draco. What do you want? Blaise was very explicit in not mentioning anything whatsoever." Hermione held a tone of warning and annoyance in her voice. Quidditch was going to end soon.

"I need you to go out with me."

The blond raised his head to gauge her reaction, and what he was seeing wasn't looking very good. Hermione actually seemed to be turning purple, and her eyes were practically turning back in her head.

"Hermione? No, wait, just- listen." Draco muttered a quick spell, coating the inside of the willow leaves in silence. She actually was quite pretty, he decided, as long as she wasn't purple. His heart raced inside his chest. He couldn't believe that the first person he was going to come out to was this mud- this girl.

"I, er- goddammit! I can't- please-Hermione- Hermione, I'm gay!"

He slammed his head into his knees so hard that he saw stars and started shaking uncontrollably, rocking back and forth. Of course he'd run the calculations, of course he'd figured that she wouldn't tell anyone, much less Harry, but- Oh, hell. There was a soft arm encircling him, and it wasn't enough, not after all this time, but it was something. It was hope. He gathered his breath enough to stop making those ridiculous sobbing sounds, and continue on with his propositions.

"I see how you look at him, at Ron, and- and-." He stopped, searching for the words. "I- might have some feelings for Harry. And I just, I thought-" Where had he gone? Who was this fumbling, scared person? Hermione's arm gave him a squeeze, and he sat up, gaining some composure. "You want Ron, and he won't notice you unless you're taken away from him, which, let's face it, is terribly unlikely. I want- not Harry, exactly, I know he doesn't- I know he's not like me. But I-"

"Don't want this hate. You want to be near him, yes. It makes sense," whispered Hermione. "Draco, just, will you let me hold you? You don't have to be the Ice King, you know."

It wasn't the right touch; it was more mother than lover, and she was the wrong gender for lover anyway, but he was grateful for her. Draco was unbelievably grateful for Hermione Granger in the moment she took him in her arms, standing to hold him properly, and just let him weep into her shoulder; all the pent-up frustrations, all the non-love at home, his "friends" and the months alone in the Room of Requirement spent staring at a cabinet. He cried until his sobs were just dry gasps, and they sat back down. Hermione cleared her throat, breaking the uncomfortable silence between them.

"You want me to date you? For how long?"

"However long it takes for you to cheat on me with the Weasel. Sorry!" he gasped at the look on her face. "Ron- sorry, Ron. However long it takes him to notice you. With luck, he'll have noticed me by then too."

Hermione considered. It was almost cruel. But what was crueler than watching the guy you loved walk on in blindness, never considering you, never even looking at you, really, because you had just never occurred to him? She looked over at Draco. His face was impassive and he had stopped shaking, and was instead playing with the end of a shoelace. Only a slight crease in his brow betrayed his feelings. How could she even think of not doing this for him, this total arsehole, the impossible guy, this boy who needed her? With such total benefit to herself, as well. Hermione raised her head, shifting so he'd look up.

"I'll do it. You don't have to kiss me. But what's going to happen in the school?"

Draco shrugged. "Blaise is going to spread that it's a lark, that I'm just dating you to see if you'll fall for me. Which I know you wouldn't! Never!" he added hastily. "But we're going to be so in love that we don't care. And that'll get the- Ronald- to notice you and loathe me, and hopefully, Harry to-" he stopped himself, keeping the giddy fantasies of a furious Harry suddenly realizing that the great Draco was capable of love, and maybe, somehow- but no.

Hermione sighed. "Whatever works, I suppose. Holding hands?"

Draco curled a lip, but he'd gone this far. He reached out and touched her hand, and realized that she had extremely soft skin. "Holding hands, then."

The new couple stood in unison and parted the willow branches, leaving their sanctuary behind.

"WHAT IN HELL WAS HERMIONE THINKING!" raged Ron, whirling restlessly around the 6th year boy's dormitory. Harry sat sprawled out on his own four-poster, trying not to get angry himself. With Malfoy, of all the guys in Hogwarts! He could only imagine how Ron felt. Actually, scratch that, no, he couldn't. He'd never felt angry enough to put his foot through a window.

"Ron! Ron! Hell, mate, shit, you're bleeding, siddown siddown," panted Harry, forcing Ron away from the window and shouting a belated "SORRY" out into the night, in case anyone was walking below. "Reparo. Ron, I don't know how to heal with magic! You idiot, she's not worth it!"

There was no response except a stony look from Ron. The idiot was still denying his own feelings. Harry sighed and stomped into the bathroom to get a towel and some hot water. "Get your arse in here!" he bellowed through the open door. Ron limped through the door, still stony-eyed, but he sat obligingly with his legs in a shower stall. Luckily he was wearing boxers when he put his foot through the window, so Harry just turned on the hot water, trying not to burn his best friend. After a few minutes of Harry bandaging Ron with ripped white towels, Ron's voice breaks the silence.

"They looked happy, didn't they?"

Harry thought about it, trying to find a way to tell Ron that yes, they had. Malfoy had had his arm slung lazily around her as they sat at the Slytherin table eating dinner, him feeding her sweets at dinner with a sort of cool but doting look on his face. And of course, they were holding hands all dinner. The Hall had been uncharacteristically filled with gossip, but Ron had heard none of it, looking as if he was going to murder his plate. And it was just too much of a struggle for Harry to try to ignore both Ginny, Ron, and Hermione-Draco at once, so he'd just watched as they were exceedingly cute to one another.

"I will never, ever, understand girls," Harry replied fervently, and Ron grunted. As Harry got up and turned around, he was a pale figure on a broom, cloak flapping theatrically after him. The moonlight gleamed off platinum hair.

Harry rushed to the window, sticking his head out into the icy autumn night. Malfoy was up next to Hermione's window, whispering to her lowly, urgently, sounding more like a businessman than a boyfriend. Harry's brow furrowed, trying to listen to the words, but they had some kind of something. Hermione reached out a slender hand, cupping Malfoy's face with it.

"Draco. Calm down. It's going to be okay," she smiled at the Slytherin, and then their faces got really CLOSE. Harry slammed the window shut, not caring if they saw him, and sat panting with his back to the wall.

"Mate, you should stay inside here for a while," he said, and sat down suddenly on the floor.

A/n HI YOU GUISE. Okay, so this is chapter two. I hope you liked it. I am not JKR, I don't own Harry Potter or anything associated, etc. Reviews? I was sort of back and forth this chapter with POV, but I'll try to even out as this advances. Much love to those who review!