A/N: I want to thank the people who read and reviewed this story and for their kind words of encouragement. I guess it doesn't take much to convince me to keep going :)! I'd be more than happy to continue this story, as long as I know people will be reading it! I might also continue another story I thought I'd finished—Two Can Play. We'll see how that goes :P

As for this story, I've decided to write it from Draco's point of view for now, though I'm not closing myself to the possibility of writing in Hermione's perspective every now and again. We'll see how that goes too :P

Happy New Year everyone :D

If there was ever an award for awkward moments, Draco had a feeling the one he found himself in would rank in the top three…of all time. He didn't really know what he was expecting, walking up to Hermione's doorstep, but this certainly wasn't it. However, here he sat, sitting in a chair he recognized all too well, across from a woman whose love he had run away from. Of course, she didn't look too comfortable either, so at least he wasn't alone.

"More tea, Draco?" Her question forced him to stop looking everywhere else but in her direction, as he answered with a simple, "No, I'm alright." He almost laughed—if there was any word to describe him at the moment, it definitely wasn't "alright."

A few more excruciatingly painful moments passed, and all the while Draco wondered why he didn't just walk away when she ran into the street calling after him. It had been easy enough for him to walk away from that doorframe all those years ago…then again, the first time, she hadn't been following him, and it hadn't been snowing as hard as it was this night—and she wasn't exactly dressed for the weather. What kind of gentleman was he, to leave a lovely lady stranded in the snow? In the back of his mind, a voice was asking him what kind of gentleman left a lady at all to begin with, but he pushed it away. She was speaking to him again.

"So…what brings you to this area at this time of night?"

He almost didn't answer her question, just to have her ask once again. Merlin, if her voice didn't still give him chills. It took all his will to keep still as a particularly violent one spread through his whole body, making a particular part of his anatomy twitch—rather inappropriately, he thought. As if he needed to deal with an erection with all this tension in the room.

"Draco?"

"Oh, I, um…I just thought I'd stop by, and you know, say hello," he answered rather pathetically, taking a swig of tea to wash away the taste the words had left in his mouth. It hadn't even been ten minutes and she had him acting like a little schoolboy.

"Oh, well…how have you been?" Truth be told, she was being so much more gracious than he thought she had a right to be. Why wasn't she screaming? Why wasn't she crying? It didn't seem right to him. He wanted to shake her—do anything to knock some sense into a head he missed having on his shoulder. Gods, he needed firewhisky.

"Alright—you know how it is with the business, and everything," he replied, to which she nodded. "What of you?" Inwardly, he cringed, knowing she would catch on to the silent question he asked and not sure if he was ready to hear the answer. If she somehow managed to keep a relationship without his knowledge…

"Oh, mostly work, and the like. I got another offer to teach at Hogwarts, if you can believe it," she chuckled, and he felt his heart skip a beat. What he wouldn't give to hear that chuckle everyday…

"Of course I can believe it—you're rather bright when you put your mind to it," he responded, earning the whisper of laughter on her part. It almost made him cross the short distance between them to take her in his arms again, but he kept himself grounded. He wouldn't blame her if that particular reaction brought her to give him the slap he knew he deserved.

"Thanks," she smiled, and he swore the room brightened. He knew he had no right to that smile, but hell if he didn't save the image to keep him warm throughout the rest of the winter.

He desperately wanted to stay, but knew if he lingered, old skeletons would find their way out of a closet, and he didn't want to ruin the good feeling in the air at her acceptance of him into her home once again. He knew better than to ruin a good thing twice over.

"I really should be going," he began, getting to his feet.

"Oh! Alright—I'll see you to the door then, shall I?"

"Alright," he agreed. Waiting for her to get to her feet as well. Together, they walked to her front door in silence. His eyes wandered everywhere they could with the limited light that lit the rooms. Each glance brought back memories of times he had a feeling he shouldn't be remembering now.

He stopped just in front of the door, turning offer a small smile at her upon hearing her express her thanks at his stopping by.

"Thanks for having me," he responded, unsure of what to do. Was he allowed to touch her? Could he hug her goodbye, or was that a bridge long since burned? She was obviously having trouble answering the same question, settling for opening the door for him instead. Disappointment filled him at the lack of physical contact between them, though he supposed that was his fault.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, at being thrown back.

"Here," he muttered, taking the door and using both hands to close it. A feeling he didn't recognize replaced his disappointment—how was he supposed to go home?

"I'm sorry—I didn't realize the snow storm had gotten that bad,"

"It's not your fault—you don't have to apologize," he assured her, helping her up from where she had fallen at the strong gust of wind that knocked her over when she opened the door.

"I suppose we should have heard it—listen to the wind blow outside! Will you be able to get home, Draco? How did you get here?"

"I walked," he confessed with a grimace, knowing there was no way he could possibly get home in the same manner now. "Are you still connected with the Floo Network? I could just floo home, if that's alright with you."

"No, not anymore—I stopped using the Floo when…I just don't use it anymore," she finished, and he knew that his disappearance had everything to do with her lack of a connection to one of the wizarding modes of travel. Merlin, if he didn't feel guilty enough already.

"Why don't we contact the Ministry, and see if we can set up a Portkey or something?" he suggested, bringing his hand up to brush snow out of her hair, then remembering himself and brushing snow off of his shoulders instead. He wondered if that looked as awkward as he felt it did.

"How, Draco? I can't send an owl out in this weather… Here—why don't you stay here for the night? I'm sure the storm will be over by tomorrow, and I could use the company…" He knew that last statement was a lie; he could always tell when she lied…her nose did the tiniest of twitches, and she'd bite her lip so softly that it was almost unnoticeable. Yet, the offer lit a fire in him, and as much as he knew it was wrong to take advantage of her hospitality in light of what he had done to her, he couldn't say no. However, he knew accepting right away would make her think he had set up the whole night so it would turn out this way, and that was far from the truth.

"I don't know—I don't want to impose…"

"Oh, nonsense—you could never impose on me. Come on—I'll fix another pot of tea, and we'll get you settled."

He followed her back into the living room, sitting down where he had been sitting before, expressing his thanks as she walked back into the kitchen. As soon as she was gone, he sighed, letting his head fall back against the soft cushions. Well…there was no going back now, was there?

As she walked back into the room with more tea and a few cookies he knew she had made herself, he readied himself for the awkwardness that would follow, hoping dearly that she wouldn't remember that he had gotten his license to Apparate a year or so before they got together.

This was going to be a long night.