I sit there, just dazed. What was that for? Didn't I already say I wasn't hungry?

"You sure you're not hungry?" Draco says, swirling the last remains at the bottom of the glass with the thinner end of the spoon.

"How did you-" I frown, wondering if it was just a coincidence we were thinking the same thing. Does he know Legilimency? Was that why he was smirking? "Yes, I am sure I'm not hungry, in fact, since you've eaten most of my ice-cream, why don't you pay?"

"Happy to."

He knocks his chair aside and smiles casually again before heading through the door again. True, I didn't want any more ice-cream, but there was something far more tempting in my midsts that I know shouldn't even come into contemplation at all.

I sigh, and tug at the short sleeve of my blouse. It's golden satin, perfect for this hot weather, which is cool against my lightly tanned skin. I wouldn't consider myself in Draco's league at all; he only likes Purebloods. I'm being so prejudiced. Ha, we both are. The bell trills as Draco opens the door, and he taps my shoulder so I turn my head towards him. He's doing up one of his shoes, which was primarily my fault, and I laugh light-heartedly. I stand up, wondering why I'm waiting for him.

"Sorry about that. But you started it."

"What an immature comment. I'd have thought you'd have more brains in that head of yours," He retorts sarcastically, pulling a face. "Are you planning to go anywhere else today? I need to go to Quality Quidditch Supplies."

"Small world, me too."

I hope he doesn't think I'm lying, because I already wanted to go earlier, but it was packed. I nod and pick up my jacket. I'm just about to put it over my shoulders before Draco pulls the collar from me and drapes it over me instead. That's so sweet... why is he being sweet?!

"Thank you." I smile secretly, knowing I'm about to blush again, my cheeks feeling suddenly hot.

"Let's get going, the shop should've cleared out by now."

As he had said, once we enter the shop there were still many customers inside, but fewer than before. I head towards the shelves full of state-of-the-art broomstick kits, and browse them for something suitable for Harry's Firebolt. If there was one thing that would keep Harry happy was his joy of flying. I glance out of the window for a few seconds, and swear that I see someone there... That's the problem with the wizarding world at the moment; I'm never sure how many Death Eaters are out there anymore...

I meet up with Draco again at the counter, where my cheeks suddenly blush hotly, knowing it's embarrassing to have to get out my Galleons in front of him. He's stinking rich and I'm less so, but he doesn't seem to mind. I smile to myself: he's changed. Draco is dealing with a large bag of Quidditch equipment, consisting of polish, tweezers and other quality goods. I feel quite jealous, considering Draco has only got a Nimbus 2001, but is an extremely skilled Seeker himself. Of course, I've never had a great interest in Quidditch.

"You know, you really are quite good at flying. Better than me by a long shot, anyway."

I find it even more stupid to be complimenting him further, but I can't help it and blurt it out as we make our way towards the door again. He smiles and laughs softly, before his hand brushes past mine for an instant. I take it as the fact he has a large bag and box to carry. We get outside before I offer to help him.

"Do you want me to-?"

We stop in the centre of the lane, bare inches away from each other, and I hold my hand out to take the box from him, to which he accepts. I reach for the box, until a small knocking sound issues from it; I flinch in surprise.

"What is in that?" I ask curiously, raising an eyebrow.

"A Snitch, obviously." Draco rolled his eyes, and opened the box slightly, grabbing at the winged ball before it tried to speed away. "Personally-made actually."

Damn it, he's being cocky again. Of course it would be made specifically for him. Yes, there's the DM, his initials. Instead of the typical golden colour also, the ball was silver, and suddenly reminded her of the flying keys I had seen in first year.

"Wow, amazing, honestly." I act as indifferent as possible, but he can tell I'm actually quite curious about it. "Pretentious twat."

"And what exactly do you mean by that?"

"Nothing, apart from the fact that you are one, I've noticed."

"Thanks for noticing then." He takes this in his stride, not the least be argumentative, which I find incredibly frustrating. It's as if he wants me to get annoyed... that's probably true, actually. The box vanishes, and I realise he's obviously sent it off back to Malfoy Manor... I mean seriously? Who would be so highbrow as to name a house after their name? Well, the Malfoys, that's who. He's gazing off into the distance, and I can swear he is just posing for the effect it is having on me... Darn it, he does have amazing eyes...

She doesn't have a clue, does she? I wish I didn't have to keep lies from her... why am I thinking this? My heart is racing, and Hermione's just about to hold my hand, but I turn. I really cannot be followed right now, there's too much at stake... I need to get Hermione out of here.

He's tense. What's wrong? My instinct is getting the better of me; I think he doesn't want to be seen with me... well, if that's the way he's going to behave it's his own fault. He withdraws and continues to avoid my eye, constantly looking over his shoulder, worried.

"Dra... Malfoy? Are you alright? What-"

"Quick, follow me."

He grabs my arm and tugs me down an alleyway, dark and dingy without the summer sun here. I fight against his grasp, trying to pull away, but he doesn't seem to be noticing anything else except for the direction we were heading in. As I attempt slow him down, at the speedy pace he is already running at, I feel his hand shaking. He pulls me down against the cobbled stones beneath us and waits. I realise how close we are... no, I really don't want to think about that right now. His hand is warm agaisnt my back and I can still smell the vanilla in the air, and I then find Draco's head inclining towards mine. I push him back and stand up, thinking he's got the wrong idea and flee back along the old stone walls, wondering which way would result in returning to Diagon Alley.

"Draco? Where are we?" My voice is nervous and I'm breathing slowly.

"Granger, get back down!"

In that moment, a pale hand reached out across my mouth, causing the last gasps of air to be caught in my throat. My head hits the ground with a great force, and pain reverbrates through my body. I don't see save for the darkening sky above, until my eyes shut into unconciousness.