Author's Note: Many thanks to Die Libelle for the title!

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Glass Houses: Chapter Two

The next time Hermione saw Draco since the greenhouse, she was standing in the hallway talking to Professor McGonagall when he rounded the corner and froze like a caught animal. He backed up several steps before turning to disappear.

As much as Hermione was trying to avoid him, she also couldn't stop thinking about him. She kept re-imagining the taut muscles of his arm beneath her hand. The night before, she had even woken from an unsettling dream about him—the planes of his face, the feel of his long-fingered hand as searing and immediate as if it had all really happened.

But she had other things to think about: Crookshanks had been missing all day. Normally it didn't bother her, but lately, Crookshanks had been getting into squabbles with Millicent Bulstrode's cat—that was as big and as aggressive as cats got—and she just wanted it off her mind. She had even asked a few of the other girls from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw if they had seen him around, but no one had.

By the end of the day, Hermione felt as though she'd checked every possibly nook and cranny, inside and out. Exhausted, and genuinely starting to worry, she dragged her feet back toward the Great Hall.

Harry and Ron pestered her pleasantly, joking about Bulstrode's cat being too fat to do any real damage and saying that Crookshanks was probably curled up at the foot of her bed right that moment. It was mostly reassuring, although Ron did paint a rather tasteless picture when he suggested that maybe Crookshanks had been caught up by the Whomping Willow and punted so far that when he landed in a few hours he'd be in America.

"I'm sure he'll make some American witch very happy," Ron added.

Hermione pushed the curve of her spoon into her mashed potatoes glumly. "I hope he's leaving a hairball on your pillow right this instant, Ron Weasley."

As distracted as she was by Crookshank's absence, she couldn't help but check over her shoulder several times to look for the familiar flash of Draco's blonde hair at the Slytherin table. Clearly, Crookshanks' absence was not the only one on her mind.

After dinner, she told the boys she would meet them in the common room because she had to stop by the library for a book. She was happily on her way, but stopped abruptly when she heard a soft croon from the hallway leading into the dungeons.

"C'mere," the voice said. "C'mere, Crookshanks…"

Hermione moved slowly down the hallway, craning her neck to see around the corner. She was both surprised—and not—to see Draco crouched on the floor, his hand reaching out to scratch the underside of Crookshanks' furry chin. Hermione's chest clutched uncomfortably. Crookshanks happily rubbed his face into Draco's palm, his purr a happy rumble.

Hermione cleared her throat and Draco's head whipped around as he came to stand, his arm dropping to his side. He cleared his own throat sharply. "I…found your filthy cat." He gestured awkwardly toward the floor, where Crookshanks was sitting with a lifted chin, eyes still closed as though expecting more scratching.

"I see that," Hermione said, trying to ignore the heat in her face. "He's not filthy." Just looking at Draco conjured all sorts of uncomfortable memories from her dream. "I guess it's good that I ran into you, anyhow. I have…something for you." She turned to dig in her book satchel.

Draco looked wary. "For me?"

"Yes," Hermione said, retrieving a dark blue bottle from her bag and holding it out. "Take a teaspoon every day. It should help."

"With what? Where did you get this?" Draco said, turning the bottle over in his hand. There was no label.

"With your…" Hermione shifted her arm awkwardly. "With the tingling. I got it from Professor McGonagall."

"I thought you had gone to tell her," Draco said accusingly. "I saw you talking with her."

"Tell her what?"

"About the way I yelled the other day."

"What? No! I didn't want to lose you points—you're plenty capable of that on your own." Hermione clenched her empty hands. "She doesn't even know that's for you."

"What is it?" He hefted the bottle experimentally. It was small, and fairly light.

"It's chamomile and lavender extract. I used it before, when I was feeling overwhelmed with all my schoolwork in Third Year, but I think it will help."

"It's just…flowers?" Draco said skeptically.

Hermione bristled. "I was just trying to be nice. Don't use it if you don't like it."

She turned to leave, but he caught at her wrist lightly and a shiver passed down Hermione's spine. "I meant, thank you."

Hermione swiveled back around to face him, finding him unexpectedly close. His breath was warm across her temple and her mind flashed back to her dream from the night before. She bit down, hard, on her inner cheek. "You're so rude, Malfoy."

"Old habit."

"Let go," Hermione said, and he did, but not before stroking his thumb once across the pulse point of her wrist. "Crookshanks," Hermione croaked, finding that she had lost her voice. "We're leaving."

As Hermione made her way briskly back to the Gryffindor common room—completely forgetting her book—with Crookshanks lollygagging behind, she told herself, I've done my duty. I've offered him help and now I'm done. I don't need to be inquiring after his well-being. Or even thinking about it. Draco's a grown man, now, and can—

-but she had to stop that line of thought in its tracks because thinking about Draco as a grown man was dangerous territory. So flustered was she that, when she got to the portrait of the Fat Lady, Hermione had to take a moment to remember the password. The sound of the Fat Lady clucking her tongue at her followed her all the way to bed.

As soon as Hermione closed her eyes, all she could see was Draco…the pale dunes of his cheekbones, the hard Adam's apple of his throat, the surprisingly strong line of his wrist. Hermione traced her own wrist where he'd touched it and shivered again at the memory. She was embarrassed that she found herself wanting to dream about him again. It was like that old saying, she thought tiredly: Don't think of an elephant. And of course, once someone says that, that's all you can think about.

Hermione had been thinking about elephants all day.

Really attractive ones that were sweet to her cat.

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