"Are you insane?" Hermione snapped.

Draco let go of her hand the second she regained her balance and shoved his hands into his pockets. They had just arrived in Hogsmeade and were standing in front of the Three Broomsticks.

"Aren't you afraid someone will recognize you?" she asked.

He shook his head. "It's summer. All the students are gone. Besides, I want need a beer."

Hermione rolled her eyes but followed Draco closely as he entered the pub. To Hermione's surprise, the Three Broomsticks was completely empty except for a hooded man sitting in the far corner. They made their way to the other side of the bar, well out of earshot and sight of the hooded man, and took a seat in a booth. Draco took a seat across from Hermione and folded his hands on the table.

The bar owner, Madam Rosmerta, made her way over to their table. Upon seeing Draco, her face flashed a look of worry, but she quickly recovered.

"What'll it be?"

"Two Butterbeers," Draco answered.

The woman soon returned with two tall glasses of butterbeer before heading back to the bar to continue cleaning. Hermione glanced down at her mug timidly while Draco tilted his back and took a hearty swig.

"You do like butterbeer, don't you?" Draco asked. "Or would you rather have Firewhiskey?"

Hermione nodded and replied timidly. "I do like butterbeer, but I didn't bring any galleons with me. I only have muggle money."

Draco snorted. "Did I ask you to pay?"

Hermione gaped. Was Draco Malfoy seriously offering to buy her a drink? What in the name of Merlin was wrong with this boy... Perhaps she should speak with a representative from St. Mungo's. Afraid she was being rude, Hermione brought the mug to her lips and sipped her drink. It was ice cold, sweet, and refreshing... exactly how she remember it. She couldn't even remember the last time she had tasted Butterbeer... it must have been sometime in her sixth year at Hogwarts. So many memories flooded back to her as she sipped her drink: nostalgic, bitter-sweet memories.

By the time she reached the bottom of her mug, Draco had ordered and had almost finished a second one for himself. Her mind tingled and her coordination was suffering slightly. Draco simply laughed at her as she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes.

"You're a lightweight," he mocked.

Hermione smiled. "I'm certainly not heavyweight."

Draco laughed into his mug and choked on his Butterbeer.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" he asked.

She bit her lip. "Yes, but I'm not sure it's a good thing."

"What makes you say that?"

"We shouldn't even be hanging out together. You're a Malfoy and I'm a muggle born," Hermione said with a stupid grin. The Butterbeer really was getting too her. Much more and she wouldn't be able to keep her mouth closed. "I mean, in an ideal world it wouldn't matter, but this is far from an ideal world."

"Maybe it can be an ideal world now that Voldemort is dead," Draco whispered.

Hermione gaped at him. "If I didn't know you better, Draco Malfoy, I would say you've had a change of heart."

"No offense, Granger, but you don't know me at all. It's hard, when you're brought up believing one thing, to find your own voice in what is right and wrong," he thought aloud. "All my life I was taught to believe that pureblood supremacy was the way to a perfect wizarding world. But since the war, I've realized that my father is wrong."

Hermione furrowed her brow. "Who are you are what have you done with Draco Malfoy?"

Draco forced a chuckle. "I appreciate how faithless you are in me Granger. If you choose not to believe me, I understand. I realize I haven't been very... trustworthy... over the last seven years."

"I'm trying to believe you," she admitted. "Obviously, or I wouldn't have let you into my house. But it's going to take time."

Draco met her gaze and didn't look away. She watched his stormy gray eyes as they studied her face. She had never noticed it before, because she had always been blinded by her hate for him, but he was actually quite handsome. He had a strong jaw, flawless complexion, and perfect lips. As she watched him, she felt herself being pulled towards him, slowly and steadily as though they were magnets. She had drank far more Butterbeer than she thought... Shaking her head, she looked away from him.

"Thank you for bringing me here," she said.

"Are you ready to go?" Something in his voice almost sounded.. disappointed.

Hermione nodded and Draco helped her out of the booth. He knew she could probably walk on her own, but he had her arm around her waist for good measure. The last thing he needed was Madam Rosmerta thinking he had pushed or tripped her if she fell. As they passed the bar on the way out the door, Draco dropped several galleons on the counter. When they were out in the street once more, Draco tightened his grip on Hermione and they disapparated.

They arrived in Hermione's front yard, the entire street silent and still. Hermione giggled as they entered the house and Draco led her to the sofa where they took a seat side by side. Draco found the remote control and after several attempts, turned on the television. His heart jumped when he felt something land on his shoulder suddenly.

He glanced down quickly and found Hermione's head only inches from his face. He did not know if she had her eyes closed, but he guessed she had fallen asleep. He was extremely uncomfortable, more emotionally than physically, but did not want to jerk his arm away from her. Instead, he let her lie there until he heard a change in her breathing. She was taking slow, deep breaths of sleep.

As gently as he could, Draco cradled her so that he could move out from underneath her, and then laid her down on the couch. He smirked. She was so peaceful when she was asleep. Her face soft and angelic like a doll's. He brushed her hair back softly, trailing his fingers along her hair, before quickly jerking his hand away.

He stormed to the guest room where he fell back onto the bed. Tucking his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes. What the bloody hell are you doing?

Hermione woke nearly an hour later, entirely embarrassed and afraid to face Draco. She slowly crossed the room and peered around the corner into the guest room. Draco was sprawled on the bed, snoring softly. She crossed the room to the bedside and watched him silently for a moment.

A single white hair rested on his shirt near the collar. The longer Hermione looked at it, the more it bothered her. Surely she wouldn't wake him...

She reached for the hair slowly, trying to steady her hand. However, the more still she tried to keep it, the more it seemed to tremble. Just as she closed her fingers on the hair Draco's arm seemed to come to life. In a swift motion, he grabbed Hermione's wrist and pulled hard. His eyes flew open as she landed on the bed.

"It's me, Draco!" Hermione screamed.

Draco immediately loosed his grip on her, but did not let go. He studied her face for a moment, seeing the terror in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "I thought you were someone else."

He finally let go of her wrist. A piece of her hair had fallen loose from her braid, and he tucked it behind her ear.

"Did you have a good nap?" he asked.

She blushed. "Did you?"

"You can't always answer a question with a question."

Hermione did not hear Draco's remark because she was lost in his gaze. His stormy gray eyes watched her, taking in every detail of her face. She felt herself being pulled toward him every so slowly. Her heart pounded hard in her chest and she fought to catch her breath. Finally, she forced herself to look away from him.

"I'm going to my room. If you need anything, just ask."

Hermione turned to leave, but Draco caught her by the hand. She turned, both curious and surprised, and found him with his mouth open, as though he wanted to say something. But he didn't.

"Sorry," he mumbled, before letting her go.

As Hermione headed upstairs and shut herself in her room, she thought to herself: I'm sorry, too.