During the day, she, Harry and Ron worked with Griphook on their plan to break into Gringotts. At night, after dinner, Harry often retreated to some dark corner of the house to brood alone. Ron would sometimes try and engage her in conversation, but she found herself intrigued by one of the other houseguests. Consequently, he spent most of his evenings chatting with Dean and Luna, while she spent hers spying on Draco Malfoy.

She had no idea what he did during the day, but at night, when everyone else was in the house, he would sit outside. Sometimes he would go down to the beach and walk at the edge of the surf, but she never followed him down there. For the first week of their stay she kept her distance, just watching him from the shadows, wondering about him, and longing to ask him a million questions. She didn't know if she would ever work up the courage to ask them, or even engage in a conversation (the most they had managed so far was nodding when they passed in the hallway), but thankfully, on their fifth night at the Cottage, he took the matter out of her hands.

"Granger, are you ever going to come out here and join me? Or did you plan on just creepily watching me from the shadows every night?"

Upon his words she immediately felt herself blush, and two strong emotions began raging a short battle within her: embarrassment and indignation. Indignation won. She began walking toward him.

"I am not creepy."

He shrugged, and remained with his back to her as she approached. "I didn't say you were. I said watching me every night for the past five nights behind the bushes was."

She hmphed, pulling the wool blanket she had brought from inside the house tighter around her as she sank onto the ground beside him. A slight breeze was blowing in from the ocean, and it made goosebumps rise on her arms.

They lapsed into a silence, both staring out over the cliff's edge toward the crescent moon reflecting over the dark waters. She fidgeted uncomfortably, not sure what to say. What could she say? This boy (man?) had tortured and teased her endlessly for six years, had tried to hand Hogwarts over to the Death Eaters, had brought about the death of Dumbledore, had shown his loyalty to be to Voldemort when he got the Dark Mark branded on his left forearm, and pledged himself to get rid of her "kind", and yet….and yet, he had been willing to risk his life to save her own. She couldn't comprehend it. It simply…didn't add up. She had to know. She needed to know.

"Malfoy."

He turned to look at her, full in the face, eyebrows quirked inquisitively. She bit her lip, then pressed on determinedly.

"What made you do it?"

She appreciated that he didn't feign ignorance and ask what she meant. He sighed, turning away, back toward the ocean.

"I already told you, Granger. I want the war to be over."

She shook her head. "Saving me wouldn't change the outcome of the war. It's something else. Tell me. Please. I need to know."

Perhaps it was something in her tone of voice, perhaps it was because she had said please, but whatever the reason, when Malfoy turned to look at her again she could tell, by the way that his usually cloudy gray eyes hard turned to hard steel, that he was going to tell her the truth.

When he spoke, his voice was soft, quiet, almost a whisper, and he was looking past her, toward the open sea.

"I saw…so many people die. Mostly I didn't know them, but sometimes I did, though never well. I never played an active part in their deaths, and although there were a few of them I could maybe have saved, the risk never seemed worth it. And although I don't…know you well, I don't know you, as a person…I still know you. To know that I could have saved you, someone I know, someone I went to school with, someone I had classes with and hated and teased for their bushy hair…I couldn't have lived with that guilt. I would rather have been killed with the knowledge that finally I had taken a stand."

She felt her heart pounding in her chest, her breath catching in her throat. But he wasn't finished.

"But also…I really meant what I said, about wanting the war to be over. I think you're an important part to the resistance against the Dark Lord. Of course, everyone says that you three were on the run, just trying to save your own skins…but I knew better. I know how much Potter loves playing the hero. I would have bet my inheritance that you three were out doing something to fight back. What it was, what it is, I have no idea, but now my suspicions are confirmed. And of course, I don't think Potter or Weasley could figure out how to tie their own shoelaces without you telling them."

She chuckled, shaking her head. "You give me too much credit, and you give Ron and Harry too little."

He shrugged, and became quiet.

"But…you say you just want the war to end. But whenever you say that, you assume our side will be the one winning and ending it. What made you switch?"

He chuckled, bitterly. "I had my eyes opened to quite a few things about our cause while I was imprisoned in my own house. And one thing I realized was that if our side won, it would only be temporary, because your people would never stop fighting. Even if your people kept getting killed, there'd always be more of you to take up the banner. But for us…for them, I suppose I should say, there's not an endless supply of people. Because the difference between their people and your people is that you actually have a cause worth fighting for."

She was taken aback by his words. Draco Malfoy, crusader of the purebloods, denouncing their beliefs? It was unfathomable. Yet here he was, doing just that.

"And what is the cause we have that's worth fighting for?" She was curious as to his interpretation of it.

He turned his head toward her, then stated simply, "Freedom."

She sucked in a breath, almost as a gasp, because he was right, he was so right, and tears sprang to her eyes as she marveled at the beauty of it.

She sat with him for a few more minutes, enjoying the sound of the waves crashing gently against the shore, then stood up.

"Well…thank you, Malfoy. For everything."

And she turned and walked back inside. She thought she might have heard him respond, but it could have just been the wind.


For the next two weeks she sat outside with Malfoy every night. Twice she went down with him to the beach, taking off her shoes and enjoying the way the sand felt between her toes. Sometimes they said very little, just enjoying the silence and the feeling of not being alone, but mostly they talked. Never about the war, never about the harsh realities that loomed just on the horizon, no. They reminisced about school, and their childhoods. They talked about summer holidays and family vacations. They argued, often ("Granger, who in their right mind sets out knitted hats for house elves?"), but laughed more ("You did what at your cousin's fifth birthday party?"). They made a point not to talk about the future. It was obvious, the way sometimes one of them would start a sentence and then stop, that they both thought it was foolish to think of such things. How could they think of their futures, when they didn't know for certain what type of world they would have a future in?

The night before she, Harry, Ron and Griphook were to depart for Diagon Alley, Hermione went out to say her farewell.

He was standing with his back to the house, hands in his pockets, looking up at the vast, starry sky. He did not seem to notice as she came to stand beside him.

"So…we're leaving tomorrow. Harry, Ron, and myself, that is. Griphook too."

He nodded, still not looking at her.

"I just wanted…to come say goodbye. For now, at least. And to wish you luck, with whatever you decide to do."

Still, he said nothing. She waited a minute for him to reply, but as he continued to stare at the sky, she turned to go back into the house, feeling rather foolish.

"Granger, wait."

She looked over her shoulder at him. He was looking at the ground, his shoulders slumped dejectedly.

"You're going off to do something brave and stupid, aren't you?"

She said nothing. He sighed, then turned to look at her, squinting his eyes in the darkness.

"Take care of yourself, okay? I'll be pretty pissed if I saved your life, only to have you go and lose it a month later."

She smiled then, and laughed quietly.

"I'll try my best, Malfoy. You take care of yourself too."

He nodded his head jerkily once, eyebrows furrowed and looking at a spot on the ground to the left of her.

She went inside the house and to bed, and dreamt of dragons and the sword of Gryffindor and the smile of a blonde-haired boy.