----------------------------------------------------------A MOMENT------------------------------------------------------------

Hermione scribbled frantically across the parchment, her mouth pulling down in concentration. The Goblin War in the fifteenth century ... she nibbled the end of her quill. What else could she say? She had already exceeded the required parchment length, and fully elaborated on each part in her essay. She wasn't missing anything out, was she? Sighing, she put her quill down, and screwed the lid on her bottle of royal blue ink. She was stressing too much. Again.

She massaged her temples gently, gaining a sickel's worth of satisfaction from it. She expelled a long sigh, and got up from her chair, and winced. Her body felt sore from the long hours of studying and working. She needed a break.

She waved her wand, and her parchment on the goblin war, her brand new quill, and all her study material was sent with a slight whoosh to her bedroom. She wasn't thinking properly, so hopefully, the items that she had just sent to her room hadn't deposited themselves onto the floor instead of her bed like she had intended for them to do.

She slung an empty bag over her shoulder and made her way out the portrait. A thread from her frayed jeans got caught in the hook of the portrait and she tripped over her legs and fell forward. She got up with a huff, cursing the time she wanted to buy new jeans but didn't.

Hermione made her way to the library, still in a stressed mood. She pushed the door open, and walked in. Closing it behind her, she breathed in the smell of the library. She offered a smile to Madam Pince who was helping a timid-looking first year with a stack of thick books. The first year reminded Hermione of her childhood. Not so much in appearance, but the innocence that clouded the little girl's eyes; the excitement that pulled her mouth into a smile as she gazed at the books...

As nostalgia threatened to grip Hermione's body, she pushed it away, and walked toward the Healing section of the library. Magical medicine was a career she deemed worth pursuing as she wanted to help people. To take someone's pain away ... to bring a smile long-forgotten back to their face – yes, worthy indeed.

She trailed her fingers gently along the jagged edges of the bookshelf, relinquishing the feel of it. A book covered in emerald green wrapping two shelves above her caught her attention, and she reached up to grab it. She stood up on her toes, and yet she still couldn't reach it. She stretched out her fingers, and they brushed the spine of the book. Frustrated, Hermione jumped up, and pulled the book down at the same time. Fortunately, she got the book. Unfortunately, the book toppled out of its place on the shelf and fell with a dull thump on her head, and then slipped to the floor.

"Ow," she muttered, rubbing her head. She bent down to pick the book up but stopped when she realized it wasn't there. Confused, she straightened up, and almost jumped. A pale hand holding the book stretched out to her.

"I believe this is yours," Draco Malfoy intoned in a soft voice, not looking at her. He handed her the book.

Hermione's eyebrows shot up. He was talking to her? "Thank you," she replied, taking the book. She opened the book, and sniffed the first page. Ah. She closed her eyes. The smell of the paper in a book – no matter how old – was so unique. It smelt ... clean.

She heard him clear his throat. Her eyes opened, and she smiled apologetically. "Sorry, habit," she said, completely ignoring the slightly baffled look that coloured his eyes. He looked down at the book that she held tightly in her hands. "You do know," he began, "that you could have simply Summoned the book?"

Hermione's eyes widened. That was something that hadn't crossed her mind. And yet ... and yet she was supposed to be the best in their year! He must think that she's rather strange and not all that logical. She felt her cheeks colour slightly, and turned her face away from him so that he wouldn't notice. Instead she pretended to read the titles of the books in front of her.

"Oh, I knew that," she replied in an offhand tone. "But I left my wand back in the Common Room – " Realizing that that made her sound even more illogical, she decided to stop talking.

He cleared his throat again. She looked over at him. He was looking pointedly at her front jeans pocket. She knew what he was looking at.

Sighing, she looked down, and lo and behold there was her wand. She took it out, and exclaimed in a poor imitation of surprise, "Oh! What do you know! I had it with me the whole time!" She dared to look at him, to see if he could see through her lie. But she couldn't read anything in his emotionless silvery eyes.

She tried to change the topic instead. Shoving her wand back into her pocket, she asked, "What are you doing here anyway? In this part of the library, I mean?" She paged through the book as she talked, so she didn't see the way Malfoy's eyes tightened slightly at question. When he didn't answer, she smiled sadly to herself. What was wrong with him?

She looked at him out the corner of her eye, and caught him staring out the window. She turned so that she would see what was enrapturing his attention. But what she saw wasn't anything particularly spectacular - just a pale white sky and a pair of unidentifiable flying creatures flying aimlessly in circles. She focused her attention back on her book, ignoring him, supposing that he'd walk away sometime soon.

"I'm considering exploring the field of magical medicine once I leave Hogwarts."

His delayed reply – although spoken mainly to the window than to her – registered slowly in her head.

"Really?" She didn't doubt him, but she didn't fully believe him. She used her wand to Summon a book that was on another high shelf, and paged nonchalantly through it.

Another silence ensued and she grew irritated but fought for her patience. After she had filled her bag with three more books and was about to head off to another section, he said, "Because I want to help people." His voice was laced with sadness, and it was soft, she wasn't sure whether his words were more for his own understanding or for her.

Perplexed at his behaviour, she murmured goodbye, and rushed off to another section in the library. After all, she couldn't afford for the library to close when she still hadn't gotten all her books yet!

Hermione got back to the Common Room just before ten that same night. The empty bag that she had left with was now bulging, a few books peeping out from the top. With little effort, she removed the bag from her shoulder and dumped it on the couch. She kicked off her shoes, and collapsed on the couch. She removed her hairgrip, so that her hair relaxed into a fan-like state. Her head didn't feel so heavy anymore. Closing her eyes gently, her body gave in to the couch, and before she knew it she was seeing images of dots and zigzags, and swirly patterns ...

She was woken up by a crisp voice, "Where were you tonight?"

Hermione opened her eyes, and yawned. Blinking at the tall boy in front of her, she replied intelligently, "Sorry, what?"

His lips were curled into a deep frown, yet other than that, Hermione noticed no other signs of emotion on Malfoy's face or rigid structure. His flat eyes stared down at her, as he repeated, "Where were you tonight?"

Hermione's mind raced in worry. Was she supposed to be someplace else? Or perhaps his memory was failing him now? She stood up, swayed a bit, and said in a slight pitying voice, "Malfoy, I was there at the library. Do you not remember?" She motioned towards her book bag as if giving visible proof of her statement.

Malfoy pursed his lips. "Yes, I remember, Granger, but we had bloody Head duties tonight." His tone sounded casual, but there was a hiss of frustration and lingering anger weighted on its surface.

Hermione tried to imitate his emotionless face as her insides crawled with worry. She missed a duty of hers? Was there a book somewhere in Professor McGonagall's office that kept a record of this? "Uh ..." she started, trying to figure out what to say. "We had duty tonight?"

He turned his back on her, and for a moment, Hermione didn't think he was going to answer her. He walked over to the hearth and knelt before it. He drew his wand out from his pocket, flicked it, and watched as flames suddenly ignited, licking the wood.

"The Ravenclaw prefects had to cancel. Remember? Lovegood notified us just the other day," he murmured, still looking intently into the flames.

Hermione had the benefit of having his back turned to her, so that he couldn't read the humiliation etched on her features. She said quietly, but in a strong voice, "So she did. I apologize for my lapse in memory."

Malfoy stood up suddenly, tearing his face away from the flickering fire. "Don't do it again. This school needs responsible leaders."

Hermione's eyebrows shot up, and her nostrils flared. "Are you calling me irresponsible?"

He merely looked at her.

She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "I can assure you that I am responsible, Malfoy. It's purely because of stress that I ..." she searched for the right word – "... that perhaps I act strangely –" No, she thought, even that didn't sound right, but it'll have to do. She tried to convey via her eyes what she found difficult to put into words but his eyes ... they were too flat and devoid of any feeling to effectively communicate. Was he even looking at her? Or staring passed her at something else? "Sorry," she finished off by saying. "It won't happen again." She picked up her book bag, sighing as she left the Common Room.

She heard him clear his throat. Hermione mentally rolled her eyes. Honestly. Couldn't he say something if he wanted to point something out? She turned around, and lifted her eyebrows as if to say what?

He jerked his head towards her hair accessories on the table and her shoes. She sighed loudly. Turning her back on him, she flicked her wand so that her possessions would follow her. Her door closed softly behind her.

Draco knelt down again by the fireplace, placing his head in his hands. He shouldn't have taken his aggravation out on her. It wasn't entirely Granger's fault. He raked his hands through his hair once, and the action reminded him of someone else ...

"Now, now, Draco," his mother's soft voice warned as she combed her fingers through his hair. "Don't ruin your new robes on your very first day at Hogwarts ... You look like such a smart boy. Doesn't he, Lucius?"

A tear dropped from his eye, as he stared into the fire. As one flame merged into another, he thought of his parents. He sat in front of a warm fire, whilst his parents were probably craving warmth, not being able to use the warmth in their hearts ... With a flick of his wand, the flames fell to ash, and all that was left was smoke.

-------------------------------------------------------to be continued---------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I need to know this from you people: Should I make this a kind of long story, or a kind of short story! Let me know! Thanks!

Review please