A/N: This is the final chapter; I hope you guys enjoyed it! Please review, and let me know what you thought about it!

"It's A Shame"

Chapter Four: Apology

Dinner was awkward, to say the least. Hermione burst into the dining room just as everyone was sitting down, her lips pursed in frustration and her eyebrows furrowed. The conversation notably quieted, although no one said anything directly. Draco followed a few minutes later. His facial expression held no sign of distress, but his posture was lacking its usual arrogance.

As dinner progressed, the tension between Hermione and Draco only seemed to worsen, but their negative feelings did not seem to hamper the goodwill of the other guests. In fact they seemed to be compensating for it.

Dinner soon came to an end, and, as they were leaving, Hermione was certain Draco was going to say something rude or harsh to her. He had to be angry at her, after all, and it was only a matter of time before he sought revenge.

She walked passed him, waiting for his thin lips to open and release some jibe that had been rolling around in his head all through dinner. She smiled at him curtly.

"Good evening, Hermione," he said, his voice light and friendly.

She faltered for a second, but quickly realized that he was up to something; he must have some type of plan in mind and he was trying to confuse her. She decided to act like she normally would to Draco Malfoy, and she simply ignored his comment with an icy shrug of her shoulder. She felt a thrill of satisfaction when his eyes narrowed in anger and frustration, and she smiled secretly to herself.

Her triumph, however, did not last long. Euphoria has an expiration date, after all, and it was only a few hours before Hermione started to feel guilty for treating Malfoy so coldly. She could remember how uncharacteristically nice he had been to the Weasley family that day, and although he had insulted her in the end, he had been polite to her as she left.

And she had shoved that politeness–that apparent apology– back in his face

She realized that she was the one acting weirdly now. Her reaction to his friendliness was appalling and frankly, she was ashamed of herself.

"Do you think I was rude to him?" she asked Ginny the next day, as they sat in the middle of a noisy Leaky Cauldron.

"To who?"

"Draco, when we left yesterday, he was nice and I thought at the time he was making fun of me, but . . . ."

Ginny shrugged. "I thought you two acted like you usually did around each other."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you were obviously arguing about something. Isn't that it always is with you two? Always arguing?"

"Well, yes, but . . . recently, Ginny, I think . . ." Hermione paused for a second, feeling a foreign bout uncertainty. The last few weeks had changed her perspective towards Draco. When she thought about him, it was as Draco and not Malfoy. He suddenly seemed much kinder than he appeared before, and he occupied her thoughts frequently. To say that her world had been turned upside down would have sounded cliche even to her. Instead, it was like she was seeing something that wasn't there before, a sprig of green leaves on a cold barren field.

He was changing and so was she; they were both moving towards the same conclusions, the same feelings and suddenly she could see it all (although what it all was, she wasn't quite sure).

"I have to apologize!" said Hermione. "I have to write him a letter."

Ginny smiled impishly. "Are you falling in love with Draco Malfoy?"

"Oh don't be ridiculous. I could never fall in love Malfoy. Even if I could fall in love with Malfoy, he would never love a muggleborn."

"He did seem awfully preoccupied with you on Sunday . . . ."

"He was not preoccupied with me. He called me a Mudblood. That is not preoccupation; that's anger."

"He actually said that?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes, and I, er, slapped him."

"Well, he certainly deserved it."

"Yes, but as we were leaving, he was so nice! I think he was apologizing."

"You should talk to him," said Ginny, taking a sip of her tea. She checked her watch. "I've got to go, but I'll see you later."

"Bye Ginny," said Hermione, standing up and giving Ginny a hug. They made plans to meet in a few days–Harry's birthday was coming up and they both needed to get him something–and Ginny left, leaving Hermione pondering the nature of her feelings towards Draco.

It was few minutes after Ginny's departure, when she decided that there is no definitive reason why indifference can turn to fondness or why hate can turn to love. Feelings change; it is simply a fact of life. Time can mold even the most unmalleable opinions and beliefs. One small action can bring an avalanche of changes: one worried look, one curious thought, one small act of apology. That was all it took sometimes, a step in the right direction.

It was hours later when she got the chance to sit down and compose a letter to Malfoy. She apologized and invited him to lunch the next day, saying that she wanted to apologize properly, in person. She wrote it quickly and sent it off, anxiously awaiting his reply.

She found herself biting her fingernails. She found herself shifting in her chair, until she stood up to see out of the window. The window became fogged with her breath and she wiped it with the sleeve of her jumper–she was so nervous that she didn't even thinking about using a spell.

The clock in the hallway had just struck nine, when she saw a brown owl land on the windowsill. She let the owl in, reaching for Malfoy's letter. Tearing it open, she read his reply.

I'll be there, is what it said.

She sighed, frustrated at his vague response, and let the letter flutter down to the floor. She shook her head, wondering if Draco was really worth all this energy.

But there was no turning back now: she would have lunch with him tomorrow because her feelings had already made their transformation. She liked him–she probably even fancied him–and she knew she would probably end up loving the stupid git . . . .

The next day, wearing her best dress, she sat across from him and reminded herself that she had known him since she was eleven years old. He was nothing new. Just Draco Malfoy. He was sitting patiently, his posture relaxed and his face almost bored. Nevertheless, she had the impression that he was just as nervous as her. He could feel the change–the feelings–and he was trying desperately not to embarrass himself.

"I wanted to apologize," she said.

"Apology accepted," he replied, without waiting for her elaborate. He sat up straighter, his visage assuming a polite, almost gentlemanly, appearance. "I wanted to apologize as well." His eyes flicked towards the table. "I shouldn't have called you that."

"Thank you. I appreciate your apology, and I forgive you."

They both nodded and the situation became even more awkward. Draco looked at his silverware, while Hermione observed the couple sitting at the table next to them.

"Don't think I'm suddenly going to be nice to you now, Granger."

She looked up, surprised by his harsh tone, but she quickly noted the smile playing on his lips. She shook her head. "Considering your upbringing, it's a wonder you can even socialize with anybody."

He smirked. "So, you're busy Friday night."

"Actually, I–"

"That wasn't a question. I'll be picking you up for dinner, around six. Be ready. And don't wear that." He nodded at her dress.

"What's wrong with this dress?"

"Nothing, if you're sixty years old."

"I happen to like this dress very much, Malfoy, and I–" She was cut off by Malfoy's sudden chuckling. It wasn't long before she found herself laughing a little too.

The End.