Minerva McGonagall walked briskly down the corridor toward Dumbledore's office, the heels of her shoes clacking fiercely with each step. She reached the gargoyle that marked the doorway and tersely muttered the password for this week, "Sugar Babies," rolling her eyes as she did so. Albus and his fancy for Muggle sweets, she thought as she ascended the winding staircase, shaking her head.

Arriving at the oak doorway that led into Dumbledore's office with its high circular ceilings and polished wood, McGonagall started to step inside, but the sound of what might have been an argument gave her reason to pause. There was a raised voice, insistent and slightly breathless, arguing with Dumbledore's ever-calm and placid tone.

" - couldn't believe it, I tell you! The selfsame boy who used to call her a Mudblood, and they were sitting there talking as though they'd been brought up together from birth! I tell you, Albus, I don't know what to think - is it some kind of spell that's responsible for all this hullabaloo?"

"I am sure neither he nor her cursed nor charmed one another, Poppy," Dumbledore was saying, although now with an edge to his voice. "I am sure it is all very innocent. And I appreciate your telling me all this, though now I must ask a favor of you - you must never repeat what you have just told me to anyone else."

"But Albus, I've been thinking. At first I wanted to believe it was as innocent as it looked; that a Slytherin and a Gryffindor could be friends, for no ulterior reason at all. What a ray of hope it would be in these uncertain times, with You-Know-Who trying to come back and Sirius Black on the loose! But… what if it isn't what it seems? What if it's a cruel joke he's playing, as those Slytherins are like to do, and he means to hurt poor little Miss Granger -"

"Who means to hurt Miss Granger?" McGonagall asked tartly, stepping fully into the room. She hadn't wanted to interrupt, but at the mention of her favorite student possibly being in trouble, she'd had to step in. Madam Pomfrey gasped, and Dumbledore inclined his silver-bearded head slightly.

"No one," the headmaster replied firmly, the look on his face precluding either of the two women from speaking just now. "We will speak of this no more. Poppy, I must insist that you promise to do as I have asked and tell no one what you have seen. The thought of such a thing may be a comfort to us, but there are others who would be angered by it - even spurred to a course of action that might be devastating. No. We must keep our silence, for the children's sakes."

The mediwitch pressed her lips together and twitched her nose slightly, inwardly recognizing that she hadn't considered the implicit danger in revealing such information and feeling a little reproved. "As you wish, Albus."

Seeing her genuine concern, he softened, and put a hand on her shoulder. "I know you mean well, Poppy. I give you my word that I will look into this matter personally, and do whatever needs to be done myself. Will that satisfy you?"

She nodded quickly. "I do trust you, you know."

"And I trust you," Dumbledore smiled, patting her shoulder and then releasing her. "Thank you, Poppy. I shall give the matter my immediate attention."

With a tight-lipped smile to McGonagall, who arched an eyebrow at her from underneath her tartan hat, Madam Pomfrey dismissed herself from the room. McGonagall took that as her cue to step forward, her arms folded tightly across her chest.

"You have no intentions of telling me what all that was about, Albus?" the head of Gryffindor House asked, tapping her toe impatiently.

"Regretfully, no, I do not," Dumbledore replied, suddenly sounding very tired. "At least, not at the present moment. You must accept that I intend only for the best, and that I will not allow any harm to come to Hermione Granger, if it can at all be prevented."

"Oh, Albus!" McGonagall cried then, throwing her hands up in the air and pacing about. "For heaven's sake, when are you going to stop carrying each and every burden of this school on your own? When are you going to realize that you can trust me to help bear some of it for you, or with you? I want to help! I know I couldn't do it all on my own, and I can't bear to think of how you must be overtaxing yourself -"

Dumbledore caught her in midstep, taking her hand in his so gently that it caught her by surprise. The warmth of such a human touch felt strange and alien to her hand, but she did not pull away. McGonagall looked up into the wise blue eyes twinkling behind his spectacles, seeing a rare softness there instead of the usual rosy-cheeked merriment. "Peace, Minerva," he murmured. "Your concern over me is appreciated, but unnecessary."

"Nonsense," McGonagall replied, though her usual terseness of voice had given way to a softer, slightly grittier form of speech. "You look after everyone in this school, and you do an admirable job. But Albus, who looks after you?"

For once in his long life, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was speechless.

McGonagall slowly withdrew her hand from his, and without looking back up at him walked out of his office. Whatever she had come to tell him was long since forgotten.

ooo LL ooo

In class the following Thursday, Draco Malfoy stuck out his tongue and made a face. He could swear he still tasted the wretched anti-infection potion, but he would have swallowed a whole bucketful of it if the owl that had come during lunch had been for another student instead of him.

Your father is coming this afternoon to check on you, it said in his mother's writing. I gave him the message that you were all right, but you know him, things must be done his way. Write to me soon. I miss you. Hoping you're well.

Malfoy cringed. He didn't know who had informed them about Buckbeak's attack on his arm, but whoever it was had done him no favors. Nothing good could come of Lucius Malfoy coming to visit. Draco's hands were sweaty, his heart pounding with dread. Every minute that ticked by on the clock was like an eternity.

Meanwhile, Hermione was ignoring him. Like the wretched little bookworm she was, she had again started hanging onto the professors' every word and taking meticulous notes. Her friends took it as a good sign, that the old Hermione was coming back. Draco couldn't have been more depressed. It was as though she had forgotten him completely.

She let him suffer in silence until Arithmancy, when she slipped him a note. Knowing that Vincent Crabbe could barely read, he wasn't worried about the odd look his cohort was giving him from the chair to his left. He needn't have fretted anyway; Hermione had cleverly written in code. He opened it with fervor, reading:

The Tea & Scones Society will meet in the library at 6:30 tonight. Be there!

Signed, Madam Pince's "Assistant" Librarian

Draco glanced over at Hermione, making sure to scowl in case anyone was watching, and nodded. He'd be there. Even if he had to stop time in its tracks or use Petrificus Totalus on his father, he'd be there.

ooo LL ooo

Hermione checked her watch again. 6:45.

Where is he? She knew he wouldn't stand her up on purpose; his face had been positively beaming when she had passed him that note. She was getting ready to leave when Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode came in. Hermione lowered her head and pretended to be absorbed in her Charms book, but listened carefully to their conversation.

"Poor Draco," Pansy was saying, "his arm really is in a bad way. Oh, that oaf of a gamekeeper! It's all his fault! Draco's being brave, of course, but now his father's here he'll straighten out that Hagrid, just you wait."

Lucius… here? Hermione's heart sank. Draco wouldn't be coming tonight. She worried about him, but reasoned surely Malfoy's father wouldn't do anything rash while he was inside Hogwarts. And if I know Lucius, Draco's injury is just an excuse. That man lives to make trouble for everyone else. He has something up his sleeve; I'm sure of it - and it probably has to do with Hagrid. Whatever it is, it can't be good. Resigning herself to a lonely evening of schoolwork, she collected her papers from the table and started out the door.

A snaking hand grabbed her and pulled her to the left. Her head was still spinning as she looked up into the silver pools of Draco's eyes, which were glowing.

"You're late," she admonished him, though with a dreamy smile.

"Sorry. My father just left," he explicated with regret. "Come with me. I know somewhere we can talk."

Careful to make sure no one was looking, he took her hand in his free one, guiding her through a series of back hallways to an empty classroom that looked as though it hadn't been used in years. "Care to do the honors?"

"Sure. Alohomora," Hermione said, pointing her wand at the lock. It promptly turned, then the two went inside and closed the door behind them.

It was dark inside, and only a few slitted windows gave them light enough to see by. Hermione could see the outlines of bare desks and empty bookshelves. "Lumos," she incanted, the tip of her wand glowing. "It's so… empty. Whatever did they use this room for?"

"History of Magic, I think." Malfoy gave a one-armed shrug and toyed with his sling. "Not glamorous, but it is private."

Hermione glanced over her shoulder. "You have secrets to tell me?"

Draco shook his head. "Not today. I just wanted to talk to you."

"Just talk?" Hermione chuckled, still looking around the room. "Like we talked in the hospital wing, you mean?"

She heard his footsteps; he was coming to join her. "Would you mind?" he asked then, his whisper sounding very close behind her. She felt his fingers in her hair, examining its slightly coarse texture.

Hermione turned and looked at him, brown eyes wide and searching. For a moment they simply stood there, staring at each other in disbelief. Then he leaned forward and kissed her, softly, chastely. Heart pounding, Hermione stepped closer, taking his free hand in hers and kissing him back. It was an awkward moment; each could feel the other's hesitation and mistrust; each knew the risk, even if they had found someplace relatively undisturbed. A quiet moment passed after they had stopped, their hands squeezing firmly together. About what had just happened, nothing needed to be said; the objections had been made, and obviously overruled.

Hermione chose to break the silence, needing to know. "So what happened? With your father, I mean. Why was he here?"

Malfoy's face fell. "Madam Pomfrey sent him an owl. Apparently it's standard procedure when a student has a mishap that the parents have to be informed. She told him about what happened in Hagrid's class."

Fear gripped her. She knew all too well what happened when someone angered Lucius Malfoy. "Oh, Draco, I was afraid of that. What did he say?"

"What do you think? That Hagrid ought to be fired, and that something had to be done about that giant bloody chicken. I believe his exact words were, 'Heads will roll for this.'"

For once, fear for Hagrid outweighed her concern for Draco. "And you? What did you say?"

"What does it matter?" Malfoy asked bitterly.

"It matters to me!" Hermione insisted. "Did you agree with him?"

"So what if I did?" He took his hand away, taking a few steps back from her before daring to look her way again. "You know I don't like Hagrid the way you do."

Her voice cracked. "So you mean to tell me you want Hagrid fired? Over what amounts to your mistake?"

Malfoy rolled his eyes. He didn't dare disagree that his injury was his own fault, but he also knew what she did - that it wasn't really the cause for Lucius's arrival at all. Draco wasn't stupid; he dared not flatter himself to think that his father cared if he got hurt. "Hermione, even if I did, it wouldn't matter. My father is going to do what he wants to do no matter what I say. He never listens to me. If Father wants Hagrid fired and that hippogriff put down, he has the power to make it happen, and even if I got on my knees and begged - which I don't mean to do - it wouldn't be of any use."

Hermione groaned, blinking hard to fight back tears. "It just isn't fair! Why does he always have to be there to ruin everything?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, confused. "What? Who?"

"Your father! First he attacks Ginny, then tries to kill Harry, then I find out he's been hurting you, and now this -" Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth. Now she had really done it.

"What do you mean, 'he's been hurting me?'" There was a terse, biting silence before Malfoy shouted, "Well? Out with it!"

Hermione shuddered. She had never seen him so angry. Subconsciously, she reached for her wand. "Malfoy, you're frightening me."

"Oh, so it's Malfoy now, is it?" His face was devoid of the loving, if cautious and strained, look he had borne only minutes earlier. When he spoke again, his voice was a barely audible, yet infinitely livid whisper. "That's why you wanted this truce, isn't it? Because you felt sorry for me. Not because you actually wanted to be my friend, let alone… I should have known."

Glowering, he started towards the door, but she caught his arm.

"Malfoy, wait!"

His grey eyes were razor sharp. "What for? So you can win Gryffindor house points by being noble to the poor little Slytherin whose father hexes him? Spare me."

"You've got it all wrong," Hermione replied, frustrated. "When I found out… well, I can't lie, I did pity you at first. But now I…" Her voice trailed off.

Draco scowled. "You can't even say it, can you? You probably thought this would be a real laugh for you and Potter to have at my expense: Malfoy, pride of the purebloods, in a Mudblood's thrall. Well, you've had your fun, so laugh it up, Granger. Go on, laugh!"

By this time tears were forming in the corners of her eyes. "No! It's not like that at all. If you would just listen to me -"

"I've heard all I care to hear." He yanked his arm away and tried to turn a second time. "Damn it, you filthy little Mudblood, let me go!"

This time, however, Hermione was ready for it. Bucking up every bit of nerve she had inside her, she drew him round and kissed him full on the lips, knocking him nearly senseless. Preteen hormones won out, and Draco leaned into her, hungry for the show of affection.

After a moment she drew back, searching his eyes. "Now, will you trust me?"

Draco had to breathe and steady himself before he was able to reply. "No. Not until you say it."

"Say what? That I fancy you? Honestly, would I have kissed you like that if I didn't?" Hermione shook her head, her heart still pounding. Even she could scarcely believe she'd done it.

Arching a blond eyebrow, Malfoy faltered. "I still want to hear you say it. But only if it's true."

Hermione vacillated. The words seemed so trite, so unworthy of the bizarre situation in which they'd found themselves, but she had no choice. "I wish I could say it wasn't. It'd be easier on both of us, I think. But I do fancy you, Malfoy. Merlin knows why, but I do."

Draco exhaled deeply, as if relieved. "Just like a Gryffindor; you couldn't lie with a straight face if your life depended on it. Normally I'd find that bothersome, but right now…" He leaned forward, his forehead resting on hers. "All right, I believe you. So tell me how you found out. About my father, I mean."

"I can't," Hermione whispered, "and don't look at me like that; it's not because I don't want to. Someone overheard your father trying to curse you once, and I overheard that person telling someone else about it. That someone else made me promise not to tell."

Draco's eyes widened in alarm. "Is it Potter?"

"No. He doesn't know and I won't tell him, or anyone else. That was a condition of the promise I made. So please, don't ask me to tell you any more, because I really can't."

"You're sure it's a secret?"

"I told you, yes."

"All right, then. I suppose that's all I need to know for now." Draco was silent for a moment. "No, wait. There's still one question I have to ask you. Do you think…that is, are you ashamed to be with me?"

Hermione recoiled at the suggestion. "Why should I be?"

The blond Slytherin shrugged, kicking a toe against the floor. He suddenly looked like a little boy. "You don't think it makes me… weak?"

Hermione shook her head in disbelief. "Draco, no. You've faced the horror of your own father trying to curse you, and still you keep going every day, hiding your pain from everyone. How could you be any stronger?"

Draco's lower lip quivered. "You really mean that, don't you?"

"If I didn't, I wouldn't have said it," she assured him firmly.

A moment of silence passed. Then, without any warning, Draco sprang forward and enveloped her in a one-armed embrace that was half release, half quiet desperation. Surprised at the warm feeling flooding through her chest, Hermione wound her arms around his middle, letting him hold her and draw from her strength. Had any of the ghosts chosen to drift through that room, they might have seen a rare and beautiful sight - two young hearts finding a solace and understanding in one another that no one else had been able to give - and in sharing both their pain and their healing in that single moment, awakening a bond between them that was stronger than they could know. Fate was kind, however, and they were left blissfully alone.

For a long moment they held each other, each trembling to the core. At last Draco let her go, but it was clear that he did not want to.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, still shivering, "I don't know what came over me."

"It's okay," Hermione murmured back, nodding slowly. She didn't know why, but tears had begun to slide slowly down her cheeks.

"This is crazy," he ventured then, giving a shaky laugh. "No one would ever believe this."

Hermione conceded the point. "I know. We used to hate each other, and now we're -"

"Snogging like a couple of lovebirds?" Draco sniggered with her. "I know. Pathetic, isn't it?"

"Positively shameful. We should stop." Hermione took a lock of his white-blond hair between her fingers, learning its silky-smooth texture by heart. "But I don't want to."

"Me neither." Feeling a sense of safety rush over him, Draco held her again, needing her nearness. He didn't know why, but Hermione had a way of making him forget that anything or anyone else existed.

"I didn't know this was going to happen, you know," he murmured then. "I thought it was just going to be a truce."

Hermione looked up worriedly. "Are you sorry for it?"

"Are you kidding?" Draco cupped her face with his free hand. "You're the first real friend I've ever had. Do you know that?"

Although she had suspected as much, she never would have said so. "It's too bad we can't be open about this."

"I know." His face fell. "Listen, sooner or later we're going to run into each other when someone else is looking on, and well… I just wanted you to know, even if I seem nasty to your face, I don't really mean it. It's just pretend. All right?"

Hermione affirmed this with a nod. "Same here. I suppose there's no avoiding it, is there?"

Malfoy drunk in the sight of her; in the half-light of the dark, empty classroom, she looked almost angelic. Was this the Mudblood he'd thought he hated so much? What had changed, to make him see her in a different light?

That's easy, his heart told him, twinging as she kissed his cheek goodbye. You stopped seeing her through your father's eyes, and started seeing her with yours.