Author's Notes: And now, a Hogsmeade weekend. It is currently 21st September, which means that a little over two weeks have passed since the events of the last chapter. There is a sort of "bombshell" at the end, but I'm not sure if it's actually going to come as a surprise to anyone. Mystery isn't really my strongest point as a writer.

Still not finished with Chapter 14, but I'd feel worse about not posting a chapter than about getting a bit behind on my writing. Maybe I'll be able to finish 14 and 15 in the next two weeks. Either way, Chapter 8 will be posted on 1st August as per the fortnightly schedule.

7. Even Hell Can Get Comfy

Hermione was scared by how well she was settling into this new life. Although she did miss Harry and Ron – with a fierceness that took her by surprise, given the amount of time they'd spent driving her mad – she found that she was becoming comfortable in this place, with these people. Lavender was everything she would have wished for if told she could have a female best friend: she was a worthy study partner and confidant, generally light-hearted but capable of seriousness when necessary. The other Gryffindors were good company, too, as were her Ravenclaw friends Lisa and Michael. Even her meetings with this world's Harry, secret though they had to be, still had the power to make her happy.

And then, of course – there was no getting around it – there was Draco.

In the past, she had always believed that she was very bad at recognising when a boy was attracted to her, but this time she was fairly sure that she was right. He kept turning up to study in the library while she was there, and she was almost certain that he only did it in order to spend time with her. More than that, there was definitely something in the way he looked at her, an intensity of a kind she hadn't seen since Viktor had returned to Bulgaria. And, just as it had then, that barely-hidden warmth and passion melted her bones, leaving her wondering if perhaps she might be equally attracted to Draco. Which would have been all very well, if only the idea of actually trying to have a relationship with him had not been so very painful to her.

It was not, as might be imagined, that she couldn't deal with the fact that it was Draco Malfoy who was interested in her. While that was rather strange – one of the strangest things she'd encountered so far – he was too different a person to the one she'd known for her to find him so repulsive. No, what bothered her was the knowledge that she did not belong in this world, that it would be irresponsible for her even to consider something as dangerous as getting involved with someone here. How could she allow herself to care for anyone when she had no idea how much longer she would even be there? When – who knew? – she might one day fall asleep, or be hit by a spell, and be whisked back home without even the chance to say goodbye?

For several days, this had seemed to her to be a completely insurmountable objection. Then she had worked up the nerve to confide in Professor Snape, who had simply listened quietly before saying, "So, you're worried because you don't know how much longer you'll be in this world?" She had nodded, feeling very small and stupid for even mentioning it – and then he had leaned forward over his desk and murmured, "Let me tell you a secret, Miss Granger. Neither does anyone else."

Hermione had wanted to say that this was not at all the same thing, but after thinking about it a little more she had accepted the wisdom in the comparison. There was no point in avoiding everyone and refusing to take part in life simply because one day you would have to leave it behind, whether by strange magic or by dying. Though perhaps her worry was premature or even unnecessary, as she had no idea if it was actually possible for her to return home. Even Sirius, with all the resources of the Ministry at his disposal, had not as yet managed to find a solution to her predicament.

Perhaps she really was mad, after all. Aside from her own memories – which seemed more distant and unconvincing every day – she had no evidence that she had ever lived any differently. Logically speaking, if anything was false it would have to be her remembered past and not the very substantial present day world. Not that Hermione believed that for a minute. Professor Snape had seemed very sure that her memories were genuine – and she knew herself, somewhere in her heart, that she had not imagined or dreamed any of those things.

No, she knew the truth – that she was stuck in an unfamiliar world with no obvious way back to her own, and growing more entrenched with every passing day. It was a pitiable situation, and she really ought to have spent more of her time dwelling on the hopelessness of it all, fighting off despair and misery. Instead she was thinking about a boy – of all things! – and she couldn't even really say that she was sorry about that.

Which was probably why, when Draco asked her to go to Hogsmeade with him, she had a brief lapse of sanity and said yes.

They were in the Gryffindor common room after dinner on the Friday before the first Hogsmeade weekend of the term. Lavender and Draco were having a good-natured argument about the Quidditch league, while Hermione exchanged eye rolls with an equally unimpressed Neville over the top of her Defence textbook. Perhaps she should have already dragged Lavender off to the library to work on homework – especially with the loss of her usual Saturday afternoon study time – but tonight there was just something so restful about being in the common room. She actually felt that she belonged, that she was truly welcome there, a feeling she relished and took every opportunity to bask in.

Hermione was busy noting down anything that might help with her essay, and so wasn't attending to the conversation; the only reason she could tell the Tutshill Tornados from the Ballycastle Bats was the latter's cute little mascot. Thus it came as something of a surprise to her when she suddenly noticed that Draco was leaning over towards her and addressing her. "Sorry," she said, awkwardly, flushing slightly. "I, uh, didn't catch that. What were you saying?"

"Get lost in your book?" Lavender teased.

"Well, what else am I supposed to do?" she asked, perhaps a little too defensively. "If you will insist on talking about Quidditch."

Draco sighed. "I despair of you, Hermione. Quidditch is a fine sport." His eyes shone with warmth, making his disapproval all too obviously an act. "Anyway, all I said was... well, I asked if you wanted to hang out with me when everyone goes to Hogsmeade tomorrow. We could have lunch together or something."

"So you don't despair of me that much, then," she returned, only realising when the others laughed that she had made a joke. Then her thoughts turned to his question and how she should answer it, given that this was what passed for asking someone out at Hogwarts. She looked at Lavender as if she imagined her friend could tell her what she should do. Though of course that was impossible, since Lavender didn't know the most compelling – only? – reason why she shouldn't accept.

Seeing her questioning look, Lavender laughed and said, "Oh, don't worry on my account, Hermione. I don't mind if you two go together. It's not like I'll be lonely; I can always go with Seamus."

"Such sacrifice for my sake," Hermione said, with heavy sarcasm, and Lavender snorted. "I – okay, Draco. That sounds great." Even knowing why she shouldn't do it, she still wanted to. And anyway, she reasoned, it was only lunch. There couldn't be anything wrong about having lunch with a friend, right? She fiddled with a roll of parchment, wishing she could feel excitement unalloyed by the unhappiness and guilt brought on by her situation. It wasn't fair that she should find a boy whom she liked and who liked her back here, in a world that wasn't her own and where she knew that she couldn't stay. She had long known that life wasn't fair, of course – she wasn't a child – but she hadn't imagined irony could be this cruel.

And then, quite suddenly, she realised that she hadn't thought about her Ron as anything other than a friend for almost two weeks. However badly it ended, at least this thing with Draco had helped her get over that embarrassing and hopeless infatuation. So despite her misgivings, she resolved that she would enjoy herself in Hogsmeade. Whether it was a bad idea or not, there was no point in agreeing to do something only to be miserable while doing it. That wouldn't be fair, either to herself or to him. Hermione let a small private smile creep over her face as she looked back down at her book. She was sure it wouldn't prove too difficult to make the best of it.

Saturday morning dawned dry and bright, but there was a sharpness in the air that proved that what summer there had been was definitely on its way out. Hermione closed the window, ignoring Parvati's grumbled protests at the noise, and turned to her wardrobe to look for some warmer clothing. She had a vague idea that she should feel nervous about the coming day, and worry more about how pretty her clothes were than how warm. That sort of frivolity was not in her nature, though; she reasoned that since Draco clearly found her attractive enough in her school robes, any of her nicer outfits would do. Besides, she hated being cold.

After dressing and making a rather half-hearted attempt to tame her hair, she headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast. She went alone, since Lavender refused to get up before ten o'clock at the weekends – a fact she was glad of when she met Harry in the entrance hall. He appeared from the stairwell to the dungeons just as she descended the main staircase from the first floor, and he was likewise alone. There was not a single other soul nearby, no one to see or hear or report on what they did, so Harry discarded his Slytherin disdain and greeted her warmly. She smiled; it was so convenient that she could almost imagine that he'd somehow arranged their meeting on purpose.

"Hey, Hermione – I was hoping to run into you today." He grinned broadly and reached into the inner pocket of his robes, withdrawing an envelope which he then handed to her. "There. Happy birthday. Well, I know it was actually on Thursday, but I didn't get a chance to give this to you then."

Hermione stared at the envelope in near-disbelief. She didn't remember ever getting anything from Harry or Ron on her birthday in any previous year. Not that she had ever really bothered with the day herself; before Hogwarts she hadn't had any close friends with whom to celebrate, and after... well, it wasn't exactly easy to celebrate – or even to buy presents – during term at a boarding school. She'd always told herself that she didn't care and that it wasn't a big deal, but her reaction to something as simple as a birthday card from a friend was evidence enough that she did and it was.

Harry laughed softly at the expression on her face. "You thought I'd forgotten, didn't you?"

It was a cheerful accusation, and she summoned enough composure to reply in kind. "Well, seeing as haven't said one unnecessary word to me for the last two days, can you really blame me for thinking that?"

"You know the walls have ears," he said, more seriously. "If I could've got the time – like this – to meet you privately, I would've done." He sighed. "You're not the only one who wishes we could do this differently, you know." Then he seemed to brighten up a little and nodded towards the envelope. "Are you going to open it?"

"Um, sure." Hermione tore the flap open as neatly as she could and extracted the card. A piece of paper fell out and fluttered to the floor at her feet. She bent down to pick it up, and found that it was a ten Galleon gift voucher for the bookshop in Hogsmeade. "Oh, Harry, that's really nice of you. You know me, I can never have enough books."

"Yeah, that was my logic," he said. "And I didn't think I could fit a whole book inside a birthday card."

"It would have to be a really big birthday card," Hermione replied, studiously ignoring the reminder that it had been necessary for Harry to hide her present away.

"Well, yeah." He smirked a little, adding, "Anyway, I wasn't sure of my chances of buying you a book you don't already own. You've got a bigger collection than most libraries."

"Don't let Madam Pince hear you." Hermione found it hard to believe that she'd ever aspired to be anything like the school librarian. The woman seemed so cold to her now, so completely absorbed in her books. That was no longer what she wanted to be. People were more important – and much better at surprising her. Smiling, she looked down at the card in her hand; it was clearly custom designed, because the image was of a lioness sitting in a plush red armchair reading a book. Then, as she watched, an emerald green snake slithered into view over the lioness' shoulder, and flicked its tongue at the book. "Oh, that's really sweet," she exclaimed, poking the snake, which hissed warningly at her finger.

Harry laughed. "I don't think he realises he's a picture," he said, his response to what could only have been Parseltongue confirming her theory that he was still the Boy Who Lived, even if he was unaware of it. "So, Hermione," he went on, his voice taking on a mischievous tone. "I hope you're going to enjoy yourself at Hogsmeade today?"

She stared at him blankly. What did he mean? Had he heard that she was going to lunch with Draco? Was that really important enough for the school gossip network to bother with? Apparently so. Rather stiffly, she said, "Yes, well, I intend to." Then she shook her head and smiled. "You make sure to enjoy yourself, too."

"Oh, I will; Ron's a real laugh, honestly." Harry grinned.

Without thinking about it, Hermione replied, "I know." She was thinking of her own Ron, and didn't remember until she saw Harry's slight frown that she didn't really know the one in this reality. Hurriedly, she corrected herself: "I mean, you're always telling me that."

"I didn't realise you were listening," Harry said, incredulously. "Or that you believed me."

"I believe that you enjoy his company." Perhaps the world would have ended if Harry Potter and Ron Weasley hadn't met and become best friends. "That isn't to say that I think that I would." At times she'd found her own Gryffindor Ron difficult to deal with; she didn't like to think how she would manage with a Slytherin version.

"Hah, okay. Fair enough." Harry nodded towards the doors of the Great Hall. "Better go in for breakfast, hadn't we? You go first and I'll loiter for a couple of minutes before I follow you."

Hermione was used to this sort of skulking around by now, but it still hurt a little. She refused to show it, though. "Yes, alright. Thanks again for the card, Harry – it was really thoughtful of you."

"It was the least I could do, really," Harry said, quietly, looking rather embarrassed. She was familiar with his response to praise or recognition, though somehow she had expected that to be different here. Impulsively, she reached out and briefly squeezed his hand. His eyes widened in surprise, but before he could say anything she slipped away through the door into the hall, a small satisfied smile on her face.

The Gryffindor table was nearly empty, as were the other three; it was only eight-thirty, and Hogwarts students were no more prone to early rising than any other teenagers. Despite that, she had half-expected to see Draco waiting for her at the table – and indeed, there he was, stirring a cup of coffee and blinking sleepily at a plate of scrambled eggs. From the look of him, he hadn't been out of bed for very long, and he wasn't yet really awake. She wondered if he had got up on purpose to meet her, or if this was normal for him – but then decided she didn't much care either way, as long as he was there.

Dropping into the seat next to him, she said, brightly, "Morning, Draco."

He looked at her rather blearily. "You're suspiciously chipper for this early in the morning," he grumbled, but passed her the toast rack and marmalade all the same. "Want some coffee?"

"You're joking, right?" Hermione snorted. "My parents would kill me. Do you have any idea what that stuff does to your teeth?"

"Suit yourself." He shrugged and poured her a glass of water. "Though that marmalade is full of sugar, and that's not exactly good for your teeth either."

Hermione spread a thin layer of orange marmalade on a slice of brown toast. "I know, but I never have very much of it – and we all need one little vice."

"And yours is marmalade?"

She scowled. "As if that's any more ridiculous than coffee?"

"Well, when you put in that way, I suppose not." Draco smiled. "I am defeated by your superior logic."

Hermione took a bite of her toast. "As you always will be," she said, with a hint of a smirk. "So you had better start getting used to it." As he laughed, Draco's eyes glittered in a way that made her stomach turn over. She took another hurried bite of her toast in an attempt to dispel the feeling.

"I think I can learn to live with it."

Any reply Hermione might have wanted to give was made impossible by the arrival of a rather dishevelled looking Neville Longbottom. He sat down on the other side of Draco and complained, "You didn't even wait for me this morning. I might have slept through breakfast for all you'd have cared."

Draco snorted, watching Neville reach for the serving dish of bacon. "You? Sleep through breakfast? Not bloody likely." Then he made a gagging noise and said, "Ugh, are you really going to eat black pudding? You know what's in that!"

Neville shrugged. "I like it. You're just a wimp. Black pudding is like haggis – only disgusting when you think about it." He rolled his eyes at Draco's continued childish antics. "Anyway, don't try to distract me, Malfoy; you were very rude to just leave me behind, though I guess I know why you did." There was something very pointed about the way he looked at Hermione.

"Well, my dad says that getting up early is one of the habits of highly effective people," Draco said, haughtily. Then he snickered. "Well, he actually said 'highly effective and really annoying' – but it still counts."

Neville sighed and then stretched, yawning widely. "Having to get up early always feels like I'm being punished."

"See, I was being kind by leaving you to sleep." Draco smirked.

"You were being kind to yourself," Neville shot back, obviously unimpressed. Hermione found herself almost more surprised by the difference in him than in anyone else. Had Neville's low confidence levels really been so easily fixed? Was it just a matter of having actual friends, rather than hanging around on the outside of various already self-sufficient groups? Seeing this far happier version of the boy she had known, she felt a little guilty about how she – and the others – had treated their Neville.

She decided to intervene in the conversation. "We're all being kind to ourselves by getting out of bed at a decent hour," she said, half-joking, half-serious. "Just think of all the people who are still asleep and wasting precious hours of their weekends."

Draco frowned. "I am thinking of them, and it's making me jealous." Then he seemed to realise the implications of what he'd said, because he flushed and hurriedly added: "Uh, not that I'd rather be asleep, of course."

"Of course not." Hermione tried not to laugh out loud; it would be rude and possibly hurtful to do so. Her amusement was still obvious in her voice as she said: "You got up earlier than usual to have breakfast with me, didn't you?"

He winced at her bluntness but then smiled sheepishly. "Guilty."

Hermione's smile widened to a grin almost without her being aware of the fact. She was surprised by how happy his admission made her. "Hey, it isn't a crime, you know," she teased.

"No, I suppose not." His eyes glittered. "As long as you don't think I'm stalking you or anything."

"Not at all," she returned, brightly. "How can you be? You were here first." And she would have left it there, except that she noticed a slight trace of nervous unease in Draco's manner – so, instead, she patted his arm gently and said, "Believe me, if I start to feel like you're stalking me, you will be the first person I complain to about it, okay?"

Draco seemed to relax a little. "Okay," he said, and turned his attention back to his breakfast.

They met in the Great Hall at quarter past ten, more than ready to be released from the castle into the comparative freedom of the village. Hermione had returned to her dorm room to wake Lavender before she left; it was no longer early enough to be offensive to her friend, who would definitely not want to be late for her own meeting with Seamus. When she'd left the room, Lavender had been deep in conference with Parvati about exactly which outfit would make the best impression on the lucky boy. Hermione smiled quietly to herself. This Lavender was much more sensible and studious, but she was not a completely different person, after all.

"You look nice," Draco said, a little awkwardly. Hermione suddenly realised that she had never been on an actual date before in her life – and then that she was assuming that this was a date. Perhaps she was no less silly than Lavender, in the end.

"I look exactly the same as I did at breakfast," she pointed out, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, I wasn't awake at breakfast," he retorted. "So you'll have to deal with getting late compliments."

She snorted. Any compliments were an improvement on what she was used to. "Thanks, then." Whether she agreed with his assessment of her appearance or not, she did know how to accept flattery graciously.

"Only the truth," Draco said, gallantly, and then offered her his arm. Hermione smiled and took it, torn between embarrassment and pleasure at the old-fashioned gesture. She allowed Draco to draw her out of the castle doors and onto the path down to Hogsmeade, past Professors Snape and McGonagall, who she saw exchange a knowing and rather amused look as they went by. Before she could do much more than blush a little, though, she was out in the sunlight – and suddenly it was very easy to forget about everything aside from Draco and the beautiful day outside.

Beautiful it might be, but Hermione had barely gone twenty yards before she found herself glad that she'd thought to put on a warm cloak. When in direct sunlight, it was perfectly glorious and warm – but the moment she stepped into any patch of shade, she could feel the bite in the air. Remembering the scene she'd left behind in the sixth year girls' dormitory, she hoped that Lavender would be as sensible in her choice of clothes. Though that probably depended on how determined she was to impress Seamus.

It was not a very long walk to Hogsmeade, and when they reached the village she quickly determined that very little seemed to be different about it. The only thing that distinguished this outing from any other was the company – and Draco proved himself not that different from her old friends by nodding in the direction of the chocolate shop. "Is it alright if I just drag you into Honeydukes' for a moment?" he asked, almost nervously. "I just have to pick something up; I don't want to spend ages in there drooling, honest."

She laughed. "I can't imagine you drooling."

"I have been known to, on very rare occasions." They headed over to the shop and went inside. The shelves were packed with enough chocolate to drive both of Hermione's parents to a nervous breakdown. Draco paused and then asked, "Do you have a favourite flavour?"

Hermione hesitated, thinking. Despite the influence of dentist parents, she was not entirely immune to the siren call of chocolate. "Um... yeah, I really like the chocolate-coated plums, actually." If she twisted her mind in a few knots, they could almost qualify as a healthy snack.

"Hm... these ones?" Draco grinned and picked up a box of the sweets. Hermione nodded warily, and then watched as he swept off towards the counter still clutching the box. He returned barely a minute later and presented her with a Honeydukes' bag. "These are for you," he said. "Call it a late birthday present."

She took the bag automatically, feeling incredibly touched. That made it two birthday presents from people who evidently cared enough about her to remember the date. "Thanks," she said, embarrassed to realise that she was slightly choked up from a simple gift of chocolate. "But I'll have to share them with you if I don't want to upset my parents."

"I think I can cope with that." They left the sweet shop and headed back out into the village. "So, is there anywhere in particular that you wanted to go while we're here?"

Before Hermione could reply, she was distracted by spotting a familiar face in the crowd. It was Sirius Black – and no sooner had she wondered whether he was there to visit Professor Snape than he diverted his course to approach them. Her heart beat a little quicker in her chest. Perhaps he was in Hogsmeade looking for her because his search had borne fruit. Did he have news for her? Had he found some way to send her home? A treacherous little voice in the back of her head asked a far more disturbing question: Would I really want to go?

"So, are you finally learning how to impress girls, Draco?"

Draco apparently hadn't heard Sirius' approach, because he started visibly at the sudden words. But it was Hermione who would end up the most surprised of all – because Draco's reaction was emphatically not anything she would have expected in a thousand years. He turned, looked up at the man, and then his face split into a genuinely happy smile.

"Alright there, Dad?"