(50) Days of Summer by Sugarquills007


Disclaimer: I don't own harry potter

Plot: Restoring to her sanctuary in the muggle world, Hermione Granger has completed her sixth year of Hogwarts hoping to eliminate the forces of Evil penetrating the world around her. Thankfully or dreadfully she is roped into a sudden relationship with none other than her nemesis Draco Malfoy who shares the same disgust emotions swirling in them. Forced to forget their history they join up with the help of two friends to prove their relationship worthwhile.


Previously in Chapter 6...

It wasn't so much the question that affected him, but the innocence that lay open over the words. Like paint over a new room. Like her. The question brought him to lift his head a little. He knew she felt the sudden pace of his heart. It managed to sooth her. The rhythm flowed into her own. He didn't reply yet again. But she didn't care. All she could feel was sleep calling for her and his warmth cocooning her like a blanket and at that moment she didn't want to leave. It was probably the sleep-deprived part of her mind saying so, but it felt all too good. And she snuggled deeper into him, allowing this moment of weakness to shine and finish through. And it wasn't till she was partially way into a deep slumber did she hear the possible words.

"I don't know Granger. I don't know."

But then again, maybe she didn't.


6th Day of Summer...

Chapter 7 – Beautiful


No matter how plain a woman may be, if truth and honesty are written across her face, she will be beautiful ~Eleanor Roosevelt.


"You're up."

"You're point is?"

"It's only six."

"Which brings the question of why are you up so early? Preparing yourself for an early snog session with Carter?"

"Well there's no need to guess what your mood is going to be for the rest of the week."

"You're avoiding my question."

Malfoy never let his eyes leave the spot on the ceiling even after Blaise' sigh was the last thing he heard to end their conversation before departing shortly after. It was a lengthy moment later did the blonde then shift; and that was sadly just to get rid of the crick in his neck. He felt too unperturbed at the particular position, with his hands folded under his head, to move so he decided not to. At least he had control over that.

Sleeping was never a problem for him till the age of fifteen. He had learnt to place silencing spells around his room and to keep several bottles of sleeping draughts on the harshest of nights; but that didn't stop the nightmares. Though the sleeping draughts worked, fear was a fearless bastard and managed to find him even in the darkest of his thoughts. And when it did, it would corrupt his head. Fill it with his tempting poison and seducing words. Till Draco was nothing, but cold sweats and shaking limbs.

Not a wink of sleep had beckoned him. And it was funny that it didn't because he was getting used to the sleepless dreams here at the Grangers. Granted, though he didn't exactly have a fulfilling night's sleep, it was better than the consistent terrors that plagued his mind. And he knew he never looked any better, But for once, he couldn't care less. And you must have figured out by now, how Draco Malfoy was nothing but meticulous about how he looked.

The night had passed with never-ending tosses and turns, worrying his scalp ill, and marring his Greek-like features with ugly scowls. And the cause of it was just one conversation. One stupid, mistakable conversation. It was because of her that caused an anomaly to appear in the flawless routine he had come to accept since they had met each other. There were no complications. Just logic. Just belief. And now she had to ruin it all with her words. Words and questions that voiced her thoughts she had bottled up for so long that began to doubt his motives. Granted, he had begun to doubt his motives long ago, but hearing it from another's tongue brought a negative vive. She changed it, he guessed. His beliefs, his thoughts; on what a screwed bitch she was.

The idea of soothing her down was one of indefinite possession. Instinct maybe. Natural instinct. Pure instinct? He groaned. He was stupid. He had relented to the fact as soon as his head hit his pillow. He was truly an idiot. What possessed him to calm her emotional fit and just murmur consoling words were beyond his box of ideas. It was truly an idiotic thing to do.

A recollected of their argument flashed against his distant clouds of grey as he continued staring into nothingness; diamonds in the shape of rain drops falling with scorching helplessness down her flushed cheeks that had swollen with anger. The pinkness of her nose that had been gained through her wracking sobs, her curls falling out of the windswept bun. What made him cringe inwardly at all of this was his ability to note all this through their little spat. It was all these little quirks of observation that drove him to insanity that night. It was all he could picture. Her tongue licking over her dry lips continuously as she hissed her counterattacks back at him, or the quick dilation of her orbs as they shaded a fraction darker in revulsion, each time he hurled an insult her way. It was this or the poetic comparison of a weeping angel falling into his mind.

He was right; he had gone fucking pathetic.

It was beautiful.

Mental too, might he add. The scowl that was seen by many in years reformed at the edges of his parches lips. There it was again. Beautiful. The eerie feeling of it stalking his thoughts drove him to hostility. A fraction of a second his eyes would drop for a quick rest, she would appear. It was though it was magic created by her but in time he realised she plagued him. He had always thought she was plain. And she was. But it was becoming seemingly obvious that the innocence that dripped off her skin like a waterfall or the wit that fell back on her tongue that came off in waves drove away any flaws in her appearance. But there wasn't one really. Her skin didn't need coverage, her eyes didn't need definition and her lips didn't need any colour.

He didn't know whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. But one thing he did know was that he positively hated it.

He had seen many forms of beauty that grew within women. Narcissa Malfoy being the best example. Regular height, slender form, a mane of silver hair that glittered gold under the richest of lights. The aging yet soft lines that held her face in complete pieces. The soft twinkle of her blue eyes that once held young youth but now held the haunting burden of what was to be expected of her. As Lady Malfoy.

And then there was Pansy Parkinson. Moving on from the horrid stages of puberty, the pureblood Slytherin managed to radiate beauty that reminded him of one of those Russian dolls she would play with, in their younger years. The once acne filled skin now glowed a rich olive tone. The silken ebony of hair she had managed to tame in straight strands. Her eyes, though a porcelain blue glittered a murderous grey followed by perfectly shaped lips. She had also managed to fix her nose which evolved as she grew. Her beauty was one which men would fawn over. A glamorous sort of shine.

Point was, there were many defined examples of what beauty is; all which he had witnessed in his hormonal, teenage tears yet the Image of Granger's beauty was one horrendous thought and another to beat. He thought of her. How she looked under the starless night yesterday. Salts of innocence dripping away leaving her naked. Bare, for his eyes. Lips swollen; double its size. The crumbling intakes of breaths she attempted to control. The hue flush of her cheeks and nose. It was all screaming at him. To do something. To say something. But all he could do was take her in with covered mesmerised eyes and a cold exterior.

She had beauty. But it was beautifully subtle.

Beautiful.

Fuck; Draco groaned the first of many groans and turned his head to his pillow as he desperately tried to delete the image of a beautiful Granger out of his mind. He could distinctly recall the memory in which the word was echoed into his naive mind.

He was aging his fourth year. A cleansweep in hand – which was popular then – with a mischievous smile that adorned his chubby features as he entered the decorated halls in which a celebration would attend. He took a smart guess and proposed it was the anniversary of six years worth of marriage to his parents. He was then accompanied by a much younger Lucius Malfoy; his father who stood with a posture of aerodynamic pride as he waited at the base of the grand Malfoy staircase, acknowledging the start of the party by the sound of classical jazz faintly hitting the hallway.

Gargled giggles left his mouth as he asked his father in the silencing patience, for what he was expecting. The elder was yet to reply when they were both momentarily distracted as an enchanting presence filled their sights. The stunning persona of his mother hit his eyes as she practically glided down the staircase, the fitting dress revealing her perfect post-pregnant figure which glimmered under the grand chandelier that hung above it; revealing the adoring colours of herbal emerald, charcoal black and the striking silver.

The reaction? A stretched toothless grin as she neared him, feeling a rush of wind as he ran to his mothers' embrace. The innocent-filled words; 'you look pretty mommy'. The harmonic laugh that had erupted out of her as she lifted him into a much tighter embrace. The returning words of affectionate pleasure as she flicked his nose childishly; "Well you look rather dashing yourself Mr Malfoy." With a smile he seemed to love receiving more often, he leant over to place his sloppy toddler lips over her fluorescent cheeks with a warming child kiss. With the lasting image of his mother's eyes twinkling with love, he dropped the embrace to then catch the attention of his father who stood, silently watching the scene; tugging on the silk stitched robes. Yet again, he gurgled with laughter; 'Father, doesn't she look nice?'

Nice wasn't even the appropriate word in his father's dictionary.

"Beautiful." He breathed out through his dumbfounded lips as he gazed wantonly at his wife who flushed under the adoration of her husband's gaze.

The memory escaped his mind just as it had appeared, leaving nothing but angered sighs that filled the silenced room, bringing with it also; the foreign texture of a gap within his stomach. With a noncommittal grunt at the back of his throat, he flipped his form around so he lay on his stomach as he stared into nothingness; a scowl forming onto his once-dazed expression.

It was Granger.

All the bullshit she had shot him with as he stayed over, had triggered unwanted memories; gaining nothing but unwanted humanely feelings of affection. Un-fucking-desired affection. With the sudden praise his mind had conjured on her appearance and the mystical scent that seemed to stalk him; he seemed it fit for him to suddenly go barking mad. And so, hiding way for just a couple of moments just for him to gather his thoughts and enclose his bearings, seemed a fair deal. Granger wasn't that in need for him. He believed she would be grateful for the lack of his presence.

It was as if he was in a bloody movie. It was all he could think of to narrow his predicament. Thoughts flash forwarded. Or did the opposite. Or it replayed over and over again on stupid yet particular scenes that were too fucking stubborn to depart out of his head. And the only thought that seemed to be on continuous reply was the last of their conversational actions the night before; the soothing yet uncaring words that had escaped from his mouth in what seemed to be a gut-wrenching hope to calm the Gryffindor's stricken-self down.

And her scent did nothing to help but just join his own; mingling dangerously as he felt her beneath him, soft in all the right places against all his hard angles. The frank questions that she had asked in her moment of glory, in supple hope to settle the confusion that had grown during his stay. The last of the questions were fucking bizarre yet he was the moron who had answered in murmurs as he allowed his words to be drowned away with her curls. He hadn't realised the minutes he had wasted to calm her down had actually driven her into a slumber. Deep enough for his soft calls to not awaken her beauty sleep she seemed to be in dire need of. He couldn't have been in a more awkward position if he wanted to.

The consideration of calling out of helped died very quickly knowing the chancrous mood she would hold when her parents would fuss over her health; and so the solution to his problem he had decided was definitely not on his list of favours. Reaching down, he gently lifted the ends of her knees, brows rising during the ordeal at the surprise of her light weight, before beginning his contempt journey to place her away in her room, away from him.

Re-thinking over his decision, Draco slapped a hand down his face, smothering his cry. It wasn't exactly the best elucidation he had thought of in his life. Levitation would have been best – but what bombarded him next when he entered her threshold, it probably seemed an idea Weasley would have made.

First, came the excruciating disgust that curled his stomach at the pleasant warmth that surged into him as she, on impulse, wrapped her thin arms around the base of his neck in support from falling; the scowl that had dripped his lips were missed by her light breathing. Three-quarters across the lawn, the witch had then down an action so stupid that if she was in a right state of consciousness, she would have chosen to fall off the astronomy tower; sadly she was completely out of her lights and so it passed by with only repugnance from the blonde as the piling feeling of dropping her and walking away, would leave him content.

For Hermione had emitted a sigh of comfort as she laid her curl-ridden head against the visible crook of his neck, the slender dip of her nose nuzzling against the rich texture of his skin, liberating slumber breaths to fan over the side of his neck causing the faint hairs to prickle up in shuddered vulgar. To say it was pleasant would be a lie coming out of his mouth but he was so used to lying that it had become a second language to him. Next to ironic sarcasm of course.

He recalled the dreaded moment of her parents dropping all what was placed in their hands as they dashed over to him upon noticing the limp form of their daughter in his hands, no explanation sent as expected, leaving him with just silent words. He remembered the glint of murder passing her father's eyes as he took a step towards him when thankfully; Carter had reasoned the situation with forced lies as she looked at him for a deeper truth. He hadn't met her gaze. The words had slipped out easily; a conversation amidst laughter before silence causing sleep to fulfil her. Upon the sceptical glances of her parents, the question was asked of the tear stains left on her windblown features. The answer? He mentioned of how she shed a load of her feelings about missing a friend. Watched how the relief poured out of her parents as they placed a shedding kiss on their daughter's forehead before leaving him to brush past the awkward atmosphere to place her under her comforters.

A sneer formed on his charming features as he gently laid her under the covers, his hands probing her sleep much too gentler than he had originally planned. It was that – the simple glow through her shaded curtains to see her relaxed image, her cheeks cleared of any tension, her hair spraying head in a mass of designed halo; her lips parted as she emitted calm breaths. The simple yet detailed notes he shouldn't have perceived, but did.

And what the worst thing that bought irremovable guilt within him; was the fact that he wanted to kiss her. Just the simple brush of his lips against her forehead – just like his mother would do for him – to savour the taste of strawberries in his mouth. To enchant the wonderstruck scent that broke him into shattered pieces. It was craving his desire more than anything. Oh how he wished for another quick breath in against her hair. The simple yet innocent moves that she brought forward after that night drove him crazy.

She was oblivious; she always was.

He was ravenous; he never was.

A simple mistake lead to this fierce desire he knew not how to stop. And he wanted more. Dear Merlin, he just wanted one last taste of how she felt under him, her arms imploring his shoulders and back, raking his locks just like she did that first day of his visit. Her lips against his, their breath mingling in defined unison. He shouldn't have to feel like this, he growled. It was wrong. It was completely out of his fucking comfort world.

It was just fucking wrong.

"For someone who woke up before me, you sure are taking a long time to get out of bed. Waiting for the right moment for a quick snog session with Granger?"

Draco threw his pillow at him.


"The boys have been in here far too long; take my advice and take them out somewhere. A fresh breather will do you all good."

"They've been here for three days."

"Exactly." Jane sent her daughter a prim look over her shoulder "Take them out somewhere."

"Since you proposed this ludicrous idea Mrs G; why don't you suggest a place for us to take the boys?" Alexis questioned as she bit into a strawberry.

"I don't know." Mused Jane as she placed a slice of bacon onto the sizzling saucepan. "Perhaps the county park. It's beautiful down there."

"Yes because all a teenager's dream day out is to the park and not a club." Drawled Alexis sarcastically as she took a sip of her orange juice. When she caught the stern look Jane shot her she grinned from behind the rim of the glass. "Joke, Mrs G."

With a shake of her head, Jane resumed her cooking though not before turning to her silent daughter who was playing with her platter of bacon. "Hermione, Hedwig brought post this morning." A real smile of surprise hit her lips as she looked at her mother for more information. "Hedwig?" She echoed and Jane nodded. "Where is she?" She questioned eagerly, standing up from her chair.

"The poor thing left after I gave him his treat but there's a letter from Harry and Ron on your desk –"

"Hedwig?" A different voice echoed the messenger's name and it reverberated into the question and into Hermione's ears. She couldn't help but cringe and felt the once happy bubble within her deflate by the second. "Am I to say he's your white feathered friend?" The innuendo was smart but the connotation was not. Turning, Hermione found the Slytherin Prince himself leaning against the kitchen frame, with a serious expression on his face, Blaise right beside him. With a wary glance shot at him, she nodded. "Potter sends you letters?" He questioned and Hermione caught the distaste within his tone.

"What? I'm suddenly not allowed to have letters from friends?" It was a sore retaliation but last night's encounter hadn't slipped through her mind and all she wanted was to ignore him. Ignore him till it was absolutely necessary to talk with him.

"S'not my problem with your worldly affairs." Sniffed Draco away but his eyes still held seriousness as he probed her with yet another question. "Isn't he smart enough to know that the letter may be intercepted?" The question was smart. Unfortunately it was also true.

It didn't take her more than three seconds to push past him and run up the stairs to her room. When there, she threw herself into her room; eyes frantic as she searched for a sealed piece of parchment. It took a little more than a minute before she found the letter on top of scraps files of paperwork she had yet to sort. She then looked around properly in her room and noticed how her cousin's stay had affected her room more than anything.

Despite the annoyance that began to surge through her veins, she desperately tried to ignore it as she pulled out the latter, immediately recognizing the short scratchy writing of her spectacled friend. The parchment was worn and the ink, fading. It wasn't as good as she had expected but anything to hear from him would help. Peeling off the envelope, she pulled out the short tack of a note.

Bookworm,

Sorry for the delay in the letter. Me and Ginger are worried it might get intercepted. The amounts of arguments we held over the decision of sending it, was unbelievable. Truly. Can't say much. All we heard is that a couple of Muggles were murdered the day before yesterday and it's vital for you to not go wandering out alone especially with Alexis. Sorry for being all commanding. Ginger was worse. Do not reply to this, it's most definitely sure to be intercepted. Our apology for the brief letter. Stay safe. Oh and thank you for the gift by the way. You shouldn't have. We miss you and love you.

Raven and Ginger.

X

The smile that was placed on her features at the beginning had dropped till nothing but a sombre expression radiated. Leaving nothing but acceptance. Re-reading the bold letters said by Harry on her safety caused a small smile to etch on her lips. It grew wider when she thought of Malfoy. He was wrong. The cocky git. They weren't stupid at all.

At least one of the two weren't.


"You want to go some deserted park where old wrinkly people like to walk and snotty little brats run around?"

"Yes; I promised my girlfriend." Chloe scowled when Draco swiftly wrapped his arm around Hermione's waist who faked a real smile.

She shook her head and placed on a huge grin. "You can do that another day." She waved off, fluttering her lashes slightly as she waited for the answer of agreement.

"I don't think you understand the concept of promises." Draco said his voice smooth and cold. Chloe's eyes flashed an emotion both he and Hermione could not predict but it didn't matter as Chloe sniffed in disdain before walking out the room leaving her words hanging in the tensed room; "Give me five minutes."

"I'm holding you onto that." Alexis drawled out loudly and Hermione shot her a look of exasperation. "Don't give me that look." She sat straight on her seat and shot Hermione a glower. "Did you really have to choose the county park out of all places?"

Hermione sighed. "You know I'm not good at lying and it was the first thing that came to mind!" She protested when Alexis shot her a look. "Mum mentioned it in the morning and so I improvised." When Alexis still looked unconvinced Hermione continued. "And how was I supposed to know Chloe would be willing enough to jump in? I thought after me mentioning it, Chloe would disregard it." She looked at her hands. "But apparently, a day out with our boy toys was too tempting."

"Arww, Granger just gave me a label." Blaise' Italian voice charmed its way to her. He shot Alexis a mischievous grin. "I think she's warming up to me."


"So who's going to drive?" The question was beyond credit. Or so Hermione thought as she rolled her eyes upon Blaise' blasé question.

"What sort of question is that?" She took care in lowering her volume so Alexis and Chloe would not overhear. "Tis a muggle convention Zabini." She gave him a serious look. "Obviously me." She answered leaning across him to get her father's car keys on the key latch.

"And why have you suddenly given yourself the privilege of gaining the driver's seat?" Interjected Draco with a smirk as he looked down on her.

Hermione laughed. "Nice Malfoy." She mused as she placed on a thin cardigan over her shoulders, not failing to notice his eyes following each movement. "As if you can drive a –" She stopped short when she caught the glint of malice that shined in his eyes and immediately suspicion clouded her features. "You guys don't know how to drive." It wasn't a question, but a voice of disbelief-etched statement. "Right?"

"I'm acutely aware that I hadn't mentioned anything about me not being able to drive a car Granger." Her eyes narrowed immediately upon the deliberate use of words. Opening her mouth to retort words that were something remarkably witty that would assumedly wound any other's pride – except Draco Malfoy's – Alexis' squeal reached her ears before anything else could be said.

"Oh my ... fucking Christ!" The use of profanity only worsened Hermione's sense of dread. "Hermione, I really don't mind your use of travel at all, but we have to sit in this piece of heaven!"

Only Draco Malfoy was there to witness the cringe that shuddered out of Hermione's form. The smirk was one of committed pride as he shook a pair of keys around his index finger. "I'll take that as my car." He hummed in pleasure, the Hogwarts national anthem on his tongue as he whistled his way towards their newly chosen level of transport.

"Jealous much?" She had forgotten his partner in crime, who was several feet to the right of her. His voice was smooth and he smirked when she shot him a glare and turned away to receive her bag to then walk away. His smirk widened by the second as he took in her stubborn persona walk away.

She was highly aware of the smug stare she was gaining from Malfoy but chose to face the ignorant side of herself as she pushed her way to see what Alexis had caused a commotion over. A commotion to be caused, indeed. It was an arguable point to say that Hermione's mouth dropped an inch due to the masking glory of what lay before her. It was also an arguable point to say that Hermione's mouth dropped open an inch due to the lingering wisps of cigarette smoke blown out by a walking bystander.

A Lamborghini – to be precise – a black Lamborghini stood before her, its shimmering parlour of metal winking at her smugly revelling the splendour of its convertible.

"Merlin's beard." The words were breathed through a controlled gasp as she inspected the car wonderingly. She hadn't exactly been insured for her parent's car, yet being over the summer sent an extra advantage. Now, her eyes were set towards her newly found lover as she felt her fingers brush the angular edge of the hood.

"Like what you see?" The whisper was unmistakable as it blew into her ear, soft and warm. Narrowing her pleasure towards the gorgeous image of the car, she turned to the Slytherin who stood behind her, a smug smirk pulling at his lips as he leant against his property. "Cat got your tongue?" He mocked when she hadn't responded.

She pursed her lips at his words. "Not at all." She spoke. "I was just admiring the car," he grinned at her words, "but thinking at the same time how something so beautiful was owned by a demeaning worker of the devil."

The cat certainly got his tongue.

"You're driving." His response was interrupted the bibulous blonde cried out her demand as she nestled herself in the car.

Draco merely smirked as he opened the head passenger seat. "As you wish." He smirked to the blonde who responded with a haughty wink as her boyfriend settled himself beside her. He then turned to his stubborn girlfriend who stood a few feet away, a sour expression adorning her face as he – like a true gentleman – opened the door wide for her. "Would you like to get in?"

And they said chivalry was dead.

She shot him a look that said, 'you don't fool me' as he openly acted like the chivalrous boyfriend she knew he wouldn't want to be. With pursed lips she walked around towards the outstretched door. "Why I thought you'd never ask!" Hermione watched in amusement as Draco's eyes widened in surprise when Chloe barged past her and settled herself quickly and comfortably in the seat Malfoy had opened for her.

He didn't shut the door however, as she expected him to. He shot her a cool look and leant against the front hood of his car. "I don't want to say this twice and I'm sure I'm not going to need to when I say this; Granger," he pointed towards the brunette who watched with smirking eyes," is to sit there." He moved his finger towards the seat where Chloe now sat.

The Scot wasn't fazed. "Surely for one ride you can manage without Hermione?" She drawled out sweetly, hoping to get rid of the irritance that was quickly sticking on her.

"Do you really want me to answer that?"

When Chloe realised he was not going to let it drop, she sighed and with much deliberate dramatic sighs, she got off the seat and – making sure to hit Hermione – walked herself back to the back seat besides Blaise who shot his pale friend a glare. Malfoy's response was a dip of his head in acknowledgement and the tell-tale smirk. Upon noticing Hermione had comfortably sat herself in the passenger's seat, he closed the outstretched door and walked around to settle in the driver's seat. "You do know how to drive don't you?" Hermione suddenly whispered in fear as Draco reared his gears. He turned his head towards her with a wide smirk. "You weren't bluffing were you?"

She screamed as he drove out of the driveway with a swift jerk.


"You're the foulest of gits I've ever met."

A snort. "Please, I'm probably the only git Potty and Ginger would have allowed you to meet."

"And there it is." Hermione glared at him viciously. "You know, I was wondering when the next Harry and Ron assault would be mentioned."

"Hey, it isn't as if I've insulted them." Draco looked down at her with frowning lips. "Then again, being here today in this world is the biggest insult to everyone really."

Hermione rolled her eyes and folded her arms across her chest daintily. "You'll never stop being a pig-headed arse will you?"

"And you'll never stop being the uppity Gryffindor you are, so I guess we can call ourselves even." Drawled Draco noncommittally as he looked straight ahead. Before Hermione could open her mouth however, Draco's scowl broke her to it. "You call this a park?" He questioned with distaste as he glanced around his surroundings. It was a large vegetation, with plenty of trees and fields to plan a trek. But there was hardly a children's play area – that's where he would have guessed it would have been a common park. But it was slightly deserted.

"It's like a bigger version of a local park and a smaller version of a lovely countryside view."

"It's a dry waste-land if you ask me."

"Trouble in paradise?" Hermione closed her mouth and turned towards the culprit who interrupted her next voice of argument. Blaise stood there with his hands tucked in his trousers, wearing a mask of hiding amusement as he looked between the foes. He caught Hermione's steaming look of anger and changed the direction of conversation. "We've decided to go to a cafe and have a bit of a brunch before we decide to have a bit of fun."

A waitress, no younger than Hermione's age appeared their way, pen and pad in hand as she waited expectantly at them for an order. Her hair strangely resembled her Weasley she-friend, the striking posture of wavy locks punctuation under the summer's sun. "You're order?" Her tone, however, certainly wasn't the sugared fiery her friend held.

"Yes." Alexis replied. "Can we have...?" The rest of her friend's words droned out of her mind as her glance fled over to the blonde who seemed to be had watching her; when upon noticing her knowing of the stolen act, he turned away seemingly interested in what Alexis had to say.

The sudden playback of a stolen scene washed back over her; brows drawing in, eyes narrowing, lips thinning to a straight line, she watched in awe as the panorama unfolded in her mind recollecting the information in which she lost. The memory in which she had found blurred the next morning – as if awoken from a large hangover plagued her mind all day, till the emptiness of feeling nothing washed her as she realised nothing would be gained from it anyway.

It seemed as if her mind had chosen the time to agree with her commands as it unfolded the clear visual of what patently happened that night. How he brought the unnerving pressure within her to tell what she was upset about, her use of language towards him, the moment where he broke her and she spilled all the fears that hung on her shoulders – a burden – throughout the year.

How she felt deep arms snuggle her into a tight embrace out of what – she knew not what of. But knew that it felt too good to be true. How her mind somehow faced the reality of the situation and began to protest against the warmth it craved as she fought. Then the words that caught her into a complete catastrophic mess.

'I don't hate you.'

But of course he did. It was logical enough to reason for it. The words were not only spoken with cringing uncertainty but with the tone, one of which when she used upon her friends to explain something vital needed information – mostly reasoning behind You-know-who.

'I don't hate you... I just don't like you...there's a difference...'

For there was a difference. A large portioned chunk of a difference. But what difference would it have made to Draco Malfoy? More than she thought; she gave him credit for that. It was then the realisation of the ending of their conversation caused an embarrassing flush to rise over her cheeks. She had slept on Malfoy.

Keyword; on.

With a regrettable sigh, she peeked through the wizard occupying her thoughts through her lashes and pulled a face. As much as a mature-looking man he could become, it would be blind not to notice the sullen wallow of his cheeks or the frail slimness of his body. The purple shadows under his eyes proved no less though he had regained most colour through the couple of days over her house. What thoughts could he possibly endure to starve himself weak?

He certainly wasn't normal this year around.

Though the taunts he held for her and her friends haunted her to the day, it wasn't as inviting as expected. She had noticed the slip down of his grades and the wearer he had turned during the weeks got on. Being ill was one thing. Being under stress was another.

She knew the mission in which he was forced to act upon in order of punishment for what his father had attained back in their fifth year; and reliving the memory brought a wince on her face as the guilty thought of her being the culprit of his late actions. And though him not having the weakening courage to behold the task before him, the strange assumption in which Harry had plagued her mind with being a deatheater brought many questions in which she realised were petty doubt.

He was not a deatheater.

Even Malfoy wouldn't stoop that low.

But like said before, he looked healthier as if he had caught his breath from running. It was then she recalled the moment in which their eyes had locked in a proximity view in which had disgusted her as well as immersed her.

The view in which she knew would be the normal erotic clouds that annoyed her greatly was somehow morphed into the dawn of season immersion that took her breath away. The normal grey pools that were sardonically filled with sneering sarcasm was replaced by the utmost intense feelings he had hoped to lock with layers but found near impossible – that or, it was her lucky day.

What astonished her was the breathtaking ice that splattered at the inner core of his iris' merging with the stone cold wash of grey. It was the perplexing knowledge of the soul hidden emotions he kept in those sparkle of diamonds in his shades where normally kept the cool manner of disdain. That's what she found herself in gaining to look away from their locked gaze of injury healing where she knew a moment longer and she would have acted upon something she would have regretted.

Beautiful.

It was that simple to place all the things she had felt lost in those orbs of wonder to be described as. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Then the masking idiocy of gazing dreamingly at Malfoy's startling orbs did it then morph into the well known one's of one of her two dearest friends. It shone mirth and loss. Love and hate. Gratefulness and wonder. Shimmering the right shade of emerald beneath his mother's once adorned wellness. The stunning adorners of what she loved about Harry Potter so much.

Recalling upon the hazel tint – his father's genes – merged between his mother's green solely brought back the Malfoy in purpose. With a sigh she finally managed to relive a content sigh as the all too familiar warmth of a memory washed as she recalled particular nights where he had opened up – much likely to her than Ron – as she soothed him with the curling lace of her hands against his messy locks reassuring him that she was there beside him. Every single of the phase he would have to meet. She and Ron were there. That both loved him. She loved him.

For after all, that was the truth.

The crooked grin behind the oh-so-smash-able spectacles washed away as the freckling grin perched her mind. Ronald Weasley was first and foremost her realistic crush. The sparkling blue that knew far much less than hoped for winked at her, managing to bring a contended smile on her features for the past year. What a year it was.

Though the warmth security she felt when noticing the familiar orbs of loyalty and trust it didn't bring the same wash of exotic adrenaline that she had felt upon the simple lock of eyes with the devils spawn. He was complicated.

When was he never?

He was forcing her yesterday night. And though it angered her greatly it also confused her. Normally, the blonde wouldn't be anywhere near fifty feet from her, but he proved her wrong; despite their situation.

She deliberately hadn't asked him about the kiss in which Chloe was somehow stirred in – she understood that well, but to dove right in into an intimate gesture was out of hand; in Hermione's world. On top of his never ending list of faults, he had the nerve to shot the filthy title of her being a mudblood, then protesting her from rightfully naming her place.

He was barmy!

Then the final words of his feelings towards her. Not hate, just dislike. A petty excuse to hide his discouragement – in her opinion. Though his feelings may have been true, one thing the curly haired witch knew was that she positively hated him. And nothing was going to change it. Her thoughts were fused from further research when her said sundae was placed in front of her, large scoops of pink coloured food in a luxurious bowl.

She looked up at and with a small, thanked the waitress. The muggle then made a face at the witch upon noticing the seating arrangement in which Hermione sat beside the blonde Malfoy who seemed to have his eyes settled on her. With a – preferably jealous – flash of her eyes she left, a sound choking at the base of her throat.

What the seventeen year old witch' reaction was a bite of her lip and a tilt of her head at the reward she got for thanking. It was then she noticed the odd look she was receiving the young Malfoy. Flushing, she lowered her eyes. "What?"

"Do you always thank people –?"

"It's polite." She cut off curtly with a frown. His response was merely a snort with a discontent wave of his hand. "Some people need to respect in order to gain respect." Began Hermione with her lectured of a tone.

"What's to give when you already have it?" He dismissed.

"Not all have respect immediately bestowed upon them because of their name, Malfoy. Some, or majority have to work for it."

"Well there certainly is a limit for the hard work isn't there?" He played his fingers on the smooth surface of their table. "Some," he glanced up, his eyes all puzzles and mysteries, "go on the level of extreme and borderline on the verge of clingy pets?"

Hermione stood up immediately. She ignored the tell-tale signs of a smirk lifting at the corners of his lips as he leant back. "I'm going for a walk." And before Alexis could protest about wasting her sundae, she picked up the plastic cup and walked away; seeing fire.

She walked in fury for a good ten minutes before she managed to trek her way out of the fence that lined the café, revealing freshly mown fields spreading over large hills.

Yet another starstruck thing to gaze at wonderingly. With a content smile she made herself across the fields walking further from the families that encircled the flat border of the fields. With a quick jog she managed to dip under an oak tree still held under the base of flat land, slipping off her shoes to then dig her toes feeling the nutrients of the soil wash her over with calmness as she felt nature enhance her mind.

Flashing memories of aging in these fields brought a wind of choked up tears to form. Her father playing outdoor games when he was far much younger; Frisbee, badminton, really bad football, picnics. Simple, innocent things.

When the world didn't hold a burden.

Remembering the melting cream in the base of a cup, the witch began to finish it off – not wanting guilt to ride her anymore than she already held. Even if the Italian weren't here to witness the disposal of a sundae. With the devouring taste of strawberry on her tongue she continued her trek letting the field make the journey for her. Nearing a large bump on the field, her pace gained speed as she felt the first remnants of strength build in her calves as she climbed her way to the top.

Once reaching her centre point of destination she felt her muscles contract dropping her to fall on her legs as she leaned against an ancient tree finished attempting to finish the quite heavy sundae. Glancing at the drastic changes of the sky she felt a rush of anticipation fall into her at the hoping colours of a sunset.

Sunsets were one of many things that brought a hush on Hermione Granger.

One that brought evidence was a holiday trip to Fiji with her parents, on a yacht as they watched the final drifting colours of the sun fade leaving nothing but a wash of navy paint to wink lights at them.

A thought jumped into mind that brought a grumpy frown to form on the witch' charming features. Everything seemed to have looked beautiful in one's views'. The expected thought of a sunset. The wash of green paint over a deserting field. The country side in all. His eyes.

And there, a scowl morphed onto her expression. She found an exit route to get away from him and yet here she was thinking about him – or moreover, his eyes. With a shake of her curls she turned her gaze to the field below the large sledge of the hill blocking sight from any beauty that may have hid itself there. When Hermione suddenly gasped out, it seemed there was something hiding. Leaving her half-finished sundae she stood up with a quick brush of her clothes before running towards the direction of twinkling colours. She stopped, short of breath, a hint of a tired smile on her features as she saw the first.

A lily.

Smiling up at her, it bloomed the merging colours of pallid white and sunflower yellow. Bending slightly, she picked off the stem pulling out the white blossom in the base of her palm. Soft as a feather, simple as a book, beautiful as a pearl.

Beautiful.

There it was again. But, this beautiful flower didn't live in a house. This beautiful blossom didn't have feelings. This beautiful plant wasn't a witch or a wizard who attended Hogwarts. This beautiful bloom didn't have to be of inferior birth. This beautiful ornament didn't have to pretend her life was a joy. This beautiful thing had no idea whatsoever how it felt to be girlfriends with your enemy. This beautiful life had no idea what it was to be human.

Anger filled her quicker than rain to flood the nearest reservoir. Bubbling hatred towards the beautiful creation of one aspect of life, the brunette pulled on the flower managing to break off its backbone that now lay limply on her palm.

"You know its bad luck to tear a flower into shreds." The unmistakable voice she had endured during four days of her holidays was painfully heard. Though she recognized it, it caused her by surprise and she let out a shriek whipping around to see the intruder.

Her actions seemed to fire back at her as she managed to slip due to the surprise and fall on her backside squashing some other bed of flowers seeded across the field. A painful groan emitted from someone. It wasn't till the fuzzy outline of an outstretched hand proved that it came from her own mouth. Dizzy, she let the intruder haul her up.

"Thank you." She murmured in confusion as she let her eyes adjust to the settings around her, unintentionally swaying to her death until a pair of arms caught her.

"Easy." The voice was much closer and much easier to decipher. With a scowl she pushed herself off of his help. She shot him a look of pure revulsion. He raised a brow and looked straight at her. "Come on, I'm not that revolting to look at."

She knew. She knew he was trying to get the ambience back to their normal pureblood vs. mudblood atmosphere. He was trying to put everything back the way it was. As if he said nothing horrible not an hour ago. As if nothing had happened yesterday. As if nothing had changed. The funny thing was how could one believe something had changed in the mere course of several days?

She ignored him.

"The silent treatment again?" She could hear the sneer in his voice. It was one of those things about him, she thought. He wasn't always predictable. Usually a paradox, an anomaly. But the taciturnity he always held had its predictable perks. You'd get so accustomed to the scowl and sneer and the critical insults that it was practically imprinted in your mind. "And here I thought you were a bit more imaginative than that."

She scowled fully aware that he could not see her face but her back. "Sod off and bother someone else." She could practically feel the smugness reeking out of his forms in waves, at her crack. "I'm really not in the mood to be civil with you." She shot him a dark look over her shoulder. When he didn't move an inch but continue staring at her in that abnormal peculiar way. She shot him a dry look. "What are you doing here?"

"Ah, but the real question is what are you doing here?" He answered back, phrasing his words as if correcting her mistakes. One thing that Hermione Grange positively dislikes was someone correcting her when she was presumably right.

"Well I went for a walk if that couldn't register your pea-sized brain." When he merely raised her brow at her pathetic hurl at an insult, she whipped around and shot him a glare. "You're never going to stop badgering me are you?" She snapped.

"Not a chance."

She stifled a groan. "I wanted to admire the view." She pointed dryly. He cocked his head. "Alone." He blinked.

"Never took you as the sentimental type Granger. Beholding nature's art like a true poet."

"I was trying to clear my head, for your information." She cringed a moment later at her revelation. He smirked devilishly at her and she glowered.

"Well I'd take a wild guess and say it was filled with things about me –"

"You're not that special."

"So I'll resort with Potter." He crossed his arms across his chest and Hermione turned away from him, suddenly feeling the anger and irritancy deflate from within her. It took so much energy hating him. It took her even more trying to ignore him. He was this constant itch that wouldn't leave and she didn't know what to do.

"No." She sighed.

"Weasley?"

"No." She hummed, and began to walk relishing the feeling of the flower petals brushing against her bare skin.

"Rather braze of you to wear a dress that short." The sudden comment blew her out of proportion and she whipped around to find Malfoy's gaze intense and dark.

"Well that was rather random." She pointed and folded her arms. "And I don't see how it's any of your business on how short I wear my dresses."

He raised a brow and she noticed the first signs of a grin peeking through the corner of his upturned lips. "I'm not apologizing." He stated and Hermione shook her head, as if answering that she didn't expect him to. "I thought you'd be a prude even away from school."

Her eyes flashed gold and any signs of peace of light conversation fled as she huffed and turned away from him. Then before he could say anything, she let out a chuckle. "You're still a git." And her tone held disbelief.

He frowned at her back. "Well what did you expect?"

She shook her head but didn't answer. They had managed to walk to the middle of a field filled with a range of flowers all ordered in groups. They had come to a point where comfort was at its peak. The silence was bearable but filled with unanswered questions. And he could feel the gears in her minds working so he decided it on himself to break it.

"It's pretty pathetic you know." He broke out and he caught her head shift towards his direction. "Fearing for practically everyone you know." He saw her back tense and heard the slight gasp that escaped her lips at his nerve. "And here I thought you Gryffindor's were well known for their bloody courage."

"Our house doesn't define us Malfoy." Her voice was cold but held a tremor. "We are humans and therefore do not categorize in a box." She spun and turned to face him. "So having no fears would not make us human." She tilted her head at him. "It would make us a machine." He stared straight at her as if trying to work her out and she continued. "So go on. Continue. Mock me. Laugh at me. You know my fears. It's not the world's largest secret but heck it's not small either."

"What do you make me as?" His voice was emotionless and she smiled inwardly at her expectations. She didn't expect any more. She didn't answer his question however and turned away from him yet again to face the late afternoon sky. It seemed as if silence was the one thing that put the awkwardness on hold. "Where are your shoes?" His tone held neither surprise nor scorn. He watched her look down as if surprised she wasn't wearing shoes, then shrug. "Well don't you care that your feet will get dirty?"

She didn't answer but instead chose to crane her neck so she could look at him. "Why did you say you don't hate me?" So he wasn't the only one deciding to bring up key aspects of yesterday's events. He closed his eyes for a millisecond to catch his bearings before opening them to shoot an exasperated look at the brunette.

"I don't hate you." He decided to face it rather than fly away from it. It would be a dream anyway. Running away. He shrugged at her peculiar look. "Satisfied yet?"

"Well I gathered the first part." Drawled Hermione softly. Calmly. So calmly that it didn't even sound as if she was mocking. It was confusion and perplexity. "But why?" She shook her head at the sudden desperate tone. "What…why? After all that time, why did you decide to tell me after I broke down?"

"Because I never hated you Granger." His voice held defeat but his eyes held the dispassion of his answer and reason and her. "Not because you were a Muggleborn though that was the perk." He rubbed his neck as if trying to loosen the knots jammed there. "I hated Potter. Still do. I hate Weasley. You were just the easiest obstacle to get to them. That and you were insufferably annoying." He shot her a look as if to say he meant it. Because he did.

"That doesn't explain why you called me a Mudblood?"

"Because that's what you are." When she shot him a dark look he shrugged. "Don't get worked up about it. I said to infuriate your friends. I knew it didn't bother you and that turned out to be wrong, but seeing Hairy-scrotum and Measley get all worked up because of it was a good source of amusement."

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Don't call them that. Is it so hard to call them Potter or Weasley?"

"Right." Scoffed Malfoy. "And Voldemort and my father are having a secret affair behind my back." He drawled with heavy sarcasm.

"Oh I'm sorry to hear." She said softly. "You're taking that for too easily." She was laughing at him. Actually mocking him with a grin lifting the corners of her mouth and making her eyes brighter than normal. When he shot her a disgruntled look she looked away, biting her lip to stop herself from smiling. "So you don't hate me then?" Her words were soft, quiet. Timid. As if she was afraid he would hurl another 'Mudblood' insult.

He didn't answer but watch the soft curve of her neck where it met the junction of her shoulder. "Don't ask questions to the answer you already know." His voice wasn't as hard as he wanted nor indifferent as he expected but rather soft, and defeated like how he felt about the whole thing.

"So what do you think of me then?" He shot her a look, fully aware she was purposely ignoring his reactions. Her minds were dancing with thoughts and there were a handful of questions she wanted to ask. But smartly, she kept her mouth shut.

He should have gotten used to her bizarre yet abrupt questions, but he hadn't grasped the basis of it yet. He wondered how Potter and Weasley managed to grasp such a thing. Especially knowing how ridiculously stupid they were. With his hands dug into the pockets of his jeans, he shrugged. "I don't know."

"Just like you don't know why you were being so nice to me?"

Ah, so she had heard. And with a small smirk, he realised she was so much more than what she was seen as. "Are you referring to the deed I sent your way?" He asked sardonically.

Hermione whipped around and spluttered. "The deed?" She echoed incredulously. "You bloody hugged me!"

He nodded unenthusiastically. "Well did it look like I had a choice?" She shot him a bored look as if unimpressed with his response. "I had to do it." He shrugged.

"Why?"

"It seems as if your cousin is known to be a peeping tom." At his raised brows, Hermione sniffed in agreement and he shook his head. "You were blubbering like an idiot and it would put an end to the whole thing if we looked as if we were arguing, so I had to shut you up."

"Nice." Hermione rolled her eyes but pulled a face a second later. "Couldn't you have chosen something less…intimate?"

He tipped his head back and laughed. And Hermione for a moment was starstruck. It was rare, like finding a fossil, to see Malfoy laughed. In fact she hardly remembered seeing him laugh back at school but to physically hear him laugh not one foot away from her, did strange things to her stomach. It felt like millisecond before the rollercoaster dip. Where your heart jumps into your throat and you feel that rush of adrenaline and excitement but death and horror and it's too much for you to handle so you just swallow it in and hope for the best.

He looked at her and his eyes twinkled with dry humour. "Well is this plan supposed to go forward or not?" He asked. "And holding your hand would have hardly helped all in all with your disastrous mood."

"Prat."

"Prude."

"Git."

"Bitch." He smirked.

She narrowed her eyes. "Bastard." Then grinned.

"Well is it then?" He changed the subject with an acknowledging tip of his head. "Is it supposed to go forward or are we here having a dawdle for no reason?"

She pursed her lips and shrugged one-armed. "I don't know." She knelt across to pick up a bunch of peonies. "But you were supposed to hate me you know." She whispered to herself, forgetting for a moment that there was only the two of them alone in a field where even a mere whisper would be carried across to his ears.

"Was I?" His voice was cool as if this didn't surprise him or affect him or perhaps even scare him a little. "Well how about it; do you hate me, Granger?" He watched her in a kneeling position and something close to niggling curiosity bloomed inside of him.

But she didn't respond and the bloom couldn't be contained. Instead he watched as she crouched down a bit further before lying down around the bed of flowers. The bunch of her own that she collected were held above her abdomen – as if one died and they were put to rest in peace. Awkward with him standing alone, he hesitantly joined her.

He decided in those moments where they said nothing that silence was their new best friend. It seemed to fit in those anomaly gaps when nothing could be said or would not be said.

"I don't hate you." She broke it moments later however, her voice so soft that he had to actually crane his ears to hear the words that escaped her tongue.

"What?" He asked slightly dumbfounded at her honest answer, shifting a bit so he felt more comfortable; one arm supporting head, the other tossed lazily across his stomach.

"You asked if I hated you." Murmured the witch. "I don't." She didn't look at him whilst she spoke though. Instead she chose to look up at the cloudless sky rather than to return his peculiar stare.

"Well now that that's covered, I think I'll sleep a bit more comfortably at night." He drawled, easing the atmosphere for the both of them.

When he dared to steal another glance at her, a tell-tale smile was lifting on her lips. "What are we doing Malfoy?" Silence left as soon as it entered, her words directing him with a blow of confusion.

"What do you mean?" He turned to face her and unfortunately took the chance to breath in the familiar scent he had tried countless times since the day before to avoid. Sadly he found dead-ends. It was intoxicating. And dangerous. It filled his mind with unthinkable thoughts. Forbidden thoughts.

She gestured the air between the two of them – which wasn't much. "This." She sighed. "You. Me."

"Granger, there is no you and I." He corrected with a small smirk. It was sad really, Hermione would later on think. That they were both so insistent on keeping the boundaries as it was. That they were so scared to even step foot of it or shift it to a different layout of rules. They were persistent in holding onto the norm where it was practically extinguishable in the midst of war.

She smiled nonetheless though, because it was normal in her mind then. It was okay for him to say that because she wholly agreed. "You never let me finish." He waved his hand half-heartedly for her to continue. "We're supposed to be at each other's throats. You're supposed to blow everything up in this so called project."

The blonde shot her a sceptical look. "Me?" He scoffed. "Blow everything? Alone?"

Her smile stretched into a toothy grin. "Yes, you Malfoy." When he continued giving her a look of utter disbelief, her smile dropped and she sighed. "The both of us." She corrected. "We were supposed to argue till our voices were lost –"

"In case you haven't noticed, we were so close these past couple of days –"

Hermione shot him an exasperated look. "You were supposed to go home to your manor leaving Chloe to interrogate me for the rest of my life." Hermione explained.

"She wouldn't go as far as doing that." Draco pointed but when Hermione shot him the driest of looks, he looked away. "You know, I'm pretty sure I had Blaise losing his voice because of our arguments."

At his blunt words, Hermione laughed.

He felt his breath hitch in his throat. After all, any sane guy would. Melodies were singing in his ears. Her laugh was beyond to place in words. Soft and feminine. Not the high pitches squeals his friend, Pansy, now sent out. Thicker wisps' of clouds formed as the lazy arrival of dusk nearing began to edge over the pale sky. A feeling dug its way into the witch's stomach. Yet another beautiful thing wasn't going to surprise her.

"Why aren't you angry?" His voice didn't hold anything so it did stun the witch briefly not to answer quickly.

"What?"

"You were pissed." She frowned. "Yesterday. The day before that. And the day before –"

"I get it." She cut off with a derisive snort. "But I was pissed with you since you graced my home with your jovial presence."

"But why aren't you now?"

She took in a deep breath before exhaling and he watched the gentle rise and fall of her chest as he waited for her response. "I guess I gave up." When he didn't respond she continued. "I couldn't be asked for the life of me to fight anymore." She grounded out. "I thought I was wasting my breath –"

"Thanks." Interjected Draco dryly.

"You were the first thing that always got under my skin even when I had everything under control and I couldn't you the obvious satisfaction of winning." She looked at him to find him watching her intensely. "I don't want to argue anymore." His lips formed a line at the sombre expression on her features. "It's what everybody did all year round. And when we – well argue, I wanted end. It was bloody hard mind you –" She pulled a face at him which resulted in a boyish grin.

He clapped his hands. "Well that's the first part of my job done."

"But it was no use." Hermione corrected, turning away from him with a smile. "You were very persistent in making my life hell."

"A good attribute for a Slytherin, if I may say so myself." He winked at her and she scoffed, rolling her eyes. "So does that mean you're not angry anymore?" He asked warily, testing he strength in not snapping immediately.

"I am angry." Ditto. "But I'm not expressing it well."

"You are doing a heck of a job on it."

"Hey." She swatted his arm – almost playfully. "It's not my fault some arses are…well arses."

He smirked and snuggled deeper into his arms. "Duly noted." Then he turned to face her seriously. "But are you really?" Angry?

"I don't know." She nibbled on her lower lip. "Is this your way of apologizing to me?" The Granger he knew was back in.

"Malfoy's never apologize." He puffed his chest in pride and was momentarily insulted when Hermione laughed at his faux pas.

"Someday, Malfoy." She murmured.

"What, will we know each other till someday?" He questioned seriously.

"Oh god no!" Hermione answered, playfully aghast. "You're not on my wish list."

"Geesh Granger." He mocked hurt. "You know how to hurt a guy."

"Good attribute for a Gryffindor." She echoed his words to suit her perfectly. He didn't respond but looked straight at her as if he was a puzzle he had just solved but had no idea how. "Will you be up for it?"

"Will you?" He countered, not needing to ask further questions.

"No." She murmured wistfully. "But I'm willing to give it a shot if you are." She proposed, peeking at him through her lashes. "I want to do it for Alexis. I don't want her holidays to be ruined because of me especially when she's in danger of Voldemort." She finally moved her gaze away from him.

"You think it will last?" He hoarsely asked, the exhaustion of it all finally seeping its way into his words.

"No." She answered quickly. "Yes." She corrected sheepishly. "Maybe?"

"And you say I'm confusing?" Malfoy shot her a look and she glared indignantly at him.

"That's because you are!" She exclaimed, any signs of softness escaping her, leaving nothing but stone hard jelly underneath.

"Pick a sensible answer." Mocked Malfoy with a taunting smirk. When she shot him a hard look he grinned. "It won't work." The grin slipped off his face and he was sombre, his tone holding all the disbelief for the both of them.

"Well it's reassuring that you keep positive thoughts."

"This is coming from the head negative factor." He retorted tartly. "We might as well stick a post-it-note on your forehead." And to follow his words, he reached over and tapped her forehead.

She swatted his hand away and crossed her arms across her chest. "I keep positive thoughts on everything." She really did. "And everyone."

"Sing a new song Granger."

"Oh but I liked this one."

He smirked at the rosy blush that painted her cheeks before her eyes suddenly opened wide. "You're right!" She suddenly exclaimed.

He was shocked at her outburst but didn't do well to his ego as his smirk grew. "It's about damn time you noticed –"

"I may have boosted your ego by accident." She narrowed her eyes at his amusement. "I mean you're right we can't do this; I mean, we're arguing already!" And to prove her point she gestured to the both of them.

"It wasn't an argument." Corrected Malfoy. "It was a discussion on your pessimist views." He said monotonously and Hermione whipped around with sparkling eyes and a smile on her lips, and a bubble of laughter in her throat.

"You know Granger." He conversed, distracting himself for not doing something as silly as like kissing her again with her hair wind-blown and lips suddenly seducing. "It's been – wait." He paused for a dramatic effect, looking at mid-air with a smirk. "It's been the longest fifteen minutes of our lives where we haven't argued."

Her stunned features softened and she fell into that pit of warming relaxation. "Well what do you know?" She murmured. "It's true." She smiled before looking away from him and closed her eyes, cherishing this small moment of peace.

"And Granger?" The blonde noticed her relaxing posture and felt it the right time to clear his throat and speak.

"Hmm?" She shifted her body towards him, her lashes fluttering at his call.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, what?" Her eyes fluttered open as she stared at his features incredulously.

"I'm sorry." He repeated, eyes averted as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously.

She smirked, knowing the reason for his loss of gaze. "I heard you the first time." She watched in amusement as his neck snapped towards her. "I just wanted to hear you say it again." She laughed at his expression, morphing from shock to anger.

"Bitch."

"Sing another song Malfoy." She mimicked his words.

"But I like this one." He smirked at their imitation.

With a hum of pleasure they turned back to sky gazing, their arms easing to the comfortable atmosphere surrounding them. "I hate to tell you I told you so Malfoy." She broke the silence with her amused words.

"What?"

"I told you you'd apologise." He opened his eyes and she felt something dangerous swirling at the pit of her stomach when she caught those eyes staring at her. Instead of wet slates, she thought of electricity. And how beautifully bright the sparks would be despite the danger. And it was ironic really. How he represented the idea well. He could be so enigmatically admirable yet able to kill with the slightest of mishaps. And the thing that made it all so terrible was when she found herself strangely liking the possibility of it. She was playing with the devil and she had a feeling it wasn't going to end in flowers and chocolates.

He had said nothing but the twitch of his lips told her he had heard; and before he could doze off in his silent stupor, she prodded him awake with her next set of words. "And Malfoy?" He lifted his head in acknowledgement. "I forgive you."

The whisper of her forgiveness echoed in his mind as he turned to lock gazes with her. Her eyes breached his own forgiveness and empathic humour – something that she hadn't given him other than hate and anger since they had met in their last stages of childhood. Instead of imploring what she hoped for, he responded with a casual smirk. "Now don't go all sentimental on me Granger. I have a reputation to uphold."

She rolled her eyes and removed her gaze from him. "In the most peaceful of times I had with Draco Malfoy, only he could go and ruin it with his bigoted use of eccentric talk." It wasn't till her mouth had stopped moving did Malfoy then interpret the end of her words. The flush that rose to his cheeks could not be hidden from Hermione's eyes and she frowned at what he could have been thinking that brought him to fluster in her presence.

If only she knew, the daring actions he made in watching the delicate move of her lips and tongue as she talked. Just a simple brush of lips – he needed. He craved. He desired. He nodded. "Okay." That wasn't the response to her words but she didn't notice. Her gaze flickered up to meet his burning ones and then leaned in instinctively watching him with confused amazement as he too, slowly, achingly leaned in, his eyes flickering from her owlish orbs to her lips where they parted in a silent gasp.

But before anything could happen that they'd both regret, Hermione sat up, her eyes bright. "Malfoy, look!" She pointed in front of her and he sat up to see what the big commotion was about.

It wasn't for a stupid reason, he'd give her that. It was a sunset. He hadn't realised how long he had been here with her, time was meaningless. And as he now watched the sun set, he thought it could not have been more of a better timing. "It's magical." He heard her breathe and angled his face so he could watch her emotions. "I'd never thought I'd see a sunset again." She whispered in adoration. Her gaze faltered for a second as she met his before with a small smile they fell on the sky once more.

"It is." He agreed but the thought still haunted him. Days later too. Of whether he was implying the sight or her.


Well this was fun? Yes, no...eh. This was a bit heavy so I helped it wasn't too confusing. I hope to make their relationship quite slow - and this was just phase one.

Reviews are Malfoy's being civil.

~Sugarquills007