Hermione is on edge.

After the situation last night in which most of the tension between her and Draco had been resolved, she had finally lost some of the weight off of her shoulders. But of course the inevitable dread over the outcome of Harry and Ron swooped in to fill the void, and Hermione had awoken that morning knotted into her blanket, showing how much she had tossed and turned during the night.

Her nightmares had been different last night. For once, she had the slight reprieve of not being under Bellatrix's wand, but instead she had to watch as the estranged witch tortured Harry and Ron in turn. And Hermione was frozen in place; no matter how hard she tried to move her body to help them, nothing happened. She could swear she'd never get the sounds of their screams out of her mind.

Glancing to the side, she observes Draco as he flips another page in her book on advanced potion making. How he could still find it interesting after having read it twice, she didn't know. But the slight crinkle between his eyebrows as he concentrates is rather adorable. Her own attentions were focussed on Hogwarts: A History. She's sure that there is some hint in here as to what the next Horcrux is. She quickly reminds herself of the known Horcruxes that have already been destroyed: the diary, the ring and the locket. And if Harry and Ron are successful; the cup.

That leaves three.

Surely one of them has something to do with Rowena Ravenclaw? Slytherin's locket and Hufflepuff's cup. The other two were more personal. His grandfather's ring and his own diary.

But what does that mean for the other two Horcruxes? Hermione thinks it unlikely that Voldemort would use a possession of Gryffindor for a Horcrux, though isn't ruling it out.

For now, she's focussing on finding out what item of Ravenclaw's that Voldemort might have deemed worthy of holding part of his soul. Hermione is already very familiar with the Hogwarts' founder, having always found the intelligent witch fascinating. She remembers when she first found out she was a witch and did initial reading on the school, she always assumed she would be sorted into Ravenclaw. Hermione's natural intellect and thirst for knowledge had always been apparent – she was always the one child in primary school that would get excited about homework.

She knows that Rowena Ravenclaw was born in Scotland, though there is little information about her childhood life. Joined together by their shared want to create a great wizarding school, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Gryffindor had established Hogwarts together in Rowena's home country. Hermione is also familiar with the theory that Rowena was the founder behind the location and name of Hogwarts, after a dream about a warty hog leading her to the Great Lake. But none of that information helped with any personal belongings.

Hermione sighs and turns the page, glancing over the portrait of the famous witch. She was a beautiful lady, with waves of dark hair that cascaded over her shoulder, wide brown eyes and a regal posture. In the portrait, the witch stays quite still, which is unusual for a portrait, with her hands clasped together in front of her. Several rings adorn her slim fingers, though Hermione recognises none of them as having any particular significance. Her dark hair is swept back, tucked under an ornate silver diadem in the shape of a bird, with a large oval sapphire crested in the centre.

As she's about to turn the page, she pauses. Glancing back at the portrait, Hermione looks at the diadem again.

Of course – the diadem!

Hermione recalls what she knows about the artefact. Apparently it enhanced the intelligence of the wearer, and was one of Rowena's favourite possessions until her daughter stole it and ran away. Upset about her daughter's betrayal, Rowena kept it a secret until her deathbed, when she sent the Baron who was in love with Helena to find her and bring her back. In a rage, the Baron killed Helena and then himself, and both of them returned to Hogwarts as ghosts. Apparently the diadem hadn't been seen since then.

It would make the perfect Horcrux. Which was a very imperfect situation for Hermione.

If Voldemort had actually found the diadem and made a Horcrux out of it, the chances of her finding it were nearly naught. It was known as the lost diadem of Ravenclaw for a reason.

Huffing in frustration, Hermione slams the book shut, attracting Draco's attention.

'What's wrong?' he asks.

'Nothing.'

The Slytherin sighs, shutting his own book. 'If you don't want to talk about it, just say, but don't lie to me.'

Hermione looks up at the boy beside her. 'You're right, I'm sorry.'

'Stop apologising, it's weirding me out,' Draco scolds, a small smile on his face.

'I don't see why – it's a perfectly common occurrence amongst Gryffindors to apologise,' Hermione retorts, also smiling.

Fed up of reading, Hermione crosses their little camp to where she discarded her bag next to her bed. She is halfway through checking their supplies and is just pulling the cauldron out when she hears Draco's voice from behind her. 'Let me see that cauldron.'

Hermione obliges, turning around and placing the cauldron on the ground in front of Draco.

'Can I borrow your wand a second?' he asks, his arm outstretched. Hermione pauses. This is a line they haven't crossed. As much as she has come to trust Draco, handing over her wand would be putting herself completely at his mercy. 'Come on, Hermione, just trust me.' The sound of her name passing his lips reminds her just how far they've come and she hands across the magical instrument.

Pointing her wand at the cauldron in front of him, Draco mutters, 'engorgio,' and the two watch as the circular cauldron expands, stretching lengthways into an oval. Hermione's eyebrows scrunch together, confused by his actions.

'What are you-'

'Aguamenti.' Water begins pouring out of the end of the wand, filling the cauldron to the top. Still confused, Hermione waits for Draco to explain. He looks at her expectantly, as if waiting for her to catch on. Noticing her bewilderment, he rolls his eyes and casts a warming charm on the water, which begins steaming slightly. 'Voila! A bath,' he says proudly, and Hermione's eyes widen slightly.

She looks at the cauldron-turned-bath and admits to herself that it does look unbelievably tempting. It had been far too long since the last time she had indulged herself in a bath, having relied on scourgifies to keep her clean so far.

Draco looks at her sheepishly. 'I thought it would, you know, help you relax, umm, a bit.'

A large grin takes over her face. She never realised Draco could be so thoughtful. 'Thanks!' she says, throwing her arms around his neck in a hug. She ignores his initial embarrassed reluctance and waits for him to hug her back. Pulling away, she turns to the bath, and then back to Draco. 'Umm, could you… not look please?'

'Oh! Of course,' he replies, immediately turning around. When convinced he can't see her, Hermione strips out of her clothes and slides into the bath, relishing the feel of the hot water enveloping her form. She lets out a sigh of contentment before realising that she can't just have Draco facing away for the entire time she bathes.

Clearing her throat, she asks, 'could I please have my wand back?' Draco reaches his arm out behind him, offering the wand. 'Thanks.'

Waving it and muttering a spell, she watches as the blankets on both her and Draco's beds fly towards her creating a curtain around the bath. 'There you go, you don't have to look away now,' she says.

'Clever,' she hears Draco mutter from the other side of the blankets. 'I'm going to go back to reading, enjoy your bath.'

Hermione listens as Draco's footsteps cross back over to the log they use as a seat, and reclines back against the tub. She was going to enjoy this.

..

Draco was trying to ignore the fact that Hermione was in the bath, he really was. But the idea that she was lying naked merely a few feet away from him was hard to forget. He blames the witch for trying to kiss him and putting the idea of her in his head. And why did he have to make her a bath? Malfoy's don't do selfless things. Sure, he can use the bath when she's done, but that thought hadn't even occurred to him whilst he was transfiguring the cauldron. He stifles a sigh for what seems like the hundredth time in the past hour, running a hand through his hair.

Why can't he get the stupid Gryffindor out of his head? His dreams last night hadn't helped; he couldn't look at her lips the same way again. And he did a double take the first time he saw her neck when he awoke, almost surprised that the love-bites his dream-self left on her succulent skin weren't there.

Draco blames his desire on the lack of physical contact with a girl for quite a while. Working for the Dark Lord didn't leave a lot of time for dating. Not that Draco had ever been a particular fan of 'dating' in the traditional sense. Commitment didn't appeal to him. The closest he'd had to a proper girlfriend was Pansy, and that was more due to the influence of his mother and Pansy's persistent attentions than his own wishes. Still, she wasn't half bad in bed.

Draco cringes at his own crudeness. What's happening to him? Since when did he care about being crude?

Granger was clearly having an effect on him. All of her goody-goody Gryffindor values were changing him. And he didn't like it.

If he was the same guy he'd been this time last year, he'd just seduce her and leave. That would certainly get her out of his head. But the idea of doing that to her made his stomach ache uncomfortably. Having morals was a pain in his ass.

Trying to turn his concentration back to the book in his hands, he reads the paragraph about the Chamber of Secrets again, but still not taking any information in. Giving up, he closes the book and looks around for another outlet for his boredom. Finding nothing, he calls out, 'Hermione, I'm bored!'

When he gets no reply, he tries again. 'Hermione?'

Still hearing nothing, he feels a slight panic bubble in the pit of his stomach. Getting up and crossing over to the bath, he calls a little louder, 'Hermione?' Still nothing. His worry for her safety wars with his worry that she'd hex him for pulling back the curtain right now.

In the end, his worry for her wins, which only mildly surprises him. Pulling back the curtain, he keeps his eyes trained to the back of her bushy hair when it comes into view, avoiding looking at any visible skin. Walking around the tub, he looks at her face. Her eyes are closed, and he momentarily worried whether something could have happened to her whilst she was bathing, but then a quiet snore emits from her throat and he realises with a smile that she fell asleep.

Slowly pulling the blankets back into place, he accidentally kicks the cauldron, and immediately Hermione's eyes shoot open. A wand is to his throat before he has time to react.

'What the hell are you doing?' she demands, her damp hair clinging to her neck and back.

He holds his hands up, his eyes widening. 'Nothing! Nothing! You- you weren't responding and I got worried, I was just checking on you! I didn't see anything, I swear!'

As if only just remembering that she's naked, Hermione squeaks and grabs one of the hovering blankets, pulling it over the tub and covering her body.

Wanting to avoid further scolding, Draco turns on his heel and scarpers away, heading for his log.

'Draco, I'm not done being angry with you!' yells Hermione from behind him.

Sitting down, he grabs the first book that he can – the Tales of Beedle the Bard – and hides his face in the pages, trying desperately to get the image of Hermione's plump breasts out of his head.

..

Mortification filled Hermione at the thought that Draco had seen her naked. He claimed not to have seen anything, but Hermione knows he would have said that whether he saw anything or not.

She knows he's sitting on his log avoiding her right now. After he fled her rage, she transfigured one of the blankets into a towel, and wrapped herself in it, ensuring its security before creating a screen out of the other blanket between herself and the wizard to dry off and get changed.

Every atom of her being wills her just to avoid him for the rest of the day and sleep off her embarrassment, but she knows that's not an option. Steeling her courage, she returns both blankets to their original forms and replaces them on the beds, before walking over to the log and sitting down on it. She watches Draco from the corner of her eye, noticing his complete lack of acknowledgement of her presence. Maybe he feels almost as embarrassed as her.

Hermione shakes her head at the notion. No, that was not possible.

'Are you hungry?' she asks, picking her bag up.

After today, they only have enough food supplies to last one more day. If Harry and Ron don't get into contact by then, she will have to go on a supply run with Draco. The idea worries her slightly as, though they rarely run into trouble, should the situation arise, Draco would be wandless and would have to completely rely on Hermione. She doubts Death Eaters would treat Draco too kindly as a traitor.

Is that what he is? He still hasn't formally agreed to join the Order, but surely he still doesn't count himself as working for the Dark Lord? He can't do.

'Yes, I am,' she hears him reply.

'You're what?' she asks, having distracted herself.

Draco sends her a funny look. 'Hungry, Granger… are you alright?'

She plasters a smile to her face. 'Yeah, yeah I'm fine.' She reaches into her bag, pulling out two cans of soup. 'Do you want chicken or tomato?'

'You choose.'

Hermione heats them both up with a charm and uses her wand to open them. Passing the chicken one with a spoon to Draco, she leans against the tree behind her and tucks her knees under her, eating her soup.

'I am… sorry about earlier, by the way,' mutters Draco, avoiding eye-contact. 'I was just checking on you.'

Hermione can't stop the blush that rises to her cheeks. 'I know, it's fine.'

'That's why your face just turned the colour of the soup you're eating?' he asks cheekily.

If anything, Hermione is sure her cheeks go even redder. 'It's natural to be embarrassed,' she mumbles.

'You shouldn't be embarrassed, Granger, you have a fantastic body.'

Hermione's jaw drops and she flicks her gaze to the blonde by her side. 'You said you didn't see anything!'

Draco's chuckle comes out low and husky, and the sound shoots straight to Hermione's abdomen. 'I'm just messing with you, Hermione.'

'Just keep an eye out next time you're having a bath, Draco. I feel like I need to even up the playing field,' Hermione says, causing Draco's eyebrows to raise in surprise. Hermione finds she quite likes flirting with Draco Malfoy.


Author's Notes: Hope you like this chapter. I think I'll step up Hermione and Draco's relationship in the next one! Once again, if you notice any spelling or grammar mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them!

Also to address something Sarah855 mentioned in a review: in this Fanfiction, Narcissa isn't evil but doesn't have the ability to cast a Patronus to send to Draco, because I believe that she may feel like she is evil, and therefore wouldn't believe she has the ability to cast a Patronus, as Dark Wizards are believed to be consumed by maggots coming from their wands if they attempt to cast a Patronus. Hope that clears it up :)

Thanks for reading!