Chapter 10

A/N: Hello readers! Thanks to all the wonderful people who took the time to review! I always love hearing from you guys.

Thanks to Irianaceleste for betaing!

~Frosty

The next few weeks passed in a blur of time spent in the library hiding from my friends who were still acting like I'd betrayed them while researching Horcruxes. I figured that I might as well get something productive done while I avoided them.

So far I hadn't found much on Horcruxes, and I was starting to suspect that was because there wasn't much to be found. The only other possibility was that there was something wrong with my researching skills, which was ridiculous. I refused to think, even for a second, that something could be wrong with my researching skills. They hadn't failed me yet.

"Do you dance?" Malfoy asked me, plopping down onto the chair across from me.

I looked up from my book, startled. Immediately, I darted a quick glance around the room to check if anyone had noticed his near cordial greeting, but it was late and we were the only ones in the library. Even Madame Pince had left for the evening after extracting a promise from me to lock up when I finished with my reading. She knew how difficult it was to pry me from the books once I really got into research mode.

"Huh?" I said, ever so articulately. I was usually more eloquent, but the simple words coming out of Malfoy's mouth just didn't make sense to me.

"Do you dance?" he asked again. His expression clearly said that he thought I was exceptionally slow for needing a repetition.

I sighed and marked my place in my book. It had been almost a week since I'd seen Malfoy. We hadn't spoken since that whole incident in Dumbledore's office. I suppose I was overdue for providing the companionship he'd craved enough to abandon all his beliefs – well, revenge for his mother's murder was a heavy factor too, but that wasn't the point. He wasn't harassing me in the library because he wanted revenge; my bet was that he was feeling in need of a friend and I was his only option.

"What do you mean?" I enquired, keeping my voice polite. There, that was friendly, right? I hadn't snapped at him a little bit even though I would have dearly like to because he wasn't making any sense.

"I'm starting to forget the tiny details about Lisette, but I know that she danced beautifully." He sounded so sad that he couldn't remember minute details about something that had literally happened a lifetime ago.

Now that he mentioned it though, I'd found myself forgetting things about Bryn as well. Just yesterday I'd been struggling to remember the exact shade of Bryn's eyes. I hadn't been able to, only Malfoy's had come to mind.

Instead of sharing that I'd been forgetting small details as well, I answered his question.

"I'm not the most graceful person in the world, I've never been very good at dancing," I admitted. While I'd managed to move with some semblance of coordination at the Yule Ball in fourth year, it had been mostly thanks to Krum and his surprising skill at leading.

"Nonsense," he scoffed. "Everyone's good at dancing; they just need the right partner." He stood from the table, stalked around it, and determinedly offered me his hand. Somehow I got the impression that he wasn't likely to take no for an answer.

"What if someone sees?" I asked, remembering Harry's reaction to my innocent hand on Malfoy's arm. If they were still punishing me for something so insignificant, then they were going to crucify me should they ever catch medancingwith Malfoy.

"Come on, who's going to see us? We're alone in here. Live a little, we're probably going to die soon so you want to cram as much living in as possible," he cajoled.

Since I couldn't think of any pressing reasons to refuse him, I accepted the hand, half expecting him to sneer and tell me I was an idiot for ever thinking he'd willingly touch me.

His grip was warm and smooth in mine; there were definite calluses on his hand, but they weren't those of someone who earned his living with labour like Bryn's had been. I remained tense until his other hand slid down to my back and pressed gently. Something about our positions brought to mind a spring day full of laughter and happiness. The last time we'd danced together, it had been all joy and smiles. Even just the echo of a memory that I had was enough to make me relax in Malfoy's hold. He had a different packaging now, as did I, but he was still the man who had once been my entire world.

It terrified me whenever I wondered if our past meant he held the potential to become my everything for a second time. Even more terrifying was the tiny, niggling feeling that I would like a chance at something so powerful once more whether it was with Malfoy or not.

Malfoy led me in a simple box step, keeping time to a song that neither of us could hear, but both of us remembered well.

I felt a familiar safety and warmth with him that I wasn't willing to acknowledge. Those were things I'd felt with Bryn in the past, not things I should be feeling for Malfoy in the present. Malfoy wasn't warm or safe.

"What's brought this on?" I asked to distract myself both from my disturbing thoughts and from the movement of my feet. I didn't want to anger him by stepping all over his feet. As much fun as riling him was, dancing was just as appealing for some reason.

"I've found myself consumed by nostalgia. Do you remember how much we used to enjoy dancing?"

I didn't let myself linger on questioning whether nostalgia applied to past lives. It probably did, but that wasn't the normal use of the term.

A nod was my only answer to his question. Talking about the past made everything so much more real. I wasn't ready for that.

I was pulled so close to him that Malfoy was all I could smell. If he was wearing any cologne, it was a very subtle one, so the smell was all him. Fresh air and wind, leather, broom polish, and a hint of sweat. He must have been flying right before he came to see me.

As I was preoccupied with identifying every nuance of his scent, he had started humming along to the tune we both knew so well. He was dangerously close to happy. Since when was Malfoy someone who hummed?

"What's got you in such a good mood?" I asked, not really expecting an answer.

There was a pause as he seemed to debate whether telling me the truth was a good idea. I could tell the moment he decided that I should know the truth because he smirked at me. I probably wasn't going to like his answer.

"While repulsive in almost every way, Pansy does have her uses."

Oh, ew. Not something I wanted to know. I could feel a blush darkening my cheeks and ducked my head slightly so he couldn't see it. I had a feeling he knew anyway and was amused.

I tried to pull away from him in horror, but he tightened his hold to keep me there. After a moment, I fell back into the familiar patterns of the dance.

"How can you stand her?"

"Alcohol helps," he said, "I'm not sure I'd be able to stand her long enough to shag her if I wasn't half-drunk for most of our encounters."

My question had been more rhetorical than anything. I hadn't actually expected an answer. I had half though that he was going to tell me to shut up and be done with the question. Actually, I'd been kind of hoping that would happen, the conversation was starting to make me uncomfortable. Thinking of Malfoy in a sexual context was doing weird things to my stomach.

To be honest, I was kind of curious now. I supposed I could continue asking questions as long as I kept my mind firmly away from Malfoy naked.

"If she's so horrible, then why even bother?"

Parkinson was one of the most unpleasant people I'd ever met, and I'd personally duelled Death Eaters. Murderous men in black cloaks and masks with the intent to kill me weren't even close to Parkinson and her shrill voice.

He chuckled without malice, another thing I wasn't used to. The sound was nice, but it didn't help that pesky fluttering of my stomach.

"Isn't it obvious?" he asked with amusement in his voice. "Sex. She's easy and always available."

I knew I was blushing even darker than before; I could feel it in the burning that had spread across my face and bled down my neck.

Malfoy chuckled at me some more, having most likely intended to embarrass me with his words. My sudden stiff posture probably gave me away even if my tomato-coloured face didn't.

"Not everything's about sex, Malfoy," I said, my voice slightly higher than before. It was so annoying that I couldn't hide my embarrassment and continue a conversation right through it. Sometimes I managed to push it aside, but Malfoy always brought it to the forefront.

"Oh, please," Malfoy scoffed. "Everything's about sex. All life has a preoccupation with reproduction, and humans are no different than any other animal."

Wow, that was so romantic. So he believed in shagging as a tension reliever and biological need, nothing deeper.

"What about love?" I asked.

"What do I know about love?" he responded, his voice slightly bitter.

"Love is from the soul," I told him immediately, "and I know for a fact that yours is capable of holding so much of it."

He chuckled again but it was a dark, bitter sound this time, void of amusement. "My soul's been a tad twisted since you knew me last lifetime."

I tilted my chin to look up at him. How was it possible for him to look so vulnerable and angry at the same time?

Needing to do something to make the expression of his go away, I stood on my tiptoes and kissed him on his cheek. "You're not as bad as you like to think you are. You're just as capable of love as anyone else."

He stumbled in his dancing and we came to a stop, me embarrassed and him unreadable. Maybe I shouldn't have tried to show him affection, I'd been unconsciously treating him the way Lisette would have treated a distraught Bryn, and it wasn't going to work this incarnation.

When he remained silent and tense, I sighed and pulled myself from his grasp. "Yes, yes. I'm disgusting. Get my filthy hands off of you and such," I said, waving a hand dismissively.

I refused to let him see that I was a little hurt by his aversion to my blood. It had been fine while we were enemies but we were... something else now – or at least I'd thought so.

Quickly, I gathered my books and left the library, ignoring him when he finally unfroze and called after me.

"Why's Malfoy giving you that strange look?" Harry asked in Transfiguration a few days later.

I turned slightly and raised my eyebrows at him. "You're talking to me again?"

Harry looked contrite. "I may have overreacted slightly, and I'm sorry for believing Ron and his fabricated nonsense without letting you explain yourself first."

I had just started to smile when he spoke again. "Now why's Malfoy looking at you like that?"

He better not be talking to me again because he wasn't able to figure out what was going on with Malfoy. If that was the case, Voldemort was going to be the least of Harry's worries. I tried to convey this to Harry with a stern look, but something was probably lost in translation.

I tilted my head to the side so that I could see Malfoy out of the corner of my eyes. I didn't want to be obvious about examining his expression.

While I'd been avoiding my friends and their disapproving looks, Malfoy, in turn, had been avoiding me like the plague.

Once I'd recovered from my embarrassment after kissing him, I'd tried to approach him and apologise for being so forward, but he'd proven himself to be a true Slytherin: slippery as a snake and impossible to corner.

When my eyes landed on the blond, his head was just turning away from me, making me think that he'd probably been looking at me. I stared at him a moment to see if he'd turn to face me again, but his eyes stayed resolutely focused on what must have been a fascinating stretch of wall for it to hold his attention for so long.

Whatever Malfoy's issue was, I knew for certain that it was none of Harry's business.

"Look, Harry," I sighed, "If something's going on with Malfoy, I can assure you that it's none of your concern. Whatever he's up to, let him handle it."

Harry glanced around shiftily to make sure no one was listening. "What if he's here doing something for Voldemort?"

I understood that Harry and Malfoy had a certain rivalry thing going on, but that hardly meant that Malfoy was out to get everyone out of spite. While Harry was understanding most of the time, he had trouble changing his impression of a person once he'd developed one. Malfoy hadn't been the kindest child and now Harry refused to believe that the blond wasn't working for Voldemort.

"Just this once, take my word for it and accept that Malfoy isn't a danger," I hissed, not wanting anyone to hear what I was saying. Convincing Harry would have been so much easier if I could have just told him the truth, but the Vow prevented the easy way.

Harry leaned down in his chair and hunched his shoulders, sulking. At least he wasn't going to press me for answers I couldn't give.

I rolled my eyes. Boys.

I had just tuned back into the lecture and resumed taking notes when my quill started fighting me. Writing implements –even those in the magical world- weren't supposed to do that.

I scowled at the rogue quill. It seemed I wasn't going to get any work done. If I failed Transfiguration there would be hell to pay. Voldemort was going to be the first on my list. Almost all of my problems could be indirectly traced back to him.

Sighing enough to ruffle the delicate, feathery tendrils of my quill, I released my hold on it, allowing it to write what it wanted. Since it obviously had a message for me.

I need to talk to you after class.

DM

I shot a look over at the blond, but he was staring at his notes intently. It only took me a moment to figure out the clever little spell he'd used. I was actually a little impressed – something that I would never share with him. It wasn't every day that someone showed me a spell I'd never heard of before.

So now you're talking to me again? Fine, meet me in the Room of Requirement.

Now if you interrupt my note-taking one more time, I'll see to it that you'll never be able to touch your wand again – in more than one sense.

HG

I heard a snort from the other side of the room and made sure to keep my eyes on my paper. It wouldn't do for someone to figure out we were sending each other notes. Malfoy would be in danger if word got back to Voldemort and I just didn't want to have another fight with my friends.

Harry was giving me a few suspicious looks, so I covered my notes and paid attention once more. McGonagall would be so disappointed in me if she knew how little attention I'd been paying to her lesson.