A/N: Uhhh, okay so I know I said this chapter was going to be the last chapter, but honestly, it's not. Don't get irritated:D So here's the deal: Since I obviously don't know when this story is going to end, when you see the words The End, it shall be the end. So here's to a few more chapters :D

-----------------------------------------------Parchment and Quill---------------------------------------------------

Draco thumbed absent-mindedly through yet another book, his eyes only briefly scanning the pages. This book wouldn't hold a smidge of the information that he required; he could feel it. Sure it mentioned spells that caused the victim to utter absolutely rubbish - insults included - but he couldn't find any counter-spells. He didn't know what Hermione was talking about when she said that he'd find them in these books. He was close to giving up, but his thoughts rested upon the knowledge that if he didn't do this, he won't ever be able to speak to Hermione again without emotionally hurting her.

He groaned in frustration. It was nearing midnight and sleep was starting to override his senses. I need some fresh air, he thought. He rubbed the drowsiness from his eyes and stifled a yawn as he got up from his chair. He walked towards his window, and threw it open. The cool air greeted him happily, and tousled his hair. He inhaled deeply, enjoying the smell of night. He stared up into the sky, a black blanket dotted with stars. The moon was at its peak now, full and white. Draco briefly marvelled at its beauty, and thought that the moon's beauty paled in comparison to Hermione's.

These soothing thoughts and the cool night breeze aroused Draco from his sleepy state. He left his window open, and instead of heading back to sit by his desk, he grabbed a few books that he still hadn't gone through and went to the dimly lit Common Room. Draco caught his breath, and he felt a burn spread through his body. Sprawled on the couch, in all her heavenly beauty, was Hermione.

She had fallen asleep, and there was a book propped open on her chest. Her body was twisted in an awkward position unbeknownst to Hermione. She's probably going to wake up feeling quite sore, Draco thought. Would she wake up if he carried her to her room? He stood by his door, still gazing at the sound-asleep Hermione. Well, I hope not, he thought, as he made his way over to her sleeping body, leaving his pile of books at the foot of his door.

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Hermione's POV:

I knew that I was dreaming. For one, it was snowing in my dream, and some part of me knew that it was summer. And another, Draco Malfoy was holding my hands, staring into my eyes. We were in the Three Broomsticks, sharing a Butterbeer. He had his Slytherin scarf wrapped snugly around his neck, and I was leaning into him for warmth. He was whispering into my ear, and I giggled in response to whatever he was saying. His silver orbs burned into my eyes, and even though I was in dreamland, a land where one couldn't possibly feel strong emotions, my heart thudded against my chest, almost aching to get out. His face drew closer to mine, and I locked my eyes shut, preparing myself for the moment when our lips would touch...

I jolted awake. Well, I thought I was awake. Why was his face so near to mine? I could almost reach out and touch his hair. Maybe I was still dreaming. Why was he carrying me though? I don't remember that happening in my dream. Oh well, who cares? I'm still dreaming. I sighed in content and smiled happily up at him. My smile seemed to freeze on my face when I noticed that he wasn't smiling back. Alarm was stretched across his features. I glanced left and right, taking in my surroundings. I was in the Common Room, in Draco's arms. I noticed a book on the couch, and realized I must have fallen off to sleep reading it. Which means ... Which means that I'm awake...?

Whoops. I had just made a complete fool of myself by smiling up at him like some lovesick puppy. How embarrassing. A blush flooded my cheeks.

I tried to scramble out of his arms, and in my sleepy state, I temporarily forgot that I was in his arms, being carried. The sudden movement must have caught him off guard, because his hold on me slipped, and we both crashed to the floor.

"Ow," I said, my voice crusted over with sleep. I looked over to him, and noticed that his eyes were closed. He opened them a few seconds later, and looked at me. Our bodies were inches apart, a fact which I think he realized, for he jumped up so quickly, you'd think I had some kind of infectious disease. He grabbed a quill and a piece of parchment that was lying on the table. He scrawled something on it, and gave the parchment to me. I, too, stood up, but sat on the couch that was nearest to me. I read what he wrote:

Sorry for waking you up. You were sleeping in an awkward position, so I was going to leave you in your bedroom. Sorry.

He had now chosen to sit on the couch opposite me.

"It's alright. Thank you," I said, genuinely grateful. He was too good to be true.

He looked away, and then back towards me. He motioned for me to hand him back the piece of parchment. I handed it to him, and his hand flew across it, writing another message. He handed it back to me.

You should sleep. You look really tired. It's very late.

"I'm not that tired, really. What are you doing up so late?" I asked, changing the subject. Truth was that I was really tired, but any opportunity to talk to him, or be with him, I readily took. I was becoming that desperate...

I think he was getting tired of having me to reach right over to hand him the parchment, so he made his way over to where I was sitting, and gestured toward the open space next to me on the couch - he was asking permission to sit next to me. I nodded, and he sat down. The close proximity made my heart race, and I tried to calm it down.

He took the parchment from me, and wrote something else on it. I read what he wrote, this time not taking the parchment from him.

Don't lie. You are tired. And I was just trying to finish all the books you gave me.

"Oh, how's it going with that?" I chose to ignore that he knew that I was lying. I was also genuinely interested to find out the answer to my question.

He shrugged his shoulders in response.

"No luck?" I asked.

He shook his head.

"Would you like me to help?" I asked, trying not to sound too eager.

He looked at me, and held my gaze until I looked away. I heard the quill scratch against the parchment. He slid the parchment onto my lap. I looked down.

I would like you to sleep. Don't worry, I'll figure it out.

"No, no. I'm wide awake. Bright as day!" I said. But thinking about sleeping made me yawn, and I battled to stifle it. He wasn't fooled. He rolled his eyes, and I sighed. I was fighting a losing battle.

"Fine. But seeing that tomorrow is Saturday, I'll help, okay?"

He smiled in response, and I took that as a yes. I got up, swaying slightly on the spot. He shot out a hand to steady me, and I froze at the contact. He drew back his hand immediately. He got up to retrieve his books from his door. I watched as he sat back down on the couch, opening the first book. Noticing I was still standing there, he looked up at me as if to say, What? Aren't you going to go now?

I shook my head, and asked another question.

"Before I go, I need to ask you something," I said.

He didn't say anything, and I had a feeling he knew what I was going to ask.

"Who did this to you?" I whispered.

He still didn't say anything. He just carried on looking at me.

"Draco? Please tell me," his name tickled my lips. I'd been wondering about the spell-caster for a long time.

Something flickered across his face. I wasn't too sure whether it was in response to his name, or the urgency in my tone.

I walked slowly towards him and sat down on the arm of the chair. I didn't feel like sleeping.

"I just want to know. Please tell me?" It came out like a question.

He shook his head slightly.

"Why not?"

Again, he shook his head, and focused his attention on his book instead.

I wondered why he didn't want to tell me. Was it because he just didn't want to? Or was there another reason? I stared at the fireplace.

After about five minutes, with him still not telling me anything, I got up. I walked towards me door, and just as I was about o open it, I heard the familiar scratching against parchment. I stood still, not wanting to turn around. Moments later, a parchment-dove perched itself on my shoulder. I took it, and gently opened it.

You wouldn't believe me if I told you. Trust me; you're better off not knowing.

I whirled around to face him. His face was sombre.

"I will believe you."

He shook his head again, more insistent than the last time.

"Please," I whispered.

He heaved a sigh and brought out his wand and waved it. The paper in my hands crumbled to ash, and soon it was slipping through my fingers to the floor. I looked up at him, confused. He waved his wand again, and the ash-paper shaped itself into letters on the floor. My mouth dropped open in shock as I saw the name forming.

RON WEASLEY

"No," I said, the denial hardly slipping off my tongue. Could this have been Ron's idea of a joke?

Draco's eyes were filled with sadness. He probably thought that I didn't believe him.

"No, I believe you. I just don't believe Ronald." I shook my head in disgust. "Are you sure he did this?"

Draco nodded.

"Okay, thank you for telling me." I turned around again, and walked into my room, shutting the door softly behind me.

It took a while before I was able to sleep, but sleep I did.

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