Chapter 10

A/N: Thanks to Clair96 for betaing and Bulba-Chan for her rainbow of corrections. The story's much better thanks to those two! Also thanks to everyone who reviewed and all the people who were willing to give up some of their time to help make this story better! I was touched.

Summer's here! I've gone and gotten a sunburn. I suppose that's what I get for spending the day floating in the pool reading. But I had new books and it's just the best place in the world to read. I wrote this chapter while it was still cool outside, I don't think it would have come out the same if it was as summery as it is now.

~Frosty

Draco exited the Gryffindor common room and tried to think of where Granger could have hidden. He had a vague sense that she was no longer within the walls of Hogwarts. That warranted investigation – if only to test the accuracy of his strange new intuition. It would come in handy should she decide to run off in the future.

People darted out of his path as he stormed through the halls; he was picturing many creatively cruel ways to murder Weasley without ending up in Azkaban. She –and by extension, Draco- felt practically sick with grief and a soul-numbing sadness that seemed to soak into the bones and linger there. Never had the blond experienced such a crushing feeling, and he fully intended to crush the one who was forcing him to experience it.

When Draco heaved open the large doors in the Entrance Hall, he was nearly blinded by the stark contrast from the gloomy corridors to the bright grounds. The sun was nearly set; everything was awash with warm golden light. Every leaf on the many trees sparkled with the rain that was falling in fat droplets from the raincloud over Hogwarts. As a Slytherin, he preferred darkness and gloom – all the best lurking happened near dusk and during the night, golden sunlight was such a Gryffindor thing.

Granger would probably have appreciated the weather if she wasn't in such a foul temper. If only he could find the girl so he could remind her of how much she appreciated that kind of shite.

He found her by the lake. She was letting the rain hide her tears as she threw stones into the water. His Veela wanted him to declare his undying devotion to her and then make her smile, but that would hardly remedy the situation. It was only the Veela part of him that was devoted to her, so the declaration itself would most likely cause her undue distress as she agonized over his free will. To be honest, sometimes he agonized over his free will as well. Sure, she was starting to grow on him, but when you can't be sure your feelings aren't the result of the chemical influence of your magical creature blood, you're reluctant to accept what they say.

"You do realize that your white shirt is practically transparent right now, don't you?" was the first thing out of his mouth. He saw her actually start at his voice. Good, his sneaking skills were still intact – though she was so overwhelmed with emotion at the moment, a bumbling elephant could have caught her by surprise.

A flash of lightning illuminated the sky just as she turned around to see the Veela standing there watching and waiting for her reaction. She was about to comply when he slipped off his cloak and slung it around her shoulders, wrapping her in the warm fabric.

Hermione looked up at him with confused eyes. She was grateful for the warmth of the soft fabric against her cold flesh, but she wasn't sure she liked what the lingering scent of his skin was doing to her. Had she not been so distraught by what Ron had said, she probably would have blushed.

"Thank you," she said as he sat down beside her, mindless of the mud soaking into his pants or the rain quickly making his shirt as transparent as hers had been. Despite her sadness, it was an effort to tear her eyes away from the rather impressive chest and arms his clinging shirt was revealing. His hair was slightly darker with the moisture sticking it to his skull and the colour served to bring out the grey of his eyes, making them seem all the more intense.

Why was it that she probably looked like a drowned rat in the rain, but he just looked more attractive? It was just another one of the many things in the universe that weren't fair.

They sat in silence for a while; the only sounds were Hermione's quiet sniffles and the plopping of the raindrops as they hit the lake.

"It's not true, you know," Draco said.

Her watery brown eyes turned to look at him, a question in their depths.

"The things that Flobberworm you call a friend said," he elaborated. Slowly, so he didn't scare her away and so that she had plenty of time to object, Draco brought an arm up and placed it around her shoulders.

Hermione felt a flash of worry that someone would see them and the secret would be out, but it was raining and cold,; no one else would be crazy enough to be outside in the bad weather. She leaned against him, in need of the warmth and the comfort he was offering. "You're saying you've never once thought of me as a 'psychotic librarian'?" she asked, her voice bitter.

"Maybe the kind with a secret bondage room hidden behind her bookshelves."

"You're disgusting," she said without any heat.

He nodded, smirking a little at her accusation. "I also know he was wrong about your alleged 'flat chest' thanks to this rain and your strict adherence to the dress code's required white shirt."

She tried to pull away, but Draco could feel that she didn't really have her heart behind the move and resisted. "He was wrong about your eyes; when you're happy, they sparkle with tiny little gold flecks and swirls of hazel. And your hair isn't a disaster, it's like a waterfall of sunlight and chocolate and it smells divine."

A small smile crept onto her lips. Never in her life would she have thought that Ron would make her cry, and Malfoy would come after her to make her feel better. The world was backwards, and she wasn't sure she was entirely opposed to the change.

Malfoy frowned and tilted his head to the side, resting it against the top of hers. "I sound like a namby-pamby."

A watery chuckle escaped her at the distress he was feeling over that fact. "Don't feel so upset about it, I think you're sweet."

"No, my bloody Veela is 'sweet'." He sneered at the word like it was something foul. "If I didn't fight it, I'd probably end up writing poetry about your study habits or the way you yell at me."

She felt him shiver and immediately felt guilty for taking his warm cloak and keeping him out in the cold. "I think we should go back inside," she said.

Draco nodded, trying to hide the chattering of his teeth. He stood up and then offered her his hand. Her expression was surprised before she blinked it away and accepted his assistance with a small smile.

Hermione felt waterlogged as she started walking back to the castle. Malfoy's cloak had stopped keeping her warm and only served to hold more of the cold water against her skin. She peeled off the garment and handed it back to him as they walked, their shoes making identical squelching sounds with every step. She'd somehow acquired enough mud to sufficiently protect her modesty despite her transparent clothing.

They maintained a careful distance between them on their trek through the halls so as not to draw too much attention to themselves. Sadly, the effort was wasted; it wasn't every day the Head Boy and Girl walked through the halls looking like they'd just participated in a mud wrestling match. It didn't help that they were walking together without so much as a snarky comment shared between the two. Filch would be after their hides if he ever found out who it was that dripped mud through the school.

When they arrived at the portrait guarding their dorms, Draco stepped in front of her. "Let me go in first," he requested. If the Weasel was still there, he wasn't about to let the cockroach have any contact with Granger; she'd been hurt enough that day.

Exhausted and shivering, Hermione just didn't have the energy to argue with Malfoy's odd request. She stepped back and allowed him to enter.

The blond poked his head out a moment later, obviously satisfied with whatever it was that he'd found inside – or hadn't found, she realized. "You can come in now."

Hermione rolled her eyes and stepped inside the common room. She sniffled as the portrait shut behind her, drawing Malfoy's attention. Her poor nose was running from the chill she'd caught while outside in the rain. He waved his wand and cast a drying and warming charm on the both of them. She nodded her thanks, feeling a little better, but the chill had settled in her bones where a simple warming charm couldn't reach it.

"Where are you going?" he asked when she started up the stairs to her room.

"To wash this mud off. Then I'm going to go to the prefect's baths and soak in it until I feel like a human again." Hermione stopped as she realized a lot of the ache she was feeling was actually Malfoy's injuries paining him.

"If you wear swim trunks, you can join me in the bath."

He was surprised by the offer, but he wasn't going to question her unexpected invitation. A nice, hot soak was just what he needed, and the company of Granger would be only help matters. Wordlessly, Draco went to his room to get his trunks and a towel.

Slightly obscuring her view of the blond already in the tub, tendrils of steam made their way towards the ceiling from the hot surface of the bathwater. His arms spread out along the edge and his eyes closed. Silently padding closer, she wondered if he was asleep. He certainly looked more peaceful than she'd seen him in a while. Actually, he looked more peaceful than she could ever remember seeing him outside of their dorms. Rarely did he let his guard down enough to rest as he was at that moment.

Realizing she was staring, she looked away, mentally berating herself for not realizing that he'd take less time in the shower than she would. He had much less hair to rinse and she'd been sitting in the mud longer, giving it time to soak through her clothes more. At least she'd had the sense to change into her bathing suit before she got to the bath area; it would have been embarrassing to make him turn the other way so she could change, or to see his knowing smirk as she had to return to the shower stall to switch outfits.

Trying not to make any noise just in case Malfoy was asleep, Hermione moved to the edge and dipped a toe in the water. It was the perfect temperature, just warm enough to be slightly uncomfortable at first and then to completely relax her once she was submerged.

As she slipped into the water, tiny ripples radiated out and lapped against Malfoy's bare chest. He eyes opened a sliver to watch her swim out to the middle of the pool and float there on her back. Her swimsuit was one of those single piece ones that were completely modest, but somehow, he found it more appealing than a bikini that left nothing to the imagination could ever be – not that he wouldn't love to see her in one of those as well. He continued to watch her through slitted eyes as he felt her relaxation as well as his own.

Hermione lay on her back and just let herself float, her hair swaying in the water. She was completely relaxed for the first time in what felt like forever. There was just one thing stopping her from complete relaxation. "I can feel your eyes on me Malfoy," she said.

"It's only my eyes because I know you're going to hit me for anything more," he answered without a pause.

She chose not to comment, unwilling to get into an argument and ruin her sense of peace. How it was that she could be so relaxed in the presence of Malfoy was a mystery to her, but she wasn't going to question it. For just that moment, she knew everything was going to be all right. Ron could say all the horrible things he wanted, and she would bounce back from it after letting out her grief. She wouldn't let her pettiness keep her down.

The brunette floated on the surface of the water, suspended in a place between sleeping and consciousness. She barely registered the hands that gently rested on her waist and pulled her to the side of the tub. Her body was pulled under the water while her head tipped sideways to rest on a warm and slightly slippery shoulder.

He let her rest like that for a while, their fingers and toes going wrinkly, but eventually he spoke, breaking her trance. "Granger, I have no problem with you sleeping on me, but I'm tired as well and if we both sleep here, we'll probably drown."

Sleepily, Hermione mumbled something that might have been agreement and pulled herself out of the water. Malfoy wasn't far behind her.

Harry and Ginny were pacing in front of the portrait guarding the Head Dorms when Hermione and Draco got there. They were both a little dazed from the very warm bath.

"Where were you two?" Ginny asked.

"Where were you? One minute you were behind me running to the Quidditch pitch and the next you were gone!" Hermione said.

"Luna caught me and gave me quite a talking to about 'falsifying a Nargle'. Apparently it's an offense worthy of being trampled by a Crumple-Horned Snorkback, but she couldn't find one of those so she settled for a long, rambling lecture."

The brunette chuckled, swaying a little on her feet. The bath had been perhaps a touch too hot, raising her blood pressure enough to make her a little dizzy.

Harry noticed the movement, his eyebrows drawing together in concern as he stepped forward to steady her. To his surprise, Malfoy beat him to it, slipping an arm around her waist as if touching her was the most natural thing in the world. It seemed the blond wasn't dwelling on the blood purity thing anymore if he was so willing to touch Hermione. He hadn't been sure the whole Veela thing wasn't some kind of trick, even after the explanation Hermione had given him, but when Malfoy had stopped her fall, there had been genuine affection on his face.

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right before I went to bed," Harry said to his friend. The glimpse of her face he'd gotten before she fled from Ron's cruel words had made his heart ache in sympathy for her.

Ginny had shot her trademark Bat-Bogey hex at her brother when she found out what he'd said to Hermione, but it didn't seem enough compensation for the damage he'd done.

Hermione smiled at her friend. She moved away from Malfoy's steadying arm to give him a hug, but she stopped halfway to him and glanced back at the blond. It wouldn't do for him to attack Harry just because she wanted to hug him.

The Veela rolled his eyes, but he sighed and nodded. Just because he wasn't going to stop it didn't mean he had to like it. While she hugged her friend and Draco grappled with his Veela side that wanted to rip the girl out of the other man's embrace, he distracted himself by opening the portrait.

"Let's take this mushy scene inside before I have to take points from you for being out after curfew," he said irritably. The three Gryffindors filed into the common room after him with no complaints, which was in itself a notable occurrence.

Draco's chest was starting to hurt again, and he knew he needed rest. Logically, he knew Potter and the She-Weasel weren't going to hurt his mate, even if his Veela wasn't entirely convinced. He trudged up the stairs to his bedroom, but was unable to resist entering hers when he passed it first. It was just so enticing, much like she was when she wasn't scolding him – sometimes even then.

He couldn't very well go to bed without first saying goodnight to her. On the nightstand was one of the books on Veelas that Granger had obviously taken with her for some 'light' reading before bed. Draco picked up the book and started reading while he waited for her.

"You never told us where it was you two came back from," Ginny observed.

The redhead watched Hermione wince at something she'd seen over Harry's shoulder and looked just in time to see Malfoy disappear into her room once again. She'd ask about that when Harry wasn't hanging around...

"We were cold from the rain, so we went to the prefect's baths to warm up," Hermione said. "We both had our bathing suits on," she added when she caught sight of Harry's horrified and angry expression.

"Hermione, you're sure he's not trying to..." Harry trailed off, unsure what exactly he was going to accuse the blond of.

"He hasn't done anything wrong Harry, and I actually trust him." Her face darkened, "Much more than Ron."

"Give him time, he'll come around." Her dark-haired friend patted her back comfortingly. Satisfied that she was going to be fine, he started to make his way towards the exit. When Ginny didn't follow, he glanced back at her in confusion.

"You go, I'll catch up," she said.

Harry shrugged, opening the painting and leaving.

"Now tell me what happened," Ginny ordered.

"What are you talking about?" Hermione was too tired to deal with Ginny's confusing mood swings.

"Don't try and kid me Hermione. You and Malfoy in a steamy room half naked? There's no way he didn't try and take advantage of that situation."

The brunette blushed. "Nothing happened, I fell asleep."

"Then how do you know he didn't try anything?"

Hermione could feel that Malfoy was offended by her friend's accusations. She hadn't thought for a moment that he wasn't going to listen in on her conversation, so it didn't surprise her.

"He only touched me to stop me from drowning."

Ginny was still skeptical. "And how'd he do that?"

"He pulled me into his lap," she mumbled.

"You were pressed against Malfoy's wet, naked chest and you didn't even wake up enough to make sure he kept his hands to himself?"

"Ginny, it was fine. Now please let me sleep," Hermione begged. She knew the redhead's attitude stemmed from genuine concern, but she just didn't have the energy to deal with an inquisition.

Reluctantly, Ginny nodded and followed after Harry. Her sharp eyes promised she wasn't going to let the conversation drop entirely.

Hermione sighed in relief and went up to her room to see what it was that was making Malfoy apprehensive and worried.

"Granger, have you read this book?" Malfoy asked in a strangely tight voice the moment she walked through her door.

"Yes." It was on her nightstand, what did he expect she'd been doing with it?

"It says Veela can sprout wings like some kind of- of-" he stopped, unable to think of a comparison.

"Magical creature?" Hermione supplied.

The look he sent her made it clear he didn't find her amusing.

"Did you not read to the end of the paragraph?" she asked in exasperation, getting into the bed beside him to point. "It says that very few Veela ever actually 'sprout' wings, and even then it's almost always pure Veelas."

From Malfoy's emotions twisting inside her, she could tell that he was relieved by her words. She understood his worry; wings were something much more strange and different than black eyes or fangs. They would be a huge change in comparison to the other, relatively small ones. But the chances of him growing wings were so slim it was practically impossible.

She settled under her covers, content that they were done with the subject.