Vonne: Coming back and trying to update as fast as possible is hard, but so worth it. Thanks so much for all the interest you all have taken in this so far. I hope that you're liking it as much as I enjoy writing it. Anyways, look below if you've asked a question in your review. I've answered whatever questions you have posted for you! So, of course, check it out.

amandakai: Of course I didn't take it offensively! I actually admire constructive reviews because that way it kind of allows me to pay more attention- focus a lot better than I probably would have without it. I do promise once again that most of it has a point and, if anything, will be of use further along in this. All the little things build a better connection between Hermione and Draco, something I'm trying to do slowly, but quickly at the same time (if that makes any sense at all). Anyway, I'm so glad that you do like what I have so far. This chapter does have use to it. But I swear, I have something exciting planned... honest! Thanks for reading, I appreciate it very much! And I love your reviews, by the way, they're long-- awesome! (:

Shining Bright Eyes: Yes! I love writing about both Lucius and Draco together. Because I think, all things considered, Lucius does love his son. So, there will be more of the two of them coming. I hope you'll be happy with it!

Thwarted Moody: Thanks so much for your review. You actually motivated me to get this chapter updated so soon. After this I think everything is going to happen really fast so I'm hoping that you all consider that to be a good thing! Thanks again.

Anavell: Thank you! (: I'm glad you liked it. I wrote and rewrote it over and over so, really, you have no idea how happy I am to hear that you liked Hermione and Draco's conversation. In the spirit of that, I had them have a slightly deeper one in this chapter, as well. Hopefully you'll like it just as much!

And, now, finally, chapter ten.

Chapter Ten:
Of Falling in Love

Draco Malfoy was sitting in what could be most appropriately described as a daze. Feeling light headed and a bit stuffy, he considered his discomfort as being symptoms of not having had anything to drink in a matter of two days straight. And that, solely, was what was worrying him. Being sober wasn't exactly the most healthy state of mind for Malfoy currently and he figured that, having been drinking for such a long length of time, such a sudden break from it was not good for his body. The aches and cramps were one thing, though his anti-hungover headache provided him with his biggest clue. Furthermore, as he sat at the tiny lunch table, he made the quick and golden decision to get straight to back drinking as soon as the moment allowed him to.

For the moment, however, he resided, gritting his teeth and sitting through it. All the while, Goyle, who had sat opposite him, did not seem to take any notice. He leaned forward, poured his friend more water, and continued to talk about whatever it was that he had been going on about since their lunch had begun. Truth be told, Draco had only agreed to lunch because he'd felt bad about what had happened with Pansy, though Goyle didn't have to know the details. In fact, however, Goyle seemed as right as rain, simply relishing in the fact that Draco had agreed to come along with him in the first place. "You know," Goyle said, pausing slightly in the midst of his ramblings, "this is nice. Isn't this a nice place. It's not too packed and not too expensive."

Mentally, Draco rolled his eyes. Translation to what Goyle was really saying: this place does not serve hard liquor. However, Draco Malfoy hadn't truly been listening to Gregory Goyle. He blinked casually, scanned the little diner, and decided to agree with his friend, despite so obviously being opposed to the restaurant's menu of drinks. "Yeah, it's..." he paused, thinking of a word that could prove to be considerable appropriate, and finally settled on, "adequate."

"Adequate?" Goyle questioned, raising an eyebrow. He took to scanning the place on his own, shrugged his shoulders, and said wearily, "alright, adequate it is then." Pausing, Goyle watched Malfoy pick at his plate. Perhaps Draco didn't know exactly why he'd wanted to take him out to a nice restaurant, though Goyle wasn't about to let him on to anything he had planned. True, he was only just trying to show him that he could get out, and even though Draco looked absolutely ridiculous underneath all his disguise clothes, coming out in the day time was, after all, a hefty first step. Then again, he figured he owed the outing to his friend, since his last attempt with Pansy didn't go exactly too... swimmingly.

However, Draco was the one who seemed the most nervous. He fiddled with the thick scarf around his neck, yanked his cap down lower on his face, and drummed his fingers on the surface of the table top. Though Goyle only acted as if such behavior were normal and he said, glancing over his left over plate, "I'm glad you're enjoying yourself," though even he couldn't mask his sarcasm.

Draco shook his head, "not funny," he scolded, pointing his fork almost hostly in Goyle's direction.

"Alright," Goyle continued, laughing. He was quite honestly just glad to get Malfoy talking again, since most of their lunch had been spent in silence. Besides, Draco was a horrible small talker. It was true that Goyle was concerned about his friend. He really just wanted to see Draco move on with life- to keep living. And maybe he'd desired it so much just to know that it was possible, but either way, he was determined to make it happen. Because, really, the two of them weren't the kids that they had been. Sitting at his seat, rather stuffed from eating so much food, Goyle considered himself, for example.

After having come back from the Muggle world he had, as cliche as it sounded even now, gained an entirely new outlook on life. Being the lowest of the low had been much more awful than he'd anticipated. Though getting away from it all, it had been rather admirable. And maybe Goyle wasn't completely fixed himself... but even he knew that; he'd never even tried to deny it.

Uncomfortably considering the circumstances, Goyle shifted. He'd finally chosen to change the subject to one that had truly been pestering him for quite some time. He knew, nonetheless, that Draco wasn't about to enjoy partaking in such a topic. "So, uh... Draco, how've you been since..."

"Since what?" Draco spat, his eyes narrowing bitterly.

Though Goyle only shrugged, "you know what I'm talking about." Once again, he leaned in forward on his elbows, and gave his friend a look of being slightly anxious. "Pansy came back in after about a half an hour of standing out on my driveway. And when she did, she wasn't herself. In fact, she was the most quiet I'd ever seen her."

"Ah," Draco smirked, "count that as a blessing."

Finally, Goyle's face faltered. Growing rather cross, he darted backwards, crossing his beefy hands across his chest, "I do not count that as a blessing, Draco. For your information, I've always enjoyed Pansy's company."

Momentarily, the two sat across from one another, looking undaunted back at forth. Over the course of the evening Malfoy hadn't touched most of his lunch; what was left on his salad plate looked admittedly unappealing and grotesque. Goyle, however, had an almost newly clean plate sitting before him. Perhaps his attitude had changed, but his appetite sure hadn't. He'd eaten quite an ample amount of food and looked actually physically tired with himself. Of course, now with Draco challenging him, he had mustered as much energy as he could back up inside him. Malfoy, on the other side, hadn't found himself getting any angrier. Despite himself, he felt enthusiastically bad for Goyle.

"Okay," he said, bowing his head submissively, "nothing happened, really. She ran out to try and get me to come back in. I must have insulted her somehow. But, I walked away in the middle of her sentence." Sure, lying to Goyle hadn't come as easily as it used to, but Draco wasn't prepared to recite the truth so simply. And, much to Draco's delight, Goyle seemed to buy it. He let his own posture drop and took to shaking his head, looking a bit suspicious; as if he'd only figured something of the sort would have happened.

Still shaking his head, Goyle said disapprovingly, "I should have known something like that would have happened." Then, soothingly, he added, "don't worry, we can fix it."

All to suddenly, Malfoy's mouth fell open in protest, "no! Uh... I mean, no, no... I don't think I could handle---"

"You'll be fine, Draco." Goyle sighed, cutting Draco off instantly. He pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket, flopped a wad of bills on the table and cocked his head towards the exit, as if more than ready to leave. Draco followed, wearily like a lost child. His hands were stuck still in his pocket, and he seemed to sink lower inside his clothes with every single step forward. "You can't keep fighting with your friends. The sooner you have all your relationships sorted out, the sooner you can start to lead a normal life."

Testily, Draco snorted, "normal? Ah, well, enlighten me, Goyle; what exactly is your idea of normal?"

Walking through the nice diner, Goyle ignored the stares of its inhabitants and made it to the front without further problem. He held the door open for Malfoy, who stood like a shadow at his side, and plunged himself out into the streets almost hurriedly. Though at this point even Draco seemed to notice that his entire atmosphere had changed. Something about him had slunk away and, sheepishly, he seemed to carry on down the streets of Hogsmeade just as shadily as Draco. Malfoy approached his friend timidly, fearful that he'd actually offended him for one reason or another. However, Goyle only seemed to hesitate for a moment longer before thrusting his shoulders up in a vulnerable shrug.

"Normal," he started slowly, "you know: moving out on your own, meeting a girl, falling in love, getting married."

Goyle's face was as red as a tomato. Surely Goyle couldn't have believed such a thing would be somewhere in the near future for Draco Malfoy. Not even Malfoy was in the mindset of considering the three. Wasn't he the one who just days ago was implying that Draco wasn't stable enough to lead such a life? However, after the silence had carried on long enough, Draco could see that Goyle truly wasn't kidding. He'd meant every word of it and even had hoped to achieve such a goal for himself. "T-That's normal?" Draco mused, just as meek.

"That's how life goes, isn't it?" Goyle shot back, staring down at his feet.

"For some people... eventually long down the line." Drawing his arms out in a big, wide space, Draco tried to get his message across successfully. Though Goyle wasn't paying him any attention. Defeated, Draco dropped his hands and somewhat fell into himself. He didn't focus on anything in particular, though his eyes wandered off into the distance, perhaps completely spaced out. "Goyle, I'm twenty-two years old. I'm not ready to get married... Goyle? Are you ready to do all of that?"

Finally, when Goyle looked up, there was a glossy desperation in his eyes. Above them the clouds swelled, twisting slightly. There was the unmistakable chlorine smell that signified the oncoming bit of rain. Hoarsely, Goyle said back to Draco, "I'm ready to move on. I am ready to live a normal life. Aren't you?" Draco, however, only stood, stumped. "And, if you must know," Gregory Goyle added with a slight simper, "I've always wanted to get married." He finished off defensively, as if rather hurt that Draco would have assumed otherwise.

"Ah," Draco sighed, trying to be considerably polite, "and do you have anyone in mind?" Frankly, he didn't truly know why he'd asked, though he considered the question to be friendly enough and polite.

However, Goyle was rather quick to say, "no one." And Draco quite hastily stopped asking questions. "I mean," Goyle stumbled nervously, "I haven't... met her yet." Then, quite awkwardly, the two of them continued down the gravel road, both at a loss as to what to say next.

"Alright, question," Draco Malfoy said into the radio hours later as he sat up on his bed. Childlike, he was under the covers, suited in his pajamas. They were too short for him and, to make up for it, two floppy big socks had been wrapped around his slender, long feet. Never before had he felt so immature, however, the feeling did not particularly embarrass him. He was, after all, alone there in the darkness of his room, and, as it so seemed, such scenery had become rather common to him. "Question."

"I thought," said the female voice, who was whispering as well, though Draco was not sure as to why, "I was supposed to be the one asking you the questions."

Draco slumped down a little lower, positioning his feet underneath his light body and hunched forward, as if whispering into the hypothetical ear of the radio. "Just... humor me," he said, shaking his head, "honestly, are you always this difficult?"

A sway of murmurs came through the radio speakers, as if the woman herself found him to be the more difficult of the two. Though she managed to calm down and say in her defense clearly, "you have no idea who I am. I could be the most laid back person you'll ever met."

Muttering, Draco counteracted, "doubt it."

On the other end, Hermione huffed. Why was it that she couldn't be laid back? Not even Harry or Ron would bother with humoring her about it. And really, despite everything, Hermione did truly desire to be such a thing. Because truth be told, she wasn't as high strung as everyone seemed to think she was. She had some soothing qualities. However, as she sat and listened to a complete stranger tell her exactly what she didn't want to hear, she leaned back bitterly. It really was hard to accept what was more than likely the truth. "Get on with it," she permitted, bracing herself defensively.

"What do you consider to be normal?" He asked her slowly, as if unsure why he was doing so in the first place. He didn't even know the woman, and yet he felt so apt to ask her something so personal. And, diving in to the shallow, risky waters of giving one's self up so easily, he added out loud, "as in a normal life."

Reacting, Hermione slumped slightly forward. However, she didn't bother even considering the situation. "Normal, well that's surely generic. Ha, well I guess normal would be getting married, having children, buying a house and fiddling around in investments... that's probably the most normal life I can think of."

Malfoy bit his lip, saying only "ah."

The sky above his rather large house churned with darkly gray clouds. In the depths of his sinking chest, Malfoy considered such weather to represent what he saw to be a rather silly life. Churning clouds, graying skies. Where did it go from there? Eventually, there would be a downpour. His heart thundered behind his already worn out skeleton. He wasn't ready for a storm. Wasn't even ready for a slightly shower, the mere trickle of awful things to come. He'd already been through his life's biggest tragedy, hadn't he? After all, wasn't there supposed to be something of a rainbow in the end? But Draco Malfoy had no rainbow. In place of that, his channel only predicted more rain.

Hermione, rather optimistic on the other end of the Muggle toy radio, continued with a simple little shrug, "But, that's just a normal life. Who wants to lead a normal life?" Instantly, Draco's frown flipped. More and more he was beginning to like this woman. "Because normality isn't for everyone, you know. That's all the cliche stuff. What people don't realize is that people should make their own happiness. People don't need to get married, have kids... buy a house."

"So," Draco tested, "you're saying you don't want that?"

Finally, it was Hermione's turn to hesitate. She stuttered over herself for a moment and then brushed her hair back from her face. Honestly, she admitted, "no, well, I've always wanted to get married and have kids... and... eventually, buy a home."

Rolling his eyes, Malfoy huffed, "oh wow! Loads of help you are!"

Though despite this, Hermione interjected, "that's what most people want. They want to get married and to have children that they love. Falling in love, that's typically everyone's dream. You're saying you don't want to fall in love? You don't want to spend your life loving someone?"

At his end of the radio line, Malfoy leaned forward on his hands, resting his clammy face against his palms. Feeling a bit under the weather, he asked the woman back lazily, "what is love other than superficial love? Love does nothing for anyone. My parents love each other, but their lives still got worse."

"So," Hermione asked, somewhat tryingly herself, "you're saying you'd rather go through a miserable life alone than go through it with the help of someone else?"

"What's the use of doing that if you're only bringing them down along with you?"

Hermione scrunched up her nose. "It's not bringing them down with you. Nor is it taking them along for the ride. When you love someone, they should make you feel better about it all in the end." She expected an agreement, a sign of sincere understanding or, at least, a polite 'ah'. No such thing came. And as the silence grew longer, she have expected him to have left the toy radio all together. Sitting with her knees perched up to her chest, she chewed her bottom lip, anticipating something, if anything at all. Then, finally, when she had taken enough of the silence she asked almost too carefully, "don't you want to fall in love?"

Mulling this over, Malfoy hugged his knees tighter, much too childlike for a silly little question like that. However, Malfoy took what she'd asked seriously, almost too seriously. Perhaps he didn't want to fall in love. Maybe he wanted to carry out the rest of his entire life alone. But carry out what kind of life alone? A life alone in misery. And what was it that made him so opposed to marriage? Could it be because he hadn't seen the ideal marriage that the media had so pushed forward? Much like a typical human being, Draco wanted something old fashioned. A relationship based solely on love. Where they didn't need to buy a house because they could sleep on a damn mattress for all it mattered.

Did he want to fall in love? The short answer was yes, though he wanted to do it in his own way. Furthermore, he'd never found anyone that he knew for sure he'd wanted to spend the rest of his life with; had never connected with someone so deeply. "I wouldn't want," he said slowly, considerably, "to spoil some poor woman's life with the likes of me."

"And who's to say you'd spoil her life?" Hermione shot back, someone jolted.

"And who's to say I wouldn't?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. Why was it that even over a silly radio this man had to be so difficult? She felt an invisible barrier that she was certain resided around him. "You know," she said, once again finding herself angry with the voice on the other end, "perhaps you would drive her crazy based on the sole fact that you're so damn difficult!" Then, leaning back for the second time, Hermione smiled gleefully to herself; it had felt rather liberating to call someone else 'difficult' rather than to hear herself being called as such. Though when the silence once again threatened the flow of their conversation, she felt the instant nausea of guilt creep up on her. "Sorry," she muttered sheepishly.

"Ah," Malfoy mused, feeling slight embarrassed once again. "Don't worry about it."

"So," Hermione started up again, slow at first, as if too cautious to begin in to swift conversation, "what sparked that question?" Curious as to the same thing, Malfoy raised an eyebrow. Why did he ask such a complete stranger such a question anyway? Not even he knew the real answer to that. However, he shifted forward, running a hand through his messy head of blond hair. And why not be a little honest with her? He had initially brought up the subject in the first place.

"A friend of mine thinks I should strive to have a normal life. So does my father, I think."

"Their idea of normal, or, your idea of normal?" Hermione suggested simply, "what about happy? A happy life? If you ask me, I'd much rather lead an unusual life filled with bliss than a life that's only a simple one."

"Me and happy don't exactly fit on the same level, darling," Draco drawled.

"Want to hear my philosophy?" Hermione asked, slightly too anxious and the little grunt at the other end gave Hermione the answer that she needed. "I think that happiness really is a mental thing. If you chose to be happy-- it's not so hard."

Malfoy stared at the radio as if it had just burst into flames. Chose happiness? Surely, she was deranged. Nothing could be so simple, especially not with he, Draco, so far down in the rut that he was in. Didn't she understand that Draco was something of the doomed sort? He was, after all, one of the inevitably damned. There was no redemption in his future, nothing particularly spectacular to look forward to.

To be nice, he replied, "alright, granted," though Hermione was all too clever. Taking her finger off of her speaker, she huffed, feeling helpless, and then slunk as low to the floor as she could.

"Alright," she responded after a long while, "can I ask you one more thing? A favor?"

"Sure."

Smiling, Hermione said teasingly, "Don't call me 'darling'."

Draco narrowed his eyes, stared down at the palms of his hands, somewhat taken a back. That had surely caught his attention. However, he caught on to her joke, realizing that she was only trying to lift his spirits, even if the attempt had been rather feeble. "Not a problem," he said with a flick of what may have been a smile, "won't happen again."

Vonne: Please, review! I'd love to answer any and all questions you may have.