Chapter Ten

That night, Hermione met Draco in an empty classroom on the second-floor. She breathed deeply waiting for him, and when he came adorned in his black dress robe, he smiled a smile that lit his whole face. It was strange, how someone could look so different when they smiled. For Draco that was especially true as it was so very rare.

"You look beautiful."

She blushed. "You look handsome."

"This is going to be torture."

"Why?"

"Honoring the dead. Imagine me putting a picture of Aunt Bellatrix up there."

She understood instantly and felt uncomfortable. "Do you like to dance?"

"Yes. Fairly good at it too. Mother gave me lessons."

Looping her arm through his, they walked down to the Great Hall. It was decorated with floating Jack-O-Lanterns and skeleton trees with purple fairy lights placed on the outreaching branches. The house tables were gone and the outer edges were round tables draped in black cloth. The walls were lined with photos of people who had passed on, some in black and white, some in color, some stained with age.

Whispers were loud as they entered. People stared, a few pointed, but Hermione pulled Draco next to her before he could give a snap reply, turning their back toward them.

Hermione searched for her grandparents photo, one that she asked her parents to send in, and she found it, near the top, smiling, her grandfather's arm around her grandmothers. It could be seen that she inherited her grandfather's eyes and her grandmother's chin. She smiled, remembering how her grandmother would read to her at night, her grandfather playing scrabble, letting her win one in ten games.

Pointing to the picture, she showed Draco. Inspecting her features he said, "I see the resemblance."

The whispers grew louder and louder, until Hermione spun, ready to tell the lot of them off, when she faced the person she least expected.

"Ron..."

He was really there. Red hair parted in such a dignified way that it made his freckles outlandish. He was wearing a dress robe of black, similar to Draco's, except his was not nearly as soft. The worst was his expression of hurt and disbelief.

"Malfoy," he asked, as if he needed it confirmed - or better yet, denied.

"Ron..." Everyone was staring at them, expecting a fight, hanging onto their every word. "Ron, let's go outside. Lets' - let's talk about this outside." She reached for his arm, but in the most hurtful move he could make, he dodged her, jerking his shoulder back.

The worse part, was that Draco was not making a move to help. He couldn't possible be enjoying it, could he? That seemed like the old Draco and she so very much wanted to believe he had changed.

The wide eyes were burning into her and she grabbed Ron's arm, and reached back and grabbed Draco's. Forcing them out into the Great Hall she pushed them into a secluded and dark spot beside the grand staircase. She let them go and spun to face them, placed in the middle of the emotional brutality.

"Him?!" Ron glowered at Malfoy in a way that she had never seen before, not even in their school days. "You've been seeing him?"

"Jealous, Weaslbee?" Draco scoffed, "you shouldn't be shocked. Perhaps -"

"Shut it," she snapped at him, and although Draco's eye twitched he did not argue.

"You can't be serious! This is some kind of joke. She's a muggle-born. What do you want with her?"

"The same thing you want with her."

Ron stepped forward threateningly, Draco made a move for his wand, and Hermione pressed her hands against Ron's chest. It was a nightmare, that's what the night was, and it was all her fault. She should have written Ron sooner and she should have never kissed Draco.

"You don't deserve her," Draco spat.

"Better than you - you prejudice git."

Draco pointed his wand at Ron's head, and Ron pointed his wand at Draco's heart. Hermione withdrew hers but before she could make a decision as to what spell to perform to stop whatever was going to happen, Ron lowered his arm. He faced her, and it was a testament to his growth when he asked her the question she least expected him to ask.

"Do you want him?"

Stumbling over her words, she said, "you didn't get my letter?"

"Your letter?"

"I wrote you. I guess... I guess it was never delivered."

Ron's eyes flickered between her and Draco. "Don't write me again, Hermione." He walked away.

"No. Don't. Ron... Ron!" She went to chase after him, but Draco's hand caught her arm, keeping her back. On her heels she turned and her palm crossed his face in a resounding slap.

To his credit, Draco didn't look surprised. "Come with me." Without question he lead her up the staircase, to another staircase, and to another. They traveled up the castle, until she recognized the door to the second highest tower.

Sweat beaded her forehead, tired not only of climbing (despite the shortcuts they took) but of her confusion. The hold that Draco had on her, on her wrist and her heart was wearing her. It wasn't right, it wasn't fair. Not to her, not to Harry and Ron. She was being cruel.

They stepped outside and he released her. The chilly air swept past her, her hair in her eyes. The sky was dark and cloudy, and thunder sounded in the distance, louder than she had ever heard it. She kept her back to the door, not daring to go further. Draco stood in front of her, in the middle of the space.

"This is where I went to kill Dumbledore."

"I know."

"Mrytle's bathroom? That's where I tried to kill Potter."

"I know," she cried again, over the incoming storm.

"This is who I am."

"I know."

He rested against the edge, looking down, and her heart jumped in her throat. She wanted to pull him back, but she couldn't move. She closed her eyes. Thunder rumbled again, closer.

"I like you, Hermione. I shouldn't when I hated you so. It was hate. What changed, I can't say. You... Made me better. I should hate you for that, but I want you too much. If you want me too, come here."

"Draco. I can't."

He didn't seem to hear her.

She inhaled deeply. It was not as though she hadn't countered her fear of heights before. She had been on hippogriffs, dragons, brooms and thestrals. For Astronomy she had been on the highest tower, but she never dared go near the edge, to look over so close, and the wind was blowing more fiercely, but she took her first shaky step. They felt uneasy, as if she would be carried off to the lake she knew was below.

Thoughts of the icy depths of that lake carried to her bones, and froze them in fright. Coercing them to bend, she began walking again, and to keep her mind on what she was doing she counted her steps. Seven... Eight... Nine... Ten... She watched her silver shoes take her across the stones.

Before she could glimpse up to see how far she had gone, her waist was captured, and Draco's lips were on hers, his fingers tangled in her billowing hair. Every inch of her was warm and relaxed. He took the pain away so easily; effortlessly.

When they parted, she saw that she had approximately ten more steps to the edge. He had met her halfway.

Draco was not perfect. In fact, he was infuriating. Hermione could read all the books she wanted, but she would never understand why she felt the way she felt for the man she once despised. Draco could fight to his heart's content, but in the end, he'd have to accept that it was not a nightmare but a gift.

They needed each other, and for reasons they couldn't understand then but one day would, it was because they were meant for each other. Hate was the missing piece in you that screamed out for healing. Only until you give in do you understand that the right person is what you needed all along.

Hermione kissed his lips, and allowed the night to disappear into them.

Right there on the second highest tower in Hogwarts, they danced to the sound of the storm.