Huge shoutout to 24firthel for reviewing on a whole bunch of the chapters! You rock!

And thank you, as usual, to everyone who always reviews! You guys make my day!

So far, this is my favorite chapter by far XD It's so fun

I can't believe I'm doing this.

The thought ran through his mind as he grabbed his fur coat and shoved his hands deep into the pockets. He strode from the empty common room, his trademark smirk plastered upon his face. The sound of his shoes reverberating around the empty corridor filled his ears, reminding him of how alone he was.

No, I'm not lonely. I'm strong. I don't need anyone.

In less than ten minutes, Draco found himself walking down the path to Hogsmeade. Snow fell around him, dotting itself in his platinum blond hair. A chill ran through his body, making him try to bury himself even further into his large and rather expensive coat.

Stupid Granger, convincing me to do this. I should never have given what she said: a second thought.

Because as much as he didn't want to admit it to himself, it was what she'd said that made him leave the comfort of his dorm. She'd been right; Draco wouldn't be at Hogwarts much longer (Thank God, he thought). He should be taking every opportunity to go to the little village while he could. He wouldn't always be able to, after all.

And he had to admit, it was quite beautiful. Despite the snow that fell about him, it was a rather clear day, allowing one to be able to see every single snowflake. The pathway leading Draco onwards, which had previously been trampled by hundreds of students' footsteps, had been blanketed again by the snowfall, giving the Slytherin a perfect sheet of white to walk through. It was so flawless that it seemed wrong to mess it up in any way, even by simply walking on it.

But Draco pushed these weak thoughts from his mind. It was just snow.

He looked up at the sound of feet coming towards him from the direction of Hogsmeade and a grimace crossed his face as he saw who it was. Zabini, Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle were all stomping their way along, talking and guffawing in the white light. When they saw him, identical looks of disgust crossed their features and they glared his way, not missing out on the opportunity to throw some profanities at him as he passed.

But Draco just looked resolutely forward. He didn't need them. They were always useless, anyways.

Yet the sight of the four of them filled him with longing. Not longing for them to be his friends again, God no, but for someone, anyone to talk to.

He had no friends. He had no one.

And they all had someone. It made Draco jealous, angry.

There was no use trying to deny it: he really did miss having a friend. The past few weeks had been torture for him, trying to get through all of his thoughts and worries without a shoulder to lean on. He was a Malfoy, of course, so the chances of him having leaned on one in the first place were incredibly low, but the offer would have been nice.

He thought back to Granger, Scarhead, and Weasel. Yes, they were currently getting into fights every other day, arguing about whose side grew the greener grass, but in the end, they'd come back to each other. Who knew if this would take days, weeks, or years, but it would happen eventually. The three Gryffindors were best friends.

Of course, I'd rather be alone than have to talk to Potter all day, Draco scoffed. That attention seeking bastard deserves whatever's coming to him.

Though this was true, that he'd never dream of having Pothead as a friend, he still knew that the boy had others, something of which Draco was lacking at the moment. And with that hanging over his head, Draco knew that if they were to ever get into a fight or a duel, Potter would win for sure simply because he'd have abundant backup. As for Draco…well, let's just say that if the two boys got into a fight, no one would be throwing themselves in between them to save him.

Not that I need saving, he thought bitterly. I can at least duel by myself. I'm not an incompetent buffoon.

With these thoughts churning away in his mind, Draco continued to walk along the path, head down as the snow fell around him. He was lost in his own worries that seemed to have no condolences, was plagued by the words that bounced around his head. But he kept walking; it was the easiest thing to do.

. . . ….. . . .

Hermione walked out of Honeydukes, towing along a bag full of sugar quills and gummy wands. So far, she'd been alone in Hogsmeade as she'd predicted that she'd be, and though it was definitely lonely, it wasn't as bad as she'd expected. No one bothered her, and it had given her time to think.

So she had.

She'd thought about Ron, about their stupid fights. She'd thought about Harry and how she knew he'd always choose the redhead over her. She thought of Malfoy and his stinging words, though she couldn't help but feel a twinge of pity for him. She thought about the schoolwork she'd need to complete when she got back to her dorm.

To put it simply, she just thought. About anything, really. Anything that popped into her mind.

Hermione was making her way towards The Three Broomsticks when she heard someone calling her name. Turning, she saw the form of Ginny as she hurried over, dragging Dean behind her as she went. It was a comical scene, really, with Dean awkwardly following her, but with a smile on his face.

"Hermione!" Ginny exclaimed, pausing to catch her breath. "There you are! I've been wondering where you've been."

"Oh, you know me," she smiled. "Just around."

"Listen, Hermione," Ginny started, sighing. "I wanted to apologize for everything Ron's been doing lately. He's a right git, of course, but that's still no excuse."

Hermione smiled sadly. "Ginny, it's fine, really. And it's not like it's your fault or anything. And anyways, don't apologize for him; in time, I'm sure he'll say he's sorry in person."

"He will." Ginny nodded firmly, looking very sure of herself. "You wait. But Hermione…just…just know that he doesn't mean what he's saying, okay?"

Concern and sympathy crossed her face as she talked. "He cares for you, he really does. He's just showing it in a…strange way. I don't know, maybe he's in some weird pubescent and hormonal state where he likes to yell a lot at people he cares about"—Hermione laughed at that—"but he doesn't mean it. He likes you a lot, I know it."

Hermione smiled, actually feeling considerably better. "Thanks, Ginny. I'll remember what you said."

With a last grin to the pair, Hermione walked away, leaving them to go to Zonko's while she herself went to The Three Broomsticks. As she opened the door of the restaurant, she saw a flash of red hair next to a scruffy black-haired boy and swallowed, willing herself to order herself a butterbeer and go join them.

She could always give Ron another second chance.

. . . ….. . . .

When Draco reached the village of Hogsmeade, he was almost sad that the pathway had ended. He had rather enjoyed the sights of the white land once he'd ridden himself of his lonesome thoughts.

Maybe I can just turn around now, he thought. I've gotten out of the school and have had my fair share of fresh air. Besides, I'd rather be alone on that trail than here with everybody glaring at me.

After a moment's hesitation, he decided that he might as well go into a store or two. After all, the trip would've been useless if he turned around now.

He stopped outside of The Three Broomsticks, deciding that he was quite in the mood for a butterbeer. Plastering a smirk onto his pale face, he stepped into the warm and crowded building, his ears immediately being filled with the sound of loud chatter and laughter.

As he walked to the counter, he was greeted by the sight of Madam Rosmerta and was instantly filled with an overwhelming sense of guilt. He recalled how he'd put her under the Imperius Curse and used her to carry out his deeds when he'd first lived through his sixth year. Because of him, she'd given Katie Bell a cursed necklace, sold Professor Slughorn somue poisoned mead, and had aided him in bringing Death Eaters into the castle by telling him when Dumbledore had been gone.

He had used her horribly for his own needs, never once stopping to think about her. And he felt dreadful for it.

But he'd decided long ago that he wouldn't make the same mistake this time around. No cursed necklace would be used, nor would any poisoned mead. In fact, Draco was still unsure of where he stood on the issue of completing the task at all.

Yet that was a question to ponder some other time. He ordered a butterbeer from her, handed her the money, and waited patiently as she went to go get his drink.

She hadn't disappeared into the back of the building for more than five seconds when the sound of shattering glass and gasps filled the pub. A louder voice rang out, yelling quite publicly above the gossip of everyone else.

As he turned to see the commotion, Draco blinked in surprise to find that the person who had caused such a ruckus was none other than Granger. But she wasn't her normal solid and coherent self; instead she stood wobbling on her feet, a look of complete rage on her face. In one hand was the broken end of a butterbeer bottle, having been smashed just seconds earlier by the girl in her angry and impulsive state. She held tightly to a table with her other hand, needing the support to keep herself from falling over.

And the table was one where—predictably—Potter and Weasel sat. Well, where Weasel had sat, at least, for he was now standing, looking furious. His face was as red as his hair and was screwed up in fury.

"Hermione," he growled lowly, "I don't understand how you could think that you could come in here and try to make amends. You've done too much wrong."

"Me?" she laughed out unbelievingly, swaying slightly. "How could I? Damnit, I thought it would be smart to try and patch things up between us, Ronald, but apparently that's a crime!"

"Yeah, it is," he exclaimed. "This can't just be 'patched up.' It's not that simple."

"Well excuse me for trying!" she yelled, throwing her hands up in the air and letting them fall back to her side. She quickly grasped for the table again before she could lose her balance. "Is it even worth it, Ron? Trying to be friends with you?"

"If you hadn't been ignoring me, then maybe I'd think you did think it was worth it," he managed between gritted teeth. "But since that's not the case, then I don't know what to say here."

"Fine," Granger snapped, eyes narrowing to slits of fire. "I'll leave, then. Forget I even bothered to try and change things."

Letting go of the table and swinging a bag from Honeydukes in front of her, the girl stumbled her way towards the entrance of the pub, glaring at anyone who made eye contact with her. She didn't notice Draco as she passed him, instead pushing her way through the door and staggering out into the snow.

Something possessed Draco to go after her, to see how much of a fool she made herself to be next, so when Madam Rosmerta came back to the counter with his drink, he quickly grabbed the bottle and swung open the door. Draco hurried into the cold weather, stowing the drink in his coat for later.

He'd thought he would have to do at least a little searching to find Granger, but he saw her within a second of leaving The Three Broomsticks. There she was, splayed out and lying face down in the snow. Her head was planted fiercely into the ground and her bag of sugar quills and gummy wands had spilled slightly, adding to the pathetic effect of it all.

Had he not seen it with his own eyes, hadn't just witnessed the scene in the pub, Draco wouldn't have believed it. Yet here was the evidence, fallen and unmoving in the snow.

Hermione Granger was drunk.

At the sight of the girl, Malfoy had a crushingly large urge to laugh; this was quite possibly the dumbest thing he'd ever seen her do. She'd just embarrassed herself in front of the majority of the school and was now a frozen heap in the snow. Who wouldn't laugh at that?

But a thought stopped him before he could make fun of her.

Don't you remember what she did for you? When Zabini attacked you? You needed her and she helped you despite how terrible you two have been to each other in the past. You can repay her now if you do the right thing.

Of course, a second part of him argued back.

But this is hilarious! I'd rather just laugh and leave her here to slowly freeze herself!

Yet the other voice was more convincing.

No, you don't. You know I'm right. She deserves the help. Besides, if you were her, lying pitifully in the snow, you'd want someone, anyone, to help you.

Draco closed his eyes and rubbed them with his gloved hands, groaning. Fine. Fine.

Sighing, the Slytherin boy walked over to the pile of clothes that was his Potions partner and hoisted her to her feet. He picked up her bag from Honeydukes and stowed it in his coat, reminding himself that he'd give it back to her when they got to the castle.

He slung her left arm over his shoulder and snaked his right arm around her back, holding her waist as he supported her awkwardly in her drunken state of mind. Her head lolled forward as they walked and she barely seemed able to keep her eyes open.

Once they were on the path again, Draco could breathe easily knowing that no one would see him helping her. Not that anything could really make his social image much worse, but he didn't exactly want to go killing it.

Hermione hiccupped as they walked, sniffing. "I…I ha-hate him," she slurred, stumbling forward. Draco pulled her back slightly, bringing her level with him, not wanting to have to pick her up again if she fell over.

He snorted slightly, rolling his eyes. "Don't we all, Granger?"

The sound of her surname seemed to make something click in her mind and she frowned, turning her cloudy eyes to Draco. "Granger? B-but only M-m'foy calls me…."

And Granger finally seemed to realize who he was. "M'foy?! What are you doing here?!"

He scoffed, kicking at a clump off snow. "I owed you for helping me. Trust me, I was that close to just leaving you there on the ground, but the sliver of sympathy that I possess convinced me otherwise."

Granger was silent for a long moment and the only sound that filled the air was of Draco's steady footsteps and her uneven ones. Then, finally:

"Thank you, M'foy."

He shrugged, surprised at her thanks. "Don't mention it…please. Ever. I'd rather forget it even happened."

She laughed, throwing her head back as she did so. Though the sound of it was shrouded in incoherence and peppered with hiccups, it was real, was true. Malfoy frowned at the lightness of it, wondering how she could possibly be laughing after what had just happened with Weaselby.

But she'd probably forgotten it. She was drunk, after all.

They made their way through the snow, Granger staggering about on her feet with every step. Draco was still surprised that she'd gotten sozzled in the first place, as she was such a goody two shoes, but he figured that it had probably been accidental. Apparently, she couldn't handle her butterbeer.

The two of them didn't talk much as they walked, mostly just trying to avoid each other's eyes. Even in her drunken state, Granger seemed to know that she didn't often converse with the boy who was helping her. So she didn't, and Draco didn't try to make conversation.

At long last, the duo stood at the entrance to the school, the large door only ten feet away. It was still quite deserted, as everyone was making the most of their time in Hogsmeade. But here they were, ready to part ways.

"Thnks again, M'foy," the tipsy Gryffindor girl drawled, letting go of his shoulder with what seemed to be quite a lot of effort.

Draco didn't stop her as she stumbled away from him, often staggering off to one side as she went. She had made it to the entrance when she seemed to realize something. Turning on her heel quickly, so fast that Draco was surprised she didn't topple over, she faced him and ran in his direction.

Before he could process what was happening, Granger's arms had wrapped themselves around his waist. He took a step back in surprise, a gasp escaping him. But she clung to him, warm arms hugging him tightly to her.

Then she looked up at him, her brown eyes shining, and she smiled for half a second…

Before she reached up and slapped him as hard as she possibly could.

Reeling from the sudden pain, Draco tripped backwards, barely catching himself before he fell. He cursed loudly, bringing a hand to his stinging face. Why the hell had she just done that?!

He turned to face her, face shining red where her hand had connected with it, and he opened his mouth to yell at her for her temerity...but his eyes widened and his mouth fell open in shock. There sat Granger, legs sprawled out in the snow as she bawled unashamedly. Her tears poured down her face as she howled incessantly and she gasped for breath between sobs, eyes sad and broken. Her head fell into her hands as she cried, shoulders shaking.

Draco let out a breath of extreme confusion and disbelief. Granger, even though she was drunk, was considerably more interesting than he'd previously thought.

Yet watching her on the ground, sobbing her heart out, and after everything that had happened with her thus far that day, Draco couldn't help but crack a smile. It really was quite funny.

I never would have thought she'd be one to have done all that. Even if it wasn't her mind doing the thinking.

Shaking his head as he let out a chuckle, Draco took the three steps to where she was sitting and picked her up. He didn't trust her to walk herself to the hospital wing, so he carried her himself.

With her in his arms bridal style, Draco stepped into the castle and made his way through the corridors. After a good minute or so, Granger stopped her tears and fell asleep. Her arms clung to his neck, helping to support herself so that she didn't flop over.

Needless to say, this made Draco very uncomfortable.

But he dealt with it; he couldn't just leave her on the floor.

Finally, he reached the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey, who was dealing with a third year Hufflepuff with burns on his arm, turned to see them and walked over calmly.

"Yes?" she said, looking over the girl in Draco's arms. "What'd she do?"

"Too much butterbeer, I think," Draco scoffed, trying to look uncaring as he talked. He didn't want anyone to think that he'd helped her willingly.

"Ah, yes," Pomfrey said, shaking her head. "I've got just the sobering up potion. Better just lay her on that bed over there, deary, and you can go."

Trying very hard not to shudder at the word she'd addressed him as, Draco walked over to a nearby bed and lay Granger down. He had to unclasp her fingers from behind his neck, as they seemed to be stuck permanently there, but they eventually fell away.

Rubbing at where her hands had been, Draco looked at her one last time before turning and skulking away. He would rather not be there when she awoke from both her slumber and her influenced state of mind.

Hopefully she'll just forget anything happened at all, he scoffed in his mind. I definitely wish I could.

But he wouldn't forget. And the fact led nowhere good.

3451 words.

And see, it was fun XD there have been a few reviews that I've gotten where people are like "Whisperblaze, you idiot, where's the Dramione!?" I present to you, the beginning of the Dramione.

Have I been doing good with the timing of it all? Because I've been trying super hard to not rush their relationship like most Dramione authors do. I mean, they do start off hating each other, after all.

Please review! Love you lots!