Looking back Hermione wasn't able to tell how long they had stood there. A minute? Or ten? Maybe an hour even or two. She felt completely disconnected from the world as his arms wrapped gently around her, the only thing she was really aware of was his body close to hers. It almost startled her to realize how content and at ease she felt this very moment.

A painful-looking smile that might have been a grimace flashed over his face. "We have to go..."

Hermione followed his gaze and froze.

There was a single figure walking their direction, too far away to see them.

Yet.

"It's Nott," Draco hissed through his teeth and grabbed her hand. Hermione's heart started beating faster for a reason she couldn't identify. He dragged her to the close outlines of the Forbidden Forest and led her under the dark canopy of a line of trees.

"Do you think he saw us?"

"I don't know if he saw us. I certainly hope he didn't," he remarked and blinked at her. "We can walk back to the Castle in here." He gestured at the trees around them and shrugged lightly. "You must be cold..." he whispered and touched a fingertip to her cheek. His touch sent a chill down her spine.

What a funny thing to see how his demeanor had shifted so quickly.

She shook her head, lightly. "No, I'm fine. Let's go."

"Watch out for roots, I don't want you to trip."

He walked ahead of her and she followed slowly, the huge trees surrounding them offered a perfect hide-out on their way back to the Castle. It also held most of the rain back, it was now more of a faint whiff barely touching them. Hermione's body was shivering nontheless.

They walked in silence, interupted only by curses if one or the other began to stagger over a root or was hit by an outsticking branch.

There was no sign of Nott and soon after, they left the safety of the Forest and reached the Castle. Hermione stopped awkwardly infront of the Great Staircase while Draco was already a few feet away from her, heading to the Dungeons. He came to a halt as he noticed that Hermione wasn't behind him.

"Aren't you coming?" he asked, confused.

She took an usually large amount of time catching up with him, mumbling under her breath. "Going where?"

He looked at her as if the answer was obvious. "To my room, Granger. You are wet and my room is closer. You can clean yourself up there?" he answered impatiently.

And she did so, following after him as they marched through the Dungeons and reached his room. He opened the door for her and entered after her, throwing his soaked cloak on the floor. Coozy warmness welcomed them. It was the first time, Hermione recognized, that she saw Draco's room. It was unlike anything she had expected and her mouth widened in surprise. She shifted, one foot to the other, and looked around him. The room was bare with the exception of a bed, desk and closet. A chair was shoved carelessly against a wall. If this was his room, then why wasn't there anything personal? She couldn't even see any pictures at the wall. But the most dominant and irritating factor about his room was that the usual grey and silver walls, representatives of his House, were missing. Instead, someone - Draco himself, she assumed - had painted them white. It seemed fairly sterile.

Draco watched her with amusement. "Is anything wrong?"

She hadn't noticed that she had reached out and let her fingertips stroke against the wall, she drew them back slowly and turned to look at him. "Nothing at all," she lied.

He raised an eyebrow. "So...you want a towel or anything?"

"Actually, I'm hungry."

He looked at her with an upturn of his nose. "I don't have food here...I could go to the Kitchen?"

"No, I'm fine. Just give me a towel, please."

He handed her a towel out of his closet and she caught herself rubbing the soft fabric of it against her cheek. It had an unfamiliar scent to it, comparable to soap and something like salt...but the complete opposite. Unsure why this even mattered she began rubbing it against her long curls, knowing that her hair would soon look like a haystack. She walked infront of his mirror and spent an unusual large amount of time in front of it, doing her hair. It flopped this way, came undone that way, and she smoothed her long fingers through it. She ended up with an up-do.

Suddenly there were hands on her, touching the small of her back. She shivered and saw Draco's reflection inside of the mirror as he stood behind her, turning her around to face him. His expression was illegible.

"Draco, I -" She breathed out and fixed her gaze on a spot on his chin. She didn't bear to look into his eyes now.

He made a sound, low in his throat, that sounded much like he was surprised. His wet fingers were suddenly crawling up her spine to the back of her neck until they reached her hair band and pulled softly on it, freeing her mane. They fell loosely down her shoulders, tickling the back of her neck.

Hermione opened her mouth to talk but he unran her. "This is much better." He turned away from her, unknowing that for the first time Hermione was at a complete loss for words.

Draco left without another word and didn't come back for ten minutes. When he did return, he held up two bottles of water and a pack of sandwiches.

"The elves offered me a whole bunch of different dishes but I figured we could just settle for sandwiches." Actually, he had no idea what food she liked but he didn't mention that. Instead he passed her one of the bottles, and she stared a long moment at the sandwiches. It was made by House-Elves. Of course, that was obvious from the sheer fact that he'd gotten it from the kitchen... but still. At this very moment, she didn't care about S.P.E.W at all.

They settled down on the cold floor and drank in silence for a moment. "Well?" she asked.

He sat his bottle on the floor, avoiding her eyes. "Well, what?"

"Why wasn't Nott allowed see us?" she asked slowly.

Draco took a bite from his sandwich and answered just as slowly while he chewed. "I didn't want to get in trouble for ditching class."

She raised an eyebrow. "He's your friend, he wouldn't have told on you."

He drank from his water and he swished it around his mouth for a prolonged amount of time, Hermione grew impatient in the meanwhile. She had forgotten her hunger completely.

"Granger, he fancies you," he finally said.

Hermione choked on her water and spat most of it out. He watched her curiously as she started to cough while she tried to speak. "Wha...what...Nott?"

He rolled her eyes and shrugged, lightly. The conclusion had been tucked into the back of his mind for a long time already, ever since Theo had given him a black eye to be exact. As far as Draco was concerned, the only reason why he didn't want him to see Hermione again was because he had a crush on her.

Good old jealousy.

"Remember my black eye? He gave it to me as he found out that I had visited you." He stopped as he saw how Hermione's eyes wandered to his, examining the slowly fading bruises. "Theo asked me not to see you again and I severly doubt that he was worried about my good name. If that was the case, he would have simply told me not to see you again, because you wouldn't be good company, not a good match for me. But I think his punch explains itself. He was jealous of me."

Hot blood pumped itself through her body and into her heart, and the shock quickly ebbed away to be replaced by an ashamed emotion that swirled through her whole being in a warm and fuzzy manner.

A good match.

He looked taken aback while she tried to catch her breath, and he leaned his back against his bed, staying perfectly still until Hermione finally spoke again.

"I don't think I ever really spoke to him," she muttered, more to herself than him.

Draco's eyes scanned her face and he exhaled a deep breath as to find the strength to speak the next words which left his lips. "You are beautiful. I'm sure that's a contributing factor for his feelings. Or the only reason, I reckon."

Hermione didn't know what to say to this, so she remained silent while her mind worked rapidly. Beautiful. He had just called her beautiful. No one apart from Viktor and Ron had ever called her beautiful before, but Ron didn't really count. Neither did Viktor, considering that their relationship had been doomed before it had even started. She stared at Draco.

His eyebrows shot up and he smirked lightly. "What, never heard the word beautiful before?"

Her blush darkened and she took an extremely long sip from her waterbottle to find an adequate answer but nothing made sense to her right now so she shrugged lightly. He laughed.

"You might not be a good match for me, Granger, but I am still a man. I see beauty when I look at you."

The conversation grew more and more awkward in Hermione's opinion and she let her eyes wander around his room to find any inspiration to provide a change of topic.

"What exactly do you know about the Patronus Charm?" She finally asked.

The sudden topic change startled him but he nodded slowly and answered. "A Patronus Charm is an insubstantial animal protector created by the advanced incantation 'Expecto Patronum'. It is a useful defense against Dementors and other Dark creatures." She was surprised that he knew that much. But then again, why wouldn't he? Just because she was the top of the class didn't mean that any other student was stupid, she had to remind herself once again.

"To be able to conjure a Patronus you have to concentrate on the happiest memory you can think of," Hermione added and nibbled on her sandwich some more. "I figured you could start thinking about what your happiest memory is before we go and try it out."

He hung his head, staring down at the last drops in his waterbottle. "I have no idea."

"You must have one, at least." She said, finding her business-like mood emerging, the familiar emotion that came every time she had to function as a tutor. This situation wasn't any different, she tried to tell herself.

Just look at him and imagine it would be Ron. Or Neville.

Somehow, her face turned into a grimace at that thought.

As Draco remained silent she nudged her foot against his leg to force him to look at her but he was still avoiding her eyes. She sighed out. "Come on, it can't be that hard."

"Maybe the day my father got me my first puppy?" He asked sarcastically but Hermione smiled a pleased smile.

"You had a dog?"

"Mhm. Among other animals," he mumbled and shrugged. "He would give me anything I wanted."

Hermione noticed the bitterness in his voice but fought the urge to reach out and comfort him. Right now, he seemed so vulnerable again. She frowned deeply. "What was its name?"

"Fluffers," he grimaced. "In my defense, I was five and thought he was the fluffiest thing on this planet."

Hermione laughed gently. He risked a glance at her and smiled lightly.

"That's pretty...cute," she chuckled and he stared at her now.

"You think so?"

She nodded in response and closed her eyes. Suddenly she imagined a little light haired boy chasing a small puppy across the yard. Or said puppy curled up on the boy's bed at night while he was sleeping. She liked that picture.

"I don't know if it's a strong enough memory but it's worth a try. Do you have anything else in mind?" She asked and crossed her legs.

"The first quidditch game I won?" He suggested and chewed on the inside of his lip. He was merely naming day-to-day situation, he couldn't even remember the last time he felt happy.

"That's something Harry tried when he learned how to conjure it. As far as I remember, it wasn't strong enough." Hermione explained matter-of-factly and shrugged. She knew that she was lacking an Y-chromosome to fully understand men's fascination with Quidditch.

"I'm not Scarhead, though," Draco said sourly.

"I know that."

"Then don't compare me to him, please." His voice was suddenly harsh, even though he realized she hadn't told him off about calling her precious friend 'Scarhead'.

"I wasn't!"

Draco shrugged it off and turned his attention back to his bottle, smacking it lightly against his thighs. Hermione sighed out deeply and looked down. Silence embraced them again and for a good ten minutes no one would say anything until the Slytherin Boy cleared his throat.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"For what?"

"I shouldn't have snapped at you like that."

"And I shouldn't have compared you to Harry, I'm sorry." Hermione admitted.

He looked over at her and smiled apologetically, the corners of her own mouth twitched immediately and she smiled back.

"What else?" She inquired, her fingers running through her almost dry hair.

"Would a dream count?" He deliberated slowly, avoiding her gaze once again.

"I don't know...tell me about it?" She asked, more out of curiosity.

He shook his head forcefully, his grip on his bottle tightened. "I'd rather not." He half-shut his eyes and remembered one dream he had had the night he had gotten his Dark Mark. He had dreamed that he hadn't been chosen to kill Dumbledore, that he and his family was safe.

"As you wish," Hermione simply said and stared down, her cheeks burning once again. For some reason, she had expected that he would tell her, be open-hearted infront of her once more. She was making a fool out of herself again, she realized with grudge.

There was another intense pause and Draco rose to his feet. His wet shirt was clinging tightly to his skin as he moved, Hermione noticed and watched faint outlines of tightening muscles sticking out against the fabric of his shirt. She pried her gaze away from him as he turned his back on her and began to unbotton his shirt, stuffing it into his closet as he reached for a fresh one. Hermione risked another glance just as he pulled it over his head.

She gasped loudly.

Draco turned around, confusion changing his features. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she lied and bit into her sandwich again. She had just seen a strange pattern on his skin, a single black line carved like ink into his skin as far as she could tell. Before she had been able to look closer, textile fabric had already covered it.

It can't be that, Hermione. Don't jump into conclusions now.

Draco reached into his closet once more and fished something out of it which looked remarkably like a hoodie. He handed it to her. "You can pull that on if you get too cold," he muttered and brushed a finger through her hair. The hair on the back of her neck stood up immediately and she hugged it tightly to her chest. The smell of soap hit her nostrils again.

He dropped a leaf that had been tangled inside of her curls and sat back down across from her. "What do you think about when you conjure a Patronus?"

Hermione forced herself to look back at him, shrugging slowly. "The day I found out that what I could do was magic," she began and let her mind fill with the memory of Dumbledore sitting in their livingroom at home, explaining to her and her parents that she had been accepted at Hogwarts. Dumbledore had been completely out of place sitting there on their red sofa but somehow, he had captured her fascination and gained her trust immediately. "I will never forget the expression on my parent's faces," she added with a smile.

"I assume they were proud?"

"Of course," she said, a little snippy.

"That must be nice, to have your parents be proud of you," he whispered, barely loud enough for her to hear him.

"Aren't your parents ever proud of you?"

Draco laughed half-heartedly. "My mother, yes. But I can never live up to my father's expectations. I'm not good enough, as a wizard and a son."

"That's sad," Hermione admitted with honest sympathy and her eyes searched for his. He shrugged.

"After a while, you get used to it. My aunt bursts with pride, instead. She never had a son, so I am the closest to a family she has. As far as she is able to have familial feelings, I might add. I think I've never seen her that happy until the day that I was chosen. I think she even shed one or two tears of joy," he snorted and shook his head, unaware how much he had just revealed.

Hermione's horrified face told him enough.

"What did you say?"

"Fuck!" Draco cursed under his breath and jumped to his feet, hauling her along. "You got to go, Granger," he snarled and pushed her toward the door. She wrestled against his grip and cried out.

"You were chosen? For what?"

"That's none of your fucking business," he screamed and yanked the door open, shoving her outside. She almost fell to the ground.

"You are one of them, aren't you? I saw your Dark Mark," she yelled, suddenly more furiated than concerned.

"You saw nothing. Nothing!" His chest heaved quickly, his heartbeat had accelerated so much that he felt like if he had just run a marathon. "Get out. Go home. NOW!"

He slammed the door shut infront of her, not seeing that her face began to burn as hot tears ran down her cheeks.

All good days must come to an end, don't they?