What the hell do you buy the wizard who has everything, and everything he doesn't have his parent will get him anyways? Hermione rumbled as she headed down the streets of London towards the Leaky Cauldron. Everything worth having in the wizarding world was already somewhere in Draco's possession, or would be soon thanks to his doting parents. And like I'd be stupid enough to give him something from the Muggle world, yeah that'd go over great with his group. And worse, it's gotta be romantic, but thoughtful. Wait, Rachelle's kind of ditzy, would she give him something thoughtful? Hermione shook her head. One of her biggest worries was whether or not she could become friends with Draco after this was over.

Something in another store window caught her eye. Stopping to read the sign in the window beside the display that had caught her eye, Hermione read to herself out loud; " Yellow and white gold lockets, engravings available." Well, I guess it couldn't hurt. I can even put a picture of Rachelle in it so it looks more realistic. She stepped inside and walked out a few minutes later with a receipt, and a promise that the piece would be ready by the end of the business day.

That saves me an exhaustingly long trip around Diagon alley and maybe even Knockturn alley. The girl thought cheerfully, laughing while shaking her now long, straight black hair. Then she realised that she didn't really have anything to do for the rest of the day while she waited for the locket to be ready. Well, maybe I'll get to my room at the Leaky Cauldron a bit early, and get some reading done. It would be nice to get some reading done without having Victor looking over her shoulder or having to worry about Draco for a while. Hermione looked down at her watch. It's almost noon, I should get something to eat and then I'll come back 'round five and pick up Draco's present. I don't have to take the Floo Network to the Three Broomsticks. Turning into the door that Hermione knew muggles couldn't see, a bell rang as she stepped into the warm bar.

"Good day to you, young miss." Thee toothy bartender said with a grin. "Can I get you anything to drink or are you just passing through?"

Okay, now time to test your acting skills. Hermione smiled back and laughed the tinkly laugh she'd invented for this character. "Thank you, but I don't drink. I actually have a room reserved, under the name Maison?" She said in the French accent she'd also been practicing lately.

The bartender went behind the wall and came back with a large, dusty ledger. "Ah yes, you've got a single for tonight. I wasn't expecting you till a bit later, but the room's empty now, so it suits just fine. I'll send up something to eat if you'd like?" He asked, again smiling hugely.

"Some dinner would be lovely, just tell me the room number, I don't have any bags that I can't carry myself." She felt incredibly ditzy speaking in that high-pitched accent, but it was for the best that she act as little like herself as possible, since Hermione would have to convince almost all of the Slytherin house tomorrow.

"Name's Tom, just ring if you need anything else, Miss." The bartender said as he handed her a small silver key.

"I will, thank you. I'm not particular about food, Just be sure that it's hot and ready in twenty minutes." Hermione kept a straight face as she made her way up the stairs and down the hall to her room. It was nice enough, clean with a washbasin, vanity—and a squawking owl on the windowsill.

"Oh, you must be from Draco!" Hermione said smiling when she recognised the bird as the one she'd been corresponding with for the last few months. She petted him with one hand while the other took the thick envelope from his leg. When she'd first met the bird, he'd tried to bite her fingers off, but now he was accustomed to her touch, and seemed to enjoy the petting almost as much as Crookshanks did.

"Aren't you a good boy." She crooned, and looked around the room for something to give him. There was a small space beside the windowsill that held a small metal bowl with mesh covering and a lock. Using the key to her room, Hermione opened the lid to the bowl, revealing two separate parts, one for water and another which held some owl treats. After filling up on the treats and water, the owl took off.

Might as well read what Draco sent this time, hopefully I don't have to send a reply today, I don't have an owl handy, since his just left in quite a hurry. He recognised my smell but not how I look I guess. Hermione sat down and opened the envelope, out of which fell a small bag filled with gold coins. A note was attached to it that said "For the room, and everything." Hermione added it all up in her head and the gold covered exactly everything she'd spent on him—the ingredients for the Polyjuice potion, the rooms at both the Leaky Caldron and the Three Broomsticks—everything except the locket, which he didn't know she was planning on getting him anyways.

The greeting in the letter itself made Hermione gasp. How could Draco do it? He knew better than anyone the risks, and what could be more risky than this? You idiot! And yet something struck a chord in the girl when she re-read the greeting, and realised this was the first time he'd ever sent a single letter addressed to her by her real name.

Dear Hermione,

I know that it's probably a bad idea to address this to you, but the envelope says 'Rachelle' so it can't be that bad, right? I just wanted to send one letter where I wasn't faking my feelings or lying about my life, so I could tell you how much the last few months have meant to me.

I do this all the time, when I send letters to my father, I tell him that everything's fine, that I'm in a serious relationship with a pureblood witch in Slytherin, and that I have done nothing but uphold the family name the whole time. I tell my mother that I'm in love with Pansy, and that I might one day marry her, just to make her happy. I send you letters that say I am hopeless over some strange French witch who I've only ever corresponded to through these letters. I've never been sick of lying and cheating and sneaking around before, it came to me naturally and I thought that I would always be able to do it with a straight face. But I can't.

You've helped me try to get back what was mine, but I don't know now if I want it. Bring back even one small part of my old life and you bring back everything, the lies, and the false emotions— going through the motions of being a person while forgetting to actually be a person. With you it's been easy to remember, and even though it all started with a stupid deal, I don't want it to end when these rings are gone.

I'm not saying I'm in love with you. Don't get that idea at all! I mean, I want to be friends, and that's dangerous enough, without even imagining us as a couple—something I think we can both agree would be a bad idea. I know it would probably mean even more lying and secrets, just like we've both been doing, and like I've done my whole life.

I think this is different though. Before I had to keep all my secrets to myself, and you must have things in your life you've felt you can't share with your so-called "friends" who don't even support your relationship whole-heartedly. During the time I've spent with you I've learned a lot about you, and I've felt at ease telling you about my life. I guess I'm asking if you feel the same way? Could we be the friends that keep each other's secrets? Could we be each other's secret? I think that would be the difference in my life that I need to grow up properly, having a real friend.

Think about it, and answer me tomorrow night? I've already gotten permission from my father to hold a party at the Three Broomsticks, and he's agreed to pay for it, and I've invited all the Slytherins in our year.

Sincerely,

Draco M.

P.S. I know it's my birthday tomorrow, but I've got something for you later. Don't think of it as part of the 'deal' it's just a thank-you for everything outside what you said you'd do anyways.

When she finished reading, Hermione fell backwards onto the bed, closing her eyes tight, trying to sort through the feelings in her heart. Just four months ago Draco Malfoy was her hated enemy, now they were involved in some twisted form of partnership, after which he wanted to continue it as a friendship?

"You've helped my try to get back what was mine, but I don't know now if I want it."

He mentioned that the deal was still on at the end of the letter, but what did he plan on doing if not getting Pansy back?

"Imagining us as a couple—something I think we can both agree would be a bad idea."

Yes of course it would, Harry would probably flip and Ron would hunt Draco down like an animal—not that she'd thought about being a couple with Draco, it was just obvious common sense.

"Could we be friends that keep each other's secrets? Could we be each other's secret?"

That and the line about "real friends" made him sound like such a child, it made Hermione sad. He really hadn't had a normal childhood, no real friends, no unconditional love from his parents, and no wonder he'd turned into such a monster. Had she really made some kind of difference in Draco? There might actually be some good in him, and the girl felt that she'd seen glimpses of it over the months.

"I'm not saying I'm in love with you. Don't get that Idea at all!"

He wasn't saying it, but was he feeling it? What did she feel? They'd gotten quite close sometimes, whispering things and keeping secrets, and laughing together, was it truly impossible that over the months she'd grown to care for him? When they'd gone a whole month without seeing each other, hadn't she looked more forward to the letters every night, even if they were all coded messages about business? Maybe not all of the, there were a few jokes thrown in sometimes, and Hermione always smiled when she read something funny about Victor, because even though Draco never said she shouldn't date the older boy, he did tease her sometimes, the way she'd wished Harry and Ron would, instead of getting angry and then later acting like it was nothing.

Lunch showed up while Hermione was still trying to figure everything out. She picked at her food even though she was actually starving, and tucked the letter into the same secret fold she kept the vials of potion in, taking one out and drinking it with her tea to drown out the taste. Hermione didn't know how the other girl tasted, and she didn't particularly want to find out.

After trying and failing to read and keep her mind off of the letter, Hermione got an idea. She grabbed a piece of parchment and quill. On it she wrote:

I'm warning you I'm not used to writing poetry, but I thought this up and it seemed like the perfect way to tell you how I feel.

I needed someone
Someone that I can run
To when I feel down
You are that person for me
I know no other
We wonder what's meant to be
And I think it's this
I don't know why
But I have this feeling
That only you and I can see
The light that shines when
We are together
My heart is telling me
That though I'm scared to admit it
You mean more to me than you think you do

This might be what they call love.

When she was done Hermione folded the parchment as small as she could get it, and stuck it into her pocket. She didn't know how she would give it to Draco, or even if she would. It would all depend on what happened tomorrow. She would of course want a friendship with Draco, but the girl couldn't do it without acknowledging the fact that she wanted more than just that. And if she couldn't give it to him in person from her, she'd make a speech as Rachelle and then she could let it off her chest that way and no one would be the wiser. Hopefully Draco was just dense enough not to see through it.

At five o' clock sharp Hermione headed to the shop she'd paid for the locket in, and smiled politely at the small odd man who pronounced that this was his "best work ever" and that Draco would "Forever cherish such a beautiful gift from such a pretty girl."

When he said this, Hermione remembered that she didn't look like herself, but the girl Draco had described as his "dream girl," so the compliment was rather hollow.

"Of course he'll act lovely to me, I'm his perfect woman." She muttered to herself as she almost sprinted back to the Leaky Cauldron, trying to hold back tears. Hermione left orders with Tom not to be woken up at nine and no later, but with only a knock at the door and demanding that no one enter her room to clean while she was sleeping. She asked that something be sent up for supper hot, and ready in twenty minutes, just like before.

Then she sat in front of the vanity, staring at the beautiful, regal-looking face of "rachelle Maison," with her blue eyes and raven black hair, straight as a pin that never dared frizz or curl. The thin face and high cheekbones were so different than Hermione's face, she began to cry again, feeling hopeless and ugly.

That night she dreamt she was an ugly duckling that had to sip from a magical pool to become a swan and stay that way every day. But the pool was draining away, soon she would be all out, and then the cold, beautiful male swan would laugh when he saw that she was just pretending to be pretty this whole time, when she was really just a grey and black duck.