The usual disclaimers apply.

Chapter 25

The next morning, Hermione could be found at the Great Hall earlier than most students went to have their breakfast. She couldn't' sleep a wink last night and kept shifting in her sleep that she grew tired of it and just gave up all hope of ever having a good night's rest. Not even her energy-draining strategy tired her out when she came back from making her rounds after curfew. When she noticed it was dawn, she grumbled in annoyance and decided to just get up and take some Pepper Up potion to last her the day.

A familiar voice spoke behind her, startling her from her thoughts.

"Well, well. Quite the early bird now, aren't we, Hermione?"

Hermione groaned and closed her eyes. She hadn't expected to see him here.

She and Draco had been on amiable terms since she became Head Girl and him as Head Boy. Reluctant as they were at first, they had no choice but to get along. And Severus had somehow convinced her that Draco was not all that heartless they perceived him to be, but rather just a front since he had a reputation to uphold, being a Malfoy that he was. And to both of their surprise, they found that they can tolerate each other's presence and had somehow gotten along on nights that they patrolled together after curfew.

Hermione turned around to face him, Draco's face having that signature smug look on his face that made him look uniquely handsome.

"Good morning to you, too, Draco." She spoke in a lazy voice.

Draco looked from left to right before taking a seat beside her, not bothering to ask at all, but bushy haired Head Girl didn't budge and just continued to eat her breakfast like he wasn't there.

She wasn't in the friendliest of moods today.

"So, what brings you here early? I must say it's quite a…pleasant surprise." Draco stated the last sentenced almost in a purr, resting his head on his hand, looking at Hermione with a smirk on his face.

The way he looked and sounded to her, sent chills up Hermione's spine.

"Can I help you?" she asked, still not paying him much attention.

Draco made a sound as if hurt, but still remained in his place, still facing Hermione.

"Now is that any way to treat your fellow Head Boy? I'm just trying to get along now. But, if you really hate me that much for what I did before…"

Draco's face was a genuinely sad expression, Hermione thought, as he turned away and stood up to leave. Hermione caught the sleeve of his robes and stopped him from moving away.

"No, Draco, wait…"

He looked at her with that same hurt expression. Hermione sighed heavily as she still tugged at his sleeve.

"I'm sorry. I'm not…I never said I hated you. It's just that…well…I've had a lot of things on my mind lately. I didn't mean to take it out on you."

Draco contemplated her words and sat back down. His expression was no longer of hurt but softened as he looked at her.

"So I noticed," he said as he nodded towards her injured hand. "Does it still hurt?"

"Not as much, it's actually getting better now. Minus the occasional spasms."

"Anything I can do to help?"

"Yes, actually, you can. Pour me some more pumpkin juice, will you?"

Draco snorted in amusement at her humor and complied, pouring her goblet a generous amount.

"You still haven't answered my previous question though. What are you doing so early here?"

"What else? Having my breakfast."

Draco scanned her face, even as she looked away. Hermione blushed a bit at this and grabbed her goblet for a drink.

"Yes, that's all very well. But I'm not actually inquiring as to the reason why you're here, but to the reason why you're here earlier than usual."

She rummaged her brain quickly for a reply. "I couldn't sleep anymore. So I decided to come down for an early breakfast. If the lines under my eyes aren't any indication that I abysmally lack sleep, I don't what is."

Draco only smirked at her remark. He grabbed an empty goblet and poured himself some Pumpkin juice. Scanning the room for any familiar faces, apart from Hermione, there were only the younger Slytherins at their table. Already up and early for their classes.

"Something bothering you?" he asked suddenly.

Hermione stopped chewing, swallowed, then mumbled "Something like that."

"I don't mean to pry," he said thoughtfully, taking a sip from his goblet, "but you'd feel better if you actually talked about it. Preferably with someone listening to you; one would think you're mental if you were talking to yourself." He teased.

Hermione snorted lightly and thought about whether it was a good idea to tell him about her dilemma. It would be nice to have another male's perspective on this. And unlike Harry or Ron, he knew Severus a bit more intimately, being his godson and all.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a while, and then nodded.

"Point taken. But you have to swear to me you won't breathe a word of this to anyone. With the exception of Harry and Ginny, I haven't told anyone else about this." She whispered for only Draco to hear, despite the fact that the nearest person to them were about six feet away from where they sat.

Draco's interest was pricked at this, only Potter and the female Weasley knew?

"You have my word. Care for a walk outside? It's a beautiful day out." He asked, standing up and holding out his arm for her.

"I'd love to." Hermione smiled warmly at him, taking his proffered arm.

With the absence of many students this early in the morning and only the first and second year students mainly occupying the Great Hall, Draco decided it was safe to accompany Hermione outside. He could always use the company of someone like her. It certainly was a breath of fresh air for him to be apart from his cronies; Crabbe and Goyle. The two were dull conversationalists and only did so much to follow him around like two blood hounds, ready to bark and pounce at any student who threatened to stand in his way.

As for others like Pansy Parkinson and Marcus Flint, he didn't think he couldn't stomach any more of their prejudice and false beliefs. And they certainly weren't the type to enjoy the sunshine smothered rounds. Contrary to popular belief, Draco grew to dislike the choices and mistakes his heritage made. But with the presence of the Dark Lord still hovering over them, he had to clamp his mouth shut or someone else would do that for him.

They found the Hermione's favorite spot near the Black Lake and sat side by side under the tree. Hermione flicked her wand and set up a "Muffliato" spell around them, as well as a Cushioning Charm. Now that they were here where they could talk in peace and have no unnecessary disturbances, she didn't know where to start. It wasn't like having a conversation with Harry or Ron where she could just start off wherever she liked. With Draco, she had to be careful what words she used.

Thankfully, he spotted her dilemma and spoke first.

"Let me guess, this is about your love life, isn't it?"

Hermione stared at him, boggled. Draco laughed genuinely at this, which was rare. The Draco Malfoy everyone knew and the Draco Malfoy she knew were entirely different. Which was nice; it made her happy to know she was one of the select few he could open himself to.

"Don't look at me like that, Hermione. As predictable as we men are, so are you women. Sometimes even more so than us." He continued to chuckle. "And I've spent enough time with women of all kinds to know what makes you tick and what brings you down. " then his expression turned serious, "Is this about Weaselby?"

Hermione frowned at the name he used on Ron, but ignored it and sighed.

"No, of course not."

Draco raised his eyebrow inquiringly.

"It's someone else."

"And do I know this 'someone'?"

Hermione was practically twiddling with her thumbs, "You could say that. You certainly know this…someone. I just—I just can't tell you exactly who this someone is."

Draco considered her answer, then nodded. "Fair enough. So what did this someone do exactly?"

"Things didn't work out between us as I expected. I completely deluded myself into thinking he was different from everyone. But I guess matters of the heart are some things books can't teach you."

"No, they can't. And no one said books are the best teachers, nor are people. Our experiences are the best lessons we can teach and learn for ourselves. And you, my friend, are the living example of that." Draco replied, trying to inject a discreet humor as possibly as he could.

"Anyway, the point of the matter is, he lied to me. He lied to me all along." She choked.

"Fool me once, shame on me. Fool me twice, shame on you."

Hermione looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "What?"

"It's a Muggle saying. Haven't you ever heard of it?"

"I have. I just didn't expect you to know about it."

"I have my sources. But as the saying goes, if he's fooled you once, it's your mistake. But if he's fooled you twice, he's dug his own grave."

Hermione continued to look at him, then broke out into a laugh with tears forming in her eyes.

"You're odd sometimes, Draco. Do you know that?"

"Never odd, just unique." Draco fished into his pocket and handed Hermione his embroidered silver handkerchief.

"Anyways, Hermione, if this fool of a man even manages to realize his mistake, I will personally shake his hand and congratulate him. But if he doesn't, it's his loss. You need not grieve over him, because if he doesn't realize what a rare gem you are, then you're better off without him."

Hermione was left speechless. Draco had more wisdom than she gave him credit for, and he was surprisingly sympathetic. She wiped her eyes lightly with his handkerchief and straightened herself up.

"You're right, of course. And now that I've had that off my chest, I don't think I want to talk about him anymore, as you said, he's not worth it." She replied, folding the handkerchief neatly and handing it back to Draco, who politely refused.

"Keep it. Consider it a personal gift from me. They're quite special actually, if you've noticed, they repel any wet and dirt."

"So I see, thank you, Draco. I'll take care of it."

"Glad to hear it. Just don't use it openly in public though. For obvious reasons."

"Of course." She replied, tucking the handkerchief safely in the inner pocket of her robes.

"Not to offend you or anything, Draco, but you weren't this much of a gentleman for the past six years."

"Again, for obvious reasons." He said, disgust evidently dripping in his voice. "That maniac is still out there, and until he does, I'm just like Severus…" Hermione involuntarily winced at the mention of his name, which Draco, thankfully, did not seem to notice. "…we're just a pawn in his demented game. And thanks to my parents' stubborn insolence, they've just doomed my future to eternal slavery to that psychopath, should he win the war."

A shudder escaped Hermione at the thought of Voldemort winning the war. If a pureblood like Draco would become his slave, what would become of a Muggle-born like her?

It would be beyond atrociously gruesome, where Voldemort was concerned; there was no doubt it would be.

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