AN: I am astounded by the amount of response I got! Thank you so much for the follows and reviews, that all seriously means the world to me. It can be just the thing I need sometimes to help keep the motivation juices flowing.

I know this story has a lot of cliché aspects to it (Hermione and Ron break-up, 8th year, Draco being uncharacteristically nice) but I did what I had to do to fit the story the way I want it. I hope regardless, you can still find enjoyment in reading this fic. Thanks again.

Also I forgot to mention in the first chapter that I don't own anything and I'm not getting paid to write this. J.K. Rowling owns it all and I worship her.

Finders Keepers
Chapter Two
-o-

March 14th, 1999

It was Friday night around seven, full moon large and white in the twinkling ink sky. Most of the students at Hogwarts were getting some much needed down-time after a hefty week of school-work. The fifth years had their OWLs soon and not only did the seventh years have their NEWTs coming up in a few, fleeting months but the eighth years would be taking the exams as well, which they were very much entitled to.

Hermione couldn't wait, for her life after Hogwarts to begin. She'd been ecstatic to return at the beginning, sure but she was over nineteen years old now, would be twenty once autumn rolled around… Yes, she knew by graduation she'd finally be ready to leave her beloved academia and start her career at the Ministry straight away.

So many memories here, amazing memories, horrific memories… and now recently there'd been some not so great instances. She and Ronald had been drifting further apart from each other and she had to admit, at this point she fully welcomed the moments she didn't have to answer to anybody, to answer to a boy and his whims. What about her whims? He'd long dismissed her ideas, her emotions. She was bloody tired of it and felt she at least deserved someone who genuinely still cared about the things she had to say, someone who could actually keep up with her in an intellectual discussion, who listened. Was it such a crime, to want that? It certainly didn't help matters that Ron had no self-control over his anger. He couldn't keep his temper in check or remain level-headed when things got shaky.

And she'd understood it all, she had. Hermione had been extremely patient with him, but it got to be too much sometimes. It wasn't like they could just hold hands and it'd be all better again no, it wasn't that simple she supposed.

She was really, very sad, holed up in her bedchambers and for once, not even concentrating on the sheets of parchment or the books before her. The end of their short-lived romance was moving in on them. Cupid himself pulled the arrows back out their bums and snapped them like twigs. Hermione only hoped that when she finally sat Ron down to talk it out and break things off that she and him could remain friends, or at least cordial. One thing she couldn't bear to live without was her kinship with Ronald. She had a feeling however, that for this at least they were on the same page and it wouldn't come as much of a shock. Ron, and even Harry and Ginny, they all knew exactly what was coming. It'd be mutual, she reasoned. Most likely, Ron was just as sick of it all as she and honestly it'd been pretty toxic for everyone who'd ever gotten wrapped up in their petty arguments. Yes, yes – it was in everyone's best interest, and even if she and Ronald stayed friends she reckoned they'd still need a lot more time apart to fully recover.

Hermione wished she wasn't dragging it out so. She'd meant to take him aside today, she really did but no moment ever seemed right…

Tap, tap.

There was an owl rapping on her window. Brought out of her doleful reverie by the disturbance, Hermione got up to let it inside. "Hello there," she cooed sweetly. The large eagle owl gave a proud hoot and lifted its claw to show the rolled letter attached. "I recognize you…" she said to the bird, her eyes narrowing at the parchment. Why would he be writing to her? Nevertheless she untied it and gave the owl a handful of treats.

Before she could completely unbind the letter though the owl was finished his snack and flying swiftly back out to the night breeze. Hermione thought that was odd… wasn't he going to want a reply? Quickly she unrolled it and read.

Granger,

Meet me on the seventh-floor corridor at 9pm, this night. I'll be waiting in the alcove between the North Wing and the old RoR. This may or may not be considered urgent.

Malfoy

'What in the dickens?' she thought. What urgent matter could there possibly be? It wasn't like they were prefects this year, or anything. No, unfortunately Hermione hadn't the privilege to be Head Girl like she'd always strived for but if she were being honest, she was quite glad for the lack of responsibilities she had for once.

So what was Malfoy on about? Well it wasn't like she was going to just brush it off as nothing. Whatever it was, it'd been enough to get him to reach out to her. Even if she somehow talked herself out of it, the curiosity that'd instantly grown and made a home in her brain would surely never let her get to sleep. At least he'd only asked her to go up one flight of stairs. Malfoy was the one who was walking all the way up to the top of the castle from the dungeons – that was commitment.

Besides… maybe he wanted to say something similar to what he'd said to Harry. What if he felt inclined to apologize? That'd made Hermione want to laugh for it would've been absolutely preposterous. Yet he'd politely approached Harry and thanked him (she was thoroughly disappointed she hadn't been around to witness such a transcendent moment), and he'd kept his mouth shut about their identities at the manor. She wouldn't forget that. It'd been pivotal, a risk. Malfoy had put himself on the line for them and it'd shown her the true character that was somewhere within. Hermione knew then there was hope for him yet.

She felt a bit ashamed at herself, for not really acknowledging it but for the majority of the year Malfoy had rather kept to himself. Hermione couldn't actually remember a time she'd seen him out and about with the usual snakes, or anyone else for that matter except for taking meals in the Great Hall. What was else, he'd barely made a peep throughout the couple of classes they were in together, which was the strangest thing because Malfoy used to love to hear himself talk. He'd actually been quite devious when it came to gossip, he was always on the lookout for any dirt he could use against Harry, or she and Ron. His tongue had constantly wagged, complained, insulted people…

Now Malfoy's participation had been the bare minimum and he'd left everyone alone, most likely in the hopes they'd do the same. From what Hermione knew at least his grades weren't suffering like they'd been during sixth year. He was right behind her in that department. It seemed his health was back to normal too. He used to look like you could blow at him and he'd fall over, but that hadn't been for a while. He looked good, frankly.

Hermione felt it'd definitely be nice to see a different side of Draco Malfoy, a better side. Something about this entire thing made her all aflutter with nerves though. Dare she say it, she felt afraid of what exactly was in store for her at that nook on the seventh-floor.

-o-

Draco was usually quite good at these sorts of things – compelling beautiful witches to talk to him, spend time with him, to kiss him but now he felt his whole vibe was totally off. Never had he felt so rusty, writing to a female to try and get her to meet him some place. It wasn't like he was going to outright seduce her or anything but it might be beneficial perhaps, if he'd put a tiny inkling of the idea in her head and see where that took him.

He'd attempted to capture Granger's attention by implying that this might all be very urgent and Draco figured that'd be thought-provoking enough for her to come find him. He had a vague plan, he smelled clean and fresh, and he was taking a couple of deep breaths to center himself before her inevitable arrival.

Minutes later, it was exactly nine in the evening and there she was, punctual as ever standing in the archway of the little alcove Draco always liked to come to. Her face, which had an expression of deep concern, was illuminated by the bright light of Lumos protruding from her wand-tip.

"Granger," he greeted with a single nod of his head, his silver hair falling in his eyes. He kept his shoulders set straight but casual, gaze not leaving her as she stepped in and surveyed the nook for anything out of the ordinary. Most likely looking for traps, or a set-up, he mused. He didn't blame her.

"Hello Malfoy," she responded as her eyes raked him over, trepidation very apparent in her demeanor. She was wearing her cloak, like he was (it was often freezing in this ancient fortress) but underneath he could see a soft blue sweater and muggle denim. Her curls were rested above in a functional, messy bun and there were a few loose tendrils framing her heart-shaped features. She was really very endearing…

Draco remained seated where he was but took the book from beside him and slowly set it in his lap as she stood in front of him. His lips curled into a tempestuous smirk, his shining eyes searching hers; he had a secret and damnit, he didn't want to let it go. Although he had to concede – the potential alternative was far too tempting for him to pass up.

One of Hermione's perfectly sculpted brows quirked in light annoyance at his smirking, yet she noticed he didn't hold the smarmy air of pride and arrogance that he once did. Actually it seemed he was being rather coy with her. He clearly knew something she didn't and the observation of his warm, teasing countenance sped her heartrate to light-speed at once.

"Thanks for meeting me here," Draco drawled calmly before she got to saying anything, "Sorry it's so late…" he trailed off, looking down at the book and back at her but Hermione was already shook on the inside from Malfoy saying thank you and sorry all in one go – not that that'd been what he'd meant, of course. It was just kind of funny. Was he trying to freak her out on purpose?

"That's okay, it is Friday," Hermione stowed her wand away, the brief shock wearing off. "Is… is everything alright?" she questioned tentatively, twiddling her fingers. Draco closed his eyes, shaking his head and snickering as he held out the text for her to take. Hermione blinked at it, perplexed but took it nonetheless and read the cover. "This is the Charms text,"

There was a twinkling in Draco's gaze, "Yes," he replied, as if the purpose of it was obvious.

She stared at him quizzically, almost laughing. "Well, what about it? What, Malfoy is so urgent about this?" He must be having a go at her. Her neck was already growing wildly hot from the oncoming embarrassment of what he might possibly be scheming.

He waved her off dismissively and stood up from the stone bench, sighing, "Listen Granger, just pass this message along for me, will you? Tell Weasley he'd do better not to leave such precious belongings lying about for just anyone to come and find."

"What? But this is just a textbook..." she grumbled disbelievingly, "Ron Weasley doesn't think of his textbooks as precious, Malfoy even you know that," she chuckled, completely exasperated but when she opened the tome a startled gasp escaped her of her own volition.

There, in between the first page and the hardback cover, right underneath the spot where it had Ron Weasley's name scribbled haphazardly was the moving portrait she'd taken of herself for said wizard. It'd been a surprise, a kind of silly but very sensual and romantic gift she'd given him a day prior to losing their virginities together, just a week before her birthday that previous September.

She gasped again, one that was more laden with horror – the frightening sensation that the world was crashing down on her was beginning to set in. Malfoy had seen this. He'd seen it. Oh gods, she could die, she might. She wouldn't be able to stop herself if she fainted then and there, she almost thought she was. Hermione's hand was over her mouth, then on her face, rubbing her temple with the onslaught of a trauma-induced headache. Her face was scorching, vision blurred and for a second she was about to vomit.

Draco tried to contain himself as he watched the typhoon of befuddlement and hysteria swirl about in her expressions – the true realization was dawning on her. She was starting to understand, understand what he'd been privy to though he'd have preferred her not to seem as if she were sick from the knowledge. Did the idea of him disgust her that much?

His hand shaking, it hovered above her petite frame before decidedly resting it on her shoulder. This was his feeble attempt at a comforting gesture; he didn't want her to fall over for Salazar's sake. He was sniggering but not maliciously so – her reactions were just incredibly amusing. She was stumbling about feverishly, groaning, holding her head in her hands and then glaring at him heatedly with untapped anger.

"Look, I get it," he tried, "It's more than unfortunate that I had to be the one to find this little… treasure, that anyone had to find it at all, which brings us right back to the point," she had most of her balance back and was taking in his every word as he towered above. Hermione honed in on the sincerity in his stare, acutely aware of his pale thumb tapping at her collarbone and she did her best to ignore the prickling of gooseflesh along her bosom. "People shouldn't forget they have something so, so… they shouldn't forget having something like that with them," he bit his lip, his cheeks pink and warm. A bead of sweat ran down his spine despite the chill in the air and Granger, it looked as if she didn't know what to make of this. She was gaping at him like he'd just grown three heads, as if she'd never truly seen him before until now. She mustn't have had any idea how lovely she actually was, her chest heaving with each breath, the fluttering of her dark lashes. "I mean really, you're just…" he swallowed thickly, his voice gruff with lust. "You're lucky I'm even giving it back to you." Draco made himself finish promptly, releasing his grasp on her shoulder. Hermione instantly felt a thousand degrees cooler without his touch, but what he'd just confessed sparked within her a mild hostility towards the snake.

"Lucky am I?" she began, offended. "You would have just kept it for yourself then, yeah? Well, that's not right Malfoy, that's-"

"No it isn't, is it? So why do you think I gave it back to you then?" That was true, Hermione thought. He did give it back, though it wasn't clear just how long he'd had it to begin with. She couldn't be totally sure yet but it seemed that he wasn't plotting to use this against her… plus he'd gone out of his way to make sure it'd been returned in a discreet manner. "I'm just saying that if this had happened before the war, I might not have made the same decision."

After a moment, "Why did you give it back?" she queried but she knew the answer.

"You know why, I had plenty of reasons to."

This wasn't easy for Hermione to understand. He'd actually wanted to keep the picture? He thought that it was… it was precious? That meant that… meant that Malfoy actually liked the way she looked. Well, that was certainly news to her. Since when did the ferret-boy ever find her attractive? There'd never been any inclination whatsoever… he'd always considered her the mousy, bossy and uptight bookworm, he'd hated her guts she thought. Had this picture of her changed his mind? Or had he always thought her outward appearance appealing in some way? Merlin, she had so many questions, but her mouth was having a difficult time asking him any of them. Should she even dare to?

He was talking again, she was listening in wonderment, "Like I said, I'm sorry it had to be me and… well, I'm sorry for-for everything I did to you, so unbelievably so," he shook his head, distressed from the memories, "I know my pitiful apology doesn't actually erase history but… just take it or leave it, I guess," he took a few steps towards the archway, readying to leave but he turned back to her for a last look and told her, "Thank you, Granger, for showing up for me, for speaking on my behalf at the trial. You saved my life just down the hall there when I didn't deserve your mercy. Words cannot express…" Draco was completely flustered with himself; he felt that was absolutely enough honesty for one night or the brain inside his skull would melt to mush. He disappeared from the alcove before he could hear her response, before he could hear if she'd accepted his plea of atonement. He wasn't sure he could see her sweet smile again in such close vicinity without wanting to cover her lips with his own.

-o-

March 15th, 1999

The next morning before breakfast, Hermione left her living quarters on the sixth-floor and sat herself on the bench at the end of the Fat Lady's corridor by the Gryffindor common room. From here she could see in almost all directions. She was waiting for Ron to walk by so she could reprimand him, so she could end things. It was time. She hadn't wanted to face him at breakfast without going to him about the issue first, it wouldn't have been a good idea to sit there at the table and pretend there was nothing wrong when everything was wrong… well, between she and Ronald anyway. She couldn't believe his idiocy sometimes. The nerve of him to think keeping the portrait stashed inside something like a textbook was okay…

Ginevra was the first of her friends to walk by, gliding with poise behind Fay Dunbar. She looked afresh, awake; her hair appeared blown out and brushed, a voluminous, pin-straight shock of copper which fell to her chest. Her bright tawny eyes were alight with unbidden energy and she had a little skip in her step, ready to begin her day. Hermione wished she felt as chipper as Ginny looked.

The red-head noticed her immediately, "Hey Hermione,"

"Hello," Hermione greeted with a half-hearted smile, but she'd tried not to let on just how upset she really was. Ginny was perceptive, however.

"What's wrong?"

Hermione balked, not sure what to say at first but, "It's fine. You'll find out soon enough, I'm sure."

"Oh no, it's happening," Ginny's eyes were now wide, momentarily stunned with the realization, "I can't believe it's finally happening… okay Hermione, deep breaths. I support you in this, a million times over." Ginny had once again turned into the suddenly wise, spiritual guru that'd come out every so often, usually on days when Hermione hadn't felt so great, or in times of distress during one of she and Ron's tiffs. It'd done the trick and cheered up Hermione at moments when she'd needed it the most. Ginny was very funny, sprightly and occasionally crude. Hermione had to admit that it could be incredibly delightful.

Her lips now quirked into a more genuine smile, "Thanks Gin, it'll be done and that will be that,"

"Sooner than you think, unfortunately," Ginny relayed, gazing down the corridor behind her where Harry and Ron were trudging slowly towards them.

"No, not unfortunate," Hermione shook her head, standing. "I'm just ready to get on with it,"

"Good luck," whispered the youngest Weasley as she stood aside and waited for Harry.

"Gin, Hermione," Harry said to them sleepily, giving his girlfriend a lazy kiss on her nose and making her giggle.

"Hey 'Mione," Ron was giving off an awkward vibe, his hands in his pockets. He seemed uncomfortable to be around her, sheepish and thin-lipped, as if he knew what was about to come.

"Ron," she replied, no-nonsense in her tone, her expression austere.

"Let's go," Ginny beckoned Harry, pulling on his arm to follow but Harry stared back at his comrades in confusion. "No, c'mon, leave 'em,"

They both heard Harry say, "Why? What's… oh," and then the much happier couple were gone, hastily heading down the staircase.

Ron didn't speak – he was staring at the carpet, his skin pallid from the anxiety he must have been feeling then. Hermione didn't want to hurt him, she loved him, in her own way but it was maiming them both to stay together like this. Everything between them had become so complicated and she didn't want that, things weren't the same as before. Wouldn't it be a huge weight lifted from their shoulders once they could get on to being simply friends again? Did he still want to be?

"Can we go into your room to talk?" she asked and Ron was taken slightly off guard.

"Erm, maybe we should go into yours instead," he said. "My room isn't exactly… in the best shape right now."

"Okay," Hermione turned on her heel and the tall, lanky red-head shadowed after her. They walked swiftly down the staircase where Harry and Ginny had just gone but took a bypass down an intersecting corridor to Hermione's assigned quarters.

Once inside she rounded on him angrily, hitting him good across his bicep with the otherwise normal Charms book she'd been carrying.

"Ow!" Ron yelped more from shock than pain and Hermione just glared at him brazenly, bidding herself to stay calm. "Now what did I do to deserve that one? I've been leaving you alone haven't I? You said you wanted time and I gave it to you,"

"Here's a better question Ronald," she began, her jaw clenched, "Have you by chance, lost anything lately?" her fingers brushed over the cover of the tome in her hands, "Anything you might consider… I don't know, precious?" shining silver eyes and a playful smirk flashed in her mind.

Ron gulped, audibly. He'd realized the book she'd been holding wasn't just one Hermione was planning on perusing over breakfast, no…

"Um… is that my Charms boo-"

"Yes. It. Is." Hermione spat, seething furiously for added measure and Ron flinched away from her on instinct. "Did you even notice, even notice it was missing? Oh no, I doubt it," she was raving with dramatic flair, waggling the book around with ferocity. "Considering how you probably haven't even worked on your Charms essay yet, and now to discover you're not exactly studying when you should be, I mean this was just unbelievable, completely tactless of you Ronald!"

"Bloody hell, Hermione, I'm really sorry," he groaned in discomfort, in despair. He was holding his brick-red face in his hands, his eyes misty. Hermione didn't want to make him cry but damnit, she needed him to know the ramifications of his forgetfulness. With her own dignity and reputation on the line, she considered this up there with Neville writing down the passwords to the Gryffindor common room on a piece of parchment and losing it in third-year (it'd turned out Sirius wasn't attempting to murder Harry but it was the principle of the matter; what if Sirius had been? One could never be sure in those moments). "Truly, I didn't mean to!" Ron wailed and she could have rolled her eyes.

"I know you didn't mean to," Hermione stated, "That's not the point. You shouldn't have kept the portrait inside something like a class textbook, where, where just anyone can find it," her voice had less bite to it and Ron took note of the curious gleam in her gaze.

"Who did find it?" he asked angrily, almost growling. Ron Weasley would beat the living daylights out of the sneaky wanker who'd nabbed the risqué picture of his girlfriend. "Where is it? Do you have it?" he seemed ready to pounce, his chest puffing up with alpha-like testosterone.

Once again, Hermione was positively stunned from her own acting skills, "Think Ron, think… I found it, me, and it was damn lucky I did. Don't you think that if someone else had found it I wouldn't be hexing you into the next century right now?" she wasn't about to tell him Malfoy was the one… not after how stupidly kind the Slytherin had been to her when he'd returned the photo. His silken words were repeating over and over in her head; every time she thought back on it, to his sincerity, his closeness, to the hot, choking atmosphere around them, Hermione's body flushed and the sensitive juncture between her legs tingled with an unfamiliar sort of desire. So far it'd felt maddening, so maddening she'd refused to think on it for long and chose to ignore the meddlesome fluttering of butterflies in her ribcage.

"Must have forgotten it in the library," Ron deduced, simmering down and Hermione did her best to give him a convincing expression.

"Yes, that's where it was…" she responded, then quickly adding, "Would you mind telling me on which precise occasion you believe you left it?"

"Uh, probably on Thursday… yeah, Thursday night. I went with Harry, he was taking notes and I ended up falling asleep," he chuckled, rubbing his neck.

"Ah… I see. That makes sense," she sighed. It'd been an honest mistake, really but that was neither here nor there. She was still going to go through with her original plan, she had to. "Listen Ron," Hermione was stern but before she could continue he stopped her, giving her a gentle and very knowing look.

"I know what you're about to do, what you're gonna say," Ron started. "Normally I'd beg you to reconsider, beg you to stay with me," he reached out, tightly wrapping his fingers around her shoulder, the same shoulder Malfoy had held a mere ten hours ago, and Ron's other hand brushed the front of her curls away from her face, his hazel-blue pools welling with tears. "I love you," he confessed, a single saline drop falling down the apple of his cheek.

"Ron…" it came out a strangled whimper.

"I don't want us to end," he hugged her completely this time, taking her entire frame into his arms. Hermione inhaled deeply, making sure she'd always remember his welcoming smell, someone who smelled like home. Ron was her family.

"We won't," she replied. "We don't have to end, necessarily,"

"What do you mean? You'll still be my friend?" Ron queried, letting go of her and Hermione was taken aback by how worried he actually appeared.

"Why yes, of course," she answered, "I'm not just going to abandon you, you know. I'd like things to go back to normal, well as normal as they can be but… I wouldn't say we should spend too much time together either. We both need to give ourselves a while to really heal."

Ron nodded in understanding, for once not fumigating with anger from the world not going his way. He was really being a good sport, which wasn't unlike him. It was rather like the old Ron, actually, the Ron who'd stood behind Harry without question, the Ron who stepped aside when it mattered most and that'd made Hermione smile.

By the end of their discussion breakfast was well under way and Ron had practically run out the door to make it to the Great Hall. Hermione on the other hand, had a different idea. She certainly didn't fancy having to make an appearance at the Gryffindor table right then, didn't want to see Ginny and Harry's anxious expressions as she and Ron inevitably broke the news. No, she had about enough emotional stress to last her a lifetime, she preferred to dodge it whenever she could. Instead she'd head to the Hufflepuff basement and tickle the pear on the painting to get into the kitchens. Hermione thought it'd be nice to give the house-elves a warm visit and see how they were fairing. She didn't like to have them doting on her like they did, obviously but she was starving and this felt to be her only option right then.

It wasn't until later when Hermione would finally let the thoughts she'd stowed away, the thoughts of Draco Malfoy flood her mind and her senses. It wasn't long after that when she'd felt pure shock at herself for thinking how much she might like it, how much she'd like giving the photograph right back to him. She would never, not in a million years actually do that though… would she?

-o-

AN: Sorry about some of the extra long paragraphs, they felt necessary to me. Once again, thank you so much for reading the story so far. Please follow and review if you like it! I hope you all have a great week! Much love and cheers :0)