---------------------------------------------------DAPHNE GREENGRASS-----------------------------------------------------

It was like a metamorphosis was happening right before her eyes. From a dull grey, to a soft grey, to a brighter grey ... before finally becoming a striking silver. Was it possible for eyes to be that colour? Was that natural? She was staring intensely into these eyes...why did they appear so close to her? Why were they looking at her as if –

Tap. Tap.

Hermione shifted in her sleep.

Tap. Tap.

She rolled over, trying to ignore the persistent prodding. She had been having such a nice dream...If only she could get back to it.

Tap. Tap.

Irritated, her eyes flew open, and she was determined to kill the idiot who had woke her up, yet her irritation faded as she found herself staring at a very small, bearded version of Jimmy Peakes. "Woah," she said, her voice cracked with sleep. She moved into a sitting position, and immediately felt disorientated. Where was she? Her eyes moved around the room slowly: the seven beds she was sleeping on, the slightly ajar door, the small boy who was staring at her with wide eyes...

And then it clicked. The dream was forgotten.

"Oh!" she gasped, jumping out of the bed, and hitting her head on the ceiling. Life lesson 101: Never stand up on a bed in a house designed for dwarfs. "Oof!" She cried out, rubbing her head gingerly. She looked down at Jimmy Peakes, whose eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Are you okay?" he asked worriedly. He shifted from foot to foot nervously.

She climbed down from the bed, and assured him, "Yes, I'm fine thanks, Jimmy. I just took a little shot to the head." She heard excited whispers from outside, and before she could place the voices, the door was flung open, and Hermione's other dwarf-sized friends hurried into the room, jubilant expressions on their face – even Ron, who had his sour face pulled up into a small smile which looked twisted.

"Is it that hard to be happy, Ron?"

Ron grimaced. "Extremely."

The dwarfs all jumped on her bed, except Jimmy, who looked hesitantly up at Hermione with nervous eyes. Hermione interpreted his expression correctly. She patted the bed, saying, "You can come up, too, Jimmy." He smiled, and jumped up onto the bed.

Soon, Hermione was sitting comfortably on the one bed (her legs spanning the width of the bed), facing the dwarfs who were all looking at her expectantly. She counted them.

Six.

She turned to face Ron, who was the nearest. "Where's the seventh dwa-I mean, person?"

Ron rolled his eyes. "That would be Daphne Greengrass," he said, disgust colouring his voice. "She's –"

"I'm here," announced a groggy voice from the doorway. Hermione turned to see who it was. A girl of average height – for a dwarf – was leaning against the doorframe, her eyes half-closed, sipping from a steaming mug.

Ron flashed Daphne a look. "Do you want to come inside the room, Greengrass? Hermione can't keep on turning around just to address you."

"I'm fine standing here, thanks," she said coolly, taking another sip.

Ron gritted his teeth. "I said to get in here, Greengrass. Don't make me—"

"Oh, let her be, Ronald," Hermione said impatiently. A few of the other dwarfs murmured their agreement. Dean was nodding away.

"But...but she can't just stand there trying to act cool!" he exclaimed, his face turning a shade of red.

Hermione arched an eyebrow, surprised. "And why not?"

"Because it's rude!" Ron said exasperatedly.

From behind her, Hermione heard Daphne laugh quietly.

"Yes, because you're such a stranger to rudeness, Weasley," Daphne said sarcastically.

"Don't you dare –"

Lavender placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, trying to calm him down. "Ron, please calm down."

Ron merely threw her hand off his shoulder violently, but all she did was heave a sigh. "So, Hermione," she said, smiling. "What do you have to tell us?"

Hermione blinked. "I'm sorry, but was there something you needed to know?"

A girl with glasses spoke. "We know just the basics," she said matter-of-factly. "Ron here was kind enough to enlighten us. But we would appreciate for some elaboration on the subject at hand."

Hermione glanced at Ron. "How much did you tell them?" she asked.

"Not much," the girl with glasses spoke. "When I said 'basic', I meant basic."

"Exactly what did he tell you all?" Hermione asked them.

Before Ron could answer, Ernie piped up, "He said that – ACHOO! ("Bless you!" said Dean) – we've all become our characters."

Hermione was still in shock after Ernie's loud sneeze, but she managed to say, "Bless you." She turned to Ron again. "Is that all?"

Ron shrugged. "Pretty much."

Hermione nodded. She turned around to ask Daphne if she wanted to come inside, but the girl had already slumped to the floor and was sleeping peacefully, the mug next to her. She turned to face them again. "Okay then. What do you want to know?"

And then they all started.

"Will we always be like this?"

"Do we have to always live here?"

"How much longer are you going to stay here?"

"How is – ACHOO – Malfoy involved in this?"

"Um ...do we have to shave, or something?"

Hermione held up a hand. "Thank you." They all quietened. She looked at Lavender first. "No, I don't think so. Hopefully Professor McGonagall will come up with a solution soon. In fact, I think she's working on it now." Lavender nodded, smiling. She examined her nails while Hermione turned to Lisa Turpin. "I don't think it would be for long. But ... if I may ask, why are you all living here in the first place?"

"It was my idea," Ron said in a monotone.

Hermione said, "But that still doesn't explain anything."

Ron sighed, and he fiddled with his thumbs. "I thought it was appropriate," he mumbled in a low voice, hoping that only Hermione would hear. But, apparently, it wasn't low enough because the others cried out in indignation.

"You said that this place strengthened our magical powers!"

Ron blushed, and Hermione smiled. "I lied," he muttered to the duvet.

"Then why are we here?" asked the bespectacled girl.

"Lisa, think of it this way," Ron said hurriedly. "We're all dwarfs, right?" They all nodded. "So, don't you think that we need a place to have meetings in order to figure out what's happening? And also, that meeting place needs to be a place where we can actually see the table and chairs." He finished off in a rush, waiting to see their reactions.

"I suppose that makes sense," shrugged Dean from the back.

"But why the middle of the Forbidden Forest?" asked Lisa.

"It's a long story," Ron said, sighing.

"We have time," said Lisa.

"We don't actually," Hermione said, smiling. "But continue, Ronald."

Ron glared at her. "Hagrid, Harry and I were walking through the forest, and we caught sight of this place. Never seen it before," Ron said, shrugging, "but it was here, so I thought it would be fun, almost. And as I said, appropriate, because we're, y'know, the seven dwarfs."

Dean looked at him. "That's not a long story."

Ron glared at him. "Shut up."

Hermione held up her hands. "Okay, so now that we've established that, I believe, Dean, you wanted to know how long I'm going to be here for."

Dean nodded.

Hermione looked around the room. "I'm actually supposed to be staying with Hagrid – that's also a long story, a proper long story – but I ended up getting lost. That's when I found this place. So, I don't know exactly how to get back to Hagrid's. I'm only supposed to be staying at his for two days."

Dean leaned forward. "What's the long story? And we all know how to get back to the castle – but I don't think any of us would mind you staying here." He looked around at the others for clarification.

They all nodded, their faces aglow with warmth, and Hermione murmured, "Thanks."

"So what's the long story?" Dean asked.

Hermione leaned back against the headboard. She sighed, and then began, "It all relates to what Ronald said. We all have become the characters we play, even though we might not be like them at all. You all know the wicked step-mother, right?" They nodded silently, and the silence was interrupted by Daphne's snores. "Well her part is played by Romilda Vane. From what I've gathered, Romilda is now after my blood. She wants me expelled."

Some gasped, even though they were expecting something shocking. "But...why?" Jimmy asked in a timid voice.

Hermione smiled at him. "She has a mirror that does the exact same thing as the wicked step-mother's mirror. So, earlier today, Ginny Weasley witnessed the mirror relaying that I ..." Hermione blushed. When it came to her looks, she could be very self-conscious. "Well, you know how in the book the mirror says that Snow White is the most beautiful?"

They nodded again, and understanding flickered on some of their faces. Jimmy still looked lost. "Well, that's what happened to Romilda's mirror. And seeing that I'm Snow White ..." She cleared her throat, feeling incredibly awkward. "Needless to say, she wants me out of the school so that she can retain her title of most beautiful. Professor McGonagall thinks that it would be too dangerous to keep me close to Romilda, because the wicked step-mother was capable of very ... evil things. We don't exactly know how in-depth this whole thing is, really," Hermione finished off glumly.

Lavender patted her shoulder reassuringly. "Don't worry, Hermione. Stay here with us ... She'll never find you here. She'd be scared out of her mind to step even a foot into the Forbidden Forest." Hermione smiled back.

She smoothed out the creases in her clothes, whilst asking, "So now what?"

"You didn't answer my question about – ACHOO ("Bless you!" said Dean) – Malfoy," Ernie said.

Hermione felt her pulse pick up, and she wondered why. She ignored it and nodded in response to Ernie. "He's actually very involved in this. He was the one who came up with the theory, by the way," she admitted grudgingly. But she needed to assure them that Malfoy wasn't half that bad as everyone thought he was.

Ernie's eyes looked as if they were going to fall out. He pinched his nose, stifling another sneeze, and said, "Really!"

Hermione sighed. "Yes, really."

"Out of curiosity, what part does he play, Hermione?" Lisa asked.

She could literally feel her heart racing. It was because she was being put on the spot, that's why. Hermione shifted uncomfortably. "That's not important," she muttered.

"Prince Charming," Dean said, grinning.

Lisa looked thoroughly shocked. "Malfoy? Prince Charming? Well, I'll be..."

"Enough about Malfoy, already," Hermione said, getting irritated. The subject of Malfoy was too ... unsafe. "Jimmy, I believe you had a question about the beards?" she asked, effectively closing off the former subject.

Jimmy nodded quickly.

"Nothing will work," Ron grumbled. "I've already tried to take it out – by magic – and it just grows back."

Hermione smiled sympathetically as all the boys' expressions turned to ones of disappointment. "Just a few more days, I hope," Hermione said.

"You hope," Lisa repeated for emphasis.

"Yes, I hope," Hermione said sadly. She looked around the room. "So what can I do to help?"

Lavender burst out into laughter. "You don't honestly think that we're going to make you clean up the house and cook for us, right?" Lavender asked, giggling. "We're not going to pay strict attention to the book, Hermione!"

Hermione blushed, feeling stupid. "Of course not. It was worth asking though... What are you all getting up to today, then?"

A couple of them shared awkward looks. "Well, we were going to head up to the castle. We usually just spend the nights here. During the day we're at the castle..."

"Oh, that's alright. I don't mind staying here." Hermione hated imposing.

Lavender looked guilty. "Are you sure, though? Only... Parvati and I have this project to do..."

"...and Seamus and I have a potion to brew..." said Dean reluctantly.

Soon all were giving their excuses, and Hermione was feeling worse by the minute. "Please! I really don't mind if you all leave. I'm fine by myself," she assured them.

"I'll stay with you if you want, Hermione," Jimmy offered shyly.

Hermione smiled. This boy was so sweet. "No, that's quite alright, Jimmy. Now I insist, all of you please go," she instructed good-naturedly.

They obeyed reluctantly, and they all hopped off the bed, shooting uncertain looks at her. She ushered them out with her hands. Ron, especially, looked incredibly guilty. "Don't look so guilty, Ron," Hermione chided. "You haven't killed anyone."

"Harry and I were going to ask you to join us at the Three Broomsticks today," he sighed, his hand on the doorknob.

Hermione smiled, feeling a little sad. It felt like ages since she'd last had a proper conversation with her two best friends. She placed a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Even without the current circumstances, Ron, I wouldn't have been able to come."

Ron's brow furrowed. "Why not?"

"Because I would have been on corridor patrols," Hermione said, her eyes instinctively darting in the general direction of the castle. She already missed it so much. How her hands itched to get hold of a library book. She gritted her teeth and clenched her fists. She could wait out a day and a half of no reading. She was sure of it. She turned her gaze back toward Ron. "Ron," she said, "go with Harry to the Three Broomsticks."

He nodded unhappily. "Fine," he grumbled, and with a last glance at Hermione accompanied by a half-smile, he walked off.

Hermione stared after him sadly. It had been a long time since she had last reconnected with her friends. What with school, more demanding duties as Head Girl, the musical, the death of her mother ... there was just so much on her plate. It was difficult to eat it all with no cutlery. Leaning against the doorframe she made a vow to herself to make plans with Harry and Ron as soon as she got out of this mess. As soon as possible. She glanced down at the sleeping Daphne. The girl's long black hair covered practically the whole of her face. Her clothes – definitely designer – were creased.

Hermione bent down, completely unsure of what she was about to do. She poked Daphne's back. The girl mumbled in her sleep. Hermione gently shook her shoulder, and Daphne, without opening her eyes spat out, "What." The full effect of her tone (which was surely supposed to sound irritated) was muffled by her lethargy.

Hermione crouched on the floor beside Daphne. "Daphne," she said timidly.

"Hm."

"You should sleep on a bed," Hermione suggested.

"I'm fine here," she said, turning her face away from Hermione.

Hermione thought Daphne was being ridiculous and incredibly stubborn. There was nothing that Daphne could do when Hermione lifted her ("What the bloody hell do you think you're doing!" Daphne yelled, kicking in Hermione's arms) and laid her gently on one of the beds. Hermione rubbed her hands together. "There, much better," she smiled.

Daphne glared at her. "Why the bloody hell did you just do that?" she seethed. Hermione raised her eyebrows. Daphne's anger wasn't necessary at all.

"You'd be more comfortable here," Hermione offered. "Additionally, you were damaging your back in the position it was previously in."

Daphne rolled her green eyes. She yawned loudly before harshly addressing Hermione, "Why the hell do you care so much?" She stretched her arms out in front of her, but didn't go back to sleeping.

Hermione sighed. "I don't know; I just do, so get used to it." She sat on the bed next to Daphne's.

Daphne tilted her head slightly, analyzing Hermione. Hermione stared back coolly. "You're not as bad as they say you are," Daphne said, a smirk pulling at her lips.

Hermione shifted. "And by 'they', you mean...?" An image of Draco Malfoy flashed before her eyes.

Daphne shrugged, closed her eyes as another yawn escaped, and leaned back against the headboard. "Just the odd Slytherin or two," she said nonchalantly, her eyes still closed.

"Like?" Hermione pressed.

Daphne opened her eyes and narrowed them in mild interest. "Again, why do you care?"

"I don't," Hermione said, looking out of the window at the trees. "I'd like to straighten these rumours out, that's all."

Daphne let out a short laugh which was interrupted by another yawn. "They're not rumours, Granger. What, you're telling me you don't have your head stuck in books all day long? That you're not a nerd? Please," she scoffed.

Hermione flared up at that. "I have a life," she said indignantly.

Daphne cocked an eyebrow. "Really?" she asked mock-disbelievingly, smirking. "Outside books and school?"

Hermione hesitated. And then, "Absolutely," she said, though not as convincing as she hoped for.

"What is it that you do?" It almost sounded like a dare. She had crossed her arms, waiting for Hermione to answer. This effect was spoilt by another yawn escaping Daphne's mouth. Tears were forming in her eyes.

"There's the musical..." Hermione started, but was stopped when Daphne let out a loud sigh.

"Oh please. You call the musical having fun? Have you not noticed the havoc it's created?" Daphne didn't even wait for Hermione to answer before she continued, "Leave that. We haven't even signed up for this. It was practically forced onto us."

"You did have a choice," Hermione pointed out. "You could have refused to accept that ball."

Daphne smiled mockingly. "Half of us didn't even know why a ball had flown to us in the first place. Instinct told us to catch it."

"I guess..." Hermione said, faltering.

"Which brings us back to..."Daphne said dramatically, "...your life – or lack thereof." Another soundless yawn – which was more appropriate regarding her aforementioned words – flew out of her mouth.

Hermione thought. What fun did she do? She ran through a list of activities that she partook in, but none of them struck as her as 'fun'. "You know what?" she asked, looking at Daphne. Daphne moved her eyebrows in a gesture of 'What?' "I don't have time to have a life," Hermione reasoned. "I have studying and exams—"

"Which we all know you're going to ace," interjected Daphne, rolling her eyes. "Live life a little, Granger."

Hermione sighed. "I can't," she said simply, looking away from Daphne.

"And why not?" Daphne asked, smirking.

Hermione threw up her hands. "I just can't. I've never done it before, actually, so I don't know how. It's difficult to just let go when you have all this stress weighted on your shoulders."

Daphne rolled her head around, probably trying to release the tension. "Look, Granger, if you're worried about your duties as Head Girl...I suggest you don't worry. Malfoy manages perfectly and he's Head Boy."

Hermione leaned forward. "How do you know he manages perfectly?" she asked curiously. She hadn't seen Malfoy managing anything "perfectly" well over the duration of his Head Boy year.

Daphne shrugged again. A yawn escaped her mouth. "To hell with these bloody yawns!" she muttered to herself, obviously irritated. And then to Hermione, "Well, I assume he's managing perfectly well. He did so previously."

Hermione shook her head. "That was probably before his parents were arrested, Daphne," she said quietly.

Daphne raised her eyebrows. "And how would you know?"

Hermione shifted again on the small bed. With the amount of shifting she was doing, she was scared she would break the bed. "He and I talk, that's all," she said under Daphne's cool, inquisitive gaze.

Daphne let out a low whistle. "Draco Malfoy opening up? Well, I'm impressed," she said, more to herself than to Hermione.

Hermione scratched her ear. "What do you mean?"

"I mean...Malfoy never told anyone about his feelings. Never. Except when he was dating my cousin, I think. But I'm surprised he opened up to you of all people!"

Hermione ignored the mild jibe. She was concentrating on something else. "Sorry, but did you say he dated your cousin?" This fact shouldn't have affected Hermione but it did. Somewhere deep down, it bothered her that Malfoy would open up to another girl. Hermione had thought that...well, that she was the only one who could break through his hard exterior.

Daphne was sliding down now, ready to get tucked in. "Mm, about six months ago...Astoria Winter," she murmured, nestling into the pillow. Her eyes drifted shut, but Hermione wouldn't let it pass.

The name 'Astoria Winter' sounded mysterious almost. She sounded beautiful, and Hermione felt a pang in her chest. She shook her head. Don't be silly, she scolded herself. You've only heard her name. Though it still bothered her. Without being able to stop herself, she asked, "Is she pretty?" She bit her tongue, praying that Daphne had fallen off to sleep already and hadn't heard her.

No such luck. Daphne laughed once without humour before popping an eye open. "She's the most exquisite creature, that girl is," she muttered bitterly, though not sarcastically. Hermione looked away from Daphne out of the window. Why did that statement bother her that much? There were plenty of beautiful girls – Hermione herself was friends with a lot of them. "Why so many questions?" Daphne directed at her.

Hermione ignored her. The bed creaked as she got up from it. She walked towards the window. Hopefully the girl would fall off to sleep. Hermione stared out of the window into the dark forest. She couldn't really see the castle from here, except for the tips of it. She wished she was there. She felt something hit her ear. "Ow," she said, rubbing the tip of her ear, looking around. Daphne grinned at her.

"Sorry, but I wouldn't have gotten your attention any other way," she said by way of apology, though she hardly sounded sorry at all. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned back to her limited view of the castle.

"Don't make me throw something else at you," Daphne warned.

Hermione turned around reluctantly and faced her. It wasn't that she was afraid of getting something thrown at her – by a dwarf, no less! – it was that this Daphne Greengrass had something about her. Hermione found herself drawn to the girl's persona.

As soon as Daphne realized that she had Hermione's attention, she pounced. "You like Draco Malfoy," she stated, a glint in her eyes. She was sitting upright now, leaning against the headboard.

Hermione felt her eyes widen, and her treacherous heart picked up its pace once more. She felt her ears burn, and she said hotly, "Don't be ridiculous."

Daphne clapped her hands, almost in glee. "Of course! Classic case of denial. I take my hat off to you, Granger, for bringing the old cliché back," Daphne grinned.

Hermione tried to act as if this wasn't affecting her. It shouldn't affect her......

Why was it affecting her?

She tested her acting skills. She stared at Daphne head-on, and rolled her eyes, trying desperately to ignore the thumping rhythm of her heartbeats. "Daphne, I'm being completely honest with you. Malfoy and I are nothing more than friends," she said evenly, trying to not accelerate her words.

Daphne graced her with another roll of the eyes. "Bravo, Granger, you brought out cliché number two: the old 'nothing more than friends' shit," Daphne mocked. "Don't insult my intelligence, Granger."

Hermione attempted to imitate the girl's tone. "What intelligence?" she asked.

Daphne held a hand to her chest dramatically. "Ooh, she bites!" she laughed.

Hermione dragged her feet walking back to her former position on the bed next to Daphne. "She barks, too," she said with a sigh.

Daphne propped her head on her hand, looking at Hermione. "You're going to be honest with me now?"

Hermione stared at Daphne, deliberating. It wouldn't hurt, would it? Daphne's green eyes flickered mischievously. Hermione ignored this and said, "Whatever... attraction I feel for Malfoy is due to this fairytale."

There. It was out in the open. But, in her defence, weren't half the girls in the school attracted to Draco Malfoy? So was it a huge shock that she found herself staring at him, driven with the mad urge to yell at him or embrace him? She would be a fool to deny it, as she had just demonstrated before Daphne. She blamed it on the fairytale's twisted idea of magic, of course. Without that fairytale in their lives, she wouldn't be feeling this way. The fairytale had induced her intense attraction to Malfoy. There was no other reason.

Daphne narrowed her eyes, and her pink lips twitched. "Perhaps," she whispered quietly, staring at the bed. Hermione was caught off-guard by the sudden change in Daphne's tone. She had been used to Daphne's harsh, mocking tone, not her whispering. Therefore, Hermione couldn't hear her properly.

"What?" she asked, hoping that Daphne would provide clarification on what she had just said.

Daphne looked up from the bed. "I said 'perhaps', meaning: maybe that is the case, Granger, but what if it's not?"

Hermione laughed, but Daphne remained silent, observing her. "You think that my feelings are genuine? That they stand independent of the fairytale?" Hermione asked, smiling widely. "Oh, please," she added, imitating Daphne to perfection.

The idea was of course ludicrous. This was why she was waiting with bated breath for the problem to be solved before ... well, before the ending of the fairytale. They were already halfway through. Because Hermione just couldn't picture she and Malfoy together. The pieces of the puzzle just didn't fit together properly. It was like imagining Millicent Bullstrode going out with Harry. Hermione shuddered. Yes, it was as impossible as that. She and Malfoy were too...different. They didn't share anything in common ... well, perhaps a few things. The idea of them together was utterly implausible and would no doubt elicit laughs from countless other students.

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "First, don't ever do that again – no one can cause the same effect with sarcasm like me, and secondly...Granger, you live in an awfully tight bubble."

Hermione let out a long breath. "Are you thinking of becoming a psychologist one day? Because your methods are by the book."

Daphne blinked. "A psycho-what? Granger, I don't do Muggle-speak," she muttered.

Hermione waved a hand. "Sorry, I forgot whom I was speaking to. A psychologist is a—"

"—I don't actually care what it is," Daphne drawled. "You're missing the point I'm trying to make."

Hermione rolled her head around, relieving the tension. "Trust me, I got it loud and clear."

Daphne pursed her lips. "You're lying," she stated.

Hermione stuck her chin out. "How can you tell?"

"Your one eye is twitching. Malfoy's does the exact same thing when he's lying," Daphne replied, gesturing to Hermione's eye. "Look," Daphne said when she saw Hermione was about to interrupt, "I think that you shouldn't limit yourself to the fairytale. Consider what's going to happen after this huge mess is sorted out ... do you think your feelings will change? No-" Hermione had opened her mouth to say something, "-don't answer me yet. In fact, don't even tell me what your answer is. Ever. Just," Daphne shrugged, "you're clever. So you'll know what to do."

Hermione stared at Daphne, baffled. "Who gave you permission to give me advice?" she asked, though not unkindly. She was grateful for Daphne to offer her opinions, but those opinions were so unfortunately accurate that Hermione was forced to consider the impossible. She didn't want to taint her image of 'you're-not-as-bad-as-they-say-you-are' in Daphne's eyes, hence her question.

Daphne regarded her. "Your eyes," she murmured. "Your eyes gave me permission."

Hermione blinked. What did that mean?

"And speaking of eyes," Daphne said, a small yawn escaping her mouth, "I need to give mine a rest; they've been open for too long." Her eyes drifted shut, and Hermione quietly got up from the bed. Just before she reached the door, she heard Daphne say sleepily, "And don't worry about Astoria. They never had great chemistry anyway."

Hermione shut the door behind her a bit too harshly. As if that last comment helped at all! She walked towards the front door of the cottage and threw it open. A strong breeze swept through, tangling her hair. She lifted her head up to the sky, closing her eyes. This was exactly what she needed. Something to calm her down. She walked out of the cottage, being careful to bend her head on the way out. She turned right and walked through the long, green grass all around the cottage until she came to the backyard. She smiled softly at the sight that greeted her eyes. A lake to a dwarf's eye; a pond to a human's. Either way, it was beautiful, and the water rippled in motion to the wind. Pretty flowers were scattered all over the grass, and a tiny bench was visible beyond the pond. Hermione walked over to the pond, and sat down on the grass next to it. She trailed her hand through the icy water, thinking.

What was going to happen after Professor McGonagall stopped this magic affecting their lives? Hermione had instantly assumed that everything would vanish: emotions, character traits, physical similarities, etc. But how would emotions simply disappear? Kapoof? There would surely be strong memories of these emotions. She would simply have to remember her intense attraction towards Malfoy. It was impossible to forget something like that so suddenly. What if the memory stayed with her for a very long time? Would she find herself still attracted to him?

Hermione's hand paused in its movement through the water. That was a scary thought. She would have to find a way to sidestep this emotion. How to get rid of it?

She lifted her hand up, and the water fell through the gaps and off her palm like melted sand. The question was what if she didn't want to get rid of it?

-------------------------------------------------------to be continued---------------------------------------------------------

A/N: I seriously hope I haven't ruined things with this chapter. I just thought it was time Hermione accepted her feelings for Draco. Who cares if she blames it on the fairytale? But if you guys think I should wait a while before she admits it, I'll rewrite this chapter, no prob ...

Sorry about the long wait. I've been bad ...

If you want, you can drop by a review. tell me what you think, please?