Terrible cutesy stuff ahead. You have been warned.

Chapter Forty-One

I Believe In You

3rd March, 1999

She had wanted to use the Room of Requirement as a practice room. Draco had refused to be convinced; she had eventually learnt that he hated the place with a passion after everything that had happened there. It had come as a surprise to her, because she found that despite having nearly died there from Crabbe's Fiendfyre, she cherished her memories of the place – the DA in sixth year, mostly. Draco, on the other hand, despised it; he admitted to being surprised, and not in a positive way, to learn that it had escaped destruction at the hands of the Fiendfyre. And he had flat out refused to set foot there on a regular basis again. She had relented, because there was no point in trying to create good memories for him in a place he couldn't stand.

She had suggested the lake, then. "Too open," he had said. "Too many people."

Too cold, she had thought, but evidently he didn't mind because his next words were, "The forest."

"The Forbidden Forest?" she repeated. "Are you sure?"

She remembered how, in their first year, he had been terrified of the place. It didn't exactly have the atmosphere for Patronus teaching. Hermione felt it was rather too gloomy.

"I'm sure," he said, shooting her an annoyed glance which told her he knew exactly what she'd been thinking of. "It's quiet. If we don't go too far inside..."

"It's off-limits, though," she said, wondering how a sane person could possibly choose the Forbidden Forest over the Room of Requirement.

"Well, it's that or the Quidditch pitch," he had said, tipping his chair back so it was balancing on only two legs. "I don't have any more ideas."

He was obviously surprised when she seized upon the idea and chose the Quidditch pitch. It wasn't exactly ideal; they tended to hide in the spaces beneath the bleachers if a team was practising, and Draco would get distracted by the practices. But she had seen the look on his face when he spoke about the game. If they were going to create the best memories of his life, why not start here?

"Tell me about Quidditch," she had said the first time they sat down in the grass right in the middle of the pitch. "What makes it so great?"

She knew she had landed on the right subject as soon as he started describing it.

"I don't think it makes me happy, exactly," he said. "It just helps me forget about all the things that don't make me happy for a couple hours. It's not just flying, either; it's Quidditch. I mean, I love flying. But it's the competition..." His voice was low, passionate. "Catching the Snitch. Having an opponent in front of you and a team behind you..."

"You played well, this year," she said.

He looked at her, startled. "You watched?"

"Every time, I was there. I saw. I cheered you on."

He smiled. "I wanted to win the Cup, this year... To be remembered for something other than..." He trailed off.

"I think you could do it," she said. "You beat Ravenclaw spectacularly in your first match. Ginny couldn't believe it."

"I couldn't, either," he said. "I knew I had a good team, but I wasn't sure they would be good enough. Hardly anyone showed up for the try-outs; I practically had to enrol Theo by force."

"I'm not sure I believe that."

She had spoken with Theo a little bit, just a few words exchanged while going from one class to another. Her overall impression was that Theo was pliable and amicable. He was easy to talk to in a normal, easygoing way, the kind of person she might have been friends with in another life. It may have just been a carefully constructed Slytherin façade, but she found it difficult to believe he would resist anyone in any way.

"It's true, though. He and Pansy hardly ever play... But they did well. We did well."

"Very well," she agreed. "Winning made you happy, right?"

He smiled softly; she thought she had never seen him look this approachable. His eyes seemed to lose their hardness, and his expression relaxed.

"Yes," he said. "But not the happiness I think you mean."

"Everyone has their own kind of happiness," she had said, looking at him, wishing he could be like this more often.

Since then, they had met at least twice a week at the pitch. She hadn't seen that soft, soft look again, but she spent her time trying to spark it. She didn't even have him practice the spell until their fifth session. She felt he was a more delicate case than anyone in the DA. It was more about getting him to think about happy things than working on wandwork or focus. They sat in the grass and talked, and talked, and talked. She suggested things he immediately rejected. She had tried, once, to call up a childhood memory of his, but he hadn't lied. Such an expression came over him that she knew his previous memories would be no good. The Dementors had ruined them. So instead she worked on loosening his state of mind, on getting him more relaxed. Because he was tense, so tense.

Today, their session was just after his Quidditch practice, and he arrived mellow and satisfied, relaxed and comfortable, his eyes alert but not wary. She seized on the opportunity and, for the first time, had him take his wand out almost immediately. At once she realised it wouldn't work; as soon as his fingers closed around the wand his entire body stiffened. He was trying too hard to focus, too certain he would fail. Before he even started the incantation, she laid a hand on his arm.

"That's not it," she said. "Relax, Draco. You'll never do it like this."

Something in his eyes hardened, and she recognised the warning sign. Sometimes, he got so frustrated he snapped. She knew better than to prolong those sessions. But he had arrived in such an ideal state... the state she'd been trying to have him reach since they'd started.

"You were fine just a second ago," she said. "Don't try so hard. Don't think about it. It's your wand, Draco – you're used to it. Hold it like you normally would."

His arm lowered just a little and bent at the elbow. She felt his muscles loosen, just a little, beneath her hand.

"That's it," she said. "Do you have a memory ready?"

"Yes," he said, very softly.

"Then try."

Instantly he stiffened again, his entire body tense as he said, "Expecto Patronum!"

Nothing happened.

"I know you can do it," she said quietly. "Try again."

"Expecto Patronum!" he said again, with the same result.

"Try thinking of something else," she coaxed him. "A happier memory. Something that makes you smile. Something that makes you feel warm inside. Something happy," she said again, her voice soft.

She felt his body relax, his breathing deepen. Her touch seemed to calm him.

"Now," she said.

He raised his wand. "Expecto Patronum!"

A huge, silver animal erupted from the tip of his wand and leapt forward powerfully. It started making its way through the air easily, leaping around the pitch. As it turned around, they caught a glimpse of sharp talons and a tail before it vanished.

Draco stared after it, grinning, and she felt an answering smile spread across her own face.

"You did it," she said. "I knew you could."

"I – I didn't think..."

"It was a dragon," Hermione said admiringly. "He's beautiful." Hesitantly, as though it were a personal question: "What was your memory about?"

"Nothing," he said. "I wasn't thinking at all when I cast it. I didn't expect it to work."

"Then you must have been happy – just now."

He seemed to think about it.

"I am happy," he said quietly. "Like you said I would be."

"New memories," Hermione agreed. She spun him around to face her and took both his hands in hers. His face radiated joy. "You did it, Draco."

It happened naturally. His eyes met hers, sparkling and laughing. They were already so close, their faces almost touching. He drew her even closer and before she could realise what he was doing, he leaned his head down and gently touched his lips to hers, capturing them in a kiss.. She stiffened with surprise and almost pushed away, but he seemed to anticipate it and drew back slightly, no more than half an inch. She thought she heard him let out the slightest of sighs. One of his hands reached up to stroke her cheek gently, and then he lowered his mouth to hers again.

She closed her eyes and gave in to the kiss, and time stopped around her and the world focused on the sensations she was experiencing.

He was good at this, giving and taking at the same time, granting her full access to his surprisingly pliant mouth. As soon as he realised she wasn't pulling back, he deepened the kiss, drawing her ever closer until they were plastered against each other, daring to become more insisting with his kisses. His hands remained around her waist, but hers somehow trailed up his back and around his neck and then tangled into his hair, pulling him closer, closer, closer...

Then Draco pulled away, his breathing ragged, and the heated coil in her stomach slowly receded. He stared at her, his eyes dark and unreadable, searching her face for something.

"Well," he said.

She felt her smile, unable to keep it from spreading across her face as she looked up at him. Happiness? She had thought she knew what it was, had thought she was teaching Draco to be happy. Maybe he was the one teaching her.

She was the one who leaned in for another kiss.

He was the one who pulled back, shaking his head. "I'm sorry," he said.

She felt as though she'd just been slapped, felt the grin slide off her face.

"We can't," he said. His tone was flat, broking no argument. "And you know it."

"Then why did you do it?" she asked, feeling something like anger rise inside her. "Why would you do something you aren't willing to take responsibility for?"

"Oh, I'll take responsibility for it," he said, and the heat in his eyes confirmed his words. "But we can't."

Something inside her broke – her pride, maybe. She knew he was right. She had been foolish to think, even for a second, that they were possible, based on a single kiss. He must have seen the realisation in her eyes, because he reached out and lightly traced her jawline with a finger.

She shivered.

"I am sorry, you know. And I'd do it again if I thought there was any chance of our working this out. But I do have good news."

"Oh really?"

He grinned at her. "Now I'll always have a memory to call up if I ever need to cast a Patronus."

It took her a moment to understand the implication.

Thanks to everyone who stuck around just for this scene. :p No, the fic is not over and neither are the Dramione scenes, but this is pretty much the climax of their relationship in my mind. It was just so sweet. No, I'm not flattering myself. I didn't mean good sweetness. I meant heavy, almost sickening sweetness. I almost gagged at the fluff as I was writing it.

Tell me I pulled it off adequately?

Next chapter is Lee.