A/N: I actually got to this chapter today. I'm off to write the next one.

Chapter 8

Hermione adjusted her bag to rest on her lower back as she made it to the edge of the frozen lake, a scowl on her face, readying herself for her journey. With light steps she began to walk across the frozen surface, noting that the ice was plenty thick enough to hold her weight as she picked up her pace just enough to put her in danger of slipping.

But Hermione liked dangerous. She had to, right? Why else would she have lived her young life flirting with death? If she hadn't liked it to some degree, she would have never risked her neck time and time again. She, Ron and Harry put their lives on the line at least once a school year, usually far more than that, and it almost felt off to Hermione to not do something that could get her killed or expelled. Walking on potentially literal thin ice seemed like a good place to start; a good place to start the new year.

Eventually- left, right, left- she made it to one of the few islands that sat out in the lake, the ones usually only accessible by boat or broom. She made her way to a boulder and used her wand to blow all of the snow and ice off of the top so she could plant herself there. With steady eyes she scanned her surroundings, and did her best to think of anything but Draco.

She found it funny that she'd been doing her best to think of anything but real life, and then Draco comes along and she wanted to do anything but think of him. The night before, before walking to Puddifoot's, she'd been in a low place. She had gotten lost in a downward spiral of thoughts and memories so deep she hadn't even realised she'd been there, and when she saw him, an entirely new set of memories emerged.

Hermione remembered all of the shit Draco had exacerbated for her, and everyone else. It had already been bad enough, scary enough, dark enough, before he fixed the cabinet. Then, after that, it was all downhill. Terror had a homebase- which had been her safe place- and he had fucked it up.

But not because he had much of a choice. It was all very "cabinet, or die", she supposed.

She groaned and put her face in her hands. She was back to being wishy-washy about him again. Just when she was getting to the nitty gritty of his behavior, she would remember that he hadn't had much of a choice; that flirting death hadn't been on his list of things to do like it had been for her; flirting with death didn't fulfill a strange need within Draco like she knew it did for Hermione.

Dark brown eyes looked over the vast expanse of frozen, powder covered lake, back to the school where she could hardly make out the tallest towers, singing lightly and slowly, "I don't ever want to feel, like I did that day. Take me to the place I love, take me all the way. I don't ever want to feel…"

The witch sat on her boulder for quite a while thereafter, contemplating many things, including those which were Draco related. She didn't know why he mattered so much to her, though she had to suspect that it had something to do with the fact that his presence had forced it upon her. His presence, and the way he looked at her; the fact that he'd asked her if she was alright.

He knew, just like she knew he would. It had hardly taken him but a few moments of their being in each other's presence, and he knew that she wasn't herself. Then she went off on him, and she was sure that that had only confirmed his suspicions. She was never one to be kind to him, not ever, but he was right when he said he'd never heard her use that language before. It was a new development to her vocabulary, and she was somehow surprised he'd noticed.

Had he really spent that much time paying attention to the things she said? She just assumed he tuned her out, unless looking for something to pick on her for. Maybe it hadn't been that simple?

'Perhaps,' she thought, 'it had been more than that?'

Hermione shook her head, and rolled her eyes as far back as she could get them to go- to the point of almost pain- but they stopped when she heard her stomach grumble its discomfort. She looked down in the direction of the noise, and contemplated either Accio'ing her brulee, which sat under a refrigeration charm in her room, or going to the kitchens to grab the lunch that was more than likely waiting for her. She looked at her watch, and noticed it was five to noon. Lunch was indeed ready.

With a shimmy, she jumped off the boulder. She grabbed her pack and wrapped it around her to where it was once again resting on her back, and she started her journey back to the school. There was one or two times where she'd fallen, the witch momentarily regretting the fact that she hated gloves when landing in the powdery snow. At one point, the ice made noises that sounded not so safe, but she'd used her wand to cast a freezing charm and she went on her way.

As she got closer and closer to the school, walking up the trail from the lake to the grand entrance, more and more became visible to her. There was a moment she hadn't wanted to believe her eyes, where she blinked back a flew snowflakes and peered harder through the storm. She grimaced as she came to admit to herself that she wasn't just seeing things, but that Draco Malfoy was standing in the doorway of the grand entrance as if he was waiting for her, and with what looked like a letter in his hand.