AN: More, you say?

Disclaimer: If I owned the Harry Potter universe, I would not be writing these insignificant little ficlets to pass the time while waiting for the fifth book (and my next burst of fame and glory) to come out. Wait... yes, I would. Heh. But I'm not J.K. Rowling. And I don't own anything here but the plot.

Dedicated to: My burned finger. It's making typing painful, but I don't care. I... must get... chapter... out.

Chapter Nine: Inconceivable

Why when you see me,

You pretend I'm not there?

But when I see your eyes

Somehow you to care

Unbelievable

Inconceivable

Need to know if we're going anywhere...

- Why, M2M        

*you can stop sniggering now.*

            Hermione wondered why Harry wasn't replying to her letters, though she always sent them off diligently. Harry wondered why Hermione never mentioned his letters, though he always received a reply and a Successful Pre-Location Letter. Ron wondered how Hermione could put up with "that slimy Malfoy bastard" for so long.

            And Draco simply sat back and smiled.

            It was an uneventful day in the beautiful October that Hermione went and sat down at breakfast with Draco, who was seemingly uninterested in whatever she had to say that morning.

            Well, maybe not in what she had to wear.

            "Nice knickers, Hermione." he remarked blandly, not looking away from the paper in front of him. "Do those come in black silk?"

            Hermione glanced down at herself and blushed, immediately pulling her robe closed. "Sod off, Draco." she snapped, and bit into a warm slice of cinnamon toast. Draco chuckled.

            "A letter came for you. First one in... oh I don't know... months?" he smirked. "Looks like your boyfriend took some time off from shagging pretty young virgins to scribble a hasty reply to one of your letters." he remarked coolly, and Hermione blinked, trying not to show just how much that flat comment stung.

            Draco folded up the paper and set it carefully aside, taking an infuriatingly long time to pull that letter out of his pocket. But when he tossed it across the table at Hermione, it was still as crisp and as clean as it was when it had Located on his desk.

            Hermione caught it and eagerly slit it open with a bread knife, eliciting a haughty sniff from Draco. ("People who don't carry around their own silver-plated letter openers... really now...")

            She shook the piece of parchment out, smiling happily, heart pounding in her ears.

            What does he have to say? It's been so long... waited so long... loved him for so long... what will he tell me... does he miss me too?

            "Someone's excited."

            "Sod off, Draco."

            "Do you realize that that phrase was just about the only verbal piece you've offered to me since the moment you woke up?"

            Hermione fixed him with a glare so fierce that he suddenly became very interested in filling the little squares in his waffles with different flavors of jam and marmalade.

            Hermione unfolded the short letter, and as she scanned the sparse lines, it seemed as if a curtain had drawn itself closed behind her eyes.

            By the time she folded the letter shut, her hands were shaking and her breath coming in hitches.

            Draco looked up, and noticed the unnatural brightness in her eyes. "Hermione?" he half-asked, half-stated. She glanced up at him, and a tear fell into her coffee. "Draco." she whispered.

            He set his fork down, eyebrows raised. "Is something wrong?"

            She shook her head, wordlessly. Draco crossed his arms in arrogance. "Oh yes there is. You've always been painfully transparent, Hermione."

            Hermione bowed her head. After a few minutes silence, in which Draco stared at her, the coffeepot whistled in the background, the world spun crazily to a halt... she raised her head and stared back at him with dark eyes.

            "Speaking of painful." she muttered, tossing the opened letter to him, and rushing off to her room. Draco winced slightly at the slam of the door, and glanced down at the letter, which seemed to have been written by a shaking hand.

            He also noted, with some sort of satisfaction, the dried tearmarks on the parchment.

            Ah, so you cry easily, Potter.

            He sighed and closed the letter without reading it. After all, he had read it before, and knew exactly what it said.

            Dearest Hermione,

            I've realized that I will not be seeing you for some time, due to [here, the ink had blotted, as if Harry had taken a long time thinking of what to write] certain circumstances.

            Maybe time apart will do us both a bit of good, Hermione. I don't know if I'll be able to carry on with my life tied down to a woman who I'll probably never see again. A woman I'll never be able to hold. To touch. To kiss.

            Please don't think I don't have commitment, because I've been committed to you for the past three years.

            I doubt if this relationship will survive over such great distance, and sadly... I've been doubting you too. I know how hard it can get living alone with only one person to keep you company, and especially if that person is as cold-hearted as Malfoy, you'll be seeking attention and affection.

            Most likely from him.

            So, I'm letting this go, Hermione, and if we ever see each other again, please don't expect all wounds to heal immediately.

            Take care of yourself, and please don't get [more blots] caught up with Malfoy's lies.

            Your friend,

            Harry

            Draco sat and stared at that innocent piece of parchment for a while, listening to the muffled sounds of sobbing from Hermione's room. "Potter..." he whispered. "I never lie."

            He pointed his wand to the letter and whispered the spell he should have performed before Hermione even saw the letter at all.

            "Incendio."

            He waited for the ashes to blow away, then he got up, wiped his lips with a napkin, and walked up to Hermione's door.

            He was going to show her just how "cold-hearted" Draco could get.