"No, you can't be here. I'm imagining things. I knew too much sun was bad
for me!" she scolded herself silently. "You.no! You can't be here. Get away
from me!" she screamed at him.
"Are you insane? Calm down," he took a step forward. Hermione raised her wand and pointed it at his head.
"Stop. What are you doing here?" her eyes were filled with confusion, fear, and pain as she stood her ground against him.
"Harry sent me," Draco held up his hands in surrender. "I told him what happened the day I supposedly killed that muggle and he sent me here because he said the Aurors wouldn't find me and that he would try to explain it to the ministry."
"No, you're lying. Harry sent me here to get over - Well, that's not important. He wouldn't send us both to the same place," Hermione took a step toward him with her wand still raised. "And what are you talking about? The day you 'supposedly killed a muggle'?"
"You seriously think I would do something like that?" Draco tried to look disgusted, but he couldn't. There she was, standing in front of him, more beautiful than ever. Just like in his dreams. "I was under the Imperius Curse, Hermione. My father made me do it. The only person whose death I am partially responsible for is his."
"What? You killed your father?" Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she took back the step she had previously made.
"No," Draco spoke calmly, "I simply told Voldemort what he had done. My father betrayed even Voldemort, you see. He tried to gather his own supporters and gain his own power. When Voldemort found out, my father was killed," Draco looked nervously at her.
"Well, I believe that, but would you mind if I tested the first accusation of your father?" Hermione stepped closer to him. He looked longingly at the distance she covered and that she still had to cover, wishing it would go away.
"Do whatever you want," he rolled his eyes. "You would do it anyway, wouldn't you?"
"Probably," she felt a smile flicker across her face.
"Just out of curiosity, what are you doing?"
"There's a spell, a very difficult one, that tells whether or not a person has ever been put under the Imperius curse. Very few people know about it, even in the ministry. A few Aurors used to use it in the days of Voldemort's power," she held up her wand and closed her eyes. "Incantate periculum nonne!" she called loudly and a white burst shot from the end of her wand. It circled around Draco and turned into a bright red cloud, settling on top of his head. "You weren't lying," she smiled at him. "Let's hope Harry can convince the rest of the Aurors. If not, you're going to be put in Azkaban, you know?"
"Yes, I know, Hermione," a smirk crept across his face. "It is my life, after all."
"Well.it was a rhetorical question," she picked up her basket and started down the hill. "I suppose you came up here to tell me something?"
"Yeah, Marianna, at least I believe that was the name she called through the door while I was undressing, said it was time for dinner."
"Well, we best be going then, shouldn't we?" Hermione stumbled down the hillside in a desperate attempt to get away from just happened. He was there with her, after all this time, and she had NO idea of what to do.
Dinner was awkward. Neither Hermione nor Draco spoke unless spoken to and, even when answering Leila and Marianna's questions, they were quick and concise. After thirty minutes, Hermione excused herself from the table and Draco followed in suit shortly after.
The blue bedroom Hermione was residing in had grown homier since she left and the bed pushed into the corner was one of the most inviting things she had ever seen. She pulled her suitcase on her bed and sat there, considering whether or not she really wanted to reach into the trunk. The two items at its bottom never ceased to be with her; she carried them everywhere, but never opened them. For almost four years she hadn't ventured to touch them. Five years ago she did. Then, she had believed that all hope wasn't lost. The news that Draco Malfoy had killed a muggle had not yet been released and she was intent on keeping her tiny little bit of hope stored in her heart.
Her hand reached into the bag, not seeing the reason to procrastinate any longer and pulled out the diary Draco had given her on Christmas of their seventh year. She opened it gently and the thing that had made her keep hope for so long fell out of the book's binding.
In her hand, sat a picture of eighteen-year-old Draco. He was smiling brightly with his broomstick in one hand and the Golden Snitch in the other. It was only a few days before Christmas break, if Hermione remembered right, that the picture was taken by Colin Creevy. The last game before the holidays was played between Gryffindor and Slytherin and, against the odds, Draco had won the game for his team. His triumphant smile never faded as he looked at the golden ball in his hands. It was the smile that Hermione had held onto for 58 long months. Never truly moving on. Never truly wanting to. It was the smile of true happiness that Draco had looked at her so many times with.
Colin had given her the picture on the week of graduation. He had matured a lot since third year and was probably the only person who picked up on Hermione and Draco's relationship. He had never told her. He simply handed her the picture, said, "You may find his more useful than I," and left.
She had felt so helpless then. She had wanted to run up and congratulate him, but knew she couldn't. Instead, she had to console Harry because there was one thing she could never change. She could change a breeze into a tornado or a snowflake into an ice sculpture, but Hermione Granger could not change people's opinions. And, unfortunately for her, that was the one thing that held her back from happiness.
She had written one thing in the diary since graduation. It was scrawled neatly on the page that she would tuck her picture in. "When I see your smile and know that it's not for me, that's when I miss you the most."
Draco had written back, also. "My smile was always for you, Hermione. Didn't you notice that I never smiled until you came along? Never. You were my only reason to smile and still are." Hermione had wept for an hour when she first read that. As she read it again, tears trickled silently down her face and she held the book to her chest and she fell asleep.
Hermione was awake before the sun the next morning and started running a bath. She grabbed a pair of clothes out of the drawer she had filled on her first day and set them next to the tub as she let her robe slide form her shoulders. The water was warm and relaxing and Hermione loved how the old fashion tub held her whole body. She poured bubble bath under the faucet and let the water run over her body and wash away her thoughts.
The door opened and Hermione immediately sunk further under the water. Draco walked in and his face turned a few shades pinker.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize we shared a bathroom," he stuttered nervously as he back out of the door again. Hermione laughed into the bubbles at his uneasiness and started to wash her hair so Draco could use the bathroom for whatever he needed.
Ten minutes later, she was done and she knocked gently on Draco's door. When he didn't answer, she slowly peeked in the door. Draco was sitting on his bed with his head cocked to the side.
"Draco?" Hermione stepped towards him and saw that his eyes were closed. His face was a picture of tranquility and innocence when he slept. It was nothing like the face she had seen plastered across newspapers and the muggle news. It reminded her of the look he had in the astronomy tower when his eyes were closed and he kissed away her tears. She resisted the urge to go hold him and pour out her heart and crept back out of his room.
Most of breakfast was eaten in silence. It was only Marianna and Hermione due to the fact that Leila had already left for work and Draco was washing up.
"So, what do you plan on doing today?" Marianna asked Hermione over her cup of coffee.
"I was thinking about going into town again. I have a few things I need to pick up," Hermione sipped her tea and looked uninterestedly at the pile of eggs on her plate.
"Well, you may have to share the truck. Ron said he was going to stop into town to get some new clothes. He packed a little too light supposedly."
"Ron?" Hermione looked confused. "Oh! Ron. Sorry, I forgot."
"It's okay," Marianna smiled. "I better get going. I have a lot of laundry to hang up."
"Yes, I better go write home before Ron is ready to leave," Hermione washed her plate in the sink and went back to her room. She dipped her quill in the green ink and began her letter to Harry.
Dear Harry,
I know you haven't had a chance to reply to me yet, but a lot has happened I think you should know about.
First being, Draco is here. He said you sent him. I don't know what to do, Harry. Hug you or hit you? I suppose I should hug you. I never would have been able to find out whether or not I could move on without Draco until I saw him again. Now that he's here, I have a lot to figure out. I'm so confused. I don't know whether to go running into his arms and tell him I'll never let go or push him away.
He isn't a criminal. I did the charm to see if he had been under the Imperius curse and it turned out that he had been. His father is such a horrible person. I can't believe he would do that to his own son. He forced him to kill. Draco can't be sent to Azkaban, Harry! Could you imagine having to watch the murder of someone at your hands and not having any control over it time and time again? I'm sure that's not the only horrible memory haunting Draco either. I told you about the bruises covering him after his father found out he had written to me. The dementors would suck the little bit of life he has left in him right out.
How are you? Doing well, I hope. I have to go; Draco is moving around and I have to make sure he doesn't leave for town without me. Hope to hear from you soon.
Hermione
Hermione folded the letter and tucked it in her pocket. She had sent her last letter through her owl, which had been delivering a letter from her parents. She wasn't sure how she was going to send this one. The thought was pushed from her head as she walked into the kitchen and was greeted by Draco's smiling blue-gray eyes.
"Good morning," he set his tea down on the table. "Marianna said you will be riding with me into town. Are you ready to go?"
"Yes. Just a second," Hermione held up her hand and her wallet landed neatly in her palm. "Okay, let's go," she hurried out of the door and up the slope to the barn.
"Are you supposed to be doing magic here?" Draco called from behind her as his legs ate up the ground between them.
"No, but Marianna wasn't anywhere around. Oh, by the way, do you have an owl that I could use? I need to send out a letter and I haven't seen any place resembling Diagon Alley around here."
"I can have you one by tonight," Draco got in the driver's seat of the truck. "Wait a second. You need to drive."
"Why?" Hermione looked across the leather seat confusedly at him.
"I've spent my life in Hogwarts, in hiding, or on a broom. I haven't had much time for learning how to drive a muggle car," Draco stepped out of the truck and walked to the passenger side.
Hermione crawled over the seat and sat behind the wheel. They rode down the hills in silence, reaching the edge of the town in record time. Hermione's foot seemed to be ten pounds heavier when she was nervous and she didn't bother trying to lift it. Draco was holding onto the handle of the door tightly when they reached the edge of town.
"Here we are. You have to walk wherever you want to go now," Hermione yanked the keys out of the ignition and started toward the bakery she had visited two days ago to drown her nervousness in a chocolate crepe.
"Hermione," Draco jogged after her on the street.
"Yes?"
"I-Er-Do you know where I could find some clothes?" Draco sighed, exasperated. That hadn't been what he wanted to say.
"I think there's a clothing shop around the first corner on your right," Hermione called behind her without looking back and swept through the door to Konditorei. The welcoming scent of bread invited her into the small shop and she smiled politely at Marguerite.
"Guten Morgen, Marguerite, Wie geit's?"
"Gut, danke," Marguerite smiled at the girl from behind the counter.
Hermione paid Marguerite for the pastry she chose and sat down at one of the tables in the back of the cafe. The pastry was good but Hermione's sour mood and inability to concentrate didn't allow her to enjoy it. She eventually gave up on using chocolate as a solution to her problems, thanked Marguerite, and left to find Draco so she could wait until he was ready to leave.
On her way to the men's clothing store, she stopped in a few small shops, buying new parchment and a bottle of ink. She also bought Ginny Weasley a beautiful, exotic looking dress before deeming herself poor and continuing down the street.
When she entered the clothing store, the man behind the counter told her that the tall blond man had already left and began complaining about how he had paid in British pounds. Hermione laughed when she looked at the stack of bills on the counter next to the man because he probably had no idea that if he exchanged that for Italian money he would have probably twice of what Draco owed him. She thanked the sales clerk and started down the street, searching for Draco.
After Draco-shopping through half of the windows on the street, she saw a silver-blonde mop of hair sitting on the floor with a book in his hands. She walked into the tiny bookstore and crept up behind him, silently reading the book over his shoulders.
"Yet as she pulled her horse around, they fell silent, lifting muzzles to sniff at the air. She watched, too astonished to run, as they turned their backs and vanished into the night. And that had been the most frightening of all."
"You know, Hermione, you could just sit and pick up a copy, not sneak over my shoulder and start reading in the middle of the book," Draco turned around and set the book down on the floor.
"What was that?" Hermione looked down at the blue cover of a fairly thick book.
"The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan. I suppose since you came searching for me you're ready to go?" his eyes met hers and Hermione noticed that they seemed dull again. Not cold like they used to be, but confused and maybe a little bit hurt. Hermione pushed it out of her mind and held her hand out to help him off the ground.
"Yeah, if you don't have anything left to do, I'm ready to go."
Draco took her hand and stood up, following Hermione's retreating back out of the door. They walked silently across town to the truck and sat in silence for the first two minutes of the ten-minute drive.
"Why do we do this?" Draco broke the silence with a random question, a hint of anger in his voice.
"Do what?" Hermione focused her eyes forward, knowing she wouldn't like what was coming up.
"Act like we never knew each other. Like we can't speak."
"We're speaking now, aren't we?" Hermione tried lamely to throw him off.
"You know that's not what I mean, Hermione," Draco looked at her unbelievingly from across the bench seat.
"Yes, I do. The last time we saw each other was five years ago and we left behind an unresolved relationship. I guess I just feel like everything is on pause. I'm so used to thinking things are over, but not wanting to believe it. I just don't know what to do or say. I don't know how to act. Everything in my life is usually so straightforward and explainable and in this case I don't see any solution."
"Things like this aren't always explainable."
"I know," Hermione sighed. "That's why I don't like them."
"Would you like to go up to the rock you were on yesterday with me? I was going to make a few sandwiches and sit up there," Draco's voice was hesitant.
"Sure," Hermione answered before she realized what she was saying.
"Good," Draco turned and looked out of the window as they neared the barn.
"Are you insane? Calm down," he took a step forward. Hermione raised her wand and pointed it at his head.
"Stop. What are you doing here?" her eyes were filled with confusion, fear, and pain as she stood her ground against him.
"Harry sent me," Draco held up his hands in surrender. "I told him what happened the day I supposedly killed that muggle and he sent me here because he said the Aurors wouldn't find me and that he would try to explain it to the ministry."
"No, you're lying. Harry sent me here to get over - Well, that's not important. He wouldn't send us both to the same place," Hermione took a step toward him with her wand still raised. "And what are you talking about? The day you 'supposedly killed a muggle'?"
"You seriously think I would do something like that?" Draco tried to look disgusted, but he couldn't. There she was, standing in front of him, more beautiful than ever. Just like in his dreams. "I was under the Imperius Curse, Hermione. My father made me do it. The only person whose death I am partially responsible for is his."
"What? You killed your father?" Hermione's eyes widened in shock and she took back the step she had previously made.
"No," Draco spoke calmly, "I simply told Voldemort what he had done. My father betrayed even Voldemort, you see. He tried to gather his own supporters and gain his own power. When Voldemort found out, my father was killed," Draco looked nervously at her.
"Well, I believe that, but would you mind if I tested the first accusation of your father?" Hermione stepped closer to him. He looked longingly at the distance she covered and that she still had to cover, wishing it would go away.
"Do whatever you want," he rolled his eyes. "You would do it anyway, wouldn't you?"
"Probably," she felt a smile flicker across her face.
"Just out of curiosity, what are you doing?"
"There's a spell, a very difficult one, that tells whether or not a person has ever been put under the Imperius curse. Very few people know about it, even in the ministry. A few Aurors used to use it in the days of Voldemort's power," she held up her wand and closed her eyes. "Incantate periculum nonne!" she called loudly and a white burst shot from the end of her wand. It circled around Draco and turned into a bright red cloud, settling on top of his head. "You weren't lying," she smiled at him. "Let's hope Harry can convince the rest of the Aurors. If not, you're going to be put in Azkaban, you know?"
"Yes, I know, Hermione," a smirk crept across his face. "It is my life, after all."
"Well.it was a rhetorical question," she picked up her basket and started down the hill. "I suppose you came up here to tell me something?"
"Yeah, Marianna, at least I believe that was the name she called through the door while I was undressing, said it was time for dinner."
"Well, we best be going then, shouldn't we?" Hermione stumbled down the hillside in a desperate attempt to get away from just happened. He was there with her, after all this time, and she had NO idea of what to do.
Dinner was awkward. Neither Hermione nor Draco spoke unless spoken to and, even when answering Leila and Marianna's questions, they were quick and concise. After thirty minutes, Hermione excused herself from the table and Draco followed in suit shortly after.
The blue bedroom Hermione was residing in had grown homier since she left and the bed pushed into the corner was one of the most inviting things she had ever seen. She pulled her suitcase on her bed and sat there, considering whether or not she really wanted to reach into the trunk. The two items at its bottom never ceased to be with her; she carried them everywhere, but never opened them. For almost four years she hadn't ventured to touch them. Five years ago she did. Then, she had believed that all hope wasn't lost. The news that Draco Malfoy had killed a muggle had not yet been released and she was intent on keeping her tiny little bit of hope stored in her heart.
Her hand reached into the bag, not seeing the reason to procrastinate any longer and pulled out the diary Draco had given her on Christmas of their seventh year. She opened it gently and the thing that had made her keep hope for so long fell out of the book's binding.
In her hand, sat a picture of eighteen-year-old Draco. He was smiling brightly with his broomstick in one hand and the Golden Snitch in the other. It was only a few days before Christmas break, if Hermione remembered right, that the picture was taken by Colin Creevy. The last game before the holidays was played between Gryffindor and Slytherin and, against the odds, Draco had won the game for his team. His triumphant smile never faded as he looked at the golden ball in his hands. It was the smile that Hermione had held onto for 58 long months. Never truly moving on. Never truly wanting to. It was the smile of true happiness that Draco had looked at her so many times with.
Colin had given her the picture on the week of graduation. He had matured a lot since third year and was probably the only person who picked up on Hermione and Draco's relationship. He had never told her. He simply handed her the picture, said, "You may find his more useful than I," and left.
She had felt so helpless then. She had wanted to run up and congratulate him, but knew she couldn't. Instead, she had to console Harry because there was one thing she could never change. She could change a breeze into a tornado or a snowflake into an ice sculpture, but Hermione Granger could not change people's opinions. And, unfortunately for her, that was the one thing that held her back from happiness.
She had written one thing in the diary since graduation. It was scrawled neatly on the page that she would tuck her picture in. "When I see your smile and know that it's not for me, that's when I miss you the most."
Draco had written back, also. "My smile was always for you, Hermione. Didn't you notice that I never smiled until you came along? Never. You were my only reason to smile and still are." Hermione had wept for an hour when she first read that. As she read it again, tears trickled silently down her face and she held the book to her chest and she fell asleep.
Hermione was awake before the sun the next morning and started running a bath. She grabbed a pair of clothes out of the drawer she had filled on her first day and set them next to the tub as she let her robe slide form her shoulders. The water was warm and relaxing and Hermione loved how the old fashion tub held her whole body. She poured bubble bath under the faucet and let the water run over her body and wash away her thoughts.
The door opened and Hermione immediately sunk further under the water. Draco walked in and his face turned a few shades pinker.
"I-I'm sorry. I didn't realize we shared a bathroom," he stuttered nervously as he back out of the door again. Hermione laughed into the bubbles at his uneasiness and started to wash her hair so Draco could use the bathroom for whatever he needed.
Ten minutes later, she was done and she knocked gently on Draco's door. When he didn't answer, she slowly peeked in the door. Draco was sitting on his bed with his head cocked to the side.
"Draco?" Hermione stepped towards him and saw that his eyes were closed. His face was a picture of tranquility and innocence when he slept. It was nothing like the face she had seen plastered across newspapers and the muggle news. It reminded her of the look he had in the astronomy tower when his eyes were closed and he kissed away her tears. She resisted the urge to go hold him and pour out her heart and crept back out of his room.
Most of breakfast was eaten in silence. It was only Marianna and Hermione due to the fact that Leila had already left for work and Draco was washing up.
"So, what do you plan on doing today?" Marianna asked Hermione over her cup of coffee.
"I was thinking about going into town again. I have a few things I need to pick up," Hermione sipped her tea and looked uninterestedly at the pile of eggs on her plate.
"Well, you may have to share the truck. Ron said he was going to stop into town to get some new clothes. He packed a little too light supposedly."
"Ron?" Hermione looked confused. "Oh! Ron. Sorry, I forgot."
"It's okay," Marianna smiled. "I better get going. I have a lot of laundry to hang up."
"Yes, I better go write home before Ron is ready to leave," Hermione washed her plate in the sink and went back to her room. She dipped her quill in the green ink and began her letter to Harry.
Dear Harry,
I know you haven't had a chance to reply to me yet, but a lot has happened I think you should know about.
First being, Draco is here. He said you sent him. I don't know what to do, Harry. Hug you or hit you? I suppose I should hug you. I never would have been able to find out whether or not I could move on without Draco until I saw him again. Now that he's here, I have a lot to figure out. I'm so confused. I don't know whether to go running into his arms and tell him I'll never let go or push him away.
He isn't a criminal. I did the charm to see if he had been under the Imperius curse and it turned out that he had been. His father is such a horrible person. I can't believe he would do that to his own son. He forced him to kill. Draco can't be sent to Azkaban, Harry! Could you imagine having to watch the murder of someone at your hands and not having any control over it time and time again? I'm sure that's not the only horrible memory haunting Draco either. I told you about the bruises covering him after his father found out he had written to me. The dementors would suck the little bit of life he has left in him right out.
How are you? Doing well, I hope. I have to go; Draco is moving around and I have to make sure he doesn't leave for town without me. Hope to hear from you soon.
Hermione
Hermione folded the letter and tucked it in her pocket. She had sent her last letter through her owl, which had been delivering a letter from her parents. She wasn't sure how she was going to send this one. The thought was pushed from her head as she walked into the kitchen and was greeted by Draco's smiling blue-gray eyes.
"Good morning," he set his tea down on the table. "Marianna said you will be riding with me into town. Are you ready to go?"
"Yes. Just a second," Hermione held up her hand and her wallet landed neatly in her palm. "Okay, let's go," she hurried out of the door and up the slope to the barn.
"Are you supposed to be doing magic here?" Draco called from behind her as his legs ate up the ground between them.
"No, but Marianna wasn't anywhere around. Oh, by the way, do you have an owl that I could use? I need to send out a letter and I haven't seen any place resembling Diagon Alley around here."
"I can have you one by tonight," Draco got in the driver's seat of the truck. "Wait a second. You need to drive."
"Why?" Hermione looked across the leather seat confusedly at him.
"I've spent my life in Hogwarts, in hiding, or on a broom. I haven't had much time for learning how to drive a muggle car," Draco stepped out of the truck and walked to the passenger side.
Hermione crawled over the seat and sat behind the wheel. They rode down the hills in silence, reaching the edge of the town in record time. Hermione's foot seemed to be ten pounds heavier when she was nervous and she didn't bother trying to lift it. Draco was holding onto the handle of the door tightly when they reached the edge of town.
"Here we are. You have to walk wherever you want to go now," Hermione yanked the keys out of the ignition and started toward the bakery she had visited two days ago to drown her nervousness in a chocolate crepe.
"Hermione," Draco jogged after her on the street.
"Yes?"
"I-Er-Do you know where I could find some clothes?" Draco sighed, exasperated. That hadn't been what he wanted to say.
"I think there's a clothing shop around the first corner on your right," Hermione called behind her without looking back and swept through the door to Konditorei. The welcoming scent of bread invited her into the small shop and she smiled politely at Marguerite.
"Guten Morgen, Marguerite, Wie geit's?"
"Gut, danke," Marguerite smiled at the girl from behind the counter.
Hermione paid Marguerite for the pastry she chose and sat down at one of the tables in the back of the cafe. The pastry was good but Hermione's sour mood and inability to concentrate didn't allow her to enjoy it. She eventually gave up on using chocolate as a solution to her problems, thanked Marguerite, and left to find Draco so she could wait until he was ready to leave.
On her way to the men's clothing store, she stopped in a few small shops, buying new parchment and a bottle of ink. She also bought Ginny Weasley a beautiful, exotic looking dress before deeming herself poor and continuing down the street.
When she entered the clothing store, the man behind the counter told her that the tall blond man had already left and began complaining about how he had paid in British pounds. Hermione laughed when she looked at the stack of bills on the counter next to the man because he probably had no idea that if he exchanged that for Italian money he would have probably twice of what Draco owed him. She thanked the sales clerk and started down the street, searching for Draco.
After Draco-shopping through half of the windows on the street, she saw a silver-blonde mop of hair sitting on the floor with a book in his hands. She walked into the tiny bookstore and crept up behind him, silently reading the book over his shoulders.
"Yet as she pulled her horse around, they fell silent, lifting muzzles to sniff at the air. She watched, too astonished to run, as they turned their backs and vanished into the night. And that had been the most frightening of all."
"You know, Hermione, you could just sit and pick up a copy, not sneak over my shoulder and start reading in the middle of the book," Draco turned around and set the book down on the floor.
"What was that?" Hermione looked down at the blue cover of a fairly thick book.
"The Eye of the World by Robert Jordan. I suppose since you came searching for me you're ready to go?" his eyes met hers and Hermione noticed that they seemed dull again. Not cold like they used to be, but confused and maybe a little bit hurt. Hermione pushed it out of her mind and held her hand out to help him off the ground.
"Yeah, if you don't have anything left to do, I'm ready to go."
Draco took her hand and stood up, following Hermione's retreating back out of the door. They walked silently across town to the truck and sat in silence for the first two minutes of the ten-minute drive.
"Why do we do this?" Draco broke the silence with a random question, a hint of anger in his voice.
"Do what?" Hermione focused her eyes forward, knowing she wouldn't like what was coming up.
"Act like we never knew each other. Like we can't speak."
"We're speaking now, aren't we?" Hermione tried lamely to throw him off.
"You know that's not what I mean, Hermione," Draco looked at her unbelievingly from across the bench seat.
"Yes, I do. The last time we saw each other was five years ago and we left behind an unresolved relationship. I guess I just feel like everything is on pause. I'm so used to thinking things are over, but not wanting to believe it. I just don't know what to do or say. I don't know how to act. Everything in my life is usually so straightforward and explainable and in this case I don't see any solution."
"Things like this aren't always explainable."
"I know," Hermione sighed. "That's why I don't like them."
"Would you like to go up to the rock you were on yesterday with me? I was going to make a few sandwiches and sit up there," Draco's voice was hesitant.
"Sure," Hermione answered before she realized what she was saying.
"Good," Draco turned and looked out of the window as they neared the barn.