Author's Note: *mutters incoherently* don't own, so don't ask.

~*~

Chapter 17

~*~

Hermione's hands twisted on the note in her hands, almost shredding it in worry. Her mouth formed the words in the letter as she unwrapped the folded paper and read again: "Meet me in the Library after bed time is called". 

Draco's tight, controlled handwriting gave no hint to what emotions he would exhibit on her in their meeting. She dropped the note into her bag and then tuned into Professor Flitwick's sermon-like lesson at the front of the room. Being in trouble with Professor McGonagall was no reason to miss class, after all.

*

He paced the darkened interior of the Library. The cold stone steps echoed his footsteps. He had worn dress shoes, despite the fact you couldn't exactly see them beneath the long Slytherin robes. He wore them nearly always. It echoed something his father told him long ago - something about being an elegant man. His mind didn't really recall the exact words at the moment. There was a dark crimson curtain thrown over a small cart of books just nearby and his eyes examined it as well as the few books that peeked out from beneath it.

There were extra copies of 'Hogwarts, A History' among other things. His fingers skimmed the parched leather of their spines when he heard the door creaking open very slowly. A sliver of light was thrown across the library floor, ending just before his feet. He turned very slowly and then took a closer look at the figure in the doorway, illuminated in a near-black shadow for the light was thrown up from behind it. The door fell open a bit wider, the figure stumbled in, and then the door slowly closed behind it. In the darkness, he approached it.

" I didn't think you'd come." He said, at last, to test the darkness and to see if it was the right person, after all.

" I didn't think you'd come." Hermione's voice replied, barely audible.

A low humming sound filled the room, and then a dry cough.

" Filch on his rounds." Draco whispered hoarsely, trying not to laugh.

Filch's footsteps rattled softly outside of the Library doors. They heard a hand slowly brush over the wood of the door and then a murmur: " What is it, Mrs. Norris? Any obnoxious children around here?" The cat to which the words were directed to meowed angrily. " No?" Filch's footsteps then retreated, probably heading to the dining hall - another common place for midnight endeavors between young witches and wizards. Hermione's eyes flashed in the darkness as they met with the cool light ones of the boy beside hers.

" What did you want?" She was shivering and Draco could see, in the faint moonlight, that she was only in a nightdress, and her bare ankles were visible beneath the lace of the hem. Over her dress, she had only the Gryffindor robes, but not the characteristic scarf - red and autumn gold, like fall leaves. Draco himself had worn if it would be odd that he wore his robes and now was lightly relieved that she had worn hers as well.

" I... I wanted to talk to you. In privacy." He'd have died of embarrassment to talk with Hermione during mealtime, inviting her over to the Slytherin table, or sitting with the Gryffindors. He winced at the very idea.

" What about?" She leaned backwards against a table, hoping to situate herself in a chair if the conversation proved to be a long, serious one.

Draco's fingers ached as he squeezed his hands into fists, taught with nervousness. Then, he slowly unclenched them and began: " I - - I just want to know something." His voice rose as he said: "So!..." Then, continuing: " ... Your boyfriend is - - Harry?" He attempted a voice unshaken with worry, but his attempt was a poor one.

She knew that's the way the conversation would go, then! Hermione simply just knew that would be the results of the uncomfortable introduction. Her eyes wandered from his own to the door of the library, delaying the reply by pretending to be on the lookout for Filch. Finally, she said: " He was my boyfriend throughout the entire

time I was in the Punishment Room. We were friends since when we first met, almost." He nodded curtly. "That's fine then. That's all I wanted to know." She saw heartbreak in his eyes. No matter which way she turned her feelings, she would be hurting someone.

" I shouldn't be surprised, I mean..." His voice cracked, trailing higher as he was obviously fighting back an onslaught of emotional reactions. " ... He's perfect, isn't he? You said so yourself. He's good and brave and kind and perfect." He turned away now. Draco's light-colored hair reflected moonlight in every single strand so that a zigzag pattern of light appeared on the higher points of his head, where his hair somewhat curled inwards. His hair wasn't entirely straight, it might even have been wavy if not for his typical straight-combed, slicked-back hairstyle. Over the course of the day it had grown disarrayed, now it lay limply and loosely on his head. The ends of his hair strands actually slightly ended a centimeter beneath his earlobes, with single strands sprinkling his forehead. He looked angelic, with pale skin and very light eyes and hair, dressed in shimmering silver and green.

" Draco, please don't take offense, I only…"

" I wouldn't take offense, now, would I? Why would I care about you?" Draco snapped, angrily. He still wouldn't face her. His body was turned completely away from her in utter disrespect.

She bit her lower lip angrily. " Because I care about you, alright?" This came out so suddenly.

He was shocked. " You… sure you do." He added the last bit in sarcasm. " Well, that's all. I should get back to the Slytherin room. What a nice chat this was. Let's meet for tea sometime." He spoke quickly, not masking his sarcasm and cynicism at all.

" Draco!" She shouted, then immediately pressed her lips together. Hermione couldn't attract Filch to the room because of her shouting.

His back was still turned to her, waiting for the moment she'd just walk away. Hermione sighed. " Alright, I'll go." She began to walk away, then stopped and faked her footsteps, making them get lighter and softer each time as she walked in place. Then, she pointed her wand at the door and let it screech open and shut.

Draco, assuming she was gone, slowly paced to a table and lowered himself down to sit at it, then he put his head down on his hands. Hermione thought he slept, for his back rose up and down rather steadily at first. Then, the breathing seemed irregular and a low sound escaped him much different from the breath of a sleeping fifteen-year-old boy. He was crying softly.

She hid behind a book cart and observed.

Draco's fingers unwound from their tight fists and he slowly raised his eyes, shimmering with tears in the moonlight. He spoke softly to himself: " You idiot. As if she'd care." He bit his lower lip and then gave a weak imitation of Hermione's voice, adding an exaggerated whiny pitch: " I simply adore Harry! He's perfect!"

He glanced at the moon that peeked through the drawn curtains in the Library. He added, as an afterthought: " I'm an idiot. I love my enemy. I've betrayed my father in my heart. What do I do?"

He grabbed his head in worry, his fingers tangling though his feathery blonde hair. He sighed, then stood, ready to head back to the Slytherin common room. Hermione watched him leave the Library and then went to the seat at which Draco wept. She looked at the table. Glowing in the moonlight, she could make out the shapes of his empty tears.

*

Very early the next morning, a single figure moved outside of the Hogwarts grounds. A steady drizzle fell about. The figure stood on the Quidditch field and then mounted a broom, practicing for an upcoming game. He stopped halfway to wipe the water from his glasses, then he continued again. Harry would often ride when he felt puzzled.

" Of course Hermione loves me, why wouldn't she? The only reason she's being cautious is because she doesn't want to hurt Malfoy's feelings." Harry, distracted with his thoughts, had to veer his broom left just seconds before he would have impacted with a tree.

There was an anger inside of him that he had never felt before, and anger that raged as if it were a sea of fire. For once in his life, Harry was becoming the second fiddle in something, and he wasn't about to believe it. He steered the broom madly towards the left, swerving across the tops of bushes and brambles. They rocked and stroked his legs beneath him as the air blew them out of their autumn sleep. Harry then tilted the broom upwards and then dove down, just barely missing the ground before he took a wild turn around a Quidditch goal post, and then through the hoop on top. He stopped, finally, perched over the top of the hoop, his eyes scanning the school grounds like a hawk hungry for prey, a hawk that just had its eggs torn apart by scavenger birds.

Indeed, Harry didn't know whether the approaching figure was friend or foe. Someone was moving quickly towards him in the bleak morning light. There was no hint to the gender of the figure, or which house they belonged to, for a gigantic brown robe was thrown over them. Harry, looking at the robe, realized just how frosty it was, and he immediately wished he was wise enough to bring himself some cover as well.

The figure grew larger as it approached even nearer to him. He didn't know at first whether the person was approaching him or the Quidditch field, but once he caught sight of the broom peeking from beneath the curtain of robes, he figured it was the field the person wanted to make use of.

Ruling out the fact it was someone for him, he assumed it was someone from another house, most likely a male, for there were fewer females on the Quidditch teams then males. The person stood across from Harry now, about twenty meters away, and of course below. " Oh."

A very familiar voice drawled in disgust at the sight of Harry. Harry couldn't really connect the voice to a face or a name yet, though, for only a single syllable was spoken - he was sure it was a boy though. The boy turned away and then moved a few yards back.

Then, he readied himself and slowly rose upwards on his broom. He was good, but Harry realized he was better at flying. Besides, the boy looked incredibly tensed up, almost as if he was overly stiff and worried about something. It reflected in the wobbly way he flew his broom.

" So, what house are you from?" Harry asked.

The boy didn't reply, only gave way to a very disgruntled grunt. Harry recognized the dismissive sound effect better then the voice instead and immediately exclaimed, a bit angrily: " Malfoy!"

" Yes, Potter, you amuse me with how slow you are." He spun around the hoop opposite the one Harry was on and then perched on its top as well. He was facing Harry directly. Then, he swooped down and glided carefully along the ground. He paused once he neared Harry's goalpost, then he slowly turned and headed backwards to avoid approaching the other too closely.

" What are you doing here?" Harry questioned.

" I always practice in the morning." Draco replied.

This was true and Harry knew it. Yet, he felt angry at Draco for invading his solitude on the Quidditch field. Harry felt a sudden rush of color to his cheeks and he said, finally, unable to hold it back: " Who do you think you are, stealing my girl?"

Something changed in Draco, for suddenly he threw his hood back. His face was carved in stone - a perfect picture of anger and defiance. " Steal your girl? Why would I do that? Pansy is prettier."

Harry spat back: " And you insult her to my face while you're at it! What's your reason for trying to take her, anyway? Are you just tired of the fact I'm better then you at things?"

Suddenly, Draco stopped flying at all. His eyes widened and his black pupils dilated like a cat's when a cat is threatened. He stared at Harry, and said, slowly: " Don't even...!"

Harry didn't get the hint, for he continued: " Do you just want to take her because I have her? That must be the reason. You have a basketful of Slytherin girls. You know as well as I that Hermione isn't even your type! She's not even ... pure blood, something you can't live without!"

Draco's face was growing darker and at the same time colder. A certain ruthlessness was appearing, a ruthlessness that showed he would do anything at this point to defend his family's honor if it was pushed any farther. " Enough!" He hissed.

" No! You know it's the truth!" Harry exploded. He couldn't stand it anymore – he couldn't stand Draco's arrogance, his I-have-to-have-everything-or-nothing tone.

" That's it!" Draco shouted. " I challenge you to a fight!"

" With what? You don't even have your wand, Malfoy, in case you haven't noticed!" Harry shouted back.

" We'll just have to improvise." Draco replied, rolling up his sleeves to reveal his balled-up fists. " No wands."

Harry had never fought this way before, and he felt a sudden shock. Draco was taller then him, this was sure. He had never really noted how physically strong Draco was, but he was ready for the worst, judging the expression on Draco's face.

Perhaps it was honor, or the hormones and adrenaline that were flowing through his veins, but Harry nodded and said: " I accept your challenge, then, Malfoy."

~*~

Author's Note: *GASP* So, who wins? And… the loser… in what state… mentally and physically… will they be upon the loss? Will the fight be broken up, mayhaps? And who will Hermione choose?

~*~

Review for more… I like reviews :-)