Taking Action

Disclaimer: J.K. owns Harry Potter and all related characters.

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Replies: Once again: M.B. is NOT an original character, and updates are on Wednesdays. Apart from that – someone anonymous said that Arithmancy was like a solid form of Divination using numbers. Well… there isn't any proof that Arithmancy doesn't require quadratic equations to work out the future. And I like it that way, make the characters suffer what I do… (evil sadistic me!)  And I went to Rome as in Italy. Also the Bay of Naples, which was better (I recommend Pompeii!). It was part of my Latin class, although it was optional to go (2 people including me went from my class, 5 people in total from my year, most people were from the years above).

A/N: I'm back from Italy! Cower in fear… *cough* Anyway. I had a good time. As a result of the break I've actually produced a chapter I'm reasonably happy with, despite the fact that it was entirely written on the day it was due up... And it has a kiss scene (don't get excited: it's only a memory!)

I've kept you long enough, so… read on…

~*~

'I still don't know how you managed to get snow down the back of my neck.' Hermione grumbled, twisting her arm around to try and scrape out as much of the freezing cold powder as possible.

'Impeccable aim.' Draco replied. 'And perhaps the fact that I hid behind the tree and leapt out at you from close range had something to do with it?'

Hermione snorted. 'I still say that was unfair. You attacked me from behind.'

'Yes, I know. Brilliant plan, wasn't it?'

'If you mean incredibly cunning, then I suppose it was. It was still unfair though. I didn't even have a chance.'

Draco gave a smirk that was rather reminiscent of their first few years at Hogwarts. 'What else do you expect when you have snowball fights with a Slytherin?'

Hermione cast such an uncharacteristically evil glare at Draco that he laughed.

'Evil doesn't suit you, Hermione.' he pointed out. 'You look like you're dying of the plague.'

'I do not!'

'Yes, you do.' Draco teased with a glint in his eye.

Hermione groaned. 'I give up! Arguing with you is pointless.'

'I know. It's a talent.' he replied. Draco had an unusual way of being good-naturedly arrogant and smug without actually sounding like he was. Hermione couldn't decide whether this annoyed or fascinated her.

There were a lot of things, when she thought about it, that she couldn't decide on. Draco was… an enigma. If someone had asked her to describe him in three words, she'd have ummed and erred for a bit before saying something safe like 'Male, blond, Slytherin.'

It wasn't that there was a complete lack of words to describe Draco. On the contrary, there were far too many. Any description of one of his characteristics would have required at least a few sentences, and if you decided to write in detail about every aspect of him you could probably fill a decent sized book.

In fact, thought Hermione on an idly metaphorical whim, Draco was like Hogwarts. Complicated and big, with some parts that you saw daily and some which you saw on occasion, and some rooms locked away and forgotten and filled with the guilty whispers of the past. And then there were the moving staircases and trick doors, things that were there to keep you on your toes and thinking fast.

Of course, if she'd told him that, he'd have said: 'I know. It's a talent.'

~*~

'There's nothing better than hot chocolate after a snowball fight.' Draco said.

'Too true.' Hermione replied. 'Especially with marshmallows.'

'And cream.'

'And caramel sauce'

'And chunks of chocolate, dark for preference.'

Hermione laughed. 'I see we have similar tastes.'

They were wandering through the corridors, making their way to the kitchens in search of something delicious and warming after the cold weather of outside.

'My hands are burning.' Hermione said concernedly. 'I bet I'm going to get chilblains. Remind be to take my gloves next time.'

Draco took out his wand. 'Let me help.' He pointed the beautifully crafted wand towards Hermione's hand. 'Perninon.' he said, and the burning sensation subsided.

'Thanks.' Hermione said as they reached the painting. She paused, however, before tickling the pear. Even from outside they could hear loud, high-pitched shouting. Hermione groaned.

'Winky knew him first!' one voice screamed. 'He should be mine!'

'Just because you knew him first doesn't mean you're best for him.' replied the other voice. 'Ditty knows what it was like for Dobby, living with the Malfoys. Winky can never know that!'

'What?' asked Draco. 'Did she say Malfoys?'

Hermione nodded and began to explain. 'Both your father's ex-house elves – Dobby and Ditty – work here now.'

'Yes, I knew that…'

Hermione sighed as a particularly loud shriek split the air. 'Well, there's kind of a love triangle going on… Ditty loves Dobby, and Winky loves him too…'

'Winky? Wasn't that Mr. Crouch's old elf? The one who was messed up in all that stuff at the end of fourth year?'

Hermione nodded.

'Should we go in?' Draco asked.

'No. We'd probably only make things worse… I doubt either of us knows how to deal with love struck house elves. Leave them to argue it out themselves. There are other elves in there to take care of anything that goes dramatically wrong.'

'Alright.' Draco agreed. 'I'd better go then. See you tomorrow?'

'See you tomorrow.' Hermione confirmed.

~*~

Arriving at the common room, Hermione was pleased to find it fairly empty. The Quidditch team were off practicing for the big game against Hufflepuff next weekend, the third and fourth years were at the Astronomy tower doing some evening observations, and the seventh years were all in the library revising for the NEWTs.

Hermione took a seat on one of the crimson sofas, wondering when Harry and Ron would return from Quidditch. Idly, she fingered a golden tassel. What to do… she'd done all her homework already, and none of her friends were here to talk to. She almost wished she'd stayed out longer with Draco. Ah… now there was an idea… Draco. Memories.

Hermione had been doing this more and more lately. Perhaps it was because Ron and Harry were practicing Quidditch more, perhaps – she didn't let herself think it, but perhaps because she liked Draco more. She recalled the instructions of the book, instructions she'd followed a hundred times before. Find a nice, quiet place where you can relax… The common room wasn't exactly quiet, but it would do. Then close your eyes, relaxing your muscles and releasing tensions and stress… and concentrate on the person or object most connected with the memories.

Somehow this part always made her slightly… embarrassed. She felt as though everyone around her was telepathic and could read her thoughts, could laugh and snigger over how hard she was concentrating on Draco, would make assumptions…

Still, she tried to ignore that vulnerability. Concentrating, Hermione drew up an image. She thought of Draco as she'd seen him barely fifteen minutes ago, Draco laughing, with a mischievous glimmer in his eye, snow speckling his black cloak and winter robes. Unconsciously, she smiled.

She could feel it coming, a memory. She saw it in her minds eye, like the damp spark of a firework's fuse, which grew and grew and grew like the light at the end of the proverbial tunnel, until the light was blinding and the firework exploded and…

Hermione remembered.

~*~

Warm darkness surrounded her, drowsy in its lavish abundance. All was quiet, the perfect silence broken only by the occasional sigh of wind, the distant calling of a bird, the rhythmic tune of two heartbeats not in rhythm and two people's breathing, even and slow before sleep.

Everything seemed very safe and calm, peaceful and still. Draco had an arm tightly around her, hugging her in a fashion that was rather unlike him, but she wasn't objecting. Smiling slightly to herself, she curled her fingers to hook around his arm, and let herself drift.

'It's nice having you here.' Draco mumbled drowsily. Hermione opened her eyes blearily and glanced up at him. His usually immaculate hair now fell in messy fragments across his face, but it suited him. Even when he was half-asleep, he still contrived to look perfect. Hermione smiled at the thought.

'Well, remember I'm only here because it's your birthday tomorrow. And Snape's away.' Hermione told him, closing her eyes again and attempting to find a comfortable spot on his shoulder. He shrugged her off slightly before giving in and allowing her to stay.

'Actually…' Draco said, raising his other arm. 'It's my birthday today. It's past midnight.'

'That late!' exclaimed Hermione. 'We have school tomorrow! And I have to wake up early to get back to Gryffindor Tower before anyone notices! We're going to be falling asleep in lessons.'

Draco shrugged, accidentally making Hermione's head slide back onto the pillow. 'Alright, let's sleep then. Doesn't the birthday boy get a good night kiss?' he asked jokingly.

Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Oh, alright.' she replied, making it sound like a great burden. Smiling to herself, she leaned over and kissed him.

~*~

Back in the Gryffindor common room, Hermione was rapidly turning red.

Well, of course she'd always known that they must have… well, kissed… but she'd never really thought about it happening. She pressed her hands to her burning cheeks. What on earth was she getting so embarrassed about? It had only been a kiss.

Hermione took a deep breath and prepared to take refuge in big words. What she had just remembered was… a typical social interaction, common among those in her peer group, which frequently occurred between two people in a romantic state. Nothing to get embarrassed about. She repeated this mantra a few times in her head.

It was still a kiss.

Groaning quietly, Hermione leaned forwards and banged her forehead against the table. At least no one would see her blood-red cheeks. Why on earth was she getting so embarrassed? It must have happened hundreds of times in her forgotten past… oh, drat, there she went again, flaming up like a firework.

It seemed that recently she'd been doing nothing but skirting around the topic of romance. Skirting round it in her own thoughts, skirting round it with Harry and Ron, skirting it especially with Draco. Why the sudden taboo?

If she were to get her memory back, surely she should be talking to Draco about it, trying to recount past times. Not these polite circles round the lake. They were useful in their way: she could at least get to know him better as a friend. But everyone was avoiding the topic of love. And if they went on pretending it wasn't there…

The future stretched before her, full of eternal circles around the lake, circles in which she and he would chatter about nothing much. Circles in which she would continually be asking herself: did she love him yet? And always answering: I don't know, I'm not sure, I mean I like him… but… how do I know?

Something had to be done about it.

Just talking to him about it would be forced and unnatural… but how else could she make the topic comfortable again? How could she find out what it had been like…

By living it first hand?

The sheer audacity of the idea shocked her. But... it would work. If she told him she loved him again, they'd be awkward for a while, but then get close… and she'd love him properly, and not have to worry about endless circles and eternal questions. It wouldn't be a lie… she did like him, he was kind and funny and never kid quite what you expected…

And it would work. Everything could stop being so awkward and everyone would be happy. And they could finally start talking about romance. And she'd remember things and love him again…

Yes. In the long term, it was the only option. She would do it.

~*~

A/N: And you'll just have to wait till next time to find out what happens!

Ah, where would I be without Latin? 'Perninon' is a mangling of 'pernio' meaning chilblain and 'non' meaning not.

And, of course, the eternal litany – REVIEW!!!