Disclaimer: Harry Potter and related characters are and remain the property of J K Rowling, Bloomsbury or Scholastic Books. Harry Potter characters, names and related indicia are trademarks of Warner Brothers © 2000/2001. No infringement of copyright is intended by this fic.

~0~

Part Twelve: Relative Values

The time to hesitate is through

No time to wallow in the mire

Try now and we can only lose

And our love become a funeral pyre

The Doors: Light My Fire

~0~

During breakfast on Monday morning at exactly the same moment that the windows of the Great Hall swung open to admit the post, a large Eagle Owl plunged down from the rafters above the Gryffindor table. She didn't know what made her look up but as it dropped nearer and nearer in a bright blur of beak and feather and talon Hermione had a remarkable insight into what it felt like to be a very small and vulnerable rodent. The owl, on finding it's prey dropped with practised aim a deep blue envelope between her dish and goblet then rose with one flap of its wings and melted into the flurry of post owls.

Hermione bit her lip and glanced furtively at Ron, had he also recognised the bird? But Ron was too busy trying to grab Pig who flitted up and down apparently reluctant to give up a small package held tight in his claws. Taking advantage of the confusion Hermione reached out for her copy of the Daily Prophet and with her other hand slipped the letter into her lap. Keeping one eye on Ron she proceeded with rather more ceremony than normal, to place the newspaper beside her plate and untie the ribbon.

"What do you look like, Ron?" she said, glancing at the butter which oozed from between the fingers of the unfortunate Weasley's right hand. Hermione's eyes slipped to the other which was clenched round a small feathery bundle from which protruded a clicking beak and two tight round claws firmly attached to a small parcel wrapped in shiny orange paper.

Ron yelped as the beak nipped his finger then he plunged Pig tail first into the milk jug and the parcel dropped into his waiting hand.

"I'll have my tea black shall I?" scolded Hermione fishing the little owl out of the jug and began to dry his feathers with a napkin, "Really, Ron. I should report you to the Beast Division on a charge of wilful owl dunking."

"There's no such offence!" protested Ron, uncertainly picking with one finger at the claw shredded paper. Now he had his package he didn't seem quite so keen on opening it. He pushed it along the table top with the tip of one finger, "if you don't mind me asking," he said his eyes darting over Hermione, "When are you and Ginny going to make up?"

Beneath the table Hermione traced her thumb across the blob of wax that sealed her envelope, smooth and cold and brittle, very different to the soft grain of the parchment while her eyes focussed on the freckled tip of Ron's nose.

"She knows where I am," Hermione replied shortly, feeling that Ginny had very good reason not to trust her and certain that now was probably not the best time to raise that subject.

Ron sighed and leaned his chin on the palm of one hand, "I'll never understand you people."

"People?" Hermione asked archly, "Or people of a certain persuasion?"

"You women!"

"I thought that was the point of life," replied Hermione relieved to find a way of changing the subject, "What's in your parcel?"

"Oh," Ron looked down at the half wrapped box, "Dunno, lets see." He removed the rest of the paper and prised open the lid of a miniature packing case. Ron shook his head as he drew out a card accompanied by several springy woodshavings that scattered over his empty plate.

"It's from Percy." He lay the card on the table and dipped his fingers into the box he pulled out a long gold chain, at the end of which dangled what appeared to be a small polished egg. Ron held the object out at arms length and removed the last protective shaving that clung to its charge. Something in the tilt of his chin told Hermione that Ron was deeply unimpressed. She watched as he placed the egg in the palm of his hand and it split in half revealing a minute figure which peered up at Ron, quill poised above a scroll of parchment.

"A Personal Organiser!" exclaimed Hermione clapping her hands together, as the figure tapped its foot impatiently and began to glare. She had the odd impression that it was modelled on a certain Hogwarts librarian. Desperately trying not to smirk she beamed at Ron, "How thoughtful, that will be very useful with exams coming up. How are Percy and Penelope?"

"They're fine," said a wary Ron clicking shut the egg with marked distaste, "I'm not sure about you though. Half an hour on the Quidditch pitch might do you good, otherwise you'll end up sending organisers to people; just like Percy."

"You could do worse than Percy. Really, there's no harm in wanting to do well!"

"Relax Mum!

"I wish you people would remember that Quidditch isn't everything!" noted Hermione with no indication that she had heard Ron's remark.

"Me and Harry do okay," replied Ron emphasising his point. Hermione simply shook her head and reached for her newspaper. She sighed, they weren't the only one's that would benefit from a bit of hard work off the Quidditch pitch.

~0~

For the twentieth time that day Hermione pulled the letter from her robes and looked warily at the angled script. Fragments of purple wax from the cracked seal still clung to the page where it had grazed the envelope and the heady scent of amber filled her nostrils as she smoothed the page.

Meet me on the Quidditch pitch at eight tonight.

We need to talk.

D.

Hermione's mouth fell slack as she lowered the page.

We need to talk

The four most feared words in the English language. Hermione tucked her legs beneath her and kneaded the cushion in the crook of her arm, she tried to shrink back into the worn chair. The last person to say those words to her was Justin.

Is that why Draco didn't turn up to meet me yesterday? She wondered bitterly nothing she could tell her self would persuade her otherwise, didn't he have the courage to say it to her face? Hearing a footfall on the dormitory stairs Hermione stuffed her letter beneath the cushion and turned slightly to get a clear view of the doorway. A pair of second years ambled down and sat at a nearby table. Hermione turned back to the fire, she didn't plan to move from here for the rest of the evening. As she picked at the stuffing that poked through a tiny tear in the faded fabric Crookshanks padded across the floor. After staring for a few minutes as if to make sure she wasn't going to move, he leapt up and nestled in her lap, he stretched, extending one possessive paw over Hermione's knee where his claws pricked at the end of every Rrrrrrrr.

Absently Hermione trailed a finger through Crookshanks thick fur. There was no way she was going to meet Draco. If he had something to say he could come and see her on her territory, sending curt little notes wasn't going to work.

Slowly, as stragglers returned from dinner and detention and late classes the Gryffindor common room began to fill up. Hermione waved half heartedly at each greeting and after ten minutes that resolve that she had thought was so strong began to dry and flake. She glanced at her watch.

7:44

No, I'm not moving.

Chattering voices, friends and housemates, all completely oblivious as to what she was going through.

7:48

No. Don't even think about him.

Lavenders giggle. The wireless crackling as the Gryffindors searched for something on the WWN worth listening to. Voices, voices, voices.

7:51

I can't stand this any more!

Hermione was on her feet. Her eye caught the retreating tail of Crookshanks who had never before been so unceremoniously evicted from a lap. She didn't stop to get her bag, her cloak or even to answer Harry's concerned call of "What's wrong?" She did not see the sympathetic glances of Parvati and Lavender as the Portrait hole banged shut. Hermione just had to know.

By the time she neared the Quidditch pitch, Hermione's apprehension had returned. Why had she come? Why was she making it easy for him? Voices carried from behind the stands, skeletal and dark against the evening sky. They only lived on match days when draped with the flowing colours of the competing houses and of Hogwarts. Banners as loud and bright and fresh as the bodies that clamoured behind them.

As she picked her way beneath the bones, Hermione listened to the voices of the Slytherin team. She paused in the shadows and sat with her back against a broad beam. Here she could wait unseen until their practice was over or maybe until she convinced herself that answering Draco's summons was a bad idea and she returned to the safety of the castle.

Between the tiered wooden benches above, two pairs of feet dangled, drifting in and out of view. Between indistinct words she heard a chuckle that she recognised as Draco's a long time before she recognised his ankles,

"…and then, even after the Puddlemere fiasco the moron tried again! What sort of an imbecile is …"

"Will you keep your gob shut and concentrate on the game, Malfoy," yelled Pucey from across the field, "Your bloody mouth cost us the last game."

"Don't blame me for your lamentable performance." Draco's foot twitched irritably as if he wanted to kick someone, Hermione thought that he probably did. She recognised his tone it was dangerously soft, like quicksand. Unable to curb her curiosity she clambered to her feet and moved a little closer to the gap between the slats.

The description 'bronzed' would never be applicable to any Malfoy but today Draco looked even paler than usual. The deep green of his Quidditch robes appeared to have leached all the blood from his skin, replacing it with a reflected sickly pallor. His eyes seemed shadowed and tired lacking their usual fire as they pierced Adrian Pucey's back with a look that wasn't exactly team spirited. As Malfoy moved away the Slytherin captain began to yell at Baddock.

He who shouts loudest… thought Hermione stepping back into the shadows.

8:17. She pulled her robes tight around her shoulders and began to wish that she'd brought her cloak as the breeze that had been so pleasant earlier that afternoon began to cool and strengthen. When she glanced again at the field the team were standing in the middle engaged in heated debate it didn't seem as though much more Quidditch was going to be played tonight. Hermione felt that Mr Pucey might benefit from calming down a little and addressing the teams real problem which from where she was standing appeared to be the attitude of its captain.

Draco leaned on his broom watching the other six walk back to the changing room; he shook his head but gave no indication that he was expecting anyone. Hermione made a mental note to ask him why he wasn't captain if she could ever find the right time. Only when they had vanished did he mount his broom and whizz around the field. It was then that Hermione stepped out and walked slowly into the centre of the pitch.

"Draco," she called loudly, "will you come down?"

He swooped low in a flurry of deep green robes, "What a pleasant surprise." he remarked in a breath as he passed overhead then looped upside down before pulling up sharply, the tip of his broom just inches from Hermione's nose. She didn't even blink.

"You're early," he said slipping off the broom, which continued to hover just level with his shoulder, a sheen of sweat glistened on his brow as he cocked his head on one side and smirked. "I'm not in the shower yet."

"Draco!" she said, coldly. She wasn't going to let him distract her with remarks like that, "What is your problem? No, drop the hurt ferret expression, you wanted to see me and I'm here. What did you want?"

"Nothing," he shrugged. "I just thought you might like to get out of the library for ten minutes."

"Come off it, first you don't want to talk to me, then you do. You drag me halfway across the country let some evil bastard treat me like dirt, and don't get me started on the fact that you duped me into breaking the law. I'm not going to take this. You can't treat me this way." If she'd been standing on a wooden floor Hermione's foot would have made a satisfying bang, instead it just made a rather dull squelch and spattered cold sloppy mud up her leg.

Draco blinked slowly, apparently unmoved by her tirade. "Hermione, you're overreacting and I assure you my father is entirely legitimate," he said sourly, flicking his hair out of his eyes, "Can't you bear to be without me for an hour or two?"

"Two days, Draco." he shrugged which only made Hermione more angry. "Why can't you just talk to me? This was always going to be hard but sulking and resorting to snide remarks isn't going to help anyone."

"There's nothing to say," he replied brushing a speck of dust off the tip of his broom. "Can I get on now?"

"Not until you grow up." Hermione desperately wanted to reach out to him or shake him or slap him or something just to make him look at her, "You asked me to meet you here so tell me what you want."

"That's a very dangerous request, Hermione," a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as he turned away and began to adjust a loose twig in the tail of his broom, "thank you for coming."

She stood there with her arms folded glaring at Draco until he turned back to her.

"Do something for me," he said his eyes had regain their dangerous, playful glint, "and don't even think of refusing. I can't be bothered to argue."

"What?" Another of his bizarre amusements?

"Fly with me!" he said simply lowering his broom to waist height, "I've seen you fly and frankly it's embarrassing to watch. I'd like to show you how to stay upright."

"I can't," said Hermione shortly, "I don't like flying."

"I said no arguments. Anyway, you only say that because you're no good at it." Draco sucked in a breath between his teeth and narrowed his eyes. Hermione had never wondered what a piranha fish looked like just before it bit but she suspected that she had just found out. "Naturally you wouldn't have a clue, not exactly born to it, are you? Still, I am and I've been having lessons since I could walk."

"I didn't come here for a flying lesson," she said ignoring his slur and tried to return the conversation to her reason for being here, "I came to talk to you."

"Actually you came here because I asked you to. No other reason." Draco swung his leg over the broom then lifted both feet off the ground. Hovering, he held out his hand. "Get on the broom, then we can talk," he said.

Hermione ground her teeth together …stubborn, manipulative, infuriating… she thought. "Okay," she said after a long pause. "If you'll talk."

"In front," he said catching her before she could get on behind him, "You're flying, not me."

"Are we really meant to go two to a broomstick?" she asked already knowing that it could carry two.

Draco ignored her question. "Get a good grip … STEADY!" he reached around her and placed his hands over hers resting his head on her shoulder. "Gently now," he breathed as the broom began to rise.

He's loving this, she thought as he pushed up tightly behind her. She could taste his breath hot and sweet as she felt him lean slightly to the left. Hermione followed and they turned he straightened then pulled his hands off hers exposing them to a sudden sharp rush of wind, she felt his arms wrap around her waist as her own grip tightened on the broom.

"I could have used another broom alongside but this way is more fun," he said his head still on her shoulder. From the corner of her eye Hermione could see the tip of his nose quiver as he spoke. "You have complete control by the way."

Hermione wished that he hadn't said that, she was higher than she had ever flown and the altitude was beginning to make her feel giddy. She glanced down at the trees below, the Forbidden Forest extending far beyond the horizon.

"What did you want to talk about?" Draco enquired casually as though they had just sat down for a quiet lunch.

Not falling, thought Hermione, "Just tell me what's bothering you?" she snapped as a gust of wind buffeted them sideways through a bank of low cloud.

"Apart from your tone of voice there's nothing bothering me," replied Draco drawing Hermione's windblown hair away from her face, "what more could I want than to be up here on a broom with you?"

"Be serious." Her eyes fixed on the grey angled horizon she focussed, trying to bring it level.

"I am being serious," she could feel his words vibrating, he was so close to her ear, so close and so warm, "There's nothing wrong. But allow me my whims, Hermione; I've asked little else of you." she couldn't tell if it was a sigh or the rush of the air that passed her ear but he wrapped his arms more tightly round her waist as he continued, "Is it really my fault that I'm sick of being your sordid little secret? Can you really expect me to be nice to you when you spend all day pretending that I don't exist?"

That wasn't fair.

You know what he's trying to do don't you? prodded her conscience, he's going to make you blame yourself for his abuse and you're going to end up apologising to him when it's his fault. Hermione ignored that. In a twisted way she had to admit that he had a point.

He pushed forward slightly, a days growth of stubble rubbed against her cheek and her neck. Hermione wanted to push him away but she couldn't let go of the broom. He continued to speak humming softly in her ear like the wind; "Either you want to be with me or you don't, so I think it's about time you chose…I've chosen and unless you can do the same for me, I'm not prepared to go any further."

"What do you mean?" her head turned slightly she just caught a glint of his eye

"Please don't pretend to be stupid, Hermione. If you don't know what I mean we have nothing more to say."

Hermione didn't reply. His message was clear enough but why couldn't he just say what he meant? Why all the riddles, the hints, the implications?

"Turn us to the right," Draco said apparently not about to say more on the subject, "We'll fly much too far if you continue to go in a straight line and unless you like flying blind the night is no fun."

Hermione tensed, she hadn't been watching where they were going, and she was too busy trying to rationalise everything, to understand while he was being normal.

Take advantage of it, she told herself, maybe then he'll explain.

"To the right, Hermione," he suggested again, "Just lean into it, as hard as you like. There's an anti-spin charm on the tail of my broom so there's no way you can lose control except at high speed." Hermione thought that this was high speed, "Come on!" he encouraged.

Hermione closed her eyes and leaned very slightly to the right.

"Harder!" he said scolded, "How do you expect it to respond if it doesn't know what you want it to do?"

"I'm trying!" she snapped reluctant to lean any further.

"No, you're not," he accused then Hermione felt something warm and wet slide slowly down her left ear, she flinched and shifted sharply to the right. The broom turned in a smooth wide arc.

"Do I have to do that every time I want you to turn?" asked Draco squeezing his thighs tight against her hips. Hermione could just imagine the self satisfied smirk on his face.

"Keep your tongue to yourself! It's distracting."

"Nonsense! Flying is all about control so I suggest you start acting as though you are in charge. This broom is used to my movements and I can guarantee that closing your eyes and asking it nicely will not make it do what you want! Now, pull upright then circle back to the left."

Hermione did as asked. It seemed that Draco had decided their conversation was over and if she was honest at this second she was far more concerned with not falling than with smoothing the wrinkles out of their relationship. They straightened and she felt him move behind her placing his head on the other shoulder.

"To the left," he muttered blowing softly against her right ear. Not willing to give him the opportunity to start nibbling on her right ear Hermione leaned out of his way.

"Getting better," as he said it she felt his arms tighten again, he possessed the unnerving ability of making her feel both vulnerable and secure at the same time. "Now climb a bit, faster, just kick back and you'll accelerate. Good,"

Hermione shivered slightly as the airspeed increased. She wished he would stop ordering her around but she surmised that she didn't have any choice but to follow Draco's instructions because if she didn't they would very likely crash very hard, very painfully and very soon into the canopy of the forest below. She suspected that he was just obstinate enough to let her crash if she didn't obey even if it meant that he was injured too.

"Now take us down in a big slow circle," he said. Hermione did watching the green treetops change from a flat swathe as they grew closer, she could see individual trees and branches and leaves as they skimmed the surface then the forest petered out to become open grass.

"You see the pitch below? Go down, gently. Good. Now, aim for the central post, tight round it, sharp left," Draco reached out and plucked something out of the air, "I thought we'd lost it," he said waving a fluttering Golden Snitch in front of her eyes, "Now go to the middle of the field. Stay at this height and … stop!"

They were still about ten feet above the ground he brushed her hair aside and pulled her hands back against his legs then enfolded her in his Quidditch robes while he gently kissed the back of her neck. The broom sank slowly back to the ground.

"I'm impressed," he said as they got on the ground, "all you needed was a decent teacher. Next time you have a flying lesson, just relax and you'll be fine."

"Thank you," Hermione gasped. her pulse was racing and for once she had actually enjoyed the experience of flying. She threw her arms round Draco and grinned up at him. "There are worse ways to learn."

Draco chuckled, "We'll make a Witch of you yet!" he said.

"I am a witch," Hermione recoiled as if he'd just slapped her.

"That depends on your definition," he stated simply.

Hermione stared open mouthed as Draco picked up his broom and hoisted it over his shoulder and turned back to look at her. How could he say such a thing? Draco reached forward and lifted her chin with a crooked finger to close her mouth.

"You're so easy to provoke …"

"Why do you have to ruin everything!" Hermione slapped his hand away, "Can't you just allow a perfect moment to continue?"

"…and you have no sense of humour! Don't look so sulky Hermione. I love you anyway."

"I'll see you later." Said Hermione flatly turning away. She no longer felt talking to him or being anywhere near him. Suddenly everything was back on her mind, his cruel remarks, his offhand manner. He took her from ecstasy to misery with a few words and barely seemed to realise that they were hurtful words. She had walked barely five steps when Draco appeared, bobbing at her elbow his broom matching her speed exactly.

"Don't I get a kiss?" Draco sounded hurt.

"Not this time," she replied not stopping.

"What's wrong with you?" he asked, "You flew wonderfully, why so upset?"

"When you work it out, let me know." Without another word Hermione quickened her step and walked back toward the school.

~0~

As she approached the main door of the castle Hermione noticed an odd little gathering sitting on the stone steps. They were a peculiar group consisting of Lavender Brown, the Patil twins and Blaise Zabini, long ago they had formed a clique for which Hermione had assumed the only membership requirement was a certain degree of stupidity. Since she had become a fringe member of this group she now knew that wasn't true and whilst Lavender might well have more fluff than brains in her skull she was certain that something dangerous lurked beneath the vapid exterior of Blaise Zabini.

Hermione did not trust Blaise. She knew that the girl was in some way involved with the bet that soured last term. Hermione still had Draco's letter which proved it – she should burn it really but it served as a reminder of who she was dealing with much more than any fears of Dark lords and Death Eaters. Such worries were far more abstract and easily reasoned away than a hand-written confession of guilt. Despite that Hermione still loved Draco though he infuriated her.

"Hi 'Mione," said Lavender. The other girls were crowded round her shoulder reading the same page of a magazine. "How you?"

"Great!" she lied. The last thing Hermione wanted to do was get into a discussion of how she was feeling with this lot.

"Even after Justin?" asked Padma. "Lavender said you were really upset in the common room tonight. We all came to look for you."

"Well here I am." said Hermione, she still hadn't forgiven Padma for what she'd said in the library, no matter how many times Hermione told herself that it was her own fault for eavesdropping the word 'plain' still rang in her mind every time she heard Padma speak. "I felt like a walk.

"Is it true that Justin ended it?" asked Blaise without looking up.

Hermione nodded, "Suits me fine. I don't have time for boyfriends."

"Why are you looking so sulky then?" asked Parvati, "And you keep sloping off by yourself, we thought you were pining."

"Perhaps she has a secret boyfriend," Blaise finally raised her eyes, dark and sparkling from the glossy page. Hermione's gaze dropped to the floor then slowly when she was sure that they carried the right degree of scorn, she raised her eyes to meet Blaise's.

The Slytherin's expression said it all '… I know all about it, so don't bother to deny it…' Hermione swallowed and forced a smile, "You are imaginative," she said feeling the uncomfortable prickle of sweat breaking on her forehead.

"Seamus might be interested." Lavender continued unaware of what was passing between Blaise and Hermione.

"No offence Lavender but your last recommendation wasn't much good. I'm not interested."

"But that was Justin…What about Harry or Ron or have you been there already?"

Prurient little… "Definitely not! They're friends. Seriously, I don't need a boyfriend to feel complete, I'm happy alone."

~0~

Hermione had not slept well. She felt like strangling Draco or hexing his ears off. Why had he told Blaise Zabini? She imagined them in some snug little corner of their common room talking in low whispers late into the night. Hermione wanted to be able to do that. Why had he confided in that horrible hag when he wouldn't even talk to her about what he was thinking. Merlin, maybe he'd been boasting to the whole common room.

She picked up her bag and traipsed down to breakfast. Harry and Ron were already there and so were Lavender and Parvati, as she didn't feel like listening to the lonely hearts column over breakfast Hermione waved at the girls as she passed and went to join Ron and Harry.

"Has the post been?" she asked spooning porridge out of a cauldron and into her dish. "This is really thick," she remarked as the lumpy white mess plopped down into her dish, suddenly Hermione didn't feel quite so hungry.

"Yeah, your papers here," said Harry tossing a folded Daily Prophet to Hermione. "I think Dobby finally stirred the others into rebellion," grinning at Hermione's look of consternation as she poked her spoon in the porridge.

"Yeah," added Ron going for another helping of slightly singed bacon, "Your boycott finally payed off."

Hermione smiled thinly at the pathetic reference to her attempts at raising the profile of elf rights in her third year as she finally pushed her bowl away with the spoon standing upright in the centre.

"Something edible would be nice," she muttered.

"'Mazing Harry," chuckled Ron through a mouthful of fried eggs, "she's finally betrayed her principles. That always happens to dangerous radicals."

"Yeah Ron," Hermione said wondering what sort of reception breakfast was receiving on the less liberal house tables. "The day I sell out I'll be on the front page of the Daily Prophet."

"Look who's back!" she exclaimed as a column at the bottom left of the front page caught her eye. Hermione read it out loud for the benefit of her friends.

"Fudge melts into sticky mess!

Official sources last night denied that the incumbent Cornelius Fudge plans to step down from his post as Minister of Magic writes Rita Skeeter, our corespondent for Ministry Matters. Fudge has recently come under increasing criticism for his failure to quash rumours that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is resurgent.

"Ts, ts, ts," commented Mr Lucius Malfoy, "Such a thing could never happen again. Dark Wizards indeed! Such rumours are perpetuated by crackpots and fools who's status and acclaim rests on nothing more than hot air. I am one hundred and ten percent behind Fudge. What the Magical Community needs right now is leadership, not division and the acknowledged leader of our community is Cornelius Fudge."

Indeed the rift between the Ministry and the headmaster of Britains foremost magical educational establishment appears to be widening. This reporter would remind readers that Albus Dumbledore declined the post of Minister for Magic preferring to isolate himself behind the charmed walls of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now he has re-emerged from obscurity determined to split opinion and to instil fear into the hearts of Witches and Wizards worldwide by claiming that You Know Who is back.

Perhaps Dumbledore has regrets about his decision? If so is scaremongering and the circulation of rumours the best way to deal with it? We think not. In the pursuit of truth this reporter will leave no stone unturned, let no skeleton hide in the closet…"

"Let no cliché rest in peace," added Harry with a grin.

"Skeeter! Laden as ever with innuendo." Said Hermione with a shake of her head, "I thought I'd sorted her out."

"Don't start all that again," warned Ron, "she's not here and anyway she'd see you coming this time."

"Maybe," said Hermione rolling up the paper and shoving it in her bag, "Listen, I need to grab something from the library, I'll see you in class."

Halfway up the marble staircase Hermione heard footsteps behind her, fast footsteps.

"Read this," Malfoy panted shoving a sheet of parchment into her hand, it seemed to match several others and an envelope that he retained.

"I'm not talking to you," she said dropping the parchment without so much as a glance. Hermione thought she let Draco get away with far too much. All that was going to change or he could simply get knotted, those cruel words yesterday were the limit, she wasn't going to let him mess her around like that any more.

"How does Blaise Zabini know about us?" Hermione asked sharply before continuing up the stairs and along the corridor.

"What's she said?" asked Draco steadying himself with a hand on Hermione's shoulder.


"Nothing, but she knows and I want to know why." She turned and moved beyond his reach. Draco was struggling for breath. What was so pressing that he had run to catch up with her?

"Blaise can keep a secret. Anyway, that's not important, read this." he must have stopped to pick it up because it was the same sheet, wrinkled where Hermione had thrown it aside. As he thrust the parchment into her hands Draco hustled Hermione into an empty classroom.

"It's important to me." She dropped it again and stepped on it, twisting her foot as she turned to glare at him. "Why did you tell her?"

"I had to talk to someone, I had a hard decision to make," he stooped and raised his eyebrows at the state of the page, he shoved it once again into her hands, "read it! Please."

"No!"

"Don't then. I'll read it to you."

Hermione snatched it out of his hand, she didn't want to give him the opportunity to start going on at her. Her eyes skimmed across the page, fluid yet precisely formed letters, words about her. Her eyes flicked up to Draco's his eyes were wide and excited. Hermione lowered her hands and sat on a nearby desk.

The man wrote the same way he spoke, softly and with more meaning in the things that were not said than the words on the page.

"Do I get a say in this?" she asked. Draco didn't seem to think there was anything wrong.

"What's the problem," he asked holding her tightly, "I knew the old bastard had a heart."

Hermione found that very difficult to believe she smiled tightly but Draco didn't seem to notice her reservation.

"I didn't think he'd come round. Once he found out who you were. I tried to keep you out of it but he just went on and on until I told him who you were and you don't know what he said, about… you, about your type. He was quite ready to drag you out of the house by your hair and kick you down every inch of the drive but I just exploded and shrieked at him until I ran out of words. He just stood there staring at me as if I'd turned up to dinner wearing a dress. I don't think I've ever seen him lose his composure before but it worked, Hermione. I've never done that, argued that way … with him. And in the end he just blinked and said, get out of my house."

"Why are you telling me this?" Hermione asked softly, she moved toward Draco, stroking her hand down his cheek, honesty was all well and good but he was implying things that she would prefer not to hear. "I don't need to know the details. It's enough that your family are willing not to object to us."

"Lets celebrate," he said grasping her hands, "We'll wait until everyone has gone to lessons then I'll sneak you into my dormitory."

Celebrate? Is that what they're calling it these days? Hermione thought wryly. Tasting the dry salty tang of his lips. Much as she loved the idea of celebration sex she replied, "I have to go to class," breaking away from his kiss.

"Here then?" he said baring his teeth and trailing one hand down the front of her robes.

"Do you really think I'm going to be caught in the stationary cupboard?"

"I'm willing to take the risk."

"I won't be there so you'll look a little lonely."

"Hermione!" Draco contrived to look shocked at the implication.

"Will you tell them now?" he asked, "everyone can know now."

"Soon," she lied, just because Draco's father had inexplicably changed his opinion of Muggle borns it didn't mean that Ron and Harry would miraculously change their opinion of Malfoys. If she could just put it off a little longer and a little longer… "I don't want to spoil their exams, Draco. As soon as they're over I'll tell them."

"As you wish," Draco acquiesced.

Hermione felt his arms stretch around her back as he drew her close, her cheek rested on his chest where amidst the warmth of his dark robes infused with the scent of lime and amber she could feel the rapid slowing rhythm of his heart. She smiled thinking that it must have been the first time Draco had complied without argument.

~0~

In Part Thirteen: Between the lines … what motivates miraculous changes of heart. The Malfoys and the Ministry in abundance, Niccolo Machiavelli would have been proud!

Authors Notes:

Thank you all for waiting for so long for this chapter. Personally I don't like it (except the flying scene) I think that maybe it should have been a bit more developed. It hasn't been through the usual beta process and is possibly a bit less polished than some of the other chapters.

I have semi-internet access once again (yay) and whilst I cannot promise a return to bi-monthly chapters I do hope to produce one per month (between eating, sleeping, working and intensive German lessons). I hope that this delay was an exception … for those of you who doubt the difficulty of gaining internet access etc in a foreign country, try it before you ask "How can it possibly take this long?"

Enough from me. Thank you all for reading, please leave a review, they make me very happy and think of me all alone in Germany:)

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Love always

~Incitata~