By the time Saturday came around, Hermione was starting to get a little nervous about her meeting with Draco. She'd been interested in the idea of helping him to work out the issues in his head and turning his thoughts to a more open-minded direction. However, there was a fear lurking in her mind that even reasonable debate wasn't going change Draco and also a feeling that this afternoon was going involve a great deal of shouting and disharmony. She really wasn't thrilled at the thought of having to argue points about Muggles in the wizarding world, since the topic was a little, well, personal.

As she paced the hallway outside the library, which had become their unofficial meeting spot, she also admitted to herself that her conversation with Ginny a few days previous had been preying on her mind. She mocked herself as she considered the time she had spent in front of the mirror earlier, trying to tie her hair down into a neat braid. As much as she wanted to tell herself it was because she thought they might go outside as the weather was unusually nice for October and she didn't want her hair blowing around, her rational side had to admit that she had been trying to make herself look nice, for a meeting with Draco Malfoy no less!

Scowling to herself, Hermione turned on her heel and crashed right into the object of her thoughts.

"Oi! Watch it Hermione! Trying to send me to Madame Pomfrey?" Draco grinned at her to let her know he was joking, knowing that a remark like that a week ago would have set off an argument. He wasn't entirely sure that it wouldn't today, from the fierce look on Hermione's face. In an attempt to forestall any fighting, since he figured there would probably be plenty later on, he took her elbow and started propelling her towards the stairs.

"So, Hermione, I thought that since we're having bizarrely warm weather we should go and enjoy it. I figure that if we head towards the lake, there's plenty of spots we can choose from. And it'll be a nice change from working in the stuffy old library."

Hermione shook her arm free from his hand as they started down the steps to one of the lakeside entrances.

"Sounds fine by me as long as we're nowhere near the Quidditch pitch. I really don't want to have to recopy all my work after getting muddied by a stray bludger… or player, for that matter."

"Not a problem," he said, holding the door for her. "The place I have in mind is fairly sure to be free of flying maniacs and other interruptions."

She grinned at him as the early afternoon sun started to soak into her, pleased at how things were going. It seemed that Draco was trying to be agreeable. Perhaps today wouldn't be as bad as she'd feared.

"Fine then. Lead on, McFudd."

"What?" Draco asked, confused.

"Sorry, a joke my dad makes. Reference to a Muggle play. I think it's only funny if you're part of our family."

"Oookay." He didn't ask her to explain, though he was curious. He wanted to ask her about what the reference meant and learn about the joke, but was afraid that she would think he was being nosy and presumptuous. After all, they had yet to get through an encounter without a fight. Filled with determination that today would be the day they managed to get along, he started walking quickly towards where he'd decided to take her.

"Ta da!"

Hermione's jaw dropped as Draco threw out his arms in an exaggerated gesture of presentation. As she'd followed him silently through the trees along the lakeshore, she'd been wondering to herself whether she should turn back. For all she knew, he was dragging her to a dark, dank cave or something. Who knew where Malfoys liked to hang out. She wouldn't put it past Draco's dad to have a torture chamber as his living room, so Draco's reassurance that where they were going was to be a surprise, really cool, and somewhere they wouldn't be disturbed hadn't entirely made her feel thrilled. But this was not what she'd been expecting at all.

"Do you like it?" he asked nervously. "I think it's one of the most beautiful places I've ever been. But we don't have to stay here. We can go back."

She smiled at him. "It's amazing. Really, really amazing. We're not going anywhere," she said emphatically, sitting on a tree stump near the edge of the clearing.

It really was something, she thought. And to think that Draco was interested in somewhere so lovely. He stood in the center of the small clearing, still looking a little nervous. Around them, trees rose thirty or forty feet in the air, but the afternoon sun poured in through the opening in the canopy. There was a small brook running along one side of the area, perhaps twenty feet from where Hermione sat. She could hear the water murmuring as it ran over rocks and branches on its path to the lake. The rest of the space was covered in thick grass, with several large mossy rocks and stumps seemingly set down at random. There was a sensation that time was suspended here, and Hermione could swear she could feel the tension melting from her neck and shoulders. She had never been anywhere that felt so separated from the world.

"Honestly, Draco," she repeated. "It's beautiful. Thank you for bringing me here."

"I'm glad you like it. I've never really brought anyone else here," he admitted. A wry grin twisted his mouth. "It's not like Goyle and Crabbe are great appreciators of nature's beauty."

She laughed. "I'd have to agree with you there. I don't really see them as the type who wax poetic over flowers and sunsets."

"Not exactly, no," he laughed. "I don't think they'd know a poem if it came at them with a stick."

They grinned at each other for a moment, until Hermione glanced away suddenly.

"Well," she said briskly. "We have some work to get through this afternoon. Especially if you still wanted to have a 'talk' later."

"Uh yeah, sure," Draco said as he dropped his gaze to his feet. "Well, why don't we use this stump as a table. We can spread everything out and divide up the topic like last time."

Hermione mumbled her agreement, feeling slightly guilty as she heard the excitement and laughter cut out of his voice. She just wasn't entirely sure that she felt comfortable feeling this, well, comfortable with Draco. It was odd, finding common ground with someone who had been her enemy for such a long time. She wondered if this was the potion they'd drunk a month and a half ago finally taking effect. Perhaps the difference in color had been a sign that it was weaker than the other students' brews. In her readings on the potion she had run across nothing to indicate that they had made theirs incorrectly or what the different color meant; besides, surely Professor Snape wouldn't have allowed them to drink their creations had they made a mistake. But this strange feeling of ease she felt with Malfoy today, it had to be magical. Hermione refused to believe that there could be an actual friendship brewing, no matter how Draco seemed to have changed.

. . .

After twenty minutes of reading in silence, Draco finally shut his textbook. Hermione looked up at the noise and, seeing his face, she set down the quill she'd been using to take notes.

"I'm getting sick of reading about enslavement potions and mind-link potions and all of this," he grumbled. "I understand how to make the different variations. I understand which ones are legal and which ones aren't. I don't see why we have to write a stupid essay on the misuse of the potions when there hasn't been a case in over a century."

"I don't know, Draco," said Hermione, rubbing her eyes. "Maybe because Snape's a sadist."

He stared at he in surprise. "Did you just say…?"

"Yeah," she said aggressively. "So? It's not like you weren't thinking it."

"Well, I suppose," he admitted. "But I just never thought that you would call a teacher names like that."

"Please, I'm human. And this paper is inhumane," she said with a grin. "So we should get it out of the way as fast as possible. Agreed?"

"Agreed," he said, nodding and reopening his book. "So what's the secret plan?"

"Well, not much of a plan, but I figure we write out the reasons why it's wrong to use the potion, then find an example to add it onto each reason. It's a good thing he only wants one scroll."

"Yeah, even with handwriting as large as Pansy's I doubt we could end up with more than one scroll." Draco grimaced.

"Oh well, let's just get it done, shall we?" He nodded and Hermione continued. "I've written out the points Snape lectured on in class and two more from the text book, so let's get an example for each. Then we can divide them up, write it out properly and combine them like we did the last essay."

"Sounds like a definite plan. Why don't we each try to find an example for every point and if we manage to find different ones, then we'll impress Snape."

"And bring in the high marks." Hermione smiled at him. "I like the way you think, Draco. Devious, but effective."

"It the Slytherin in me, my cunning will get me far," he said proudly, only to see Hermione's smile fade a little. "What? Still can't stand the thought of being near a Slytherin? And you call me prejudiced!"

"No, no Draco," she said quickly. "It's not that. The house thing doesn't bother me that much. It's the pride in being underhanded."

"Hey, you just said that you liked the way I thought. That it was a good plan." Draco jumped up from where he'd been sitting on a tree stump and started pacing, glaring down at Hermione.

"Yeah, it was a good plan," she said, also getting to her feet. "And I'm not saying that I don't agree with it. What bothered me is the attitude that being sneaky and underhanded is the way to get where you want to be in life."

"Well, it's getting us to the marks we want, isn't it?" he asked tightly, stopping right in front of her.

"I suppose, but I guess what I'm thinking of it the more dangerous and harmful devious acts I've seen used to gain power. Such as your father giving that diary to Ginny." Draco grimaced and opened his mouth to interrupt, but Hermione rushed on. "It was terribly cunning, and it got the Chamber of Secrets opened, but at what cost? Your plan to get us better marks isn't hurting anyone. What your father did hurt many people and could have killed a lot more."

Draco stared down at Hermione, watching her cheeks color in anger, her fists clenched at her sides. He finally turned away in the face of her emotion and tried to compose himself. He really didn't want to have a serious fight about this with Hermione, not today when he had hoped to have an enjoyable conversation. As he walked deliberately away from her towards a group of standing stones, he let out a slow breath and tried to formulate a way of defusing the argument. Finally he turned and sat on one of the stones, facing the girl.

"Well Hermione," he began. "I really don't know if I can make any defense for my father's actions. I agree that perhaps they were wrong in the sense that they did cause a lot of hurt and near death along the way. But he thought that what he was doing was right and for a good cause. In the long run, he was trying to protect the wizards and witches of the school."

"No, Draco, what you think you mean is he tried to protect the pure bloods." Draco tried to interrupt but again she overrode him. "But may I remind you of witch who was ensnared by the diary, which, by the way is a perfect example of why enslavement potions and charms are wrong. Anyway, the witch he chose was Ginny Weasley, who is as pureblooded as you are."

Again Draco tried to speak, but Hermione barely paused for breath.

"Your father could have left the pure blooded witch safe and sound and given the diary to me, who as a Muggle-born would have been someone he could put at risk without a second thought. But no, he decided that he would torment the Weasleys, not because of blood or heritage, but because they offend him by being well liked in a way he never could or will be."

She finally stopped her rant and Draco had a chance to say something, but he was silenced by her accusation because the more he thought about it, the more he realized it was absolutely true. Lucius was always complaining that the Weasleys were an insult to wizardry and should be gotten rid of, but as far as Draco could tell the only reason he gave to justify his hatred of them was their poverty, which had nothing to do with their blood at all. But the unspoken reason Lucius hated Ron's dad was to do with the fact that Mr. Weasley never pretended to respect the Malfoys simply because of their names and history. And the fact that while the Malfoys were a respected family, it seemed the Weasleys were a loved family even with all their foibles and flaws.

Draco opened his mouth to try another defense, this one about the fact that his father was forced to chose Ginny as the recipient of the diary. But then he remembered the confusion in the shop as his father fought with Mr. Weasley. There had been plenty of chances for Lucius to slip the diary in among Hermione's dozens of books. But he'd ignored the obvious route of using a Mudblood and hurt his own kind. Draco's head was spinning slightly as he started to realize that perhaps his father's motives weren't as obvious on a second examination.

"Are you seeing what I mean, Malfoy?" Hermione asked after he'd been silent for a while. "Your father doesn't seem to truly believe all that pure-blood nonsense he spouts. Or at least, he only believes it when it's convenient to him."

"Okay, I'll accept your point about choosing Ginny over you, but I think that was just because he hates the Weasleys," Draco finally responded. "I have to argue that my father really does believe in the supremacy of pure bloods. He's always going on about it."

"Well, I have to say that even if he talks about it all the time, what your father truly believes in is the superiority of Lucius Malfoy. And him spouting all this when his hero is of mixed blood. It's ridiculous. It's like believing a short, dark haired man declaring the Aryan race superior when he's neither blond nor blue eyed."

Draco looked at her quizzically.

"Sorry, another Muggle reference. I did a paper for Muggle studies on the Second World War and found all sorts of weird parallels to the dehumanization of Muggleborns."

"Okay, sure, whatever. I already told you that I don't really follow all of this anti-Muggle stuff anyway. I don't care about it."

"Draco, you have to care! If you just sit back and don't argue back when people start slagging off someone for something completely baseless, you're just as bad as the overtly prejudiced. And you especially should have an opinion on this issue, considering how obvious it is what your father's opinion is."

"Well, I don't," Draco snapped. "And I don't want to talk about this anymore. So why don't we finish up the assignment."

"Fine. Whatever."

. . .

Hermione huffed angrily and settled down to her books. She wasn't thrilled with the topic of their argument, even less so by the fact that Draco, for all his supposed reawakening, was still not able to handle criticism of the great Lucius Malfoy. And most irritating was the fact that she was out here trying to convert her enemy while Harry and Ron were stuck in the castle trying to ward off a much greater evil.

She sighed and rubbed her forehead. Last night had been the third night in a row they had spent putting wards over new and more obscure entrances to the castle. For the past week they had watched on the Marauder's Map as Wormtail attempted to enter the castle in various ways. In September he had attempted to use one of the tunnels that Filch had blocked off, then the one which had collapsed. After both of those attempts failed, Wormtail had gained access to the grounds through the tunnel under the Whomping Willow and had been hiding in the forest ever since.

Since the night she had been injured as they pursued him, he had lain low, but obviously his need to be in the castle had become more urgent recently. There had been various attempts to creep in through dungeon windows, out of the way doors, and the lake entrance. Fortunately, it seemed that someone, perhaps Dumbledore, had blocked most of these off. But Wormtail was becoming more reckless. He had tried to come in one of the doors off of the Quidditch pitch after a Slytherin practice and would have succeeded had Harry not been on lookout with the map while cleaning his gear in the Gryffindor locker room.

There were other strange things happening around the castle. Snape kept disappearing off the map in the middle of the night, often after spending time with Professor McGonagall. The general consensus was that he was flying off somewhere to do something for Dumbledore and that McGonagall was the one giving orders. Hermione and Harry were sure that he was spying on the Death Eaters, though Ron was still convinced that Snape was too mean to be a double agent. Another name which would appear and disappear from the map with no warning was Arabella Figg, who could be seen arriving in the Headmaster's office at all sorts of strange times. Harry kept watch for a name he desperately wanted to see, but it seemed that Sirius was not one of Dumbledore's night visitors.

There had also been some strange behavior from some of the students. Crabbe and Goyle had been spending a lot of time with a Slytherin named Collier, who, they'd managed to determine, was a second year from a family with dubious connections. Ron and Harry were surprised to notice that Draco was never with his henchmen when they met with the younger student, but Hermione refrained from mentioning her theories as to why this was. Although after the argument they just had, or rather the rant she'd just had at the unresponsive boy, she wasn't entirely sure that Draco wasn't somehow still playing Junior Death Eater and simply using Crabbe and Goyle to pass on messages or orders.

"Hermione? Hermione?"

Her thoughts broke off as a hand waved in front of her face. Draco was once again sitting across from her, and he was looking at her with confusion.

"Where were you?" he asked. "I just called your name, like, half a dozen times."

"Sorry," she said, looking down, trying to pull her thoughts together. "I was just thinking about another problem, uh, assignment. What can I help you with?"

"Nothing much. I think I've managed to find examples for all of these points," he said, gesturing at their list, "and it's getting kinda cold. So I figured we should probably head back to the school before the sun sets."

Hermione looked up at the sky and realized that it was late afternoon. Not that that meant much, she thought, since it was October and the sun was starting to set earlier and earlier. Soon they'd be in winter, when the sun went down at practically the same time as the day's classes ended. She shook her head and started putting her books and papers into her school bag.

. . .

Draco watched her for a second then opened his mouth to speak, but he closed it again and began to pack his own things away.

As they walked from the clearing, Draco broke the awkward silence between them, stopping Hermione is her tracks.

"Can we do this again sometime next week?" he asked quietly

"Well, we'll have to, won't we? We have to get the assignment finalized," she pointed out.

"No. I mean, can we just get together and talk next week. Outside of assignments and stuff."

"I don't know Draco," she said slowly, starting to walk towards the school again. "I mean, I know I agreed to chat today, but it really didn't seem to accomplish much, did it? I have more important things to do that have discussions with someone who can't even be bothered to have an opinion on the topic at hand."

"Okay, okay. I get your point. What if I promise to consider everything you said and come back with an opinion next time?"

Hermione snorted, but then she looked up at him. Her face settled into a thoughtful expression.

"Sure, whatever. I suppose that since we'll have to meet to compile this essay, we can give this whole debate thing another chance then. If this is due Thursday why don't we meet Tuesday, which gives one of us," she grinned up at him, "time to copy it out on Wednesday."

Draco groaned. "Why do I get the feeling that by 'one of us' you mean me?"

"Well, I figure we should stick with the deal we had last time - y'know, whoever's less busy - that seemed to work. And I don't know about you, but I'm pretty busy next week."

"Fine, fine," Draco sighed. "I'll copy the bloody thing. But I expect you to make time for conversation next week. No picking up all your stuff and running off as soon as the essay's sorted out."

"Deal. But I will leave if you don't make some contribution to the argument."

"Have you ever known me to back down from an argument, Granger?"

"No comment, Malfoy," Hermione shot back, then lost whatever she was going to say next when a shiver caused her teeth to chatter.

"Cold?" Draco asked, stopping and putting down his book bag. His hands were at the fastening of his cloak before Hermione could respond.

"Just a shiver," she said quickly, "nothing to worry about. I'll be fine."

"I should have told you to bring your cloak," he said, pulling his from around his shoulders. "Here, take mine. Stop fighting. Potter and Weasley would kill me if you got sick after hanging out with me."

She pushed his hands away, but he dodged around her faster than she could turn and put the cloak on her shoulders. Hermione tried to pull the fabric away from her, but Draco simply covered his hands with hers, then moved to fasten the tie at the collar.

"C'mon Hermione, it's nothing. Just think of it as protecting your friends from being humiliated in the fight they'd pick with me over your sneezes and sniffles."

"Okay, fine," she said grudgingly, and waited while Draco picked up his bag and continued walking towards the castle. She fell in step beside him, feeling much better with the cloak between her and the chill of the evening.

"So we'll talk next week?" Draco asked, returning to their previous topic. "I do promise to think about everything you've said and actually be involved in the discussion. Oh man, I feel like I'm promising Professor McGonagall I'll actually participate in class or something. Ugh."

"Well, I take that as a compliment," Hermione said with a smile. "You could have compared me to Professor Binns: too boring to argue with."

"Nope," Draco replied, shaking his head, "boring you're not. If you put half as much fire into a lecture as you do your arguments, you'd be one of the best, most exciting teachers in school."

"Thank you Draco," Hermione said. "I can only hope that my students would feel the same. I mean, when I have students. If I become a teacher."

"Stop waffling," he ordered. "Everyone knows you're going to become a teacher. Probably headmaster, too. Just promise me that if you do teach History of Magic, you won't drone. I swear that if you compared Binns with a hive of bees, they'd sound the same."

Hermione laughed. As they reached the main courtyard, she handed Draco her satchel and untied the cloak from around her neck. Pulling it off her shoulders, she reached out for her bag and passed the cloak off to him with her other hand.

"Thanks for showing me that clearing, Draco. I'll see you on Tuesday, okay?"

"Sure," he replied and stood silently watching her walk determinedly to the door that would lead to the Gryffindor tower. Shaking his head, he wrapped the cloak around his own shoulders and moved slowly towards the entrance that would lead to the Slytherin part of the castle. He had a feeling he wasn't going to get any homework done at all that evening, far too many thoughts about what Hermione had said that afternoon were swirling around his brain.