A/N: Two chapters in one night, I thought you might like. Poor ickle Draco. I enjoyed writing Hermione in this. You may be able to see why.


Draco kept his head down until the lesson ended, and every minute inside the little dungeon was an absolute nightmare: He could see Harry and Hermione talking, watching them out of the corner of his eye, and at any moment expected Harry's cry of 'He what!?' to ring out through the room. But, to his surprise and evident relief, it never did. The lesson passed in a state of veritable calm, and it wasn't until he was walking away down the corridor outside that Harry paid Draco any unusual attention.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Harry called after his retreating back. Draco froze as though stung, silently thinking 'this is it, he knows…'

He turned on his heel slowly, and cast Hermione an evil look over Harry's shoulder, glaring as he replied.

"What?" he demanded, as coldly as he could muster whilst fearing for his reputation. Over Harry's shoulder, Hermione smiled reassuringly and shook her head. The movement made Draco weak with relief, sighing inwardly and releasing a breath he hadn't realised he was holding. Harry, though, was frowning at the hostile response, raising his hands in front of him in mock defence.

"Have you thought of anything yet? For your transformation, I mean…" he offered quietly, arching a brow at Draco's reaction and walking over warily.

"Oh. Erm…no, only for you, annoyingly enough…" he remarked dryly, smirking and relaxing, ignoring Hermione's sly grin as best he could. What had possessed him to tell her, he could not fathom…

"Want a suggestion?" Harry offered, smiling slightly at their unusual civility and leaning against the wall casually as the other two students and their Professor passed, leaving Draco and the two Gryffindors alone in the corridor.

"Yeah, sure…" Draco replied, surprised but faintly gratified by the offer, nodding with a note of curiosity in his voice…this he had to hear.

"A Siberian tiger." Harry announced after an awkward moment, glancing up to Draco's face to see the reaction shyly…he was met with a slightly bemused look, to his surprise, and he smiled faintly.

"You know, one of the whi-," he started, but was cut off suddenly by Draco, waking from his reverie.

"Yes, Potter, I know what one is!" he exclaimed, and there was no mistaking his smile this time…it was unusually bright, none of its typical sarcasm, an actual smile rather than a smirk.

"Oh. I didn't…" the Gryffindor replied, shrugging, slightly shamefaced at not knowing. Harry noticed distractedly that Draco got dimples when he smiled like that, and what was even more of a surprise was that he, himself, noticed. Or cared.

"A Siberian tiger? You think? Why's that?" Draco repeated, flattered and yet wary, scanning Harry's face as though he expected the Gryffindor to be joking.

"Yeah, it suits you. Why? Er…well, they're white. Like, white-blonde? And…they're actually sort of frightening, sometimes. And…kinda cu-," Harry stuttered, caught off guard by the question and stumbling over the words slightly. He cut himself off when he realised what he was saying, blushing scarlet and looking to his feet and chiding himself silently. Cute? Where had that come from?

Before Draco, who looked rather stunned, could reply, Hermione leant over Harry's shoulder and informed him; "Well, Harry, I'm off. See you in the common room- don't be late for lessons!" she giggled, only just keeping from hysterics as she looked between the two boys: So composed separately, yet together so awkward…and yet, they fit. Like dark and light, evil and good, although she knew that Draco wasn't really evil…you couldn't have one without the other. Harry looked faintly desperate as Hermione sailed off, giving her a wide eyed look of pleading, which she promptly ignored. She disappeared up the stairs at the end of the corridor, leaving the two boys alone. Together.

Draco was grinning, rather knowingly, well aware how discomfited Harry was and enjoying the other boy's awkward silence…the look on his face drove Harry to retaliate: "You can't talk!" Harry proclaimed irritably, more embarrassed than angry at the teasing glint in Draco's eyes.

"Well, Potter, technically I can, but…what?" Draco added, torn between sarcasm and utter confusion, arching a brow slightly as he eyed Harry cautiously.

"You. You said 'panther', after all!" the Gryffindor announced, in the manner of one laying down a winning hand, returning Draco's challenging smile readily. Draco coloured faintly, well aware that he had no answer to that, eyes dropping instantly to his feet and shuffling uncomfortably. It came as a complete surprise, then, when he heard himself explain: "It's something about the way you move…" in the absent, sighed tone of one very much absorbed in their thoughts. He put one hand to his mouth quickly, covering his lips as though to quiet himself, but the damage was done. A slow smile spread over Harry's face, raising an eyebrow in surprise. "You watch the way I move?" he repeated, shocked.

"Would you complain if I said…yes?" Draco countered, slowly, feeling a scarlet blush stain his face for what seemed the millionth time, his gaze slowly running up to Harry's face again, watching his expression tensely and holding his breath for the reaction.

"Do I have to answer that?" Harry replied weakly, their eyes meeting in the tense, charged silence that seemed to attend them each time they were left alone. To think, it had taken Draco years of his life to work out why it was that he hated, and was irrevocably drawn to, the Boy who Lived.

"Yes!" he replied firmly, irritated despite himself, stepping forward to stand between Harry and the doorway, demanding a reply.

"Well, damn…" Harry mumbled, biting his lip and finding himself unable to break the gaze, their eyes meeting…this close, with the shuddering firelight of the torches on the walls reflecting from them, Draco's eyes weren't grey at all.

They were silver.

"So," Draco repeated quietly. "Are you going to answer that, or not?"

"No." Harry replied uncertainly, attempting a wry smile. "What do you care if I answer or not?"

At this, Draco groaned under his breath, casting Harry an exasperated look. He wasn't quite sure what was going on, and still had the feeling he was being teased; yet he found himself proceeding carelessly, unable to make himself look away.

"If you haven't worked that out already, Potter…" he replied, unable to keep the annoyed sarcasm from his voice, "I'm certainly not going to tell you!"

Harry's eyes widened, in comprehension of what he had known anyway, suddenly acutely aware of how close they were, taking a deep breath.

"What if I have?" he hazarded, and was rewarded by an expression of utter surprise from Draco, whose eyes widened in slow shock, blinking. He stepped closer without even a conscious prompting, a slow shiver running through him as he watched Harry's face. The Gryffindor licked his lips absently, his eyes trained on Draco, slowly flickering between his eyes and his lips, and slowly stepped forward.

"I-I'm going. Going to bed. I'm going to bed." Draco stuttered, almost incoherent, not moving an inch. Even his eyes remained on Harry's. "Alone."

They were as close as they had been in the library now, almost touching. Draco saw what he was about to do, only moments away from, in fact, and stumbled backwards. He took three slow paces back from Harry, who still stood as if frozen, and then turned and strode, nearly running, away.

"Oh, and Harry?" He called back, when he could trust himself, from the end of the corridor. "Thanks…" he murmured, and gave the frozen Gryffindor a strange, sad smile before disappearing around the corner.


'I just nearly kissed Harry- Potter. Potter. I nearly kissed Potter…nearly kissed him! Potter! Where did that come from? I should go and drown myself, like the Potter-kisser that I am! Oh, Merlin, I'm going insane!'

Diving through the portrait hole, Draco's mind was racing so fast as he strode through the common room that he barely heard Rosier's angry voice, raised at him from a corner. Trust Rosier to choose today, of all days, to stay up and wait for him. Not in the mood for being interrogated, Draco darted up the stairs before the scowling sixteen year old could head him off, and locked the door behind him. Breathless and dizzy with surreal shock, he slumped against the thick oak of the door, for once not caring that it was cold against his back, and closed his eyes wearily. He couldn't help but be absolutely incredulous at himself for being so stupid…so absolutely foolish! What had he done? His mind buzzed with self-recrimination, regret…he knew that, by tomorrow morning, the entire of Gryffindor house would know…and being the gossip-whores that they were, practically the entire school. How could he have been so imprudent, so hopelessly loose-tongued as to let slip his fascination with Ha- with Potter to Granger, of all people? He knew she hated him…he wouldn't even blame her when she told the entire school, he had been unforgivably rude to her, for years…of all the people he could have shared his secret with, how he had chosen her he simply couldn't fathom.

"Stupid. Fucking stupid!" Draco hissed, hurling his bag furiously onto the floor, where a 'crunch' suggested that his quill was no more. It did nothing to improve his mood. Anger, at himself and Granger and the world in general, bitter regret, self-recrimination…the sudden onslaught of emotions was making him dizzy. He rarely felt this strongly, it was something he was carefully guarded against…emotion was dangerous, the enemy to power, and he always strove towards control.

So where had been his control when he had to physically hold himself back from kissing Harry? Potter. Not Harry, Potter. Right. Where had been that icy self-control when he had almost kissed Potter? And why in the name of all things enchanted did he regret the 'almost'?

There was an eerie silver-white glow emanating from behind his curtains, a swirling, pulsating light that cast strange shadows over the long room. Draco's pensieve. He rarely used it anymore, though it had been invaluable to help him calm down at home. It wasn't that he had thought he would need it here, school was his refuge, somewhere where he barely had to feel…but he could hardly leave it at home, and risk Lucius finding it!

So, he had packed it up along with everything else, and it had lain still and dormant since he had arrived, barely emitting any light, its stillness reflecting the calm, guarded state of Draco's mind. Now, however, it was glowing as fiercely as he had ever seen it, even at home as he tended to bruises left by his father, even when he felt close to tears, it was no brighter than it was now.

Tears. He hadn't cried for years, he didn't even remember the last time. He thought of his mother, not without fondness: She was a pleasant woman, affectionate in her own way and as self-centred as a gyroscope. He had inherited her propensity to feel things strongly, his father had told him that years ago. And yet. Since he was four years old, he hadn't cried. Not that even Lucius could recall. Unnatural, really. A child that doesn't cry…

He had inherited a little from both of his parents: There were veela somewhere, far removed, along his mother's line. He had inherited her slanting silver-grey eyes, light hair, and a little of her nature, here and there. His temper, though, was from his father's side, as was his height, and the inherent strength of mind…not so much inherited, though, as gained through his father's mentoring. He had gained strength, arrogance, a propensity to push everyone away, and all from Lucius.

His wandering thoughts meandered back to the pensieve, and he knelt on the window seat beside it, ducking under the curtains so that the inky-blue night seemed to surround him, his breath frosting on the cold glass as he leant his face against it. His blush was beginning to fade, finally. The glowing, throbbing luminescence of the pensieve, feeding off his frenzied thoughts, illuminated his face.

High cheekbones. He had gotten the refined, slim features of his face from his mother, too.

Wearily drawing his wand from his pocket, Draco gave in to the compulsion and held its tip to his temple, murmuring softly under his breath and drawing the wand away. In front of his eyes, its tip was bound with clinging strands of shimmering silver, that hummed faintly in the silent early morning air. Touching the surface of the oscillating, spinning liquid, the thoughts were instantly absorbed, spreading out to form pictures and patterns in the fragile glass dish.

His father's face was there. It always was. Scowling and brandishing his wand, somehow grown taller by Draco's emotion towards him. Hatred and fear, and grudging respect…the wraithlike Lucius that spun dizzyingly in the dish fed on them.

But the clearest image of all was of Harry. Of Potter, even. His smiling face, tousled hair, the slightly questioning look…bright green eyes that seemed to fixed on Draco's face.

"Don't smile at me, you git…" Draco muttered, and poked the image, hard, with his wand tip. It only scattered for a moment, and then resurfaced. It would be a while, he guessed, before that image would fade…and he wasn't even sure he wanted it to.

He fell asleep there, eventually, curled up awkwardly on the too- narrow bench, and until the moment his eyes closed they were fixed on the faintly smiling image. His dreams began where they had left off in the corridor, and all the while he slept the dish beside him gave off a faintly shimmering light.


'He called me 'Harry'. I swear he called me Harry! I didn't even realise he knew I had a first name!' Even Harry's thoughts couldn't get a grip of the fact that Draco had called him Harry. He stood staring after the blonde Slytherin for a good ten minutes, open mouthed until he came to his senses. Shaking his head hard to rid himself of the invading thoughts, he swayed the corridor spinning before him. 'Consequence of shaking too hard.' He scolded himself as she vision cleared once again and he was able to hurry up to the Gryffindor common room, trying unsuccessfully to keep his thoughts blank. The Animagi lesson had finished half an hour ago…and Filch knew that.

Harry's expression was still dazed as he fell through the portrait hall. The common room blessedly warm after the bitter cold of the corridors. Harry shivered slightly, rubbing his arms to get rid of the goose bumps all down them. Even though he had been wrapped in thick robes and a warm cloak (which he now threw haphazardly onto a chair) the cold had still been biting. For the third time that day he thought of how abysmal it would be to be in the Slytherin common room. Which obviously brought his thoughts back to Draco. Subconsciously Harry began to speak his thoughts out loud. "He called me Harry! I can't believe it! He called me Harry!" this one thought was repeated another couple of hundred times before he realised it was undoubtedly true and that he had not been hearing things. "Ok, so he did call me Harry. But why? Why didn't he just call me Potter like usual? And why did he nearly kiss me?" That thought stopped him dead. "Oh Merlin! Draco, I mean Malfoy nearly kissed me! He nearly kissed me! Oh Merlin, I'm going insane. He did, didn't he?" he questioned himself, his raging thoughts calming slightly as he thought it through again.

"He did! And I wanted him too." That slipped out before Harry realised what he had said. "What the hell?…I wanted him to? How could I have wanted him to! He's Malfoy for Merlin's sake!! I can't have my enemy to go around kissing me!" at this point the annoying little voice at the back of his mind started butting in. 'Oh but you did! And can you really say he's your enemy? What has he ever actually done to you? And you can't deny you think Draco's cute, can you? You almost told him so yourself.'

"Its Malfoy…and he's not cute!"

'Whatever floats your boat…Draco.'

"Malfoy."

'Draco.'

"Malfoy."

'Draco.'

"Malfoy."

'Draco.'

"MALFOY!" Harry screamed at the voice internally which came out in a loud voice externally, not quite shouting though. Grudgingly the disturbing little voice retreated back into the depths of his mind, leaving Harry's head feeling strangely quiet.

After not thinking for a couple of minutes, or rather thinking but not thinking out loud, Harry spoke quietly and bewilderedly. "Draco almost kissed me. And I wanted him to." It wasn't a question, just a simple statement. Harry looked stunned, it was the first time he had admitted out loud that he liked Draco, even though no one was there to hear him. He repeated it to himself, this time a bit more sure.

"Finally. He admits it!" an amused voice drawled, rather sarcastically from the shadows near the fire. Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. Letting out a startled yelp he glanced quickly around, his heart pounding. It took a moment for him to recognise the voice. Hermione stood up, smirking, from the chair she'd been sat in, only about half a metre away from the fire at which Harry had been staring for the last twenty minutes. Harry relaxed. It could have been potentially dangerous if anyone other that the young witch had heard him, even Ron.

As Hermione drew closer to Harry, Harry raised an eyebrow. "I'm guessing you had already figured that one out, huh?" he asked sheepishly, faintly amused with the smirking girl. She nodded smugly causing Harry to laugh lightly. He embraced Hermione in a hug, kissing his best friends forehead lightly. "Thank you." He told her. Hermione pulled away a confused expression marring her features. After all she hadn't told Harry of Draco's attraction to him, just nudged him in the right direction. "For what? She asked. Harry just shrugged and hugged her again.

When they pulled away again Hermione smiled devilishly. "He almost kissed you huh?" Harry blushed scarlet in the space of two seconds and smiled guiltily. He nodded. "So why didn't he?" The witch was curious.

"Realised what he was doing I think." Harry shrugged not entirely sure himself. Hermione rolled her eyes and tutted something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like, "Boys!" She gave her friend another quick hug before disappearing off to her dormitory. Harry laughed at the girl's retreating back and wandered off towards his own bed.

"Oh Harry?" Hermione called across the room, pausing halfway up the first couple of steps. Harry turned back questioningly. "Sweet Malfoy shaped dreams." The girl vanished although Harry could hear her laughter echoing down the stairs. Smiling at her childishness he had exactly that as soon as his head touched the pillow.

The next morning, Draco woke late, his slim body sore from sleeping in an awkward position. He was too tall, really, to sleep that way, and as he stood up and stretched lithely his back protested, his deep silver-grey eyes narrowing. He swore sleepily as he stripped off his crumpled clothes, robes damp from sleeping pressed against the cold window, and stepped into the shower still half-asleep. The warm caress of the water cascading over him did very little to wake him up, arching his shoulders slightly to try and dull the awkward ache along his back…he was content, though. It was the first night in a very long time where he hadn't had a nightmare at all…but a good dream, in fact. So good that waking seemed cruel.

As he stepped from the shower, drying himself off roughly and shivering violently in the chill dungeon, a sudden weight fell on him, stomach tightening instantly with dread. He had forgotten, in lieu of the intriguing dream, just what he had done last night. Told Granger. By the time he got to breakfast, it was fairly certain that the entire school would know…

Carefully tidying his hair, and dressing with his usual critical eye, Draco tried to avert his mind from the imminent ridicule, distracting himself for as long as possible. The steps up to his common room felt as though he were heading to be hanged, and as he picked his way through the slowly dispersing crowds he kept expecting someone to shout, laugh…

Silence. Rosier and Zabini waved to him subtly as they ducked out of the portrait hole, and apart from the usual respectful acknowledgements there was nothing out of the ordinary…

The silence only made him dread reaching breakfast all the more. It felt like the calm before the storm, making him more and more tense, taking the steps up towards the Great Hall two at a time. He paused, assembling himself outside, and then pushed open the doors to the vast room, already swarming with chattering students…

It was a bit of an anticlimax, really. The archetypal Slytherin, representative to his house, he got some looks as he strode slowly between the tables, but nothing of what he had expected. At any moment, forcing himself not to hurry as he found a seat, he expected a taunt, laughter, someone to shout his name and the derision to begin. None came. He found a seat saved beside his friends, sat down and accepted a glass of pumpkin juice, still not daring to believe that some miracle had caused Granger not to speak…after all, why should she protect his secrets? He had done nothing to her but make sarcastic, derisory comments since the day they had met…

Eyes straying over to the Gryffindor table, Draco started slightly as a light envelope dropped into his lap. The handwriting on the front was barely legible, not one he knew, and he eyed the note with some suspicion, turning it over in his hands for a long while before moving to tear it open…


Harry lay on his bed smiling sleepily up at the canvas of his bed, listening to his friends moving quietly around outside. Two sentences were being played over and over again in his head. "Oh and Harry? Thanks." And "Sweet Malfoy shaped dreams." He still couldn't quite believe Malfoy had called him Harry. Or should it be Draco now. Harry couldn't make up his mind. He also couldn't quite believe that Hermione had told him to have dreams about Malfoy. Which he had of course. Still smiling Harry rolled over and buried his face in the warmth of his pillow staying in bed for as long as possible.

Which wasn't long. Ron ripped open the curtains of Harry's bed only moments later causing the raven-haired boy to groan and bury deeper into his covers. "Up Harry! Its breakfast!" Ron practically screamed at his friend. He answer was to be swatted at with a pillow. Ron laughed and grabbed the pillow, whacking Harry back. Harry sat up grumbling and sleepily rolled out of bed, stumbling half asleep into the shower.

As Harry got out of the shower more awake his mind went into overload. What if Malfoy had only been playing with him? What if he hadn't really been going to kiss him and was just trying to mess up Harry's mind? Or what if he was following his father's orders and trying to find out his weakness? But if that was the case why hadn't Malfoy kissed him? Then he would have definitely found out Harry's weakness. Groaning once more Harry pulled on his clothes, constantly trying to push the thoughts from his mind. Once dressed the thoughts still plagued him so grabbing his quill and a piece of spare parchment he scribbled a quick note.

On the way down to breakfast the three Gryffindors made a quick detour to the owlery to give Hedwig his note. Accepting the note she took off out of the open window, Harry watching her nervously. Hermione touched his shoulder lightly and they made their way down to the great hall. Harry was seated at the Gryffindor table by the time Draco reached the Great Hall. He watched the blonde Slytherin from under his lashes, silently picking at the toast and eggs Hermione had placed in front of him. The arrival of the owls made him stop eating altogether as he watched Hedwig drop his note on Draco's lap before swooping out of the hall. Luckily for him neither Ron nor Hermione had noticed Hedwig. To Ron the fact that Hedwig had just dropped a note in his enemies lap would have taken some explaining and Harry wasn't sure what he would have said.


"I'm getting out of here, I can't watch…" Harry muttered, dropping his fork with a resounding clatter and standing so quickly that he knocked his seat backwards, taking two stumbling steps away. He watched Draco handle the letter, his letter, in torturous suspense, and finally decided that he couldn't bear to see the Slytherin's expression first hand when he read it. Turning on his heel, Harry strode away, abandoning his bag and books, and was off across the hall before Draco had even read the brief letter.

'Malfoy' the letter read,

'What happened last night? Okay, maybe that's a stupid question. I do know what happened, but…I don't understand! I'm just confusing myself now, so I should stop.

If you're playing Malfoy mind games with me you can quit it now. I don't want to play! I don't like being messed around with, especially not my feelings!

If you're not playing with me, what happens now? What do you feel? And am I making a fool of myself by asking you all this?

Either help me figure this out, or leave me alone.

Harry.'

Draco reread the words in silence for what seemed like an eternity, the brief entreaty already scored into his mind, as though he could almost hear Harry's voice repeating them. He felt his stomach tighten strangely, an odd mixture of excitement, surprise and suspicion making his head spin slightly, and before he knew what he was doing he was on his feet.

Hermione brushed past his elbow, a tornado of rustling parchment and bags, trying to assemble Harry's things and her own as well as chasing her best friend as he stormed out of the hall. She watched his retreating back, calling his name over the chatter, and her face was drawn with confusion…what was wrong with him? She hadn't known Harry this distant in forever, and couldn't imagine what had gotten to him. She jumped as Draco touched her shoulder subtly, low voice catching her ear as she brushed past him. "Granger, wait…" he murmured, letting her jostle past when he saw the flash of acknowledgement in her face.

He waited a few moments, until she had left the hall heading outside onto the grounds after Harry, and then gathered his things quickly. He followed, wand hand still clutching the letter, tidying himself habitually as he strode out. The cold air made him catch his breath, and he hurried down the steps towards Hermione's running figure.

"Oi, Granger!" he shouted, irritated. Harry, a few metres in front of Hermione, heard him, and the dark haired boy looked back quickly, catching sight of Draco emerging from the building…he could only imagine that he was to be teased mercilessly, and cursed under his breath, breaking into a run.

Watching Harry in silent concern, Hermione rounded on Draco the second her friend disappeared, and strode back to meet him. He looked surprised to see the angry scowl on her face, stopping in his tracks.

"Now look what you've done!" she snapped, gesturing after Harry in genuine annoyance, frowning. Draco followed the gesture and blinked, looking between Harry and the scrawled letter in bemused silence. "So?" he managed after a moment, "He'll live." Draco shrugged, affecting nonchalance and smiling faintly at the look on Hermione's face.

"Don't you care, Malfoy?" Hermione snapped, temper rising at the throwaway statement, arching a brow challengingly at him. Draco blinked, at the harshness of the words and the surprising frankness of his answer, running a hand wearily through white-blonde hair. "You know I do…" he sighed, and Hermione's face lost a little of its harshness as she watched him. It was difficult to see, but he was so tired that his pupils were dilated, the black so wide that his irises were only a thin, startling silver rim around his pupil. It softened his face slightly, and his usual arrogant scowl was replaced now by a puzzled frown, rubbing his eyes sleepily with the heel of his hand. She contented herself with casting him an evil look, falling into step beside him as he walked, eyeing him cautiously.

"What do you want, anyway?" she demanded, though not unkindly, when it appeared that Draco didn't mean to break the silence. The blonde blinked slightly, glancing down at her as though he had forgotten she was there. He blushed, the question prompting him to reveal a truly shameful reason for being here, suddenly embarrassed and horribly self-conscious.

"Well…" he mused, shifting uncomfortably and avoiding her smiling gaze. "I figured that if anyone knew what Ha-Potter was thinking…it would be you. I know I don't, and I'm not even sure he does…" he trailed off awkwardly, burying his hands in his pockets and risking a glance at her face. She was grinning…she already understood, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up.

"So…" she prompted wickedly, flashing the blushing Slytherin a coy smile as she awaited his answer. Draco gritted his teeth, forcing himself to reply.

" 'M asking you for help…" he muttered indistinctly, the words seeming alien to him and making him feel very vulnerable indeed. He tensed slightly, pulling his thin cloak tighter around himself and shivering…though more with nerves than cold.

"You're asking me for help?" Hermione crowed, repeating the words with an obvious relish that made Draco growl to himself.

"I'm not saying it again…" he sulked, glaring at her childishly, obviously extremely uncomfortable with the situation. He held himself differently when he was discomfited, tense and shifting awkwardly, and his eyes dodged to avoid hers. Hermione had to take pity on him then, nodding sagely and forcing herself not to smile. "Okay, okay, I got it. So, what would you like me to do?" she asked charitably, smiling at the relief on the taller boy's face and accepting the parchment- the letter, that he passed her.

"Translate." he demanded briefly, smiling his thanks as he handed the note to her. "I'm lost…" he explained, sounding rather forlorn.

Hermione smiled broadly as she scanned Harry's letter, amused beyond belief at the defensive frankness of her friend's words, handing it back to Draco gently and touching his shoulder lightly. The muscles beneath her fingers tensed instantly, but he forced himself not to jump away.

"He likes you, he just doesn't know what to do about it. He's scared that you're playing with him…" Hermione translated briefly, arching a brow in frank surprise as, reaching the edge of a little cluster of great oaks, Draco hopped lithely up onto the lowest branch. It was a practised movement, graceful…she hadn't supposed he would have climbed many trees as a kid…

Draco's smile broadened instantly, letting himself relax as he stretched out along the precarious branch neatly, one arm resting beneath his head. "You know I'm not…" he replied quietly, surprised at what she said…though the words made him happy. Happier, if he was honest, than he had felt in a long time, though he resisted the urge to be very melodramatic and dance about the clearing, shouting 'He likes me!'

Hermione leant against the trunk, nodding slightly and veiling a smirk at Draco's childish, dimpled smile, nodding. "Yeah, I do. But he doesn't…" she explained, and Draco looked instantly surprised, arching a brow curiously.

"You…didn't tell him…?" he asked, shock written all over his accented voice, turning onto his side easily to face her.

"Why should I?" Hermione replied, slightly stung by his assumption that she would have done, raising an eyebrow at him curiously. Out of the corner of her eye, she thought she saw movement, a few branches above Draco…he hadn't noticed, but she had a fairly good idea of who that could be…

"Why not? You hate me!" Draco laughed, shrugging slightly, as though this were a simple fact, a statement more than a question.

"You're still human, Malfoy…" Hermione replied, not denying it but looking rather shocked at the implication, shaking her head.

"No I'm not!" Draco retorted, denying it instantly and affecting offence at the statement, smiling slightly despite himself. Hermione rolled her eyes, more amused than she was admitting, raising her voice just slightly.

"Oh? And what are you?" she laughed, issuing the challenge playfully and raising her eyebrows at him as he thought a moment, eventually replying with the first thing that came to mind.

"A Malfoy." He replied softly, and there was something wistful to his tone, however he tried to veil it with his odd half-smile. Hermione grinned, well aware that her excellent memory had caught him out, shaking her head at him.

"I seem to recall you informing me that we shared the same species…and I'm certainly not a Malfoy!" Hermione remarked, and Draco groaned inwardly, sticking out his tongue rather childishly.

"That's another reason I hate you…" he observed wryly, smiling. "They're really mounting up…" he added dryly, rolling his eyes…her memory secretly irritated him. "Well, if you hate me…" Hermione began, apparently affronted, "I certainly shan't help you!"

Draco took her seriously and paled slightly, startled, sitting up quickly. "No!" he replied quickly, biting his lip, "No, I don't really hate you…so help me. Please…?" he entreated, even though it killed him to beg, his deep eyes fixing on hers pleadingly. The desperation in his face made Hermione smile, relaxing to assure him she wasn't leaving, giving him a slightly sceptical look. "He likes you, you like him…I'm still waiting to hear the problem…" she observed, finding it frankly rather ridiculous, if endearing, how worked up the two boys were getting.

"You don't understand…" Draco sighed, leaning back as it became clear she would stay, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"So explain!" Hermione replied, incredulous, spreading her hands in a silent entreaty and making Draco frown…he looked so confused…

"I don't know!" he cried, suddenly frustrated, his swirling thoughts giving him a headache. "I like him, of course I do, so much that it's driving me insane, I don't…"


Oooh, a cliff-hanger. Sorry to finish like that but the next chapter is a lot more fun if we do. Ask and thy shall receive it…