Chapter Six

Rolling over with a groan, Hermione hid her head under the pillow, trying to escape the sunlight. She'd had the strangest dream. It had to be a dream, the evening had been too absurd for it not to be.

The delicious scent of bacon mixed with the heavenly aroma of coffee floated through the room. Hermione smiled, very pleased with the fact that she was the one not having to make breakfast for once. In fact, the food smelled so glorious that it was enough to lure her out of the comfortable darkness that was provided under the pillow.

Yawning tiredly, Hermione climbed out of bed. She was only slightly startled by the fact that she was wearing the clothes from her dream. It was just a coincidence. She'd probably went out in that outfit and that's why she was wearing it in her dream. But she couldn't recall doing anything the night before. Just the dream stuck out in her mind.

She completely ignored her surroundings and let her nose and very hungry belly lead her to the kitchen. She didn't even look up as she poured herself a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table.

Draco watched her and was in shock. He'd been so sure that Hermione would throw a fit when she woke up and realized where she was. He didn't think their heartfelt talk the previous evening would open her eyes to the fact that he was trying to be a better person. He turned back to the breakfast he'd been preparing at the stove.

"You would not believe the dream I had last night." Hermione stated, taking a sip of the delicious liquid.

"What kind of dream?"

Hermione's head shot up at the question asked by a very male voice and screamed. No, it had been a dream. It had to have been a dream. But, if it was a dream, why was Malfoy standing in front of her, wearing what looked to be pajamas and cooking breakfast?

Covering his ears at Hermione's high-pitched shriek, Draco made his way towards the table. He knew she had been taking it too well. "Pipe down, Granger. Your going to wake the dead."

Imediately Hermione stopped screaming, not because Malfoy had told her too, but more for the reason that she realised it was pointless. Screaming would not change the fact that she was sitting at her worst enemy's kitchen table or the fact that what she'd hope had been a dream had really taken place.

But then it occurred to her that maybe she didn't want it to be a dream. The night before had been nice, better than any of the nights she'd had all summer. And Malfoy was different now. He was't the immature prat that she had been forced to deal with for the past six years. Now he was thoughtful and sweet and very unmalfoyish.

It crossed her mind that Ron and Harry and even Ginny would probably consider it a gigantic betrayal that she had befriended Malfoy, but she ignored that thought. Harry and especially Ron weren't being very friendly right now anyway.

Hermione felt the blood rush to her cheeks in emarrassment. She had just done something incredibly foolish by screaming like she did. Draco had been so kind to her and she had to repond by acting like a silly nitwit. She looked up and let her eyes meet his. "I'm sorry."

Draco laughed.

"What?!" Hermione cried indignantly.

"Nothing, nothing." He was still laughing as he turned back towards the stove.