Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor any related thematic elements written by JK Rowling.

I'll Never Tell

Before the owlery finally came into view, Hermione could smell the stench of hay, feathers, and droppings hanging thickly in the damp air. Casually holding her hand over her face, she walked past a few final doors, and stopped at the largest one labeled "Owlery." Very creative.

She opened the door and, upon walking in, stifled the "uurgh," that rose to her mouth. Not all the owls had woken up yet, and she didn't want to disturb them. Walking over to an open window, Hermione fished around her bag for parchment, ink, and a quill, listening to the soft "hoo's" coming from the magnificent birds. When goose bumps began to rise on her arms however, she decided against sitting next to the window, and voted for fighting the odor in order to keep warm. So she walked over to a desk in the corner of the room.

As soon as Hermione sat down, she felt the dirt and grime of the furniture rubbing against her bare legs, and shuddered with disgust.

Maybe writing letters in the owlery wasn't a very good idea.

Oh, this is wonderful, she thought grumpily, and wiped the back of her pleated skirt with her hands. Where will I write my letter now?

The thought of the warm and cozy Common Room became much more enticing at that moment, and she stuffed her writing utensils back in her bag, preparing to write her letter in the comfort of a nice fire instead. Yes, that was a much better idea. She could just send the letter the next morning.

Hermione was smiling at the prospect of fresher air as she walked over to the door on her way out. She wondered what she had been thinking when she decided to actually compose the letter itself in the owlery. Oh wait a minute there...she hadn't been thinking.

She put her hand on the brass doorknob and turned it, imagining all the disgusting germs that were probably living on it, and making a mental note to prepare a sanitation spell for the next day. Her head was not watching the door, but rather following the chocolate birds that were beginning to stir. Closing the door slowly, she let go of the knob, and turned around.

Then she almost died of shock.

Draco Malfoy had apparently come to the owlery, and was standing just inches behind her. When she turned around, she instantly jumped. This was strange, because instead of jumping backwards, her body jerked forwards, arms jetting out in front of her.

"Argh!" Hermione shrieked, as she lost her balance in all the commotion. She began to fall forward, and as she did so everything began to happen very quickly. Before she knew it, the ground was right in front of her face, and she closed her eyes, surely about to hit the floor.

Only she didn't. And the reason why was that she hadn't been the only one to have fallen—she had taken Malfoy down with her. Damn it, damn it, damn it! She cursed silently at the realization. Her legs had flung up behind her, and she was supported crookedly on top of Malfoy's stomach, bag fallen to the side.

Hermione's eyes flew down to Draco's, and they locked on each other in absolute shock, as they both tried to get up at the same time, stumbling and falling back down again. Hermione was muttering rapid apologies, while Draco was scowling. He did not like to be surprised and now...his hair was probably brilliantly messed up.

"Nice job, Granger," he jeered.

Hermione flushed vividly, not knowing how to react. She wanted to apologize more but didn't for fear of sounding like an idiot. She also wanted to whack him for coming that close to her after she had clearly told him just minutes ago to stay away. As a result of all her jumbled thoughts, only a sketchy "arphm" came out of her mouth. What an idiot, she thought. This was so embarrassing.

Hermione used her palms on the ground to prop her top half up over him, and looked down. His hair wasn't messed up, although his shirt was, and he was smiling.

"What," she said, arching her eyebrows. His expression was humorous, but not in a good way. It was a smile that reminded her of his old icy sarcasm, and she wanted very badly to know what had prompted him. Being so close to his face, Hermione could also make out a small white scar right at the top of his forehead, and wondered where he had gotten it.

"What?" she asked again.

"Your ink," Malfoy said disdainfully, "is all over my shirt."

"Oh!" Hermione said, quickly rolling off of him. She looked at his simple gray shirt, and saw the evidence of a broken ink bottle that had fallen from her bag. Maybe it wouldn't have scared her so much if the ink had fallen on somebody else, but this was Malfoy, and his shirt, plain as it was, was most likely to have cost a fortune.

"What's wrong with you?" he said as he sat up, staring at her all the while. Hermione froze up.

"I'm so sorry," she said hastily, "I didn't mean for that to happen, but you were right behind me and--"

"This ink is green," he interrupted her. "Since when do you steal my ink?"

"What...?" she said, not really understanding his gist.

"Granger," he said, and Hermione felt like she could have slapped him. "I have about ten of these shirts back at home."

Hermione ran her hands through her hair, and mumbled "Oh," trying to smile a little. "Well then why do you care so much about this one?" she asked.

"I don't," he said annoyingly, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Maybe you've never heard of this little thing we humans like to do called joking." Hermione rolled her eyes at her own foolishness. Then, she watched as he began to unbutton his shirt, top to bottom.

Malfoy did not waste any time as he quickly pulled all the buttons through the loops with his agile fingers and drew the shirt off. Feeling suddenly uncomfortable and trying very hard not to stare at his chest, she began to pick up the broken pieces of her ink well. Then, she did a quick mopping spell to scrub the ink out of the tiles as best she could. Malfoy also took out his wand and was attempting to clean off his shirt.

"Apisborium," he muttered, holding the clothing out in front of him. The spell removed most of the ink, but left a faint jade-colored stain and a pensive look on Draco's face. He was sifting through his knowledge of spells trying to find another one that would save his shirt.

"Here," said Hermione, ever cleverly, "I know what'll get that out." She brandished her wand, and cast a gentler version of the spell she had used to clean the floor, but the stain stayed.

"Ahh, never mind," Malfoy said, crumpling up the shirt and stuffing it in his bag. "I'll send mother for another one tomorrow." Hermione wondered why he hadn't bothered to put it back on. After all, the stain was barely visible and now he was stuck shirtless. She looked around—down the hallway, out the window, on the floor, everywhere—just so that she would keep herself from staring.

Out of nowhere, there was something noticeable on her head, a soft light touch. Hermione looked up and saw that Draco had leaned over towards her, very close, and reached his hand up. Her eyes followed his hand as it slowly came down away from her silky hair and to the front of her face, and was clutching a small light gray owl feather. Their eyes locked for a moment and they smiled, but Draco did not remove his hand from her face, he only dropped the feather and they both sat there on the ground, watching it slowly drift down to rest on the pleats of her skirt.

"Er...Thanks," she said, and then lifted her hand and placed it on Draco's, pulling his down. "But you have to remember, I'm not going to fall for these little—" Hermione's head jerked to the side. "What's that?"

There was a faint clicking noise coming from a distance, down the corridor it seemed. All of a sudden, there was the booming sound of someone running down the passage way to the owlery—the one just next to the corridor Hermione and Draco were sitting in. She could tell that whoever they were were getting closer, just about to turn the corner--

"Hermione, what the bloody hell are you doing?" a stunned voice gasped.

It was Lavender Brown, probably the one and only girl out of all the 6th year Gryffindors that Hermione would venture to call a 'friend.'

"Hermione!" she shouted again, taking a few steps back, shaking her head in disbelief at the scene she thought she had walked in on. "What in Merlin's name...?"

Draco immediately pulled his hand away from Hermione's, looking away and scrambling to his feet just like Hermione did only one second later. His expression, somewhat humorous, was being taken over by his signature smirk as he gained his tall posture and picked up a book he had been carrying. He sauntered over to Lavender, not casting any glance back at Hermione, and leaned over, and whispered something in her ear.

"You..." she said hotly, and jumped away from him and strode quickly over to Hermione looking enraged. Her eyebrows were furrowed angrily meaning that whatever Malfoy had told her had not pleased her in the least.

Hermione stood speechlessly and watched Malfoy walk away down the corridor as Lavender put her books on the floor and placed her hands on her hips. She raised her hand and held a pointed finger at Hermione just below her chin, her other fingers curled as if to imitate a pistol.

"He's not worth it," she said fiercely, without any sort of introduction. "I don't know what this (she gestured at the ground where they had been sitting seconds before) is supposed to mean, Hermione, but I'll tell you one thing, and that...is to stay away from him."

"No, Lavender," Hermione said, nearly laughing, "You don't know. That didn't...mean anything, I swear to God...it didn't."

Lavender shook her head, laughing with a cynical smile, and raising her eyebrows slightly. This gave her the look of an elder that knew something that Hermione didn't.

"What did he say to you?" Hermione asked urgently.

Lavender only shook her head once more in disapproval, and walked away, slender heels clicking softer and softer until they were gone.

As she watched her leave, Hermione let her shoulders sag, and looked down to the floor, sighing deeply. What does she think of me, now? She wondered despairingly. She looked at the tiles that were stained green still, and blinked slowly. A small piece of parchment caught her eyes, and when she observed it more closely, she remembered that it had slipped out of the book that Draco had picked up. She had meant to hand it to him, but never got the chance.

Curiosity got the better of her, and she picked it up silently, turning it over to read the words that were written on it in dark jade colored ink.

Narcissa, it read.

Not yet.

A/N: Hmm...stupid pointless chapter (except for the end!)... but thank you SO much, cold-eyes-for-you, for the awesome review of the previous chapter. Since I was away all summer (not writing), it's probably safe to assume that updates will be a bit less frequent than they used to be until I can catch up with the story.