Chapter 38: Hogsmeade

Disclaimer: I'm sure that after 38 disclaimers, it will come as a great surprise to you to learn that I don't own Harry Potter.

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A/N: Wow. Quite simply, wow. The 1500 review mark ahs been broken! Thanks so, so much to everyone who's reviewed so far and will do so in the future, you've made all the writing absolutely worth it.

And yes, this chapter is late, I'm sorry! has bugs and stopped any uploads going through until now – I'm very, very sorry if any of you were worried, especially after last week's injury-predictions! Let's hope that the computer difficulties were the third and final accident, shall we? On that topic: mum's just got her new teeth, and is grinning widely at everyone she sees, and dad's arm is fine.

Questions: 1. If I could live anywhere in the world… hmm. Sweden's quite nice, or Canada. 2. Don't ask me how much longer it's going to be, I don't want to think about it. Long. Let's leave it at that. 3. MUN is really fun if you do your research and aren't utterly terrified by public speaking. 4. My first ever story was written when I was about six, and it was about the Queen of the Fairies who was pregnant and had to move house with her entourage of insects because her castle would be too small for the kids. They ended up sleeping in a field, and the field was magical and the grass turned into sleeping bags when they lay down. So they built a castle there and the Queen had twin baby boys, and they all lived happily ever after.

With that, onto the next chapter, which has nothing to do with faeries, queens, insects or baby twins, but does contain the 1812 Overture. Enjoy!

When in doubt, tell the truth.

Mark Twain, 1835-1910.

Hermione returned to the common room that night fully intending to tell Harry and Ron about Draco at the first opportunity, but a Hogsmeade weekend had just been announced, and the two of them seemed so happy chatting about it – the sweets they wanted from Honeydukes, the new tricks at Zonko's – that somehow she didn't have the heart to spoil it.

The next evening she couldn't tell them either, because Harry had Occlumency. Before he returned, she'd been sitting in the common room with Ron and Ginny, all three of them quiet and withdrawn, and she supposed she could have told Ron then, but somehow it didn't seem right to leave only Harry ignorant of her friendship with Draco; it felt wrong not to tell the two boys together. So she waited.

Harry came back impossibly pale and silent, as usual, and it took all of Ginny's ability to get people chattering to stop the evening drifting into uncomfortable silence, to keep the three others smiling at least. Hermione could have stopped the silence with her revelation, but with Harry suffering the after-effects of his memories and Ron and Ginny stressed she didn't think it was a good idea.

The night after that was a DA meeting, and she spent the time before that with Draco, and there simply wasn't time to tell them. And the next night there never seemed to be a decent way to mention it, and the next…

It was quite possible, Hermione thought as she tied her scarf round her neck on the morning of the Hogsmeade day, that she was procrastinating.

Tomorrow was the end of her week's grace, the day when Ginny would tell the boys if Hermione hadn't done so already. What had happened to her determination to tell them at the earliest opportunity? It wouldn't have been so hard to call the friendly chatter about Hogsmeade to a halt on that first night, would it?

It wasn't like Hermione to procrastinate, but she clearly had been doing, finding excuses not to tell them. She knew they wouldn't be happy, knew they'd be annoyed at best and furious at worst, but she'd wanted to tell them, hadn't she? Even before Ginny had made her ultimatum, she'd felt guilty that she was lying to her friends. If she wanted it, why was it so hard to do?

Because it wasn't going to be pleasant. Not at all.

Hermione sighed, turning to the reflection in the dormitory's mirror and looking it firmly in the eye. I'll tell them today. When we get back from Hogsmeade.

She tried to make it a promise, but her reflection looked nervous.

Draco stared out the window of the jarring, rocking carriage and tried to ignore the three rather intimidated Hufflepuff fourth years he'd been forced to travel with.

In previous years, he'd have been travelling with Crabbe and Goyle, and probably Blaise. Occasionally Pansy, or one of the other Slytherins, but never alone in a carriage with Hufflepuffs. Of course, in previous years he wouldn't have minded being with Hufflepuffs, because he wouldn't have been able to mind.

'You can talk, you know, I'm not going to hex your heads off,' he remarked, not moving his eyes from the window; one of the Hufflepuffs coughed, but apart from that there was no conversation. Draco rolled his eyes – if there was one thing that stayed constant, it was silly timid Hufflepuffs – and returned his full attention to the window.

Hermione was running out of time to tell Potter and Weasley. She'd said yesterday that she'd probably tell them tonight, after the trip, which he was faintly grateful for – the longer he went without being maimed or seriously injured the better. The younger Weasley – Ginny, the female one – had kept glancing at him, frowning, which had grown steadily more annoying as time went on. He supposed he should, in some odd way, approve of it – after all, she was looking out for Hermione, which was what a good friend should do, and as something like a friend of Hermione's himself he should approve of that. It was only the part where it applied to him that he minded.

He could appreciate her motives: she didn't want Hermione in danger and she perceived him as dangerous. Not unfairly, either, considering his previous actions and – with a twinge of something like nausea – the way he'd used Dark Arts on that boy to defend Ellen. She was justified in thinking that, from a logical point of view, and that led directly to concern, the demand that she tell Potter and Weasley, and worried glanced across the Great Hall.

Logic said all this. Emotion wailed like a child and asked how she could even think he'd hurt Hermione? He wouldn't, not ever; the thought of it made him shift uncomfortably in his seat.

The carriage began to pull to a halt, and Draco had the door open before it had fully stopped, so eager was he to get out of that rather tense atmosphere. He jumped down from the doorway, the Hufflepuffs' relieved chatter drifting out of the door behind him.

He nodded to the Thestrals – their presence made him feel strangely on edge, so he felt it best to be polite – and headed for Hogsmeade village, mentally running over the list of what he needed to buy.

Most of the others seemed to think Hogsmeade trips were fun. He wasn't very good at emotion still, but it didn't feel much like fun had ever felt before.

It felt like he was completely alone, which was ridiculous, because there were people all around him swarming into the village, Gryffindors and Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, excited third-years, experienced seventh-years, and everything in between. If he was suddenly struck blind and deaf and had to rely on emotion to tell the size of the crowd, he'd have said he was on some desert island, or Antarctica, somewhere completely uninhabited and lost in vast expanses of ocean.

It wasn't a pleasant feeling.

'We can compromise, you know,' Ron said firmly, folding his arms. 'Me and Harry will go to Zonko's, and you and Hermione can stay here and look at books. Okay?'

Ginny considered this, thumb playing thoughtfully with the corner of Herbology: from Seed to Flower. 'Okay, but I want to go to Zonko's later too. If you take longer than we do, can we go back later? It's no fun going on your own.'

'Sure,' Harry replied. 'Meet you outside… by the door of Zonko's?'

'Fine by me,' Hermione said from the floor, where she was busily comparing two Potions books. 'Ginny, do you study the Venia potions?'

'Er, I think we do a few of them…' she replied, squatting on the floor beside her as the faint jingle of the door behind them indicated that the boys had left. 'Which ones, specifically?'

They spent the next fifteen minutes finding good textbooks for Potions and Transfiguration. Ginny had asked her that morning if she'd mind helping her find some – most of the decent, interesting Library Books had impossibly long waiting lists to be borrowed, and while the set textbooks were excellent as usual, Ginny had explained that she wanted something more interesting. 'The Potions textbook sounds like it was written centuries ago,' she confided glumly. 'It has sentences that would send linguists into tears.'

'This one looks best,' Hermione said, holding up a book called Transfiguration Explained. 'And it's not too expensive.'

Ginny grinned. 'Thanks, Hermione, it's really-'

She was cut off by the bell over the shot door giving a sudden jangle. Hermione glanced towards the entrance to see an unmistakeable blond figure – Draco – hurry inside, quickly ducking among the bookshelves.

'What was that about?' Ginny asked beside her, frowning, her voice a tone lower than usual.

'I don't know,' Hermione replied. 'Listen, Ginny…'

'You want to go ask?' she guessed. 'I thought as much. Here, give me your money, I might as well go pay for our books while you talk to him.'

'You don't mind?' Hermione asked.

Ginny paused before answering. 'Well, yes,' she admitted. 'I don't like him, and I certainly don't trust him, but you have the right to talk to whom you want. Besides,' she added with a mischievous grin as she took Hermione's books, 'I want to know what happened as much as you do.'

The redheaded girl slipped away in the direction of the counter, leaving Hermione feeling quite amazed and more than a little grateful towards her friend. She'd hated Draco herself, until a month or two ago, so she knew how Ginny must feel…

Still, there wasn't time to stand around feeling pleased; she wanted to know what had caused Draco to hurry inside so fast. She slipped round a corner of one of the bookshelves, footsteps muffled on the neutral carpet below, rounded a second corner and saw him.

He was browsing through the fiction section, and his eyes widened when he saw her. 'Hermione? Aren't you meant to be with…?'

'Ron and Harry are in Zonko's, and Ginny's paying for books,' Hermione explained. 'She knows I'm talking to you, by the way.'

'But Potter and Weasley still don't?' he asked, and Hermione shook her head. 'When are you telling them?'

'As soon as possible,' she said, shrugging and not meeting his gaze. 'And I know I've been saying that for a week, but…'

'It's either today or the younger Weasley tells them tomorrow,' Draco finished, sighing. 'So either way, time's almost up.'

He scrutinised the bookshelf in front of him, raising one pale finger to drift lightly across the rows of titles, and Hermione paused, biting her lip. He hadn't really complained about it since she'd first told him, but she could still tell he didn't like the idea. And yes, she could see why he didn't like it, but she could also see that if she kept it a secret and was discovered, Ron and Harry's reaction would be much worse than if she told them, honest and up-front, fairly soon. And it wasn't completely fair to hide it from them, either. And she didn't like hiding it.

It meant that Draco lost out in the short-term, but perhaps that was better than leaving it longer and having them all lose out when Ron and Harry found out she'd been keeping secrets from them. They'd be upset and worried over her now, but if at some point in the future they found her not only friends with Draco Malfoy but hiding it from them, and having done so for months upon months, and still keeping it hidden, they'd be not only upset and worried but furious too. And that'd ruin her friendship with them, and Ginny and the other Gryffindors would be caught in the middle, and they'd quite possibly try to take revenge on Draco too.

All things considered, the old adage held true: honesty was the best policy.

She didn't share these thoughts with Draco, but instead changed the topic. 'What are you doing here?'

'Doing? Looking at books,' he replied, pulling one book out of the shelves and scanning the blurb on the back.

'No, I meant… you ran in here quite quickly,' Hermione explained. 'I was wondering…?'

'If there was a particular reason, or if I was just overeager to get my hands on some reading material?' he asked, a half-smile curling one corner of his mouth, and she laughed. 'For a reason, as it happens.'

'What reason?'

He frowned, toying with the corner of the book he was holding. 'Delaney. Watching me.'

'Spying?' Hermione asked.

'I think so. He didn't take his eyes off me.' He looked up, frowning at some point near the ceiling. 'It felt rather… uncomfortable. Almost nervous.'

'Frightening,' Hermione suggested, to which he replied with a half-nod, 'Well, at least you know who the spy is. We can try to avoid him.'

'It still might not be him,' Draco said thoughtfully. 'It just appears to be him. We don't have any proof, and it's a bad idea for me to assume it's him and let my guard down.'

Hermione nodded. 'I suppose you're right,' she said, and then, feeling uncomfortable with the topic, nodded towards the book in his hand. 'Are you buying that?'

'What? No, it sounds awful,' he replied, sliding it back on the shelf, and surveying the rest thoughtfully. 'I think I quite like books.'

'Really?' Hermione asked, smiling. 'What kind do you like?'

Draco frowned for a moment before saying, 'I'm not sure. Anything with a good story, I suppose. And good characters. And a good style of writing.'

'Of any genre?' she asked, looking over she shelves. 'Let me think…'

They spent the next ten minutes with Hermione suggesting books, occasionally offering a 'That one's in the Library, if you'd rather borrow it,' or an 'I can land you that one.' Most of the ones she suggested he bought, saying that he preferred to have his own copies, which Hermione could understand. As a child, she'd always borrowed books from the local library – a pretty Victorian building with deep green ivy over the walls and leaded windows – she she'd always been frustrated when she wanted to re-read a book and not been able to.

Hermione had almost completely forgotten about Ginny and the others when she heard a familiar voice say, very quietly, 'Hermione?'

'Ginny?' she said, looking up. Her friend was standing at the end of the aisle, half-behind the bookcase, as though unwilling or uncertain about coming any closer. Ah yes. Draco.

She was slightly surprised to hear him speak from behind her. 'Good morning, Weasley,' he said, his tone perfectly neutral, glancing up for a moment from his books before turning back to them.

Ginny looked startled. 'Er. Good morning,' she replied, then turned her attention back to Hermione. 'Harry and Ron are here. They got bored of waiting for us outside,' she said. 'Assuming you'd rather tell themselves than let them find you choosing books with Malfoy, I told them you were somewhere in the Arithmancy section.'

'I'd better go, then,' she said, scrambling to her feet. 'Draco, are you okay with the books…?'

'I think I've got enough,' he replied. 'Thanks,' he added, with a genuine small smile to which she couldn't help smiling in response.

'See you around Hogsmeade,' she said, before hurrying off to find Ron and Harry. Behind her, Ginny and Draco glanced once at each other – both warily – before Ginny hurried away and Draco began to collect his purchases together.

The thing Ginny loved most about Honeydukes was the smell.

You walked in from outside, where the air was sharp and clean with the beginning of winter and smelt of frost, and the first thing you noticed was that the air was warm, soft and gently and - to Ginny – something like her mother's kitchen when she'd been baking cookies. It smelt of sweets, of sugar, of Pumpkin Pastries, Fizzing Whizbees and Chocolate Frogs. Delicious.

She was browsing among the high shelves, trying to choose between three different types of fudge. All wizarding fudge was white, and changed colour and flavour when you touched it to reflect your mood, fears, temperature… anything you could charm it to change to. At the holidays, they made fudge which changed to reflect how you felt towards the giver.

Ginny had narrowed her choice down to mood-fudge or – purely for the novelty - blood pressure-fudge, when she heard all-too-familiar voices from the next row.

'Do you know where they keep the Jelly Slugs in this abominable place, Hermione?' It was Malfoy's voice.

Frowning, Ginny tugged the packages of fudge off the shelves, trying to create a hole to see through, but the gap was too narrow.

'Draco? Harry and Ron are here, you know, we can't…'

'They're on the other side of the shop,' Draco replied. Ginny hurried to the end of the row, where a sold-out notice where the blood-flavoured lollipops usually were gave her a better gap to see through. Draco was standing beside Hermione, smiling a rather odd smile, while Hermione looked nervous. 'You don't think I'd come over if they were nearby, do you?'

Ron and Harry were on the other side of the shop, but that didn't stop them coming nearer. 'I suppose. Jelly Slugs are…' she moved out of Ginny's range of view. 'Here. I thought you didn't like them?'

'I don't,' was Draco's reply. 'Ellen gave me five Galleons and ordered me to buy her as many sweets as I could. That child has a rather alarming sweet tooth.'

Hermione laughed. 'Most kids do,' she said, and then she added something else, but Ginny didn't hear it because she could hear voices from behind instead.

'Wow, Harry, look at these…'

A few moments of chatter, and then the voices started getting closer. Ginny swivelled round nervously. If they saw Hermione and Malfoy… well, she wanted them to know about Hermione's rather odd friendship, but she didn't want them to find out like this.

'Ron? Harry?' she heard herself saying as the pair came into view at the end of her aisle. 'There you are, I was wondering where you were. Help me choose some fudge.'

There was silence from Hermione's aisle – presumably they'd heard. Ron and Harry, both with an armful of sweets, turned towards Ginny, only feet from making an unpleasant discovery.

'Sure,' Ron said. 'Hey, Ginny, did you see those new lollipops? They sing when you lick them, it's really fun…'

Hermione came scuttling into their aisle, looking faintly guilty at having been talking to Draco. 'Hey, you three,' she said. 'What lollipops?'

Ron started to ramble about them, but it was clear Hermione wasn't listening. Instead she glanced towards Ginny and mouthed, 'Thanks.'

Ginny nodded in reply.

'You have to tell them,' Ginny whispered as soon as they got outside. 'They nearly found you…'

'I know,' Hermione replied. They were walking a short way behind the two boys, who had bought some of the singing lollipops. Ron's was singing something which sounded slightly rude and kept making the boys laugh, while Harry's had decided that humming the 1812 Overture was somehow appropriate. 'If I tell them, I might get away with them just being worried; if they find out and I don't tell them they'll be furious with me for hiding it. And I've been hiding it long enough. It's just…'

'Hard?' Ginny suggested, and Hermione nodded. Ginny reached out and gave her arm a friendly squeeze. 'They'll both understand, once they get over the… surprise,' she said by way of reassurance.

'It's the surprise I'm worried about,' Hermione said grimly. 'There just never seems to be an opportunity to tell them.'

Ginny sighed. 'How about now?'

'Now?' Hermione repeated, looking up uncertainly. 'But it's the Hogsmeade trip, it'll spoil it…'

'Yes, and telling them before dinner will spoil the meal, and telling them this evening will spoil the night,' Ginny said sensibly. 'At the moment, they're in a good mood, they're happy… it's probably the best opportunity you're going to get.' She paused for a moment, her foot uncomfortably scraping along the pavement stone. 'You know, you don't have to tell them. Or you can take longer to tell them if you want. It's just…'

'No, it's okay. I ought to tell them,' Hermione said, and took a deep breath. 'Just… let me go and warn Draco? He'd probably want to know… Tell Ron and Harry I've gone to the toilet or something,' she said.

Ginny nodded. 'Okay. Hurry,' she called, as Hermione turned and headed off, alone, into the streets of Hogsmeade.

The difficulty was that she didn't know where Draco would be. It was only five minutes since they'd left Honeydukes, so he might still be there, but if he'd left then there was no chance of finding him…

Thankfully, just as she reached the door of the sweetshop he came out of it, bags over his arm, looking quite surprised to see her hurrying towards him. His eyes flickered round the street; no one from Hogwarts was there. Most of them were in the Three Broomsticks by now, or possibly Madame Puddifoot's, having a warm drink.

'Hermione?' he asked.

'Draco,' she said, coming to a stop and not entirely knowing how to phrase what she wanted to say. 'I… I'm going to tell them now.'

His face darkened, and then seemed rather worried. 'Oh,' he said. 'Thanks for telling me…'

'Draco…' she said, biting her lip. 'It's for the best. Really. If I don't tell them and they find out they'll be…' She searched for a word. 'Really, really angry. And I don't like…'

'Hermione,' he cut in patiently, 'I know. Just… go and get the accursed thing over with, will you? It's making me nervous.' He paused. 'Well, I think it's nervous…'

He gave her a half-smile, which she returned. 'Right,' she said. 'Do you… do you want to come?'

'And get decapitated?' Draco asked. 'Don't think so. I might find a safe corner to hide behind. See how they take it.' He paused again. 'Go on. Get it over with.'

'Alright,' she said, biting her lip. 'Draco… whatever they say, I won't stop being your friend. That's a promise. And… and thanks,' she said, before turning and hurrying away.

She was vaguely aware of him following her, no doubt in search of that safe corner, but she didn't pay it much mind. The very blood that pulsed – too fast – beneath her skin felt on edge, sharp and tense. It wasn't that frightening, surely? Ron and Harry were her friends.

And then they were standing a few feet away, laughing and joking with Ginny, and Ron turned towards her and said 'You took your time.'

'Yeah, I guess I did,' she replied, shuffling her feet and suddenly feeing terribly nervous, as though she was five years old and about to confess to the teacher that she'd forgotten her homework. 'Er… Ron, Harry…'

She glanced towards Ginny, a desperate plea, and the red haired girl smiled and stepped forwards. 'You remember Hermione got that note from The Mysterious D?'

'Yeah…' Harry said slowly, frowning. 'What about it?'

Ron snickered suddenly. 'Is it a boyfriend?'

'No,' Hermione said quickly. 'We're friends. That's all.'

'What's wrong?' Harry asked. 'You look as if a Dementor was behind you. Are you okay?'

'Yes…' Hermione said, took a deep breath, and suddenly all the nerves and the nausea vanished into something very much like relief. No more secrets. 'We're friends. And D… he's Draco. Draco Malfoy.'

A/N: I think it's compulsory to have a cliffhanger at points like these…

This week's question: how did you come up with your username? I'm quite certain that some of you, naming no names, came up with them deliberately to annoy the people who have to spell them out in ANs. It takes me ages to type up the reviewers' names, simply because they're so impossible to spell.

And now, Review!