Author's Note:For Jexi
Hermione wrapped the scarf securely around her neck. It was a Christmas present from Ginny. The knitting was a bit bumpy and the color was a nearly horrendous yellow, but it was the only scarf Hermione had. Her Gryffindor one had been caught by the wind and carried away, and the wool one from her aunt was too itchy. (She had given it to Crookshanks to use as a toy.) She also felt a bit compelled to wear it. After all, Ginny had worked very hard on it.
She stopped to glance in the mirror before she left the dormitory. She tried to smooth her hair down, but it was to no avail. And besides, she couldn't take much longer. If she did, she would be late. So she swallowed the lump in her throat and swung her cloak over her shoulders. Hopefully the air wouldn't bite quite as much as it had yesterday.
Pushing thoughts of the cold out of her mind, she finally pulled on matching mittens (also from Ginny) and rushed out of her rooms. She dashed through the Common Room, ignoring the odd looks and thrown inquiries. She didn't have time for them. She didn't have time for them at all.
Out the portrait hole. Through the corridors. Around the corners. Past the entry hall. Through the front doors of the school, and to the cliff overlooking the lake. She caught her breath, watching it freeze in a puff in front of her. A glance told her she wasn't late. He wasn't her yet.
Looking back at her footsteps, she realized that she had marred the unbroken snow. A slight swell of guilt overtook her stomach. She had ruined the beauty of the new snow. Reaching down, she took some into her mittened hand and tossed it over the edge of the cliff. It rained down on the frozen lake, scattering over the perfect sheet of ice.
"Well, you look perfectly ridiculous. Scarf, mittens… no hat?" The voice mocked her, but it made her smile anyways.
"The hat was not part of the set."
"And you must always match?"
"I felt like matching today, yes…"
He came forward and took his usual place next to her. His white blond hair whipped in the wind and his skin looked quite like the surrounding snow. "It's that day after Christmas, isn't it?"
"Yes Draco, it is." He winced at the use of his first name. She often questioned him as to why it affected him so, but he never revealed anything. He just kept wincing.
"So we've been meeting this way for a year and two days."
"Yes."
"I didn't get you anything."
"Oh… I didn't get you anything either." Her hand slipped into her pocket and pushed the small, neatly wrapped gift further into the depths of her cloak. She must not have concealed her disappointment as well as she thought because he cocked an eyebrow.
Coolly, he turned away, for you see, he could not face her. Even after a year and two days, he could not bear to reveal anything of himself to her. His voice was stony as he said, "I did not mean to offend you in any way."
She collected herself quickly, forcing cheer into her voice. This whole while it had been her job to keep things friendly. If she didn't, their whole relationship, if you could even call it that, would collapse. If their relationship collapsed, so would her world. "Oh, I'm not offended."
"You can't keep the disappointment out of your voice."
"Disappointment? Oh, that… well, when you said gift, I remembered what Ron gave me for Christmas. To be honest, I was expecting a bit more from him, us being –'
"Friends for so long?"
"Yes…" Her voice trailed off. Every time they talked she seemed to say something that offended him. "Draco, I'm sorry I didn't –"
"Please don't call me that. Give me that as a gift. Never use my first name again."
Hermione's eyes narrowed. His words were condescending but his voice was filled with what seemed to be regret. "Why must this be formal?"
"Why must it be informal?"
"Because it began that way."
"No, it did not. It began as a school project – a discussion of Runes and the philosophy behind them. We just happened to disagree so much that we continued this meetings to prolong the argument. I do admit that these meetings have not been distasteful recently, but I do not wish to give you the illusion that we are… friends."
"Then what are we?"
"Colleagues? Associates? Give it whatever word you wish. Just do not call us friends."
"Why can't we be friends?" She could not keep the hurt out of her voice this time. She had thought they were friends… perhaps even more than that. After all, he returned every week. And she made him laugh, or at least really smile – she hadn't seen that smirk in a very long time. At least, she didn't see it when it was just the two of them.
"We cannot be friends because you do not understand me."
"I understand people."
"So?"
"Are you a person? I say you are, therefore I understand you. And you understand me. We are humans, Draco, and humans understand each other."
"Yes we are humans, Granger, but to say that is the requisite for understanding is like saying a house cat understands a stray. One is tamed and one is not. There is no way the two could ever reach an understanding… even after years and years of communication."
"Are you saying that I am that stray cat? I am not untamed!"
"I never specified which of us was which, Granger. And that is where we differ. You need reasons. I do not. If I lived by reason, I would reason that these conversations with you are useless and provide no enlightenment for me whatsoever, and therefore, I should not engage in them at all."
Hermione's eyes blurred with tears. "So that's what you want? To not speak to me anymore."
"I never specified what I did and didn't want."
"Well… I-" She was prepared to yell at him. She was prepared to throw a hysteric fit, most likely proving his point further, but she didn't care. This hurt. This hurt a lot… and it was Draco… Malfoy who was doing the hurting. It was inconceivable to her. No. No! This would not happen!
And just as she opened her mouth, a soft, white flake landed on her tongue. And another followed in quick pursuit. The flakes stuck to her eyelashes and her uncovered hair. "It's snowing," she whispered, raising her eyes to the white sky. "It's snowing!" she laughed, spinning once in the snow. Her eyes fell back to Draco, standing awkwardly in the whiteness. Without his black cloak, he would have been nearly invisible. With a smile, she threw her arms around his neck and whispered into his ear, "I don't care what you want or what you consider me to be. But that is not something for us to argue about now. It's getting cold and Harry and Ron will be wondering where I am. I'll see you next week, Draco." Feeling somewhat liberated, she traipsed through the snow and back into the Gryffindor Common Room.
Draco stood shaking in the snow. The snow and the cold were not the causes of his trembles. She was. He watched her silhouette return to the castle. When she disappeared inside, he rolled his shoulders and whispered, "I'll see you next week… Hermione."