Disclaimer: The characters belong to no other than J. K. Rowling.

A/N: warning: cliché coming up. So read at your own risk and please tell me what you think (positive or negative, it's up to you). Title taken from Tori Amos' song :)

Sort of Fairy Tale

"If going doesn't feel right, then don't go." These words pierced her more than ever for she knew what he would say. And she knew it didn't matter anymore, not tonight. It didn't matter if going didn't feel right for his fate was sealed as he had told her…

She will never understand why she could feel something other than hatred towards him, in the midst of the inevitable war that was to come before long like a thief one had expected, yet one could not tell when it would strike. But what did she know and what right did she have to judge or question what she felt that day, that night? Maybe it was pity, sympathy or disappointment, all mixed up. Maybe all her emotions have run out of control, out of her reach, or out of sight. Maybe it was anxiousness, the need to tie loose ends before the war comes. Maybe…There were too many maybes but no answers to satisfy her mounting curiosity.

She couldn't understand why she, who surely had pride as high as Hogwarts castle, intelligence and unflinching sanity, could stoop that low, as to beg him, her enemy, not to go. What was she thinking? What was her purpose? Did she want him to change sides? And when he did, would it change everything all at once? Her curiosity got the better of her, willed her to disregard the nagging voice in her head as she blindly followed him when he walked out of the castle, maintaining a safe distance. She was plagued by the sudden urge to talk to him even if it meant exposing herself to more insulting words. And anyone would be surprised to see two of the most unlikely people who never got along so well stand next to each other in silence at the edge of the lake in the middle of the cold night.

She is, or was, a strong person, a clever young woman who had control over everything, knew where she wanted to be, what side she would fight for, has it all planned for her life after Hogwarts, if she got lucky enough to survive the war unscathed. She knew what she wanted and what she wanted to say. She was independent, until she acknowledged him and let him in like a storm that disrupted her once monotonous life. It was her fault because if she hadn't sought him that night, if she didn't let her curiosity get in the way, get the better of her like it sometimes did, she wouldn't be wasting her tears on him now. She wouldn't be begging him not to go and so seal his fate as a servant to the wrong side he believed was meant for him since the beginning. How could he let it happen? How could he just let his father run his life for him? She wanted to know all of these things even if she had to squeeze all the answers out of him, one by one. And even if it meant she had to follow him there every night, enduring the treatment she had always been used to.

Her unflinching sanity must have fled her that first night where this catastrophic madness had started. It began with an impulsive declaration she hadn't thought about thoroughly that even she was surprised at her own boldness.

"You're a fool. Fighting for what your father told you to fight for. Doesn't that make you a mindless fool and a coward?" Her words were cruel, as though trying to match his indifference. It was the accumulation of everything she felt towards him for the past six years. She then realized she must have gone too far for she stiffened at her own words, as the fear of his reaction to her pitiless choice of words was to come shortly.

"Do you think I don't know that?" He was trying to control the anger in his words and it didn't escape her senses; it was so evident that she had flinched slightly. She can't believe what she was hearing though. Did it mean Malfoy knew that what he had been doing was wrong? Did he just admit that he's a fool? And then as fast as the anger welled up in him, it was gone, replaced by what could only be called weariness and hopelessness. It was as though some part of him refused to show weakness yet it showed through his face. "You don't know what you're saying…" His hands balled into fists and his voice was low. She knew she angered him by her thoughtless words. She was shaken by the possibility that he would rush towards her and strangle her to death but decided against it. She knew that he can't possibly do such a thing.

"I do know what I'm saying." She fought the urge to take one step back, to run away from Malfoy. She tried to put on an unaffected front for him. "What are you fighting for Malfoy, the Dark Lord who's only a half-blood unlike you, a pureblood? Is that your own decision or does your father make your decisions for you?" She just can't stop her mouth can she?

"Wha-Don't tell me you followed me all the way down here just to tell me that?" He looked incredulous but didn't make a move to walk away. And then his eyes became stony, cold and hard. He must have realized her purpose; to get some answers. He had to stop right now or he'll end up spilling everything to the know-it-all Granger. "You are the know-it-all I always know you are, aren't you? But for a know-it-all, you know nothing, nothing about me…" he spat the words like he didn't want her to miss every single of it. And it sure hit something in her, for she suddenly regretted walking up to him just so to insult him. What did she know anyway?

Nothing.

She supposed he was right. She knew nothing about him, nothing deep and nothing real, nothing at all. All she knew was that he hates her, deeply, intensely for her blood lineage. And the feeling was mutual because she hated him as well, for hating her. That being cleared, why was she then still standing there? He looked enraged, though not enough to hit her and to make him more threatening and dangerous than he already was. But instead of hurting her, he walked away without as much as a glance at her.

She let out a shaky breath and looked at him as he walked back to the castle. How can she be so tactless? If she wanted to know something, she should have been careful not to hit a nerve in his overly sensitive feelings. Even though he'd been a pain in the neck, he deserved an apology for the rude and unsolicited comment she gave him. It was so unlike her to be the one who would initiate the exchange of harsh words between them. She had always been the one answering with equal animosity to his insults and it never bothered her as long as she's not the one who started it. What she did was beyond her and it disturbed her so. . .

The disturbance was unsettling that she had to pursue him once more the next night. She went to the edge of the lake by the tree, to his escape, to his territory. She was right to follow her instincts. He was there, sitting on the usual place where she found him last night. She observed him from a safe distance, careful not to attract his undivided attention. He must have been doing too much thinking that he didn't realize her presence.

As she looked at him, that particular moment, hate was not the word that could describe what she felt. Hate was a strong word. But what did she actually feel at that moment? How did such word connect her to him, in a bond which was unbreakable and hard to explain accurately? She had always hated Malfoy. But since last night, she can't seem to shake off the memory of how he looked like: enraged but miserable, the life and energy drained out from him but still he managed to put up a front. Only, such front was weaker than she had seen before, much more different than the abhorrence she received from him in the past years.

"You said I know nothing about you…but not knowing doesn't stop me from having my opinions regarding you." She said nonchalantly, acting as though they've been having a normal conversation for weeks. Her casual tone jolted him out of his momentary trance. She expected a violent reaction from him, a question or something else but instead, his body visibly tensed. But before she could feel triumphant for her victory over him, for her good act of pretending to be calm when in fact she wasn't anywhere near that, she should have guessed he wouldn't and will never forget to treat her that way, to make her feel hated, disliked, unwanted. Because when he looked at her, she saw just how he easily replaced his pensive and tensed expression with that of displeasure, with the familiar scowl and narrowed eyes.

"What are you doing here?" He straightened his back as he leaned on the tree and looked at her with disgust while his arm rested on his knees and the other hand was smudged with dirt, probably from picking on the grass before she arrived.

"Don't act suddenly disgusted. You could have walked away or told me to sod off the second you knew I was standing here." There was the tranquil silence, unlike the violent pounding of her heart. The leaves on tree branches rustle as the cold wind blew, her robe swayed along and her hair transformed into a frizzier state. She was standing a few feet away from him, looking around, at the calm lake, the reflection of the full moon on the water and then the dark sky but at him for she can't handle his searching eyes and that expression of disgust on his face. It was quite disarming even when his eyes tell a different story. She couldn't understand how he could show different emotions at one time. While she busied herself with observing the surroundings, she missed the small but knowing smile on Malfoy's pale face, and the possibility of the fact that he was only faking his revulsion at the sight of her. For if she caught that small smile, she would know. After all, it was not hard to miss that he only feigned disgust.

"What are you doing here Granger?" there was impatience in his voice for the reason that she didn't answer the question, purposely ignored it. He can't see the reason why she's there, wasting her night pestering him instead of studying and living up to her know-it-all and top-student image. It had always been him who initiated their exchange of heated words. But what they're having tonight can't exactly be called a heated conversation because it can be described as something close to having a casual one. "Have you been following me?" He hated her calmness, her apathy to his arrogance and indifference. Was he losing his ability to annoy her? And was he turning into someone he was not supposed to be?

"Why would I do that?" she looked at him and pretended to be offended and shocked. She widened her eyes, determined not to admit her intentions. He didn't have to know it. It will only inflate his overly inflated ego.

"Don't play games with me Granger. This is the second time in a row that you came out of nowhere to pester me with your trivial talks. What do you want?"

"If I tell you, would you give me what I want?" She held his gaze for a long time. And he didn't look away.

"Out with it." It intrigued him to come across Granger in the middle of the night only to hear her tell him something like this. It was a request and he was curious about what she was thinking; why she even thought he would easily give in to her whims.

"I was wondering if you could enlighten me Malfoy." She looked serious when she said it. Malfoy almost wanted to give in but he restrained himself before it could get any deeper, and before the night could get any stranger that it did before the first time they stood there.

"Forget about it Granger, you won't get anything from me." He was thinking that she would leave him alone if he continually refused her.

She shrugged her shoulders, "Oh fine. Good night then Malfoy," and left casually like his refusal didn't matter. She left without glancing at him, his mouth slightly open after her wake. He wondered why he felt disappointed at her departure. He didn't expect that she'll give up so easily. He let out a deep sigh and shook his head at how ridiculous he was for feeling about what she did. It's what he wanted anyway so he should be relieved to get rid of her annoying presence. . .

Malfoy felt like he wanted to shout. While he was watching his friends banter during dinner at the Great Hall, he wanted to let go of pent up emotions. What would their reactions be if he told them that he's having second thoughts about joining the side of the Dark Lord? Most of the Slytherins are sure to support the Dark Lord and he for one was expected to do so. The burden of keeping his thoughts about the forthcoming war was becoming too unbearable to handle that he wanted to tell it to someone, even if that someone was the most unlikely candidate of all. His gaze fell upon a particular girl who was laughing merrily with her friends on the other table across him. It made him wonder if she'll try to talk to him tonight after what he did last night. He cursed himself for hoping she would come by again at the lake.

That night, the third in a row, Draco found himself or rather his mind drifting somewhere else instead of thinking about his current predicament regarding where his loyalty should lie. But it was a lost cause. He looked at his watch for the hundredth time. It's past the time when she would usually show up and speak her undaunted mind.

"Waiting for me?" Just as she hoped for, he's on the same spot where she saw him last night. She's determined not to be ignored this time. And Malfoy looked like he's about to give in anyway for she swore she saw a glint of relief in his sad eyes.

"You're following me." There was again the unmistakable impatience in his tone but it was mixed with something else. Who wouldn't be impatient with the game she's playing? His eyes were less suspicious and questioning now as he waited for her to respond.

"Let's say I am following you. Then why are you still here? If you know the pattern, then you would break it by simply not going here." She said it as though it was the obvious. And it was indeed obvious. He can't quite find the words to react to that because she was right. Nonetheless, uninvited or not, she positioned herself cross-legged on the dry grass a foot away from him.

"Why are you doing this?" Where were the bickering, the exchange of insults, his arrogant smirk and her furious glare? All of it was replaced by a long deafening silence, by a cloud of unpredictability that hung in the air.

"I hate not knowing…" she said simply, but regretted her words when she realized its implications. Did that mean she wanted to know Malfoy? No, that's not what she meant. She can't possibly be interested in knowing him, not at a time like this, not when the war was threatening to take place any time soon. Not when everything that existed or will ever exist between them was settled years ago. She just wanted to know his reasons, his thoughts about the side he'd chosen. That's all.

The words that came out of from her mouth were too vague yet she said what was on her mind. "Tell me something about you Malfoy…since you say I don't know you at all." It was a challenge that she hoped he would take and recognize as a dare disguised as a trap for him to open up somehow. It was the first step to her plans of knowing his reasons for his loyalty to the other side besides the known fact that he's just following the footsteps of his father.

"I'm not like my father." That declaration said it all because when she looked at him, she saw the sincerity in those words. He seemed intent on making her believe it.

She realized that his simple statement wasn't tainted by hatred or despise like it always used to. For some reason, she felt more disturbed than ever. He looked like he's carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he's going to crumble any second. But that wasn't the Malfoy she knew. He's not exactly prone to showing some signs of weakness especially in front of her. Where's the arrogance and mirthless smirk only he can perfectly convey? Where was it?

"Just as I thought, you don't believe me." His voice was filled with regret. How could he be stupid as to expect she would believe him? He stood up and only a second passed, he was kneeling in front of her, his eyes looked tired and dull. "I'm not like my father and I don't want to be like him. But I can't do anything now to stop what's been decided to happen. . ." His hands gripped her shoulders tightly that she gasped in surprise at the gesture. It was as though he was drawing strength from her, asking for an assurance. Her expression shifted, not knowing what to feel at the revelation and at his touch. Without thinking, she punched him squarely on the cheek as anger welled in her.

How could he say those words so easily? Didn't he know how much those words unnerve her? It meant all she knew about him was meaningless because for the first time, she saw the part of Malfoy that was real. He looked scared. That was all she could do to free herself from his grasp. That's all she could do to will herself not to believe that he's telling the truth. Her eyes widened at the sight of blood on his lips. He wiped it away with his sleeve and looked at Hermione expectantly. "Well, I think I deserved that," he chuckled but it sounded empty to her. He sat again and leaned on the trunk of the tree as if nothing happened.

"Make me believe you Malfoy," she whispered. She was ready to listen.

And so he talked about having second thoughts with regard his loyalties. It can't even be called loyalty but an obligation. He did not want it; it was forced on him by his father and by the circumstances that his mother will be in danger if he did something stupid such as joining the right side. He said he had no choice because it was his mother's life in exchange if he refused to support the Dark Lord. Besides, it was expected of him, expected of a Malfoy, of a Slytherin.

It was these series of encounters that resulted into a catastrophic madness, instability and stupidity, even. How could she do something as stupid as that? Why a catastrophic madness? It was for the simple reason that how can she let herself be shaken by his answers? How can she let him take over the conversation and turn it against her, make her evaluate her opinion of him? How can she feel sympathy for him all of a sudden after he shared a part of his thoughts? How can she pretend that what he said to her meant nothing when in fact she believed him? It was one encounter that had triggered a series of encounters. It was an ordinary night like any other, only, what made it extraordinary was that they are not friends but enemies and they are having a conversation night after night, tainted with a lot of unknown emotions that appeared out of nowhere, wanting to be unleashed, as they discover each other's weaknesses.

When she came to the lake for the sixth time, she thought she'd see him there. She lingered for a while, and waited, hoping to see him for the last time. She wondered if Malfoy had already left. She almost gave up hope and turned to leave when she saw him standing there. He came after all and there he stood beside her. It was her first attempt and last chance to convince him not to go.

"If going doesn't feel right, then don't go."

It was said in a way she wanted him to understand. It was as though it was the last words she'll be able to say to him. She made it sound final, absolute. She let out a shaky breathe after saying those words which sounded as though she was begging him not to go. She was trembling. Those words weigh more than what she intended for him to feel. She wanted to get his attention and at the same time get the message across without any vagueness. Or maybe she didn't want to prolong such uncomfortable meeting, which she sought herself to happen, with the wizard she barely knew except for the fact that he had only spent his seven years torturing her and her friends with insults and remarks, making fun of her blood lineage, looking down on her like she'll never be his equal, like she was the dirt of the earth, the dirt on his shoes. He had the name, the blood lineage, which she'll never have. It frustrated her that purebloods could have everything yet still want everything. But she knew more than that now. He told her a lot of things she didn't know were there. She was sure that Draco Malfoy was something else, someone worth knowing, and most of all, he was not a coward, not even close.

"Who are you to tell me that? Who do you think you are?" He spat those words as his gaze remained focused on the black lake. He didn't want to be reminded of what he had to do the next day. Now where did the phrase 'filthy Mudblood' go? It had left him since the day they first encountered each other in the edge of the lake.

"A nobody. A Mudblood. Call me whatever you want." She said with equal intensity to how he responded. They are back to hostility again and it almost made everything back to normal. She took that moment while he wasn't looking at her to spare one last look at him. He had his head turned away from her like she was the last person he would want to lay his eyes on. Maybe he regretted ever telling her a piece of his mind.

"Now you call yourself that foul word, filthy Mudblood is it." There was sarcasm in his voice, but it was not meant. She knew he would sound like that, cruel and unfeeling and she's used to it, immune to its effects. Only, she didn't expect that they'd be exchanging indifferences again after all that's said and done in the past nights.

"Tell me something. I want to know what you really are here for in the first place. Why are you here tonight, looking like you don't want to go?" It was only at night that they seek each other, and where the hostilities come to a halt at times. And tonight they reached the end of their secret meetings and conversations and where hostilities seem to resurface. It was the last time that they'll see of each other for the reason that tomorrow, the war begins. It was tonight that she's begging him not to go. It was tonight that she let her guard down and hoped for something she knew was not that simple. It was tonight that she shed tears for him.

They stared at each other, dumbfounded. But Malfoy's face held the expression of confusion and wonder. "Why are you crying?" He lifted his hand to touch her tear-stained cheeks. But before he could even feel her tears in his hands, rain poured, soaking both of them wet, her tears mixing with it. He pulled her toward the shade of the tree. They ran alongside each other.

"We can go to Professor Dumbledore and tell him." There was urgency in her voice as she gripped his forearm. She tried to come up with a reason why she's crying but she couldn't find the right answer. She looked down at her muddy shoes and cried even harder and let her tears flow freely.

"You don't give me as much as a genuine smile from across the room yet here you are, wasting your tears on someone like me."

He did what he could only do, what seemed right to do. He pulled her close to him and held her like he never did before. It was after all, the first time he held her close that way. And maybe, it will also be the last. She was trembling as he hugged her. She realized he's trembling too. They stood like that for a moment that seemed like forever.

The rain had stopped pouring hard. By tomorrow they'd be standing on the opposite lines. He let her go but not the memory that once in his life, he held her and that he shared with her a part of him, not regretting it at all. He put his hands on the pockets of his robes to stop the need to hold her again, to feel reassured that what happened was real.

As they stood beside each other, he finally said, while trying to look strong for the both of them, "Whatever side will win, no one knows for certain. But we'll certainly see each other there Granger, I guarantee you that…"

"Maybe. But I won't cry if you die…" she said, through muffled sobs.

"Neither do I…" there was an evident sadness in his face, mixed with bewilderment. He smiled emptily at their exchange of empty words because he knew, there was something beneath it that both of them refused to show, or refused to admit to themselves at least. It's possible that they'd die, but he doubted it would be easy not to cry when they lose someone they care for. "Do everything you can to stay alive. . ."

"You should also do the same. When this war is over, I'm looking forward to seeing you again Malfoy, to know you more and see that infuriating smirk of yours that only you can perfectly do." She turned to him and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him near on the lips, the spot where she punched him. After that, she caressed that part she kissed. With that done, she left, with a sad smile on her lips, the only smile she had for him. Unfortunately, he didn't see. That was the least she could do. He had decided where he should be.

As for her, she wouldn't try to do any other things to make him stay, because if he wanted to, he would.

-the end-

A/N: Well, I know it's cliché but I can't help it. I'm running out of ideas here. Review please and thanks for reading! Suggestions and comments are more than welcome so I can improve this. I know it doesn't go together all too well, the ideas are somewhat scattered…I'll probably edit it some other time.

Edited: August 10, 2007; Edited: April 1, 2013