A/N: And wow, it's been a year. What a naïve young girl I was when I started writing fanfiction. I look back on the first, ah, eleven or so of these chapters and shudder. I love you all, and I'm so happy that you still stick with me. Hope you enjoy the chapter…let's see where this story will be around this time next year. Finished, hopefully…

Bon Appetite! - Chapter Eleven

Hermione jolted awake, groaning in pain as she hit her head on the wall behind her. She looked up to see Malfoy staring at her, his mouth ajar. She tried hard not to blush as she remembered her dream.

"What?" She asked haughtily as he continued to stare. His mouth no longer hung open, either, he was smirking now.

"You just said my name."

"What?"

"In your sleep. You said my name."

Hermione understood now why he had that infuriating smirk plastered to his arrogant face.

"Did I?" Hermione asked, quickly molding her horrified expression into one of mock curiosity. She tried to look as if she was attempting to remember her dream, but she was sure the only thing apparent on her face was a grimace.

Malfoy leant one shoulder against the wall, his gray eyes sparkling with an infuriating glee.

"You did," he said with a knowing arrogance.

"Hmmm, well, it might have been when I was telling Parvati what an arrogant bastard you are, but you never know."

Draco didn't skip a beat.

"I know," he said calmly.

"Know what?" Hermione asked defiantly, her arms folded over her chest.

"What your dream was about. I know what you don't want me to know. I know that you've been having the same dream every night since last week."

There was a pause. The air crackled around them as Draco's gray eyes pierced Hermione's soft brown ones. Hermione took a deep breath, her heart pounding painfully against her ribcage.

"And how do you know this?" She asked quietly, letting her arms fall away from her chest to sit haphazardly in her lap.

"I can see it in your face, your eyes, every bit of you that doesn't want me to realize the truth."

"Which is what?" Hermione asked, rising to her feet in anger.

"That you can't stop thinking about that night," Draco stated, examining a fingernail nonchalantly."That it bothers you how wrong it felt, while feeling right at the same time. That you want it to happen again."

"It doesn't seem as though you're very good at reading people."

Hermione rolled her eyes, pushed past him, and walked through the door into the early dusk.

She turned to the right, walking past the fire ring, through the grass, and into the forest. She walked and walked, not caring where she was going, not caring that it was dark, not caring that she was lost.

After what had to have been hours, she began to care. It was getting cold, and the only light to go by was that of the moon. She entered a small clearing and lowered herself to the base of one of its trees, her eyes on the moon above. Slowly, they drifted shut as sleep took her mind.

Hermione's eyes flew open suddenly. She looked up to the sky to see the moon hovering softly between the dead branches of the surrounding trees. Her head snapped to the left as a branch cracked and Draco Malfoy stepped out of the trees, his eyes shining in the soft moonlight.

Hermione said nothing, but her eyes widened.

Draco moved forward slowly, his hands in his pockets. He stood tall in front of her, the light of the pale white moon reflecting brilliantly off his platinum-blond head. He reached down and lifted her up off the ground.

Hermione shivered.

Was she still sleeping? No. She was sure that wasn't it. The biting cold confirmed that twice over.

It was like her dream, then, but different, in subtle ways she couldn't quite place.

"It's alright," Draco spoke, his voice a raspy whisper, "it's alright to want this. Because here we can be different. Here, we have to be different."

He lowered his lips to her neck, the new heat sending a tremor through Hermione's body. This was real.

Hermione tried to keep her eyes on the moon above her, fighting with her conscience.

This was Draco Malfoy – the cold-blooded Slytherin snake that had made her life and the lives of her friends' hell since her first year.

But things were different now. The tides had changed. Their lives – the lives they had lived before they had been magically transported to the sixteenth century – didn't exist. And Draco was right. She had to be different. She had to create a new life for herself.

She had to be Hermione Granger. She had to stay (for the meantime) in a time where she wouldn't even be born for another four-hundred-and-something-odd-years. And she had to let go of a time when Draco Malfoy was nothing but an evil, stuck-up pureblood to her.

And she realized, as she lifted her head up to meet his waiting lips, that Draco Malfoy really wasn't all that bad.