"Long, Long, Long"

Chapter 2

The next couple of days passed without incident. Draco and Hermione didn't run into each other, but this may have been due to the fact that they were subconsciously avoiding one another. They both started to relax, thinking this uneasy peace could go on forever, but their hopes collapsed on the Wednesday after Christmas.

Hermione was sitting in one of her favorite chairs in the library, reading a novel she'd gotten from her mother for Christmas. Harry and Ron were outside with Seamus and Dean again for a rematch snowball fight. She'd turned down the invitation to join them, not feeling particularly in the mood for becoming cold and wet, and come to the library for its peace and quiet.

She leaned over slightly in her chair so that she could look out a nearby window on to the grounds; possibly to see what her friends were up to. She thought she saw there outlines over near Hagrid's hut and watched a few snowballs fly through the air before she was startled by a loud scraping noise above her. She jerked her head up to see a beautiful grey owl with a parchment tied to its leg floating close to the upper part of the window. She looked up at it for a moment; it looked somewhat familiar….

Hermione realized whose it was and quickly looked around to see if he was nearby. Obviously he was, or else the owl wouldn't have come to the library. Sure enough, Draco Malfoy sat with his back to Hermione on the other side of the room, looking through that day's Daily Prophet.

Hermione bit her lip and looked back to the owl. With one last look in Draco's direction, Hermione stood on her chair and opened the window slightly. The owl could fit through the small crack, but Hermione could reach through and tug the parchment from its leg. The bird didn't seem too happy about this; it started pecking at Hermione's hand. She managed to get the letter free, however, and closed the window. The owl, defeated, flew off into the afternoon sky.

Hermione sat back down in her chair and unrolled the parchment, ignoring the feeling of guilt in her stomach. The message read:

Draco,

I know my last letter was only three days ago, but so much is happening so quickly now. The Dark Lord isn't revealing too much to anyone yet, for good reason, but he's made us aware that various steps are being taken to prepare our side for the war. I've been assigned a duty out of town, so I'm afraid I won't be able to provide you with updates until I return.

I know it frustrates you, but you really aren't in a position to help while you are at school. Your part will come soon, once everything gets started. Until then, keep all that you know quiet.

Once again, it was unsigned, but Hermione had no doubt that it was also from Lucius. She read through it again, looking for the most important parts. Various steps are being taken to prepare our side? What were these steps? Clearly the Dark side was going to have a strategy long before anyone else even knew there was going to be a war. That wasn't hope-inspiring.

The last part confused Hermione. Obviously Lucius firmly believed that Draco was waiting eagerly to become a Death Eater and assist the Dark Lord in any way possible. Why was it that Hermione had such trouble accepting this idea? Surely Draco's family had been planning that future for him since a young age…but Hermione just couldn't really picture Draco as a Death Eater, killing people.

Draco was an irritating, arrogant bastard; Hermione would be the first to admit that, but truly evil? Laying his life on the line to serve an evil cause? She found this a bit of a stretch.

"So you and my father are suddenly pen pals, Granger?"

Hermione spun around to find Draco looking at her accusingly, his arms crossed. "I-," Hermione stuttered, "W-What do you…What are you talking about, Malfoy?" she asked, wrapped her fist around the letter from Lucius.

"I just had a very peculiar vision," said Draco, actually looking somewhat amused, "Of you standing on an ancient old armchair, reaching out of a window, and taking a small parchment off of my family owl. Any explanations?" He stepped closer and extended his hand expectantly, "Or the letter, perhaps?"

"That was, er, my Daily Prophet owl," Hermione lied lamely, "I've renewed my subscription."

"Granger, you're a terrible liar, and you're really starting to annoy the hell out of me, so just give me the letter before I have to hex you." It was killing Draco not to be able to just stun her and take the letter that was rightfully his, but he couldn't let himself anger Hermione when she held all the information needed to get him in a deadly position. It took an enormous amount of strain on his part, but so far he was managing it.

Hermione knew she was caught, but didn't want to hand over the letter, for fear that Draco might destroy it as well. "You can have it," she said, "if you don't throw it in the fire."

"You can't tell me what to do," said Draco instinctively.

"I think, Malfoy," she said, holding up the letter, "that I can."

Draco was sick of this. He wrenched the letter from Hermione's firm grip and started reading it. Hermione watched him read and said, "It seems that at least your father thinks that this is all going to happen; the war is going to start soon." Draco didn't even look up from the letter. "Maybe," said Hermione slowly, "it's time Dumbledore knew about this."

"I don't think so, Granger," said Draco, crumpling up the note and heading quickly towards the library fire. Hermione tried to stop him, but Draco quickened his pace and before long, the letter was burning in the bright orange flames.

Hermione glared at him. "You are unbelievable. If you would just stop thinking about yourself for about two seconds, you might realize how utterly stupid you are being and that telling--"

"You two, no talking! I must ask you to leave the library!" said a very upset Madam Pince, "I thought two older students such as yourselves would know better by now." She escorted them from the library saying there were many places in the school for talking and that the library was the least suitable, and other such things.

After the librarian had left them, Hermione said, "I know you don't want to waste your precious time, but we need to talk about this."

To her surprise, Draco let out a tired sigh and said, "Fine. If you insist, we can talk about this, but not now."

"Really?" Hermione couldn't hide her disbelief at Draco's cooperation. "I mean, alright, fine. How about Saturday evening? In the tower, because not that many people know about it." I used to think I was the only one, she added to herself.

"Saturday is New Year's Eve. Isn't there another feast?"

"Well, then that's perfect. Everyone else will be at the feast, so we'll have some time. I mean, unless you're dying to go or something…"

Draco shrugged. "No, not really. The tower then, seven o'clock?"

"Fine."

Hermione and Draco then headed down the corridor in opposite directions, towards their respective dormitories. Neither was looking forward to their meeting, but both knew that it was necessary, though maybe for different reasons. Hermione needed to figure out where Draco stood and try to convince him that they should tell Dumbledore. Without him, Hermione had absolutely nothing to support her claim, and kind as Dumbledore was, he couldn't act on nothing. Draco felt he had no choice in the matter of their meeting. He knew if he didn't, Hermione would almost certainly make him regret it, whether through telling someone about the letters or following him around until he got another one, or something else that would make his life miserable. The best he could hope for was to somehow convince Hermione on Saturday evening to forget about what she knew and make her leave him alone.

…

Saturday evening came more quickly than either of the students expected or particularly wanted. Around them, their classmates were enjoying the break from classes, but Hermione found herself almost wishing that classes would start again, and she'd have something else to think about besides her precarious situation with Draco and the coming war. Draco also had a hard time not thinking about it, as he had virtually no one to talk to, having told Crabbe and Goyle to leave him alone earlier in the term. He honestly didn't mind their absence, but he did begin to hope for some form of distraction so that he would not drive himself to insanity thinking about what might happen in the future if he didn't succeed in getting Hermione off his back.

At six thirty on Saturday evening, the Slytherin common room started to empty as students walked to the Great Hall for the New Year's feast. Most of them were cheerful and Draco started to envy them as the time he was supposed to meet Hermione grew closer. He finally left at quarter to seven, taking the long way to the tower so that he might avoid any contact with students on their way to the feast. He wasn't prepared to tell anyone why he wasn't headed to the Great Hall with them. Not that anyone would ask, but Draco decided not to take a chance.

He reached the tower with five minutes to spare. Hermione wasn't there yet, so Draco walked over to the opposite window and spent a moment staring out onto the dark grounds. He again began to think about what the war would bring. Would the school close? Would there be fighting on the expansive grounds below him? Would this view be the same in a few years?

He drummed his fingers on the window sill in thought. There wasn't a doubt in his mind that the war would be devastating for both sides. Clearly the Dark Lord thought he had the upper hand, but that didn't mean people on the Dark side wouldn't die. Many would, possibly people in Draco's own family. Obviously Lucius was wanted dead--or at least in Azkaban--by quite a few, but he had ways of getting himself out of harm's way. Draco wasn't unduly worried about him.

But it wasn't really the deaths that made Draco worry about the war, and he knew that. There was an internal conflict in Draco that made him dread what was coming. Even he didn't really know what this conflict was between, but he felt certain that a big decision lay in his near future. Something that he would have to decide without his father's aid, something Draco'd rarely done before.

In the midst of these thoughts and others like them, Draco heard quiet clicking sounds behind him. He heard them, but he didn't turn around until he saw the faint glow of a lit wand reflected in the glass before him. He took a breath to ready himself and turned around.

"Evening, Malfoy," said Hermione.

"Granger," Draco acknowledged.

"Nox," Hermione whispered to her wand, and the faint light disappeared. She glanced at her watch. "Sorry I'm late," she said, pocketing her wand and stepping over to where Draco was.

Draco didn't say anything. He was trying to form some sort of plan in his mind for what he would say to convince Hermione not to do anything about what she knew, at least not yet, but Hermione started in first.

"Alright, I need to ask you a couple of questions to understand a few things," she said. "First, what exactly do you not like about the idea of showing the Headmaster one of your letters? Or at least telling him about them?"

"I already answered that, the other night when this first came up."

"What, that stuff about a rumor of the war spreading and everyone panicking? Surely that's not your only concern." Hermione, desperate to have a decent conversation, resisted the urge to say he was too self-centered for that to be his only worry.

"Why does it matter what my other concerns are? Surely that one's reason enough for you not to tell Dumbledore."

"It's not, actually, so why don't you just tell me what's really bothering you? It would save us both so much time and energy."

Draco didn't answer at first. He didn't want to tell Hermione the real story. He knew she wouldn't care and that it wouldn't support his argument. He would come off lokking cowardly and insecure, neither of which he particularly wanted one of his worst enemies to see. Who knew how that would come back to haunt him? He finally decided to be vague in what he said; then he wouldn't really be saying much and maybe she would drop it. "Let's just say that no one would be particularly happy with me if I just handed information to Dumbledore."

Well, obviously, thought Hermione, I guess I could've figured that out on my own. She started to feel irritated with herself for asking the question, but then she began to wonder what Draco meant by saying people wouldn't be "happy" with him. It's not like his excuse was a matter of life and death; Lucius would never actually harm his beloved son. "What do you mean by 'no one would be particularly happy' with you? If it's just a matter of your father being a bit angry with you, I hardly think that's a valid reason."

A bit angry? thought Draco, Is that honestly what she thinks I meant? "Are you serious, Granger? I guess I was giving you too much credit, but I thought you were smarter than that."

"What do you mean, then?"

Draco just looked at her, with some concern. She just couldn't comprehend it, could she? "Nevermind. Alright, I answered your question, now it's your turn to answer one of mine. What makes you think that Dumbledore doesn't already know as much as, or more, than you do? That possibly he doesn't need your input? That telling him and making my life miserable is really going to help anyone?"

Hermione didn't reply for a moment, realizing that Draco had brought up a fair point. Especially since she had seen the look on Dumbledore's face on Christmas, an obvious indication that he knew something. The question was how much Dumbledore knew, and if she really knew any more than he did. However, not wanting to back down just yet, she said, "Well, there's a possibility he might know, I admit, but just telling him there'sgoing to be a war isn't really the point. The point is that you have a steady source of news that can be of enormous value to the Headmaster, who might actually be able to do something about it."

"So what you're really asking is for me to just hand over all the letters I get from my father to Dumbledore, and betray not only my father, but the Dark Lord? All the while hoping that no one finds out, and that if they do, they'll just be a bit angry? Are you even thinking about what you're suggesting?" Draco couldn't believe Hermione was being this thick. All the years he'd hated her, he'd never thought she was stupid, but now he began to wonder.

Hermione was feeling more and more foolish as the night went on. She saw now that she was being incredibly naïve when she thought that Draco wouldn't be punished very severely for his actions. They were talking about Voldemort and his followers, people who were likely to punish the smallest mistake with death. Handing over information to the other side was not usually considered a small mistake. It was seeming more and more that Draco was right, but Hermione wasn't quite ready to admit that yet, so she conjured a stool for herself and sat down to think for a bit.

Draco followed suit and watched Hermione as she thought, her head resting in the palm of her hand, her eyes unfocused. She was clearly on the verge of giving up, so Draco let himself relax a little. Maybe this whole thing would be over soon.

A few minutes passed while both Hermione in Draco got somewhat lost in their thoughts. Finally Draco said, "So have I won the argument yet?"

Hermione looked over at him. "For now," she said.

Draco smirked. He doubted anyone had ever made Hermione fully admit she had lost. He found her stubbornness kind of amusing, when it wasn't giving him a headache or irritating the hell out of him. In fact, when she was frustrated, she looked kind of…cute.

Where did that come from? Draco's mind asked him. He blinked and looked down at the floor, as if this would somehow erase such thoughts from his mind. Little did he know that he wasn't the only one thinking that way.

A foot or two away, Hermione looked at Draco wondering if, were they not enemies, she might find him somewhat attractive. In reality, despite their mutual dislike for one another, she found him attractive, but her mind refused to admit to that. He didn't look like an arrogant, self-centered, prejudiced rich boy at the moment. Maybe that helped.

Draco looked up again and found Hermione's eyes on him. He didn't know why he did it, but he suddenly felt inclined to lean forward slightly. Hermione did the same, and a second later, their lips touched, and they kissed.

It just seemed sort of natural for both at the time; neither of them thought about it before it suddenly happened. It wasn't a bad experience on either part, by any means, merely unexpected.

Hermione didn't know how long they sat there, or how her hand had found its own way to the back of Draco's neck, or how she hadn't realized before that his hand was on her waist. The passion of their kiss seemed to be growing with every second, and it frightened Hermione a bit. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy this, but her mind was suddenly catching onto the fact that this was Draco Malfoy.

That one thought was enough for Hermione. She pulled out of the kiss and stood up. Draco looked a little dazed and Hermione didn't wait for him to recover. "I should go. The feast is probably over by now." She stepped through the stone archway and pulled out her wand. "Lumos," she whispered, quickening her pace down the steps. She was so busy looking at her feet and the next few steps that she fell into the tapestry without seeing it.

"Ow," she moaned, getting up from the floor space outside the secret entrance to the tower. She slowed her pace and headed off to Gryffindor tower wondering if the entire evening was some sort of bizarre dream she was having. It was the only reasonable explanation she could come up with.

…

Draco listened to the sounds of Hermione's footsteps as she disappeared down the steps. He was still recovering from what had happened and her abrupt departure. The whole thing was rather strange. He wouldn't have thought something so different would have seemed so…necessary, somehow. He couldn't explain it, so he didn't try.

He sat for a moment thinking it all over and then stood, vanishing the two stools they'd conjured earlier. With a last mystified look back at the tower room, he started down the long stairwell.

…

The last days of vacation flew by and melted into the new term, which few students welcomed. This meant classes resuming, homework taking over all free time, and, for a few, increased worry about the war.

Hermione could see it was starting to affect Harry too. He looked tired all the time, as if he was constantly awoken by nightmares involving You-Know-Who. However, Harry didn't speak of any dreams he may have had, so Hermione thought she may be imagining things. It was only when Harry pulled her aside in the common room on one evening in January that Hermione realized she was right.

"Hermione, could I talk with you for a moment?" Harry asked, looking worse than Hermione had ever seen him.

"Of course, Harry," she said, closing her book and resting it on a table. She followed him into a deserted corner. "Harry, what's wrong?" she asked, deeply concerned.

Harry looked around briefly, as if he was worried about being overheard. "Hermione," he whispered almost inaudibly, "lately I've been having, well, I guess nightmares would be the best word." Hermione nodded for him to continue. "And these aren't normal nightmares, even by my standards. They're about fighting, constant fighting…most likely the war. And," he paused, more upset than Hermione had seen him since his godfather died, "in every single dream, someone dies, someone on our side, different people every time." He looked severely shaken.

Hermione tried to comfort him. "Harry, I know you're worried about the war, and have good reason to be, but isn't it possible that your worst fears have merely carried over into your dreams? Isn't it possible that what you're seeing are just that--dreams? Or, nightmares, more like."

Harry looked into her eyes. "Hermione, I think we both know that's not what these are."

Hermione looked down, feeling tears well up in her eyes. If Harry knew that his dreams were more than that--visions, perhaps--then they most likely were. Yet again, her best friend had to deal with seeing these horrible pictures, and Hermione couldn't help him. "I'm sorry, Harry," she said softly, blinking away her tears, "I knew the war is going to change everything, but hearing you say it, I just…I don't think I've ever dreaded something so much." She reached out and hugged Harry, wishing he didn't have to deal with these visions on his own.

"It's alright, Hermione. We knew the war was coming, and it will come and go, like everything else. It needs to happen, for good or bad, you know that as well as I do. When it comes, we'll do what we have to, and…that's all we can do," he finished quietly, with just a hint of helplessness in his voice.

…

Over the following days, Hermione tried as best she could to forget about Draco and what had happened between them. She didn't dare talk it over with Harry and Ron, who she had no doubt would react badly. She knew that they would not be able to understand exactly how this had come about; she didn't understand it herself. They would probably think that Malfoy had some evil scheme in mind, and that he was using her, or that he had put a spell of some sort on her. No, she couldn't tell them.

She ended up spending much more time on her own, wandering the halls of the school, spending long afternoons in the library…. She told herself that these walks alone were to focus her thoughts on forgetting about Draco and their meetings, but in the back of her mind, she knew that she went off on her own so that she could think about him. She didn't know why she bothered; what had happened had surely just been a mistake--an odd relationship that wouldn't last. But she couldn't help wondering--or maybe hoping--that it might eventually turn into something more. After all, if it had happened at all, who was to say it wouldn't happen again?

…

Draco spent his days similarly to Hermione, though it marked less of a difference for him to spend most of his free time alone than it did her. Even before Christmas, he had often been by himself, whether he wandered the castle and grounds or sat in a dark corner of the Slytherin common room, where he went unnoticed.

He knew he shouldn't spend so much time thinking about her, but how could he prevent it? It was almost undoubtedly the weirdest thing that had ever happened to him. How many people deeply despise someone their whole lives and suddenly find themselves kissing the said someone? Draco was positive it didn't happen often.

He finally decided he had to get her off his mind. After all, they were too different; nothing good could ever come from this. Could it?