"Long, Long, Long"

Chapter 4

Hermione descended the last few steps down to the dungeons a little before eight o'clock and found Professors McGonagall and Snape waiting there. Snape looked in his usual bad temper, but Professor McGonagall offered a small smile. "Ah, Ms. Granger," she said, "I'll take you to the room, then. Severus, will you bring Mr. Malfoy when he arrives?"

Professor Snape nodded, and Professor McGonagall led Hermione away. Several long passageways and sharp turns later, Hermione found herself standing in the doorway of a room absolutely covered in slime of many different colors. Hermione didn't think there was a single square foot in the entire room that didn't have muck on it.

Professor McGonagall gestured towards a cart of muggle cleaning supplies in the center of the room. "Due to the fact that this is a punishment, no magic is allowed. I'll be taking your wand for the time being," she said, waiting as Hermione fished her wand out of her robes, "You may collect it from me in my office when you are finished."

Hermione forced a smile and watched her teacher leave. She slowly made her way over to the cart, trying not to step in goo. She heard the sound of footsteps outside the door and turned in time to see Draco and Professor Snape enter the room. Draco didn't bother stopping the disgusted groan that escaped from his lips.

"I'll need your wand, Mr. Malfoy," said Snape, extending his hand.

Draco looked at him as though he were joking. "What?" he asked, obviously not understanding.

Hermione sighed. "We can't use our wands, Malfoy. Muggle cleaning supplies only--that's the punishment."

"Thank you, Ms. Granger," said Snape coldly, not looking at her. "Now your wand, Mr. Malfoy."

Grudgingly, Draco handed over his wand. Snape left without another word.

Draco stepped around the puddles of slime to the cart of supplies. "What is this stuff anyway?" He leaned down, reaching for some of the slime.

Hermione instinctively threw out her arm to stop him from touching it. "Are you crazy? We don't know what that is! It could take your finger off or something!"

Draco stared at her.

"Alright, it's probably harmless," she admitted, "But you can't be too cautious, can you?"

"Right…" said Draco, still looking at her as though she were insane, "Anyway, how do you use this stuff?"

Now it was Hermione's turn to stare disbelievingly. "Please tell me you're joking." By the look on his face, it didn't seem so. "Okay…let's start with the basics. This is a mop." She took one in her hand. "This is how you use a mop." She dunked it in a pale of soapy water and moved it back and forth on the floor. "Understand?" she asked, looking at him as though he were four years old.

"Yes, Granger, I understand. Give me that." He snatched the mop out of her hand and started using it.

Hermione watched him clean the floor thinking that this was the first--and probably last--time that she would ever see Draco Malfoy working.

Draco caught her staring at him. "Yes, Granger," he snapped, "I am capable of working, just like other people."

Hermione laughed. "So you are. Who knew?" She found a large spoon-like object hanging off the cart and started scooping up the slime off the floor and tossing it into an empty bucket.

They cleaned for a while and before long, the floor was looking halfway decent. "Not bad," commented Hermione, standing in a corner and examining their progress.

Draco looked as though he had never done anything so strenuous, which, Hermione reminded herself, he probably hadn't. "Aren't we done yet?" he whined, tossing his mop against the wall and looking down at his watch. "It's nearly nine," he moaned.

Hermione looked at him in exasperation. "It's only been an hour, Draco, pull yourself together." She picked up her large spoon again and began scraping the walls with it.

Draco froze, watching her. She'd called him by his first name. She'd said it casually, as if they'd been friends for years. Oh, the irony, thought Draco, shaking himself out of his stunned trance. As Hermione scraped her way along the wall, much of the goop fell onto the floor, so Draco picked up his mop again and cleaned up the small puddles. They worked in silence, not having much to say and too disgusted with the task they had been assigned.

Hermione found a large clump of slime plastered onto the wall and spent some time trying to get it all off. She stepped forward to have easier access to it, and because she wasn't looking, slipped in a puddle that had obviously formed since they had finished the floor. She gasped, surprised, as she lost her balance. Fortunately, Draco jumped forward and caught her before she landed in the unknown substance.

The two stiffened, noticing their closeness. Draco looked down into Hermione's somewhat confused eyes and pulled her to a standing position. Silence. "Thanks," Hermione finally said.

Draco shrugged, a smile barely tugging at the corners of his mouth. "We still don't know what this stuff is. You could dissolve in it or something," he said, remembering Hermione's earlier worry.

She kept a straight face. "It's entirely possible. Clearly, I owe you my life."

"Naturally, you do," Draco pretended to think it over, "but I'm willing to settle for something a little less…drastic."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really?"

Draco nodded, "I think so." He leaned forward slightly, gently pressing his lips to hers. She closed her eyes and put her hands up on his shoulders as he slid his other arm around her waist and pulled her to him. Draco deepened the kiss and Hermione didn't object. Something in the atmosphere changed when they were together like this, and though neither could tell what it was, neither disliked it.

Draco pulled away slowly and smirked. "Consider your debt repaid."

Hermione laughed, "You're too kind."

The sound of hurried footsteps echoed into the room and Hermione and Draco instinctively distanced themselves. A moment later, Professor McGonagall entered the room, looking worried. She looked over at the two students and Hermione thought she saw a sense of relief show itself on McGonagall's features, but it soon disappeared.

"Students," she said, stepping over to them, "Professor Snape and I have just discovered that the potion that accidentally exploded in here earlier was in fact probably a variant of the Morduermin potion. As you probably know, the effects of this potion can possibly be fatal if it comes in contact with any part of your body. Had we known this sooner, we would not have set this project as your detention. However, the key ingredient of this potion is missing from Professor Snape's storeroom, and though it may not have been taken by the second-years that caused this explosion, we can't allow you to remain in this room any longer."

Hermione was confused. "Are you saying that second-years were trying to brew Morduermin in secret?"

Professor McGonagall shook her head. "No, it seems they were attempting to brew the sleeping potion Sonurem but used the wrong ingredients. They earlier said they misread the instructions," her face looked very stern, "I will be speaking to them again later."

Hermione felt some sympathy for the younger students. After all, she, Ron, and Harry had brewed a potion in secret in their second year. Thankfully, they hadn't been caught. But then again, Hermione noted with a bit of pride, their potion hadn't exploded.

Professor McGonagall gestured for them to leave, and they did so. In the hallway, the professor turned to them and said very seriously, "Neither of you came in contact with the potion, correct?" The two students nodded. "Good. I hope you both understand how lucky you are. Here are your wands," She them their wands and turned to walk away, but then paused, looking back at them, "Your detentions have been completed. You may return to your dormitories." She walked away.

"So…" said Draco, after Professor McGonagall had disappeared around a corner, "the stuff really was dangerous."

"So it was."

Draco turned to her and said, mock-dramatically, "I owe you my life."

"Oh, nothing so drastic, Malfoy." She thought for a moment and sighed heavily, "Because I'm such a generous person, I'm willing to call it even." She stood on her toes gave him a brief kiss. "Goodnight, Malfoy." She smiled and walked down the corridor towards the stairs.

Draco watched her disappear from his sight with a small smile.

…

Thoughts were swirling about so quickly in Hermione's head during her walk to Gryffindor tower that she couldn't understand one before it was whisked away by another. Why did she suddenly find it tolerable, perhaps even enjoyable, to be in the company of Draco Malfoy? Why did she feel like an entirely different person around him? Why did he seem like an entirely different person than the one she had known since her arrival at Hogwarts? Why did their kisses happen, and why did she enjoy them? Why had she just kissed him voluntarily? That's not like me, Hermione thought to herself, I'm not that easy or that bold. He's MALFOY! What is he doing to me?

Hermione slowed gradually as these thoughts crossed her mind, and came to a stop outside a familiar tapestry. With only a slight hesitation, Hermione pulled out her wand and tapped the tapestry three times. It wiggled and rolled itself neatly up, revealing the dark stairwell.

"Lumos," Hermione whispered softly, stepping through the archway. She ascended the steps, seeing only as far as the turns in the spiral staircase would allow. Hermione knew that no one would be up there. She didn't know how she knew; after all, she clearly wasn't the only one who had discovered the tower. All Hermione knew was that she needed a little time to think things over, and the silence and dark of the tower were perfect.

She reached the top and saw the white moonlight softly illuminating the stone floor and whispered, "Nox." She stepped across to a window and stared out at the grassy, open spaces of the Hogwarts grounds. The lake rippled in the slight breeze beneath her. The mysterious dark of the Forbidden Forest lay off to her right and Hermione couldn't help but think what an amazing sight this was.

It was so easy to think up there, and Hermione found she could analyze her thoughts and feelings without much effort. Time slipped quickly by and though she still couldn't answer many of her own questions, Hermione came to the conclusion that what was happening between her and Draco could no longer be called an accident. Maybe, just maybe, a friendship--or perhaps, the way things were going, something more--could develop between them, and Hermione didn't feel inclined to stop it.

…

Draco woke up long before he had to, before any trace of the sun could be seen on the horizon. He lay awake, staring upwards but not seeing anything. His fellow Slytherins snored around him, oblivious to the troubled thoughts of their roommate.

Draco's thoughts were very similar to Hermione's, but he obviously had no way of knowing that. Things were happening to him that he never would have thought possible, let alone probable. He was thoroughly confused about what was happening between him and this girl he had known only as an enemy for so long. Worse, he had absolutely no idea what to do.

For his entire life, choices had been very clear to Draco. There was what his father expected of him, and then there was the opposing option. Draco had rarely had any doubts about what his father expected of him, and this was always the path he chose.

But now things were different. As always, it was very clear what his father would expect of him, but this time, Draco knew he had to think for himself. He couldn't follow the path his father was making for him his entire life. Well, he could, but did he want to? He didn't even have to think before he knew the answer to that.

Draco still pretended to his father that he cared about the Dark side and what Malfoys thought was appropriate. But how long could he keep up the lie? For a while now, Draco had been slowly understanding what the Dark side stood for, and he liked the idea less and less. Everything Draco had been brought up to believe, everything that was "right," Draco no longer felt secure about. It was becoming clearer and clearer that when Draco thought for himself, his idea of what was right did not match that of his father.

The question of what he should do about the war was plaguing his mind nearly constantly these days. Even more so than the one of what he should do about his strange relationship with Hermione. His father would be expecting him when the time came and Draco knew that if he didn't follow his father's instructions, a number of things could happen to him. If he fought for the other side, he could very likely be killed; it wasn't inconceivable that Lucius would have his own son murdered for betrayal. If he ran away, he would almost certainly be found. Yet if he joined the Death Eaters, he would be fighting for a cause he didn't believe in, under people he hated.

His life or what was right? A tough decision by anyone's standards. Yet it wasn't the only one he had to make. What was he going to do about Hermione? A part of him was just too curious as to where this would all go, and he couldn't deny that he was beginning to like being with her. She was so full of a personality he had never known, and he wanted to know more. She seemed willing to forgive him for his actions in the past, but something in her eyes told him that she doubted him. It was as if she questioned the idea of him changing but was willing to stick around to see if it happened.

But this had all happened at such a bad time! The war was approaching; this was not the time to get friendly with people on the other side. What would happen if Draco did what his father asked of him and joined the Dark side? Would he be able to bear fighting against a…what was Hermione to him anyway? A girlfriend? Not exactly. An enemy? It didn't seem so anymore. A friend? Possibly.

Frustrated about not really understanding his situation, Draco reached over to his beside table and pulled a sleeping potion out of one of the drawers. He gulped down several mouthfuls and felt drowsiness come over him instantly.

He fell asleep having figured out only one thing: Lucius no longer had the influence over Draco that he once did, and now, however difficult, Draco knew he had to make his own decisions.

…

Hermione climbed through the portrait hole to the Gryffindor common room a little after ten. As there were classes the next day, many of the younger students had already gone to bed. A few fifth- and sixth-years were studying in various spots, but Hermione didn't know any of them. She saw Harry reading a book in front of the fire and walked over to sit next to him.

"Oh hi, Hermione," said Harry, seeing her and closing his book.

"Hi, Harry," she replied, smiling, "Studying?"

"Sort of," he said, looking down at his book, "My mind keeps wandering, so I think I've read the same sentence about a hundred times."

Hermione laughed. "You look exhausted," she observed, seeing the tiredness in her friend's features.

Harry stared into the fire. "I haven't been getting much sleep lately."

Hermione nodded, remembering their conversation about Harry's dreams. If anybody should be worried about the war, it was Harry. Hermione couldn't think of anything true to tell him that would make him feel a bit better. They were silent for a moment, and then she said softly, "I'm sorry, Harry."

Harry turned and smiled faintly at her. "Don't worry about it. I don't think you need anything else to be worried about these days." Hermione looked at him questioningly. He continued, "You've been so distant. Constantly thinking about other things with a confused and anxious look on your face. I know you're worried about the war too, but I also know there's something else." He watched for a reaction, something to clue him in on what was happening inside his friend's head. She was looking away from him, the flames from the fire reflected in her eyes. Whatever was bothering her, it seemed pretty clear to Harry that she either didn't feel like telling him, or didn't know how to tell him. "I'm not asking you to tell me," he said quietly, "But don't stress out over all your worries. What will come will come, for better or worse." He thought back on what he'd said and finished, "That may not be the most optimistic view, but you can spend too much time thinking about something that hasn't even happened. Don't do that. It's not worth it."

Hermione smiled at him. "Thanks, Harry. I'll try to come back to earth more often."

Harry stood up and stretched. "Well, like you so kindly pointed out, I desperately need sleep. I'll see you in the morning."

"Goodnight, Harry," said Hermione, watching him head up to his dormitory.