"Long, Long, Long"

Chapter 6

Hermione glanced at her watch in annoyance. It was now seven forty the next day, and Hermione was tired of sitting in the library waiting for her tardy partner. What could possibly be keeping him? He had heard her, hadn't he?

Draco appeared from around the corner and sat down across the table from Hermione. He caught her irritated look and asked, "What's with you?"

"You're ten minutes late."

Draco looked at his watch. Whoops. "I lost track of time."

Hermione didn't bother replying. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out her charms paper. "Anyway, let's get started on this charms project. I was assigned the Aperix conjuring charm. What was yours?"

Draco pulled a parchment out of his bag and looked at it. "The…Niaperix vanishing charm. How convenient."

Hermione immediately stood up and headed towards the charms section. After a moment, Draco followed. Hermione seemed to know exactly where to look, so Draco didn't bother offering to help. Her fingers slid along the spines of many books as her eyes scanned each one for the title she wanted. She finally found one that might be useful and pulled it off the shelf and carelessly held it out to Draco to hold. He took it, and several others, before Hermione was satisfied. "That should do for now," she said, and headed back to their table.

Hermione sat down and picked up the topmost book on the pile Draco had just plopped on the table and started skimming the table of contents. Draco, figuring he ought to at least act like he was helping, followed suit. They sat in silence for a few minutes, Hermione clearly engrossed in a chapter of her book and Draco with his eyes glazed over, staring at the page but not taking anything in.

"Hey, Granger, hate to break your concentration, but what exactly are we looking for?"

Hermione marked her spot with her finger and looked up at him as if he were the stupidest creature she'd ever laid eyes on. "What do you mean?"

"What am I supposed to be getting from this book, which, by the way, is one of the most boring things I've ever read?"

"Well," said Hermione, mock-patiently, "You may have heard Professor Flitwick say something about our charms papers yesterday? And about working in pairs to find relationships between the charms? That's why we're meeting here, see."

Draco gave her a sarcastic appreciative look. "Thanks for clearing that up for me. What would I do without you?" Go crazy thinking about her all the time, answered his mind unhelpfully.

Hermione smiled and went back to reading, saying, "Just look up your charm in the index of that book and see if it mentions how it developed, or who discovered it or something that might tie it to my charm."

Draco flipped to the back of his book and looked around for his vanishing charm in the index. They sat for over an hour, reading book after book of charms and finding little bits of information here and there that might help with their final paper and presentation. Without meaning to, Draco drifted off to sleep in his chair, reading a particularly dull chapter on people who had used conjuring charms instead of vanishing charms and made useless potions or something….

Hermione yawned and looked at her watch. It was nearly nine; they should start thinking about packing up. She looked across the table and opened her mouth to tell Draco but stopped, noticing that he was fast asleep. His book had slid to the end of his fingertips and was on the verge of falling to the floor. His head rested in a somewhat awkward position on his shoulder and he looked so peaceful.

At that moment even Hermione, who was furious at him, didn't think that he looked like the arrogant bastard he was. He certainly didn't look like the evil Death Eater he was probably being brought up to become. He looked nice, and handsome, and Hermione knew why she had trusted him before.

Hermione stood up and shook these thoughts out of her head, stepping over to him. She leaned over and took one last look at him before gently shaking his shoulder and waking him.

Draco felt someone touching his shoulder and opened his eyes, blinking and looking around in confusion. Hermione was standing over him with a sad/curious expression on her face. Draco looked into her eyes and wondered what she might be thinking at that moment…he had never understood her emotions, not that he had had much time to learn about them. Maybe it was his only semi-conscious state, but he suddenly wished more than anything that he could have another chance. Another chance at a relationship with Hermione, another chance at understanding her. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly, startling her by speaking.

Hermione quickly looked away. "Nothing…why do you care?"

She had asked him this before. Last time he had said he didn't care. He realized that his response had probably been a lie then and would certainly be one now. "I'm not sure why, but I do." He was being completely honest with her--something he hardly ever did with anyone.

Hermione felt a war of conflicting feelings inside her. She hated Draco for being like this; acting like he actually cared about what she thought and doing it so well that she believed him. She had hated him for turning her away, but felt even angrier that he was still being nice to her. She wanted desperately to forget about him, and he was making it so difficult! "Why are you doing this to me, Malfoy?" she asked helplessly, "A closer relationship isn't possible for us--you said it yourself. So why are you making this more complicated than it needs to be?"

Hermione looked so lost and confused that Draco couldn't help feeling intensely guilty. He didn't want to make things more complicated for them. He wanted to give their friendship another try, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this would all end badly. The war could start tomorrow, and then what would happen? Draco would be forced to meet his father and fight for the Dark side against Hermione and most of the other students at Hogwarts. What was the point?

As Draco was battling with himself inside his head, Hermione was desperately trying to fight off tears. She felt so fragile that it made her angry, but she couldn't help feeling sadly torn. She knew there was probably no point in becoming close right before the war, but she wanted to try anyway. Something about being with Draco, something she couldn't explain, made her happy, and she didn't want to lose that in these depressing times.

An unbidden tear rolled down her cheek, and Draco reached up and brushed it away. "Can you give me another chance?" he asked softly, lifting her gaze from the floor to his eyes. He didn't know why he was willing to take this chance for someone who, until a little over a month ago, he had hated more than anyone…besides Potter, that is.

Hermione looked deeply into his misty grey eyes to see if he meant it. Could she trust him? Why should she? But Hermione's own desire to be with Draco determined her conclusion: she smiled and impulsively threw her arms around him in a tight embrace.

Draco stiffened for a second, not used to sudden displays of affection. But he relaxed and pulled her to him, relief washing over him at the fact that she was forgiving him. She pulled away from the hug to face Draco and he gave her a brief, grateful kiss. Hermione looked at him thoughtfully for moment. "What is it about you that I like so much?" she wondered aloud.

Draco narrowed his eyes mock-suspiciously, "Should I take offense at that question?"

Hermione smiled, "No. Take it as a compliment that you have at least one redeeming quality."

"Ouch, Granger. That hurts, it really does."

Hermione laughed, "Sorry. I'll make it up to you." She closed the short distance between them and caught him in a kiss that quickly became passionate. Each of them was seemingly pouring all their feelings into this one kiss, relieved and inexplicably happy just to be in each other's arms once more. It didn't matter at that moment how it had happened so quickly or where it was going to go; at that moment, everything was just as it should be.

…

Hermione felt a good deal happier over the course of the next few days, a fact that didn't go unnoticed. She continued meeting with Draco in the library in the evenings to do some research, but, to be honest, little research got done. In fact, the two spent most of their time talking. Mostly about random unimportant things, but several times more serious conversations, usually dealing with the war, came up. As it turned out, Draco was more intelligent than Hermione had ever given him credit for, and Hermione found herself thoroughly enjoying talking with him.

Though she was pleased with all this, there was still something bothering Hermione in the back of her mind. It wasn't about Draco; it was Harry that she was worried about. The professors all suddenly seemed to be very watchful of Harry; making sure he was okay every so often, talking to him in the corridors…. It seemed strange.

Harry himself was looking worse and worse by the day. He always looked exhausted and didn't talk to Ron or Hermione much at meals. His grades were steadily declining, probably because he was too tired to study properly. Hermione tried to talk to him several times, but he just said he couldn't sleep, or would make up some excuse about homework to get out of talking to her.

Ron seemed to notice Harry's strange behavior as well, and was doing his best to cheer Harry up. He often asked Harry if he wanted to play a game of wizard chess or practice quidditch, but Harry made up excuses for Ron, too. Hermione was starting to get very worried about her friend, and considered talking to him, but to her surprise, it was Harry that approached her one afternoon in the common room.

She had been reading a charms book on the sofa when Harry sat down next to her. He rested his head against the back of the sofa and looked as though he would happily drift off to sleep right there, but he didn't; he looked over at Hermione and asked, "How's the charms paper been coming along?"

Hermione, startled but pleased at having Harry talk to her, replied, "It's been fine."

"I'm sorry you got stuck with Malfoy," said Harry, and Hermione thought she could hear the barest trace of a question in his voice. Perhaps it was her imagination.

"Oh, well…it hasn't been that bad, actually. Not as horrible as you might think…," she said, looking away from him.

"Oh?" asked Harry, raising his eyebrows, but Hermione could have sworn he didn't seem that surprised by her answer. Was she being paranoid? Did Harry really know anything about her and Draco? How could he? Her heart started to beat a little more quickly as these thoughts crossed her mind. Calm down! she screamed at herself, he doesn't know anything. How could he?

She relaxed a little and said, "We don't talk much," she lied, "just research, so it's not too terrible."

Harry looked into her eyes for a moment and then closed his own, still leaning his head against the back of the sofa in tiredness. "That's good. I'm glad he's not providing too much of a problem for you."

Hermione looked down at her hands guiltily. She felt that she ought to tell him the truth, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. Harry rarely talked to her as it was, how would it be if there was yet another wall between them? Hermione couldn't make Harry even more miserable than he currently was; it would be too heartless.

She did, however, want to talk to him now that he seemed at least slightly willing. "How have things been for you, Harry?" she asked.

Harry sighed and opened his eyes. "Fine. I've been a bit tired lately, but for the most part, everything's fine."

So he didn't want to tell her. Hermione felt a wave of sadness wash over her. Her best friend was in the worst condition he'd ever been in, and he didn't even want to tell her why. "You can tell me, Harry," she said quietly, "please tell me."

Harry didn't say anything for a while. Hermione was on the verge of giving up when he said, "I'm sorry, Hermione. I know I haven't been acting normally lately. And in fact, everything is far from fine." He sat up and turned to face her. "I went to Dumbledore last week. I had to tell him about the things I was seeing every night in my dreams, the ones I told you about a while ago. He was pretty worried, but he didn't tell me much about what these visions--or whatever they are--meant. He said to tell him about anything else I saw, and I think he's been having the Professors follow me around and ask me how I'm doing every once and a while. Or, at least, he's told them about my dreams, and they've just been checking on me.

"I know they're just trying to help me through this, but I kind of wish they wouldn't. I'm having enough trouble without them reminding me of how tired and depressed I look all the time." He paused, shifting positions and running his hand through his unruly hair.

Hermione hung on his every word as he spoke. This was the most Harry had said to her in ages, and she wasn't about to interrupt him or stop listening. He continued, "I know the war will be here soon, and I just can't find it in myself to care about things like grades or other small things…I mean, I know school is important, but how can I possibly put much effort into studying when I see what's happening everywhere or what will happen whenever I try to sleep. I'm just making myself more miserable, but I can't stop thinking about what I see." He shook his head and looked down, seemingly slightly relieved now that he had told someone what was going through his head.

"The tension leading up to the war is increasing steadily, and has been since the start of the year;" he continued quietly, "Everyone on both sides is growing more and more anxious every day. I get the feeling that any little conflict could spark the beginning of the war." He paused, looking off at nothing in particular, and then said, mainly to himself, "It could start anytime…."

Hermione tried to swallow the lump in her throat. She put her hand on Harry's shoulder, trying gently to comfort him. There was nothing she could say, though she had wanted to speak with him for days. She felt that nothing she said could possibly make things any better or easier to bear for her friend. So they sat in silence, knowing that nothing was said because there was nothing optimistic to say.

…

Hermione sat in charms class one afternoon with her eyelids drooping slightly and her head propped lazily on one hand. Normally she found charms class to be interesting, often enjoyable, but today it was by far her most boring lesson. Professor Flitwick was sick, and in his place was a stern, older professor named Burrell. Mr. Burrell was probably a nice person, but his droning voice had the entire class in a sleepy daze.

Hermione was staring off into space, thinking of nothing in particular, when she saw a crumpled piece of parchment land on her desk. Startled, she sat up and looked around, both to see who had thrown it and if anyone else had noticed. To her right, Ron was fast asleep with his head in his arms on his desk. To her left, Harry was staring at the blackboard, his eyes out of focus and his glasses slightly askew from the way he was leaning his head on his hand. Nobody seemed to have noticed the flying bit of parchment, and few looked like they currently had the energy to throw something.

As her eyes scanned the row in front of her, Hermione's gaze rested on Draco, who was slouched lazily in his chair, and was spinning his quill distractedly in his hands. He turned his head slightly and winked in Hermione's direction, a small smirk on his features.

Hermione quietly unfolded the parchment and read the brief note written inside:

I have never been this bored in my entire life, History of Magic classes included. I'm going insane.

Hermione scribbled back:

Even I have to agree. I never thought a class at Hogwarts could put me to sleep, but Professor Burrell has almost managed it. Even so, passing notes is worthy of detention. We wouldn't want that now, would we?

Hermione cautiously looked from Harry to Ron, but neither seemed to be completely conscious, so she risked tossing the note back to Draco. It landed neatly in the center of his desk, and Hermione smiled and returned her gaze to the front of the classroom.

It wasn't long before Hermione was once again unfolding the bit of parchment under the cover of her desk. In addition to the previous messages, it now said:

Well, I don't know, detention wasn't too terrible last time…. All the same, I'd hate to have my very important life at risk again cleaning up a couple of little kids' mess.

Hermione fought off the urge to laugh. She briefly wondered how Malfoy's arrogance had gone from irritating to amusing in the short span of a couple months, but then proceeded to write a reply.

The note-passing continued without notice for the remainder of the lesson. Mr. Burrell was obviously far more interested in his words than the students were, so he didn't even realize that two students were constantly throwing notes to each other in the back of the room, let alone the fact that half of his students were asleep.

Hermione glanced at her watch as she once again dipped her quill into the ink sitting on the corner of her desk. There was little more than a minute left of class, so she hastily wrote:

Can you be in the library at seven again tonight?

Then tossed the message-covered parchment back to Draco. She saw him opening it, but then Mr. Burrell announced loudly to the class that they were dismissed.

Many of the students were jerked out of their sleepy trances and more than a few looked as though they had just woken up. Hermione waited at the door as Harry and Ron slowly gathered their things and stretched.

Draco was one of the last to leave. He barely glanced in Harry and Ron's direction before whispering, "See you at seven," into Hermione's ear and giving her a brief kiss on the cheek as he passed her.

Hermione, more than a little surprised at Draco's daring, quickly looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Fortunately, most of the students were still off in their own little worlds, not having fully revived. Harry and Ron didn't seem to have noticed, for which Hermione was very grateful.

It wasn't that she wasn't ever going to tell her two best friends about Draco, it was just that she'd rather tell them herself, preferably when they were both in a good mood. She would tell them eventually…

…just not now.

…

Draco walked to their usual studying table in the library around seven that night to find Hermione already at work with several open books on the table before her. He smiled and watched as she eagerly jotted down anything she thought might be useful for their project.

"Feel free to sit down and get to work," she said without looking up, making Draco jump. He plopped down in the chair across from her, but didn't bother picking up a book. Hermione finally wrenched her eyes from the page and looked up at him with a small smile. Glancing at her watch, she noted, "You're on time today. Is something wrong?"

"There's a first time for everything. I'm still waiting for the day I get here before you," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Don't get your hopes up. Oh, and while we're talking about 'first times for everything' here's a book," she tossed a medium-sized book on charms across the table, "try researching."

Draco glared at her and reached for the book. He was lazily flipping through a chapter that Hermione had marked with a small note card when he heard a sharp tapping sound behind him. Looking around the back of his chair, Draco saw that a large grey owl was scratching at the window with a letter tied neatly to its leg. He closed the book and stood up to open the window.

The owl hooted and landed gracefully on the book Draco had just set on the table, startling Hermione, who jumped and looked up from her book once again. Draco closed the window and walked back to the table, noticing with some apprehension that the owl was his father's.

The owl looked up at Draco and stuck out its leg. Draco untied the letter and the beautiful bird flew up to rest on his shoulder. The Malfoy crest was clearly imprinted in green wax on the back side of the envelope, and Draco hesitated briefly before sliding a finger under it and pulling out the letter.

Draco,

It will begin within the next two weeks. Of this I am certain, so stay alert. I've told you the school will no doubt be evacuated, but by the time that has started, you will have already left. I will owl you again when the time comes.

Be ready to leave at any moment, and do not tell anyone that you plan to leave before the other students. I hope that in the panic following the news of the war's arrival, your absence will go unnoticed. Watch for my next owl, and be prepared.

"Who's it from?" asked Hermione, though she was almost certain she knew.

Draco scowled and tossed the letter to her. As she started reading, he said, "My father has only one thing on his mind these days, so his most recent letters have told me the same things over and over again: be alert, be prepared, wait for my instructions…" He stood and walked back to the window, petting the owl on his shoulder. When the bird had flown off into the night once more, Draco returned to his seat, waiting for Hermione's reaction to the letter.

Hermione read the letter several times, trying but failing to ignore the sudden knot she felt in her stomach. The war was going to start within the next two weeks? How could that be? Hermione was having trouble understanding that in less than fifteen days, she, along with the rest of the students and teachers at Hogwarts, would be gone…many of them fighting in the war.

Aside from this terrifying realization was another thing for her to worry about: she and Draco would be split up in a very short amount of time, and, from what she could tell from the letter, he would be fighting on the opposite side. She looked up quickly from the letter, seeing Draco with his head in his hands across from her.

"What are you going to do?" she asked him, almost inaudibly.

Draco looked up at her. She looked very worried and in her eyes, Draco was certain he saw some fear. "What do you mean?" he asked, though he knew exactly what she meant.

"Exactly what I said: What are you going to do?" she repeated, staring fixedly into his eyes.

Draco took his time responding, becoming very interested in the lettering on the cover of the book in front of him. He had thought about his dilemma almost constantly for over a month, but hadn't yet come to a real conclusion. The fact was, as much as he tried to convince himself to turn against his father and the Dark side, it would almost certainly mean death on his part, something he was not particularly eager for. However, if he obeyed his father and fought for the Dark Lord, it would be the end of his relationship with Hermione, he would be fighting under many people he hated with a passion, and death would obviously still be a possibility.

He finally tried to put his thoughts into words, "I…I can't say for sure," he said, not looking at her, "I've thought about it more than you can imagine, but the choice isn't any more clear than it was before." He paused, not sure of what to say. He hated feeling so unsure about something, and confessing to Hermione that he had no idea what to do was not easy for him. "As you can see, my father has everything planned out for me. As far as he's concerned, I don't have a decision to make…"

Hermione sensed that he had something more to say and pressed, "But…"

"But I hate the Dark Lord and what he stands for," Draco finished. He expertly crumpled up his father's letter and tossed it into a nearby dustbin.

Hermione found herself suddenly more hopeful after Draco spoke. He clearly felt no loyalty towards the Dark side, so maybe he didn't have to fight for them, maybe the start of the war wouldn't mean they would be split up for the rest of their lives…. "You don't have to fight for them," she said, "you could ignore your father's owl and leave the school with the rest of the students, you could…" she faltered at the look on Draco's face, realizing that she was being stupid. Of course, she thought to herself angrily, Lucius would never allow that, and neither would Voldemort. "What would your father do if you chose the other side?" she asked worriedly, watching Draco closely.

Draco laughed mirthlessly and fiddled distractedly with a loose thread in his sleeve. "If I did that, I would be seen as a traitor, both to my family and the Dark side. My father, ironic though it may seem, has a particular hatred for traitors. He thinks himself a more faithful servant to the Dark Lord than most. I think he'd do anything to please the Dark Lord."

When Draco paused, Hermione asked, "In your case, what would 'anything' be?"

Draco looked at her, "You know my father isn't above killing, Granger. When I said 'anything,' I meant it."

Hermione stared at him, horrified. She knew Lucius wasn't afraid to murder, but his own son? Surely even he wasn't as evil as that. But the more she thought about it, the less strange it seemed. It was common knowledge that Lucius Malfoy was not the most stable person, and that he could turn nearly insane when angered. His devotion to the Dark Lord was clear, and his selfishness had been evident to Hermione since she had first heard of him. "But what if he never found you? You could be protected, Dumbledore could help…" her hopeful voice trailed off as Draco shook his head.

"Dumbledore will have enough to do without worrying about me. And besides, switching sides would be completely pointless if just ran and hid until a death eater found me." He stood and started pacing slowly.

Hermione wasn't about to give up, "But you could try. Lucius will probably be so focused on the war that he won't have time to track you down. Chances are he won't even try; he'll just--"

"Chance? Do you realize that I only have one shot at this, Granger?" Draco was half-yelling now, frustrated that she didn't understand, that he still didn't know what to do, "This is my life you're gambling. I know my father; he's obsessive, he can be fucking crazy, and he is not just going to let me get away with this!" He slumped back into his chair and let out a deep breath.

After a pause, he said quietly, "I'm sorry; it's not you, I've just--"

"It's okay," Hermione interrupted him, getting up from her chair and sitting on the table in front of him, "I know it's not easy, and I wish I could give you a good solution, but…" She stopped, looking down and trying to blink back the tears that were forming in her eyes. "I think," she said shakily, "I think we both know what you have to do. You may not believe in the Dark side, but what good could come if you died, even if it was for our side?" A tear rolled down her cheek, and Hermione put little effort into stopping it, or the ones that followed.

Draco heard what she said and looked up at her in confusion. Did she just tell him to do what his father was asking him to? To fight against her, and for the Dark Lord? "But…"

Hermione put her finger to his lips, quieting him. "You can't die, Draco," she said as steadily as she could, "even if you have to fight for Voldemort to avoid it." She wrapped her arms around his neck and cried quietly into his shoulder, wanting him to understand how much she couldn't bear the idea of his death, so much so that she was pushing him to do this.

Draco returned her embrace, slowly realizing the incredible amount of emotion behind Hermione's words. Voldemort was undoubtedly the one person she hated most in the world, yet she was asking Draco to fight for him…that was how much she wanted Draco to live.

If this had happened as little as a week earlier, Draco would have been scared out of his mind at Hermione's clearly strong feelings for him. That was not what he felt now, but he couldn't put his finger on what he did feel. At any rate, he didn't put too much thought into it then; he just held Hermione close and silently thanked her.

…

Author's Note: I realize that after the release of The Half-Blood Prince, my story is a bit…outdated. I'm afraid it's impossible for me to make this story fit in with the developments of the new book, but I hope that you'll all continue to read it anyway. Many thanks to reviewers!