Chapter 13

Hermione smiled down at the creature who had sat himself directly in front of her, his bottle-brush tail twitching, a smug look on his face. He was gorgeous.

"Well, I guess you're for me then," she said, and with a decisive nod she bent over to scoop him up.

She took him to the register and placed him on the counter so that she could complete her transaction.

The shop attendant told her with a slight air of disdain that he'd been in the shop for years and that his name was Crookshanks. Hermione resisted the urge to sneer at the crotchety woman and inform her that there was nothing wrong with him, he had just been waiting for her.

She left the shop cradling Crookshanks like a baby in one arm and clutching his pet carrier with various supplies stored inside in the other hand. She knew he wouldn't try to run away from her.

He was at least part-kneazle, probably half, like Nox. He had all the features of a kneazle that she did not, with that bottle-brush tail and mane-like fur. He was ginger colored and as large as she was sleek; nevertheless Hermione was certain that they would be wonderful companions for each other, as well as herself and Draco.

While at Hogwarts the year before, Nox had started visiting her at night when she had her monthlies, curling up against her abdomen in what Hermione was convinced was female empathy. It had been lovely to have a nighttime companion, and Nox was like a tiny furnace, warming her against the harsh Scottish winters. But she wouldn't think of taking her from Draco more than a few days a month, so she'd decided to look into getting her own cat.

When her father had given her some galleons to pick out a birthday gift she'd decided to check out the Magical Menagerie. Crookshanks had sauntered over to her almost the moment she'd entered the door.

She made her way to the Leaky Cauldron to look for Harry and Ron. The Weasleys had extended an invitation for her to meet them in Diagon Alley to complete her school shopping and then they would escort her to Kings Cross the next day. She was happy for the opportunity to meet up with her friends and was glad her parents could be spared the trip to the station in morning traffic and so she'd happily accepted.

But she'd arrived intentionally early that morning via floo from Malfoy Manor so that she could shop on her own. The Weasleys were nice enough, but trying to get all her school supplies amongst the chaos of the family had been a bit much for Hermione the year before. She had also wanted to search for a cat without any outside influence. According to Draco that was very important, and considering how well he was matched with Nox she trusted his judgement.

She found them sitting in the pub, apparently the Weasley family had already eaten and they were just waiting for Harry to finish his lunch. Harry grinned when he saw her and immediately stood up.

"Hermione, it's so good to see you," he beamed.

His body language was open and relaxed so she set the cat carrier down and stepped into his arms.

"How are you Harry, I was so worried when you wrote about what happened with your aunt!"

He hesitantly put his arms around her, but his laugh was natural, "you might have mentioned that a time or two in your letters. I really didn't mean to do it, and I'm not in trouble, plus it's been brilliant, staying in the alley."

She was simultaneously pleased that he seemed so happy, and outraged that it was staying alone in a pub that had made him feel that way. He deserved a loving family. She couldn't even think about what the Ministry was doing- allowing him to stay by himself when they believed a mass murderer was after him- it made her too angry.

"I'm glad," she said simply.

Ron had also stood, he gave her a genuine smile, but she was relieved that he didn't move towards her; she too maintained her distance.

"Good summer then, Hermione?" he asked.

She nodded, "and you?" He returned the gesture.

She'd only exchanged a couple of letters with him, between her holiday in France and his in Egypt one of them had been abroad for most of the summer, and while she hadn't particularly missed him, it was good to see him.

At that point Scabbers stuck his nose out of Ron's pocket, presumably to investigate the newcomers. Crookshanks, who had previously been languid in her arms, not even bothered when she hugged Harry, hissed and leapt at the rat.

Hermione caught him just in time and Scabbers scrambled back into Ron's pocket.

"What the bloody hell!" Ron exclaimed, "what is wrong with that monster!?"

Thirty seconds it had taken him to irritate her, that was a new record.

"He's not a monster!" Hermione defended hotly, "he's only doing what comes naturally."

"Language Ronald!"

Hermione looked up to see a plump red-headed woman actually wagging her finger at Ron, Hermione had seen her from afar at Kings Cross and knew that she was Ron's mother, "hello, dear, you must be Hermione," she said as she approached, "it's lovely to meet you, but perhaps you could take your cat up to your room so that he doesn't frighten Scabbers any further."

It was phrased as a request, but was clearly an order, and Hermione fought back the urge to bristle at her audacity, or to make a comment so snarky it would make Draco proud. She may have been a child, but she hadn't done anything wrong, and she was there on her parent's sickle. The Weasleys were merely her chaperones, this was a public place.

It further chafed that, technically, Ron was in the wrong, and Percy before him. At least in bringing Scabbers to Hogwarts. It was something she'd wanted to mention the first time she'd realized Ron had a rat: rats were not on the list of Hogwarts acceptable pets, and for a very good reason. Cats ate rats. But at the time their friendship had felt too tenuous to mention it, and after she hadn't wanted to rock the boat. Now that she had Crookshanks it was a different story.

She took a deep breath and looked at the creature cradled against her chest, once again he seemed completely at ease, "what do you say Crooks, would you like to spend the afternoon in my room? I'll just be out shopping."

He mrrrowwwed agreeably so she excused herself and took him upstairs.

She set him on the bed in the nice double room her parents had splurged on for her to enjoy on her last night without roommates. She put out some food and water for him and was turning to leave when she spotted the plush toy she'd given a place of pride on the center of the bed. She picked up the miniature Welsh Green dragon and presented it to Crookshanks.

"This is Duke, he belongs to my best friend Draco, he's letting me take care of him. Please treat him kindly, and take a good sniff."

Hermione had found Duke tucked away in Draco's bedroom months before and often pulled him out to cuddle when they were hanging out in Draco's suite. He was soft, Draco had had him since he was a baby, and he smelled good, like Draco. When Draco had shyly offered to allow her to take him with her to school she had been incredibly touched, he may pretend to have outgrown stuffed toys, but she knew Duke was actually very special to him. Crookshanks obediently smelled the soft fabric and purred. Hermione smiled.

"That's how Draco smells, now you can find him. If you need anything you can go to him, you can always trust Draco. He has a cat too, her name is Nox, you'll like them both, I promise, they won't be insulting like Ron," she watched as the smart animal seemed to absorb this information and then rubbed himself against the toy affectionately, "good boy," she crooned, setting the dragon down and watching with satisfaction as Crookshanks curled himself around it, "I'll be back this evening, go out if you need to hunt, just be back by the morning, we have a train to catch," she said, certain he would understand her instructions.

The afternoon was predictably chaotic, but Hermione was able to step back and enjoy it even if it was slightly overwhelming, all the while patting herself on the back for getting her shopping done early. They had a loud but happy dinner and Hermione curled up with her new familiar- who seemed perfectly content to stay with his new mistress for the time being- that night and fell into a blissfully deep sleep.

She was up the next day without even the need for an alarm. She made it downstairs, had already finished her breakfast and was sipping her tea when Harry blearily made his way into the room. He eyed Crookshanks, who was stretched out on top of her trunk, his front paws dangling over one edge, the very picture of feline contentment.

"Shouldn't you put him in his basket?" he asked.

"Why?" she questioned, "He's perfectly happy like that, he's not causing any trouble, why should he have to go in that thing before it's necessary?" she challenged

"Well with Scabbers…" he trailed off sheepishly.

"Maybe Ronald is the one who should reconsider bringing a rat into a castle full of cats," she snapped.

He recoiled and she instantly felt bad, she didn't want to put him in the middle of this brewing confrontation.

She let out a long breath, "I'm sorry Harry, but I won't apologize for my cat behaving like a cat."

He nodded but they sat in tense silence until Tom delivered Harry's breakfast.

"Where's your owl?" he asked hesitantly.

"Oh, I left her behind, it was easier that way, she'll make her way to Hogwarts on her own," she shrugged, avoiding telling an all out lie.

She knew Harry would assume she'd left Atalanta at home with her parents. In truth she was in the Malfoy owlery and would fly up to Scotland with Draco's owl, Aeolus. They would probably make a game of it, and it was vastly preferable to dragging the poor bird onto the train.

Harry frowned thoughtfully as he chewed a sausage, "do you think Hedwig would rather fly?" he wondered.

She resisted the urge to roll her eyes and gestured to the beautiful owl who was caged just feet away from them, "why don't you ask her?"

Harry gave her an inquisitive look.

"She's a magical owl, Harry, she can take letters at your instruction, you think she can't understand a simple question like that?" she asked, with a concerted effort to keep the bossy tone out of her voice.

Harry looked surprised at this, but then turned to his familiar, "Hedwig, would you rather fly to Hogwarts?"

She bobbed her head so vigorously that they both laughed.

"Go on, take her outside, I'll guard your breakfast from any Weasleys who might come along," Hermione joked.

He returned with Hedwig's empty cage and a delighted smile on his face just as the Weasleys arrived downstairs en masse, barely in time to have breakfast. Hermione couldn't fathom what they'd been doing, surely they'd already been packed, but she didn't say anything. She assumed the dynamics of such a large family just escaped her.

The ministry cars they took to Kings Cross were interesting, she'd never seen such a modern muggle invention outfitted with magic. They got them to the station much faster than a normal car could, and Hermione was left with more questions than answers. But she didn't have time to ask because despite the efficient transportation, they were still almost late, and Hermione was shocked to see three very familiar blonds still on the platform when she burst through the barrier from the muggle world.

When she looked at them Narcissa just gave her a small smile, Lucius a nod, and Draco tilted his head in an attempt to see inside her pet carrier. He knew of her plan to look for a cat, but they hadn't known if she'd find a compatible familiar in the shop. She ignored of the fleeting, futile wish to go and greet them, and just tried to be grateful she'd at least gotten to see them and boarded the train.

And then, late as they already were, Harry nearly missed the train when Mr. Weasley held him back to speak with him. Ron actually had to pull him onboard after they had already started moving. She suppressed a huff of annoyance at the irresponsibility, and just looked for a free compartment. As late arrivals the best they could do was a compartment with one, sleeping, occupant.

"Professor R. J. Lupin," she declared, once they were settled and Ron wondered out loud who he could be.

"How do you know that?"

"It's on his trunk," she pointed to the worn piece of luggage, the letters of his name peeling at the edges.

She then inspected the trunk's owner rather suspiciously. Even asleep he looked tired, scars littered his face, and he appeared to be going prematurely grey. He was dressed in well worn, much patched robes; if his clothes were beyond repair with a spell, then he was truly in dire straits. What had happened to this man who was apparently going to be their professor, and why was he taking the train to Hogwarts? With the exception of the trolley lady she'd never seen an adult onboard before. It was all rather fishy.

"What do you think he'll teach?" asked Harry.

"Defense against the dark arts," she said automatically, still rather lost in her musings, "it's the only post open."

Both boys frowned at her.

"How do you know that? What happened to Lockhart?" they asked at the same time.

She cringed. It was the first time she'd really slipped up and admitted to knowing something she shouldn't.

"Well, I just assumed, everybody says there's a jinx on the DADA job and all the other professors have held their jobs for years."

In truth, at the beginning of the summer Lucius had come home from his end-of-school-year Governors meeting with quite a story to tell.

"Apparently he had an encounter with a boggart," he'd said, "he couldn't be convinced it was just an illusion, wouldn't even consider extending his contract for another year," he'd smirked proudly in her and Draco's direction as he spoke.

He never said anything else about it, but a rare book for Hermione and the latest seeker's armour for Draco had appeared in their respective rooms the following week. Hermione almost felt bad taking credit. It had been all Draco's idea.

Growing up in a massive, old manor house he was no stranger to boggarts. He knew how to recognize the signs of an infestation and he had come up with the idea of using one as yet another way to challenge Lockhart.

At the Manor the elves took care of boggarts, so Draco knew that they could capture one, which was exactly what he requested that the Hogwarts elves do to a boggart he'd found in the dungeons. But instead of getting rid of it, he'd asked them to bring it to him in a suitcase he'd provided. As it was not in an elf's nature to ask 'why,' his request was granted post haste. Then, with Hermione's help, he'd transfigured the suitcase to look like an elaborate gift and trusted Lockhart's ego to do the rest.

They'd simply left the 'gift' on his desk before leaving for the summer. They had expected to give him a bit of a fright as a year end parting gift, they'd never expected the spectacular success of running him out of the castle. They eventually concluded he must have seen something truly horrific, such as somebody else winning Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award, to have done the job.

But Harry and Ron accepted her supposed deductive reasoning without question. She tried to ignore the pang of guilt she felt about lying to them so baldly, but it was hard, and it only got worse when Harry confessed what Mr. Weasley had told him, and what he'd overheard the night before.

He, and the whole magical world, believed that Sirius Black was after him. But Hermione couldn't set him to rights without revealing her sources, there was no innocuous explanation for her knowledge. Not to mention, she didn't know what Sirius Black was up to, Narcissa conceded that all that time in prison could have addled his brain, it was possible he was after Harry.

Because she knew it to be untrue, she was glad Harry didn't know of Sirius' connection with his parents, that he didn't think he'd betrayed them and just thought that he was one of Voldemort's deranged followers. But it did bother her how little Harry knew about his past. Surely his parents had other friends. And many of the professors had taught his parents, and yet Hagrid was the only one who'd made any attempt to inform Harry about his background.

Any witch or wizard who picked up a newspaper regularly over the past decade or so knew more about Harry's past than he did. It wasn't right, she just didn't know what she could do about it. Maybe there was a book, something besides just a simple wizarding genealogy text that she could find for him to read about the Potters.

Their ride was fairly uneventful. Even though Ron continued to eye the place where Crookshanks was lounging beside her suspiciously, and patting his pocket protectively, he didn't say anything, so Hermione ignored him.

Eventually a familiar blond slid the door to their compartment open with a bang. Hermione rolled her eyes at his dramatics. Surrounded by his enormous minions, he might have looked menacing if Hermione hadn't known him so well. Instead, she thought he just looked like a cliche. She was set to ignore him, but Crookshanks raised his head in obvious interest.

"Well, look who it is. Potty and the Weasel," he said in his most arrogant voice

Merlin but he was predictable. He met her eyes and smirked. She sent him her best disapproving glare.

"I heard your father finally got his hands on some gold this summer," he mocked Ron, "did your mother die of shock?"

Ron stood up to challenge him, knocking Crookshanks' basket to the floor in the process. Lupin made a noise in his sleep.

"Who's that?" Draco asked, apparently noticing him for the first time.

"New teacher," said Harry, "what were you saying, Malfoy?"

She saw the moment he changed his mind about this confrontation. He wouldn't pick a fight in front of a professor, even a sleeping one. Though she rather thought it would serve him right to get in trouble, he'd come here for that very purpose after all.

The three of them retreated quickly. Ron went on for awhile after that about how he was going to get Malfoy. How he wasn't going to take anymore from him. How much he hated him. Hermione didn't bother to try and make him be quiet. Draco was her favorite person in the entire world. She knew there was a whole other side to him that neither Harry or Ron had ever seen, but as he'd just demonstrated he could also be a first class prat, and if it made Ron feel better to mouth off, she really didn't care.

The train came to a sudden, lurching stop about thirty minutes from Hogsmeade, by Hermione's watch. There was only a moment to be puzzled by the unexpected turn of events when all the lamps went out. She and the boys fumbled around in the dark for a little while, trying to get their bearings and figure out what was going on before Neville stumbled into the compartment, closely followed by Ginny who was searching for Ron.

And suddenly Professor Lupin was awake, holding his lit wand aloft, ordering them all to sit down and be quiet. He strode towards the door, but it opened before he reached it. She had just enough time to notice an enormous cloaked figure standing in the open space, a desicated, decayed looking hand reached out towards them before she felt herself begin to sink into despair.

The air turned frigid and she wanted to run, but she was frozen in place. She saw the black hooded specter enter the compartment completely, but she was too caught up in memories of Draco being thrown from Azazeal earlier that summer, by the horror of seeing his momentarily unmoving body, to care about the thing in front of her very much, even as her entire body was screaming at her to get away from it. She sobbed and swayed in her seat. And then she watched in helpless horror as Harry lost consciousness entirely and fell to the ground.

It only lasted a few moments but it felt like an eternity before Professor Lupin banished the dementor- for she had known that's what the creature was the moment it had begun to affect her- from their compartment. As soon as it was gone she threw herself at Harry. If what the dementor had made her feel left her unable to move, she couldn't imagine what it had done to her friend. Various hands tried to push her aside but she refused to let go, Harry needed human comfort right now.

"Miss," said an unfamiliar hoarse voice, "could you let Harry up, you could both use some chocolate," Professor Lupin, she assumed, she still hadn't taken her eyes off of Harry who had regained consciousness and was looking around blearily.

"Why did he faint?" she heard Ron ask.

Hermione was too drained to glare at him. She also had to admit that he probably had no idea what a tactless question that was. She seriously doubted the Weasleys had sat their children down and told them about the dementors and the effects they had on people, as the Malfoys had done with her and Draco. They seemed more likely to coddle than inform.

"That was a dementor, they make you relive your worst memories. Can you imagine how terrible that must have for him?" she snapped.

"I heard my mum, pleading with Voldemort not to hurt me," her recovering friend responded quietly, his voice hitching, as they helped each other up off of the floor.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat. She had just assumed he'd been reliving that awful night in their first year when he'd come face to face with a possessed Quirrell, she had never imagined he'd remembered his parents murder. That was beyond terrible.

The professor fed them some chocolate. On the bright side, at least he knew what to do, and he'd gotten rid of the Dementor, which was supposedly quite difficult. They might finally have a competent DADA teacher. He may have fallen on hard times for some reason, but he'd just saved their souls.

The chocolate helped Hermione feel better, but she continued to worry about Harry. He was clearly rattled, but she couldn't think of a way to offer him more support without hurting his pride. He could be so prickly, she was certain he'd only shared the memory he'd experienced because he'd been in shock. So, she just stuck close to him and breathed a sigh of relief when they debarked the train, boarded the horseless carriages and got out at Hogwarts' main doors without incident.

She noticed Draco's distinctive hair glowing in the moonlight almost immediately. He was waiting on the steps to the main entrance of the castle, still surrounded by his minions. She almost stopped in her tracks she was so startled by the look of abject fear in his eyes, it made his face look so stark that to anybody else he probably appeared angry. But she knew instinctively that he was actually terrified for her, the Hogwarts rumor mill worked quickly, he'd surely heard that she'd come face to face with a dementor. She attempted to send him a reassuring look and continued on with her fellow Gryffindors.

He'd be writing to his parents the first chance he got, she couldn't blame him, she'd be doing the same thing. Everything they'd warned them about the dementors seemed horrifyingly true. She hoped Draco's letter to Lucius and Narcissa could somehow help convince the Ministry to remove the Dementors from Hogwarts.

Lucius had been absent, still on his business trip in America along with Draco, when an emergency Board of Governors meeting had been called to decide how to deal with the threat of Sirius Black. Despite Dumbledore's objections they'd decided Dementors were the best option to guard the school. Lucius' reaction had actually been frightening to witness when he'd realized there was no talking the Board, or the Ministry, down from this course of action.

"They're more afraid of your poncey cousin," he'd ranted at Narcissa, "than soul sucking monsters who couldn't keep him contained in the first place!"

If she hadn't been before, Hermione was now firmly on Lucius' side. She didn't want to be on the same continent as those disgusting things.

Her mirror had vibrated three separate times, signaling that Draco was trying to reach her, before she had the opportunity to answer it later that night; she couldn't disappear behind the drapes of her bed too quickly, especially on the first night back, without arousing suspicion.

"Hi," she breathed, when she was finally able to answer.

"Are you okay?" he asked frantically, eyes panicked, "there was a dementor in your train compartment."

"I'm fine, I promise."

His eyes danced over her face for a long time before he breathed a sigh of relief, and then his entire expression changed.

"I can't believe Potter fainted," he snorted.

She glared at him, he could be so insensitive.

"Have some compassion, can you imagine what it must be like for him?" despite the fact that she knew nobody could hear her behind her silenced curtains she looked around furtively, "he heard his parents dying," she finished in a hushed whisper.

He sobered immediately.

"Don't mock him for that, Draco," she added quietly.

He looked away uncomfortably, "no, that," he cleared his throat, "that sucks. I can't believe he remembers that, he was just a baby."

Hermione shrugged, "maybe it has something to do with the dementors, maybe they can trigger things you only remember subconsciously."

They were silent for several long moments.

"I've already written Mother and Father, those things obviously can't be trusted, the Ministry needs to do something."

She smirked to herself at how well she knew him, but just nodded.

"I'm still feeling too tired to write tonight but I'll get up early, and do it, make sure they know exactly what happened since you weren't there, I can send Atalanta off before classes."

"Was it awful?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Her eyes filled with tears, "the worst feeling in the world, like happiness didn't even exist. And I was just frozen in place even though I wanted to get far away. I saw you," she choked on a sob.

"Me?" he wondered.

She sniffled, "I remembered when Azazeal threw you and I thought you might be…" she couldn't say it, "it was the only other time I've ever been that scared."

He suddenly started talking, "They said that one of the dementors went into Potter's compartment. It was all 'Potter this' and 'Potter that' but I didn't care about stupid Potter, I just knew wherever he was, you would be too, and I didn't know what might have happened to you."

She understood that this was his way of telling her that he knew what it was to be afraid for her life, that he understood how much it hurt her to be afraid for his.

"I'm okay," she said, reaching out to touch his face on the surface of her mirror, "I wish I could come down there."

His expression immediately morphed into a wicked smirk.

"And what, sleep with me?"

She bit her lip and shrugged, "yeah actually, it would make me feel better," she admitted.

He grew serious again at once, "me too," he nodded.

They hadn't talked about what they were, hadn't put a label on it. They'd admitted that they had more than friendly feelings for each other, but in the days since that discussion their relationship had changed very little. Perhaps their touches had taken on an additional meaning, but they had already meant everything to each other. You couldn't get much more serious than that. And right now, the desire to crawl into bed with her best friend had nothing to do with her burgeoning hormones.

"You can't die Draco," she blurted.

"I wasn't planning on it," he was trying to make light of things, but his smile was brittle.

"I'm serious. Your favorite hobby involves flying around at high speeds and having heavy balls hit at your head. Plus teenaged boy can be...just don't be stupid, okay? Promise me?"

She may have sounded a little desperate, but she felt desperate. On top of the unsettling encounter with the dementor was a fact that she was usually able to keep in the back of her mind and avoid thinking about. But tonight it wouldn't be locked away.

There was a war brewing. One in which they would automatically be placed on opposite sides, with Draco and his whole family far too close to a maniac for her liking. She knew Lucius and Narcissa would do everything in their power to protect them, but the older she got, the more she realized it might not be enough.

He seemed to understand because he didn't even attempt to argue with her, "I promise," he said, "we can even do that weird pinky thing again if you want."

That startled a laugh out of her and she decided it was past time to change the subject, because sneaking into the Slytherin dorms and crawling into bed with Draco was not an option, and she'd never sleep if she grew anymore morose.

"Do you always have to cause trouble?" she asked, she had a bone to pick with him over his earlier behavior

"Trouble?" he asked innocently, "I don't cause trouble, I'm an angel, just ask Mother."

She snorted, "right, like Narcissa didn't spend half an hour lecturing you for tracking mud into the house the other day."

He just shrugged.

"I'm serious though, do you have to go out of your way to pick fights with Harry and Ron? I mean, don't tell me you didn't come into our compartment for that very reason."

"I wanted to see you," he countered, "and I was only being polite and saying hello to Potty and the Weasel, I hadn't seen them all summer, after all," he explained, as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

She rolled her eyes.

"Sure," she said, voice dripping with sarcasm, "but you do realize that however much fun it might be for you, when you act like that I'm the one who suffers? I either have to step in to keep them from trying to hex you to high heaven, or I have to listen to them grumble for hours afterwards about how much they hate you and how they'll get you next time."

He sniffed disdainfully, "Let them try to hex me, they're both pretty useless with a wand."

"Draco!" she growled in frustration, "Please, for me, do you think you could at least stop going out of your way to annoy them. If they start it, I would never ask you not to defend yourself, but come on, you're better than this," it never hurt to appeal to his innate sense of superiority.

He pretended to consider that for a moment, "and what do I get in return?" he asked.

She let out an exasperated breath, "you want a reward for not acting like a spoiled child?"

"I'm looking at it more like I'm doing you a favor, so I want something in return."

"You're such a Slytherin, okay, what do you want?"

He sat back tapped his chin, like he was thinking about it, but she was certain that he'd had something in mind long before he'd even made the request.

"A kiss."

"A kiss," she repeated.

He nodded.

She just blinked at him stupidly, "from me?" she squeaked.

"Well I certainly don't want to kiss Potter or Weasley," he sneered.

She stared at him, her mind reeling.

A kiss. He wanted a kiss.

She didn't understand. She had fully expected him to exploit this opportunity to get her on a broomstick, or something equally unpleasant. Why would he waste it on something that she would willingly, happily give him?

But then she noticed that he was shifting around nervously on her screen. He also wouldn't quite meet her eyes, another telltale sign of unease. And she understood.

The silly boy wasn't sure that she would want to kiss him. He was testing the waters. Such a Slytherin.

She found herself grinning uncontrollably, "well, Mr. Malfoy, you drive a hard bargain. But you have yourself a deal."

The brilliant smile he gave her in response was a much better remedy for the aftermath of dementor exposure than chocolate.

First chapter of 2018, happy new year wonderful readers!