"It was just a stick, 'Mione."

"Yes, and then the next time it could be two! And then who knows? If you don't stop you'll get addicted, and later on spend your evenings with Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower thinking what went wrong between your nonexistent friendship while taking turns taking a drag!"

A blank stare, then: "How did you find out?"

"Excuse me?"

"Malfoy and I did spend an evening in the Astronomy Tower."

"See? One stick and it has already addled your thinking."

"Don't be silly, Hermione."

"Me… silly…? Harry James Potter, I've been anything but!"

A half-hearted sigh, silence, a chuckle, then: "You're wrong, Hermione. We didn't discuss what went wrong in our, as you say, nonexistent friendship."

"So… you did actually talk to Malfoy?"

"Yes."

"And…?"

"He asked me to paint for him. I was sketching when he literally sauntered in. It was surprising, really. He strolled in, I looked up, he raised an eyebrow, I nodded at him in greeting, and then… he just walked right up to me and asked if he can see what I was doing. I held up my sketch… it was, as he said, nicely done. Every detail was done perfectly, the contours were outlined the way they should be, and the shading was exact. He told me it was realistic and true to life, and thanked me for being one to appreciate the importance of miniscule details. And as I told you a few seconds ago, he then asked me to paint for him after I said I could try when he asked me if I painted."

"And…?"

"I did. I even told him I'd be in it."

"And…?"

"Really, 'Mione, is that all you can say?" A pause, a sip of Pumpkin juice, then: "I painted him. And myself, of course. But he failed to connect with the inner workings of my mind. Obviously, he isn't as artistically inclined as some believe him to be. Or maybe it was his brain that was partly addled by the smoke. I gave him the whole box of cigarettes afterwards, when he seemed too preoccupied and bothered about my 'absence' in the painting. A pity actually, to think that one as cultured as Malfoy actually had a hard time understanding the beauty of symbolism."

"Harry, I'm surprised that you've actually talked to him…"

"Judging by your previous redundancy, I think we've already established that, Hermione."

"You never cease to amaze me, Harry."

"Funny, you sound like Malfoy there."

"Do I? Maybe one doesn't need smoke to addle one's brain after all."

"Haha, come on, let's go wake Ron before he fully misses breakfast and Potions."

"I'd think he'd rather skive off Potions, Harry. But he'll certainly throw a fit if he misses breakfast."

A nod, then: "Hermione?"

"Yes Harry?"

"About my friendship with a certain Slytherin…"

"What about it?"

"Maybe it's not so nonexistent after all."

Apostrophising Is The Best Way To Gain Enlightenment, Or So Hermione Granger Thinks

Hermione Granger was a person who, despite all her experiences, had very little, if not none, to regret in life. She was intelligent, resourceful, practical, and above all else, she was a fast learner; she did not dwell in past mistakes. No, she learned from them and tried to make amends as quickly as possible. And as such, she really was a person with few regrets, save for a few wrong choices in articles of clothing, particularly their colour… but that was during her awkward stage of pre-adulthood. And that was certainly another story. But as mentioned, Hermione Granger had very little to regret in life.

And one particular thing she hated to look back on was how one particular conversation with Harry Potter had ended. She was his other best friend, his most sensitive companion, and certainly the more affable among the three of them. No doubt that Harry was, the more openly polite amongst the trio, but he also had his reservations about other people. He was a quiet observer, and though no one would ever guess it, he was right about most people most of the time. And despite his humility and humane views, he was also quite immature and, if anything else, a bit… well, lets just say he oftentimes gave in to his opinions. He had grown a bit more mature over the years though, mostly because of his experiences with different sorts of people and situations, and also because she was always there to try and convince him to think over his sentiments first before making an actual conclusion. 'Inference is good, but always find proof, Harry', she had told him once. He simply stared at her and asked her to translate in plain English.

'How I wish I had said something then, Harry. Perhaps then you could have replied something that could have made me listen to my own advice.'

Sighing as quietly as possible, she took a glance at the only person who bothered to see the painting firsthand. He had his eyes closed and his head tilted back, apparently trying to relax… and failing to do so. She didn't have to take a closer look to see that he was deep in thought. He folded his hands on his lap, but his feet tapped at the floor in an unconscious rhythm. It was almost as if he wanted to be elsewhere.

'Look who's talking.' She mentally berated herself. She really wanted to be here… why else would she be sitting in awkward silence waiting for Malfoy to unveil the painting? But then again, did she really want to see something that was painted by the very person she had committed her greatest mistake against? And just where is Ron? Sighing again, she stared at the off white sheet that was hastily thrown over Harry's masterpiece.

'Back to Harry, again, I suppose… so tell me, Harry, through some sign of enlightenment, why did you paint, Malfoy of all people? Yes, he asked you to paint for him, but was it absolutely necessary that he was the subject of your only coloured masterpiece? Up until now, I really don't comprehend most of your logic. But then again, who does? I remember you confessing to Ron and myself that you had difficulty understanding yourself at times too. But,' she stole another glance at Malfoy, 'tell me, show me, please:, what exactly did you see in Malfoy? What made you befriend him, Harry? And why was he even the last person you talked to!? I wouldn't have been disappointed if you talked to Ron last, seeing that you two shared more time together… but, why? You even entrusted your last wish to him… and even up to now, no one else knows what it was.'

A whole minute had past. Still no 'sign of enlightenment'… she turned to Draco Malfoy.

'Well, he's handsome, I give him that, but you were never one to choose your friends because of their looks or physical attributes. If that was the case, it could have been Lavender Brown sitting here in my stead… Fame and fortune are out of the list, you have too much of that already, and he certainly has a more than ample amount of both for you to get along well… he's too smug for your liking—or for anyone else's for that matter. I can only give him kudos for his looks and his brain; he certainly is far from being shallow. Ambitious and highly opinionated, but never shallow… I do suppose you did sense something in him that we—I have yet to discover, hmm? I just hope I see it too, before—God forbid—I go 'completely nutters' as Ron used to call me.'

"Well?"

"Well, what, Malfoy?"

"Are we going to unveil it, or not?"

Was it just her, or did he seem unsure himself? Unconsciously, for the first time, Hermione Granger bit her lip in uncertainty. In the risk of being redundant, she asked herself again: did she really want to see something that was painted by the very person she had committed her greatest mistake against?

"No. Well at least, not yet. I'd rather sit here and think for a while."

'Good.' His whole countenance seemed to say.

She nearly smiled at his look of relief, and then at his sudden relapse into discomfort. Turning towards the general direction of the painting, she blinked in surprise at the cup of tea on the dainty little saucer floating before her. 'Hmm, I really do suppose there was—is something.'

"Thank you, Malfoy."

Smiling once more, she quietly reached for the saucer.

Author's Note: Third chapter is up next, my nonexistent readers.