Malfoy and Hermione tried their hardest to ignore each other for the next few days. If they weren't in class or on school outings, they completely stayed clear of one another.

Harry and Ron noticed that Hermione was a little bit quieter these days, and they got worried. So one day during lunch, they cornered Hermione.

"Hermione, is there something wrong?" Harry asked, sitting down next to Hermione at the Gryffindor table. There weren't many people because it was a little bit early.

Hermione jumped up, startled. "What? Oh, no, nothing's wrong." She smiled faintly. "Just a little tired is all."

Ron shot a look at Harry. "Are you sure? Because you've been acting differently."

Hermione shook her head, playing with her mashed potatoes. She set down her fork. "I'm fine, really."

Harry sighed. "Well, we're always here, you know, if you ever need someone to talk to."

Hermione smiled. "Thanks. I'll be sure to remember that."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Malfoy sat down at the Slytherin table. He could feel people staring at him as he piled food onto his plate. He scowled at them and they quickly looked away. Scars were nothing to be stared at. Malfoy tried to convince himself that they stood for bravery and toughness. He could feel Blaise's eyes on him and he turned away. Suddenly, he didn't feel that hungry. He left his full plate of food on the table and made his way to the Head dorm.

Hermione looked across the Great Hall to see Malfoy leave the table. She suspected he felt a little uncomfortable. She stood up, startling Harry and Ron.

"Hey, where are you going?" Harry called after her.

Hermione turned around, half smiling. "Back to my room. I'll see you guys later. I'll be at your Quidditch practice, I promise." She waved while backing out of the double doors.

She followed Malfoy quietly into the common room. He didn't know she was there. He sat down on one of the couches in front of the fire and sighed, propping his feet on the coffee table in front of him.

Hermione just watched him sit there for a few minutes until she decided to interrupt his peacefulness.

"Hey."

Malfoy spun around wildly. "How long have you been there?"

"Not long," Hermione lied. "I just came back from lunch."

"Oh." Malfoy turned back around and stared into the fire.

It was silent.

"Uh, Malfoy?"

"Yeah?"

"Why were you and Blaise fighting?"

It was a simple question, but it sure seemed to get Malfoy riled up.

"It's none of your business, okay?" Malfoy snapped, turning to face her.

Hermione glared at him. "Sorry for intruding." She turned around to go up the stairs.

…

"Granger."

"Dejavu," Hermione thought, turning back around. "What?" she spat.

"Sorry."

Hermione did a double take. Did Draco Malfoy actually apologize? That was a first.

Hermione waved away his comment. "It's okay." She made to go up the stairs again.

"So do you really want to know why we were fighting?"

Hermione turned back around. "If you would tell me, then, yes, I am rather curious." She went to sit down diagonal from him.

Malfoy didn't look at her as he was speaking. He was staring into the fire. "My father was front page on the Daily Prophet. It was an article about how he was charged for murder and that he was going to receive the Dementor's Kiss. Blaise said that he deserved it. I told him that he shouldn't be talking because his father was a Death Eater as well. He started cursing off at me and then at my father. He kept on mentioning how my father was nothing but a lump of coal to the Dark Lord and I told him to go to hell. Then he punched me and… well, you know how it turned out." He shifted his eyes silvery blue eyes to Hermione.

Hermione fiddled with the hem of her shirt. She looked up at Malfoy. "So, are you… you know, going to be a… a Death Eater to?"

Malfoy squeezed his eyes shut then opened them again. "No." He was softly kicking the leg of the marble coffee table.

Hermione smiled slightly. "Good to know."

It was silent again for a few minutes that seemed like endless hours.

Hermione looked at Malfoy again. "You know, Malfoy, I didn't mean what I said about you having a heart of stone. I… I got out of hand. I'm sorry."

"Nah, it's okay. I deserved it." Malfoy was looking into the fire again. "I was being a git. I should be the one apologizing."

Hermione smiled slightly. "I guess we should both be apologizing at this point." She stood up. "I should be going. I promised Harry, Ron, and Ginny I would be at their Quidditch practice."

Malfoy seemed over the depressing mood that had been hanging in the air a few moments ago. "GO SLYTHERIN!" he yelled as Hermione made her way up the stairs.

"SLYTHERIN SUCKS!" Hermione called, smiling to herself. "GO GRYFFINDOR!" As she got close to the top, Malfoy called out to her again.

"Hey Granger?"

"Yeah?"

"You can call me Draco."

Hermione smiled without turning to look at him.

"You can call me Hermione."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Harry and Ron loop de looped over the gray sky while Ginny put away her broom and went up into the stands to join Hermione. The sun was almost setting and the boys were just letting off a little steam after a frustrating, yet well played practice.

Hermione shivered, pulling her gray, wool Ralph Lauren coat over her shoulders. Mist was settling over the horizon and cast a foggy shadow over everything. The weather was getting worse as the holidays were getting closer and Hermione prayed it wouldn't snow before she left to go home. She had suffered a bad train ride last Christmas with Harry, Ron, and Ginny when it was snowing so hard the train had to stop and wait for a few hours before the storm let up. It was something she wanted to forget.

Harry and Ron flew over to meet the girls. They were both wearing heavy black and maroon cloaks, scarves, gloves, and hats. Still, they were shivering from the cold. Ron's eyes looked bloodshot and Harry's cheeks were raw and red.

"Let's go inside," Harry said, his voice hoarse and barely heard. "It's freezing!"

So the four of them started off towards the castle. Hermione tilted her head towards the sky and puffed out a cloud of steam. It reminded her of smoke, which reminded her of a fireplace, which reminded her of warmth, which reminded her of the toasty Head common room. Having an epiphany, she smacked herself on the forehead.

"How stupid could I get?" she muttered. She stopped walking, and everyone else did to. Hermione took out her wand and pointed it at herself. Saying a spell, she suddenly felt warmth shot through her entire body from her head to her toes. She smiled, and performed the spell on her three friends, who suddenly got the color back in their skin and the shivers escaped their systems.

Finally happy, they trudged up the hill and entered the castle, where Harry, Ron, and Ginny parted ways with Hermione.

"I think I'm going to stay in my common room for dinner," Hermione said.

Harry shrugged. "Okay. See you later. We'll stop by."

"Okay." Hermione waved as she made her way to the Head dorm.

"Fudgestickles," Hermione said to the portrait. It swung forward, giving her access to the fireplace in the common room. She ran forward, tossed her book bag onto the floor, and knelt in front of the fireplace, rubbing her hands together. The spell had worn off on the long trip up the hill, into the castle, and up to the dorm.

She spent a few minutes in front of the fire before she decided to go up to her room, take a hot shower, change into her hot pink Juicy sweats, and go back to her warm fire. When she got back down after 30 minutes, she found that someone had taken over her territory.

Draco was sitting in front of the fire, cross-legged, head in his hands. His hair was messy, his black shirt was torn, his jeans were scraped, and the skin on his left was black and bleeding.

Hermione gasped, and Draco jumped.

"Oh my God, Draco, what happened?" she asked, walking towards him.

Draco turned away. "Nothing."

"Oh, please," Hermione scoffed, sitting down next to him. "Was it Blaise again? You know you could always tell the headmaster—"

"It wasn't Blaise," Draco muttered, cutting Hermione off. "I was playing Quidditch and the wind knocked me off my broomstick."

"Draco! You know Madam Pomfrey said no Quidditch until you're fully healed. Your scar could get worse!" Hermione sighed. "Well, I could try fixing you up…"

There was no response.

"… If you want me to." Hermione looked at him.

Draco looked at Hermione through the strands of platinum blonde hair that hung over his tired eyes. She was acting friendly—almost, sweet. She actually seemed like she—cared.

"I guess not." Hermione was about to stand up when Draco put his right hand in front of her.

"Go ahead."

Hermione smiled softly. She reached cautiously for his left hand. When she touched it, she felt… a spark. She gently took his hand and waved her wand over it, murmuring a charm that healed his cuts and took away all of the little pieces of gravel and rock wedged in between the slits.

She touched his forehead and waved her wand across it. His scratch marks disappeared, but his scar was still engraved into his skin. It looked raw and red.

"I can… do something to your scar… to make it feel better," Hermione said cautiously. "If you want me to. It'll hurt less."

Draco looked at her. "Thanks."

Herimone smiled. She ran her wand along the very side of the scar. Draco winced, but as soon as Hermione said the spell, he relaxed. The scar was no longer red or soft. It was pale colored and didn't stand out as much.

"Does it still hurt?" Hermione asked softly.

Draco half smiled. "No, it doesn't. Thanks." He sighed. "That scar was really bothering me."

"I could imagine." Hermione stood up. She quickly thought about how nice he had acted. Almost… friendly. He had seemed sincere when he thanked her for helping him. Maybe it was alright if she…

"Do you want to join me for dinner?" she asked quietly. "In the kitchen? I don't really feel like going to the Great Hall."

Draco didn't look at her for a second then turned around. He was wearing the first true smile Hermione had ever seen in a long time. "Sure."

XOXOXOXOXOXOXO

Hermione tore off a piece of crusty bread and played with it in her hands.

"So, are you upset about your dad going to Azkaban?" Hermione asked, rolling the bread into a tiny ball.

Draco sighed, tousling his hair. "Not really. Well, you know, he's my father and all, but he was never like a real father to me. Kind of like… a—a dictator, you know?" He laughed emptily.

Hermione rolled the bread ball towards Draco. "Yeah. I guess he was never that… nice, no offense."

"None taken. He acts worse at home towards me than he does in public towards you, Potter and Weasley." He smushed the bread ball between his thumb and index finger.

Hermione was quiet, then said, "What about your mom?"

"Oh, I love my mom." Draco smiled while looking at the crushed bread ball. He rolled it back up. "She was always nice to me. My father didn't approve of her when she was nice to me when I did something wrong. He always thought that wrong doings should resolve in… cruel punishment. Like the crutiatius curse."

Hermione gasped and put her hand over her mouth. "Really? Are you pulling my leg?"

Draco didn't say anything, but he didn't need to. There was nothing left to say. Hermione couldn't be more shocked than if Harry told her he had eloped with a hippogriff and had 3 children named Agatha, Shakespeare, and Georgette.

Silence overtook the kitchen as Draco and Hermione passed the bread ball back and forth. It was steadily collecting filth.

Hermione looked at Draco with curious eyes. He didn't look back at her. She felt something poking her in the back of her mind.

You care about him.

I do not!

Yes you do, admit it. You like him.

No, I don't. How could you possibly think that?

I'm your conscious. I know everything.

No you don't.

Yes, I do.

NO, you DON'T.

Haha, don't argue with me. I'm your conscious. I always win.

Hermione squished the bread ball and made a toss for the garbage can. She flicked her wrist and the ball went up, up, and landed with a soft thump at the bottom of the plastic bag.

Okay, maybe I do care for him.

You don't just care for him. You LIKE him.

Do not.

Do.

Do not.

DO.

Hermione looked at Draco. Bits of platinum blonde hair were falling right over his silvery blue eyes. They seemed hollow, empty… yet, there was something about them. The way they twinkled whenever he laughed, which was seldom. But also, the way he laughed. It was the most gorgeous laugh Hermione had ever heard. It just… rolled off his tongue, like a waterfall. The little sparkle in his eyes just made the room light up… and his smile… oh, his wonderful smile…

So maybe I do like him.

Told you so.

Shut up.

Hermione self consciously rubbed the back of her neck, like that would somehow bring her words to fill the awkward silence that hung in the stale air. Cautiously, she placed her warm hand over his cold pale one. He looked up at her.

"If you ever need to talk," she said softly. "You know where to go." She stood up and left the kitchen without another word.

Draco watched her retreating back as the kitchen door swung closed behind her. He stared at his hand where hers had once been.

"Yeah," he whispered quietly. His eyes shifted towards the door with a strong longing.

"I'll know where to go."