~~*

Don't hate me,
Don't hurt me,
But don't love me, either.
For all love dies,
And it hurts as much as the mourners' cries.
The best thing is to just stay away,
And let me die day by day.
I'll go to heaven; I'll go to hell,
But for you, it's hard to tell.
I hope to see you burn and fry
After you quickly and sickly die.
Don't hate me,
Don't hurt me,
But don't love me, either.
For eventually all love dies
And you know it,
Because I see it in your eyes.

~~*

Chapter Four: Midnight Memory

Pushing the half-moon shaped glasses up his crooked nose, Headmaster Albus Dumbledore sat quietly in his comfy chair of the headmaster's office.  He took up a letter from the stack of papers on his desk and looked it over carefully. It was a letter from Remus Lupin.

Before him, Professor Minerva Mc Gonagall sat in her chair with her hands clasped together on her lap with her head high as usual. She looked at the headmaster anxiously as he laid the letter down on the desk.

"Well, what does it say?" asked McGonagall. Dumbledore looked at her seriously.

Dumbledore took a breath before speaking.

"He's returned. He's returned here in Scotland, Minerva," he told her in a low voice. Professor McGonagall gasped, her hand on her mouth.

"You don't mean…" she exclaimed.

"Yes, Voldemort is here…" the headmaster replied. McGonagall clasped her fingers together once more, looking at him worriedly. "Lupin has assured me that he has left France two weeks ago. A month ago the Aurors received word of his whereabouts and traced him to the Riddle Mansion in Denmark, close to the Agard forests south of Vejle. Unfortunately it took them two days to find it. The Dark Lord had time to flee…"

"How did they know that he's here?"

"Moody and Kingsley Shacklebolt has been receiving so many reports on his whereabouts but he seems to be slipping out of their reach every single time. The Scottish Highlands have been searched except for the charmed domains, which include some parts of Loch Monar, Kinross and let's not forget Aviemore."

Aviemore… Professor Mc Gonagall tried desperately to remember something about those highlands. There was something… Of Course! A large part of the vast highlands of Aviemore were the owned by one of the most infamous wizarding families in England.

"Aviemore.... Aviemore is where the Malfoy Estate is situated, Albus," she told him. The headmaster's blue eyes twinkled knowingly.

"Precisely," he said calmly.

Professor Mc Gonagall looked perplexed. "Then why doesn't the ministry demand to search the Malfoy estate? It is rather clear—"

"Clear?" Dumbledore laughed, "No, not clear. In fact, far from it. We are not sure if the Dark Lord actually is in the Malfoy Manor at all times Minerva," he said. "Though, we have reason to believe that he often visits there for a purpose…"

"Then Lucius Malfoy is hiding something… A purpose, what is that?" Mc Gonagall asked apprehensively.

"Of that, I am not also certain; we have to confirm our suspicions…" Dumbledore started to lean back on his chair tiredly. He faced the fireplace, and his eyes were hidden by the glare of the yellow orange flames reflected on his half moon shaped glasses.

Professor Mc Gonagall looked at him, trying to read what the headmaster was thinking, but the task was next to impossible.

"What about Harry Potter, his safety, surely must be seen to," she said quietly.

The headmaster sighed.

"Minerva, Harry will never be safe, no matter what we do," he told her. She nodded, knowing that it was true. "Harry, has been the epitome of danger's victim ever since he was born, you know that. There is a lot in that boy which is incomprehensible even to me."

"He is truly his father's son Albus, brave, and righteous…" she said in a manifestly distressing tone.

"Yes, James Potter was. I shall, always remember him," he said. Professor Mc Gonagall removed her glasses for a while and dabbed her eyes with a white handkerchief.

Just then, Severus Snape entered the headmaster's office with a grave look on his face. Dumbledore and Mc Gonagall turned to the door.

"Severus, what brings you here?" asked the headmaster. Snape stood by the door looking at the two professors austerely.

"I think I've found something to clarify your suspicions Professor," he said in a slightly cold tone.

"I found this in Draco Malfoy's room this morning," he continued holding up the two pieces of parchment. He strode across the room and handed the letter to Dumbledore.

Mc Gonagall's look of anxiousness returned to her face as she saw a look of seriousness plague the headmaster's features. Dumbledore looked the letter over in silence reading every word and taking it in.

"It's from Lucius Malfoy," Dumbledore told Mc Gonagall. He handed her the letter without hesitation. Snape took a seat across from her.

Professor Mc Gonagall read the letter, her eyes widening slowly as she took in the contents. She pushed the pieces of parchment back on the desk.

"What are we to do?" she asked.

"Nothing," said the headmaster. Snape looked at him severely, it was apparent that he was trying to hide the emotion.

"Nothing!? Young Mister Malfoy is practically proven to be involved in all of this and we shall do nothing? Why, if it were up to me, he would be expelled immediately," she stormed.

"Malfoy has said nothing in particular Minerva, there was no mention of anything specific," said Snape.

"And what should we make of this if Draco Malfoy is not involved in whatever Lucius is talking about… it is clearly something grave. You and I know the Malfoy's to be on the iniquitous side. What are we to think?" said Professor Mc Gonagall.

"Perhaps he is merely trying to protect his child," said Dumbledore with a slight tone of sarcasm. Snape glanced at him.

"No, Headmaster, it is more than that," said Snape.

"What do you mean Severus?"

"I am rather… worried about Draco."

Mc Gonagall looked at her fellow Professor. Worried? How could he feel such way?

"Why is that Severus?" she asked.

"He has been… telling me things. Things not exactly said but meant in some way, he appears to me very resistant to his father's bidding, and by Lucius' inquiries to me, Draco takes every measure to avoid the communication between him and his father." Snape's lips twitched slightly. "Disturbingly, he seems silently… besieged." 

Dumbledore nodded slightly, stroking his white beard.

"To tell the truth Severus, there is something in Mr. Malfoy which perplexes me. It seems easy to predict what path he will take in the future, but then I know that the task is not as simple as it appears. He is exceptional, in a way. Unique and clever," said Dumbledore.

"True traits of a Slytherin I might say," said Mc Gonagall as she glanced at Snape.

"Yes, special… just like Harry."

Snape flinched almost simultaneously with Mc Gonagall.

"How can you say that Albus? They are the best examples of opposite things, and further more, they, if they are anything to each other, mortal enemies is it!" exclaimed Professor Mc Gonagall. Professor Snape slightly nosed in approval. The headmaster laughed and smiled at them both.

"Surely you two don't encourage house feuds Minerva?" said Dumbledore.

"I hate to say it Albus but Mr. Potter and Mr. Malfoy's rivalry is apparent I have seen it, ever since the first year. Surely Severus will not disagree with me," Mc Gonagall glanced at Snape and he nodded in agreement.

"Clearly similar to some people I know," said Dumbledore as he looked at Snape.

Dumbledore smiled. "Perhaps, you two do not see it yet. But if you think about it, Harry and Draco have more things in common than you can ever imagine."

~~*

Glancing at the arches of the ceiling of the Transfiguration Classroom above the Gryffindor and Slytherin sixth years, Hermione yawned with boredom. A long purple dress robe was folded neatly on her desk which she had just finished transfiguring minutes ago. She turned her glance to Ron beside her who had just transformed the pieces of string in to slimy worms instead of a dress robe.

Harry along with Seamus and Dean were laughing over Ron's blunder as Lavender swatted one worm, which had crawled towards her with her book. She lifted it and to it, stuck a slimy liquid connecting the book to the table like dribble.

"Eeeeeew!" squealed Parvati. Lavender dropped the book in disgust.

"Lavender," said Seamus "Haven't you ever heard of cruelty to animals?" he turned to Harry and they laughed once again as Lavender stood glaring at them.

Professor Mc Gonagall looked up from Neville's pink dress robe, which was lined with dead silk worms at the cuffs and tips as she heard Parvati's outbreak. Neville was shrivelling up as he noxiously looked at his creation.

"Just a moment Mr. Longbottom," she said primly as she strode over to Ron's table.

The group grew quiet as the professor eyed the pile of silk worms on the desk. Ron looked at Harry and gulped.

"Maybe, Mr. Weasley, if I gave you a piece of leather and told you to turn it in to a pair of boots, you'd turn it in to cow now wouldn't you?" she told him firmly. "Clean this up Ms. Brown, and NO magic," she said turning to Lavender.

Lavender's eyes widened as she started to protest "But—"

"No buts," said Professor Mc Gonagall as she turned towards the Slytherin's side to check on their work. Earlier, they had been snickering at Ron's bungle and Neville's worthlessness but had stopped as the professor turned towards them.  

"As if I wasn't getting enough criticizing in Potions," grumbled Ron. Lavender looked at him sympathetically.

"At least you're used to it," she said as she wiped up the last of the mess she had made on the table. Ron glared at her.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he said scornfully.

Harry looked at them both and motioned them to stop bickering as they were in too much trouble already. He nudged Ron in the ribs slightly.

Looking across the brightly lit room, Hermione noticed the glaring rays of the sun on the closed glass window. The reflection on the light mirrored dancing patterns upon the surface of the wooden tables close to the colossal domed French windows.

There were finished folded dress robes on the tables, products of the simple material transfiguration review the sixth year class had that day. The robes were of different colors and styles, patterns and ruffles. Hermione admired her classmates' work one after the other marvelous creation. She even thought Neville's work was passable if only it didn't look like it was designed for a girl.

But it was one dress robe that caught her eye; it was the simple silky black one cuffed with a bit of silver silk and embroidery of the same silver thread. She could not make out what pattern the shimmering threads made for it was folded. From what was visible, she could see the curving lines resembled the head of a dragon. The embroidery stood out more as illuminate as it was through flashes of sunlight. Among the lot, it was for Hermione the most formal of all.

Yet, there was one thing that disturbed her. The wondrous creation, that stood out among the others, was made by the least expected to have artistic hands.

The elegantly transfigured dress robe was sitting on the wooden table before none other than, Draco Malfoy. 

Hermione remembered what Professor Mc Gonagall had said earlier. She told them that the spell that was to be dictated when they were to attempt to turn their piece of string in to a dress robe was a rather preference spell, but in a way it was also reflective. The product of their transfiguration would be exactly what they had in mind while they actually performed the spell, but it would also reflect their sense of creativity and somewhat of their personality.

Harry made an elegantly crimson dress robe that was simply designed. Red symbolized courage, love, some of the things that Harry evidently was able to prove himself capable of. Ron's unfortunate accident really didn't amount to anything, except a pile of worms. Hermione mischievously wondered if Ron had any creativity at all… Well, maybe a little, after all, Ron was creative enough to think of decent and smart retorts while arguing with Malfoy along with his two oafish 'friends' who didn't said much anything, well, anything smart anyway.

Malfoy. Hermione remembered the dress robe. What could black mean? She thought. Evil for sure, cunning, secretive or mysterious.

Mysterious. It was a strong word, but to describe someone as annoyingly vile as Draco Malfoy, it was too much. But then, thought Hermione, in some way, it could fit him fairly well.

Who was she kidding, for her, the word mysterious worked with romantic and passionate and sensuous… (Some things she wouldn't find in anyone for a while, until she found the right one for her) And undeniably Malfoy wasn't any of those things because those things were the words to describe her ideal man.

Turning from the dark robe on the wooden table from across the classroom, Hermione intuitively steered her glance to Malfoy's pale white unemotional face. His face was straight, as if he were in deep thought. He looked unaware of his own _expression, which was hard and ostensibly maddened. Hermione vaguely wondered what he was thinking, probably some way to dominate the world. 'Hmm most likely.' But the longer she glanced at him she saw something in his face beneath the infuriation and severity. Her illusory doubts slipped away from her. She was there, and she could see it, clearly. She saw something she had always thought he had felt very inconspicuously. Something he inflicted on other people, but maybe he did feel it too. It was something that she recognized as… pain.

Hermione tore her gaze away from Draco as she shook her head at herself. She wondered, slightly annoyed at herself, why did she think so positively about him whenever she found it in herself to look at him. Why did she always reluctantly crave to see that _expression on his face which she had seen on the train, in the Prefect's meeting room; the _expression she had seen on him which she had unknowingly grown fond of.

She did not understand. It was as if every familiar and unique feature he possessed pulled a muscle in her gut giving her that incomprehensible sensation that always left her baffled. Hermione hated being confused, for her it was a stature she would least likely want to be in. But yet, it was Draco Malfoy and no one other, who could easily slip her back in to that state of mind.

Hermione closed her eyes; she struggled to push those disturbing thoughts out of her mind before they led to much more disturbing thoughts. It was derisory to be dwelling on those useless thoughts, and of all people she was one of those who was to know that.

"Hermione, Hermione, Hermione!!!" shouted Ron as he tried to call his friend's attention who seemed to be lost in thought.

"What?"

"The class is over, time to go," said Harry. As he lifted his bag off the table and strode over to the door. "I have to go to Hagrid. I'll see you both at the dining hall."

Hermione waved to him as Harry took his leave. Ron looked at her, then to the door.

"I'm having lunch with Lavender today," he told her with a wide grin. Hermione returned the _expression. Finally, Ron was getting a chance at her.

"I'm guessing what you're going to do," said Hermione raising an eyebrow with a smile. Ron grabbed his bag and stood up.

"I'm going to ask her to be mine," he told her, unable to hide the excitement in his cheerful voice.

"Well, you mustn't be late Lover boy, go on, I'll just catch up with you," said Hermione as Ron waved and bolted out of the room into the hallway where his girlfriend–to-be was waiting.

After all, they needed some time alone.

Pushing a few scrolls of parchment in to her bag, Hermione took her books off the desk and stood to leave. She was about to step towards the door when a bonded bunch of parchment slapped down on the table in front of her.

She looked up at who had placed it in front of her and looked into the callously blank eyes of Malfoy.

"My 'results'," he said curtly. She looked at his sharp expression, obviously wanting her to reply to him. She realized that there was something in his eyes that was so manipulative. It was as if they had voices of their own.

But as much as she did not want to follow their bidding, she found the temptation utterly irresistible, though a fragment to her rebellious will remained in her. Her voice was caught in her throat and she found herself in the middle of the enticement to give in and the resistance that lingered.

Struggling to find her voice, Hermione said a quick 'Thank You' and he rolled his eyes and walked out of the room. She looked after him in embarrassment.

Hermione was kicking herself inwardly. 'Thank You'?  What the hell was that? She couldn't even think of a smart retort to answer him with. She cursed herself for leaving him the pleasure of thinking her pathetic and speechless before him. She knew it gave him a sense of power, a sense that she stupidly obliged to, his overgrown ego that she had encouraged to grow.

Hermione grabbed the bonded parchment and walked on out of the room.

~~*

Sitting on the desk in her room, she twisted her brown hair around her fingers as she finished her essay for ancient runes. She bit her lip as she thought, probing her mind of the perfect words to end the dissertation.

With a swift sound of her quill she scribbled last sentences on the scroll and finished her report.

Hermione took a deep breath as she finished, and she put the ink and quill away. She decided to get some extra reading done so she strode over to the edge of the room and grabbed her tote bag.

She opened the bag and pulled from it, her large transfiguration book. God knows how she had the right mind to carry something as heavy as that around the school. The book hooked a few pieces of parchment that fell to the floor from her bag as she pulled out the book.

Hermione placed the book on her bed beside her and crouched on the floor to pick up the fallen pieces of on the floor. She sorted the blank pieces of parchment to one side and some scrap essays.

Shuffling through the rest of the scattered pieces, she felt something hard that felt like the spine of a book.

She pulled it up and found it was Malfoy's report, which he had given to her earlier.

Ignoring the scattered parchment on the floor, Hermione sat on her bed with the small book-like compilation on her lap.

Hermione opened the first blank page and came upon a surprisingly neat script on the page. It read, The Song of the Sirens.

She shuffled through the pages and scanned the many pages reading the essays and facts that Malfoy had compiled so precisely. Surprisingly, she read some facts that she had never read before. She wondered how she could not have come upon those books where he derived his reports from when she had been constantly been in the library looking for information on the siren, finally finding that she had probably drained all the books of essays about the mythical creatures.

Turning to the last page, she read the last paragraph aloud.

     "The name Siren derives from a Greek root meaning 'to bind or attach' and clearly alludes to the role the Sirens played in mythology. One is inclined, however, to consider them as divinities who symbolized the souls of the dead. They would thus be funerary genii, avid for blood and hostile to the living. With their bird's body and woman's head, they recall the human-headed Egyptian hawk who also incarnated the souls of the dead. The Sirens were invoked at the moment of death, and their images were frequently found on tombs. Legend, however, depicts the Sirens only as malevolent monsters of the sea."

Interesting, she thought. She never knew that Malfoy had such industriousness to compile such a long essay. She knew that the report would definitely help their group; she almost had the nerve to thank him for it, but thought vigorously against it.  After all, he wouldn't care for gratitude in a million years.

~~*

Shifting on her bed from several uncomfortable positions, she had given up and settled for lying flat on he back as she stared in to the darkness of her room. A candle burned at the edge of the room on a crystal paperweight she had used as a holder. It was the only faint light luminous through the dark shadows looming over the arched ceiling of her quarters. The light was vaguely seen through the dark green curtains surrounding her four-poster.

She sat up from her bed and pushed the green covers aside, flinching as she felt the stinging coldness of the dungeon take a blow at her bare skin. She rubbed her arms in an attempt of warming them from the chilly atmosphere about her.

She didn't know how she expected to sleep when so much was on her mind. It was amazing how she maintained to keep a straight face everyday when so much weight threatened to be laid on her very soon.

In truth, she was no different than her other housemates, who had a savagely horrible destiny that awaited them as soon as they left Hogwarts. But if you think of it, she was different; there was something in her that doubted all that she had thought she had believed in. She never knew that she was capable of ever doubting herself, but now, all the conscientiousness in which she had taken the liberty to preserve over the years was beginning to jadedly dull in doubt.

Her parents expected much from her now; they praised her and believed in her, as she was soon to amplify their family honor and prestige. She had thought so much of this over the years but now only to admit doubt to it. The responsibility of being the lady of the next Dark Lord seemed to be all too much for her to take.

She remembered her father's letter to her two days ago, he told her so prudently of the Dark Lord's preference for her as the Lady of his successor.  He talked of it being an honor and expressing false happiness for her, but though her father chose his words so carefully, she knew that his happiness for her was only pride in disguise. She didn't need his family pride, deep inside; all she wanted was him to understand her.

Perhaps it was stupid of her, to have ever thought that her parents ever thought her purposeful until now. After all she was a woman, useless and insignificant whose only purpose is to bear child. It was then when she decided to prove them wrong. Now came her chance to finally do it, but she remembered that undermining qualm that plagued her unexpectedly. 

It was then when she began to realize that what she felt must have been no different to what Draco felt when his father told him. And to think that she had spent half her time with him convincing him in to accepting something she might similarly object to if she were in his place.

Perchance she had acquired some of his rebellious nature when they decided to be together; maybe it was destiny for them to be stuck together for all time. And though even she loved him more than anything, she wasn't sure if she wanted to be the next Dark Mistress who shared another's dream reeking havoc on the entire wizarding race.

Pushing the green curtains of her bed, Blaise swung her legs off the bed and found her soft bed slippers, slipping her bear feet into them.   She wrapped a long mauve robe on to her shoulders and strode across the dungeon room slipping out of the room silently. 

~

Her light steps on the stone floor were almost imperceptible in the gloom. Pulling her robe tighter around her shoulders she entered the Slytherin common room.

The azure ambiances on the wall were burning low in the night. Sometimes, the sullen room seemed like a Muggle aquarium with oddly hued flames burning about the room.

Blaise squinted her eyes in the dimness to see if someone was there. She couldn't see anyone, but listening closely, she could perceive slight breaths coming from the couch by the fireplace. 

She moved quietly towards the hearth and came upon his sleeping figure. She gave a sigh as she saw who it was.

His platinum blonde locks hung around his pale face luminously shining in the dim light that the common room provided. He was dressed in a black shirt and black pants with his cloak resting on his shoulders like a makeshift blanket. Blaise sighed as she thought of his own room as useless. For he always ended up coming out there in the middle of the night. She didn't blame him, like her, there was simply too much on his mind to just sleep soundly in his bed.

She breathed in slowly as she sat down by him at the end of the couch. She glanced at his face, observing the peaceful features as he slept there, wondering if that was the only time he was serene and had absolutely nothing to think about. But perhaps she was wrong, for dreams had the possibly of haunting and tormenting him.

Instinctively, she reached out towards his face and pushed a lock of hair away from his handsome face revealing the beauty she had always admired. She wondered how he managed to look so seamlessly impeccable when he struggled with so much. But if it was something the Malfoy men had, it was looks. Alluring and seductively sharp features that could make any girl fall.

She sat there for a moment thinking about the man that slept beside her, a man she admired and a man she pitied.

She never wanted to admit it but yes, she did pity him. She pitied him for being exploited at such a young age, to be pressured and looked down upon by his own father, his own flesh and blood. A boy who thought that pleasing his father was unreal, a boy who lived in an illusory environment for sixteen years who was raised to never feel anything, someone who was raised to know power as a factor, but as a need.

Yes, she pitied him, as much as she loved him.

It was funny how the word turned; he was, to everybody, someone who was lucky, because he evidently had everything. But in truth, he never wanted any of the things offered to him. He lived, only to be deprived of the things he had wanted to be showered with, things he never knew. Things like love. She knew that he would never admit it but it was disturbingly true.

Blaise shook her head wearily, to her; it was almost unfair for him to live his life in that way. He was so young but his future was already mapped out so despicably wrong. Yet to everyone around him, it was never wrong; it was his destiny, all of them had it, all the Slytherins had a purpose to serve for the dark side.

She observed his chest rising and falling sequentially as he lay on the leather couch and fought the urge to lie down beside him and hold him to her. At that moment she didn't want to be loved by him, she just wanted to be held. Close, as she was not to care if the world upon her came apart. 

He muttered disjointedly in his sleep shifting slightly. And then almost suddenly, his eyes fluttered open focusing on her. She looked calmly in to his eyes and smiled slightly.

"Hey," she said quietly.

Draco adjusted to the room and looked around recognizing that he was in the Slytherin common room. He pushed himself up on the couch and looked back at her.

"Have you been here all this time?" he asked her. She shook her head slowly as she tugged once more on her cloak. He nodded and looked to the fireplace.

"What are you doing up?" he said.

Blaise sighed. "Thinking…" she stopped and took in a breath.

Draco nodded.

"About my father's last letter…" she whispered silently. Her gaze dropped to the carpeted floor as she spoke refusing to look at him in the eye. She could feel his eyes on her.

Draco gazed at her. "So you know then?" he said with a slight tone of mockery in his voice. He would have laughed if the circumstances allowed him to, as if she wasn't already as miserable as she was.

She looked at him, so all this time he knew, she thought.

 "Yes," she whispered. Draco looked at her weary blue eyes and raised his hand to touch her face. He stroked it lightly with the back of his fingers and traced her jaw line intimately.

Blaise closed her eyes despairingly as he pulled her closer to him on the couch. He wrapped his arm around her back as she laid her head on his chest. He held her tightly as if to secure her place with him.

Draco ran his hand through her red hair, twisting it through his fingers. Blaise silently enjoyed the feel of his comforting hands about her body; she surrendered herself to his embrace. There was nothing to do now but wait, wait for her fate to befall her, wait for his to ensue, and serve their wretched sentence together.

There was no love, there never would be. At that moment, there was only understanding. Something they had long shared ever since they were children.

They sat there all throughout the whole night in silence. Falling asleep in each other's arms, inadvertently sharing sympathy for the other…

~~*

Ginny entered the common room as the portrait swing open. She trudged in to the room dripping with wickwood slime from her last class Herbology where she had an unfortunate accident. A few students in the room snickered at her slimy robes, and she glared at them angrily. She had enough ridicule in the hallway where she unfortunately came upon Malcolm Baddock who told her that she looked like a Christmas tree with the green slime tinting her robes and her flaming red hair.

Stomping across the room, she aroused almost everyone's attention. Ginny grunted climbing the stairs up to the dormitories. Reaching the landing she walked through the little hallway and turned the corner when – CRASH!

Ginny fell on her back with a thud. She felt a shock of pain go through her head as she struggled to regain focus. She placed her hand to her forehead as she began to see clearly. Ginny blinked she saw the many books scattered around her. Pushing herself and leaning on her elbows, she turned to see who had crashed in to her.

Considering her bad day, she was about to scream out at the one who had bumped in to her when she found herself staring in to bright green eyes through round glasses.

"I'm sorry Ginny, are you alright…?" she recognized the voice immediately and froze on her place on the floor.

Harry stood up quickly and offered his hand to Ginny to pull her up from the floor. Ginny looked at Harry's hand for a moment as if it was a weird kind of dish being served to her, and then she shook her head and took it. He pulled her up quickly.

"Y-yes, I'm alright," she said.

Harry grinned at the younger girl before him and then crouched down on the floor to pick up his books. Instinctively, Ginny did the same, helping him. She observed that a bit of wickwood slime splattered on his books and blushed.

"I'll take care of that," she said sheepishly as she grabbed her wand waving it at the dampened books.

Harry grimaced. "Thank You," he said. He picked up the rest of the books with him and stood up. Ginny stood beside him. Harry glanced at her messy robes.

"Let me guess, Wickwood pus right?" he said.

Ginny's slight blush grew brighter at his comment. She nodded in discomfiture. For the first time she looked up at his green eyes. Warm and caring as they always were, at that moment they suggested a happy mood. Ginny wondered if it was because of her.

"I figured; Ron had the exact same accident in out fifth year. Must run in the family," he joked. Ginny glared at him. Harry laughed slightly at the sight of her annoyed _expression.

"Not funny Harry, well, I better get cleaned up," she said.

"You better, before it dries. It's extremely tough to remove; I suggest a hot bath… right away."

Rubbing her cheek, Ginny removed a bit of slime from her face. She found that Harry was right; the slime was really sticky.

"Guess I better not wear this robe again. Mum's gonna be mad at me when she finds out."

Harry smiled at her sympathetically. "I'll tell you what, I'll buy you a new robe at the next Hogsmeade weekend, will that be alright?"

Ginny's blush grew even deeper as he said this. She would oblige to accept a gift from Harry… but, then again she thought, he might think her too thick if she accepted it openly.

"N-no, don't mind me Harry. It's not your fault. Maybe I'll just ask Fred and George if they can lend me some galleons for a new robe..." she said sheepishly.

Harry shook his head. "Nonsense, I'll tell Ron about it he can go with you to Gladrags."

"I insist, really Harry I don't really need it that badly."

Smiling, he gave in. "If you say so Ginny."

Ginny looked up at him, not sure what to say. She concluded that it was her cue to leave so she took a step towards the hallway.

She was about to run past him when he stepped in front of her. Ginny looked up at him. She almost shuddered realizing the immediacy between them.

Her brown eyes met his green ones in an intensifying emotion, which rendered her speechless. She observed his wonderfully contoured features, which she had always admired. His brilliantly colored eyes boring into her own, his normally messy black hair, which was a contrast to his rather slightly, pale skin. For her, everything about him was perfect and considering that then was the first time she actually had a chance to admire him up close increased her dithering esteem for the boy-who-lived.

Harry gazed at her clear features for a moment and found that she was really exceptionally beautiful. Her red hair contrast with her deep brown eyes, her clear completion made the distinction more evident. But he had never come to notice her that much, for he only thought of her as his best friend's little sister. But now it was different, he could no longer deny the fact that she was a woman. He wondered vaguely if she still had that little childhood crush on him. He had wanted to ask her just that at that moment, but thought against it. With him ignoring her all these years, she would have forgotten it, he decided.

Harry shook his head slightly as she took a step away from him and started to walk away form him as if that moment had never taken place. Harry looked at her retreating figure for a moment and then walked away as well in the other direction.

~~*

Ginny pushed the door of her room open and closed it slowly. She stood there facing the door for a moment with her hand on the lock and handle, her forehead almost touching the door.

The discomfort in which the Herbology class had ended for her had seemed to simply slip away as she thought of the recent happenings in the hallway.

She tried to recall his eyes, the look in them when he gazed at her intently. She had wondered desperately what he had wanted to mean, but could not quite place her finger on it.

Ginny closed her eyes; she must have looked like a fool to him, she thought, remembering the way in which she had behaved.

Maybe to Harry, Ginny thought, that moment so many instants ago would be forgotten almost straight away. But Ginny knew that for her, it would remain emblazoned on her mind for as long as she lived.   

She sighed, she was almost a woman, and yet, she thought so naively. Being infatuated makes you blind, Ginny had a chance to prove that fact. So little an occurrence which was to mean almost nothing had such big an impact on her feelings.

The young girl ran her hand through her shoulder-length hair as she tried to collect her thoughts.

It was at that moment she remembered something else she noticed about his curious look upon her face. She saw something she never thought she would see in him, something that was unendurably impossible. Something you'd least expect Harry Potter to ever feel.

She saw loneliness.

Ginny fingered the clasp of her dirty robe and released it, causing her robe to fall on the floor. Her pleated skirt and blouse was thankfully clean.

Caught up in her thoughts she did not move from her spot in front of the door.

Loneliness, something she had felt for so long. Yes, she knew that she had her friends to count on. Many people cared for her, but she had always felt incredibly insecure. Hermione had always considered her a friend and she had always been a friend to the older girl, but yet, the bond was seemingly unstable to her.

There was something she had wanted to be part of ever since her second year. Her enduring secret wish to be part of the infamous trio, part of the strong circle of friendship that Harry, Hermione and Ron shared.

Ginny was almost sure that if she ever had the guts to tell them about how she felt, they would have laughed in her face. They would have told her how silly she was for ever feeling that way, and they would tell her that she is and will always be part of that friendship.

But even they would not understand, the special camaraderie that they shared was tight knit. She knew that whatever they would say to her, she would always be the outcast among them.

Then Ginny realized that something she had to accept. It was that the trio would always be there for her, but that they would always and only be that; a trio.

But she had gotten through that, but now something else was beginning to plague her. Her thoughts trailed back to Harry. Lonely, how could someone like Harry ever feel that way when he had absolutely no reason to feel out of place? Was he really? He was the hero of many (including hers) after all, and his reputation was untarnished.

She shook her head; maybe she was just imagining it— No! She had seen his _expression; she knew what it was. She began to think, was there something else to Harry that she didn't know?

Almost immediately, it struck her. What if he was lonely in a different way, maybe lonely, and longing for something else. Or curiously, longing for… someone else.

Ginny turned away form the door as her eyes flew open. She immediately made an attempt to stop herself from thinking that she could be a possibility, but unfortunately her mind could not resist straying from the idea.

She curiously wondered if Harry could ever see her in that way, if he could ever learn to understand her and possibly… 'love' her.

Was that his intention when he stood before her in the hall? To make her realize that after so long he was ready to do so?

She shook her head once again, realizing that her hopes were too high. No way was she going to loose herself in an illusory realm she had threatened to fall in to all these years. After all, these past years, she had never really admitted to seriously loving Harry anyway, only to admiring him deeply. She looked upon him as the possible satisfaction she had wanted to attain for so long.

Did he want to love her? Or was he just curious? She decided to just wait and see as she walked towards the shower dismissing her thoughts.

~~*

Hermione caught a glimpse of Harry motioning the entire Gryffindor Quidditch team to land. Her long thin fingers ran thought the pages of the book she was reading while waiting for them to finish the early morning practice.

She closed the book and walked down the stands to meet her friends.

Lavender didn't accompany her that day, because she was busy meeting with her group mates for the research project. Ginny hadn't either, she had Arithmancy essays to write which was, to her, a handful of nonsense. Hermione objected to her language and gave her an unforgettable lecture about how important Arithmancy is to the wizarding world.

So now, she was here, all alone doing something she was least expected to do on her own will. Watch a Quidditch practice session alone on the stands.

Ron motioned for Hermione to come down from the stands as he turned the broom handle of his Nimbus 2000, which he had bought with his savings during the summer vacation. Of course, it was still hardly a match to Harry's Firebolt 3000 but was definitely a crossover from his previous Cleansweep. He landed smoothly on the ground beside Harry and the rest of the team.

Harry looked at the assembly with a tinge of pride in his eyes. He was almost sure that Gryffindor would win the Quidditch cup this year. The frequency in which he held practices helped in the development of their skills. And Harry knew that there was no other excellently created team. Ron of course who was the keeper, Seamus and Dean as beaters, Collin Creevy, his brother Dennis and surprisingly Parvati Patil who showed a curious interest in flying in their fifth year. Apparently, she had been in her homeland in India where over the summer of their fourth year and along with her sister who was now part of the Ravenclaw's Quidditch team, had got down to practicing flying and had found it enticing.     

Harry fondly recalled the looks on the faces of the other member's of the Quidditch team when Parvati showed up at the Gryffindor locker house asking if the spot for the third Chaser was still open.

"Great round mates," commented Harry as the team gathered around him.

Ron looked astonished. "Great round Harry? What's wrong with you? More like exceptionally wonderful round," he stated in mock astonishment.

Harry shook his head.

"The next practice will be at Saturday at seven in the evening, are you all alright with that?" asked Harry.

"Fine with me," said Parvati as she dusted her Quidditch robes. "Just not so long Harry, this stress is going to have an effect on my looks," she told them vainly.

Harry nodded with a smile. It was Dean who spoke up.

"Nothing you do affects your looks Parvati," he said, surprising the other boys. It was evident that Dean had an inclination to Parvati but apparently; he was just too shy to admit it.

Parvati blushed in astonishment. Ron slapped his forehead with his hand in irony.

"Alright, so I'll see you all next Saturday," said Harry. The rest of the team answered in the affirmative.

"The Hufflepuff game is on Monday, I suggest we practice some extra maneuvers for that," he added being the determined captain that he was.

"Practice for Hufflepuff? Are you serious Harry? Because surely you aren't, we're gonna beat them flat on their faces," said Seamus with a laugh. Ron shared his sentiment of pity.

"Don't be so crude, Seamus, they might stand a chance at us," interrupted Parvati. "After all Justin Flinch-Flechery is the seeker for their team, it turns out he's a good flier."

Ron laughed harder at what she said. "Stand a chance against our Harry? That's a laugh!"

"What Weasley? You don't think that anyone would ever stand a chance against your dear Potter?" said an acidly scornful voice behind them. Harry recognized it immediately.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team turned around to see the Slytherin team in their green themed Quidditch robes, a distance from them, with Draco Malfoy leading the lot. Blaise Zabini who was one of the Chasers stood beside him with an equally scornful look on her face. Crabbe and Goyle behind them who were the beaters, Alexander Flynn who was a blonde haired fifth year as the keeper, and Malcolm Baddock and Dalton Farrell who were the other two Chasers.

Ron stepped forward to stand beside Harry.

"Yes Malfoy, I believe I said that. No one, especially a slimy git like you!" Ron spat at him.

Draco smirked. "That's the only way you get noticed, isn't it Weasley? By sticking like a leach to Potter's side," he scoffed.

Ron's ears grew red at his retort and was about to attack Draco when Seamus and Dean held his shoulders back.

"I don't know what's your problem Malfoy, but haven't you got better things to do but be an arse around us go find someone else to piss off," said Harry glaring at the Slytherins.

Draco laughed mirthlessly. "Taking in to consideration Potter, your inferior disability to tell time, I believe it is you lot who have no business here," he drawled as he pushed a piece of parchment towards Harry. It was the Quidditch practice schedule.

Harry snatched it away from him and he realized that they had indeed been practicing overtime.

"I should have known better than to book the field on a practice session before you Malfoy, that way, I wouldn't have to stand the sight of your ugly face."    

Draco snickered once again.

"When good looks are concerned Potter, I rank far higher than any of you. I'm sure the ladies wouldn't argue with me…" he drawled as he eyed Parvati who was unable to suppress a slight blush before glaring right back at him.

"Actually Malfoy, I rather go for the smart type of men," retorted Parvati, "I look at you and wonder, where you were when they were handing out common sense."

Draco raised an eyebrow, "I was in the line actually, far before you were," he said acidly.

"You know Malfoy; I don't know how you go through your life without ever feeling disgusted with yourself… Oh, Wait, you don't actually feel anything now do you, peculiarly different from everyone else," spat Ron as he struggled to get loose of Seamus and Dean's firm grips.

"That depends Weasley, on what you mean by everyone else, and if you are part of them. Because if you are, I can't really answer your question, because I have never really felt dirt poor like you and your family are…" he said acidly.

Ron decided that that was enough and he broke lose of the Seamus and Dean's grips. He took a threatening step towards Malfoy and hit him squarely on the cheek. Draco staggered back slightly in to the arms of his girlfriend who glared at Ron savagely.

"Well, I'd have to admit, not bad for a Weasley…" he muttered as he rose to attack Ron.

~

Hermione who was heading down the stands spotted the Slytherin Quidditch team entering the field and approaching Harry and the rest. She instinctively ran towards the group of students and approached just in time to see Malfoy deliver a strong punch to Ron's face.

She pushed thought the bustle of students and rushed to her friend's side.

Ron fell back on the ground as Harry caught him. His mind was spinning but he struggled to stay awake. No way was he giving Malfoy the satisfaction of having knocked him out of consciousness. Ron sat up and glared at the blonde haired Slytherin who sneered at him. Hermione who had just arrived at the scene kneeled down beside him.

She gasped at the blood that trickled down Ron's nose.

Draco was almost surprised when he saw Granger run to Weasley's side just as he had knocked him down. He raised an eyebrow mocking her sympathy for the redhead on the ground. To Draco, it was merely a waste of worry. There was no use worrying over a worthless being like him.

"You're not going to get away with this Malfoy! Mc Gonagall is going to find out about this and you'll be punished," said Colin as he decided to speak up.

Draco scoffed. "Oh really now, mudblood? I believe if you ever tell the teachers anything, Weasley here will be the one in trouble, I have the upper hand because he hit me first if you don't recall…."

He smirked as Hermione turned to glare at him. He found that she actually had the courage to now look at him without being possessed. Apparently, her rage overcame her. Her blazing brown eyes were glaring at him so intensely. Her hair was flying about her face like fire, wild and furious.

Hermione looked at Draco with utter hate. She wanted to strike him as well for what he did to her friend. All her thoughts of him possibly being pleasant dissolved in the hate she felt for him now.

She placed her hand behind Ron's back as he tried to stand up.

Draco's mouth twitched at her action, he wondered to himself again how she could actually care for him. But suddenly, he vaguely speculated how it would feel if she comforted him in the same way but struggled to push the thought out of his mind.

"Aww, how endearingly… appalling," said Draco, his voice acidly emphasizing the last word. "Mudblood Granger sticking up for the Weasel. Tell, me have you gotten as far as taking your whore to bed Weasley? It surprises me how the likes of you ever managed to get a girlfriend… but then again, someone like Granger here is perfect for you. Such filth is all you'll ever deserve."

"Shut up Malfoy," said Harry. "Don't call her that, she's more than you can ever possibly be Malfoy,"

"Oh, Potter, do my words sting you so? Are you harbouring some secret feeling's for Granger now, dearly sorry…" he said in the same annoyingly sarcastic tone.

Harry opened his mouth to retort but stopped. Hermione turned to him surprised that he didn't disagree. Instead, Harry motioned for the team to leave the field and leave the Slytherins to their practice.

Hermione helped Ron up and with one last glare at Draco as she and Ron followed right after the rest of the team.

Draco smiled in content that he had walked away with the last laugh, well not exactly; it was the Gryffindors who had actually walked away but all the same.

As he looked contentedly at the retreating figures of the Gryffindors, he caught the sight of Hermione touching Weasley's bruised cheek, which he had earlier struck. He saw her tell him something and carry on walking towards the castle.

The rest of his team started to kick off on their brooms and he followed lastly. But not before he realized that he had felt a wavering pang of envy at seeing Hermione comforting Ron's injury as the Gryffindor team left the field. He chose to believe that it was nothing, and refused to admit that could be actually jealous of Ron. But that did not delete the feeling of guilt that overcame him when he chose to think that he was just imagining it.

~~*

"Get in here," said Harry as he helped Ron into the door of their dormitory along with Hermione and the rest of the boys.

Ron crashed down miserably on the bed as he put down off the handkerchief that was covering half of his face. He threw the piece of cloth that concealed his injuries on the side of the bed. A few students the team had passed had obviously wondered what as a red bandana doing draped over a robed Quidditch player's face.

"That was ridiculous, honestly Parvati, putting a handkerchief over my head to hide the bruise…"

"Well, we didn't have our wands to hide it. What do think we could have done?" said Parvati standing by the door of the boy's dormitory reluctant to step in.

"Yeah Ron, like Malfoy said, you'd be in trouble if any of the teachers knew," said Dean.

Seamus nodded in agreement. "Or, if any of the students told…"

"The bleeding seemed to have stopped, hasn't it Ron?" inquired Hermione who had entered the dormitory right after the team.

"Yeah, that git thankfully didn't go as far as breaking my nose."

"Oh well, that's enough. It's not like he was eaten up alive by a blast-ended skrewt. We better be out of here before any of the other students notice we're all crowded up in here," said Harry as he smiled at Ron.

Ron shook his head. "Harry, you're a git," he said simply. The rest of the team exited the room.

Harry remembered that they had a group meeting with Mandy and Parvati scheduled after Quidditch Practice and assured Ron that he would fill him in on the details of the group's meeting when he got back.

Hermione who had taken a seat on one of the chairs beside Ron's bed started to conjure up a steel bowl in on top of the desk.

Ron looked at it curiously. "What's that for?" he asked.

Hermione grinned at him. "Now you're being the git. It's for that," she said pointing at Ron's bruised cheek.

"Aquaria," she said making water appear out of nowhere in the bowl.

Ron raised an eyebrow. "I don't see why you need it; you have your wand don't you? Just use a healing spell."

Hermione clicked her tongue. "The use of healing spells are not allowed in the dormitories. Ron, honestly, I trusted you to remember something that." 

Ron sighed. "Oh right, and you breaking a school rule is impossible…."

Hermione rolled his eyes at him. "Well, I thought you needed an excuse for not showing up at your research meeting, you don't want to go now don't you?"

"I never thought I'd see the day when you'd be helping me get out of schoolwork Hermione."

Hermione laughed, "Don't think this is going to be regularly done Ron,"

Hermione picked up the handkerchief that Ron had carelessly thrown on the floor and dipped it in to the bowl of steaming hot water. She squeezed it up and dabbed the damp cloth on his cheek lightly.

"Ow, that hurts," he whined.

Hermione laughed a bit at his reaction. "Aww, ickle Ronnikins is hurt by the big, mean, wet handkerchief."

Ron glared at her. "Not funny Hermione."

Hermione giggled once more. She turned around and dipped the cloth in the bowl of water and squeezing it the same way.

She turned back to him and cleaned off the bloodstains that had dried on his chin. She remembered a similar situation when Harry's cheek had been cut because of an 'accident' during their fifth year. And when she had found herself unfortunately wandless at that time.

Hermione glanced at Ron's face content at how she managed to slightly hide the bruises on his face and cleaned the blood off his face.

"You're not expecting me to let this heal on its own are you?" Ron asked Hermione as she pointed her wand at the bowl as it imploded in thin air.

"Why not, it's the Muggle way of healing," she told him smiling.

"They call this healing? How can they, it practically takes forever."

Hermione laughed, "I bet you Ron Weasley, that you can't get through that injury, without using a healing spell."

"Are you challenging me, Hermione Granger?" he asked her with a mysterious grin. She nodded with a smile. "You're on."

Ron pulled his Quidditch Robe off his head and laid it on his bed. He was wearing the usual yellow and crimson sweater underneath it and his slacks.

He turned back to Hermione who was still sited on the chair before him and observing him.

"Maybe, you have a test to review for three weeks in advance," he said sarcastically in an effort to break the silence. She was meaning to ask something, and he knew it. He had that curious look on her face.

"I wanted to ask how it went with Lavender, I believe you haven't mentioned a word of it to me or anybody else," she asked him.

Ron's face grew curiously straight as she spoke. Every perceivable _expression disappeared from his face. Hermione guessed that it did not go very well.

He broke in to a grin and closed his eyes.

"Funny you should ask," he started. Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Ron turned his back to her and picked up his Quidditch padding, which was thrown on the floor. He tossed the pads in to his open trunk slowly.

"She… She said she wasn't ready…" he told her quietly. His voice was faltering a bit and Hermione was surprised that he spoke in such manner.

"Oh, Ron, I'm sorry…" she said sympathetically.

Ron turned around to look at her. But strangely, all the pain that Hermione expected to see in his eyes wasn't there.

"Don't be," he said as he sat down on his bed. "When we talked about it, she made it surprisingly clear that she did like me,"

Hermione took in a breath of slight relief. "She does, it is rather obvious," she said.

Ron grinned. "She even admitted to having this crush on me for quite some time, it's just that she just needs some time."

"Which, I believe you are gratefully willing to give… Am I right?" finished Hermione for him with a smile.

"Couldn't have said it better myself," said Ron.

~~*

Draco entered the library at about six o'clock in a blunt mood.  He began to scan the tables for Granger and Finnegan, and that other Ravenclaw girl. Draco tried to remember what her name was but could not. He concluded that it didn't matter anyway.

Even at that moment when he was busy scanning the tables looking for his group mates, he could still not believe that he was actually meeting up with Gryffindors and a Ravenclaw, even though it was only for compliance sake.  

Finally, Draco spotted a familiar shock of russet as he edged over to the corner of the library. It was Hermione of course; no one else had her bushy brown hair in the school.

Seamus who was sitting across from her, showed absolutely no interest in what they were doing. 'Stupid fool,' Draco muttered under his breath as he approached the table sullenly. The Ravenclaw girl wasn't with them, but Draco could not care less why.

~

Hermione marked the pages of the book she had scanned for pages concerning the legendary siren as she sat down quietly in the library with Seamus who was rewriting parts of their outline of the final documentary. Seamus had his elbow on the table as he wrote on the scroll Hermione had provided.

Looking up at her group mate, Hermione could see that he did not feel much enthusiasm to what he was doing. He looked bored beyond all reason and Hermione was slightly peeved at his behavior. Unfortunately, Hermione had the tendency to be annoyed at anyone who lacked fervor towards studying so it was nothing new.

Hermione sighed. "Seamus, honestly, you couldn't seem to be less excited," she said.     

Seamus looked at her and grinned warmly. "I'm not exactly a schoolwork enthusiast, Hermione," he told her.

"Perhaps you're a fan of something else Finnegan," said an icily cool voice behind Hermione. "Like lap dancing… on tables at strip bars…"

Hermione froze; of course, she knew exactly who it was.

Seamus looked up at Malfoy and gave him a deadly glare. "Shut up Malfoy, or I'll stick this bloody book up your…"

Draco smirked, "Oh, do go on Finnegan. Because I'd like to see you try."

"Oh I will…" Seamus said as he stood up and matched Draco's height, threateningly glaring at him.

"You will do something foolish. Oh right… that's what you Gryffindors are known for after all." He drawled fearlessly threatening Seamus. "If I were you I'd shut up."

Hermione took in a breath of air. "Why don't you both shut up?" she said with irritation. She turned to look at Malfoy who had averted his glare from Seamus to Hermione. But at the sight of her, his expression involuntarily changed.

She was not angry now, he observed. Hermione maintained a clam and straight face as she looked at Draco warningly.

"Sit down, the both of you…" she said firmly as she turned back to her book and continued scanning it silently.

The two boys shrugged and followed her order with one last glare at each other. Seamus, warningly glancing at Malfoy continued his outlining as Draco took out a few books and pieces of parchment from his bag. He began the task of scanning the books for pictures of the siren and magically copying the moving images to the scroll with his wand.

Hermione glanced up at what Draco was doing then back at her work. She wondered why she hadn't thought of doing that herself when she had the time. Hermione glanced back at Draco.

"You were late Malfoy," she said.

Seamus nodded with a slow smile.

Draco looked at her. "Well, if you hadn't chosen such a secluded spot to conduct this… meeting, I should have been much earlier," he drawled. "Don't you think so?"

Hermione shrugged. "I'm sure you wouldn't want to be seen with a mudblood Malfoy." Seamus glanced at Hermione, surprised that she referred to herself in such a manner.

Draco leered mirthlessly, "Oh, Granger, I didn't know you cared."

Hermione rolled her eyes at him and concluded that the idea of ever trying to converse civilly with Draco Malfoy was utterly preposterous.

~~*

Hermione had finished up marking the pages of her book with scraps of parchment almost an hour ago and was now finishing a summarization of an article on the breeding habits of the siren.

Malfoy was sitting a distance away from her and was busy writing something on his scroll. Seamus left about half an hour ago as he finished the outlining Hermione had made him do.

Hermione sighed; they would have finished hours ago if only Padma hadn't been absent because of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team's practice session.

She scribbled the last sentences of the paragraph she was writing, and took in a breath of relief as she finished. 

Looking up from the roll of parchment he was finishing, he glanced at the girl across from him who was apparently done with her work.

"So, do I get to go now?" he asked her coolly. Hermione looked surprised at his sudden statement. They had remained silent for a few hours and both were surprised that that time had gone by without an argument breaking out.

Hermione looked at the scroll he held that was filled with the moving pictures. "Are you done with that?"

Draco shrugged and rolled the paper back and pushed it in to his bag. Did she really expect that he would stick around to finish something so simple just because she expected him to?

"Apparently Granger," he lied. Hermione looked at him looking like she doubted him but shrugged and stood up to pack her things.

She reached across the table and grabbed her quills that Seamus had borrowed earlier. Her hair fell down from behind her back as she bent to reach for the quills, concealing Draco's view of her face.

As Draco continued to watch her pack up her things, he realized that she didn't really lack the feminine grace that he thought she was never capable of. He observed her light face and dark features, her hair which was loose as usual, hung messily around her face and her bright hazel eyes reflected the torch light which burned across from her on a torch holder above the table they had used for that study session. It was then when Draco thought that she was not really nerd material. She had thought her lenient in the past and though he would oppose to the thought as long as he lived, a voice in his head unfortunately could not cease telling him that he really thought it was so.

Draco admired dark hair ever since he was a child; his mother's porcelain dolls with brown to black hair attracted him most. The dark hair color was such a contrast to what he had been so used to seeing on real people like his parents and himself.

Hermione's deeply colored chestnut brown hair was in one of the shades that he found alluring, but yet every time the thought creped in to his mind he remembered that she was a mudblood and not worthy of his admiration.

Hermione began to bag the many books that she had brought to the library for the group's study session and realized that Malfoy's books were mixed up with hers. But that was hardly a problem she thought as she began to pick out her books from the table.

She had found the title of one of his books familiar and she picked it up off the table. "The Song of the Sirens" 

Hermione glanced at Draco slowly and found that he was observing her silently.

She cleared her throat and his _expression grew evidently cooler, but he did not look away from her.

"Did you base your report from this book?" she asked him calmly. Hermione flipped the cover open and began to scan the pages of the book.

Draco snorted, "It seems that you've done a good job of stating the obvious Granger," he said icily.

Hermione looked up from the book and glared at him and then turned back to his book.

"How come I have never seen this in the library selections?" she asked.

"It's from the library at the manor. I had my mother send them," he told her nonchalantly as he stood up and began to fix his things as well. Draco began to place all of his books in his bag.

Hermione glanced at him with wide eyes; she was about to express her astonishment that Malfoy had his own personal library but thought against it. It would be too naïve of her to have said so, and besides, what would he have said?

Hermione closed the book and stepped towards him to hand it to him. She wanted to read the book some more but she guessed that he would never lend anything to a mudblood.

Draco turned around and looked at her, handing him the book. He looked at the book for a moment and then gazed back at her face.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "If you expect me to wipe this off to get my mudblood germs off it, you've got another thing coming," she said.

He shrugged and turned back to fixing his things. For a moment, Hermione felt insulted but not until he spoke.

"Keep it Granger, I don't need it anymore… and I think you'll find it helpful, since you're the only one in this group that harbors so much dedication to this bloody project," he said casually as he fastened the buckle on his bag.

Hermione looked at him in astonishment that he would just give away something as precious as a book. A very informative one in that case, "No, I can't take it."

Draco turned back at her. It was his turn to roll his eyes, "For goodness sakes Granger, it's bloody book! My library must have ten more copies."

A frown touched Hermione's face. "You talk about books as if they don't matter."

"Trust me, they won't, if you ever live in a house that had millions of them," he told her sullenly.

"If I lived in a house with millions of books Malfoy, I don't think I'd even want to try to leave…" Hermione told him. She realized that they were having a conversation. Which was funny because they had gone so far without even taking a blow to each other's ego. Hermione wondered where her astonishment was at her realization, but at that moment when she caught him looking at her face so intently; it surprisingly ceased to matter.

He continued to look at her even after he replied to her statement with a sardonic look. But he unconsciously lost the look as he gazed in to her eyes. Her eyes which were so bright and lively as they were all the time, they never failed to maintain the knowing glow in them even if she was tired. Compared to his, which were cold and unfeelingly gloomy, to him, her eyes, her hair, her features in their entirety were foreign to him. She was to him, something she was always meant to be… out of reach. Of course he never wanted her to be anything more… Did he?

Silver, Hermione thought, Silver, not gray. Gray is gloomy, dead… With those liquid pools of silver, he looked at her now. And she looked at him, returning the calm _expression. Calm? Hermione did not even know. Did she look calm to him? It didn't seem to matter. But it did, her mind desperately tries to comprehend what she was feeling at that moment. It took her a few moments to recognize that it was the same feeling that overcame her on the train and in the Prefect's meeting room. It was the same annoyingly impracticable confusion that he never failed to make her feel when he looked at her that way.

Malfoy was cold; he was everything she hated, everything she was supposed to be against but it seemed that, the only time when she found herself feeling so strongly was when…

It was then when Draco's surprisingly expression softened. She recognized it. It was back again, and she knew it, the look that she had unknowingly come to love. Something she would want to drown in, because the look was on him now for her to enjoy. Because he was always beautiful as she had always thought him to be. No matter how much her mind racked at her to stop thinking such foolish thoughts.

Hermione suddenly turned away from him, what was she thinking? She shouldn't be thinking such things about Malfoy. She forced herself to think about how many times he had never failed to make her life miserable but could not think of anything at that moment.

Draco's mouth twitched as Hermione turned her back to him. He apprehended that he had just done something he had gone to great limits to, just to stop from doing. He had let emotion fall on his features.

Emotion… He didn't know what he felt at that moment, but he was aware of the fact that she had caused him to feel it.

What was with her that made him so effortlessly manipulated by something as useless as sentiments especially by someone as lowly as her? At such an early age he had been taught to hate mudbloods, but as he grew older, he also was slightly in awe of how such a being could ever prove to be superior to him.

But doubt had begun to seep in to him at that time and he had accepted the fact that his father was not always right. But was he not right about hating muggle-borns as well?

Especially someone like Granger, who made him feel too bloody confused.

Draco moved towards her closing the short distance between them; not knowing that he had done so until he had stopped behind her and was aware of the immediacy between them. Hermione turned around in surprise and suddenly became aware of it as well. She gasped as she observed how small she was, compared to him. Hermione met his eyes once more and totally melted in to them. And with one glance, she knew, that she couldn't look away again, if she tried.

He saw a lock of brown hair fall on to her face and fought the urge to brush it away from her face. He was caught between the craving to turn away from her and leave and the strange desire to gather her up in his arms and hold her. Wondering how pleasurable it would feel to have her against him.

He studied her flushed face in silence as she continued to hold her gaze upon his. And as he finally found it in him to look away, he turned away from her and without a single word; he left the library.

As she heard the main doors of the library close, she shut her eyes and fell upon the chair behind her, half relieved, and half distressed.   

~~*

He ran his hand through his hair angrily as he continued to calm himself.

He hated her, so much for making him feel so confused every time he looked in to her eyes. Never had he felt the annoyingly childish perplexity in his life until she had opened his eyes to everything, without even knowing that she had done so.

He was brought up to hate people of her kind, and look down upon them. But she, she was the only person who could ever make him feel inferior to her. Even Harry never made him feel such.

She was a mudblood, and if there was anything she was to him, it was an enemy.

But strangely, she was something that had actually made him forget all the pressures and pains of his impending responsibilities.

He had looked at her, and all the things Lucius had taught him had dissolved in an instant. Everything he had struggled to forget, he had indeed forgotten. In that transitory moment when she had looked in to his eyes and when he saw something he thought he would never see on someone like her… understanding.

Draco wondered curiously if Granger really did want to understand him. Or at least, try to. For a fleeting moment, he had wanted her to, but then he surrendered to the fact that she would be the last person to succeed at such a task. For he himself could not even understand himself.

Moments ago, he looked at her and admitted to the beauty she always possessed. Something he had never seen on anyone, such innocent and simple beauty, even she was too blind to recognize.  Something he had wanted to shatter, because of how she made him feel. He knew at that moment that the radiant vision of her standing so innocently before him, wordlessly trying to understand him would never leave his memory.

He swore, knowing that that vision would continue to plague him for the rest of his life.

It angered him to be weakened by someone like her. She made him feel an inexplicable pain that he had never felt before. Even at that moment in the library, he had wanted to pain her. But he couldn't explain why he hadn't done it. Perhaps the urge had disappeared all together.

Instead he had wanted to hold her, to have her in his arms. But he didn't know why, he hated himself for ever thinking of something so preposterous. But then, for a moment, the thought felt extremely comforting. And he knew it.

Entering, he sullen chambers in the Slytherin dungeon, his mind echoed with those disturbing words.

Hermione Granger was not the woman he thought her to be.

~~*

It was a bright September morning, and the morning sun rose brilliantly in the east reflecting over the vast green moors surrounding the Hogwarts castle. The wind was gently blowing around the enchanted mountains, as it seemed to have picked up a rhythm of its own.

Hermione gazed out her window and stood in the morning breeze as a smile touched her lips. She took in the wonderful weather that she had hoped for on that exceptionally beautiful Saturday.

For that day was scheduled, a trip to Hogsmeade and Hermione was very sure that it would be wonderfully enjoyable for her and her friends.

Hermione remembered that her birthday was coming up the very next Friday and was extremely delighted now because her mother had given her an early birthday present at the end of the school year of about twenty galleons, which she was free to spend on that day.

Of course, Hermione would not spend the whole lot on that day; she would just buy a few things she wanted.

Hermione was almost sure that neither Harry nor Ron would be interested in spending the day shopping with her so she decided to take Ginny with her. She was sure that the other girl would enjoy being with her for the day.

Turning to the bathroom, Hermione decided to dress up for the day.

~

"Hermione, hurry up, the stagecoaches are about to leave," called Harry from the Gryffindor common room as he, Ron and Ginny waited patiently for their friend.

Almost instantly, the patter of footsteps was heard on the stone steps leading to the common room. Hermione appeared and she practically sprinted down the steps.

She was dressed in a plain black skirt whose length was just above her knees, which revealed her pale white legs. Her outfit topped with a sleeveless red blouse. Her hair was tied in a bun atop her head.

Ginny smiled at Hermione's wonderful choice in clothing and started to laugh when she saw that Harry and Ron could barely keep their mouths closed. Hermione blushed slightly at their reactions.

"Does it really look that awful?" she asked them all.

Ginny observed that her brother and Harry were too awed to talk so she answered her.

"It's great, Hermione," she nudged her brother in the ribs. "Isn't it Ron?"

"Yes, great," Ron choked. Harry who was beside him had seemed to regain his senses and nodded right along with Ron.

"Wonderful choice," said Harry, thankfully less shocked.

Ron looked at him in shock and saw that he was indeed serious of what he thought.

Ron went over to the couch where there was a black robe hanging in the armrest and handed it to Hermione.

She looked at it in bewilderment. "What's that for?" she asked.

"Wear it," said Ron.

Hermione looked at him with wide eyes. "Over my outfit?"

"That's the idea," said Ron. He turned to Harry and surprisingly, his friend nodded in agreement.

Hermione tuned to Ginny. And she looked at her sympathetically. Her friends, apparently, did not approve of her strutting around Hogsmeade in such a daring outfit. And since she couldn't do anything about it, she took the robe with a shrug and wore it.

They walked out of the Gryffindor common room headed for the stagecoaches waiting bellow.

~~*

Hermione and Ginny entered Gladrags just as a gust of wind blew at the glass doors of the shop. The two girls had decided to have a little round of shopping before they headed back to the Three Broomsticks where they would meet up with Harry and Ron, who had abandoned them for Zonko's Joke Shop where they decided to visit Fred and George who were now the current store keepers of it.

Hermione guessed that by the time they returned to the castle, she should keep her guard up because of the pranks that might befall her. Ginny had thought the same as well, for her fifteen years in the Weasley household taught her to never let her guard down around her mischievous brothers.

Even as Ginny took one step in to the clothes shop, she flew in to a frenzy of shopping as she delighted in the many selections of dress robes and accessories the store offered. Her excitement was even doubled by the knowledge that Gladrags had just had a new shipment of clothes, and for her; that meant a change of fashion sense once again.

Hermione, fortunately, did not share her enthusiasm that much.  Clothes shopping was never one of her pastimes and now wouldn't be an exception.

She followed Ginny silently around the isles as she began to mark all the robes she would purchase as soon as she had saved up enough money.

"Oh, Hermione," the young girl squealed. "This would look absolutely wonderful on you!"

Hermione sighed and went over to her friend who was holding out a dark jade colored robe that had silver embroidery on its lower half of elegant abstract curves that reminded her of a design she had seen on a wall painting in a Muggle museum.

Hermione had to admit that she admired Ginny's sense of style, because she loved her choice. The dress robe was beautiful, of course, but Hermione just didn't think that green would fit her very well. It reminded her of something the Great Hall was decorated in on a bad day. Like when the house cup was won by Slytherin.

Hermione cringed at the thought, she wasn't sure if she wanted to loose the House cup to Slytherin this year even if it was the farthest thing from her mind. She had the largest confidence in Gryffindor house to ever doubt it now.

"I don't think so, Ginny. Maybe something a bit warmer in color," she suggested.

Ginny gaily put the dress robe back and began to search the stands for something else.

Hermione who could not help her self, started to look at the selections taking one robe out after the other and then placing them back again when she did not like them.

After about half an hour of looking, something finally caught her eye. Taking her robe of choice out of the stand, Hermione pulled out a bright crimson dress gown, which was exceptionally attractive. She ran her hand over the soft fabric wondering if it would be comfortable to wear on an occasion such as the coming Yule Ball. The event was months away, Hermione thought, but then she concluded that it would never be too early to start planning.

The gown had a simple elegantly designed bodice whose shoulder straps were knotted at the top in loose bows. In the middle, a belt of the same red color, which was wide at the back of the dress and closed in thinner at the front area, the two ends held together with a silver clasp. The gown's lower half of the gown, flowed beautifully and formed a train right at the end. Hermione was sure that if she did wear this dress, she would surely cause a much bigger stir than she had last year and the year before. She held it up to herself for a moment and smiled in the satisfaction that it was nearly a perfect fit.

"That's it, I'm taking this dress," she thought to herself as she handed the red robe to the nice sales witch that was waiting patiently on them for the last half hour.

Hermione turned behind her and found that Ginny was gone. Hermione sighed and began to probe the store for her friend.

She found Ginny by the scarves section, where several beautifully designed shoals hung. She was admiring a bright yellow one that she had pulled out and tried it around her neck before a mirror.

Hermione approached her and smiled.

"It looks wonderful," she commented.

"Yes, I know. It would fit wonderfully on my white summer dress, don't you think?" Ginny asked, turning to Hermione.

"It would be a nice touch."

Ginny sighed. "It's too bad I can't buy it yet…"

Hermione looked at Ginny, aware that she was again sad that she couldn't buy it. It was the same every time she promised to save up for something she liked. Once Ginny had enough money, the thing she was to buy was already gone from the shop, leaving her upset that she had been too late.

Ginny started to return the scarf to the stand and exit the store to wait for Hermione outside as she paid for the dress.

"Will this be all?" the sales witch asked Hermione.

She turned to the old red-haired witch. "No," she said as she went over to the stand of scarves and pulled out the same yellow one that Ginny had admired earlier. "I'll be taking this as well."   

~~*

Hermione held a mischievous smile as she exited Gladrags as Ginny could observe. She looked at her oddly and was meaning to ask what was with her when she decided to just ignore it.

Hermione had the scarf bundled in her shopping bag along with her dress gown. She would give it to Ginny eventually, but she decided, not then. Maybe before they left for France, she thought. Yes, then would be a perfect time.

"Look!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed turning to a shop at the far end of the village. "Tinsel Craft's has a new shipment of jewellery," she continued as she saw some men bring in a few crates in to the shop from a stagecoach that was parked in front of the store.

"Let's go see."

Hermione sighed and followed Ginny through the street as she headed towards the jewellery store.

~

Tinsel Crafts was a small shop, but just the right size to display the many selections of jewels and gems. The bell hanging on the door rang as Hermione and Ginny entered the shop. The shop was brightly lit; almost all sides of the shop had display glasses, which displayed the beautiful selections of jewellery.

Ginny could tell from Hermione's expression that she was absolutely awed by the shop she had clearly never been in before.

The shopkeeper, an elderly woman with graying blonde hair called Madame Holrick, greeted them with a mild smile. A few men who had brought the new shipment of the jewellery had begun to exit the store, as the crate was successfully open.

Ginny and Hermione approached the glass counter, as Madame Holrick started to take out the stacks of jewellery cases from the crate and put the many accessories out for display.

"What can I help you with young ladies?" she asked merrily as she turned to Hermione and Ginny.

"Oh, nothing much Madame Holrick, we just came to look around," said Ginny. "I hope you don't mind."

The old lady smiled, "Not at all Ms. Weasley, but if something may just in case catch your eye; tell me about it, I'd gladly reserve it for you."

Ginny grinned and began to drag Hermione around the shop pointing out many beautiful gems they both admired.

"Percy bought a ring here which he gave to Penelope for her birthday, he tagged me along with him, and gave Madame Holrick the hardest lime of her life," said Ginny as they stopped at the ring section fondly remembering the experience.

"What do you mean?" asked Hermione curiously.

Ginny smiled, "I must have suggested a thousand rings but he didn't want any of them, he was never contented with any of them. I had begun to wonder why he dragged me off here anyway. But them, he found the 'perfect' one, he says; it was a triple silver ring with a big sapphire stone circled with diamonds."

"Sounds reasonable," said Hermione.

"I hated it," Ginny admitted. "But the funny thing is, Penelope loved it."

Hermione smiled, "Perhaps, it didn't matter," she said. "Someone she loved gave it to her after all."

Ginny returned the gesture nodding in agreement.

"I'll go check those out," said Hermione as she turned towards the front counter, which displayed a variety of necklaces.

Hermione looked over the selection one by one and admired each one's elegance and delicate style. However, one specific necklace attracted her gaze. Hermione turned to Madame Holrick to catch her attention.

"Yes dear, what necklace was it?"

"This one, next to the silver one with the moonstone," said Hermione courteously as she motioned to the silver necklace with an onyx theme on its end.

Madame Holrick pulled it out from the glass display case and handed it to Hermione. Hermione ran her eyes over the beautiful piece of jewellery admiring the elegant design it possessed. A series of black onyx stones shaped in teardrops framed by stylishly crafted silver hung from a rather twisted silver chain.

"Wonderful choice my dear, I believe this one dates beck to the eighteen hundreds, as its design suggests it," she said, relaying its history. "I remember I got it from a rather mysterious woman who was peculiarly desperate to sell it."

Hermione nodded, wondering who in their right mind would ever even think of selling such a beautiful creation. "Do you think it was a family heirloom?" she asked.

"Hmmm, come to think of it, it seems so," Madame Holrick said approvingly.

Hermione wondered for a moment if she should buy it, but then she remembered all the other things she was to do with her birthday money, like save it for Christmas gifts. But just in case, she decided to ask how much it was.

"This is going to be a pain in one's pocket my dear," she said shaking her head. "But I believe I could push a few galleons off it for you…"

Hermione leaned farther on the glass counter in anticipation.

"It's about two hundred eighty galleons," she said finally. Madame Holrick smiled observing Hermione's shocked _expression.

"Two hundred eighty galleons?!" she asked in bewilderment.

"You can have it for two hundred seventy seven dearie, would you like to reserve it…"

Hermione looked at the necklace. She understood that considering its age and beauty, it was bound to cost much. But she really did want it and she wondered how long it would take her to save up for something like that.

"Uhmm, no, I'm not sure when I'd be able to finally buy it anyway," she said "Probably after I graduate seventh year," she joked.

The older woman looked at her with a smile. "It will be waiting for you, don't worry."

~~*

Draco stood before the old Hogsmeade inn and sullenly entered its gloomy doors.  His hands were pocketed in his black robes and his dark mood didn't seem any different to that of the pubs when he entered it.

It was the usual sight; the room was dimly lit even though it was a bright day outside, the booths were barely filled and the morose music being played from the old piano beside the bar couldn't have been more unwelcoming. Draco silently wished that this entire place would be burned down as he left for it seemed to him a cursed burial ground which was home to nothing but dead spirits.

Draco walked over to his usual seat at the end of the pub, which was hardly lit at all. He sat down on the chair quietly and leaned on the backrest in an effort to relax.

Suddenly, a hunched over man appeared at the side of his table; snorting sickeningly. Draco eyed him with a deadly stare for disturbing him so unexpectedly.

"What can I get you Mr. Malfoy?" he asked him, fear was evident in the man's voice as he stood before Draco.

"What else you fool?" Draco hissed ungratefully.

The man cowered fearfully. "I'll take that for a blue martini," he muttered, and without another word, he disappeared before Draco's eyes.

Draco looked towards the door and saw that the man he was waiting for had arrived. A tall brown haired man dressed in a black cloak similar to what Draco was wearing was quickly approaching the table cautiously.

"You're late Vathek," drawled Draco with irritation as the other man sat before him.

"You think I'd want to be Draco? This town is crawling with Aurors in disguise," he told Draco who looked at him in a very identifiable way his father would look at him if he had done the same offence.

"I know, I know, they can smell a dark mark from a mile away," said Draco with evident indifference to him. This man who he had grown so familiar with ever since his childhood was now beginning to annoy him because of the fact that he came here to tell him of matters he would not choose to discuss. Matters his father forced him to understand.

"Your father couldn't come," said Vathek indifferently as the younger boy smirked.

"As always," muttered Draco.

"His schedule was far too packed even to arrange for this meeting, I expected you to consider…"

Draco smirked once more, "Hah! Being considerate is not a Malfoy trait Vathek; it certainly should not be performed especially around another Malfoy."

Just then, Draco's blue martini appeared on the table before him. Draco took the drink almost instantly and took a sip.

Vathek marvelled at the young boy's mettle, he was indeed, his father's son. "Aren't you too young to be drinking that Draco?"

Draco scoffed, "Tell that to my father, he actually encourages it."

"Lucius is not happy Draco, by how you have been ignoring him recently."

The young Slytherin raised an eyebrow at Vathek and looked at him with an _expression that openly suggested that he didn't care.

"Tell me something I don't know Vathek," Draco said with the same air of indifference Vathek had sensed in him ever since he entered the room.

"This is not a joke," the older man looked at him severely "As you continue this childish attitude, you are not only ignoring your father, but you are ignoring your future life."

"Ah, quoted from Lucius, I'm sure," said Draco sipping his blue martini once again. He delighted in angering Vathek, knowing that he could do nothing about it. Lucius would have his head if he had found out that he had laid a finger on his only son and heir.

"It is not amusing," he said with gritted teeth. He glared at Draco scornfully.

"Your father requests that you take his orders seriously now, it could mean something you will soon regret if you don't," he told Draco.

Draco shrugged, as he had no choice but to listen. Vathek took out a folded piece of paper and pushed it towards Draco.

"It's a map of Orne country," he said. "Take it with you to France, you'll find it most helpful."

"So, father is serious about me leaving Brentenoux?" asked Draco.

Vathek nodded. "You should know, that Lucius never jokes Draco," Draco rolled his eyes at this remark. He was sick of hearing everyone sing praises for his father, as if he really deserved that much respect.

"There is a portkey point at Quistreham, it's the quickest way to London," he said "Anyway, it's all there; Lucius trusts you are old enough to find your way?"

Draco looked at him sternly. "Of course I am," he hissed.

Vathek shrugged as he stood up. "Very well then, goodbye Draco," he said not meaning it. He couldn't be happier to get away from such an ungrateful brat like him. With one pop, Vathek disappeared from sight.

~~*

Hermione pushed a lock of hair from her face as she turned from one corner scarcely avoiding stepping in to the light that one of the torches provided in the dark. She pushed the portrait open as she prepared to venture out in the middle of the night to the library once again. She knew it was against the rules, but she could not sleep either, knowing that she had missed a whole day of studying when she decided to go shopping in Hogsmeade with her friends.

She held a book and some pieces of parchment in her one hand and Harry's invisibility cloak in the other. He had lent it to her thankfully without even wanting to know why. Hermione had a feeling that he already knew.

"Out again my dear?" asked the fat lady as she looked at Hermione curiously.

Hermione nodded and quickly, she slipped the invisibility cloak over her head. She walked off, walking quietly through the silent hallways headed towards the library.

"Be careful," said the fat lady behind her.

~

She pushed open the vast doors of the library as she entered the large hall. It was rather dark; as only a number of curtains were pulled back to let the illuminate rays of moonlight coursed though the clear glass providing the dim lighting of the library.

Hermione stood still a moment, observing her surroundings hearing if anyone was there. But seeing as there was no one, she decided to take off her cloak and fold it up for the time being. She walked slowly towards the bookcases, which seemed like tall looming shadows in the dark. She headed towards the study area that was situated behind the isles of books. Hermione walked slowly towards the tables when she saw something that made her blood run cold.

There was a dim lamplight burning on one of the tables. There was clearly someone here.

Hermione decided to see who it was as she moved farther by the bookshelf to get a better view of the table. She sighed in relief as she realized that the table was empty. There were various books stacked on it, and some pieces of parchment littered around the table. But then, it didn't mean that there was no one there.

Hermione turned around in an attempt to look for the person who had apparently been studying in the late night as well, when she was startled by a dark figure stood in front of her. Her heart raced once again as it had just moments ago and she let out a scream.

Her distress however was useless as a gloved hand, which went right over her mouth, silenced her.

~

Draco stood up from where he was sitting in his place in the dark library in the dead of night. He heard the library doors creak open and decided that it would not be wise if anyone found him there especially under the circumstances. He was after all a prefect, and one of the least people expected to break the school rules.

Moving quietly through the isles of books, he strained his ears to hear where the light footsteps were coming from and then realized that they were very close to him.

He could see the figure headed towards his study area and as it moved in closer to the tables, he realized just who it was.

Hermione turned towards him and let out a shriek; he pulled her to him and covered her mouth with his hand. She struggled in his arms, thinking that she was being attacked. She vigorously tried to pull away from him as he held her. And for a moment Draco had the pleasure of knowing that she was helpless in his arms but then he decided to cease her annoying struggling.

"Shut up mudblood!" he hissed in her ear.

Hermione froze as his grip in her loosened. Draco dropped his arms as she took a few staggering steps away from him. She turned around instantly and looked at Draco disbelievingly. Draco stepped in to the dim light provided by his oil lamp on the table he had been studying on earlier.

"What do you think you're doing here?" she spat at him as she regained her composure.

Draco rolled his eyes at her and started towards the study area. "What else do you do in a library?" he said sarcastically.

"Come to think of it… how did you get here," said Hermione with the same startling tone.

Draco strode over to the table walking past her. "I'm a Slytherin… what do you expect?" he said nonchalantly as he sat back down on the study table reopening his books. Hermione walked over to the table and sat down in front of him. To her surprise, he didn't seem to mind.

"Tsk, tsk Granger, I should take some house points off you for sneaking out late at night," said Draco. Hermione glared at him.

"And you committed the same offense just to catch me in the act? Malfoy, that's something you call senselessness," she retorted.

Draco shrugged as he turned back to the books he was reading. 

Draco looked at her from across the table and observed her glancing curiously at the books she had clearly never read before. And before he knew what he was doing, he took up one book and pushed it towards her.

He smirked when he caught the _expression on her face that made her look like she was being fed live worms.

"It's a book on the siren," he told her not bothering to see if she opened it at all.

Hermione looked at the book. And without hesitation, she opened it up and started to read.

~~* 

Three hours passed as the both of them sat in silence, intently concentrating on researching and listing down as many facts as they could. It seemed like an informal contest which the both of them quietly enjoyed. It was funny how the both of them were so contradictory yet now they found each other's presence secretly comforting.

Hermione observed that Draco had so many references; she had a sudden desire to want to be in the Malfoy library just for one day. Maybe she would have a field day if that ever happened. But then she knew that Lucius Malfoy would rather die than have a mudblood enter his house.

Hermione decided not to think about it anymore as she finished the last book that she had read. She reached across the table and took another book, which she automatically opened.

She read the title page but realized that it was not in English, but in French.

Hermione looked up at Draco who was writing something on a piece of parchment. As if he could feel her eyes on him, he looked up at her meeting her gaze.

"This one is in French, you understand it don't you?" asked Hermione softly as she knew she had caught his attention.

Draco was surprised at her civil tone. "You don't speak French?" Draco asked her. There was a slight tone of mockery in his voice. "I'm surprised at you Granger, don't tell me that mind of yours has run out of space…"

Hermione shrugged. "I understand it but, I haven't actually grasped conversing and speaking yet," she said, looking at him. For once, Draco seemed like he was actually interested in what she was to say.

"Too bad, because that's the most useful book I've found so far…" he drawled as he shut the book in front of him. His fingers, which were gloved in black, started tapping on the book.

Hermione looked at him with a confident look on her face as he rested his back on his chair in an effort to stretch his cramped muscles after the long hours of throwing themselves in to schoolwork.

"That gives me a good reason to want to translate it," she said.

Draco eyed her curiously as she spoke. "Take it then, it'll give you a good French lesson," he said carelessly.

Suddenly, Draco heard a soft creaking sound. He realized that it was the doors of the library opening again. After a few moments, the sound was followed by perceivable footsteps in the dark.

"In here, my sweet. I heard some voices in the dark," said a sickeningly slimy voice. Draco was sure it was none other than…

Filch.

Hermione who seemed to have heard the voice too sat still, evidently nervous that they might get caught. She glanced at Draco in alarm, who stood up abruptly and turned down the oil lamp leaving them in the darkness.

Hermione was on the brink of panicking, she couldn't imagine what would happen if she got caught. It would be disgraceful for someone like her.

"Do you plan on staying here Granger?" Draco whispered quietly from behind her. Hermione turned around to face him, wherever he was.

"Of course not," she answered back. For a moment she did not know what Draco intended to do but she was suddenly surprised when he grabbed her right hand and started leading her down the isles of books behind the study area.

"I can hear you, come out! You can't hide," said Filch as his paces started to grow louder as he entered the library.

Draco and Hermione stopped at the corner of one bookshelf as Filch was beginning to draw closer. Hermione was pressed against Draco's chest as they hid in the dark corner of a colossal post that was the only place they could hide against. They were both desperately hoping that Filch would go in the other direction.

Draco swore under his breath as he realized that they were cornered. Filch was an isle away and in a few moments he would undoubtedly find them as he crossed the next isle.

Hermione's heart started pounding rapidly as she heard the illusive caretaker's footsteps in the gloom. He was close, she could tell. She remained pressed to Draco's strong build as she waited for the worst but then she felt something pressed against her side.

Hermione remembered that she had something that could unmistakably take them out of this mess. She cursed herself inwardly for being so stupid not thinking of it earlier.

The invisibility cloak.

Hermione suddenly shifted in her place as she pulled out the invisibility cloak from her big robe pocket.

Draco was almost startled when she moved. Through the gloom, he saw her pull out what seemed like a shimmering cloak and pull it over the both of them. Draco wondered what it was as he could see their surroundings clearly. Hermione who was against him and quietly standing still didn't seem to be in an explaining mood at the moment.

It was when Filch walked past them when he realized what it was, of course, an invisibility cloak. At that single moment, he realized that all his questions on why Harry got away with so many things without getting caught. In the third year at Hogsmeade, when he saw Harry's head floating in mid air, it was nothing but the cloak.

Hermione took a breath of relief as Filch exited the library with Mrs. Norris purring behind him with a click of the doors.

Hermione had her hand against Draco's chest as she stood there breathing in respite as they were out of trouble. Draco leaned his back against the wall further in the same sentiment. He looked down at Hermione who seemed to be too reassured to ever care to move away from him.

He was about to cruelly shoo her away and tell her not to touch him when he found that he couldn't. So he silently stood there, enjoying the feel of her on him wondering why he had never known that a woman like her could make him feel so light and comforted. Before he knew it, he raised a hand and stroked her hair lightly realizing that it didn't feel as rough as it looked. It was as soft as cotton and he could do nothing but enjoy the feel of it.

Hermione's eyes shot open as Draco touched her hair suddenly. She dropped her hand from its position on her chest. She had not even been aware that she was still pressed against him at that moment. But then as she willed herself to pull away, she stopped and surrendered herself to the pleasure his touch provided. She could feel his chest rising and falling, as she stood there aware of his arm around her. For a transitory moment, she wanted that moment to go on forever and ever without her ever wanting to let go. She felt peculiarly satisfied in his arms.

Something least expected of someone as seemingly cold as Draco Malfoy.

They stayed in that curious situation for a moment before he pulled off the invisibility cloak off the both of them. Hermione suddenly took a few steps away from him as if only then expressing shock for her actions.

"So this is why Potter always gets away with murder," he said softly breaking the silence.

Hermione looked up at him and in surprise she saw that his _expression held so much calmness and composure, as if the moment before never happened at all.

"Y-you saved me from trouble there," she said as she took out her wand and waved it at the torch above Draco's head brightening their dim spot. She saw a few strands of blonde hair fall over his pale face as he crooked his head and met her gaze.

Draco glanced at her curiously. "No, actually, I just saved Filch the trouble of walking us up to the headmaster's office and demanding for a reward for catching two prefect's out of bed at midnight," he said.

Hermione sighed. It took everything in her not to laugh, but she could not suppress a grin. "You really are a git Malfoy."

Draco smirked. He bundled up the invisibility cloak and tossed it over to Hermione. She caught it and looked back at him.

"And proud of it," he said sardonically.

~~*

Should you go first and I remain
One thing I'd have you do;
Walk slowly down that long, lone path,
For soon I'll follow you.
I'll want to know each step you take
That I may walk the same
For someday down that lonely road,
You'll hear me call your name.

~Albert Rowswell