A/N: The lyrics listed in this chapter are from, "Away From the Sun" by 3 Doors Down, and "Everything" by Lifehouse. I highly recommend listening along when it comes to that part of the chapter! It makes it so much sweeter :)

Twinkling stars blanketed the onyx sky over a dingy, filthy pub on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. It didn't seem like much, but on this night, memories were being made that would last a lifetime. A scarce few lights illuminated the Hog's Head, dim against the drab and grimy walls that Aberforth never bothered with. On this night, the little-known brother of Albus Dumbledore quietly listened to loud and bright laughter that contrasted the dark and depressing ambience of his establishment. It was in the farthest corner of the room that his only patrons—the most unheard of pair at that—were lost in their own world. Aberforth knew that Ogden's could loosen up anyone, even create friendships in the most unlikely of places. He also knew that if that Malfoy boy hurt Hermione, he'd invent a fourth Unforgivable just for him.

"You did not!" Hermione cried through a fit of giggles. Her arms were wrapped around her middle. Her cheeks and stomach hurt from laughing so much, but she couldn't care less. She was having too much fun! Two butterbeers and three firewhiskey's in (much to Draco's amusement), the weight of the world was finally gone. She felt lighter than a Cornish Pixie, and the last thing she wanted to do was think about anything going on in the world outside of the pub's doors.

The man that sat across from her truly surprised her today. When he dropped the news of his ex-Astoria's infidelity, she expected that he would be distraught. Who wouldn't be? From the way Draco spoke of her in his letters as Ink, Hermione gathered that he was in love with the pretty pureblood girl. Instead, he acted as though he were on top of the world. The Draco in front of her now seemed like a weight had just fallen off him, and she wondered how long he had been wanting to break it off. She wouldn't ask, though. That sort of thing was far too personal for two people that just became friends. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. For now, she just wanted to be there for him—and she liked the carefree, and quite hilarious, version of him that joined her for drinks.

Freedom looked fantastic on him. As Hermione couldn't hex anyone, if the next girl Draco dated didn't give him all the love, respect, and loyalty he deserved, she vowed would beat the snot out of her herself.

Hermione stubbornly ignored the strange pang that shot through her chest at the thought. She probably just needed to slow down on the liquor. She really wasn't much of a drinker.

There was something about the way Draco's pale hair fell carelessly in his face and the rosiness of his cheeks when he flashed her a smile that could light all of England. His jacket long discarded, draped across the back of his chair, he leaned forward with one arm propped on the table while his other waved around animatedly. Hermione hadn't missed the fact that his sleeves were still down and buttoned, but every time he waved a chip in her direction while making a point, she was drawn into the moment more. The past felt like an awful nightmare they just woke up from.

"Shouldn't have waved food in my face if you didn't want it stolen, Hermione," Draco said with a wolfish grin. The moment she popped the rest of her chip in her mouth, Draco's eyes sparkled with mischief. Hermione swallowed. "Says the one who's been waving chips in my face all evening without a care in the world!" Draco picked another chip out of the basket. It didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out what he was doing. As he inched the fried food closer to her face, Hermione's voice shot up three octaves. "Don't you dare—"

"Open up, Granger."

Hermione huffed, though it didn't hold the agitation it would have before.

"Granger, Draco?"

Her eyes flew open when he popped it straight into her mouth.

"Right now, yes," Draco teased. The wizard victoriously leaned back in his chair, obnoxiously pleased with himself.

Hermione studied him, tearing off a piece as she chewed. The boy she once loathed and despised was long gone. That much was apparent. What she had trouble wrapping her head around, even now, was the man who sat in his place. Even slouching, he portrayed effortless grace and dignity. The top two buttons of his dress shirt drew the eye to the patch of skin underneath; the fit drawing attention to a lean, powerful physique that could only be gained from years of athletic sport.

Of course, that was the very definition of Malfoy: power. It was in the defined lines of his jaw, the slender shape of his nose, the hooded shape of his extraordinary eyes. It was in the soft skin of his hands, despite years of quidditch play and the devilish allure that lay in his adolescent, crooked smile. The way he could command the attention of everyone in the room simply by walking into it.

The way he could shatter all train of thought with a single look; a look that could hold her there until she got lost in the depths of molten silver.

"You're lucky you're so pretty," Hermione grumbled.

Stupid, annoying, ridiculously handsome, thoughtful, witty, charming ferret.

"Pretty?" Draco echoed amusingly. Two pools of gray glittered at her over the rim of his glass. She wished he'd knock it off. She also wished her body would cooperate with her.

"Shut up, Malfoy," she muttered. Just for good measure, Hermione tipped back the rest of her drink in one go. Clearly, her mouth wasn't going to participate within societal lines of what is and isn't proper to say to one's friends. In layman's terms, so long as she was going to embarrass herself, she might as well have the excuse of being drunk to fall back on.

"Ah, so it's Malfoy again," Draco mused. His quick humor knew no bounds.

"As long as I'm Granger, you're Malfoy," Hermione shrugged.

"At least I get to be a pretty one," he said with that ludicrous, attractive smirk that was beginning to drive Hermione up the wall. He needed to quit being so...Draco. Now.

"Draco," the brunette groaned loudly, causing her drinking partner to erupt into a round of full, rich laughter. This wizard was going to be the death of her. She was sure of it.

"Hermione," Draco mocked, causing her to throw her arm over her eyes.

"You're impossible," Hermione muttered.

"And you're drunk," the blonde wizard quipped.

"I don't drink much." She didn't even try to deny it. There was no use. At least it was just Draco and Aberforth, although the latter didn't really count. He was likely passed out somewhere by this point.

"Clearly."

In the chaotic processes of her mind, with her arm still draped over her face, she found herself wondering about a hundred different things. They were free now. What would they do with that freedom? Would she go to college, like her parents, or would she use her pounds to open an art studio? What would Draco do once his parole was up? How was he really feeling, with Astoria's recent betrayal? Would he come to regret living in the muggle world with her? How would Harry and Ron take it when they found out?

Bugger. She got to thinking too much again.

"Hey, Draco?" Hermione mumbled.

"Hmm?"

"Do you have a dream? Something that you've always wanted to do?"

"Why do you ask?"

Wasn't it obvious?

"We're free," Hermione said, sliding her arm to the side a bit so she could peek at him. It was a mistake, on her part, as she found his gaze boring into hers. She was finding it rather difficult to think when he focused on her like that. "Isn't there something you want to do with that freedom?"

"You forget I'm on parole," Draco lightly chided.

"I did not!" Hermione retorted. "Surely there's something you want to do. What is it?"

"Well," he said, his long fingers starting to drum on the tabletop. "I thought I might open an apothecary. Maybe in somewhere like America. It would have to be a place far away from here, where no one knows who I am."

Hermione started, bolting upright. "You'd leave?"

No! Why on earth would he do that? He couldn't leave her! That right, foul, loathsome git had no right to get under her skin, take up space in her head, and make her his friend just to up and abandon her like that!

Said right, foul, loathsome git stared at her pointedly. "Death Eater. Remember?"

That statement left her fuming. How dare he!

"Draco Lucius," Hermione hissed.

His eyebrows shot up. "Hermione Jean."

"You're my friend, Draco," the brunette slurred. "You wouldn't just leave me like that. It's... quite... rude." The drunk woman sighed, resigning herself to fully sitting up with her elbows on the table with her chin resting on her palms. Hermione stared at her friend just as pointedly as he did her, silently daring him to argue. "I would have to drag you back here if you tried to leave!"

It was quite hilarious to watch Draco mirror her pose. What wasn't funny, however, was how he made it look much more elegant than she did. The git.

"You forget that I'm not a very polite person."

Hermione smirked. "Don't let your mother hear you say that."

Draco's eyes, much to her amusement, widened. "Leave my mother out of this!"

"Well, stop talking about permanently leaving the country, and I promise not to tell Narcissa that her precious baby boy has this awful tendency of being less than a perfect gentleman."

He wouldn't really leave, no matter what he said. No doubt he'd thought about it, as his past was certainly still following him around. For that she couldn't really blame him. It wouldn't mean anything at the end of the day, though. He would stay put, if for no other reason but to be close to his mother.

Draco shook his head slowly, a wry smile pulling up at the corners of his mouth. "It was just a thought, Hermione."

Internally, the curly haired witch was doing a tabletop victory dance. Outwardly, she kept her eyes glued to her glass as she topped it off. "I know."

"You keep surprising me. You know that?"

Hermione's head snapped up. "What?"

The second her gaze landed on her drinking partner, she had to remind herself to breathe. It had absolutely nothing to do with the leisurely glide of his tongue across his lips, gathering a few stray drops of alcohol. Nor did it have a thing to do with the slow, lazy trailing of his fingertips around the rim of his glass. It wasn't the small patch of ivory chest hairs peeking out from his shirt, trying—and failing—to tease her eye. Under no circumstances did the playful look he gave make her want to blush like a third year. Certainly not. Not even a little bit.

It was merely warm in here, and she'd had a lot to drink. That was all.

"You should have been in Slytherin."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm sure that would have been a joy for you."

"Don't be like that."

"Like what?"

"You're deflecting. Trust me. I know it when I see it."

It took her a few extra moments to think about it. She ran their conversation through her intoxicated mind, but then realization hit her.

"Know me that well already, do you?"

Draco's responding smirk was worth all the gold in England.

"Your actions typically contradict your words."

Hermione threw her head back in a loud, boisterous laugh. "They do not! I'm afraid you still hold the title for that one!"

"Still, you would have made one hell of a Slytherin."

"I'm choosing to take that as a compliment."

Draco tossed his drink back in one large gulp. "Take it however you want, Hermione."

She rolled her eyes at him and took a sip of her own firewhiskey before saying, "Bloody Slytherins."

"Bloody Gryffindors."

Before either of them could stop themselves, they grinned at what had become their own inside joke.

An epiphany hit Hermione, as she stared a little too long at her friend. "You know, maybe... I can... help."

"Oh? With what?"

Hermione grinned. "That shop you want to open. As it happens, potion brewing is an art that doesn't require, and I quote, 'silly wand waving.'"

The pair snorted, remembering their first year.

"Let's see how you feel once you're sober," Draco suggested.

Hermione drew up short. "You might be right."

"What do you mean? I'm always right."

Hermione fought the way her heart warmed under Draco's stare. If he had any idea how charming he could be, even while being a bit of a prat, he'd be the wizarding world's greatest menace to witches. At least, a bigger menace than he already was. She just wondered if he knew how great of a nuisance he was already becoming to her heart strings. Silently, she decided that it was probably for the best if she didn't drink with him again. Or possibly ever. "Sure, Draco," she said sarcastically.

The pair's heads snapped toward the front of the pub when static from a radio loudly filled the space. Well, so much for Aberforth being passed out somewhere. "Ruddy piece of shite," the pair heard him grumbling, before the static faded into a song that nearly made Hermione squeal with delight. Fantastic summers listening to her parent's radio came to mind, overwhelming her with memories of dancing freely in the backyard under the stars and singing along to every song she knew. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine they would be so close to muggle radio towers! The pub owner was just about to change it when Hermione called out, "Wait! Aberforth, could you leave it there, please?"

Hermione turned, beaming at Draco with excitement she hadn't felt since... she couldn't remember when. This, to her, was more magical than any spell she had ever cast in her life. "Come on! Dance with me!" He blinked rapidly before an easy, heart stopping smile graced his face. With one flick of his wand, all the tables moved to the sides of the room, their chairs neatly stacked on top. Hermione's heart nearly jumped out of her chest when he stood and offered her his hand.

The second their fingers touched, the world stopped moving.

The melodic sounds of electric guitars swept through the room, much in the same way the feel of Draco's hand on her waist swept into her heart. With her other hand resting on his shoulder, she found herself caught somewhere between the melody and Draco gently turning them in a small circle around the room.

It's down to this
I've got to make this life make sense
Can anyone tell what I've done

"I don't know this song," Draco murmured. Two hypnotic pools of gray bore into her soul, drawing her in, and she was lost in his spell. She never stood a chance.

"That's because it's muggle," Hermione breathed.

I missed the life
I missed the colors of the world
Can anyone tell where I am

"How is it playing here?" Draco said. His voice carried gently to her ears, but his gaze intensified with every note. This wizard was out to kill her, and she would die in a perfect state of bliss.

'Cause now again I've found myself
So far down, away from the sun
That shines into the darkest place
I'm so far down, away from the sun again

"I haven't the slightest clue," Hermione answered.

She didn't know if it was the alcohol thrumming in her veins, or the music that seemed to be speaking directly to the pair of them, or if it was the intimacy of this moment, if this was how she would go, Hermione couldn't think of a better way to die. Draco would kill her slowly, gently, and she knew she'd let him do it.

"You mean to tell me there's something you don't know?"

"Draco, I may be smart, but I'm not Merlin."

I'm over this
I'm tired of living in the dark
Can anyone see me down here
The feeling's gone
There's nothing left to lift me up
Back into the world I've known

Hermione threw her arms around Draco's neck, nuzzling her face into his chest. She knew he would initially stiffen. After all, she was still who she was—and so was he. He'd come an amazingly long way in the last two years, but it wasn't like the world had completely turned upside down. She knew that their previous interactions were different because he had been prepared for them. Yet somehow, she knew he wouldn't push her away. They were friends now, right?

"Besides," Hermione whispered. "You forget you can be pretty brilliant, too."

The brunette's heart soared when he wound his arms around her waist.

The pair found an awkward, but sweet rhythm, simply swaying a bit in a circle in the middle of the pub's dusty floor. Hermione felt an odd tightening in her chest when she realized she'd literally just found heaven in the Hog's Head—wrapped in Draco Malfoy's arms.

Her hold on him tightened a bit, relishing the feel of his grip tightening in turn. This was a thousand times better than the fancy, choreographed dance she once shared with Victor, or even the silly, senseless dances shared with the boys and Ginny over the last year at Grimmauld. This felt different—and she knew she would have to swallow it all down, lest she ruin everything her and Malfoy were building.

She was still her, and he was still him. She should be happy with what they had. It was already so much more than she ever expected to have with him.

Neither of them let go as, miraculously, one song turned into two. It seemed that Merlin himself had a hand in it, and Hermione couldn't have been more grateful.

Find me here,
And speak to me.
I want to feel you,
I need to hear you.

"What are you going to do now, Hermione?" Draco whispered; his whiskey kissed lips brushing against her ear. She suppressed the shiver that threatened to expose her.

"Right now, or are you talking about the future?" Hermione breathed. In the background, muggle musicians were telling on her, spilling her deepest secret—one she was only just beginning to realize—openly and loudly into the air. She turned her face back into Draco's chest, refusing to allow the wizard to see evidence of her heart's betrayal against all lines of friendship. It was never supposed to be like this. Never.

You are the light,
That's leading me,
To the place,
Where I find peace again.

If he knew, he'd leave her.

He was grateful that she saved his life. He already crossed every line of pureblood teachings by simply becoming her friend. He crossed more by merely suggesting living as a muggle—even part time.

Be thankful for what you have, Hermione.

It's a crush. Hang in there.

It will pass, just like the ones you had on Viktor and Ron.

You are the strength,
That keeps me walking.
You are the hope,
That keeps me trusting.

"Both," Draco murmured. For the love of the all the gods and Merlin, why did his voice have to come out husky, and even a bit sensual? Being friends with Draco Malfoy was going to be a hell of a lot harder than she ever thought possible. Where Voldemort hadn't been able to kill her with force, Draco was going to utterly murder her by way of seduction. Unintentional seduction, at that!

Hermione then gave him the only answer she could. "Live, Draco. I want to live, and mark off every single thing on my bucket list."

How can I stand here with you,
And not be moved by you?
Would you tell me,
How could it be,
Any better than this?

A deaf person wouldn't miss the tenderness she heard in his voice. It was no wonder he had the likes of Pansy falling over him throughout school. It also wasn't any wonder that he had such a close-knit group of friends. If he was this... warm... with everyone he was close to, it was a wonder that this side of him hadn't been exposed years ago. Then again, this side of him wasn't something he openly shared. She knew that now.

"You're talking muggle again, Hermione."

Bluebell flames ignited in her chest. Merlin help her.

"It's a list of things that someone wants to do... during their lifetime."

Her face warmed when she felt the shaking of Draco's chest. "Of course, you have a list for that kind of thing."

"Shut up, Draco." The words held no weight. She couldn't make them. She was entirely too comfortable.

Cause you're all I want,
You're all I need,
You're everything, everything.

You're all I want,
You're all I need,
You're everything, everything.

Hermione buried her face deeper in Draco's chest.

Her mind and heart waged war when she felt his cheek resting on top of her head as they continued to sway.

She didn't know whether it was the fact that she was drunk or the moment itself, but she knew that if she wasn't careful, he really would become her everything.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

As the song drifted to a close, a critical thought occurred to Hermione. "Oh, bugger."

The pair stopped their swaying instantly. "What?"

"You've never been to my parent's house, and I can't apparate."

Hermione's stomach dropped when Draco paled in response.

"Well," he said nervously.

"No," Hermione gasped. "You—You wouldn't..."

Her heart began to shatter to pieces in her chest. He couldn't—he wouldn't—he wasn't that kind of monster.

The idea that Draco may have been in her parent's home, preparing to do God-Knows-What...

She wanted to crumble onto the floor. She wanted to scream. She wanted...

But she knew him. Didn't she? No. Draco wouldn't.

"Wait!" Draco said, scrambling for words. "It's not what you think."

"Then. What. Is it?" Hermione said through gritted teeth. He'd been there, trying to get her to talk when she found out she lost them. He couldn't possibly...

But Voldemort had threatened to kill his family.

"I was sent there by the Dark Lord," Draco confessed quietly.

Hermione's heart turned to dust. Her first instinct was to jump out of his hold, to get out of there, to run until her legs wouldn't carry her anymore, but Draco only held her tighter.

"Listen! I spent the entire night before trying to figure out how to divert Dolohov, or at least a way to help them escape. Somehow. But then—"

Two fingers lightly grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze while his other arm secured a hold around her waist. Within them, she couldn't find a single insincerity. A spark of hope bloomed before she gave it permission to.

"I thought, 'It's Granger. She probably had something planned six months ago, the bloody swot. Can't even take a class without having at least one month's worth of lesson plans in her overstuffed bag.'"

Hermione stilled. He wasn't wrong, and it was absolutely something he would think. After all, that was the name she built for herself.

"So we got there, and I was ready to blow up a tree or something; pretend it was an accident so that while Dolohov was riding my case, the noise would have tipped them off so they could run."

The tortured look on Draco's face felt a lot like ripping out a part of herself.

"I already stood by while my aunt tortured you. I wasn't sure I could stomach doing the same with your parents. Hell, I prayed to Merlin you had been your usual self, because I really wasn't looking forward to dealing with the consequences of blundering up that one."

"Draco—" Hermione gasped. Her heart hammered against her ribcage as his story filled her mind. What had Voldemort done to him?

"Let me tell you, I'd never been more thankful that you were the biggest swot at Hogwarts. Dolohov got pissed off when he searched the whole place and didn't find anyone, meanwhile I..."

"You what?"

"I left some extra warding enchantments on the place when he wasn't looking. Made it look like I was just leaving a message." Draco swallowed, and Hermione's breath stilled. "Wrote it on the wall with my own blood. Right over the mantle sitting above the fireplace. That idiot Dolohov was pissed off to no end realized it wasn't connected to the Floo."

Hermione blinked.

She blinked again.

Her brain knew words.

Her brain knew lots of words.

She even knew some rather large words.

She knew she should use her words.

But she couldn't find a single one.

"Hermione, breathe," Draco sighed. "Look, if you want to tell me to piss off, I can—"

Hermione threw her arms around Draco in one of her crushing hugs that made his eyes widen and jaw drop in shock. "Thank you," she cried into his chest. "You... you tried to protect my family, when you had absolutely no reason or obligation to. Thank you, Draco."

"Hermione—"

Her eyes flashed up at his, warning him that there was no room for him to worm his way out of this one. "Don't you dare try to play this off, Draco Lucius. Now, if you don't mind, I think it's time for us to go home. You have to be back at work in the morning, and I apparently have a house to clean, as my wards clearly didn't hold, and inconsiderate Death Eaters were trashing the place."

Hermione rolled her eyes at the gears she saw turning in Draco's head. With a swift smack to his arm, she snapped. "Not you! Honestly, Draco, we've been over this. Now let's go home. I'm tired and Aberforth is going to kick us out any minute."

She deliberately didn't think about the butterflies that rioted in her stomach when Draco wound his arms around her. Instead, she rested her head against his chest, bracing for the uncomfortable feeling that came with apparition. She squeezed her eyes shut and prayed that she didn't vomit on him. "Are you alright to apparate? I don't want you to get splinched."

"Don't be thick," Draco murmured. "Of course, I'm alright."

Hermione nodded, not trusting herself to speak, just before they left Hogsmeade behind them.