"What's better, murder or rape?" Draco asked, his eyes glittering like sharp knives (or they would be, if Hermione Granger could see his actual eye color. Instead, they glittered like sapphires, and just as cold).

A slight smile traced Hermione's face, as she responded back, just as quick, "Murder, obviously. Rape leaves the person shattered long after the murder's buried."

Draco fought back a challenging smile, enjoying the quickness - and thoughtfulness- of the lass's answer. "Your turn," he demanded, the slight upturn of his lips betraying his amusement, and twisting the arrogant words into something less harmful.

"What's worse, the spoiled prince who steals a scone, or the starveling pauper who steals a diamond?" Hermione asked, her voice light.

"The prince, for he's already got everything, and probably hasn't a clue that there could be consequences to his actions. The pauper recognizes the risks, and takes them anyway." With a wry smirk, Draco thought that he could certainly remember a time when he had been that brashly arrogant. Not that he wasn't still arrogant, but he at least had learned some perspective.

"Your turn." Hermione said, her lips shaping the words enticingly in their deliberate slowness.

"What's better, a quick death that tells you nothing, or a slow excruciating death that gives you valuable insight?" Draco asked, his mind sorting through tales and history, as he combed them for incisive questions.

"A quick death." Hermione said, pausing momentarily - her eyes burned as she looked into Draco Malfoy's eyes. "You could never trust what's said under torture anyway. It's one thing to kill someone, sometimes even necessary... but torture? No."

Draco Malfoy nodded, satisfied with her answer. They continued in this manner for some time, shooting questions back and forth - if the questions were tricky, well, the answers got even more convoluted. They didn't notice the bar emptying out, nor the serving wench shooting them increasingly aggravated glances.

Finally, she came over, and said stiffly, "The pub is closing. You need to leave."

Hermione started, and began to stand, her face pinking in embarrassment.

Without thinking about it, Draco put a hand on her arm, gently restraining her. "Do you have rooms at this inn?"

"Of course, sir, that'll be twenty quid a night."

"Do you need payment upfront?"

"No, when you leave will be sufficient. You've run up quite a tab, you realize..." Draco, looking at the line of drinks, stiffly wondered exactly how much he had drunk. Alack, alas, it didn't matter - he had the money to pay, after all.

Hermione made to brush away at the hand on her arm, starting to open her mouth to excuse herself - her eyes clouding over with the troubled thoughts of how exactly she was going to enter Grimmauld Place again...

Draco looked at her, his hand tightening almost instinctively on her arm. She's probably thinking she should be going now... "Please, don't leave - not yet, at any rate." Draco said, softly in that Welsh lilt that was his native tongue.

Hermione looked at the man beside her, her eyes involuntarily widening, "What-" She took a moment to study him, and continued, "What's wrong?"

Draco smirked a one-sided smirk, saying, "You'll think me a fool, and a drink addled one at that."

"Tell me." Hermione said, and her eyes and voice shone with her conviction.

"I don't like to be alone at night..." Draco said, half disbelieving he was telling anyone this. "I can... I can hear them howling..."

Hermione Granger looked at him, "What? Whatever do you mean?"

"It's silly - no, it's downright stupid."

"You can tell me."

"Fine" he said, and then struggled a moment to gather his courage, "werewolves." His eyes flashed and he said, "And before you tell me they aren't real, I know that."

Hermione had her answer, and she wasn't sure quite what to do about it. He had come from a region which really did believe in werewolves, way back in the villages. He'd probably listened to one too many tales when he was young. And you could see that he'd been through a lot - more than any young man should. Well, if Hermione wasn't sure exactly what she was going to do about it, she knew what she wasn't, and that was dismiss his fears.

"Okay, I'll come with." Hermione said stoutly, her robust voice ringing with conviction, "but only until you get settled."

Draco nodded a bit stiffly, and then gently guided Hermione up the stairs with a hand on her back.

[a/n: whenever you see something like the last chapter, you should have expected something like this chapter. Write me a review.

If you're wondering why Hermione and Draco are discussing philosophy, it's literally the only thing that Draco can talk about without exposing how abominably ignorant he is about technology and current non-magical events.

In this continuity, the werewolves may as well be made up. Draco's only met Lupin, after all.]