Hermione had always been early to rise - there was something about the crisp stillness of the autumn air that called to her. Not that it was autumn, of course, but still... The morning's chill was the pleasantest time to be awake in muggy London, during the heat of summer. Oh, sure, Hermione was well aware that London wasn't terribly hot compared to other places - it was hardly Egypt, after all.

But oh, the humidity!

Lying in her bed, she shifted, thinking back to that night. That youngman - how had she not asked his name? With a jerk, she slapped her pillow atop her face in embarrassment. She... she really wanted to see him again. Hermione frowned, honest with herself if with no one else - yes, she wanted to see him like that as well, but... she found herself wondering what those bright blue eyes would look like, if they weren't consumed by darkness and doubts.

Longingly, Hermione shook her head, chiding herself at the rather spurious inclination to sneak out and go back to the tavern. He was from Wales - or someplace else. Far away. He'd given no sign - not one - that he was staying past the morning. Still, there was some foolish idea in the back of her head that said - just look!

Shaking her head, she thought back to that morning. Harry had actually asked Snape to look for her? And Snape had agreed? That... that couldn't be right, she thought. Maybe Harry had tried to get Lupin to look for her - or, well, anyone but Snape. Hermione Granger could see Snape's nasty mug cruelly cutting down Harry's choice, before resignedly (with more than a touch of mordant humor) agreeing to look in someone else's stead. Harry hated Snape and the feeling was quite mutual. And Hermione Granger was far from in Snape's good books. It didn't... didn't seem possible. How had Harry managed it? Hermione thought crossly to herself. Well, I'm just going to have to ask. Not Snape of course, that would be seen as insolent, I'm sure.

Draco Malfoy lay on his bed, letting the morning light filter through his curtains. He yawned, stretching, enjoying the first moment of peace and quiet he'd had in days. The rest of the Slytherins seemed to have gotten the idea that if he wasn't constantly engaged - call it bothered, which is what it really was - he'd be in the wind and nobody to stop him. Nevermind that Professor Severus Snape had neatly sealed the door against even the most cunning of slips - and no matter how stircrazy Draco Malfoy got, he was not going to leave out the window. Besides being poor form, it would certainly draw the attention of Muggles. And who knew what they'd think - or do, to someone so out of the ordinary as crawling down a drainpipe? Draco Malfoy certainly had no reason to want to spend the day in gaol.

Still, Draco thought softly, he's like to see that maid again - woman, he corrected himself. Her eyes had gleamed in the darkness of the room they had briefly shared together, bright with a tinge of pain, and yet shining with quiet strength. He wanted her... now. He wanted to see those bright eyes again. He hadn't really realized it at the time, of course - but finding someone who would actually take him seriously - not toss off after a question or two, or deflect with a cut or a jibe. It had felt wonderful to verbally tussle - not having to watch his words, or hers.

He wanted to see her again, he thought, collapsing down onto the bed with a longsuffering sigh.

He wasn't sure whether her leaving before he had even woken up meant something - anything at all. Was that normal? Certainly no one at the inn seemed to care, but Draco wouldn't be surprised if that wasn't a studious "None of My Business, so long as you Pay" policy kept neat and trim. Was she upset? Did she leave in tears? Did she press a kiss to my brow? Did she try to wake me up?

He didn't even know her name.

[a/n: mushy mushy. Yeah, I know, it's been multiple days.

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