The Duality of Fate

Hermione was running late. And tardiness for Professor Granger was a sure fire way to ensure she was in a foul mood by the time she finally made it to class with her Fifth Year students. Not an effective way to kick off one's birthday, by any means, and add on the additional stress of very little sleep combined with the travesty of the essays she had graded last night – yes, today was not going to be a good day.

Most definitely a Tuesday, she lamented, as she paused just outside her classroom door, her right hand massaging her temples as she breathed deep. Then she pulled open the heavy door and entered.

A hush fell over the students as Hermione calmly walked to her desk at the front of the large room, the heels of her black stilettos clicking loudly against the stone floor, her dress robes swishing around her as she hurried forth. She made a show of depositing their graded scrolls on the table closest to her desk before turning to face her Advanced Transfiguration class with a disapproving scowl.

She folded her arms across her chest and surveyed her students, meeting each and every one of their gazes with a pointed stare.

"Care to wager a guess why I am so late?" she finally asked.

At first, nothing but silence.

"Because it's your birthday?" one voice piped up from the back, followed by a series of snickers from the other students.

"I bet she had a fight with her Death Eater boyfriend…" voiced another, one of the Slytherin boys, to be sure.

Hermione wasn't about to dignify that observation with a response, so, instead, her stare turned to stone. "I. Am. Late. Because I was up all night grading your essays on the importance of using Transfiguration in the Wizarding World and was simply appalled by the ineptitude and disgracefully poor writing that you all managed to turn in. This sort of work is clearly unacceptable for any student, let alone Fifth Years, who should be preparing to take their O.W.L.S., not getting penalized on poor spelling and woefully ill-informed descriptions of spells they learned in First Year. This is laziness personified."

There was a chorus of mumbled "sorrys" and heads bowed in shame now.

"We will spend the next several days reciting the proper pronunciation of our spells…" Hermione huffed, which was met by the sound of pained moans and groans, "…and you will all rewrite your essays on two rolls of parchments…" (more groans) "… which will be turned in this Friday."

"But there's a big Quidditch match between Slytherin and Gryffindor this Thursday!" complained Ben, the shaggy haired Captain of the Slytherin team.

"And?" Hermione questioned.

"Come on, Professor Granger…." Ben whined, and she was very much reminded of another Slytherin in the height of his youth, who also complained a lot about assignments, and whom she was actively trying to put out of her mind.

She approached Ben, giving him a cold look, "If Quidditch is so important to you, Mr. Ridley, perhaps you should not procrastinate and get your essay completed before the big game on Thursday."

"Please, Professor… can't we have until Monday?" he tried.

"Would you like to make it three scrolls, Mr. Ridley?" came Hermione's response.

The rest of the class groaned in unison now, with one of Ben's fellow players throwing a balled up paper at his head. Ben shrunk down in his chair, clearly pouting.

"Two scrolls due on Friday," Hermione reiterated, then she turned back to her desk and picked up her text book, "Now, take out your wands and turn to page 35…" Feeling a bit flushed, all of sudden, she removed her dress robes and slung them on the back of her chair, leaving her clad in her black long sleeved one-piece jumpsuit before turning back to face her class. She felt a slight twinge of guilt at their sour faces but shook it off.

"Repeat after me – vera verto."

"Vera verto," the students replied.

"Pronunciation is key. Again. Vera verto." Hermione clasped her hands behind her back and began to pace up and down the rows of tables. "Use your wands," she dictated.

"Vera verto," the class repeated in unison, wands flicking before them.

"Again," Hermione ordered.

"Vera verto," they tried.

"Keep repeating," was her next statement, and the students obliged, some with more ferocity than others.

Hermione listened, still casually weaving her way through the tables. She almost made it to the back of the class before turning to walk between the windows and the last row of tables – the most common place for the Slytherins to sit.

And that's when she saw it – Ben Ripley casually dropping a folded piece of parchment on his fellow Slytherin's table, who sat directly behind him. The young man, Simon Rathborne, unfolded it and snickered, rather loudly.

"Vera verto," came Hermione's booming voice, echoing off the stone wall, as she calmly made her way down the row, her eyes never leaving that passed note.

She came to stand directly behind Mr. Rathborne now, and he conveniently tried to hide the parchment beneath his text.

Hermione appeared at his side and held out her palm. Simon tried to ignore it but Hermione cleared her throat. He heaved a heavy sigh and took out the paper, passing it to the Professor.

Hermione opened the note, keeping her face stern and cold as she looked at the contents. Later, she would have to pat herself on the back at her ability to remain expressionless in that moment. Because coming face to face with a lewd and rather detailed animated drawing of one's self was quite shocking in and of itself, especially from 15 year old male students.

She was drawn in a short skirt and very tight blouse, the buttons barely staying clasped over her ample bosom, her curly hair three times the side of her head. She was bending over to chide a Slytherin student, one would assume Mr. Rathborne, when the animated drawing took on a life of its own. Mr. Rathborne whispered "engorgio" and her boobs grew huge, almost to the size of melons; while the student behind her, vastly resembling Mr. Ridley, whispered "wingardium leviosaa", making her skirt fly up.

Hermione swallowed. She wasn't wearing any knickers.

She watched the scene play out on the paper two more times before she calmly folded the parchment and looked up at Mr. Rathborne and Mr. Ridley, her face an impassive mask. "While I must commend the artist on his technique, I can't help but point out that my waist is entirely too small to support breasts that big. Clearly, I would topple over."

The classmates roared with laughter while the two boys turned a bright shade of red.

"Furthermore, it's leviOsa not leviosAA; I've seen First Years with better pronunciation than you lot. 10 points each from Slytherin." And with that she walked back to her desk and laid the drawing down before turning to face the class.

"Vera verto..." she repeated. There were some moans, but the students repeated the incantation. The rest of the hour went by uneventfully.

"Don't forget to grab your scrolls on the way out," Hermione called out as she dismissed the Fifth Years. She strolled to her desk and took her seat, pulling the Third Year scrolls out of her bag to begin the task of grading those. She could feel eyes on her but she didn't bother to look up from her task.

There was the distinct clearing of a throat, followed by "Professor Granger…"

"Yes, Mr. Ridley?" she asked, still scribbling on the scroll with her quill.

"I… I'm sorry," he replied.

Hermione froze but still didn't look up at her student. "It's quite alright, Mr. Ridley." She continued writing.

"You… you're not going to… to… tell your Death Eater boyfriend, will you?" he stammered.

She stopped what she was writing and replaced the quill into her ink pot. She clasped her hands in front of her and looked up at Mr. Ridley, "What? And give him the same idea?" She smirked, cocking an eyebrow.

Ben relaxed, "Yeah, Mr. Malfoy has quite a reputation in Slytherin House..." He swallowed, pulling at his collar.

"I imagine he does," Hermione confirmed. "Anything else?"

"Uh… just…" He pulled out a green apple from the pocket of his ropes and laid it on her desk. "Happy Birthday, Professor."

A smile now tugged at her lips, "Thank you, Mr. Ridley." He turned to walk away then. Hermione picked up the apple and rolled it in her hands before suddenly calling out, "Mr. Ridley?"

The young boy paused and turned to face her.

She rose from her chair, grabbing the piece of parchment with the offending drawing and walked over to him. She held it out to him, "See that this is properly disposed of."

"Y-yes, Professor…."

"Perhaps an incendio will do the trick?" she offered.

He gave her a sheepish smile, "Yes, Professor." He took the parchment and tucked it away into his pocket.

Hermione folded her arms over her chest, "Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything," he stated, perhaps a little too breathlessly.

"Tell the others the essay is due Monday…"

His eyes lit up, "Really?"

"Since it's such an important game and all…" She rolled her eyes.

"Thank you, Professor!" he exclaimed. "I expect you'll be there?" he asked hopefully.

"Cheering on the Gryffindors," she replied.

He gave her a cock-sure smirk, "Nah… you'll be rooting for Slytherin…I bet my galleons on it."

She laughed, "Go on now!" And she shooed him away. But just before he stepped out into the hall, she replied, "And Mr. Ridley, no illustrations on your essay."

"I promise, Professor." And he skipped out of the classroom. Hermione heard him greet another Professor just as she was returning to her desk.

Harry poked his head into the classroom, "I just saw a lot of pouting faces leave this classroom, Professor Granger."

Again she rolled her eyes, "Well, they deserved it with the shoddy quality of work they've been giving me."

"Awww, come now, Professor, I'm sure it's not all that bad."

Hermione just snorted her response.

Harry walked in with a smile, "Happy Birthday 'Mione."

She swallowed, barely mustering a smile, "Thanks, Harry." She returned to grading her scrolls. She knew she was being rude but she simply wasn't in the mood to celebrate.

Harry shoved his hands into his trouser pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels. "Still meeting us for dinner tonight?" He finally questioned.

Hermione sighed, "Well, now that you mention it…"

"No! Nope. You're not backing out, Granger!" Harry interrupted. "I have a very pregnant wife who's been cooped up in the house with a toddler and if you're going to back out, you have to be the one to tell her. I will not survive disappointing her."

Hermione relented, "Fine. I'll be there."

Harry clapped his hands together, "Thank Merlin! Ginny would kill me otherwise…. And I'm not exaggerating."

Hermione just rolled her eyes. "Eight o'clock?" she confirmed.

He gave a nod then he shuffled a little closer to her desk, "So…uh… will you be alone or… should we be expecting…"

"Alone," came her flat response.

"Gotcha. I'll glean from your tone that it isn't something you wish to discuss."

"That is correct, Potter."

"Well, if something changes…"

"It won't," she stated matter-of-factly.

He gave her a curt nod. "Then… uh… try to, at least, have a better day… for the sake of your students." And Harry hurried out the door before she could comment on his barb.

She returned to grading the scrolls, but her vision blurred and her throat tightened. No, she wasn't going to cry… Sure, her birthdays usually were a disaster… after all, they were a reminder of how she no longer had her parents in her life… but this year just seemed worse somehow. Maybe it had something to do with a certain Slytherin Prince who would remain nameless or maybe she was just starting to feel her age. Either way, she had to push those feelings down into her chest and not revisit them, especially here at school.

She choked down her sadness and tried to concentrate. But the door to her classroom creaked open.

"For the love of Godric, Harry, I said I would be there!" she venomously scolded her friend.

"Ms. Granger," came the stern, disapproving voice of McGonagall.

Hermione shot to her feet, "Headmistress! Forgive me, I thought you were Harry…er… I mean, Potter… Professor Potter, that is."

"Yes, I am often confused with a young, twenty-something year old man," she replied sardonically.

Hermione swallowed nervously, "What can I do for you today?"

McGonagall stared hard, clearly assessing her, causing Hermione to squirm under her gaze. She folded her hands in front of her, "Well, Ms. Granger, it seems I have come across something in the halls which I believe belongs to you."

Hermione furrowed her brow, "I don't remember losing anything…"

"Sure about that, Granger," drawled an all too familiar male voice from behind McGonagall.

"Draco!" Hermione exclaimed.

He took a step around the imposing Headmistress, giving Hermione his most swoon-worthy grin. Her throat went dry at the sight of him.

Today he was dressed head to toe in black Muggle attire with jeans, motorcycle boots, a too-tight v-neck t-shirt and nice leather jacket Hermione suspected cost the equivalent to one month of her salary… if not two months. It made his pale skin and grey eyes have an unearthly glow. He looked absolutely gorgeous and judging by his smirk, he definitely knew it.

"I can only assume by your expression, Ms. Granger, that Mr. Malfoy's presence here today is as much a surprise to you as it was to me," McGonagall declared in her normal scolding tone.

Hermione swallowed, "Yes, Headmistress." She met McGonagall's gaze, refusing to even spare Draco a glance.

McGonagall turned and looked at Draco now, "Mr. Malfoy, as I'm sure you remember, we do have rules here. The next time you decide to surprise Ms. Granger with an unannounced visit, it would be in your best interest to send an owl. We wouldn't want you to be mistaken for an intruder…"

"Come now, Professor, if I sent an owl, wouldn't really be much of a surprise, now would it?" He gave her a dashing smile.

"Do not be cheeky, Mr. Malfoy. You may not be a student anymore but as long as you are a guest in this castle, you can still receive detention." She paused, "And it's Headmistress now."

Draco cleared his throat, "Forgive me… Headmistress."

She stared at him for the space of several heartbeats before returning her gaze to Hermione. "Ms. Granger, I look forward to the wedding," she replied with a smirk and a curt nod. McGonagall glided past Draco now and out of the classroom, moving to shut the door. But at the last second, she seemed to reconsider, leaving it halfway open.

They both just watched her leave then stood in silence for a moment.

"She will always think of me as the boy who let Death Eaters into this school," Draco commented with a sheepish smile. Then he turned to look at Hermione and, upon seeing her disapproving frown, his smile faded into a look of contrition.

"Malfoy, what are doing here?" She was confused but also angry.

He ran a hand nervously through his hair and took a step towards her desk, "It's your birthday, Hermione. You didn't really think I'd let the day pass without giving you your present, did you?"

Her gaze now landed on the long box in his hand, beautifully wrapped and tied with a sapphire colored ribbon. Most likely the handiwork of Narcissa, she imagined. She snatched it out of his grasp and tossed it on her desk, "Thank you. You can leave now." She retook her seat and picked up her quill, returning to grading the papers before her and otherwise ignoring him.

He had the audacity to chuckle at her, which only seemed to further irritate her. He moved to the table directly in front of her desk, a spot she often reserved for the most undisciplined of her students, which fittingly were usually the Slytherin boys. He casually leaned back against it, arms folding over his chest, legs crossed at the ankles. He just watched her, a smirk pulling at his lips.

After about ten minutes of silence, where she made a show of continuing to ignore him, all the while forcing herself to read and reread the same sentence over and over because she couldn't seem to get her damn brain to cooperate (It should be a crime for one person to smell that fucking good!), he spoke, "You can stop pretending my presence doesn't affect you, Granger."

She finally looked up at him, "Why are you still here?"

Again that smirk (oh how she loathed that smirk), "You never told me what time we were meeting your mates for dinner."

Her mouth dropped open in surprise.

He cocked an arrogant eyebrow, "What? Thought I forgot?"

Her surprise quickly turned to anger then. "Dinner's been cancelled," she practically growled, returning her gaze to the scroll in front of her.

"Good," he replied, without missing a beat, "Then allow me to take you to dinner. I believe I remember someone mentioning a craving for pizza…"

She made a very unladylike sound, snorting with disdain, before she glanced up at him, "Sorry, I guess I wasn't clear – dinner with you has been cancelled; dinner with my mates is still very much happening." She returned to writing on the scroll, making up some inane gibberish just to keep her hands busy. She tried to remain as nonchalant as possible.

He drummed his fingers on the table in which he was leaning against, "Very well, allow me to take you to lunch then. You have to eat."

She stopped what she was doing, turned and opened her right top drawer in her desk and took out her plastic wrapped sandwich and placed it beside her. She withdrew one-half, taking a small bite before setting it down, her eyes never once looking up at him. She continued reading.

He chucked low, "Alright, Granger. How about later… after school, perhaps? I could meet you in Hogsmeade…"

"So many papers to grade," she interrupted, "Probably going to have to work late…" She gave him a hard look now, "…Very late…"

He met her gaze dead on, "That's okay. I don't have any other plans."

She cocked her head to the side, giving him the once-over, "A busy man such as yourself? Your schedule must be so full. Surely you have several parties to attend or perhaps afternoon drinks with your mates, where you sit around in your study discussing Muggle society over a bottle of your finest Firewhiskey with your laissez-faire attitude…"

His smile wavered for just a moment before responding, "We usually reserve the Firewhiskey and Muggle discussions for Thursday poker nights, so I'm all yours, Granger." He paused, his expression growing solemn, "I just want to spend time with you."

She looked down at her scroll, jotting down something as she again snorted. "Until something better comes along, you mean," she mumbled.

He sighed in frustration, "You're angry with me. I expected that."

"And yet here you are…"

"Alright, let's have it then. Scream at me… tell me how vile I am… hell, hex me, if that will make you feel better… or break my nose again. Just don't freeze me out." He said the last sentence almost pleadingly.

She stopped writing. She calmly set her quill down before she stood, her hands smoothing down her trousers. She folded her hands before her and looked at him, her expression devoid of all emotion, her voice calm, "How would you feel, Draco, if we had made lunch plans just now, but before we left, Ron sauntered through that door and wanted me to go to lunch with him instead and I said yes?"

"It's not the same…." He started to protest.

"How. Would. You. Feel."

His face faltered, his gaze tempestuous, a stern frown on his lips, "Furious." Then he looked down at his feet, murmuring, "Hurt."

"No. You would have felt nothing." His head snapped up to look at her, and for one moment, she allowed her vulnerability to show as she said, "Because I would never treat you in such a manner."

She retook her seat, picked up her quill and started scribbling furiously. She was going to have to return this poor Third Year's scroll with a lot of explaining. Silence enveloped them, filled only with the scratching sound of her quill against parchment.

He pushed himself away from the table and took three steps to stand directly in front of her desk. He swallowed nervously. Cautiously, he reached out one hand and ran the pad of his thumb down her cheek. She froze, tensing beneath his touch.

She gave him a contemptuous, questioning look. He showed her his finger, "You had a bit of chalk…"

"Thank you," she replied, her tone as cold as if she was thanking him for giving her the bubonic plague.

"It's not what you think, Hermione…" he tried, then added, "…with Astoria."

She held her breath, trying to keep her voice even, "I'm listening."

But he merely sighed, took a step back and again ran his hand through his hair. She hated how perfectly disheveled he looked and yet it just made him all the more handsome.

"I don't know what you want me to say…" he groaned.

She shook her head, "Goodbye, Malfoy."

"I'm not leaving, Granger," he reiterated.

She had finally had enough. She abruptly stood, slamming her quill down. She promptly gathered up the scrolls that littered her desk and her poor excuse for a sandwich, giving him her most stern look, "In forty-five minutes my class of Third Years are going to walk through that door. I expect you to be gone before then."

She turned away, marching up the small staircase that led to her office, flinging open the door and disappearing within without a second look back.

He watched her go, tempted to follow her but wasn't too keen on actually having his nose broken once again.

"Fuck," he mumbled. He ran his fingers through his hair then thrust his hands into his jacket pockets, his left closing around the small box he had hidden there. He gazed around his old Transfiguration classroom, assailed by the unwanted onslaught of memories.

He slowly made his way down the middle row of tables, silently counting in his head until he came to the desk he had once called home. He walked over to it, took out the chair and had a seat. He drummed his fingers on the black top, tracing over his carved initials that were still there after all these years. He marveled at how this, of all things, somehow managed to survive the War when so many people had lost their lives.

Irony…

He took a deep, shuddering breath before whispering, "Revelio."

Suddenly another set of carvings in the same scrawl appeared next to his…

DLM + HJG

Draco sighed as he turned his attention to the view outside the window, the Quidditch pitch always a safe haven for his troubled mind.

Upstairs in her office, Hermione kicked the door closed with a loud bang. She stormed over to her desk, dumping her arm load of scrolls on the tabletop before flopping down into her chair with an exasperated sigh. She laid her head back and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. Instinctually she started to swivel her chair, turning herself 360 degrees, watching as the world above her spun around.

That's what it was like to be in love, she thought, as if you are constantly spinning on your axis, the blood rushing to your head, making you so dizzy until you finally just collapse on the ground in a fit of giggles.

Only she wasn't giggling at this particular moment.

She stopped her chair, facing the mess of papers on her desk. And then her eye caught on a stray curl of sapphire-colored ribbon poking out from beneath the pile. His present to her… She must have inadvertently picked it up when she grabbed her work.

She reached for it, choosing not to question her actions. She held it in her hands. It resembled a wand box, long and slightly thin… a little light. Definitely not a book, which surprised her. After all, it was always what her friends seemed to buy her and they supposedly knew her so well.

She fiddled with the ribbon. Curiosity killed the cat, she warned herself. But when exactly did she ever listen to her inner voice?

She pulled the ribbon, letting it untie and fall into her lap. She moved her fingertips beneath the box lid, slowly sliding it up. She hesitated in removing it entirely though. She paused, letting the ramifications of what she was about to do sink in. Would she forgive him? Or would it just solidify how wrong the two of them were for each other, despite the Ministry's assessment?

"Oh fuck it," she murmured.

She removed the lid. With a small gasp she stared at the contents of the box, then a tear slipped down her cheek as she sadly smiled.

3rd Year:

Ron heaved a dramatic sigh. Hermione chose to ignore him, propping her book in front of her face as she studied for the end of the year exams. Feeling ignored, Ron sighed again, even louder now.

"Ron," Harry said, "we're trying to study…"

"We're always studying…" Ron droned, "… and my leg bloody hurts…"

Hermione couldn't help herself and rolled her eyes.

"And why do we have to take these exams?" He was still whining, "We saved the bloody school… again…That should at least buy us a passing grade…"

Hermione lowered her book now, giving Ron a stern expression, "First of all, Ronald, we saved the school? Don't you mean Harry saved the school?"

"Well, you did help, 'Mione," Harry interjected, giving her a knowing grin.

"Second, none of us want a passing grade… we want to excel at our classes so we can…"

"Oh bloody hell," Ron interrupted her, "Can we have one library session where you don't lecture me about something…"

She closed her mouth in frustration. She met Harry's gaze, and the fact that it was one of pure pity made her cringe. She propped her book back up and sank in her chair, choosing now to ignore both of her best mates.

She had just managed to finally get through two-thirds of the page she was trying to study for Ancient Runes, when she heard Ron fiddling with a wrapper before popping the hard candy in his mouth and sucking on it… loudly.

The distinctive clearing of a throat drew the trio's attention to the front desk where Madam Pince was eyeballing them. She tapped her wand to the sign above her head which read, NO EATING. Both Harry and Hermione gave Ron an annoyed look.

"Old goat," he mumbled, spitting the candy out into a piece of parchment. They returned to their studying.

Moments later, Hermione felt Ron kick her foot beneath the table.

"What?" she hissed.

"Sssh…" Madame Pince warned, followed by the snickering of the Slytherins at the table just to the right of them.

"What, Ronald?" Hermione whispered.

"Do you have any of those sugar quills you like so much? I need something that Pince won't notice…" He gave her his best, most pitiful, puppy dog eyes he could muster.

"Fine," she murmured, rummaging in her bag now. She handed it to him and he responded with a lop-sided grin, "You're the best, 'Mione." Her insides fluttered at his words and she quickly looked away. She gulped and shoved her nose into her book.

Two minutes went by before he kicked her foot again. She gave him an annoyed look. "I don't understand what Snape assigned us… do you still have that Potions book with all the notes in the margin?"

She sighed, "No, I returned it to the shelf."

"Oh," he replied dejectedly. Then he moaned a little, "My leg is really killing me today…"

Harry rolled his eyes and ignored Ron, but Hermione was finding it rather hard to do. "Do you want me to go and get it for you?" she asked, already knowing the answer.

"Oh, 'Mione…. You truly are the best."

She refused to look at him now as she stood. She hated how easily he manipulated her sometimes. But that's what friends are for, right?

She walked to the stacks, her vision on her feet as her brain worked overtime deciphering her feelings for Ron. Simply put, she wasn't watching where she was going, moving towards the Potions section based on pure instinct alone. Which was her explanation to herself as to why she had been so careless, smacking into a hard form just as she turned the corner in the section she needed.

She stumbled back and would have fallen on her arse had it not been for the two strong arms that encircled her waist, hauling her against his hard body. Her breath was coming in short gasps as she stared blankly at the Slytherin crest embroidered on the chest of the one who still held her in his arms. Slowly, she raised her gaze, her vision tracing over a small smirk on nice lips, sharp pale cheekbones and deep grey eyes. Then she saw the tell-tale white blonde fringe and her mind immediately roared to life.

She placed her hands firmly on Malfoy's chest… his muscular form solid beneath her fingers… then shoved herself free of his grasp. Instinctively he raised his hands in the air in a form of surrender before taking a step back from her too.

"S-sorry, Granger…" he mumbled.

She was about to retort with a hostile, degrading name-call to match his own when she stopped herself. She screwed her face up in confusion, realizing he hadn't said one mean thing to her. He was looking down at his shuffling feet until suddenly he met her gaze. He shoved one hand through his hair then pushed past her, exiting the stacks. She just stared at his retreating form, puzzling over his strange behavior.

She returned to her table, laying the book Ron had requested in front of him before mechanically taking her seat. She shifted her gaze to the right, towards the table of Slytherins, trying to be inconspicuous, but when grey eyes clashed with her brown ones, she immediately looked away. She flipped open her book and started blindly studying, the words swimming before her. She stayed like that for almost an hour, valuable study time wasted because of one run-in with Draco freaking Malfoy.

"Psst… 'Mione…" Ron whispered.

"What?" she snapped.

"Malfoy is coming this way."

"What!?" she exclaimed. And she turned, just as Draco Malfoy sauntered up to her chair.

"Granger…" he greeted. "Pince says you took the only copy of Advanced Potions Techniques…"

"Why don't you sod off, Malfoy?" Ron interrupted.

Draco sneered, "I don't believe I was talking to you, Weasel-bee…"

Ron suddenly stood up, wobbling slightly on his injured leg which only made Malfoy laugh.

"How's the leg, Weasley? Heard you took a nasty bite from a dog…Hope you didn't give the poor animal any of your fleas."

"Well my leg is a far sight better than your nose, Malfoy…" Ron replied.

Draco's sneer vanished. He glanced quickly at Harry and then at Hermione before taking a step back. "I just need to look at that book for a moment, Granger."

Hermione looked at him then returned to her studying, "I rather think not."

His mouth fell open but then he closed it, turned and walked back to his table.

"Right foul git… thinking he can just walk over here and ask you for a favor..." Ron said.

"It was just a book," Hermione replied, shrugging.

"Did you not even notice how he didn't say one bad thing towards you," Harry offered, "I think he's scared of you now, 'Mione."

"Yea, afraid she's going to break his precious nose again," Ron agreed with a snicker. "You know I heard he's been telling everyone he fell off his broomstick. We should tell them what really happened, wipe that smirk right off his face…"

"You will do no such thing," she quickly admonished, causing both boys to stare at her. She lowered her voice, "I don't want to get expelled."

That seemed to satisfy them and they nodded in agreement. Hermione tried desperately to focus on the text she should be studying but she couldn't help feeling like someone was watching her, even though she flat out refused to look over at the Slytherin table. Finally, she relented, and dug through her bag for a sugar quill… an easy way to distract herself. She rummaged around and came up empty handed.

"Ronald Weasley, did you eat the rest of my sugar quills?!"

He sheepishly grinned, "They help me concentrate…."

"Yes, me too… which is why I have them!" She sighed in frustration, suddenly feeling very overwhelmed by the exams and Ron and whatever the hell had just happened with Malfoy. She abruptly stood.

"I'm going back to the dorm. I can't study with all these distractions," she declared.

She gathered her stuff and quickly turned to leave, inadvertently stepping in the way of Draco, as he was making his way out of the library.

They both just stammered apologies, simultaneously moving to the left then the right in an awkward attempt to get out of each other's way. Finally, he just pushed by her, mumbling something under his breath. And she watched him go with a frown of uncertainty.

The last thing she wanted to do on a Saturday was stand around in a crowded Honeydukes. But Ron had left her no choice, having eaten all her sugar quills which were her go-to nervous snack while she studied. And if she was being honest with herself, they were sort of her good luck charm when it came to end of the year exams.

She waited in the long line, eyeing the last two boxes of the addictive candy just behind the shopkeeper. She secretly hoped no one else ahead of her had the same sweet-tooth affinity on their mind, otherwise she wasn't sure what she'd do to get through her looming Potions exam. Snape was on a tear after the events with Lupin, and all the students were being forced to pay for that little adventure.

She huffed, growing impatient. She glanced up – the boxes were still there - then stuck her nose back in her Potions book. A few minutes later, the line moved. She looked behind the shopkeeper and her mouth fell open in shock. The last two boxes of sugar quills were gone!

She pushed her way through the crowd until she reached the front of the line. "Do you have any more sugar quills?" she demanded.

"Sorry, just sold the last two," he replied.

"To who?"

"I don't know… some kid. He just left."

Hermione didn't hesitate, pushing away from the counter and heading for the shop's door. She stepped out into the bright sunshine, squinting for a moment. She looked around but there were quite a few students visiting Hogsmeade today. And she had no way of knowing which one of them had bought the candy. Suddenly feeling very sullen she turned to make her way back up to the castle.

She was just passing the bridge when she realized she wasn't alone. Just a few feet in front of her, casually strolling back to Hogwarts was none other than Malfoy. She made an audible gasp that he definitely heard.

He paused in his steps then glanced back over his shoulder. When he saw it was her, he sneered, fully turning now to face her. "Are you following me?" he chuckled.

She made a disgusted face, "In your dreams, Malfoy."

"More like my nightmares, Granger," he bit out. And that's when he shifted what he held in his hands and Hermione saw, without a doubt, just who had bought the last of the sugar quills.

"Sugar quills…" she accidently said out loud.

He shrugged, "A present for a girl."

Pansy, she thought, with more malice than she knew was warranted. But picturing the girl with the painted-on red lips sucking on her precious candy made Hermione want to gag.

"Usually I prefer the ones I can import directly from Italy, but I guess these will have to do," he was still talking, his haughty tone making her cringe.

She started past him, "You're such a snob."

"Because I have taste?!"

"No, because you're an arrogant, vile cockroach!"

"Try singing a different tune there, Granger. We've all heard that one," and he moved to follow her.

She walked faster. His long legs easily caught up with her.

"And here I thought you Gryffindors were brave… Why are you running, Granger? The Weasel calling you to fetch his slippers?"

She growled in disgust and tried to move faster but soon she was practically running up the hill back to Hogwarts. She was panting and out of breath as she reached the entrance and she could only imagine what her bushy curls looked like now, plastered to her face with sweat. But it was all for naught, because he was still right behind her, his breathing normal, every piece of his hair still perfectly coiffed.

He sneered as he swaggered by her, "Good luck on the Potions exam." And he tapped his finger against the boxes of sugar quills.

"I brought you a surprise," Ron said as he tossed his bag down on the library table, interrupting Hermione's now fourth attempt at studying for Portions. He dug around in it until he produced a long box, slightly dented.

Her heart leapt in her chest, "Ron, you didn't…" She quickly opened it, readying herself to be so thrilled that after 3 years, Ronald Weasley had finally done something nice for her… but what she found made her frown instead.

"Licorice wands," he offered, "…your favorite."

She knew she should just be gracious and nod her head but after the last few days, something broke inside her, "Sugar quills are my favorite, Ron… and did you open these?"

"Yea well, I got hungry. And they're practically the same thing!" But she was dejected and it obviously showed on her face. He snatched them back, "You need to sort out your priorities."

She knew she should apologize but it just wasn't worth it. She slouched in her chair, trying to ignore Ron huffing as he settled in across the table. When Harry finally showed up, he took one look at the two of them, rolled his eyes, and opened his Potions book to study.

Hermione couldn't concentrate. Every creak of Ron's chair or the way he would sniffle was driving her completely mad. And it didn't help that the Slytherins had decided to occupy the table next to theirs, Crabbe and Goyle being loud and obnoxious as usual.

Her vision strayed to Malfoy for only a second. He was deep into his Potions textbook, his brow furrowed, one hand covering his ear as he tried to tune out his mates.

She heaved a heavy sigh and started rummaging around in her bag. She needed something to help her concentrate and she had a bit of leftover taffy somewhere… Her hand closed around an object and she furrowed her brow in confusion. Slowly, she dragged it out of her bag. It was two boxes of Honeydukes sugar quills, tied together with a green ribbon.

Her head snapped up and she looked over at Malfoy. His nose was still in his Potions book, completely unaware of her scrutinizing. She swallowed, looking down at her hand still clutching the boxes of sugar quills, her mind and heart racing.

She took a deep, shuddering breath.

"You alright, 'Mione?" Harry asked with a look of concern.

She nodded, her mouth too dry for words at the moment. Her gaze strayed to one of the books on the table, Advanced Potion Techniques. She glanced over at Malfoy, a plan forming in her mind.

Before she could convince herself what a daft idea it was, Hermione rose, grabbed the book and walked over to the table of Slytherins. Draco looked up just as she approached.

"I think you dropped this, Malfoy," she replied, holding out the book for him.

He stared blankly at her for a moment then looked at the book in her offered hand. She saw his jaw tense and he opened his mouth to say something.

"Hey, Granger, need a lap to sit on?" Crabbe interrupted. He thrust his leg out and gave it a little pat just as his other hand used the tip of his wand to lift her skirt. Goyle, who was seated beside him, snickered.

"Leave her alone!" Malfoy bellowed at his friends, throwing another book at the duo, hitting Crabbe in the chest.

Everyone froze at Malfoy's outburst. Then, rather slowly, three sets of eyes turned towards the Slytherin Prince, all equally shocked at his words.

Draco slouched in his chair, giving them his most awful sneer, "She's a filthy Mudblood… not fit to clean our dragonhide shoes, let alone sit on our laps."

Hermione cringed as Crabbe and Goyle chuckled. She calmly laid the book on the table beside Malfoy then with as much dignity as she could muster, she turned and walked back to her table.

"What the bloody hell was that about?" Ron demanded.

But Harry took one look at Hermione and shook his head at Ron, silently telling him not to ask.

She straightened her spine, pulled her Potions textbook before her and started to read. Absently, she reached into her bag and took out one of the sugar quills.

"You have more quills?!" Ron asked in shock. Then, "Can I have one?"

"No," she replied, her gaze never leaving her book. She scribbled notes, letting the spun sugar dance over her lips.

After a few minutes, she glanced to her right. Malfoy was watching her, a small smirk pulling at his mouth. He gave her a curt nod and she returned it in kind. He picked up the book she had left for him and started to read. She returned to her own textbook, ignoring Ron's huffiness and the strange flutter that had suddenly began in the pit of her stomach.

Present Day:

Hermione stared down at the box of sugar quills in her lap as she wiped away the tear which tumbled unbidden down her cheek. She had all but forgotten that brief exchange in Third Year, an inconsequential blip in what was a confusing time for them all. She always considered the start of their… well, whatever it was they were in school… began at the Yule Ball in Fourth Year. But, sitting here, staring down at the insurmountable proof, she had to ask - Was it even earlier for him?

She swallowed then pulled out the small card tucked into the box and unfolded it. In a masculine scrawl was written:

Had Blaise bring these back from Italy

Yours,

DLM

A peace offering back then and a peace offering now, she realized.

She gathered up the box and wrappings and laid them on her desk. She took the blue curling ribbon and wound it around her index finger over and over as she chewed nervously on her bottom lip, her gaze fixed on the present before her.

"Damn him," she mumbled, then she pushed herself to her feet and walked to her door. She hesitated with her hand on the doorknob. She gave a quick shake of her head. Now was not the time for thinking. She pulled open the door and calmly walked down the stone staircase.

Hermione gazed around her now empty classroom with a heavy heart. For someone who swore he wasn't leaving, he sure was gone now. She couldn't decide if that made her sad or angry. At this point, she was so tired of feeling both.

She walked into the hall and glanced around. But he wasn't there, either. She hadn't been up in her office long, she realized, so there was still a chance she could catch him before he left Hogwarts.

Or, at least, she hoped…

She made her way down the long corridor, her heels clicking loudly on the pavement. She was still getting used to walking in such tall, thin heels but she took a chance, picking up speed until she was suddenly jogging.

She rounded the corner and instantly smacked into a large, burly shape, her ankle twisting beneath her as her shoe heel snapped. She prepared herself in the proceeding seconds to soften her fall, but Hagrid reached out his hand to steady her.

"Oh bloody, fucking hell!" she yelled, her fingers wrapping around her throbbing foot. She grabbed for the wall with her free hand and leaned against it for support.

"Blimey, Hermione!" Hagrid exclaimed. "Yer in an awful rush!"

"S-sorry, Hagrid.." she replied sullenly, as she hobbled over to the nearest set of staircases and eased herself down to sit. She pulled her ankle closer for inspection; it was already purpling.

Hagrid lumbered forward, cautiously reaching out and offering back her broken shoe. She took it with a heavy sigh and a mumbled "thank you".

"That looks downright awful… and on your birthday too…" he observed.

This day truly was cursed, Hermione mused.

"Want me to carry you to Madam Pomfrey?"

She shook her head, swallowing back her tears.

"You runnin' round here like a madwoman wouldn't have somethin' to do with a certain blonde wizard, now would it?"

Hermione's head snapped up, "You saw Malfoy?"

Hagrid gave her a proud grin, "And it was a sure right thing I did… poor fella looked a little lost just wanderin' up and down the corridors like a ghost, he was… Pointed him in the direction of the Hogwarts gates, I did..."

Hermione's heart clenched in her chest and suddenly a tear slipped down her cheek and she hurriedly swiped it away.

"Oh now, I've gone and done it, haven't I?" Hagrid sighed.

She shook her head ruefully, "No, Hagrid, you didn't do anything wrong…" She cast her vision down to her broken shoe, her fingers fumbling with the heel as she worked to quiet her feelings.

Hagrid turned away from her, then slowly backed up and eased himself down to sit beside her on the stairs. He gave her knee a little pat, "There now, I know all this must be hard, Hermione. I can't speak for no one else, but I always thought you'd end up wed to Ron…"

Hermione cringed. This was what she had feared since the beginning… everyone would naturally have an opinion on her and Draco's relationship and, barring taking her feelings into consideration, none of it would be favorable. She swallowed, steeled her nerves and tried to mentally prepare herself for what most assuredly would come next.

Hagrid was still talking, "... but I think you and Malfoy make a rather fetching pair…"

Hermione's head snapped up and she looked at Hagrid, "Wait...what?" Perhaps she had misheard him.

"Oh aye, always liked Ron, good bloke you see, but never thought he was right for yer." His cheeks grew rosy and he smiled sheepishly, "Probably shouldn't have said that."

"N-no… I want to hear it," she assured him.

He shrugged, "Well, I mean, always thought yer needed someone more fitting for yer brains… Yer brilliant, you see? And Malfoy is also a rather bright lad..."

He swallowed then, "Don't much care for some of the things he has said, mind you, and I ain't making excuses for it….but that's in the past… and if we learned nothing from the war it's that some people deserve a second chance... so no use in bringin' it up… and he's tried to make amends for all that mess…"

Hermione nodded slowly, "That was rather insightful, Hagrid."

"Was it?" the big man questioned. He puffed out his chest, "Fancy that then."

Hermione softly smiled, and then she remembered something, "Wait, what do you mean he has tried to make amends?"

"Oh bollocks! Not supposed to talk about that…"

He moved to stand but she grabbed a hold of his beefy hand, "Hagrid, please…"

He sighed heavily and looked around as if checking to see if anyone could be listening, "Well, you see, after the war, he got to feeling quite bad about all that happened...he came and repaired my hut… brought a team of workers with him and ev'rythin'... used his own two hands to lay the bricks too… never thought I'd see the day a Malfoy lifted a finger to help out old Rebeus Hagrid…"

Hermione's mouth fell open as she worked through her sudden confusion to process his words. She couldn't imagine Draco Malfoy lifting a finger to physically help anyone, especially Hagrid. Then she realized Hagrid was still talking.

"And after all that, imagine how surprised I was when I found out it was Malfoy who funded the sanctuary for all those poor creatures…"

Hermione shook her head, interrupting, "What sanctuary?"

"The Buckbeak Sanctuary for Abused and Misunderstood Magical Creatures, that is…" He straightened, looking proud, "Came up with the name myself, I did."

She smiled despite the uneasy feeling growing in her abdomen. How little did she actually know about the man she was supposed to be marrying in little over a month?

"Yer won't tell him I told yer all this, will yer? He doesn't like people knowing… reputation and all…" He gave her a grin and a wink, "But deep down, he's a good lad, yer see?"

"Y-yes… he's definitely not the person I thought he would be…" She swallowed.

Hagrid gave her another reassuring little pat on her shoulder, "Yer just need to give him a chance, Hermione. He has layers, I think… parts he don't want no one seein'..." He turned away but immediately whirled around, "Almost forgot…." He reached into his heavy coat and produced a dented white box with crumpled pink ribbon, "Happy Birthday, Hermione. Baked it myself."

She took the offered box, letting her fingers drift over the smashed flap. "Thank you, Hagrid," she said with sincerity. Then, carefully, she pulled herself to her feet, using the wall to brace herself, and she laid a tender kiss on Hagrid's cheek.

He blushed deep, stammering, "Only the best for yer, Hermione."

And she knew he wasn't only referring to the cake.

Suddenly a slew of Third Years came tearing down the steps, rushing by her and Hagrid.

"Oi! What's the rush?!" Hagrid exclaimed, grabbing one boy by the collar.

"It's Professor Potter… he's going to duel a Death Eater!" The boy wiggled free and took off.

Hagrid met Hermione's gaze, "Oh dear…"

Draco wandered aimlessly through the Hogwarts corridors, his gaze rooted on his boots, his mind a barrage of emotions long suppressed over the years with Occulmency. Coming back here was much harder than he could have ever imagined.

While his early years had its share of pleasant memories, most of them involving Quidditch, he couldn't rightfully say he'd ever been happy within these walls…

A stray thought tried to push its way to the forefront of his mind in challenge but he quickly stuffed it away. This was not the time to start unpacking those long buried, rather dusty memories… especially in this moment.

He had really fucked it all up with Granger. And he highly doubted his meager attempt at a truce was going to be enough to settle this. As if on cue, his left hand clenched around that small box tucked into his jacket pocket… No, this was going to have to wait, he told himself. These things take time… If he hit her with too much too soon, she'd rabbit away, marriage contract be damned.

She didn't choose you, he reminded himself, the Ministry did...

He needed to come up with Plan B…

He automatically paused in his steps, his mind and body simply knowing where they had unconsciously led him.

He swallowed thickly before slowly raising his head, his gaze traveling the length of the staircase as it ascended up and beyond, disappearing around the corner.

The path to the astronomy tower.

He thought back to how often he had considered pitching himself over the railing on any given day in Sixth Year… and how his life had suddenly changed in the space of an inconceivable moment on an otherwise unremarkable day.

His skin suddenly felt hot… almost like he was burning from the inside out. He breathed in, his nostrils flaring at the distinctive smell of sulfur. He brought his right hand in front of his face, his palm blazing to life with orange and red flames. Bathed in the fiery light, his reflected grey eyes were almost silver, molten metal and haunted with the ghosts of the past.

He clenched his right hand into a fist and stepped up, compelled by some secret siren call to climb the tower.

Laughter and cheers from further down the corridor gave him pause, breaking through the fog of his reverie. He swallowed and the flames cooled until once again his hand had returned to normal.

He backed away from the tower steps, running his hand through his hair. He released a shuddering breath and turned from the temptation. He thrust his hands into his jacket and hurried down the hall, following the sound of the nearby crowd… anything to get away from the threat of reliving that pain once again.

He knew what he'd find in the crowded classroom even before he stepped inside. A small smile ghosted his lips as he entered, keeping himself discreet. He rested one shoulder against the back wall, just to the right of the door, his arms crossed over his chest as he watched the action in the center of the room unfold.

A large, raised platform, running end to end of the length of the room, dominated the attention of the packed audience; children of all ages growing raucous as they watched the two seasoned wizards throwing spell after counter-spell at one another: Neville Longbottom versus true-to-form Harry Potter.

Harry, having dodged a rather weak stupify, countered with an expelliarmus, pulling Longbottom's wand from his hand.

"Excellent, Professor Longbottom," Harry was saying, praising a rather sheepish and nervous Neville, "It is always best to use a charm to disarm your opponent first, as we have perfectly illustrated here… Instantly going on the offense in a duel doesn't necessarily mean you're going to win… Always remember, it is more important to stop the opposition rather than get the most hits…"

Draco snorted and rolled his eyes. "Saint Potter…" he muttered.

Harry extended his hand towards Longbottom for a quick good sportsmanship shake. The Herbology Professor looked relieved he was being dismissed. If Draco didn't know better, he'd never believe it was Longbottom who stood his ground against Voldemort all those years ago. The man was a cowering whelp.

Harry was taking off his school robes, handing them to one of the students before he made his way to the center of the platform. "Perhaps another volunteer has the cunning foresight to challenge me…"

Draco couldn't stand there and listen to anymore of this bluster. He turned towards the door, managing to take only one step towards the exit.

"Maybe Mr. Malfoy would care for a rematch?" Harry called out.

Draco froze mid-step. He glanced at Harry over his shoulder, meeting Potter's green gaze with steely grey eyes. He sneered as he turned to face his old nemesis, the crowd of students gaping in awe at the appearance of an ex-Death Eater in their midst. He spread his arms wide, "Nothing would give me more pleasure than to duel the Great Harry Potter once again, but alas my probation prevents me from raising my wand against another wizard."

Harry knew as much, so if he was seeking to discredit or embarrass Draco, Malfoy refused to bite.

But Potter only smiled, "Well, then I guess it's a good thing I know the exact counter-spell to reverse that minute detail…" He tipped his head towards Draco, "I am an ex-Auror after all…"

Draco's gaze narrowed and he stared at Potter for the space of several heartbeats. The room went still and quiet, the children almost afraid to breathe. Finally, he shrugged, "Alright then."

The murmurs started as the crowd parted, allowing Draco an easy path to the dias. He sauntered forward, a smirk pulling at his lips as he climbed the few steps up to the platform. Harry held out his hand, waiting for Draco's wand. With some reluctance he handed it over, cocking an eyebrow as Harry muttered a quick reversal before offering it back to him.

Draco swallowed, realizing in that moment what he was about to do may very well earn him Hermione's full wrath. But when he saw Potter's cocky grin, something long buried and slightly resentful crept forward. While he had no more outward malice toward the self-proclaimed Chosen One, wiping the floor with him in front of his students almost felt like… justice.

Draco took his wand, twirling it within his fingers in an act of showmanship. He strutted to the end of the platform and assumed his position, arms raising in combative stance.

Harry watched him carefully. "Disarming charms only."

"Goes without saying," he replied before giving Potter a wink.

Harry assumed his own stance now, readying himself, "On the count of three, Malfoy."

Malfoy relaxed a little, grinning, "Just mind the leather, Potter, it's Italian." Harry rolled his eyes, so Draco couldn't help but pull at the sleeve of his jacket and cock his head, mockingly saying, "Got a date with a girl later, I want to look my best."

"Bloody hell," Harry muttered. And then with a twirl of his wand, Harry called out, "Rictusempra."

Malfoy easily reflected the spell with a quick Protego. "Really, Potter?" he chided Harry, "The same old stale tricks?"

"Everte Statum!" cried Harry.

That spell hit Malfoy dead center, knocking him backwards onto the mat, the wind rushing from his lungs in a whoosh. The kids cheered like crazy for their Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Draco didn't hesitate, scrambling to his feet.

"How was that for stale?" Potter replied.

Letting his anger fuel him, Draco practically ripped his leather jacket off now, readying himself to retaliate. He ignored the murmurs that started as all eyes fell on the faded Dark Mark on his left forearm.

Harry, too, resettled into his stance. The two simply eyed each other for a moment, sizing each other up. Harry couldn't seem to help himself though. It had been a long while since he felt the exhilaration of a good fight. He cocked an eyebrow, "Scared Malfoy?"

Draco chuckled darkly, "You wish."

"Stup-" Harry started.

But this time, Malfoy was quicker. "Ventus!" he hollered, and a powerful wind streamed from the tip of his wand to hit Potter, sending him flying. Without hesitation, he twirled his wand, calling out "Steleus," and hitting Harry immediately with a sneezing fit just as he was trying to pull himself to stand.

"ACHOO!" Harry doubled over, his hands resting on his knees.

Malfoy couldn't hide his smirk as he clasped his hands in front of him and watched. "What's the matter, Potter? Bad case of allergies?" he teased.

"Finite- ACHOO!" Harry tried the counter-spell but the sneezing prevented him from finishing it.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and muttered, "Finite Incantatem." He figured, just this once, he could be the gentleman. After all, it was just a inconsequential duel amongst frenemies.

Harry sneezed one final time and straightened himself, surprise alight in his eyes as he studied Malfoy more intently. Draco shrugged then folded his arms over his chest, tapping the tip of his wand against his shoulder and waited.

"Thirsty for more?" Draco mocked, wagging his brows at Harry.

Harry sighed resolutely then waved his wand and shouted, "Expelliarmus."

Draco was ready, countering with "Stupify!"

And thus proceeded the next ten minutes of these two wizards dueling one another, throwing spells and charms, equally countering each. Sparks flew from the tips of their wands… red and white light dancing around the room as they dodged and weaved to escape being hit by a curse. So caught up in their pseudo-fight, they were blissfully unaware that their audience had grown exponentially… children and teachers alike crowding the room to watch the show.

Draco had just countered Harry's latest charm with one of his classics, Serpensortia, releasing a cobra to lunge at the Gryffindor but Harry vanished it almost as quickly as it came, the black smoke dissipating in the air. Out of breath and perhaps a bit sweaty from exertion, the two men stopped and looked at one another. Then, they surprised everyone and shared a laugh.

Potter extended his hand as he closed the distance with Draco. "A fine duel, Malfoy."

Draco stared at Harry's offered hand for just a beat before he reached his hand up and shook it. "Same, Potter."

The crowd erupted in cheers, startling both men, and, almost forgetting they even had an audience, they both turned their heads to see their little room filled to the brim with people.

They gave each other sheepish smiles now. Malfoy drew close to Harry's ear, "You know, this doesn't mean I like you, Harry…"

Harry's smile grew wider, "Goes without saying… Draco."

"Mr. Potter! Mr. Malfoy!" a voice bellowed from the back of the room. The crowd of students parted like the Red Sea as Headmistress McGonagall entered the fray.

Both young men broke contact, whirling around to face their old teacher, their wands immediately being hidden behind their backs.

"McGonagall!" they squeaked in unison.

Potter cleared his throat then and took a cautionary step forward, "Headmistress..."

She held up one finger, clearly demanding his silence. Harry shut his mouth instantly. She clasped her hands before her and gave them a cold and calculating glare, "Well, I see you both still have all your limbs and, thankfully, no one is bleeding out profusely on the floor… this time."

Harry and Draco exchanged a look then stepped further away from each other.

"Headmistress, if I may," Harry tried again, "Malfoy and I were just giving the students a demonstration…"

"A demonstration?" she bit out. "And what, per se, were you showing them… exactly?"

Harry scratched his head. "Inter-house unity?" he offered.

"Are you asking me, Mr. Potter?" McGonagall questioned.

"No?"

At that, Draco snickered and Harry smacked him. Draco rubbed the spot on his chest, but still couldn't help but smile.

McGonagall sighed, "Because you two are still standing, I suppose you think that means this was a success." She stared at the two men for a beat or two more before focusing her attention on the students, "Everyone should immediately return to their classes."

There were stifled groans as the students heeded their Headmistress's demand. Draco calmly walked to the end of the platform and leapt down from the dais.

"Mr. Malfoy, "McGonagall called after him.

Draco cringed inwardly.

"I think perhaps it's time your little visit here at Hogwarts came to an end, don't you agree?"

Well, hell. Guess now wasn't the time to ask his former teacher for the Potions position… he reasoned. "Yes, Headmistress," he replied.

He met Harry's gaze, who gave him a small smile and a curt nod, which he returned in kind. Then he sauntered from the room.

Harry cautiously looked at McGonagall. "Guess I'm in trouble now…"

"Oh you know very well you are, Mr. Potter. But not from me…" she replied.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion.

"I'm sure Ms. Granger will have plenty to say to both you and Mr. Malfoy. I only wish I was here to see it." And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving a stammering Harry to deal with the coming consequences of his actions.

Hermione hobbled on her sprained ankle all the way to the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, biting back the pain as she tried to hurry in her now fixed high heel. She was still carrying the cake Hagrid had given her, forgetting to leave it in her classroom, the urgency to get down the stairs and stop this dueling nonsense before someone (more than likely Malfoy) got hurt, taking precedence over all rational thought.

But she was too late. She was greeted with an empty room, only the platform staged at the center and the occasional scorch mark on the walls any indication of what happened here. She sighed with relief that at least there wasn't any blood that she could discern. But the residue of charged magic was rife in the air.

She gave the room the once-over before turning to leave but then she suddenly turned back, something catching her eye. She walked over to the end of the platform, and there, laying on the stairs, was Draco's leather jacket. She set the cake box down on the stairs before seating herself beside it. She slid her aching foot from her stupid shoe then pulled the leather jacket into her lap. It wasn't damaged. It was lightweight and smelled so good. Fuck, it smelled just like him

She brought it to her nose, inhaling deeply while her heart seized in her chest. Then, for reasons she didn't want to elaborate, she slipped it on, wrapping herself in the warmth and scent that was pure him. She sighed, tucking her hands into the pockets. And that's when she felt it – something a little heavy weighing down the left side. It took some maneuvering but she managed to pull out a velvet box, only a little bigger than her fist.

Her throat ran dry and her heart started to hammer in her chest as she stared down at what she could only assume was another gift meant for her birthday. She ran one fingernail along the seam, toying with the idea of opening it but decided that it was the wrong thing to do. He hadn't given this to her… and there had to be a reason. Though the temptation was great, she had no right to whatever lay behind the velvet folds. She quickly took the jacket off, placing the box back into the pocket before folding it beside her on the stairs.

She turned her attention to the misshapen cake box beside her. She lifted it into her lap, untied the pink ribbon and opened the flap. She smiled at the squiggly writing on the otherwise perfect dessert: Happee Birfday Hermione.

"Accio fork," she called out. Instantly a fork appeared in her hand. And she used it to take a bite, marveling at how, appearances aside, it really was a tasty cake.

"Well, this can't be a good sign…" came Harry's voice just to the right of her.

She gazed up at him through hooded eyes, making an unintelligent sound like a "hmmph" as she shoved more cake into her mouth.

He took a seat beside her on the stairs, "Hermione Granger sitting here alone, eating cake, while her fiancé roams about the castle… very bad, indeed."

He reached forward then, intent on taking the fork to get a bite for himself, but instead she whacked him… HARD… across his knuckles with the utensil.

"Blimey, 'Mione! That hurt!" he exclaimed, snatching his hand back.

"Do you really think you deserve cake, Harry James Potter!?"

Harry cringed. "I take it you heard…"

She snorted her displeasure, choosing instead to simply keep eating her cake.

"It was nothing, really…. just a friendly duel between two mortal enemies…" he tried.

"Two sodding idiots, you mean," she replied, giving Harry a look.

Harry sighed, leaning back to rest his elbows on the steps, "Alright, 'Mione, what gives? You've been in a right foul mood all day. I know you're not one for birthdays but you seem extra irritated about this one." A realization dawned on him and he looked at her from the corner of his eye, "What's Malfoy gone and done now?"

Hermione paused, the bite she was about to take hovering within an inch of her lips. She laid the fork down into the cake box and drew in a shaky breath. "Harry, how long have we known one another?" she asked.

"Since we were eleven… so, what, like 15 years or so…"

She let that knowledge ruminate for a moment before continuing, "And what is my favorite candy?"

Harry sighed heavily, "For the love of Godric… if I'd known there was going to be a quiz today…"

Hermione shot him a contemptuous look.

Harry shrugged, "I don't know, 'Mione, those weird chocolate frogs?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Okay, now tell me Ginny's favorite candy."

"Well that's easy… Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans… she just loves to give me the nasty ones."

Hermione smiled sadly, "That's what I thought."

"You're not sore at me for not knowing your favorite candy, are you?" he asked.

She shook her head, "No, Harry."

Harry turned to look at her now, and upon seeing the tears threatening behind her eyes, he reached to hug her, "Oh please don't cry, 'Mione. If that git, Malfoy, has done something, just say the word… I'll make it look like a bloody accident."

"Please don't. It's not him…" she urged, "Well, yes, he pissed me off… but it's Malfoy so that's really no big surprise…. but I …." she paused, searching for the right words, "I… I think I'm...falling for him…" As the words finally left her mouth, she cringed and covered her face with her hands to hide away.

Harry burst out laughing, startling her.

She punched him in his arm, "It's not funny, Potter!"

He only laughed harder, even while rubbing at the sore spot on his arm.

She shoved him a little, "Stop laughing! It's made me a jealous ninny and… and… it's all your fault!"

"My fault?! What did I do?"

"You convinced me to sign up for this sodding arranged marriage and now look at me?! I can't even get through one day without thinking about him… He consumes my thoughts… my feelings… Ugh!"

"I'm sorry, 'Mione, but isn't this what you always wanted?" he offered.

Her head snapped around to meet his gaze, pure surprise alight in her eyes.

Harry gave her a knowing smile, "I'm not an idiot, you know? I've seen the way the two of you used to look at each other… especially in 5th and 6th year…" He sighed then, "Frankly it's why I brought the marriage initiative to you, in the first place. I saw his name on the list of Purebloods and.. I don't know…. I just think you deserve to be happy and if Malfoy is the man to do it… well, who am I to stand in the way. Besides, he's changed… he's different somehow."

"I… I can't believe you knew…" she swallowed.

He shrugged, "What? I may not know what your favorite candy is but I can recognize your wand."

She gave him a questioning look now.

"Oh come on! You pinched his wand from me during the battle… and you didn't think I would notice?"

She gave him a sheepish grin, "I honestly didn't care at the time… I just wasn't thinking…"

"Well, I noticed you returned it after the battle so I gathered something happened between you two…"

"I don't want to talk about it," she interrupted.

He nodded his understanding. That's what she loved most about Harry… he didn't pry.

That sat in silence for a few minutes.

Fiddling with a loose nail from the platform so she didn't have to look at him, she spoke, her voice barely audible, "He warned me not to romanticize this…"

Harry looked at her, his brow furrowed, "What do you mean?"

"This…." she gestured wide, "...the marriage… everything… but then he goes and does something romantic and I just get confused…"

Harry smiled, "Welcome to a relationship, 'Mione. Men are daft and women are incorrigible…"

She gave him another playful shove, but then she grew solemn. "I've never been in one, you know…. a relationship, I mean."

"You never were one to date…"

She shook her head, "No, I guess not."

He sighed then turned to fully look at her. "Just answer me this - Whatever he's done… in the past or here and now… are they things you can forgive?" he asked.

"Yes…" she whispered.

"Then go and find him and tell him so." He turned away and resumed leaning back on the stairs. "But leave the cake…"

She giggled. "It really is good cake."

"The best," Harry agreed.

Hermione picked up the leather jacket and held it in her lap. "Do you think he's still here?"

"He didn't come all this way just to lose to me in a duel…" Harry's snark was on point today.

Hermione cocked a brow and gave him another look.

Harry held up his hands in defense, "Yes, 'Mione, I think he's still here."

She sighed then stood, slipping her hurt foot into her heel once again. She ruffled Harry's hair, "Thanks, Harry… for everything." She started to walk away but stopped and said, "But you still can't have my cake!"

They shared a smile before she hurried out. As soon as she was gone, Harry picked up the cake box and the forgotten fork, taking a delicious bite.

"Best cake ever…" he muttered.

Draco stood just outside Hagrid's hut, arms crossed over his chest, watching the familiar hippogriff as it sharpened its beak on the stem of a gigantic pumpkin.

There was a gust of wind, rustling the leaves that had fallen. Buckbeak's head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he carefully studied the young man before him. He took a cautious step forward and Draco held his ground, showing no fear towards the beast.

Buckbeak took another step then another, closing the distance between the two of them. Draco dropped his protective stance, letting his arms fall naturally at his sides. Buckbeak lowered his head then nudged Draco's hand, sliding his feathered crown under his palm.

He rubbed him playfully, his fingers sliding through the slick feathers. "Hey old friend…" he murmured. Buckbeak responded by nudging him in his chest now then lowering his head again.

A sound of more rustling leaves from just behind Draco caused the hippogriff to suddenly rear back, scurrying further into the pumpkin patch.

"He doesn't let just anyone get that close, you know," Hermione voiced only a few feet from behind Draco.

He swallowed, slightly embarrassed that she caught him in such a vulnerable moment. He should have smelled her coming, that warm scent of roses and vanilla filling his nostrils now.

"Guess that's something we have in common," he replied, making the mistake of glancing at her over his shoulder. His throat tightened at the sight of her, as it always did, making it hard for him to form a cohesive thought.

She moved to come stand on his right and he frowned as he saw her limping.

"Granger, your foot…" he started just as she thrust his leather jacket at him, saying in a rush, "You left this…"

He slowly took it from her, "I was going to go back for it…but McGonagall sort of banished me from the castle."

She gave him a knowing look, "Seems you and Harry were up to your old tricks again."

He smiled slightly, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, "Something like that."

She suddenly looked away, her arms crossing over her chest protectively.

He chose to study the leather of the jacket clutched in his fist. He weighed it in his hand and he knew his gift was still in the pocket, untouched. He marveled at that. Any Pureblood witch would have assuredly opened it then demanded to know when he was planning on giving it to her.

But not Hermione… he thought. He wasn't sure how to feel about that.

He slipped the jacket on then met her gaze dead on, his Occulmency sliding into place. "Now about that foot, Granger."

"Oh! It's nothing…. I just tripped… sprained it, I think."

He cocked a brow, "Rushing off to stop a duel, perhaps?"

She gave a low chuckle then swallowed, "Something like that…"

"Granger, whatever will I do with you?" He shook his head. Then in one quick movement, he swept her off her feet - literally - his right arm sliding beneath her knees and his left arm cradling her back, pulling her tight against his chest.

"Draco!" she shrieked.

Buckbeak let out a squawk.

"Quiet, Granger, or you'll spook the bloody chicken."

She clutched at his jacket now and her heart was racing, her breath dancing across his neck. It made his blood run hot and his groin tighten in response.

He quickly carried her over to the front of the hut, gently setting her down on the bench located there, a mix of relief and frustration filling him as he disentangled their limbs.

He knelt before her, sliding her foot from the confines of her shoe, "Hermione Granger… always first to take care of others but completely disregards her own well-being…" He shook his head ruefully as he withdrew his wand from his pocket.

She just watched him with hooded eyes, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth in that oh so distracting way of hers. It made him want to fucking kiss her… to feel those teeth skimming over his bare flesh…

He stifled a groan, choosing to concentrate on her injury, softly cradling her bruised foot as he rested it on his thigh. "Episkey," he murmured, the tip of his wand tracing over her small foot.

She released a shaky breath, then rotated her ankle, testing it.

"Better?" he questioned, his grey eyes finding hers. He let the tips of his fingers ghost over her skin.

"Much…" she breathed.

He swallowed and nodded. Then he abruptly shot to his feet, moving from her to go stand a few feet away. He leaned his right arm on a wooden support beam, gazing out across the rolling hills, his thumb tracing over his lips as he worked to get himself under control.

"Thank you," she whispered. "For this… and for the sugar quills."

That got his attention and he looked over at her, shrugging, "They're your favorite."

"Yes," she agreed, "but why do you know that?"

He furrowed his brow in confusion. For fuck's sake, what was he supposed to say? That he spent much of his youth staring at her mouth sucking on the spun sugar, all the while just wishing she'd wrap those gorgeous lips around his cock….

"I just do," he answered and he turned away from her again.

Silence stretched around them. He tried not to look at her, instead he watched Buckbeak move about the pumpkin patch, catching bugs. She came to stand beside him and he tensed, straightening and folding his arms over his chest.

She said nothing and he wondered if she needed him to speak first.

He groaned and shoved his hand through his hair. "Look, Granger, I know I was rude on Sunday." He side-eyed her, waiting for her reaction.

"You were a complete arse," she replied solemnly.

His chest tightened, "I do have my reasons…"

She snorted. "Let me guess… because you are an arse?"

He smirked, "Fair enough." He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket to keep himself from reaching for her.

"Thank you for returning my jacket," he said, his knuckle gliding over the velvet covering of the present he had hidden.

"You're welcome," she whispered, glancing at him for only a moment.

He sighed then leaned in, silently praying she didn't jerk away. When she didn't move, he pressed his lips to her cheek in the lightest of touches. "Happy Birthday, Hermione."

He stepped off the porch now. Though the day didn't go as he had hoped, it wasn't a total loss. She probably just needed time.

"I lied to you," she called out to his retreating form.

Draco froze and half-turned to look at her. He furrowed his brow and gave her a questioning look.

She shrugged and wrung her hands before her, "I… uh… I don't have any more classes… if...if you still want to spend some time with me."

A smirk pulled at his lips as his stomach fluttered at her words. He took a step towards her. She stepped down from the porch but still lingered a few feet away. Her coyness, on any other woman he would find it rather annoying, but with her, it was simply endearing… which surprised him immensely.

He held out his hand towards her, "What do you say, Granger, wanna go for a ride?"

Hermione clung desperately to Draco, her arms encircling his waist, her fingers locked together in front of his stomach. She could feel the hardness of his muscles as he flexed his abs every time he shifted gears on the motorcycle.

The wind whipped around them, throwing her wild curls behind her, and surrounding herself with his pure, manly scent. She couldn't help herself… nuzzling her nose against the curve of this jaw, inhaling deep and reveling in the feel of having him so close and completely at her mercy. She flexed her fingers, fighting back the urge to slide them beneath the hem of his t-shirt. She relaxed and simply allowed herself to enjoy the ride.

The Scottish countryside flew by as he accelerated. She deepened her hold on him and if she was a betting girl, she'd wager he was doing it on purpose in an attempt to keep her close.

When he asked her to go for a ride, she figured he meant on a broom, which made her stomach flip-flop at just the thought. She didn't like heights and he well knew it. But he surprised her when he wheeled out the Honda Shadow from Hagrid's shed. It was black and silver… very sleek… with a hint of emerald green accents.

Very Slytherin

She laid her cheek against his shoulder, the soft leather of his jacket cool against her flushed skin. She closed her eyes and just felt

Felt the air stinging her face…

Felt the roar of the engine as it vibrated beneath them...

Felt the warmth of his body enveloping her…

Felt his heart as it beat frantically within his chest…

He was excited… she reckoned it was from the thrill of the ride…. because she felt it too. But she knew deep down, her excitement was tied more to this man, and not so much with the bike.

He started to slow and she opened her eyes. He had turned off the dirt path and was now driving over rougher terrain, the Scottish mountains surrounding them on all sides. He eased the bike closer to the side of a cliff before finally coming to a stop, turning off the engine.

Her ears rang as the loudness of the engine died away. With the toe of his boot, he nudged the kick stand down and hopped off before turning to face her and offered his hand in assistance.

She carefully climbed off the big machine, taking his hand… not because she needed it…. because she just wasn't ready to end their physical contact yet.

He intertwined their fingers and led her to a small set of flat boulders for them to sit on. He released his hold on her then, shoving one hand into the pocket of his jacket while he thrust his other hand through his hair.

He was obviously nervous.

She focused her attention on the view before her. It was simply beautiful… the Scottish highlands adorned with the beginning colors of the Fall season… the mountain ranges dwarfing the two of them.

All the power in the world at their fingertips, and nature still had its way of making them seem so minuscule in comparison, she thought.

"So is this Draco Malfoy's make out spot?" she teased.

"Is that what you think of me, Granger?" he questioned.

She met his gaze and her heart skipped a beat at the way his eyes softened as he looked at her.

"No, Draco," she whispered with every ounce of sincerity.

He looked down at his black boots, the toe of one shoe drawing circles in the dirt. "I… uh… I used to come here during 6th year… a lot actually…" he started but then stopped.

She understood his reluctance… 6th year was probably not his favorite topic of choice. She remained silent, though, giving him the time to collect his words. If he was choosing to open up to her, she'd listen.

"Being forced to murder someone is a definite cause for reflection," he finished, his tone surprisingly devoid of all emotion. He glanced over at her then, trying to gage her reaction.

Slowly she took his right hand within her left, her fingers closing around the coldness of his skin before gently bringing his knuckles to her lips for a gentle kiss. "You never had a choice…"

He snorted in obvious disagreement. He pulled out of her grasp then, and with great reluctance she let him go. He turned to look at her now, and the heat she saw there in his gaze sent a shiver down her spine.

"Why is it when I look at you, all I can see is forgiveness," he swallowed, "...you make me feel as if there isn't anything I couldn't do… just as long as you're there beside me…" He turned away now, "I've never known such affection, Granger."

Her heart broke as she gaped at him. "You're a good man, Draco… I'm only sorry it took the Ministry's interference for me to see it."

She wanted to say more… to tell him the truth of their past and confess her sins but her tongue stopped cooperating. It felt like lead in her mouth, heavy and coppery.

He sighed, his vision again cast down at the ground. "The other night… with Astoria…" he began.

"You… you don't have to tell me…" she interrupted.

He met her gaze. "I want to," he assured her.

She took a deep breath and tried so hard to steel her nerves but her heart was beating atrociously fast… surely even he could hear it.

"When we were young, our parents came to an agreement that we would eventually marry when we came of age...Fuck, I didn't even know her…" Again, he stopped.

She waited, watching as his Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed nervously.

"When the War happened and it was almost certain Voldemort was going to rise to power, marrying some random Pureblood witch was the furthest thing from my mind…" He looked at Hermione, "So you can imagine my surprise when, after my acquittal, my mother and I were informed by the Greengrasses they wanted to enforce the archaic contract my father had signed on my behalf. They flat out demanded that I hold up my end of the bargain or risk a stint in Azkaban."

Hermione was stunned. While Pureblood traditions were a foreign concept to her, throwing someone in Azkaban over a change of heart seemed rather extreme, especially when he, himself, never even signed the contract to begin with.

He looked off in the distance, "The war had depleted quite a bit of their wealth, you see."

She watched him nervously toy with the ancestral ring on his right hand now, a symbol of the duty he held for the Malfoy name.

He shrugged, "I tried to go along with it, for the sake of my mother, really. Seeing her son thrown into prison to further pay for the sins of his father, she didn't need that…. but I was so tired of everyone telling me what I can and can't do… I wanted my life back and the freedom to make my own choices... whether they were right or wrong, at least it would be my own consequences I had to deal with."

"So you fought for your freedom…" she replied.

He nodded. "It wasn't pretty and people were hurt…" he whispered.

"People like Astoria?"

"Yes."

Hermione swallowed. She wasn't sure what to make of this conversation. Her potential happiness meant someone else's chance was seemingly destroyed. It made her slightly queasy.

"I don't love her, Granger, and I don't think she loves me. She just didn't understand why I fought so hard to be free of one marriage contract only to tie myself to another…"

Yes, Hermione, too, was puzzled by the action. "Marrying a Pureblood wouldn't do you and the Malfoy name any good. It would look like you were still stuck in the old ways… just like your father before the war."

Draco sadly smiled as he studied her carefully, "You really are the brightest witch of our age, Granger."

Hermione looked down at her hands folded in her lap now. "You could have told me all this, you know."

Draco sighed heavily. "I'm not good with the truth, Granger."

She barked a laugh, "Tell me something I don't know."

He chuckled but then grew serious. He shifted then, surprising her by falling to his knees before her, caring naught for the dust and dirt caking his jeans. He took her fidgeting hands within his, letting the pads of his thumbs drift over the tender skin of her wrists. If he only knew how such a simple caress stoked the flames of desire deep within her abdomen. Her breath caught in her throat.

"I've done many terrible things in my life, and you, of all people, have seen me at my worst..." he whispered, the fingers of his right hand sliding slowly over her left forearm, an unspoken reminder of the Mudblood scar she kept well hidden. "I didn't want to give you yet another reminder of the selfish prat you've come to see me as…"

Oh boy. Hermione had to swallow back the sudden tears that were threatening to emerge in that moment.

"D-Draco…" she stammered. Confess, her mind screamed, for he was the least selfish person out of the two of them at that moment.

"Hermione, if I made you feel like you're not the most important person in my life now, I am truly sorry." He reached into his pocket and pulled out the velvet box, carefully laying it in her lap. "Happy Birthday, Granger."

She sat there, stunned and bewildered at what was happening. This was not the same boy who teased her relentlessly about her teeth and her hair… Draco Malfoy had turned into a man so repentant of his mistakes and so eager to move beyond the past, that it positively frightened her to her core.

She slowly opened the box, unfolding the velvet wrappings with careful precision. There in the center lay a very familiar object… a beautiful golden snitch. It immediately sprang to life, its wings fluttering as it hovered there between them.

"It's the first snitch I ever caught at Hogwarts," he said, a hint of a whimsical tone in his voice. "I remember thinking at the time that I had caught the greatest prize of my life and never would I ever experience such a feeling again…" He swallowed, his eyes leaving the snitch to lock with hers. "And then I opened my letter from The Ministry and I saw your name…"

Hermione released the breath she hadn't been aware she'd been holding. He was blushing now… Draco Malfoy was blushing and it was all for her.

"They have…" he started.

"Flesh memories," they both finished in unison.

He smiled at her… a genuine and pure grin. Then he swallowed, "I'm terrified I'm going to fuck this up, Hermione…" He reached out his hand and the snitch settled into his palm. He closed his fist around it for a brief moment.

"Perhaps we can be terrified together?" He opened his hand then and Hermione watched as the snitch whirred and buzzed before the gold covering slipped back to reveal the most stunning ring inside.

Encased in white gold lay a large emerald-cut diamond at the center surrounded with a halo of sapphire stones.

He carefully withdrew the precious ring from the snitch and it closed and flew back into the safety of his pocket. He held it up before her, "It's the Malfoy diamond… My father gave it to Greengrass as collateral. Astoria finally returned it to me on Sunday…" He swallowed, "I wasn't sure she would, given how I threw her over, so I was rather surprised when she showed up unexpectedly."

He cleared his throat, "I spent all of yesterday at the jewelers, having it sized and set for you. I thought you might like the sapphires, your birthstone, as they are a symbol of loyalty and trust… and believed to protect from harm those you uh… care for the most..." Again he swallowed, "A perfect representation of what I'd like to build the foundation of our marriage...If you'll have me, that is."

He stopped talking now, taking her left hand in his, the ring hovering over that finger as he waited for her to say something. She just stared blankly at the piece of jewelry, her breathing suddenly picking up in pace.

She closed her eyes and tried to stop her overactive brain from ruining this moment. He was here… the time was now… and she strongly wanted to believe they would survive whatever the future wrought, as long as they were together.

"Yes, Draco."

He smirked, pressing the ring onto her finger, the band magically resizing itself to be a perfect fit. "Fuck, Granger, you had me worried there for a minute," he replied.

She giggled, "You surprised me, is all…"

His hand cupped her cheek and his smile faded as his thumb traced over her bottom lip. "Get used to it," he replied.

He leaned in and kissed her. It was a gentle sweep of his mouth for all of two seconds before he deepened it with urgency. It was primal, how he took control, almost as if he needed to devour her or perhaps swallow her whole.

She pulled back, trying to catch her breath, but his hand tangled in her curls, holding her still as he nipped at her lips with teeth and tongue. Her hand covered his and she was surprised to feel how hot his skin was, almost as if he was holding fire with that one touch.

"Draco…" she murmured. And his lips met hers again, his tongue driving into her mouth with wild abandonment, swallowing any of the pleas she might have made.

He had lit the match and now the flames would slowly consume them until there was nothing left but the ash of their past sins. And Hermione Granger no longer gave a damn about being careful.

He finally broke the kiss, his forehead resting against hers. "I suppose I should be getting you back…"

She silently moaned as she knew it was getting late. She could see the sun cresting over the mountain tops even now, casting the sky in hues of pink and purple.

She nodded once and he immediately pulled away from her, pushing to his feet with ease. She followed suit and they walked back to the motorcycle in silence.

He hopped on the bike and started it, the engine almost deafening. He waited for her to join him but something stopped her. She approached him, her hands covering his cheeks and she bent down to kiss him long and thoroughly until he groaned with pleasure.

"Come with me tonight," she breathed across his lips.

He smirked, "Is that an order, Granger?"

"Maybe," she teased.

He released a shaky breath then, "Fuck, woman, you will be the death of me." But then he nodded, "As you wish, birthday girl."

She climbed onto the back of the bike and wrapped her arms around him. She buried her face into his neck, relieved he couldn't see the cheesy grin she just knew was all over her face.