Chapter 8 - Questions and Answers

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

Okay, so maybe aparating in a panic had not been the best move to make, and dragging Draco Malfoy along had not been a good decision. But just as Malfoy had taken out his wand to do Merlin only knew what, Hermione had spotted Fenrir Greyback coming out of the turn into Knockturn Alley not five paces away from them, and by the twitch of his nostrils it was clear that he recognized her scent from when they had crossed paths before, and his eyes had even alighted on her for a second in vague recognition. It had been brief, but Greyback was more wolf than man now, even by his terrifying physical appearance, and it was unlikely that he'd ever forget a scent, if not a face.

So, without thinking, Hermione had disaparated, taking Malfoy with her in the panic that he would reveal her otherwise. And, fast or not, Hermione wouldn't have been able to aparate faster than any number of Death Eaters could hex her if Malfoy had sounded the alarm.

In the end, whether it was instinct or folly, they ended up in the middle of a rocky surface on top of Malham Cove in Yorkshire, bruised from a landing that had not gone as smoothly as planned. But Hermione was pretty sure that wasn't the worst of her worries; in the process, though she was scared to check, she was almost certain that she had splinched some of the skin of her knee off. Apart from that, all of her previous enchantments like the hunchback, the pockmarks, and the hair colouring were completely gone, and the spectacles had fallen off and were lying cracked just a few feet away.

Wincing and trying to keep in a cry as she turned over from her stomach to her back, Hermione sat up and gasped in pain and surprise at the red, bloody oval that greeted her when she looked down. Through the green robe and jeans she had been wearing, holes left behind from both of them as well, the sight of her own flesh and what was missing from it was almost enough to match her retch. She tried moving the leg a little, wincing in pain as she did so, but thankfully it didn't feel like anything besides the dermis and fat tissue of her skin had been taken off. The bone and muscles, thank Merlin, were still there.

So consumed was she in her pain that Hermione almost didn't notice when Malfoy shifted to his feet beside her, but she had her wand at the ready when he did.

"Don't move!" she cried, hating how weak her voice sounded and how, even now, tears were escaping her eyes and she couldn't help it.

At first, Malfoy glared at her in anger and incredulity, but then his eyes drifted down to her knee and he relaxed a bit, not even bothering to reach for his wand, which was still tucked into his sleeve.

The silencing charm off him, at last he was able to speak. "You shouldn't have done that, Granger. Thought you'd know that."

Hermione breathed heavily, fighting to keep herself calm when all she really wanted to do was lie down and have a good cry. "Shove off, Malfoy. I did what I had to."

Draco merely sniffed in slight annoyance. "'Shove off'? Really?" He gestured around them, making Hermione clench her wand tighter. "Look around us, Granger—I couldn't shove off unless I walked off a cliff!"

To her surprise, and possibly because of both her exhaustion and her pain, Hermione ironically smiled. "Would you?"

Looking down at her and registering her pain more than who she was, Draco crouched down next to her, half-expecting a hex and yet relieved when he didn't receive one. For the moment, at least, he wasn't Hermione Granger's main concern.

"I can help with that, Granger," he said, surprising both of them. He had no idea why he offered it, besides the fact maybe that he was so sick and tired of seeing anyone in any kind of pain, but he meant it.

"Right. Help. From you." From the way Hermione said it and how her eyes were flicking back and forth from Draco's face to his wand hand, it was clear that she didn't believe his words worth a damn.

"I helped you once already Granger, remember?" Draco said. "Back at the lake, it would have been easy for me to turn you in, or worse, but I chose not to."

Now was a good a time as any to ask, Hermione supposed. "Why didn't you? T-turn me in or do worse?" She kept her eyes focused on his face now. "It would've been a good chance to get back at me for the past, if nothing else."

There was a longer pause this time, maybe as Draco was considering the answer, but in the end he settled for a relative non-answer, which at least was honest if not easier to give. "Get back at you, Granger? I don't see what I'd have to get back at you for, unless you'd care to remind me."

Hermione in fact didn't, and she had no wish to get herself hexed either, so she ignored the baiting. "I don't understand you, Malfoy," she said in a low voice, lowering her wand just a trifle.

"Just like I said you didn't, Granger."

Inhaling and then wincing as a breeze of air brushed against her exposed flesh, Hermione took a second to glance down at it. No infection, but a splinch was as good as an open wound, and in fact it was extremely lucky that more hadn't come off, what with how quickly Hermione had moved. Malfoy himself didn't seem to have left anything behind, so maybe he had a better control over himself than she had at the moment.

"What would you plan on doing, Malfoy?" she asked cautiously.

Draco took out his wand, managing to block the quick spell that Hermione sent his way. The Gryffindor was so surprised that he had managed to block it at all and also so quickly, but she didn't comment on it. Instead, she kept her wand pointed at him, unnerved that now he was easily doing the same.

"I mean to help you, Granger, though with another false move like that, I might just do the opposite. Lower your wand."

"Like hell!"

He had to admire her bravery if nothing else on this one. Even though she was clearly at a disadvantage, Hermione Granger didn't cave, and that was something that would serve Potter well in having her as a friend, maybe even more than her brains or skills with magic. And...damn it all, he was starting to think in those terms again—honor, friendship, loyalty. It was all one useless and fleeting thought after another, and Draco only wished that he didn't have so many of them recently. Nevertheless, it was hard to keep from thinking that no one that he knew and had close by would be nearly as composed in the same situation. And although she had started out this conversation crying, Hermione Granger was composed and focused—of that, Draco had no doubt, the strength and speed of her spell having proved it.

"Fine, but you try anything again, and I'll as good as saw your leg off, Granger, I swear it!"

Hermione glared fiercely at him, but her words were surprisingly reasonable, and gave up more of herself and something resembling a truce than she would admit: "If you don't try anything, I won't try anything, Malfoy."

And so it was with this kind-of agreement that Draco set to work, using the same spell that he had insisted on learning after it had saved his life just a couple months before.

"Vulnera sanentur. Vulnera sanentur. Vulnera sanentur..."

Draco did feel a bit ridiculous almost singing to Granger, but it was the way the incantation worked, and so it was the way he had to go about it.

For the most part, Hermione kept her eyes and wand fixed on him, but as it began to take effect, she couldn't help but glance down at her knee and see that the signs of injury were fast receding, and that while it was a slow and complex healing process, it was working.

By the time Draco was finished, after what felt like a long time to both of them, Hermione's knee looked fully healed and didn't hurt at all when she tried to move it.

Staring up at Draco in equal measures surprise and thanks, Hermione finally lowered her wand, relieved and still a little surprised when Draco did the same, and then finally sat down to get more comfortable. For a while, they sat in silence, neither knowing what to say, until finally Hermione spoke up, blurting out the first thing she could think of.

"You are a Death Eater, aren't you?"

It took Draco aback to have it so...bluntly pointed out to him, but it wasn't like Granger had been underneath the floor in the Astronomy Tower to see him reveal himself, so he didn't blame her for being curious. Wasn't that one of her key personality traits, after all?

But Draco, after months of going through the motions of it all, from getting the Mark to being given an important task to even being incorporated into the Dark Lord's inner circle, wasn't sure just how to identify himself anymore. Had it been anyone else who had asked, then yes, he obviously would have said that he was a Death Eater and loudly proclaimed it both as part of his family's pride and the fact that he was "chosen" by the Dark Lord. But to Granger, who had no one to reveal this information to who could or even would use it against him, who by herself was in worse danger than he was, that answer didn't come as easily.

Maybe because it's not the truth, Draco couldn't help thinking. Maybe it hasn't been true for a long time now...

"I guess you could say that—sort of."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "What do you mean 'sort of'? There is no 'sort of' to a question like that, Malfoy."

Draco sniffed. "I didn't know you dealt in absolutes, Granger—or is that what years of staring into textbooks has done to you? Made it so that everything has a clear, exact answer."

Hermione pursed her lips. "I know that real life's not like that. But one should be clear on one's alliances, especially now."

Draco silently agreed with her on that, but didn't say so as it would only bring his own uncertainty out in the open. Since he was still afraid to admit it fully even to himself, obviously he wasn't going to give Hermione Granger of all people insights into that.

"It's easier for some people than others to say, Granger," Draco said, turning his head to look at her. "But then, I don't have to answer to you on that. At least not without some quid pro quo."

"What do you mean?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at Draco's use of the Latin phrase, wondering if he even knew what it meant—she certainly wouldn't have thought he was smart enough to, anyway.

Draco looked around them. "For one thing, telling me where the hell I am, and why you've decided to bring me here. Payback for last time?" Even though he hadn't done anything to her, but still.

Hermione had been looking at him until now, but finally she looked away, focusing on just about anything else to avoid answering part of his question. "If I hadn't, you would've given me away. Besides which, a friend of yours was lurking about anyway, and I knew he recognized me."

"What friend?"

"Fenrir Greyback."

Draco couldn't help it: his nose wrinkled in disgust. "He's no friend of mine!" he snapped. Then, when Hermione turned to look at him surprise at the forceful tone he had used, he added, "You honestly think I'd be friends with a werewolf?"

"You're on the same side," Hermione insisted. "The last time I saw him, he was attacking the Burrow with Bellatrix and a couple of other Death Eaters."

It didn't surprise Draco that Greyback and his aunt would both be on the same team, as they shared a love of pain and blood if nothing else, but he didn't like Hermione's connection of Greyback to him just because of that.

"Well, if you remember seeing me there, then you can start pointing fingers and saying who's friends with who; but if you have no proof, then don't."

There was a surprising amount of bitterness in his voice, and Hermione just didn't know what to make of it. Up until now, though their conversation had been...well, civil enough in that they weren't casting hexes at each other, she at least had been speaking to Draco purely based on her own prejudices, both past and present. Considering how she was already starting to go against an "Us or Them" mindset, the way she was acting was contrary to her own beliefs, and therefore stemmed from her own past bitterness as well. There was a bad history between her and the Slytherin, no question about it, but at least he didn't seem to be acting out on it, and hadn't done so during their last accidental meeting either.

So far, you're acting the bad guy here, Hermione, she thought. And besides which, Draco had heeled her splinch, so...

"Thank you for..." Hermione nodded down to her knee. "What you did."

Draco merely gave a nod to indicate that he accepted her thanks, though inside he was a bit surprised that she had offered it up at all; it certainly wasn't what he had expected her to say, though quite frankly at this point he had no idea just where their conversation was going. Actually, if it had been up to him, he would've apparated away long ago, except that he didn't know where he was and had no interest in ending up even more lost by trying it. So, until Granger decided to spill the beans on where she had taken them—and if she didn't cooperate on that, then Draco wasn't against a more forceful way of making her tell, though he didn't look forward to it—he was stuck there.

"Where did you learn a spell like that anyway?"

Draco saw no harm in telling her, in fact curious to know whether Potter had given her the whole story as well. So, excluding the part about why he had gone in to the bathroom in the first place, he went over what had happened in their sixth year and how it was Professor Snape who had healed him in the end. It was on the tip of his tongue to mention how Potter ought to have been expelled for that if only he wasn't Dumbledore's prize pet, but he refrained from doing so.

Hermione had heard the story from Harry's point of view of course, but only in brief details as Harry had been fairly shocked and scared about the whole affair. All she knew was that Harry had had no idea of what the spell was capable of, and it was only after he had seen the damage it could do that he had finally agreed to get rid of that ruddy Potions textbook that had been thoroughly corrupted by the half-blood prince. Later on, Harry had found out that Snape himself was the half-blood prince anyway, so it wasn't surprising to Hermione to find out that at least he knew how to undo a spell that he himself had invented.

That Draco had bothered to learn it afterwards was more than a bit telling, though.

Since it wasn't her place to apologize—and she was in no way involved with that, so she didn't want to anyway—Hermione made no further comment on what Draco had revealed, instead twirling her wand absently between her fingers. She still had a multitude of questions to ask him of course, but at the same time it felt odd just sitting beside him and rehashing the past that way with...well, with almost no hostility or animosity between them, so overall she wasn't sure just what she could say and what she couldn't. The very first thing she had done was try to confirm that he was a Death Eater—which both Harry and Ron would have objected to if they had been present, probably stating that it was obvious that Malfoy was a Death Eater—but Malfoy's response was ambiguous to say the least, so already that brought up even more questions than before.

The biggest question, of course, was the matter of trust: how much could Hermione take what he said at face value? Right now, in fact, the only thing she could be sure of was that their privacy was ensured, as there was no one around for miles and Malfoy hadn't done anything telling in summoning anyone or even sending out a signal of sorts. This put Hermione on the spot for what her next move should be, but short of capturing him and taking him back with her to Harry and Ron for questioning, she couldn't think of anything. And, strange as it was to admit, Hermione didn't want to do that as...well, even though it would have felt right even a couple of days ago during their first meeting, it certainly didn't seem so now.

It was Draco who broke their silence this time though, with a question of his own. "So what were you doing in Diagon Alley, Granger?" And he was also curious whether Potter and Weasley had been nearby as well, but if so, they certainly hadn't been close enough to provide backup for her.

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, considering. Despite the uncomfortable feel of the entire conversation, and the fact that she was putting herself through it when logic would insist that she disapparate and let Malfoy figure out how to get back himself, one thing that seemed consistent enough was that Malfoy wasn't lying. True, he wasn't really saying much, but then, neither was she; and what he had said so far was the truth, Hermione was sure of it—if he had been lying, then there would be no need for ambiguity to his answers, much less the genuinely bitter and confused way he was acting.

Why not? Hell, he hasn't used anything against me yet, and even if he gets a chance to, I'll be far away by then, she thought.

"I was searching for potion ingredients, among other things," she said. Her bag, tucked beneath her robes, thankfully hadn't been damaged at all, as it was a magical item that had unlimited space inside. Even if she dunked it underwater, nothing inside would be wet, as, technically, the space her items occupied was separate from the physical space of the bag itself. "And you?"

Draco smirked. "Oh, I'm up to something, as always. Just took the turn out of Knockturn Alley, and the next thing I know, you almost knock me over." He eyed her robes. "Lackluster disguise, by the way, Granger. What happened—no more Polyjuice Potion left?"

His words didn't have enough bite to them to contain any actual insult, and Hermione supposed that he couldn't get past that cockiness that had been ingrained in him practically since birth, so she let it go. "I wouldn't waste Polyjuice Potion just for shopping, Malfoy. And what were you doing in Knockturn Alley?"

Now Draco actually smiled, though it was sardonic. "You don't really expect me to answer your questions, do you? I can tell there are at least half a dozen you haven't asked yet."

Hermione didn't know how he could tell that, but then again, she was an "insufferable know-it-all" and so it wasn't hard to guess that she had questions. She pressed forward anyway. "Suppose I ask one that won't compromise whatever is it you're doing."

Draco waved his hand nonchalantly. "Go ahead."

"Why did you let me go last time?"

And just like that, of course she asked a question that was hard to answer. In itself, it was a compromise to expect any sort of answer, since an average person should just be thankful for the outcome and move on; but house elves would spontaneously grow wings and fly before Hermione Granger could be considered "average". Still though, it was a challenge for Draco to phrase it once he had made up his mind to answer, and in the end he decided to just go with the simplest truth:

"Because I didn't want to see you hurt, Granger. Not you or anyone, not even Potter." He turned to look at her very seriously. "And if anyone else had been nearby, you would have been hurt, Granger, even before being captured and asked any questions."

"But why?" Hermione breathed, more confused than ever before. "Why should you care whether or not I get hurt?" She paused. "I would have thought you'd enjoy it after all we've been through."

Draco's face was blank, but deep within his eyes there was a haunted look, a pain that Hermione just barely caught a glimpse of; and, though she didn't understand it, she almost felt pity for Malfoy upon seeing it. "Because there's too much of pain these days, Granger, and I'm not interested in seeing more." The look faded from his eyes until he looked more like his old, confident self again. "Not even to you."

Suddenly, Draco's first response of "sort of" was beginning to make more and more sense. While his family, his background, and especially the evidence from their sixth year all suggested a complete loyalty to Voldemort and the Death Eaters, the answers Malfoy was giving her now certainly didn't make him sound like one. It was too much of a jump to assume that Malfoy was on Harry's side or anything now, but maybe, just maybe...

Maybe, Hermione concluded. But there was nothing to be said further than that. Not only because Hermione didn't want to speculate further without proof, but also because she sensed that no matter what definite answers she wanted from him right now, Malfoy couldn't or wouldn't give them. A truce was the furthest thing she could expect and, Merlin knew, given that two encounters with the Slytherin and her not being the worse for wear was more than anyone could decently expect, it was enough.

"Well, I guess I should say thanks for that, too."

"Don't smother me, Granger," Draco said with a slight smirk, some of the tension easing out of him as well after his earlier response. "Or I might start to think you owe me."

Hermione smiled, not willing to go that far either. "I didn't ask you to let me go, so no, but..." She looked around. "I will offer you the same courtesy. Right now, we're at Malham Cove, in Yorkshire. It's a national landmark."

"Interesting choice," Draco mused indifferently. "Any special reason for bringing us here?"

Having expected him to disaparate right away instead of asking a further question, in her surprise Hermione ended up answering. "I came here with my parents when I was younger. They loved to travel, so..." She left it at that, suddenly remembering her parents and what she had had to do to them earlier that summer...

At the dark look that crossed her face, Draco bit back his instinctual retort or even a negative facial expression at the remembrance that her parents were both muggles, and instead steered the conversation elsewhere. "I never went in much for that sort of thing myself."

More grateful—oddly enough—than surprised at what he was saying, Hermione went along with his casual tone. "Really? I would have thought that, what with all the money you have, you could go anywhere you wanted." Even the Weasleys, who had to scrimp and save for most of what they had, had been able to afford a trip to Egypt just once.

"Nowhere I wanted to go," Draco said. "I mean, we're wizards, Granger, so we don't exactly need plane tickets."

It was the first time Draco had referred to both of them as wizards, and so while it wasn't exactly equal ground necessarily, it was the closest acknowledgement Hermione had ever gotten from him, and she couldn't help feeling warmed by it.

But wait...warm? Merlin, what time was it?!

Looking up at the sky, Hermione judged it to be way past early morning, maybe even close to noon. Cripes, there was no way that Harry and Ron hadn't noticed that she was gone and weren't freaking out by now! But they wouldn't go against her instructions and risk going to Diagon Alley to look for her, would they?

I should've sent a Patronus long ago... Hermione thought regretfully. Sure, she had been a bit distracted, bu that was no less acceptable!

With more reluctance than she thought the situation merited, Hermione turned to Malfoy and said, "Not that this hasn't been interesting and all, but I'm sure we both have places to go now."

Draco, who had surprised himself by how carefree and almost indulgent he had been—too much to dissect there, so he wasn't going to try—had lost track of time as well. For just...well, for however long it had been, he had almost forgotten everything outside the present moment, and had even gotten close to feeling...for lack of a better word, normal again.

Even though absolutely nothing about this has been 'normal', he thought.

Besides which, Granger was right: he badly needed to get certain things done, starting with getting that dupliacte key back into his father's office and hopefully avoiding any run-ins with anyone this time around.

"Good observation, Granger. We've w—spent enough time here already." Much as it would be a familiar insult, Draco couldn't bring himself to say that it was "wasted" time.

Hermione nodded and stood. "I suspect this will be the last time we will be meeting, until—" Well, most likely until they'd be standing on a battlefield of sorts, on opposite sides and in all likelihood pointing their wands at each other, but...

"The future's uncertain," Draco said, feeling that he knew that better than most. "Let's just say that we're making no plans to meet."

Before he could disapparate though, Hermione acted out one last time for that day, taking things in a direction that she wasn't even sure they wanted them to go. "Not necessarily."

Draco stared at her incredulously. "What?"

Since at least there was no hostility and maybe even a bit of curiosity in his tone, Hermione continued, though unsure where exactly she was taking things. "I mean that obviously this is...it's been..." She paused. "If you're still on the 'sort of' side of things, then you don't have anyone close to talk to."

Draco couldn't help his haughty reaction this time. Hand on his hip and even sneering a bit, he said, "You think I need someone to talk to?"

"Yes." The certainty in Hermione's voice was clear, causing them both to take a step back. "Yes, Malfoy, I think you do. Otherwise, why would you let me go twice now, and why is it that you're not planning to tell anyone about what's happened?"

"And how do you know I'm not?" Draco asked, his manner getting weaker and weaker as he withdrew into himself.

"You would've done it already and then even now I'd be surrounded by Death Eaters," Hermione stated. "Maybe even in Vol—in his hands already. And that's another thing: you warned me about the finder's spell. There's no reason why you would do that unless, for some reason or other, you're interested in keeping me and Harry hidden from him."

Draco couldn't bring himself to tell her off or even to taunt her that she was getting ahead of herself, because the truth of the matter was that she was right. And while choosing it was one thing and having it pointed out to his face was another, his alarm for the consequences of that was purely self-contained.

"I'm not going to assume anything about your involvement," Hermione continued. "I think I've done enough of that and, like you said, I might be entirely wrong. I don't understand you, Malfoy, but..." She inhaled deeply. "If you're really not sure which side you're on, then I'm not going to overlook you as an ally or at least as a source of information just because of the past. You don't seem to be harping on it, so why should I?"

Then, before Draco could object, she went on, "I'm not saying that you'll tell me anything or even that I'll expect you to, but I can't overlook any potential help, no matter how small it is right now." And while this was as good as admitting that the trio were desperate, Hermione couldn't explain it, but she felt that she could let Malfoy in on things a little. "Anyway, take it all in all, I can't forget or overlook things that've happened here. And so, next time you...next time anything comes up, whether just to talk or whatever, you can contact me. Reach out, and I'll know to answer."

Draco didn't know what she was on about, and a small, derisive part of him thought her completely mental, but he considered what she said seriously. On instinct, he felt the compulsion to hex her and get it over with, disapparate and never look back; but inside his mind, that tortured part that was literally seeking any way out of his current situation, he took her words to heart. It was true: he wanted someone to talk to, someone he could be honest with without consequences. And, as he had already determined, talking to Granger was essentially risk-free as she'd have no one to tell, being on the run as she was, and even just this morning conversation had proved to him that it gave him some semblance of normalcy, temporary as it was.

He was going to say yes, no use denying it.

With Granger, for Merlin's sake, Draco thought. He expected that small and familiar feeling of disgust to rise up in him at the thought of acknowledging a mudblood in any way whatsoever, but this time it didn't come. By now, he was beyond that. Strange, but also a relief in many ways.

"Let's say I do, or that you do," he said finally. "How exactly would that work?"

"Patronuses," Hermione said, after giving it some thought. "They're impossible to track and we could even set charms to disguise our voices, in case someone else is listening."

"Patronus pen pals is what you're saying?" It sounded more than a little ridiculous.

Hermione shrugged, hands on her hips in alight annoyance. "You have any better ideas? Maybe it was a stupid thing to suggest this at all," she muttered.

"No!" They both blinked at his blunt refusal, and so Draco hurried to say something else to cover it up. "Let's go with it for now since there's nothing better. What's your patronus?"

"An otter. What's yours?"

Draco looked away, feeling a bit embarrassed. "A peacock."

Hermione couldn't help but smile, though she managed to keep in a laugh. "Is...that so?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Not all Slytherins have snakes, no more than all Gryffindors have lions," he pointed out.

"I didn't think that, but...why a peacock?"

Draco crossed his arms, still not looking her way. "They're kind of symbols of my family, and we used to have a few in our gardens before." And they reminded him of his childhood, which was about the only reason why he could summon up any happy memories to conjure a Patronus at all. Like his family's lakehouse, it was one of the few things he had to rely upon to keep him sane. Of course, like many of his fellow Slytherins, he hadn't been in Dumbledore's Army and so hadn't been taught how to conjure up his Patronus there, but, this past summer, with Severus behind him and insisting that he learn something to protect him from Dementors, now that they were freely roaming the Wizarding World and all, he'd finally attempted to.

To his chagrin and slight regret, his images were weak most of the time, but every now and then he'd produce a full Patronus, and every time it was inevitably a peacock.

Hermione nodded, choosing not to ask this time what 'before' meant. But next time, if she got a chance to and assuming that there would be a next time...

"Right," Draco cleared his throat. "Well, this has gone on long enough, Granger, and like you said, we've got other places to go. So..." And he wasn't sure just what to say, since usually he just walked away or disapparated once he was done talking with someone, so in the end he opted to say nothing and just disapparated.

Blinking at his sudden departure, Hermione paused for a few seconds to take it all in, everything that had happened, before realizing that she really didn't have time for this now.

Later, Hermione, later. Right now, she'd had enough trouble making excuses and coming up with explanations for Harry and Ron once she got back.

With that cheery thought in mind, she too disapparated, leaving the limestone cliffs bare once more.

A/N: Whew, and there you have it folks! To date, not only is this the longest chapter in the fic, but it's also the longest chapter I've written in a while, so cheers to that!

So, just a few notes on things I might get questions on:

Firstly, my motivation for having the animosity between Hermione and Draco mainly dissolved by now is because, to be frank, this story isn't going to go anywhere as long as they're not at least talking or communicating with each other directly. I figured that this was necessary because two accidental meetings I can realistically condone between them, but any more than that is far-fetched to say the least, no? And so, to make the process more believable, I decided to have them at least agree to maybe reach out in the future, and patronuses seemed the best way to do that.

AND, on that note, the second thing I want to mention is my choice for Draco's patronus. It's not an original idea to have it be a peacock, as I've seen some theories leaning that way online, and it was just funny and original enough that I decided to go with it instead of giving Draco a snake or anything necessarily "dark". I tried to connect it to his childhood a bit, since I think that any happy memories would have to be from that time. Also, I tried to take into account how J.K. Rowling mentioned that, at least by the end of Draco's sixth year, he wouldn't have conjured up a patronus, but I think it's going a bit far to say that he can't. Sure, he may not have many happy memories, but that doesn't mean that he won't have any, and I tried to account for that by connecting it to his childhood and family symbol. Adding in the explanation that Snape would have insisted that he learn privately since it's not in the Hogwarts curriculum also seems to me like a logical explanation, so I went with it.

As always, I'm SUPER hyped and excited by how excited so many readers—more than I expected, anyway, not gonna lie—are about this story, so thank you to everyone for all your kind words and enthusiasm. Please do follow, favourite, and especially review more, as rest assured I do read everything you've written and quite enjoy hearing people's responses to the story! To all us writers, it is an incredible motivator, haha. (And also, if anyone has any questions that I can answer without going into spoiler territory, please feel free to ask and then I can answer them in these A/Ns at the end of each chapter. M'kay, enjoy!)

Looking forward to future chapters ahead!