Disclaimer: The story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J.K. Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloosmburry Books Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright is intended.

"Are you still sulking?"

Draco didn't need to turn around to recognise the voice that echoed suddenly in the quiet dormitory. It belonged to the traitor who used to be his best friend, barely two days ago. Before he chose to spread a vile lie about him, in front of Gryffindors no less. The blond didn't know if he could ever move past this particular brand of humiliation. The less Blaise deserved was to bear the brunt of his displeasure, and Draco was quite adept at expressing displeasure.

With a dramatic sigh Blaise threw himself on Draco's bed, and before his best friend could react, hogged him like an octopus. "Would you stop sul- sto-stop hitting me, damn it. Hey! That was the crown jewel of my House you almost destroyed." Blaise let Draco free with a glare. "What if I told you -even after what you just did- something you don't know about Gran-"

"Why would we talk about her?" Draco asked, apparently engrossed with the cuticle of his forefinger.

Blaise smirked. "Really, Draco?"

Spreading his limbs on the bed in a dramatic fashion, Blaise almost dislodged Draco from his place before continuing, "Listen. I really wanted to let you resolve on your own that mad sexual tension you two had going on, but you obviously can't be trusted to do what needs to be done. You wouldn't be here moping if you had taken the advantage I gave you."

To his credit, Draco tried not to react really hard. Even put all his Malfoy stoicism into it. It lasted thirty seconds, though. When the first word tumbled out of his mouth, he knew he had utterly lost what little dignity he had managed to retain until now. "What advantage?" Almost outraged, he said, "she obviously didn't need your little remark to hate me, but now it's just… Wait. What sexual tension?"

At that, Blaise laughed in his face. "Well, well, well... It means exactly what you think it means, pretty boy. If I had even the smallest reason to think that this thing was a pathetic one-sided crush on your part, I'd have hexed you until you came to your senses. Since it is very much reciprocated, however, I can't let this occasion of pissing your father off go." Blaise straightened out, a deceptive glint in his eyes. "Don't you remember ? I swore on my great-grandmama Allegra's grave that I wouldn't let that insult go."

Draco pulled a face at that particular memory. His father definitely went too far that day.

"Now that we're past the social niceties, do you want to know what I know about your not-so-secret-crush-anymore, or not?"

Draco exhaled before nodding. He would consider all the ramifications of his decision later. Much, much later.

Hermione was having a really, really bad day.

If she thought about it, she was having a really awful week actually. Since what was now dubbed "The Amortentia Incident" by not only her Slytherin-Gryffindor mixed potion class, but the entire sixth and seventh years now. If she found herself at the end of another smirk, heads were about to swell from a nasty hex. However, the universe, Merlin and Morgana weren't that preoccupied with her fate since that egoistic git of Blaise Zabini had overheard something he really shouldn't have, and from the smug look he sent her way he wasn't going to keep it to himself.

She should have pushed him down the stairs and claimed it was an accident.

Openly scowling she stormed down the hall and made her way far, far away from anyone under the age of eighteen. Hagrid would be a welcomed distraction from all of this nonsense.

The very second she put her feet in the gamekeeper's hut she was greeted by his booming voice asking what in the name of Merlin and all that is magic had happened in potion class and did Maloy imply she smelled because she was a muggle-born ?

As far as distractions went, it was very bad.

She explained that nothing had happened between Malfoy and her but a misunderstanding. She stressed the word twice, just to make sure. Because there was no way in hell that what Malfoy had said was true. There was no way that he'd smelled something even barely associated with her in professor Snape's cauldron. He'd said that because he wanted to humiliate her and imply she smelled, imply she was filthy. And it backfired. Spectacularly. But that was only because to Zabini anyone was fair game to mess with. He simply wanted to raise the utmost chaos.

However, she couldn't deny that for one second she entertained the thought that Malfoy had truly inhaled her scent. Her traitorous brain focusing on what happened between them before, and the way he was once, no matter how brief it had been. She made the mistake of trusting him, because she thought there was something worth it underneath. He proved to her how wrong she had been to trust him very fast.

Fool me once, they say.

At least, no one was there to witness what an imbecile she could become when she thought she could help people who didn't need -or want- to be helped. Thank Godric for small mercies.

Shaking her head, Hermione decided that enough was enough and this was the last time spent thinking about Malfoy. With forced cheer in her voice, she asked her giant friend about his day, and made up her mind to stay off anything Slytherin-related.

With feign nonchalance, Blaise laid on one of the old, wooden benches of the deserted Quidditch pitch. Through narrow eyes he'd been examining his best friend's back for the past ten minutes and, from what he'd gathered, Draco was taking his latest revelation pretty well. Whistling mildly, the young wizard thought that if his best friend chose to act on that little piece of information, things would definitely get more interesting in the future.

If one could call an apoplectic Lucius Malfoy interesting.

Abruptly, the dark-skinned wizard got up and started to drag a very reluctant and very puzzled Draco Malfoy behind him.

"Where are you dragging me off to?" the blond asked suspiciously. "Didn't you see that I was a bit busy planning the next few months of my life. If I want to survive them, that is. Without being disowned and disemboweled by my father."

"Don't be so dramatic, pretty boy! First thing first, your father will need to survive the news of you ending 300 years of alleged pure bloodline before considering murdering you. I truly hope the news will be enough to finish him off but if it doesn't, I will personally rub in his face that his future grandchildren will be half-blood." Blaise appeared thoughtful for a second. "If that doesn't do the trick, I will probably just poison him and be done with it."

Draco glared at the back of his friend's head. "Why am I friends with you again?"

"Because I'm the only in Slytherin who can put up with your diva antics and pry information out of your mouth for the fun of it, and not to ruin your - ill-formed - plans. I also helped you with your revenge against your annoying cousin Charles when we were six."

"Shut up."

Blaise winked at the disgruntled wizard behind him. "Stop scowling like that, we're almost there and believe me, with all the work you've got before she'd even consider the thought of being seen in public with you, you'll start smiling a tad more. You will need to make up for all the 'mudblood' you've thrown her way as if there was a sale on the word. Let us pray she understands that your declaration of love was just lost in translation."

"Nice to hear that my misfortunes bring you joy, mate," Draco muttered, still scowling. "And why exactly do you mean by 'we're almost there'?"

When the familiar silhouette of the half-giant's hut - Draco couldn't bring himself to call it a house - appeared in his field of vision, he cursed loudly. Then he panicked and tried to free himself from the strong grip on his arm. He knew exactly what Blaise had on his mind, and he knew that he was painfully unprepared for the conversation his friend was hoping would take place in a matter of minutes. He couldn't do this now. He'd mucked everything up and she'd hate him with the intensity of a thousand Firefyends. Well, more than she already did anyway.

From the corner of his eyes the blond caught a sudden movement behind the heavy (and quite ugly) curtains and renewed his struggles. Blaise stopped walking and tried to immobilize Draco with only a modicum of success since both wizards fell on the ground after a few seconds of wrestling. There the dark-skinned wizard sat on his best friend's torso to pin him to the ground.

"Are you going to behave, now?"

Draco only glared at him when a voice suddenly rang somewhere behind him.

"What in the name of Merlin are you two doing here?"

Of course, Blaise had to bloody laugh at this. And pat his cheek mockingly before removing his annoying arse.

Later, he thought. Blaise won't know what hit him.

Hermione pushed the door and exited the hut slowly. Funny that, she thought. She knew Blaise owed her no loyalty and was bound to spill what he's overheard to Draco, she even thought she would be angrier at Blaise's inability to keep quiet. If she was honest with herself, and Hermione strived to be, she was frustrated. Frustrated because she wanted more time; more time to make peace with the fact she'd have to confront Draco, more time to come to terms with the fact that she'd not been honest with herself for the last two years.

Carefully measuring each step she took in a futile attempt at keeping her emotions in check, she lowered her gaze to where the blonde sat in the grass just in time to see Zabini step aside, grinning. With a little huff, Malfoy picked himself off the ground and dusted his clothes, staring at everything but her.

Coward.

An awkward silence fell between them when neither party gathered the courage to talk first. Hermione opted to stare at Draco, Draco to stare at Blaise and Blaise to… transfigure a rock into a mirror and admire himself, Draco noted half-amused.

She, however, was clearly not finding the sight even remotely funny and threw an angry glare at the dark-skinned wizard who, probably sensing himself at the receiving end of two dark stares, feigned an innocent expression.

Raising an eyebrow, he said "Why are you both looking at me like that? I thought the game was to openly ogle the prettiest person here and it's obviously me."

Sighing, Hermione begged Merlin to give her enough strength - patience, really - to deal with those two morons.

"Why did you come here?"

Draco glanced at her and floundered. Unable -unwilling?- to answer truthfully, he found himself fidgeting and trying to smooth his shirt that his scuffle with Blaise had somehow ripped. After a few seconds of unbearable silence, Malfoy looked up. Hermione was looking everywhere but at him. He refused to pause to examine his feelings at the fact that she seemed unable to even stomach the sight of him.

Sed fieri sentio et excrucior, indeed.

Hermione was distressed. Distressed!

The bane of her existence had been making her life hell on earth for literal shit and giggles and the moment (the very moment!) he inadvertently showed a little skin, she lost all her composure. It was definitely the fault of his dreary pale skin, she absolutely didn't notice how creamy his skin looked underneath his shirt.

Nor did she see how fit he was.

As soon as the thought crossed her mind, Hermione froze.

Fit? What is wrong with me?

She shook her head and stared icily at the blond, who had moved on from impersonating the Witch of Sible Hedingam to threaten Zabini of hanging him to their dormitory's chandelier by his socks - yes the one made of Acromentula's silk.

Hermione could sense her irritation growing with each passing second. She just wanted to get over this conversation already. She knew that if they were to be seen by someone, it would just make its way around the rumour mill. People would go nuts over rumours involving Malfoy and her.

She cringed.

"Ok. I will ask this. One. Last. Time. What do you want, Malfoy?"

Crossing her arms, she raised her head high, magic ready to lash out at the two wizards facing her if the answer to her question wasn't to her liking. Unfortunately for her, from the moment she saw Draco inhaling, she knew - really, it was all in the grin - he was going to spout a bunch of nonsense.

"Hermione," Draco began with a solemn voice, "you may have noticed that back in the day our rapport used to be... hum, tense?"

She snorted. "Tense? Understatement of the year. Especially, if you happen to refer to the fact that you used to call me a 'Mudblood', or maybe the time when you told me that I'd be lucky if I found a Pygmy Puff to love me, or that one time when y-"

He cut her off. "Yes. I was alluding to those er- times."

Her voice seemed exceptionally strained to his ears. "Do go on, Malfoy." It almost felt like she was daring him to keep going.

"I…"

"You…? Listen, Malfoy. Why did you come here if you have nothing worthwhile to say? Came to take the piss once again? The- the potion class thing wasn't enough for you? Perhaps you-"

Draco cut her off softly. "I wasn't lying."

"...Excuse me?"

"I wasn't lying. It was you in that little vial. You're my Amortentia," he said a little louder this time.

As silence met his declaration, Draco began to panic, and, to his great shame, prattle. When, years later, he'd tried to pinpoint the exact moment this conversation went downhill, he'd select this one with a fond look on his face. "What I want to say is that I know very well how I've treated you in the past. I was young and stupid, and more importantly took pleasure in doing so. For a seeker - someone supposed to be fast - I'm slow about a lot of things in my life, including overcoming some of the most harmful precepts I've been brought up with. I called you names, awful names. I called you a mud- hum that word, I called you a troll, told you that your hair was like a strang-." A quick glance at the cross expression on her face told him to change the subject quickly before she turned him into a troll. "Listen, I have no excuse and I'm not here to seek absolution, nor your forgiveness. If you allow it, I would like to make amends. Very much so. I want to try. I want to be better."

"What for?"

It was his turn to be confused. That wasn't what he expected. She must have sensed his confusion because she clarified.

"What exactly are you apologising for?"

Draco didn't need to look at her to understand immediately what she was alluding to.

"This is not a repeat of- this is not like last time. I prom-"

She chuckled bitterly. "Don't make promises you cannot keep, Draco Malfoy."

Throwing a glance at where his best friend had been standing previously -he had quietly vanished at some point- Draco felt incredibly lonely. He cleared his throat discreetly to relieve the sudden tightness. He must be coming down with something.

A heavy sigh broke the fragile silence between them. For the first time since he'd arrived at the groundskeeper's hut, Draco really looked at Hermione and realised how tired and disheartened she seemed.

"I don't know if I should cry or laugh at your audacity. Do you really think I want to trust you again, that I even want you to make amends? What makes you think I want anything to do with you at all? Your newly-found conscience and subsequent guilt are none of my business."

"Blaise told me. You still have it, don't you?"

Bloody prick.

Hermione exhaled loudly and turned her gaze towards the lake. It was a beautiful sight, really. The sun was moments away from disappearing into the night and its soft lights were painting a beautiful canvas on the dark waters, while The Giant Squid, who was swimming lazily around, troubled the surface episodically, disrupting the mesmerizing sight.

Repositioning her gaze on Draco, she observed him with rapt attention.

Suddenly, his eyes caught hers, and they were suddenly staring at each other. She couldn't decipher the glint in his eyes. She never could have. It had served him well in the past, when she foolishly went and believed in something that was never there. It's why she would never, ever let her guards down around him again in this lifetime or the next.

"Do you?"

Ah, true. She hadn't answered his question. In truth, she didn't want to answer because it was true. She had kept it and she didn't want to examine too hard her reasons for not discarding it. Looking at him, she knew Draco wouldn't let the matter go, though.

"I do."

All of a sudden, she felt exhausted. She turned around, ready to collect her things from Hagrid's hut and make her way back towards the castle when he gripped her arm. Already on edge, she was prepared to make him let go, using her wand if necessary when she saw the expression on his face. Her wand-hand stilled. It was so gentle, her heart hurt for a brief moment.

Draco released her arm and stepped back.

They stayed like this for a very long time, standing so close but so far from one another, neither of them talking. Side by side, until the stars shone bright in the sky and the air around them grew cold enough to gently burn their fingertips. Only then did Draco leave, but Hermione stayed some more.

She stayed until the warming charm fizzled on its own before taking a step back, then a second, before turning around. The long gallery was blissfully deserted when she finally made her way back to the castle and she didn't meet anyone during her walk towards Gryffindor's tower.

There she quickly took off her clothes, mindful of the sleeping girls, and sighing, finally let herself fall on the bed. She stayed awake for a while, and only when she began to drift away did she grab the object on her nightstand, concealed by several charms. She fell asleep with the unassuming little ivory locket in the palm of her hand, her mind miles away from her bed.

It was near Hagrid's hut, entranced, and a bit dazzled, by the sincere smile Draco Malfoy gave her hours ago.