A cacophony of screams yanked Draco unceremoniously from sleep several hours earlier than he would've liked on the morning of Halloween. He lay there for a moment, head like a sack of wet cement, willing the noise to stop; Marcus Flint had inaugurated Quidditch season with a four-hour practice the previous evening, with the result that he'd scarcely slept at all and was sure he'd feel sore for the rest of his life. However, the din only grew louder with each passing moment. When he could take it no longer, Draco wrenched open his bed hangings.

"Right, I don't care what time it is, shut up or I'll-" He stopped cold. Theo's bed hangings were on fire. Blaise was flipping feverishly through his Charms book, hands shaking so badly he tore a page in half trying to turn it, and simply threw it over his shoulder with a groan of consternation. Vince and Greg were engaged in a fierce battle over what looked like Greg's blanket-Vince, it appeared, wanted to use it to dampen the flames. Apparently trapped on his bed, Theo cowered away from the fire and looked torn between panic and exasperated disbelief.

"I can't find it!" Blaise was yelling, voice quite a bit higher than normal. "How do I stop it?!"

"If I knew, don't you think I'd have told you by now?!" snapped Theo.

"Have you got your wand?"

"No! Who the hell sleeps with-Vince, no!" Too late. Far from smothering the blaze, the blanket simply caught fire at once. Vince jumped back with a yell of alarm, and Greg raced him into the far corner of the room. Draco snatched his wand from his bedside table and shoved Blaise violently out of the way. He closed his eyes and screwed up every ounce of concentration he could muster.

"Aguamenti!" Nothing.

"Draco, in case you hadn't noticed-" Blaise began.

"Shut up!" Draco interrupted. "And you!" he added, opening his eyes to glower at Vince and Greg. To his surprise, they all fell silent at once. He took a deep breath, and this time he could feel the power welling up inside him.

"Aguamenti!" A large jet of water shot out of his wand, so quickly that he struggled to maintain his grip on the wood. Blaise yelped and dove onto his bed, and within seconds the fire was extinguished and Theo's bed was soaked. There was a long silence.

"First Hogsmeade visit today," said Blaise conversationally.

"Great," replied Theo, voice devoid of inflection. "I've been meaning to buy a sword."

Vince and Greg dressed quickly and vanished. Blaise and Theo were in sharp disagreement about the fire, but from their bickering Draco gathered that Blaise had started it for what he considered noble reasons but quickly lost control of the flames. By the time they left the breakfast table, Blaise was insisting he'd set the fire to the hangings for Theo's own good.

As they joined the crowd swarming the Entrance Hall waiting to be cleared by Filch to leave the castle, a knot of Gryffindor third-years caught Draco's attention. Ron Weasley appeared, as usual, to be in a towering temper about something. Seamus Finnegan marched beside him in furious solidarity and Lavender Brown jogged along behind looking dolefully sympathetic. Hermione walked slightly ahead of Weasley, looking haughty and annoyed.

"...telling you, it did!" Weasley was saying hotly. "It heard me say I had Scabbers in my bag!"

"Oh, what rubbish!" snapped Hermione. "Crookshanks could smell him, Ron, how else-"

"He's right," interrupted Seamus Finnegan. "There's something funny about that animal, look, it clawed me-" Lavender Brown took his outstretched hand in hers with a comforting murmur.

"Would you all stop calling him an it?" cried Hermione. "All cats chase rats, Ron, all right, and I said I was sorry."

"Yeah, a fat lot of good that did," Weasley replied savagely. "I told you to keep that thing away from me, I knew this would happen, but you'll just never admit you're wrong about anything, will you?!"

Hermione's reply was drowned by sympathetic uproar from the Gryffindors around them. Draco had never exactly held Ron Weasley in high esteem, but today he'd have given anything to tear off his stupid freckly head and throw it as far into the lake as it would go while Lavender Brown and Seamus Finnegan looked on in horror.

"Change of plans, lads," he said over his shoulder, breaking away from Blaise and Theo.

"You can't leave me alone with him!" cried Theo at once. "He tried to kill me not a half-hour ago!"

"Oh, c'mon, she's not worth it!" groaned Blaise.

"If I'm dead before the feast tonight, it's your fault," Theo went on, but he was grinning in a knowing sort of way Draco wasn't sure he liked. He turned and made his way across the Entrance Hall.

"I need you at once, it's an emergency," he said flatly. He slung his arm around Hermione's shoulders and steered her away from the group, ignoring the nonsense hurled after him by Weasley and his entourage. Hermione let out a soft yelp of surprise, but recovered quickly and allowed herself to be led further up in the queue.

"What's the emergency, then?" she asked, with a coy smile that re-arranged Draco's internal organs. He gave what he hoped was a casual shrug.

"I'd say 'I'm dying to see you,' but then I'd really have to kill myself." Hermione snorted.

"I'd kill you."

"You'd have to," said Draco seriously. "You wouldn't let a crime like that go unpunished." Hermione nodded.

"Of course not. But then I'd have committed a crime, so I'd be locked up in Azkaban and I'd really hoped to beat you in our next Potions exam."

"I think you'd manage, as I'd be dead," Draco pointed out, and Hermione laughed as they reached the front of the queue. Filch ushered them out of the castle with a look that clearly wished them a very messy demise.

"Er-Draco?" said Hermione, as they stepped into the crisp autumn air.

"What?"

"Are you planning to let go of me?" Draco felt, at that moment, as if he really could have died. He'd quite forgotten his arm was around her shoulders, and he was torn between unspeakable embarrassment and an insane desire to keep it there.

"Sorry," he forced out, and withdrew his arm at once. If his face had ever felt this hot, he really couldn't remember when.

"It's all right," said Hermione, with a soft laugh. After a moment he risked a glance back in her direction, and frowned slightly. She was studying him intently, a look in her eye that he couldn't quite place. She dropped her gaze the instant she saw him looking, a hint of pink rising in her cheeks. If he touched them, would they warm his hands? She glanced back up and froze as their eyes met. Draco had lost all sense of his surroundings. He'd never noticed the flecks of amber in her eyes before, but now they caught the sunlight and glowed with a warmth that filled his insides. She bit her lip absentmindedly, and his breath caught in his chest. If he kissed her...would she bite his lip like that? Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. He wrenched his gaze away immediately, fighting against the molten lava filling every vein in his body. It faded as he sucked in the cold air around them, and within moments he felt something close to normal again. But the air was only getting colder. Thicker, too, and damp, nearly impossible to breathe in. He glanced back at Hermione. She was shivering and drawing her jacket closer around her, and her eyes were wide with fright. She didn't look surprised, though-merely resigned, and as he saw what lay ahead, Draco understood. They were about to pass the dementors stationed at the school gates. He stopped cold.

"I forgot." He didn't know where this came from, and hated how thin and pathetic his own voice sounded. Hermione frowned slightly.

"It's all right, we only have to pass them." Draco knew this. But what Hermione didn't know, what he wasn't sure he had the words to tell her, was that he couldn't pass them. If he did, the woman from the train would reappear and tear another hole in his chest.

"I...I don't…" Hermione looked perplexed, but then her expression softened and she took his hand in hers.

"Draco," she said softly. "It's all right." Her hand was cold, but her eyes were warm, and soon they were past the dementors. Hermione gave his hand a light squeeze.

"All right?" she asked. He nodded. She gave him a small smile, and the remaining cold evaporated from his insides as he returned it.

"Hermione?" he asked, after a moment.

"Yes?" He couldn't resist a hint of a smirk.

"Are you planning to let go of me?" Hermione flushed momentarily, but gave a soft laugh.

"D'you want me to?" she asked, so smoothly that Draco's heartbeat quickened in his chest.

"No," he decided, and Hermione grinned.

"All right, then." Perhaps it was the crunch of frost beneath their feet or the picturesque way the sun shone through the autumn leaves as they entered the village, but Draco forgot the dementors and the woman almost at once. He felt perfectly at home with Hermione's hand in his, and he could tell from the way she kept grinning at him that she felt the same way.

"What were they all on about this morning?" he asked as they slipped into the warm, sugary air of Honeydukes sweetshop. Hermione rolled her eyes.

"Oh, Crookshanks chased after Scabbers in the common room yesterday," she sighed. "I caught him straight away, of course, but Ron's still furious." Draco frowned.

"Who the hell's Scabbers?"

"Ron's pet rat," said Hermione absentmindedly, studying a barrel filled with what Draco recognized as acid pops. "He's been in the family for twelve years or something like that."

"Rats don't live for twelve years," said Draco at once. Hermione shrugged.

"I thought it was a bit odd, but don't animals sometimes live a bit longer in the wizarding world?"

"Not rats," laughed Draco. "And not for twelve years. He's pulling your leg, or he's an idiot." He paused. "Actually, he's an idiot whether he's pulling your leg or not."

"Don't start," said Hermione impatiently. "Make yourself useful and help me pick out sweets for Ginny." Draco grinned.

"Give those to Ginny," he said, gesturing to the acid pops. Hermione read the placard attached to the barrel, and frowned.

"What'll they do?" she asked suspiciously. Draco shrugged.

"Burn a hole through her tongue, if she's stupid enough to try them," he said casually.

"I thought you liked Ginny," Hermione admonished.

"I do like Ginny. I said they'd burn her tongue if she was stupid enough to try them."

"And you don't think she's stupid enough to try them?"

"I would bloody well hope not, with six older brothers." Hermione laughed.

"Why would I buy them for her, then?"

"So she can give them to people she doesn't like, of course," Draco told her. "I know you don't approve, but I think she understands the importance of being properly armed at school." Hermione shook her head and rolled her eyes.

"Ridiculous," she muttered, and slipped away to examine the barrels of sweets on the opposite wall. Draco grinned to himself and followed.

"I conjured water from nothing this morning," he said conversationally. Hermione's eyes grew wide.

"That's really advanced magic, well done," she said earnestly. In answer, he snatched a packet of sweets from the shelf and replaced the one in her hand.

"This flavor's better," he explained. "Ginny'll thank me." Hermione shrugged, then frowned thoughtfully.

"Why?" she asked, after a moment.

"Because that's peppermint, and this one's cinnamon," he said impatiently. Hermione frowned at him.

"No, silly, why did you conjure water this morning?"

"Oh, Blaise set Theo's bed on fire," he said casually, moving to examine the large array of chocolates. Hermione followed.

"What?!" Draco shrugged.

"Only the hangings."

"That's-I-is Theo all right?!"

"Oh, he's fine. I think he sort of thought it was funny. Not at first, obviously, but after." Hermione looked at him as though he'd announced his intention to fly to Mars.

"And why did Blaise set the fire in the first place?" she asked, leading him up to the counter to pay for Ginny's sweets.

"No idea," Draco told her. "I was asleep, and they had a bit of a disagreement on the subject." Hermione snatched the bag of sweets and swept away from the counter, shaking her head.

"What d'you mean, you were asleep," she muttered. "And peppermint is a much better flavor than cinnamon," she added, turning to face him as they left the shop. Draco laughed.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't realize you were nine hundred years old."

"What's that got to do with it?" shrieked Hermione indignantly.

"Only old people like peppermint, that's a fact," Draco insisted.

"Well, I've never heard it before in my life," said Hermione haughtily. "And I don't like to be in pain while I'm eating sweets, thanks." They laughed, and came to a stop as they wandered into the town square. It was beautiful; the trees were covered in great shocks of vibrant reds and golden yellows which warmed the light from the sun and lent a magical sort of glow to the quaint rows of cottages and shops around them. She was beautiful; her cheeks were pink again, but this time he suspected it was from the chill in the air. She'd tamed her hair somewhat this year, he noticed, but he'd always liked it. Sometimes he still thought about the afternoon he'd spent cutting off the bits Norbert the dragon had burned in their first year, vividly recalling the way his hands got lost in her curls. Then, it had made him feel close to her. Now, it made him ache to be closer.

She was studying him too, a gentle sort of look in her eyes that made him feel deliciously weak inside.

"What are you thinking?" she asked softly. He swallowed hard. What if he told her? Would she laugh? Run away? Or (his heartbeat sped up alarmingly under his ribs) would she take his face in her hands and let him know exactly what her lips felt like on his?

"Er...would it...I mean-can I kiss you?" The words left his mouth before he'd given them permission, but there was no taking them back now. She froze. So did his blood.

"What?" She closed her eyes for a split second, then shook her head as if to clear it. "I-I mean, you-yes. Yes." She laughed, and he thought his heart might explode from the sudden burst of warmth and happiness. He gently brushed her hair back from her face, relishing the softness of her cheek. Her hands slipped around his waist, light but solid and enough to stop his breath in his chest, and his nerves stood on end as he breathed in her warm, familiar scent.

"Oy!" They flew apart as if they'd been burned. Ron Weasley marched into the square, eyes blazing with a kind of fury Draco supposed he might find frightening, just as soon as his head stopped spinning. Hermione looked as though someone had poured freezing water down her back.

"Get your filthy hands off her, you right slimy git!" snarled Weasley, and Draco would've dearly loved to reply, but his mouth didn't seem to work.

"Oh, Ron, get out!" groaned Hermione, face now turning steadily crimson as she covered it with her hands.

"I will if he does," Weasley snapped. He gestured furiously at Draco, who found his tongue.

"For once in your miserable life, Weasley, mind your own business." Not his cleverest retort by a long shot, but it would have to do.

"Get away from her, then, I won't let you-" he broke off, grasping frantically for the end of a sentence Draco didn't care to hear.

"I'm not sure what it is you think I need your permission for," he snapped. "I could've sworn I only needed hers."

"Draco," hissed Hermione. He turned, and she was looking down at the ground, biting her lip.

"What?" Hermione seemed to wrestle with words for a moment, then made a sound of consternation in her throat.

"Ron, leave him alone," she said firmly. "Draco, I-it's not-" she broke off, and Draco felt as if someone had thrown a rock at his stomach.

"Not what?" he asked, hating the slight catch in his voice.

"She's telling you to fuck off," snapped Weasley. Draco turned so sharply he nearly lost his balance.

"Funny, I heard her tell you to fuck off twice already." With a cry of frustration, Hermione turned on her heel and tore up the road toward the castle with alarming speed. Draco found his footing before Weasley and started to go after her, but Weasley was a bit taller and shockingly strong. He caught Draco quickly and shoved him aside with astonishing force; Draco fought to keep his balance, but he stumbled and fell to the pavement so hard he had the wind knocked out of him. He watched through a fog of pain and confusion as Ron Weasley rounded the corner after the girl he'd been so sure, until five minutes ago, he'd finally get to kiss.

As breath returned to his body, something caught his eye. The moment he turned for a better look it was gone, but as he got to his feet he saw it again. Crookshanks was flitting in and out of rubbish bins in what appeared to be a direct path off the high street and away from the village. Draco frowned. How the hell had he gotten out of the castle? Well, it didn't matter, did it? Sighing slightly, he shot off in pursuit of the cat.

Crookshanks, however, had other ideas. He gave a faint hiss and slipped handily out of Draco's grasp, tail now held high in the air as he continued in the same direction. Draco paused as the ridiculous, insurmountable irony of the situation struck him. Of course, when all he wanted was to find Hermione, he'd be stuck chasing her ridiculous cat. Well, maybe he wouldn't.

He turned decisively back toward the castle, but he'd scarcely gone ten feet before he stopped in his tracks with a groan of frustration. Crookshanks might be annoying and a bit hostile, but he was just a stupid, helpless cat; he couldn't very well leave him in Hogsmeade. Besides, the thought of what Hermione would go through if she lost him tied Draco's stomach into knots.

"Right, c'mon, you stupid animal," he muttered, and turned back to follow the cat, taking care to tread lightly so as not to frighten him.

Crookshanks led Draco down a narrow road he'd never been on before, off the high street and out of the village. He was just beginning to think he'd better turn back when Crookshanks paused, then darted off the road and into a row of bushes.

"You've got to be joking," sighed Draco, and, thinking very dark thoughts about exactly what sort of cat owner Hermione thought she was, pushed aside the rough branches and followed.

He didn't get very far. The bushes led to a small clearing, and he did, in fact, find Crookshanks there. The trouble was, he wasn't alone. Nestled among the bushes a few feet away was the skinniest, mangiest black dog Draco had seen in his life.

He froze. The dog's head shot up off its paws at once; Crookshanks slipped past Draco as if he weren't there and circled the dog, sniffing around its tail. The dog, however, stared fixedly at Draco for an unnervingly long time. Dogs normally didn't...stare, did they?

Fuck if he knew, and it didn't matter. Knowing he'd need some way to subdue Crookshanks during the journey up to the castle, he removed his jacket and crouched down as if to pet him, wishing he had something to lure the cat with. But damn it all, he thought wryly, he'd left his cat-luring supplies in his other coat.

After several minutes and a few scratches to his arms and hands, he caught Crookshanks at last and wrapped him firmly in the jacket, ignoring his hisses and demands to be let go. The dog watched this spectacle quietly from his station in the bushes, and as Draco prepared to leave the clearing with Crookshanks, he found himself turning back for another look. He couldn't see a collar, and the unkempt state of the dog's fur told him that if he had an owner, they weren't a very good one. Seeming to sense his hesitation, the dog cocked his head to one side, and Draco felt an involuntary smile come to his face. He wasn't a pretty sight now, but there was something sort of sweet about him. There had been a period of Draco's life when he'd begged his parents for a dog. He'd stopped asking by the time he was ten, but he was still fascinated by a creature that offered love you didn't have to earn. He shook his head; he wasn't six anymore. He knew perfectly well he couldn't keep this dog. Clutching his jacket more tightly around the struggling Crookshanks, he turned once again and made his way out of the clearing.

As he started up the road toward the village, however, the dog's face refused to leave his mind and tugged at his heart more firmly with each step he took away from the clearing. He'd scarcely gone a hundred feet when he couldn't stand it any longer. So he couldn't keep the dog. He could feed it a proper meal, at least, and give it a warm place to sleep for the night. Crookshanks yowled and writhed more fiercely than ever in his arms, and he pulled the jacket as tightly as he could around the cat without hurting him.

"I promise I'll let you out, just give me another minute," he muttered absentmindedly as he turned and made his way back into the clearing.

Hearing Draco's approach, the dog jumped up at once and wagged his tail. Draco paused as it dawned on him that his lack of anything to lure Crookshanks extended to the dog.

"C'mon, then," he said hopefully, nodding back in the direction of the road. The dog cocked his head, looked intently at Draco for a half-minute, and bounded cheerfully across the clearing and to his side. Draco laughed; perhaps luring the animal wouldn't be a problem.

It wasn't. The dog followed Draco happily through the village, then back up the road toward the castle. Bizarrely, Crookshanks seemed much happier the moment Draco had returned for the dog. He'd stopped struggling entirely, and merely sat docile in Draco's arms. He didn't pause to question it; the cat weighed approximately the same as a baby elephant, and by the time they reached the grounds, Draco had begun to worry he'd drop him.

Once inside the gates, Draco paused and studied the dog for a moment. The grounds were deserted, but he'd certainly face questions if he met anyone on the way to-where? He shuddered to think what Blaise and Theo would say if he brought a dog into their dormitory.

Well, he'd have to risk it. He couldn't exactly shove him into a broom cupboard, after all.

"You might not like this, but just trust me," he told the dog, pulling his wand out of his pocket with some difficulty. He'd never done a Disillusionment Charm on anything other than himself before, but it worked just as well, and proved much easier to maintain. He kept his hand lightly on the top of the dog's head at first to ensure he didn't slip away, but quickly realized this was unnecessary; the dog followed him as willingly as ever into the dungeons, through the common room, and into the mercifully empty dormitory. Sensing they'd reached the end of their journey, Crookshanks struggled once again and Draco knelt down and released the cat onto the floor. Olive, who'd been asleep on Draco's pillow, raised her head and flicked her ear indignantly at him, signaling her displeasure at such a brazen invasion of her kingdom. He shrugged at her and released the Disillusionment Charm on the dog. Olive got to her feet and arched her back menacingly. Crookshanks spared her a disdainful glance before marching away to curl up on Draco's Transfiguration book. The dog gave Olive an oddly respectful sniff. Draco half-expected her to attack and prepared to grab her, but instead she marched past the dog to stare intently up at him.

"What?" he asked, after a moment. Olive meowed.

"Oh, thanks, that's much clearer," said Draco sarcastically. With a contemptuous look in his direction, she leapt lightly down from the bed and marched across the room to stare suspiciously at Crookshanks from the window sill. Draco turned his attention to the dog, who was giving everything in the vicinity a thorough sniff.

"I suppose I should feed you." He knelt down to scratch the dog behind the ears, trying to remember what the hell dogs ate. Meat, probably.

"Stay here, all right?" he said softly, giving the dog's head a stroke. "I promise these two tiny idiots won't hurt you," he added, gesturing to the cats. The dog gave a soft bark which sounded uncannily like a laugh, and Draco made his way back through the common room, checking his watch as he climbed the staircase to the Entrance Hall. Good. Lunch would still be going on.

When he returned to the dormitory, having stolen a plate and as much food as he could reasonably carry, the cats were asleep and the dog had curled up at the foot of his bed. The sight gave him an odd pang of something like nostalgia, and he laughed as the dog scrambled up to greet him the moment he stepped back into the room. The dog descended ravenously upon the food as soon as Draco gave it to him, and he threw himself onto his bed, watching for a moment before wondering whether it was disrespectful to watch a dog eat.

He closed his eyes, but this proved a grave mistake nearly at once as the events of the morning came rushing back to him. What would've happened if he hadn't hesitated, if he'd just kissed her? She'd have let him, he knew that now. Would she still?

"Why the fuck did I ask?" he groaned aloud, and the dog, having cleaned the plate, nudged Draco's fingers with his nose. Draco moved over absentmindedly, and the dog leapt lightly up onto the bed beside him. Oddly, stroking the dog's head made him feel slightly better.

"You're lucky you're a dog," he said dully. The dog wagged his tail and butted his head against Draco's hand. Draco laughed. He really was sweet, wasn't he?

"Have you got a name?" Another wag. "I suppose if you had, someone would've taken proper care of you, wouldn't they?" The dog licked Draco's hand, and he sighed.

"Sorry," he said quietly. "People can be really rubbish." The dog barked again, and Draco frowned. This bark resembled a human laugh even more than the first. He shook his head slightly.

"I'm going mad, aren't I?" He sighed and stroked the dog's head, more slowly and thoughtfully this time. "She can tell, I think." He paused. "Have you ever had a best friend?" The dog gave a strange sort of sigh.

"Of course not," Draco realized. "You're a fucking dog." And I'm the one talking to a fucking dog, so what does that make me? Across the room, Olive opened her eyes and fixed him with a long, judgemental stare.

"Oh, shut up," he snapped. "Maybe I really shouldn't kiss her," he said vaguely, after a moment. "I mean, she…" she understands without asking, and she makes me feel…

"There's no one else like her." No one else would hold your hand while you pass dementors and not make you feel like a tosser afterward.

"I mean, I'm not an idiot, I know I'm not everyone's favorite person." The dog shook his head slightly, flapping his ears. Draco hadn't realized he'd stopped stroking his head, and resumed absentmindedly. "You don't know this, because you're a fucking dog with a tiny fucking dog brain, but I'm-I mean, I can be a bit of a git, can't I? On purpose, I mean, sometimes. But sometimes I don't even mean to be, I just...don't always know…" he trailed off. "I'm fucking afraid of the dark." He didn't appear to be in control of the words coming out of his mouth any longer. "I never told anyone that. I'm afraid of loads of stupid stuff I'm far too old to be, and obviously I'd never tell anyone, because what thirteen-year-old is afraid of-" he broke off, and shook his head. "She always knows, though. She could laugh, but she never does, she just...when I'm with her, it...it feels like it's okay. Everything I don't like about myself...she makes me feel like it's okay." At some point, the dog's head had come to rest in his lap.

"That's worth more than a stupid kiss, isn't it?" He sighed. Yes, it was. But bloody christ, if every inch of him still didn't tingle and burn at the same time, imagining what might've happened in Hogsmeade if he'd been a half-second quicker. It was hours later when he remembered, with a jolt, that tonight was the Halloween feast.