Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Sunday, March 9th, 1999

12:30PM

Hermione was miserable and she could think of no other way to describe her state. She hadn't spoken to Draco for a whole week, outside of clipped conversation necessary for class work. Each night since their fight, she had woken in a sweat and had no one to lull her back to sleep and had been surviving on barely four hours of sleep a night for the last week. As a result, her studies were suffering. Professor McGonagall had kept her behind after their Transfiguration lesson that Friday, voicing her concerns in a tone that made Hermione feel scolded and childlike. Even Daphne and Theo had seemed a bit distant in their encounters and Ginny had been of no help with the argument.

Now, bundled in a coat and scarf and walking down to Hogsmeade by herself, she could feel the toll the week had taken on her. She hadn't been eating, too preoccupied with work that took too long to complete in her exhausted state. She was certain that if she had managed at least one good night's rest, she would be feeling much better both physically and mentally. But there was this added heaviness in her chest, her unresolved fight with Draco still weighing on her. She was very good at compartmentalising, but no matter what she was doing and how focused she was at the task at hand, she couldn't suppress the sadness.

Her boots crunched loudly against the snow on the path, what she hoped was the last of the cold weather. There had been a couple of warmer days at the beginning of the week where the sun shone brightly and staying inside for lessons had been torture, but by Wednesday, winter had decided on a final hurrah and doused a great snowfall over the castle and surrounding regions. The white blanket on the ground made her think of Valentine's Day and her first date with Draco the day after and the thought made her chest ache.

Hermione shook her head violently. She would not become one of those girls and let herself get pulled down and constantly distracted by her relationship. No matter how badly things were at the moment, she was certain that she and Draco would pull through, that it was only a matter of time before they made up.

Rounding the corner into Hogsmeade, her spirits were immediately lifted by the cheery village. Students milled about, enjoying their day off lessons and the excursion from the castle. She caught sight of Ron waiting outside The Three Broomsticks, glancing around the little town in search of her. He noticed her approach and waved. She could see the grin on his face from the end of the street.

When she reached him, Ron hugged her tightly and she smiled against his coat. Hermione stepped back as he released her and they entered the pub together, searching out a table near the back where conversation could still be heard. Ron broke away to order their lunch, returning with two foaming butterbeers.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Hermione," Ron said as he took his seat, "but you look bloody awful."

She drank deeply from her glass. "Thanks, Ronald. It's nice to see you, too."

"Everything all right?" he asked.

"Fine," she said, voice an octave higher than usual. "I've just got an awful lot of work on at school. How is everything with you and Harry?"

"Harry and I are doing just fine, but you're lying to me. Your voice has gone all shrill like mum's and I can see how tired you are." He studied her for a moment. "Has that Slytherin git done something?"

Hermione sighed, looking at her best friend. "We had a fight, okay?" she said, sipping again from her drink. "It was last week and it was about you and I don't want to talk about it."

Ron frowned, concern in his blue eyes. "Why were you fighting with Malfoy about me?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Didn't I just say I don't want to talk about it?" But when Ron just looked at her, she sighed. "He didn't want me to see you. Typical, irrational boy behaviour."

"Hey!" Ron said as their food arrived. "I take offence to that."

"You should," Hermione said. "You were the same when we were together."

Ron, mouth stuffed with chicken pot pie, just shook his head. He swallowed with a large gulp. "Look, as much as I hate Malfoy, I want you to be happy, Hermione, whether it's with him or someone less ferrety." He had another too-big mouthful. "And Merlin, I can't believe I'm saying this, but I get where Malfoy is coming from. You might want to give him a bit of a break unless you want what happened between us to happen again." He chewed thoughtfully for a moment and added, "That said, I wouldn't mind if it did work out that way."

Hermione smiled at Ron. "You can be quite insightful sometimes, Ronald," she said, relaxing into her seat. She chose to veer conversation back to Ron's life, her best friend all too happy to talk about his training as an Auror and his new relationship with Fay Dunbar.

Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch

1:30PM

A reluctant Slytherin team trudged out to the pitch, led by Draco. He had been in a foul mood all week, his housemates steering clear of him though no one was certain of what had caused him to act so harshly, and now the team was bearing the brunt of his anger. After a vicious morning training session after which two players had to go to the Hospital Wing, Draco insisted they return to the pitch for a more physical approach rather than tactical.

"Laps," he instructed after each player had deposited their broom on the sidelines. "Now."

The team groaned but most knew better than to argue, heading off on a slow jog around the Quidditch pitch. Blaise was the only one who stayed behind. "Drake," he said, refusing to quail beneath Draco's glare, "you've got to give it a rest. I get that you and Granger are in a fight but you can't keep taking it out on us the whole team will hate you."

"This has nothing to do with Granger," Draco snapped. "I want to win the cup and the only way we can is if the rest of you get off your asses and train."

Blaise stood firm. "We're going to take the cup, mate. We've won every match so far and we're in better condition than the Slytherin team has been in for years. You're just pissed off and taking your anger out on us instead of dealing with the problem."

"Fuck off, Zabini," Draco said, ignoring that Blaise was entirely correct. His best friend shook his head and ran off to join the rest of the team on their run, leaving Draco to survey their progression from the sidelines. He rubbed at his eyes, trying to squash the tiredness that had come from a week of sleepless nights. Too proud to admit he was wrong, he had stayed away from Hermione, speaking to her only in lessons, but keeping tabs on her from afar. Though he would never say it out loud, was missing the Gryffindor quite terribly.

Sensing movement behind him, Draco turned and saw Daphne approaching. He suppressed a sigh. "Your boyfriend is too busy to talk to you," he said, looking back to his team.

"I came to talk to you, actually."

"Of course you did," he muttered. "What?"

"Don't be like that, Draco," Daphne said. "It's been a week. You can't pretend like it's not bothering you."

"I'm fine, Daphne. Drop it."

"You're not fine at all. If you were, you'd be running laps with the rest of your team, not sulking on the sidelines like a petulant child. Just go talk to her, and give me my fiancé back from this ridiculous training regime."

Draco stared coolly at his companion for a moment. "Right!" he called to his teammates. They ran over, looking reluctant and fearing what torture their captain would put them through next. "You, er, can all go off now. Training is over early. Good work for today."

The Slytherins stared at Draco for a few moments as though he had grown an extra head before scarpering off, hoping to get away before he changed his mind. Daphne and Blaise vanished with them, leaving Draco to lag behind. He took the solitude as a time to reflect on his argument with Hermione, something he had avoided vehemently for the past week.

Daphne, ever perceptive and full of more intuition than Draco thought possible, had realised something was wrong the minute he arrived back in the common room after their row. She had intercepted him en route to his dormitory, standing with her hands on her hips and refusing to let him pass until she talked his temper down. Thinking on it, he was glad she had been so insistent, certain there would have been another broken hand if she hadn't been around.

He was aware that he had overreacted with Hermione, now certain that he was in the wrong, though being a Slytherin, there was too much pride at stake to admit he was wrong. Part of him was also sure that Hermione was at least somewhat wrong, too, and he had spent the week waiting for her to come to him with apologies spilling out.

Entering the draughty castle, he headed up the main staircase rather than down to the dungeons, briefly thankful to his exhaustion for rendering him unable to train and therefore without need for a shower. He realised he had taken the stairs two at a time when he reached Hermione's dormitory in record time, breathless. Tickling the tentacle of the Giant Squid, he turned the knob which appeared and continued on his way to his girlfriend's dormitory.

Hearing the soft tones of the record he bought her on their first date, his pace slowed as he took the last two stairs, pausing in the doorway to knock against the side of a bookshelf. Hermione was sitting on the couch, hair in disarray, legs tucked to one side and a tome open against the arm of the chair. She looked up at his interruption, face flummoxed for a moment.

"Draco," she said slowly, testing the words. "I was going to come and see you tonight. I thought you had Quidditch practice all day."

Taking a chance, Draco stepped into the room. She shut the book and stood. "I ended it early," he said. Any prepared conversation flew out of his mind when he saw her standing there, no clue of how to resolve their fight with words. Instead, he reached her in four strides, taking her face between his hands and kissing her with as much force as he could muster.

It took half a moment for Hermione to react, kissing back with equal pressure, tangling one hand in his hair and letting the other arm wrap around his body. They kissed until he was out of breath and his lips were red.

"I'm sorry, too," she said, cheeks pink and eyes bright. "I thought we'd talk it over but this way is much better."

"Faster, too, knowing you."

Hermione rolled her eyes, kissed his lips chastely, and squirmed from his grasp. "I should've known there'd be some conflict between you and Ronald when it came time for me to see him," she said. "And what we had was obviously a big deal, so I should have understood your jealousy."

"So we're talking about it now?" Draco asked, one brow lifted. He sighed, sat down on the couch whilst she moved into the kitchen and started making a pot of tea. "I realise that I don't have the right to choose who you can and can't see, but I'm never going to be thrilled that you're seeing Weasley."

"You know, he said that I should take you back," Hermione said. She poured the hot water into a large white teapot, set it on a tray with two teacups, a small bowl of sugar and a jug of milk. "Over lunch, I mentioned our argument and he told me I was overreacting and that I should give you a break." She levitated the tray over, letting it land on the coffee table with a soft clink of china.

Draco put two teaspoons of sugar into his cup and poured from the teapot, leaving Hermione's cup empty with the knowledge that she preferred her beverage to be stronger. "I suppose I should thank him, than," he said, voice flat and mouth turned down at the corners.

Hermione, who had been nestled into his side, sat up straight. "You'd do that?"

He gave a slow nod. "I'm not pleased that it was him, but he deserves thanks."

She twisted around to kiss him firmly. "Draco, that would mean so much to me," she said. "And I'm assuming I have Daphne to thank for your attitude change?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't Blaise," he said. "I'll write Weasley a letter tomorrow. Thanking a Weasley...what have you done to me, Granger?"

Hermione grinned. "Something that probably should have been done a while ago."

Unable to resist temptation, Draco kissed her again, then leant forward to pour her cup of tea. He added a generous splash of milk and a teaspoon of sugar, passing it to his witch who smiled appreciatively. "I don't know if I agree with that. I happen to like aspects of my old self."

"Which ones? The self-righteous, snarky, selfish, cruel, egotistical, bratty aspects?"

"The proud, devilishly handsome ones, actually, Granger."

"Please," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Up until this year, you were pasty and far too-skinny for your own good. You even resembled the ferret Mad-Eye turned you into in our fourth year."

Draco cringed. Though the event was long in the past, the nasty transfiguration wasn't something he'd soon forget. "And now?" he said. "You said 'up until this year'."

Hermione returned her teacup to the table, manoeuvring herself on the couch so she rested on her knees and faced his profile. "I'll admit," she said, running a finger along his cheek in a way that made goosebumps break out across his flesh, "you've grown to be quite aesthetically pleasing. Your face has filled out, and you have a strong jaw line." Her fingers skimmed along his jaw, then back up to his hair. "You have the softest hair I've ever felt," she continued, tugging on a few strands lightly, moving her fingers down to his lips. "And I think I've expressed how I feel about your lips in the past."

Draco thought his heart would break free of his chest with his girlfriend's movements, the low tone of her voice. He struggled to keep his composure, turning his head to her. "I'm quite a fan of expression, Granger, particularly in that form."

On that cue, Hermione tilted forward to kiss him gently, more questioning than anything. After resting his teacup on the floor, Draco moved his hands to her hair, lacing the curls around his fingers and responding to her touch.

He leaned back on the couch, pulling her with him until she was partially on top of him, lips still locked, one of his hands now tracing along her side, the other clasped on her hip to keep her steady.

Hermione's hands were exploratory, one on his cheek, the other drifting from his arm to his torso, pressing firmly in a way that set his skin alight. They kissed until they were out of breath, Hermione reaching dangerous territory as she pulled his shirt up slightly, her hand splayed on his skin.

"Granger," he said, pulling away. "We're getting carried away."

Seeming to realise just how intimate their position was, Hermione flushed scarlet and pulled her hand away, letting it rest on his clothed chest, just above his heart, her head against his shoulder. "I never thought I'd say this to you, Draco, but I missed you."

Draco had a rare, genuine smile across his face, kissing her hair. "I missed you too, Granger."