A/N: I own nothing. Enjoy!
Hermione was alone on the train. She put her head through the window and looked back, trying to discern any passengers who had left the station. She was looking for Draco Malfoy's face in the crowd of silver figures. For a moment, she thought she saw his face, but the moment was gone as soon as the train turned around the corner.
She felt alone. She recalled how she felt during the astronomy class. He was always so mean to her, but somehow, his absence rubbed her the wrong way. There was no one who criticized her work, pointed out critical flaws. She realized how much she enjoyed arguing with him – he was smart, he knew his way around the library almost as well as she did. He was, her eyes widened in sudden recognition, the most exciting part of her days.
She looked out of the window, feeling empty. She twisted the ring around her finger and removed the flower crown. It seemed childish and hollow now. Hermione sighed, watching the river of stars through the window. It was cold and empty, just like everyone had told her.
Hermione stirred slowly, unsure if she even wanted to get up. But someone was crying and it sounded louder the more she tried to ignore it. She rubbed her eyes with her right hand and was surprised, when she felt cold metal against her skin. She opened her eyes and found a silver ring on her ring finger. She removed it and took a closer look at it. The ring was exactly like the one in her fucked up dream (there is no way she'll admit to kissing Draco Malfoy, even if it was only in her dreams!) except for one difference. There was an engraving inside it. One word which made her groan in agony: Malfoy. If anyone in Gryffindor found it in her possessions, she would be interrogated until she told the truth. But she wasn't even sure what truth was.
Hermione forced herself to get up. She came out of the shadows only to find a first year Gryffindor girl who looked much like her crying in the armchair in front of the fireplace.
"Are you okay?" she asked carefully, wordlessly casting accio to bring out her secret stash of chocolates. The girl shook her head. Her crying intensified and she buried her face into her hands. Hermione kneeled down in front of her and took her hands. "What's wrong, dear?" she asked in a gentle, but demanding voice. The girl tried to speak through her sobs, but the only words Hermione understood were "detention" and "accident". The head girl sighed and stood up.
"Come on, let's get you to the Hospital Wing," she said, urging the girl to move. "What's your name?" she remembered to ask.
"Rose," whispered the girl, hiccoughing. The sun was up already, but it was still early. Hermione wondered how much she had slept by the window. It was good that it had been charmed to keep people from falling out. Walking together seemed to calm her a little and she was able to speak almost normally again.
"We had detention in the dungeons with Slytherins," she said, her voice breaking. "We were playing around with some other students." She didn't specify their houses, because for the new first years, it wasn't so important. The school had worked hard to improve inter-house relations. That was part of why Hermione had returned to her final year despite numerous job offers.
"Mr Malfoy and Mr Zabini told us to stop…" her voice died and Hermione's heart was suddenly filled with dread. "A stray spell hit one of the walls and reflected back. It shouldn't have happened." Tears were running down Rose's cheeks uncontrollably. Her breathing hitched as she finished: "It was a harmless spell really! Mr Malfoy protected me… It was an accident, I swear!"
Hermione stopped and hugged the girl. "I'm sure everything will be alright," she lied. The dungeons were a dangerous place for even simple magic, especially ones enchanted by Salazar Slytherin. That's why the wands of the students serving detention there were usually collected. Snape had told her once about their dangers.
So she added speed and in no time, they were by the hospital doors. The older Gryffindor pushed the door open and peeked inside. It was quiet up front, but there seemed to be people at the end of the wing.
"Madam Pomfrey?" she called, pushing the door open wider, so that Rose could sneak in. Hermione entered after her and closed the door. The healer came towards them. "I believe this young girl could do with some calming draught. She was in detention with the Slytherins last night…" Poppy Pomfrey's eyes softened and she asked Rose to take a seat on one of the empty beds.
"I'll be right back, Miss Granger," she said sternly. "Wait here."
There was movement behind the sheets, hiding a patient from the rest of the floor. A girl came out, her make-up ruined from heavy crying.
"Granger!" she howled and Hermione recognized her as Pansy Parkinson, one of the Slytherin prefects. The brunette rushed towards them and the Gryffindor princess could feel Rose stiffen up next to her. This put her on alert, but all that happened was that Pansy fell into her arms, crying. "Please help him! You're the brightest witch of your age, aren't you?" She sniffed.
Poppy Pomfrey wasn't ready for the two girls hugging in her hospital wing. Pansy and Hermione had never gotten along and the healer was pretty sure it had to do with Draco Malfoy. The blonde lad would always push Pansy's advances away and gave all his twisted attention to the Gryffindor girl.
"She can't," inserted the healer, administrating Rose the calming draught. "She may be the cleverest witch to walk in Hogwarts after Rowena Ravenclaw, but she is not all-powerful. There is no cure for death."
Hermione felt her stomach get cold. "Can I see him?" Her question seemed strange even in her ears. They had just been on that train together, laughed together, he had kissed her. There was no way he was gone, was there? It was just a dream, whispered a voice in the back of her mind. Pansy took her hand and led her to the bed where a motionless Draco lied with his eyes closed. Hermione fell in the chair and checked him for pulse. It wasn't there.
She could feel tears prickling her eyes, begging to be let out. She blinked them away. What had Draco told her last night?
He had said Blaise Zabini had ran to him, but he wasn't fast enough to catch up.
He had said that people are happiest right after they do something good. Or was it when?
He had wondered if his mother would ever forgive him.
You get to say goodbye. That was what the little girl, Lyra had said. You get to say goodbye. Was that what it was?
"Malfoy," she whispered his name. Her fingers unconsciously found the ring on her finger. She turned it around and around and around. She spun it around her finger 14 times without even realizing what she was doing. But there are 14 main stars in the dragon constellation and there is more than enough magic in love. Without knowing it, she was calling him home.
Pansy sat down next to her. "He always liked you," she whispered, as if worried someone would hear them. "That's why he was always so horrible towards you. I think," she paused, glancing at Hermione, "I think he wanted you to notice him more than ever. He didn't think you would ever forgive him though… " They sat in silence for a while.
"Do you think his mother will forgive him?" Hermione wasn't sure why she asked it. Narcissa Malfoy had lost so much in the span of last couple of years. Her husband was in Azkaban, her sisters dead and now, her only child was gone. It was too much pain for one human being to bear.
Pansy didn't answer. Draco had jumped in front of a Gryffindor student to save her – Hermione assumed he knew the dangers of the dungeons. It wasn't very Slytherin of him. It was unlikely anyone in Slytherin would understand his decision and not loathe the kid he had died saving.
Hermione slipped the ring off her finger and put it on Draco's. It was strange how perfectly it fit his long thing fingers. She bent over him and kissed his forehead, not even caring about what the pure-blood girl would say. Then she left.
The coldness spread through her veins and she tried to walk faster to get warm. On her way to the great hall, she ran into a dark-skinned wizard. The man balanced her without saying anything. Blaise Zabini was like that – Hermione had never seen him speak with anyone other than Malfoy. He made certain she wasn't going to fall over once he let go and then moved past her.
"Zabini?" turned the witch around almost instinctively, calling out to her savior. The Slytherin looked at her curiously. His eyes were filled with sadness. "Did Draco keep a journal?" Another question she would normally never ask. Zabini nodded, turned around and left for his house's common room.
The news of Draco Malfoy's death had spread fast, but not as fast as the news of his sudden revival. Hermione Granger found herself in a strange predicament where Pansy Parkinson (of all people!) was going around, praising the power of true love's kiss. At the very least, Pansy omitted the name of Draco's mysterious kisser. Draco himself hadn't said anything either. He was staying in the hospital wing until Pomfrey was able to confirm that there was no dark magic involved in his return from the afterlife.
Draco Malfoy played with the silver ring he had found on his finger after waking. It seemed awfully familiar, but he couldn't remember why. He had discovered an engraving inside though ("Granger") and he tried hard to hide the smile that was creeping on his face. He assumed the ring belonged to the Gryffindor princess. If it weren't for the ring, he would never have believed Pansy when she confessed, teary-eyed, that Granger had kissed his forehead. Actually, he wasn't sure he did believe it. Pansy seemed to be telling the truth, but why would Granger kiss him? She hated him!
Draco wondered if she'd do it again now that he wasn't dead. But she never came to visit.
Miss Granger was buried in work. With the head boy out for count, she had to do all of their duties all on her own. She arranged schedules, tutored younger students, observed detentions (when the professors asked for help) and patrolled the hallways only to bury herself in homework once she returned to the dorm. She hadn't looked so tired for months.
Secretly she was happy that Harry and Ron had decided not to return. They would have known instantly that she was avoiding something.
The morning she saw Draco Malfoy in the Great Hall at breakfast, she almost choked on her toast. He was staring at her with strange intensity in his eyes and when she left, he followed. Hermione hid herself in one of the alcoves, heart fluttering in her chest, and waited for him to pass. Once he was gone from her sight, she climbed out of her hiding place and ran to the library. She had started going there more often to see if she could find an explication to her strange dream and Draco's even stranger return from death. So far, her research had yielded no results even though she had managed to explore many different angles.
"Granger," Malfoy finally caught her. She jumped from surprise and dropped the book she had removed from the shelf. It fell to the floor with a loud thump that would have sent the angry librarian looking for them if she wasn't already occupied with a group of giggling Hufflepuff girls. Hermione picked the book up and hugged it against her chest. Draco placed his hands on the bookshelves on both his sides, effectively blocking the only way the witch could leave.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" she asked, tightening her grip around the book. It was a heavy hardcover which, by the looks of it, had not been removed from the shelf in decades.
"You scared, Granger?" he smirked. He had never had Hermione like this before and he found it suspiciously exciting. He took a step forward. Hermione took a step back. "I want to talk about… our kiss." He watched for her reaction, but the girl didn't give him the satisfaction of getting one. She forced her face to remain blank.
"Stop whatever game you think you're playing," she hissed and tried to get past him. He gripped the bookshelf harder, so she bounced back from his muscular arm instead of breaking through. The Gryffindor glared at him.
Draco looked her in the eye, frowning. The ring on his finger burned and he could hear her voice in his mind. She was saying something about cornflowers and his heart swelled with warm affection. He recalled his desire to kiss her at that moment. But when and where had it happened?
"Granger," he groaned. "Just listen me out, will you?" Suddenly, he realized that Hermione was trapped between his arms. She tried to wriggle out. Unable to resist, Draco stepped closer to her. Their noses were almost touching. He could smell her perfume. "Lily of the valley?" he wondered, slightly amused. "I wouldn't have thought you'd like this scent."
"It was a gift!" huffed the girl angrily. Malfoy was too close for comfort.
Draco wasn't sure if he could resist kissing her, but his temptation was broken by the click of a shutter and a flash that followed. His head snapped up and both he and Hermione looked at the culprit. It was a grinning Slytherin student with unmistakable black hair and sky blue eyes. Both Draco and Hermione recognized him at once, when he turned and left before anyone could react, calling "You look great together! Thanks!" over his shoulder.
It was Bruno Ares, a fourth year student who had joined the school newspaper as a photographer. Tomorrow, the heads would make the front page with a headline suggesting romantic relations between them. Hermione bit her lip, feeling the blame swell up in her chest. The newspaper was one of her ideas to promote inter-house relations. It had taken off faster and more successfully than she or anyone could have expected it to, but there were downsides too. One of them being an invincible team of sneaky, conspiring teenagers.
"He's right, you know," teased the blonde, turning his attention back to the girl. "We do look great together." He smirked. Hermione rolled her eyes and gently removed his hand. Malfoy let it fall, knowing that there was no way she could convince the newspaper not to run the photo. And if they were front page as he thought they would be, there would be no way for her to avoid him. Even some of their teachers bought into all the gossip! After all, the newspaper of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry also published a lot of relevant and true information (thanks to the effort and hard work of Miss Hermione Granger).
"Oh, shut up, Malfoy!" Hermione tried to hide her pink cheeks behind her long hair. She stepped past him and almost smiled, when the man tried to grab her hand.
"Was it you though?" he asked. Hermione wondered if she imagined the note of desperation in his voice or not. "The one who saved me?"
"Heaven knows, Malfoy," she said with a sigh. "I certainly didn't try to." She wasn't technically lying. "My best guess is that either you weren't dead in the first place or some incredibly complicated magic was at work in bringing you back. But I can tell you this much: if it was me, I'm as clueless as you are."
She left without another word. Malfoy stared after her. He closed his eyes when she was out of sight and moaned. And suddenly, he remembered everything.
„What's the one thing you would change if you could?" echoed a voice in his mind. He was on the platform at Hogsmeade train station. There was no one with him, but the place was colored a suspiciously clean white. There was not a speck on the floor.
He thought about his life – it flashed before his eyes, slowing down in the moments he had had with the Mudblood. He swallowed the lump in his throat.
"Her," he whispered. "I would tell her."
And then came the train. It was a lot like Hogwarts Express, but it had darker colors. He got on it, entered the compartment he usually did and checked his ticket. He didn't understand the name of the train, didn't know his destination or why it had his name on it. Draco pocketed the ticket and put his head out of the window. The wind was messing with his hair. When he pulled his head back into the compartment, he wasn't alone anymore. Hermione bloody Granger was setting opposite of him.
He had kissed her then. Right before the darkness kicked in.
He hadn't technically told her. But he still could. He had time for that, didn't he?
Suddenly, he asked himself: does she remember?
He went after her again, screaming "Oy, Granger!" to the top of his lungs.