I'm back with a new chapter! Thank you for all the follows, favorites, and reviews!

Kyonomiko - Thank you for your reviews! You'll just have to wait and see where the journey takes them! Twists and turns guaranteed.

SigalShleifer - I am so flattered. Your review was so encouraging - building to a fever pitch is what I'm going for.

Hermione and Draco are starting to grow closer. Where will it take them? Will Hermione have the courage to follow through with her task? But then what? Let's find out...

After their late-night breakdowns, Draco sensed a shift in his relationship with Granger. She joked around with him more and was clearly more relaxed in his presence. They continued their daily bike rides through the neighborhood and spent their evenings together with her parents watching moving pictures on what was apparently called a telly. The telly pictures weren't particularly interesting to Draco. So when the rest of the family watched the telly, he liked to watch Granger.

She was unlike any girl Draco had ever spent time with before. All the pureblood girls whose company he had kept as a child and as a student had been the simpering, vapid daughters of rich families. None of them ever expected to work a day in their lives, so more often than not, they took more interest in their appearances than their schoolwork. At Hogwarts, girls like Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode had followed him around like lost kittens, hanging on his every word and fulfilling any request he felt like throwing at them. And Merlin, did they eat it up.

But Granger…Granger was a different sort all together. She was dead clever and refused to take anything he said at face value. Sure, she was curious to know his thoughts, but she was quick to debate him or play what she called "devil's advocate." But she was more than just brains. She was all kinds of small things he hadn't anticipated.

He hadn't anticipated that she hummed to herself in the shower. Draco had found that out as he walked past her bedroom one evening. He hadn't anticipated how delightful it was to watch her eat a bowl of strawberries, a blissful smile covering her face as she took each bite. He hadn't anticipated how good she was. Draco had always known she was a goodie-two-shoes, but this kind of goodness was different. Just weeks ago, it would have disgusted him to be attracted to such a stupid thing as goodness. But the way she looked at him…the way she would hold his hand as they walked together…it was like a piece of him that was missing finally had revealed itself.

And that scared him absolutely shitless.

Feeling this strongly about Granger without warning was like being bowled over by a powerful wave. Like falling and hitting his head. Like jumping into the ocean with no clue how to swim. Draco wasn't sure if what he was feeling was friendship or something more.

Ever since their talk that night on his bed, it was as though a wall that Draco didn't even know existed had come crumbling down. Among his friends at school, talking about the intimate details of one's home life was practically taboo. There were a lot of taboo topics in Slytherin. Many things happened behind closed doors and self-erected walls. But Granger, in all her infernal Gryffindorish-ness was chatterbox. Not the obnoxious kind, as he had always perceived her to be, but the kind that seemed to draw out words from others. Draco felt more compelled to talk to her than he had ever felt about talking to someone. Out of his lips spilled thoughts, opinions, musings, and even old memories. He had never told anyone about the first time his father had hit him – it had been after he had spilled pumpkin juice all over an old Malfoy family heirloom at the age of four. Of course, it had been easy enough to Scourgify, but his father had let him know quite forcefully that day what it meant to respect the name of Malfoy.

Granger had been properly horrified at that story. But she had also laughed when he told her about the first time he rode a broomstick when he was three, zooming about the gardens and terrorizing the gnomes.

He also found himself fascinated by her stories of growing up as a muggle. If living with muggles for two weeks had taught him anything, it was that everything he thought he knew about them was dead wrong. They had gadgets for everything. Keeping food cold or hot? Check. Doing the washing? Check. Flying? Check. Sure, being a wizard would always be a point of pride for him, and the muggle way of doing things would always be inconvenient and slow, but there was nothing inherently wrong with it.

What would his Slytherin classmates think of him now?

What would his parents think?

That was something he probably wouldn't have to consider for a long time, for better or for worse.

One Saturday morning, about two weeks after he had arrived, Granger knocked on his door after breakfast. Expecting to see her smiling, asking if he was ready to go for a bike ride, he was surprised to see her standing in front of him with a grave expression instead.

"What's up?" Draco asked as she walked past him and sat on his bed.

"Close the door first, would you?"

He obliged and moved to sit beside her. Draco took her hand and she leaned her head on his shoulder. He stiffened for a moment – she had never done this before. It seemed very intimate.

Clearing his throat, he tried to ask again. "What's going on, Granger?"

She stared at the wall as she responded, her voice soft and shaky. "I need you to pack. It's time. We'll be leaving after lunch."

"It's…time?" He paused for a moment. What was she talking – "Oh! It's time! Are you serious? You mean you're going to – "

"Please don't say it out loud," Granger interrupted him. "I can't bear to think about it." Draco nodded and watched as Granger closed her eyes. After a moment, she stood again. "Remember to pack what you can carry. I'll shrink your trunk to fit into a smaller bag when you're finished."

Without another word, she exited for her own room. Packing didn't take long. Since he had no need for his robes or schoolbooks during his stay at the Granger's home, most of his belongings had stayed in his trunk. Draco folded his few muggle clothes and grabbed the scant possessions he had kept around the room. Throwing them into his trunk, he padded down the hallway to the bathroom to fetch his toiletries.

Just outside the bathroom door, he paused. Draco could hear the clacking of objects coming from Granger's bedroom. He could practically picture her scurrying about her room, gathering everything methodically. Knowing she would be in no state to talk, Draco gathered his toothbrush and a few other items, retreated back to his room, tossed everything in his trunk, and sat on his bed for what was probably the last time.

Nerves crept into his stomach. Where would they go when they left? Surely Granger had a plan. He would readily put all his trust in her at this point, were the stakes not so high. One wrong move and they could easily be captured by Death Eaters. Draco hoped Granger knew what she was doing.

Some time later Mrs. Granger called up the stairs for the two of them to come down for lunch. It was at this point that Granger made a reappearance at Draco's door. With a wave of her wand, his trunk became the size of a cantaloupe. Draco picked it up and placed it into a grey backpack. The two walked down the stairs together to their final lunch in this familiar, safe space.

Granger had instructed him to wait upstairs while she did it. He had tried sitting on his bed once more, but he couldn't stand being alone. Quietly, so as not to disturb her, Draco crept to the stairs and sat at the very top. From this vantage point, he could see the sitting room where the Granger parents were sitting together on the sofa watching some weekend telly. They were quite occupied with the program, it seemed. They didn't notice when their daughter approached them from behind, her wand out.

Granger's wand arm was shaking so badly that she could scarcely hold it steady. Draco's heart clenched as he watched her whole body vibrate with fear. She was about to do the unthinkable – about to do something that Draco wasn't sure he could ever do. He watched her take a breath. Her shoulders relaxed. Her aim steadied.

"Obliviate."

Draco watched the Grangers stiffen. Their daughter lowered her wand and retreated to the kitchen. Unable to hold back any longer, he tiptoed down the steps and made his way to her. She was leaning over the kitchen island, grasping it for dear life, taking sharp breaths that shook her whole torso. Draco placed a gentle hand on her back and the breathing steadied.

"We need to erase all evidence of me from here. Go around and swipe any pictures they have of me. Put them in my bag –" she indicated a small beaded bag sitting on the kitchen table, " – and meet me by the front door in five minutes. But first, we need to glamour ourselves. We've got a long way to go today, and I don't want anyone to recognize us."

With the air of a businesswoman, Granger pulled out her wand and waved it at herself and then Draco. Glancing at the hall mirror, Draco hardly recognized himself. His hair was mousy brown and curly, his eyes a bright blue, and his facial features rounded. Granger turned her hair a straight raven black, her eyes darker. She, too, gazed at her own reflection.

Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears, but her face was determined. She shook her head at him. "Now's not the time. They'll come out of their trance within fifteen minutes and will think there are strangers in the house if we're not gone."

With a nod and a turn, Draco made his way across the first floor, sweeping each room for any item that seemed connected to Hermione Granger. He found photographs on the mantle, two trophies on a bookshelf, and a framed poem she had composed as a child hanging on their bedroom wall. His arms full, he dumped all the items in the beaded bag as directed.

As promised, Granger met him by the front door in a short time. He opened the door and looked around. She was standing stock still in the front hall, her eyes fixed upon the backs of her parents' heads. Draco grabbed her arm, but she stood rooted to the spot.

"Come on, Granger," he whispered. "We've got to go."

His hand around her small waist, he guided her through the front door. She glanced around one last time before shutting the door behind her. Draco was terrified she would break down – she seemed like she was made of glass in this moment. But instead, she steadied herself and started walking down the driveway and onto the sidewalk.

"Where are we headed, Granger?" Draco jogged to catch up.

"To a train station. We're catching a train South." She stopped and waved her arms at something. Draco turned to see a car slow to a stop in front of them. Granger motioned for him to climb in.

Granger gave the driver directions to some train station and the car sped off.

"Are we going to be traveling the muggle way?" Draco whispered.

"Yes. I figured it would be safer this way. It's probably going to be a long day, so brace yourself."

After several minutes the car pulled up to a station. Granger paid the driver and the two of them made their way inside. Draco followed just behind his companion as she bought two tickets at the window and they walked toward the platform.

"So, Granger. Where are we headed?" Draco asked after they boarded their train and settled in a compartment together.

"We're going to the Weasley's."

Draco huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. Of course they were going to the Weasel dump.

"I know you're not that happy about it, but it's going to be perfectly safe there and Bill Weasley is marrying Fleur Delacour in a couple weeks anyway. Once we're there we will inform McGonagall that we've changed locations."

More than anything, Draco wanted to be acidic right now – to spit out insults about the Weasleys and their continual state of poverty. He was about to open his mouth and speak when he turned to see Granger. She had her knees drawn up to her chest, her slight body curled in the corner of the compartment with her head leaning on the window.

The venom in his mind dissipated and was replaced with worry. Suddenly, Draco wasn't sure he had the heart to make rude commentary about the Weasleys or anyone else. Instead, he decided to change the subject.

"So, erm, how long will this train ride take?"

"A little over three hours, I think." She didn't look up from the window.

"Do you just want quiet, Granger?"

Draco saw her head make a slight up-and-down motion. He gave a sigh of defeat and settled into his own seat. After thirty minutes of silence, he was already sorely missing his chatterbox friend. To be so quiet was unlike her, and it was unsettling. Every few minutes or so, Draco glanced up to check on her, but she wasn't crying. Not yet, at least.

Relaxing into his seat further, he allowed himself to drift off…

Hermione wasn't sure how long she had been spacing out when she heard the unmistakable sounds of whimpering across from her. Looking up, she saw her now-curly haired companion fast asleep, a worried expression painted on his face. Small, sharp sounds escaped from as he slept, and two fat tears trailed down his cheeks.

Feeling her heart clench, she switched sides of the compartment and sat beside her friend. She took his hand in hers and squeezed. Malfoy jerked awake, though his eyes remained half-lidded.

"Wazzit?" he managed to slur.

"Shhh, it's all right. Go back to sleep, Malfoy." She ran her hands through his glamoured curls and immediately found she preferred his straight hair. Hermione pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and wiped his face gently.

"Draco."

"What?"

"Call me Draco…friends, right?" he breathed, settling his head on top of hers.

"Yes, all right. Go to sleep, Draco. I'll wake you when we arrive."

Mal…Draco's breathing evened out after a minute and Hermione was left to continue contemplating her situation. The last few weeks had been some of the most bizarre she had ever experienced. The Death Eater attack, Dumbledore's death, Malfoy's confession…those had all been great shocks. But what she had not expected to shock her was Malf-Draco's behavior these last two weeks.

Hermione would be lying to herself if she were to say that Draco hadn't grown on her immensely. When he wanted to, he could certainly be charming and funny. She even found him to have a very decent heart. He had treated her family with kindness and curiosity and had reached out to her with empathy. Several times during their bike rides to the park, she had caught him smiling at the local children as they played. On their second time visiting the ice cream van, Draco had even lifted a little boy up to the van window to order and hand over his coins.

Seeing him this way was like seeing the world through a whole new lens. This boy who had played such an unfortunately pivotal role in her adolescence had wormed his way into her heart in a matter of two weeks' time, and the whole thing was throwing her for quite the loop. She couldn't quite explain it logically. Her brain was still quite confused when she tried to comprehend this great upheaval of opinion. But her heart was not confused. In fact, her heart was quite clearly drawn to him. The intensity of their newfound friendship was unlike that of Ron and Harry, whose friendship she treasured above all else.

This friendship was something different.

Draco's head lolled to the side away from her, and Hermione held her gaze much longer than she would if he had been awake. Even under a glamour, Draco Malfoy was incredibly handsome. A small part of her wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him and hold him close so she could feel his body next to hers. The thought made her cheeks heat up. His face wasn't the only part of him she found attractive. Helping him select summer clothes had been an eye-opener for her.

Being best friends with two boys, she had seen her fair share of their naked torsos over the years. She used to think that nothing could top Ron's lanky body, but lately, a voice in the back of her head was nudging her toward Draco Malfoy. It was his voice and body that haunted her dreams of late, after all. In her dreams, it was his lean, muscular, blonde-haired form that held her closed and trailed kisses along her body. She had woken up flushed and heated more than once in the past few days. Not only did she find it embarrassing; she consequently felt guilty for not dreaming of Ron instead.

Her mind was just so mixed up.

Hermione turned to watch the countryside fly by outside the train window. They flew past countless towns and villages, each one merely a blur. Her thoughts turned to the one place she had actively been avoiding in her musings. Her parents. She felt her insides squeeze with guilt and panic. She had no way to know if she had done the right thing, but one thing was for certain. There was no going back now.

More tears threatened to spill from her eyes, so she actively switched trains of thought.

How would the Weasleys react to Mal…Draco? It would take a while to get used to calling him that. Harry would certainly try to murder him on sight. She would have to figure out a plan to make them listen to her before they tried to kill her newfound friend.

Hermione ran through various scenarios and dialogues in her brain as the train grew closer and closer to Devon. When the conductor announced through the PA system that they would be approaching the station in fifteen minutes' time, Hermione shook Draco awake. To her amusement, he blinked blearily and wiped drool from his face before fully realizing what he was doing. The two grabbed their bags and made their way to the carriage door. Within minutes the train pulled into the station and they disembarked. Checking to make sure Draco was right on her tail, she deciphered the station's signs and found the bus depot.

"A bus? You have got to be kidding me, Granger."

"I most certainly am not. We've got about…45 minutes on the bus until we arrive," Hermione said pointedly as she squinted at the bus schedule.

Draco groaned and Hermione punched him lightly in the arm.

"Ouch! Watch yourself, Granger. That's my seeker arm."

"Come on, you big baby. We need to head this way."

After the predicted 45 minutes of travel time up and down country roads, the pair arrived in the town of Ottery St. Catchpole shortly after sunset. As they stepped off the bus and into the town, Hermione pulled Draco aside into an alley.

"We need to be extra careful tonight," she whispered, double checking that her wand was in her pocket. "There are both magical and muggle communities here, so let's keep our heads down. We may be glamoured, but we can't be sure that we're completely unrecognizable."

"Right. So are we headed to the Weasley's?" Draco asked, annoyance tinged in his tone.

"No, not tonight," Hermione said. She watched Draco visibly relax. "We're going to stay in town tonight while I send out some messages. One to Professor McGonagall to let her know where we are. She'll be aware we've left by now, I'm sure, and will be furious, but that's for me to deal with. I'll also send a message to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley to prepare for your arrival. I'm worried if we just show up your welcome might not be so…warm."

"You've got a point there, Granger." Draco adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. "So where to, then?"

"Let's get a room at an inn and we'll head to the Burrow first thing tomorrow. We'll have the kitchen deliver food up to the room so as to make as little appearance around town as possible."

Draco agreed and the two went in search of an inn. They found one just two streets away in an old, but pleasant looking building. Hermione presented the squat woman at the front desk with a fake ID she had conjured back at home. As the woman looked through her paperwork, she asked in a thick accent with a single eyebrow raised, "Why are two youngsters like yourselves getting a room for the night?"

"Oh, this is my cousin Alfie. We're on holiday visiting our Gran," she jumped right in without missing a beat. "We're headed all the way down to the shore, but it's a bit too far to finish tonight."

"How lovely, spending your holiday with your gran. What good grandchildren you are!" the woman gushed, reaching out to pinch Draco's cheek. Hermione had to stop herself from giggling at the sour expression on his face. "Well, dearies the only rooms we have available are rooms with one bed, unfortunately."

"Oh, that's all right. Alfie and I used to kip together as kids all the time. It's no bother." Hermione forced herself to smile, though this news made her heart speed up a bit.

"Very well, then. Room number 6 for Miss Saoirse Thompson and cousin Alfie. I'll bring you up your dinner shortly, shall I? It's cottage pie tonight."

"That'd be lovely. Thank you so much." Hermione took the key from the woman and motioned for Draco. "Come on, Alfie. We'll want to call Gran before she goes to bed. Let her know where we are."

The two of them shuffled up the rickety steps and walked down the upstairs hallway toward a wooden door with a brass 6 on the outside. Fiddling with the key for a moment, Hermione opened the door. The room wasn't anything fancy, but it was cozy. As promised, a single bed was pushed along the left wall, a table, an armchair, and a fireplace along the right. Stepping inside, Hermione felt as though she left a great weight at the door as she collapsed on the bed.

"Don't take up the whole damn thing, Granger!" Draco flopped down beside her. "Merlin, this bed isn't nearly as comfortable as my bed at home."

Hermione rolled on her side to face him. "Your bed at home?" She grinned at him and was shocked when he turned slightly pink and grinned back.

"Yeah, well, I actually really liked your house, Granger. It's a pity we had to leave."

The events of the day came rushing back, and she rolled onto her back to look up, no longer feeling like smiling. How could she be smiling? She lost her parents this morning at her own hand. Who knows when she would see them again? And if she did, Hermione wasn't fully confident she could restore their memories. If this war waged on for years…

Draco sat up and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Sorry, Granger. That was a shitty thing for me to say. I wasn't thinking properly. I just mean…well, what I meant-" the poor boy stammered as his face colored thoroughly "-I meant to say thanks for letting me stay with you. Thanks for taking a chance on me. I'm trying not to be a prick, I really am."

Hermione smiled.

There was a knock at the door and the woman from the front desk appeared with a tray of cottage pies, veg, and glasses of milk. Hermione and Draco ate on the bed with the telly on in the background. It was a nice distraction.

They finished and Draco put the trays back in the hallway. Hermione removed their glamours for the evening and moved to sit at the little desk in the corner of the room, but not before locking and warding both the door and window. She looked out from her perch at the peaceful town covered in soft summer moonlight. Tomorrow was the start of a new adventure. While she was excited to see Ron, Ginny, and the rest of the Weasley clan, she was admittedly nervous about how they would treat Draco and how that would affect her newfound friendship with him. She hoped he wouldn't turn sullen again…if that happened, well, she thought it might break her heart a bit.

With a jump and a little yelp, Hermione stood up. "Oh my gosh! I completely forgot."

"What? What is it, Granger? Are you okay?" He sat on the bed, his eyes wide as saucers.

"Yes, I'm fine. I just forgot to send a message to the McGonagall and the Weasleys."

Hermione stood and closed her eyes. She had to think of a happy memory for this to work. Her boys swam into her mind. Harry with his floppy black hair. Ron with his adorable freckles. Draco. Draco with a big grin on his face.

Eyes open. "Expecto Patronum!" An otter burst forth, illuminating the little room.

Draco's jaw dropped. His eyes were the size of saucers.

"Woah, Granger! I didn't know you could make a Patronus."

"Yes, well, Harry taught me…taught a lot of us fifth year."

Draco's jaw remained open as Hermione cleared her throat and directed her speech at the little otter.

"Mr. and Mrs. Weasley – it's me, Hermione. I'll be arriving tomorrow morning. I will be bringing a guest with me. Please keep an open mind and trust me when we arrive." Hermione waved her wand and directed the Patronus out the closed window and into the night.

She conjured another.

"Professor McGonagall – it's Hermione Granger. I apologize for not informing you or waiting to obtain your consent, but my charge and I have taken leave to go to the destination we had previously discussed earlier than anticipated. I am so sorry you were not informed beforehand, but I felt it was necessary. Beginning in the morning, you will find us in that previously-discussed location."

The second patronus flew out to its receiver.

That should do it. She turned to see Draco sitting straight up on the bed, his mouth still resembling a codfish. "That was pretty damn good, Granger."

"Thanks," she smiled. "And you can call me Hermione, you know. If I can call you Draco, then you should be able to call me by my first name."

Malfoy smirked. "Yeah? All right then, Her-mio-ne." He said her name syllable-by-syllable, as if testing it out.

"Come on. Let's get ready for bed. It's been a long day and I have a feeling tomorrow won't be any shorter."

They took turns in the bathroom washing up. Hermione asked to go first, as her hair took longer to dry.

"You are a witch, you know. You could use your wand to dry it in an instant," Draco shot at her as she moved to close the bathroom door.

"Tried it once. My hair went all wild and frizzy. I'll let my hair air dry, thanks."

"Wild and frizzy? Sounds normal to me." Hermione threw the bathroom door open, stuck her tongue out at Draco, and snapped it shut once more. She heard Draco laugh as she turned on the shower. Very aware that Draco was just a few feet away in the other room, Hermione flew through her wash and emerged after just a few minutes wearing a clean pair of pajamas and her hair wrapped in a towel.

As Draco took his turn, Hermione listened to the sound of the shower and the clear sounds of its occupant. If she closed her eyes, she could picture his face in the spray of the water. What did the rest of him look like? Did he resemble how he appeared in her dreams? Hermione felt heat creep into her face and other places that made her squirm.

No! It's Ron I like, she thought. Trying to cool down and take her mind anywhere but the naked boy in the other room, she removed the towel from her head. Sitting back at the desk, she brushed her hair and felt the warm air caress her cheeks.

"Ready for bed, Granger?" Hermione whipped around to see the blond Slytherin standing in the doorway to the bathroom, a toothbrush hanging from his mouth and a towel hanging from his hips.

Hermione squeaked and buried her face in her hands. He looked better than in her dreams. Oh, Merlin. "Please put on some clothes, Draco."

"What if I don't want to? It's warm tonight and I'd rather just sleep in boxers."

Hermione peeked at him through her fingers. "Don't you have pajamas?"

He made his way over where she was sitting and stood so close that Hermione could smell his…oh gods…

Spearmint toothpaste.

Draco smirked. "Of course I have pajamas, but it's fun to watch you squirm, Hermione."

There was something in his silver eyes that drew her closer. Like a magnet drawn to steel, Hermione found herself looking right at Draco. His eyes searched her face, and they seemed to pierce her very being. It was as though he saw right through her. Draco placed his hands on the desk on either side of Hermione, bringing his body into her space. She took a deep breath and drew herself inward. She was suddenly keenly aware of Draco Malfoy's state of undress. The sight of his bare chest so close to her was overwhelming, intoxicating, breathtaking…Hermione felt her brain go fuzzy, her muscles limp, and her mouth become incapable of speech. Heat pooled between her legs and her breath hitched. What had Draco done to her? Surely, this was an enchantment. Surely, he had bewitched her.

But no. Draco's wand was safely tucked into her beaded bag. Whatever he was doing to elicit this reaction, it was nothing but him. She couldn't do this. Not now. Not with him.

"Draco?" she managed to whisper, her mouth bone-dry.

He stopped leaning in, never breaking eye contact. "Mm?"

"We…we should get to bed." Draco raised an eyebrow. "To sleep! To sleep in bed. You know what I'm – what I'm trying to say."

With another smirk, Draco removed himself from her vicinity and Hermione immediately felt the cool night air envelope her body once more. She shivered.

"Whatever you say. I'll go throw on pajamas if it would make you more comfortable."

He turned back to the bathroom and Hermione flopped against the wall for a moment. What the hell had just happened?

When her bones reappeared in her limbs she climbed into the bed and buried herself beneath the covers. Draco followed within minutes.

"I put on pajamas. Happy, Grang-Hermione?"

"Yes, thank you." Hermione answered curtly, not wanting to give herself the chance to say something she would regret. "Goodnight, Draco."

She heard Draco shift beside her on the mattress and had a hunch he was looking at her. There was a brief pause and a sigh. "Goodnight, Hermione."

Closing her eyes and praying sleep came soon, Hermione tried to keep her mind as far away from that swirling feeling in her lower abdomen as much as she could.

Is that an attraction I spy?

What will McGonagall say? How will the various Weasleys respond to Malfoy at The Burrow?

I'll update again next week.

Please review and make my day 3