A/N- So I ran out of motivation, sort of, because I'm useless and a lil bit tired- curse this illness! I'm almost better, but I've been spending a lot of time watching cheesy TV shows with meet-cutes and all that and I'm just going to admit that it impacted this chapter a little bit. I just like them! I don't know why! They're cute!

Anyway, please enjoy, and leave me some feedback- my writing style is a bit rambly I know, and my grammar isn't the best, but please keep in mind English isn't my first language so there's bound to be mistakes.

Thank you, and enjoy!

Draco Malfoy Had been spending an unusual amount of time in the library. He had been studying harder than ever, not that his grades showed it. The only thing he was really good at was Potions, and sometimes Defence Against the Dark Arts. In his opinion, everything else was useless. Who cared about Herbology? And Transfiguration had turned out to be a disappointment- more theory than practice. He personally believed that theory was for before school started. They were supposed to hit the ground running.

One of the evenings when he was sat in the library, measuring his essay on Troll Sightings in 18th-century Europe for History of Magic, when his eagle owl, Persephone, arrived with a letter. She dropped it on top of his parchment, of which he still had two inches to fill, and nudged his hand with her beak. He petted her absentmindedly and turned the letter over, immediately recognising his family seal, and unfolded it.

Dearest Draco,

It has been two weeks and we haven't heard anything from you. How is school? How are your classes? I know it must be a tough transition for you, but please remember to write home. Your father and I are waiting to hear from you.

We heard recently, from Lillian Parkinson of all people, that you were sorted into Gryffindor. Of course, this disappointed us greatly, but no number of letters to Dumbledore seem to change his mind- he's insistent that it is where you belong. If you would rather transfer to Durmstrang, we have already spoken with the headmaster there- a charming man, professor Karkaroff. He would be happy to take you- it's not too late for you to get a proper education. This is solely down to you, but I encourage you to explore this option as it would benefit you in so much more than just your education.

My son remember I want what is best for you. But if Dumbledore continues to disrespect you as such, do not hesitate to write and we will withdraw you immediately.

Your Father sends his regards and encourages you to consider Durmstrang as it would be much more suited to your needs. I have to say, I agree with his sentiments. I also hope to hear from you this week, before your Father and I begin to seriously worry about your wellbeing. We are aware that your owl has not been making journeys to and from Hogwarts. If she is injured or has taken ill, use one of the school's owls. I seem to remember they have a lovely owlery with beautiful Tawny owls that you can use. Of course, they have other breeds, but we all know Tawny owls will blend in best with the neighbourhood.

I hope this letter finds you in the best of health,

Your loving Mother,

Narcissa Malfoy

Draco read, and re-read the letter, then dropped it into his schoolbag. He'd write back when his head didn't feel like foam. Chewing his lip, he reached for his quill again, and tried to write another paragraph, but it was no use. He simply couldn't bring himself to care about trolls and the Muggles who'd seen them.

He looked up, and saw Granger staring over at him. At first, he thought she might just be lost in thought, but then he saw she was just studying him intently. When she realised he had noticed her staring, she dropped her gaze back to her book, embarrassed. She glanced back up at him, and he glanced back.

Without realising he was doing it, he had swept his possessions into his bag and was standing in front of her table. She looked up at him, confused.

"You mind if I sit here?" he asked, nodding at the empty seat opposite her.

She nodded and looked back down at her essay. Several minutes passed, and she could feel him watching her write. He wasn't the most discreet of humans. It made it hard to concentrate. She hated being studied. "You need to stop," she said, in a forced calm voice.

"Stop what?" he asked in a falsely innocent voice.

"Staring," she hissed through gritted teeth. "I'm trying to focus."

He looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry." He looked down at his own work. "It's just..."

"What?"

"You didn't tell Weasley and the others… about the train, did you?"

She put her quill down and looked up. "No. I didn't. is that why you're here? Because I'm busy."

"It's not just that…" he leaned forward. "Why didn't you tell them?"

She shrugged. "So I could look weaker than I already did? No thanks." She spat the last two words out as though they were toxic.

Malfoy scrunched his nose. "I'm sorry about that, by the way. I…"

"You don't have to explain yourself to me, Malfoy. I couldn't care less." She started packing her things. It was clear she wasn't going to get any more work done, with Malfoy around. She may as well head back to the Ravenclaw Tower. Besides, it was almost curfew.

"Where are you going?" he asked, watching her put her six textbooks, several scrolls, and three quills into her bag.

"To sleep. Look at the time- it's a miracle we haven't been kicked out yet!"

He looked up at the clock above the library entrance, which indicated it was ten to ten. He stood up too and then picked up her bag.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Carrying your bag, duh."

"That's really not necessary," she protested, reaching for her bag, but he pulled out of her reach.

"I'm a lot of things, Granger, but I'm not about to make you carry this bag when I'm right here- it must weigh a ton! What do you have in here?"

"None of your business."

He rolled his eyes. Muggle-borns- always so feisty. "Anyway, let's go. Ravenclaw tower, right?"

She nodded, and the two set off. Several times, she though she was him staring again. They walked up the almost deserted staircases in silence, apart from his increasingly heavy breathing. "Are you sure you don't want to let me carry my own bag?" she teased. "We're almost there, and you sound like you're about to collapse."

He shook his head. "It's- fine- we're- so- close-"

She looked at him and saw, for the first time, he wasn't pale and polished. He looked flushed, almost purple, and was trying to adjust the bag strap on his shoulder.

They reached the door just in time. He pushed the bag off of his shoulder and glared at her. "Do you really need all of those books every day? You must have the strength of a Giant!"

She laughed, and he marvelled how it lit up her face. It occurred to him he hadn't really seen her smile like this before- the wan smile to the prefect, or the perfectly placed teacher's-pet smile, they were masks. Facades. He should know, he wore them too often.

He started laughing too. Nothing was particularly funny, but they couldn't stop. Tears were running down their faces by the time their laughter died down. The Ravenclaw prefect stuck her head out of the portrait-hole, but when she was it was Hermione, she relaxed and went back into the common room.

"Well," said Hermione, wiping her cheeks, "That was the best laugh I've had in a while."

Draco nodded, still smiling. He didn't want to say it, but that was probably the most he'd laughed in his whole life. she gave him another smile, shyer this time, and turned toward the painting.

"Can you rearrange the letters in new door to make one word?" asked the painting.

Draco stared. "Isn't she going to ask for the password?"

"She did," said Hermione, "Our passwords are riddles. What do you think? Can you rearrange new door to make one word?"

He racked his brains but couldn't think of anything. "What's the point in that? If you get it wrong, you're trapped out here?"

She giggled. "True, but that's how you learn. You see?" she turned toward the painting. "Of course, you can- it's an anagram."

The portrait swung open to reveal the common room, and Hermione swooped down to pick up her bag. "Goodnight, Draco," she whispered as she stepped through the hole, smiling back at him as the door swung back behind her. Backlit by the fire, surrounded by blue and bronze, she looked more alive than ever.

"Goodnight, Hermione." The words were so quiet, his throat so dry, he wasn't sure if she had heard them.

He basically danced back to the Gryffindor common room.

As he approached the Fat Lady's painting, he saw two familiar figures. "Harry? Neville?" he stepped up to them. "Are you two okay?"

The two turned towards him, still shell shocked by the news they had just received.