Draco had snuck past Granger's pigpen and made his way across the water to the mainland. Sneaking by wasn't as treacherous as normal, or at least not as treacherous as he made it out to be because there was a horrific wheezing and whirring sound coming from her shack.

He wasn't precisely sure what he was here for, but he did know that he needed to get off the island for a little while because it was starting to suffocate him. The other pressing issue was that he needed to locate the passage into Wizarding Australia because he was running out of Muggle currency.

The market was a huge maze constructed of distracting Muggle contraptions and free food samples that seemed to be there for the sole purpose of derailing Draco from his quest of finding food. Food that he could handle preparing, seeing that he and Granger weren't speaking to each other. He realised the grim reality was that he only knew how to make a grilled cheese sandwich, which didn't exactly seem like the sort of thing a person could live off of.

Staying resolute in his refusal to ask anyone where anything was, he continued to dazedly meander around the market searching for butter, bread, and cheese, but he found that he wasn't having much success.

Granger would know where it was. He wasn't sure why he thought that… Well, that wasn't exactly true… He did: Granger knew everything, and if there was something she didn't know, she knew exactly how to find it. Not saying that Draco didn't, he just… Didn't flaunt it quite so flamboyantly. This flamboyance of Granger's had plagued him all through their years at Hogwarts, and now he was finding it a bit disconcerting that Granger wasn't anywhere near as loud about her intelligence, seeing that – as far as he was concerned – it was the staple of her personality. Even without it, she was plaguing him nonetheless. It was difficult to ignore the only person you were speaking to.

He was finding it increasingly frustrating that everywhere he went, everything he did, Granger seemed to circle back around to his thoughts. Like now, as he stood in the farmers' market trying to figure out what food he could get so he wouldn't have to rely on Granger's cooking, since that was probably out the window at this point.

Not only was Granger constantly bothering his thoughts, so was his guilt about their last argument… or conversation… or whatever it had been. While he may not be able to say that he was still living under the illusion that her blood was any worse than his, he was positive the plain dislike of the witch was still there, but that wasn't the important part. The important part was that after all these years of the two happily ignoring each other's existence - apart from the occasional banter - she seemed upset, maybe even disappointed, that he didn't like her.

"I may think that you're an arrogant prick, but I realise that I know nothing about you. But you're perfectly content to continue thinking of me as the… as the Mudblood bitch."

Now, what she had said certainly wasn't quite true, he hadn't even spoken that word since before the end of the War, and he wasn't too keen on using it again. She also seemed to be insinuating that she gave a shit about his personality apart from his most noteworthy qualities. He was an arrogant prick, there was really just no denying that, and he wasn't planning on doing so, but he wasn't so sure he appreciated the assumption that he was bigoted and narrow-minded as well.

This was a part of himself that he had gratefully shed and discarded, along with his loyalty to his father and the Dark Lord. He knew there were still things that he needed to take responsibility for, bullying Granger being just one of those things, but he wasn't sure how to go about it. A simple "sorry mate" didn't seem like nearly enough to account for all those years of teasing and belittling.

What made it all the more difficult was that she still expected the slurs and jabs at her appearance. She still expected the behaviour he was trying to rid himself of, and when he behaved differently she became suspicious and irritated. Not that she wasn't suspicious and irritated every other time he was around.

He grumbled to himself and left with only a bag of apples, a jar of tomato sauce and some angel hair noodles.

…

…

Hermione knew when he left and she knew when he got back, he seemed to have reinstated the Silencing Charm on his motorboat, but she still knew regardless. The sound of his feet on the sand was enough. This and the fact she had put wards into place so she would never have to be surprised by his presence again. Her guard would be back up full time, she wouldn't let herself slip up like that again.

It really just wasn't worth it, to get upset, because he would never see things any other way, especially not from her. It was eerily similar to Ronald and his insistence that yes they could stay together while he was away on tour. Blissful ignorance. She had dealt with this blind stubbornness long enough with him, and she had no reason to feel obligated to put up with Malfoy's.

She pushed the curls that had escaped her bun back from her forehead and returned to vacuuming the living room.

All of the windows had been opened, which helped circulate the air, but also let in the heat of the afternoon, which Hermione's cooling charms didn't have much effect on, and thus explained her clothing - or lack thereof.

When she had first arrived on the island she had stayed resolute in keeping at least one pair of her jeans, which lasted until about… fifteen minutes ago when she took to them with a pair of scissors. Now she was happily displaying her calves and thighs in her cut-offs that she'd rolled up quite short to help fend off the oppressive heat.

She had finished with the vacuum and was sweeping the porch, which seemed much bigger when she was using a Muggle broom.

It was then that Malfoy made his grand reappearance, the garishly red motorboat presumably humming proudly as it slowed toward the dock. Hermione's initial instinct was to disappear back into her house, but she smothered that urge and instead continued to sweep. She wished she'd remembered to turn on the record player like she'd wanted to. Without the buffer of music she was forced to be cognisant of all the sounds he was making. She tried to focus on the sound of the broom sliding against the old wood.

This worked well until the sound of his obnoxiously expensive shoes on the sand was getting closer instead of farther away.

"I'm not entirely sure why Gryffindors have the reputation of being cluelessly hard-headed, when you, the poster child of all Slytherin kind, can't take a hint."

"How do you mean?" he asked, and by the subtle lift of an eyebrow, Hermione realised that cluelessly wasn't a word, and that he seemed to have decided to keep his mouth shut about it.

"I don't believe I've ever gone out of my way to interact with you, have I? It would almost seem as though I don't particularly want to." Hermione dropped the broom and summoned her watering can wandlessly so she could water her flowers.

The world did not stop for Draco Malfoy.

"You are truly the most stubborn witch I have ever met." From between cotton candy pink petunias, Hermione watched as Malfoy swiped a delicately thin finger across his brow. She was pleased with his discomfort and did nothing to conceal her smirk. Let him roast out here in his stupid dress pants and his ridiculously crisp white button-up. He's about as pale as Boo Radley. Hermione snickered at her own joke.

This "I could not possibly care less about you" attitude was proving quite enjoyable.

"Enjoying yourself, Granger? I'm trying to have a conversation with you but you're too busy laughing with the bloody flowers," he turned to walk around the porch toward the path that led to his house.

"Can you not go two sentences without insulting me?" she snapped, glaring daggers at his back.

"Apparently not," he replied coolly without even a pause in his step. She noticed the grocery bag held in his hand, and she wondered what he had bought, but then reminded herself that she didn't care.

He rounded the corner and left her standing there with sweat dripping down her temple and staining the back of her lavender tank top.

Apparently not. The nerve of the git.

She lurched forward and jogged across the porch and around the other side, just catching him before he reached the dirt path.

"Why?" she yelped, not entirely sure if she wanted him to turn around or not.

"You've always asked too many questions," he waved his hand passively, brushing her off and turning around again.

"Don't do that!" Hermione squawked, waving her hand like he had, although more dramatically and in a considerably more violent fashion. "Give me a straight answer for once, Malfoy!" There he was, squirming his way under her skin again.

His posture stiffened, but other than that, he remained impassive as always as he whirled around to face her.

"Do you know how long I've tried to understand why you hate me so much? Can you even begin to comprehend it?" Why did it matter if he knew how angry he made her? If he saw it? Maybe he should. Maybe he should finally feel all the ire she had kept neatly bottled inside her, trying to keep her frustration under control, because Merlin forbid Malfoy know just how much he bothered her.

He opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn't going to listen to whatever bollocks he had expertly concocted to leave her thoughtless and dazed just long enough to escape any sort of meaningful conversation. "Is it really the way I flaunt my intelligence? Is it my blood? No! It can't be my blood, because you've changed and I can see it on your face every time I say Mudblood, does that bother you Malfoy? Does it bother you when I call myself a Mudblood?" she dropped the watering can from her hand, and it fell with a metal clang that seemed to perfectly match the shrill, almost hysterical tone in her voice. Good, lose control, let it out. He deserved every bit of it.

She wasn't even focused on his face anymore, she wasn't focused on anything but what she was saying, but at the same time she was acutely aware of every nuanced twitch of his stoic face as he silently absorbed her words. She wasn't done yet though, no, far from it, and she wouldn't give him the opportunity to interject. No more meaningless words. She wasn't going to mince feelings into vague references and riddles.

"Is it my hair, my face, my teeth, my blood, my brain, my House?" She sucked in a ragged breath, she was truly getting worked up now, the heat of the sun and the heat of her emotions warming her cheeks and her ears. "Tell me, Malfoy, I have waited nearly half of my life wondering why you hate me so much – Do you even hate Harry this much – What have I done to deserve the honour of Draco Malfoy's true and pure dislike?" Breathless, Hermione finally stopped, pushing her fingers up from the sides of her chin to her hairline, her eyes tightly shut as she waited for him disappear, as she knew he would.

"It's the way you look at me."

Her eyes snapped open and she stared, slightly gobsmacked, at Malfoy. She hadn't noticed the quiet energy raging in his pale eyes.

"What?!" she barked, unable to contain herself.

"Bloody hell, Granger, the way you look at me!" he yelled, running his hands through his neat hair.

Time slowed for a moment, the only thing that seemed to remain at normal speed was Hermione's frantically beating heart. Had she ever heard Malfoy yell, or seen him so disheveled? She didn't think so… Yet here he was, standing below her on the sand with his fine, blond hair sticking up in some places and his brows furrowed and his lips downturned in something other than a snarl. This was… something. Something was happening, and Hermione wasn't entirely sure she was ready for it.

"Even when we were First Years who barely knew our arses from a Blast-ended Skrewt you looked at me with those eyes – and its only gotten worse with time. Merlin, you always look so fucking disappointed in me." He paused, and Hermione knew better than to say anything. "Even in the Manor… When Bellatrix was… The way you looked at me, like you knew I didn't want to be there, like you knew I didn't agree with what she was happening – I didn't agree to any of it."

He shoved his sleeves past his elbows and wiped at his forehead again, making the Dark Mark visible. Seeing it made Hermione realise he always kept it covered. Absence of presence, she thought to herself, just like her scar. "All those times I called you a… a… Mud – You gave me such a reproachful look that I immediately regretted it – Every time – but it didn't stop me. It only made me more determined at first, but then I realised that the reproach had turned to pity. It didn't bother you as much anymore, and you just felt sorry for me. A Malfoy, being pitied by you, a Gryffindor Muggleborn. Can you believe that?"

Hermione would have interrupted by now, but she was enraptured, captivated, and in true disbelief. She wasn't entirely sure that this was actually happening. Draco Malfoy openly discussing his feelings? Never.

Seeming to realise what had just happened, Malfoy blinked a few times before clearing his throat. "So, there it is Granger. What now, Princess?"

She just stared at him, mouth slightly ajar.

"Silence. I see," he ran his hand through his hair again. Was this a nervous habit of his? Did he have nervous habits? Hermione just stared at him, slowly closing her mouth and chewing on her bottom lip. A nervous habit of hers.

They stood in silence for a few moments, Malfoy's hand resting at the back of his neck, eyes trained on some spot on the beach, and Hermione nibbling away at her lip and picking her fingernails. She wished she could be as still as him when she was nervous. Was he nervous? She was nervous. What the hell did nervous even mean? Did it fit here? Maybe skittish was better… or anxious? Tense? Hermione hadn't noticed that he had shifted his attention back to her. Had she noticed she probably would have blurted out exactly what she had been thinking.

"I'm not going to tell you that I'm going to stop taunting or teasing you, because that would be a lie, and lies don't generally lend themselves to a solid foundation for acquaintanceship." Acquaintanceship…? "That probably wasn't the best way to start that off… Okay, Granger, listen… I… We've known each other for a long time… Er… Can you come down here? Or… Can I come up there? It's awfully difficult to think of what I'm trying to say when you're looming over me like that." Hermione hadn't realised she was quite literally looming over him, having moved to the wood bannister and leaning over it as he tried to find the words for whatever he wanted to say.

"I suppose you can come up here," she said quickly.

She waited for him to make his way up the creaky steps and around to where she was standing, and she wasn't even remotely tempted to crack a joke about how slow he was walking.

"Feel better?"

"Mhm," he hummed in agreement, and Hermione wasn't sure if she felt better with him at the same level as her. She may have preferred having him down on the beach where she couldn't feel the energy radiating from him. Maybe she was imagining that… Well, she hadn't been imagining it when he had been on the beach, so she counted herself as being officially discomfited.

The way he was giving her the side-eye proved that he was also counting her as discomfited.

"Right, so, I've been a right prick to you all these years, and when you get right down to it, I just want to properly apologise so I can feel a bit better about how much of a prick I still am without feeling guilty about the prick I was in the past," he glanced up in thought as if he was making sure he had covered all the bases. "Right. Yes. There you go."

"I don't suppose you could have fit 'prick' in there one more time?" Hermione said with the tiniest of grins, but it was a grin nonetheless, and she wasn't sure how she was supposed to feel when Malfoy grinned back. She was certain that the instinct to smile wider was not the appropriate feeling.

After composing herself, Hermione cocked her head to the side and said the first thing that came to mind.

"Buy anything good?"

Draco scoffed and she immediately stiffened, thinking he was going to give some smarmy reply, but instead he held the paper bag out toward her, "Hardly."

…

…

Unlike Granger who, except for those rare occasions, Draco was extremely observant, and he therefore noticed the way her posture went rigid when he instinctively let out a sarcastic laugh. He sighed and handed her his groceries. Being civil with each other was certainly going to take some getting used to, but for Granger it would be a public service. For Draco it would prove that he wasn't as a bad a person as he thought he was. Maybe her believing he wasn't a bad person would be enough.

He wished he could think of this as a simple exchange of services, but that didn't work so well before, and at this point it seemed a bit counterintuitive to think that way.

"Apples, noodles, and tomato sauce… huh, slim pickings you've got here Malfoy, but I can make us some spaghetti no problem."

He watched as her expression changed from that of a wry smile to her nervously nibbling away at her bottom lip when he didn't immediately respond.

"That sounds…" Good? Adequate? Alright? "… Fine," he finished lamely, and he found himself hoping that she didn't take his apparent lack of enthusiasm the wrong way.

Simply quirking an eyebrow she swept past him and in through the open doors of her pigpen. It might be in my best interest to stop referring to her shack as a pigpen.

He followed.

...

...

Okay, so, I'm terrible at getting any sort of writing done in a timely fashion, I'm certain that we're all perfectly aware of that. I always want to wait until I'm a chapter or two ahead before publishing a new one, but I get so excited about finishing one that I can't wait. Here's chapter 5 (once I get a bit farther into this I'm going to go back and rename all of the chapters, I just haven't figured out what they should be quite yet...), and I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. To be honest, I've spent the last hour reading it out loud to see if I got the right inflections and feelings from it, this was a new experience for me, as I've never written out a proper argument.

Anyway, I hope you guys feel like reviewing, because I love hearing how you're feeling about it!

- Lindsey