A/N So nice to see some new faces amongst the reviews - so nice to get reviews full-stop! Special thanks to the lovely guest reviewers who I can't reply to (naming those whose names I know): Ines, The hunt and Ari. Much appreciated :-)

Chapter Seven:

"One of the reasons Granian make excellent steeds is their capacity for intuition. The more time you spend with your Granian, the more attuned it will become to you. Given time, the Granian will be able to read your moods and act accordingly. A clever handler will use this to their advantage."

Extract from "From Wild Beast to Wizard's Steed, a how-to guide on taming Granian".

On entering the Library, Draco's legs instinctively moved to take the quickest route to his and Granger's study area, but he stopped dead as he spotted her a few yards away from the entrance. She had her back turned to him, but there was no mistaking that hair. She was standing in the Poetry section, and she wasn't alone.

The Pauper was with her.

Draco felt his lip curl. Saying that Draco had never liked Weasley was like saying "Hagrid was quite tall" or "Potter was an attention-seeking ponce" – it really didn't begin to cover it.

Draco considered his options: move out of sight and wait out their conversation, or strategically place himself somewhere where he could eavesdrop unseen and possibly gain ammunition against the ginger ape?

Yeah – that really was a no-brainer.

Slipping between two shelves, Draco looped round via the Invisibility section, allowing him to materialise on the opposite side of the bookcase where Granger and Weasley were standing. Carefully moving a few books to one side, he settled in to listen.

"I just don't get it – why are you spending so much time in the Library?"

Granger's tone was tolerant. "Ron, it's hardly novel for me to be spending a lot of time here."

"Not this much," Weasley objected. "You're here practically every day now – and if you're not here, you're off on some walk."

"I spend no more time walking than you and Harry spend on Quidditch practice." Prim and proper.

"Yeah, but we're together. We hardly get to see you anymore."

"And whose fault is that?" Granger's voice had taken on an edge.

Weasley became flustered. "Look, just because I've been spending time with L—"

"Oh, is that what you call it?" Granger interrupted.

There was a pause. "The point is, you're spending too much time on your own."

Interesting. Draco wasn't sure what Granger had been referring to, but it appeared she hadn't been totally honest with her friends about how often she and Draco were studying together.

He heard Granger shifting her feet. "I'm not always on my own. Sometimes, I have a study partner." She sounded… rebellious?

"A study partner? Who have you been – HERMIONE! Please don't tell me you've been spending all this time studying with that git-faced ferret?!"

"Not all of it, no. But, yes, I have been studying with Malfoy."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Gee, I wonder why not?" The sarcasm was heavy.

"I thought that time was just a one-off! Why would you choose to study with him?"

"Because he asked me," Granger said calmly. "He wanted help improving his grades." Ugh, Draco thought, displeased at this being relayed to Weasley. "And he's really rather bright," she continued. Hello! Draco perked up. "It's actually been really interesting bouncing ideas off one another." Her voice started gaining enthusiasm. "He's got a different approach from me – a different way of thinking. Between the two of us, we're covering so much new ground. It's really taken my schoolwork to another level!"

"Well, you can't!" Weasley's voice was horrified. "I don't care how good a study partner he is – you're not hanging out with him! I absolutely forbid it!"

"You forbid it?" Granger's tone had gone flat. "What makes you think you've got the right to forbid me anything?"

Draco stepped away from the bookshelf. Having stayed long enough to determine Granger wasn't going to be swayed by Weasley's opinion (he'd always said she was an intelligent girl; okay, not always, but he was saying it now), Draco decided now would be the perfect moment to make an appearance – just when things were about to turn explosive.

Retracing his steps, he appeared near the entrance and sauntered towards them as though he had only just entered the Library.

Granger and the Weasel had their heads close together, fiercely whispering. Draco strained to hear what they were saying. Then straining became unnecessary as Granger's voice erupted with sudden violence:

"IT'S NOT UP TO YOU, RONALD!"

Ahhh! Delightful.

Unfortunately, Granger's explosion hadn't only attracted Draco. Before he could say anything, Madam Pince suddenly appeared, swooping down like a vengeful Veela and hissing: "Ssssssssssssssssssilence! Who is making such a vile din in the Library!"

Granger immediately turned contrite. "I'm so sorry, Madam Pince. It won't happen again. Ron was just leaving." She glared at Weasley.

Weasley's fists had clenched at Draco's appearance; at Hermione's words, he flushed a ghastly shade of red, the contrast against his hair even more dire than usual. He looked as though he wanted to Confringo Draco, but Granger's forbidding expression coupled with Madam Pince's minatory glare caused him to stomp off in graceless defeat. He growled over his shoulder as he left: "I'm watching you, ferret!"

Unfortunately, Weasley's leaving didn't abate Madam Pince's own outrage one jot. "You too!" she said sharply. "Both of you! I will not have noisy louts in my Library!"

"Oh, but, Madam Pince..." Hermione objected, dismayed.

"OUT! OUT! OUT!"

They fled.

The corridor was empty; Weasley must have already flounced from sight. Now safely out of earshot, Granger gave voice to her distress.

"What if she never lets me in again!"

"Calm down, Granger. That's not going to happen."

"How do you know?" she near wailed.

"Do you really think McGargoyle would allow her star pupil to be permanently banned from the Library? We'll just have to steer clear for a day or so."

Granger immediately looked more cheerful. "You think?"

"Definitely," Draco said. There was a moment's lull as they looked at one another. Draco no longer had the excuse of studying, but he was reluctant to pass up the opportunity of seeing Hermione alone, and he could see she was gearing up to a farewell. "Well, looks like we've both got an hour to kill. How about we go for a walk?"

There was a pause. "You want to go for a walk?"

Draco shrugged. "Why not?"

Draco could practically see the thoughts currently swirling through her mind, like long silvery strands in his own personal Pensieve. This was the first time he had actively suggested hanging out together outside of their study sessions; all previous walks had been accidental, as far as she knew. This was deliberately spending time together. This was uncharted territory. "Okay... How about we go down near Hagrid's hut?"

Draco readily agreed – they were far less likely to run into students in that part of the grounds. He had been about to suggest the far side of the lake for the same reason. But as they made their way out of the castle, he found himself wondering what Granger's motivation was in proposing a secluded route... and then there was also the earlier revelation that she hadn't been open with her friends about how often they studied together...

A dreadful suspicion gripped him.

Ever since instigating Project Kiss-met, Draco had lived in fear that Granger might start sunnily chatting away at him in class, as she did in their study sessions, and had calculated possible approaches to forestall this without causing a setback. (These had included 1) secretly hitting Longbottom with the trip jinx – with his coordination, the ensuing chaos would be more than enough to cause a distraction; 2) casting the Muffilato spell so no one could hear when they spoke to one another; or, at a pinch, 3) using the tongue-tying curse on her.) But to his surprise, none of these had proven necessary. Aside from occasional smiles, too swift for most people to notice – and never when Potty or the Weasel were looking – Granger's interaction with him during lessons hadn't increased much at all. They were both civil to one another, on the few occasions they had reason to speak or interact, but that was as far as it went.

If he had thought about it, he would have guessed Granger incapable of keeping something like their association a secret – especially from her friends. True, she had been honest with Weasley just now, so it appeared she still wouldn't outright lie if she could help it, but she didn't seem nearly as averse to playing with shades of truth as Draco would have expected. She had told Weasley they studied together, but in a way that concealed the frequency, and apparently had kept their sessions to herself for some weeks. Draco had always assumed Hermione's innate forthrightness would preclude her from managing any kind of deception; turned out she was far sneakier than he would have given her credit for.

Now he found himself wondering why she would even want to keep it secret – as a good Gryffindor, shouldn't she want peace, love and inter-house unity? So why wasn't she declaring it from the rooftops? He had supposed it must be because she had no desire to instigate a fight with the lesser parts of the Trio. But now it occurred to him that maybe Granger felt the same embarrassment at publicly acknowledging their association as he did. Which was ridiculous! What did she have to be embarrassed about? Her credit could only rise. A Muggle associating with a Malfoy – think of the doors it would open to her! Though, admittedly, they might not all be doors she would wish to cross through… He considered some of his father's slightly seedier connections. He couldn't imagine Hermione engaging with those people. It made him strangely uncomfortable even thinking about it.

The irritating thing was, he couldn't openly question Granger and then point out all the reasons she should count herself bloody lucky she was getting to spend exclusive time with a Malfoy – not without revealing his own reluctance to go public, and not without risking blowing Project Kiss-met altogether. So, instead, Draco opted for underhand probing. He figured, given a little encouragement, he could get Granger chattering and draw the truth out of her before showing her the error of her ways.

At this point, they turned right towards the Forbidden Forest (towards, not into – this was an extremely important distinction to Draco's mind).

"So, what did the orangutan want?" Draco began.

"Malfoy, Ron is not an orangutan," Granger scolded.

"Are you sure? It would explain the hair and limbs..."

Granger's lips twitched. "Be that as it may, you shouldn't call him that."

Draco shrugged. "So, what did he want?" he asked again.

This time it was Granger's turn to shrug, looking uncomfortable. "He's not happy about us being study partners."

Draco kept his tone casual. "I'm surprised he didn't say something sooner – we've been studying for weeks, and Weasley's not exactly known for his self-restraint."

Granger's raised eyebrow clearly stated "Oh, and you are?".

Draco ignored it. "I'm actually a little surprised I didn't hear from him or Potter before today..." He trailed off leadingly. This was risky territory – it potentially laid him open to retaliation that none of his friends had said anything to Granger either, but increasing frustration with her silence made Draco more reckless.

Granger made a non-committal noise, gaze moving around their surroundings. "Goodness, what a beautiful day!" she said, breath pluming against the fresh, blue sky. It was a beautiful morning, crisp and clear... and that was a blatant attempt to turn the topic. Draco scowled at an unseeing Granger. Weren't girls supposed to be chatterboxes? Did Granger have to confound every stereotype?

Meanwhile, Granger was tilting her head up to the autumn sunshine, looking deeply content.

"I love walking," she grinned.

"I hadn't noticed." It came out a little more caustically than he had intended; he was still feeling annoyed.

Granger shot him a quelling look, tossing her hair. Its coffee-toffee swirls glinted in the sunshine, distracting him from his irritation. Damn.

"Why do you like walking so much? Do Muggles not have any other way of getting around?"

Granger rolled her eyes. "Remind me to talk you through a combustion engine some time – I think you'd find it... edifying. It's a Granger tradition," she continued. "Grangers hail from good Yorkshire stock." She slipped into some kind of dreadful yokel accent as she spoke, arms beginning to swing with enthusiasm. "We are expected to go on regular ambles – and by 'ambles' I mean long, arduous tests of stamina and endurance – come rain, shine or blizzard." Her smile stretched to a grin. "I remember one Christmas, we were at my grandparents in Lockton. It had been snowing heavily for days, but Dad insisted we still had to go out for the 'post-turkey amble'. He stepped into a concealed ditch and got stuck. Mum and I weren't strong enough to pull him out – we had to get the local farmer out in his tractor. Luckily, he found it funny... Dad wasn't so amused though." She refocused on the present, and her smile turned wry. "That probably made no sense to you at all."

Draco shrugged. "Malfoys aren't big amblers," he conceded.

Granger nodded sagely. "Of course not – unicorn-drawn carriages, is it?"

Draco surprised himself by snort-laughing. "Not quite. But why walk when you can fly?"

Granger paused, then her lips twitched. "I'm having a hard time imagining your mother on a broom."

Draco had to acknowledge the fairness of that. "She doesn't generally fly," he agreed.

"So, it was your father who taught you?" Granger asked.

"Yes," Draco replied. "I remember when I got good enough to fly on my own. It was amazing – going anywhere I wanted, whenever I wanted. Total freedom. Boundless possibility…"

Draco's mind drifted away. When he focused back in, Granger's head was cocked.

"What?" he asked, a little self-consciously.

"A psychoanalyist would have a field day with that."

Draco was baffled. "What's a Syka? And why do they analyse fields?"

To his indignation, Granger's amused smile had more than a touch of condescension to it. "It's a Muggle thing," she explained. "They interpret dreams and words to help other Muggles understand themselves better."

"Oh – like a seer?" Draco asked.

Granger wrinkled her nose. "Sort of. Though it's more an interpretation of the present and the past than the future."

Draco couldn't quite repress a sneer. "Muggles need help understanding their present? Are they that clueless?"

Granger glared at him, then melted into a saccharine smile that had Draco's hackles prickling. "Would you like a demonstration?"Without waiting for an answer, she continued: "Let's consider your love of flying. Answer me this, Malfoy: as someone who loves being a Malfoy and considers himself far more privileged than anyone else, why would you need flying to feel free? Why would you need anything to feel free? You're at the pinnacle of all wizarding kind, remember?" Draco bristled at the ironical inflection. "You know what that tells me? It tells me that you long for different possibilities. It tells me that at times your life – the very fact of being a Malfoy – makes you feel trapped."

Draco stared at her, horrified. "Don't be ridiculous!" he spluttered.

"And don't even get me started on the fact it involves broomsticks…" She trailed off, muttering something he didn't quite follow; something about a "freud". "You love being a Malfoy, but you also sometimes wish you could escape it… or someone."

Draco's hackles were now well and truly up. He opened his mouth to eviscerate her, but as she searched his expression, whatever she saw there made her soften, and she spoke first. "Don't get me wrong: I'm sure you love your father very much. But I'm also pretty sure he's not always the easiest person to live with. So much expectation..."

Ordinarily, any remotely derogative comment related to his family would make Draco destroy first and ask questions later, but he was too unnerved by Granger's observations.

Had she been taking Legilimency lessons?

The look in her eyes did not help – it wasn't pity, wasn't quite compassion. He would have had no problems utterly repulsing either. It was… caring. Draco really didn't know what to do with a Granger that was… caring at him.

Suddenly, Draco realised he was poised to bolt. Hang on, hang on! This was totally backwards.

He was the hunter here, not the hunted! Time to get things back on track.

Draco stepped into Granger's personal space. As always, her proximity drove every other thought or consideration from his mind other than the desire to kiss her. He raised a hand to cup her cheek – she didn't even flinch. He'd done his previous work too well. Time to kick things up a notch.

Finally giving into the impulse that had been driving him for months, Draco sank his hands into that luxuriant, bewitching hair, running its wild softness through his fingers. The nerve endings in his hands seemed to crackle. Cradling Granger's face, he gently tilted her head up.

Merlin, her skin was soft.

Hermione's lips were parted in a small 'o' of surprise; she wasn't running away, or even stepping away, but her eyes were tracking him warily, left to right, left to right. He so desperately wanted to see if those pink lips were as soft as they looked, but his instinctive cunning told him he had pushed her as far as she could go today.

So he stepped back.

"You think too much, Granger," he drawled, and headed back towards the castle.

The next day at lunch, an owl Draco didn't recognise swept into the hall, struggling with a heavy brown package.

To his surprise, it hovered over his head, hooting continuously. Draco glanced over towards the Gryffindor table and had his suspicions confirmed when he saw Granger was looking at him. She gave him a quick smirk, then started a conversation with the She-Weasel.

Draco raised his arms, and the owl dropped the package into his outstretched hands. Draco poured a little of his pumpkin juice onto a plate and held it up. The owl settled on his shoulder, craning its neck forward to drink, while Draco cradled the package against his chest with one arm.

"Who's that from, Draco?" Pansy asked suspiciously. (Pansy had been highly disgruntled ever since she'd caught wind of Astoria's crush, and had a tendency to show an alarming possessiveness at the smallest hint of another girl's presence in his life. Indeed, Draco had reason to believe that the reason the love notes had finally ceased was down to a not-so-gentle "conversation" between the two of them. The fact Greengrass involuntarily flinched whenever his gaze happened to fall her way only confirmed Draco's suspicions.)

"It must be from home," he replied. "I asked Mother to send me a book I need for my History of Magic project."

"That's not your family owl," Pansy objected, as apparently refreshed by its drink, the owl hooted gratefully and took off.

"Hermes injured his wing," he lied easily.

Pansy accepted this and went back to her interrupted conversation with the Slytherin girl opposite her. Now, why couldn't Granger be that manageable? Draco mused.

His lip curled as he caught what Pansy was saying, prattling about some new hair charm she had read about in Witches Weekly. Then again, it was probably just as well as she wasn't like Pansy.

Excusing himself, he took the package back to his dormitory, eager to see what Granger had sent him.

Once sure he was alone, he tore off the wrapping to reveal a hardback book with a dust jacket of some strange shiny material he didn't recognise.

There was a short note lying on top, written in a clear, steady hand (no i's dotted with hideous hearts here – let Astoria and Pansy take note):

Thought this might come in handy next time you're in a field.

HG

With a frown Draco looked at the dust jacket:

"Introduction to Psychoanalysis: Contemporary Theory and Practice"

Draco's brow furrowed.

What the…?

A/N 2 "Introduction to Psychoanalysis: Contemporary Theory and Practice" is a genuine textbook published by Routledge in 1995, and written by Anthony Bateman and Jeremy Holmes. And, yes, it has a shiny yellow dust jacket :P