Sunday evening arrived too quickly. Hermione paced around her empty dorm room, pausing in front of the mirror. She had put on her favorite red sweater, which clung to her curves nicely. Her normally frizzy curls were swept back and piled on top of her head. Digging into the bottom of her trunk, she unearthed a small pouch in which she kept the few items of make-up she owned. Pulling out a small compact mirror, she coated her long eyelashes in mascara and put on a pretty rose-colored lipstick. She examined her face in the mirror. While no one may consider Hermione conventionally beautiful, the effects of the make-up combined with the faint flush of anticipation was overall pleasing.

"What am I doing?" Hermione wrinkled her brow suddenly, "this is ridiculous!" She removed the scrunchie from her hair, and quickly wiped the color from her lips, although she couldn't quite remove the stain of the lipstick. Covering her clothing with her school robes, she went downstairs.

The common room was crowded with people doing homework and socializing before dinner. Hermione bowed her head, hoping to avoid any questions about where she was going.

"Hermione…hey, Hermione!" Hermione recognized Harry's voice.

"Oh, great," she groaned. "Hey, Harry," she said casually. Harry was sitting in the common room with Neville.

Harry looked at Hermione's face and his brow furrowed as if trying to figure out what was different.

"I'm just going to the library," she said quickly, "lots of homework to do, you know."

"You look nice, Hermione!" said Neville. Harry continued to examine her, as if trying to figure out what exactly was different.

"D-do I?" She stammered, "Can't think why." She hauled her bag over her shoulder and said, "well, I've got to go!" and dashed out of the common room. Thankfully, she didn't run into any other friends on her way to the fifth floor corridor Draco was already in front of the tapestry that concealed the unknown passageway, leaning nonchalantly against the wall, his robes loosened just enough to expose his lean torso. Hermione felt her heart speed up and her stomach flutter as she approached the boy.

Draco looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps. "Right on time, of course." He smiled, and Hermione felt her heart pound in her chest.

"Wait a second…did you bring your school bag with you?" Draco laughed.

Hermione's face reddened. "Shouldn't we be going?"

Draco pushed aside the tapestry and they stepped through. The sun had already set by the time they reached the island. They proceeded through the woods in silence. Hermione, for her part, was too focused on controlling the bubbling in her stomach to contribute much to conversation.

"Here we are," said Draco, pushing aside some branches. They were not at the banyan tree today, but in a small clearing, in the center of which was a small white gazebo whose columns and dome were wound with vines of deep red roses. On the ceiling of the gazebo was a glittering fountain of soft yellow light. Hermione followed Draco into the gazebo, passing through an invisible barrier. The inside was pleasantly warm. In the center there was an elegantly carved chaise which seemed to have grown out of the base of the structure. Its legs were also wound with roses, and the top was set with two place settings. Her eyes filled with wonder, she turned to Draco.

"You did all this?"

"Not exactly. It's part of the magic of the island. It appears every time there's a second full moon in a month. I don't really know why."

"This is an extraordinary piece of magic," said Hermione. As if by instinct, she pulled out her wand and pointed it at one of the marble pillars and began to mutter incantations.

Draco raised his eyebrows, "you're not going to turn it blue or make it disappear, I hope?"

Hermione flushed. "No! I just wanted to study it a little…"

Draco chuckled, "I had a feeling you'd like it. I just thought it looked kind of nice."

"Oh, it's beautiful." She said softly, her eyes shining as they met his. Draco felt his heart quicken.

"Hey, come here for a minute, he said, gesturing away from the gazebo.

Hermione stood, and Draco waved his wand and muttered an incantation. The golden light in the center split into 4 and went to hover by each column of the gazebo. The stone dome then receded, revealing the clear winter sky above them.

Hermione gasped, and made a mental note of the spell that Draco had used. Without tearing her eyes from the sky, Hermione walked into the center of the gazebo. Draco sat on the chaise, his eyes following her as she ran her delicate fingers over the cool marble, pausing here and there to cup a rose.

"Roses are my absolute favorite flower," Hermione said dreamily.

Draco considered this, and said, "That's something you have in common with my mother. I think one of the reasons she agreed to marry my father is because our manor has one of the largest rose gardens in the country.

Hermione gave him a strained smile.

"I don't think your mother would appreciate the comparison," she said quietly.

"Who cares what she thinks," Draco responded with force.

"You don't?" Asked Hermione hesitantly.

Draco once again considered her words. After a long pause, he said, "My mother wants what all other mothers want, I guess. She wants me to be happy, and safe. I'd like to believe that at the end of the day that's more important than anything else."

Hermione didn't respond. She continued to examine a small defect in the smooth stone floor with her toe.

"And if it's not," Draco continued, "Well, who wants to be exactly like their parents?"

Hermione sat down beside him, studying him intently. "Anyway," Draco abruptly stood up and reached over to the vines. Selecting a particularly large and beautiful rose, he plucked it. "Here," he said, handing it to Hermione unceremoniously.

"Thanks," Hermione smiled at the unexpected gesture, her fingers brushing his as she took the flower from him. Draco's body grew warm at her touch. Her fingers lingered on his for just a moment too long before she took the flower and placed it under her nose to admire its intoxicating scent.

"Hey," said Draco, "I was wondering if you could do something for me."

"What is it?"

"Do you still have that book in your bag?" Draco asked.

"What book? You want to study now?" Hermione looked surprised

"No," Draco suddenly looked uncertain, "That book by the Muggle author you were reading."

"You want to see a Muggle book?" Hermione asked, nonplussed.

"Well," Draco's cheeks turned pink, "I was hoping you'd read it to me." He rubbed the back of his head and looked away.

Hermione looked at Draco and was surprised by the unmistakable sincerity in his expression. She went over to her bag and extracted the volume of short stories by Rabindranath Tagore. She opened to the first story and began to read.

"This story is called Samapti…" And she began to read aloud. Draco listened intently as she told stories about the daily lives and defining moments of Indian Muggles. The tales were short, but each conveyed a depth of emotion that he never imagined Muggles could express. They were charmingly written and Hermione's calm sweet voice penetrated his conscious. After completing the third story, Hermione looked up. Draco was smiling softly.

"Are you liking them?" Hermione asked.

"Yeah," Draco said thoughtfully, "They're better than expected."

"You can borrow the book, if you want," Hermione replied, pleased.

"I think I prefer it when you read to me," Draco said with a return of his usual cockiness. A strand of silvery blond hair fell across his forehead, which was glowing in the moonlight. As Draco tucked it behind his ear, Hermione traced the outline of his high cheekbones down to his sharp jawline with curious eyes.

"Are you going to continue?"

Hermione jumped out of her reverie.

"R-right. Sure. Of course," she said quickly, thumbing through the pages for another story. As she did so, she noticed that Draco had shifted closer, his thigh mere inches from her own. She could feel warmth radiating from him. She took in a sharp breath, and caught the scent of oranges and spicy sandalwood.

Looking up, Draco was watching her with a strange expression, part curious, part uncertain, and with unmistakable admiration. As she met his moonlit grey eyes, his expression deepened. The rouge strand of hair had made its way back down his forehead, and without thinking and without taking her eyes off his beautiful face, she reached a hand out to tuck it away. Draco shut his eyes at her touch and let out a low hum. Hermione's stomach fluttered at the sound. Her hands moved from his hair and traced the outline of his jaw, and then the soft contour of his lips. At her touch, Draco's lips burned. Parting his lips, he gently kissed her delicate fingers. Hermione let out a gasp.

"Mmmmm," he hummed again, grasping her hand in his. He kissed her fingers again, then moved up her hand and began planting soft kisses up her forearm. Hermione's breathing became fast and heavy and the hair on her arms stood up straight.

Draco opened his eyes, his face inches from hers. His eyes hungrily roamed over her face, drinking in her dark eyes and settling on the curves of her full lips. With one hand he gently lifted her chin to his face.

"Draco," Hermione whispered. Hearing his name on her lips was enough to break the last of his resistance and his lips claimed hers. A wave of pleasure rippled through her body at the feel of his soft lips on her own and she sighed. As she exhaled, her mouth opened slightly. Draco deepened their kiss and their lips parted further. Hermione lightly traced the outline of his lips with her tongue, and Draco let out a low moan in response. Her body thrilling with the sound, she gently bit down and sucked his lower lip. His responding moan was even more guttural, and its vibrations echoed through her own mouth.

His lips broke contact with hers and began to trace their way down her jawline, until it reached her ears. Then she suddenly stiffened. Draco stopped and straightened up. They were both panting, their faces flushed. Their eyes met, and in each other they saw the same mixture of confusion and desire. Hermione was the first to break the spell.

"I…I think it's getting late," she whispered.

"Right," Draco grunted. With enormous effort, he lifted himself up and away from Hermione, "We should probably get back up to the castle."

Hermione nodded. Vowing to keep at least two feet between them, she and Draco made their way back. Once in the fifth floor hallway, she turned towards Draco.

"I actually had a nice time," she said with a smile.

"Hey, don't sound so surprised," he leaned forward, his eyebrow raised, "I told you I'm delightful."

"Actually, I believe you said 'fascinating,'" Hermione laughed. "A word that's definitely open for interpretation."

Draco leaned even closer, his lips brushing her ear, "We'll see about that." Hermione's breath caught in her chest.

"Goodnight," he said in a normal voice, stepping away from her.

"Goodnight."

With one last look, they turned away from one another. As they both reached their respective ends of the corridor, they paused, let out a sigh, then continued on their way.

—————————————————————————————————————

"...Draco! Hey! Malfoy!"

Draco flinched as a hand waved in front of his face.

"What?"

"You're about to add mandrake root to your aging potion. Are you trying to kill us?" Blaise looked at him with a mixture of concern and irritation.

"Oh, right," Draco muttered, and put down the mandrake root. He peered into his cauldron, where, instead of the light blue liquid he should have had, there was a thick, pea green substance that was giving off the faint odor of old onions.

"The hell is wrong with you today?" Blaise demanded.

Draco fought to keep his eyes down and away from the table where the Gryffindors were seated.

"Dunno," he grunted. "Must not have gotten much sleep."

Blaise shot him a curious look. Draco cringed, as he had a momentary flashback to a similar conversation in the slytherin common room months ago. In that instance, his boasting of sleepless nights either meant he was holed up in the Room of Requirement or spent an evening with Pansy. He chanced a glance at the table to his left.

He looked back at Blaise, who continued to watch him intently. Draco hastily returned to his potion, which had now begun to congeal and intensify in odor.

Hermione, for her part, was even more agitated than usual, but for once, it was not because of Harry's borrowed potion skills or Ron's general presence. Her potion, although very good, was nowhere near up to her usual work, which she had accepted with unusually sanguine grace. Her mind was too full with other things. Her ears, sharply attuned to Draco's voice, heard Blaise's exclamation, and Draco's muttered response. Unable to help herself, she glanced over. She saw Draco, his pale face determinedly starting into his cauldron, but with a slight jolt, saw that Blaise was staring in her general direction, as if trying to make something out. She inadvertently caught his eye and could feel the heat creeping up into her face. Clearing her throat, she willed herself to focus on her own cauldron. She thought she could feel Draco's eyes on her, but when she chanced another glance, he was not looking her way. Nor, thankfully was Blaise.

The end of the lesson couldn't come soon enough, and she packed with more haste than usual, surprising even Harry, who had grown accustomed to her largely ignoring him during potions lessons. Focusing her attention on the dungeon door, she rushed out. She was sure she felt Draco's eyes follow her again as she left.

Later that same evening, Draco sat once again in the dim candlelight that illuminated stacks of hidden and forgotten objects of Hogwarts students from years past. The books and scrolls that he had painstakingly collected and carried into this room were untouched, as they had been for the past several weeks. His head ached badly and for some reason, the mark burned into his wrist was itching, as though it sensed Draco's inner turmoil.

Tuesday evening was fast approaching, and with it a decision would have to be made. He had long since accepted that he had some sort of attraction to Hermione. What he had initially thought was a passing fancy had continued to grow. He had noticed that she had wormed her way into his subconscious, bringing with her new ways of thinking that confused him the more he tried to understand it. And as he dozed off once again in the Room of Hidden Things, his head was filled with images of her. He didn't like it; he didn't know what to make of it.

Frustrated and exhausted, Draco extinguished his candle and made his way to the prefect's bathroom, deciding that a calming bath was the just the thing he needed to clear his aching head.

Fifteen minutes later, Draco was settled in the swimming-pool sized tub, which tonight was filled with a thick layer of foam and bubbles. His mood was already improving.

"Back again, so late at night?"

Draco jumped violently, banging the back of his head against the side of the pool. Sitting on top of one of the faucets was the ghost of a girl with long black hair and thick glasses.

"Moaning…Myrtle?" Draco gasped, still trying to shake the stars from his vision.

"I don't appreciate that name you know! Why is it never 'Magnificent Myrtle' or 'Merry Myrtle'?" The ghost pouted.

"I think you answered your own question," Draco muttered, rubbing the back of his now throbbing head. "Aren't you supposed to haunt the girl's toilet? And what the hell are you doing spying on people in the bath?"

"I have a right to roam around the castle, same as anyone else!" The girl said indignantly. "But don't worry, I always close my eyes when people get in," she added in an unconvincing tone.

"Right," Draco said shortly, "Well if you don't mind, I was hoping for some peace and quiet."

"I can be quiet," Myrtle said, "I'm also a great listener, you know." Her face blushed silver, and it appeared she was batting her eyelashes; although Draco couldn't be sure he could see through her thick pearly glasses.

Draco shut his eyes and made no response, resolving to ignore his presence. However, even through his closed eyelids, he was sure he could feel her gaze on him.

He sighed, "Ok fine." He sat up a little straighter, making sure that the bubbles were still thick enough to obscure the view underneath. "So say there's this girl-"

"Of course, there's always a girl," Myrtle rolled her eyes petulantly.

"Are you going to listen or not?"

Myrtle gave a dramatic sigh and waved her hand, "Go on."

"So there's this girl. She's smart, attractive, witty, the whole lot. The thing is, she and I come from different worlds-"

"She's foreign?"

"No," Draco replied. "She's British."

"She goes to a muggle school or something?"

"No she's a witch, she goes to Hogwarts."

"I don't understand," Myrtle yawned. "That's not even exciting. Now if she were a ghost, that would be interesting. Can you imagine," She continued, starry-eyed, "A star-crossed romance between a living boy and a girl whose life was stolen from her tragically early. Now that's romance." She glanced at him slyly.

Draco stared at her. "Thank you. That was very helpful. Now leave! I need to get dressed."

"No need to get so testy," Myrtle sighed, "but if things don't work out with you and this girl, feel free to visit me in the girl's toilet!" With a giggle, she dove back into the faucet and disappeared.

Draco waited a couple of minutes, just to be sure she had gone, before climbing out of the tub and reaching for a towel. Then, he began to chuckle. Maybe he would visit the girl's toilet after all. If nothing else, Myrtle did, however inadvertently, lighten his mood; better yet, she helped him come up with a solution to his predicament.