AN: Hi guys! Thank you for sticking around and for all your thoughts and support! I checked my ff notifications occasionally (mostly at 3 am after a whole day of studying), and if I've forgotten to answer any of you, I'm sorry. Thanks to everybody who favorited, followed and reviewed this story. Your support makes my heart beat faster.

New chapter is here, so without further ado...

DISCLAIMER: I own neither Harry Potter, nor Sense and Sensibility.

Chapter Six

***DaB***

November 24th, 1994

Hermione Granger was shaking in fear.

The sight of a dragon – a real, alive, fire-breathing dragon – made her eyes pop out in fear and her heart beat faster.

The thought that one of her best friends in this world would have to battle the beast, and would probably end up dead in the process, pushed her down the lane of a serious panic attack.

Don't be stupid, Hermione. Dumbledore would not let anything happen to Harry, would he?

But that was the issue Hermione wasn't willing to bet on. Professor Dumbledore had shown his blatant favouritism for Harry over the years, as Malfoy had so eloquently put into words, but would he save Harry if the boy needed saving, or would he push him further, because he believed Harry was meant to do great things?

And speaking of Malfoy, there he was, on the bleachers, two rows in front of her to the left. His silver hair was difficult to miss, especially if you were, for some inexplicable reason, looking for it.

They haven't had a lesson in a long time, and Hermione found herself relieved and disappointed at the same time. It's not that she did not practice magic enough; with all the spells she and Harry tried preparing for the First Task, and all the extra homework she got in Charms and Transfiguration, she was overwhelmed.

She never felt that strange burn anymore, though.

It was like after she knocked him out cold in the Need Room, her magic was somehow drained. She still performed all the spells perfectly, but she did not feel the need to repress her power.

He sent her a short note couple of days after their last lesson; a note that was firmly stuck in her inner pocket, even though she could recite it from memory by now.

I need to postpone our lessons; there's been a family emergency. I will notify you as soon as I'm available again, beaver-girl.

M.

The short letter was delivered to her on one lonesome night in the library by a lovely, graceful eagle owl that she recognized as Malfoy's in an instant. She had been present for many breakfasts when the owl brought him sweets and letters from home. She absentmindedly noted that it was happening less and less frequent now as she watched the bird fly away.

She hadn't gotten a word from him since, even though his fellow Slytherins constantly made comments on the awful article that woman Skeeter wrote.

Another thing was the fact that Ron and Harry were still not speaking to each other. She had tried speaking to Ron about it, but he would just mumble some word about a 'conceited arsehole' and 'bloody scars' and move onto less troublesome subjects, like homework and excitement about the Tournament. She did, however, get a general vibe that he was going to come around; it was a girl thing, and she had no way of explaining it, but she was hoping she was right. Spending time only with Harry or only with Ron was not as fun and satisfying as it was when they were a team.

With all that on her plate, Hermione was feeling pretty exhausted. And it was only November.

The Task was about to start, and Hermione once again chided herself for being so ignorant. Hadn't Ginny mentioned she was meeting Charlie for dinner past weekend? And wasn't it common knowledge that Charlie worked with dragons in Romania? What would be the reason he was back in Scotland? The only reason she did not collect the dots before was because she was distracted, courtesy of a certain blond-haired Slytherin currently in her line of vision.

Hermione really wanted to know why he postponed their lessons, and what the family emergency he had to attend to was. She accidentally overheard the babbling of Parkinson and her hyenas that Malfoy would be absent over the course of weekend, and it fueled her curiosity.

But then, all thoughts perished from her head as a magnificent beast roared up the sky and let out a frightening scream.

Dragon.

She clutched her face in fear as the silvery blue monster appeared in front of her, and it was even more terrifying than she imagined it when her mother told her bedtime stories when she was just a young girl.

Oh God, please, please don't let Harry die!

*DaB*

The feelings were overwhelming her, so she ran out of the tent crying, leaving Harry and Ron behind. Hermione knew she needed to get away, before someone else caught her looking so distressed.

She briefly noticed Viktor Krum walking her way as she ran towards Hagrid's house, pushing through the sea of people cheering and applauding, still high on the adrenaline of the First Task. She lost him quickly enough; in this moment, she couldn't take the famous Quidditch player and the screaming girls fan club that was bound to be somewhere near him.

She did not notice Draco Malfoy, who quickly made excuses to Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, and took off after her inconspicuously.

Hermione ran, until the victorious screams were but a noise in the background, and collapsed on the doorstep of Hagrid's shack, overwhelmed with emotions.

Harry survived, and he and Ron were friends again. Finally, all was alright.

"Trying to improve that pale complexion, beaver-girl? There's this thing called make-up. Works better than clawing your face out, although I'm not sure I do not prefer your way. Saves a man trouble of looking at your face."

Hermione looked up, and sure enough, there stood Draco Malfoy, a condescending smirk firmly placed upon his lips. She sighed in desperation.

"What the hell do you want, ferret?"

He just smirked and shrugged, pulling out his wand. Hermione winced as she went for her own wand, concealed in her pocket, but his laughter stopped her.

"Relax, Granger. I won't hex you; what would be the point, when there's nobody around to observe how pathetically inferior to me you are?"

Hermione rolled her eyes as Malfoy transformed a rock that was lying near into a soft cushion, and carefully sat down on it, making them roughly the same height.

"I will ask you one more time – what the hell do you want?"

The tears have dried out by now, and all she could feel was irritation. Malfoy leaned back, lazily twirling his wand.

"I was thinking of notifying you that I'm ready to start our lessons once again."

Hermione nodded briefly.

"Good. Sunday, Room of Need?"

Malfoy smirked.

"Yes. I will enjoy wiping the floors with you, Granger."

He just pushed and pushed, because that's the way they worked.

"As I recall," said Hermione, with a small smile of her own, "I was the one who wiped the floor with you the last time, and I say so quite literally."

Something flashed in Malfoy's eyes at that moment, and Hermione unknowingly leaned forward.

"Well, don't get used to it. I was trying to prove a point the last time. Still subduing your magic, Muggle-born?"

And there it was. Hermione would never know why, but all those insults never bothered her more than when they came from him. It always made her want to unleash that part of her that was not very nice.

"What family emergency did you have to attend to, Malfoy? Did your Mother break her nail? Or maybe it was the fact you run to her like a pathetic ferret, upset that I've beaten you at Arithmancy again?"

His eyes became dark, and the smirk on his face turned into a scowl.

"Do not talk about my parents, you trash. You are not worthy of even mentioning them."

Hermione laughed in spite of her fear. She was alone with him, here, and nobody would find her if he decided to do awful things to her. However, she was on a roll now; if not for anything else, than for the satisfaction of seeing him upset and satisfying her curiosity.

"So I hit a nerve, then? What does dear Mommy Narcissa have to say to her Drakie, when he comes home defeated by a Muggle-born girl?"

He moved so swiftly that she didn't even notice, grabbing her wrists with both his hands. His wand lay forgotten on the grass next to a fluffy gray cushion, and Hermione sucked in a breath.

Malfoy's voice was dangerously low, and she felt his breath on her face as he spoke.

"Do not talk about my Mother. If you are so eager to know, she was admitted to St. Mungo's because of a uterus inflammation. She had a hysterectomy last week, and is currently still in hospital. That's the reason I wasn't around."

His eyes widened as though he was as stunned by what he said as she was. His grip on her wrists tightened, and Hermione knew he would leave bruises.

"I'm sorry Malfoy," she whispered, still looking him in the eyes. "I did not know."

"Yes, well." He closed his eyes briefly, and let go of her, taking all the warmth she didn't know was there with him. "It is best not to speak of the things you know nothing of."

Malfoy picked up his wand and charmed the cushion back into a rock. Then, with a parting glance at her, his face expressionless, he left.

Again.

Hermione leaned back and intentionally hit her head on the wooden door harder than would've been necessary.

"I can never get it right with you Malfoy, can I?"

Her whispered words were carried away by the wind, but that did make then any less true.

*DaB*

The Dungeons were empty when he came back, and Draco assumed everyone was either outside or at the Great Hall, currently enjoying a meal. He wasn't hungry, and he found the peace and quiet soothed his inner turmoil greatly.

Bloody Granger, with her know-it-all attitude and her wicked tongue and her well-placed jabs.

That girl was driving him crazy in more ways than one. Draco did not know why he felt the need to tell her where he had been, but he did, revealing the reason along with it. He frowned, and then saddened at the thought of the last time he saw his Mother.

Narcissa Malfoy was a small and delicate woman by nature, but seeing her enveloped in those awful robes the hospital provided, lying in a huge bed, she looked so vulnerable that it made Draco want to hug her and shield her from the troubles of the outside world.

That would be highly inappropriate though, so he contented himself with holding her hand and caressing he cheek ever so often. His Father had just left, claiming business affairs he could not postpone any longer. Lucius Malfoy may have been a cold, heartless bastard, but Draco knew that the only person in this world he ever cared for was his Mother, and he could not endure to see her in pain.

"Read to me, Draco," she said, and he obliged.

The book Narcissa brought with her to the hospital was Sense and Sensibility, written by a former graduate of Hogwarts Jane Austen. Draco recalled briefly that the book had been published in the Muggle world first, but quickly became a hit in the Wizarding world too. His Mother was always fond of it, and always re-read it in times of grief.

Now that she was in so much pain, it was Draco that had to read it to her, and it brought him joy to see his Mother smiling in spite of discomfort of her surgery.

"She was stronger alone; and her own good sense so well supported her, that her firmness was as unshaken, her appearance of cheerfulness as invariable, as, with regrets so poignant and so fresh, it was possible for them to be."

That was the quote that he associated with Mother, for it was her grace and loveliness that have gotten her through many unpleasant situations unscathed. The woman laying in the bed in front of him, the woman who has lost so much, was smiling up at him through teary eyes as she held his hand, and murmured quiet words to him, as though she had no regrets at all.

"You are my only son Draco... I would do anything for you."

He tried not to think about the horrors she must have faced, being married to his Father. He couldn't even begin to understand how she felt now that she would never again be able to bear children, regardless of whether she wanted them or not.

It is odd, really, how you instantly wish for those things you know you can never have.

Draco thought of Granger then. Why she affected him so much, he did not know; all he knew was that it had to stop. He had so many things to think about, that he couldn't allow himself to be so distracted by the Gryffindor know-it-all.

The fire inside him wasn't there anymore, not since that last encounter in the Room of Need. That was the main reason he provoked Granger, the main reason why he agreed to Dumbledore's stupid proposition in the first place – to make the fire go away.

Now that he had no issues with it anymore, he could stop provoking Granger and just do his job. He would duel with her, teach her a spell or two, and get on with his life. Next year, he would still be able to play Quidditch, and he wouldn't have to look at her anymore than necessary. He may even stop the lessons before the year was over, if the fire does not return. She did this to learn to control her magic; if she does so quickly, it would mean they could both stop this stupid charade and get on with their lives.

He wasn't sure how he felt about all that, but before he could figure it out, he heard Blaise's voice.

"Why so sullen, Malfoy? Cheer up – by the things I've seen today, I believe Potter will be dead by the end of Task Two."

Draco was so distracted, he did not register the opening of a brick wall behind him couple of moments ago. Theo, Blaise and Pansy joined him, making themselves comfortable on the sofas around the fire.

Draco snapped himself from the bittersweet thoughts, and laughed at Blaise's words about Potter.

"Yes, I believe our friend, The-Boy-Who-Would-Not-Die, has found himself a little bit above his head with this Tournament."

"Well, I don't know about you, but seeing him burn by the dragon fire would have been a lovely ending to the day!" Pansy laughed, and all of a sudden, the weight Draco felt about everything with his Mother and Granger was lifted off his shoulders.

Theo summoned a house-elf and asked for dinner and refreshments. Couple of minutes after that, the table in front of them was filled with food and pumpkin juice, and Draco could feel his stomach growling in appreciation.

The conversation flowed effortlessly while they ate, from Blaise's teasing towards Pansy, Theo's refreshing ideas on Potter's gruesome death, to Draco's complaints about less-than-challenging school curriculum. It was a break from the real world and real problems that Draco desperately needed, in fact, that all of them desperately needed.

Four Slytherins sat in the circle by the fire, enjoying the warmth of it in a cold November afternoon while they chatted about their classes and other students, and teased each other occasionally. They were ignorant of the evil of the world, and innocent of the horrors that were to come. For now, they were simply happy; and it was one of the last times they would be so carefree. Had they known, they would have cherished the fleeting moment just a little bit more.

**DaB**

December 17th, 1994

Hermione was sitting in the library, going over her History of Magic essay. The library was unusually quiet – apparently Viktor Krum decided to take his business elsewhere, and bliss the hard-working students of Hogwarts with some peace.

Hermione couldn't concentrate on the words before her; there were too many things bothering her.

First of all, Harry. Although he and Ron had made up, Hermione was still very much concerned about her friend's well-being. He was acting reckless, not even opening the golden egg he had gotten as a clue from the first task. He was way more interested into figuring out what was the deal with Karkaroff, and it was making Hermione angry. Ron was no better, with his foolish encouragements, which she knew were a manifestation of his guilt. He wasn't there for Harry for the First Task, and he apparently thought that he would redeem himself with being unconditionally supportive.

Secondly, her S. P. E. W. campaign had proven to be less than successful. The wizards and witches were completely uninterested in the subjects, and the elves... the elves looked frightened with the thought they would have to leave Hogwarts. She did try to explain that it was their choice, and that they should fight for their rights to pay checks and vacation time, but it seemed to scare them even more. It was as if she was preaching to walls. Dobby was actually the only one that agreed with her, but he wasn't very popular with the other elves.

Thirdly, and this was the worst one, there was Malfoy.

They have had three more lessons since that brief encounter by Hagrid's house, and each one was more unsatisfying than the other.

Malfoy was always waiting for her when she came to the Room of Need. He greeted her briefly, and assumed the duelling position. For the next hour and a half, the only words that could be heard were the curses. When he thought she had had enough, he would stop her, and leave without a second glance.

After the first lesson, Hermione thought she would prefer it like this. The less the ferret spoke, the less likely she was to lose control and hit him with a nasty hex. That night, she tossed and turned in her bed, unable to sleep because of some inner turmoil she couldn't quite put her finger on.

After the second lesson, she tried to talk to him. She even apologized for her comment about his Mother. He walked away, ignoring her as the doors slammed behind his retreating form. She was left alone, standing silently and willing herself not to cry, even though there was, objectively, nothing to cry about.

After the third lesson, the fire was back.

It had been two days now, and she was already going mad. Hermione forgot how it was, having to walk around with the burning inside. Her skin was overheated, her mind clouded with anger and fear.

What if I hurt someone?

Hermione avoided her friends, making excuses about the load of homework she had, but she knew it was only a short term solution. She would have to make Malfoy speak to her soon, because she knew the burning would only get worse.

Hermione was not a fool, and she knew there was something odd about that situation.

How was it possible that only she and Malfoy felt the fire? Why was it only the two of them? What caused it? Their worlds were miles apart, and they had nothing in common, besides the fact that they both attended Hogwarts. Dumbledore never disclosed any details about the thing that was happening to them, and Malfoy never said anything either. Was it possible that he didn't know, or did he just not want her to know?

So many questions whirled around in her mind.

How come they never learned about that kind of magic in school? Was it Dark magic? Malfoy came from a line of Dark Wizards, so it may be possible, but what about her? She didn't have a wizard ancestor anywhere in her family tree, so how could she carry the same magic in her blood? And what about Dumbledore and his role in all this?

Hermione thought her head would burst with all the questions. She put down her essay, and put her head into her hands.

Hermione Granger knew what she had to do.

Quickly, so as not to let her determination waver, she pulled out a piece of parchment and started writing.

The fire is back. I need to talk to you, so stop ignoring me. RoN, on Friday. Be there, ferret.

G.

Hermione carefully folded the parchment and put it in her pocket. She gathered her books, but as she was about to leave, a soft voice stopped her.

"Herr-mo-niny?"

**DaB**

December 20th, 1994

Draco wanted to be there first, but getting rid of Daphne was almost impossible that night.

Ever since the announcement about the Yule Ball reached the students, all the girls have gone crazy. The fact that you had to be fourth year to attend, and the fact that it would be the first real party hosted in Hogwarts, apparently made everybody mad with anticipation.

Draco wanted to go; he just did not want to go with Daphne. She was a great lay, but he knew she looked at the Ball as the opportunity to stake her claim on him. She wanted all the girls to know that he was taken, and that she wasn't just an insignificant fuck – which was exactly what she was.

She outwardly demanded that he take her to the Ball while they were lying in his bed last night after a shag, and he was caught off guard. He knew it was a mistake letting her into his bed once again, but he did not know what to do, now that the fire was back.

Draco thought it had stopped, but no. When was he ever that lucky?

His lessons with Granger went great. He came, they duelled, he left. But then, after the last time, he couldn't fall asleep. The slow itching started in his toes and spread throughout his body, and before he knew it he was gasping for breath, his cock hard in his hand.

After that, one bad decision followed another and he had to endure a full-blown tirade from Daphne about her feelings and expectations. He only had himself to blame for that, really, not being more forward with the girl about what he wanted. Then, Pansy came to the rescue.

She appeared out of nowhere while they were in the Common Room and asked Draco whether or not he would be taking her to the Ball. Daphne's eyes narrowed in danger, but Pansy then turned to her and begged Daphne to let Draco take her to the Ball, claiming her Father would punish her immensely if she did not go with him. Everybody knew she was engaged, and her Father expected her to act that way, and with everybody knowing about him and Daphne, Pansy would be safe from punishment.

Draco was not buying any of that bullshit, but Daphne apparently was. So she nodded her agreement, and in return went off and secured Theodore Nott as her date for the Ball.

Draco saw something sad in Pansy's eyes that night as she observed Daphne and Theo talking, but when she turned to him, her smile was vicious.

"You owe me big time, bitch."

After that, Daphne was even clingier than usual, and he had to fuck her twice that evening to get away from her. Therefore, he was now late to his meeting with Granger, although the fire seemed to be a bit fainter in comparison to before.

He smiled to himself as he thought about how she delivered that note to him, trying to be inconspicuous. Granger bumped into him on a hallway while making her way to Gryffindor Tower, and she blushed fiercely as she slipped a note into his pocket. He knew what she was doing so he threw in a stupid insult, for the sake of people watching, and then excused himself so he could read the note in peace.

Draco contemplated long and hard whether or not he should come, but after the Daphne fiasco, he knew he would have to go to her, because she was the only one that calmed the fire.

Draco expected her to be standing with her wand at the ready when he opened the door, but the sight before him made him pause in his tracks.

Hermione Granger was sitting on the floor between a sofa and a desk, with what looked like a dozen of books spread in front of her. She briefly glanced at him when the door closed, and with a "Hi, Malfoy" ushered him to come closer.

He was too stunned to do anything but slowly approach the witch. As he got closer, he noted how her legs were exposed under the table, and how the first two buttons of her school shirt were open. He bushy hair was pulled in a ponytail, and she was concentrating on the parchments in front of her, her brows knitted in confusion.

As he sat on the opposing sofa, however, she put down the quill and turned her attention to him.

"We need to talk."

"Fire away, beaver." Draco did not trust himself to say anything else, already feeling the discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

"I have been thinking." She started, as she fixated him with those molten amber eyes, effectively preventing the insult at the tip of his tongue.

"The fiery feeling came back, and it got me thinking. We know nothing of this magic. Dumbledore never said anything, and I'm guessing your Godfather never said much either, given that you appear to be as clueless as I am."

Draco stopped her there.

"What if I just don't want to give out my family secrets to-"

"- a lowly Muggle-born, I know. But I don't think that's the case. I've considered that option too, but you seem to know as little as I do about subduing the fire. You are quite skilled with your wand, though."

She blushed as she said it and he grinned wolfishly, unable to help himself. He was quite skilled with his wand.

"Do continue, Granger. I am glad you've finally come around and appreciate the level of my magnificence."

Granger rolled her eyes at him, and continued.

"I won't beat around the bush anymore. I think we should find out what this thing we have is."

Draco sat silently, contemplating her idea.

Sure, he had asked himself the same question a numerous times over. What the bloody hell was this? Why does she also have it? Will it escalate to a point where it would hurt him?

He asked Snape the same questions, but now that he thought about it, the old bat had always dodged the question, or sent another spell at Draco that he had to block quickly. The last time he spoke to Severus, the Potions Master told him he did not know why Granger had the same powers as he did. It was worth questioning, and he decided to pay a visit to Severus as soon as possible.

"So, what do you say, Malfoy?"

Her voice brought him out of the trance, and he sought her eyes in the dimly lit room.

"I say you have a point there."

She nodded, satisfied with herself, and moved some parchments over to him.

"What do you suggest we do?" He asked her, happily letting her lead for a moment, before he completely gathered his wits.

"I think we should start by writing down all the unusual things that have happened to us, along with the symptoms, such like the burning."

He undid his tie and accepted an empty parchment from Granger, careful not to touch her in the process. She was shuffling through the books now, looking for something.

"I have gathered all the books that I think may help us, but if it's some sort of Dark Magic, we may have to ask for permission slips for the Forbidden Section."

"Why would you think this... thing is related to Dark Magic?" Draco asked her, and she glanced at him, biting down on her lip.

"Oh." It was all he needed to know. Because it's me, Draco Malfoy, that's in question.

"I'm sorry Malfoy, I just assumed-" she started apologizing, but he stopped her.

"It's alright. I understand."

She looked baffled, probably not expecting him to agree with her so quickly. Draco felt the need to elaborate, again, and it was making him cranky.

"I have asked myself and my Godfather the questions before, but I've never gotten a satisfactory answer. I agree that we should research this phenomenon some more – it will be easier to control it that way, won't it?"

She nodded, biting her lip in consideration. She looked at him from beneath her lashes, and her voice was much quieter than before.

"Do you feel... it... again, too?"

Draco's posture tensed and he only nodded, avoiding looking at her.

"Granger, I suggest we write it all down, and then have a roll at duelling. I think it's the only thing that may help us relieve the tension."

Even as he said it, he knew there were much more pleasant ways to relieve the tension.

And if the sex with Daphne was so satisfactory, then how would it be...

Draco stopped himself in that moment, unwilling to go down that lane. Their eyes met over the table filled with books, and he could have sworn she was thinking the same thing he was. He cleared his throat and she pulled at her hair, and sensing they reached a mutual agreement to never go down that road, they each reached for a quill and started writing.

*DaB*

They were back at the table, each at their respective side and relaxing from the intense duelling, when she asked him the question.

"So, are you going to the Ball?"

Draco lifted his head from the pillow he was resting on, and looked at her like she was crazy.

Hermione bit her tongue, cursing herself inwardly. Why the hell did she ask that? I mean, sure, she was tired from the duelling and from trying to remember all the strange things that had to do with her magic, but still – why in the hell did she care?

"Yes." His answer was curt and had a tone of incredulity.

"Oh, good." She avoided looking at him, but then he spoke.

"Uh, what about you?"

Hermione twitched and stared at him incredulously, and he looked almost as shocked by the question as she was.

"Yes, I just... got a date couple of days ago." Draco nodded.

"Yeah, uh. Me too."

The situation was becoming more and more awkward by the second. Neither of them really knew what to say anymore, so they started speaking at the same time.

"I'll just take this with me if I remember-"

"We should probably postpone the lessons-"

They stopped at the same time, and the air around them seemed to tingle. Draco was the first to speak.

"So, I'll take my list and finish it before the next time we meet, and I'll see you after Christmas?"

Hermione nodded fervently, trying not to make a fool of herself as she gathered the books and parchments. She couldn't make out what it was, but she was nervous for some reason.

"Yes, uh, great. I'll, uh, see you at the Ball."

With a last glance towards the witch, Draco Malfoy slowly stood from the sofa and went for the door. While he was walking the few steps to the exit, all the insults about her face, or hair, or the fact that he could not believe anyone would go with her to the Ball willingly were circling in his head.

But saying anything did not feel right, so he silently slipped away from the Room of Need, parchment in his hand, the burning inside him diminishing with every step.

Penny for your thoughts on confused Draco and overthinking Hermione? Any questions, suggestions, anything, I'm happy to hear it!