Hey guys! I have a really bad habit of updating in the middle of the night, so hopefully this one won't send you a notification at 2am! :P As always, read and REVIEW. I would love to hear from you! Since Pansy tried to kill Hermione, the plot is getting deeper and darker. It's also going to get a lot sexier. Ooo lala.

Chapter 13: Remembrance

"The Elder Wand?" Hermione's lips moved slowly. "Voldemort is after The Elder Wand?"

Draco closed the book with a thud, staring deeply into her hazel eyes. "It's the only thing that makes sense."

Hermione's eyes wandered around his room, her brain waves functioning a million miles an hour. She turned to meet Draco's gaze again, her lips halfway parted. "Where is The Elder Wand now?"

"I don't know," Draco replied, and set the book on his bedside table.

"I need to tell Tonks, McGonagall, they need to know –"

"Granger, just wait a second," Draco barked. "You do realize that you were almost killed an hour ago, right?"

"Yes," Hermione said nonchalantly. "But, I wasn't, and this is obviously more important."

Draco uttered a growl as Hermione pushed herself off of his bed. His grey eyes followed her as she walked through their Common Room to her room, and he found himself following her, just as he always did. He stopped in the kitchen, pulling out two mugs, and began to make hot chocolate. He had already decided that he wasn't going to allow her to leave the dorm until morning came and she had to go to her classes. In admiration of her and her ability to push things like almost certain death aside, he wished he could have the same bravery she did. When the hot chocolate was done, he took both mugs and approached her room to see her sitting on her window seat, staring out into the darkness.

Draco's cravings for Hermione were growing almost unbearable now, the images of her being safe and uninvolved in this war clouding his vision. Maybe in here, they could escape. Of course, it wasn't for forever, and the war would inevitably come eventually, but for the time being, they were safe in here. He sat beside her, thankful that she was taking a moment to breathe. He offered her a mug of hot chocolate which she took immediately.

"Thank you," she murmured and brought the hot drink to her lips. "I just can't believe that Pansy almost killed me."

"Yeah, it's about time you process that," he muttered, taking a sip of the drink himself. Even Draco himself didn't know how to process such an event, let alone help her do so.

"I still have to tell McGonagall –"

"No, that can wait until morning," Draco told her assertively. Hermione meagerly looked up at him from her cup, fiddling with the handle.

"Draco, what if he gets the wand?"

"Then we're all royally fucked," he replied. He had never seen Hermione so bland, so plain. Her eyes stared out the window into the night, tracing patterns over the windows outside that bore lights, looking for anything to take her mind off of the inevitable.

"I have to get word to Harry and Ron –"

"You know what you bloody issue is, Granger? You're always thinking of what you have to do, not what you need to do," Draco told her accusingly, with his eyebrows raised. She turned to face him, her sad hazel eyes on his grey ones. Now that he had her attention, he planned to take advantage of it.

"What do I need to do then, Draco?"

"You need to go to sleep," he told her. "Everything else can wait until morning."

"Draco, what if Voldemort gets his hands on the wand tonight? What if he knows where it is and it's just taken us this long to catch up with him?" Hermione practically whined.

"There's still nothing you could do because I doubt you know where he is," Draco replied, raising an eyebrow. "Don't try to argue with me, Granger. You aren't leaving this dorm tonight, and I will make sure of that."

Hermione's heart warmed as he spoke, shielding her from the events that had just happened. Vaguely, she wondered how Draco was handling that his ex-lover had almost killed her, but chose not to ask. Instead, she unknowingly scooted herself closer to him, carefully leaning her head against his shoulder. Draco glanced down at her soft curls tickling the skin on his neck, but didn't move her. If this was what she needed, so be it. For a moment, the two sat on the window seat, staring out into the black nothingness. Hermione's eyes landed on The Black Lake, where she remembered being submerged her fourth year. The feeling she was feeling now was quite similar.

Draco snaked his arm around her shoulders, bringing her closer to him. Hermione nuzzled herself into the side of his chest, closing her eyes and allowing a safe relief to wash over her. She was surprised that Draco hadn't pushed her away already but decided to take it with a grain of salt and let the peace ensue. Never before had she felt so safe, so taken out of the world than she did now. Even after all the arguments, the fights, the names, he was here now…

"Did you give her hell?" Draco asked half-heartedly, leaning his mouth to brush the top of Hermione's curls, inhaling coconuts and orchids. The scent nearly intoxicated him, and he closed his grey eyes.

"She got what was coming to her," Hermione whispered into his chest. Draco shifted his arm, realizing it was falling asleep.

"This is bloody uncomfortable," he muttered. Hermione's eyes snapped open, feeling another heated argument coming on. However, none ensued, but Draco removed his arm from around her shoulders, and straightened himself up.

Hermione, now properly tired and exhausted, scooted from her window seat to her bed, snuggling on the covers. Draco eyed her carefully, before realizing that his body would fit next to hers very well. Even then, his sub conscious began to remind him of his usual hatred for her, her kind, everything she stood for. So, he just watched as she pulled herself into a comfortable position.

"Will you stay?" she asked him softly, so soft that he almost didn't hear her.

All of his common sense told him not too, that it wasn't appropriate, but his heart told him something different. His ex-girlfriend, the girl he thought he'd known so well, had just attempted murder on her. It did a number on his psyche, truly forcing him to wonder what side he was really on. In this moment, however, nothing could penetrate these walls. Pansy couldn't see him, McGonagall would never know, if he just slid into bed next to her. Even his parents, who long presumed he was dead, would never find out about such an event.

Cursing himself inwardly, Draco moved himself from the window seat and laid down beside her in her bed. It was surprisingly comfortable, warm, and smelled of the ever lasing orchids and coconuts, of Hermione. He purposefully made distance between the two, hoping that would ease his longing for her and drive away the thoughts of her inferiority. Draco was convinced that the moment he got out of this prison, his feelings for her would subside, and he would look back on this as a remedy to the screwing with his mind The Order had been doing. It was an act of pure desperation.

Hermione never turned to face him, and he never turned to face her. He listened to her breaths until they became slow and even, telling him that she had fallen asleep. So many times, he had realized that he had listened to her fall asleep, to make sure that she was safe. Even now, more so. Draco didn't know how long he spent looking up at the black ceiling, watching the moonlight reflect off the tides of The Black Lake, casting glows on the tile. It was a much better atmosphere than his room, and in an odd way, reminded him of home.

Draco became vaguely aware of the knocking on the dorm door as he opened his eyes to the annoying sound. It was definitely morning: the warm rays of sunlight were streaming through Hermione's window, falling onto their limp forms, covering them like a blanket. He blinked a few times, realizing that he wasn't in his own room for a moment and a wave of panic rushed over him until he realized what had happened last night. The left side of his face was emerged in Hermione's curls, and his arm wrapped around her waist. She was pulled tight against him, and he decided that the feeling of her body against his was a wonderful and delicate pleasure.

The knocking continued, and Draco scowled. He almost had half a mind to march up the door himself and tell them to sod off. Hermione was stirring awake now, and he took a moment to watch her petite features come to life. Her hazel eyes opened, with a bit of surprise, then her soft lips formed into a small smile. Draco secretly decided that waking up to her was the most delightful thing he had experienced in his months in solitude.

He contemplated whether or not he should touch her or move his arm, but he did neither as the irritating knocking continued. Hermione noticed it then, and pulled herself up into a sitting position, stretching. Draco noticed she still wore his black shirt, and somehow, it created a possessive swirl in the pit of his stomach. After all, she had worn it last night when she had retrieved the book from McGonagall and almost gotten killed. A thought in the back of his mind panged: What if Pansy noticed that it was his? Had she noticed the smell of peppermint and Slytherin? Had McGonagall? Suddenly, this all became much too risky.

Knock, Knock, Knock…

"I wonder who that could be," Hermione whispered, pushing herself out of her bed and disappearing into her closet.

"I have the right mind to give them a dose of my fucking fist," Draco muttered, burying himself back in the pillows, less than comfortable now that she had left the bed.

His eyes secretly watched her as she pulled his black shirt over her head, reviling the daintiness of her back, and then as she pulled off her leggings and panties in one quick swoop. He had barely time to focus his eyes before she was dressed again, in her school attire: a black skirt, black tights, and she had pulled a Gryffindor sweater overtop of her white shirt. As she emerged from the closet, she was gathering her curls into a messy bun, which she always did so well.

He listened as she left the room, and trotted across the kitchen to the door. He heard her open it, and then a male voice. Suddenly, his ears perked: he knew that voice. It was that prat, Zacharias Smith. The possessive rage swirled in his abdomen again as he pulled himself out of Hermione's bed, and peeked out of the door to see his ugly face, his blonde hair, his blue eyes. Hermione was smiling at him, and that alone made Draco want to march out there and deck him right in the face. After all, he had told her that was what he was planning to do…

"Are you sure you're alright? After last night, we can't be too cautious…"

"I'm fine, Zac, really," Hermione told him. "I feel a lot better after getting some sleep."

Sleep that wouldn't have happened if I hadn't made you, Draco thought angrily.

"Okay, well, class starts in fifteen minutes. I'll see you down at Slughorn's, then we have to go talk to McGonagall about the ball," Zac said.

"I'll meet you there," Hermione nodded and closed the door. She could feel Draco's eyes on her back, just like the last time Zac had come and visited her. She turned around and locked his eyes as she made her way back to her room. "I hate it when you do that."

"Do what? Eavesdrop on your bloody conversations with that prick?" Draco demanded, his tone cool and accusing.

"Be out in the open like that," Hermione corrected him and began to gather her books off of the floor and dresser. "What if someone sees you?"

"I want him to see me, maybe then he'll leave you the hell alone," Draco snarled.

Hermione's eyebrows raised as she locked his stare again. "You're jealous of him?"

"No," Draco stated plainly.

"Then why do you care?" Hermione asked.

"Sod off, Granger, I'm not in the mood for this right now," Draco growled and exited her room. He didn't have to deal with this, with her, with him… He shouldn't have even been feeling the slight bit possessive over her, but he did, and he didn't know how to deal with it.

"Draco, wait!" Hermione darted after him, forever fulfilling their game of cat and mouse.

But, Draco didn't wait for her. He strode into his room and slammed the door behind him only to hear her open it again. Half-tempted to throw everything around again and destroy it, he didn't, only because Hermione was standing in his doorway again.

"I thought I told you to sod off," he muttered from over his shoulder.

"We need to discuss this!"

"We don't need to discuss anything."

"Then what was last night?" Hermione demanded, her voice pleading now. It made him feel that slight creep of guilt come up into his throat, but he didn't break his stance.

"Last night was nothing. It was desperation for company –"

"So, you stayed because you were desperate, not because I had just almost been killed?!"

"That's right! I blame it on you fucking with my head, thinking that I could possibly be…"

"Be what, Draco!?" Hermione's tone was impatient, frustrated. And for the first time, he didn't want to turn around to see the fire caused by him in her hazel eyes.

"Nothing, obviously!" Draco yelled, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "Go! You need to get to your stupid class with Smith anyway!"

"Draco, it's not like that between Zac and I –"

"Why should I even care?" Draco spat.

"You're being ridiculous, Draco! You're not thinking straight!"

"Oh, she's finally catching on! Do you want a medal or something?" Draco sneered.

Hermione didn't move, but he could practically hear her hisses coming from her lips. She was steaming mad now, mirroring Draco's anger towards her, towards that prick that had woke them up… Desperately, he wanted to believe that she wasn't romantically involved with Smith, but he was a man after all, and he knew the signs of when a man liked a woman. The way Smith looked at her made him want to vomit. It was the way Draco looked at her when Hermione wasn't looking.

"I'm leaving now," Hermione said plainly, turning on her heel and exiting Draco's room, leaving him alone and vulnerable.

Damn his feelings, damn this place, damn everything. Draco listened to her leave, feeling the least bit of resentment towards her as he walked back out into the Common Room. The air still smelled of orchids and coconuts, and it relaxed him. After all, he was familiar with that type of intoxication. Whatever his feelings were, he needed to figure them out and fast before his attraction to his Muggle-born companion became deadly.

After a long day of classes and ignoring Zac's advances towards her, Hermione told McGonagall about Draco's suspicions. McGonagall seemed to have already thought of the possibility of Voldemort searching for an all-powerful wand, and assured her that there was no such thing, as it was only folklore. Though she appreciated Draco's attempt to help them, McGonagall guaranteed Hermione that there was nothing to be worried about in that department. Regardless, Hermione had insisted upon meeting with Tonks and Remus, just to be cautious. McGonagall reluctantly agreed, even though the couple were in Hogsmead on Auror and Order business. Hermione got her way, however, and would meet with them that weekend.

With the upcoming Christmas Ball, the two Heads had decided on having in mid-December to help with getting the younger students and Muggle-Borns home for the holidays without a fuss. They were planning relentlessly now, with the deadline only a few weeks away.

With so much on her mind, Hermione needed to get away from it all. From Hogwarts, from the Order, from Draco… She found herself out on the grounds, overlooking Hagrid' hut, staring at the Forbidden Forest. The air outside was cool, and nipped at her skin. She pulled her scarf around her neck tighter, and sat down with her back against one of the tall stone pillars marking the path of the grounds.

The sky was stunning: a rainbow of pinks, purples, and blues. The sun had gradually began its descent amongst the clouds, and Hermione watched as the orb lowered itself down. Realizing how cold it was, Hermione cast a warming charm around herself, and pulled her knees to her chest.

Draco had stayed with her last night. The feeling itself was an odd concept to grasp, just as her nearly being killed if it wasn't for Zac stepping in. Thinking of how content she had been in his arms last night, tears began to form in her eyes. They threatened to fall if it wasn't for her hand wiping them away as quickly as they manifested. He had sought to protect her from whatever was out there hunting her, and he had, even if it was only for that one night.

Hermione had to realize the reality of their situation, though. Because of the way he had become jealous of Zac this morning, she conquered that he felt something towards her, and he didn't think that her blood-status had anything to do with those feelings anymore. But, when she had almost broke down this morning at trying to convince him that Zac and her were nothing other than friends, she had revealed something a lot more telling: she had feelings for him as well. Scared and baffled by her emotions towards Draco, she remembered the last time she felt this way was during Ron's relationship with Lavender Brown last year. Knowing all too well what happened when she felt that way, she shut it down quickly, but not before wondering if the reason she was growing attracted to Draco was because he was slowly feeling the gaping hole Harry and Ron had torn in her life when they had left.

"Hermione, fancy seeing you here," Ginny dropped down beside her. Hermione was too lost in her thoughts to notice her footsteps approaching or even watch her sit on her bum next to her.

"Hi, Ginny, why are you out so late?" Hermione asked softly, wiping away the last of her threatening tears.

"Just needed to get away," Ginny shrugged, staring off into the sky. "I'm guessing you too?"

"Yeah."

"I heard about what happened last night," Ginny said comfortingly and put her arm around Hermione's shoulders. "It'll be okay. McGonagall is taking every precaution."

"I know, Ginny," Hermione whispered, staring down at Hagrid's hut sadly.

"That's not why you're here, is it?" Ginny asked, now knowing full well that there was something else on Hermione's mind besides last night's perils events. Hermione didn't answer because she didn't know how too. "You've been happier lately, you know, and we've noticed it."

"Really? Nothing has changed," Hermione said dismissively.

"I don't think that's true," Ginny told her friend gently. "Your cheeks are flushed now, and your eyes sparkle. I think it's the true you coming out again."

"Thanks," Hermione whispered, not knowing how to respond without giving the obvious away.

"This War will change a lot of things, Hermione, but try not to let it change you," Ginny said, giving Hermione's shoulder a squeeze. "People become cold and bitter during War, but you have the ability to push all of that aside and just … be happy."

"I'm trying," Hermione murmured weakly.

"I know, and it's shown," Ginny said. "You're a strong girl, and I admire you more than you realize. A lot of people do. We all appreciate what you do for all of us."

At that moment, that was what Hermione needed to hear. She leaned her head on Ginny's shoulder as the two girls sat on top of the hill and watched the sunset together. Even after all of the happenings with Draco, Ginny was the most real thing that reminded her of how life should be. She was the only thing connecting Hermione with her dear friends, and knew if anything were to happen to them, Ginny would be the one to help keep her straight. Desperately, she just wanted to tell her about Draco, about her feelings for him, but she couldn't. Until the time was right, if the time was ever right, she would play it off as feelings for Zac or her miss for the boys. In a parallel universe, maybe she and Draco's relationship would be accepted. But, never in this one.

For five days, Draco avoided her at all costs. He would wake up in the mornings before Hermione did, listening to her sing and threatening him to fall back asleep, but he never did. He listened to her leave, and the moment she did, he would shower, cook himself something to eat (he was really getting the hang of not using magic), and then retreat back to his room where he would immerse himself in a book or parchment. Since she hadn't come to seek him out, yet her routine was nearly the same, he supposed she was doing the same as he was. A part of Draco was fine with that, if it wasn't for the fact that his walls were beginning to close in again, and the part of him that longed for her was beginning to drive him crazy.

It was a longing for companionship, for some type of interaction with her. Even if it was a small knock on his door. Her singing in the mornings were the only thing keeping him from hurling everything in his room around again, since his pride was too big to allow him to go out and tell her how much he wanted her, needed her.

Even today, on the fifth day, he sat on his bed and waited for his door to open, for her to check on him. But, she didn't. Draco kept looking at the clock, desperately waiting for even her footfalls to walk past his door, but no such sound came to his ears. He knew she was awake from the rustling around in their Common Area, and decided it was finally time to let her have an earful. Maybe it was his brain being forced into overdrive or just that he needed something to cure his boredom. He settled on that, because if he admitted to himself that he needed to see her, it would damage his psyche beyond a reasonable repair.

Draco bounded off of his bed, and with a force strong enough to push mountains, he thrust open his bedroom door to see Hermione sitting in her chair, The Tales of Beedle the Bard in her hands. She jumped when he opened the door, and he had taken pride in her doing so. Served her right, ignoring him like that… Without so much as looking at her, he strode into the bathroom where he kept glancing over his shoulder to see if she was watching him. When he looked, she was always reading her book, but when his eyes were forward, he felt her hazels burning into his back. He showered, not bothering to close the door all the way, half hoping she would follow him in like had with her. But, she didn't. It was then that Draco realized that she had just as much pride as he did.

He left the shower with a towel around his waist, hoping to catch her attention that way, but she didn't bother to look up from her book. He even let it fall to his hips, but she never even glanced up. Draco was almost to his breaking point now, although just seeing her made him feel less constricted. He walked over to a clean laundry bin and selected his usual black on black. The thought of dropping his towel in front of her to get her to notice him was beginning to look better and better, but he couldn't allow her to see him that way, so he changed in the bathroom. After he looked like his normal self, he went back out into the Common Room, attempting to grab her attention by walking past her. But, she ignored him.

Fuming now, he stopped in front of her and tapped his foot, his arms crossed.

"Yes, Draco?" Hermione asked dismissively, like not seeing him in five days hadn't affected her in any way. Draco was both relieved and hurt at her reaction.

"What are you doing?" he asked, desperately trying to make conversation. Her voice soothed his aching nerves.

"Re-reading this," came her reply, once again, short and to the point.

"Uh-huh," Draco said and sat down on the couch.

"What did you need?" she asked him.

"Nothing."

"Then why are you out here? Shouldn't you be sulking in your room?"

Draco's mouth twitched at her response. The old her was breaking through bit by bit. "I had to come out eventually."

"I thought you preferred it in there."

"I do."

"You're being condescending again," she murmured, turning the page of the book.

"Why are you re-reading that?" he demanded, leaning back against the back of the couch.

"I'm going to Hogsmead tomorrow night to discuss it," she answered, and Draco saw her eyes skimming back and forth behind the cover of the book.

Jealousy began to arise in the pit of Draco's stomach at her statement. Last time, she had went with Smith. "Who with?"

Hermione's eyes looked up at him over the cover of the book. Tingles ran up and down his spine as their eyes met, and he titled his head only slightly, seeing only innocence in the beautiful hazel eyes of his roommate. Oh, how he missed those eyes…

"No one but myself," Hermione answered and her eyes drifted back down to the inky pages of the book she held. Draco nodded his head once.

The pair sat there in silence for quite some time before Hermione put down her book and walked to the kitchen. Draco's eyes followed her hungrily, almost greedily, and then he found himself arising as well. She noticed, noticed the change in his footfalls as he caught up to her, and noticed her back against the counter as he drew closer. Merlin, how she missed this… But, mostly, she missed the ravenous butterflies that cursed her stomach every time he was within close proximity to her. Was it possible that he missed her as much as she had missed him?

Draco reached above her to grab hot chocolate, but was careful not to touch her. He was within a few centimeters of her, and it felt bloody amazing, just to be this close without her shoving him away or yelling at him. His arms framed her face as he grabbed the box, and then he studied her face as he set it beside her. But, she didn't react, just continued to stand, watching him make his drink. She merely looked over her shoulder as he did so, studying him to no avail. Draco hadn't planned to give the hot chocolate he was making to her, but he was tired of being shut away in his room, and he was almost certain that she was too. So, as a peace offering of some kind, of which he wasn't sure at all, he handed her the mug. She took it and looked up to him, their eyes meeting again. No words were exchanged, and none had to be. There was a mutual understanding between the two of them, that they were no longer attempting to avoid one another, and things could go back to normal…

Whatever normal was.