A/n- Read the author's note at the end, its long (so is the chapter).

Disclaimer: Perhaps not.

Summary: Back to normalcy- whatever that is.


Jackknifed


From the moment they left Dumbledore's office Hermione and Draco had avoided the rest of the school, choosing to skip out on the whole of their classes. They had decided that their last few moments of sanity should be spent together, alone, exploring how soft each other's lips were.

They knew it wouldn't last long, that silence, and when Hermione had whispered a sweet goodbye to Draco that night in the deserted Entrance Hall, she knew the little paradise they had privately created was now public. She had known it; since that morning, of course, but it wasn't until then it finally struck her.

Draco had told her to be strong.

It was this she repeated to herself as the portrait hole swung open, the noise inside growing quiet.

Be strong.

Hermione clamored into the darkness, the picture closing noiselessly.

Those sitting around the fire paused, those standing around talking ceased to do so, and everyone turned to look at her. Harry, sitting in a crimson wingback next to a large, empty lounge chair, patted its seat comfortingly.

Hermione sighed and walked over, sinking into its plushy softness. She closed her eyes and counted to twenty.

When she opened them again, about a third of the people around them had resumed their previous revel, the others still watching. Harry, however, ignored their looks.

"How are you holding up?" He handed her a mug of something warm and steaming.

Hermione cocked an eyebrow. "You seem to be taking it better then I am." Taking the mug from him, Hermione sipped at it. Ah, hot water a lemon, her favorite. "Aren't you still angry? You were practically livid this morning."

Now about half ignored her.

Harry chuckled.

"I don't know…" He shook his head. "It was… at breakfast I think- right before the whole fiasco- and, well, I was thinking about how if I was in love with..." He fished around randomly. "Ginny or something, and she were in Slytherin and I really, I mean really loved her… I would expect nothing less then support from you and Ron." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "I was being selfish, putting my…" He was about to say 'hate' but could bring himself to do so. "…reservations before your feelings."

Hermione was impressed.

"That's very…noble, Harry." She admitted.

Harry grinned sheepishly, leaning over to pluck the cup out of her hand, take a sip, and replace it. "I do it for you, you know."

Hermione laughed. "Indeed." She let the lighthearted feeling she felt flutter about her brain for a few moments before she became serious. "How's Ron?"

At this Harry looked away.

"He'll get over it." He said finally. "He'll have to, I mean, you are his friend."

"As of nine o'clock this morning I was… now…" Hermione trailed off, looking down into her cup. "Where is he?"

"Dorm, sulking." Harry sighed, closing his eyes.

For the next few moments Hermione didn't know what to say. What could she say? Her emotions had been toyed with and stretched so violently the past few days- hours- that she didn't know how to sit still anymore.

She needn't have bothered trying to relax, it was impossible with all those eyes on her. Occasionally a friend would come up, usually a girl- Pavarti, Lavender, Ginny- offer their surprising support and kindness, and flit away, as if she would snap at them. After assuring them she would not, the girls stayed a little longer, crouching down on the floor in front.

"Aren't you all angry at me?" Hermione whispered, nonplused, as a seventh year pulled up a chair, a sizable group now surrounding her.

"My brother's an idiot." Ginny grinned, tossing her flaming hair over her shoulder.

"We care about you, Hermione." Luna whispered, looking off into space somewhere above Hermione's head.

"Could be worse." Seamus crowed from a table top nearby. "Could be Goyle."

The group laughed, Hermione a little nervously. Ginny reached out and placed a hand on Hermione's.

"You take what you get, Hermione, and you can't expect to please everyone in the process. Think about it, it could be good for us, you know?" Her face brightened. "Draco could be a spy for Dumbledore." Her eyebrows waggled suggestively.

"You're getting ahead of yourself, Gin." Harry said, shaking his head. "We can't trust Malfoy." That earned a look from Hermione. "I mean, I trust you, Hermione, of course! But just because you're…fond… of him doesn't mean I have to be. He's still a prat."

Much of the continued conversation was similar to Harry's statements.

We trust you, Hermione. Just not Lucius Malfoy's son.

We support you.

How could we ever be mad at you, Hermione?

Finally, after a first year girl none of them seemed to know sat down and promptly asked 'Is snogging a Slytherin the same as snogging Gryffindor?' Harry had kindly excused himself, a broad smile on his lips, declaring this time as 'women's talk'. But in fact, many of the boys had crowded around as well, asking in serious hushed tones if now, being Malfoy's new 'girlfriend', Hermione had leaned any secret Slytherin Quiddich tactics

Hermione was ecstatically stunned at the warmth her fellow Gryffendor's were giving her; surprised they took the news so well. But really, the Gryffindor house was all about friendship, love, loyalty to the end no matter what, and it was at that moment, when she realized that perhaps kinship was worth as much as intimacy, that Neville asked the most thought provoking question of the night:

"Does this mean Malfoy's on our side now?"

Hermione laughed at his words. "What side is that?"

"You know…" He trailed off, cheeks pink. "The good one?"

Someone clasped the boy on the back and the group dissolved into late-night euphoric giggles.

.o.o.o.o.

Although Draco had expected something a little less then a glorious 'Welcome Home' party, the animosity he received as the stone snake statue slid shut behind him was staggering.

Draco glared malevolently, absorbing the hate around him and letting it ricochet off and onto his fellows.

It seemed as if the whole house was there waiting for him; lounging on the sofas or loitering near the fire.

Blaise made a motion to stand, his weight pinned against the arm of an oversized chair, a pained look on his face. As the last moment he seemed to think better of it, standing up only to turn away.

He was the only movement in the room.

Pansy could be heard howling in the girl's dormitory.

Malfoy folded his arms over his chest, a sneer curling his lips. They couldn't do this; he was like their god, a pure Slytherin god.

"What?" He drawled, cocking an eyebrow. An older boy, seventh year, approached him, shoulders broad and towering. He glared down at Malfoy.

"You're a disgrace, Malfoy." He spat the words.

"Don't talk to me like-"

"We'll talk to yu' as we see fit." Someone with a Scottish brogue lashed out. "Yur daddy aint' here to protect yu' no more, yu' blood traitor."

Draco clenched his fits within the sleeves of his robes.

"Step aside." He growled; a low feral sound.

No one moved, everyone continued to stare at him.

"Step aside." He repeated, no less dangerous.

The tall seventh year did move, but not particularly far, and Draco had to turn his shoulder in order to get by, heading directly to his room. He did not make eye contact with those huddled around him.

They all murmured as he passed, throwing biting jibes and abject death wishes, cursing him.

They were silenced by the banging of the dormitory door slamming shut and everyone looked around with a mob like fervor. But before the philosophical pitchforks and torches could be scrounged up, Blaise cleared his throat, gathering everyone's attention.

"I'm sure there's a perfectly good reason for all of this…" As he trailed off another one of Pansy's screeches echoed throughout the room.

The students winced.

.o.o.o.o.

The scuffle that morning seemed to shake off the student's winter downs, readying them for the bright new spring, as if the Slytherin-Gryffindor romance rekindled Hogwarts collective frosty dormancy.

For it was the dripping end of winter, five months before end of term, and at the start of classes that following morning, it was crystal clear that the last day of June would not come soon enough.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione entered Potions earlier then usual, Harry acting as a living buffer between his two friends, seating himself between them at the long table.

Hermione sighed, pulling a plump bran muffin out of her school bag, tearing off a piece to shove in her mouth, reviewing last night's homework in her head. She paused, her forehead creasing as she tried to remember what Wormwood would react with in order to do... something.

Harry sighed, stretching back against his chair.

This really was boring, sitting here. Usually they chatted in order to use up their free time before class; loitering in the Great Hall or in the Common Room. But with Ron and Hermione not speaking to each other… well, Ron not speaking, they had nothing to do.

Five minutes later the rest of the class filed in, minus one Slytherin.

Draco, now back to his full ten hours of sleep and long indulgent breakfast would be late, per usual, nothing new.

Hermione smiled absently at his empty seat and a few other Slytherin boys cast weary glances to one another.

They weren't going to be subjected to those 'intimate looks' the new couple would be sending across the room, would they?

Surely not.

The door to the Potion's masters' study creaked open without its usual banging noise, Snape gliding into the room with no less menace but without his overbearing evilness.

He seemed genuinely tired.

Opening his mouth to speak, his neck thrown back in order to sweep the hair out of his face, Snape paused before opening the text he had in his hands.

He stopped short as the door to the class opened.

Hermione and the rest of the students twisted their bodies around to watch Malfoy walk to his seat. Normally, no one would even give a side ways glance; he was always late like this. But it was the first time since yesterday that everyone had seen him.

Draco did not acknowledge the looks, but he did smirk slightly, locking his eyes with Hermione's. She blushed and turned back in her seat.

Round the time Hermione had admitted, to herself anyway, that she had loved Draco, she also realized that their relationship, if there was to be one, would be one of little outward affection. In private, Draco may tuck her hair behind her ear, call her Hermione, let his hand flutter round her waist and down her back, but in public, it was the little sidelong glances and cocky grins that were the only notices Hermione received; save those rare smiles.

Strangely, Hermione found it particularly enchanting, that notion, like the true Draco was saved just for her.

"Mr. Malfoy." Snape clipped, biting off the end of his words as if they slipped dangerously past his teeth. He watched as Draco slumped in his chair, hiking his shoes up on the desk's crossbeam. Snape sneered and flicked his wand, Draco's feet magically dropping with a thud onto the ground.

"Professor-"

Snape laid his hands firmly upon the desk Malfoy was seated at, leaning in, his hooked nose inches away from his student's face.

"Mr. Malfoy." He seethed. "Do not, ever, be late for my class again." The room was deathly silent. "I expect you to take notes, turn in your homework, and…pay attention!" As he said these last two words he slammed his hand down on the desk with each syllable.

Draco's eyes went wide with poorly controlled shock and then to a glare of malice.

"Yes, Professor." He hissed.

Snape's eyes widened. "Speak up, Mr. Malfoy!"

"Yes, Sir!"

However awkward and, if possible, increasingly difficult Potions would become as school inevitably died down, it became the class in which some of the more poignant events would occur.

It was there that Draco made the most progress in terms of loyalties and duties after clearly falling from grace concerning his Head and House. Now, he turned his homework in on time, usually having done it in Hermione's company the night before. Now, he was early to class, chatting animatedly with her, a little ways off from Harry and Ron, who, was still silent. Draco had even made a motion to amend past wrongs, if barely, by nodding his head only once towards Harry when he walked over to speak to Hermione.

"Potter." Was all he said, yet it was the fact that nothing else came out of his mouth like 'how's our Golden Boy this morning?' or 'how are you and the Weasel doing?' that was the most surprising.

Hermione had asked him if it was the fact that she was friends with Harry which made Draco less irritable.

Malfoy had only smiled, saying, "I hate him." Hermione opened her mouth but Draco cut her off. "Only, I would prefer not to pick a fight with you there."

But it stemmed from more then just that, Hermione thought, a kind of loneliness that even Hermione couldn't yet tap within the boy.

Yes, there were very much in love with each other. Yes, he relied on her much more then he had any other; but there was that inherent comradely that, being a woman, Hermione could not win over. Draco needed those in which he could commiserate with. He was being denied that.

Perhaps that was why, when the Slytherin house carried out a bloodless coup d'état one morning and forced Draco to give up his seat at the head of the Slytherin table- Draco had stepped down with an air of slight relief, as if he knew it was coming and was glad it had passed without much incident- that he sat not in the back of the table, on the last seat in the row, bunched up next to the stone wall, but round the other side, next to the Gryffindor's and just across the aisle from where Hermione was eating.

Hermione felt that, as much as Draco's hatred for everything red and gold ran deep, the animalistic nature to 'run with one's own kind' was stronger, and she was sure he was attempting, if not unconsciously, to connect to a group from which he had been so struck against.

Apart from Draco's changes in class, Potions also served as a springboard for Hermione during the last few months of class. The last day of April Hermione, Harry, and Ron were seated around a sizable cooking cauldron, Hermione stirring it with vivacious fervor. Each silent for separate reasons: Harry because he was reading the potions' recipe, Hermione because she was concentrating on stirring, and Ron because he was Ron.

Harry and Hermione had become quite accustomed to Ron's lack of noise within Hermione's presence. Only once had Hermione asked Harry if he ever did speak.

"He does, but he never talks about… it, you know."

That was nearly three months back.

Now, the awkwardness and novelty of the situation had worn off and the silence was but a comfortable custom.

"Harry, pass me the… the vial of pixy wings."

Hermione looked down into the cauldron with an expression of calm patience, her hand out awaiting the vial. She grinned as she felt the cold glass in her palm.

"Thanks Harry-" She began, but stopped as she looked up. Ron was pressing the instrument into her hot palm, not Harry, who now looked up with an unreadable look.

"Oh, thanks Ron." Hermione whispered, taking the bottle for herself. Ron said nothing but nodded- the first acknowledgement he had given her in months.

Hermione could hardly contain herself.

She had laughed and wept simultaneously after class had been let out.

.o.o.o.o.

Draco lounged back against the steps of the Hogwarts Castle, the sun bleeding over the darkening sky.

It was June thirtieth then, the last he would see of Hogwarts before the start of term in September; they were to board the trains in forty-five minutes to go back to platform Nine and Three Quarters.

As Blaise belted out the punch line of his joke, Malfoy pitched his head forward to laugh, his elbows resting against the stone and his ankles crossed, bleach blond hair crackling lightning in the sun. Hermione had given his hair a trim a few weeks ago, complaining somewhat sweetly about its length. It was hard for Draco to adjust to the way his hair didn't quite hang the way it had. But, he had to admit, she had been right, it was starting to look as scraggly as Weasley's.

Draco grinned, Blaise laughing at himself.

It had surprised Draco how distant the other boy had become and this pained him a little more then Draco would admit, especially when Zabini would only talk or acknowledge him if no one else was around. Draco realized that, as summer progressed and Zabini had time to reflect and think- or to be told what to think by his Deatheater father- about "what kind of a disgrace the Malfoy boy had become", even that little thread of friendship would be severed.

So Draco enjoyed what he had of it.

A small noise made the boys turn and they saw Hermione walking down the steps towards them.

Blaise bristled and stood sharply, embarrassed. Draco continued to lounge on the stone and let a lazy smile tilt across his lips.

"Hello Blaise." Hermione smiled, arms clasped across her front, over her textbook.

"Er- ah, uh… see you, mate." He blurted out, promptly stalking off.

Draco didn't have the heart to say goodbye, as if his silence ensured that what he had just experienced was not the last time he would see Blaise like that: calm and unguarded.

Hermione laughed, her voice carrying on the warm breeze.

Draco smiled.

Draco's birthday had been twenty-four days previous and it was then that he had set down his gift, his only gift, to look Hermione deep in the eyes and say in a breathless rush that he loved her laugh, as she had laughed when seeing his face at the unwrapped Dragon hide wallet on his lap. Would she promise to always laugh like that? Like he was the only one to hear it?

Hermione had.

"Ready?" She asked, putting the book into her bag. Draco nodded and got up, dusting off his muggle jeans.

The train was leaving soon.

The pair walked to the Hogsmead platform, Hermione able to find her friends quickly in the hustle and bustle around them. Chatting with Harry and Ron, who now spoke in more then simple monosyllabic sentences, she told them that she would be back soon and to ask them not to forget to save her a seat in a compartment and… perhaps they could save seats for two?

Ron looked livid but Harry assured her that they would whilst sending a rueful glance over Hermione's shoulder. Malfoy stood back a little behind her, arms crossed, gaze directed at something up and across the platform.

As the train bellowed up a cloud of white smoke, Hermione and Draco clamored onto the train amidst the many students and Hagrid's jovial yells. They didn't follow Ron or Harry to a compartment but walked to the back of the last car, pulling open the sliding partition to the outdoor landing.

They had both agreed to the need of fresh air and that they had to have a last look back at Hogwarts as they pulled out of the station. They needed to, as if it closed a chapter of their life only to open a new one.

Many of the residents of Hogsmead lined the station to see the students off. Even some of the faculty were there. First Years and Sixth Years alike leaned out their compartment to wave goodbye. Hermione thrust herself against the iron railing of the landing and waved to Hagrid and a few of the Professors. They smiled back and Draco smiled too, his arm slipping round her.

"I'll be right back." He whispered into the shell of her ear after the station became a little dot against the darkened sky, Hermione unable to distinguish between who was waving and what was a building.

Hermione nodded as Draco left, leaning forward to rest her arms on the iron, a sigh falling easily from her lips.

She felt the train move underneath her. The noise of the engine, the tracks, and the creaking compartments sounded like sweet music to Hermione; the music of life, her real life, the life away from classes and textbooks, where she could flourish as a witch and as a woman.

Such a peaceful and rejuvenating melody; Hermione let it lull her for a few long minutes.

"Don't fall asleep." A low voice murmured.

Hermione smiled and closed her eyes; feeling like drifting off would actually be quite pleasant.

Draco reached around to place a cup of Pumpkin juice in Hermione's hand, his palms gripping the iron rail on either side of her. She could feel his body pressed against hers and shyed away as his breath tickled her ear, his chin resting against her shoulder.

He had brought back only one cup from the trolley to share between them as they watched the country side turn. For a fleeting moment they saw the turrets of Hogwarts wink in and out of sight behind a few poplar trees and hillocks. Gradually, like all things, the school faded into purple clouds; gone.

The couple was silent then, as if scared to breath. Away from school, with the wide world around them, could they count on Dumbledore's words? Did he really have faith in them, or was it unfounded?

When Hermione gave to a sudden chill, her shoulders twitching and gooseflesh rising, Draco cupped her upper arms within his hands and held her closer.

"Are you excited or scared?" Draco ventured, his brows creased as he looked out over the hills rolling by, unsure if he was asking Hermione or asking himself the question.

"A little of both I suppose." Hermione smiled, not looking at him. "I mean, another year here and gone."

Draco nodded in agreement, absently twisting round his Slytherin ring round with his fingers.

"I…" He started, and Hermione turned around in his arms to look at him. Draco pulled back and slipped the emerald encrusted band off his finger and into his palm. "I want you to have this, Hermione."

It hadn't been like he planned it out or anything, it was just something he was suppose to do, wasn't it? Present a token of his love…

"I- ah, isn't that an heirloom or something?" Hermione was sent a slight skew with the sudden gesture.

"I don't care, take it." It surprised Draco that he meant it.

"Draco-"

"Hermione?"

Hermione smiled at Draco's boyish look and shook her head, pushing the ring away from her. She noted with a thrill the brightness of his checks in the dusk.

"I don't need a ring to know how much you love me. A memento is completely dissatisfying without the wearer accompanying it. Besides, if you give me that ring I will become too complacent with the mere memory of you, the ring taking your place. I will not allow myself that. I want to be selfish. How else will I keep you from forgetting to write this summer?"

Draco shook his head.

"You're always so damn logical."

Hermione laughed. "That ring doesn't symbolize us."

Malfoy paused, looking at the, quite frankly, ugly twist of metal in his hand. It was so organic and roughly hewn, tragic almost, the way the snake circled around itself, its mouth hooked round its tale in never ceasing, perpetual cannibalism.

Bitterly Malfoy thought of how, instead of it symbolizing their love, it symbolized the Slytherin downfall: waging war on itself, becoming willing outcasts, forever engaged in never ceasing, perpetual social cannibalism.

Why in Merlin's name would he want that life?

"You know, Hermione, It doesn't symbolize me either, come to think of it." Draco smiled terribly, a kind of sad little grimace. "I am no longer a Slytherin by trait but by mere classification. I shouldn't be wearing this anymore, it's not who I am."

It was ironic, almost, that what seemed like a lifetime ago, that ring had bent open the bottlecaps that had consumated Draco and Hermione's relationship. Draco's smile widened. That's all it was good for, too, a bottle opener, and Draco would be damned if he wanted it to be anything but that.

Hermione said nothing as Draco laid the silver snake against his thumb and forefinger, pausing a moment only to flick the band out the back of the train.

It shone for a moment in the train's lamplight, a silver drop of rain in the clear night, turning over and over again to drop out of sight along the tracks.

"Do you know how much I love you?" Hermione said, as if she were simply asking what the answer was to a homework question.

Draco cracked a lopsided grin, turning his attention back to the girl in his arms.

"How much?"

Hermione set down her Pumpkin juice.

"I'll give you three guesses." She joked as he leaned down to capture her sugar sweetened lips with his own.

"Only three?"


Fin


So, this is the part where I insert a horridly long author's note- for those who do not want possible sequel info, please skip down to the review box at the bottom of your screen.

For the rest of you…

AHHHHHH! WE MADE IT! I'm so happy (well, kinda sad that it's over) but mostly happy! I am so surprised I did not get bored with this, a trap I fall into regularly regarding most of my fics (see, you didn't know you were being lead by a ticking time bomb of inconsistency, did you?). Well, I enjoyed writing it as much as you enjoyed reading it.

They why, you ask, stop? Good question.

I am outlining a sequel to Jackknifed, one taking place at the end of seventh year and loosely based on events in the HBP (meaning major stuff like Dumbledore's death/the Order will happen but other information will be tweaked to fit the story).

Also, it will be much more plot based, Draco centric, and will not be based solely on romance, but on romance/love/friendship/ & trust enduring through hardship.

Anyway, thanks for reading and hop over to the next chapter for a preview of the sequel!!

And remember, just because this story is over, doesn't mean I don't like reviews for it!!!

Love to all,

Lena