AN: This was probably the most fun chapter to write. The present is so dreary, what with Hermione being confused and Draco being depressed. I really enjoy writing them three years ago. Though they were in war, at least they don't carry the burdens they do three years later...

Thanks to reviewers cmtaylor531, ShatteredTruth, lostxatx7thxsea, imanawesomeperson, and tankbbg. This one's for you.

Stand and Watch It Burn

XII. When He Cared

Three years ago...

Hermione stormed into the cabin, ripping off her hat, scarf, and mittens and flinging then on the ground. She tore off her jacket and hung it on a hook by the door. Mumbling to herself, she went into the living room and was surprised to find Malfoy alone.

The living room was bright and cheery, lit by a roaring fire. Malfoy, dressed in a rather casual, sleek, black sweater, was lounging on the cushy sofa in front of the fire, perusing a novel. Hermione spun her head around, searching for something.

"Where's Tonks?"

"She left a few minutes ago," he said distractedly. Malfoy's eyes didn't leave the book in front of him as he answered. "She said you would be here soon and figured I could be trusted to be alone for a few minutes. She had somewhere important to go."

"But why…?" Hermione shook her head. Malfoy gave her an expectant look, waiting for her to continue. "Never mind," she muttered. What did she care anyway? It wasn't like it really mattered. She had more important things to worry about than Malfoy. Like Ron. Bloody Ron…

Hermione noticed Malfoy looking up at her with a strange, unreadable expression on his face. He was opening his mouth to say something. Something nasty, Hermione presumed. It was the last thing she needed at that moment. "Shut it, Malfoy," she snapped. "I don't want to hear it."

Malfoy shut his mouth briefly before opening it again. "What, Granger?" he asked.

"I don't want to hear it," she repeated with emphasis.

His face went blank, but Malfoy continued gazing at her. Hermione let out a breath of exasperation and continued to move around the cabin, trying to tidy up a bit, despite the fact the cabin was probably the cleanest it had ever been during their stay. As she moved around, she could feel his eyes boring holes into the back of her head. Hermione tried to ignore it, but finally she couldn't stand the feeling of being watched anymore. She swirled around viciously on him. "What is it, Malfoy?"

"I thought you didn't want to hear it," he said coolly.

"Just say it," she said through gritted teeth.

"Why are you still with him?" he bluntly asked.

Hermione did a double take. "Wh-What?" she sputtered. Hermione gaped at him. How could he ask that? "That… that is absolutely none of your business, Malfoy!"

Malfoy's face hardened slightly before returning to neutral. Seemingly unfazed, he shrugged and said, "All right." Without another word, he went back to reading his book.

His lack of response bothered Hermione. She kept waiting for him to laugh at her, mock her, or insult her, but he didn't do that. Malfoy sat there, reading, not moving except for turning a page occasionally.

"What do you mean?"

Malfoy didn't even look up from his book. "I thought it was none of my business," he said, his voice void of any emotion. Hermione gave him a nasty glare. "Fine," he said indifferently. "You deserve better."

"Better?" Hermione was laughing now. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. "Better? What the hell do you mean by that?"

"Maybe you think I'm incapable of feeling, but I'm not mentally stunted like Weasley," Malfoy drawled as he rolled his eyes. "You're supposed to be his girlfriend for Merlin's sake – "

"We're not…"

"Don't bother lying to me, Granger. You are." Malfoy closed his book and set it down on the sofa. "But you shouldn't be. Even you deserve better. Every time you come back after a date…" He paused, pondering thoughtfully. "Are they even real dates? Can he afford them?" Before Hermione could interject, Malfoy continued speaking. "Well, what I'm trying to say is that every time you come back you're on the verge of tears or you're upset or you're snappy and shouting at me. Case in point: today."

"Not all the time," Hermione protested.

Malfoy snorted. "Close enough."

"And why do you even care? Shouldn't you be happy that I'm upset?"

"Merlin, Granger. Why would I be happy if you come home all pissy and start taking it out on me? And like I said… even you deserve better."

"It's stressful for him," she said. "In case you haven't noticed, he and Harry have had a lot to do lately – "

"Right," Malfoy said, standing up. "That's still no excuse to treat you like rubbish." He walked off to the kitchen and removed some mugs from the cabinet. "Something to drink?" he asked.

"He's tired. And under a lot of pressure."

Malfoy was busy preparing something, heating it in a bowl with his wand and stirring it with a spoon. He nodded as she talked, and Hermione took this to mean he was listening.

"So we argue sometimes," Hermione continued, following him into the kitchen. "People who love each other argue. It's because they're actually expressing how they feel. That's probably a difficult concept for you to grasp, so I can see how you wouldn't understand. Ron and I care about each other. So sometimes we argue. It doesn't mean anything."

"Where do you keep the marshmallows?"

Hermione stared at him. "The what?"

Malfoy let out an exasperated sigh. "Marshmallows, Granger. You know… puffs of sugar and corn syrup, usually white in colour and rather chewy in texture…"

"Oh, right," Hermione said, perplexed. "They're in the lower right drawer."

"Thank you," Malfoy said graciously, heading to the lower right drawer.

Hermione watched him, bewildered. Shaking her head, she kept going on with her speech. "What I'm trying to say is that you have to work on relationships. They aren't always easy." Hermione thought of all the books she'd read, all riddled with occasionally tragic but always difficult love stories. Pride and Prejudice, in particular, came to mind. As she thought on Elizabeth Bennett and the trials of the Bennett sisters, it dawned on her that Malfoy hadn't said anything to her other than asking her where the marshmallows were. He was standing at the counter still, doing who knew what. Narrowing her eyes, she asked, "Are you ignoring me, Malfoy?"

"Not at all," Malfoy said lightly. He had opened the bag and was now carefully placing the marshmallows into the mugs. "Please, go on. The shortcomings of Weasel never fail to amuse me."

She watched him, wondering what to say next. "He loves me," Hermione said finally. "And I…" Hermione stopped. She loved him… right? Of course she did. Ron had been her best friend for almost seven years now. She'd had a crush on him since their third year. And now – after saving Sirius, after the disastrous Yule Ball, after Viktor, after Umbridge, after Lavender, after McLaggen, after Ron being poisoned, after Dumbledore's death… after everything – they were finally together. Hermione had finally got what she wanted. She had to love him. So why couldn't she bring herself to say the words?

"Here," Malfoy said, setting a blue mug in front of her. "Yours."

Hermione looked at it stupidly. "What?"

"Hot chocolate," Malfoy said with emphasis. "It's a beverage. You drink it. There." He pointed at the mug he had placed right by her hands, resting on the counter. "This one is yours."

"Oh," she said, feeling rather foolish. Hermione examined her mug. "Malfoy, it's teeming with marshmallows. There is a mountain of fluffy, white marshmallows sitting in my mug."

"And thus, perfect," he explained, taking a sip from his mug. "And it also appears that you need it." Hermione just continued staring at it. "I haven't poisoned it you know," he said pointedly.

"Oh, I know that," she said, flustered. "It's just…"

"So you don't love him," Malfoy said. "It's not a crime."

"What the bloody hell are you talking about Malfoy?" She was shouting. Why was she shouting? Why was she so upset?

"You don't love him," he repeated. "And thank Merlin for that." Malfoy gave Hermione an unreadable look. "You deserve better, Hermione."

"I… Stop saying that!" Hermione was livid. "I don't… Ron is… He's… Ron is ni… Ron is wonderful!"

"Wonderful at making you upset," Malfoy pointed out.

"He's more of a man than you'll ever be, Malfoy," Hermione practically snarled.

"If he were such a man he'd know how to treat you…"

"As if you'd know or do any better! You've never had a real relationship with any human being!" Hermione was screaming at the top of her lungs. "You're emotionally unavailable and you are incapable of feeling anything. So don't you tell me about how Ron's wrong, you stupid prat, because you wouldn't be any better than him, you traitor, you backstabber, you heartless bastard!"

Malfoy's eyes burned with anger. "We're done," he said with a deadly quiet voice. "This conversation is over."

"Fine," Hermione said, crossing her arms, defiant. "Not that it was much of a conversation anyway."

Malfoy swept past her and went back to the couch. He snatched up the book and continued reading, flipping the pages loudly. Although his eyes betrayed no emotion, Malfoy's forehead was slightly furrowed. Hermione knew he was still mad.

What did I do? Hermione felt terrible now. She'd crossed the line. She had yelled at Malfoy and said terrible things she didn't even really mean when all he had done was try to make her feel better. He'd made her hot chocolate for Merlin's sake. With marshmallows. All he had said was that she deserved better. Why does that upset me so much? Hermione fidgeted with the hem of the sweater. Maybe it's because deep down inside, you agree, a nasty voice in the back of her head said. Hermione tried to shake off that thought. She turned her attention back to Malfoy.

Why did she say such horrible things about him? Hermione knew it wasn't true. She'd seen that. But Hermione wanted to believe what she'd told him… It was easier than accepting that maybe she didn't have Malfoy figured out like she'd thought.

"Malfoy," she started. Hermione hesitated, waiting for a reaction.

He continued reading, turning the pages even more loudly.

Hermione looked at the counter and noticed Malfoy had left his mug of hot chocolate there. She took the mug and walked over to the sofa where he was sitting. "Here," she said. "It's getting cold."

Malfoy held up the book to block out her face.

Hermione sighed. "Look, Malfoy… Today's been a long day, and I was upset, and I shouldn't have yelled at you and said all those things."

He flipped another page.

"Malfoy, would you stop being so childish?!"

"What do you want, Granger?" He shut his book and threw it down on the couch. "To yell at me some more? Tell me I don't have any feelings? That I'm a cold-hearted, dirty Death Eater who kills babies for fun?"

"If you had been listening you would know I was trying to apologise!"

"I have been listening, and in case you forgot, you said… what was it? Oh yes. That I'm 'emotionally unavailable'. So, sorry, Granger. If you're trying to apologise, I'm afraid I'm too emotionally unavailable to understand."

"I'm sorry, all right?" Hermione's face was red with frustration and embarrassment. "I didn't mean to say those things. I'm... sorry. Really. I'm really sorry."

Slowly, the angry look on Malfoy's face faded. After a few seconds of silence, he took the mug from Hermione, took a sip, and put it on the table by the sofa. Picking up his book, he resumed reading.

Hermione sat down next to him. "What are you reading?"

"Mayor of Casterbridge."

"Thomas Hardy," she said automatically. Hermione shot him a sidelong glance. "That's a Muggle book. It's one of my favourites, actually."

Malfoy nodded. "Yeah, I took it from your shelf."

Hermione remembered the fit Malfoy had thrown one day during the first week here. He told her he was bored, and she had rather innocently suggested he read one of her novels. She never knew anyone could react so violently to the mere suggestion of reading what she considered classics. "I thought you didn't read Muggle books."

"I don't."

"Well, you're…"

"I had nothing to do, all right? That pink-haired freak was driving me insane, and I needed something to do. I've read all of my books ten thousand times. So I just picked up one of your bloody novels and started reading."

"You're still reading, in case you haven't noticed."

He shrugged. "I liked it."

"Oh." Hermione didn't know what else to say.

Malfoy continued reading for a bit before finally closing the book. "But I don't understand. It seems terribly unfair to me that Henchard should have to suffer so much for one little mistake he made in the past…"

"He sold his wife and daughter," Hermione said. "That's not exactly a little mistake."

"He was drunk," Malfoy said. "He did not make that decision with a clear mind. And he regretted it. Swore he'd be sober for years."

"Well his wife forgave him. Sort of," Hermione added.

"She's bloody using him," Malfoy says, "because now that her husband has died she needs someone else to take care of her and her daughter. Which is supposedly his." Malfoy looked questioningly at Hermione. "Is she?"

Hermione smiled. "Just keep reading. You wouldn't want me to spoil it for you, would you?"

She wasn't sure, but Hermione could have sworn that Malfoy returned her smile with an ever so slight one of his own. "I suppose not," he said.

AN: Just a bit of fun, but also a look at the deteriorating relationship between Hermione and Ron and the growing one between Hermione and Draco. They never struck me as a pair that would simply grow to love one another through the bonds of friendship like Hermione and Ron would. I know the whole Draco-liking-Muggle-books! thing is kinda cliche, but rest assured that I didn't arbitrarily choose that book.

I would like to remind everyone at this point (in case it were not already obvious) these memories are only highlights of what happened. There's a lot more to their history than what I might have chosen to write.

Reviews would be greatly appreciated. :D