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"Hey, guess what!"

"What?"

"I'm not JK Rowling"

"No way?!"

"Way"

Chapter 6 // The Mistake

When she decided to check on Ginny and Harry a few days later, her skin had returned to its quite natural glow, for which she was exceedingly grateful. Why she had ever put that spell on herself when the potion in question was so extremely rare was beyond even her own comprehension. She had to do something with that paranoia of hers. Though... war did that to you. Your reflexes, your senses, your instinct... it all worked on overdrive. It was just a matter of recognizing what was a legitimate concern and what was ridiculous. And she wasn't doing too good in that area, it seemed.

Her fireplace was connected to the floo system, or so she had realised when she found floo powder hidden behind a loose stone at the very bottom of the fireplace. The previous owners had obviously been a wizarding family, and she was instantly grateful for the few handfuls of floo powder. They would be nice for communicating, but also in case of an emergency. Who knew, right?

She closed her hand around the twinkling grey powder, feeling some of it run through her fingers before she threw it into the flames and called for Harry's flat. The peculiar feeling of having your head spin around in the system of floos before finding the right spot made her somewhat queasy and her knees were already hurting. She needed a cellphone. Desperately. Thankfully, Harry's living room and a mane of thick, red hair came into view rather quickly.

"Hey, Gin," she called towards the retreating back.

The young Weasley spun around on her heel and the expression of alarm gave way to a beaming smile. She rushed over and fell down on the floor with almost childlike enthusiasm.

"I didn't know you were connected to the floo," she breathed, smiling from ear to ear.

"Neither did I," Hermione admitted. "I just happened to find some floo powder and I wanted to check in."

"You look good," Ginny stated, inclining her head slightly. "We miss you like crazy, but if it treats you as well as it looks, it's all worth it."

Hermione had to smile at that. "The place is absolutely fantastic. Couldn't have dreamt of anything better."

"So it's a quiet country life?"

"Pretty much."

"Aw, I was kind of hoping for an exciting story from the far north," Ginny commented, straightening her legs and lying down on her stomach in front of Hermione's floating head.

"Sorry to disappoint you," Hermione answered, suddenly feeling a bit out of breath. "Nothing exciting going on." She gave a dry laugh, sounding fake even to her own ears.

"I wish Harry hadn't taken off to that Quidditch game. He would have liked to see you."

"I'll see him soon enough," Hermione assured her. "I know how much Harry loves his Quidditch."

"He went with Ron," the younger girl said so quickly Hermione barely caught her words, but she heard it. And it made her stomach feel heavier than it should have.

"It's okay," she said, pressing a smile to her face. "I'm trying to move on, and so should everyone else."

"Are you sure?"

Ginny looked so concerned it nearly broke Hermione's heart. Her friend shouldn't have to worry for her so much, and maybe if she hadn't left Ginny would be more assured of her well-being.

"I'm absolutely sure," she said with force. "And you, of all people, should let go of the grudges and restore the relationship with your brother."

Ginny looked troubled by this and suddenly flipped over on her back. Her small hands rested on the top of her stomach and she stared straight up into the ceiling.

"But I feel like everyone else are letting go of this too fast. They're already trying to include Ron in everything again, and it feels like they're betraying you. You are the innocent party in this case, and you're the one leaving town, being away from everyone you love."

"I don't want you to lose your relationship with Ron over this. It is something that we will all survive, and I know I will get past this. Maybe not now, but someday I will."

"I just can't," Ginny huffed, pulling herself up on her elbows and turned a bit to face Hermione. "Not right now."

She sighed audibly. "I guess that's alright. It's your decision."

"But we're doing alright, so don't worry about us, Hermione. We just miss you."

"I miss you too." She smiled.

"Oh all the things we're going to do when you get back!" Ginny exclaimed, her eyes sparkling.

"I can't wait. But look... my knees are hurting like crazy. I'll owl you soon," she promised, before giving Ginny a last, reassuring smile.

She pulled out of the fireplace and dusted off her aching knees just as she heard footsteps in the hallway. And she knew who it was. No one else just walked right in. Oh, the nerve he had.

"Hey, Granger," he greeted as he came into view, and he gave a tiny wave.

She was about to retort back when the fireplace behind her gave a sound most unwelcome for the circumstances. Alarm lights flashed in her head, her fingers tingled and adrenaline ran through her stiffening body. She did the only thing she could think of. She leapt onto him and grabbed him by his jacket. Just as the flames roared green, she flung herself behind the couch and pulled an astonished Draco Malfoy with her.

"What the hell are you playing at?" he hissed in a hushed voice, all too close to her ear.

Her curls fell into his face and he sputtered, trying to get them away from his lips. She ignored him and pushed her hands against his chest to remove herself from the all too real body of Draco Malfoy.

"I'm saving your sorry arse, you ungrateful git," she hissed right back, just as her hand slid off his chest and she tumbled forwards again.

He gave a strangled 'hmpf', and desperately tried to untangle himself from her limbs and robes.

"Hermione?"

She stiffened at the sound of Ginny's confused voice, while getting thoroughly annoyed with the squirming man beneath her.

"Lay still, you imbecile," she commanded, making a last panting effort to scramble to her feet.

"Hermione, are you – oh, there you are," Ginny beamed as Hermione rose up behind the couch.

Her hair stood at odd angles, and she had the distinct feeling that her face was thoroughly flushed from the struggle to untangle herself. Laughing nervously she forced herself to take a deep breath.

"Ginny," she said breathlessly. "Anything wrong?"

She looked hastily down on Malfoy, who finally seemed to have understood the issue at hand. He remained perfectly still, his hair falling against the floor, looking oddly like a halo circling his head. How ironic.

"No, I just mirrored your call. I don't know your location, so I won't bother you in the future. Don't worry." She smiled. "What are you doing?" she added, sounding perplexed.

"Oh..." Hermione said, laughing in an abnormally high-pitched voice. "I dropped my quill behind the couch and I can't reach the little bugger."

"I can come through and help," Ginny volunteered, making a move to push herself through, and Hermione panicked immediately.

"NO!" she cried, and ran out from behind the couch. "No need," she explained shrilly. "It's not even my favourite."

"Oh very well, you stubborn git," Ginny laughed, seemingly oblivious to anything being wrong. "Wow, this place is so cute."

"I know, isn't it?" Hermione beamed, taking a quick look around her, and at the same time making sure no part of Malfoy was in plain view. "I absolutely love it here."

"I'm glad," her friend replied genuinely. "I don't want Ron The Arse to keep you back. Perhaps it was a good idea for you to get away for a while."

Hermione's eyes widened in horror when she realised what Ginny was bringing up. She burned bright red, moving discreetly even further away from the horizontal Malfoy, who would be in plain view of she turned her head. All her thoughts focused on not looking at him at all, and she plastered a smile on her burning face.

"Definitely was," she concluded in a sing-song voice. "I don't mean to be rude, but why did you mirror my call?"

"Oh yeah," Ginny laughed. "I forgot again. Merlin, I'm such a dolt sometimes. I was going to remind you of the Ministry Charity Dance."

Oh no. The bloody Charity Dance. Hermione swore loudly under her breath, and she thought she heard a stifled chuckle from behind the couch, but she ignored it. Ginny, however, laughed appreciatively.

"Merewood expects you to be there, you know."

"That man will be the death of me..."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad, Hermione."

"It's a Ministry planned event, meaning all my colleagues will be there... it's a dance and I'm Hermione Granger," she stated dryly. "How can it get any worse?"

"First of all... it could have been a costume party, which I know you loath. Second of all... I seem to remember one Hermione Granger transformed into a rather ravishing princess at the last dance she went to."

Ginny winked at the reference to the Yule Ball, and Hermione scowled back.

"Yes and we all remember how well THAT went," she said and caught herself about to elaborate when she remembered who was listening in.

"It went perfectly fine until Ron ruined that day too," Ginny commented dryly before giving a great sigh. "God, I wish there was some way of cutting yourself away from family members."

"Ginevra," Hermione chastised sharply.

"I know, I know," the redhead said, rolling her eyes. "Oy, Harry's coming back. I'll give him your regards. Take care, sweetie."

With a small pop her head had retreated from the fireplace, and Hermione found herself shaking with pent up tension. She collapsed onto the armrest of the couch, drawing her hands shakily over her face. God, how she hated to lie to her friends. And for whom? Draco Malfoy?! No, she supposed it was more for herself. She didn't want them to fuss about him being her neighbour, she just wanted to be left to her own for a while.

She hadn't noticed that Malfoy had gotten to his feet before he stood right before her, peering down on her exasperated figure.

"Close call," he said with a grimace.

She scowled in reply. "Yeah, it was."

"Relax, will you?" he shrugged, and she eyed him angrily. "She didn't even notice. Nothing bad came out of this."

"I don't enjoy lying to my friends, ferret-face," she snapped, both annoyed at having to lie and embarrassed of the things he overheard. "But maybe the principles of friendship is a hard concept for you to understand since you don't have any."

The moment the words had come out of her mouth she knew she had taken it a step too far. She could see his eyes cloud over, and his lips pursed into a thin line. Guilt immediately hammered into her mind, and she clapped her hands over her mouth.

"Oh God, I didn't mean it," she cried as he turned around. She darted up from her seat on the armrest, but reached out too late to catch him.

"Yes, you did," he said flatly before disappearing out the front door.

She cursed herself loudly, and began pacing restlessly on the living room floor. How could she be such an idiot? Malfoy wasn't who he used to be. Insults didn't just peel of him like he was laminated. War had changed him, just like it had changed everyone else. She kicked the side of the couch viciously, trying to blow off steam, feeling angrier than she had in a long while. But this time the anger was directed against herself, and there were no one to take it out on.

She groaned loudly and started picking up stray objects on the table, putting back some of the books she had stacked on the couch. Her mind mulled relentlessly around her words and his expression, as she meticulously cleaned the room. The more she replayed it in her mind, the more she wanted to hit herself repeatedly with something hard, and deciding she needed a distraction, she grabbed the nearest book and fell onto the couch with an enormous sigh.

While many magical creatures prefers to avoid contact with wizards and witches, the magic owl has a profound and deep bond to the human race. What most wizards do not know, however, is that every wizard has its own owl counterpart that it shares profound bonds of understanding with. It is very likely that one will cross paths with one's owl counterpart at some point in life, due to the extremely strong bond. Whether everyone is conscious about this bond ... But maybe the principles of friendship is a hard concept for you to understand... since you don't have any

She shook her head violently and threw the book a tad too forcefully onto the wooden table. The loud thud made her jerk from the couch, and as she stood in the middle of the floor breathing more superficially than she usually did. She was such a git. Why did she even care? She huffed at herself and raced out of the house, out onto the narrow pathway. There was a slight drizzle of rain in the air, and the small drops felt refreshing on her heated cheeks.

She walked aimlessly onto the road, dragging herself in the opposite direction of town. When she still felt restless, she broke into a jog, disregarding the rain whipping against her face. Grinding her teeth in annoyance at absolutely everything, she forced herself to focus on each tap of her shoes against the wet road. She fell into a meditative state of mind after a while, not really sensing anything around her except the repetitive pounding her her feet meeting the ground. It wasn't until a pair of hands grabbed her by the shoulders and stopped her abruptly that she came to a halt and began looking around in confusion.

"Hermione," a scandalized voice said. "You're dripping wet"

She blinked repeatedly until the plump form of Miranda Alm came into view, her round face emitting concern from every feature. Her eyes fell from the older lady's face and onto herself. Her thin hoodie had gone from light to dark gray, and she was soaked to the bone. She scowled at her appearance. Why the heck hadn't she applied a shielding charm?!

"Come here, dear. I have some hot cocoa inside, and you can tell me why you're running around in the rain like a headless chicken," Miranda said softly, while putting her hand around Hermione's shoulders.

She couldn't object. The prospect of hot cocoa was too tempting, and being alone with her stupid thoughts was not an option she was likely to choose right now. She let Miranda's arm guide her further up the road and into her garden, leading up to her house. Hermione hadn't realised she had been that close to her own place.

Once inside, Miranda ushered her into the living room before ordering her to stand straight. She pulled out a thick, but rather small wand and muttered a drying spell, leaving Hermione in dry clothes with her curls once again frizzy.

"Sit down, dear," she ordered. "I'll be back in a jiffy."

Hermione did as she was told, leaning heavily against the large pillow in the corner of the couch. She hadn't quite realised she was exhausted, and still rather cold even with her clothes now dry. This was all just a mess. Just the thing she had been wanting to get away from.

As she sat completely still, wrapped up in her thoughts, a mug of hot chocolate was placed before her on the table and the chair opposite her was soon occupied by her friendly neighbour.

"Hermione..." Miranda began in gentle tones. "Please tell me why you were running in this weather, looking like you had been put under the Imperius."

She gave a weak smile at that, acknowledging how utterly ridiculous she had been... and probably still was, just hiding it well.

"My neighbour... who is a wizard too. The one you told me about..."

"Draco Mason?" the older lady pitched in, nodding her head slowly.

Hermione quirked an eyebrow at this, looking perplexed. But of course... he had, after all, wanted to start anew.

"Yes... Ma…Mason and I," she began, stumbling over the foreign name slipping over her tongue. "We've never been the best of friends. Since the first time we met back in our first year, we've pretty much been... enemies."

The older lady looked shocked at this revelation.

"My... I never thought any one of you were even capable of having enemies, never mind feeling that way about each other."

Hermione smiled vaguely at this. It was odd to hear someone say they found it weird that they were enemies. It had always been the opposite. Animosity between them had always been expected.

"We were as different as we could be, to tell you the truth. He's from a pureblood family, you see. He was yet another Slytherin in the long line of Slytherins he comes from," she explained. "I'm muggleborn. Both my parents are dentists. It was never expected that I would be anything but ordinary, but there I was... suddenly the very opposite of ordinary."

The older lady's eyes had widened.

"And to top it all off, I am a Gryffindor," she smiled, feeling oddly proud to proclaim that fact.

"Ah, the famous Slytherin – Gryffindor rivalry," Miranda chuckled. "It was quite prominent even in my days. I am a Hufflepuff myself."

"He was... a cruel child, and if not cruel then at least misguided. He taunted me often, and after a while I reciprocated, and we would bicker endlessly. To be honest, he called me a... a filthy Mudblood... every chance he got."

Hermione found herself stumbling over the insult that used to cause her so much pain, and she met the shocked eyes of Miranda over the table.

"But he hasn't done that in a long time," Hermione hurried to add, and then she watched the older lady intently. "Miranda... can I trust you?"

"Of course you can," she replied with force. "You can tell me anything, and I won't tell a single soul."

Hermione nodded, knowing that her need to talk overshadowed whatever doubt she might have felt.

"You see... I fought in the war. I am a member of the Order of the Phoenix."

Miranda's mouth was now agape. "Hermione Granger. Of course. I've read about you!"

"I have always been on the side of the Light. Ever since Harry and I became friends in our first year. Mason wasn't, though. I know I shouldn't be telling you this, but his father is a Death Eater. He was brought up into a certain mould to fit, and he fit it perfectly for a number of years."

Her listener had fallen silent, and didn't seem to need to reply to this, even if she looked weary.

"But after making a grave mistake, he suddenly realised he didn't have it in him. He switched sides, and fought against all his family and everything he had grown up with. We were never friends, not even when we fought alongside each other during the war," she pondered, thinking back to their lives at Grimmauld Place. "But it wasn't the same as it had been. We bickered, but it wasn't with the same venom or the same urge to hurt each other. It was just what we were used to, how we knew to deal with each other. It was just how we worked, and it was a safe thing through all the upheaval."

She saw Miranda nodding encouragingly at this, and at least pretended to understand, even though Hermione doubted anyone could really see the complexity of this relationship.

"After the war, he left. None of us heard a word from him, and to be honest I never spared him much thought. I assumed he had found a way, that he was happy with the things he had always been happy with. That he had changed never crossed my mind, even if war changed all of us," She admitted this with a sad smile. "Then I met him here. And we bickered a bit, and annoyed each other, but it was clearly different. He was clearly different. He spoke to me in a way he never has before. It's not a radical change, I suppose. He still calls me bookworm and Granger, and I still call him ferret-face," She actually chuckled at the thought of this. "But he has told me things he never would have admitted before, and I have responded in ways I never thought I would."

"We were doing alright," she sighed. "We were conversing normally, most of the time. And then I had to ruin it all with a careless comment."

"Ah, you said something in the heat of the moment and it offended him?" her agony-aunt commented.

"Insults used to peel off him. He'd just smirk and retort back instantly. And this time I could actually see him shut down and take the comment to heart," she said, pulling her lips into a sad grimace. "And I can't get it out of my head. Which bothers me, cause we never care."

"Well, obviously you do."

Hermione scowled annoyed at that, and Miranda gave a hearty laugh.

"That things have changed isn't a catastrophe. Actually, it sounds rather healthy," she said, giving Hermione a small wink.

Hermione didn't answer at that. They couldn't understand. They wouldn't understand how much she was in need of normalcy, how much she needed things not to change or to be out of order. She sighed, wishing for a moment she was back in 3rd year, slapping him silly and he would still smirk and act superior.

"If your relationship has indeed changed he'll come around," the older woman said, clearly offering her best advice under the circumstances.

It was not, however, an advice Hermione saw fit in the situation. Malfoy didn't come around, and while she had obviously struck a nerve, she didn't want him to come around. It wasn't natural; it wasn't what she was used to.

"Thank you," she said genuinely, knowing Miranda couldn't help that the situation between her and Malfoy was out of her comprehension.

A/N: Thanks to everyone who has reviewed so far. I am veryvervyervery grateful. Well, my summer job is somewhat killing me, but I've managed to finish Chapter 8 and the plot is progressing. So I'll get there ;)