New chapter! Special thanks to AtlantaOfArcadia, resina, harrypottergeekychick16, ashyat, Brigitte Nons, InsaniumArtisan, emma, snapplexo, LovelyAshes, kvance and bluebook1496 - that was a LOT of reviews for one chapter (but then again, the ending was so satisfying :P) please don't be shy to share your opinions, feedback is always welcome :) Enjoy!

Both Draco and Charlie had been given a month's worth of detention. Hermione felt this was entirely justified. After Draco had punched him, Charlie had all but jumped on the Slytherin, and a couple of his friends had joined the brawl as well. In the end, she'd had to run into the Great Hall, interrupt Hagrid's breakfast and watch as he strode into the Entrance Hall and lifted the pair of them right off their feet. Charlie had been assigned as Mr Filch's cleaning assistant, and Draco had been put to work in the greenhouses.

Hermione had made sure of that.

Now, two weeks into his detention, the pair of them were kneeling in the dirt in Greenhouse Three, trying to prune a row of Shrinking Violets. Professor Slughorn needed the small purple flowers for his third-year Potions class, but it was almost impossible to actually pick them. They kept running away from them, or shrinking down to an incredibly small size which made it very difficult to see the flowers at all, let alone pick one.

She sat back on her haunches and sighed. Draco did the same and wiped his forehead, leaving a long streak of dirt across his face.

"Are you sure we can't use magic for this?" he sighed.

She shook her head. "Professor Slughorn says it would contaminate the ingredients."

Draco glared at the flowerbed. "How are we supposed to catch the bloody things? We'll be here all night!"

She shrugged. Draco groaned, and for a while the two of them said nothing and simply watched the Shrinking Violets settle themselves back into their neat rows.

"Do you think Charlie Jackson has really got a book deal?" she asked.

Draco let out a snort of laughter. "I'd be surprised if he can even read."

She tried to keep a stern look on her face and failed miserably. Draco grinned at her.

"You could probably get one, though. I bet people would be willing to pay for Hermione Granger's deepest, darkest secrets. All your sordid love affairs, all your broken hearts…"

She threw a handful of dirt at him and he ducked. "Stop that! I get enough of that from Rita Skeeter!"

He shrugged. "I'd read it."

She smiled. "Would you ever do something like that?"

Draco stared at the flowerbed and plucked a Shrinking Violet while it wasn't paying attention. "I'm not sure if people would want to read about the things I've done."

His grey eyes were resolutely fixed on the flowerbed, as though he was afraid to look at her. She plucked another Shrinking Violet, and the flowers started to run away again.

"But you're barely eighteen, Draco. You've made some mistakes, but that doesn't mean you have to keep making them. You could go on to do something really great."

He smiled, a little sadly. "I'm not so sure about that."

It was well after midnight by the time they finished picking the Shrinking Violets. They worked out that the best way to do it was to pick one or two at a time, then wait until the flowers had been lulled into a false sense of security, and start picking them again. Unfortunately, this meant that finishing the whole bed took hours, and by the time they left the greenhouses the castle doors had been locked.

Hermione sighed, stuffing the jar full of flowers into her bag and tutting at the locked doors. "Bloody Filch. He knew we were out here! He's only doing this so he can put us in detention when we ask to be let back in."

Draco smiled. "Don't worry, I've got a plan."

He raised his wand.

"Accio Nimbus 2001!"

There was a few seconds of complete silence. Then, off in the distance, a swift, rushing sound, and suddenly Draco's broomstick skidded to a halt in front of them, hovering a few feet above the ground.

"Come on," he said, mounting the broomstick and holding out his hand to her, "get on."

Hermione looked at the broomstick and tried to stop herself from gulping.

"Can it support two people?"

"Of course!" said Draco, smirking at her, "don't tell me the famous Gryffindor courage is going to let you down?"

Gingerly, she climbed onto the broomstick. She put her hands around Draco's waist, as carefully as she dared, and thanked every god she knew of that he could not see her burning cheeks.

"Ready?"

"Y-Yes!"

Draco pushed off. The broomstick sprang into the air. Hermione wobbled on the broom, screamed and threw her arms around him, burying her face in his back. The wind rushed through her hair, teasing strands of it out of her ponytail and biting at her exposed skin. She wrapped her arms around Draco's chest, pulling herself closer to him, and suddenly all she could think about was how warm and strong and solid he was, safe and secure in the wind…

Suddenly, they came to a stop.

Hermione stopped burying her head in Draco's collar and looked up. They were right outside her office window. With one smooth flick of Draco's wand, it sprang open, and he flew a little closer to the windowsill.

"Here you are," he said, sounding a little out of breath, "it should be easy now, you can just climb onto the ledge and get in from there."

"No I can't!" she squeaked, "you have to take me inside!"

"Don't be ridiculous, I can't fly through that little window!"

"Yes, you can!" she snapped, "I'm not climbing on the windowsill, that's crazy!"

"I climbed in through the window once, don't you remember?"

"Well, you're crazy too!"

He said nothing, but in the silence she could practically hear him grinning. Then, slowly and carefully, he guided the broom through the little window and into Hermione's office.

She jumped down and almost collapsed onto the floor. All the feeling had gone from her legs during the flight, and she staggered over to the armchair and slumped in it. Within seconds, Crookshanks had jumped up on her lap and was treading on her legs, his claws digging into her skin through her robes. Draco hovered in the centre of the room, smirking.

"You're crazy," she said again, "climbing on windowsills…who does that?"

"Crazy people, apparently," he said, smirking, "and, from the looks of things, people who own very ugly cats."

"He's not ugly!"

Draco snorted. "Yes, he is. I've never seen a cat with a face that lumpy."

Hermione tickled Crookshanks behind his (admittedly quite lumpy) ears. "Well, I don't care. I love him, and his lumpy face, and I wouldn't have him any other way."

Draco smiled. "Then, he's a very lucky man."

He turned, flew out the window and was gone.