Hermione woke up in a very different manner than the previous couple of days. Those days she woke up in fantastic moods, more than ready to start her day. Today she wanted nothing more than to lie in bed and pretend that everything was a dream.
The diary is missing. Anyone could have it now, and it's Christmas Break.
She wondered if anyone would have the audacity to pick such an innocent thing up and exploit it. She wondered who even would want to pick it up . . . someone who hated her, no doubt.
She really wished that she hadn't signed her name on every single entry.
She stumbled out of bed, reaching for a change of casual clothes; it was the day to leave for home and she would be going to the Burrow that evening. After she got into the bathroom and changed ― choosing not to do anything special with her hair and makeup today ― she went downstairs for breakfast.
Walking the corridors alone this morning was very different. She had gotten a rather late start, and so no white-blonde, sixth-year stragglers were anywhere to be found alone.
When she entered the Great Hall, there were already many students, as expected. She stole a quick glance at the Slytherin table as she was walking towards Harry and Ron, and noticed Draco talking to Charlotte again. Evidently he noticed Hermione looking at him, and both he and Charlotte smiled at her before returning to their conversation. Another flip in the stomach from Draco's smile alone.
You'd better get used to his politeness, or you won't be conscious the next time you hug him.
Hermione took a seat across from Harry and Ron and leaned across the table slightly.
"Neither of you two has seen a diary, have you?" she asked.
Harry looked a bit confused, and didn't seem to be in the best of moods. "Er . . . just lying around?"
"I suppose so," she replied, "but I really would rather it wasn't."
"What does it look like?" Harry asked.
"It's just small and black," said Hermione. "It's only about the size of your hand, probably."
"You didn't sign your name in it or anything, did you?" Ron asked.
Hermione flushed. "Well . . . yes, I did . . . on every entry. . . ."
"Well, that's good, isn't it?" he said. "Then whoever found it will be able to return it to you, because they know whose diary it is."
"That's just it," she said, her head buried in her hands from the nerves and embarrassment. "If the person isn't very . . . well, polite . . . then they probably won't return it to me. They'll know ―" She blushed even redder than before and began to frantically fill up her plate with food.
Ron and Harry laughed. Hermione managed a weak giggle, but not much else.
"I can't imagine what sort of things you'd have written in there," said Ron.
Harry grinned. "Maybe she wrote about . . ." He trailed off as his eyes widened, and he looked intently at Hermione. "You didn't write anything about the DA, did you?" he muttered.
An anxious look from Hermione gave him his answer. He took a deep breath, glancing sideways at Ron.
"I never thought that I'd lose it!" she said. "It was always in my room, you know, so there wouldn't be an opportunity. . . ."
"Then how did you lose it?" Ron asked.
"Well," she started, her cheeks turning pink, "I put it in my book bag yesterday, by accident. I guess it fell out."
She hated lying to them, but she couldn't possibly tell them about how it was a "good luck charm" and how it was going to help her maybe have a nice day with Draco. . . . That was the real intent, wasn't it?
Hermione quickly finished eating during the next few minutes of silence.
"We should make sure we're all packed up," she said.
"Right," said Harry, standing up and gesturing for Ron to do the same. He glanced at Ron again as they were walking, and then back to her. "Look, Hermione, we need to tell you something pretty important, and as much as we care about your lost diary, this is a little more pressing."
Her eyes widened. "What is it?"
"I ― I had this dream last night," he replied. "And long story short, it told me that Mr. Weasley got attacked at the Ministry last night."
Hermione clapped a hand over her mouth, wondering how on Earth she could be so stupid as to worry them with her petty issues, and how they could be so patient as to let her ramble about them.
"He's all right though," Harry added, rather quickly, when he noticed her concern. "I just wanted you to know what had happened before we went to the Burrow."
"McGonagall's gonna sneak us out," Ron muttered. "She'll make sure that Umbridge won't be able to bother us."
Hermione nodded, still in shock of how suddenly everything seemed to happen. Glancing to her side, she noticed Charlotte leaning up against a wall, watching her, with a smile on her face. She gestured for Hermione to join her.
"I'll see you two later," said Hermione, nodding her head in Charlotte's direction.
Harry and Ron exchanged confused looks, but shrugged it off and walked away together towards GryffindorTower to pack up their things.
"Hello," said Charlotte, once Hermione had met her. "I haven't seen you since . . . well, you know."
"Yeah," said Hermione, awkwardly. "Er . . . listen, you haven't seen a diary lying around, have you?"
"A diary?" Charlotte asked. "I can't say I have . . . but would you like help looking for it before you leave?"
"That'd be wonderful," Hermione replied, with a grateful smile.
Charlotte returned the smile, and then scanned the floor briefly. "Do you have any idea where you might've dropped it?" she asked.
"Anywhere between the Great Hall and GryffindorTower," said Hermione. "That was the only path I carried it in."
"You carried the diary with you?" Charlotte asked.
Hermione flushed. "Well, yes, but ―"
"I understand," said Charlotte. "I've done it before. I carried it as a sort of 'good luck charm' or something. It's a bit weird, you know, but I liked carrying it."
Hermione laughed. "And whatever would you need a good luck charm for?"
Charlotte turned a light shade of pink and dropped eye contact. "Well, I . . . I had a little crush last year. You know how it is." She smiled reminiscently before turning back to Hermione. "You're a prefect, right?" When Hermione nodded, she continued. "Couldn't you just do a brief check of the students that you think might've taken it?"
Hermione shook her head and giggled a bit. "Not exactly. I'm afraid that some students might get a little more interested in the idea of finding Hermione Granger's diary if I made a bigger deal about it."
"True," said Charlotte. "And, er . . . prefects do night patrols, correct?"
"Yes, when they're assigned to do them," said Hermione. "They're usually paired up with another student for patrols, just for safety reasons. For instance, I'm paired up with ―"
"Draco Malfoy," said Charlotte. She turned a brighter shade of pink and smiled softly. "Yes, he's told me all about your shifts."
"Has he?" asked Hermione. She wondered how they'd ever come up in conversation.
"He talks about them quite often," said Charlotte. "He seems to enjoy them a lot."
And yet another flip in the stomach. Hermione was skilled at making connections, even if she did say so herself:
So Draco enjoys spending time with you. Ten points to Hermione Granger.
"Well, that's good to hear," Hermione finally said, after she snapped herself out of the thought of winning the Malfoy Cup Tournament. "So you two are good friends, then? I've noticed you two talking a lot, like in the library that day. . . ."
Charlotte's face was now crimson. "Oh, yeah, that!" She frantically looked around, and then lowered her voice to a whisper. "Promise you won't tell anyone?"
"Promise," Hermione replied.
"The thing is . . . I've liked him for years," said Charlotte. "Probably since Second Year. And I know he isn't always very nice to your friends and all, but I think I liked his attitude. I don't know. And he and I are friends now, so we've been getting closer. . . . I mentioned a little while ago that I had a crush and so I carried around my diary? . . . It was him."
Hermione slowly nodded. "So you still like him, then?"
"Yes, even more so than ever," Charlotte beamed. "He seems pretty . . . well, pretty happy now. He isn't as bitter as he was to everyone before, and that's nice. But he's dating Pansy, you know, so . . ."
"Er . . . right," Hermione said.
Charlotte smiled. "Well, thanks for listening to my stupid story. I've got to go and pack up; my parents will be here soon. . . ." She gave Hermione a quick hug. "Have a nice Christmas!"
"Same to you."
Oh, look at that, Hermione! Your new friend's been crushing on Draco for years, and she's in his own House. And he's "dating" Pansy, too. And let's not forget every other gorgeous girl that would secretly throw themselves at him despite how many times they've called him a stuck-up, selfish git . . . maybe you should start using that hair potion again.
A few hours later, Hermione was seated on her luggage with Harry and Ron in the school courtyard, awaiting Professor McGonagall's meeting with them. Hermione had too much to think about now:
So Charlotte likes Draco, who I happen to be very fond of as well. That's not to mention Pansy, who's bloody obsessed with the guy. I know for a fact that there are a few Gryffindor girls who stop to watch him when he walks by, and countless Slytherin girls do the same. I wouldn't be surprised at all if some Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw girls liked him, too. And could you blame them? Most of the girls who liked him didn't know him very personally. All they need to do to have a crush is to see the guy ― and although I don't usually pay attention to looks, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that Draco was pretty easy on the eyes. Cedric was very nice, but no girl was paying attention to that, except for maybe Cho, who's now into my best friend. And my other best friend is getting stressed about Quidditch and his father, who just got attacked in an office building last night. And now I'm going to his house for Christmas Break, and I still don't have my diary, and I have absolutely no clue who has it. And we have O.W.L.'s this year. And Umbridge still exists. Oh, yeah, and Voldemort's back.
"Hermione, you awake?" said Ron, laughing and snapping his fingers.
She shook her head to clear her thoughts. "Oh, yes ― I was just thinking, that's all. . . . What time did McGonagall say she'd be here?"
"Around four o'clock," Harry replied, checking his watch. "We've got about half an hour."
Hermione nodded and scanned around the courtyard. It was a beautiful day, even if it was very cold. She pulled her red-and-gold Gryffindor scarf around her face to keep warm, and looked at the students, who were all waiting for pick-up as well.
Then she noticed someone was walking towards them, alone. He was dressed all in black, clutching a Slytherin scarf around his neck. The shock of white-blonde hair was unmistakable, even when it was snowing.
She let her own scarf down slightly to give him a quick smile before changing her expression to one of false irritation and impatience.
"What do you want, Malfoy?" asked Ron, when Draco was standing in front of them.
"Nothing to concern you, Weasel. I was sent to get her," he said, jerking his head in Hermione's direction.
"Why?" said Ron, narrowing his eyes.
"Prefect business, dumbass."
"But Ron's a prefect," Harry interjected. "Why isn't he coming with you?"
"For much the same reason you aren't," said Draco. "Neither of you spend multiple nights a week patrolling with her. That's because Weasel here had to be a prat and separate everyone, and you're not a prefect to begin with ― I never asked you, did you take that well?"
Harry started to stand up, but Hermione leaned over, grasped his arm firmly, and pulled him back down.
"It's not worth it, Harry," she said. She turned to Draco and nodded. "Fine, I'll go, just make it quick."
"Gladly," Draco snarled.
Hermione stood up and followed him, wondering what "prefect business" Draco was talking about. When they were out of Harry and Ron's sight, she began to walk alongside him, and felt her heart rate speed up rapidly. She had never been more tempted to hold someone's hand in her life. She wanted to do it so badly . . . it wouldn't hurt, would it? She held Ron and Harry's hands when they walked all the time. Friends held hands without it being weird, right?
She felt their gloved hands brush against each other by accident, and she flushed red.
Oh, yes, Hermione; it's a completely friendly thing until you have a bloody crush on the guy.
She suddenly felt a hand take hold of hers, after they brushed against each other for the second time. Bewildered, she gained the courage to lift her gaze up to Draco, who was staring straight ahead. He didn't seem like he had noticed what he did at first glance, but looking more closely, Hermione noticed a light pink tinge near his ears. And her stomach did, yet again, another little flip while that nagging idea that maybe, just maybe, he also liked her made its happy little way back into her brain.
She felt his hand slowly leave hers as he stopped walking and turned around to face her, the blush on his face becoming even more evident. They were at a secluded corner of the outside of Hogwarts, where no students would really see them or even pay attention. He looked her straight in the eye, looking rather serious.
"Sorry for insulting your friend back there," he said. "I had to say something, you know."
"I understand," she said. "I'm getting used to it by now."
"Is his father all right?" he asked.
Hermione eyed him with a curious expression. "How do you know about that?"
"Oh, it's already gotten out there," he replied. "Everyone knows now."
"Interesting . . . well, he's doing as well as he can be now," she said, "given his current state. It was a nasty attack."
"That's what I heard," he said, cringing at the thought. "But you think he'll be fine?"
"That's what Harry said, at least."
Draco nodded, and seemed satisfied enough with this. He then took a deep breath and grinned at Hermione.
"Now that the serious stuff is out of the way," he said, "I wanted to give you something."
Hermione blinked. "What?"
He smiled softly at her. "I thought you might react that way," he said. "You see, I know I apologized and all, but I still did feel sort of bad for embarrassing you in front of all those people. And, we aren't going to be seeing very much of each other these next couple of weeks, so I thought it might be useful . . . and it's easier to take care of than owls, that's for sure. . . ."
He reached into an inner pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small, periwinkle, square-shaped box. He took hold of her hand again, slipped her glove off, and lifted the hand up. He placed the box in her open palm and lifted the lid, revealing the most gorgeous ring she had ever seen. It was gold, set with garnet stones all around it, with a rather large one in the center.
"Now don't get the wrong idea," he said quickly, laughing. "You wear it on your thumb."
She beamed. "Draco, it's absolutely beautiful," she said, slipping it on her right thumb.
"Do you know what it does?" he asked.
She tore her eyes away from the ring and looked up at him in awe. "It . . . it does things, too?"
Draco nodded, giving her a smirk. He pulled off the glove on his right hand to show her that he had a matching one on his own thumb. He took her hand in his, making sure that the rings were touching. He pulled his wand out of his pocket and tapped them, muttering "Contineo," which Hermione remembered as a bonding incantation. He slipped the wand back in his pocket, but didn't release her hand.
"So," he said, "we can now talk while we're on vacation without arousing any suspicion from anyone who might be, well . . . a bit overly-curious."
"That's amazing," she said, examining the ring again. "How does it work?"
"Just tap the middle, largest stone with your wand and say 'Contineo Draco,' and if I'm available, you basically talk into it to speak," he explained. "People would notice you sending an owl, and this way, we can arrange . . . er . . ."
"Arrange?" she asked, smiling.
He refused to meet her eyes, and kept his gaze locked on their intertwined hands.
"Well, do you think we could meet up again?" he asked. "It'll be less . . . adventurous . . . but we could go to Diagon Alley. Hardly anyone from school goes there during the Christmas holidays. And we could just walk around, you know, and ―"
"That'd be lovely," she said, releasing her hand from his grasp. She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him into another, slightly impulsive hug. "Thank you very much, Draco. I'll be sure to check in with you whenever I can."
"I'd like that," he said, pulling away slightly to meet her eyes.
If she had her diary back, she'd probably write an essay about his eyes alone in there. She never realized that she never paid much attention to them before, despite how many times she had looked him in the eyes. They were an absolutely smoldering shade of grey; they were pale, but had an intensity in them that suggested otherwise. And she could notice the tiniest flecks of a light blue in them when she was this close. Her gaze trailed down a bit to see that the corners of his lips had formed in a curious smile, one that she'd personally like to snog right off. . . .
No, Hermione; friends hug and hold hands, but don't snog each other's brains out.
It took a great deal of effort to not react even more impulsively, but she was able to resist for both of their sakes. She gave him another hug, this one softer than the other, and laid her head on his shoulder.
"So how often is 'whenever I can'?" Draco muttered, jokingly.
She could feel herself melting in the warmness of the embrace, and knew that there really wasn't much going on in her life that made her as happy as Draco did. He was her escape, and he had no idea.
"Every day, if I can manage it," she replied. "If I can talk to Harry and Ron every day at the Burrow, I can talk to you just as much."
He pulled away from the hug, laughing. "So, I'm best-friend status now, am I?"
She nodded and grinned. "I'd say so."
"Of all the things that I've accomplished," he said, "I think becoming one of Hermione Granger's best friends was the most challenging."
"Was it really?" she asked.
"You're pretty difficult, you know," he replied. "And that's nice. Challenges are ―" He shook his head and pushed the rest of the statement far, far away. "Well, we should probably end our 'prefect business' before people get suspicious. . . ."
"Oh, I forgot!" she said. "Well" ― she gave him another quick hug ― "Happy Christmas, Draco!"
He smiled at her and waved as she walked off. "Same to you, Hermione."
She slipped her right glove back on to cover the ring and hurried off towards Harry and Ron. They'd no doubt be worried about her after she was gone so long. When she re-entered the courtyard, she noticed Harry and Ron talking to McGonagall, who looked somewhat impatient. They looked up and saw Hermione rushing towards them, and seemed fairly relieved.
"Are these all your things, Miss Granger?" asked McGonagall. She gestured to the various bags and trunks that Hermione had been sitting on before Draco had come up.
Hermione nodded. "Yes, Professor."
"Well, if you're all ready, follow me to my office," McGonagall muttered, leading them off.
"So, how'd that prefect business go?" Ron whispered.
Hermione took a deep breath and smiled to herself. "Better than I expected."