A/N: Oh my gosh. I don't think you realize how sorry I am about how long this has taken me to update. I love writing so much, but life gets in the way a lot. School sort of crept up on me and this whole week has been non-stop work. But I'm going to try as best I can to be more consistent in my updates. Again, I am very, very sorry for how long this has taken. Anyway, thanks to all of my readers, and I hope you enjoy the next chapter!

The days were beginning to feel more different. Life almost felt rushed now. Not in an entirely bad sense, but the days felt like they were moving by more quickly. Hermione was quite fond of this; the sooner this school year was over, the better. She felt like she had been neglecting her friends, and that made her feel guilty. All of her attention had begun to be focused entirely on everything that was Draco Malfoy, and that was so out of her nature. What started with polite conversations and friendly contact had rapidly transformed into some sort of raging, passionate beast that was tearing her apart. They were only friends. But he did snog female Slytherin supposed friends numbers one and two, after all.

Her friends still loved her, of course. But even they were noticing the distance that was gradually forming in their relationships. Much to Hermione's surprise, Ginny was the first to point this out to her.

"So, you're promoting all of that 'House unity' stuff now?" asked Ginny, who sat by the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.

"What do you mean?" Hermione asked, taking a seat beside her on the couch.

Ginny laughed. "You're spending a lot of time with the Slytherins ― well, I guess more like Malfoy and Charlotte, but . . . I just didn't know you got along with their lot at all."

"I'm not friends with Charlotte ― or Malfoy, of course," Hermione added, rather hastily. "I just happen to run into them quite often. . . ."

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "I'm not accusing you of anything. If I was accusing anyone it'd be one of them, because it almost seems like they're making detours."

"Detours? Detours for what?"

"For you, Hermione."

Hermione's face flushed a deep red that would blend in perfectly with the brightly colored walls of the room. And the sort of fire she felt in herself was so much more intense than the one that the two girls now watched, refusing to look at each other for Hermione's sake.

Ginny obviously knew Hermione was embarrassed about this, but Hermione had never thought about everything in the way that Ginny had suggested. Ever since Hermione had become friends with Draco, they seemed to run into each other more often. And she naïvely dubbed this coincidence. She thought that maybe it just seemed like they met more often because they were actually paying attention to each other. Well, it was like that at its core, but she thought it because of different reasons. She didn't think it was related to any sort of intentions at all. But even Hermione wasn't naïve enough to believe that this was just trying to strengthen a friendship. Whether he liked it or not, he had a crush on her, and she knew. Hermione was thinking about how they could maybe make a relationship work when Ginny tugged the sleeve of her sweater.

"You still there?" Ginny asked, giggling.

Hermione nodded. "Yes, sorry, I got lost in thought, I guess. . . ."

"Well, I guess I should give this to you sometime tonight," said Ginny. She pulled a small package out of her bag and handed it to Hermione. "I was told to deliver this to you . . . I promise I didn't look at it. I was trying to get around to talking about it but I guess I got sidetracked . . . sorry if I made you angry."

"You didn't," said Hermione, with a smile. "Thank you."

Ginny nodded. "I'll talk to you later, then. I don't want you to be late for your patrol."

Hermione nodded. This would be her first patrol ever since they returned to school. Thankfully this was no longer something to be feared.

Hermione wandered aimlessly around the Hogwarts corridors. It really was a beautiful school; it surely made staying there for months on end much easier. And her friends were like family, of course. That helped as well. Harry and Ron were her brothers, Ginny was her little sister, and Draco . . . well, she'd cross that bridge when she got there.

Students still littered the hallways on their way to their common rooms. Of course Draco wouldn't show up just yet. He had a mask to put on, if only for a few more, tedious minutes. And she couldn't patrol until he showed up. So she continued to pace, passively glancing at a student or two to make sure that they weren't causing any trouble. . . . But not that they really would anymore, with Umbridge around.

She looked up and saw Draco walking towards her. He seemed exasperated. Hermione looked around to see if anyone had caused it, but all of the students had gone to their common rooms already. It was just them again, alone. Funny how that could play out. And yet nothing ever happened.

"You're late," Hermione teased, hoping to ease the tension.

Draco nodded and managed a weak smile that almost came off as a grimace. "Yeah, I know." He kept his gaze fixed at a point just past her, and slowly looked down at the ground under their feet. "Your feet are sort of small, you know."

Hermione blinked. "What?"

He brought his gaze up to her eyes, a smirk growing on his face.

"Your feet are small," he said, pointing to her shoes. "I've never noticed that before."

Hermione didn't know whether to laugh, smile, or anything at all. "And . . . may I ask how this is relevant?"

He nodded. "Your hands are small, too ― that's not a bad thing, don't make that face."

"I just didn't know you were paying attention," she said, managing a smile. "That's a bit odd, don't you think?"

He paused for a moment, smirked again, and shook his head. "Nope, I don't think so. I'm naturally observant . . . for example, your left eyebrow arches higher than your right one, and the very top of your quill has just a hint of black. Unless, of course, you're using that other quill that's gold and dark brown; I don't like that one as much, but whatever, it's your stupid quill. You draw little otters on things, but they tend to look a little longer and skinnier than any otter I know; maybe you'd better take up an art class, you could use it. . . . Shall I continue?"

Hermione smirked in a way worthy of a Malfoy. "You know, usually men aren't as observant when it comes to women unless they have very strong emotions towards them."

"I would agree with that," said Draco. "Yeah, when I hate a girl I typically take note of a few details. Can't you think of anyone?"

Hermione sighed. She knew exactly what he was talking about. When they were younger, he often pointed out that she had larger front teeth, was nearly falling over with all of her books, and that she would lift up off of her seat sometimes when she raised her hand in class.

"But when men mature," she began, "then they grow past that sort of childish behavior and focus their attentions more on their loved ones rather than their enemies. Wouldn't that be an easier way to live?"

He nodded. "Of course. And I daresay I have matured to that point. Don't you go thinking I've never loved a girl, Hermione, believe me. I know what it feels like . . . and you've loved a guy before. Tell me, was he mature enough for you?" He shrugged. "I don't know, I've just been wanting to ask you about how you handled that sort of thing. . . . You know, with Krum."

She took a deep breath, and looked him directly in the eye. "I don't know if I would've called that love. . . ."

"I understand that," he said. "But you were still with him, weren't you? You had a relationship of sorts. And don't tell me you've never contacted him after he left. I'd bet you're still in contact with him . . . am I correct?"

"Well . . . yes," she breathed, "but how did you know ― ?"

He held a hand up to stop her. "I'm observant, remember? I'm not trying to stalk you or anything. I just happen to know a lot about you. . . . Now. What I'm trying to get at is, I don't know how to maintain relationships with very physical, childishly lustful beings. And you seem to have experience with that . . . I'm not trying to degrade you for it, mind you. We all make mistakes."

"Mistakes?" she asked, bewildered. "You're saying that being with Krum was a mistake?"

"You're damn right I am," he replied. "Just like being with Pansy was a mistake for me . . . except I'm still sort of there. That's my point, Hermione. I don't know how to get away from her. I don't want her here; I want her gone. I want her out of my life because all she does is cause trouble. She and I were both very physical, childishly lustful beings. But I'm not that way anymore . . . at the very least, I'm not trying to be."

Hermione shook her head. "I just don't see how being with Viktor was a mistake."

"Fine, I'll explain then," said Draco, rather heatedly. "He's what, eighteen years old? Maybe nineteen now? He sure as hell isn't in school anymore. He's a world-famous Quidditch player, so naturally everyone wants in on it . . . I know I did when I was younger. You were fourteen at the Yule Ball, and you were dancing with an eighteen-year-old who had already graduated. He was an adult."

"He wasn't that much older!"

"Well, I'm sorry that I don't exactly like the idea of a fourteen-year-old girl snogging a legal adult. Anything could've happened to you that night. And where would you have been then?"

"I'm a witch, in case you've forgotten," she said. "I can protect myself fine, thank you."

"What about that Death Eater attack, then?" he asked. "I had to tell your precious little Potter and Weasley that they were hunting muggles and mudbloods. I had to tell them to get you out of there, because they were just parading you around like you were invincible. Well, here's a surprise: you're not. The brightest witch of her age needs to depend on people once in a while. Everyone needs to rely on someone once in a while. That's why I am coming to you for more advice. I didn't realize that it would be so offensive to you; I thought we were past that."

"We are past that!" she said. "You just brought Viktor into this for absolutely no reason! And that night of the Death Eater attack, I thought that you were just being rude ―"

"Well, you thought wrong. Didn't know a Malfoy could have a heart, did you?"

"But your delivery is always so horrible! You always come off so rudely, don't you see that? It's your tone, Draco! I didn't read any further into it because I didn't think there was much else to it!"

"I was trying to help you!" he near-snarled. "I was trying to save ― look, I just didn't want my classmate hurt, all right? I was already a little freaked out that Death Eaters were burning down a camp. When you're fourteen, that's pretty alarming. Do you think I would've wanted to see you get caught in that, honestly?"

"At that time, yes!" she exclaimed. "Draco, you hated me, and you always made sure that I knew that ―"

"I've never hated you."

The two looked each other dead in the eye, although they both began to slowly loosen up. No matter how red his face turned, no matter how sweaty his palms got, Draco refused to look away. This was too important. He clenched his fists, took a deep breath, and prepared for the worst.

"You're going to listen to me," he said slowly. "Don't interrupt me. . . . Please.

"First year. I ― I had a huge crush on you. I thought you were brilliant . . . and, well, you are; that much is obvious.

"Second year. My father told me that muggle-borns were inferior to pure-bloods. And being the immature little shit I was, I wanted nothing more than to make him proud. That's still important to me, and I'm sure it always will be. So I had to make you hate me in the hopes that I wouldn't get too attached.

"Third year. It was becoming something I couldn't fight. I still liked you. Yeah, I did things that made you unhappy, and called you names that were terrible, but that didn't change how I felt.

"But fourth year was when it really started to hit me. By that time, I had started to date Pansy to try to get you off of my mind . . . needless to say, it didn't work; those are two totally different leagues. But that Yule Ball . . . God, Hermione." He shook his head and closed his eyes. "You were gorgeous. I don't think you realize just how badly I wanted to get rid of Pansy and finally get to you.

"Well, that didn't happen, obviously, but it made me realize just how perfect you really are. You're brilliant. You're beautiful. You're the nicest person I've ever met. . . . I could go on forever. That's why I came to you about Pansy. I wanted to get rid of her once and for all so that there was less in my way to get to you. I brought up Krum because I thought I might persuade you to look for someone else . . . you would be open, too. I thought it'd be perfect . . . but I think I see where your affections really lie. I was stupid to think that maybe you'd return the favor. . . . But let me leave you with this.

"Clearly you need more out of someone than just physical attention. You need emotional support. Well, so do I, and with the way things seem to be heading, I think we could agree that it'd be helpful to have a bit of that in our lives. I don't know about you, Hermione, but I think we could help each other out. All I'm asking is that you allow me to love you the way I want to. And these aren't just words. I've never been so passionate about something or someone that I could talk about it like this. And trust me, I had a lot of pride to swallow when I decided I'd let you know. That's how much you mean to me. That's how important all of this is to me. So take it or leave it."

He slipped his hands in his pockets and began to walk away toward the Slytherin dungeons. Hermione was frozen for a few seconds, but found it in herself to follow quickly after him.

"Draco?" she whispered, stopping behind him.

He stopped walking. "What?"

"That ― that was quite possibly the sweetest thing I've ever heard."

She walked around to face him, looking him straight in the eyes.

"Yes, that is the sweetest thing I've ever heard. . . . Draco, I had no idea how much ―"

"I get it," he said. "But you still haven't answered me yes or no."

"Draco, it's a lot to take in ―"

"I get it, Hermione."

And despite her desperate calls to get him to turn around and talk to her, he continued on his slow, lonely walk to the Slytherin dungeons without a single look back.

Hermione cried herself to sleep the previous night. And even then, she got very little sleep. The entire day she couldn't even focus on her studies because of what had happened on that patrol.

She wanted to tell him. Oh, how she wanted to tell him! . . . But something kept her from doing it, and that little something was pride. Yes, she had reached that point. She was more prideful than a Malfoy.

But wasn't it his fault? If he had turned around while she was calling him, she would be able to tell him. That was his own ignorance. He had jumped to conclusions about her and Viktor. And that wasn't fair, was it? He didn't even give her the chance to defend herself.

But he loved her anyway. It wasn't just the childish lust they were talking about. This wasn't like the crush she assumed that he had. No, this was something so much greater. It was a passionate, protective, and borderline selfish love. He wanted her to himself, and hated the idea of her being with anyone else. Anyone who wasn't him was a mistake in his eyes. Well, he had fooled around with Pansy much more than she had with Viktor. Not to mention that he nearly went so far with Charlotte.

But his love for Hermione seemed purer than that. He said himself that it wasn't lust. He didn't want just one little thing from her; he wanted all of her. Her brilliance, her sweetness, her beauty, her everything. She was pure, barely tainted by the evils of the world. Someone like her would be the epitome of beauty to someone like him. He needed someone that could guide him, someone who could provide the love he so desperately needed.

She wanted to cry again. She couldn't be angry at him anymore. Just by confessing he had given her more than she ever could have imagined. And she needed someone like him, too. He clearly wanted nothing more than her protection.

It was like a valuable, rare gem. Many people give up their personal funds to ensure its safety. They want it protected because it's so rare. That's what makes it valuable.

Draco wanted to protect her because he thought of her as so rare and awe-inspiring. He was willing to give up his pride in order to pay the price for her. She needed to see that he was open, that he could care so deeply for someone. And it didn't seem like Malfoys cared for too much.

She gently wiped the tears rolling down her cheeks away. She couldn't let anyone see her cry. She was in the middle of a DA meeting, and they were practicing Patronus Charms.

This was something Hermione had trouble with for quite some time. Yes, she had strong, happy memories, but they never quite took a form anymore; she hadn't been able to produce a corporeal Patronus for months.

Little silvery-blue animals danced across the room above her head. Nobody else seemed to be having much trouble at all. She closed her eyes and racked her brain for a memory. She'd have to get one to at least try.

Draco just confessed his deep, passionate love for me. He swallowed his Malfoy pride and admitted he loves a mudblood. Draco Malfoy is madly, truly, deeply in love with Hermione Granger.

And with a flick of her wand, she exclaimed "Expecto Patronum!"

Draco was right; her otters didn't really look like otters. That's because they weren't otters. She never drew otters. She was drawing ferrets. And that was exactly what little form burst from the tip of her wand. Oh, how it'd kill Draco to find that out.

She could feel herself smiling again for the first time since last night. It felt glorious, like everything in the world was perfect. She was beaming on the way out of the meeting, hoping that maybe she'd run into Draco and she'd have the courage to confess as well. . . .

Well, once she turned that corner, she knew she didn't have to wait long.

They were face to face with Umbridge, with the Inquisitorial Squad behind her, including a rather apologetic-looking Draco Malfoy.

A/N: Evidently long breaks produce sap-tastic dialogue and cliffhangers. Well.