A/N: Hello again! Big thanks to SuperPotterWhoLockedDancer, MusicLuver225, I Heart Star Trek, & Amanda Costella for the reviews, & to SuperPotterWhoLockedDancer for the follow/favorite as well. The alternate Quidditch format was actually one of the first ideas I had for this story, so I'm glad you all seem to like it!

So...here's chapter 15 - hopefully it doesn't disappoint! Another update should be coming shortly as my work agenda for the next few days is very, very short. JKR owns everything important; I can only claim the plot. Please let me know what you think, & enjoy! :)

November rolled into December, and the students couldn't escape the Christmas spirit that enveloped the castle. This year's decorations rivaled those from the year of the Triwizard Tournament – in addition to the usual dozen monstrous Christmas trees decorating the Great Hall, everlasting icicles glittered on the banisters of every staircase, garlands draped themselves across mantles, and a huge wreath adorned the castle's front doors. The suits of armor weren't singing carols this year, but as this was more of an improvement than a loss, nobody was all that disappointed. It seemed the teachers were determined to make up for what had to have been an awful holiday the previous year by making this one extra festive. And festive it was – everyone spent as much of their free time as they could taking advantage of the thick blanket of white fluff coating the grounds, the snowball fights lasting long after it was too dark to see, and the eighth years discovered that the house elves made incredible hot chocolate, which the little creatures gladly delivered to their common room in vast quantities almost nightly. Draco had just left the library, arms laden down with books for his Potions essay, and was greatly looking forward to a steaming mug of the stuff. When he reached the common room, he found Hermione curled up on the sofa, dressed in a rather strange ensemble.

"Granger, what in Merlin's name are you wearing?" he asked, unable to stop himself.

"I…oh, hi Draco," she replied. "I'm wearing my…pajamas?" The tone of the last word made her response sound more like another question. What was wrong with plaid pants and an oversized sweatshirt?

"Yes, obviously," Draco said a little impatiently. "What I meant was…what are you wearing on your feet?"

"Oh, damn," Hermione muttered, flushing scarlet, "I'd forgotten I was wearing them…joke present from George. He knows I hate the color…but they're so comfortable." She sounded like she was admitting something she shouldn't, and she tried to tuck her feet under her to hide the bright pink fuzzy socks she wore.

"Granger, you don't have to hide them," Draco said with a laugh. "I just never thought I'd see the day when you'd wear pink – you don't really seem the type."

"Oh?" Hermione asked. "What makes you say that?"

"It's Parkinson's favorite color, as she so nauseatingly reminded us at every opportunity, and as you're just about her polar opposite…" Draco took a seat in an armchair next to the sofa and held out one of the two cups of hot chocolate he'd poured.

"Fair point," Hermione chuckled, accepting the mug. She moved the enormous book she'd been reading to the coffee table and sat up, criss-crossing her legs underneath her. "What 'type' am I, then?"

"The red and gold type, of course," Draco replied, smirking at her.

"Oh, please. Just because I was in Gryffindor doesn't automatically mean I have to worship the color red," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "If you must know, my favorite color is purple."

"Like this?" Draco asked, gesturing towards the tie hanging loose around his neck.

"No…more like a royal purple. I don't really have a reason, it just is."

"Well then, if we're being so open tonight, my favorite color is navy blue." When Hermione raised her eyebrows at him, he continued, "Come now, Granger, 'just because I was in Slytherin doesn't automatically mean I have to worship the color green'." She reached over and backhanded his arm.

"Prat. I wasn't going to say that, I was just going to ask why navy blue," she said. Instead of whining about her hitting him, as she'd expected, Draco looked thoughtful for a moment.

"I suppose it's because I like the twilight," he said after a moment. "You know, that short time after sunset before everything goes black. It's quiet…and rather peaceful, really. I used to sit on my mother's balcony after dinner and watch the sky turn that exact color, before the stars started to come out." Hermione nodded.

"I know what you mean – it's one of my favorite times of day as well. I always liked it when my watch fell during that time."

"Ah…last year, you mean."

"Yes."

"What exactly were you doing, if you don't mind my asking?" Hermione looked at Draco, a little puzzled, but saw only sincere curiosity in his gray eyes.

"What do you know about Horcruxes?" she asked.

"Horcruxes?" Draco's tone made it plain he'd never heard of them before.

"A Horcrux is a magical object containing a piece of a person's soul," she answered.

"A piece of a person's soul? But how…I didn't think it was possible to do such a thing," Draco said.

"Oh, it requires Dark Magic, no question about it," Hermione said. "Tearing your soul goes against the laws of nature, you see – souls are maimed by blackness, by death. The easiest way to split your soul – and, by extension, create a Horcrux – is to kill someone."

"And you're saying the Dark Lord had one?" Draco asked.

"Well, no…he had six."

"Six? Merlin, no wonder the man was mental…"

"If he could even be called a man," Hermione said darkly. "Anyway, that's what we were doing – Dumbledore had figured out that Voldemort had made the Horcruxes, and we knew he'd be impossible to defeat so long as they were still in play. We knew what most of them were before we set off – objects of great historical or personal importance, as one who thought himself so far above everyone else certainly wouldn't house a piece of himself in just anything. As for how many there were, it was a lucky guess, really – seven is the most powerful magical number, so we thought six Horcruxes, plus the bit still inside him, was probably a good place to start."

"That…tiara thing," Draco said slowly.

"Belonged to Rowena Ravenclaw," Hermione finished. When Draco's look of recognition changed to one of shock, she continued, "Three of the Horcruxes had once belonged to the founders – Ravenclaw's diadem, a cup of Hufflepuff's, and a locket that had been Slytherin's. The only surviving possessions of Gryffindor's are the Sorting Hat and his sword, and as we'd come into contact with both before, we knew neither was a Horcrux. The other three were a diary of Riddle's, which fell into Ginny Weasley's hands right before she started at Hogwarts, a Marvolo family ring, and Nagini."

"That awful snake?" Draco asked.

"Yes," Hermione said, visibly shuddering. "I hate that thing – it almost killed Harry and me in Godric's Hollow."

"If it's any consolation, I had the damn thing living in my house," Draco replied. "I was glad when the school term started just so I could get away from it. Can't say I like snakes very much."

"Slytherin would be rolling in his grave to hear you say that," Hermione teased, "but I get what you mean. We were a bit surprised when we discovered she'd been made a Horcrux – it's not advisable to use living things, since there's a much greater risk of harm befalling them – but she was the sixth."

"Okay, so you knew what these things were – but they could've been anywhere. How did you find them, and how did you get rid of them?"

"Well yes, it does seem a rather daunting prospect, doesn't it? Dumbledore took care of the ring – it carried the curse that destroyed his hand – and he and Harry discovered the hiding place of the locket, although Regulus Black, Sirius Black's younger brother, had gotten there first. He figured out what Voldemort was doing and wanted to stop him, so he stole the real locket and replaced it with a fake. That's what Harry and Dumbledore brought back with them the night Dumbledore died, but neither knew it was a fake until it was too late. Of course, we had to find the real one, which led to us breaking into the Ministry of Magic. We stole Hufflepuff's cup from your aunt and uncle's Gringotts vault, Neville killed Nagini during the Battle of Hogwarts, Harry destroyed the diary in the Chamber of Secrets back in second year, and the Fiendfyre finished off the diadem," Hermione finished breathlessly. Draco was silent for several long moments as he processed her story.

"You…the most wanted wizards in all of England…broke into the Ministry of Magic, and my aunt's vault?" he asked incredulously. "Tell me, Granger, is that Gryffindor bravery the Sorting Hat goes on about synonymous with stupidity? What other mental things have you lot done?" Hermione laughed out loud at the stunned expression on Draco's face.

"I can't argue with you about the stupidity thing," she admitted. "More often than not, we did go rushing headlong into trouble. If you want the short list, we've saved the Sorcerer's Stone, tangled with acromantulas, killed a basilisk, rescued a hippogriff, aided an escaped convict, broken into the ministry more than once, babysat a giant, and ridden a dragon from Gringotts to a lake somewhere near Hogwarts, all while staying on top of our homework and out of detention." It was Draco's turn to laugh.

"You, Hermione Granger, are nuts," he said simply. "I never thought a goody-two-shoes like you would've done so many dangerous things."

"Don't forget illegal," Hermione reminded him. "Although I didn't personally do all of those things – I spent the better part of second year in the hospital wing, as you probably remember, and Harry was the only one who actually faced Voldemort. I did, however, help Harry and Ron break nearly every school rule just by the end of first year. I've also taken four doses of Polyjuice Potion in the last seven years, three of which were illegal and one of which I brewed myself."

"You've brewed Polyjuice Potion?" Draco asked in amazement. Hermione nodded.

"In second year – Harry and Ron were convinced you were the Heir of Slytherin, and I thought it'd be a good way to find out, so I whipped up a batch, and they took it and temporarily became Crabbe and Goyle so they could interrogate you." Hermione expected Draco to be shocked or even angry at this revelation, but instead he burst out laughing.

"Granger, you never cease to amaze me," he said once his laughter had subsided. "I don't know if I should be flattered or disgusted that you thought me the Heir, or that I apparently had such an open conversation with Potter and Weasley, of all people, but the fact that you brewed such a complex potion as a second year is incredible. What else did you use it for?"

"Nothing at Hogwarts," Hermione assured him, "but I've also turned into Harry, a Ministry official, and your aunt." Draco nearly choked on his cocoa at her last statement.

"My aunt?" he spluttered.

"Yes, your dear aunt," Hermione said. "Not too long after…we saw each other, at your house. How else do you think we got into Gringotts so easily? We had Griphook with us, we had Bellatrix's wand…it made sense at the time, anyway." Draco looked down at the wand lying next to Hermione's textbook.

"I snapped her wand shortly after we left Gringotts," Hermione said, answering his unspoken question. "I loathed it – it was always against me, having served such a Dark mistress before me."

"But that's not your wand," Draco said slowly, nodding towards the table.

"What do you mean? Of course it is."

"No, it's not. That's not the wand I remember – yours is a lighter color, isn't it?" Hermione sighed.

"I lost that wand to the Snatchers," she said. "I don't even really remember the wand I used in the battle – just some random one we picked up along the way, I suppose – and I got this one not too long afterwards, once Ollivander's was up and running again. It works well, but it's not quite the same, if you know what I mean."

"I do. Potter took mine, that day at the Manor, and I used my mother's during the battle. When Potter gave mine back after the trial, I felt like I'd reunited with a limb I hadn't known I'd lost," Draco admitted. "I'm sorry you lost yours."

"Thank you," Hermione said quietly. "There's nothing to be done for it, obviously, but thank you all the same."

"You really are an incredible person, Granger, you know that?" She looked positively nonplussed. "Oh, come off it – even I couldn't deny that, no matter how much I wanted to. You defy everything Purebloods have taught their children for generations – you walked with your head held high from day one and produced magic the likes of which Hogwarts had probably only ever seen before from Dumbledore himself. You just told me you successfully created an N.E.W.T.-level potion as a second year, from what I understand you can produce a corporeal Patronus, and, at nineteen, your résumé has more on it than most wizards will accomplish in their lifetimes. On top of that, you slapped me across the face in third year."

"Only because you deserved it," Hermione said hotly, though her cheeks were tinged pink from the unexpected praise. "I was already extremely stressed out, and you were being even more of an arse than usual – is it any wonder I snapped? And what does that have to do with everything else you just said?"

"That moment was the moment I could no longer deny what I was up against," Draco replied. "With that punch, you proved that you'd do whatever it took to stand up for what you believed in, and as mad as I was at the fact that a mere Muggleborn had dared to lay a hand on me, I had to admire you for it. The instant you hit your mark, you proved you were a better person than I was – and you still are, quite frankly." The pink in Hermione's cheeks quickly transformed into a brilliant shade of red.

"I…I don't know what to say," she said quietly. "It really was just a lot of pent-up frustration."

"Regardless, it left a deeper message, and I have to admit I've greatly respected you since. You forced me to open my eyes to the extremely powerful, intelligent, and wholly good person glaring back at me, and I thank you for it. Merlin knows I don't deserve half of what you've done for me."

"Draco, stop," Hermione said forcefully. "We've already had this discussion – what's done is done, and nothing can change that, but we can learn from it and move on. I told Blaise after the first Quidditch match that you and I probably could've been good friends if things had been different, seeing as we do actually have rather a lot in common. I think this conversation is a good argument that it's not too late for that, don't you think?" Draco stared at her unblinkingly for several seconds, as if unable to process her speech, but once he did, he allowed a grin to spread across his face.

"Alright, Granger. Like I said before, I really don't know what I did to deserve a second chance from you, of all people, but I'll take it. Besides, anybody who can transition from favorite colors to deep discussions about souls without sounding completely mental can't be that bad." He stood and made his way towards the boys' dormitory, tugging one of Hermione's curls as he passed the sofa. She swatted his hand away playfully, and he smirked down at her.

"You really do look much better when you actually smile, you know," she said matter-of-factly. "Just a thought."

"I'll keep that in mind, then," he said. "Night, Granger – don't stay up too late."

"I won't. Goodnight, Draco."