A/N: Hey, there! Finally got time to write again!

Chapter Five

So It Seems

"Wait," Harry paused the storytelling. Hermione and Draco shared a look and waited for him to continue. "You mean to tell me that the past three years, all the insults and dirty looks were fake?"

Hermione had the grace to blush and nodded sheepishly. "Sort of. I actually got to be quite fun for a while there." She turned to the blonde beside her, sweet smile directed at him. "Oh, Draco, do you remember how we used to plan out insults and comebacks on those nights in the Astronomy tower?"

Before he could respond, Harry cried out, "That was fun for you?"

"Well, we had to get creative after a while. It got harder and harder to insult each other, so we helped each other do it," Hermione explained, not really caring how strange it sounded.

Harry shook his head, rubbing his scar absently. "I don't even know what to say to that."

Draco finally spoke up, though his voice was hardly more than a whisper. "Right, we've established that our relationship is odd. Just please, let me sit, will you?"

The two Gryffindors only then took notice of Draco's state. His grip on Hermione's hand had weakened, his adrenaline from chasing Hermione depleting rapidly. It wouldn't be right to say that the color had gone from his face, as there had been none to begin with, but he looked like he was about to hit the floor. Before he could, he was rescued by the arms of a Gryffindor. Though, not the ones he might have hoped.

Harry had seen the boy start to sway dangerously and caught him without a thought. Seriously regretting the life choices that had led to holding Malfoy in his arms, Harry patiently helped him back to his bed. His skin was damp with cold sweat, and once again, Harry wished the floor would swallow him up. Malfoy tried to gracefully lower himself onto his back but collapsed with the strain of it. Hermione perched herself on the bed beside him and brushed her fingers over his cheek, murmuring words of concern.

Draco, secretly delighting in her attention after so long without her, weakly batted her hand away. "I'm fine, I'm fine, woman. Honestly. You'd think I'd just been attacked by a bloody hippogriff," he scoffed somewhat playfully.

"Well, you would know what that would feel like, wouldn't you, Malfoy?" Harry couldn't resist.

His question was met with a blank stare. "I'm afraid that isn't part of the story we were telling, Potter."

Harry shot back an innocent smile before sitting on the chair by his bed. "So, you became secret friends? What then?"

"Well, you and Ron obviously made up after the first task. And Ron was an unbearable idiot about the Yule Ball." Draco laced his fingers through Hermione's when he took notice of the frown marring her formerly happy face. Harry watched as Hermione's smile instantly returned. How could he have missed this?

"The Yule Ball. Krum asked me, and so I went with him."

It was hard to miss the dark look that flashed across Draco's face. That, at least, was something he and Harry agreed upon.

"Ah, yes, Krum."

"But what you probably don't know is that Fred and George were pretty much the masterminds behind my appearance at the ball. They were like Fairy Godmothers, Harry." Her soft laugh warmed the hearts of her male companions.

"And I, her prince charming," Draco cut in dramatically. Hermione rolled her eyes but leaned down to kiss his cheek. He followed her retreat with utter adoration in his eyes.

"Not quite yet, I'm afraid. Nearly, though."

"I'm going to ignore that particularly disturbing interaction and go back to what you said before. Fairy godmothers?"

"There's our favorite lioness, Georgie!" Fred exclaimed in relief when he entered the common room. George bounded in after him, eager to see the brunette. She had been missing since the previous evening when she had given them a verbal harassing nearly as terrifying as their mother's. She simply didn't understand the revenge game.

The deliriously happy mood that usually came with the pair of Weasley's became immediately somber when the twins took in the young girl's state. She was curled in on herself, her arms wrapped around the knees drawn to her chest. She sank so deep into the ostentatiously large couch that she seemed even smaller than usual. With a shared look that communicated so much more than words ever could, the boys jumped into action.

"But what is this?" Fred wondered dramatically, "Yon maiden so sad and so fair."

"What say you, dearest brother of mine? What say ye of yon sad maiden?" George asked.

"What say I, brother?" Fred exclaimed excitably, pretending not to notice Hermione's attention. "I say that yon maiden's beauty, that of a goddess, that of an enchantress; a beauty that begs the envy of Aphrodite herself, blinding in its ethereal-"

"My God, Fred. Just shut it, will you?" Hermione snapped. The boys' ridiculous grins fell at the sharp tone. With a sigh, George flopped down beside her. Fred perched himself on the edge of the coffee table in front of her. She glared at the both of them stubbornly as they demanded to know what was wrong.

Fed up with their incessant questions, she finally shouted, "Fine! If you want to know so badly, ask your idiot brother!"

"Ickle Ronnykins?" Fred wondered.

"What did he do?"

Hermione curled up against George, finally accepting the comforting arm he wrapped around her. She watched a dangerous expression cross over the usually carefree Fred as she explained what Ron had said.

"He doesn't even think of me as a girl!" she cried in disbelief. "I know I'm no fun, and that I'm no one's fantasy crush but honestly. I still thought it was rather obvious that, despite that, I am still, in fact, a girl."

"Well, we knew pickle Ronnykins was no genius, but you're right, Hermione. He is a blithering idiot for not noticing what a beautiful witch was in front of him," George agreed. With a glance at his twin who had been uncharacteristically quiet, George, for once, could not tell what Fred was thinking. But he knew that twinkle in his eyes. Oh, Merlin, did he know that twinkle.

"Hermione, dear," Fred began in a curious voice, "What was that story again? With the ball and the glass slipper?"

Both Hermione and George eyed him suspiciously. "Cinderella," she answered after a second of hesitation.

Fred beamed. "Well, then, Miss Cinderelli-"

"Cinderell-A, Fred, honestly-"

"Hush. You know everything. We know. Now shut it while I extravagantly present my offer to you, woman. Merlin's sake," Fred admonished. "Now, be a good little bookworm and shut your eyes, will you?"

Rolling her eyes at his dramatics, Hermione closed them. She felt George rise to his feet and her eyes flew open in fright when she heard him angrily shout, "Oi, what the hell are you on about, Fred!"

It was truly a special kind of magic to see how delightfully happy some simple Transfiguration could make someone. Hermione had never laughed so hard in her entire life. It was a memory to be forever cherished.

George, face redder than a tomato, stood before her, arms folded across his chest, clad in a frilly, pink monstrosity of a dress with a beautiful set of fairy wings fluttering madly behind him. His mirror image was beaming at his unimpressed brother in a matching blue dress with his own pair of fairy wings.

"What is even happening?" Hermione managed to wheeze out between peals of laughter.

"We're going to be your fairy godmothers, of course!" Fred exclaimed gleefully, shooting sparkles into the air to emphasize his point. "We'll make sure Ron knows exactly what a girl you are, Hermione! Now, I'm thinking periwinkle…"

It displeased Draco to see Hermione so upset over the Weasel's blatant disregard of her feminine nature. Anyone who didn't see it had to be blind. Or Weasely.

And the hurt only grew when she admitted she had a date. He had not been overjoyed by any means.

"Who are you taking to the ball, Draco?" Hermione wondered curiously as they wandered down the hall. The blonde sighed. "Pansy, who else?"

"Pansy?"

Draco smirked at her tone. "She really is quite nice if you know her as well as I do. She's like a sister to me."

"If you say so," Hermione said doubtfully. Her lack of faith in his friends didn't bother him in the slightest. He was lucky she was even putting up with him, he shouldn't be concerned whether or not she liked his friends. He certainly wasn't fond of hers.

"I do say so. And you? Who's taking Gryffindor's number one bookworm to the ball?" He had assumed she had a date. What he did not expect was how much it bothered him when she confirmed his suspicions.

She mumbled something unintelligible under her breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Draco teased, poking the suddenly shy Hermione in the ribs. With a surprised shriek, she jumped away from him. "Hey!" she exclaimed indignantly. Her heart warmed at his innocent smile. She knew it wasn't really innocent, but it was a real smile and it changed Draco completely. He caught her look and raised a questioning eyebrow. "What's with the look?"

Realizing she'd been caught staring, Hermione blushed and offered a shrug in response. "Nothing, it's just…I like it when you smile."

Draco's smug smirk was wiped right off his face. "You do?"

"Of course, silly," the witch stated as if it were obvious. "I've known you since we were 11 and the first time I saw you smile, really smile, was just a few weeks ago. So, yes. I do quite like it when you smile."

Not sure how to react to such an honest statement, Draco did exactly what he was about to playfully accuse her of. "Hey, no fair, you distracted me into changing the subject! What a closet Slytherin you are, Miss Granger. So, who's the lucky guy?"

"Oh, um, someone from Durmstrang," Hermione said casually.

"Durmstrang?" he echoed, surprised. "They seem so…dark for someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

Backtracking before her infamous temper made an appearance, he ex, "I only mean that you're so…sweet and gentle, I guess. The guys from Durmstrang seem more like they're about brawns than brains. Rather a rough lot, if you ask me. I suppose I expected you to end up with someone from Ravenclaw, not those baddies from Bulgaria."

At that, Hermione burst into a fit of giggles. "B-baddies, Draco? Are you five?" she teased, receiving a scowl in return. "And anyway, by that logic, what on Earth am I doing meeting Draco Malfoy in the Astronomy Tower after curfew, hmm?"

Draco had the grace to look sheepish. "Fine, fine. I suppose I'm not allowed to judge."

The two sighed as they gazed out at the star splattered sky. The grounds were blanketed in a blackness that can only accompany the night, a faint glow marking Hagrid's hut. Hermione watched their icy breaths furl into the darkness as they stood in silence.

"You'll hate me," she said finally.

Draco snorted. "I do believe I already have. And it didn't work out that well in the end."

"Krum," Hermione blurted. "It's Krum who's asked me."

Draco turned to the witch in disbelief. She was slumped over the wall, biting her lower lip, eyes uncertain. She let loose a heavy sigh and pulled herself upright with some obvious effort.

Krum? She was going with Krum? He wasn't sure why that made his blood boil, but Merlin, did it. It wasn't as though he could have asked her. And would he have, if he could? Maybe. Just maybe.

"K-Krum? Merlin, Hermione. That's not a step up from Weasley, that's a bloody mountain!" As it wasn't, and never would be his place to take her, he may as well make her feel good about herself.

The brunette shrugged. "He follows me around everywhere. And he just sits there and watches me study. Doesn't talk, doesn't want to do anything. And Draco…he can't even pronounce my name!"

He couldn't help but laugh at that. "Why did you say yes, then?" He shouldn't have felt relieved that she didn't actually fancy the Quidditch star.

"It's going to sound terrible. Like I'm really shallow…"

"You're talking to a Malfoy. We're as deep as puddles. Honestly, Hermione, know your audience," Draco scoffed playfully. He delighted in the amusement that danced in her hazel eyes.

"I suppose that's true enough. Well, he asked me, and I thought of saying no. But then I saw it as a way to shock everyone. No one ever sees me as anything but an insufferable know-it-all bookworm. I am that, but I'm a girl, too. Not that Ronald seems to realize that. I just wanted to show them that I could be wanted, I guess. That I could be worth wanting."

The blonde wasn't sure they'd been friends long enough for him to share his insight on such a personal desire. He took a risk and tried anyway. "Hermione, of course you're worth wanting. You don't need a famous date to show that."

Hermione smiled to herself. "Why did you have to be such a right tosser these past few years, Draco? You've hardly been my friend for two months and yet you already know how to make me feel better than any else ever has."

"There you go doubting the loving nature of Slytherins again."

"And there's the tosser."

He had to admit, when Hermione had first explained Cinderella and her fairy godmother, only to tell him about her own experience with the Weasley twins, he had his doubts. Draco was willing to admit that he didn't hate those particular Weasley's. How could anyone, really? But he certainly didn't think that they would be very successful 'fairy godmothers'. After all, what could two 16 year old boys know about dressing up a girl?

But he refrained from pointing out the likelihood of them being utterly useless in such a situation when he saw how excited she was about it.

For once in his life, Draco was willing to admit his complete and utter wrongness about the Weasley twins' abilities as the champions entered the Great Hall with their dates.

At the sight of the gorgeous girl on Krum's arm, Draco forgot how to breathe. Pansy actually smacked him. "What's wrong with you? You look like you're about to pass out." He shot her a warning glare and tried not to stare at the Gryffindor bookworm too noticeably.

His efforts seemed not to have mattered. Judging by the excited whispers and curious stares, he was the only one who had recognized her yet.

They did eventually notice her, though.

"Drake, is that Hermione Granger with Krum?" Pansy whispered in disbelief, tugging on the sleeve of his dress robes. Draco was already openly staring at the said witch. "Draco!" Pansy exclaimed, pulling him out of his ogling. "What, Pansy?" he asked irritably. Seeing Krum's hands all over his newfound Gryffindor friend was antagonizing him, and he didn't want to think about why. He had decided that it was the age gap between them. That it was improper for Krum to go after a girl four years his junior.

"Is that absolute babe on Krum's arm really Hermione Granger?" she wondered again. The incredulous Slytherin looked at him expectantly. Perhaps too defensively, Draco snapped, "How should I know, Pans? It's not like I keep track of the m-mudblood."

Pansy cut him a fierce glare. "Oh, spare me, Draco."

"And what's that supposed to mean?" he retorted.

"You've only been staring at her all bloody night! I mean, if I had actually meant to come as your date as more than friends, I would be rather put out, Draco. In fact, I actually am a little put out as it is," Pansy accused him, crossing her arms in an irritated huff. "Sure, you've been dancing with me all night, Drake, but you haven't been here. Not with me. You've been too busy pretending not to be staring at her."

"I-I-what are you-I-"

"Merlin, look at you!" Pansy giggled, all traces of annoyance gone from her face. Her dark eyes twinkled with mirth. "She's got you all flustered, Drakey!"

Scowling darkly, Draco muttered his response through clenched teeth. "I have no idea what you're on about Parkinson. I admit, the m-mublood looks…less bookwormish but-"

"You're not fooling me, Drake. You can't even say that word without stuttering now. I know you, Drake. Something's different where she's concerned. I can't say I understand it, but don't lie to me, okay?" Pansy said softly so no one could listen in. Draco gaped at her, forgetting his pureblood composure.

Before he could respond, he caught the girl in question's voice. The two Slytherins turned in time to see a ridiculously dressed Ronald Weasely berating one of his supposed best friends. They winced as Hermione darkly raged, "Next time there's a ball pluck up the courage to ask me before someone else does! And not as a last resort!"

Without waiting for a response, the wounded but beautiful Hermione stormed from the Great Hall, her buffoon of a ginger friend fuming after her.

Draco followed her flustered retreat forgetting that he was trying to throw Pansy off the scent. "Go, then." He looked to her in confusion. "Go on, Draco. Something tells me she wouldn't be terribly put out if you happened to follow her."

Draco thought about denying but decided it wasn't worth it. He made to leave, only pausing when he felt Pansy's hand on his shoulder. She gazed up at him with a serious face. In a low voice, she said, "Drake. We're going to talk about this later, okay?"

He leaned down to kiss her cheek, knowing he had a dreadfully uncomfortable conversation in his near future. "Thanks, Pans." And with that, he maneuvered his way through the crowd and slipped out into the hall.

Draco found her on the stairs. She was a vision of sorrow, her periwinkle dress rippling over each stair, her shaking shoulders, her haphazardly thrown heels. Something inside him ached to see her so distraught. Checking to be sure she was alone, he stepped out from the shadows and softly called her name.

Her sobs paused. Blinking through her tears, she realized who the owner of the voice was. He seemed unsure of himself, hovering a distance from her as if he didn't know if he should be there. With a strangled cry, she picked herself off of the floor, dashed down the remaining steps, and launched herself into his arms. He staggered back at her sudden weight and his arms hung limp at his sides. The warmth of her body was so foreign and yet so intoxicatingly distracting that it took a minute for him to wrap his arms around her in return.

They had never been so close. There were playful hits and reassuring hands on shoulders and brushing fingers but never this. Never so tangled up in each other that they didn't care where one started and the other begin. Her nose was cold against the crook of his neck, but he couldn't care less. His body was humming with satisfaction because it was his arms she was wrapped up in. His comfort that she sought.

Hermione's sobs eventually quieted into silent tears. She felt much better and she wasn't foolish enough to think it wasn't because of Draco. She didn't want him to let her go. As soon as she stopped crying she just knew he would. It was silly, she realized, throwing herself at him because she was upset. At that point, though, with his warm hands on the small of her back, she decided she didn't care. It had been worth it.

"Hermione, what happened?" he murmured in her ear, his hold on her solid.

"Boys are idiots," she explained in a mix between a laugh and a sob. Hermione's eyes widened in awe as she felt rather than heard his chuckle. "Thanks. But you're right. We are."

"You're hugging me, Draco," she observed breathlessly, amazed that he still was. He tightened his hold on her at her words. "So, it seems."

"He was right, you know. I am a traitor. Just not in the way he thinks. The enemy I'm fraternizing with is you, not Krum."

"Thank God for that."

"Hey, Victor is a nice boy."

"Boy? He's four years older than you, Hermione. He's too old."

"And what would you have had me do? Prove everyone right and go alone as sad, pathetic Hermione?"

"No. If I could have it my way, Hermione, I think I would have asked you myself."

"You? Why?"

"Well, as it turns out, you're rather easy on the eyes. And intriguing in conversation. And uplifting to be around."

"Draco. You're still hugging me."

"So it seems."

"Why?"

"Because I wouldn't rather be doing anything else, Granger. Now shut it before I change my mind."

"Kill me now," Harry pleaded, "You two are unbearably corny."

A/N: If you like it please let me know! :)