A/N: Thanks to all who have reviewed so far! Please continue to do so as it provides encouragement and inspiration! Enjoy the next chapter! : )

Chapter 3

Silver Eyes

July 14th (continued)

Her wand illuminating his face, Hermione furrowed her brows in confusion. Of all the people in the world she could have possibly imagined running into, he was the least likely of them all. Him, here, in the streets of Muggle London.

"Draco?"

Draco Malfoy stood before her in all his prestigious glory, hands raised and mouth agape in astonishment.

"Granger," he began after several moments of simply staring. He recovered and his voice was low and cautions, "Would you please lower your wand?"

Hermione blinked twice before slowly withdrawing her defense and returning the wand to her pocket. Had he been spying on her? Was he working for the Dark Lord? Were the rumors of Voldemort's interest in the Muggle world really true?

"What are you doing here?" She asked, a certain tone of anxiety entering her voice.

Draco seemed to contemplate his answer before carefully replying. "I'm just taking a walk."

Hermione nearly laughed at that, and raised a brow.

Draco appeared flustered and Hermione found it strange to see him in such a state. He was drenched completely from head to foot, and his overall demeanor made him appear lost and completely out of his element.

"Out Walking?" She tilted her head to one side, "Why so far from home?"

Draco shook his head, "I don't have to explain myself to you."

Hermione narrowed her eyes, "Did the dark lord send you here?"

No response came only an annoyed look from Draco, who looked as if he'd rather kill himself than be caught in this situation.

Hermione felt her suspicion steadily rising and the worry that perhaps there was some sinister plot brewing against her world.

"Draco," she said through clenched teeth, her hand tightening on her wand again, "I swear to Merlin if you don't tell me why you're here I'll cast a hex that will have you begging me for your release."

Draco seemed to ponder that for a moment before sighing and lowering his head. Hermione couldn't tell whether he was genuinely looking forlorn or whether he had finally developed some decent acting skills.

"Look Draco, We're not at Hogwarts, you don't have your rank to hide behind. You're on my turf, and I am going to get this information out of you one way or another."

"Hey," he replied, "enough with the threats Granger, I'm going to tell you. It's just kind of difficult to discuss, especially with you."

"Why?"

He just glared, before looking behind her and staring at the far wall.

"I don't have all day." She urged.

His glare deepened as he returned his gaze to her, the familiar smug expression taking over. Oh how she hated that expression.

"Let's get out of this rain," he suggested, "then I'll tell you why I'm here."

Hermione thought a moment before slowly nodding. "Lead the way."

Draco rolled his eyes and then walked past her, his steps both brisk and reluctant.

Hermione couldn't help but grin at her unfailing ability to subdue the boy.

He led her out of the alley and back into the street where he stopped a moment to survey his surroundings. Deciding on a destination, Draco maneuvered her through the city as if he had lived here his whole life, which further merited Hermione's suspicions that he had been there awhile.

Entering a small bistro, they sat near the back beside a window overlooking the traffic, and as Draco ordered himself a coffee, Hermione watched as the lights changed from red to green.

"Would you like anything, miss?"

Hermione had momentarily tuned everything out, and, after the waiter had asked her twice, she heard Draco address her.

"Granger," he said, "you want anything?"

Hermione blinked twice before muttering an apology to the server.

"Yes, umm," she bit her lip as she mulled over her choices. "I'll have a chai with extra cream, please."

Nodding, the man turned and left them sitting there, a silence filling the void and awaiting the first to break it.

"So?" she ventured, a brow raised.

Draco swallowed and appeared to be carefully choosing his words.

"First off," he started, "the dark lord did send me here, but not for the reasons you may think."

Hermione rolled her eyes, "pray tell."

Draco opened his mouth to speak but stopped and tightened his hands together. Why was it so difficult for him?

Hermione fought back the urge to rush him, and instead sat back and decided to make herself comfortable.

"I didn't know you shopped in stores like that." Draco suddenly stated, looking down at her bag.

Hermione exhaled sharply and then pushed the bag under the table.

"Nice place, what's the occasion?" he continued.

"Never mind that," she said pointing a finger at him, "You are NOT going to try and change the subject."

Draco's smug look returned and Hermione instantly looked away, not wanting to see that look again.

"Okay," he finally conceded. "Here goes."

He deliberated only a moment before continuing. "The dark Lord has-"

He was cut off as the waiter returned with their drinks. Draco smirked at the timing and Hermione lowered her forehead into her palm.

"Lord," she breathed.

"Thank you," Draco smiled at the man before taking a very long and very slow sip of his coffee.

When he had finished he looked up to see Hermione staring daggers at him, which unnerved him slightly considering she had already threatened to hex him.

"Are you ready?" she asked.

Draco nodded, "alright, yes." He breathed in before divulging into the tale.

"Ever since the night the Death eaters entered Hogwarts, the Dark Lord has taken up residence in our manor. He infiltrated the history of our halls with his servants and prisoners and had my father do all of his bidding. My mother and I were not spared his scorn either, and as he sat in our grand dining room, he had us doing the work of slaves."

He paused to take a sip of coffee before continuing.

"However, I suppose that wasn't enough for him. I suppose he just couldn't even stand the sight of us and so, calling my father into our study, he informs him that he is sending us on a mission. He says that we must mingle with the Muggles, watch them, and learn all we can about them."

Hermione sat forward in her seat as he spoke, her heart accelerating in anxiety.

"Well of course this was only an excuse to get rid of us, to send us as far from his side as possible. We are exiles from our own home, to live amongst the most inferior race on this earth. He claims that he has a plan to infiltrate you people, but I sincerely doubt such a plan exists."

He looked up and shrugged, "So here I am, in Muggle London, having to live my life as one of you until the good lord invites us to return. No magic, no title, no pride."

Hermione blinked and then leaned forward quickly, "so, all those rumors about there being a plot against the Muggles they're all…false?"

She held her breath as she awaited his response.

"As far as I know, yes."

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. "Thank heavens."

Draco rolled his eyes, "it doesn't disturb you at all that he did this to us?"

"I feel no pity whatsoever."

"You know," he started, "it took a lot for me to tell you that. I feel very embarrassed having to admit that to you."

He shook his head, "I didn't want a soul from Hogwarts to find out, especially Potter and Weasely."

He looked up at her, "you're far from better though, because first chance you get your gonna run and tell them."

Hermione smiled, "it might come up."

"I'll bet you're dying to tell."

Hermione exhaled and rolled her eyes, "You know, it may surprise you to learn that we don't actually talk a whole lot about you in our conversations."

The smug look returned and Hermione looked away.

"So how are you adapting, by the way?" she continued. "How long have you been here? You seem to know your way around pretty well."

"Is this a trick?"

"A trick?"

He nodded, "yeah, something to make fun of me for."

"No," Hermione retorted, "just curious."

He narrowed his eyes before conceding to endeavor the conversation.

"Well, in all honesty, we're actually better off than we were in our manor, as impossible as that is to believe. We've been here for a little over a month, and we're slowly adjusting to the changes. Thank Merlin you Muggles seem to prize gold above every other manner of currency and so we're pretty well off financially. We've attended the highest acclaimed social events and have made some significantly powerful connections already."

Hermione shook her head. How typically Malfoy it was to rise within any environment thrown their way.

"Lord," she muttered as she picked up her beverage and took a pleasant sip.

"What is that?" Draco leaned forward as she set her mug down.

"Chai, it's a spiced tea."

"Hmm," Draco sat back, "smells pretty good."

"Taste's good too."

They just simply stared at one another for a few seconds before Hermione suddenly blinked once, twice, three times.

"What?" he asked in annoyance.

"You have silver eyes, Malfoy."

"Yes, I do. And?"

"Nothing," she replied biting her lip. Draco was who the boy that morning had reminded her of. How odd that she hadn't realized it sooner. Then again, she had never been staring into his eyes before.

She looked up and saw that he was staring at her in confusion.

"What?" she innocently shrugged.

"You know what, Granger."

Hermione shook her head, "it really was nothing."

"Hey now," he started, "I told you why I was here so I think it's only fair that you tell me what that was all about."

Hermione crossed her arms, "oh really? What leverage do you have over me, Malfoy? I'm assuming that since you can cast no magic, that you have no wand."

The smug look returned and he glared, "I don't need leverage. You are inferior to me. Tell me right now, Mudblood."

Hermione shook her head, "you really think that's going to work? Really? That's child's play, Malfoy. I think we're both adult enough to skip the name calling."

"You'll always be a Mudblood in my eyes."

Hermione sighed, "Well incidentally I don't care what's in your eyes."

They glared at one another before Hermione looked down at her watch and saw that it was already half past eight. "Drat," she suddenly hissed.

Draco watched as she quickly stood and gathered her bags and the umbrella.

"Tell me." He ordered.

Hermione ignored him and rushed from the bistro, her mind frantic. She had completely lost track of time. Her parents were going to be so worried.

Draco watched her exit and then crossed his arms, the smug look plastered and the glare pronounced. He couldn't believe she hadn't told him, even when he used the word that before had so insulted her.

'Stupid, Mudblood.' He thought shaking his head.

Then, looking to her side of the table, he saw that she left her drink and, hastily, he picked it up and quenched his curiosity.

As Hermione lay in bed that night, she thought over the strange interaction she had experienced with Malfoy. It had truly been the first time they had ever had a one-on-one conversation. It had been both amusing and irritating, exactly as she imagined it would be.

A chuckle escaped her mouth as she recalled the frustration he must have felt as she withheld the reason for her sudden comment. How it must have tortured him.

It surprised her how little his name calling effected her. It seemed so miniscule compared with the dangers that would soon be imposed on her life.

With a sudden start she realized that she had left her chai sitting on the table and with a grin she shook her head.

'I'll bet he tried it. He was so dying to.'

Oh how she anticipated writing about the strange day to both Harry and Ron.

July 15th

Tonight was the night Hermione Granger would do something she had never done before and she felt as if her anxiety and excitement were going to suffocate her.

"Looking forward to tonight?" Sara asked as Hermione was clocking out.

"Mhm," Hermione replied with a nod. "It'll be fun."

Sara clapped, "Yay! So, we meet at my house at 7."

"Right," Hermione smiled, "see you then."

As she walked outside, she smiled up at the sunshine. At least the weather from the previous day had cleared because she definitely didn't feel like walking around in the rain again.

From the corner of her eye she saw a small kitten digging around in a dumpster and she was reminded of Crookshanks, whom she would have to leave behind.

He had been her pal for over eight years and Hermione knew she would miss him terribly. He never judged or held a grudge against her, but was completely faithful in all ways. She wanted a companion like that; someone who was unconditionally hers, trustworthy and dependable as well.

Snickering, she shook her head. What man could live up to the expectations of a cat?

Again, her mind wandered to the coming evening, which despite her nervousness, was a welcome relief to her anxiety concerning the summer's end.

What would it be like? She loved dancing, and the closest event she could compare it to was the Yule ball, which she'd immensely enjoyed. She would have to write Harry and Ron about the club as well.

Passing the bistro where she had conversed with Draco, Hermione again mused over how strange it was that she had run into him of all people. It was extremely coincidental, and though she desperately wanted to believe his banishment story, she just couldn't extinguish the fear that her people were in danger.

Draco Malfoy had never been a good liar though, as far as she could recall. Then again, she had never really gotten to know him. Perhaps he was.

The wind picked up and whirled its way about her, its cool breath refreshing her skin from the heat. Hermione smiled and closed her eyes, inviting its caress.

How wonderful nature was, it always seemed to balance itself out. It was perfect in design, and majestic in its mysteries.

Looking up to the sky, she bit her lip as she saw the first colors of dusk beginning to bleed through the blue canvas. Though it was every bit as breathtaking as dawn, she did not prefer it.

There was something deep and troubling about sunset. Its properties were solemn and finite, signaling the end of something sweet and glorious.

Dawn, contrarily, represented new beginnings and the prospect for creation and imagination.

Turning, she continued walking and mulling over whatever thoughts dared to enter her head.

Entering her bedroom, she sighed and collapsed onto her bed, letting her bag slip out of her hand and onto the floor.

She was mentally exhausted, to say the least. It was a feeling she was used to as far as studying went, but that required no emotional attachments. All of her latest concerns did, and it was beginning to take its toll over her mind.

Closing her eyes she focused on whatever image chose to materialize itself within her thoughts. A laugh escaped her lips as she thought of the first chess game she'd ever witnessed between Harry and Ron.

How serious they had been about it. That game, at that moment, had been the most important concern in the world to them. How she wished that were still the case, for them all.

The next thought was of the look in Draco's eyes as he'd studied her chai. Shaking her head she laughed at that one as well before her thoughts turned towards the moment she had first seen him.

He had been so small, innocent even, despite his abhorrent behavior. Yes, he had been unbearable ever since his ignorant childhood.

How sad it was that he was also someone who always managed to get under her skin. It was just his overall behavior, which perhaps would never change.

He really did remind her of the child with silver eyes, and that realization alone was enough to make her recognize that Draco Malfoy had perhaps been the most constant person she'd ever known.

He had been exactly the same as he'd always been in school: Pompous, spiteful, and prejudiced.

Hermione chuckled once more before rising and venturing into her closet to admire the outfit she would don for her night out.

How exciting it would be to really dress herself up. It had been years since she'd last done so.

Her mind turned to Victor Krum, whom she'd not thought of since 5th year. He had pretty much been her only relationship during her entire life at Hogwarts.

To this day she still had no idea why she'd been so fond of him. He was older, so his maturity level was close to hers, but he had also been rather clueless when it came to simple matters, and his depth of personality was entirely nonexistent.

She had been young at the time however, and that was the most reprieving factor of the entire ordeal.

It had broken her heart when she got the letter that ended their 4 month relationship. It had been a blow to her feeling of self- worth, which made that year one of her most difficult.

She needed a man who would be stable, intelligent, and understanding. Was Ron very understanding and rational?

'No', she thought with a grin, 'he was always the complete opposite of that.'

However, the way she always understood love to work, was that it was not for either party to decide the personality or circumstances of the other individual.

Love was an entirely independent concept that worked its way into the heart and held its ground until the mind either eventually conceded or refused and rebelled until that love diminished.

She'd never been in love; the closest she'd ever come was the way she felt about Ronald. It was different though, she knew, then the way most people felt as they fell in love. She had loved her friend for years and all his faults were already acknowledged and accepted, making it impossible for the mystery aspect to remain present.

There was a small bit of infatuation and the occasional butterflies, but nothing groundbreaking or epic. It was a comfortable state that most couples did not reach until after the year mark.

A part of Hermione was content with that concept, which was her more rational half. However, there was another part, deeply buried beneath the former, which thirsted and longed for a more fulfilling experience with love.

That part wanted the type of love depicted in all the worlds' greatest romance novels. She wanted to be swept off her feet and taken on a marvelous adventure into the unknown and surreal.

However, Hermione knew that novels were not true to life, and that such a daydream was ridiculous when logically pondered.

Glancing at the outfit once more, Hermione reveled in all the unknown factors the night seemed to promise.

It was going to be so exciting.

Biting her lip, she ran downstairs as he parents came home. She ate dinner with them and informed them of where she was going before running back upstairs to ready herself.

Eagerly slipping on the various pieces of clothing, Hermione smiled at her appearance in the mirror. It was entirely pleasantly suited to her figure, fitting in all the places it should.

'Now for the hair', she thought with a slight feeling of weariness.

It was always such a chore to deal with, being as it was so long and thick.

Deciding she would rather wear it down, Hermione brought out her straightening rod and curling iron.

It took well over twenty minutes to manipulate her strands to their various positions, but when she had finished, Hermione mentally patted herself on the back. The result had been terrific.

As for makeup, Hermione decided on a subtler look; playing up the eyes, while only applying a light, nude colored lip stain and gloss to her mouth.

Observing her final appearance for several moments, Hermione bit her lip. It had been forever since she'd played up her image, and though she felt slightly materialistic, a side-effect of striving to be as different as possible from all the silly girls she'd known, the feeling of looking beautiful did a world of good for her self-esteem.

Smiling, she felt as if she could do anything.

Pursing her lips, Hermione briefly wondered how she might appear to the opposite sex on a day to day basis. Was she at all attractive to them? There were no abnormalities about her features, they were all pretty much aligned and even. Her mouth was full, and her eyes wide and bright.

'Oh, I don't care,' she thought shaking her head.

Tearing her eyes away from the mirror she pushed her vanities from her mind and instead focused on putting on her shoes.

Glancing to her night table, she spied the novel she was reading, and a brief, almost instant temptation to just stay home and read crept its way into her chest.

'No,' she told herself, 'I need to do something different.'

Upon this thought, she grabbed her purse, sprayed on a bit of fragrance, then turned out her light and descended the stairs.

She walked out into the night and then took her first step towards an evening she would always remember.

Closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, Hermione readied herself.

'I can do this.'