Chapter Six: Nerves

Ginny was right. Even the professors knew by six O'clock that evening that Hermione and Draco were a couple. To confirm that the rumors were, in fact, true, Draco gathered Hermione from the Gryffindor table at the end of dinner and carried her books for her as they exited the Great Hall with 300 pairs of eyes on them. Together.

Once outside the hall, he still carried her books.

They took the long way around the castle as they headed to the library. He suggested that they should let people see them out and about in order to confirm the rumors everyone had been talking about. She felt that this was a little more than what she expected from their fake relationship, but perhaps his ideas had some merit. Perhaps, the best way to fool everyone they were really together would be to do things that real couples would do. So, they talked about their days and nothing in particular as they meandered through the crisscrossing halls of the castle, the library being their ultimate destination.

Hermione was pleased that he let her choose what books on vanishing cabinets would be most helpful– she did have more experience in the library, tucked in between the shelves, than any other student – but she was even more thankful and surprised when Malfoy turned up his debonair charm with Madam Pince so that Hermione could check out the books without them being seen. Both of them weighed down by a reasonably-sized stack of books, the two made their way to their office in the Room of Requirement where they could work on Malfoy's part of the deal.

Draco sat at the desk reading while Hermione was splayed out across the couch scanning four books at once when she decided she wanted to talk about the physical contact they'd had earlier and the 'practice' idea she had.

He stared at her for a full two minutes before clarifying, "You want to practice holding hands?"

It sounded silly when he said it like that.

"Not just holding hands, Malfoy, but all of it. I know you've been around with several girls, but I haven't really had a boyfriend before. There was Viktor in fourth year but that was mostly dancing and a few kisses at the Yule Ball. It seems so different this way," the brunette confessed, tying her crazy curls into a loose bun.

He continued to stare at her in disbelief. "You are incredibly ridiculous, you know that? Sixteen years old and you still get nervous holding someone's hand! You can't have a panic attack when I go to kiss your cheek."

Hermione's eyes went wide when he talked about kissing. This was going to be harder than she thought.

He stood up in a huff, running his hand over his face and through his hair.

For a moment, she wondered if he was second guessing this whole thing, the arrangement they had made the previous night. She supposed it wasn't too late to back out of it; he'd suffer very little damage, but breaking off their relationship when it was so new would make her look like a complete idiot.

"Did she think Malfoy actually wanted to date her?" They would whisper. " She scared him away after just one night!" It would do little to defile his playboy reputation, but it would crush her own. Silly girl, surely she knew no one wanted her?

Torn from her anxious thoughts, the Gryffindor witch watched as Malfoy began to move.

His prestigious leather shoes made sharp noises as they clinked along the floor. The look in his eyes was forceful and focused as his gaze drifted to where her hands rested on her lap.

Before she could protest, having understood his intent, Malfoy had reached out, and grabbed her hand, and refused to let go.

"Scoot over," he demanded. "We're not going to leave until you're more comfortable with this. I won't have you blow this whole thing up on day two."

The witch blinked before complying, allowing him to sit beside her. He moved closer so that their legs were barely touching. The elephant in her heart was stomping around making it almost impossible for her to hear him when he pleaded quietly, "please... trust me."

Hermione was unable to speak so she nodded.

Gently and ever so respectfully, Draco reached his arm around her rigid shoulders and pulled her close to his chest. He kept his breathing steady like a cadence, willing hers to settle down, too. The smell of pine again filled her nose, something she supposed would always be signature to the blonde. She also noticed something that reminded her faintly of cobblestone, or the Black Lake, after it rains.

He held her there, resting on his shoulder, legs touching, her hands resting nervously in her lap.

"I won't hurt you," he promised. "This will help you get comfortable around me."

"Okay, that's fine."

But inside Hermione's mind, everything was all but fine. It took monumental self-control to keep from squirming away from him for those three, silent and uncomfortable minutes.

This all felt so wrong to her. She wanted for this to feel comfortable, she wanted to be able to pass this relationship off as real. She wanted everyone to know that Hermione Granger was a girl worth dating. If she was someone worthy of Draco Malfoy, rumored Sex God, surely other boys would come to recognise her as more than a brain, too.

But she didn't need everyone to notice her, she only wanted Ron.

She wondered why sitting like this with Draco made her feel so uneasy. She'd done the same thing with Harry over summers at the Burrow, casually sharing a blanket while the Weasleys played exploding snap. She'd been comforted by Fred, too, in fourth year after her horrible experience at the Yule Ball. She'd even leaned against Seamus this way in the common room when the Irishman had somehow gotten a hold of muggle whiskey and took to flirting with her. However, she felt more of sisterly love for each of these Gryffindors.

Maybe that was it. She didn't feel anything for Malfoy. Not like she would ever harbor romantic feelings for the Slytherin, that would be ridiculous. But she didn't even like him in a friendly way. She barely even knew him.

Perhaps she should try to get to know him better, seeing as they were supposed to be a couple. It would only be a matter of time before Ginny started asking questions about Malfoy and about their relationship. When that time came, she'd have to have answers.

"You know, umm," Hermione started, craning her neck to meet his grey eyes. "Maybe we should get to know each other a bit, too."

He sounded annoyed at her question but met her eyes all the same. "I've known you since the very first day of first year, Granger."

"Well technically, sure. We know each other but I've only just realized that I don't know much about you at all," she countered.

"I have no intention of learning your favorite color," Draco sneered.

With a noisy huff, Hermione tried to separate herself from the Slytherin's grasp. "You are infuriating, Malfoy. How in the world is this going to work if we're constantly arguing?"

The Slytherin chuckled at her frustration. "There is not a world where you and I don't argue," he teased pulling her body back into his hoping it would frustrate her more.

She shoved him away from her, choosing to stand instead, looking down on him allowing her the mock stance of authority. "Our friends are inevitably going to ask us questions, at least I'm sure Ginny will be curious. Don't you think we should have answers for when the time comes? We can't play a couple if we don't know each other! It also might help me be more comfortable around you, don't you think..."

Her speech continued, but the blonde tuned her out. After dozens of classes over the last six years, Draco had come to accept Hermione's long-winded, rambling answers. The witch was book smart, but if she hadn't memorized a definition directly from the text or if she was called to explain anything of her own thoughts, she became a wordy mess. He knew she was too stubborn to let this silly idea drop, he'd have to give into it, but that didn't mean he needed to listen to her whole rant.

"Okay, if it will help, we can get to know each other better, ask each other questions and all that, but the moment you ask a question that I'm uncomfortable answering, we're done with this little game. Alright?"

"Alright, that's fair," she happily agreed.

Draco rose from the couch and took her hand in his for the second time that night. "If we're not going to do any reading or cabinet fixing, we should at least build our status as a couple. Let's take a walk, somewhere public."

She looked surprised, not at his hand holding hers, but at his suggestion. "That's actually a good idea."

"Of course it is, I'm brilliant!" he boasted.

She simply laughed and hid her eye roll.

Draco and Hermione made their way into the drafty castle. They decided to cast a muffling spell around them so they could keep their conversation private even when they were near others.

"Okay, what do you want to know? Ask me something," Draco prompted, smiling ever so slightly as wrapped his arm around her shoulder for show. They were near Gryffindor Tower, meaning they'd cross paths with a few third or fourth year students every few minutes. They decided to make their way toward the Dungeons so they could stroll past each of their houses, but they could take their time.

Like the night they first met in the kitchens, Draco appreciated the distraction that this witch and their fake relationship was. These past three days were the first that he hadn't worked on the cabinet since he'd gotten to Hogwarts and he could see his mind becoming clearer, his thoughts becoming less busy.

Hermione took a moment to ponder before asking, "What do you do to relax?"

"I fly," Draco answered without hesitation. "The different perspective and feeling of having total control, even for a few moments, is really calming."

She smiled, "That's exactly what Harry would say."

"What would you say?"

"Flying is awful and you are crazy for putting yourself in such danger! Trusting an object with your life is hardly a good idea. I usually go for a walk when I need to relax, get fresh air. Sleeping helps sometimes for those really taxing moments. Sometimes I read," she took a moment to laugh at herself, "Surprise, surprise. I let myself get lost in the worlds, the lives, the problems of other people."

"I should have known," Draco teased. "What is your favorite school subject?"

"That one is tough. Maybe Ancient Runes, but I also like Charms. Both are fun in different ways," she reasoned.

He simply nodded, letting his hand rub circles along her shoulder.

"If you were an animagus, what would your form be?" the witch asked.

"Wait, you're not going to ask me what my favorite subject is? I thought that was how this would work," Draco asked, laughing.

"Normally, yes," she answered, "But I already know your favorite subject so there's no point in me asking."

"Oh you do, do you? What is it then?" the blonde challenged, that characteristic Malfoy smirk landing on his face.

"Potions, of course! It's the only class you're better than me at," Hermione mumbled the ending.

"You're only half right, with that one. Yes, I'm top at potions, but it isn't my favorite. I like Arithmancy," explained Draco casually.

"Arithmancy?"

"Yes, why the tone of surprise? There isn't much about Malfoy Enterprises that I like, but I do enjoy working with the numbers of it all. There's no grey area with Arithmancy," Draco said.

"You're excited to run the family business then?" she asked kindly, but he still momentarily steeled himself. He hated talking about his family. He hated that people brought it up so casually and envied those who didn't have the problems discussing it like he had. He couldn't escape it and he couldn't escape the witch next to him.

Collecting himself, Draco responded, "I'm not sure if I'm excited really. The business is the one thing I can't really escape from being a Malfoy. It's been in my family for over a century. I don't intend to run it like my father, though. I'll find something useful to pour my money into as soon as it's all mine."

"It must be nice to have a plan. We're less than two years away and I still have no idea what I want to do after we graduate."

"You have time," he said simply. But he wasn't sure she did.

She smiled at his attempt at comforting- if you could even call it that. "What is your favorite childhood memory?" asked Hermione.

Draco smiled truly as he remembered the memory. She wondered if she'd ever seen Malfoy smile before. Not smirk, but smile. Probably not.

"I was probably five or six. It was the first time in my life that I remember my father being away. He had to go to France for a few days so it was just my mum and I. The day after he left, she had the elves make me pancakes with chocolate chips in them and we played all sorts of things. She let me fly my toy broom inside and we played tag in the garden. It was so much fun, I did accidental magic for the first time. Mum said I grew a bush twice it's size to hide me when she got too close. She was so proud and I was so happy about it all. Father has always been strict, even when I was little, so being able to be a kid for once was really liberating. I had Mum to myself and I didn't have to spend all day reading or being watched over by the house elves. It was the perfect day."

Hermione, unsure how to respond, squeezed his hand and smiled. The memory was happy, but it carried some sadness, too. His childhood had been far different from hers. She played every day and always got tucked in bed with a kiss and a bedtime story by both parents. For the longest time she considered this normal, but then she met Harry. Even now, Draco physically had both parents, but he was missing out on so much of the love and support parents were supposed to provide. It was heartbreaking.

"That does sound like a really good day," she chimed, watching his features return to their normal seriousness. "You should smile more often. It looks much better than the smirks and sneers you usually wear."

"Oh shut it. If I wanted to be complimented, I'd track down Moaning Myrtle or find myself a real girlfriend," the blonde objected, smoothing over his hair. "What's your favorite memory?"

"When my father let me ice skate on our little pond; I think I was about nine. I'd just finished a book about a little girl who skated on her pond when it froze over. It sounded so incredible to me, but I've always been clumsy. No matter how much I begged, there was no way my parents would let me skate out onto our little pond. One day, I came home from school in a complete state. I was the target of some ghastly pranks in grammar school and this one, in particular, sent me home crying. To cheer me up, my dad took me to get myself skates and he bought some for himself and he led me around the surface of the pond, holding my hands as he skated backwards. I haven't skated since. We'd gone away for the following winter and then I got my Hogwarts letter. I don't know why it's my favorite. I've tried other memories, but this is the only one that lets me produce my Patronus."

"You can produce a Patronus?" Draco asked, dumbfounded, likely not having listened to the rest of the story.

"Harry taught us all last year; mine's an otter," she explained.

His minor jealousy impacted his tone to his dismay, "It's a shame none of the Slytherins were invited to your little Defense club. We didn't learn anything last year."

"Well, it's a shame you tried so hard to get us caught!"

"Whatever, just ask another question," Draco demanded.

Hermione took a thoughtful look around the room before returning her eyes to his grey ones. She took a breath. "When did your beliefs on blood purity change?"

She waited for him to declare this game over. Hermione had pondered this question over the last few days in her head but finally had the opportunity to ask him.

"Third year," he paused, not planning to elaborate. The truth was, he wasn't totally sure how to explain it. It didn't happen overnight, nor even over the course of a single year. Lots of little moments, together, helped him see that blood is all the same. But how do you tell that to the girl you put down for years for this very debate?

She didn't ask for more. She didn't say anything at all. She simply bobbed her head, sending curls springing in every direction. She smiled, too. The very fact that she wasn't pressing him for more information made him want to tell her.

It was an unfamiliar feeling and he wondered, in the back of his mind, if this was what manipulation felt like.

His voice started before he knew what he was saying, "It was when you punched me. And it was lots of little reasons, little things I noticed here and there that stirred the ideas in my head. I'd been taught, drilled even, about how muggleborns were not real wizards, not worthy of their magic. But then one beat me in every single class. She beat everyone. And then she punched me. It was just so – I don't know, Granger, don't flatter yourself. It all just made me think about what made a person a good person, a wizard a good wizard, what made a witch a good witch. At some point, I came to the conclusion that it had nothing to do with blood."

His testimony weighed on her. Was it really her that had changed his mind? That was a lot of pressure, but also a significant compliment. "If you ever need a reminder that I'm not trash, I can – and will – punch you again," she laughed, trying to keep the mood light.

"We're dating now, you might want to avoid punching me. What would our audience think?" He forced a polite laugh too, appreciating her not making his little confession a bigger deal than it needed to be.

They walked in silence for a bit. Hermione waved at Dean and Seamus as they walked past. The inseparable boys offered to escort her back to Gryffindor as if trying to save her from her present company. She politely rejected them, explaining that she'd had an overwhelming day and thought a relaxing walk with Draco would put her in a good mood before she goes to sleep. Though they still eyed her suspiciously, Dean and Seamus left them alone to continue their walk.

Draco asked the next question, "Do Gryffindors talk about me in the common room?"

"Much too often," the witch admitted, trying to pull her sweater more around her. "Mostly Harry. He always has a new theory that proves why you're evil or a new reason why you're a git," she laughed with a shake of her head.

"Potter is the git, not me," Draco defended.

"Does my name come up in your common room ever?" she asked.

"Sometimes," he answered. "None of the girls would shut up for weeks after Yule Ball about how unfair it was that Krum asked you and why he should have asked someone prettier." He shook his head at that fact. " They were just jealous. Then sometimes, you get dragged into our 'Potter stinks' conversations simply by being his friend."

"Ugh, the Yule Ball seems to be the only reason anyone ever noticed me. Honestly, Viktor wasn't all that much of a catch," Hermione claimed.

"That's probably why he picked you. All of the other witches doted on him too much, but you – you didn't care that he was famous."

"Maybe," she eased into his side as they walked. Something about their conversation had made her more comfortable around him. He wasn't sure when, but at some point, she had begun to absentmindedly trace circles on his arm in a way that caused his shirt to gather in small wrinkles underneath her touch. It wasn't something she consciously did, no, but it did tell him one thing: her guard had fallen, or shrunk at the very least. He wasn't sure why, but something about that small victory was comforting.

It was Draco's turn again. "Have you read that book I gave you? I know I only gave it to you this morning, but the way you're always nose-deep in a new story, I wouldn't be surprised."

She playfully hit his shoulder, ruffling his perfectly laundered cloak. "You say it like reading is a bad thing," she huffed. "But yes, I read it. Not today, but over summer. Why did you pick a Shakespeare story?"

"I thought that would have been obvious, of course." Hermione's look showed clearly that she didn't follow. "It's all about lies and deception, tricking the world to fulfill a purpose."

He seemed so pleased with himself for that careful, purposeful gift. She had to agree that sharing a book was a brilliant way to ease the school into their relationship. It was normal enough to be believable. It was real. It was brilliant.

"I suppose that makes sense," she agreed.

They continued to walk in silence. Hermione was thankful for the warmth Draco provided because she'd forgotten her cloak.

"What is your biggest regret?" she asked out of nowhere.

"I don't want to answer that, so I think this fun little game is over."

Instead of arguing or protesting, Hermione nodded and removed his arm from around her shoulder choosing to hold his hand instead. The sudden drop in warmth was uncomfortable, but this seemed more appropriate. This whole game, hanging out with Draco, his arm wrapped around her tightly… it was starting to feel normal. That would be enough for the night.

"Okay, then I suppose we should start heading back to Gryffindor tower. It is getting late anyway," she suggested, slowly coming to a stop in the second-floor Transfiguration corridor. Her voice shook slightly having been affected by the drafty halls of the ancient castle.

"All those brains in your head and you can't remember to bring a cloak?" chided Malfoy. Once again, his arrogance was overwhelming. Just when they were starting to have a normal conversation, he had to insult her.

She should have expected it, really. It had been far too long since his last mocking comment.

She simply rolled her eyes in his direction, wishing she had both hands free to rub her arms and warm them up. One would have to do. "I'm fine," she insisted. "Merlin forbid the Brightest Witch of Her Age isn't perfect. She forgot her cloak! Such a scandal!"

A chuckle threatened to escape Malfoy's lips, but he managed to hide it well. Only a faint smirk slipped through.

Yes, getting a rise out of Granger would always be fun.

Draco released her hand so he could untie his cloak. "Here, I know you're cold," he said, draping the warm garment around her shoulders. "I'll walk you back."

Like the night this whole thing started, when he offered his hand to help her up, this was another one of those actions that shocked her. She pulled the fabric around her, pleased with the warmth that spread throughout her body.

"Thank you," she said, and she meant it.

The stiffness of discomfort fell between them once again like a thick fog. He nodded his acknowledgement of her thanks before taking her hand again. She let him pull her forward gently as he led her back toward the Gryffindor Tower.

His cloak was heavier than her own, and warmer, too. It was much too big for her, feeling more like being wrapped in a blanket than wearing an extra jacket. But, surprisingly, that feature was kind of comforting.

It smelled like a forest of evergreens.

"You're slow Granger," called Draco, unceremoniously yanking her forward with a lurch.

"Hey! You'll have to call me Hermione now if we're dating and all, don't you think? And I'm not slow! I'm simply a foot shorter than you and I have little legs."

"You're still slow," he insisted.

Hermione let out a frustrated breath but hurried to quicken her pace, allowing her arm to hang comfortably rather than being pulled tight.

A comfortable silence carried them up the many stairs. The couple hovered awkwardly outside the portrait hole, neither of them sure how to conclude an evening stroll as a fake couple.

"I need to finish my translation for Runes tomorrow," Hermione started nervously. "Will you join me? After dinner again?"She looked down at her feet twiddling a lock of curls that had fallen from their place while waiting for a response.

She'd never read a book that told her how fake relationships were supposed to work. She was in uncharted territory and she couldn't help the uncomfortable, insecure feelings that came with it.

"Sure," he glanced around their immediate space and noticed that the Fat Lady's eyes were unabashedly staring at them. "That sounds nice," he added.

With a shy smile, a gentle squeeze of his hand, and an awkward glance back, Hermione disappeared into her common room, leaving Draco to walk back to the dungeons alone. Alone and cold, because he'd gotten halfway down the fifth-floor corridor before he realized Hermione had taken his cloak.

Ugh, the damn thing was going to smell like her, wasn't it?

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A/N: Again, thanks to my fantastic betas for helping me with this story. As always, any faults that remain are my own.

Disclaimer: All publically recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of J.K. Rowling.

Many thanks to anyone who takes the time to read this story, OxfordElise