Chapter Fourteen: Green

Draco was awoken the next morning by the loud, shuffling sounds of his inconsiderate roommates. He'd left his bed curtains open the night before, not particularly caring to exert the extra effort that pulling them shut would have been. And though the fault may partially be accredited to his own laziness, he was still rather annoyed.

Not committing to becoming a full participant in the day yet, he opened his right eye just wide enough to take in the scene of the room.

Goyle was currently upturning his entire trunk in an attempt to find a shoe, sending explicatives flying with every passing minute. Theo was tying and retying and retying his tie as his forehead crinkled and he attempted to chew off his bottom lip. Blaise was the worst though, the loudest. He was singing a rather annoying song about Theo and Daphne (who were sitting in a tree for some reason) from the shower.

The blonde rolled over, burying his head in his pillow to muffle the noises. He wasn't tired, actually. He felt more well-rested than he had in weeks. Other than the stiffness in his back and an ache from his neck from sleeping so long in that mahogany chair, he felt great.

Draco was simply not a morning person. Besides that, Blaise's idiotic singing would be enough to drive him into his pillow at any point in the day.

The pillow wasn't working. He groaned.

"Finally," called Goyle's loud voice, looking over his shoulder. "He's awake!"

A scowl took over Draco's face. "No thanks to you idiots," he grumbled. Blaise's laugh floated through the room causing Draco's annoyance to deepen.

"Would it have killed you to cast a silencing charm?" he asked.

Goyle smirked, "Well, no, I suppose we could have, but then we wouldn't have the pleasure of pissing you off."

Draco threw the unhelpful pillow across the room where it collided with Goyle's ugly face. The oafish boy grunted at the impact, but finally had found that left shoe. He hastened to put it on.

On the other side of the room, Theo was now working on a different tie altogether, this one a gunmetal gray instead of his usual black. He was nervous and muttering nonsensically under his breath.

Right, thought Draco, remembering. Hogsmeade today.

Theo had entertained a crush on Daphne Greengrass since third year and finally, after years spent becoming the witch's best friend, the idiot had worked up the courage to ask her out. To everyone's great surprise, the pretty witch had happily agreed. Draco knew that in Theo's eyes, their date in Hogsmeade that day would be the pivotal moment in his life. Can he be smooth, attentive, and funny enough to keep his dream girl entertained? Or, would he be the typical, floundering, nervous prick he usually was and ruin his chances? Would a more romantic relationship befit the Pureblood pair? Or would friendship be all they are destined for?

Or worse, would this date- tea and scones and sweets at the awful Madam Puddifoot's Tea Shop- ruin the close friendship they'd formed?

Draco found great humor in watching his roommate squirm with stress. Poor bloke had no idea how to interact with ladies.

"If you don't pull yourself together soon, mate, you'll be late, and then you'll never stand a chance with her," teased Draco after sitting up on the edge of his bed and finding the clock nearing nine.

Theo glanced at the clock, too, his nerves instantly kicking into hyperdrive. Draco smiled.

Some students, like each of his roommates, preferred to go early in the morning and stay in the village all day. That wasn't really Draco's preference. He'd been through similar wizarding villages far too often to find the little street of Hogsmeade to be all that extraordinary. Thankfully, that was alright with Hermione. The two of them had decided to do lunch, and spend time together until Ginny finished a date of tea with Dean Thomas. Then, Draco would be free to go back to the castle while the girls went shopping.

He smiled to himself as he thought about the day. Or rather, the date.

If anyone asked, Draco would definitely say that he was excited about an afternoon with Hermione outside of the castle, and not only because he was her fake boyfriend and that's what a good boyfriend would say.

Everything had been so focused and planned the last few weeks. It was lunches. It was classes. It was homework in the library until the cabinet in the Room of Hidden Things. It was the occasional walk around the castle, or break on their bench, but for as much time he was spending with Hermione Granger, he really hadn't done much hanging out with her.

Sure, they were together almost constantly, and he enjoyed whenever she was around no matter what they were doing, but he still was excited to be around her without the weight of school or the task pressing down on them.

Like that very first night when he ran into her in the kitchens and listened to her rant as they walked throughout the empty castle halls, he knew an afternoon spent with Granger would be exactly what he needed after a week of vanishing cabinet stress.

It would be fun, after all. Hogsmeade, holding hands, and showing her off. He'd probably get to kiss her, too.

Blaise returned to their dorm room with a white towel wrapped around his waist tightly, a smug look on his face. "You know all about being late, don't you Draco?" He smirked as he started on dressing himself. "You came back pretty late last night," he remarked with a foolish confidence. "Or maybe, you prefer to say early this morning. By my watch, it was almost five by the time you got in."

"Since when are you my keeper, Zabini?" the blonde snarled.

He didn't think anyone noticed when he came in after walking Hermione back to Gryffindor tower. No one had stirred, anyway. But obviously, Blaise had noticed. Not that it really mattered, though.

Blaise just radiated more of his annoying confidence. "Let me guess," he smirked. "You were with Hermione?"

The way he referred to her by her given name made Draco's jaw tighten unconsciously. Blaise noticed. Draco just ignored the comment, preferring not to get into this particular argument so early in the morning. He was in a relatively good mood considering he'd been woken up so rudely. There was no point in ruining it by giving into Blaise's provocations.

Taking pity on Theo, Draco set to work on the gunmetal tie, tying it perfectly. The nervous roommate offered a thankful and silent smile. Draco offered an encouraging one back.

"You're in a good mood today," Goyle commented, reaching for his coat.

"I think that means I was right," Blaise boasted, buttoning the last button on his black shirt.

The blonde took a breath, schooling his features to remain neutral. Just ignore him, he repeated in his mind. Just ignore him.

He focused his eyes on Theo in front of him. "You'll do fine, mate," Draco encouraged. "She likes you enough to say yes already."

Theo nodded but didn't really seem to have heard.

"I was definitely right," Smirked Blaise, firing a wink at Goyle who chuckled, shaking his head as he looked at his shoes.

Finally relenting to his annoyance, Draco narrowed his eyes at the dark Italian. "Careful, Zabini," he warned.

"What? You can't really be upset with me," Blaise reasoned. " You're the one that came back so late. " The pompous boy smirked, donning his coat.

"We were brainstorming what might have been keeping you," Goyle chimed in leaning against his bedpost. "By three, we had lots of ideas."

All of Draco's energy was being used to maintain a mask of indifference.

"With the way Hermione had been looking lately, we assumed you two were having a major row," explained Blaise. "But then, we thought about it."

Goyle nodded at the floor. Blaise continued. "You wouldn't last a week of Hermione's wrath. She's a feisty one," the Italian smirked, making Draco want to be sick. "She'd eat your pathetic ego alive."

"Granger and I are great," the blonde promised coolly, beginning to dress with a careful quickness. His annoyance was growing with every word that poured out of Blaise's arrogant mouth and he wanted to leave.

"Well," Blaise taunted, "that was only our first idea. Like we said, we had many different ideas." He shrugged in a way that told Draco that he felt like the smartest guy in the room.

Blaise was wrong, of course. If he had any sort of intelligence, he would shut up immediately.

To Draco's dismay, he didn't.

"We thought that if you two weren't fighting, you must be shagging like bunnies."

Draco's jaw clenched at the brashness.

"Or," the asshole drawled, continuing, "maybe it was both?"

The whole dormitory lit up with a blue light as Blaise was sent flying. Draco's furious knockback jinx had the offending friend crashing painfully into his desk on the other end of the room. Blaise's lower back had collided with the edge of the wooden desk so hard, he knew with certainty that a harsh bruise was forming already.

"It appears you have underestimated me, Zabini," seethed Draco with white-hot anger. "I've warned you once already; I do not want to hear you say another word about Hermione."

Crabbe, who had woken up at the loud bang that had rung throughout the dorm with Draco's jinx, was staring uncomfortably at the unnatural heap of Blaise's body parts. Blaise was slowly trying to sit himself up on the floor, but each movement ached and each throb inside his head was intense.

Draco took a step toward the end of his own bed, toward the exit. "Let this be another warning," he threatened. "Next time, you best hope Madam Pomfrey has room for you in the hospital wing. I won't be so gentle."

Grabbing his cloak roughly from the end of his bed, Draco fired a stinging jinx over his shoulder for good measure, hitting his mark perfectly.

And with that, Draco grabbed his broom and a cloak, and swept purposefully from the dungeons.

When noon came around, Draco found Hermione waiting for him just outside her portrait hole, as usual. She wore a dark pair of muggle jeans that made her legs look a mile long, a simple grey sweater, and a long coat that looked warm. The outfit made her look beautiful in the most simple way. Her hair was tied back in a french twist, probably done with Ginny's help, and her neck was covered with none other than Draco's Slytherin scarf.

He'd given it to her weeks ago for Quidditch matches, but he hadn't seen her wear it yet.

Scarves made a statement at Hogwarts. They not only showed house support, but they were a symbol of a serious relationship. Wearing your significant other's scarf said more than, "I'm taken," it was almost a promise, a warning. Hermione wearing Draco's scarf said, "I'm Draco's. Don't mess with me. Don't mess with him. We've gotten serious."

He didn't expect to feel the warmth that spread through his body just knowing that she was comfortable making that claim. She was his.

Not really, of course. This is all an act.

He'd have to keep his thoughts in check.

The couple wandered in and out of shops collecting a few things they needed along the way. Draco picked up some potions ingredients at the apothecary and Hermione purchased a bottle of new ink at Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop.

They held hands the entire afternoon, rarely breaking the contact. Draco struggled to hold back a laugh when they passed a panicked looking Theo who was following the beautiful Daphne into Madam Puddifoot's.

Noticing the half-hidden mirth in his eyes, Hermione silently asked for an explanation. Draco wrapped his arm around her shoulders bringing her closer so he could explain Theo's behaviour in a whisper. She laughed along with him once Theo was out of sight, no doubt inside the perfume-filled tea shop.

They decided to have lunch at the Three Broomsticks, much to Draco's concern. He hadn't seen Rosmerta since he Imperiused her and he wasn't sure how being around her now would affect the curse. His heart rate was accelerating as they approached the pub, Hermione, who seemed to notice but politely didn't ask questions, squeezed his hand.

Merlin, he felt awful for lying to her like this. She didn't deserve to be dragged along in such ways, but what else was he supposed to do? It's not like he could just skip out on the Dark Lord's plan for him. He drove the thoughts from his mind. He'd have to keep his composure. He'd have to keep thoughts of his business with the Dark Lord and his business with Hermione separate. Well, on the Dumbledore task at least.

He released her hand to open the door for them both, allowing her to walk through first. She settled on a seat near the window, draping her coat over the back of her chair and smiling at a few friends that were scattered around the populated pub. She unwrapped the scarf but kept it draped lazily over her shoulders so everyone could still see that Gryffindor's Princess wore green and silver today.

Draco, absentmindedly massaging an uncomfortable itch on his left forearm, joined her, removing his cloak and draping it over his chair, too.

Madam Rosmerta's eyes met his from across the room. She stared at him for a fraction longer than she would any other customer before making her way over to their table. Her eyes were so slightly glazed. When she looked at Draco, she appeared to see right through him.

Madam Rosmerta didn't notice a thing.

To Draco's great relief, the bar maiden took their orders and returned quickly with their drinks.

Harry, Ron, Neville, and Seamus were only a few tables away. Ron fired a glare at Hermione every few minutes while Harry looked pained by how hard he was trying not to look over at the couple at all.

"What's their deal?" Draco asked.

"Well, like you said last night, we'd be confirming certain rumors with how late we were out together. I didn't think Ron was awake when I got back to my room, but I guess he heard me come in. He's a little bitter about it I guess. And I'm sure Harry is just uncomfortable with the situation and trying to ignore it. He doesn't mind that we're dating, but this… new information is hard for him to swallow," explained Hermione with a blush.

"Weasley's a hypocrite."

"Yes, well, he's always been quick to anger. He is the same with Ginny and Dean. I've learned to ignore it."

He looked at her, really looked at her, not through her or past her. Her kindness baffled him. How she could look past such monstrous faults in her friends truly amazed him. She was strong and opinionated, but she carried herself with incredible grace. She wouldn't outwardly show how much they were hurting her.

Draco slid his tongue over his lips, marveling at how dry they were. He eyed a curl that fell delicately against Hermione's cheek, pausing, and considered for a moment how smooth the skin of her cheek would feel beneath his fingers if he were to just reach out; to twine the loose curl gently around his finger; to reverently brush it away.

Before his body was able to put these thoughts in action, Hermione reached up with her own hand to gently push the ringlet out of her eyes. She tucked it behind her ear only for it to fall loose again. She made a second unsuccessful attempt as he watched the stray curl fall toward the table once again.

Draco, impatient and overwhelmed by new emotions, reached out tenderly, twisting the caramel curl around his finger before tucking it back into her twist.

It stayed.

Her cheeks, brightening with soft pink color, were softer than he imagined.

And he'd only stolen the briefest touch.

She smiled and looked up to meet his eyes, a glowing silver again, "Thank you, Draco. My hair can be such a pain sometimes. It took Ginny a half hour and I can't help but ruin it."

"You look stunning," he answered automatically. And he meant it.

The complement and the gesture made her blush and sent that butterfly feeling back into her stomach. She smiled at him and he smiled back, one that looked real. She fiddled with the ends of his scarf, reminding herself that this was all just for show. He was simply getting better at acting.

Not long after lunch, Hermione walked Draco back to the edge of Hogsmeade. To his great annoyance, there hadn't been a great moment to kiss her at any point of their Hogsmeade trip, but he took the opportunity of bidding each other goodbye as his chance.

Again, his arm naturally found her waist, his other hand gently easing her chin to his height. He smiled and took her lips in his. It was simple, and they didn't deepen it like they had in the great hall for others to see. None of the students around them paid them any mind, but this kiss was for him. Even if she didn't, couldn't, wouldn't know it.

With a smile and wave, Hermione turned and walked back to the village, off to find her friends. Draco couldn't help but watch as she walked away. There wasn't a skip in her step, nor a sway in her hips that would draw any teenage boy's attention, but with every few steps, a breeze would blow past her sending the scarf, in all it's green and silver glory, to sway where he could see it.

He liked seeing his colors on her.

Draco began his walk back to the castle, cursing himself for these thoughts. The day had felt so comfortable. It had been too easy to pretend, to hold her hand, to whisper in her ear. Being with her had felt like the most natural thing in the world, as though he belonged by her side.

Draco was in deep trouble, and he knew it.

Harry saw the scowl on Ron's face deepen (somehow), as he watched Hermione lean into Malfoy, the Slytherin's arm draping posessively across her shoulder as they left the Three Broomsticks together.

Ron raised his amber-coloured drink to his lips and took a long swill.

Subtlety wasn't exactly one of Ron's prominent qualities.

But jealousy was. Jealousy definitely was.

Harry followed his friend's gaze to catch the familiar, pretty profile of Hermione laughing. Malfoy had a bright, triumphant smile that lit up his his whole body, as if making her laugh had been one of the most impressive feats he had ever accomplished.

Even through the dull screen provided by the dusty windows of the pub, Harry could see that the couple was happy. The sheer elatedness that they currently personified made Harry want to smile, too.

But Ron's scowl now looked painful.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, though he certainly knew the answer already. Harry wasn't usually observant, but he knew Ron better than anyone. It seemed that every time Ron saw Hermione with Malfoy, Ron's jaw would tighten and one of his veins would become creepily prominent on his neck.

Ron glanced over. Ahh, yes, Harry thought, the vein was definitely there.

"Nothing," Ron grumbled, reaching for his butterbeer again.

"It isn't nothing, Ron," argued Harry, his green eyes narrowing. "Why don't you just tell me?"

"Since you already seem to know so much about everything going on in my mind, why don't you tell me, Harry?"

They glared at each other for quite some time, long enough for Seamus and Neville to engage themselves in an animated conversation about wizarding history. Harry wondered why they had chosen a topic so dull as their eavesdropping cover. Still, Harry appreciated the gesture.

Harry relented. "I think you miss Hermione," he declared with confidence. "Actually, I know you do. You've always transformed into this uncaring, sullen prat every time you two fight. Or did you forget I've been a part of all of those?"

Ron's mouth opened as if to defend himself, but Harry didn't allow him to get anything out.

"It's worse this time, though." Harry's chin lifted slightly, challenging. "This time, you're messier. Your emotions bounce all over the place and I think I know why. I think you're conflicted. You want to be mad at her, you want to shut her out, but pushing her away just pushes her closer to Malfoy, and that upsets you more. You'll lash out in one minute and then protect her in the next."

Briefly, Ron's eyes widened, before they turned dark. He crossed his arms over his chest. "Hermione and I fight all the time. We fight, we stay away for a while, we forget about the stupid fight, and then we make up. That's how we work," he explained.

"But is this really staying away? Physically, maybe, but you sure are spending an awful lot of time and energy worrying about her."

Ron shrugged sourly, briefly meeting Harry's eyes with a flicker of a glare. "That's Malfoy she's with," he stated. "Of course I'm worried."

Harry shrugged, too, not wanting his next words to come off as too much of a judgement. "I know it's Malfoy, but Hermione is capable of taking care of herself. Besides, I just think there may be better ways to spend your time."

"No," warned Ron fiercely. "If you're about to turn our one day off from practice into another one of your Quidditch Captain motivational speeches, I'll quit."

"I wasn't going to say Quidditch," defended Harry, his eyes rolling.

"What then?"

"I don't know, maybe your girlfriend?" Harry quipped.

The redhead's scowl immediately returned to his face. "Oh, don't even," he warned. "I pay plenty of attention to Lavender. She doesn't seem to have a problem."

Harry scoffed into his mostly-empty butterbeer. "Godric knows why," he murmured.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

Ugh, Harry thought. He really hadn't been in the mood for dealing with Ron in this agitated state. But, he supposed, it was his duty as Ron's best friend.

"Aren't you supposed to be with her right now? On a date?"

Ron looked over at the watch on Seamus' wrist and stiffened momentarily before hunching over his almost-empty drink. His fingers drummed a beat on the glass of his mug, and it was clear that meeting Harry's eyes had become a difficult task.

"I thought you were supposed to meet her at Madam Puddifoot's ten minutes ago," Harry tried again.

Ron's anxious behaviours stilled, but his eyes were wide and focused somewhere behind Harry's head. "Oh, right," Ron said with fake surprise. His acting skills did not deserve the slightest bit of praise. "I guess time must have slipped by me," he explained with a shrug.

But still, Ron didn't get up to actually go meet her.

Instead, Neville and Seamus offered to get another round of butterbeers for the table, another excuse.

But at least this one offered them real privacy.

"This isn't fair, Ron," admonished Harry once the other boys were out of earshot. "Do you think Lavender deserves to be treated like this?"

Silence fell as Ron ran both hands through his thick hair and then down his face. He chose not to respond, but this was answer enough.

"Then go see her, Ron," urged Harry, gesturing to the door incredulously.

"I don't know, Harry, I- I can't."

"And why not?" Harry asked.

"I don't know, I just- I don't really want to spend time with her right now, especially there of all places. I hate Madam Puddifoot's. It's so lovey and obnoxious and- I'm already in a pretty shitty mood-"

"I hadn't noticed," Harry said snarkily, earning himself a glare.

Ron sighed, his hands finding his red head of messiness once again. "What do I do mate?" he finally looked at Harry. "What the hell am I supposed to do? I've fucked everything up so much but I just keep pushing because I don't know what else to do and…"

The sentence hung, unfinished. The guilt that weighed in Ron's blue eyes left him looking pained. "I don't know how to fix it. I don't know where to go from here," he continued in a quieter voice.

Harry let out a long sigh. "Look, Ron, I just think you need to sort out your priorities a bit. You clearly need to fix things with Hermione, preferably before you end up doing something completely stupid, and it isn't right to treat Lavender like this, so you need to do something about her, too," said Harry. "Do you even like her?"

Ron took another long drink from his cup, and soon, the drink was gone.

"Hermione, or Lavender?"

Well, Harry supposed that was part of the problem.

"Lavender," Harry clarified, though he shouldn't have had to.

"I do like Lavender," he stated after an almost-too-long-hesitation. "She's cute. She definitely likes me," he shrugged. "And she is very upfront about everything, which makes my life so much easier. Hermione hides things too well, and I'm always expected to figure it out. Lavender, though, will just tell me. It was really nice… at first, I guess."

"What do you mean, at first?"

Well, I thought it was nice to not have to wonder how a witch was feeling. It was a weird type of relaxing," he tried to explain. "I never had to think. After spending so much time around Hermione, I think I needed the break. But," he trailed off searching for the words. "I think now I've learned that not thinking gets unbelievably boring. And my mind starts to wander..." He trailed off again, glancing out the window. The place he chose to look was very close to where Hermione had previously been.

"I still like Lavender," Ron reassured quietly. "I just- I think I've realized that I still like Hermione, too. I know that's a shitty thing to say, and trust me, I wish didn't. Everything would be so much easier if I never fell for Hermione or if I never kissed Lavender back. But for now, I'm just confused and- and maybe I should try to talk to her."

Harry smirked, "Hermione, or Lavender?"

Ron shrugged again. "Both, don't you think?"

Harry nodded again, thankful that this conversation seemed to be reaching its end and everyone still had ten fingers.

Harry's mind wandered back to Hermione, and by the sad look in Ron's eyes, Harry thought his probably had, too.

"I think she's moved on though," Harry voiced the thought that they both had.

"It's Malfoy, Harry. She can't really be interested in that ferret, can she?"

"You saw that smile on her face," said Harry. "It seems like she likes him a lot, actually." The new knowledge of Hermione's late, late, later nights flowed through both of their minds, but neither of them could bring it up.

Again, Ron's gaze found the place outside the window where Hermione had last been, her petite frame curled cozily into the ferret's shoulder, her eyes fixed on him, his scarf draped around her neck for all to see… and Harry was right. That smile didn't leave much room for interpretation.

The late nights didn't help either.

Ron knew that Malfoy must mean something to her if she was willing to give him… herself.

He physically drooped at the thought, sinking into the seat as if he wanted to be swallowed by it.

Neville set the new drink down in front of Ron, and he quickly took it up in his hands, taking a sip.

"I think you need to accept it, mate," Harry was saying. "She's happy with him. You need to accept that and be okay with just being her friend."

At that point, Ron lifted his drink and finished it in one long, unnecessary swill. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, turning to face Harry. "Easier said than done," he said.

The bell at the entrance of the bar chimed with the entrance of Dean Thomas. Harry watched the fiery red hair of Ginny bounce away outside, Hermione following closely behind.

Trust me, I know, Harry wanted to add. Dean took a seat beside them, and Harry held back the bitter green feelings that welled up in him.

He definitely knew.

"Sometimes he's so clingy though, I can't stand it," roared Ginny from the other side of the dressing room divider.

"How do you mean?" asked Hermione as she shimmied into the next cocktail dress, this one a deep midnight blue.

Ginny stepped out of her dressing room into the showroom of Gladrags Wizardwear and looked herself over in the mirror with a highly critical eye. No, the gold dress was far too shiny for Slughorn's party, it made her look like a bauble.

Hermione stepped out of the dressing room to join her friend, taking her own turn in front of the trifold mirror.

"I just mean he's always got to be right around me. I feel like I can never escape him. He met me after class one day and I'd stopped at the ladies and he stood right outside. I only had ten minutes to get to my next class anyway, there was no need for him to wait for me," explained Ginny, causing Hermione to laugh.

"That dress is a little too dark for a Holiday, don't you think? You could be going to a funeral in that," the bold witch added.

They both returned to their dressing rooms to try on the next.

"On top of all that," Ginny continued her rant, "Harry brought Dean onto the quidditch team so even more of my time is in his annoying presence."

"Wouldn't most girls like to be around their boyfriend as much as possible?" Hermione asked.

Ginny's next dress was light blue with little touches of silver lace around the edges. Her immediate reaction was that it was too sweet for her, but she'd show Hermione anyway. She entered the showroom again.

"Sure, Hermione most girlfriends enjoy being around their man, and I do, too. That's not what I meant. Just… don't you sometimes just need to be away from Malfoy?"

Well, no, not really, she thought.

She never minded having him around. He was actually rather comforting a lot of the time. She had to remind herself that her relationship wasn't a real one like Ginny's, even if it felt like it sometimes.

A lot of the time.

She huffed, color rushing to her cheeks, before meeting Ginny once again.

"What's gotten into you?" gaped Ginny.

"What are you talking about?"

"You're blushing!" she shrieked. "Either you find me ravishingly attractive in this cute baby blue dress, or you love Draco Malfoy."

"What on earth are you talking about?" Hermione asked again, this time more frantically as even more color filled her cheeks.

"Hermione, you're a tomato just thinking about him. Merlin, you must really, really like him! I've never seen you react like that and we've discussed boys plenty of times."

Ginny sat on a nearby lounge seat, but her body still faced her best friend.

To escape the scrutiny of Ginny's relentless gaze, Hermine moved to stand in front of the mirror. She thought that if she pretended to be busy with her dress, Ginny might forget about the hanging question.

But Hermione didn't expect for the dress to actually render her speechless, completely unable to respond even if she did know what to say.

She picked up the skirt of her dress and let the fabric gently cascade back to the floor. The silver fabric shimmered in the movement, reminding her of the moon shimmering on the black lake, of Slytherin banners swaying in the Great Hall, of Draco's eyes just after he kisses her.

She knew then, in an instant, that she would be wearing this dress to the party.

The top was fitted with a shiny material that was equally feminine and strong, but the bottom flowed with weightless layers. The skirt, with its mixture of silvers and grays mingling effortlessly like clouds as they pass by, felt carefree and almost dangerous.

Hermione shifted her weight from one foot to the other and the dress swayed at the movement. Her mind kept coming back to Draco's eyes and she didn't want to look away.

Ginny crossed her arms, growing tired of waiting. Four minutes had passed and Hermione still hadn't spoken up. Ginny vacated the chair and moved right between Hermione and the mirror, blocking her view of the dress.

Hermione sighed and met Ginny's eyes. "I suppose, yes. I do have feelings for Draco."

"I'd hope so, you've been dating two months," Ginny sneered sarcastically. "And you wore his scarf today– don't think that went unnoticed... You know what I mean, Hermione. Do you love him?"

Too much weight was carried in that last question. Do you love him? Yes or no. All or nothing. Black and white. But was that really how love worked? Did it hit you all at once, or does it take time to float in and set its footing in your heart?

She felt suffocated, attacked by the question, trapped by the rules of their fake relationship.

She wasn't supposed to have feelings for him at all. And what's worse, she felt ridiculous for even taking the time to contemplate Ginny's question. Why did she hesitate? Could she possibly consider feeling such an emotion toward Malfoy?

Ginny's gaze was still fixed, undetecting Hermione's hurricane of thoughts. She'd have to say something, Ginny was too stubborn.

"I'm not sure I know what love feels like, but I think I have read enough books to know that it would be something spectacular."

"Maybe soon then," Ginny offered pleasantly, her vibe reminding the brunette of Luna.

"That dress is too sweet for you, Ginny. No lace."

"I think I'm going with that first blue one, then. But you should get this dress," she agreed, pulling at the chiffon on Hermione's skirt sending it floating like fresh silvery snow back to its place on her hips.

"I think I will."

"Draco won't be able to keep his hands off of you," smirked Ginny as she retreated back into the dressing room, leaving Hermione and her already pink cheeks to grow even darker.

She smiled.

If this were a different life, she wouldn't want him to.

.

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A/N: Hi everyone! Thank you for being patient with this later-in-the-evening update tonight. I hope the longer length (and hopefully the content) is enough to ensure you aren't too upset with me. So much happened in this chapter, I want to know: What was your favourite part?

Did you catch Protective Draco? And what do you think about the dress colour I went with? Thanks to everyone who sent in their suggestions!

Everyone should send happy thoughts to my Beta, Rachelletwin2, because she was so incredibly helpful, encouraging, and reliable as I developed this chapter. She has all of my thanks for everything she does!

Follow me on Tumblr at OxfordElise for chapter updates, previews, or general discussions! :) I'm starting a few spin-off one-shots for the characters in this story! Check in Wednesday or Thursday for the first one! You won't want to miss it!

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