The contents of the box had been laid out on the surface of the coffee table of the common room in the Head's Tower. Draco sat on the couch, his chin resting in his hands as he stared at the colourful collection of Muggle stuff in front of him.

His first reaction had been that Granger was out of her mind if she thought he would like this stupid ensemble of rubbish, but then he started to recognise each of the individual things and it had hit him: Granger had put together a package of things he had liked about his obligatory visit to the Muggle world and her family.

He recognised the strange red cans that he was sure contained that soft drink that he had liked, and there was a transparent bag with the popped corn. Sweet, because while he had gradually lost his sweet tooth as he got older, the salty corn just wasn't nearly as tasty. Of course, it wouldn't be a Granger-approved package without at least one book, so naturally, there was a book in there as well.

Muggle books looked much like their Wizarding counterparts, yet they were entirely different. The cover was smooth, thin and shiny, much like the pages inside. The book was quite large but not nearly as thick as the volumes of this size usually were in the Hogwarts library, meaning it weighed a great deal less than he was used to.

The pages inside showed beautiful images and photographs, brighter and more colourful than Draco had ever seen. Undeniably the most interesting thing about the book was the fact that all of the images were motionless, and somehow that made them even prettier because now he could study them without being distracted.

According to the cover, the book documented the 'making of' of the movie he and Granger had seen together. Once he started browsing through, he discovered that she had stuck little squared yellow notes on several pages, each covered with handwritten explanations of some of the Muggle terms that were used in the books that he hadn't yet discussed in his Muggle Studies classes.

Draco sank back against the cushions of the couch and ran a hand over his face. It was undeniable that Granger's little package was incredibly thoughtful. She had clearly put a lot of thought and effort into it, and he realised that she had opted for an ensemble of Muggle things because those were some of the very few things he couldn't obtain himself. He couldn't even get himself to make fun of the whole thing. It was… sweet.

A heavy feeling had settled in his stomach, and while he had been trying to identify it for the better part of an hour, Draco was still unsure of its meaning. As he stared unseeing at the colourful book on the coffee table, comprehension slowly but surely washed over him and he realised that his argument with Granger didn't leave him quite as unaffected as it would have before.

All his earlier arguments with Granger this year had left him with an anxious feeling that was really just worry for his own skin and how it would affect his Head Boy position. This time, it was different. He wasn't too concerned with the official stuff; what bothered him was that Granger had been willing to be vulnerable—to tell him exactly what she was feeling and why, and Draco realised that he was starting to genuinely feel bad that he had been the one to tip her over the emotional edge.

Getting to his feet, Draco drew his wand and sent everything back into the box before shrinking it to a small size that could fit in the pocket of his trousers. It was time he found Granger for a long overdue talk.

He exited the Head's Tower and absentmindedly moved through the corridors, down the numerous staircases and eventually into the Entrance Hall. He halted at the foot of the stairs and stared at the spot near the entrance of the Great Hall where he and Granger had argued earlier that afternoon.

It bothered him that he couldn't get it out of his mind, even though it was not very surprising. Although she was infinitely skilled at getting under his skin, Granger had proven to be a positive influence on him these past few months. He felt like a better person around her, and if he dug deep within himself he had to admit that her actions affected him. It had been subconscious for a long time, and then when it had begun to surface he had been in denial about it. He had tried to convince himself that he was just playing his part, that it was all going according to his plan, but he had now finally realised he was lying to himself.

Draco took a deep breath and made his way into the Great Hall, moving straight toward the unmistakable red-haired girl that sat at the Gryffindor table with a group of friends. He needed to find Granger; he needed to see if talking to her would get rid of this uncomfortable tension in his stomach.

"Weasley," he moodily announced his arrival as he halted at the table. "Where is Granger?"

The sixth-year slowly turned her head and glanced at him over her shoulder, a deep frown on her brows. "How would I know? You were just with her!"

"Yes, and now I'm not," he snapped. The foulness of his impatience was completely unreasonable—he was well aware of it—but he was in no mood to be reminded of his tactless behaviour toward Granger by a third party. "Do you know where I might find her or not?"

Ginny Weasley's ears turned a little red and she got to her feet, glaring up at him in rapid-developing anger, clearly drawing conclusions. "What did you do now, Malfoy?"

Even though she was a great deal shorter than him, Draco had to admit that she gave off a certain energy that caused him to begrudgingly have a certain amount of respect for her. She did not stand for being spoken to this way, something she made abundantly clear simply by the way she defiantly raised her chin. He knew that she could hex him across the Hall without too much effort if she really wanted to, and he wasn't going to let her find an excuse to humiliate him outside of the Quidditch Pitch, too.

"I think I just saw her make her way down to Hagrid's," a calm voice spoke from behind him, and Weasley redirected her glare to a point over his left shoulder.

Thomas appeared into view, subtly trying to calm Weasley down as he came to a halt next to her. She took a deep breath before settling her gaze on him again, now almost completely void of its earlier passionate anger. "If you've upset her again, Malfoy," she said quietly, "just know that you and I will have a problem."

"I think Granger is more than capable of fighting her own battles, you meddlesome wench," Draco muttered through his teeth with a final glare at Weasley before turning toward Dean Thomas. "Thank you," he added softly, trying to sound sincere, and then he spun around and marched away from the Gryffindor table.

He had hoped he would be able to find Granger before she made it to the half-giant's pitiful excuse for a house, but as he made his way over the school grounds, searching for that head of bushy curls, he came to the displeasing conclusion that she had already made it down there and that he had to begin mental preparations to interact with that large oaf.

When he finally made it down to the hut, Draco took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He could do this. He could do this. He rounded the corner and froze on the spot. He had expected them to be inside, but there they were; the half-giant shuffling around his vegetable patch and Granger a few feet removed from him, seated on the ground against the wooden fence around the perimeter. Next to her lay an oversized, drooling boarhound dog, his large head resting in her lap.

Draco slowly took in the scene before him before finally settling his gaze on Granger's face. Even from a distance, he could clearly see that her eyes were red and her cheeks stained with tears. Instead of feeling better, the heavy tension in his stomach only worsened at the sight of her distress—the distress he begrudgingly felt responsible for.

He took a deep breath and moved forward until he was in the half-giant's line of vision. The enormous idiot halted his movements and straightened up to his full and admittedly intimidating height.

"Anythin' we can help yeh with?" he grumbled as he narrowed his dark eyes, clearly unhappy with Draco's arrival. From the corner of his eye, he saw Granger's head snap up, her eyes widening in what he assumed was surprise for seeing him down here.

Clearing his throat, he forced himself to maintain eye contact with the half-giant, even though it crooked his neck in a rather uncomfortable angle. "I was hoping to be able to have a word with Granger."

"Well, isn't tha' exactly wha' got yeh into this mess in ter firs' place?"

Draco inhaled sharply and mentally counted to ten, briefly closing his eyes as he took the time. "Yes," he managed through clenched teeth. "And I would like to try to rectify that."

The large oaf made a sound that sounded suspiciously like a scoff, and Draco had to try with all his might to stop himself from sending him a hateful glare. He turned around and sent a questioning glance at Granger, and only after she had given him an infinitesimal nod did he turn back to face Draco.

"Alrigh'," he grumbled with clear reluctance. "I'll be steppin' inside my house ter make a cuppa, but I'm warning yeh. If yeh make Hermione cry more than yeh already have, I'll be makin' ter rest of yer Hogwarts life very unpleasan'."

He roughly set his tools aside and stomped away, but not before sending him a rather threatening look. Draco waited until he had disappeared into the hut and the door was closed before he carefully made his way over to Granger.

Draco hesitated a brief moment when he reached her, seeing her stare up at him with a lot of anger in her eyes, but then he sighed and shoved his pride out the figurative window. He moved toward the wooden fence, bent his knees and crouched down before sitting down in the dirt next to her. It was just too easy to imagine his parents being witness to this moment; how they would scold him for voluntarily seeking out a Mudblood and for sitting down in the dirt like some peasant.

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Granger's flat voice sounded from beside him. "Figured you needed to be seen apologising to me so our public argument won't affect your Head Boy position?"

Draco couldn't fight back a wince; he couldn't pretend that her words didn't sting. He knew he didn't exactly have a warm personality, but the fact that she apparently still thought so lowly of him only clenched up his stomach more than it already was, and he was pretty sure he had never before felt so uncomfortable and overcome with what he could only conclude was remorse. He didn't want her thinking of him this way… Not after all that had happened this year, not after she had been the only person to offer him any comfort.

"Granger, I want to say I'm sorry for before," he began, turning his head to look at her. She didn't return his gaze, instead keeping her eyes down, focused on the large dog's head in her lap. "And I'm not doing this because of my Head Boy title. I'm doing this because…" he trailed off and took another deep breath, trying to come up with a way to describe his inner turmoil without appearing weak. "I can't do this anymore, Granger. I can't fight with you anymore," he continued softly after a brief silence."

She kept quiet beside him, slowly petting the dog's head in her lap and never looking up to meet his eyes. The prolonged silence did nothing to soothe his anxiety—if anything, this only made it worse. Just as he impatiently opened his mouth to appease the swirling nerves in his stomach, Granger let out a sigh.

"Didn't we already have this conversation before? Isn't that exactly what I said just a few months ago, right before the Christmas holidays?" She finally turned her head in his direction, and Draco was taken aback by the utter lack of emotion in her eyes. It had been quite a long time since Granger had treated him this coldly, and he was once again reminded of how unfamiliar he was with this side of her. He didn't like this side of her; at least he knew what he was up against when she was angry.

"I was mature enough to come to you to apologise for how unreasonable I had been acting," she continued, a bitter tone to her voice. "And all the while you just kept punishing me for being a human being with human emotions and human doubts. It's the most pathetic manipulation tactic—"

"I didn't mean to manipulate you," Draco snapped, cutting off her sentence. "I was ashamed—" he exhaled sharply through his nose as he forced himself to correct his own train of thought, "—am ashamed that I can't seem to convince myself that kissing some… some unworthy Mudblood—"

"Don't call me that!"

The dog let out a long whine at the sudden rise in volume. He jumped up and quickly moved away from Granger and in the direction of the shabby hut, where he lay down in front of the large door with his tail between his legs.

Draco only paid attention to him for a very brief moment. The harsh tone of Granger's voice sent a shiver down his spine and he stared at her with wide eyes. He had just been in the midst of a very difficult confession—to be interrupted like this had been the last thing he had expected. He recalled a statement from her from many, many months ago. I really couldn't care less about how often you throw the word 'Mudblood' at me. It won't hurt me, she had said. I know my worth.

He blinked his eyes at her, forcing himself to return to the present. "What?"

It was a pathetic response—he was well aware of that—but her spat left him a little bewildered. Hermione Granger hadn't felt bothered by that slur in a very long time, something she had shown him and every other Slytherin time and time again over the past few years; something she had even verbally confirmed at the beginning of this school year.

"How dare you still call me that?!" The glare she directed at him was very cold, but the sudden intensity of it left Draco feeling very surprised.

"I didn't mean to—"

"Then don't!" she snapped, interrupting him again. "It's not like you lack the eloquence; your vocabulary is usually colourful enough that you could have come up with a different word to describe how you feel!"

Draco blinked his eyes to force himself to think and come up with a way to explain his thought process, but then Granger moved to get to her feet, turning back to glare down at him once she stood next to him. He jumped to his feet as well—unwilling to have her tower over him—and ran his eyes over her face once he had straightened up. He didn't understand her response; she had been called a Mudblood numerous times over the past couple of years, and with the exception of the very first time, she had never given any of them the satisfaction of a visible reaction.

He locked eyes with her and continued his search for anything that might explain her outburst. For the first time since he had come down here, he saw something other than anger in there, and the longer he stared at her, the more it started to dawn on him.

Before this school year, they had never really interacted with each other, but ever since their forced partnership, they had spent rather a lot of time in each other's company, and inadvertently they had gotten used to each other, started to find comfort in each other, even. They had both been vulnerable in front of the other, and somewhere along the way, their mutual animosity had lessened to the point where they had formed a tentative friendship.

Draco had wondered from time to time how Granger could stay so calm and collected when being insulted by him and his fellow Slytherins, yet become so incredibly emotional when having another fight with Weaselbee, but eventually, he realised it made perfect sense. She cared about the Weasel for some reason, and what he thought of her was important to her, whereas none of the Slytherins—himself included—meant anything to her at all.

They didn't know each other; they certainly didn't mean anything to each other. Insults just weren't as effective when directed at someone one didn't have a personal relationship with.

But right now she was emotional, so he could only conclude that something had changed. She had admitted to liking the kiss they had shared; she had admitted that he had been right about her attitude toward him afterwards—had apologised for it, even.

He slowly took a step toward her, never breaking off eye contact. Granger lifted her chin as if to show off her confidence, but Draco did not miss the brief flicker of uncertainty in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he told her softly, and she blinked, clearly taken aback by his words. He remained silent for a moment, allowing her a second to let it sink in, and then he took another step closer to her. "Granger, I have no experience being nice; I wasn't raised to be nice. I don't know how to be friends, least of all with you."

He briefly hesitated before lifting his arm, slowly reaching out to her face to give her a chance to move, but she kept staring at him without backing away. He frowned as he lightly stroked the pad of his thumb over her cheek, brushing away a tear. Granger's eyes fluttered shut at his touch, and Draco suddenly felt inexplicably light-headed. "I know you feel this tension, too," he murmured. "You can deny it all you want; you know it's a lie."

"Malfoy… please stop touching me."

Her voice was barely a whisper, but Draco heard every word and immediately dropped his arm to his side. He inhaled sharply and she opened her eyes at the sound, her gaze once again guarded. "I told you this wasn't right," she continued quietly. "I told you I don't want to waste time on things that don't mean anything. It's just not worth it, no matter how nice it might have been to let go for a moment."

The words somehow stung, and Draco wondered why he felt so determined to prove her wrong; why he kept coming back just to be shot down again. "I don't believe you honestly think this is meaningless," he argued. "You can't expect me to believe you didn't feel anything."

"Why can't you just let this go!" she snapped, and a new wave of anger flashed through her eyes. "Don't you think I realise what this is? You're lonely and so am I, and we've been spending all this time together and it has given us this false sense of security, making us believe that there is something there. You just said it yourself! I'm just some unworthy Mudblood." Her voice cracked a little, and for the briefest moment, Draco saw sadness in her eyes before she guarded her gaze again. "I won't let you use me like this," she continued in a softer volume, though it maintained its harsh tone.

Draco knitted his eyebrows together. There it was again—the sudden emotion when the word Mudblood was mentioned; the unexpected vulnerability Granger allowed him to see after being so angry only a short moment ago. Why did it bother her so much? Since when did she care what he called her? He allowed his mind to fully form the thought: was Granger afraid of starting to feel something for him? The idea that she might have started liking him for who he was, he hated to admit, was strangely… hopeful.

"Granger…" He took another small step toward her. "I didn't say that to hurt you. I was just trying to explain how… why…" He squeezed his eyes shut in frustration for a second. "Damn it, Granger… I don't like this any more than you do, but I just don't have the energy to fight this anymore. Whatever this is."

She stared back at him in utter confusion, as if doubting she heard him correctly. "And in plain English, Malfoy," she asked him sharply after a lengthy silence. "Exactly what are you proposing?"

That question made Draco pause. What was he proposing? He had a hard time clearing up his thoughts, even just to himself. To explain to another person what he was feeling when he was still struggling to understand it himself…

He cleared his throat and averted his eyes. "I'm… not sure," he admitted uncomfortably before glancing up again. The look in her eyes was no longer angry—just confused. Why was he so utterly rubbish at identifying and talking about his emotions? "I just…" He involuntarily curled his lip in a sneer and brushed a hand over his face to compose himself and buy some time to think of how to word how he felt. "I have a very hard time convincing myself it doesn't mean anything, Granger. How can it be meaningless when—"

"When what?" she cut in harshly.

"When thinking about snogging you considerably brightens my mood?" he snapped at her. "When every time I see you it crosses my mind to drag you back into that corridor to refresh my memory of it?"

Draco stepped backwards, as if doing that would help put back some distance between them after releasing that blasted confession. He looked her up and down with a glare. "How can it not mean anything when thinking about you—the swottiest little know-it-all I ever had the displeasure of having to tolerate—gave me the ability to cast a corporeal Patronus?"

Despite an admirable effort to conceal it, Draco very clearly heard the gasp that escaped past Granger's lips. He could clearly read shock in her eyes—the same shock he himself felt now that he had finally pinpointed the root of what had been bothering him ever since their one-sided kiss on the Quidditch pitch.

"You said it was just a physical need," Granger whispered, her tone a little accusingly. "To eliminate the tension. You said there were no feelings!"

He grimaced a little. "As much as I willed that to be true, I never actually said that."

"You heavily implied that was the case," she snapped impatiently.

"I did," Draco bit back. "And I will not apologise for not quite having figured out yet how I feel about all of this. Besides, are you seriously going to stand there and tell me you're not the slightest bit confused about your own feelings regarding me?"

They stood in silence for a while, each trying to out-match the intensity of the other's glare. She might be one of the most strong-willed and stubborn witches he had ever argued with, but he sure as hell was not going to stand down this time. He knew for certain that she was facing the same confusion about how she felt; he would not let this go until he had heard her say it.

"So what if I am," she finally hissed, though there was hardly any animosity in her tone. "Perhaps I have already decided I'm not going to bother trying to figure it out. It's not like we can act on it, anyway. We'd kill each other before the end of term."

"Is that a challenge?" Draco muttered as he narrowed his eyes at her.

Granger pressed her lips together in frustration and exhaled sharply through her nose. "No, Malfoy. Besides, none of this is real. It's just mutual loneliness…"

"What does that really matter?" he asked her softly, and this time it was her turn to avert her eyes.

The words slipped out easily, without him having to think about them, and Draco knew he really meant them. He was tired of coming up with reasons why this was a bad idea. He was tired of having to convince himself. Hearing Granger trying to come up with reasons solidified for him that none of it really mattered anymore.

He wasn't supposed to like her, and in a way he didn't—not really—but it was foolish to deny how much her kindness meant to him; how much it meant to have her, of all people, be a source for continuous support. It wasn't something he felt he deserved, yet that hadn't stopped her. He knew she felt it was the right thing to do… Would it really be so terrible if he allowed himself to appreciate that? Would it really be so wrong to return some of that kindness?

Granger let out a tired sigh that snapped him from his thoughts. She glanced back up at him, her eyes full of exhaustion, and slowly took a step backwards, leaning back against the wooden fence as she studied him for a moment before bringing her hands up to rub them over her face.

"It matters," she murmured finally. "It matters a great deal."

Draco felt a very foreign pang of sympathy in his stomach. He had long come to accept that Granger knew how he felt, but right now he found it surprisingly easy to step inside her shoes for a moment. He had been so focused on his own role during the War that he had never stopped to consider other people's involvement.

He had never really realised before how early on Granger and her friends had been involved, back when his father was still part of the Dark Lord's inner circle. He hadn't had to worry about anything until the moment his father had been locked away in Azkaban. He couldn't imagine having to go through what he had at a younger age.

Seeing her like this, all sad… It bothered him, though he didn't fully understand why. He just knew he was hyper-alert to the fact that she was within arm's reach, causing him to feel strangely compelled to try and comfort her. Without truly realising it, he inched closer to her and lifted his hand to rub her arm, but then he remembered that she had asked him to stop touching her, and his arm awkwardly dropped to his side again.

"Answer me something, will you," he began, immediately noticing how uncertain his tone sounded, even just to himself. Granger glanced up, again with that hollow gaze. Draco took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, forcing himself to not come across like a blubbering fool. "You vouched for me, and you said you stood behind that, right?"

She frowned a little, but then slowly nodded her head.

"You said you did it because you felt I had changed."

Her frown deepened but she gave him another nod, and Draco reached out and experimentally brushed his fingers over her hand. He heard her inhale sharply and saw how she glanced down to look at what he was doing, though she didn't pull away her hand. Moving a little closer, he closed his fingers around hers and rubbed his thumb over the back of her hand.

Granger slowly raised her head to look him in the eye, a fresh tear running down her cheek that he didn't dare try brushing away this time. Instead, he lightly squeezed her hand, hoping to convey some support that way.

"I'm trying, Granger," he murmured. "I'm trying harder than I can properly explain. I don't think you understand how hard it is for me to let go of how I was raised, but I'm doing the best I can. I just need someone to have faith in me…"

She squeezed her eyes shut and Draco felt his stomach flip as he watched more tears escape. He released her hand and resolutely closed the distance between them on instinct, carefully wrapping his arms around her. With one hand he brushed the curls on the back of her head, and with the other, he slowly stroked her back. He felt her stiffen for the briefest of moments, but then Granger slipped her own arms around his waist.

They stood like that for a while in complete silence, with the exception of the sound of Granger's quiet sniffs. Draco stared over her head into the Forbidden Forest with unseeing eyes, fighting the voices in the back of his mind that tried to convince him that he was making a grave mistake. But then Granger slightly tightened her embrace—pulling him just a little bit closer—and all the noise in his head was effectively silenced. All that remained was a pleasant warmth in his stomach and a strange feeling of accomplishment for being able to make her feel better.

After the longest time—though perhaps it had just been a minute, he wasn't sure—she loosened the grip on his waist, and Draco leaned back ever so slightly, bowing down his head to be able to see her face. Granger kept her eyes down, staring at his chest, and Draco was relieved to see that she wasn't crying anymore.

"I don't regret kissing you," she finally murmured. Her voice croaked a little from her crying, but she sounded surprisingly composed otherwise. "I know you think I was ashamed, but I'm not. I just…" She took a deep breath and met his eyes for the briefest of moments before glancing down again. "I feel guilty, Malfoy, because I have no idea how to explain… this… to Harry and Ron…"

Granger finally seemed to find the courage to lock eyes with him, and Draco saw a world of uncertainty in her eyes. "Please tell me you understand why I feel that way," she whispered.

Draco slowly brushed a few strands of hair out of her face, fighting the urge to curl his lip in a sneer. He did not like her two stupid friends, but he couldn't deny understanding where she was coming from. He had pushed the upcoming confrontation with Nott and Greengrass to the back of his mind, though he hoped with all he had that they had kept what had happened during dinner to themselves. He had no idea what he was going to do if the whole of Slytherin knew by now.

"I understand," he muttered reluctantly.

"Thank you." Granger gave him a watery smile. "And… just so you know… I do have faith in you."

He never knew a few short words could make him feel that much better in an instant, but as soon as she had said that, Draco felt a warmth spread through him. He couldn't fight back a smile, one that Granger returned as she wiped away the tears that stained her cheeks.

Clearing his throat, he stuck a hand in the pocket of his robes and fished out the shrunken box. "Thanks for this, by the way. I don't think I've ever gotten a present from a girl before…"

She chuckled softly. "I didn't know what else to get for someone who has so much money he could literally buy everything he wanted if he pleased," she said a little sheepishly.

"Smart," he muttered, sliding the box back into his pocket. For the first time ever, he actually studied Granger's eyes—not to see if there were hidden emotions to be found, but her eyes themselves, their colour. She had beautiful, warm eyes. Without being fully aware of it, Draco bowed his head with the intention of planting a kiss on her lips, but then two hands came in contact with his chest and immediately a heavy clump of ice settled in his stomach.

"This is not a rejection, Draco," Granger murmured quickly, undoubtedly having noticed the sudden tension in his body. "This is a… well… let's say it's a postponement. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we're confused and don't understand what this is. Let's try not to complicate it by snogging… Not until we've figured this out… whatever this is."

He straightened his back and shut his eyes for a moment. "I told you, I don't have the energy to fight this anymore—"

"Not fight," she cut in, frowning up at him. "But figure out. Let's just… normalise spending time together first… See if this… tension… sticks around when we've eliminated the idea that this is wrong."

Did he genuinely want to start spending time with Granger? Was he ready for this? Draco took a deep breath before opening his eyes again. Who was he kidding, really? She had been more of a friend to him than most of his actual friends in the past year.

She didn't care about the traditional way purebloods interacted with each other; about the distance that they felt necessary to keep. She had simply acknowledged what he was feeling and had tried to help him deal with it, whether he had wanted her to or not. And it had helped him, genuinely helped him.

"Okay," he finally conceded. "How about Hogsmeade next weekend?"

Her eyes brightened up as a smile slowly appeared on her lips.

"It's a date."