AN: Thanks for the great response to the first chapter! Several of you want me to continue, so here we go.

A few additional notes:

Things are not always as they seem.

This story will go to some dark places.

I have taken some creative liberties that are not necessarily canon.

Also, I totally mis-spelled "phoenix" in the story title. SMH. Fanfic will not let me change it without deleting the story and starting over again, which would take more effort than I'm willing to put towards a simple spelling error. I blame my husband for distracting me as I was posting. Anyway...don't judge me based on that. LOL

{ 2 }

One week into the term and everyone was falling back into a mostly natural state.

Slytherin house remained the least liked group amongst our peers. Perhaps it was true that the other houses had reason to suspect a handful of us of being evil gits. Myself, Theo, Blaise and Greg to be specific. Pansy, too, I suppose. She did try to turn Potter over to Voldemort after all.

Unfortunately the rest of our house became guilty by association. Even the first years were being mocked and harassed outside of the common room.

I was on my way to the Transfiguration classroom when I came across a scene I never thought I would bear witness to.

A young Slytherin was hiding behind the furious and imposing figure of a Gryffindor witch. Two Ravenclaws that had to be in third or fourth year were cowering against the opposite wall.

"You want to know what evil looks like?" She seethed. "Go look in a mirror. Only evil little cockroaches bully little kids. Get out of my sight before I decide to report you to the Headmistress."

I stood back and watched as the two brats took off running.

"Idiots." She muttered to herself as she turned around. Her face cleared and a gentle smile fell over her lips as she knelt down in front of the small boy.

"My name's Hermione. What's yours?"

"Tristan." He was staring at her now, completely mesmerized.

"Well, Tristan, let me tell you something. Magic is a very powerful thing. It can do very good things, or very bad things. But magic can't do anything on it's own. It needs a witch or a wizard to instruct it."

Tristan nodded his head in understanding and I found myself captivated by her voice. Had she always had such a sweet voice?

"Slytherin's are ambitious and cunning, it's true." She smirked and a small laugh passed through her lips. "The house you belong to does not determine what is in your heart, though. Only you can do that. Only you decide if you will direct your magic to do good or to do bad things."

"Thank you." He wrapped his arms around her shoulders in a loose hug. She tensed. I could see her hand curled into a tight fist before slowly reaching up to pat the boy awkwardly on the back.

"You're welcome," she told him quietly. "Now go on to class."

He backed away from her slowly then turned my direction. As soon as he saw me, his eyes widened and his steps faltered. She glanced up then, her hazel eyes met mine.

"Granger." I said to fill the silence. I stepped closer and offered her my hand. She was still kneeling on the floor. She stared at my hand like it would bite her. For a split second I saw fear flicker through her eyes.

Tristan shuffled his feet. Her eyes darted to him, then back to my hand. Slowly she lifted her hand and grasped mine as she pulled herself up and stood in front of me.

She dropped my hand as fast as she could and busied herself wiping imaginary dirt from her skirt and knees.

"Thank you, Malfoy." She said quietly. I almost missed the shakiness in her voice, but it was there. I wondered if she was nervous by my proximity, or if it was something else.

"Anytime. Shall we?" I motioned down the hall towards the Transfiguration classroom. Class had started already, no doubt. We would once again be making an entrance together and the rumors from the previous week were just starting to die down.

"You go ahead," she told me. "I'll be there in a few minutes."

She pushed her hair back. Were her hands shaking?

"Are you alright?" I don't know where the question came from, but the answer was obviously no.

"Fine. I just...I need some air." She backed away from me slowly until she was around the corner. Then I could hear her footsteps pick up as she practically ran down the hallway.

"You scared her," the boy, Tristan, said accusingly.

I had forgotten he was even still standing there.

"I did not." I rolled my eyes at the kid. "Don't you know who that was? Hermione Granger does not get scared."

I didn't have the heart to tell him that I was sure she had freaked out when he hugged her.

"She looked scared." His head turned down the hall where she had disappeared. "Maybe I should go check on her."

How was this boy sorted into Slytherin?

"She can take care of herself. I promise. You should get to class."

Which is exactly what I should do, also. I waited until he stomped off down the hall. I briefly wondered if he would actually go to class. I took one more look down the hall she had taken, then turned and followed Tristan to the classrooms.

I slipped quietly into Transfiguration and sat at an empty table near the door. Twenty minutes later, Granger walked in. She didn't bother to try to sneak in. She just opened the door wide, sauntered into the classroom and crossed over to her usual table by the window.

"Miss Granger!" The new Transfiguration professor, an older wizard by the name of Giles, admonished her. "Would you care to explain where you have been for the last thirty minutes?"

"Not particularly." She shrugged her shoulder and leaned back in her chair. The desk in front of her was empty. No book. No parchment. No quills and ink. All she had with her was that olive green duffle bag, which she hung on the back of her chair.

I tried not to laugh as a hum of whispers spread through the class.

"Perhaps you can explain it during detention tonight, then." His eyes narrowed.

"I could," she told him flippantly. "Please, carry on."

She gestured for him to move along with his lesson.

The whispers increased.

"Enough!" Professor Giles' voice rang through the room until all whispers ceased. "Miss Granger, would you demonstrate the proper technique for transfiguring a piece of parchment into a blanket?"

A few snickers could be heard in the room. Some were laughing because she had been singled out. Most were laughing because it was evident Giles had no idea that she was not just an unruly student.

She looked at him with an odd expression on her face. I think she was contemplating telling him to stuff it. Everyone in the class seemed to hold their breath collectively.

Finally she blinked. Then she cleared her throat and sat up straight at her desk.

"Certainly, Professor," she intoned sweetly. "Would you prefer I demonstrate like this?"

Suddenly the parchment in his hand morphed into a thick, brown blanket with intricate gold swirls quilted in and satin edging.

He dropped the blanket as though it had burned him. Before it hit the floor, it had resumed it's previous form and fluttered to the ground at his feet.

"Or would you rather I demonstrate like this?" She pulled out her wand and aimed it at his feet. She spoke the words, moved her wand just right, and the parchment returned to the brown and gold quilted blanket at his feet.

The room was absolutely silent. For about five seconds. Then a cacophony of voices filled the space.

Granger never took her eyes off the professor as she tucked her wand back into the holster in her arm.

"Impressive, Miss Granger." Giles practically sneered at her. He held her gaze for a long moment then turned back to the class. "Well? Let's see the rest of you do it now."

When class was finally over, he called out over the sound of chairs scraping against stone, "Miss Granger, a word?"

She was almost to the door already. She stopped and leaned against the wall while everyone else filed out in front of her.

I may have lingered just outside the door long enough to hear him assign a week of detention.

Potions class came next. Thanks to my eavesdropping endeavor, I was one of the last students to enter the classroom. As such, there were only two tables still open. One with Neville Longbottom (no thank you), and one with Tracey Davis. I was a little surprised she wasn't sitting with Blaise, but shrugged it off and sat down on the empty stool next to her.

Moments later, Granger walked in and sat next to Longbottom. Again, she didn't produce any kind of book, notes, parchment or quills. She also sat as far away from her partner as she possibly could.

"Are you even listening to me?" Tracey nudged my shoulder and whisper-shrieked in my ear.

"What?" My nose wrinkled and I edged as far back on my stool from her as I could. She touched me. It was like I could still feel her hand on my arm. It was not a pleasant feeling. I wiped the sensation away as best I could. "What do you want?"

She rolled her eyes and gave me a simpering smile.

"Oh, Draco." She batted her eyelashes. Good Lord, was she trying to flirt with me? "I was saying that you shouldn't be embarrassed by what you saw on the train. You didn't have to run off like that."

What in the actual fuck was she saying? I stared at her for a long minute. I am certain she was talking about her snogging session with Blaise. If I didn't run off, as she said, my option would have been what? To stay and watch?

She winked at me and giggled. I felt like I might be sick.

I should have sat with Longbottom. I eyed Granger's seat longingly. Was it too late to switch with her?

Luckily for me, Professor Slughorn came in at that moment. Even better, he assigned a potion that we would work on by ourselves, no partner needed. We would be brewing dreamless sleep potion. I wondered if we could keep whatever we brewed. That particular potion came in handy every now and then.

Potion class passed by in a blur. I managed to focus on my cauldron and block out Tracey's inane chatter at the same time. Mostly. Still, I was never more happy for a potions period to end as I was when that clock chimed. I was the first person out of the classroom, and I did not linger to see who followed.

At dinner, I made sure to sit on the other side of Greg, placing Theo next to Blaise and his slag of a girlfriend. Halfway through my meal, I felt a tug on my cloak. I turned to find the first year boy, Tristan, looking up at me.

He didn't seem to be upset, so I discounted the idea that those two Ravenclaw boys had been harassing him again. I raised my eyebrow as I waited for him to speak.

He just stood there.

"Did you need something?" I asked when it became apparent he was not going to speak on his own.

"I just wanted to tell you that you were wrong." He nodded his head in emphasis. "She said that even she gets scared sometimes because everybody gets scared. But being brave means you don't let being scared stop you. And she said that you don't scare her. She just needed to go outside for a few minutes."

This kid. Seriously, how was he sorted into Slytherin instead of Hufflepuff?

"I thought I told you to go to class?" I scowled at him. If I can't get an eleven year old to follow my orders, then I'm even more useless than I thought.

"You did. I did!" His eyes widened almost comically. "I had Herbology so I had to go out to the greenhouse and I ran into her. She even walked with me to my class and told Professor Sprout why I was late so I wouldn't get in trouble."

I huffed out a laugh and shook my head. Of course she did. Nevermind that it landed her in detention with Giles for a week.

The next thing I knew, he was sitting in the seat next to me.

"I think she's sad." He stated as chocolate cauldron cakes appeared in front of us for dessert. "She's so nice, but she's alone. Do you think she would be my friend? Then she wouldn't be alone anymore."

What am I supposed to say to something like that? He looked up at me with expectant blue eyes. His dark hair was just long enough to have curls on the end that hung down over his forehead. He tried to move them out of his eyes by blowing out a breath that managed to move them for a second before they fell right back down to where they were to begin with.

"I think she's alone right now because she wants to be. Maybe you should stick to friends your own age, yeah? A girl like that could break your heart, you know." I smirked at him, trying to lighten the mood and turn his attention away from the girl that I had bullied for the past seven years.

He looked down at his plate like it was the most fascinating thing he'd ever seen. I hoped he would drop it then, but I was wrong.

"She's your age, though, right?" He asked carefully. His eyes never left his dessert.

"She is. Why?" I had this funny feeling that I did not want to know where he was going with this.

"So maybe you could be her friend."

Son of a bitch.

"Are you mad?" I couldn't help but to ask. He had to be. Only explanation for such an asinine suggestion. "I cannot be friends with Granger."

I tried to put as much venom into my voice as I could, but it sounded flat anyway.

"Why not?" His brown eyes blinked up at me.

Why not? Why not? I scowled at the kid.

"Because she hates me. Trust me, she has every reason to."

Like me bullying her for years. Mocking her. Calling her a mudblood. Making fun of everything about her, from her appearance to her intelligence.

The mark branded on my arm that declared me as a follower to a madman that wanted her dead. My role in the war that nearly destroyed her. The fact that I stood by and watched as she was tortured in my home. Or that I was one of the only people that knew exactly what she had lost.

"She doesn't hate you. I can tell." He rolled his shoulder back and looked up at me with wide, hopeful eyes.

I scowled at him. Why was he looking at me like that?

"Just drop it, kid. Trust me on this one, alright? Granger has plenty of friends. She doesn't need any more, least of all me. And stop looking at me like that."

He studied me for a minute before his lip quirked up on one side.

"So it isn't because she's muggleborn. Good to know."

I froze. That thought had never even crossed my mind. That was a testament to how far I'd come, I suppose.

What he was playing at, though? Why would he care about my stance on blood status? And why did he look so damn smug?

"Why do you care?" Or better yet, why was I still talking to him? Why was he still talking to me?

"Mum said you might not want to talk to me because I'm half-blood, but I figured I'd try because we're cousins."

Wait. What? That gave me pause. What the hell was he talking about? I don't have any cousins.

"Who is your mum?" I had to ask because I was positive he was mistaken.

He pushed his dessert plate away and stood up. Before he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder at me.

"My mum is Andromeda Tonks. She said your mum is her sister."

Then he walked away like he hadn't just shook my entire world.

The rest of the evening passed by in a blur of confusing thoughts. I kept to myself, stalking the halls of the castle and daring anyone to approach me with the best glare I could possibly manage. It worked and everyone I came across left a wide berth around me.

As the sun set, I found myself in the hallway outside of the library. I walked past the doors and continued on until I reached a set of spiraling stairs that led up to the top of one of the castle's magnificent spires.

At the top of the stairs, there was a circular room with three windows overlooking the grounds. Each window had a spacious window seat below it with plush cushions in shades of blue.

The room was blissfully empty. I settled into one of the seats and watched the rain fall into the Black Lake. Finally I let myself start to process the thoughts that had been swirling around since dinner.

Tristan had said his mum was Andromeda, my mother's sister.

A conversation with my mother years ago came filtering back.

"Mum, are mudbloods really that bad? Aren't they just witches and wizards like us?" He was on break from Hogwarts during his first year. A certain bushy haired witch was on his mind. She was top of their class, despite having muggle parents.

His mother gave him a horrified look. Her hand covered her chest as she gasped in shock.

"Draco! Don't ever say that again!" She sat in front of him and took both of his hands in hers. Her eyes were wide and full of sadness. "It's time for me to tell you about my sister, Andromeda. When she was seventeen, she started to think like that. She trusted a man that was a mudblood."

She squeezed my hands and a tear fell from her eye. It was the first time I had ever seen my mother cry.

"What happened, Mum?"

"He killed her, Draco. He killed her and stole her magic."

Mother had lied to me. She had flat out lied. Andromeda was not dead. That man had not killed her. He had married her.

In the eyes of my mother, though, she may as well have been dead.

I have an Aunt. An uncle. A cousin. Family.

I stayed there in the tower, watching the rain and thinking through the other lies I had been fed in my lifetime, and how easily I had believed them all.

It was nearing curfew when I worked through everything I needed to work through. After taking several deep breaths, my head felt clear for the first time in hours. I began the long trek down to my dormitory in the dungeon.

The halls were mostly empty as students scurried to be back in their common rooms by curfew. As I moved down the stairs, between the third and fourth floors, the staircase decided to change positions on me. I held on while it swung through the air.

Below me, I could see another staircase moving towards the same landing as mine. Standing in the middle of the staircase, leaning against the railing, was Hermione Granger.

She had her hair tucked behind her ears and her arms crossed over her chest. She wasn't wearing her uniform. Instead she had on a pair of worn blue jeans and a thin gray sweater that hung off one shoulder.

Her eyes darted around until she saw me, just as our staircases came to a stop on the third floor landing. I made my way down as she climbed up and we stepped onto the landing together.

"Malfoy," she greeted me first with a nod of her head.

"Granger."

Was it just me, or were these interactions getting easier?

"How was your detention?"

She tensed slightly, just barely even noticeable. Her eyes glazed over and she stared into nothing for several heartbeats before she shook her head to clear away whatever thoughts were plaguing her.

"It was fine," she answered carefully. Of course I could sense the lie in her words. It wasn't fine.

She ran her hand through her hair. It looked like her hand was shaking.

For some reason, Tristan's words from earlier came back to me. She's alone. Maybe you could be her friend.

Whatever I was about to say froze in my throat as the grating sound of stone grinding against stone filled the air.

I turned my focus to the staircase that I needed to get back to my room and watched in dismay as it shifted then started swinging away.

"Fuck."

Her word echoed my thoughts. I turned in time to see the staircase I had come down was also swinging away.

A hysterical type of laugh escaped my throat. We were trapped on the seldom used third floor.

A bell chimed. Curfew.

Fuck was right. Fucking fuck, fuck, FUCK!

"They'll come back, right?"

I didn't bother to answer her. We both knew the answer to that question. The staircases don't move after curfew.

If we had not stopped for pleasantries, we would have been okay. The castle was giving us the shortest possible route from where we were to where we needed to be.

"Perfect." She ran both hands through her hair and took a deep breath. For a moment, I thought she would scream. I know I felt like I could scream myself.

Instead of screaming, she walked past me into the hallway. I scanned the stairwell quickly just to make sure no one had seen us. One benefit of our current situation was that if we can't get off the third floor, no one else can get on the third floor. Which means no one would ever know that we were out past curfew. Satisfied that no one had seen us, I followed her down the hall.

"I don't think I've been on this floor since first year," she said as she ventured further into the darkness. She trailed her hand along the stone wall. "It seems like such a long time ago now. A lifetime ago."

She stepped through a stone archway into a large chamber. As soon as she crossed the threshold, torches flared to life, cutting through the darkness. My eyes roamed the room, taking in the stone gargoyles that stood sentry over the entrance. I was quite certain I had never been in this part of the castle before.

"I seem to remember this corridor being strictly off limits when we were in first year."

Dumbledore had mentioned it in the opening feast, that you would die a horrible death if you stepped foot in this corridor. I had made it a point to stay clear ever since then.

"Oh, it was." She stood in the middle of the chamber now. Her eyes seemed to be taking it all in just as I was. "For good reason, too. There was a giant three-headed dog up here. I honestly don't know what they were thinking, keeping that beast inside the castle. He didn't even make a good guard-dog."

She stopped and stared at a closed door off one side of the room. I wondered if that was where this dog supposedly lived.

"We were so stupid back then. Children, playing adult games, with no concept of the possible consequences." Her voice had taken on a distant tone that sent a cold chill down my back. "We should have died that day."

I thought maybe she would tell me what happened. I had heard the rumors, of course, about Voldemort possessing Quarrel. About Potter defeating him somehow or another. Granger and Weasley had been involved. It's how they managed to steal the house cup from us that year.

Rumors are rumors, though. Usually they are half truths at best. I wondered what really happened. She sounded so sad, though. Did I really want to drag up more memories for her?

Also, her words triggered something in me. My own melancholy that I had been dealing with all evening.

"We were all stupid children back then," I told her. "None of us had any clue the part we would play, but we were all so certain that we were right and the others were wrong."

She turned and looked at me. Really looked at me. Her eyes scanned my face for a long time, searching for any hint of malice in my words.

"When do you think we stopped being stupid children? At what point did we start being responsible for our own actions?" She took several steps closer to me. I could have reached out and touched her if I was so inclined.

Her question was one I had asked myself before, so I had an answer readily available. It wasn't something I would admit to just anyone. I could make an exception for her, though.

"For me, it was when I was given a task to let Death Eaters into the school and to murder Albus Dumbledore. My only choice was to do it, or watch my family die before being killed myself. I knew then that there was no going back. There was no escape. I was doomed."

The silence in the room following my confession was deafening. She didn't look upon me with judgement. It was more of an empathy, an understanding.

"For me, it was when I obliviated my parents and sent them away. I had to protect them from what was coming. I knew I would be a target, and by extension they would be also. Once I cast that spell, there was no going back for me, either. I betrayed the only people that had ever loved me using a power that they didn't understand but always supported."

Tears gathered in her eyes.

Slowly, I lifted my arm to rest on her shoulder. She watched it and released a breath after my hand had settled against her skin. Slowly, she moved forward. Her hand on my waist. Her head against my chest. My arms wrapped around her and I held her, just as I had done that morning, so many months ago.

"Are they still alive?" I was afraid to ask, but it had to be done. Her arms around my waist squeezed a little tighter.

"Yes, they're alive." She whispered against my chest.

Relief flooded through me at the knowledge. I released a breath that I didn't even realize I Was holding.

"Then you accomplished your mission." Would she feel better if she knew for a fact that her parents were targets? That they had a price on their heads? That my aunt had made it her personal vendetta to find them and make them pay for her escape?

"You did what you had to do to keep your parents alive." She didn't need the details. Maybe that was enough.

She pulled back just far enough that she could look into my eyes. She searched them for a moment, then nodded. If anyone would understand the words beneath the words, it would be her.

"The same could be said for you, you know?" She tilted her head to the side, then settled back against my chest. "You kept them alive. You saved your family, despite the odds against you."

Something akin to pride welled in my chest. Something else, also. An understanding. One more commonality between us. One more string holding us together as kindred spirits.

We both did things we regret, things we knew were wrong, in order to save our parents. And we both succeeded. We came out as different people on the other side, but they were alive.

We held each other a moment longer. Then she pulled away and wiped her eyes.

"Okay. Enough of this emotional shite. Let's see if there is someplace we can sleep for the night."

I stepped back and gave her some room. Nevermind that it had felt so good to hold her that I didn't want to let go. I ran my hand through my hair and let myself take a closer look at the chamber we were standing in. It was a wide open space. Aside from the gargoyles at the door, it was devoid of decoration.

There were three doors leading out of the chamber. I avoided the door Hermione had focused on earlier. I hoped that the three-headed dog she referred to was not in that room. Still, I was sure she did not want to relive whatever memories she had in there.

The door to the left was an empty closet. There were shelves that held nothing but dust.

"I think this was some kind of a classroom." She had moved to the front of the room. As she did, more torches lit around the room. She stepped up on a platform. There was a large blackboard on the wall behind her.

Our eyes met for a moment, then we both turned our attention to the last door. I got there first and opened it. Inside I found an unused office. A desk, chair and an empty bookcase sat against the wall.

"I wonder what class was taught here?"

I couldn't stop the laugh that escaped in that moment. She was ever the curious Gryffindor, running her fingertips over the desk reverently.

Behind the desk there was another door. She opened it and I followed her inside.

The room was obviously a living area. A brown couch and chair sat in front of a fireplace. A table with two chairs sat against the wall. There was a small kitchenette in the corner.

Two doors stood open. One led to a bathroom, the other was a bedroom. The bedroom held a large four-post bed with a bare mattress, an empty dresser, and a side table with a lantern that flared to life when we walked in.

"It could be worse." Truly, it could be. At least there was a bed. And a couch.

"I'll take the couch," I told her. "You can have the bed."

I left her standing there and went into the adjoining bathroom. I used the loo, eyed the shower longingly, and returned to the living area.

The couch had been transfigured into a bed. There was a green comforter and a thick pillow laid out on it. I peeked into the bedroom and saw the bed was now covered in white sheets and a black comforter.

Hermione had her knapsack in her hand and she was reaching into it like she was looking for something. A second later, she pulled out two large towels and a black bag.

"Did you want to take a shower?" She asked as she looked up at me.

"You keep towels and toiletries in your bookbag?" I asked dumbly. Obviously the answer was yes. I had literally just watched her pull them out.

"I have enough supplies in this bag to last at least six months in the wilderness." She answered with a small snort. "I have food, clothes, blankets, a tent, and yes, toiletries."

My tongue froze in my mouth. I had no idea what to say to that. How was I supposed to respond?

Did she even know the war was over?

In the end, I bit my tongue and took my shower. As she took my place in the bathroom, I watched out the window as rain continued to fall over the Forbidden Forest.

It had to be after midnight by then, but I had no desire to go to sleep. This was too surreal. Sleep would only bring morning, and morning would bring staircases that would deliver us back to where we were supposed to be.

"You look like you are deep in thought over there."

Her voice would have startled me if I hadn't seen her reflection in the window first. I turned to face her. My breath caught in my throat as I saw her.

She had changed into gray sleep pants and a short sleeved red t-shirt with the Gryffindor logo on the front. The neckline dipped low enough that I could see the swell of her breasts and the top of the valley between them. The cool air in the room made it obvious that she was not wearing a bra.

Not that I was looking.

I averted my eyes quickly, only to get caught on the phoenix tattoo that circled her arm. I followed the form of the bird as it took flight. Her hair was still damp from the shower. It looked like it was all black, but I knew there was dark red under there that would show itself as it dried.

My mouth was suddenly very dry. I had to force myself to swallow after I licked my parched lips. Was it that hot in here a few minutes ago?

Her face flushed pink and she averted her gaze quickly, clearing her throat and pushing her hair behind her ears nervously. Her ears, I noticed, were bright red.

Interesting. I've seen many sides of Hermione Granger over the years, but flustered has never been one of them. Until now. A smirk pulled at my lips. Warmth spread through my chest as I realized I had done that. What had gone through her mind to cause her to flush so completely?

I crossed the room to stand in front of her. I had transfigured my own clothes into a long sleeved white pullover and black flannel pants to sleep in. As I neared her, I watched as her eyes swept from my feet to my chest, then up to my eyes.

The teasing words that were on the tip of my tongue faltered. Merlin, she was beautiful.

"Your hair all looks the same when it's wet," I mutter instead. I could have smacked myself for being such an idiot.

She did not respond. She just stared at me. I'm not sure she was even breathing.

"Why did you change it?" I cast a drying spell so I could see the colors. Then slowly, I reached up and held a lock in my hand, twisted it so I could see the red and the black intertwined.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time," she laughed breathily. She didn't move away. She just watched me as I studied her hair. "I didn't realize so many people would hate it."

I detected a small amount of self-consciousness in her voice that I had never heard there before. Stupid Weasley and Potter had put that doubt in her voice.

"I don't hate it," I admitted quietly. That was an understatement, of course. It fascinated me.

The flush returned to her face. She bit her lower lip in an effort to keep from smiling at the compliment.

My eyes met hers. It took effort on my part, but I let her hair slip through my fingers and lowered my arm back down to my side.

"It's late." I took a step back. "We should get some sleep."

She nodded in agreement.

"Right. Of course." She turned quickly and walked away, but stopped at the bedroom door. She didn't turn around, but she did turn her head and said quietly over her shoulder, "Good night, Malfoy."

"Good night, Granger." I returned. Then she disappeared into the other room and closed the door.

I stood there for another minute or two, just staring at the door and thinking to myself, what in the fuck was that?

Was I just flirting with her? Was she flirting back? Had the whole world turned upside down somehow and I didn't know it until now?

I released a deep sigh and a silent laugh to myself. Then, even though I knew we were trapped on this floor and no one else could get to us, I still turned and locked the door and put up wards. It was a habit and I knew I would never be able to sleep if someone could walk in unannounced.

With that peace of mind secured, I pulled back the blanket and settled into my makeshift bed for the night.

AN: So obviously Tristan is my very own invention. He's a sweet kid, but still a Slytherin at heart. Don't let him fool you.

Okay, hit that little button and let me know your thoughts. Or the other little button to follow this story so you don't miss an update. :)

Until next time.

-mezy