Harry
After a long day of many classes, I finally pack up my things from class and saunter down the steps. Today is Friday, but we do not have Quidditch practice tonight; I decided to give the players a break. This is my first free weekend since school has started, and it's going to be very nice to not have practice.
I fight my way through the crowd that has assembled in the corridor. Up ahead, I see a head of brown, wavy tresses, rushing through the multitude of people: Hermione. She and I haven't really spent much time together since about a week ago, since she went to Quidditch practice with me. Ever since then, something's changed about her. I can't quite distinguish it, but she's not the same.
"Hermione!" I call. I rush to attempt to catch up with her, meandering around the people. Goodness, to have a book-bag full of an infinite number of books, she sure can move fast. Eventually, I lose her in the crowd and give up.
"Hey, mate," Someone says from behind me. I turn around to see Ron. He skips into step beside me.
"Hey," I answer, "What're you doing on your first free weekend?"
"Not much, I suppose," He replies, "I just might stop by the Quidditch pitch."
"Stop by the Quidditch pitch? Really? This is supposed to be your time away from it," I laugh, and he shrugs.
For a little while, we walk in silence, pushing our way through the persistent crowd. Then, he asks a very sudden question: "Has Hermione said anything about me?"
I have to contemplate my answer. Honestly, she hasn't said much about him, and Ron hasn't said much about her. They haven't talked for two weeks. I decide to tell him the truth.
"No," I simply say, and he looks down at his feet.
After a pause, he mutters, "I don't know what's going on."
"What?"
"With Hermione," He adds.
"Well, I don't think you're... Usually when... When you're dating," I say, putting emphasis on the last word, "you usually talk to them, you know, at least once in two weeks. You know, just a thought."
Ron grimaces. "Feeling sassy, are you?"
"A tad." I try to walk away, for I feel that the conversation is about to enter an awkward state, but he grabs my shoulder.
"It's really ridiculous, isn't it," He asks, "One little fight- about Malfoy, at that-" He speaks venomously, "and she doesn't talk to me for two weeks!"
"To be fair, you weren't being-" I begin, but he cuts me off, rambling.
"-and I don't know what she wants me to do! But I guess a benefit of this is that she's avoiding Malfoy, too..." He says, flailing his arms oddly. I wonder what this conversation looks like to someone else.
"She's not," I whisper.
"What?" He asks, his face bright red.
"She's not avoiding Malfoy now," I explain, and his eyes widen. I probably shouldn't have told him this. For a few seconds, he processes the information.
"What the... How is she..." He seems to be incapable of finishing his sentences. "I swear! I swear I'll get him! I've already told him once! He's... He's brainwashed her!" He begins to storm away, but I grab his shoulder this time.
"Ron, you know as well as I do that violence-" I begin, but he interrupts me. A flame seems to have been kindled behind his eyes, fueled by anger.
"Yeah, violence doesn't solve anything, but I'm going to try my luck at it." He spits, and before I can stop him, he stomps away, his rage displayed in the way he carries himself. People back away as he approaches, for he looks dangerous. And I have learned that he can be.
I want to warn Hermione and Malfoy, but there's no way I can get to them in time. Surely Ron won't hurt them. Sighing, I push all of this drama out of my mind and head to the Gryffindor common room, carrying my textbooks in my arms.
* * *
Hermione
As I leave the Ancient Runes classroom, I make my way through the crowd of people that are emerging from the other classrooms. As more people enter the corridor, it becomes louder. I can barely hear myself think as I push myself through the crowd of people. My book-bag is filled with books and would slow me down if it weren't for the weightless charm I placed on it.
Somewhere behind me, I hear my name being called. I don't look; I just keep walking. There's no way I can distinguish who it is through this crowd of faces.
Our common room- mine and Draco's, that is- is closer to these classrooms than anyone else's. Therefore, it only takes me about a minute to reach it. When I enter it, nobody seems to notice.
Draco is not in here yet, so I go and sit down my bag on the desk. I run my hands through my hair. It's been a particularly stressful day. We were given a surprise quiz in Defense Against the Dark Arts, a planned one in Transfiguration, and quite a few difficult spells to learn. With a sigh, I walk over to the fireplace and warm my hands.
Suddenly, someone grabs my waist, and I know exactly who it is by the tingling sensation it sends through my body.
"Draco!" I exclaim in a scolding tone, although I am smiling. When I look at him, he is smirking. He takes a seat on the couch.
"Greetings," He says, resting his arms behind his head, "And how was your day?"
"Not too great," I answer, and he frowns a bit.
"Why is that?"
I sit down beside him. This time last week, he and I were in the exact same spot, except it was a completely different mood; he was crying, and I was consoling him. It's amazing how much closer we've gotten since last week. Given our pasts, it's hard to believe we're friends. It's hard to believe I want to be more than friends.
"The classes are stressful. That's all. And you? How was your day?" I ask. He shakes his head.
"That's not important," He says, and he stands up. He unexpectedly grabs my hand, causing me to jump. "Come with me."
I follow him out of the door. It's not like I have much of a choice; he's holding my hand, leading me after him. Not that I mind it.
"Where are we going?" I finally ask, but the destination is not really what's on my mind: it's the feeling of his hand in mine that I can't shake out of my head.
"You'll see soon enough," He answers, and he looks back at me, grinning.
We walk through the winding corridors and down the steps for a while until we end up at the main entrance of the castle. He lets go of my hand and holds the door open for me as he usually does.
"Can you tell me now?" I ask, but he just shakes his head, smiling. "You know," I add, "I've never seen you smile much before recently." He looks at me, and there seems to be a connection in our eyes. Gray to brown. For a few seconds, we just look to each other as he leans against the door.
"I didn't have much reason to before now." He responds, and the edges of his lips turn up slightly, and I can almost see him... No. Surely Draco Malfoy's not blushing? I'm speechless, so I just smile and look down at my feet. All of a sudden, he places a hand over my eyes, and I gasp.
"Draco, just tell me where we're going!" I beg, but he starts walking forward with his hand still over my eyes so I can't see anything.
"Say please," He implores, and I scoff.
"Draco, please tell me where we're going."
"I will," He replies, and then pauses. "Once we get there."
"Ugh!" I say, but that's all, because I know that begging won't help me now. Finally, about a minute later, he removes his hand, and I see where we are.
"The Quidditch pitch?" I ask, for that's where he has taken me, and I can't imagine why.
"Of course," He answers, looking around proudly. I raise my eyebrows.
"Okay... Why?"
"You said you're no good at flying," He explains, gesturing around at the wide expanse of green grass with the three goals on each side, "so I'm going to teach you."
"Draco, this is really great, but I'm not athletic at all, and-" I begin, but he interrupts me.
"Come on, Hermione, you'll do fine. We've just got to get a broom." He walks into the Quidditch preparation room, where the brooms and uniforms are stored. In the Slytherin one, there are black bins full of expensive, fancy brooms. And in the corner, there is one that is alone. It's a Nimbus 2001 that I remember from second year. It was there when he first called me a Mudblood. But that doesn't matter now, because it wasn't him, really. It wasn't my Draco, the one I know now.
He goes and picks it up, cradles it under his arm, and heads back out onto the field. Once he reaches the middle of the field, he mounts it, and I stand back.
Within two seconds, he goes from the ground up to about seventy-five feet in the air. I watch him in amazement as he twists, loops, and turns throughout the sky. He truly is amazing. I don't see why the Slytherin team would give him up. Finally, he starts descending, looking down at me. Of course, he's smirking.
"I was flying before I could walk," He says, and I don't find it hard to believe.
"That's quite impressive," I compliment him, and he looks at me expectantly.
"Why, thank you, but don't you want to give it a go?" He asks, dismounting the broom and heading towards me.
"No, actually, I-" I stop talking when he hands me the broom. Sighing, I venture out into the middle of the field and mount it. By concentrating, I get it to lift off the ground by a couple of feet, but I get scared.
"Draco! Draco, how do I get this thing down?" I cry, even though I'm a mere two feet off the ground when he was more than a hundred. I look over at him to find that he is laughing. Just like that, the broom returns to the ground: all it took was a break of concentration.
"So not funny!" I exclaim, and I punch him on the arm when he arrives to where I am.
"Despite the hilarity of that," He says, gesturing to the field where I had been flying, and even I'm laughing about it now, "I'll teach you, alright?"
"Sure, go ahead. What do you me want me to do?" I ask him, running a hand through my hair.
"Get on the broom, then I will, and I'll teach you."
"Can a broom even hold two people?" I ask as I mount it, and he does the same. He gets on behind me.
"Yeah, of course," He answers, and he wraps his arms around me and grabs my wrists, leading them to the front of the broom. Butterflies seem to have invaded my stomach.
"Okay, put your hands right there," He says, and I can feel his breath on my shoulder. My heart begins to beat faster, and I don't pay attention to whatever he's saying; all I hear is the steady hum of his voice, but I can't comprehend what he's saying.
"Ready?" He asks, "Just go for it. I'll keep it controlled."
Sighing, I concentrate hard, and we start to float upwards. I don't think about the height, I just think about him to keep me calm. Before I realize it, we can see all of Hogwarts, and the view is gorgeous.
"Nice job," He says. It snaps me out of my daze, and we start to rapidly fall out of the sky. I instinctively close my eyes. My panic only lasts a few seconds, because he has grabbed the broom and is in control of it now. My heart beats even faster than before.
"It's okay," He assures me, "I've got it. We're on the ground now. You can open your eyes." Sure enough, we're safely on the ground. I breathe deeply, and I can hear him chuckling from behind me.
"What a flight," He exclaims, and I look back at him.
"I know. Don't be embarrassed, I know I'm better than you." I joke, and we both laugh.
Something catches my eye: Draco's right sleeve is pulled up, and I can see the wound that I noticed last week. It's mostly healed, leaving a faint red mark in its place. My hand involuntarily goes to it, and I see him flinch.
"Draco, what happened?" I ask.
He pauses before he answers. "It was-"
"Bloody hell!"
This voice was neither Draco's or mine, but I recognized it instantly, even though I haven't heard it in two weeks. Ron. Draco tenses behind me, and we dismount the broom, discarding it on the ground. Ron's eyes burn with anger as he looks from Draco to me.
"Go ahead! Say it's not what it looks like! Because it is!" He yells, striding towards us. Neither Draco or I say anything, but he looks at us expectantly.
"I came here to apologize, but what's the use? You know, Hermione," He says, "when someone gets angry with you for doing something, you usually stop doing it. But look at where you are now. I guess that's not always the case."
"No, it's not." I say, locating my wand. It's in my robe pocket, and I place my hand on it discreetly.
"And you," He spits, taking a step toward Draco, "I've told you once. What did you not understand? I thought I was very clear." He brandishes his wand.
"What?" I ask sternly, "What did you tell him?"
"Nothing," Ron replies, and he looks at me, shrugging, "It was just a guy-to-guy chat." He turns back to Draco. "But apparently, it didn't sink in very well." Ron is advancing towards Draco. Why does he not have his wand out?
But then I remember seeing it on the table in our common room. He left it there, and Ron is about to hex him, and he has no way to defend himself from it. Ron pulls back his arm, prepared to cast the spell-
"No!" I shout, and I jump in front of Draco. "Don't you dare touch him!"
Ron looks stunned, and his hand quivers for a second, but he keeps his wand pointed at me, just like mine is pointed at him. I'm breathing heavily.
"Oh, are you protecting him?" He asks, grimacing. "Come on, Hermione! How can you stand to be around him, after everything he's done to you?" I take a step towards him, my cheeks flaming from anger.
"I told you," I say, my voice wavering, "Don't ever talk ill of him. He's more of a man than you'll ever be." For a second, disbelief registers on Ron's face, but I don't regret saying it. It's true. Lately, something's been different about him.
"Fine," Ron surrenders, backing away, "be in love with him. See if I care. And when he starts calling you Mudblood again, Hermione, don't come crying to me." And with that, Ron turns away and stalks off, and I am left standing in front of Draco with my wand still brandished.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, turning around to look at him, and I grab his arm gently. "He did that, didn't he?" He nods.
"You probably think I'm such a coward, Hermione, I'm so sorry-" He begins, but I interrupt him, placing a hand on his shoulder.
"I could never think that, Draco. You couldn't defend yourself because you didn't have your wand." He looks at me with an unusual intensity.
"Thank you. Thank you so much. For everything." He says, and he places a hand on the side of my face, stroking my cheek. And before I have a chance to respond, he leans in and kisses me.
Every nerve in my body seems to ignite into a consuming fire. My stomach drops as if I'm on a rollercoaster; I almost can't feel my limbs. My heart beats faster than it has all day, and I wrap my arms around his shoulders.
A few raindrops begin to fall, landing on my forehead and shoulders. He pulls away, leaving just our foreheads touching. We smile at each other, and I giggle. He encases me in a tight hug, my head buried into his shoulder. The rain begins to pour steadily.
In this moment, it's just him and me in this world, and no one else.
I don't know how we got here, but I'm so glad we did.