Dedicated to Squin who for some reason likes fluffy towels … hmmm!

Transi de Froid

by Incitata
 
 

Chapter 10
Unity
 

"Ever fallen in love
In love with someone
You shouldn’t’ve fallen in love with"
Singles Going Steady. Buzzcocks. 1979.
 

Pretending to like Justin Finch-Fletchley was much harder than pretending not to love Draco
Malfoy. Hermione found it a chore to even talk to Justin. At least when she’d been alone with
Malfoy he’d kept her interested, though she wasn’t sure how. It could have been because of
his merciless teasing, or his self confessed mission to corrupt her until she started to enjoy his
company, or even just because he actually was an interesting person who knew what he was
talking about … Hermione didn’t know, but whatever it was she found it more intriguing than
hearing about Justin’s mother’s goldfish. This, of course, was one of the reasons Hermione
was going to such lengths to avoid talking to Draco.

Malfoy, for all his faults, (which Hermione had listed, torn up and burned), was fascinating
from the soles of his feet right to the end of his rather pointed nose. Even now, as he pursued
her with a determination and a passion that frightened her, Hermione wanted to know more;
she felt unable to tell anyone what he was doing because that would mean that it would end.

Hermione watched from the corner of her eye as, in ones and two’s, the Gryffindors drifted
down to dinner. She shooed Lavender away when she tried to make her move from the deep
armchair where Hermione sat with her legs curled up beneath her, a large book laying against
her thigh on which rested a piece of parchment. Hermione appeared to be writing notes but
actually she was staring into the flickering orange flames of the fire and letting her quill wander
in random strokes and swirls – Hermione’s thoughts seemed as blurred as her vision.

Way back at the start of term when Hermione had told Ron that she didn’t have time for
relationships she hadn’t really meant it. She’d have found time for Ron if he’d asked but it
seemed he didn’t want her time. Then came Draco who had taken Ron out of her life forever.
No wonder Ron didn’t want to be her friend, it was easy to blame Draco for this mess –
Draco bloody Malfoy with his inconsiderate plans and his very persuasive words.

Even here he wouldn’t leave her alone. Hermione looked at the quill she was using; it was that
same feather that he had given her when he broke hers on the way to Herbology, "Keep it, it
matches your eyes," he’d said another time when she tried to give it back. The nib flashed in the
firelight. Hermione didn’t know why she still used it but it wrote so smoothly and…

Hermione heard the scuffing of feet on the stairs but didn’t look up.

"If you look at it from this angle it looks like Professor Grubbly-Plank," said a familiar voice.
Hermione raised her head and saw Ron standing by the side of her chair chewing the inside of
his lip and looking ready to bolt in case she bit him.

"Hello, Ron," she said quietly, looking down at the trail of ink on her page and squinting, but
she couldn’t see Grubbly-Plank anywhere.

"Are you coming to dinner?" Ron asked awkwardly. This was understandable as it was the
first civil thing he’d said to Hermione in weeks.

Hermione shook her head and muttered, "Not hungry, I’ll get something from the kitchens later."

"It’s just that you haven’t been there all weekend," Ron continued, "and I’ve got no-one to
scowl at!" Ron raised both eyebrows and attempted a smile. Hermione wondered if this could
possibly be a peace offering. Harry had been trying to get Hermione to go down to the Great
Hall since Friday, but Malfoy kept looking at her and Justin kept talking to her and Ron kept
glaring at her and … and she just couldn’t face it all. Maybe Harry had thought Ron would have
more success? Hermione couldn’t help but laugh as Ron’s expression flicked from hopeful to
apprehensive and back again.

They didn’t say much as they made their way down from Gryffindor tower, but for the first time
in over a month Harry, Ron and Hermione sat down to dinner together. It was almost normal. To
Hermione’s relief Ron seemed happy enough when Justin came over and put his arm round her.
Justin whispered "Can you meet me later?" in her ear, and though she could have sworn that she
saw Ron pull a face as she nodded in reply, she dismissed it as her imagination. Hermione didn’t
want to stir all that up again.

Half way through the meal Hermione wished that she could slip under the table and hide as
Malfoy came near. He was alone, he never tormented her when his own friends were near; that
was another thing that Hermione didn’t understand. This time there was nothing he could do,
this time she had her friends with her and Hermione hoped that Malfoy was utterly annoyed
because he’d tried so very hard to separate them and failed. Hermione tightened her grip on her
fork and glanced across the table at Harry then sideways at Ron. Malfoy stopped right at the
end of the table with his arms folded just watching them.

"Did you want something?" asked Harry, clearly unable to ignore him for any longer.

"Nothing at all," Draco smirked and stared directly at Hermione who was chewing a mouthful
of roast lamb very slowly and avoiding raising her eyes from the polished side of her goblet. She
could see more than enough of Malfoy in the distorted reflection; it warped and dimmed his
eyes so that they lost their power to sting.

"I thought you were watching your figure," he said, nastily. Hermione knew that voice, it was
reserved for her when he wished to rile her; she stabbed the tines of her fork into a parsnip so
hard that they scraped along her dinner plate but she continued to ignore him.

"You’ll have to watch out or you’ll start to look like his podgy little sister!" From the corner of
her eye Hermione saw Draco jerk his thumb at Ron who looked just about ready to pop.

"Ron, don’t!" Hermione dropped her fork and grabbed Ron who was already half way to his
feet. She pulled him back into his chair and, still hanging heavily onto his arm, turned on Malfoy
and hissed, "Sod off, you nasty piece of shit!"

"Whatever you say, Granger." Without another word, Malfoy turned and stalked back to his
own table.

"Would you believe that!" said Harry furious.

"Just like old times!" said Ron dryly, his eyes not leaving Malfoy’s retreating back.

"Great to be back," Hermione agreed.

~0~

Every time Hermione and Justin parted he gazed expectantly into her eyes and every time she
would say "G’night Justin", before kissing him briefly and scurrying off to her dormitory.

Justin always seemed to want to meet in places familiar to him, like the Trophy Room, the
Great Hall or down in the dungeons not far from his common room. It was rare for Justin to
venture any nearer to Hermione’s common room than the library. It suited Hermione in some
ways to meet him down here by a bronze fountain shaped like a boar that gushed clear
water out of its snout and over its tusks. That way Justin never really became part of her life
and besides, Hermione never knew who she might see in the dungeon corridors.

Disappointment was there again as Hermione waved goodbye. ‘Why can’t I just be happy?
Justin’s nice and kind and considerate… when he remembers to be…’ she thought. Hermione
sat on the damp rim of the fountain and listened to his footsteps fade into the darkness. Soon, the
only sound was the trickling of the water, hollow and cold: exactly how she felt. There was no
danger of Justin doing anything spontaneous like trying to scare her to death, or flying up to the
window of her dormitory, or following her when she’d said that she wasn’t interested. No, Justin
would simply listen to her and then do exactly as she asked. But then again, Justin had all the c
harisma of a paper bag and a sense of fun to match.

As Hermione trailed her hand in the ice-cold water she caught sight of her watch, it was very
late. She jumped to her feet wiping her wet hand on her robes as she started off down the corridor.
Hermione thought that she knew the way quite well but something must have distracted her because
her concentration drifted and Hermione took a wrong turning among the narrow torchlit corridors
that all looked the same to her.

Very quickly Hermione’s knowledge of where she was reduced to ‘somewhere under Hogwarts.’

Sometimes the stairs and corridors of Hogwarts were helpful, but not tonight. Tonight they seemed
to be having great fun switching round their ends and turns when Hermione wasn’t looking. ‘I could
wander down here forever’, she thought, wondering if she should try to retrace her steps to the
Bronze Boar and start again. Hermione tried, but it only got her more lost. Should she call for help
or just walk and hope that someone would find her?

"You’ve walked down here four times, Hermione," Malfoy’s mocking voice echoed off the low
ceiling of the dark corridor. Hermione turned slowly and saw him outlined against a shadowy
doorway. "Oh, I wasn’t following you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I was on my way to
my dormitory and there you were, brooding and pensive, muttering beneath your breath about
being lost forever," he paused as though he expected her to say something and when Hermione
did not, he continued, "Did you know you’ve been walking in circles? That corridor doesn’t
lead anywhere. We send disorientated first years down there until they learn to have a bit more
sense than to get lost in the first place! I think the record’s eighteen hours … I’ve been here,
watching you pass by again and again. Didn’t I once tell you, Hermione, that you ought to watch
where you’re going?"

"Alright, Malfoy," said Hermione testily, aware that she was in no position to argue, "Have a
good laugh, then tell me the way out."

"Where are your pals?" Malfoy braced his hands against the doorframe, level with his head as
if he were supporting the walls. He was resting his weight on one leg and leaning forward slightly.
In the flickering torchlight he made Hermione think of an exquisitely carved gargoyle; she half
expected him to have fangs as he opened his mouth to continue in a breathy sarcastic tone. "You
lot seem to be awfully chummy again. Forgiven them have you?"

"They didn’t do anything to me, you did." Hermione realised that she was waving her finger right
under his nose and slowly she lowered it to her side trying not to meet Draco’s eyes.

"What are you doing down here anyway?" he asked, seemingly unaware of her discomfort.

"I just left Justin." Hermione fiddled with a strand of hair that was tickling her cheek.

"Left him?" Draco asked sharply.

"Said goodnight," Hermione corrected and tucked her hair out of the way behind her ear.
Was it her imagination or did Draco…? Hermione dearly wished there was someone else she
could ask for help, but, unfortunately, there wasn’t. "Can you tell me the way out? …Please."

"I can show you." Draco extended his arm and bowed, like an old fashioned gentleman about
to lead a lady to dance. Hermione felt cold and she stood there glaring at him. She wasn’t going
to do it. Hermione folded her arms and began to turn away but his words brought her back,
"Now, now, either take my arm or spend the whole night wandering round. Filch is not far
off … I’m sure he’ll give you directions, or detention."

Malfoy had a point.

Stiffly, Hermione took Draco’s arm. "That’s better," he said, through a breath before setting of at
an easy pace, "It’s really quite inconsiderate of Fink-Letchley making you walk all the way home
by yourself. Doesn’t believe in taking risks, does he? Prefers to let you contend with Mrs. Norris."

Hermione didn’t bother to correct him as she watched their feet fall in time with one another.
She agreed with Malfoy’s accusation but Hermione wasn’t about to let him know it. "Do you
really think insulting my friends is going to impress me?" she asked keeping her eyes on the floor.

"Just one question, Hermione," said Draco quietly, conveniently ignoring her question, "If you
can forgive Potter and Weasley, why can’t you forgive me?"

Hermione whirled round, tearing her hand away from his arm; "The fact that you even have to
ask should be answer enough!"

Malfoy’s seemed torn between several emotions, his face twisted oddly as though he were
trying to stop it from doing something. Hermione feared for one moment that he might grab
her as he had when he followed her to the Transfiguration classroom and fling her against the
wall, but he simply smiled, stopped moving and refused to take another step until she put her
hand back on his arm.

"Better," he said, as Hermione gave in, "I was beginning to think that your parents taught you
no manners whatsoever!" Hermione ground her teeth and didn’t reply, her hand, clasped in the
crook of his arm seemed determined to do things she didn’t want it to do – like explore the
curve of his arm through his clothes. She felt dreadful.

"I’m only trying to help," said Draco, softly as they turned into another identical and poorly lit
corridor. "Now, I don’t want to see you roaming around down here any more. I can give you
detention for being out of your common room this late. In fact…"

"Don’t you dare!" Hermione flared, "I can do the same to you!" Draco merely chuckled in a
way that made Hermione want to kick him.

Draco pulled her round to face him, raised her hands to his lips and gently kissed her fingertips;
he nodded, "Those are the stairs to the Entrance Hall, I think you know the way from here."

~0~

"How dare he!" Hermione growled as she stomped up to the Gryffindor tower, "Just who the
hell does he think he is?"

The common room was silent apart from the crackling embers of the fire and the low hum of a
wireless. Hermione picked it up and turned it off. Since her parents had given her a Wizarding
Wireless for Christmas it had become rather a fixture of the Gryffindor common room; Hermione
just wished that Parvati would put it back when she’d finished listening to Knowing Nora’s Angst
Hour. Resigned to the fact that it would find it’s way back here anyway Hermione placed the
wireless back on the mantelpiece and wearily climbed the stairs to her dormitory.

Without disturbing the other girls, Hermione slipped into bed. A sliver of moonlight slipped
through a crack in the curtains, her eyes traced its line, bright against the dark canopy. She lay
awake for a very long time because each time she closed her eyes a grinning image of Malfoy
popped into her mind. Hermione didn’t want any Malfoys in her head or in her life and as she
couldn’t sleep she lay back and formulated a plan to exorcise this one.

Her fingers crept beneath her pillow and drew out a flat box bound in soft buttery dragonhide.
Hermione extracted the snake which writhed between her fingers flashing its tiny emerald eyes
as she held it by the tail above her head. No wonder he thought he still had a chance. Hermione
would return it to Malfoy and if, after that, he continued to harass her then Hermione would go
to Professor McGonagall and, after what he’d done, she might very well get him expelled.

For some reason that thought made Hermione smile.

~0~

It was a very simple plan but, first, Hermione needed something.

Softly, she knocked on the door of the boys’ dormitory. There was no one there. Hermione
tried the handle and it opened, surely Harry wouldn’t mind. She left the door ajar so that she
could hear anyone approaching from below and quietly crept over to Harry’s bed, stopping
at the foot where his trunk lay. She opened the lock with her wand, easing open the lid and
holding it steady with one hand and pulling out Harry’s Invisibility Cloak with the other. She
hoped he’d understand why she had borrowed it; she hoped he’d never find out. Gently she
lowered the lid of the trunk and tucked the cloak beneath her robes. She listened at the door
for footsteps before dashing back to her own dormitory.

‘Where ever did you learn to be so devious?’ Hermione asked herself, but feared that she
knew the answer and she was about to get him out of her life forever.

It was a Monday evening and the Slytherins had Quidditch practice. Draco had once told her
that he tended to stay back later than the others to practice his flying - something about an
aversion to having an audience to watch him fall flat on his face when he tried new moves.
Hermione would wait unseen until their practice was over and when the rest of the Slytherin
team made their way back to the castle, Hermione would give Malfoy back his things and tell
him to get stuffed.

With Malfoy’s quill and the box tucked within her robes Hermione covered herself with Harry’s
Invisibility Cloak. Taking great care not to make a noise or bump into anyone as she crossed the
common room, Hermione positioned herself by the portrait hole. There were too many people
around to open it herself so she had to wait. Hermione passed the time by glancing anxiously at
her watch. Finally it opened and Hermione was able to slip out unnoticed before it closed.

Alone beneath the Invisibility Cloak Hermione experienced an unusual sense of freedom, a
feeling that she could go anywhere and do anything, maybe that was why Harry and Ron were
so keen on using it to go trailing round the school at night? She hoped that the delay in waiting
by the portrait hole hadn’t made her too late; she’d put this off for too long already. The light
was already fading in the west as she reached the Quidditch pitch and there were no players to
be seen. She searched the skies and peeped through the window of the broomshed. Still no sign.

The door of the changing rooms was open. "I don’t think so!" she muttered then as she
hesitated a little voice reminded Hermione that no one could see her. She could slip in, leave
the things, and slip out. Hermione pushed the door open a little wider, it creaked loudly and
she stiffened but the noise of rushing water from within blocked the sound. Hermione glanced
cautiously along the rows of empty pegs that stood above a low wooden bench. There was
no one here.

A sound drew Hermione down the long narrow changing room, a doorway at the end led into
a large white chamber. On the other side there appeared to be another changing room in which
a light flickered, maybe he would be in there. Gazing curiously around her she stepped into the
massive tiled chamber.

In the centre, just visible through a cloud of steam, Hermione could see a large brass ring from
which was suspended a long white curtain. Just above the hoop an enormous round showerhead
could be seen, water pouring from it with all the force of a high waterfall and every now and then
a bubble floated over the top of the curtain and popped. It was a large room to house a single
shower and Hermione supposed that new showers and curtains must appear according to
however many people required to use them, no doubt with water of the ideal temperature.
‘How very Hogwarts,’ she thought.

Hoping that the noise of the water would muffle the damp slap of her footsteps Hermione
skirted the edge of the room, taking care not to snag the cloak on any of the empty pegs that
ran around the wall. Her eyes were fixed on the curtain just in case it should part and she
should need to get away. She could see a shadow in there, fuzzy through the fabric, then,
just as Hermione reached the far side of the room and was about to walk through the other
door, she saw to her surprise that the curtain was not entirely drawn …

A vivid memory of the statue of David outside the Palazzo Vecchio as she’d first seen it on
a rainy day many years before flashed into Hermione’s mind. She’d stood gazing at David’s
back, never before having seen anything so magnificent, as her parents tried to draw her back
to the shelter of the colonnade of the Uffizi. Her breath caught in her throat, but this was
Draco and Hermione thought him even more beautiful than Michelangelo’s colossal dream
of perfection.

The water ran in a stream down his back, between two rounded buttocks and down long,
toned legs to the floor. She saw his spine roll beneath his glistening skin, slick under the water.
Hermione wanted to reach out and touch him, to see if he really had been carved from a piece
of flawless white marble but shook herself, remembering that this was Draco and he was very
much alive, moving and breathing and utterly unaware of her.

Hermione bit her lip as he turned. Draco’s eyes were closed and his face carried a faraway
look. A smile just teased the corners of his lips as he lifted his head toward the shower; clear
water spilling down and across his chin and shoulders, cascading to the floor.

It was hard to breathe in the warm damp air. Hermione leaned back against the wall and
pressed her hands against the tiled surface, which was cool even through the cloak. Not for
the first time she wished that she could read Draco’s mind. Her eyes travelled down his throat,
his torso, waist and hips absorbing every detail knowing that she would never see him this
way again. She almost reached out, wanting to run her fingers up his arm and down over the
swell of his chest, she wanted to feel all the little muscles that covered his stomach tense
beneath her caress.

As Draco drew back his arms and flicked back his hair from his eyes Hermione gulped. For
a moment she was sure he was looking directly at her, she almost screamed but remembered
that she was wearing an invisibility cloak; he couldn’t see her.

Reluctantly, and before she did anything rash, Hermione decided that she must move on.
Draco’s clothes must be through the door to her right. She would go in there, leave what
she had come to return, and go. He’d understand her message easily enough.

She took one step and then froze.

"Whatever are you doing here?" Draco was staring right at Hermione, wearing nothing but an
expression of mild surprise.

Hermione was aghast. She glanced down at herself then at the Invisibility Cloak, which now
dangled from a hook on the wall where only seconds ago she had been standing.

The roar of water had now been replaced by a roar of blood in her ears.

Should she run?

Hermione didn’t know where to look. She saw a single drip of water fall from the shower and
land on Draco’s shoulder; her eyes followed it as it slowly trickled all the way down his body.

"Could you pass me a towel?" he asked evidently having trouble keeping his face straight.

Too shocked to do anything but obey, Hermione reached behind her and lifted a white towel
from a hook. She tossed it at Draco. He caught it and slowly wrapped the towel around his
waist, apparently unconcerned by her presence.

Hermione’s eyes followed every movement.

"Why are you looking so interested?" he asked with a chuckle, "There’s nothing you haven’t
seen before."

Hermione’s mouth snapped closed and she tried desperately to find somewhere else to rest her
gaze. "You weren’t meant to see me!" she squealed covering her face with her hands, her legs felt
weak, it was an effort not to slip down to the hard, damp floor.

Draco pulled his hand through his hair and looked as though he were trying very hard to remember
something, "What was it you called me just the other week? Ah yes … a filthy, perverted, disgusting
excuse for a…"

"That was different!" Hermione snapped, regaining a modicum of composure.

"Oh, yes! My mistake entirely," he scratched his chin. "Following someone into a classroom
because you want to apologise to them is so much worse than voyeurism. I feel violated, Hermione.
I’m absolutely horrified!" Actually, Hermione thought that he sounded anything but.

"You stalked me and attacked me!" she said anger gradually replacing confusion.

"I did not, I was defending myself from you!" That wasn’t quite how Hermione remembered the
incident in the Transfiguration classroom, but she was too embarrassed to argue at the moment.
As Malfoy stared at her she felt as though she’d walked right into a cleverly baited trap, anything
she could accuse him with was suddenly no longer credible. "Well," he demanded, "what did
you want to say to me?"

"I’m not here to say anything." She dug deep into the pockets of her robes and her hands
gripped what she sought, as she drew them out she added, "I’m here to give these back."
Hermione threw the box and the quill at Malfoy. He caught the box but the quill landed on
the wet floor; his eyes followed its skidding path for a second then he flicked open the box
with his thumb and looked at its contents.

"Oh," said Draco coldly, looking rather as though an unseen hand had just punched him in
the stomach. "And I thought it was my lucky day." Draco snapped the lid closed and with a
flick of his wrist, chucked the box into the corner. He sighed oddly, "Oh well. Thanks! Run
back to your perfect little life then, Hermione."

"What?" somehow Hermione had expected more.

"I’ve had enough." Draco sighed, his brow wrinkling, "I can only take being ignored for so
long and, believe me, I’ve tried everything short of extreme violence to make you understand.
You won! Congratulations. Now, if you don’t mind I’d like to get dressed… in private."

"Is that all you’ve got say?" she asked unable to believe that he could dismiss her so coldly
and so easily.

"Are you deaf?" he asked stifling a yawn.

"You don’t want to know why?"

"Not really." Draco’s eyes were hard and he stood with his arms folded across his chest,
somehow maintaining an extraordinary amount of dignity for someone dressed only in a fluffy
white towel that barely reached his knees. "I can quite live without knowing why someone
hates my guts, it’s enough for me to know that they do."

"Draco, you deceived me!" exclaimed Hermione, bursting with righteous indignation, "and if
you hadn’t accidentally fallen in love you would have let the whole school know it. You wanted
to humiliate me!"

"You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. I’m not going to waste my time on a
lost cause," he rubbed the back of his neck as if it were stiff, "Hermione, it’s actually a bit cold
in here, so could you just get on with it?"

"Get on with what?" Hermione was counting the number of floortiles that lay between them.

"You came here to tell me that you don’t love me, didn’t you? Well, I’m waiting."

Her eyes reached his toes, straight and pale. She followed them up a pair of slightly bony feet,
ankles, calves, knees, across the towel that covered his hips, up his torso, all the way to the
damp and tousled hair that covered his head and his deliciously nibblable ears. ‘Stop looking!’
Hermione mentally slapped herself.

She caught a glimpse of ripple on his temple, a tiny pulse that was the only evidence that he
was actually alive. Hermione’s eyes swept over his face, his lips were twisted into a polite and
expectant smile while his eyes wavered between wistful and worried. Hermione realised that it
was she who was not breathing.

"I don’t have all day," Draco’s chest swelled as he sucked in a deep breath, then he walked
straight past Hermione.

"Draco!" she grabbed his arm to stop him then hastily let go as she remembered that it was she
who wanted him to leave her alone.

"What?" he turned on her, cold grey eyes revealing nothing, "You wanted to get rid of me didn’t
you?" Hermione jumped back.

"You can’t brush me off like this!" she began but Draco was much closer to her than she’d
realised, close enough to grab her arm and pull her sharply toward him.

His fingers dug deep into the flesh above her elbow, she would have cried out but she seemed
to have forgotten how, "Tell me you don’t love me, Hermione," he snarled, all pretence of indifference
gone. "Tell me, right now, that you don’t love me and I’ll leave you alone!"

Hermione thought that he might continue to shake her until her eyes fell out. He was hurting her
but Hermione couldn’t tear herself away, not from his hands and not from his eyes that challenged
and enraged her. Hermione wanted to say it just to hurt him, and she knew that it would, to get
him back for what he had done, for being so bloody beautiful and for making her fall in love with
him. She opened her mouth but…

"I can’t," she said, her voice cracked and small.

Hermione felt herself being lifted toward him, pulled closer and closer until she thought he might
crush her. "Don’t ever do anything like that to me again," breathed Draco before he pressed his
mouth to hers and pushed her back against the damp tiled wall. Hermione thought that she ought
to fight and she tried to push him away, but his damp skin burned like ice beneath her palms and
his hands were much too strong for her. Hermione found that her own hands slipped up through
his hair, and down his back, somehow dislodging the towel on the way. It wasn’t what she’d
come here for, but she knew it was what she wanted and, breathing deeply, Hermione closed
her eyes and gave in.

~0~

Much later Hermione walked with Draco back toward the school, Harry’s invisibility cloak
tucked under her arm and the little bracelet that Draco gave her once again coiled around her
wrist. They stopped by the edge of the forest, just before the castle came into view.

"What did you mean when you said don’t do anything like that again?" Hermione was curious.

"Finch-Fletchley!" replied Draco, as though he thought she was an idiot.

Hermione gasped as if remembering something. "What am I going to tell Justin?"

"Don’t tell him anything," suggested Draco, seriously, "He’ll soon get the point. And if he
doesn’t, the moron will get it when I tell him. Honestly, if I hadn’t known what you were doing
I’d have clobbered him for going near you, it really was tempting."

"If you hadn’t known …?" Hermione suddenly grasped what Draco was saying.

"What you were doing?" Draco smirked, "Oh, I knew, not immediately of course, but you
couldn’t’ve been serious about that berk." Draco pulled Hermione close and she could feel
his breath warm against her cheek as he spoke, "Don’t try and play mind games with me,
Hermione, you’ll lose every time," he said, treating her to a wide, predatory grin.

Hermione tried to pull back but Draco held her fast so she twisted her head to look up at him,
"I have to tell Justin, tonight. But, Draco, could we not let anyone know?" Hermione didn’t want
to ruin the flimsy repairs to her friendship with Ron. Harry, she thought, might be able to bear the
idea but Ron would fly off the handle again. "Would you mind not letting on, for now… I want to
do things right this time and tell Harry and Ron first."

"Ashamed of me are you?" Draco let go of her and turned away, he appeared to be examining
the trunk of the tree whose branches sheltered them.

Hermione frowned and spoke to his back, "I know I made such a fuss about being open and
not sneaking around but…"

"Don’t bother," said Draco softly, raising his hand to silence her, "I’ve given up trying to
understand you … if that’s what you want…"

Hermione nodded though she knew he couldn’t see her. She assumed that he’d read the
meaning of her silence.

"Okay," Draco released a long breath as he turned back to her. The last rays of light were
fast fading and his faced was shadowed and dark. Hermione saw him step forward and allowed
him to pull her across the damp ground and push her up against the trunk of the tree. He placed
a hand at either side of her head; she could see them smooth and white against the dark ridged
bark. Draco leant close and it was all Hermione could do not to arch forward and kiss him.

"I’ll keep your secret, Hermione. Tell them when you wish. For now, I’d better leave you here,"
he pulled the Invisibility Cloak from beneath her arm and pushed it into her hands. "If we walk
together half of the school will see. Follow me the same way you came. We’ll arrange a way of…"

Again, Hermione nodded dumbly. She was fascinated by the way the twilight made his eyes
glow and she marvelled at what it took to put a bit of colour in Draco’s cheeks, the way his hair
sometimes fell into his eyes, the way he always had to feel in control…

"Are you listening to me?" Draco asked affronted.

"Of course." Hermione blinked sheepishly, "I’ll send you a message the usual way." Draco
looked blank.

"Whimsy!" cried Hermione, Draco still looked confused. "The House Elf!" she said exasperated.

"Oh! I’ll be waiting for it." Draco grinned wolfishly. Hermione felt him push her against the tree
trunk a feeling of dizziness washing over her as he kissed her and she pulled him closer wanting
to sink right into him and never be parted. Then she felt his hand disentangle her fingers from
his hair and bring those same protesting fingers up to his lips. "I have to go," he said softly,
"I’ll be missed."

Draco stepped back, away from Hermione’s outstretched hands, and turned. He strode out
from beneath the tree, glancing back only once, then, from beneath the shade of the tree, she
watched him walk back to the castle each step long and swift, robes billowing out behind him.

Through the leafless branches of the tree she watched the sky darken; she watched until the
first star could be seen, she wasn’t superstitious but Hermione made a wish anyway, stranger
dreams had come true.

Hermione draped Harry’s Invisibility Cloak around her shoulders and pulled it over her head.
She had to put it back. She didn’t know where Harry was but surely he would miss the cloak
if she didn’t return it.

She hurried back to the castle, and slipped the cloak back in Harry’s trunk. Hermione could
breath again, almost. On tiptoes Hermione crept to the door, opened it and as she stepped
through.

"Hermione?"

"Oh, hi Neville," she said, thinking very quickly, "You seen Harry? he’s not in there."

Her answer seemed to satisfy Neville, at least the questioning expression on his round face
lifted into a smile, "Downstairs,"

"Thanks," ‘that,’ thought Hermione, ‘was close.’ as Neville went into his dormitory and
shut the door.

‘Normal, normal, normal,’ Hermione told herself on the way down to the common room, ‘
nothing strange going on around here, it’s not as if you’re lying to them, you’re giving
them time to get used to the idea, normal, normal.’

Hermione entered the common room and came up behind Harry and Ron to find them pouring
over a huge scroll that depicted fourteen figures and an array of different coloured arrows pointed
in every direction. ‘Quidditch again…’ she thought rolling her eyes.

"Very clear," she said sardonically. They turned and smiled thinly, obviously not appreciating
her sarcasm. "I wanted to let you know, I’m going to talk to Justin."

"You’re just a font of useful information aren’t you?" said Ron a little harshly but Hermione didn’t
want to fall out with him again so she ignored it.

"I’m going to break up with him," she informed them, hoping that would make things a little clearer.

Ron seemed to perk up immediately, "Lovely evening for it," he said, "Always thought he was a
bit of a prat."

"Ron," said Harry, "You’re meant to wait until afterwards before you say that sort of thing. Not
planning on changing your mind are you, Herm?" The last word he said in a deep ‘Justin’ voice,
Hermione hadn’t known that Harry could do quite such a convincing impression.

"Definitely not changing my mind," and feeling that it might be worth emphasising the point to
Ron she added, "I simply don’t have time for a boyfriend."

Ron placed his hand behind his ear and cocked his head on one side, he appeared to be listening
to something, "Is it just me or did half the human race just breath a sigh of relief?"

"Thanks, Ron," said Hermione.

"You look awfully pleased with yourself for someone who’s about to break up with someone,"
remarked Harry.

"Oh well!" replied Hermione quickly before heading off to find Fink-Letchley.
 
 
 

In Part Eleven: Chez Malfoi Hogsmeade, Apparition, Muggle cooked lunch and a rather
nasty complication. Poor Hermione and Draco, will the course of true love ne’er run smooth …?

Authors Notes
For updates on this fic please join http://groups.yahoo.com/group/Transi_de_Froid/ some
people use it for discussion and if you do join and don’t have a Neo-pet or dislike chatting
about the appearance of Draco I suggest that you change your Delivery Options to ‘Special
Notices’ immediately.

Comments, suggestions, criticisms, huge piles of money, publishing contracts, send either to
the list or to me seeker@slytherindungeon.net

To my beta’s Bumblebee, Squin, Medea and Lexy who are busily aiding me with the rewrite
as well as making future chapters readable. THANK YOU!!!

Tamer_Gal "All in all, this thing deserves a Nobel Prize for Literature!!!" I think that was such
a lovely thing to say but JKR might be a little upset:)

Sanna, I hope this makes you feel better about the Hr/D situation.

And to everyone else who keeps reading and reading I love you lots!

To my BF who has bruises owing to the number of times I’ve bounced plotlines off his head,
thanks, but I’m a bit worried about your reaction to the shower scene! Is there something
you’re not telling me;)

/End copious and waffly ANs
 

Back to Chapter 9
Chapter 11