A/N Hi everyone. So, here is chapter 7 and I must admit that I really like this one. I hope you do to. I hope yas don't think its too OOC. I've tried to be really careful not to make it too farfetched and I think this is the 1st chapter so far that I think really pushes it. Please let me know what you all think.

On a different topic, the nominations for the Dramione Awards kicks off today and I was wondering what you would all be voting for. I always like to take suggestions so that I can have a read and maybe vote for them myself. Maybe we could make predictions about a winner.

Anyway, I just want to thank my ever-fabulous beta la_rubinita who has got a brilliant story, worthy of the top stop, called The Beast Within. Check it out.

So, on with the chapter…..enjoy!

Apart but not Forgotten

Chapter 7

Dear Mum and Dad,

My first few weeks back at Hogwarts have been exceptionally enlightening. I have learned a lot already and feel as though this year is going to be a completely different experience from my first six years here, and I am ready to take any challenges that may be thrown my way.

The first Prefect's meeting with me as Head Girl was very exciting and everyone was talking about it afterwards. I feel that I made quite an impression on those present. Professor Dumbledore even visited me personally afterwards to comment on my performance.

Also, I have been offered an internship within the school's Hospital Wing where I can train with Madam Pomfrey to be a Healer. It's all very exciting.

Harry and Ron have turned a new leaf this year and seem to be ridding themselves of some of the things that have previously distracted them from their studies. It's as though they are completely different people.

We have been given an interesting assignment in one of my classes and, though I wasn't initially pleased with my partner, we have been working together every day for almost a week now and it has been surprisingly pleasant. I think that we work very well together and I am sure that, as always, I will achieve top marks.

I miss you both terribly and can't wait to see you at Christmas.

All my love,

Hermione

xxx

"What are you writing?"

"Nothing." Hermione quickly covered the letter with her arms as her partner approached her in the library. Malfoy looked at her suspiciously for a moment before taking a seat opposite.

"Okay then," he started, "have you got those notes from yesterday?"

Hermione nodded and turned in her chair to grab her bag from the floor, and that's when it happened. The moment her arms left the table Draco, calling upon his seeker reflexes, shot his hand forward and snatched the piece of parchment she had been writing on.

"Hey!" Hermione stood up suddenly, causing her chair to fall backwards and clatter loudly in the quiet library, and tried to reach across the desk to get her letter back. Malfoy, however, was ready for her and in one fluid movement stood and stepped back out of her reach. "Malfoy, please. Give it back."

The blond grinned as he moved around the circular table, making sure he stayed opposite the seething Head Girl as she tried, desperately, to catch him. His eyes fell to the letter and as he read what was written the smile disappeared from his face. Hermione had stopped running to catch him and was now just stood, waiting for this horror to end.

All my love,

Hermione

When he had finished reading he looked up and met Hermione's eyes. What he saw there sent a chill down his spine. Sure, he had seen her cry before. Hell, he had even been the one to make her cry. But the pure sorrow he saw when he looked at her in that moment was something he had never seen. Not in anyone. There were no tears on her cheeks nor in her big, brown eyes but she looked broken. She had the look of someone who had cried until they were empty and had neither the energy, nor the heart to cry anymore. What he saw there terrified him.

He glanced down at the letter in his hand and looked back up. "I think they'll buy it," he said softly and passed the parchment back to its owner.

Draco watched Hermione chew the end of her quill as she stared into space, not paying any attention to what he had just said or to the book in front of her. She had been doing pretty much that exact same thing since he had read the letter to her parents an hour and a half ago.

"Okay," he said, standing up suddenly, causing Hermione's attention to snap back into focus. "Come on." He started gathering up the books and parchment that was scattered across their table and Hermione looked at him in confusion.

"Where are we going?" she asked as he took her cloak from the back of her chair and handed her it.

"Outside. We've done enough theory. Let's go and get some things from the grounds and start practicing the transfigurations."

Ten minutes later the pair was walking across the Hogwarts grounds, both wrapped up in scarves, gloves and hats in an attempt to ward off the cold. Despite this, Hermione wasn't surprised to see her own breath. Even though it was still only September, the weather taken a dramatic turn for the worse in the last week and the staff and students of Hogwarts had even woken up, the day before, to see the grass covered in a frosty shine.

Draco was quiet as they walked and Hermione was surprised by this. She would have bet money that if he had gotten his hands on her letter, he would have found it highly amusing and would have teased her endlessly about it, but he hadn't. He had even said something that she thought was an attempt to make her feel better. She found this new side of Draco Malfoy both confusing and intriguing, and was dying to know what was going on in his head.

There was one thing that she'd written in her letter that was actually true and that was that the past week working with Malfoy had been surprisingly pleasant. They worked as an extremely effective team and were flying through the assigned reading for their project as well as some extra. Unexpectedly, there had been some bickering (you can't change a six-year habit in a matter of days) but he had not once mentioned her 'inferior heritage' nor had he called her a 'Mudblood'.

She glanced right to study him. With his woollen hat on that covered his distinctive Malfoy hair and his nose pink from the cold he almost looked like a regular seventeen year old boy. Not a stuck-up aristocrat with a Death Eater for a father who, supposedly, hated her and everyone she loved. He looked normal and even quite attractive. She turned her face downwards and watched her feet so that he wouldn't see the smile on her lips and the slight blush that she now felt creeping onto her cheeks.

Draco bloody well hated the cold. He hated that he had to wear a hat that made his hair all flat, he hated that his face was stinging and red, and he really hated that he was walking around outside in his really expensive shoes. He kept quiet though.

Hermione had been so down and mopey in the library that he had suggested the only thing that he could think off, to go outside. Now he couldn't very well complain when it was his idea, especially after he looked at her and saw her smiling as she looked down at the frosted ground as she walked. His idea seemed to have done the trick so no, he wouldn't moan about the fact that his fingers were numb because he'd forgotten his gloves. He would just put his hands in his pockets and bear it until she seemed happy again.

He sighed inwardly at that thought. He doubted very much whether she would be truly happy again for a long time. He saw how much she was hurt by Potter and Weasley's abandonment of her and, though Draco, personally, would love it if they would remove themselves so effectively from his life, she was clearly devastated.

One thing he had to give her props for, though, was that she was becoming much more adept at hiding her emotions, not as good as Draco himself, of course, but a lot better than she used to be.

Since her argument with the Weasel in the Great Hall a week ago, there had been no more public outbursts even though there had been several opportunities. For a few days after the fight, the idiots that were the majority of Hogwarts student body had followed her around, bugging her with questions about why she wasn't speaking to the two boys anymore. But she didn't crack. She merely ignored them and cast a silencing bubble around herself. It was only at certain moments when he could see her pain, usually when they were studying and she was tired and allowed herself to drift off into her own thoughts and even then she would shake herself out of it after a few seconds and the mask would fall deftly back into place.

If Hermione was getting bugged by nosey students though, it was nothing compared to the stick that Weasley (and to a lesser degree, Potter) were getting. Since Granger had ousted them in the Great Hall as the giant asses that they are, they seemed to have been, almost, exiled from the rest of the student body. People called them names as they passed in the corridors, let doors slam back in their faces and a few brave individuals had even sent the odd stinging hex their way. Even their fellow goody two shoes Gryffindors had snubbed them so that the two boys now spent their meal times sitting alone, surrounded by blatant whispers and gossiping. Draco found it all very amusing.

Hermione had surprised him many times in the past fortnight. If he had been asked previously what her reaction would be if she ever fell out with her two best friends, he would have said that she'd fall apart, that none of the Golden Trio would ever be able to function independently. But she had proven him wrong. True, initially she had gone to pieces, the time she'd cried at him in the hallways was proof of that, but since then she had bounced back with an incredible strength. Either that or she was just a better actress than he had thought. He couldn't tell you exactly which one it was but he desperately hoped, for her sake, that it wasn't the latter.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" Hermione's voice was quiet compared to the loud wind that was whistling around them but Draco heard her perfectly. He looked towards her, slightly surprised by the question, and saw that her eyes had not left the ground. She looked nervous, as though she wasn't completely sure that she wanted to hear his answer. And, to be honest, he wasn't completely sure he could give it, both because he wasn't exactly certain and because he didn't know that he would like his own answer. So, instead, he replied with the safest explanation that he could think of.

"We made a pact," his tone was even and matter-of-fact, "and a Malfoy never breaks his word."

Hermione wondered whether Draco realised what she had noticed lately, that he quoted from the 'Guide to being a Malfoy' whenever he was feeling uncomfortable. She supposed that it was probably a defence mechanism that he had developed over the years but she decided not to push the matter.

"Well, thank you," she responded. "Merlin knows I need someone to be kind to me at the moment."

"Right, that's it!" Malfoy stopped walking and turned towards Hermione, taking hold of her arm and spinning her round to face him. The look of surprise was evident on her face but his behaviour wasn't threatening or aggressive, merely assertive, so she didn't feel the need to back away, "What the Hell happened between you and those idiots? Potter is the embodiment of everything Gryffindor. He's the most annoyingly heroic and self-sacrificing person I've ever met and I can't understand why he has suddenly turned into a gigantic arse. And Weasley! Don't even get me started on him. He called you a Mudblood! What the Hell has gotten in to them both?"

When he had finished his little rant, Draco was breathing slightly heavily from anger and his annoyance was evident. He shook his head as though to clear his thoughts and seemed to realise suddenly that he had just gone off on one. He looked into Hermione's face and saw she was just as surprised by his words as he was. True, he had been dying to know what had happened between the Golden Trio but he was usually much more in control of his emotions than that. What was it about Hermione Granger that always made him lose his cool? He looked down and realised that he was still grasping her arm so released her, hoping that he hadn't gripped too hard.

"Well, maybe your prejudices aren't true," Hermione's voice was low and Draco was sure he could hear the strain that accompanied trying to hold back tears. "Apparently he wasn't as heroic and self-sacrificing as you thought." She turned away from him and continued on the path they had just been walking. As he watched her retreating form a shiver ran down his back that he wasn't sure was from the cold. While he watched her walk away, she lifted her hand to her face and he realised that she had lost her battle to control her tears.

He jogged to catch up with her and when he drew level he kept his eyes forward, not wanting her to be embarrassed that he had seen her cry once again. "Well your prejudices are wrong as well, you know."

He continued speaking as though there had been no gap in their conversation and Hermione stopped walking, turning towards him with a confused look, "I don't have any prejudices," she insisted, "I have a very open mind towards others."

"Oh really?" Draco replied. "You think that because I am a Slytherin and my father's son then I am destined to follow in his footsteps and become a Death Eater." Hermione froze; the last time they had spoken about these things was several weeks ago when Malfoy had stormed out of the library. Their recent truce had seemed dependent on neither of them mentioning certain topics, including his family and Lord Voldemort, and she was incredibly surprised to hear him bringing them up now after a week of relative peace. "You believe that I will devote my life to the Dark Lord and my future will include murdering Muggles and Muggleborns like you. But you are wrong."

At these words, he turned and walked away and this time it was Hermione who was stood staring at a retreating back, trying to take in his recent revelation.

Neither Hermione nor Draco got much sleep that night and, unbeknownst to them, they were both lay staring the ceilings above their respective beds at the exact same moment, each in deep thought about the other.

Hermione glanced left to where her wand was resting on her bedside table projecting luminous numbers into the dark, showing her the time.

2:04 a.m.

She sighed deeply. Her body and mind were exhausted, her eyes stinging from being open so long and her muscles aching from walking around the Hogwarts grounds for almost four hours that afternoon, but she still could not sleep. Her mind simply refused to turn off and rest. Now, unsurprisingly, this was a problem that was quite common in the life of Hermione Granger. When one has a mind as alert and active as hers, it can occasionally prove to be more of an annoyance than a benefit, particularly during times that required intense contemplation. An example of these times would be during the first few days back at school, which seemed so long ago now but was a mere fortnight, after Harry and Ron's 'change of heart'. Those nights she got very little sleep as she tried, in vain, to decipher their actions and come up with a reasonable explanation for their behaviour. Since her row with Ron in the Great Hall, however, her mind seemed to be appeased and her sleep cycle had become more normal again.

Except for tonight.

This time her thoughts were not on her ex-friends but rather a certain blond-haired boy who was slowly bringing her to the realisation that she did not have everything figured out, and that not everyone fit perfectly into the box her mind had designed for them.

In Hermione's exceptionally organised mind, she had categorised everyone she knew into groups. Her Mum and Dad, Grandparents etc were, of course, family. She had recently learned, though, that this group was the only one that did not change. For years, Harry and Ron had been the Best Friends, the ones she could rely on and trust no matter what. This had all gone to Hell a few weeks ago and now she didn't know where they were. She didn't want them to be Enemies because part of her (the extremely tiny, irrational part) was hoping that they would change their mind and come back to her. For the time being she filed the boys under Unknown.

Now, this change was one that, of course, had taken a great deal of heartbreak and time to get used to but she thought that (after her initial breakdown) she was handling it very well. The second change, on the other hand, was much more perplexing. Draco Malfoy had always, since the moment that she had first heard him speak while they were waiting to be sorted, been an Enemy, second only to Lord Voldemort. He was obnoxious, stuck-up, a future Death Eater and, above all, he hated her and everyone like her for no other reason than the family she was born into. But recently he seemed to be changing.

He was no longer obnoxious for a start. Over the past week, they had been spending time together every day working on their assignment, and he not only wasn't rude and insulting but was actually quite pleasant. He loaned her his ink pot when she had left hers in her room, he always made sure he had left her enough space on their table to work in, and he had not once called her a Mudblood. Now, these probably seem like fairly minor things. Common courtesies that you would expect from a stranger, let alone someone you had known for over six years. But coming from Draco Malfoy these were giant leaps, small acts of kindness that went a huge distance to bridge the gap that had formed between them since they had met.

Secondly, he wasn't even as stuck-up as he once was. True, he still held himself with an aristocratic grace but she couldn't expect him to lose that after the seventeen years of upbringing that he had received. But today, when they were outside walking in the cold he did not complain once, even though she had noticed that he'd forgotten his gloves. He didn't moan about his hair getting squashed from wearing a hat or his face stinging from the wind. He actually looked very inelegant for once and Hermione had to admit that she kind of liked it. He looked rugged and rather attractive.

It was his revelation, though, that was the main focus of her mind. His confession that he had no intention of following Lord Voldemort had shaken her world the most. She had never had any doubt that Malfoy would become a Death Eater and so the idea that he might not was an alien concept to her. She realised, with a start, that this was probably the reason that he had reacted so violently to her implication that he would the week before. She guessed, correctly, that his father probably had no idea of his change of mind and for the first time considered that Draco was most likely in a very dangerous situation. From the few times that she had met Lucius Malfoy, she got the impression that, though he held his son in a high regard, there was very little love there and she had little doubt that his allegiance would be to his Dark Lord over his only child.

This thought made Hermione's heart melt. Her parents had always made it clear how much they loved her and that they would do anything for her. She couldn't understand how someone could care so little about their son.

Hermione looked at the time again and saw that it was now 3:29am. She sighed deeply and turned onto her right side, pulling one of her pillows down so that she could cuddle into it.

No, she thought, Malfoy definitely wasn't an 'Enemy' anymore but was damned if she could work out what he was.

Draco glanced right to where his wand was resting on his bedside table projecting luminous numbers into the dark, showing him the time.

2:04am

He sighed and returned his gaze to the ceiling above him, tracing with his eyes the slight crack in the paintwork. Draco wasn't used to this. He usually had no problems at all drifting off to sleep. He had learned from a very young age to distance himself from some of the things that went on around him. He had learnt this lesson the hard way when he was five years old and, while looking for his dad, had wandered down to his father's basement potions lab and found him torturing some man that Draco had never seen with the Cruciatus curse. Lucius had shouted at him to get out and, distraught, he had run to his bedroom and cried until his pillowcases were wet.

An hour later, his father had come in to see him. He had sat down on Draco's bed and told him that sometimes adults had to do things that they didn't like but Malfoy's were good at this because they were very strong and could ignore the feelings that came with the act. He had ordered the young Draco not to cry anymore and told him that he was never to speak of what he saw.

Draco never found out the name of the man in the potions lab and he never went down to the basement uninvited again, but he learned his lesson. He learned how to distance himself from the external world and not think about things that could make him feel guilty or bad. Therefore, when he found himself unable to shut off the world around him and sleep that night, he was surprised. Something that had once been so easy for him was now suddenly difficult and he couldn't seem to draw his thoughts away from a certain brunette and everything he had said and done to her over the years. True, he didn't necessarily feel guilt over the way he had treated her but he was beginning to see her in a different light.

He didn't know what had possessed him to tell Hermione what he hadn't told anybody else. In that moment, it had seemed the right thing to say to her to calm her down. She had been crying and he had simply blurted out the only thing that he could think of to make her stop. Why he had cared enough about her being upset to try and make her feel better was something he was avoiding thinking about because he was fairly sure he wasn't going to like the answer.

In all truth, it had been killing him to not be able to talk about what he had decided. It was such a huge decision that was going to affect his whole life and he had been keeping it to himself for months now. It was really not surprising that it was going to come out eventually and, in all fairness, he had probably admitted it to the best possible person. Granger was quite possibly the only person in the world that he could talk to about his upcoming change of allegiance. She was so damn good that he knew she wouldn't tell anyone else and he couldn't risk this information getting back to Lucius. There was no doubt in his mind which side his father would choose if it came down to either his Dark Lord or his son, and Draco was almost certain that Voldemort would appreciate the irony of having his most faithful servant kill his own child for the cause.

As it stood, Draco was trapped. He had gone over in his mind a million ways in which he could turn against the Dark Lord and survive, but each one seemed as unlikely as the last. In fact, the only idea that seemed halfway feasible was for him to run away and never come back. But even that plan had its flaws, the least of which was that he wouldn't be able to use his magic anymore for fears that they could track it. As a boy who had relied a great deal on his magic for his whole life, he wasn't sure that he could live without it. For now he was simply biding his time until after his graduation when he was due to receive the Mark, in the hopes that solution would present itself.

Against his will, Draco's thoughts wandered back to Hermione. After his announcement that afternoon, she hadn't said anything. She had caught up to him after a few moments and they had continued walking around the grounds, in a relatively comfortable silence, for several more hours, neither of them remembering that they had come outside in the first place to gather material to practice their transfigurations on. Despite her hush, he could tell that Hermione was dying to ask him a million questions about what he had said but she refrained, instead deciding to keep her mouth shut. He had both appreciated and resented this.

The question once again plagued his mind, as he continued to stare at the ceiling, about what had made him tell her in the first place. Granted, she had changed a lot over the past few weeks, though he wasn't sure she was even aware of it. She was more guarded and in control of her feelings, a trait that any Malfoy admired, but there was also something else. It was as though her recent experiences had made her stronger, not physically but emotionally. She held herself with more confidence, as though she were suddenly being forced to rely on her own strength rather than on others. Draco sighed; this was something he understood, having to depend on oneself, and he respected her for it.

It had surprised him how easy he had found it to get along with her over the last week. He hadn't found her anywhere near as infuriating as he once did and discovered that he would actually look forward to their study sessions together. He supposed that it wasn't very often that he got to spend time with an intellectual equal and was merely appreciating it.

That's a lie and you know it.

The voice in his head sounded suspiciously familiar though he couldn't work out who it belonged to.

You're using this 'intellectual equal' crap as a justification that you are not just looking forward to your study sessions but you are looking forward to seeing her.

Draco sat bolt upright in his bed, his eyes wide with shock. Where the bloody hell did that come from?

No, he didn't have feelings for Hermione Granger. He couldn't.

Could he?

True, he found her much more agreeable to be around and today when she was sad he had felt his stomach do a somersault. He also found it a lot more difficult to control his emotions when he was with her, which was evident from both his little outburst during their walk and his spur-of-the-moment confession. He had even caught himself counting down the hours to their study sessions and even to Transfiguration (which he hated) when he would be able to see her. He had told himself that he merely enjoyed the conversation and the banter but was it possible that he could actually have fallen for her?

"But she's a Mudblood," he said these words out loud, and was glad that he had cast a silencing charm around his bed to block out the sound of Crabbe's snoring, but he was shocked to find that the usual feelings of disgust that normally accompanied that word were not present.

Draco slowly lay back down, resting against his pillows. Even if he did have feelings for her it could never be. It went against everything he had ever been taught and just because he wasn't willing to join Voldemort anymore didn't mean he completely disagreed with him.

I've got to put a stop to this.

Draco nodded into the darkness. He would have to stop being so friendly to her. They would just have to get this damn project over with and then he could move on, but in the meantime he would push her away. Go back to being cruel. He couldn't let himself become any more attached.

Draco looked at the time again and saw that it was now 3:29am. He sighed deeply and turned onto his left side, pulling one of him pillows down so that he could cuddle into it.

As he closed his eyes, he was fairly certain that he would get no sleep tonight and instead tried fiercely to ignore the little voice in the back of his head that told him that his plan wasn't going to work.

A/N There you go. Hope you all liked it. Please review and let me know what you thought.

Thanks

xxx