A/n- Okay, so my exams are coming up and I'm writing fanfics, so I'm screwed, but I hope you like this.

Italics – Draco

Italics+Bold- Hermione.

Chit-Chatting.

Hermione Granger was ready to break that stupid owl's neck.

Well, tear, considering the owl was made of paper.

She shifted in her bed, and swatted at that thing, that godforsaken paper owl, again, but it kept on pecking at her cheeks, neck, hands, feet or whatever inch of bare skin it could find. She would've screamed at it to go away if she could speak, but considering her inability to speak was the reason she was in this bed, it would be quite ironic.

She cursed Ginny for sharing chocolate with her.

Oh, it wasn't about the chocolate really, just that Ginny had been infected with the throat and nasal infection, though she hadn't known about it, but still, she'd shared chocolate with Hermione and it led to Hermione falling victim to the cold too.

Ginny had been released earlier this evening, but considering Hermione was lucky enough to be one of the two people who were still infected, she had to sleep in the infirmary, again.

No, that would've been alright, if, the only other person wasn't Draco Malfoy.

Granted, he wasn't the jerk he used to be anymore, but he would always be a jerk to her. The same jerk who had tried to save her and her friends by pretending to not recognise them, the same jerk who had been forced to be someone he was not; the same jerk who had now given his entire property to the ministry for reestablishment of people.

And the same jerk, with those beautiful stormy eyes and shining blond hair that invaded the privacy of her dreams.

No No No No No, nope, no, not going to think about him like that, never going to think like that again.

The owl, as if realizing, pecking on nails wasn't working, moved on to her knuckles and Hermione gave up, she took the folded up piece of parchment and got up in her bed.

" Hey Granger, you awake?" it said, and Hermione wished she had her voice so she could scream at him.

"It's three am in the morning, Malfoy, and I'm sick, why in the world would you think I'm asleep?" She quickly scribbled underneath his message, with the quill she'd used earlier to complete her homework, and refolded the parchment in the shape of owl and hoped it pecked Malfoy for eternity.

Unfortunately that didn't happen.

Hermione tried to see his face, he was on the bed opposite from her, but couldn't see anything because the only illumination in the room was the slight moonlight coming through the windows. He was already sitting up in his bed and reading the message she'd scrawled back.

Only, a moment later, the owl came flying back.

"Looks like you lost the tail, but kept the cattiness from the brief period of time you were cat, Hermione."

Hermione read the message and wished He hadn't been there when Madam Pomfrey had decided to tell the sick kids the story of how the brave and intelligent Hermione Granger had turned into a cat after drinking the wrong Polyjuice Potion.

"So tell me, Malfoy, if you ever become an animagus- though judging by your transfiguration skills, there is no chance- would you be a ferret? Maybe a twitchy little one?" She wrote back, and waited.

And waited.

Waited.

But when his reply didn't come for a few more minutes, with a feeling she wouldn't call not disappointment, she lay down and tried to go back to sleep.

Then she tried not to jump when she felt something prick on her hand.

"Catty, catty, catty." The note read.

Really, that took him ten minutes to write?

She wondered how to reply when another parchment owl came flying her way.

"You were disappointed when you thought I wasn't going to reply back, weren't you?"

If anyone asked her right now about why her cheeks were red? She would say because of irritation, also she would be lying. Because in reality she was red as she was blushing.

"Yes Malfoy, I was disappointed that you didn't write back another letter to wake me up when I'm sick and in dire need of sleep, so Thank you for being so kind and writing to me."

Hermione was grateful for the dark, as it covered up her expression that gave away the fact that she was all bark and no bite.

"Oh, my pleasure." His reply read.

"Yes well, it won't be your pleasure anymore if you continue to bother me." She replied.

She heard a distinctive chuckle and wondered if she was ever getting rid of him.

"And how exactly are you going to make that happen? You don't have your wand ,neither can you speak, so how exactly Miss Granger, are you going to make me stop?" Came his reply.

Hermione felt her temper rise higher and scribbled back furiously.

"Oh don't you remember third year, Malfoy? I don't need a wand or my voice to hurt you and make you run away like a little boy."

"Ahhh... Lucky for you Granger I would never hit a girl, especially not one like you."

Especially not one like her, what was that supposed to mean?

Yep, she'd been right before, he was a jerk.

"You arrogant, sexist bas-" She was still writing when another owl perched itself on her hand.

"Stop rambling on about how sexist I am, granger, I won't hit girls because I may be an arse; I was still raised by a woman who believed in respecting other women. And I especially won't hit you because I like staying alive."

Okay, so maybe not that big a jerk.

But his words still surprised her, because that was as big a compliment you could get from this boy.

She realised she must be visible from his side of the bed because his next owl said.

"Oh don't look so shocked, you fooled Umbridge and then fed her to some Centaurs, that takes balls, woman."

At that, Hermione had to laugh, which soon turned to a horrible coughing fest. Before she knew it, he was right beside her, handing her the potion Madam Pomfrey had left just for a situation like this.

She took a few sips of the potion from the glass in his hand, and her lungs calmed, and she could breathe again. He motioned for her to shift and she frowned but shifted anyway.

He sat down on her bed beside her, hogging over most of her blanket. They played tug of war with it for a few minutes, neither of them backing down, she finally got tired and let him take half of it, and he grinned in victory.

"Don't make me laugh again." She wrote on a parchment for him, and pushed it towards him to read.

"I'll try my best not to but it's not my fault I'm so naturally flamboyant and hilarious." He wrote back, Hermione would've snorted but snorting is not the best idea when you have a cold.

"Yes, you are a walking ray of sunshine."

"Thank You." He wrote back, completely missing the sarcasm.

"So, you do realize we are literally chit-chatting right now, don't you?" He wrote, and she started to laugh again, which, you know it, turned to coughing.

His expression immediately turned to that of regret and concern, he put his hand around her and rubbed up and down her spine, while trying to make her drink some of the cough potion by the other. She calmed down slowly, the coughing fading away; He kept back the potion bottle but didn't remove his hand from around her back.

She stared in his eyes and found herself lost, she couldn't look away, and neither could he. He swallowed, his adam's apple visible, and Hermione had sudden urge to touch him there to figure out if he was ticklish. He leaned forward and Hermione wondered if he was going to kiss her.

What scared her was how much she wanted him to.

He looked away, and Hermione couldn't help but be disappointed, he picked the quill up again, and wrote down something.

She almost grabbed him when she read it.

"Granger, hypothetically, what would happen if I kissed you?"

"Hypothetically?" She wrote back.

"Yeah."

"Well, hypothetically, I would want to kiss you back but I won't because I have a cold."

Hermione smiled at the grin on his face when he read it.

"Yeah, well, I have the same cold too, so I don't think, hypothetically, that it would matter."

"Maybe you're right, hypothetically."

"Screw hypothetically." He wrote back, and tipped her chip and kissed her.

And you know what, in that moment, without saying a word the entire time, they'd said so much that words didn't matter, all that mattered was him, her, and their chit-chatting chits.

They were love letters she would preserve forever.