Disclaimer: I'm not dead and I still don't own Harry Potter.

Suggested Listening: 'Wicked Games' by Ursine Vulpine

October 6, 1996

There was an upside to Quidditch practice, she decided. For one, she wasn't required to sit in the stands and watch her friends flying about while she tried not to die from boredom. Still, even that upside wasn't quite the reprieve she'd wanted. Sighing, Hermione wiped away the sweat on her forehead. Her jumper had long been discarded and the cool air from the open window bit at her skin as she slid down the far wall. They'd been sequestered in their classroom since breakfast, and she was fairly certain that they'd missed lunch, but it didn't seem to matter. Not when they'd managed to figure out McGonagall's new alchemical formulas, and especially not when she'd managed to keep just one of her memories hidden from Draco's prying mind.

Cradling her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and tried not to think about the headache that was forming at the base of her neck. This was what she wanted, she told herself, to learn everything that she could to protect herself. She also had a sneaking suspicion that he was being much gentler with her than Snape had been with Harry. That thought was enough to give her pause and add to the ever growing list of questions she had about his true motivations in teaching her. Morgana, she thought with a groan, when had she become so damn paranoid?

She felt him sit down beside her, his hands carefully pulling her curls away from her neck and twisting them up on top of her head before securing them with a sticking charm. The gesture almost struck her dumb, but she didn't say anything as she pulled her legs up to her chest and rested her cheek against her knees. "I think we should take a break," she said, her voice soft as she stared up at him from beneath furrowed brows.

Draco nodded, his mouth pulling into a frown as he tried to poke a wayward curl back into place. The action almost made her want to laugh. "How do you live with this mop?" he asked, his voice almost teasing.

"It's a daily struggle. Believe me," Hermione replied with a sigh as she pressed her fingertips against the base of her skull and rubbed small circles into the skin. "I kept you out."

"Yeah. You did," he agreed before swatting her hands away only to replace them with his own. Part of her expected them to be cold, giving in to the stereotype of cold-blooded Slytherins, but they weren't. If anything they burned as they moved against her neck, his thumbs pressing down along the sides of her spine and pushing up. She heard him sigh as he tugged on her shoulders and uttered one soft command: "Come here."

The fact that her body complied and allowed his hands to guide her closer and settle her between his open legs, startled her. What was she doing, she wondered as her arms wrapped themselves limply around her legs and his hands began to move over her neck and shoulders once more. A year ago she would have balked at the idea of being here like this with him. A few months ago she would have balked at it. Now she'd didn't know what to think or what to do, and that was something that frustrated her to no end.

"You need to learn to relax," his voice broke through the silence, and she was sorely tempted to give a biting retort, but he continued on. "When you put up your walls you need to relax your body. If you stand there with your shoulders rigid it's going to be a tell."

He had a point, though she was loathe to admit it aloud. "Meditation?" she suggested as she balanced her forehead on top of her knees. The study of Animagi was forthcoming in their Transfiguration class, but somehow sitting around with a mandrake leaf underneath her tongue held little interest for her- no matter how much she admired those witches and wizards who had mastered the art.

Draco let out a soft chuckle. "You want to turn into a cat?" he asked as the pads of his fingers trailed down to her shoulders.

Hermione lifted her head at that and turned back to him with an amused smile curled over her lips. "A cat? Really?" she asked, her brow arched.

"It seems like it would suit your personality," he replied with a shrug.

"Would a ferret suit yours?"

She watched him in fascination, her smile widening as he seemed torn between scowling at her and just ignoring her completely. It entertained her to no end.

"Shut up, Hermione," he said.

Holding her hands up in a gesture of defense, she snickered softly before moving away from him. She didn't want to think about how her skin was warm from where he'd touched her, her muscles tingling from the lactic acid he'd pushed out in an effort to lessen the tension. Did he know that she wondered, did he know that the human body worked like that, that acid would build up in the muscle tissue after they'd been tight for too long? Shifting around, she looked up at him, her brow knit as she tried not to dwell on the fact that she'd let herself lean against the inside of his knee. Would he even look at a Muggle biology textbook if she brought him one?

"What are you thinking about?" he asked as his head tilted back against the stone wall. A lock of pale blond hair fell across his forehead, and she found herself reaching out to push it back in place.

"Why should I tell you when you can just read my mind?" Hermione countered, scowling when his hair fell down again as if to defy her.

Draco balanced his forearms on top of his knees and leaned forward, his nose almost touching hers as he stared her down. She braced herself, waiting for him to push inside and see her ridiculous thoughts. But he never did. "Why do you play this game with me?" he asked, his gaze boring into her. "Why do you expect me to just push myself into your mind and tear it apart? Do you really think so little of me that you assume I'd just mind fuck you without a second thought?"

Her mouth opened and closed as she tried to think of what to say, her fingers clutching the material of her jeans. "I didn't...I don't…" she muttered, hating herself for not being able to say more than that, hating that he so unnerved her.

"Then stop it. Stop keeping me in that hole you've had me shoved in for so long, Hermione," his voice was a hiss as he pressed closer, nearly trapping her in place. "I've done you that courtesy, I'd like the same."

She swallowed thickly as she reached up and took the wayward lock of hair between her fingers. This time she didn't push it back into place, what was the point when it was just going to fall back down again? Instead, she rolled the pale blond strands between the pads of her thumb and forefinger, almost memorizing its texture.

"In private. When we're alone in this room you treat me like an equal, everywhere else I just don't exist. Is that what you want from me, too? Take you out of that hole and then push you back in when we go back outside? Because I can do that," she replied, her voice shaking as she pulled her hand away and let his hair fall back against his forehead.

He caught her hand, pressing his palm to hers as his long fingers lined themselves up with her much smaller digits. "Then do it," Draco almost pleaded with her. "Treat me like I'm real, like I'm valid. Just in here. Then I can handle being in that hole the rest of the time."

Hermione nodded. "I can do that," she said, releasing a shaky breath. "I'm sorry."

"Shut up, Hermione," was all he said before his lips brushed against hers and their fingers laced together.

October 9, 1996

Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater.

That was all that Harry could seem to say. He harped on theory after theory over and over again until she was ready to snatch that blasted potions book out of his hands and lob it at his head. Even Ron wasn't buying it, and that said something; as much as he hated Malfoy he couldn't bring himself to believe that one of their classmates had taken the mark.

Hermione tuned her best friend out. Nothing that she said, no matter how logical, did any good. So, she let it rest as she retreated into books filled with Runes and Arithmancy equations; it was distracting, almost cathartic to immerse herself into words and numbers. It drowned out the constant din in the Gryffindor common room. It kept her from listening to the small voice in the very back of her mind that whispered 'what if Harry is right?'.

He hadn't kissed her since that Sunday afternoon in their abandoned classroom, and neither one of them brought it up. She told herself it was a fluke, a moment of weakness on both their parts, that it didn't mean anything at all. Honestly, it was more of a peck than anything. Pursing her lips, Hermione flipped a page in her Advanced Runes book and pressed herself further down in the plush armchair she'd settled in hours earlier. They were friends, she told herself, secret friends who tolerated each other in public and referred to each other by their first names in private. Nothing more.

She carefully slid a slip of parchment, filled with notes in her small, neat script, in between the pages of her book and shut it. Her eyes hurt and she closed them, her head falling into her hand as she rubbed absently at her forehead. Was it really necessary, she wondered, to be under so much stress so early in the school year? Somehow, she got the impression that her younger, Time Turner wielding self, would have enjoyed the advanced courses with more relish than she currently did. It was a sad thought, but the truth of it was that no matter how much she loved learning she was carrying more burdens than anyone her age had any right to. Did that knowledge stop her mind from racing, absorbing every banal fact that she could find just in case she needed it? Certainly not. But it still did nothing to ease the tension that would always seem to build up at the base of her skull by the end of every day.

Scrubbing her face with her hands, Hermione leaned her head back and cracked open her eyes. Harry sat on the floor in front of the fire, his potions book open on his lap as he rested his cheek in his hand. He wasn't the scrawny, knobbly-kneed boy she'd met on the train five years ago, his glasses held together by a strip of sellotape. If only they could go back to the days when their biggest threat was a troll in the girl's lav, she thought ruefully. Now they were surrounded by death and darkness and they were far from a reprieve. But for all of her intelligence, she could not seem to figure out just how to bring it all to an end.

Hermione found herself standing, her book tucked beneath her arm as she made her way across the common room, pausing only to run her hand over Harry's unruly black hair. He looked up at her, his bright green eyes shining through behind the lenses of his glasses. "You okay?" he asked as he pushed the metal frames back up the bridge of his nose.

She nodded. "Just needed a stretch," she replied with a small smile. "I think I might walk around a while before patrols."

His brow furrowed and he closed his book, his finger holding his place. "Want me to come with?"

"No. It's alright, Harry. I need a bit of quiet," Hermione replied, motioning towards the game of Exploding Snap being played by Ron, Seamus, and Dean in the corner. She chose not to dwell on the fact that Lavender and Pavarti had situated themselves close to the group of boys and were giggling behind their manicured hands.

Harry gave her a wry smile and nodded. "See you in a bit, yeah?"

"Yeah. In a bit. Don't forget your Charms essay."

The Runes textbook remained clutched beneath her arm as she let her feet guide her. She had no real destination and as she turned down corridor after corridor she found that she didn't really care. It was still early enough in the evening that other students were milling about, huddled in their own little groups, and if they paid her any mind she didn't even know. The list of things that Hermione Granger was beginning not to care about was steadily growing, and that was something that she didn't want to think about at all.

Her nose twitched in the cold October air and she pulled the edge of her scarf up over it. At the rate she was wearing the damn thing she was going to need to get a new one; the fact that she seemed to stay cold, despite warming charms, was a source of constant irritation. Even still, she found herself outside, her feet carrying her down towards the lake and the edge of the forest. Quiet was what she'd wanted, and quiet was what she got in abundance.

Settling down on the grass, she cast a quick warming charm, though what good it would do remained to be seen, and opened her book once again. Runes couldn't hold her attention and the ink swirled on the pages as her eyes lost focus. She set it aside, her bookmark carefully in its place, pulled her legs to her chest and pressed her forehead against her knees. The urge to cry came over her then, and for the life of her she couldn't figure out why.

The sound of crunching gravel pulled her from her maudlin thoughts and she lifted her head once more. Hermione wasn't used to seeing thestrals and the stark creatures still startled her. In their own way, they were beautiful but she shouldn't be able to see them. Harry shouldn't be able to see them. It just wasn't right, not at all.

"What are you doing away from your herd, hmm?" she asked with a slight shake of her head, her nose sniffling. It was from the cold, she told herself, the lump in her throat meant nothing. Holding out her hand, she watched in fascination as the creature pressed its leathery snout into her palm. There was something about sitting there with a thestral, of all creatures, comforting her in the misery that she'd let take over that just broke her heart.

Hermione cried then, hot tears streaming down her cheeks as she moved to cover her face with her hands. This was pathetic, she couldn't help but think, hiding away from everyone as she bawled. Morgana, she may have well have been a stupid first year again.

"Granger! What the hell are you doing?" Malfoy's voice pulled her from her thoughts and she quickly scrubbed away the tears on her cheeks. She was fully prepared to face him down, to stomp back to Gryffindor Tower in a flurry of robes and indignation. But the hard facade that he carried outside of their classroom was gone and it occurred to her then that they were alone.

"What the hell are you doing?" he asked again, his voice softer as he dropped down beside her and tossed his cloak over her shoulders. Clove, she realized then as she looked up at him with wide, red-rimmed eyes. Draco Malfoy smelled of clove. "It's freezing out here."

"Common room was too loud. I just wanted to read," she replied, her voice just above a whisper as she rubbed at her red nose with the back of her hand.

"So you thought you'd just come out here and sit with the thestrals? Without a cloak, I might add," his arm wrapped around her and she let herself lean against him without a second thought. Another item on the ever-growing list of things that she didn't want to think about.

"I thought a warming charm would suit just as well," she said with a shrug, her dry eyes still focused on the young thestral as it regarded them. Were they really that strange of a pair, she wondered.

Above her, Draco scoffed as he rested his chin on top of her curls. "And here I thought you were supposed to be the smart one," he quipped as he tugged the edge of his cloak tighter around her.

The corner of her mouth twitched ever so slightly. "I've been told I can be a bit thick."

"I'm not going to comment on that."

"That's probably for the best."

He let out a breath, the sound verging on a laugh if one were to squint just right, and it ruffled her hair. It would have been so easy to unleash a barrage of questions as silence fell around them, but Hermione found herself biting the inside of her cheek as her attention was resolutely set on the thestral as it lumbered back towards the Forbidden Forest. Why muck up a moment that no doubt would not happen again, at least not out in the open air. Anger spiked up in her briefly as she thought about how she was nothing more than his dirty little secret, but it was quelled the moment she realized that he was hers as well. Hypocrite, she chided herself as she let her eyes close briefly.

"You can see them, too?" she asked, her sound of own voice startling her. "The thestrals."

Draco stiffened behind her but she remained resolutely silent as she waited for him to reply. It was an oddly personal question, and she knew it. Asking someone whose death they'd witnessed wasn't exactly something that one was supposed to bring up in polite conversation. But, polite conversation hadn't really been their forte, even with their newfound and tentative friendship. If that's even what this was.

"Yes, Granger. I can see them," he said finally, his voice clipped. For some reason, the use of her surname hurt her and she tried to ignore the pain in her chest as her body began to curl inwards. "Go on. Ask me why. I know you want to, I don't even have to be inside your mind to know that."

Jaw clenched, she pulled away from him just enough to look up at him. That mask of his was in place, she noted and she wanted to scream. This wasn't her Draco anymore. This was the boy who would call her Mudblood and sneer at her in the corridors, and it made her angry. Yet, there they sat still wrapped up in his cloak on the edge of the Black Lake, magic hanging heavy in the air around them.

"You're right. I do want to know, I always want to know. Haven't you figured that out by now? That Hermione Granger has to know all there is to know?" she bit out, her eyes hardening as she carefully put up the mental shields he'd taught her to construct. "But I'm not going to ask because there is more to me than just wanting to know."

She watched as his jaw worked, his eyes narrowing as he stared down at her. "Let me in," he said through clenched teeth.

Hermione shook her head. "No. I don't want to know."

"You're a fucking liar, Hermione. You want to know what's in my head, you always have. To protect your own, that's what you said. Remember? So let me in before I knock down that pitiful wall of yours."

The fingers of her wand hand twitched at her side as she thought over just how quickly she could get a hold of the vinewood that rested in her pocket. She found herself twisting away from him, cold air assaulting her as she pushed herself to her feet. The wind coming off the lake pushed at her, but she stood her ground and kept her shoulders squared.

"This is all just a game, isn't it? That's all it's ever been. You've never seen me as real, as valid, and I doubt that you ever will," she said as a sadness settled over her like a weight. "I shouldn't have asked you, and I'm sorry that I did. And I'm sorry that you have to see me, too."

Pulling her wand from her pocket, she gave a flick of her wrist and her discarded Runes book flew into her waiting hand. She didn't look back at him as she made her way back up to the castle, and she told herself firmly not to cry. It seemed that the former was far easier than the latter, and both made her feel ill. The moment her feet crossed over into the castle courtyard, Hermione ducked into an empty alcove and quickly silenced and disillusioned herself before letting out the scream she'd been holding in.

I just want to say thank you to everyone who has read, reviewed, and followed all of my stories even though I fell off the face of the earth. I can't even begin to describe how grateful I am to each and every one of you. All of my other in-progress stories will be updated soon, I promise. Nothing has been abandoned!

As always, a massive thank you to my beta starrnobella who puts up with me and is amazing always.

Be sure to follow me on Tumblr, rowenahillwrites, and also on Instagram, rowena_hill_fic .

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