13. Bird's Nest

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter and the wonderful world in which he lives.

Note: This chapter is an intermediary between the big fight and the inevitable resolution. It reminds me of someone pushing on through a strong wind, on their way to somewhere they have to be. They have to go through the hurricane-force winds to get to the other side. So, bear with me. I think you'll like the next chapter. :)

ooo

Chapter 13 – Bird's Nest

"Hermione, what's wrong?" asked Ginny, when she'd cornered Hermione two nights after her friend had come over and cried herself to sleep. She was worried; Hermione was still at the Burrow, and showed no signs of leaving anytime soon. "I've never seen you like this."

"It's nothing, Ginny. I promise."

Ginny rolled her eyes, smiling. "You do know I don't believe you, right?. Come on, spill! Why are you here, not your place, moping around like your cat died? It's not like you. And where is your cat, anyway?"

The need to talk about what had happened, even just a little bit, overcame Hermione's determination to figure this puzzle out on her own. She sighed. "Okay. I had a huge fight with someone. And Crookshanks is staying with Hannah. You remember her, right? From Hufflepuff?"

"Yes, I remember," said Ginny dismissively. "Who was the fight with?"

"I – I can't tell you. You don't know him." And neither do I, she thought suddenly.

"A him?" Ginny squealed, excited. "Hermione, are you seeing someone?"

"No!" said Hermione quickly. "No, he's just – someone. Anyway, he's insufferable, and arrogant, and it was a glorious row, full of screaming, and threats. But – he didn't do what I expected. And now I'm confused, and hurt, and angry, and… sad."

"Hermione, who is this guy?" Ginny was showing signs of concern, for which Hermione was grateful; her friends were amazing.

"It's not the guy so much as what we fought about. I don't want to talk about him – at all."

"How can you be so upset about what you fought over if the guy doesn't matter at all? And I'm confused; you're upset because he did something unexpected?"

Hermione chuckled. "Actually, that isn't the case. He didn't do something that I did expect. And that's the problem. I was so sure he would react a certain way, that I never stopped to think he might not. I mean, what if I'm wrong about him? What if he's really changed – and I mean really changed?"

Ginny smiled. "Without more information about the fight and the guy, I can't really help."

Hermione started to say something, but a tapping sound distracted them both. A beautiful black and grey owl was pecking at Ginny's window.

"Oh, she's pretty! But I've never seen her before," said Ginny as she opened the window to admit the owl. Ginny untied the letter, frowning. "It's for you."

Hermione thought the owl looked familiar, but couldn't place it. When she saw the scratchy handwriting on the letter she had delivered, from none other than the guy they were just talking about, she remembered seeing the owl leaving the Edge a few times. She sighed and opened it.

I need essence of mytleweed by seven on Friday evening. Surely I do not have to impress upon you the importance of timing when brewing potions.

That was the entire letter. No greeting, no signature. Not that she needed one. Too late, Hermione noticed that Ginny was peering over her shoulder.

"What's that all about?"

"Ginny! This was for me!"

"I thought it might be from that guy you fought with. You know, wanting to make up, or some such thing."

Hermione chuckled. "I don't think that this particular guy is the type to send letters via owl requesting forgiveness. It's just work stuff."

"So you know who sent it?"

"Yes."

"Why didn't they use names?"

"I don't know, Ginny. Please don't make anything out of this; it's nothing." Hermione stood from the bed and walked to Bubo. She ran her hand down the owl's back absently before giving her a treat and sending her off.

"No reply?"

"I'm quite sure none was expected."

"Okay, back to the guy. Why are you sad?"

"I don't even know. I mean, I don't even like the guy. Can't stand him, actually. I think I'm sad because a little piece of me has to change and I'm reluctant to allow it."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

Hermione smiled. "I know. Let's do something – let's go to Diagon Alley and visit Fred and George!"

"Hermione, you're changing the subject!"

"I know, but this is something I have to think through myself. I appreciate your wanting to help, and I really want you to help, but you're right, without more details you can't offer anything. And I just can't give you details right now. Maybe soon."

"A trip to Diagon Alley sounds like the perfect distraction for you; you've been so glum. But I can say this: trust yourself, Hermione. You are a brilliant witch, and your gut feelings are usually right. Don't let your head and your over-thinking keep you away from something just because you don't like it. Change is often for the better, you know. It could turn out to be something really wonderful."

Hermione scoffed, thinking of Malfoy. Wonderful; right. "I'll try, Ginny. Thank you. Now let's go!" She pulled Ginny off the bed, laughing, and the two girls rounded up Ron and left for Diagon Alley.

ooo

"Harry, it's been three days."

"I know, Draco. Relax."

"She didn't reply to the note."

"But your owl has returned, so you know she got it."

Draco stopped his pacing and plopped onto the couch. Harry watched him, amused, from a chair. "She'd better be here on time."

"It's Hermione; she will be."

Draco frowned, mussing his hair. Harry thought he looked like he wanted to rip things apart to ease his tension. He found it interesting. Since he'd decided to start watching Malfoy, Harry had noticed a few things. Just very, very small things. Like how whenever Hermione was in the house, specifically in a room away from him, Draco seemed to be fractionally more relaxed. Then when Hermione was in the same room, he was fractionally more fidgety. Harry couldn't figure it out. There was the obvious consideration that Malfoy fancied her, but that didn't seem to fit what Harry knew. And Harry knew a lot about what made Draco tick.

After sharing his story with Harry in that 'Unbreakable' hour, Draco seemed to accept Harry as an equal. Harry thought he was the only person alive who had ever seen the real Draco, and he guarded this secret with the fervor Draco would require. Draco opened up to him more and more with each passing day. It wasn't as if they sat around and swapped stories over tea, but in small ways he would give Harry more of his trust. Harry had even seen a genuine smile on Draco's face one day when Harry had bested him. True, it was a fluke; Draco had been distracted by a random, out-of-the-blue waterspout spinning on the ocean, but he'd still bested him. And it was nearly impossible to distract Draco; Harry had as yet been unsuccessful in his attempts.

"Don't worry so much, Draco."

"I'm not worried," he snapped. "She'd just better bring me that myrtleweed."

Harry nodded, smiling slightly. Draco stood and resumed his pacing.

"Draco, tomorrow is when you should be pacing, if even then. There's no point in doing it tonight. I have a feeling she's not coming tonight, and it's not crucial that you have the ingredient tonight. I suggest you have a bit of ice cream and force yourself to think about something other than that awful potion."

Draco stopped and turned to Harry, frowning. "Ice cream?"

"Hermione's. In the icebox. Chocolate, I think. Though her favorite flavor is butter pecan."

"What do I care?" Draco snapped, a little too quickly. Harry ignored it.

"Eat. It always puts her in a better mood. She calls it the healing power of food, or some such thing."

Draco grumbled under his breath but went toward the kitchen. Harry heard him open the icebox and poke around, then close it forcefully. Next a drawer opened, and a utensil was removed with a bit more clanking than was really necessary.

Then Draco returned with the carton and a spoon. He resumed his pacing, frowning worse than before, occasionally taking a bite of the dessert.

"Draco, sit," commanded Harry, "You're making me nervous."

Draco scowled, but, surprisingly, sat. Harry returned to the book he'd been reading when Malfoy had entered the room ten minutes prior and started his pacing. After he finished a chapter, Harry looked up. Draco was staring at a spot on the wall, carton in one hand, spoon in the other. The carton was empty; the spoon held the last bite, but it was melting onto the rug.

"Malfoy, watch your spoon!" said Harry. He knew Draco would be even more in a fit if he ruined the carpet.

Draco cursed, put the spoon away and cleaned the spot on the rug.

"She's going to expect to find ice cream in the icebox when she returns."

Draco glared at Harry. "Too bad, eh?"

ooo

It was the end of the workday on Friday. Hermione was packing up her things, not staying late as usual so that she could go to Diagon Alley and purchase the myrtleweed for Malfoy. She had put off the errand, preferring not to think about it – and consequently him – for as long as it was possible. But now she had only two hours to obtain the needed ingredient and deliver it. She sighed and stood.

"Hey, Hermione," came a friendly voice.

"Hi, Seamus. Heading home?"

"Well, I was hoping to convince you to join me for dinner. Just friends," he said quickly, noting the look on her face. "I'm not trying to be a jerk, but I just thought you've looked down more than ever lately and could use a laugh. Even if it's at my expense."

Hermione smiled. "Oh, Seamus, that sounds lovely. Unfortunately, I can't have dinner tonight due to other obligations. But I'm heading to Diagon Alley to purchase a few things; would you like to join me?"

"I would, Hermione. What are you in the market for?" he asked, extending a gentlemanly arm, which she accepted with a little laugh.

"My primary mission is myrtleweed. But I also need a new ink bottle and there's always the bookstore."

"Lead the way."

After purchasing the myrtleweed and ink bottle, Seamus and Hermione spent half an hour in Flourish and Blotts, after which Seamus convinced Hermione to get coffee with him at a small café. Time, in its infinite mystery, ran away from Hermione, and when she finally glanced at her watch, it was quarter til eight.

The smile dropped from her face and she turned white.

"Hermione, are you okay?"

She stood hastily, collecting her things. "Yes, I'm just – oh, I'm late, and – oh, he'll kill me. I'm sorry, I have to go!" She practically ran out of the café. Seamus watched her go, worried and amused at the same time.

ooo

When she arrived at the house, she rushed to the front door but stopped short with her hand on the knob. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to prepare herself for what was about to happen. When she opened her eyes, she only felt worse. He would be livid, she was certain of it. Deciding that it would be best to get it over with as quickly as possible, she pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Harry was sitting in the front room and jumped up when he heard her.

"Hermione! Is everything okay?"

"Uhm, yes, why?"

"You're late; you're never late."

"Oh, well, I, uh – "

Then Draco entered the room. Hermione felt the rage radiating from him in waves. It also seemed as though the lights in the room dimmed, the temperature dropped a few degrees, and the wind started howling as well. It was probably just her imagination. Still, she didn't look at him.

"Well?" he said, his voice shaking. "Where were you?"

Finally, after taking a deep breath, Hermione looked at him and inhaled sharply. His eyes were boiling in their intensity and he had a look on his face that was both anger and an odd form of relief mixed into one. It threw her.

"I – I'm sorry I'm late, I lost track of time…"

"Obviously," he hissed, the relief, if that's what it was, completely gone. "Why?" He stepped closer to her, and Hermione visibly shrunk back from him.

"It doesn't matter. Here's the weed." She held up the small vial to him. He snatched it roughly from her and threw it across the room. The bottle shattered and a small, blue mist floated into the air and disappeared. Fortunately, she'd bought two bottles; she decided to give the other one to Harry, just in case. And later.

"Tell me where you were," he growled, advancing on her again.

Hermione snapped out of her fear and stood up to her full height. She refused to be intimidated by Draco Malfoy, even though she was in the wrong.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I hope your potion isn't ruined."

"Of course it is," he snarled, "And I just destroyed the final ingredient."

She smirked. "Luckily, I bought two."

He glared at her. "If you don't tell me why you were late – "

"What? What are you going to do, Malfoy? Kill me? Curse me? I am not afraid of you." She crossed her arms defiantly.

"I'm not going to kill you, you stupid girl. I just want to know why I wasted three days brewing a potion that required your cooperation, however unwanted, to complete."

"I won't tell you. It doesn't matter the reason. I was late; I messed up; I was wrong. You wasted your time because I messed up. And I'm sorry I was late. That's all you need to know."

Draco thought he might actually hit something. The wall was looking promising. Why wouldn't she just tell him? Didn't she stop to think that maybe, just maybe, Harry had been worried about her? Because she was never late; even he knew that. A tiny voice in the back of his mind reminded him that he'd been worried too, but he quashed it. Now was not the time to pay attention to such things.

"Granger, I demand you tell me," he said, calmly, but with the kind of calm that carried a tremendous force behind it.

"No, Malfoy. It doesn't matter. Why are you always so controlling? Why do you have to know every little thing that I do? I don't owe you anything. In case you haven't thought about it lately, without me you wouldn't have been able to get the bloody ingredient in the first place! So do us all a favor and get over yourself!" With that, Hermione spun around and walked through the front door, slamming it behind her.

"That went well," said Harry, cheerily. "So, Draco, tell me. It is now blindingly obvious that I have missed something. You two were taking turns trying to kill each other with your glares and spitting words. The last thing I remember, you two were being somewhat civil. I was suspicious before, when you seemed indifferent as to her whereabouts, and then to her safety as they days went on, but now my suspicions have been confirmed."

Draco sat down wearily in the other chair by Harry. "We had a huge fight. And I was never indifferent as to her safety. I just didn't want to think about it that night."

"Ah. That explains a lot. What was the fight about?"

"Prejudice, I think; mine and hers. And my father." He ran a hand through his hair. "She won't just let it lie. I asked her repeatedly – well, yelled at her, actually – to not mention him. A very simple thing to not do, but she's always got to bring him up. It feels like she's trying to rub salt in my open wounds."

"To be fair, she has no idea you have open wounds. And, well, she probably just knew she could rile you further by mentioning him. I'm guessing it worked."

"Too well. You really picked a great time to silence your room."

Harry smiled. "I do wish I could have heard it though. Must have been spectacular."

Draco gave a half-smile. "Our finest ever," he said bitterly.

ooo

When Hermione arrived at the Burrow that night, she tried to act normal, but angry tears threatened her yet again. She excused herself from dinner and ran to Ginny's room, silencing it before allowing herself to set the tears free. Ginny came up after a few minutes and wrapped her arms around Hermione, letting her cry.

After ten minutes or so, Hermione slowly started to calm down. Ginny gave her tissues and brushed her curly hair away from her face.

"What happened?" she asked, kindly. "Was it – him?"

Hermione could only nod, scared that if she tried to speak now, she'd either just start crying again or say something that would give away who he was.

"Did you give him that myrtle-stuff?" Hermione nodded, but fresh tears popped into her eyes. "Was he glad?"

"I was late," she said.

Ginny smiled sympathetically. "Oh, Hermione. Did he yell at you?" Hermione nodded. "Was he terrible?" She nodded again. "I'm so sorry," she said, wrapping Hermione in her arms again as the fresh tears lost their battle with gravity.

"He – was – so – cold," she gasped between sobs. Hermione wasn't scared of him, not really, but at the same time, she was terrified of him at certain moments. The bare emotions she'd felt when she realized she would be late in delivering the weed had worn through her defenses and she was now crying simply for the sake of crying. She couldn't stop herself, no matter how hard she tried. She had still been raw from their fight earlier in the week, and she had dreaded even seeing him just to hand over the vial, but then… then she was late. And she had known he'd be furious, she had tried to prepare herself, but he was even angrier than she imagined.

Once again, Draco Malfoy had scared her. The intensity with which he demanded she answer him was staggering.

After an hour, Ron came up to check on them. Hermione was sleeping fitfully in Ginny's lap; Ginny was running her hands through Hermione's hair.

"She okay?" Ron whispered, peeking his head in the door.

"I think she will be."

"Was it – that guy?"

Ginny nodded.

"Git. Wish I knew who it was. I'd send a few of my recently perfected hexes his way."

Ginny smiled. "Yeah, I know. Me too." She looked back down at Hermione. "What's going on with her? It's like she's a completely different person since…" Then Ginny stopped smiling and Ron finished her sentence.

"Since Harry disappeared."

Neither of them spoke again. Ron put a comforting hand on his sister's shoulder before leaving the room.

Hermione, who hadn't been sleeping soundly, heard the door shut quietly, but didn't open her eyes. After a moment, she felt a drop on her cheek, and she looked up to see that Ginny was silently crying.

She sat up. "Ginny, what is it? Are you okay?"

Ginny nodded weakly. "It's just – Harry." Hermione gave her friend the same warm hug she'd been given that night and they took turns raiding the tissue box well into the night.

ooo

"Harry."

"Draco."

"It's been ten days."

"I know."

Draco let out a frustrated yell that sounded something like a barbaric yawp. They were outside, on the ledge where they practiced, taking a quick break from a full day of training. Harry was especially tired, as Draco seemed to grow more and more inhuman as Hermione's absence lengthened. He pushed him hard, never accepting failure or excuses.

"Harry?"

"Yes, Draco?"

"I've never – uhm – apologized to anyone. In my life. Ever."

Harry looked at him, mouth and eyes wide. "Seriously? Not ever?"

Draco thought for a moment. "Well, I've never meant it. I skirted around actually apologizing to her when you two first came here, but I've never just said it."

Harry shook his head. "That's – impressive, but in a bad way. You're how old?" he asked incredulously.

"Twenty."

A few minutes passed, the chilly wind blowing around them and cooling their skin.

"Why are you telling me this?"

"I'm not sure exactly how to do it."

Harry nodded, understanding. Draco was still himself; he wouldn't ask Harry for help. "You just, say you're sorry. And it helps to say what you're sorry for."

"But she'll scream at me, won't she?"

"Probably. Just don't let what she says get to you, that's the most important thing. Otherwise, if you start in on her, you'll just say something you'll regret and have to apologize again. Stand there until she's done, then repeat that you're sorry."

"Sorry," Draco said clearly, as though practicing a new spell and determined to get the inflection right. "I'm sorry."

"See, you've got it." Harry took a sip from his water and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

"I'm sorry for losing my temper and yelling at you."

"Bravo."

"She's still going to scream at me," Draco said, looking out over the water, watching the gently breathing of the earth.

"What are you going to say?"

Draco shrugged, and Harry took it as a sign that he didn't want to talk about it anymore. Five minutes passed in silence, then Draco stood.

"Let's go. Break's over."

ooo

A/N: Thanks, as always, for reading and reviewing!

Much praise to: AerinAlanna, xlittle-lost-soulx, adriennelouise for correctly identifying "Cry Havoc" as a phrase from Shakespeare's, "Julius Caesar."

And very special praise to Sinjinn and kazfeist, who not only correctly identified the Shakespeare play, but also knew it was quoted in Star Trek VI: The Undiscovered Country, by General Chang of the Klingon Empire. And now you know a little bit more about me: Trekkie. Nerd all the way, and proud. 