21. Pieces of Character

Disclaimer: I don't claim to have anything to do with creating the world Harry lives in. I just get to toss a few leaves around.

Note: Finally the next chapter! Sorry it took longer than usual. I was bushed after the holidays! I hope updates will be more regular from now on. Someone asked how long this story would be. The answer is 35 chapters, as of now. Thank you, all of you who faithfully follow this story, and THANK YOU to my beta, eilonwy for being awesome!

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Chapter 21 – Pieces of Character

Draco was standing outside his house, nervous, and feeling ridiculous for it. When he entered the house, he knew he would see Hermione for the first time since he'd read her letter.

He wasn't sure what he wanted to happen next. Did he want things to be the same as they had been before? Or different? And if so, how should they be different? He knew of his own danger, and how easily he could be caught in it. He didn't want a change, despite the fact there was a that part of him that did. His mind refused it, and that was how it would be. His mind was far stronger than his poorly exercised heart.

Still – what would he say to her? Should he mention the letter? Attempt to thank her, in words or otherwise? Should he ignore it, and wait for her to determine their new course?

He shook his head and before he could think about it anymore, opened the door. As he walked in, he smelled food, and he heard Harry and Hermione laughing and talking in the kitchen.

Draco smiled to himself, sent his bag to his room, and walked into the kitchen. Hermione looked up when she saw movement and grinned at him, another moment just for him. It caused alarms to go off loudly in his head.

"Look who finally decided to show up," she said brightly.

Harry turned to look at him. "Yeah, Malfoy, I expected you days ago."

Draco joined them at the table. "I know. I was simply enjoying myself too much to return until now."

"And what's all over your skin?" Harry asked with a grin.

Draco frowned and looked at his arms. "What do you mean?"

"All that – color."

Hermione giggled; Draco rolled his eyes.

"Bet the ladies wouldn't leave you alone," kidded Harry. He enjoyed opportunities to make the seemingly impervious man squirm and he knew where Draco had gone for the holiday.

Hermione's heart skipped a beat and she was hit with a mild tingle of jealousy.

"It's about time you got some color on you – you were really starting to look unhealthy," Harry continued.

Draco clenched his jaw. "Whatever, Potter. It won't last. Never does. I'll be back to normal in a few days."

"Pity," said Harry. "You're usually so pale, you're almost blue."

"Am not," said Draco, half smiling. He punched Harry on the arm, but not too lightly, enough to sting.

"How was your Christmas?" asked Hermione.

"Wonderful, actually," he said as though surprised. He was unable to keep a smile off his face at the memory, but it still hurt him a little to think that where he'd been, she should have been instead. "How about yours?"

"Perfect," she said, "Except that Harry wasn't there nearly enough." Hermione kept smiling at Draco, which increased the intensity of the alarms in his head. She's too familiar, he realized. That wouldn't do. Defense mechanisms kicked in and he felt himself mentally backpedaling into the safe area where she was over there and he was over here, and a wide gulf stood between them.

Feeling the walls starting to close in around him, Draco stood. "Potter, we leave tomorrow."

Hermione's smile faded. "So soon?" she asked quietly.

"I know," said Harry, "But I wasn't sure, since you hadn't returned yet."

"Well, here I am. Are you ready? Is everything ready?"

"Of course."

"Okay. See you tomorrow then," said Draco, heading for his room, sparing Hermione only a cursory glance.

He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Hermione. It would be so easy to fall for her. He'd already come to greatly respect her, and he found he genuinely enjoyed being around her. Her quick wit and pleasant manner were calming and addictive. But she still didn't know him, and he felt certain that as soon as she did, she would hate him. Again. Wouldn't she? He didn't even really know himself, he realized. Two years ago, his life had changed, though only two other people knew it.

Jane once told him that character is who you are when no one's watching. Some smart Muggle had said it, apparently. So who was he? When no one was watching, what kind of person was he? He thought back to his childhood. From the time he was a small boy, he was a trouble-maker, a liar, a sneak and a cheat, among other things. After the night Hermione's parents were to be killed, he spent all of the time he was alone watching over Hermione, making sure she was safe, every single day. When no one was watching him, he was watching her. Did that make him a good person? He knew it didn't; he knew he would never be a truly good person. But it was a testament to how far he'd come that he even wanted to be close.

He had tried not to become attached to her in that time, but he'd come to love the way she bit her lit when she was concentrating, and the absent-minded way she twirled her hair in her fingers while reading. The way she sometimes walked to work, despite the dangers, to be reminded of the other world going on around her. He knew her favorite shops, cafes, and books. He knew that when she was happy, she practically skipped everywhere she went, and that she would stop in Diagon Alley for a sweet from the candy shop on her way home from work. When she was upset, she would talk to Harry – oh, how he envied Harry sometimes! – and she would try to walk along as though nothing were wrong, but he knew. She'd stop in at Fortescue's and order a double scoop of double chocolate, then go to her flat and watch a Muggle movie called "Sleepless in Seattle" and cry and fall asleep on the sofa.

He knew those days were more frequent than the happy days. He hated that she was upset, but he loved watching her cry in all the same parts of the movie without fail. He could set a timepiece to it. And she always left a bite or two of her ice cream to melt because she'd got so caught up in the story.

When it came time in his plan to actually be around her, he'd been nervous. More nervous than he'd ever been in his whole life because he knew her, and he knew himself. It would be too easy. He'd fallen for Hermione's quiet strength as he'd watched her, but he refused to let himself actually fall in love with her. It could ruin his plans, and besides that, what did he have to offer her? A hollow shell; not a whole person, capable of loving her like she deserved. So he'd kept his distance from her, even when it seemed she wanted to close it a little. But he checked on her every night and couldn't sleep until he knew she was asleep.

If she found out he'd been watching her for that year and a half, he knew she'd be angry, and probably slightly freaked out. She'd call him a stalker, or worse, and he knew that's how it looked. But it was nothing at all like that. He was fulfilling a promise. And if she let him tell her why, then just maybe she would understand. Maybe she'd forgive him. Again.

Draco heard Harry's door shut and went to check on Hermione. She'd fallen asleep outside again, and he moved her to the large swing and began to tuck her in.

This night, however, she stirred. She reached out and touched his arm. The familiar surge of energy rushed through him and he looked at her. She was smiling at him sweetly, through drowsy eyelids.

"Sleep," he said, breaking her gaze and finishing tucking her in.

"Thank you," she said sleepily and she yawned. "And don't worry, I'll never tell anyone how sweet you can be." He chuckled and looked at her; she'd fallen asleep again. He watched her sleep for just a few minutes. He'd never done that before, and he felt almost guilty doing it now. But traces of her smile remained, and she looked – beautiful. His heart clenched, and when he thought it he quickly left the porch.

In his world of black and grey, she was the light. She gave color to the oddest things in his life. And she had absolutely no idea. Her parents had been right – caring for someone else made life worth living.

ooo

Hermione woke the next morning and knew they were gone. She sighed and sat up. As soon as the frigid winter air hit her skin, she pulled Draco's cloak tightly around her. It kept out the wind and cold, enabling her to continue to watch the world wake up. lovely

She panicked slightly, remembering that they hadn't told her when they'd be back. A minimum of three days, she knew. After that, she'd start worrying, and stop sleeping and eating well.

Hermione's thoughts turned to Draco and, oddly, his tan. Who knew how many girls he'd met in New Zealand? Stop being jealous, she scolded herself, it's Malfoy! But she couldn't stop herself thinking about him that one morning when his hair had hung down into his eyes. She shivered, despite being warm. He was incredibly adorable that morning. She laughed out loud, amazed at her train of thought. Think about those girls, she told herself. Thinking about them was better than thinking about the sleep line that had crossed his face that morning.

Why am I thinking about kissing him? She groaned. But she couldn't deny that she was starting to have feelings for him, as much as she didn't want to. It's not that she saw him much, or talked to him much. But there were all the little things – the previous night being one example. She wondered how often he checked on her. There was the fact that he did the dishes every time she cooked; there were the robes he'd given her, and his extreme protectiveness. It was different than the brotherly protection she felt from Harry and Ron. She couldn't say how it was different, it just was. Harry and Ron would run through fire to keep her safe, and do all kinds of things. And she knew Draco would too, just – differently. Maybe be wouldn't run through the fire, maybe he would put it out.

And just once or twice she'd caught him looking at her in a way that made her blush, want to scream, sing, jump, and cry all at the same time. But what did it all mean?

In the end, it all seemed to come back to what he'd done. He'd killed her parents. Even though she'd forgiven him and felt an enormous weight lifted off her heart , they were still on different sides of a line she wasn't sure he could ever cross. Was he really changed? She knew he had; there was a small, brown bird that had once had a broken wing, only now, it didn't. But was it enough?

ooo

Harry and Draco returned after four days. During their absence, Hermione had busied herself with learning healing, but she'd been at it for over a month, and though she practiced as best she could, without anyone to actually heal, she couldn't advance or improve her skills. She decided that learning healing through books alone was not enough. She made a plan to correct the lack of practice, and would implement it the next time the two men left.

The day after they left again, not even a full day after their return, Hermione used a potion she'd created to color her hair platinum blond like Draco's, and make her eyes green like Harry's. She felt guilty and terrible for breaking her word to Draco, but she rationalized it for a few reasons.

He'd asked her to learn healing, but hadn't specified how. St. Mungo's was generally a safe place to go, and she wouldn't look like herself, thus decreasing her chances of attracting attention. Hermione was also very thorough in all of her work; her plan was simply part of being thorough.

She knew Draco would be furious – livid – if he found out, even if she presented all her well-thought-out arguments, but her belief that she needed to practice at St. Mungo's outweighed her concern over angering him. It was, after all, his life she might be saving one day. And wasn't that what he wanted?

"Help you, Miss?" said a large woman behind the counter. She put down her copy of Witch Weekly.

"Yes. My name is Sarah Gordon. I'm to start shadowing a Healer today." Hermione had chosen to pretend that she was just out of Hogwarts, but taking a few extra classes to prepare herself for healing school. Sarah Gordon was an ambitious, smart, and determined witch, traits which Hermione didn't have to act. Sarah was also passionate about learning, and especially learning healing, though she was also a little shy.

Hermione requested time off work at Flourish and Blotts, saying she needed the time to prepare for an important test; they granted it.

The woman frowned. "You're sure it's today?"

Hermione bit her lip and frowned. "Um, yes, I got an owl about it last week. Healer Watts wrote me."

"Let me page him."

After a few minutes, the Healer Hermione had randomly chosen to contact, requesting to shadow, appeared at the front desk. He was pleasant-looking, and he smiled warmly at her, extending his hand.

"Miss Gordon, it's nice to meet you," he said, in a thick Australian accent.

Hermione shook his hand. "Likewise, Healer Watts."

"Please, call me David," he said, still smiling.

"All right, David. I'm Sarah."

"Follow me, Sarah." David walked toward the lift. "So, you think you want to be a Healer," he said.

"Oh, I know I do! I've read lots of books on the subject, and I really want to try for it."

The elevator took them to the Spells floor, and he led her into his office. "What exactly do you mean, 'try'?" he asked, taking his seat across from her.

She blushed. "Well, if possible, if it's okay, I mean, just simple spells. I'd like to maybe actually do a few things with patients. Under your supervision, of course."

He looked at her intently for a moment. "It wasn't too very long ago that I discovered my desire to be a Healer. I was just as excited as you are now. So tell me, what would you do if someone came in with purple extremities and a slow heart rate?"

Without missing a beat, Hermione said, "I would perform the Torin spell to check for blood flow problems. If there were none, I'd use the Branchwine counter-spell. If there were, the surgeons would have to remove the obstruction."

Watts continued to look at her. "Well, Miss Gordon, I think some hands-on experience can be arranged."

ooo

Harry and Draco returned on the second Tuesday after they'd left, and Hermione found that going to St. Mungo's every day was much more difficult with them around than it had been when she was alone. She had to be careful to hide her appearance potions, to change herself back before they saw her, and to generally keep up the façade that she was going to Flourish and Blotts every day.

In addition to the practical aspects of her scheme, she had to act like nothing was amiss. They knew nothing, but her guilty conscience made her extra sensitive and jumpy whenever either Harry or Draco asked about her day. She was a terrible liar, as a rule, and she hated hiding the truth from them when they, especially Draco, had put their trust in her.

When they were gone, it had been easy to justify her actions, but every time she looked at Draco now, she felt guilty. She'd hoped they'd leave again right away, but they told her they'd be there for at least a week.

The time she spent at the hospital was invaluable, however, and that fact kept her motivated. She saw all kinds of awful things caused by spells and people's cruelty; she saw the work of Death Eaters firsthand. She saw the Dark, evil spells they used to injure and maim; she saw the victims of attacks where they used Muggle methods to hurt and kill; she saw what they did to children. It made her sick, but at the same time, it fortified her in her convictions and in the intensity with which she worked.

David, who was actually Hermione's age and only a few years older than "Sarah" was supposed to be, seemed to be taking a more than professional interest in her, as he always had lunch with her and allowed her to do increasingly more risky and invasive healing procedures. Hermione knew she was taking a huge risk, playing with David's emotions, but she needed the experience.

One evening, after Hermione's shift, David found her and asked her to have dinner with him since they'd worked through the usual mealtime on a particularly difficult patient. She blushed and said, "Oh, David, I'm flattered, but tonight isn't a good night."

He looked a little sad, then said, "Another time?"

"I'm not supposed to go anywhere but here and then back home." Which was almost true; she was supposed to go to the library and then to the Edge.

"How about dinner here, then. Tomorrow."

"Maybe. I'll let you know if I can when I see you in the morning." Hermione wasn't the least bit interested in David, but she thought that "Sarah" should be. And honestly, it was only dinner, and at the hospital.

David smiled. "Tomorrow, then. I do hope you can stay for dinner. You have such a passion for healing and for learning. It's very refreshing." David took her hand and kissed it, then bowed slightly and walked toward his office.

Smiling, Hermione Disapparated. Before entering the house, she drank the potion to return her hair and eyes to their correct colors and consistencies: brown and brown.

"Oh, Granger, too bad; I really like the blond," sneered Malfoy, who'd been lurking in the shadows on the front porch, waiting for her. He stepped into the light.

Hermione jumped, startled, then glared at him, annoyed at his tone and the fact that she'd been caught.

"So," he asked conversationally. "Where have you been?"

"Where do you think?" she snapped.

"Tsk, tsk, Granger. Attitude. And actually, we don't know."

"I – was at work."

Draco was shocked that she would lie to him when he so blatantly knew it was a lie. "No, you weren't."

"Are you checking up on me?" she asked, trying to preserve something out of the exchange.

"No, we actually needed you today. We sent an owl requesting that you be asked to return home immediately, but the bird came back with a note saying you weren't present. In fact, they told us you hadn't been there in over two weeks."

She resigned herself to his wrath, and would not fight because she'd broken her word.

"I repeat: where have you been?"

"St. Mungo's," she said, blankly.

He blinked, frowning. "Why?"

"I did what you told me to do. I read every book I could find, learned every spell I could, but it did little good without practice." She took a deep breath. "So I owled a Healer and asked to shadow him, telling him I wanted to be a Healer and wanted some exposure before I decided for sure. I convinced him to let me try some things, on patients."

Draco raised his eyebrows in surprise. He was astonished at the lengths to which she would go to learn, and despite his insistence that she go only to certain places, he couldn't help but be a little grateful. Despite the fact that she'd broken her word to him, which he had fully believed she would keep, he knew that she would only have done so if she thought the need was extreme. What she learned could save his or Harry's life very soon. He was also surprised to find that he wasn't angry at all, but quite the opposite – he was impressed.

He smiled at her, a genuine smile full of respect. "Okay. Is it helping?"

She had obviously expected him to pitch a fit because she was slow to answer. "Um, yes, it is."

"Good." He didn't want to actually tell her she could continue – stubborn Malfoy pride. "So what's with the disguise?"

"Well, I couldn't just tell them my real name, now could I? And as much as I don't like it, I'm easily recognized." She kept waiting for him to explode.

"True," he said. He walked close to her, too close, until he was less than a foot away; her heart started pounding. "I don't think the blonde look suits you; this way is better," he said softly. Then he opened the door and stepped into the house.

She stood rooted to the spot and he turned around to her. "Coming?"

"Aren't you going to yell at me?"

He laughed. "No. Come on; you missed dinner, but I made dessert." He walked further into the house leaving the door open for her.

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A/N: Yay! So what did you think? Like? Love? Hate? Let me know:)