Chapter Eight

Harry

After a long day of many classes, I finally pack up my things from class and saunter down the steps. Today is Friday, but we do not have Quidditch practice tonight; I decided to give the players a break. This is my first free weekend since school has started, and it's going to be very nice to not have practice.

I fight my way through the crowd that has assembled in the corridor. Up ahead, I see a head of brown, wavy tresses, rushing through the multitude of people: Hermione. She and I haven't really spent much time together since about a week ago, since she went to Quidditch practice with me. Ever since then, something's changed about her. I can't quite distinguish it, but she's not the same.

"Hermione!" I call. I rush to attempt to catch up with her, meandering around the people. Goodness, to have a book-bag full of an infinite number of books, she sure can move fast. Eventually, I lose her in the crowd and give up.

"Hey, mate," Someone says from behind me. I turn around to see Ron. He skips into step beside me.

"Hey," I answer, "What're you doing on your first free weekend?"

"Not much, I suppose," He replies, "I just might stop by the Quidditch pitch."

"Stop by the Quidditch pitch? Really? This is supposed to be your time away from it," I laugh, and he shrugs.

For a little while, we walk in silence, pushing our way through the persistent crowd. Then, he asks a very sudden question: "Has Hermione said anything about me?"

I have to contemplate my answer. Honestly, she hasn't said much about him, and Ron hasn't said much about her. They haven't talked for two weeks. I decide to tell him the truth.

"No," I simply say, and he looks down at his feet.

After a pause, he mutters, "I don't know what's going on."

"What?"

"With Hermione," He adds.

"Well, I don't think you're... Usually when... When you're I say, putting emphasis on the last word, "you usually talk to them, you know, at least once in two weeks. You know, just a thought."

Ron grimaces. "Feeling sassy, are you?"

"A tad." I try to walk away, for I feel that the conversation is about to enter an awkward state, but he grabs my shoulder.

"It's really ridiculous, isn't it," He asks, "One little fight- about at that-" He speaks venomously, "and she doesn't talk to me for two weeks!"

"To be fair, you weren't being-" I begin, but he cuts me off, rambling.

"-and I don't know what she wants me to do! But I guess a benefit of this is that she's avoiding Malfoy, too..." He says, flailing his arms oddly. I wonder what this conversation looks like to someone else.

"She's not," I whisper.

"What?" He asks, his face bright red.

"She's not avoiding Malfoy now," I explain, and his eyes widen. I probably shouldn't have told him this. For a few seconds, he processes the information.

"What the... How is she..." He seems to be incapable of finishing his sentences. "I swear! I swear I'll get him! I've already told him once! He's... He's her!" He begins to storm away, but I grab his shoulder this time.

"Ron, you know as well as I do that violence-" I begin, but he interrupts me. A flame seems to have been kindled behind his eyes, fueled by anger.

"Yeah, violence doesn't solve anything, but I'm going to try my luck at it." He spits, and before I can stop him, he stomps away, his rage displayed in the way he carries himself. People back away as he approaches, for he looks dangerous. And I have learned that he can be.

I want to warn Hermione and Malfoy, but there's no way I can get to them in time. Surely Ron won't hurt them. Sighing, I push all of this drama out of my mind and head to the Gryffindor common room, carrying my textbooks in my arms.

* * *

Hermione

As I leave the Ancient Runes classroom, I make my way through the crowd of people that are emerging from the other classrooms. As more people enter the corridor, it becomes louder. I can barely hear myself think as I push myself through the crowd of people. My book-bag is filled with books and would slow me down if it weren't for the weightless charm I placed on it.

Somewhere behind me, I hear my name being called. I don't look; I just keep walking. There's no way I can distinguish who it is through this crowd of faces.

Our common room- mine and Draco's, that is- is closer to these classrooms than anyone else's. Therefore, it only takes me about a minute to reach it. When I enter it, nobody seems to notice.

Draco is not in here yet, so I go and sit down my bag on the desk. I run my hands through my hair. It's been a particularly stressful day. We were given a surprise quiz in Defense Against the Dark Arts, a planned one in Transfiguration, and quite a few difficult spells to learn. With a sigh, I walk over to the fireplace and warm my hands.

Suddenly, someone grabs my waist, and I know exactly who it is by the tingling sensation it sends through my body.

"Draco!" I exclaim in a scolding tone, although I am smiling. When I look at him, he is smirking. He takes a seat on the couch.

"Greetings," He says, resting his arms behind his head, "And how was your day?"

"Not too great," I answer, and he frowns a bit.

"Why is that?"

I sit down beside him. This time last week, he and I were in the exact same spot, except it was a completely different mood; he was crying, and I was consoling him. It's amazing how much closer we've gotten since last week. Given our pasts, it's hard to believe we're friends. It's hard to believe I want to be than friends.

"The classes are stressful. That's all. And you? How was your day?" I ask. He shakes his head.

"That's not important," He says, and he stands up. He unexpectedly grabs my hand, causing me to jump. "Come with me."

I follow him out of the door. It's not like I have much of a choice; he's holding my hand, leading me after him. Not that I mind it.

"Where are we going?" I finally ask, but the destination is not really what's on my mind: it's the feeling of his hand in mine that I can't shake out of my head.

"You'll see soon enough," He answers, and he looks back at me, grinning.

We walk through the winding corridors and down the steps for a while until we end up at the main entrance of the castle. He lets go of my hand and holds the door open for me as he usually does.

"Can you tell me now?" I ask, but he just shakes his head, smiling. "You know," I add, "I've never seen you smile much before recently." He looks at me, and there seems to be a connection in our eyes. Gray to brown. For a few seconds, we just look to each other as he leans against the door.

"I didn't have much reason to before now." He responds, and the edges of his lips turn up slightly, and I can almost see him... No. Surely Draco Malfoy's not I'm speechless, so I just smile and look down at my feet. All of a sudden, he places a hand over my eyes, and I gasp.

"Draco, just tell me where we're going!" I beg, but he starts walking forward with his hand still over my eyes so I can't see anything.

"Say please," He implores, and I scoff.