Hello there, and welcome to Fate, my second Fan Fiction on SnitchSeeker. I like to have a really friendly thread, so chatting is okay, but let’s keep it to a minimum. I don’t want spam. :] Also, constructive criticism is appreciated, but please don’t flame me. Also, if you have a problem with one of my readers, please PM them about it. Don’t yell at them on my thread.

Fate is based around Hermione Granger’s Seventh Year. I’ve never written with any of these characters before, so please bear with me. In this story, also, I would like to point out that it does not completely stick to the facts. My last story did that, and I spent more time researching than writing. Dumbledore is still alive, and no one has died or been hurt at Hogwarts since Cedric. I will not be posting much about Voldemort or Harry’s adventurous life: this is a romance around Hermione. Also, I can tell you now: if you think you know whom she’ll end up with (in the beginning), you’re probably wrong. All right, here’s the actual summary.

School spirit is down at Hogwarts, but Dumbledore’s got an idea that will definitely kick things up a notch. When Hermione is thrown into the chaos, she finds trouble balancing school, her duties, and a forbidden romance. But when it’s all over, she discovers that maybe there wasn’t ever anything there- and when that happens, her friends aren’t so forgiving. Watch Hermione as she grows from the small bookworm to the confused teenager in a plot that discovers romance, tests friendships, and proves that time really does make you wiser.



“This is the part where you tell me that you love me.”

“So I'm supposed to lie?”

“If that’s what it takes,” he answered. “Now go back to the script.”

Hermione glared at Draco angrily and looked down at her parchment. Keeping her voice monotone, she said, “I love you too, Charlie.”

Draco stomped his foot and turned on her. “You have emotion, you got this part; act it out.”

They were sitting in the Great Hall, which was completely empty except for the two of them. The ceiling illustrated a stormy day ahead, and the House banners waved in the magic-produced wind. Fire crackled dangerously to the right of their positions, and it reflected Hermione’s temper perfectly.

“This is ridiculous! If I‘d known that you were going to land the role of Charlie, then I wouldn’t have tried out for Charlotte.”

“Well, maybe if Cedric hadn’t died three years ago and those stupid Hufflepuffs would just move on, we wouldn’t have to ‘revive school spirit,’” he shot back, mocking Dumbledore’s speech.

“Oh, real witty,” she said. “Maybe if Voldemort wasn’t such a prat and would actually come and find Harry, instead of having his stupid morons in black capes do his dirty work for him, we wouldn’t be in this situation.”

“Shut up,” he said gruffly, grabbing Hermione roughly by the arm.

“Let go of me,” she hissed. “Or some people may get the impression that you’re actually in his little league.”

He shoved her away with such force that she fell to the ground. Turning on his heel, Draco stormed out of the Hall, leaving Hermione stranded on the floor.

….

“How was practice?” Ron asked as Hermione stormed back into the dormitory.

“Oh, just great!” she cried. “I have to put up with Malfoy the whole time! I wish I never would have tried out!”

“Then why did you?” asked Harry, looking up from his and Ron’s game of Wizard’s Chess.

“I already explained it to you,” she sighed, pulling up a chair next to the board. “I'm Head Girl. I'm supposed to set an example.”

“Blaise Zabini made Head Boy and he didn’t try to ‘set an example,’” replied Harry gruffly, and then took out one of Ron’s knights. “I just can’t believe Dumbledore put him in charge. I mean, he’s a Slytherin!”

“Your house doesn’t have anything to do with it,” Hermione said, standing up. “Nicole Owens and Robin Pike both held the Head positions in 1876. They were both Slytherins.”

“Oh, I bet that year was horrible for everyone,” Ron laughed. “Stupid gits.”

“Why do you always have to stereotype the Slytherins? There could actually be a decent one.”

“Why do you always have to assume everyone is nice?” Harry shot back. “Just give it a rest, Hermione. Do you see Malfoy being nice anytime soon?”

She sighed, knowing that it was pointless to argue. “Come on, we’ve got Herbology soon.”

“It’s our Seventh Year,” Ron groaned. “Can’t we just… skip?”

“Ron, you’re a Prefect!” Hermione cried. “That’s horrible. We need to prepare for our N.E.W.T’s! No skipping.”

As they left, however, Hermione could’ve sworn she heard him say, “Divination.”

….

“Begin,” Professor Snape instructed, scowling at the class.

Harry groaned as a complex potion written in miniscule writing glared at him. “Why did I even continue with this?”

“Because you need the class if you want to become an Auror,” Hermione shot back. “You shouldn’t complain; Snape normally doesn’t take lower than an ‘E’ on our O.W.L.S. If it wasn’t for Dumbledore, you wouldn’t be in here.”

“No,” Ron hissed back softly. “If it wasn’t for the Order, we wouldn’t be in here.”

“Ron, don’t talk about that in here,” Hermione warned, looking around to make sure no one had heard. “Especially because there are Slytherins present!”

“Aha!” Ron cried, then sunk back a little at Snape’s glare. “See, even you just admitted it; they are evil.”

“I never said that they’re ‘evil,’” Hermione replied huffily. “They’re just… just more worthy of suspicion.”

“Mmhmm,” Harry mumbled in an ‘I-told-you-so’ tone.

Hermione sighed and continued to work, but was startled when a piece of parchment smacked her in the back of the head. She jumped and accidentally dropped in an extra bit of rat’s juice. The potion turned a deep purple and began to boil.

“Er, professor?” she asked, sliding the parchment under her foot and out of sight.

Snape sulked over and looked at her concoction. “Surprising, Miss Granger. You’ve actually managed to do worse than Potter. Zero marks for today; clean it up before I take points from Gryffindor.”

Hermione groaned and scrubbed out her cauldron. She heard a few Slytherins laughing and she assumed that they were the ones who threw the paper. She picked it up and unfolded it, but right before she could read it, Harry interrupted.

“Wow, someone is in a positively horrid mood today,” he said, referring to Snape, and the bell rang. “Come on, let’s go to lunch. I'm starving.”

She nodded and followed them out. When she reached the door, Draco Malfoy intercepted her.

“I thought you were presumed smart, Granger,” he scoffed. “You’re supposed to read the message, not pocket it.”

“Shove off, Malfoy,” Ron said, turning around. “Come on Hermione. Let’s go.”

She pushed past the Slytherin group, who were all sniggering at their leader’s remarks. “I think I might have to take back what I said. Some of them are awful.”

“Yes, well, after lunch we have another break,” Harry grinned. “Maybe that will make you feel better.”

She nodded, knowing that he was right; not only did they have the class after lunch off, but also the one before dinner and after breakfast. However, though they seemed like times to relax, they were more commonly used for the alarming amounts of homework the Seventh Years kept receiving.

As they sat down to eat, Ron asked, “So what does the note say anyway?”

Hermione pulled it out of her robes and groaned. “Practice tonight at eight. I was going to work on my Defense Against the Dark Arts Essay…”

“So blow him off,” Harry suggested.

“I can’t do that,” she sighed. “And if I try to talk to McGonagall about it she’ll just say that I need to go and rehearse… Trust me, I’ve already tried to squeeze out of a few, but she said that I had off classes for homework and any extra time should be used to go over my lines; after all, I'm Head Girl. I'm supposed to be able to balance all of this just fine. I mean, look at my third year. I took double classes, no sweat.” With that said, she took a sandwich and headed out to sit by the lake. “I’ll be working, so don’t interrupt me.”

When she was gone, Ron turned to Harry and sighed. “She does know that it’s okay to be human, doesn’t she?”


The first few posts can be viewed in order ... However, here's links to the rest of them!

Post #13
Post #14
Post #15
Post #16
Post #17
Post #18
Post #19
Post #20
Post #21
Post #22
Post #23

“You’re the only one that was ever important to me,” he said softly, and brushed her hair away from her face. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Charlie,” Hermione replied, as if she meant it. Draco leaned in and was about to kiss her when she pulled back. “We don’t really need to practice this part, do we? I mean, I said the last line with emotion. We don’t need to do the kiss yet.”

“Do you know how awkward it’s going to be if we’re on stage together and it’s our first kiss?”

“I don’t care. They’re going to black out the stage right afterwards anyway.”

“Fine,” he said. “Listen, we don’t like each other. That’s completely apparent to everyone. But this is a play: we’re not us when we’re acting. You don’t have to mean any of it; you just have to look like you do.”

“Why is this even so important to you?” she asked, sitting down and taking a sip of her water.

Malfoy sighed. “I'm… I'm failing my Transfiguration class. McGonagall said she’d give me extra credit if I landed a role in the play- even a minor one.”

“Ah,” Hermione replied. “And I'm guessing since you got a main character, you’re getting a lot of extra credit.”

“Yeah,” he answered, sitting down next to her. “As long as I don’t back out.”

“Are you going to?”

“No. Come on, stop procrastinating, Granger. The play is in two weeks. Throw aside your script. We’re going to do this without it.”

“What time is McGonagall coming?”

“Nine. We need to have this scene down or she’s going to be mad.”

“Like you care.”

Ignoring her, Malfoy smiled. “Now remember; my character is extremely good looking and rich… and you’re the poor farmer girl. Oh, look… we are more like our characters than I realized.”

She could only glare at him.

….

“Very good,” Professor McGonagall chirped tightly. “A few pointers are required here, though. Never turn your back to the stage. Don’t put your hands in front of your face… and get that kiss down. I understand that it’s uncomfortable to do something… ‘intimate’… in front of others, but you can’t pull away from him on the night of the play. Also, as Head Girl, this will represent a bonding that is definitely needed between the Houses at a time like this. Practice is tomorrow during your lunch break. Bring a snack.”

She left and Hermione couldn’t help but groan. “I have to miss lunch, too?”

“Oh, get over it, Granger,” sneered Malfoy. He picked up his black bag and swung it over his shoulder. “As Head Girl it’s your duty…”

His voice trailed off as he left the room. Frustrated, Hermione threw herself against the wall and tried to sort out her thoughts.

….

“I want a five page essay on Karemptions and their uses,” Professor Flitwick squeaked, holding the giant wood door open. “Due Wednesday. You’re dismissed.”

“Urgh,” Hermione groaned, falling into step between Harry and Ron. “I have no idea how I'm going to finish this in time.”

“Really, Hermione? I thought you would’ve had it finished already,” Ron teased.

“I thought you would’ve learned to catch the Quaffle already, but looks are deceiving,” she snapped back, and stormed away, leaving Ron in her wake with his jaw dropped open.

“Smooth,” said Harry casually, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“She… Well she…”

“Don’t say that she started it. You did. That’s the last thing she needs, Ron. You should apologize.”

“Have I really been that bad at Quidditch lately?” he asked, letting his head hang a little.

“No. Stop changing the subject. Go say that you’re sorry.”

Ron sighed and headed towards the library, where he found Hermione pushing her way through pages of dust. “Hey.”

She ignored him.

“Listen, I'm really sorry. I shouldn’t have picked at you.” He pulled out a chair and sat down, taking the fact that she hadn’t started yelling yet as a good sign. “I know you’re stressed out… and if you want, I could help you with your essay.”

Hermione couldn’t help but smile a little. “Considering the fact that you can’t even pronounce ‘Karemptions,’ I think I’ll pass.”

Her hair was falling over her face, and he pushed it back. “Keep leaning over the book like that and your neck will fall off.”

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I think I’ll really pass on that offer for assistance.”

Ron smiled and wrapped her in a hug. “We all right?”

“Mmhmm,” she nodded. “And I'm sorry for snapping at you. I’ve just got a lot going on.”

“Like what?”

“Five page essays… Constant practices… Oh, yeah, and I have to kiss Malfoy in the last scene of the play,” she added, trying to make the latter sound as normal as possible.

However her attempts proved futile; Ron stood up, his eyes wide. “What?”

“Shh, Ron, you’re going to get us kicked out.”

“You have to kiss… Malfoy?” he hissed, resting his hand on the table so he could be at her eye level.

“Yes. Careful, or some might just think you’re jealous.”

“Ha,” he replied. “Well, if you want to go kiss some guy that’s despised you, Harry, and me, have fun.”

“Well, I'm glad you don’t care,” Hermione said, standing up and bringing the book she was using to the counter to check it out. “Because I have to go work on that scene right now.”

“I… I could come with you,” he suggested, trying to sound calm and relaxed. “Just… you know… for support. Support on the play, not on the kiss… Or that… Yeah.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “All right, if you insist…”

….

He looked into her eyes and leaned in… just before their lips touched a loud cough sounded from the other side of the room.

Hermione turned to look at Ron, who shrugged. “I… er… had something stuck in my throat.”

“Yeah, sure,” said Draco, backing away. “And I'm Santa Claus.”

“You’re ugly enough,” mumbled Ron underneath his breath.

“What was that, Weasley?” Draco asked, jumping off stage and rounding on Ron.

“Oh, nothing,” he replied coolly. “I just figured that you have a very striking resemblance to Father Christmas and all… I mean… let’s see… You both have rosy cheeks, you’re both pretty tall…. Oh, yeah, and you both suck at Quidditch.”

Malfoy stepped closer, as did Ron. They pulled out their wands and were on the point of a duel when Hermione interrupted. “Let’s go, Ron.”

“No, I don’t think you’ll be leaving.”

“Actually,” said Hermione, stepping in between the two of them. “I think that we will.”

Draco glared at Ron then put his hands on Hermione’s arms, pulling her forward. And before she even knew what was happening, Draco kissed her.

Hermione expected her first kiss to knock her off her feet, for the world to spin; however, before any of this could happen, Ron had shoved Draco backwards.

“You filthy piece of slime!” Ron roared, whipping his wand up to Malfoy’s face.

“Stop, stop!” Hermione cried and shoved the two apart. “Ronald, leave, now!”

His face was bright red and his hair was tousled; however, Hermione’s words seemed to reach the better part of his conscious. He reluctantly nodded and lowered his wand.

After he’d stormed out of the room, Hermione turned to Malfoy. “What was that?”

“Normally, we’d call it a snog.”

“All right, let me rephrase that. Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because you hate me, and I hate you.”

“It was just acting.”

“Was it?” hissed Hermione, glaring at him.

“Yes. And look, it got Ickle Ronniekins jealous. Isn’t that why you brought him?”

“No,” she replied through gritted teeth. “He came willingly.”

“Because you told him we had to kiss.”

“Because he wanted to support me.”

“Mmhmm,” he answered sarcastically, at the door to leave. “Support. Right.”

After he was gone, Hermione slowly picked up her things and headed to the Common Room.

….

Once the portrait had closed, Hermione automatically found Ron sulking, sitting in a chair by the fire.

“Hey,” she said softly. “Listen, I'm really sorry about that. We hadn’t even practiced the kiss before… he was just trying to make you mad.”

“I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t. That’s why you won’t look at me.” She got down on her knees and looked him up in the eyes. “Malfoy is a prat, all right? We all know it. He knows it… his own mum probably even knows it.”

Ron laughed a little, despite his anger. Finally, his eyes met hers and he sighed. “’Mione… Did… did… never mind.”

“What?” she asked, pulling herself up a little to be closer to his height.

“Did you… Did you enjoy it?”

“Oh, yes. I loved giving my first kiss away to Malfoy.”

“He was your first kiss?” Ron asked, shaking his head a little. “You know it doesn’t count, right? Not unless you meant it.”

“I didn’t,” she sighed.

Ron bit his lip and rested his hand on Hermione’s face. He leaned just in a little and she didn’t pull back. Her eyes were wide and she looked a little shocked, but as their faces came closer, her expression relaxed.

They were just about to kiss when Harry entered the room.

….

“You didn’t come in on anything,” Ron snapped at Harry for what felt like the hundredth time. “I was just whispering something to her.”

“To her lips? Right, anyway… Just, I'm really sorry, all right, mate? I know you and Hermione have had something going on for a while now…”

“We haven’t,” denied Ron shortly, but as he said that, his insides squirmed. He wasn’t even sure if he and Hermione had something. Their relationship was so complex. One minute they’d be laughing and enjoying each other’s company, and just seconds later they’d be yelling so fierce that they’d start pulling out their own (if not each other’s) hair.

Ron knew that he loved Hermione… he just didn’t know if he was in love with her.

Nevertheless, there remained the fact that shocked them both: she didn’t pull back.

….

By this point Hermione was more than confused. Draco had kissed her, though he said he was just acting. He had plenty of other techniques to make Ron mad. Why use this one?

“Because it made you mad, too,” Malfoy said when she asked him later at rehearsal.

“Did not.”

“Did too, or you wouldn’t be asking me about this.” He sighed and pulled her aside, away from overhearing ears. “We needed to work on the kiss. You needed to get Weasley to notice you, and he needed a reason to show that he cared. Ta da! We all win. The play is in less than two weeks. While we’re acting, you need to forget all of this, okay? It’ll affect us both if you don’t.”

They went back to center stage just in time for Dumbledore to enter. Everyone took a seat and the Headmaster smiled.

“You have all come far in this production… I cannot express how happy and proud that makes me. Now, the play is in less than two weeks. I have new schedules to hand out that address dress rehearsals, times, and other important factors… I just wanted to stop by to tell you how much this means to me, and to Hogwarts. It takes a great deal of courage to stand up in front of your classmates.”

“Or persuasion,” Hermione heard Draco snigger. She shot him a glare and then tried to turn back into the Headmaster’s speech, but it was over. Sighing, she stood up and prepared for another run-through.

Hermione was more nervous that she should’ve been. She wished that the Headmaster wasn’t watching.

“Charlie, what are we supposed to do?” she cried, flinging herself away from Draco. “Your dad would kill you if he knew that we were together.”

“And I'm supposed to care?” he asked, grabbing Hermione’s arm and pulling her closer. “You’re the only one that’s ever been important to me. I love you.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

As he leaned in, she got butterflies all over again. Everyone was watching… but she didn’t care about that. She was nervous… just nervous to be kissed.

Their lips met, and nothing else mattered.

“I don’t know what to do,” sighed Hermione finally.

Ginny looked at her, a little more than amazed. “But… he’s a Slytherin. He’s Malfoy.”

“I know,” she thrust her head into her hands, frustrated. “And I despise him more than anything. He’s arrogant, conceited, and disrespectful. He’s the biggest jerk in the world.”

“And Ron?”

“He’s not much different. All we ever do is fight.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know… because he’s annoying? This isn’t helping, Ginny. I'm just more confused.”

“Do you like Draco?”

“Did you not just hear me before? And anyway… we’ve spent our whole school career hating each other. One little play isn’t going to change anything.”

“Yes, well, a lot of kissing might,” she replied smartly, running her hands over a red pillow.

Hermione groaned. “I don’t like him, all right, Ginny?”

She nodded, appearing convinced, and she dropped the subject.

….

“We’re going into Hogsmeade later today, Harry. Are you coming?” Hermione asked, sitting down in the Great Hall for breakfast.

“Sure,” he smiled, looking up from the Daily Prophet.

“Anything new?” asked Ron. His red hair seemed to have grown a few inches longer, and he kept brushing it out of his eyes with a little bit of frustration.

“Nope,” he replied, throwing the paper aside. “Why don’t you just get your hair cut, Ron?”

He shrugged, and then blushed a little. “Well, er… you see…”

His voice lowered so Hermione wouldn’t overhear. She shot him a dismissive look and tuned out of the conversation.

“Ginny told me that the girls find it attractive.”

Harry had just taken a large sip from his goblet, and he began to cough and splutter. “Ron!”

“What?” he asked, trying not to flush.

“Nothing, nothing. I just never saw you taking advice from Ginny… I mean, is she not like the girl version of Fred and George? She could have just been joking, Ron.”

“Maybe she was telling the truth,” he said hopefully.

“Yes, well…I think she lied,” laughed Hermione, standing up and heading out of the doors.

“Hey!” Ron called. “You weren’t supposed to listen!”

She turned around, smiled, and left.

….

By the time they’d gotten back from Hogsmeade, the constant flood of rain had turned to snow. Hermione had thought that she’d never been colder in her life.

The three of them took over the chairs in front of the fire, listening silently to the other Gryffindors’ conversations. Finally, Ron spoke up.

“You ready for the dress rehearsal Thursday, Hermione?”

“Actually… yes,” she replied honestly. “I think I’ve got everything down. The lines, the moves… I just don’t think that anyone will like the play.”

“From what you told me, it’s a romance, Hermione.”

“I know that, Harry. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Well… you know how girls are. They’ll are start to get teary-eyed in the audience, while we all feel awkward…”

“Ah, it won’t be so bad…” smiled Ron. “After all, they’ll need a shoulder to cry on. I'm perfect for that. I have a shoulder.”

Ignoring Ron, Hermione smirked. “Trust me, Harry. The only thing girls will be crying about is how awful it is. We’ve all got everything memorized, but the props are a mess and the fact that Draco and I… well... you know. Not many people will like that.”

Harry looked at her, eyes open.

“What?” she asked at his surprised expression.

“Y-you called him ‘Draco.’ Since when are you two on first name basis?”

“Probably since they’ve been talking a lot,” interrupted Ron, having his voice heard once more. “Maybe it just gets a bit confusing. And anyway, Hermione, you have to remember- it’s not you and Malfoy up on stage. It’s your characters. Nothing is personal, you know?”

Hermione nodded. “Yeah, I guess. I’ll be right back- I'm going to get a blanket from my dormitory. It’s a bit cold.”

When she left, Harry faced Ron with one eyebrow raised. “Not long ago, you were criticizing her. Now you’re suddenly nice and accepting?”

“I just figured that it was best to try to see things from her point of view,” he shrugged, shifting slightly in the soft crimson chair. He shook the hair out of his face once more, and that struck a thought in Harry.

“It’s Ginny, isn’t it? You’ve been asking her for advice!”

Ron blushed and shook his head a bit too much.

“Ginny can only help you so much, Ron. You really need to figure all of this out on your own.”

“I know, I know, but Ginny says that Hermione isn’t even that interested-”

“But I thought you didn’t like her? I thought nothing was happening between you two.” Harry’s voice proved just how much he was taunting Ron. Ron wanted to say something back, to deny it all, but before he could, Hermione returned.

She settled herself back in the char, snuggled underneath a soft, white blanket. She sighed and stared deep into the fire, thinking things that no one would understand. Suddenly, she blurted out, “How’s Remus?”

Harry blinked, a little surprised at her randomness. “Er, well, I suppose. I haven’t talked to him lately. He doesn’t have time to write much, with everything that’s going on.”

She nodded, but for some reason, Harry had the sense that she honestly didn’t really care about how Remus was at the moment. Her questions were like a way to fill the sphere of silence that had cascaded all around them.
Finally, Harry coughed a little then stood up. “Well, I'm off to bed. See you two in the morning.”

And he left them, Hermione swimming in her own thoughts, and Ron contemplating whether or not Ginny’s advice was really helpful.

Flexible and caring. Sweet and innocent, but not naive. Gentle but strong; more than willing to stand up for herself and her beliefs. Not fooled easily. Hermione went over Charlotte’s character summary for the billionth time in her head. She was pacing the Great Hall, her feet making a soft tapping noise as she concentrated.

The doors swung open as Draco Malfoy swept into the room, his blonde hair slicked back but wet; a broomstick was swung over his shoulder. He pulled off his over jacket and laid his belongings on the table. “Hi.”

“Hi. You’re late,” snapped Hermione briskly.

“Sorry,” he replied blandly, not sounding at all as if he was. “Practice ran over.”

“Boys and their Quidditch.” She rolled her eyes then threw her script aside. “Let’s run lines.”

“You know the lines. Let’s run the movements.”

“What are the movements without the words?”

“You should be able to portray your character not only through that you’re saying, but also your actions. They need to feel what you feel.”

Hermione stared at him perplexed, wondering hoe he knew so much and where he learned it. She sighed and shook her head, knowing it was pointless to argue: they were both stubborn but he always found a way to win.

And so it went: act one was slowly worked through and the middle of the play approached. Hermione almost felt as if she were in a musical without any words… maybe a mime. However, as they gradually began to reach the part of the play where Charlie’s father told them that they couldn’t be together anymore, an overwhelming sense of emotion came over her. She felt as if she was Charlotte, and she was in a forbidden love.

After about half an hour of staring at each other and working through the motions, Draco stopped and clapped. “Good. You’re getting there.”

“You’re not doing so bad yourself.”

“I know.”

She was surprised to find herself laughing a little. “How can you be so arrogant yet so down to earth? You don’t make any sense.”

“Who does?”

“Why do you even caring about passing McGonagall’s class, Draco?”

“I’ve always cared… just more now than ever.”

“Ah. Well, she’s not that tough.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“What do you mean?” she raised her eyebrows. This wasn’t what she’d expected.

“Nothing ever goes wrong for you. My father is constantly comparing me to you. You don’t even know what’s that like. I'm supposed to be the best.”

“But you are!” she cried, a bit shocked at the sudden heartrending expression that had fallen over his face. “You’re great at many things! Quidditch, Potions… and you’re a great actor.”

“My father doesn’t think acting is a suitable way to pass a class. He’s only barely tolerating this play.”

An awkward silence fell over the two as they both realized that they were actually talking. But they were more than talking… they were discussing their personal lives. Draco abruptly stood up, sneering. “I’ve always been better than you though. See you tomorrow, Mudblood.”

….

“Very nice job, Miss Granger,” Professor McGonagall smiled firmly. She placed a small novel of parchment papers on her desk then moved on.

“What’d you get?” whispered Ron, leaning over his desk to the point of falling.

“An E, I bet,” smirked Harry. “Ever seen her get anything lower?”

Hermione rolled her eyes and tucked the work into her book bag.

“Aww, come on, ‘Mione! Let us see.”

“Shh,” she hissed as Professor McGonagall returned to the front of the classroom.

“There is no homework tonight, due to a very important dress rehearsal… I expect to see you all at the play, starring our very own Hermione Granger.”

As the class turned and began to applaud accordingly, Hermione sunk lower into her chair, her face turning slightly red. She jumped out of her seat and was out of the door quickly, Ron and Harry trailing in her wake.

She felt a hasty tug on her bag and she turned around to find Harry and Ron gaping down at her graded assignment, their mouths wide open. “You got an Outstanding?”

“I guess,” she replied, snatching it back from them and shoving it into the very bottom of her bag. “What’d you two get?”

“I got an A…” Harry said, slightly proud. “I think it’s pretty good, saying that I spent all but five minutes on it. What’d you get, Ron? Ron?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he passed his paper over to Harry and sped off.

“What is it?”

“He got a Poor…”

Hermione watched his back sadly as Ron pushed his way through the crowd.

“Maybe you should tutor him, Hermione…”

“Tutor him? I’d just end up doing all of the work.”

“No, you wouldn’t. He needs the help.”

“I don’t have time, Harry.”

“You don’t have time for your friends? What about after the play?”

“I… I guess. I’ll talk to him about it later.”

“Excellent,” he grinned, and separated paths with her as she turned into Arithmancy.

….

“Bad actors have bad habits,” Colin Creevey nodded smartly to Malfoy at dress rehearsal.

“What are you talking about?” he questioned, his eyebrows furrowed in a mix of anger and the incapability to understand.

“Like bad tempers!” he cried before scurrying away.

Draco stormed over to Hermione and she smiled slightly as he roared, “What was he talking about?”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” she lied obviously, moving one of the props to the opposite side of the stage. When she came back, he was still seething. “Oh, get a grip.”

He gazed at her, stunned. “What’d you just say?”

“You seem deaf today. I said to get a grip.”

“You know, Hermione, I think I might just be rubbing off on you. Stay this way and I might continue to use your first name.” He walked away, only looking back to grin at her slyly.

“Ouch, don’t pull so tight,” Hermione pleaded, turning around to face Lavender Brown, who was tying the back of her dress.

“Well stay still.”

Lavender had been temperamental with Hermione ever since Lavender and Ron had broken up the previous year; for some reason, she believed it was Hermione’s fault.

Hermione was about to retort when there was a knock on the door. Draco came in soon afterwards, nodding his head. “It’s all right. I’ve got it.”

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” Hermione hissed. The door closed and Lavender was gone.

“It’s not like it’s the night of the play. I won’t jinx you or anything,” he replied, turning Hermione’s back to him. He began loosing certain laces, his hands searching her back confidently. Shivers went up her spine. “You cold?”

“No… just… er, nervous,” she said, not completely lying; as a matter of a fact, she was nervous, but not about the dress rehearsal. She didn’t know what had gotten into her lately.

Draco finished with the dress but his hands lingered on her shoulders.

“What is it?” she asked, looking up at him.

He shook his head and backed away, Hermione’s back now cold at the loss of his touch.

….

By the time they’d finished running through everything, Hermione was exhausted. However, she’d promised Ron she’d help him study for the test the next day in Transfiguration. As she entered the common room, she wished she hadn’t agreed to the tutoring.

His happy smile met her weary face.

“Everything all right?”

“I'm just tired.”

“We’ll make this quick then, okay?”

She nodded her head, grateful that he was so understanding. She pulled his bag over and fumbled through until she found Ron’s book.

“All right… I was watching you today in class and I think a lot of your issues are the way you’re waving your wand. It’s more of a ‘u’ not so much of a ‘v.’ Try it without the words.”

He swished his wand a little too excitedly and purple sparks shot out of the tip.

“Ron, you’re letting your mind wander,” she sighed, frustrated.

“Sorry,” he muttered, his cheeks turning slightly pink. “I'm sort of scatterbrained tonight.”

Deciding it would be pointless to argue, Hermione stood up and walked behind him. She took his wand hand in hers and moved it in the shape of the letter ‘u.’

“Understand?”

“Er… yeah,” he said, biting his lip slightly.

“You’re still not concentrating. Why not? What’s on your mind?”

“Well…” he started, and then jumped up. He faced her, towering over her slightly, not over an inch from her face. “I like you.”

“Ron, what?”

His anxiety and flustered attitude was gone. He shook his head, smiling slightly. “I’ve never told you before, but I like you.”

His grin spread farther as he leaned down and kissed her.

…

“Harry, what was that all about?” Hermione asked in the Great Hall the next morning, eating breakfast.

“What?”

“You think I wouldn’t recognize a Confidence Potion if I saw one? We just studied those last week in Potions!”

“I don’t know what you’re on about, Hermione,” he said, casually looking around to make sure that no one was listening. “All right, fine. I gave him the idea.”

“So for once in your life you finally take my advice and listen in class- only to turn around and use it against me!”

“Er… Yeah, I s’ppose.” Harry looked at her, a slightly pleading look on his face. “Come on. He never would’ve gone for it otherwise.”

“Harry, I can’t believe you did this,” she groaned, pushing her head into her hands. “Especially on the day of the play. This is the last thing I needed.”

“So… how long were you two kissing for anyway?”

She shoved him and left.

….

“You… and Ron? Wow, Hermione, I never thought I’d actually see it happen,” Ginny said, flabbergasted.

“Me neither.”

“Are you mad at Harry?”

“Yes. I wish, if Ron was going to kiss me, he would’ve done it himself.”

“I thought you didn’t like him,” she pointed out.

“So did I.”

“Was he a good kisser? I mean, he’s my brother and all… quite frankly, I don’t want to know, but I'm sure that you want to spill.”

Hermione sat up. They were in the sixth year girl’s dormitories, and for good reason. If they’d discussed this in Hermione’s dorm, Lavender would’ve had a panic attack.

“Yeah, he was. But Ginny… have you ever kissed someone, and found yourself thinking of someone else?”

Her eyes grew wide. “Yeah… well, before I was with Harry… Now that that’s all over, it hasn’t happened since. Who were you thinking of?”

“No one,” she replied hastily. “Just Ron. Only Ron…”

….

When she saw him next, in was in Transfiguration.

“Think you did good on the test?” she asked awkwardly to Ron as Harry sniggered in the background.

“Yes, I do.” He didn’t seem bothered at all.

The bell rang and Ron pulled her aside. “Mind if I have a word?”

“Sure.”

They walked to the end of the corridor and he played with her fingers, avoiding eye contact.

“I'm going to be honest with you. I don’t want you to end the play with a kiss tonight.”

She looked at him, shocked. “What am I supposed to do, then? Say, ‘oh, I love you too- let me hug you?’ That’s ridiculous.”

“This play is ridiculous.”

“No, it’s not,” she replied, pulling her hand away. “This play means a lot to me, no matter who the cast is. I’ve put too much work into this to jeopardize all of it now. Just because we… we kissed last night, that doesn’t give you the right to sabotage things.”

“I'm not trying to sabotage things, Hermione! I want you to be my girlfriend, all right?”

Her mouth dropped open. He reached for her but she pulled away as a group of Slytherins walked by. “Er… I’ll see you later, all right? Draco, wait up! We need to run lines!”

She left him standing there confused as she ran to Malfoy’s side.

“What’s up, Granger?”

“I want to run lines before tonight.”

Pansy Parkinson sneered. “I bet there’s lots of things you want to do with him before the end of the night- or is Weasley not enough to satisfy you?”

“Shut up,” Malfoy growled, pushing his way out of the crowd. “I’d love to run lines with you. You’re much better than some people I know.”

They proceeded down the hallway, leaving a shocked Ron and Pansy far behind.

“So explain to me why I was your choice of escape.”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t answer Ron, and you were just… there.”

“Well, jeez, thanks,” he said sarcastically. “Do you think that maybe you’re trying to play hard to get?”

“I wouldn’t understand that game if it tap danced in front of me,” she answered honestly. “I'm not good with things like that.”

“Oh, but you are.”

They were in the Room of Requirement; the perfect getaway from loud noises and the drama that constantly worked itself into Hogwarts. They were sitting down, Hermione with her legs crossed Indian style, facing Draco.

Hermione chose to ignore him. “I just can’t answer him… not yet, anyway. He’s my best friend. I'm afraid of ruining that. So… you and Pansy?”

“What about us?”

“Anything there?” she asked, fumbling with her bracelet.

“No, should there be?”

“I'm not sure. She seems a little protective.”

“We had a thing a couple of years ago, but it was more one-sided. She wanted more of me than I was willing to give.”

“What do you mean?”

“Put it this way,” he sighed. “She wasn’t the most emotional person. More… hands on.”

“Oh.”

“You know, it’s funny. People think of Hogwarts of some sainthood, somewhere that nothing bad ever happens. But when you group hundreds of kids together for seven years… I'm surprised that not more people, other than Cedric have Died.”

She nodded, and knew he was right. “My… my mum recently wrote me about five deaths in my Muggle cousin’s school… some boy brought a gun and shot four boys his age and one girl. She was my cousin’s best friend…”

“Exactly. It’s supposed to be a place to learn… but everyday is a danger in itself.”

Hermione looked at Draco, wondering more things than ever before. His cold gray eyes had melted away to reveal a light blue that was more beautiful than anything she’d ever seen. He wasn’t smirking for what seemed like the first time in forever, and he seemed just as curious as she was.

“Why?”

He didn’t have to ask what she meant. “If you don’t put up a barrier, you’ll get hurt easily. I don’t wear my heart on my sleeve.”

“Aren’t you lonely?”

“Who isn’t?” Draco’s hand worked its way into hers and they sat there, two totally different people feeling the same exact thing.
Happiness.

….

They walked slowly to the Great Hall, not saying anything, but knowing that they didn’t need to. Draco opened the door to reveal the hectic bustle necessary to prepare for the play. Hermione went in, and he followed.

“See you on stage?”

“As always,” she smiled, and turned left, leaving him in the middle of the room. As she was walking, she took in her surroundings. Hundreds of black, theatre-style chairs were aligned in neat rows, all facing a grand oak stage that wasn’t there the day before. Lights hung from the ceiling where the weather used to be portrayed.

Hermione sighed and headed towards her dressing room, where her costume was waiting. She slipped into a ragged dress with an awful flower print and put on more makeup than she’d ever wear in her life. A loud knock at the door sounded.

“Come in.”

Harry stuck his head around the corner. “Hey! You nervous?”

“No,” she replied honestly, rubbing dirt onto her face as Harry took a seat next to her. “What’s up?”

“I talked to Ron.”

“That’s normally what best friends do.”

“Ouch. Since when are you so snappy?”

He didn’t answer.

“Anyway,” Harry continued. “He seemed kind of crushed… but he also said you didn’t answer him. He thinks he scared you off.”

Hermione still didn’t say anything.

“All right, I’ll get to the point. Do you like him, or not? I mean, bloody hell, Hermione. You two snogged for ages. What is he supposed to think?”

She snapped her eye shadow closed. “Yes, Harry, I do like him. Happy? But there’s more to this than you think.”

“Like what?”

The door opened and Professor McGonagall strode in. “Come on, Miss Granger. We need you backstage.”

Hermione smiled. “Be there in just a moment.” She turned to Harry, eyebrows raised, and whispered, “I like someone else, too.”

….

“Nervous?” Draco questioned, looking at her from the corner of his eyes.

“Why does everyone keep asking that?”

“Why not?”

“Because if they keep asking, I will get nervous!”

“Oh. Right.”

“Sorry, Draco,” Hermione said, brushing her hair away from her face. “I'm not nervous… just anxious. Harry came to my dressing room.”

“I see he’s trying to take another page out of my book…”

“Ha ha, not really,” she laughed monotonously. “It was about Ron.”

“If you like him, date him.”

“It’s not as easy as that, and you know it.”

He stepped in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Listen, all right? Whatever… whatever’s going on here… you know as much as I do that it can’t happen.”

“Why not?” she asked stubbornly, arms crossed.

“Hello! Different houses, different lifestyles- I'm only in this play because I need to pass my class. My father’s already mad about that as it is. Imagine if he found out… me… you.”

“What about us?” she mocked what he’d said earlier.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, don’t do this to me.”

She pulled him into a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist.

“You’re lucky no one is here,” he whispered into her ear.

As they pulled apart, Professor McGonagall swept into the room, ushering Hermione up on stage behind the curtain. “Come on, you’re opening the play, and we’re fixing to start!”

Hermione clambered up the stairs and turned back to look at Draco. He gave her a soft smile.

“Presenting, Hogwarts first play since the late eighteen hundreds…” Colin Creevey roared to the bustling crowd. “Fate!”

The curtains opened and Hermione walked up on stage, ready to do everything she had practiced.

“I'm not so sure about this place,” Charlotte said, looking awkwardly up at a small abandoned shack.

“It’s all right,” Charlie reassured her. “We’ll be safe here. No one will find us.”

“I don’t want to hide anymore, Charlie! I can’t hide anymore!”

“Both of our lives are at risk!” he shouted, grabbing her by the wrists. “Elizabeth’s father will have us killed.”

And it was true. Before he was born, Charlie was set in a prearranged engagement to a girl from a wealthy family. Elizabeth. The wealthy always marry up.

“I don’t think I care that I might have to die,” she hissed. “I don’t care anymore. This is so much worse.”

“It’ll get better… It always gets better.”

….

Charlotte was a simple girl; no friends and just her father to look out for her. However, she was deeply bound to the peasant population, and the servants gossiped- especially about Miss Charlotte’s nighttime adventures. She’d been followed to the abandoned shack that she’d used to meet Charlie, and they were caught.

A loud series of knocks awoke Charlotte. She pushed aside her covers, and was instantly cold. Since there was no fire in the house, they had no source for heat. Her father sat up.

“It’s all right, I’ve got it.” She pulled open the door to their one-room cottage to reveal a sergeant cloaked in a black uniform. He was from the city’s government.

“Can I help you?” she asked, a bit embarrassed being seen in her nightgown.

“Yes. Are you Charlotte Smith?”

“I am.”

“I have a warrant for your arrest. Please come with me.”

“For what?” Charlotte’s father roared, storming up to the officer, who was now holding out a piece of parchment encrusted with the city government’s brand.

“It’s nothing, Father. It’s nothing.”

“It’s that boy, isn’t it? The one from the manor! I told you not to mix with him, Lotty, I told you!”

“Please don’t tell him,” she pleaded to the sergeant. “Please.”

“I have to. You’re a minor. You are correct. She’s under arrest for having a relationship with an engaged man… er… Charlie Johnson. They are both sentenced to hang tomorrow night in the Town Square. It’s time to leave, Miss Charlotte.”

Tears filled her eyes, and she turned to her father. “I love you, all right? I’ll tell mum you said hello.”

They left, her father staring at her awestruck.

….

As the sun rose, Charlotte was put under control of men not nearly as nice as the man who had arrested her. They taunted her, pulling her hair and calling her horrid names.

Finally, when they were gone, she was left to muse in her thoughts. The dirty, dark chamber offered no protection or reassurance that everything would be okay.

Food was slipped into her room a couple of hours later. She scurried over to the tray to find stale bread and warm water. She was pushing the bread around mindlessly when the door swung open to reveal the man who had taken her from her house.

“Sir, sir,” she begged.

“My name is Sergeant Greene. How can I help you?”

“Do you know if I’ll be able to see him? Before I am to hang?”

“Well, I know you are to both be hanged at the same time. However, I do believe you will be in the preparatory room together.”

And they were. Not long after she talked to Sergeant Greene she was forced into a small chamber where she was stripped down to her undergarments (in her case, her slip, which was barely warm). Charlie was soon pushed in, undressed down to his long johns.

They were left alone, staring at each other.

“Oh, Charlie,” she rushed into his arms and looked up at him. Soot coved his worry-etched face. “Are you all right?”

“As good as I’ll ever be. Charlotte… do you hate me?”

“Why would I? How could I?”

“I don’t know. I got us both in so far over our heads.”

“It wasn’t just you,” she assured him. “I'm not so innocent here, either.”

“Let’s run,” he whispered in her ear. “When we’re up there, let’s run.”

Before she could say anything else, Sergeant Greene came into the room and led them through the jail.

Charlie slipped his hand into Charlottes, and smiled weakly at her.

“I wouldn’t do that, if I were you,” Greene warned. “The town is mad enough at the two of you as it is.”

“I don’t care,” Charlotte replied honestly as Greene opened the door that led to Town Square. “These are my final minutes. I shall do with them what I wish.”

As the ascended the steps to where their fate lay, the crowd booed. Charlie squeezed Charlotte’s hand one last time before the noose was slipped around their necks.

As she stood there, Charlotte found her father in the crowd. Tears were streaming down his face.

The hangman slowly began to tighten the rope around Charlotte’s neck, breathing rapidly down her neck. She wanted to take a bath desperately.

As his grubby fingers worked his was over her collarbone, Sergeant Greene stepped up and whispered something unintelligible into the hangman’s ear.

Sergeant Greene turned to the crowd. “I’ve decided to take this one- I want the pleasure of being able to kill them myself!”

They cheered as he faced the two again. “I’ll cut the rope. As soon as I do, run.”

Charlotte’s eyes met his. “Why? Why are you doing this for us?”

“I have a soft spot for a couple of kids in a forbidden love,” he nodded. “Reminds me of myself.”

He backed away from them and they nodded, stepping forward, off of the platform. The noose tightened and Charlotte instantly couldn’t breathe. It felt like she’d been there for minutes when the sword finally cut through her rope, dropping her to the ground.

It took her a second to regain balance, but she did not need any motivation. Charlie pulled her up and they ran like they’d never run before.

….

“My father thinks I'm going to return to his house. He says that if I come back alone, the town will drop the charges and I can resume normal life. If I don’t come back…” he sighed.

“Charlie, what are we supposed to do?” she cried, flinging herself away from him. “Your dad would kill you if he knew that we were still together!”

“And I'm supposed to care?” he asked, grabbing Charlotte’s arm and pulling her closer. “You’re the only one that’s ever been important to me. I love you.”

“I love you too, Charlie.”

With that said, Draco leaned down and kissed Hermione.

A loud gasp and many cheers: that was all Hermione heard before the stage was darkened.

When Draco pulled away they went backstage, where they were to be called in front of the crowd to be formally introduced.

“Elizabeth, played by Lavender Brown!” shouted Colin.

Lavender walked onto the stage, grinning like a madwoman to the applause. Next, ‘Sergeant Greene,’ also known as Professor Flitwick was called out. And so it went: from the minor to the major characters. Finally, Colin yelled what everyone had been anticipating.

“And now … for our two main characters. Though they seem like the most unlikely couple in real life, in Fate they pulled it off without a stitch! Introducing Charlotte Smith and Charlie Johnson- Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy!”

Draco helped Hermione up the stairs and they walked onto stage, holding hands. After taking a large bow, Hermione searched the crowd. Harry was on his feet cheering, but Ron was sitting down, arms folded. Ignoring him, Hermione smiled at the wave of students.

“Kiss her… kiss her!” A loud chant suddenly arose. “Kiss her! KISS HER! KISS HER!”

“What can I say? I'm a people pleaser.” Draco smiled then leaned down to kiss Hermione once again.

….

“She just wanted her fifteen minutes of fame,” a girl whispered loudly in Hermione’s Potions class Monday.

The weekend flew by after the play was over. It should’ve been a break time, but Hermione needed the time to catch up on all of her schoolwork she’d been dragging in since the constant practices. Hopefully, now that she’d worked so hard, she wouldn’t have to cram everything in at one time.

Harry turned and glared at the girl. He then leaned in to Hermione and whispered, “It was just an act, right?”

“Of course,” Hermione hissed.

Ron snorted. He hadn’t spoken to her since the day of the play, and all he said then was, “Wow.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “You’re so lame, Ron. You need to grow up.”

“As least I don’t go snogging someone in front of the whole school.”

“Then explain Lavender,” Hermione shot back, glaring.

“Ouch,” Harry laughed. His face fell at Ron’s stern glare. “I swear, it’s like you’ve traded personalities or something…”

A ball of paper smacked Hermione in the back of the head. She was instantly reminded of the note Draco had previously written her which was delivered in the same crude fashion.

Hermione quickly picked it up off of the ground and unfolded it. It read:

Today. Same place. Six o’clock? Miss you.

Hermione quickly tucked it in her robes then turned to Draco, nodding. The note clearly meant one place: the Room of Requirement.

The bell rang, and Hermione quickly skipped out, eager to rush through her day.

….

The snapping of the door awoke Draco from the doze he had been in. He sat up happily from his seat, looking to find Hermione standing in front of him.

“Hey,” she smiled, letting herself be dragged down. “How long have you been here?”

“About half an hour.”

“I thought the note said six?”

“It did,” he replied. “I get last period off … so I just came here.”

“Oh. Did you hear the girl in Potions?”

“How could I miss her? She was really rude.”

“So… you’re not embarrassed, then?” she asked carefully, not wanting anything to come out wrong.

“No, why should I be? I like you, and … I think you like me.”

“I do. It’s complicated, though.”

“Isn’t everything?” he laughed. He turned his body to face hers and sighed. “Hermione, I want you to be mine, and I think I’ve made it really obvious by now. I don’t know what has happened to me, and I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I feel something here… something so much more that what I’ve ever had with another girl before. I don’t care if we have to keep things secret, but I want to know if you’ll be my girlfriend.”

Her eyes grew wide as he inhaled deeply. She bit her lip, and then nodded. “Yes. I will.”

“It means no Ron.”

“All right. No Ron. Just you, and me – a secret, though. We’d be dead.”

Draco smirked. “Romeo and Juliet.” He kissed her on the cheek and then stood up. “Want to go walking?”

“We’re supposed to be a secret!”

“And we will be,” he promised, leading the way out of the door.

They managed to slip through the school and out the doors without being noticed.

“So, what’d your dad think of the play?” Hermione asked casually.

“He didn’t come.”

“What? Why not?”

“I told you. He thinks it’s a waste of time and frankly not a way to succeed in passing school.”

Hermione sighed. “Oh … so when do you want to meet my parents?”

He stopped and looked at her, shocked. “Er … Meet your parents?”

“Well, yeah. The Christmas holidays will be here soon and I’d like you to meet them.”

“What would I tell my dad?”

“I don’t know … that you’re going to your girlfriend’s house?” she suggested casually.

“Hermione … you want me to keep this a secret from the school … well, I need to keep it a secret from my father.”

“For how long?”

“Not long,” he assured her. “Just until I figure out what to say, all right? Come on, we need to go back in before the doors lock. Good night, Hermione.”

“Night,” she whispered, and watched as he walked away.

Weeks passed and their secret remained such; however, as each day wore on, Hermione found it harder and harder to walk down the hallway and not say anything to Draco. Instead, she focused intently on the floor, thinking of their night meetings. They got together as much as possible, but it was starting to get tougher as the classes became more advanced.

In the time that Hermione wished she could be spending with Draco was instead used with Harry, doing homework and studying. Ron was still not talking her; instead, he sought revenge by kissing Romilda Vane as much as possible. Hermione and Harry both found this more than amusing, especially since Romilda seemed so disgusted not too long ago when Ron had eaten her love potion.

After a scheduled assembly between Hermione and Draco got cancelled, Hermione couldn’t take it anymore. She was tired of not seeing Draco, and tired of having to hide. Finally, she stormed over to his House table and sat next to him.

His eyes grew wide out of shock. “What’re you doing here?”

“I need to talk to you.”

“Now?” he hissed.

“Yes, now,” she answered, disregarding the glares from her opposing House.

He turned around and she followed suit, their backs now to the curious ears. “What?”

“I want you to tell your dad. It’s hard enough hiding this at school, but I would at least calm down some if you talked to him.”

He bit his lip. “Me telling my dad is like you telling the school. You know what would happen.”

“I know,” she sighed, knowing he was right.

“Listen, I’ll make you a deal. When you tell the Gryffindors, I’ll tell my father that we’re together.”

She shook his hand and smiled. “All right. See you later.” With that said, she approached Harry and he stared at her blankly.

“What’s up?”

“I'm going out with Draco,” she nodded quietly.

“WHAT?!”

Ron jumped and turned around. “Harry, mate, you trying to kill me? What’s wrong? Hermione kissing another Slytherin?”

“No,” he said coolly, standing up. “The same one. She’s with Malfoy now.”

….

“You going to talk to me yet?” Hermione asked Harry softly in class. He’d tried to avoid sitting next to her, but the professor wouldn’t allow for him to change seats.

“No. You’re dead to me.”

Hermione sat back, wondering what she’d gotten herself in to.

….

“You actually told people?” Draco roared as soon as he entered the Room of Requirement.

“Yes, that was our deal, was it not?”

“But- but I didn’t actually expect you to follow through with it!” he spluttered, sitting down. He ran his fingers through hair, frustrated. “We’re dead. It’s our last year, and we’re going to be despised.”

“As if you’re not already,” Hermione teased, but her face fell. “I'm sorry. I know it’s not the time for jokes. I just figured that you were serious earlier, saying that you’d tell your father if I told the school … so I did.”

“I was serious,” he replied honestly, smiling at her weakly. “I just didn’t think that it would happen so soon.”

“Well … It did.”

“You ready for tomorrow?”

“No,” she laughed. “Especially with double potions first. This should be … interesting.”

“That’s not exactly my definition of ‘interesting.’”

….

Draco met Hermione in the Great Hall the next morning, and whispers automatically rose. It wasn’t helping that they left holding hands. Out in the hallway, Draco shook his head and pushed a lock of Hermione’s hair behind her ears.

“Who ever knew being so rebellious could be so much fun?” he smiled, leaning down and kissing her.

“I did,” she grinned, and they walked to Potions, hand in hand.

….
“She’s in my seat!” Pansy barked upon entering the room. Draco had instructed Hermione to sit next to him; after all, it didn’t appear as though Harry wanted to be near her.

“Actually, she’s in her seat. Why don’t you go sit with Potty or Weasel?”

As the class wore on and more insults came flying her way, Hermione couldn’t help but to groan. “This is just one class … wait until we get to dinner. What are we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered back. “Run?”

She rolled her eyes, dropping in two scoops of crushed salamander scales into her cauldron. “Let’s act like… like we’re a couple, and just ignore them.”

“Smart idea,” he agreed, smirking a little. “But really, have anything new? Something everyone isn’t already expecting?”

Hermione smacked him in the arm, but giggled nonetheless.

“I told him,” Draco sighed, sitting down at the table the next week. Christmas holidays were finally falling upon them and Hermione was hoping to bring Draco home with her to meet her parents.

“You did?” Hermione gasped, clutching his hand firmly in hers. “How’d he take it?”

“Not so well. He said I'm not allowed to come home. He said that he can’t deal with me right now.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped open. “What? Will everything be all right? Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry!”

“Don’t be,” he grinned weakly. “Now I can spend the holiday break with you. You sure your parents don’t mind?”

“Of course they don’t mind,” she assured him.

“Good. I'm excited.”

“Me, too.”

….

The train ride home was more than interesting; Hermione had previously been invited to Ron’s but the invitation was hastily snapped back. Instead, it was just Harry returning home with Ron and they made it very clear that they did not want to be anywhere near Hermione on the train ride home.

“You know, they haven’t really been this mad at me since our First Year, and that was because I was a pompous little know-it-all,” Hermione pointed out, leaning her head on Draco’s shoulder.

“And you’re not now?” he teased.

“Ha ha, how clever you are.”

“I know … it’s how I passed Transfiguration.”

“I don’t believe that was based on your brains. I think there was this extra credit in the form of a play that boosted you through this far.”

“See, you haven’t changed,” he laughed. “Though maybe you’re a tad bit more sarcastic now. But, honestly, if I hadn’t used my brains to decide to try out for the play in order to get extra credit, I wouldn’t be passing right now, would I? Oh, look, I am clever.”

She snorted. “And so I let you believe.”

….

“Mum, I missed you!” Hermione cried, flinging herself into a tight hug. “This is my boyfriend, Draco Malfoy.”

“Hi. Nice to meet you,” he smiled warmly, shaking Mr. and Mrs. Granger’s hands. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

Mrs. Granger beamed at him. “Yes, it’s lovely. You ready to go, dear? Are you sure that your parents don’t mind you staying with us?”

“Positive,” he affirmed sternly. “Where’s your car? It’s all right, Hermione, I’ve got your trunk…”

When they reached Hermione’s house she was feeling extremely positive; Draco had a charm with her parents and it seemed as if they adored him.

“So, we heard all about the play. Hermione actually had a teacher put it onto video so we could watch it. Would you be interested in seeing it after dinner?”

“Sure! What’s for dinner?”

They entered the house, and Draco grinned at the simplicity of it. It was a small two-story cottage with black trim and shutters. The inside was decorated nicely: soft dark blue sofas and pictures lining the walls.

“Turkey. I hope you’re hungry. Hermione, why don’t you show Draco to his room?”

Hermione nodded and led the way down a slightly narrow hall. She turned to the second door on the right and opened it to reveal a large guest bedroom.

“Where’s your bedroom?” he asked casually, sitting down on the bed.

She stood in front of him. “Across the hall.”

“Your parents trust you?”

“Yes. They seem to trust you, too. Let’s not break it.”

“Actually,” he smirked, pulling her down to his level. “I think we should break it and not tell them.”

Laughing in between kisses, they proceeded in snogging until dinner was called.

….

“Horses?”

“Yeah, we own some. I haven’t gotten to see them in a while. Want to go ride?” Hermione asked excitedly.

“Er … I'm not so excellent with them,” he admitted, pushing his blonde hair back. “They don’t tend to like me.”

“Don’t worry,” Hermione smoothed, opening the gate. “I’ve got a horse for every type.”

They approached a foul-smelling cage and Hermione opened another door. Finally, they found themselves face-to-face with five stags, all neighing loudly.

“Shh, baby,” Hermione cooed, stepping forward.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Not you,” she giggled. “The horses. They’re nervous.”

“So am I.”

“You’ll be fine. Here, try Janie,” she nodded calmly. “Just put your hand out – let her smell you first – then just hug her. I promise, she’s nicer than the Hippogriffs.”

“Ouch,” Draco hissed. “You almost hut my feelings there for a second. Wait … nope … it passed.”

Hermione rolled her eyes and watched, amused, as Draco gingerly stepped forward, holding his hand away from him as far as possible. Janie bent down and sniffed his hand as Draco stood tense, prepared to jump back at any second. When the horse didn’t pull back, Draco wrapped the horse in a hug, sighing slightly.

….

Before they went to bed, Hermione and Draco sat in the hallway.

“They gave me a very serious talking to,” Hermione whispered. “About how they expect me to be mature, responsible, etcetera. I don’t think my father likes you right across from me.”

“I thought they trusted you?”

“They do trust me – it’s you they’re worried about. Nothing personal … it’s just … they don’t know how you were raised or anything.”

“That’s probably a good thing,” he replied darkly.

As they stood up to say good night, a black owl swooped in from Draco’s open window. He turned, surprised, and it landed on his shoulder, holding out a letter.

“Orpheus,” Draco exclaimed. “What’re you doing here?”

Draco slipped the letter off of his talons and the bird left. Apparently, it was not expected to wait for an answer.

“Who’s it from?” Hermione questioned, curious.

“Oh, just my father. He’s probably wondering how my Holidays are going. Good night, Hermione. See you in the morning.” He kissed her on the cheek then slipped into his room, closing the door behind him.

After plopping himself, down on the bed, Draco couldn’t help but to groan after reading the message.

Draco,
Where are you? I talked to Severus and he says that you are not at the school. If you do not return within three days I will come for you. Don’t bother writing me back. I do not want to hear your excuses.
- Lucius

“Hey, Hermione, when are we going back to Hogwarts?” Draco asked the next night as they walked around outside.

“Saturday … four days from now. Why?”

Because I only have two days to get back to school, he thought sourly. “No reason. Just curious.”

They walked a bit farther when he stopped suddenly.

“You know, our final exams are really soon. Oh no! I left my potions book at school! I was supposed to study …” he groaned.

“Couldn’t you just have Professor Snape mail you a copy?”

“Oh, yeah, good point … but maybe I should go back to school, to get it, you know?”

“No, not really. What’s up with you?”

“Nothing, nothing!” he hastily replied. Except I need to make an appearance before my father kills me.

“Right,” she answered suspiciously. “Well, tomorrow we’re going into town. We need to buy my cousin a Christmas present.”

“Like the Muggle town?”

“Right,” she repeated.

“Okay.”

“Want to go in? It’s getting chillier by the second.”

He nodded, and then bounded to his room. He didn’t know what to do; his family would kill him if they knew where he was and he didn’t want Hermione to know that he’d lied. She’d already sacrificed so much.

Finally, a solution came to him. He Disapparated and landed in Goyle’s foyer.

….

“Is it for her?” Goyle asked, his jaw firm. He was pacing back and forth in his room. His walls were black, but you could write on them in chalk; scribbles covered every inch and most of it was more than unintelligible.

“It’s not just for Hermione. It’s for us. So we can be together.”

“Your father won’t like this. He’s already come around twice. You’re lucky mother’s out.”

“I know, I know,” Draco pleaded. “Just please do it. I’ll give you anything you want.”

“Anything?”

“Anything.”

….

They arrived back at Hermione’s house about four hours after they’d set out. Mrs. and Mr. Granger insisted upon dinner and a movie, which was no problem to Draco. Spending time with their family was enjoyable.

“There’s no fighting or screaming,” Draco sighed. “It’s really nice. Here, at your house … it’s just so much different that mine. When we’re not arguing it’s all silence, and isolation. They don’t really want me there. Well, Mother does, but only some of the time. Sometimes I think she’s scared of me; she rarely sits in the same room with me for longer than an hour.”

“Oh, that’s awful,” Hermione whispered. They were sitting on the front lawn, holding hands and watching the cars drive by. “Do you ever miss it, though?”

“Yeah. I mean, they are my family after all,” he nodded. “They’ve always been there for me when no one else has.”

“I’ll be here for you.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep. It’s still freezing outside.”

As they walked in, a fresh wave of smells cascaded over them. Turkey, stuffing, and gravy flooded the table and more things could easily be smelled cooking.

“Oh, yummy,” Hermione grinned, closing her eyes and taking in the delicious aroma.

“What’s all this?”

“Christmas Eve dinner. Don’t you have it at your house?”

“Not exactly.”

They took off their jackets, hanging them on the hall tree, and walked into the kitchen to clean up.

“Oh, just in time,” Mr. Granger said, folding up his newspaper. He laid it to the side and stood up. “Would you two set the table?”

“Sure.” Hermione showed Draco where the plates were and she grabbed silverware.

They sat down to eat and Hermione led them in prayer, which was surprising to Draco.

“Why?” she asked, biting into a cranberry.

“I don’t know,” he lied at first. “Well … don’t hate me for saying it … but I didn’t know that you would believe in anything that wasn’t supported by fact or logical reason.”

Mrs. Granger snorted. “Not exactly. One time, when Hermione had the chicken pox-”

“Mum!” Hermione protested.

“No, no, tell me!” Draco smiled, intrigued. “I want to hear.”

Hermione turned red as her mother continued with the story.

“Well, she was eight years old and has the nastiest bout of chicken pox I’d ever seen in my life. It was so bad she even had minor hallucinations, and we couldn’t give her the shot for them because she’s allergic. Anyway, she was in the living room and she thought that she was a mermaid! She was flailing around, trying to speak some made up language, when her father came up, grabbed her, and tickled her so hard she peed-”

“Mum, stop it!” Hermione interrupted again, this time positively red.

Draco was laughing into his cup of eggnog. “It’s not that bad.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“No, really, it wasn’t!” he assured her. “Once, I jumped off my roof because I’d heard of the Muggle superhero Superman. Well, twenty stitches and one broken leg later, let’s just say I learned to separate reality from make believe. At least you had a reason; you were sick.”

“Your parents didn’t take you to a Healer?” Hermione asked, shocked.

“Nope,” he replied, setting his cup back down. “Mum said that since I was acting like a Muggle I should get their medicine too. It taught me a lesson. That was one of the most painful things I’d ever done. I respect anyone who’s ever had to do something like that before.”

“Good. Then you’ll like me,” Mr. Granger said.

“He’s a dentist,” Hermione informed him.

Draco winced. “Ouch.”

The thought of someone pulling your teeth out distracted him until he realized that Mrs. Granger was gone. By the time he’d turned around, Hermione and her father had left the table. He followed them to the sofa where they sat. He was surprised when a present was tossed into his lap.

“They do this every year. Each Christmas Eve I get to open one present, always from my dad, and it’s always pajamas. You wear them to bed and the next morning while taking pictures. Open yours!”

Hermione was right. Draco’s box contained a dark, silky green pair of pajamas and Hermione’s was a light blue nightgown.

Before they went up to bed, Draco thanked the Granger’s profusely. “They really are nice.”

“I know,” Hermione agreed. “Hey, you know at the dinner table, where you said I only believe in things supported by fact? Well, you’ve made me believe in love, and there’s no fact to support that.”

She kissed him and went into her bedroom.

….

At around four in the morning, a couple of loud knocks woke Draco from his light sleep.

“Come in,” he said, sitting straight up.

Hermione threw herself into the room, crying. “D-Draco! It’s Hag-Hagrid! He’s been hurt!”

Draco took her into his arms, trying to soothe her.

Goyle had done his job.

Hey Caitlin, just a heads up.. this fic will be cleaned up soon.

I advise all of your readers to read the FF rules. There is to be no off-topic posting in a FF thread. No spam. No chatter. If you want to comment on the story, please do so briefly. This thread is so full of spammy comments that I've had a complaint.

Please be more considerate to Caitlin's great story and to her readers.. they're here to read Caitlin's story, not your spam.

Consider this a verbal warning. Yeah, I'm taking names.

I'll be deleting everything but story posts in this thread soon, because it's less work than going through to find all the story AND legitimate comment posts.

A few of you did not get the message.

Do not post in this thread unless you are the author, or if you have questions or comments to make about the story.

Great posts! I missed some. Can't remeber exactly how many. I love this thread! I even have some of the avvies, with credit to who made them, to advertise to people over MSn to get them on here for you! PAMS!

NicoleXXXOOO

Sorry in advance for the off-topic post, Caitlin.

Many of you will notice the drop in your post count. There were 1180 posts in this thread, and only 12 of them were story posts. A SMALL percentage of those posts were comments about the story itself.

GUYS. You don't need to post a bazillon PAMS messages. She knows you want more and she has often said another post is coming and you all post PAMS AGAIN! This has got to stop. Don't make me disallow comments in story threads please. This is basic courtesy and is IN THE FF RULES! This isn't a fan club thread or a chat thread. If you want to chat, go post in the TP or use PMs or instant messenger.

Yes, I'm really annoyed about this, and Fate isn't the only thread that's this bad. Clean up or lose the privilege.

OMGSH PAMS PAMS PAMS!!! we need more i luv your story i luv d/hr storys they are so juciy ::hehehe:: keep up the good work honey! ~victoria

Whao! Just read the newest addition to Fate!!!! I know I'm a week late but soccer and everything... Anyhoo! *stays on topic* Awesome post!!!! PAMS!!!!!!!!!

BUTTTTT What was Goyle's job!?!?!?!?!!? I must know!!?!?!? What was his job??!? AHHHHHH POST SOOON!!! CAITLIN!!!! PLEASE? For teh Rose? Teh Rose who played varsity monday? Teh Rose that loves you and your story? PLEASE!!!!! PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS!

Hmmm... Will Draco and Hermione stay together? Is the story about how they fought through hard times to stay with each other? *thinks* PAMS, my lovely

~Rose

All right, so, I wanted to let you guys know : I AM HERE! But it just seems in every FF I wirte I go through a bit of writer's block or hard times. I'm pushing myself to post because I know it's been a while since the last time I did.

I just want to send a big thanks to JAN [evlpez] for cleaning this up. You guys, let's not get ridiculous again. I LOVE the PAMS [in fact, there have been very few lately] but I don't want stories to not be allowed to have comments in them. I would die if I didn't have y'alls support!

I'm in school now, but you guys should be able to expect a post soon! 8)

Love you all ALWAYS,
-- Caitlin

I cannot wait for your post! PAMS!

NicoleXXXOOO

Ok... since you love teh PAMS... PAMS PAMS PAMS PAMS!!!!!!!!!!! awesomeriffic post... twas totally sweet. POOR HAGRID!!!!!!!! what did goyle do? what will happen?

EDIT: we never did the harrylicious bbq!!. i bought special sauce for it too... anywhoo... PAMS! <3 --> <hehe hes so funny...

Awww... Poor Hagrid, so sad... I love it! PAMS! PAMS! PAMS! PAMS! PAMS! PAMS!
It is totally cool!

What happened to Hagrid, What did Goyle do, what is Hermiones reaction going to be when/if she finds out about it all.
Post more soon. But I know it can take awhile, and writers block stinks. So Waiting paitenly for more of you fabtastic story.
<3Jenn

im confused. how come hagrid getting hurt refrains draco from going to hogwarts? weird. well, your story will continue and your writers block will go away, more soon please!!

*Danielle*

All right, Hagrid being hurt = Hermione wanting to return to Hogwarts to see him. Therefore, Draco goes too, and gets out of trouble.

All right, you guys, we're going to mix it up in here. Since these three page posts are killing me and making me suffer from MAJOR writer's block, I'm going to make the posts smaller - about the size that they were on The Flavor of the Week. That way, I can post MORE. Is that okay?

If so, I'm posting - TONIGHT! Who wants to beta?