HELLO!

I'm so happy people liked Minerva's POV in the last chapter, it was so much fun writing from her POV for a change!

This chapter addresses some things that needed to be addressed, but I wanted to wait until the right moment (which hopefully I did). In case anyone was missing the dramione in the last couple chapters, this chapter will definitely give you a healthy dose of the two of them.

Please leave a review and let me know what you think ;)

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Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling, and only the story line and any OC's belong to me.


Saturday, December 20th, 1975

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Alcove Somewhere on the Seventh Floor

"His antics are getting out of hand."

"I agree, we need to do something about it," Hermione sighed.

The first fingers of sunlight were extending towards the heavens and not too long ago, whilst the sky was still pitch black, two students had crept out of bed—cloaked in the darkness. The female had padded into the boy's dormitories and awoken her companion.

The castle was silent, ever so silent. Eerily so.

The two students were hidden away in an alcove, using their keen sight to see in the shadows that engulfed them. The female was wearing a black lace nightie with a thick white cardigan wrapped around her, a pair of bright pink ankle socks were on her feet. The male was wearing a thick woollen bright blue jumper and a pair of checkered navy blue pyjama bottoms, his feet bare—his toes wriggling around on the icy stone floor.

The tension was thick. Neither of them paid it any mind, ignoring it rather than acknowledging the fact that it was even there at all. Pretending as if this was just another morning, and as if they were just chummy. That everything was fine.

The girl pushed her mussed raven curls back and out of her face, her slender fingers getting caught amongst the dark strands for a moment; she blew out a heavy sigh of frustration as she used her other hand to deftly untangle her fingers from her wild curls.

She inhaled slowly, her hazel orbs peering up at her much taller companion—who had just leaned back against the wall behind him and crossed his arms over his chest, one of his feet propped up against the rough stone wall.

She began to intensely study the stone, never really thinking about what the castle was made of. Well she supposed it had briefly crossed her mind. Just as she was trying to work out if it was limestone or flint, Draco cleared his throat.

Thinking about what materials the castle was built out of was really just a way to distract herself from the fact that she wasn't quite sure how to act around Draco.

Their relationship had been deteriorating over the last few weeks, not getting better, not in the slightest. Not to say that things were bad. It had all just become far too cordial, every slight movement felt measured, and overtly cautious.

"You going to stare at nothing, or you going to actually help me figure out what to do about James...and Sirius," Draco said, sighing heavily before withdrew his gaze from her—instead choosing to purposefully stare at the ceiling. "Cause where one of them goes, the other follows."

"What's got your wand in a knot?" Hermione asked sharply, taking a step towards him. She defiantly crossed her arms over her own chest, her chin jutting out as she raised her head high; rolling her shoulders and standing as straight as she could.

His stormy grey eyes flicked down to her—they looked like molten silver, flecked with deep midnight blue right now, and it caused her to swallow thickly, her tongue dry and heavy in her mouth.

"I'm just pointing out that you aren't being of any help," Draco shrugged nonchalantly. His eyes looked slightly glazed over, but at the same time there was a frosty feel to them that sent a shiver down her spine.

"There's no need to act like a wanker," Hermione said, her brow knitting together.

"I'm not."

"You are."

"You're imagining things," Draco snorts.

"No. I'm not. Things are fucking weird between us, I know you can feel it too. It's not all in my head," Hermione snarled.

"For someone so brilliant...the brightest witch of her age and all that other shite, you really can't read people," Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes. The raven haired boy straightened up and turned away from her.

Which is why he didn't see Hermione recoil violently at his acid tone, taking a few steps back. It was akin to if he had just slapped her in the face and spat on her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Hermione asked quietly, aghast, her eyes widening.

"Nothing new, Potter. I'm the same wanker I've always been," Draco spat, whirring back around with cold fury in his eyes, his arms falling to his sides.

Hermione shook her head adamantly, "that's not true. What's wrong?" Hermione asked, softer this time, slowly approaching him. She took an uneven breath then, her hands shaking as she unfolded them—reaching out to touch his cheek.

Draco roughly caught her wrist, something she couldn't discern flashed in his eyes—they almost looked broken, sad—his features however, hardened as he said, "don't."

Hermione's stubborn streak flared to life, she set her jaw and moved closer, raising her other hand, but he swiftly caught that one too.

"What's wrong?" Hermione repeated, her voice barely a brush of sound this time. She had to steady her own heartbeat when she heard his quicken for a brief, brief moment.

The air was almost stifling then, so thick and she couldn't breathe, couldn't do anything but look at him and try to read what he was going to do.

Draco always kept his feelings bottled up, was always guarded; at least he was with everyone else. She thought she was different, that they could tell each other anything; yet there was always this small, nagging feeling at the back of her mind telling her that there was something major that he was keeping from her.

She saw the moment his walls crumbled, and his grip on her wrists loosened just enough for her to fling her arms around his neck. He caught her, burying his face in the side of her neck as they fell back against the wall.

"You left me," Draco choked out. He was softly shaking as he clung to her, and before she knew it, hot tears were rolling down her cheeks.

Merlin. She missed him. They'd both been wrong, stubborn, and headstrong. He'd was wrong for making a choice for her, and she was wrong for leaving in anger—for leaving him all alone.

Well, he hadn't been alone, but yet, in actuality, he really had been.

Hermione pulled back a little, and Draco raised his face just enough so that she could see him properly. She saw the tear tracks on his face, and she only then felt the moisture on her skin where his own tears had fallen.

She didn't think then, she just moved. She kissed away his tears, and she could taste the salt on her lips when she leaned back. They are close, so, so close. Her cheeks began to burn bright red, and Draco looked as if he was about to say something when a jarring, loud bang sounded just outside of their alcove.

They both scrambled apart, and she could hear his heart racing in her ears—the sound of her own heartbeat was pounding in her head. They both glanced at each other quickly before drawing their wands and walking cautiously to the mouth of the alcove.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Draco grumbled when he saw just who it was that had caused the noise. Lysander Smith.

The blond Ravenclaw was surrounded some older boys in his house, and they did not look pleased.

What has that idiot done now? Hermione groaned mentally.

"Smith, you're a right tosser and I'm going to knock your teeth in," the tallest boy growled.

The boys were all already dressed and ready to get on the train later—Hermione could smell the fresh scent of soap mixed in with their own unique smells wafting off of them.

"Do we help him?" Hermione whispered lowly, teetering on the edge of leaving their safe haven—notice-me-not and silencing charms were cast just in case something like this happened.

"Fuck," Draco swore under his breath, rubbing his cheek with the back of his hand. "I don't like him...but I can't just watch those blokes fuck him up."

"How do you want to do this?"

"With the utmost discretion," Draco said, the corners of his lips tugging upwards.

They both paused to swipe away their tears and nodded at each other before they made their move.

Draco crept out first, wand extended gracefully in front of him as he stalked towards the group of wizards. Hermione followed closely on his heels.

The boys had cornered Lysander against a wall, and in a moment two things happened, Lysander met Hermione's eye, and Draco disarmed the boy closest to him and pressed the tip of his wand into the second boy's neck in one smooth movement.

"Expelliarmus!" Hermione yelled as she disarmed the third boy, catching his wand with ease.

The main offender snarled loudly, his angular, square face contorting angrily, brown eyes flashing with waves of fury, "oi! Potters, this ain none of yer business!"

"Fraid it is—" Hermione smiled tightly, inclining her head to the right, ignoring the way the three boy's eyes roamed her body as they realized that her bare legs were exposed, "—that tosser is unfortunately our business."

The boy's eye twitched, and she could see the vein by his temple pulsing in time to his heavy breathing. "Give me back my wand and we'll leave," he grunted.

Hermione narrowed her eyes at the boy, and he sighed, "I swear we'll leave Smith alone…for now."

Well it's better than nothing, Hermione mused.

"Okay. If you try anything funny though, I am pleased to inform you, that I will put you on your arse faster than you can blink," Hermione said sweetly.

The boy's eyes widened, but he nodded nonetheless, hand shaking as he accepted his wand.

Hermione raised an eyebrow as Draco handed the wand he had acquired back to its owner.

"Don't think this is finished, Smith," the leader sneered darkly, and with one last dirty look, he turned on his heel and left—his two friends hurrying after him.

Hermione cocked her hip to the side, giving Lysander a droll look, "what did you do?"

Lysander tucked his hands into his trouser pockets, eyes widening as if affronted that any of what had just happened was through any fault of his.

"We just saved your sorry arse, Smith. What the hell did you do?" Draco drawled, tucking his wand behind his ear as he gave Lysander a pointed look.

"Alright," Lysander said reluctantly, raising his hands in surrender. "His bird was trying to snog me last night, and he walked in right before I got a chance to tell her to piss off."

"So why did he wait till this morning to try and beat you up?" Draco frowned.

"Madelaine, she put herself in front of me and told him that if he did anything she would break up with him," Lysander replied, dropping his hands.

"You're ridiculous," Hermione rolled her eyes, turning to leave, but just before she did Lysander gently grabbed her by the elbow. Hermione found herself much closer to Lysander than she would have liked, and before she could protest, he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on her cheek.

"Smith!" Draco growled, but Lysander had already let go of her, winking and walking backwards down the corridor to their right—which was the shortest route back to the Ravenclaw Tower.

"Thanks sweets," Lysander grinned before spinning around and lightly jogging away.

"We should have let them knock him around a little bit," Draco mumbled. Hermione smiled fondly and shook her head, she faced Draco and asked, "we're good, right?"

"Yea, we're good," Draco smirked, closing the distance between them and throwing his arm over her shoulders; they began to stroll leisurely down the corridor, and Hermione smiled to herself. Thank goodness.