He didn't answer, and she knew he wouldn't. He had explained it to her once, back in their third year. That silence was a complete nothingness; a rare and wonderful occurrence that he strived to achieve. Silence, to him, was more precious than the greatest gold, and worth more than his father's name. She had not understood, but it was not often that she grasped anything her best friend said to her.

While she never really knew what he meant when he talked, she knew Draco had a language all his own. If he spoke right away, then it was your signal to get out while you still could. If he answered with a slow drawl, it meant "proceed with caution". But silence? Silence was Draco's way of being friendly; an equivalent to someone elses "Hi, come on in, how ya doin', have you lost weight?"

Pulling the door back, she saw the boy's dormitories. Technically, she wasn't supposed to be there, but after he had befriended her in their first year, she had practically become a fixture. None of the male Slytherins even noticed her presence anymore. Leaning against the doorframe, she called his name again. "Draco?"

The hangings on the bed farthest to the left ripped back, revealing a tall, lithe figure sitting, perplexed, on the bed. She smiled lightly; Draco had always been very easy on the eyes. With fair white-blonde hair, pale skin, and eyes that would have been pretty if they weren't so callous, he was considered quite the catch. She imagined she would have been quite in love with him if they weren't such good friends. Her attention shifting from the boy himself to the red envelope in his hand, she grimaced. "A howler, huh?"

His eyes narrowed, giving her a glance that she couldn't quite read. "Yes, a howler." Cool demeanor threatening to give way to his anger, he took a deep breath. "I don't even know what I did wrong."

She furrowed her brow, trying to recall the last time he had gotten himself in trouble. He had done nothing she could recall, other than hanging out with her. Lucius Malfoy had always held a certain. . . distaste for her. He considered it a tragedy to have a muggle born in Slytherin house, and nearly died of shame when Draco and her had become close. It was in the later years that he had learned the word "mudblood", though he had never once used it to describe her. Others, maybe, but she was the exception.

"I can't think of anything, either. Are you just going to let it explode?" A quite funny incident, actually, had happened just the other week. Pansy Parkinson had received one, and was just going to let it explode. Se had been about to start another fight with her (she had always been jealous of her close relationship with Draco.) when the blasted thing had exploded in her face. Not only had she received a stern letter from her parents and a lecture from Professor Dumbledore, but she had had to walk around with singed eyebrows for a week.

He sighed dramatically, which was odd, since Draco was usually anything but dramatical around her. To her he was quiet and introverted, nice in a mean sort of way. "No, I have to open it. If I didn't he'd find out and just send a worse one." He paused, patting a seat on the bed, "Want to witness the opening?"

Nodding cautiously, she took the seat offered her. His hands tore at the red envelope, and both winced in anticipation of a loud booming voice screaming at Draco for apparent wrong doings.

That wasn't, however, what they heard.

Instead, they heard Lucius's normal voice. A bit louder than usual, of course, but his tone was the same. She quickly assumed that the only reason howlers were so deafening was because parents were screaming when they made them. His words were firm, with disappointment ringing through them.

"I expected it, Draco, I really did. You're fifteen, and every once and awhile you will come across a girl that you will, for some unexplainable reason, think you like more than a friend. I anticipated many girls, Pansy or maybe even Milicent, but her? I cannot believe you. You shame me, boy. Your infatuation will end. Now."

Then it was gone.

She blinked once, then licked her lips, glancing toward him. "So.who was he talking about? You never told me about any crushes."

There was something different about him for precisely one moment; his posture was less than perfect, his hair seemed in disarray, his porcelain skin was flushed, and his eyes registered emotion. Pure, conflicted feelings. He shook his head slightly, before pointing at the still open door. "Get out."

"But Draco, that's not fa-"

He cut her off quickly by placing his lips on hers. For once tedious yet indescribable moment, they sat there. It was not passionate, but it meant something. She could almost taste three simple words on his lips. Then the magic ended, and he pulled back. Giving her a light shove off his bed, he avoided her eyes. "Get out, Hermione." The curtains around his bed slammed shut.

Touching her lips lightly as she went, she left.

Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue.

A/N: Why am I writing D/Hr? I don't know. Best explanation in a review gets a million dollars. Only not really. Why is Hermione in Slytherin? Because I felt like putting her there, that's why. If you have a problem with it, I'm sorry. Learn to deal, 'cause I don't care. I'm the author, so I can do whatever I darn well please! Mwahahahaha! Anyway, please review!