**Disclaimer: I own nothing; everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling.
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Chapter 17:

          As it always seemed to do so when Draco was involved, Hermione found that time seemed to have quite suddenly stopped, as she stood wrapped up in him.  Her head rested against his chest and she found that a distant part of her mind was aimlessly counting his heartbeats.  His chest rose and fell as he breathed but still Hermione could have sworn that they existed together like this only in a single second of time.  Draco’s hand was entwined in her hair.  She became aware of him gently tugging curl after curl as his fingers tried to bury themselves deeper in the coiled mass that shrouded her head.  He pulled her closer to him as if trying to take in as much of her as possible, as if he didn’t intend on letting her go.  Hermione was suddenly afraid, illogically afraid, uncontrollably afraid.  She struggled out of Draco’s arms and sprinted past him.  He reached out to her but he had been taken by surprise and he didn’t act in time.  She was already out the door and running towards the steps.

          “Hermione” he called, but she didn’t stop.

          She didn’t stop until she reached the great hall.  Lunch was about to be served and Hermione found herself out of breath anyway.  Her lungs ached and her feet were sore, she doubted that she had ever run so much in her life.  Down stairs, up stairs, through long corridors, dodging happily oblivious students. 

          Hermione walked into the hall and headed towards the Gryffindor table.  Ron and Harry were already there.  She looked at the empty place that rested by them longingly before turning to sit by herself at the end of the table.  Hermione tried not to notice as Seamus settled himself in what used to be her seat.  And not for the last time, Hermione found herself painfully replaying it all. 

          That had been a wretched day.  As if Draco’s cruel words hadn’t been enough, Ron’s accusing face, and Harry’s look of betrayal had been the icing on the cake.  There had been disbelief of course.  Her friends had both decided that there was no possible way that what Malfoy had insinuated could be true.  They followed her back to the common room.  The confrontation there had been remarkably unpleasant.  She couldn’t bring herself to lie to them.  They were more important to her than just about anything else in the entire world.  Hermione might omit things and gloss over small details, but she would never lie.  Not that Harry and Ron had appreciated her honesty.  In their minds she had committed a cardinal sin.  And now she was doing penance, waiting for their forgiveness. 

          Hermione dejectedly buttered a piece of bread and glared crossly down at her plate.  She knew what they were waiting for, Harry and Ron, they wanted her to tell them that she hated him.  That Draco was nothing to her and that Ron was right, she must have been out of her mind.  But Hermione wouldn’t.  She wouldn’t tell them that she hated Draco simply because she didn’t.  In fact, Hermione was beginning to think that she might be feeling the opposite.  Not to say that she loved Draco, he was too much of a prat for that.  But Hermione was beginning to accept the fact that she did care for him, even when he was being his usual, hateful self.  And that is what scared her more than anything else.

          “Hermione?” 

          The voice cut through her reverie and Hermione looked up.  Harry was sitting down next to her and Ron had just settled himself across the table from her.  Her immediate response was a rush of relief and a glowing sense of delight.  But it only took one hard look at Ron’s face for all of his cruel words to erase any smile that might have been struggling onto her face.  Hermione frowned darkly.

          “Oh hullo Ron, thought of something even nastier to call me?  Want to give it a try?  See if you can make me cry?”  She snapped at Ron remembering the colorful language that he used the other day concerning her.

          “Hermione,” Harry interceded, “We’re just worried about you.  You know that.  Ron and I just have a hard time understanding how you could have forgotten all the things that he’s done.  I mean, he’s always been horrible to all of us.”

          “Harry, I know that, I do.  It isn’t as though I’ve forgotten,”  Hermione’s voice grew quiet, “the past just doesn’t seem to matter that much to me now.”

“You like him?  Really?  It’s Malfoy, I didn’t even think his mother liked him.”  Harry looked perplexed.

“I don’t know Harry.  I know that it’s not the answer you want, but I simply don’t know.” 

Ron coughed lightly but Hermione thought that it might have been covering a snicker.  She glared at him coldly and he reddened.

“And what about you Ron?  What do you have to say?”  She asked him sharply.

Ron muttered something unintelligible and looked away from her.  There was an awkward silence as Hermione tried to piece together what Ron had said.  There was a loud sigh and Ginny sat down next to her brother.  She had just come in for lunch and still had her school bag on her shoulder.

          “Here Hermione let me, I speak Weasley.”  Ginny surveyed her brother for a moment before turning back to Hermione.  “My extremely articulate brother is trying to apologize for calling you ghastly names the other day.  Anything else Ron?”

          Ron glared at his sister but Hermione couldn’t help but notice that the tips of his ears were turning pink.  Next to her, Hermione could tell that Harry was trying not to laugh.

          “Really Ron?”  Hermione asked, “are you really sorry?”

          Again Ron mumbled something that left both Hermione and Harry puzzled.  Ginny cleared her voice and began translating.

          “Ron says that you should be sorry too.  Taking up with that prat Malfoy.  And he also wants you to know that back at the Burrow he sleeps with an enchanted night-lig…” 

          “That’s enough Gin, blimey, I don’t go telling people about your collection of ‘Teen Wizard Dolls’”.  Ron cut in.

          Ginny flushed and Hermione and Harry broke into laughter.  And quite suddenly, everything was back to the way it should be.  An unspoken agreement to leave things, well, unspoken had occurred between the three of them and Hermione found herself very happy to have it so.  They spent the rest of their meal discussing the magical properties of the modern magical night light.  Hermione was even bold enough to ask Ron where one might purchase such a thing.       

          Lunch seemed to end earlier than Hermione would have liked.  They started back to class but Hermione couldn’t help but feel that she had left something unfinished.  She followed Harry and Ron to their next class but she couldn’t drown out the nagging feeling.  The worst thing about it was that she knew exactly what was nibbling on the back her mind, Draco and the library.  She should still be angry with him, she should still be furious over what he had told Harry and Ron, but she wasn’t.  Even though he hadn’t apologized to her, she had already forgiven him.  Hermione found that she had forgiven him the moment that he touched her cheek, the moment that she really looked at him. 

          Hermione stopped, Ron and Harry didn’t notice, they were energetically discussing Quidditch.  There was no reason to think that he would still be there, but Hermione couldn’t hush the irrational side of her mind that insisted that Draco would still be in the library.  She had already turned around and was heading towards the nearest staircase before her mind was officially decided.  Sprinting back through the halls, she tried not to think about what she was doing.  Hermione tried not to let herself think of him.  Hermione knew that she would lose her nerve if she let him occupy her mind.  But it was extremely hard to not think of Draco especially when she was going to him.  She kept seeing him in her mind in all of his various forms’, which never failed to bewilder her.  Draco hurt and angry, lashing out at her or even more confusing, the Draco that seemed to care.  With her friendship with Harry and Ron seemingly repaired, she found that there was little left to distract her.  Hermione felt very faint, part of her longed to just turn back and find Harry and Ron, to go to her table in class and finally erase Draco from her mind.  But Hermione knew quite abruptly that she enjoyed having him in her life and she wouldn’t be the same without him.

 It seemed as though she reached their room faster now than when she had escaped from it earlier.  She threw open the door and looked around, but it was empty.  Hermione pulled the door shut behind her and stared dejectedly around herself.  He wasn’t here.  She sighed gloomily, what had she expected anyway? 

          Hermione had just come to the decision to go to class and apologize to Professor Sprout for being late when the door opened.  Draco stepped in reading from a large book.  He looked up in surprise at her.  His expression immediately turned sour.

          “You came back Granger?”  H drawled nastily, “what Potter and Weasley…”

          But before he could continue, before he could think up some insult, before she could Professor Sprout another thought, Hermione threw her arms around his neck and kissed him hard.  Draco was so startled that the book fell from his hands.  He was only momentarily stunned, however, and before she could lose her nerve and pull back he wrapped one arm around her while the other felt for the door behind him and he pulled it shut.  After a moment he broke the kiss and looked at her, they were so close that she could still feel his breath upon her cheek as he breathed irregularly.

          “You came back,” he said again except this time there was no hint of malice and his voice even held a hint of awe.

          “I, well, I mean we, I wanted to work on some of the charts.”  Hermione managed to whisper as a bright blush snuck up her cheeks.

          Draco, who had certainly noticed the rosy tint that Hermione’s face had taken grinned slyly, “you wanted to work on Arithmancy?”

          He leaned towards her and let his lips brush her ear.  Hermione felt suddenly lightheaded and gripped Draco’s arm for support.  He laughed gently and kissed her again.  Hermione sighed happily when his lips touched hers.  They were caught up in a sudden wave of feeling and emotion, so caught up that they didn’t hear the door open behind them, or realize that they were no longer alone in the room until a sound like someone shuffling old, dried papers together made them spring apart.

          “He…Headmaster.”  Draco gasped weakly.

          “My apologies for interrupting but I seem to have a bit of a cold.”  Dumbledore said smiling as he coughed again. 

          Draco turned to Hermione but she was standing as if petrified, her hand clapped over her mouth and her face ashen white. 

          “Headmaster Dumbledore,” Draco deftly stepped in front of Hermione, “It’s wasn’t Hermione’s fault, I kissed her.”

          “I may be past my youth Mister Malfoy, but I’m certainly not that old.  You both looked equally invested just a moment ago.” 

          Hermione made a strangled whimpering sound.  She found that she was completely unable to move or talk.  She had just been caught doing something illicit by a faculty member, and not just anyone, the Headmaster.

          “Now, now Ms. Granger,” Dumbledore stepped around Draco and gently took Hermione’s arm and led her to a chair.  “Try not to look too stricken.  Professor Vector might not think her two best students capable of any escapades but I am well aware that the students…well the students will be students.”

          Draco starred at the Headmaster hard and then looked at Hermione.  She was still in a state of terrified shock but she understood what Draco’s eyes were asking and she nodded her head as if to agree that yes, Professor Dumbledore has officially gone crazy.

          “The reason that I came here today was because I bumped into Professor Vector earlier today after lunch and she mentioned the wonderful amount of work that the two of you have done.  I decided to come and see for myself.” 

          Hermione tried to swallow but found that her throat had completely closed up.  Her hands were clenched together so tightly that her fingers began to turn white and if Draco hadn’t noticed and pulled them apart when the Headmaster had his back to them, her fingernails would probably have pierced her skin. 

The headmaster was busy shuffling through the stacks of notes and translated pieces of text, an amused smile still on his face.  “Fascinating,” he whispered to himself, deeply lost in thought.

          “Professor?”  Hermione was finally able to whisper.

          “This might prove even more useful than I had previously thought,” The Headmaster mused more to himself than to either of them.

          Hermione looked at Draco and their eyes met again.  She shrugged.  Professor Dumbledore continued to look through their work for several minutes without saying anything.  He seemed particularly interested in the old journals.  Every once in a while he would mutter something under his breath as he flipped through the ancient pages.  He finally put down their translation key which he had been pouring over and turned to them.

          “You have both done an excellent job.  I am very pleased as is Professor Vector, but your work isn’t over yet.”  The Headmaster pulled something out of a pocket in his deep purple robe.  He glanced down at the strange circular piece of metal that hung from a chain, swirling colors spun quickly around in circles inside of small stone set on one side.  “Ahh, is it four o’clock already?  Well I must bid the two of you a good afternoon.”  And with that the Headmaster smiled at both of them and then left the room.

          For what seemed like the first time since the Headmaster had entered the room, Hermione let out a long, ragged breath and sunk deep into her chair.  She closed her eyes and wished very, very hard that the preceding events hadn’t actually happened, that she was just going crazy.  That maybe she had eaten something funny at lunch, not that House Elves ever cooked anything that was ‘funny’.  She opened her eyes again.  Draco was sitting across the table from her, watching, a worried expression on his face. 

          “I think I’m going to be sick,” she whispered finally.

          “Well it’s not that bad, he didn’t seem upset, didn’t take any house points.  We didn’t even get a detention.  You should see how badly McGonagall reacts.  Snape can be pretty brutal about it as well.  Not that I know from experience of course.”  Draco added quickly as Hermione shot him a withering glare.

          “Not that bad?  Not that bad!  Are you insane?”  Hermione stood up abruptly and started pacing the room.  “We were caught by the Headmaster.  The Headmaster!”  Hermione sat down again on a bench by the window.

          Draco immediately joined her there, an apprehensive look still in his eyes.  “It’ll be all right, I promise Hermione.”  She looked up at him.  “He already knew about us.”

          “What do you mean; he already knew?”  Hermione asked, a dangerous note in her voice.

          “I don’t know how he knew, but he did.  I swear, that old coot has spies.”  Draco added vehemently. 

          “Don’t talk about him like that!”  Hermione said with disapproval, “he’s the Headmaster!  Not to mention an awfully powerful wizard.”

          Draco looked away from her and stared out the window.  Hermione glanced at it as well.  The pane was still covered with a thick layer of frost but the warmth of the sun had started to melt away the ice.  Through it Hermione thought that she could see the forest.  It was covered with a thick mantle of snow.  Through her embarrassment, Hermione felt a bothersome sensation.  There was something that she just wasn’t thinking about.  Something important.  Hermione glared hard at the window trying to think of what it could be.

          “What was he talking about?”  she asked Draco finally.

          “What?  What was who talking about?” 

          “Professor Dumbledore, what was he talking about?  Why does he think our work will be helpful?”  Hermione looked at the table strewn with charts and books.

          “I don’t know,” Draco seemed to be fighting back a yawn; the brush with authority was obviously not weighing on his mind.  “Maybe he can use information on flobberworm reproduction and the number sphere.  Or perhaps that half-giant friend of yours could use it.  He seems to like those slimy little slugs.”

          “This is serious Draco.”  Hermione told him.  She stood up and walked to the table, she lifted one of the old journals and studied the cover.  “These are important, they must be.”  Draco rolled his eyes, but Hermione was nonplussed.  “We haven’t gone through many of them, you’ve only translated a few pages of this book.  Who knows what is in here.”

          Draco sighed,” You’re going to want to stay here all night, aren’t you?” 

          Hermione nodded without looking up.  She sat down at the table, her hands busily flipping through the book. 

          “Fine, I’m going to go get some provisions from the kitchen then.”

          Hermione’s eyes barely even left the page as Draco exited the room.  She decided that the first thing to do would be to read what Draco had already translated, he might have missed something, some hint of what they were really all about.  So far the book seemed to contain nothing but personal thoughts and dictations.  She began to read Draco’s notes.  He had several pages done but as she continued reading, Hermione discovered that one page seemed to be missing.  She sighed and started to look through the piles of paper that littered the desk.  Hermione was just beginning to feel very frustrated when she noticed a telltale piece of parchment under the table.  She dropped to her knees and picked it up.  The same neat print in a matching color stared back up at her.  Hermione stood up triumphantly and accidently knocked one of the journals off the edge of the table. 

          It landed near the fireplace and fell open.  Hermione leaned down to pick it up.  The same lines of numbers were strewn across its pages, but there was something else as well.  As she lifted the book the reflected firelight seemed to suddenly shift and Hermione noticed for the first time a small ink picture in the bottom corner.  She sat back at the table and searched out the small magnifying glass that they had been using to aid them in deciphering the tiny script.  Hermione leaned towards the book and examined the little drawing carefully, it seemed to be an emblem of some sort.  It was old and smudged, but she could make out what appeared to be a seated dragon with its wings spread.  Hermione’s forehead crinkled and she frowned in thought.  This picture was familiar, she could swear that she had seen it somewhere. 

          Hermione took out a piece of parchment and quickly copied the picture as best she could.  She stayed only long enough to mark the page in the book before she left their room and began searching through the stacks.  There wasn’t anything in Ancient Arithmancists, A Magical Past, or A Wizard’s Book of Iconography.  After a while Hermione sat down at one of the tables and stared blankly at the wall trying to will the knowledge of why a tiny dragon was familiar to her back into her head.  As she sat thinking, a group of Hufflepuff seventh years walked past her table.

          “Yeah, Mum’s not too keen on my becoming an auror, but what with Ced dying last year, I think that it’s only proper.”  A sandy-haired boy was saying.

          “Oooh, but isn’t it awfully dangerous?”  One of the others asked breathlessly as they turned a corner and disappeared from sight.

          The voices faded completely a moment later and Hermione was left sitting by herself.  A sudden gleam seemed to come into her eyes and she stood up quickly and rushed off down a corresponding path.  It only took her a minute to find the appropriate shelf, after all, Hermione did know the library by heart.  Another second of near frantic searching as she studied book titles, and then she had it. Magical Law Enforcement: Past, Present, & Future.  She walked back to their room deeply involved in the book.  She sat back down in her chair and didn’t even notice that she had left the door open.  Draco appeared in it an instant later, his book bag full from the kitchens.  He glanced at the open door wonderingly before he came in.

          “Hermione?”  He asked as he came to the table.

          She looked up at him, her eyes bright with excitement, “Draco, I found something.”