'All right,' he said, letting go of her hand. 'But no suddenly deciding you're really in love with him after all,' he added, warningly. 'I can't take any more of that.'
'If I have any doubts I can always go back to the mirror,' she said teasingly, backing along the corridor. 'If I can find it again, of course.'
'Don't test me, Hermione,' he said. 'I've got blue snow all down the back of my shirt and owl feathers in my hair. I'm already cranky.'
But he was smiling. She blew a kiss at him and dashed off down the hall. As soon as she was out of Harry's sight, she slowed to a walk and took the Epicyclical Charm out of her shirt. This, she knew, was cheating, but she really wanted to find Draco and couldn't imagine where he might be.
She concentrated, thinking very hard of Draco, picturing him as clearly as she could…his familiar face, light eyes and silver hair, narrow sideways smile…and the charm gave a gentle little tug. She took a step forward, and it tugged again.
Following the gentle tugging, Hermione made her way out of the castle and down to the lake. It had stopped raining, but everything was still very wet. She followed the tugging around to the small grove of trees where Draco had grown her the black rose two days before.
Draco was there, standing with his back to a tree, staring out at the lake.
Raindrops, caught in the leaves and branches, made a shimmering silver cage around him.
She came up behind him and put her hand lightly on his arm. 'Hey,' she said.
He didn't turn around.
'You don't have to tell me,' he said. 'I already know.'
'Draco,' she said.
Now he turned, and looked at her. His expression was unreadable. If she hadn't come to know him well, she wouldn't even have thought he was upset. 'It turns out,' he said in measured tones, 'that I can still feel a little of what Harry feels, if he's feeling something strongly.'
'Oh,' she said, feeling herself go red. 'I'm sorry…'
'Don't be,' he said. 'I've always known this would happen. I've been ignoring it, but I've always known it.' He tried to grin at her, failed, and shrugged.
'Remember that time in the wardrobe back at the Manor?'
'Of course I do,' said Hermione.
'Well, you kept saying 'Harry, Harry, Harry' the whole time.'
'I did what?' She could feel her face burning. 'Why didn't you say something?'
Draco shrugged again. 'I'm sixteen,' he said. 'I'm not going to cut short a perfectly good make-out session on account of a little thing like that now, am I?'
Hermione covered her face with her hands. 'I am so embarrassed,' she said.
'Don't be,' he said. 'You've always been honest. You've never said you didn't love Harry. If I was you, I'd be in love with him instead of me as well.' He grimaced.
'What am I talking about? No, I wouldn't. I'm miles better than him. You're mad, Hermione.'
'I do love you,' she said.
He was quiet for a second. Then he said, 'Yeah. I know. Just…like you love Ron.'
She shook her head. 'It's different. I've never felt about anyone the way I feel about you. I can't explain it. But you're important to me. Whether or not I'm with Harry, I don't want to not know you any more. I want to still see you. Have you come visit me this summer.' She smiled tremulously. 'Get jealous about the masses of girlfriends you're going to have as soon as everyone finds out about you and me not being together after all.'
'Won't Harry mind?'
'No. He's sort of fond of you, in a weird way,' she said, knowing it to be true. 'I think he'd miss you if you just disappeared.'
'I'd miss him as well, I think,' said Draco. 'I'd miss all the 'Shut up, Malfoy!'s. I've gotten used to it. Crabbe and Goyle never tell me to shut up. It's refreshing.'
'I think we can count on Harry to tell you to shut up on a regular basis,' said Hermione.
Draco was looking at her with a funny little smile on his face. 'So,' he said. 'Are you and Potter…official now?'
'Official?' said Hermione, bewildered. 'We didn't talk about it, not really, but…'
He took her hand and turned it over so he could see her watch. 'It's one minute to three,' he said. 'Let's say your relationship with Harry becomes official at 3pm sharp, shall we?'
'Which gives us a minute to what, exactly?' she asked, but he shook his head at her and said, 'Hermione. You're wasting time.'
Then, still leaning against the tree, he pulled her towards him by the hand holding her wrist-surprised, she stumbled forward, and fell against him. And he kissed her.
Later, Hermione would think that he had obviously put everything he had, every ounce of feeling for her, every last vestige of passion and every shred of frustrated love, into that kiss. As if he were trying to burn whatever it was he felt out of him, exorcise it, wring it dry. At the time though, she was only aware that her knees were buckling and there was a roaring sound in her ears as if someone were holding seashells over them. She shut her eyes and saw lightning dance across her inner lids.
She wondered if she might be the only girl ever to kiss two Magids in one day.
Then she wondered if it might possibly be fatal.
