Draco smiled every time he saw Hermione the next few days, always wearing the star. He'd told her it wouldn't get wet, and wouldn't go out. Hermione loved the necklac to metaphorical pieces. However, it confused her. She knew of no magic, besides being a Horcrux, that could make it beat with her heart - but then, she knew of no magic that could create her necklace, unless there was a very good magical animator out there. The thing disappearing into the forest was pushed to the back of her mind, as was the necklace's secret. She told Brant and Simis of the challenge, and then David, who nagged her about practicing as he had about th first task. She was ahead on her homework and had finished it for the entire year, because, at her special request, she'd recieved all assignments and finished them. She was very relaxed these days, not worrying about the task at all. She spent long hours alone with Harry and Ron, long time periods chatting with Tori, Liccy and Ginny - her nickname never did catch on - and even more time in the library, reading through book after book while Brant watched her and occassionaly wrote a verse or two of poetry. The next Hogsmeade trip was announced, and Hermione realized, with some shock, that it was scheduled for February the fourteenth - Valentine's Day. And she had no Valentine. Not that the boys didn't try; their hopes and attempts livened her spirits a ton. She had only to step out of the common room and be bombarded by invitations to buy a butterbeer or visit the Shrieking Shack, which they were now giving tours of. Hermione was reluctant to go to Hogsmeade at all; they were bound to be determined reporters there, just waiting for a story. This is what stopped her from accepting any invitations - she'd have a front-page story about a false romance printed about her in a flash. But she did not, under any circumstances, want to be alone, and this thought is what she dwelled on walking toward the common room the day before the trip.
"Lavender, I've told you, we've tried and we've failed."
Hermione stopped walking, recognizing Ron's voice.
"Won-Won -"
"My name is Ronald, not Won-Won. Talk like you kow how to," he snapped at the pleading and whiny girl.
"Why?" she sounded false-sad, like she was pretending to be upset at him but was secretly glad he was ending things. and this is what surprised Hermione - Ron was ending things. Ron hated ending things with girls. He'd always been cowardly about that.
"I've told you, I've feelings for someone else."
"Well, good," shot Lavender, acting like she was angry, though Hermione could hear the behind it to the giddy masked tone. " 'Cuz I've been shagging Ernie for three weeks."
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth. Lavender had cheated on Ron? She felt blood boil under the skin of her hands as she clenched them tightly, thinking of punching her square in the nose.
"What?" Ron sounded afronted, and with good reason. And then his Gryffindor courage peaked. "Why? Was I not good enough? Was Ernie a better shagger than me? I'll pummel the bastard!"
A better shagger than him? Did that mean Ron and Lavender had shagged? Hermione knew he was a good kisser, but how was he at shagging? Was Ernie better? And though Hermione's head was whirling, she was miffed and definitely disappointed, a black void almost swallowing her, because, somewhere deep in her chest, she'd always dreamed of being the first person to sleep with Ron; to create that special bond between two people as they took each other's virginity. Maybe they wouldn't have done it until they were married, but she had still wanted to be that special to him. It was obvious now she wasn't, and probably never had been. She felt tears well in her eyes. Her chest felt like it was being ripped over and over again into the small pieces imaginable, so he could pick them up individually and burn them. She clutched at the skin over her heart and fell to her knees quietly, choking back a hot sob. Ron had moved on, and she hadn't; and she knew that if he'd wanted to get back together with her, he'd have told her he was ready again, and not just broken things off with Lavender and say he liked someone else; even if he had gone with the second resort, he'd have said he liked her, not 'someone else'. Hermione clamped a hand over her eyes as the watered her face.
"Good luck," Lavender snickered. "He's stronger than you are, and better in bed. And he lets me be on top."
Hermione heard footsteps, and as an act of protecting her dignity, she found the nearest closet and threw herself inside, closing it as quietly as she could just in time for the footsteps to round the corner, and then pass by. She took several deep breaths, trying to calm herself down.
Her reaction was pointless and unjustified, and she knew it. He wasn't her boyfriend, he'd moved on and she'd known it, but she couldn't help wondering if she was the only virgin among the Golden Trio now. Come to think of it, she was sure she'd seen Harry and Ginny sneaking off together, cloaking themselves under James' little toy, with private smirks on their faces; yes, she was sure that she was the only one still a virgin. But the thought of losing her virginity frightened her. She didn't know who to lose it to; it was obvious Ron wouldn't sleep with her, and she'd prefer another virgin herself. And there was nobody she liked, in any sense even close to sexually or romantically.
Another set of footsteps loomed up, and stopped right in front of the door as Ron called out, "Hannah!"
Hannah? Hannah Abbott?
"Yes?" asked the voice Hermione had heard several times in D.A. practices. And then another pair of feet had joined the shadows made by Hannah's in front of the door, and Hannah gave a small cry of surprise and delight as there was a loud thud agains the door. "Ron," said the girl, "Boys don't generally ask a girl out by throwing them against a closet door and snogging them."
She heard Ron's chuckle, and she bit down hard on her lip. "Well, would you like more kisses like that or not?"
This was odd. Ron wasn't like this, not so confident, not even to her -
Oh, Merlin.
He must really, really like her. He must be so sure of his love, or lust, or even feelings, toward her that he figured she returned them, and he'd just gone for it. And it appeared that Hannah had feelings for Ron, too, because she heard a very un-Hermione-like giggle and a, "Sure," before romantic sounds began once more.
It was then that Hermione realized something.
If she really loved Ron, as she thought she did, truly did, she'd let him be happy with whoever he wanted/needed. As long as he was happy, she should be happy; but she wasn't. Her feelings were protective, almost like... a sister.
A sister.
She refrained from slapping herself, but only barely. She had loved Ron like that, but only briefly; it was sisterly. Desperate times call for drastic actions and she had kissed him when he'd shown the slightest inkling of care for the House Elves. She wondered idly if she'd do it to anyone else, and felt the disappointment weight lift from her shoulders. She did love him, of that there was no question; and if Hannah loved him too, but romantically, she'd be proud of Ron and his snagging of a wholesome and intelliget girl, who was also fairly pretty.
In her thoughts, she'd lost the track of conversation for a while, and realized that the footsteps were fading away while there were happy couple sounds disappearing with them. She smiled and wiped her face, laughing quietly to herself.
And then the door opened, revealing Draco.
"Why are you in here?" he asked her, noticing how she gave a start and choosing to disregard it.
"I walked in on an awkward conversation," she said, scrambling to her feet.
He smirked. "You're in one."
"It's not awkward," she said. "How did you know I was in here?"
His smirked transformed into a grin. "Your star. It gave off light, and it was kind of weird to see a closet glowing."
She glanced down at her chest, on which the chain supported the mass of energy that bounced off of her breasts as it swung from the movement of her stading. She touched it gently, steadying it, and realized he'd been staring where she had, too. She flushed red all the way down to where he was looking; seeing the coloration, he too turned red and looked away awkwardly.
"Now it's awkward," she muttered.
There was a moment of silence, and then they all heard a voice.
"Miss Granger!"
A small House Elf was running up the hallway, looking terrified of whatever was behind her, her voice squeaking almsot too high to hear. She stepped out of the closet and around Draco quickly, brushing her chest area into his; they both turned even more crimson with embarrassment. The elf, having almost reached them, tripped over her own lengthy feet and splayed across the floor. Hermione, seeing this, reacted at once and went to help; but Draco was already there, helping the animal up carefully.
"Are you alright?" he asked the elf seriously, and Hermione's jaw dropped.
"Yessir," said the elf, glancing behind her fearfully.
"What's making you run?" he asked the elf, his voice grave, looking directly into the huge glassy orbs that commanded the outsized head. Hermione was stunned that he was showing this level or respect to a House Elf.
She looked scared of answering. "I don't know who he is," she cried. "He... he said..."
And the elf started hyperventilating. Pitying the poor thing, Hermione once again started forward to comfort it, but Draco had gathered it into his arms, and was whispering things into its ear. Hermione froze, her joints locked in place. Draco was... cuddling... a House Elf, of all things! Her eyes bugged out of her head.
"Now then," said Draco to the elf, his vocie grave, "What is your name?"
"Bubbles," squeaked the elf in answer.
"Bubbles," said Draco, nodding his aknowledgement of the name. "What did this man look like?"
Bubbles shook her head. "Bubbles does not know," she answered. "He grabbed Bubbles from behind and made her carry the note to Miss Granger."
Draco pondered this for a moment. "May I see the note?" he asked Bubbles politely.
Bubbles hesitated. "He said for Bubbles to give it only to Miss Granger."
Draco held out his hand. "Please give me the note, Bubbles," he said sternly. Hermione's heart was beating out of control. He was being so caring towards the elf...
Bubbles placed the note in his hand. He took one look of the writing, made a disgusted face, took out his wand and lit it on fire. It burned to ash in a second. Hermione's star thrummed calmly, no matter how fast her heart went now - she'd felt it skip when Draco had read the note, but now it was normal. However, she was angry - the note had been meant for her, after all, and she had no idea what it said.
"Did you read the note, Bubbles?" Draco asked her, his voice barely above a whisper.
The elf shook her head. "He told Bubbles not to."
Draco thought for a moment, and then nodded. "Thank you, Bubbles. Do you need anything else?"
Her anger died down at the kindness in his voice.
She shook her head. "May I go back to the kitchen, Mister Malfoy?"
Draco nor Hermione were surprised that the elf knew who he was. "If you wish," he said, giving the elf a pat on the head and a smile before it scurried off.
"You... Draco..."
Hermione was speechless, and Draco seemed slightly confused by her exression and tone. "What?"
"You... were nice... to an elf..."
"Well, yeah," now he was bemused. "It's an elf, but that doesn't make it bad. Different, yes. Not bad. They're still people, in a way -"
"But you used to treat them like vermin," she said, completely mystified.
He smiled sadly. "I used to treat you like vermin," he pointed out.
And as their eyes met, her heart skipped a beat, but the star's beating picked up immensely.
And then she began to understand.
"Draco," she said slowly, "Why does this heart beat so often with mine, but just now..." she trailed off, unsure how to finish the sentence and knowing he understood the point.
She waited while his eyes flashed from scene to scene, and finally settled on something she couldn't make out. "Come with me to Hogsmeade," he said.
"Why?" she was surprised.
"You need a date," he said, "And the papers can hardly say we're dating. We've hated each other for seven years."
Hermione smirked a smirk that seemed to make him proud. "Oh, yes they can," she disagreed. "Shakespare would've loved us as a couple."
Draco seemed a bit confused. "So, you're thinking we're both going to die?"
She laughed outright, clutching her stomach and bending over in mirth. "No," she gasped finally, "I meant, since we're from opposite sides, he'd have automatically said, 'Forbidden Love!' "
"Really?" he was amused, and his eyes danced with laughter. "Well, would the papers say the same thing?"
She thought for a moment, her laughter dying down. "Probably," she admitted.
His eyes glinted with wicked fun. "Let's give them something to talk about."
Her stomach and the star gave a lurch. "Are you... asking me... on a date?"
He raised his hands in the air as a sign of surrender. "Just as friends," he said - and for some reason, her stomach drooped, and her face fell. "But we'll screw the papers."
"Oh," she said. "Okay."
He raised an eyebrow at her disappointed tone. "We could go as a borderline-couple," he said quietly.
"And still borderline-friends?" she demanded, for some reason afraid of the thought of going out with none other than the boy who'd made her school days miserable.
He nodded.
"Alright then." She squared her shoulders. "It's a date."
Her stomach was tying itself in knots and her star was pounding.
He beamed at her like the sun, happy for reasons she couldn't understand. "It's a date... Beaver," he added.
She beamed back at the nickname hed used not tauntingly nor offensively, but in a friendly, open kind of way. "Ferret."