Holy Cow I'm sorry! It's been far too long since the last update! I thought I'd have time to write during college but I literally had none. But now, during this break between semesters, I'm hoping I can pump out a few chapters. Thank you to whomever is reading this... you keep me going.

Enjoy!

Hermione examined the tattoo of the forearm wrapped around her waist. It belonged to the sleeping Aiden behind her. She propped up her head on the pillow, tracing the lines of the flowers and tree, and cocked an eyebrow at it. It looked different before. The tree had once been covered in snow. But now it was bespeckled with flowers. Obviously, it had to do with the seasons but why?

She sighed and laid her head back down on the cushion. This kind of thinking was too much before dawn, even for Hermione. But her eyes flitted around the room to find something to distract herself from Aiden's inviting body heat and warm breath caressing her neck. If she didn't, she would want to stay in his arms all morning. He had been staying the night with her since the middle of March. Nothing ever happened between them physically, though. In fact, the most intimate they have ever gotten was when they kissed in the library. But from that point, Hermione deliberately avoided touching Aiden apart from sleeping with him at night to keep the nightmares at bay.

This thought made her stomach clench in guilt. Was she just using him? Should she be giving him more? Hermione immediately took back the ridiculous thought- Aiden had never pressured her for more this whole time. But she was grateful for this because the thought of becoming more intimate with Aiden was what made her arise before dawn and leave the bedroom before he could wake up these past few weeks. Nonetheless, when she woke up in this position- in Aiden's sheltering embrace- it became progressively harder to leave each morning. But a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach always let her know she had to.

Hermione carefully rolled off the bed and tiptoed to her wardrobe. She silently collected a towel and soap. Before she opened the door to leave, she turned and looked at the man asleep on her bed, his tattoos reflecting the early light from the sunrise. His arms were in the same position and she thought she could crawl right back in between them exactly as before. The sight gave her butterflies and she reminded herself that whatever she was afraid of was silly. He was the reason she came back to Grimmauld Place. He was the only one that could drive away the nightmares… the only one she could be open with.

Her heart leapt as she took a step forward. But suddenly a sense of fear overcame her. It eventually pushed her back through the door and down the hallway, once more leading her away from the man who inexplicably made her feel safe and terrified at the same time.

With every step, she scolded herself.

Stop being a baby!

Don't be nervous!

You're not a schoolgirl anymore!

However, that's exactly what Aiden made her feel like…. a schoolgirl again, with big teeth and bushy hair, who gets the urge to vomit at the thought of talking to him.

Draco opened his eyes the moment the door closed. He had been conscious the entire time Hermione was scurrying out of the room, awakened by the shock of cold that came when she escaped the bed. He had been conscious for this moment every night since March. Draco wouldn't have been hurt by this if Hermione wasn't noticeably pushing him away. He saw how she avoided his gaze and his touch outside of this bedroom and even here she would coldly turn on her side and simply allow him to hold her. It was almost like this nighttime routine was merely a job or a burdensome task to Hermione, knowing that without it she would have a restless sleep. Draco couldn't help but feel used!

He turned onto his back with a frustrated grunt as he punched the mattress underneath him. Why was she doing this?! He thought that she had finally let her guard down and trusted him! Not to mention, she kissed him in the library.

Draco's pulse quickened at the memory. He brought his fingertips to his lips, trying to recall the taste of Hermione's. She kissed him like he was sustenance for her hunger and yet there was never enough. He knew that they both felt a burning desire for each other in that one moment of passion. So, what extinguished the flame and caused her to shut him out?

He looked down at the blooming roses on his forearm. It was April. He only had a few more months.

The pale boy huffed and peeled himself off the bed. He then trudged his way out of Hermione's bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom. But suddenly a certain witch bounded out, drenched and sporting a towel, and accidentally slammed into Draco. She yelped from the impact and almost fell backward but he caught her wrist in time to pull her back.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry," Hermione said frantically, clutching onto her towel for dear life while regaining her balance.

Draco was slightly stunned, never seeing her like this before. Hermione's normal golden hair was a much darker shade and was plastered to her face. Traces of mascara smeared down her cheeks and spare water droplets dripped from her arms and down to the floorboards. And of course, the only thing covering her body was a thin piece of fabric. The sight was oddly endearing and Draco felt blood rush to his cheeks.

He cleared his throat loudly and looked down at the floor. "No, no I'm sorry."

"I just stepped into the shower and realized that I had forgotten my clothes. I was heading back to the room to grab some."

"Hoping that I was still asleep?"

"Hoping that you were gone."

The small statement punched Draco in the gut as he realized that Hermione showering this early in the morning was just another escape route for her.

"I mean, which is mad to assume seeing how early it is," Hermione added, probably trying to amend the sharpness of her previous statement.

It was then silent except for the water splashing on the floor.

"You know," Draco began, still keeping his gaze on the ground, "you could've just worn what you had on the way to the bathroom."

Drip. Drip.

Her eyes widened in chagrin. "Right."

Drip. Drip.

"How stupid of me," she said with a forced laugh.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip.

Draco was certain that she would be sprinting away by now to relieve herself from the awkward situation, but to his surprise she still stood in her position. He looked back up at her and saw her eyes wander as she chewed on her bottom lip. It appeared as if she was trying to come up with some sort of explanation. He then softened, and discerned that she knew that he knew about her going out of the way just to avoid him. Draco wanted an explanation. But not now while she was naked, soaked, and embarrassed.

Drip. Drip.

"Well go on before you flood the place," Draco stated playfully, giving a small smile.

Hermione looked down in horror at the small puddle she was creating. "Shite!" she exclaimed as she scrambled away from it. "I will clean that up as soon as I'm…"

She looked down at herself.

Drip. Drip.

Draco relieved her. "Dry?"

"I was going to say 'not resembling a wet hag' but that works too."

"You could never."

He saw her face turn red.

Drip. Drip.

"Thank you… and…well…"

Drip. Drip.

She bolted into her room and slammed the door before Draco could respond.

Harry sprawled himself out on Ron's bed, watching members of the Chudley Cannons perform tricks and amazing moves on posters that were strewn about on the walls of the bedroom. His glasses were askew so his vision was half blurred. But he didn't care; he was too exhausted to care.

Meanwhile, Ron was pacing the floor of his room, throwing out whatever suggestion for the Horcrux hunt he had to then be immediately shut down by Harry.

"The Room of Requirement?"

"Ron, we've looked through there for ages. Do you know how many old boots and books I've pointlessly stabbed with the sword?"

"Right. Well we could try Dumbledore's office. "

"Oh yeah! Because Voldemort would be barmy enough to hide a piece of his soul in the office of a wizard trying to annihilate him, not to mention the one wizard he's afraid of! Brilliant!"

Ron then muttered, "He could be hiding it in plain-"

"Plain sight?! Bloody hell, I doubt Voldemort would risk doing that nonsense," Harry interrupted.

"Nonsense or not, at least I'm making suggestions instead of moping about!" Ron slumped onto the bed beside his friend, scratching his head. "Can't you do that mind connecting thing with Voldemort to see where the Horcruxes are?"

Harry sighed with exaggeration. "Ron, the problem with the 'mind connecting thing' is that it goes both ways; he'll know my thoughts too. I could reveal our location, Hermione's location, and loads of other things he can't know."

Ron went quiet for a beat and then asked, "Speaking of Hermione, how is she doing?"

"From her letters, she seems okay. She's found a way to keep the nightmares out."

"How?"

Harry smirked. "I'll tell you but you won't like it."

"Go on," Ron urged with an arched brow.

"She's sleeping with Aiden."

The redhead burst from the mattress. "WHAT?!"

"Told you."

"You're telling me that Hermione shagging Aiden- no, excuse me- DRACO BLOODY MALFOY keeps her from having bad dreams?!"

Harry failed to hold in his laughter as he watched his friend go off. His face was becoming as red as his hair as he ranted on.

Finally, the dark-haired boy gave in. "Calm down! They're only sleeping next to each other; there's no shagging at all. Besides, it seems like she's trying to distance herself from him."

Ron sat back on the bed, heaving deep breaths. "That's a relief. But if she was in such a hurry to get back to him, why is she being distant?"

"Isn't it obvious? She's falling for him."

Ron screwed up his face in confusion. "Er, no. I don't think it's obvious at all."

"Oh come on, Ron! You know Hermione!" Harry sat up to explain himself. "When she fancies some bloke, she avoids him and hates talking to him… she pretty much treats him like shite."

"I know what you mean," Ron huffed. "But why? Seems counterproductive."

"Don't know. Maybe it's like a sort of defense mechanism in case he doesn't feel the same way. She doesn't really know where he stands so she avoids him to avoid getting hurt."

Ron meant to respond but two raps on the door followed by his mother's voice rang through. "Boys, you better come downstairs."

"Mum, we're busy!" Ron shouted back, rolling his eyes.

"Dumbledore's here for you."

The boys went silent and in a heartbeat left the room. As they were running down, Harry caught sight of his old Headmaster standing in the doorway. His eyes, along with their usual twinkle, held a sense of urgency.

Once they reached him, he turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Thank you, Molly. We can take it from here."

The red-headed woman nodded and left the room swiftly.

"What's wrong, Professor?" Harry asked anxiously.

"Nothing, my boy! In fact, quite the opposite…" Dumbledore gestured to the living room and everyone sat down in front of the crackling fire.

Dumbledore leaned forward in his armchair, lowering his voice. "I've found a lead for the Horcrux hunt."

Harry and Ron instantly looked at each other with wide eyes and open mouths.

"Oh, thank Merlin!" Ron cried.

Harry pressed the old wizard. "What is it?"

"That's not for me to tell."

Four heavy knocks then pounded on the front door.

Dumbledore sprang up from his seat and opened it. "Ah! You made it!"

Harry and Ron walked over to the threshold and peered through. Their jaws fell as they beheld an extremely deformed man. He had a large black eye surrounded by warts that covered his face. He was mainly bald except for a few patches of hair and his back was hunched.

The boys quickly stepped back as the man stepped through. Through his grotesque features, he managed a genuine smile. Harry noticed a tattoo of a tree, completely blanketed with white roses, on his left forearm.

Dumbledore closed the door and then introduced him. "This is Adam."

"Good morning!"

Hermione jumped at the voice and almost dropped the soap, towel, and clothes (which she made sure she remembered) in her arms.

The witch then turned from her bedroom door to see Isabella. She somehow looked much older in her nighttime apparel. Her hair was in a loose braid instead of a high ponytail and she hugged a quilted shawl around her shoulders over her nightgown. But her warm expression remained unchanged.

"Oh, hi Isabella."

"What are you doing up so early?"

Hermione dodged the question. "I could ask you the same thing," she said, tucking a golden lock behind her ear.

The housekeeper smiled. "I always go up to the attic before dawn to watch the sunrise."

"Oh! Well I'll let you get to it then." Hermione made a break for it but Isabella caught her.

"Hermione," she started. "What's going on?"

Hermione, once again, attempted to evade the question. "I'm just going to the shower-"

"-You know what I mean." Isabella stared at the girl sternly.

Her cheeks instantly flushed.

"Is it that obvious?" Hermione mumbled, staring at the floor.

Isabella huffed. "That you avoid Aiden like the plague? Yes."

Hermione cringed and threw her face into the towel she was holding. "Oh Merlin," she whimpered, muffled by the fabric.

The housekeeper continued. "God, meals have become unbearable. They make me want to stab my eyes out, they're so awkward. You sit as far away from him as possible and the only time you speak to him is when you ask for the salt to be passed! Even William has noticed, and he's blind for God's-"

"-I know, I know, it's awful! I'm sorry," Hermione interrupted, tossing her belongings to the ground.

"You don't have to apologize," Isabella assured. "I just want to know what happened between you two. You used to not be able to get enough of each other and you even sleep together-"

"Hang on! You know about that?!"

"Everyone knows."

Hermione threw her arms in the air. "Merlin! And for your information, there is absolutely no shagging whatsoever!"

"Hermione, I could have guessed that from the way you shrug away from even the possibility of touching him. Now tell me, what's wrong?"

Hermione squinted her eyes and shook her head, praying that Isabella would eventually give up and leave. But they remained there for minutes and eventually she gave in. "It's just that this has become very real. I mean there's a chance that I have feelings for him."

Isabella's eyes lit up. "Really? Do you-"

"Yes… maybe… I don't know." Hermione could feel her ears turning pink. "Our dynamic turned from friends to... I suppose "more-than-friends" too quickly for me when we first kissed and it scared me. It still scares me because I don't know where he's at. And the more I think about it, I really don't know anything about him. I know his story and background but he's never really been completely vulnerable with me except for maybe one time in the past. And I know I've been completely open with him. So I guess me being distant is a way to protect myself from jumping in before knowing if he's willing to do the same…"

All of a sudden, an uninvited image of a certain pale boy in a certain office came to her head. The witch paused and exhaled deeply. "…And I guess it's also because the last time I was in this situation, I ended up getting hurt."

The out of the blue memory of Draco Malfoy made her stomach ache.

Isabella listened intently to the golden-haired girl. When she was finished, the housekeeper quietly mused, "Hermione, have I ever told you about Adam?"

Hermione shook her head.

"Long-story-short, he's the love of my life. But I never told him, fearing that he didn't reciprocate my feelings. I let him slip through my fingers and now I'll never be able to see him again. Our lives could've been very different if I just took the chance."

"But did he love you back?"

"He did. Which I would've known sooner if I told him how I felt." Isabella put a hand on Hermione's cheek. "I know that you're just trying to protect yourself. But potentially getting hurt is much better than constantly asking yourself 'what if?'"

Hermione stared at Isabella and then gave a short nod. "Thank you… I'll think about what you said." She then collected her things and proceeded into the bathroom.

Once Isabella knew Hermione was out of earshot, she went straight for her bedroom door. She opened it to find Draco pressing his ear against the wall.

"We're done talking now so you can stop eavesdropping," she said, her voice startling Draco as he quickly stood up.

He cleared his throat and stood before the housekeeper like a child who was caught doing something wrong. "Right. Er, I should thank you."

"No, you shouldn't."

He looked taken aback. "Why?"

"I told Hermione to do her part so now you have to do yours," Isabella answered, crossing her arms.

Draco knitted his brows. "Which is what?"

"You were eavesdropping, weren't you? Hermione said that you're not open with her."

"I try to be! I tell her my past-"

"-Relaying sob stories doesn't mean you're being vulnerable. Show her the real you!"

"You know, it's quite difficult to do that when I'm pretending to be someone I'm not!" Draco barked, gesturing to his face.

"Then be yourself; be Draco Malfoy."

Draco stood there and scoffed. "You know I can't do that."

"Yes you can. And you can do it without revealing who you really are." Isabella took a step forward. "Listen, she just wants you to be genuine about yourself. Let her know that you're willing to get hurt in this like she is."

She turned to leave but Draco called out to her. "Must you give a bloody long-winded lecture and life lesson to everyone in this house?"

Isabella shrugged. "I wouldn't if I didn't need to."

Later that day, Draco stood outside Hermione's door with a pack of bottled Butterbeers, hoping it could act as a conversation starter and perhaps their imbibement could help ease the tension.

He rapped on the door and heard a bright "Come in!"

Draco entered and saw Hermione with a snowy owl perched on her arm. "Oh, hello Aiden," she greeted timidly.

"Sorry to be a bother but I picked up some Butterbeers for you."

A grin spread across her face. "Thanks! Er, place them on my desk. I just need to get this letter out to Harry."

Draco did as he was told but he noticed crumpled pieces of parchment scattered across the surface. They appeared to be drafts of a letter; they all started out with "Dear Harry" followed by ink blotches and scratched out words. He couldn't help himself as he noticed that a certain scribbled out name kept appearing… It was his name. His real name. Draco Malfoy.

He stood there stupidly with his mouth agape, reading his name over and over. Why was she thinking about him? And more importantly why was she writing to Potter about him?

Hermione then abruptly swiped the desktop and wadded up the parchments. "Sorry about that," she muttered, embarrassment hanging in her tone.

"No, I shouldn't have been snooping," he claimed, suddenly feeling a frog in his throat.

"Well it's hard not to," Hermione threw the drafts in the wastebasket, "when the name 'Draco Malfoy' is screaming at you on every page." She gave a small chuckle, obviously trying to appear nonchalant.

Draco then immediately popped open two Butterbeers, deciding that now was definitely the time to try to relieve tension. He handed one to Hermione and asked as casually as he could, "So who is this 'Draco Malfoy'?"

She grabbed the bottle with gratitude. "He's just some guy at Hogwarts," she took a sip, "and kind of a git actually."

Draco cleared his throat loudly. "Really?" He took a large swig, really feeling the frog in his throat now.

"Yeah, we were Head Boy and Girl. He was a part of this elaborate Death Eater infiltration to capture me. It failed, but he ended up leaving with the Death Eaters. I was writing to Harry about him to see if the Order has any leads on him," Hermione said. Draco could see that she was attempting to write off his mention in her letter as strictly business… and that she was failing.

"Well tell me about him," Draco proposed, preparing for the worst.

Hermione guffawed. "Where do I begin? Well, he'd tell you that he's the most amazing, attractive, and brilliant person on the planet. And of course, he wouldn't leave out the important fact that he comes from a powerful pureblood family. You think I'm joking but he actually announced this to the entire school during dinner!"

Draco forced out a laugh before he chugged his butterbeer, feeling his hands becoming clammy and his face becoming paler.

Hermione continued to laugh. "He was ridiculous," she took another sip, "but people fell for him-"

"-Did you?"

"-Not that I did," she said at the same time.

Thick silence fell between the two. After a few moments, she filled it. "You know, every once in a while, you kind of remind me of him."

Draco coughed.

Hermione's eyes bulged. "Not that you're a git in any way!"

"No, no I get it," he replied, trying to appear unfazed.

"Really! I didn't mean…"

Silence fell again.

They both took a swig.

Hermione then moved the conversation forward. "Anyway, like I said, things were going fine and then Malfoy ran to the Death Eaters." She sighed. "It figures; the good girl falls for the bad boy."

This got Draco's attention. "Ah, so you did fall for him."

Hermione contorted her face as it turned crimson. "You caught me," she confessed. "Did you bring these Butterbeers just so you can get me drunk and uncover my deepest, darkest, secrets?"

Draco chuckled. "Not at all! But why should you stop now?"

"Well, if you insist." Hermione sat at her desk and then said, "The mad thing is that I might have, kind of, sort of, actually thought he, a little bit, liked me-ish."

"Of course he does," he replied with a grin.

"Huh?"

Draco stammered, "I- I mean of course he did." He prayed to Merlin that she didn't catch that.

She snickered. "Thanks but whether or not he ever did, he was an entirely different person than I thought he was. I was the girl that thought she could change the notorious Draco Malfoy and bring him to the light. I was so certain, in those moments where glimpses of vulnerability and good came through, that it could happen. But honestly, I didn't know him at all. And I ended up getting hurt in the end because I thought I did."

Draco watched this golden-haired girl, clutching a half-empty Butterbeer bottle, stare wistfully out the window as she finally revealed her feelings for the old Draco Malfoy. He wanted nothing more than to tell her that her time wasn't wasted on him and she did change him. But of course, he couldn't. And it hit him like a pang to the chest that she might never know.

It made Draco wince at the thought of Hermione having so much faith in him which he unknowingly tainted by being a prat to Millicent and getting cursed. Why the hell did he shut her out? What was he scared of?...

Vulnerability.

And that fear ended up pushing her away just as it is now. It was what made Hermione retreat back into herself, even after the moment they shared in the library. She bared all to him and he only bared a little. He needed to meet her halfway.

Hermione turned from the window to Draco. "So, you have any war stories you'd like to share?"

"I do." He held out his hand to her. She eyed it with caution but then eventually took it as it gently pulled her up.

"But not here," he said.

She raised her eyebrows, a question forming on her lips.

He smiled. "Do you want to go somewhere with me?"