A/N: Hi all! Well, I've been gone a while, and a few things have happened.

A Tale of Gold and Roses is now available on Amazon in ebook and paperback forms - look it up with title and author name, and it's the one with a blue rose on the cover. (There is a slight issue with the paperback where the text is closer to the spine than it should be - it's readable but a little aesthetically off - know before you buy!) If you have Kindle Unlimited, it's available there as well.

I'm one of the new faculty advisors for my workplace's robotics team, which is an entire second job now that I know the exact hours I'll be working and the amount of administrative paperwork I'm responsible for.

Also, I'm making plans for grad school, so that's fun. The question of course is if I can do that while working both jobs, because the coaching stipend would put a lot of money towards tuition. We'll see.

Meanwhile, behold the next chapter!

Daylight's Secrets

"You should try making pot roast," Hermione mused, glancing over the notebook Draco used to record his cooking attempts.

Draco hummed to show he was listening, carding his fingers slowly through her hair as she rested against his shoulder. They were curled up together on one of Aunt Dee's sofas, Hermione's memory of her week's research materializing as handwritten notes on a roll of parchment she'd rested on Draco's lap when they'd sat down.

"Another thing for me to burn especially for Bumble the Baby Dragon," he responded with a self-deprecating snicker, and Hermione prodded him playfully in the ribs.

It had been a month since Blaise and Montague had discovered them "studying together" in the empty classroom. Between the rawness of both of their hands after their detentions and the possibility that if Hermione were to be tailed by the Inquisitorial Squad the security of the DA might be compromised, they'd both agreed that they needed to step up the secrecy of their meetings.

Draco, of course, had his own compelling reason not to let anyone know he was now dating Hermione Granger, but she didn't see the threat of Voldemort killing her as being nearly as much of a consideration as her boyfriend did.

"I'm a muggleborn," she'd reminded him, "and involved in the resistance. If He or His followers have the opportunity, they've already got plenty of things to kill me over. I just have to avoid giving them the opportunity."

"Still," Draco had muttered, pulling her in close and resting his cheek on top of her head, "Let's not give them a reason to declare open season, shall we?"

Since then, they'd only met in person twice (not counting classes or the Great Hall, where at her suggestion he'd tried to slip back into something similar to his old patterns towards her to throw Zabini off the scent). Instead, they met in dreams, first twice a week, then quickly escalating to every night as they enjoyed one another's company. Hermione had, at Draco's insistence, learned proper occlumency; while Draco was fairly confident that an experienced Legilimens or Empath could override it, she could at least put up the barrier as a "keep out" sign if she wished. So far she hadn't felt the need to use that skill, but practiced it diligently in the mornings.

"Ron still thinks there's something up with you," she murmured, bringing him back to their shared dream, and then showing him a memory of that evening in the Gryffindor common room, where Ron had muttered that Malfoy might be possessed, or maybe a Deatheater waa posing as him using Polyjuice potion.

"I'll get one of the twins to casually mention that they recruited me for anti-Umbridge work. Let him think they're influencing me. Hopefully it's enough to throw off his animal instincts." He knew without looking, in the manner of dreams, that Hermione had rolled her eyes at the term.

"Would you rather I called it his seer abilities?" he added as he always did when she objected to the way he described Ron's uncanny powers of perception.

"No," she grumbled, still not ready to accept that particular reality. "Think Fred and George will side with you over him?" she added with a frown, pulling away a little to look up at him.

"I've impressed upon them what will happen if the Dark Lord gets ahold of me," he shrugged. "For all of their joking around, they love their little brother and wouldn't want him involved." It had occurred to him a few days ago that if Voldemort searched through his mind and found out who had helped him, all of their names would go straight onto a hit list.

"You're brooding again," Hermione accused after he'd been silent for too long, snuggling back into him reassuringly.

"Worrying about my friends and family in the face of the Dark Lord's rise is a new sensation," he murmured darkly. "I'm still getting used to it." His eyes scanned down the parchment roll as Hermione set his cooking notes aside. She'd written down some pretty powerful offensive spells on here - spells he'd have to try at the Nest where he had enough space not to harm anyone by accident. He wondered, in the far back corner of his mind that supplied him with dangerous and terrible ideas, if he'd ever be powerful enough to actually go up against the Dark Lord.

'Trying and failing would be better than running scared your whole life,' a voice that sounded eerily like Harry Potter's muttered in his ear.

'Failure gets the people I love killed,' he reminded the voice sternly. 'First Hermione, then mum.'

"We should try breakdowns again," he said aloud, running his fingers over the text of a particular theory. "I think these alchemical techniques would make it go smoother."

"I'll meet you in the Forbidden Forest on Sunday morning?" Hermione checked, her face going a tiny bit pink. Sure, practicing breakdowns meant they'd spend a bunch of time with her hexing him over and over, which was not at all romantic. But they so rarely got to see each other in person, in private, that she couldn't help but be excited.

"It's a date," he agreed, kissing the top of her head, and then frowning as he heard a faint noise intrude on the dreamscape. "That'll be your alarm clock," he warned as the sound grew louder, and with a regretful look, Hermione vanished, waking up to silence the alarm and begin her day.

Draco opened his eyes and rolled onto his back, stretching luxuriously on the double bed he'd placed in his basement bedroom at the Nest. He'd spelled the walls a rich jewel tone green, and put in decorative blue stones around the fireplace so that the light reflected artfully around the room when it was lit.

True to his word when he'd bought the place, he'd come to the Nest nearly every weekend - popping back sometimes to make appearances at Hogwarts as needed, but spending the majority of his time fixing up his bungalow and researching at the library. Granted, the time he could spend doing the latter was limited, since his body was still on UK time, and he did nominally need to sleep, but he managed.

Wrapping himself in his most comfortable bathrobe, he stepped into his slippers and padded up the stairs to the main level to find some breakfast. Despite the early hour and complete darkness outside, a throaty warble and a scratching sound allerted him to Bumble's attempts to get through the kitchen window.

"Don't you ever sleep?" he demanded groggily as he fumbled open the latch and let the energetic ball of scales into the room.

The kitchen was starting to look a whole lot more like a potions lab these days, with different sized cubbies along various sections of wall sporting little bottled and bags and tubs of ingredients. He had a couple of different types of cauldrons nested in the cabinets, along with pots and pans and various cutlery, and bundles of herbs hanging from the ceiling. He'd tried to set it up so that he could feed himself and do his potions homework at the same time (an organizational detail that would never fly with his peer group, but that he knew was typical among less wealthy families).

"One of these days, Beatriz is going to decide she's tired of your running off," he commented pointedly, frying a pair of eggs and some bacon in one pan, while he overcooked more bacon in another for his uninvited guest. Bumble, of course, couldn't understand a word Draco was saying, and wouldn't have cared if he could, the little scamp. Despite the fact that he was always very well-fed at home, he apparently liked the adventure of going to Draco's to steal his food instead - although Draco supposed he could hardly count it as stealing when he pulled out a separate pan and made it for him.

"I'm spoiling you," he grumbled, sliding the finished meals onto two plates and wolfing his down with almost as much gusto as the dragon. Projecting into Hermione's dreams from halfway around the world took a lot out of him, although it was getting easier each time he did it.

Leaning back in his chair, he reached out a hand and beckoned his school bag towards him from where he'd dropped it by the kitchen door last night. As if he'd waved his wand and done a proper summoning charm, it slid forward to bump into the leg of his chair, where it then flipped open so he could rummage around and locate his homework. He shivered once as all the hairs on his body stood on end - an uncomfortable but brief side-effect of using wandless magic to impact the physical world - and then retrieved his transfiguration essay to finish it up. He wanted to make sure that he didn't have anything left to take up his precious time with Hermione when he went back tomorrow morning.

"Should really make an effort to eat dinner with Blaise," he muttered to himself, remembering the way his former friend's confidence had been wavering over the last couple of days. "Give him some support, remind him that he needs me." He supposed he could go back in time for a Hogwarts dinner tonight, and avoid having to cut his day with Hermione short tomorrow. His sleep wouldn't be as restful, and the stew he'd made himself for dinners that weekend would go to waste, but it would make his schedule easier.

"Wonder if she'd agree to a picnic in the Forbidden Forest," he thought suddenly as he rolled his finished essay back up and turned to stuff it back in his bag. "That'd kill two thestrals with one - Bumble!" he exclaimed as his closed hand encountered scales and he looked down to see the baby dragon rooting around in his bag, apparently trying to rearrange the books and papers into a comfortable nest. Seemingly offended at being disturbed, Bumble squeaked indignantly and coughed out a tiny flame in Draco's direction. Before he even had a chance to consider it, the flame had burnt itself out on a shield charm that he wasn't aware of casting until it was already up.

"Well, that will be convenient I suppose," Draco sighed, reaching both hands in to lift the small reptile up and glare at it. Bumble sneezed out a smoke ring, unrepentant.

-0-

Sunday morning dawned crisp and foggy at Hogwarts, and the sudden change from Brazil's tepid weather and the fine layer of frost on his dormitory window had Draco shivering before he even stepped outside. He'd popped in for dinner the previous night, having moderate success getting back onto Blaise's good side, but then immediately returned to the Nest to try and get some quality rest before what he knew would be a taxing magical workout today.

Wrapped in his cloak and carrying a picnic basket, he silenced his footsteps as he made his way out of the castle and into the forest, hiking for some twenty minutes until he reached the specific clearing Hermione had shown drawn a map of in their Echo Books the previous night. She'd said that according to Hagrid it was far enough away from the home territories of the various creatures who called the forest home that they'd likely not be interrupted.

Sitting down on a fallen tree, he pulled an empty jar out of his pocket and twirled his wand at it, duplicating it until he had seven identical jars. The familiar wood felt oddly static-laden under his fingertips, as it had been doing every time he transitioned back to traditional magic after doing wandless for a while. He wondered absently whether that was something in his head, or if his wand actually objected to him now.

Shaking himself a little, he snapped his fingers, conjuring up blue flames in each of the jars, then with a wave of his hand, sent them to even points around the clearing. The spell both warmed the space enough that he could remove his cloak, and made the whole area thoroughly unnoticeable to any living creature who might happen to pass by. Only someone who knew where they wanted to go could enter now. According to Hermione, this spell was one she intended to use for family camping trips as soon as she came of age and could get away with it. It was mosquito repellant and environmental controls all wrapped up in one - in the summer it would have a cooling effect, and would dry the air so that even in high humidity clothing and other items would not remain damp.

He sensed when she entered the forest. He didn't even have to try at this point, Hogwarts was so full of his magic from the term so far. Slowly, he inhaled, drawing his focus inward as he followed her approach, until he could barely sense that awakening hum of the castle in the distance. The still-slumbering herd of centaurs and just-dosing nest of acromantulas in the forest behind him and to his left quieted and then nearly vanished altogether, until as Hermione stepped into sight, all he could sense was her.

"Morning," she greeted him with a warm smile, pushing back her hood and sliding off her cloak as the air around her warmed.

No matter how many times he saw her in his dreams, being near her in person was always a completely different experience - like the difference between smelling his favorite tea and drinking it. There were details of her physical presence that neither of their minds would replicate, like the exact wildness of her hair or the way she walked when she wasn't weighed down by a bag of books.

"Morning," he echoed, stepping forward, hesitantly closing the distance between them. The closeness they had developed in their shared dreams always felt just a little bit like a dream upon waking, so it always stunned him a little that he could really be with her in the real world. Soft warmth bloomed across Hermione's cheeks as her mind raced to keep up with the same things he was experiencing - a combination of wanting to reach out and touch him to assure herself that he was really here, and an apprehension at the thought of doing so here in the physical world.

Life made so much more sense in dreams.

"I brought breakfast," she announced as the long moment threatened to become painfully awkward, taking her own step forward to close the remaining distance between them and pulling a box of muffins out of her bag, followed by a thermos of tea, two mugs, and four massive books that should not possibly have fit in her school bag.

"Undetectable Extension Charm for OWLs, or just for me?" he asked with a grin, taking the box from her and popping the lid off, levitating out a muffin before offering them back to her.

"Both," she responded with a smirk as they both sat down to eat, the knees of their crossed legs just a hairs breadth away from touching. "This year is all about multitasking, and to do that, I need a bigger bag. If my book pile in my dormitory gets any bigger, the other girls are going to stage a protest about the avalanche hazard.

"Sounds like you need a bigger room, then," Draco laughed, the low-stakes topic easing away some of the tension. "You're quite free to store books at the Nest," he added, wiggling his eyebrows for effect even though he knew she would immediately shut him down.

"Christmas holiday," she insisted. "I'm not getting caught leaving school grounds under this regime."

As was the manner of things this year, the topic of Umbridge carried them through for several more minutes - Draco and the twins were working on an enchantment to remove the painted cats from all of her possessions, and Hermione was looking into the Umbridge family history, searching for leverage. So far, neither of them had a definitive plan of how to remove her from Hogwarts entirely.

"Shall we get started, then?" Draco finally suggested when they'd both started feeling a bit hopeless. Having his girlfriend shoot stunning spells at him for hours on end wasn't exactly the most fun way to start a Sunday morning, but the last time he'd managed to redirect three in a row, and this time he'd added some alchemical theory to his technique. As he began alternately dodging and catching the bursts of red light from her wand, he wondered what it would take to block and channel something stronger - something a little more unforgivable.

The loss of focus for that one second cost him his consciousness, and he awoke to Hermione offering her hand and reminding him to keep his head in the game. He stared at it a moment before reaching up and grasping her wrist firmly, accepting the help and trying to ignore the desperate overstimulation of finally touching her, skin-to-skin, after so long of meeting only in dreams.

It had been harder on both of them than either had expected - attempting to return to the cruel status quo while in the company of their friends and peers. Just because she knew that the verbal barbs that he shot her way were entirely feigned didn't make them not hurt, and truth be told she was disappointed in herself for realizing that to be the case.

On an intellectual level, she knew that the very best way to keep their relationship both secret and safe was to look, on the outside, as they always had. And frankly, if Draco had a prayer of getting back into his housemates' good graces, he needed to stop isolating and start joining in with the crowd again. She'd thought it was better her than someone else playing the victim, because now she knew the real him - knew that he had fundamentally changed and that it pained him to continue with habits he'd worked so hard to break. But deep down, she hated being constantly reminded of how he used to be, and hated even more how much she knew it hurt him to return to that state, however feigned (and sometimes even rehearsed) their fights might be.

Draco was still holding her hand, his thumb running gently over her wrist, and she realized she'd been lost in silent contemplation far longer than she'd planned.

"Christmas holiday," he promised her quietly, bringing her hand up and kissing her knuckles oh, so gently. Christmas holiday she'd come and visit him, and they'd be together out in public with no fear of anyone or anything.

"Christmas holiday," she echoed after not-too-long-of-a-pause-this-time as they both let go, the warm afterimage of his hand and his lips seared into her skin.

It seemed years away.

-0-

The week dragged on like normal - classes and meals, one lovely evening 'training the new Slytherin seeker' because Umbridge had taken the night off to go to the ministry for a meeting - until finally it was Friday again. Draco's leg jiggled uncontrollably as he sat through History of Magic, waiting for the exact second he could duck into the gents and activate his portkey. Beatriz and Pablo were having a party for their anniversary, and he finally thought he had enough of a handle both on being with people and magically speaking Portugese that he could really enjoy himself.

Just as the clock signalled only 5 minutes of class left, his bag seemed to hum gently against his ankle from where he'd tossed it on the floor. Digging around inside, he pulled out the perfectly innocent notebook that Hermione had spelled to echo with hers, and opened it next to his textbook, the picture of a conscientious student.

[Brazil?] Read his girlfriend's familiar handwriting in the middle of the page. Draco blinked, wondering if he was imagining things. The neat, bold handwriting stared back up at him, unaltered. He wasn't.

[I thought you'd never ask!] he wrote back. [Meet behind Greenhouse 6]

If he'd thought the class dragged before Hermione had agreed to spend the weekend with him, it was nothing compared to how slowly it was going now. He cast his mind over the castle, searching for her, until he found a memory of her in Lavender Brown's head. Apparently they'd gotten into a massive fight, culminating in Hermione levitating her stack of library books into her bed with her and magically closing and sealing the curtains.

Knowing Lavender's dramatic tendencies, she would warn all of her dorm-mates that Hermione was in a mood and wouldn't want to be disturbed - meaning that if she was gone the whole weekend, the chances of anyone noticing were incredibly slim. Although Draco felt compassion for Hermione, who didn't always get along with the girls she had to share living space with for 7 years of their adolescence, he had to admit that their dynamic was an asset for things like this.

[Bring something to wear to a party,] he advised, heart pounding in a combination of trepidation and excitement, just as the bell finally rang.

A/N: Well, that's all for now folks!

UPDATE 3/20/20: So… I didn't like the original feel of this chapter. And neither did a lot of readers I think, but Beth's brain hasn't been in a very good way lately (the last, what, couple of years? But specifically the Year of Our Lord 2020 it's been particularly bad and I've had NO free time either) so no matter how many times I read through it I couldn't figure out how to fix it.

A couple of shots of scotch and a few beers later, I have now "fixed" it. Or rather my current, mildly intoxicated self thinks that it's an improvement. We'll see when y'all sober people send me your comments.