Author's Note: Hello. Thanks for checking out Voyager. The idea for this story originated out of a line from The Lion King; more specifically, the song "Can You Feel the Love Tonight". I hope you like it.

This story is written as a birthday gift to a dear reader and friend, mhcalamas. I tried to write something fluffy and I swear this wasn't meant to be the pit of angst it became, but it seems that's what came from my heart and I hope you enjoy it anyway.

Thank you to both Kyonomiko and Mykesprit for alpha help with this fic – it needed it.

Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the Harry Potter franchise, nor do I own The Lion King or any of its intellectual property.

June, 2003

Hermione Granger set aside Mágico Málaga – the local post of the magical community of the province of Malaga in Spain – and spared a brief glance at the copy of The Daily Prophet that lay beneath it.

Even after five years in the Andalusian town of Ronda, Hermione was hesitant to cancel her subscription of Wizarding Britain's post. It was a small reminder of home – and one way in which she was able to keep up with the goings on in the magical community from which she had run almost five years ago.

She took a quick breath before glancing at the front page – and felt the breath catch as her heart leapt into her throat.

A set of pale grey eyes stared out at her from the cover – framing a strong nose, set within an aristocratic face – and a pair of lips curved into a smirk.

Hermione realized her hands were trembling and she steeled herself with a long sip of hot tea.

Former Death Eater Released from Azkaban

The headline blared Draco Malfoy's freedom – imprisoned since he had been barely eighteen. Despite the best counsel galleons could buy for his trial – and Hermione working tirelessly on his case in private – Draco Malfoy had been the Ministry's way of making an example.

Even though Malfoy had been young and forced into servitude under duress, the Wizengamot had been committed to their cause of locking up anyone even remotely connected to Lord Voldemort.

The young man hadn't stood a chance.

But now…

Hermione wondered what the first breath of fresh, free air had felt like. Wondered whether he would be going about establishing his name once again. With Lucius Malfoy locked away on a life sentence, Draco would be in charge of the estate, now.

Hermione did her best to push the thoughts away, but the next swallow of her tea was thick and uneasy.

Something twinged in her chest – something she had all but forgotten over the years since she had left London. Something she had been able to tuck into a dark corner of her heart, and had slipped into a state of numbness.

Her gaze flickered across the photo once more; there was no warmth in those grey eyes, in the harsh set of his jaw.

She wondered what Azkaban had done to the former Slytherin who had ended up drowning with no way out. Who had ultimately come to wish for any other way.

She traced the date at the top of the page with gentle fingertips: 5 June, 2003. Her fingers drifted down the page to land on the eyes she knew so well.

Hermione whispered to herself, "Happy birthday, Draco."

January, 1996

It had to be that day. The only day in two and a half years when Hermione had shown up late for Ancient Runes – and all because Ron had spilled pumpkin juice inside her book bag at the end of lunch. If Hermione hadn't been so quick to empty the belongings from her bag, she might have seen irreparable damage to many of her class texts and two completed essays.

Of all the inconvenient things.

Hermione frowned as she slipped into the room, pressing the door shut with care, and sneaking to her seat while Professor Babbling was still faced away from the door.

She ignored the stern look Malfoy cast her from the other side of the room and drew a roll of parchment and a quill from her bag as quietly as she could manage.

"Miss Granger," Professor Babbling said as she turned, a pleasant smile on her face. "How nice of you to join us. However, Ancient Runes began ten minutes ago, and as such, it'll be ten points from Gryffindor."

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but slammed it again; Professor Babbling wasn't the type to care for excuses.

Instead she sunk into her seat with a sheepish nod and uncorked her inkwell. She ignored the snickers from the Slytherins across the way.

"As we have just finished pairing off into a team project, I'll have to ask your partner to explain the assignment to you," Professor Babbling concluded, adjusting her glasses on her nose as she returned to the content she was writing on the board. "You will be working on this project for the duration of the next four weeks."

Hermione looked around, and it became apparent the room was in fact partnered off. Except for Malfoy, whose glare of loathing was now burning a hole in her skull. She swallowed, a sudden lump in her stomach filling her with unease.

"Professor, I'd sooner work alone," Malfoy drawled, one elbow resting on the table as his lip curled with disdain.

"Same," Hermione said, her gaze flickering to Malfoy and away. "I'm fine to work on my own."

"Nonsense," Professor Babbling contradicted, her tone brusque. "You'll work together; it will do you both good. And Merlin knows we could stand to see a little less animosity in this school this year!"

Hermione grimaced, even as everything within her protested the thought of speaking to Malfoy on an academic level. Perhaps she would simply tell him she would do the entire assignment.

"And you will divide your work evenly!" Babbling exclaimed, as if reading Hermione's thoughts. "If I receive submissions where it is clear only one person did the work, they will be graded as incomplete."

Hermione sighed and sunk deeper into her seat. Malfoy looked like he might be ill.

"Now!" Professor Babbling said, turning back to the class with a smile. "Move to sit with your partners, please. We will begin shortly!"

Groaning, Hermione glanced across the room at Malfoy, who was ignoring her as he examined his nails. At his table, Nott and Zabini shifted to one end, leaving the seat beside Malfoy open. Shoving the cork into her inkwell harder than necessary, Hermione collected her things and moved into the seat beside him.

She wasn't going to allow herself to fail this assignment, miserable git of a partner or not.

Malfoy made a show of sliding his seat along the stone floor to increase the distance between them, his grey eyes narrowed and a nasty sneer on his lips.

Hermione rolled her eyes and cleared her throat, drawing her Spellman's Syllabary from her bag.

He slid his parchment further away from her so that he had to reach across his body to write anything.

"Would you grow up?" Hermione hissed, clenching her jaw at his immaturity. "I'm not going to infect you with my blood."

"One can never be too cautious," Malfoy drawled, tossing his hair out of his face. He continued to look affronted while he sketched the assignment onto a sheet of parchment, as if Hermione had forced him to work with her. "I'll do the first half, you'll do the second half. And kindly don't get the translations wrong."

"I won't get them wrong," she snapped.

"I would like to see you work as a team together on this assignment!" Babbling broke into the general chatter once more. "That means together, and not split in half! Trust me – I will be able to tell."

Hermione fumed; it was as if Babbling were actually reading her thoughts.

Malfoy rolled his eyes and released an exaggerated huff from within his throat, tossing his head over the back of his chair. Hermione thought she heard him mutter, "What a bloody nightmare."

"This isn't ideal for me either, you know," she said, narrowing her eyes at him.

"Just – don't speak to me Granger. Unless it's absolutely necessary." Malfoy shook his head, mutiny in his eyes. "And here's a hint: it'll never be absolutely necessary."

"Bleeding git." Hermione rolled her eyes and began working on the translations.

"We aren't going to complete this project in time," Hermione mentioned as she chewed on her sugar quill. "Not unless we work on it outside of class time."

It had been two weeks – half of their allotted time for the Ancient Runes project – and at Malfoy's insistence they not devote any of their evenings to completing the complex translations, they were only a third of the way through.

"You can work on your half outside of class time," Malfoy sneered, his gaze fixed on his work.

"Professor Babbling said we need to work together –"

"Yes, well fuck Professor Babbling."

Hermione gave him a sharp glare; the woman was only three tables away.

"I am not giving up any of my free time to spend with you, Granger," Malfoy drawled. "And besides, I have Quidditch in the evenings."

"Not every evening," Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "There are three other teams that need to use the pitch. Surely you can spare one or two evenings a week."

"Sod your bloody swotty arse, Granger –"

"Everything going well here?" Professor Babbling asked, sweeping in between them. Malfoy's mouth snapped shut with a click of his teeth. Her sharp gaze swept across their work. "You are aware this project is due to be completed in two weeks?"

"We're aware, yes," Hermione said, fixing her best attempt at a smile. Babbling raised an eyebrow.

"If you two made an attempt to get along, you'd spend less time arguing and more time translating," Babbling said, tutting at the pair of them. "I am going to suggest you invest some time in the library together if you expect to see a passing grade."

Malfoy folded his arms, his jaw tight.

"Tuesday," he snapped, once Professor Babbling had carried on.

"I can't do Tuesday." Hermione had a DA meeting, and she would be damned if she let Malfoy interfere with that. "Wednesday."

"Wednesday I have Quidditch."

"Thursday, then."

"Thursday is no good."

"Friday!"

"Honestly, Granger, I'm not spending Friday night with you!" Malfoy exclaimed, shaking his head. "If you're that fucking hard up for a date –"

"Do not finish that sentence," Hermione hissed. "Thursday, or Friday, or you'll be failing."

Malfoy fumed, glaring at a spot on the table. "Thursday. Seven o'clock."

"Fine." Hermione tossed her hair to one side so that it created a curtain whereby she couldn't see his stupid, snide face.

Malfoy dropped into the seat across from hers, ignoring her with determination while he pulled his class materials from his bag and set to work. He glared around the library but didn't say anything. Hermione had selected this area of the library because there were rarely any other students so far back – she didn't want to be seen working with him either.

"Malfoy, do you –" Hermione began, but scoffed when he held up a hand to silence her.

He drew a sheet of parchment towards him and scrawled a message onto it, before sliding it across the table at her.

I have a headache. Don't make it worse with your obnoxious voice.

Hermione pressed her lips together and fought the urge to stab his hand – spread flat and inviting on the table – with her quill.

She wrote him a message, wishing she didn't have to ask him anything, but knowing he would blame her if the wrong rune was submitted.

I can't tell whether the fourth rune in line twelve of page thirty-five is lantern or cave.

Malfoy let out a long, annoyed breath, as if he were entirely inconvenienced, but flipped his assignment package to page thirty-five. He scanned the page, his gaze flickering to his Syllabary.

It's cave. A cave by torchlight.

He took the sheet back before she could finish reading it.

The third vertical line on the left-hand side is the discrepancy that's confused you. 'Cave' alone doesn't have that line.

Hermione stared at him once she had read his addition, blinking. Instead of taking the opportunity to mock her for not knowing the answer, he had explained his reasoning.

Feeling her gaze on him, he glanced up. He shrugged and scowled and dropped his head back down.

Hermione scribbled a small Thank you on the sheet of parchment. He glanced at it, his brows high on his forehead, before folding it up and tucking it into his bag.

She returned to her translations.

"I'm telling you, that rune means sound, or more specifically music." He glared at her, pointing at the page.

"It actually means footsteps," Hermione said, grinding her sugar quill between her back teeth as she considered the rune. "It's a more specific variant of sound."

"It does not mean footst–"

She stabbed at the translation. "Your usage of music is archaic. It's missing the intersecting dome through the centre."

Malfoy's mouth snapped shut as his line of sight followed the rune to which she pointed.

"Well, fuck."

"Silence!" Madam Pince declared, descending on their table with a frown and a heavily furrowed brow. "Or you'll have to leave the library!"

Hermione offered a tight smile and a nod to the librarian. Malfoy shook his head.

"It's the fourth rune!" Hermione insisted, waving her sheets in his face.

"Fifth, Granger, honestly," Malfoy drawled, leaning back against the wall of the empty classroom they had commandeered. "These two runes here are shown in reverse, but in reading and translating them together, they are re-ordered. It's like certain aspects of French grammar."

Hermione folded her legs beneath her, peering closer at his tidy script. "Damnit, you're right."

"Of course I'm right," he snickered, flashing her a tight grin. "I'm always –"

"Don't bloody say it."

Hermione pressed her fingertips to her temples as she stared up at the growing wall of Umbridge's Educational Decrees. It was growing increasingly difficult to get Dumbledore's Army together, especially with Malfoy and his pesky Inquisitorial Squad on the prowl.

But he hadn't asked her to give up any information on their meetings, and so she hadn't wanted to deal with the fallout of bothering him over his useless squad of lackeys.

It was as if they had reached an unspoken agreement to keep any decreased animosity between them runes-related. And on the rare occasion they had discussed things beyond classwork, it had been things of little consequence.

Which didn't include the war, the Order of the Phoenix, the Death Eaters, or house politics. Hermione had also refrained from mentioning Slytherin's embarrassing loss at the hands of Hufflepuff the week before.

They also didn't acknowledge one another outside of class or their private research sessions.

It would be a headache neither of them were looking for.

Her eyes caught on a flash of platinum blond passing through the hallway and his grey eyes flickered up in surprise to meet hers. His gaze followed her focus to the growing field of plaques hanging on the wall and he frowned.

"Chin up, Granger," Malfoy muttered as he walked past.

Hermione stared after him even once he had turned the corner.

They had received top marks.

"Unsurprising," Malfoy drawled in an undertone when Professor Babbling returned their graded efforts. "As if anyone could have surpassed the two of us?"

Hermione stared down at the desk and smiled.

"Granger," he murmured, glancing up at her after the class wrapped up for the day. "Snuck into Hogsmeade last night."

He slid a fresh pack of sugar quills across the table towards her.

Hermione stared at the offering in disbelief, and by the time she had regained the sense to thank him he had already stood and swung his bag over his shoulder. He offered her a crooked grin. "I know you like them and all."

Hermione nodded, slipping them into her bag. "Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

The following Ancient Runes class, Malfoy slid into his usual seat beside Hermione, despite the assignment being completed, along with their forced partnership. She turned to him with surprise, and a small murmur went up among the class.

"What?" he snapped, loud enough for his voice to carry. "It's the only bloody seat open, isn't it?"

Hermione was the only one who caught the twitch to his lips as he spread his supplies across the table.

"Where the fuck were you on Thursday?" Malfoy asked, raising a delicate brow, even as his hand flew across his parchment. "Just because we're done with the assignment doesn't mean you're off the hook."

Hermione released a sharp huff of a breath and grinned.

"Next Thursday, then," she said.

"Damn straight," Malfoy muttered. "You're one of the only people in this school I can tolerate, you know?"

"Yeah," Hermione whispered. "I know."

"What's this?" he drawled, glancing up from his work with a raised brow.

"OWL study timetable," Hermione replied, dismissive, as she folded her arms across her chest. "This is what I will be following."

"OWLs aren't for two months." Malfoy rolled his eyes, even as a smirk came to his lips. "But I'm not surprised."

His gaze skimmed the colour-coordinated schedule, his eyes widening slightly. "You don't intend to have a social life for the rest of the year, do you?"

"No," Hermione clipped. "The back of the page gives a rough schedule of when I'll be working alone in the library."

Malfoy sighed and set the sheet down. "I'll clear up another night or two each week. Can't let you take the top mark in every class without a challenge, can I?"

Hermione smiled. "You can certainly try."

"Are you sure you're alright?" Hermione worried her lower lip as she stared at him, pacing the room, while he carded a hand through his hair. "I'm sorry about your dad."

"My father made his bed," he bit out. "Are you alright? What spell did that imbecile Dolohov hit you with?"

"I didn't recognize it," Hermione admitted. "But it seems to be alright now."

"Fuck, Granger." Malfoy stopped pacing, turning to her with an irritated stare. "You can't just run off into trouble like that, squaring off against fully trained Death Eaters. You're going to get yourself killed and then who's going to keep me sane, hmm?"

"No one," Hermione whispered, her lips twitching. "You'll grow more and more crazy, only it'll be slow, and no one will catch it in time, until you're full-blown bonkers and it's too late for you –"

"And that will be your fault." He pointed at her.

Hermione snickered and smiled.

"I'm glad you're okay, Granger."

"Thanks, Malfoy." Her brow furrowed. "I hope nothing happens because of your dad failing to get the prophecy."

"Me too," he said with a grimace. "But I honestly have no idea. It won't be good." He sat down beside her, his shoulder nearly close enough to touch hers, and glanced over. He ran a hand through his pale hair. "What a year it's been."

Holding her breath, Hermione nudged him with her shoulder; he didn't move away. "Yeah," she agreed, keeping her eyes fixed on the wall ahead. "I hope you have a nice summer, Malfoy."

She thought he might have pressed a little closer, though it could have just been a shift in his position. "You know I'll owl you, Granger."

Her lips tugged up as she nodded.

July, 1996

Granger

I'm going insane, and you need to help before I become full-blown bonkers. I've exchanged some currency in private the last time I was at Diagon Alley with Mother. For the love of Merlin, explain to me how the Muggle transit works? You might need to meet me halfway.

DM

Hermione smiled as she folded the letter and offered his owl a treat while it waited, expecting a reply. Despite that it had only been two weeks since the beginning of summer, his letters had grown increasingly anxious.

Malfoy

I can't in good conscience allow you to go full-blown bonkers. I'll arrange a train ticket for you from Wiltshire to London, this coming Tuesday at two o'clock. You'll only need to arrive at the Swindon station in Wiltshire slightly before then. Do you think you can manage?

I'll meet you at the south side of Hyde Park. Once in London, you'll need to take the Bakerloo Line to Piccadilly Circus, and then transfer to the Piccadilly Line and disembark at Hyde Park Corner. I have faith in you.

Chin up, Malfoy!

Hermione

"Only you would wear a shirt and tie to a park in Central London." Hermione chuckled when she saw him, looking disheveled but grinning. She rolled her eyes. "You're crooked."

She reached up to sort out his tie, running her fingers along the smooth grey silk. His gaze met hers as he stared down at her.

"I've missed you, Granger," he said once she stepped back. "Now that's something I never thought I'd hear myself say."

Hermione gave him an absent smile. "I've missed you too, Malfoy. And all your sarcasm."

"You would pick a park to rival the Forbidden Forest," he said, shaking his head as he stared at the trees all around. "Let's walk. You won't believe the sort of nonsense that's been going on."

He was silent as they ventured into the park, Hermione looking at him every few steps. "Are you alright?"

Malfoy cast her a sidelong glance; there was a tightness to his eyes that she didn't care for. "Not really."

He tugged her to a secluded part of the park, his fingers curled around her wrist, sitting in the grass and leaning back against the trunk of a tree. Hermione frowned at his nice shirt, but dropped into a cross-legged position beside him.

Finally Malfoy turned to her. "Granger, you have to promise me you aren't going to say anything to anyone about what I'm going to tell you. Not Potter, not Weasley, not Dumbledore. No one. Alright?"

"Alright," Hermione said, bracing herself for whatever he had to say.

Even so, his gaze fixed on the ground and he tugged at a few tall strands of grass. "He's angry… because my father failed his mission." His eyes met hers for a brief moment before flickering away. "I overheard Mother talking to my Aunt Bellatrix the other day – he wants me to join him as a replacement. He has… some sort of task for me."

"Malfoy," Hermione gasped, even as terror clutched at her heart and she shook her head. "You can't."

"I may not have a choice," he said. Hermione could see the resignation already within his eyes.

"There's always a choice," she whispered, shaking her head. "You can talk to the Order – they'll protect you. If you join him –"

"And then what, Granger? Abandon my mother?" His tone was sharp, his brow heavy.

Malfoy turned away, releasing a harsh breath. "If I go to the Order, my mother will be killed. I may as well cast the curse myself, because there's not a doubt in my mind what will happen."

"They can protect your mother, too," Hermione said, her voice growing feeble. "There are safe houses, and things…"

He sighed, leaning his head back against the tree trunk. "I've already thought of all this, Hermione. If I want to hide away for the rest of the war, and my mother – which she won't, by the way – but even then, my father? If my mother and I were to disappear, they would kill him and – I don't know what to do, Granger."

Hermione stared at him, the abject horror only growing in her chest.

He chuckled, a cold, dispassionate sound. "The worst part is that I grew up believing in all this bullshite – but now to see his designs of pureblood supremacy put into action – it makes me sick."

Hermione felt her shoulders sag as she caught the dull hopelessness in his eyes. She breathed, "I could help you. What if you… I don't know, informed for the Order?"

"Too much risk," Malfoy said, shaking his head. "If I were found out, again, I'm dead, my mother's dead – there isn't an option here, Granger."

She fixed him with a stern glare. "There's always an option. And I'm not going to stand seeing that bloody awful snake on your arm."

"Self-preservation has always been my go-to, Granger, you should know that by now," he muttered, interlocking his fingers behind his head. "If this is how I survive, then maybe I just get in, keep my head down, and hope something goes wrong inside. And if I don't survive, then at least I know I wouldn't have survived if I had defected either."

"Don't!" Hermione hissed. "You're going to survive – we're both going to survive whatever comes of this all."

"I have a feeling," he said, and fixed her with a long stare. "Whatever this task is – I'm not meant to pull it off. I think this is my father's punishment."

Hermione shook her head, feeling the hot sting of moisture at the corners of her eyes. Frustrated, she pawed at the tears threatening to make themselves known. "That isn't going to happen. Because who will keep me sane, then?"

"No one," he said, and one corner of his mouth quirked upwards. "You'll just go slowly bonkers."

"If I can help you," Hermione said, steeling herself with a deep breath. "Provided it isn't evil or something – I will."

"I appreciate that, Granger," he said, scowling half-heartedly at the ground, picking at the grass again. "But I think evil is sort of the point here. In fact, I won't be surprised if you don't want anything to do with me this year."

He glanced up, meeting her gaze for a moment. His tongue darted out to moisten his lips and he continued, "Which would be a shame."

Hesitant, Hermione's hand caught his where it was resting on the ground. She breathed, "I think it's going to take more than you being forced to do something against your will to get rid of me. But nice try."

Malfoy stared at her hand for a long moment, before rotating his in the grass and locking his fingers with hers. He swallowed, his grey eyes meeting hers again, before he said, "I was hoping you'd say that."

The warmth of his hand tingled in her fingers and raced up the length of her arm; she felt her face heat up at the look in his eyes.

"I think," she said, unable to tear her gaze from his, "you're going to need a friend this year."

"Right," he drawled, his tone low, "probably. You could be my friend. Or, you know..."

Malfoy tugged on her hand that he still held, and Hermione stumbled onto her knees, stabilizing just before she fell forward into his chest. He slid his free hand into her curls, and she found herself grabbing hold of his face, leaning in as his lips caught hers in a brief kiss.

He released a sharp exhale and kissed her again, and Hermione's hands snaked into his pale hair as she kissed him back, tentative at first; her tongue flicked out to meet the seam of his lips and he tugged her closer still, his tongue darting out to catch hers.

Malfoy's hand settled on her back as he kissed her harder; Hermione's heart raced within her chest, her blood pounding in her ears as his touch awoke something within her with which she wasn't entirely familiar.

So when he drew back, grey eyes darkened and heated, his chest heaving a little, Hermione smiled and caught her lower lip between her teeth.

"Right," she agreed, breathless, "or that."

He smirked, his fingers tracing patterns along her spine while his other hand found hers again. "Okay, then."

"What are we doing here?" Hermione asked, gazing beyond the outskirts of Wiltshire. Draco sidled up alongside her, his grey eyes sparkling with something that made her nervous.

With a furtive glance behind him, he tugged a broom out from within a nearby bush.

"Don't even think about it," Hermione breathed, wide-eyed.

"Sure," he said, grinning. "You're coming flying with me. We aren't going to the Manor, don't worry."

"Good," Hermione said, "I can't imagine your mother will take us well."

"I don't believe Mother would mind," he said with a shrug. "It's my Aunt Bellatrix – and she seems to be around more often than not these days." He cast her a furtive glance. "You don't want to meet Bellatrix."

A shudder passed the length of Hermione's spine at the wary tone to his voice.

"But honestly, Mother's best off not knowing too much, either. He's an excellent Legilimens."

"The way things are in the wizarding world, currently," Hermione breathed, "it's probably best to keep this quiet anyway."

Draco nodded, even as his hand slipped into hers. "It's just temporary anyway, right? Until all of this gets cleared up… someday."

"Right." Hermione gave his hand a squeeze.

"So," he said, casting her a sidelong glance as he held the broom steady, "get on."

"Not a chance." She raised a challenging brow.

"Get on the damn broom, Granger," he drawled, turning to face her. "You won't fall. Promise."

Hermione glanced at him, meeting his gaze for a brief moment. She rolled her eyes and mounted the broom, even as she trembled at the thought of being so high in the air.

"I'm trusting you," she whispered as he climbed on behind her, his warm chest tight against her back, and a different sort of shiver chased through her. His breath was hot on her neck as he snaked an arm around her waist.

"Good." He tugged her earlobe between his teeth and with a low chuckle, he kicked off from the ground and the broom shot up into the air.

Hermione stifled a scream on the realization that he held her tightly enough that if she fell, she'd be taking him with her. Forcing her breathing to steady, she settled back against his chest and he adjusted his grip so that he held her even closer.

"It's stunning," she whispered as she stared out at the rolling hills of the countryside, lit in brilliant shades of orange and gold with the setting of the sun.

Draco snickered in her ear. "Didn't I tell you that?"

"I'm going to stay with Ron's family next week for the rest of the summer since my parents are going on holiday to Marseille," Hermione explained, catching a drip running down the edge of her ice cream cone.

Draco scowled but didn't say anything.

"I'll owl you when I can," she said with a glance at the brooding blond. "Oh come on, they won't very well expect me to stay at home by myself, will they?"

He shrugged and took of bite out of his cone. It was Hermione's favourite Muggle ice cream parlour – and the best part was the fact that no one would see them there together, so they didn't need to hide.

Hermione stared at him until he looked up with a huff, the corners of her mouth twitching.

"My parents leave two days before I do. You could come over."

Draco nodded, his eyes widening. "I'll be there."

"How are you feeling?" Hermione asked, burrowing into Draco's chest as he sat beside her on the couch at her parents' house.

It had been a strange sight – Draco Malfoy, in her parents' sitting room. Posh and proper on the floral upholstery. She had nearly giggled, except for the fact that she knew how anxious he was growing about his marking and upcoming task.

"Nervous as hell," he clipped. He glanced at her with a grimace, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I can't believe you're still here with me."

Hermione stared at him, her brow furrowing. "This isn't what you want."

"Right."

"Then I'm not leaving you to deal with it alone."

He frowned, pressing his lips into a thin line. "I think we both know I don't deserve you."

"Cut that out," Hermione murmured. "If this is our last time together before we go back to Hogwarts and have to face who knows what, let's enjoy it, yeah?"

"Right," he said, with a sigh. His lips twitched. "What did you have in mind?"

Hermione smiled. "Have you ever seen a movie?"

"Okay wait, these aren't real lions? What's the point of this, then?"

"It's animation," Hermione said, smiling. "And the point is entertainment. Wizards could stand to learn a few things from Muggles about how to tell a proper children's story."

Draco rolled his eyes but settled back against the couch, one arm slung around Hermione, and one ankle bent across his other knee.

"The dad dies!" he exclaimed, outraged, "this is for children?"

Hermione fired him a look and nodded, her brow furrowing as she watched Simba say goodbye to his father, Mufasa. "Just watch, would you?"

His brows flickered but he fell silent for a while. Until –

"There is no way a lion would befriend a warthog and a meerkat," he scoffed, shaking his head. "And now they're singing!"

"Draco?" Hermione asked, leaning in.

"What?" he bit out. "This is completely unrealistic!"

Hermione smiled, and sang, quietly, "Hakuna Matata."

Draco huffed an irritated breath through his nose, shaking his head at her.

Hermione glanced over when the movie finished and Draco was looking away, a suspicious furrow to his brow. He chewed on his tongue and a wrinkle came to the bridge of his nose.

"What did you think?" she asked, nudging him in the side.

"It was fine." He pursed his lips and sniffled. "Stupid bloody lions, you know?"

"I know."

As Hermione stared at him, his eyes a bit watery, she smiled. It was such a simple thing – watching a movie together – but as she realized it was to be their last carefree time together before returning to Hogwarts – the smile slid from her face.

She grasped his free hand and tugged it into hers. His eyes slid to follow the movement, and then met her own. His head tilted, as if reading her thoughts, and he pressed a kiss to her hair.

"Things are going to be different this year, Granger," Draco said, his voice quiet. "I just feel it. I don't want you to look at me and see a monster."

He swallowed, glancing away.

"I don't," she breathed. "I'm with you, Draco. Just promise me, no matter what happens, you'll come to me if you need to get out, okay? Promise me things between us won't change."

He stared at her for a long moment, until the tension grew and hung heavy between them. "The rest of my summer is probably going to be a nightmare. I'm not going to drag you into anything, Granger. And if it comes down to that –"

"If it comes down to it, I'll get you out," she hissed. "I don't care what it takes – or if your whole bloody family has to go underground –"

"Granger," Draco sighed, and she abruptly closed her mouth. He pressed his eyes shut for a long beat, and Hermione forgot to breathe. "I can't see you hurt. Whatever that means, in the future. I'd sooner walk away, if it means keeping you safe." She could see in his eyes, the words he didn't say – safe from him.

Hermione released a harsh breath. "It won't come to that."

"Merlin willing," he muttered, and Hermione could see the strain, tight around his eyes. She wished there was something she could do. His head dropped against the back of the couch and he released a long breath that spoke the volumes his words couldn't.

"We'll deal with all that when the time comes," Hermione breathed, shifting to straddle his lap.

"I need you to know something, Granger," Draco said, tucking one of her curls behind her ear. "I need you to know I care about you. In case anything ever happens to make you doubt that – and please know that will never change."

"Draco," Hermione whispered, feeling the hot sting of tears. "I care about you, too. And that will never change, either. Because I know you." She pressed a hand against his chest and he nodded.

He pulled her against him, burying a hand in her hair, and Hermione felt the sentiment strumming through her veins as his tongue met hers, his teeth catching her lower lip, his hands sweeping her back and sides.

And her eyes fell shut, and just for a while, Hermione allowed herself to succumb to the feel of him.