Disclaimer: I am not JKR and that means I'm not writing this for profit. I am claiming no rights to the original content borrowed from the published works of "Harry Potter."

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Rain is pouring down so hard that even the hardiest of students find it blinding. The timing is unfortunate, because at Hogwarts the fall rain always makes the largest messes. Wet leaves can be found coating the floors and walls at every entrance, and mud splattered all over everything regardless of how isolated the space was in the building. Aside from that, much time gets wasted on using magic to dry wet robes and socks between classes. Hogwarts is not a pretty sight on a day like this…

…but not everyone finds days like this displeasing.

As it happens, these are the days that Hermione Granger admires most. Being wound up so tight most days, this is her tiny act of rebellion to her peers and the world around her. The Owlery is the farthest building away from the castle that she can get without breaking any rules and without wasting her time. She dresses in comfortable clothes and jogs her way through the downpour to be free of her usual stresses.

Nobody is ever around to distract her, which allows her to consume all the beautiful aspects of the world during this weather. The air is thick from the moisture forcing a fog to rise from the still warm earth beneath her feet; the faint scent of flowers as they are dying with the season; and the raw odor of mud puddles forming along the beaten path everyone takes out to the Owlery for their mailing needs.

Normally the temperature is still warm, but there have been strong winds throughout the day that forces a chill into the bones. Hermione tightens her Gryffindor scarf around her neck as she continues racing closer the Owlery, although she raises her left hand to double check the zipper and buttons on her jacket, ensuring that the letter she's brought to send her parents has not been touched by water. She placed a waterproofing charm on her envelope before she left the castle but her perfectionism is never truly turned off.

Though Hermione is very much the same Hermione that her best friends, Harry and Ron, know her to be, she is not completely the same either. Everyone envisions her as this simple scholar and shrew. They think she's flat, static, and with no true depth to her personality. But she really isn't and she thinks about how normal she is when she's at home.

Hermione worries about her make-up when she's going out with her friends. She checks to see if her clothes flatter her figure before she leaves the house. Teenage romance fiction, fashion magazines, and trash television occupy some of her free time during summer holiday. Hermione is much more than the "insufferable know-it-all" that Snape proclaimed her to be two years ago.

Fitting in at Hogwarts has always been a challenge for Hermione. Often teachers use her intellect and her work ethic as an example to the other students, making her feel and look as if she's on a pedestal far above her peers. Aside from that, her priorities have always been different from the others. They like to play pranks and whisper about drama where Hermione prefers to read and drink tea.

And then there's this, running through the rain while everyone else plays board games and tells ghost stories around the fireplace in the common room.

The rain beats down and forces her normally unruly waves and curls flat against her face. Each strand clings desperately to her cheeks, which must be flushed of all color with the harshness of the wind whipping against her exposed face. Her arms wrap around her chest and increases the speed at which she is running.

Hermione sends weekly updates to her parents, and this week it details how vile and useless Professor Umbridge is as a teacher. The intervention of the Ministry in educational affairs is affecting how the class is taught to the point that it may as well not even be a part of the curriculum. No magic has been done in the class, and she finds this frustrating beyond the words she's managed to scratch onto the enclosed parchment. Hermione dared to write that she feels Umbridge is aiming to have Hogwarts closed entirely. She is adamant, as well, not to allow Umbridge to interfere with the quality of education students are entitled to have – she won't be going down without a fight.

Hermione thinks about how careful she must be about the wording in her letters. If she lets on too much, her parents will realize just how dangerous things are becoming in the wizarding world. They were hesitant to send her to school this year just based on some of the strange happenings in the Muggle world. If they pull her from Hogwarts now, she may never be allowed to return. The only thing that she is sure of about herself is that magic is an important part of her life and she cannot lose it. This world is hers.

As she lifts her chin, the Owlery appears closer than she anticipates. Pausing, she assesses where Hedwig might be sitting today. She doesn't go to one place the way the Weasley's owl does, but she is by no means complaining about it. Harry is kind to share Hedwig with her and she has nothing but gratitude for this. However, tracking her down takes a fair amount of time. With the wind, Hermione is willing to bet she'll be on one of the lower levels, and then she resumes jogging towards the stone structure ahead of her.

Losing herself in the nature is easier than others might guess. Today she thinks she'll sit in the Owlery and look around the campus and the vast beauty that it offers. A soft laugh rumbles in her throat before she lets it out, "Thinking like a painter now, eh, Granger van Gogh?" She silently compares the ideals of a painter to those of a professor practicing divinations, and it causes her to laugh again with more frivolity.

Hermione feels the water dripping over her eyes when she finally slides beneath the entrance of the Owlery with a momentary bit of cover to shake the excess rain from her body. As soon as she's wriggled herself lighter she keeps her pace and starts up the stairs. She is racing and breathing heavily so she barely notices the mass of black when she whips into the doorway of the first level. Together they fall over onto the small balcony in the rain. Tangled limbs make it hard for either person to identify the other initially.

Though Hermione speaks first, worrying that the other student may have hit his or her head on the stone. The person has a hood and when a hand is lifted to their face she notices blood. In an instant her wand is out mending their injury, without even properly seeing whom she's run into in the first place; "Do you have any other injuries? That was a nasty fall and I don't make much of a cushion, I'm afraid."

The person wobbles a second so she reaches out to steady him. Of course, Hermione knows it's a "him" now because she sees his hands clearly. Unfortunately, she would recognize those hands anywhere. They belong to none other than…

"You best watch where you're going next time, Granger."

The infamous Draco Malfoy. Frustration bleeds from the expression he's wearing when his hood falls from his face. Soaked head to toe as well, Hermione wonders if Draco came out here on purpose. All the years that she's been sneaking away to the Owlery she has never come across another student outside at the same time.

Draco brushes past her, making sure to bump her again to make a scene of his disgust that he is equally at fault for the fall. Hermione recalls how his bullying of her specifically has diminished slightly over the last few years. No longer were his insults directed at just her, but at everyone evenly. Yes, there were still pointed jabs but they lacked the aggressive malice they used to bear in each syllable. And now, he's walking away without so much as a demeaning sneer.

Confidence wells in her gut; she's stood up to him before and she can do it again. Hermione follows him down a step and makes her demand clear over the pounding of the rain all around them; "Say 'thank you' now, Malfoy!"

He pauses a few steps ahead of her, so she steps closer again. One, two more steps. Only one separates them now, so she repeats herself with a softer tone; "I apologized and I healed your lip. Show some courtesy."

Draco shivers in the cold but turns to face her anyway. His lips are tinted blue, suggesting he's been in the rain almost as long as she has, and something about that lightens her mood. Also, he appears weak somehow. As if there is something unknown gnawing at him and he could crumble under the pressure of it at anytime; "Not a chance, Granger."

In any other scenario, Draco should be walking away. Something keeps him there, and even motivates him to eliminate the gap between them. They are only inches away, the closest they've ever been to one another. A sudden heat rushes through Hermione's veins and her breaths become shallow. Seeing Malfoy so clearly makes him more human to her in a way she cannot explain.

His eyes sparkle like the water on the Black Lake on a spring afternoon. His skin has an even tone, his jawline as straight and squared as the hundreds she's seen in every Muggle magazine she's read. Rightfully, Draco Malfoy is a handsome young man. Even though Hermione has never found him personally unattractive, she's neither identified him as attractive either. He has always been just another judging face.

It does not look like he's judging her now. Hermione raises her wand again, lifting her hand to push his chin just slightly to the right. There's a small gash on his jaw that's spotting with blood. She has magic at her disposal, and a quick "Episky" fixes it straight away. Her hands lingers on his face for a moment and then she begins to lift her hand; "Really, Malfoy, you should thank me. You wouldn't want your admirers to see you less than perfect."

Draco smirks, but not the way he usually does when he's looking at her from across the hall. In fact, as Hermione thinks on it – he's often caught gazing at the Gryffindor table. Usually it is specifically so he can sneer anyone who catches him, and more often than not it is Hermione who sneers right back at him. More than once Harry would crush his food or crumple a paper in rage about something Malfoy has done to cause him stress and she would come to his rescue, turning him away and glaring Malfoy down until he looks away.

No, the way his lips twist into a smile right now is different, genuine. His voice shares with the rain the same smooth, crisp, clarity; "I suppose I should show my gratitude."

A split second of her old fear causes her to flinch when he raises his own hand to catch hers, working his limb around hers so that he is holding her hand. Hermione is trembling at how distinctly familiar this scene feels to those that she shared with Viktor Krum last year: the proximity, the hands, and the flirtatious glances away from her eyes. Even though in her heart she knows what comes next, she plays the fool.

"I'll take your thanks at any time, Draco. It wouldn't kill you to be kind to me, just this once." Of course, it might kill her if he's as kind as she thinks he may be.

"No, I suppose if nobody knows." Draco moves first, pushing his nose against hers, leaving her breathless. Everything about this scene is wrong, and Hermione knows it. This is the sort of thing that causes drama, and starts nasty rumors, and probably causes wars. Yes, this feels dangerously like Romeo & Juliet and she should pull away. Each and every ounce of logic in her blood is trying to convince her to turn him down – he was a bully to her for years, and even this year he's not been friendly to her. Aside from that, his family would have her killed if they could. The Malfoys are a family of purists – of Death Eaters! Draco Malfoy is, in every way, the actual enemy of Harry's cause, of her cause.

Yet, when Draco breathes out; "Thank you," she feels the world stop turning. Time stands still and the taste of his toothpaste mixed with the wet scent of freshly cut grass in the air crimples Hermione's logic. Without even realizing that she moves, she does, and in perfect time with Draco.

All at once they're kissing – in the rain – at the Owlery – with not a single witness to the boundaries they are crossing with each second the kiss becomes deeper and impassioned. How they will keep this secret, she has no idea, nor does she particularly wish to know. Nobody knows that she roams the campus during a downpour and nobody has to ever know about this either. When they part, each gasping for air, she abruptly lets go of him, not realizing she had even pulled him into her at all.

"Oh Merlin, what have I done?" Hermione mutters in horror.

"More damning for me, wouldn't you agree?" Draco sighs, shoulders rolling fluidly as he shoves his hands back into his pockets. He looks for a moment as if he's going to say something witty, but he settles on something serious instead; "This changes nothing. I'm still the enemy."

Hermione sputters out a strained cackle; "Nothing?"

"Not for me anyway," Draco watches her with the softest expression she's ever seen him sport. Were he not a Malfoy, she thinks, would she have been interested? All these years, if he were someone else, would she have fawned over his every move? Would she have liked him, had a crush on him, or more? She closes her eyes and taps her fingers rapidly on her leg considering the possibility.

He is her intellectual equal, the only legitimate challenge she has in the classroom. Like her, among his friends he's known for always having an answer for anything asked. His friend group is small, limited to people who do not share similar interests or aspirations. It happens across her mind that maybe there's more to this boy, more than his harsh reputation for biting insults at those who do not meet his standards – more to this boy than his nose being poked in a book practicing new spells between classes and during meals – more to this boy than his desire to be as perfect as he can manage.

Hermione opens her eyes, Draco unmoving with curiosity in his eyes now. Perhaps he wasn't expecting her to really consider the events that just transpired between them. But she does, and she grins at him; "Not for you, huh?"

"Funny how people act when everyone's watching, isn't it?" Draco snickers, in actual joy. Hermione's heart races at this new side of him. Was he always this way?

Hermione slides her fingers into the belt loops of her skintight jeans, "We never were enemies, were we?" The wind hits her teeth and she peels her lips back over them, running her tongue over each individual tooth to wipe away the sensitive feeling that lingers. The taste of Draco kissing her fills her mouth just as potently as before, and she finds that she yearns for more.

Draco walks back up the steps. His eyes lock onto hers, and it feels as if their time is running out during that time. The world is spinning again and it is going to tear them apart. Hermione keeps her gaze locked onto his and waits for him; "I hoped not."

This time she moves first, and they meet for one last tender kiss before Draco leaves without another word. As Hermione searches floor after floor of the Owlery for Hedwig, she stops to let her body relax. As she sits she hears a crinkle in her pocket, and not the pocket where her letter to her parents is tucked away. No, this is her right pocket on the outside. Inside of it is a carefully folded piece of parchment, smelling as though it's just come from the wrapping, which rattles a bit when she starts to peel away the layers to open the note. She whispers the words to herself:

"There is an owl tucked away on the topmost level there is an Eagle owl with a silver band around his left leg. You may use him for your letters so that any interested parties do not intercept them. My family will not be under any scrutiny, but I cannot say the same of your friends. I hope this helps in some small way.

As for the bracelet, I've planned this exchange for some time. It is my request that you accept it as a token of my sincerest apologies for all that has happened, and all that may yet still come."

Hermione holds the bracelet a few inches from her face, letting it dangle loosely in the air from her thumb. The bracelet looks expensive, and she's sure that it is probably the nicest piece of jewelry she'll ever own in her life. The metal looks to be silver with alternating gems around the entire piece – diamonds and emeralds. Clearly a message is being sent with this bracelet beyond the 'apologies' it is meant to signify.

"Well, I guess that answers that question," Hermione clasps the token of Draco's affections around her wrist. What will come of this unpredictable turn of events, she is unsure, but as it stands she will take Draco at his word. There is nothing incriminating in her letter, nothing to raise concern, and so she'll use his owl. She'll wear this bracelet. An unspoken connection will exist between them after kissing in the rain today until she has a reason to believe they really are enemies after all.

It is a one hell of a risk, but she cannot shake the feeling that there's an ally buried deep inside of Draco Malfoy. He's not like his parents. Someday her life may depend on him, and if she is right – he'll prove himself the man she knows he is capable of becoming with the right nudge.

Author's Note (1):

The original version of this story was posted on May 23, 2011. In this posting there were some problematic dynamics between Draco and Hermione. As I've grown more socially aware of how entertainment affects how people come to see their own relationships, I felt that this story needing updating in a way that makes Draco and Hermione's dynamic healthier. The original posting of this contained 1,547 words whereas I've expanded the story to a whopping 3,116 words (over double)!