((A.N. A bit of a shorter chapter, but one I think you all will like! As always review and tell me what you think! :) ))

Amongst the clutter and packed atmosphere of the Room of Requirement, bathed in silence and soft light from the sun outdoors, Hermione's mind pulsed with emotion, reservation, and confusion.

There hadn't been a single sound from either her or Draco from the moment they had arrived there to start their studying. In fact, the only words spoken had occurred forty minutes ago, when Draco had awoken Hermione from her late Sunday morning slumber by softly knocking on her door. He smiled as her half-asleep form peeked out from behind the door, he had only said, "Ready?"

And ten minutes after that, she had gotten dressed and ready, and the two made their way wordlessly to the Room of Requirement.

Neither said a thing to one another. Hermione didn't bother to ask how Draco had even made his way into the Gryffindor Common Room, much less up to the girls dormitories. Neither had established at any point that they would be studying in the Room. The two had just sort of walked along together within some unspoken understanding.

The weirdest part of all? It felt normal, comfortable, natural even to Hermione. It was like she could just peacefully coexist with him, easily and without words.

She wondered if he felt the same as she watched him leaf through the thick pages of Flamel's books for the thousandth time. Regardless of how many times the two had scoured the pages cover to cover, Draco never lost vigilance. He was focused, concentrated, his eyes poring over each word to ensure he didn't miss anything important.

Hermione didn't think she had ever admired someone so much.

Draco wasn't hard on the eye at that moment either. Among the soft golden beams of light that were projected from the high windows in the Room, he looked composed and as angelic as ever, his pale skin almost translucent and his white-blonde hair gleaming. Even surrounded by the huge mess of bookcases, scattered boxes, loose pieces of furniture, and every other item anyone had ever come to hide in the Room, Draco stood out and so distracted Hermione. He could have been the only thing in the room.

For so long, Hermione had suppressed every single trace of emotion she had felt within her since she had gotten close to Draco. She tried so hard to convince herself that he was an awful person and that her physical attraction meant nothing. He was a pompous ass, a conniving, selfish Slytherin with no other care in the world except for himself. He was one of her very first enemies, a person she knew she could never be civil around, let alone associate with. A different timeline she had never even knew existed proved that very fact.

And yet, there he was.

Sitting silently across from her at a square wooden table, eyes still boring into the yellowed pages, calm as ever.

And she didn't hate him.

Could she possibly even…?

Hermione wouldn't let herself finish the thought, in fear of the answer. She decided quickly she would save that decision for another time, another place.

Despite Hermione's loud, bursting mind, she managed to uphold a still outer nature, almost matching Draco's, but not quite. She didn't think she could ever accomplish the same perennial state of such ease that he invariably had, in any situation, any time of day.

And suddenly she couldn't take it anymore.

"Draco?"

Her voice was a lot quieter than she anticipated. Nevertheless, he looked up, his blue eyes peering at her through his light lashes. He still didn't say a word, waiting for her to continue.

Hermione swallowed, trying to formulate words from her swirling train of thought.

"Can you tell me something?"

Draco cocked his head to the side in response, but still said nothing.

"Why is it that," She continued. "I can study anything and everything from front to back, memorize every spell there is, perform them with ease, and understand all there is to know about magic, but when I try to figure you out, I have nothing?"

Draco continued to stare.

"Why can't I figure out what you are, what your actions are for, anything?"

Draco only half-smiled.

"What do you even care about? I know you care about yourself. But then sometimes you don't. I know you couldn't possibly care about me. And yet..."

The event from the previous night flashed through her mind.

"I mean, who are you?" Hermione prompted. "You are nothing I thought I knew."

Draco smiled even bigger, looking away from her. If he was bashful, his cheeks didn't show a hint of rouge. If he was amused, she couldn't tell. Whatever his smile was holding, it mysteriously hid it all.

Draco stood and walked the short distance over to where Hermione was sitting. His tall stature seemed to tower over her, the golden light from above creating an aura all around him.

Slowly, she stood to match his position. This time, she remained silent until he finally spoke.

"Come with me,"

His voice was so soft, it could have been inside Hermione's own mind for all she knew.

She watched as Draco steadily meandered away from her and into the behemoth maze of objects. Slowly, she followed.

They stopped once Draco reached a certain bookcase near a certain cabinet.

"Look at this," Draco said, pointing to a single scarlet rose that was placed in a slender glass vase on the second to highest shelf. It was slightly wilted, it's long stem leaning to the right a little.

"A rose?" Came Hermione's confused reply.

"Yes. Look at it. It's not the most beautiful rose you've ever seen now, is it?"

Hermione shrugged then shook her head.

"It's wilted," Draco continued. "Looks like it doesn't quite get enough water."

Hermione nodded.

"But look. It's still a nice rose. The petals are still alive and well, aren't they?"

Hermione studied the flower and realized he was right; regardless of it's slanted appearance, the rose's head was vibrantly red, each petal gleaming and without a hint of brittle or brown edges.

"Must be a charm or something." Hermione suggested.

Draco shrugged. "Could be. But do you know what's interesting?"

Hermione faced him head on in reply.

"In my time, before I had used any turner to screw things up, I saw this rose."

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows.

"It's true. I came into the Room almost everyday to use this." Draco said, placing his hand upon the Vanishing Cabinet in front of him.

"I saw that rose every time I came in. It never once moved from its place. The only difference?

It wasn't this beautiful. It was browning, shriveling, and dying. Each time I came in to see it, it was worse. I always made sure every window in this room was sealed shut. I was so paranoid someone would be able to see what I was doing and ruin the plans that I was taking part of, so I closed every single window in here. It was always so dark, but I could do what I was supposed to do without any worry of being caught. So that little flower not getting any light was the least of my worries."

Hermione listened intently, gazing at Draco in every word of his speech, not even making a sound through movement.

"But look at the rose here. In this time, it's beautiful and wonderful and alive. Look at all the light that it's able to take in. It's changing, it is."

"It's still wilting though. Someone's still not watering it." Hermione pointed out, as she turned back to face the rose again.

Draco nodded and half-smiled, turning to face the same direction as she.

"So you see?" He said. "It can exist in both times and it in some aspects it's the same. But look at all the difference just a little bit of light brings."

Hermione felt something twist and burn inside her chest, bubbling to the surface of her emotions in the most pleasant way possible. She felt something so deep, wonderful, and new. Her mind felt abruptly at ease, the million thoughts she had been pushing down relaxed and forgotten.

She turned to face Draco once again and closed the space between them until her chest touched his. She reached for his hand, her eyes never leaving his, and intertwined her fingers in his.

For a moment, he did nothing, his face expressionless and revealing nothing. Then suddenly, he squeezed her hand hard and pulled her arm so it extended to wrap around his waist.

And then before Hermione even realized what was happening, his lips were on hers, hard but passionate, deepening intensity with each second.

Draco cupped Hermione's cheek with one of his hands, fingers lacing and brushing through her honey-brown curls.

They kissed for what seemed like lifetimes, and Hermione was somehow simultaneously in two timelines at once, experience an extreme so intense it brought her to the threshold of reality, therefore making it almost nonexistent. In that moment, there was only Draco, nuzzled into her.

Time was meaningless. It always had been. Only the two of them existed, connecting energies on a level deeper than any construct of magic or human nature. They were exactly where they were supposed to be in time and space, in the very moment both of their lives had all led up to.

And as unknowingly as it had begun, it was over. Somehow, one of them had pulled away and the two were back to simply gazing into each other's eyes once again.

Neither said a word. It was like before, the same unspoken understanding. Hermione's mind was completely at peace.

There was nothing to think about, and nothing more to say.