Smells Like Teen Spirit

The Drugs Don't Work

January 14, 1998

Hermione stood on the edge of the frozen Black Lake, trembling in her transfigured skates. She shook her head. "Nope - not going to do it."

Draco scoffed, "Really? I told you - it's spelled so you're perfectly safe."

She glared at him. "I understand the magic, but there's just something - uncomfortable with trusting a thin layer of ice not to crack beneath my weight and draw me into its depths."

"Alright, well, I'm going to skate." He took off without warning, just skating around the lake for a bit before turning around, skating backwards and gesturing to her with his hands. Hermione crossed her arms over her chest, eyes narrowed at the boy.

He skated up and stopped abruptly in front of her. "Well?" he asked, slightly out of breath.

"Where'd you learn to skate?" she asked, suddenly aware of how close they were.

They had, since New Years, behaved as if their kiss had never happened, meeting occasionally by the Black Lake still, even with the snow a half a foot high. She had felt — disappointed at first, believing for a moment their kiss had meant something more than simply a New Year's greeting. But, as she watched him on the ice, his grey beanie planted firmly on his head, she was reminded of what he had come to mean to her, without the complication of romantic entanglement.

"As a child, I wanted to play hockey," he admitted with a slight shrug.

She opened her mouth in disbelief. "You? Played hockey?"

"Well, as I said, I wanted to play hockey. My father would have none of it though - insisted on buying me a broom and signed me up for children's Quidditch leagues. But whenever I had a chance, I'd practice." He skated in circles, forcing her to keep turning her head to keep an eye on him.

It made sense - that his rebellion started so young - with something as simple as sport . She couldn't imagine that kind of pressure, of only being able to play a proper sport - whatever such a thing meant. She wondered how Draco had turned out so warm and kind.

"That must have been hard," she started, watching him once more come to a stop about a foot from where she stood. "I mean, not being able to explore the things you wanted to do."

He nodded, looking past her towards the castle in the distance. "I don't think I ever really appreciated this place until this year. For the last seven years, I could come to this school and simply be free , not have to worry about my father or the weight of my last name. We take it for granted, you know? These moments."

She wondered what was going through his mind to cause him to wax so philosophical. She understood to some extent the pressures he was under, but from the worried glances that Harry would send his way and how Draco would grimace at any reference to his father, she imagined there was quite a bit she was missing.

"What precisely is it you're expected to do after we graduate?" She held out her hand to him, allowing him to slowly pull her around the lake. He was thankfully quite careful and didn't say anything when she squeezed his hand for dear life.

"Well..." She felt his words against the back of her neck, his tobacco hinted breath causing goosebumps to form on her shoulder. "I'm expected to learn the family business - right away. We own a conglomerate - and through it a number of entities, both magical and Muggle. I'm also expected to marry very quickly - ideally someone with the right 'breeding' or with proper 'connections'."

She frowned, feeling a sudden weight in her stomach at his words. Not that she had any illusions about their future, but the idea that anything between them was utterly impossible was like a punch to the gut.