Alone Together

Draco Almost Dies Again

Despite herself, Hermione couldn't help spending at least some of what she hoped was her last day at Hogwarts in the library. The pair sat in their favorite chairs, skimming through books hoping to find some sort of map of the Forbidden Forest considering Draco still had no idea where he was supposed to lead them.

They had already gathered food from the kitchen, which was when Draco pointed out they only needed to carry food for one. While stashing it in Hermione's trunk, Hermione had also come to a realization.

"We can bring a change of clothes." she said wonderingly. Draco stopped and looked at her.

"We can, bring a change of clothes," he repeated, breaking into the most real smile she had seen from him. Laughing joyously, he began tearing through his trunk to find his favorites.

"Oh I've missed you," he buried his head in a black shirt, a very unDracolike display of affection.

"It smells like me," he murmured, breathing deeply into the fabric. "Damn, I smelled good,"

"Smelled?" Hermione asked, emphasizing the past tense, "Don't you smell like you right now? Since you know- you're you?"

Draco snickered.

"Oh no. How I smell now is probably the worst I've ever smelled in my entire life. Girls used to follow me around just because of my alluring scent." he stroked his shirt longingly. When he saw her doubtful expression, he held out his shirt.

"See for yourself," he smirked.

Hermione couldn't believe she was really going to smell Draco's shirt. But, she was in too good a mood with the prospect of escape that she complied. Grabbing the soft black fabric, she brought it to her nose and inhaled.

It smelled like refinement, like how a fancy party would smell, but also slightly wild, like an untamed flower garden at midnight. Hermione couldn't help herself and inhaled again, this time catching a hint of crisp apple, and was that.. Parchment? She couldn't deny that it definitely fit him, but it bothered her that she thought it smelled so good.

Tossing it back to him carelessly, she refused to look at his smug face.

"Not bad," she understated nonchalantly.

"Is that so," Draco murmured, and with a self-satisfied smirk he turned back to his trunk. Hermione was glad he turned away before he saw how her cheeks colored slightly.

Hermione shook the memory away and tried to focus back on the book she was reading. Without thinking, she suddenly propped her feet up Draco's knee. Realizing it too late, Hermione knew she couldn't take them down now. Out of the corner of her eye she saw Draco look up at her for almost a minute, as if waiting for her to notice and realize her mistake, but she refused to look up and acknowledge her unconscious act of familiarity.

Eventually he returned to his book and didn't say a thing about it. A few minutes after that, Crookshanks trotted up and hopped into Draco's lap. Hermione was glad there was no one in the library to see the bizarre scene of the two supposed enemies sitting together, and Hermione with her feet propped up on Draco's leg and her cat sitting on his lap.

"Um, is your cat trying to tell me something, Hermione?"

There was her name again. Hearing it in his voice was something she didn't think she could ever get used to.

"Granger," he said more sharply, and the slight spell she had been in, broke.

She looked to see her cat sitting in his lap with a maple leaf in his mouth. Crookshanks set it down on Draco's lap and looked up at him expectantly.