woefully tiny. A Valentines card from Krum peeked out of the pages of her sketchbook. She smiled as she rescued it and added it to a shoebox stuffed full of cards, letters and Ron's numerous in-class doodles. There was one of Snape which had nearly resulted in detention for all three of them.
She was folding a raincoat and adding it to the 'clothes' pile in her trunk, when the knock at the door sounded.
"Come in," she called out. She had no idea who it could be. Ginny had just left for the Great Hall and there wasn't anyone else in Gryffindor House, presently, besides the Head Girl.
Hermione was thus was rendered momentarily speechless to find Draco standing in the doorway. He seemed to fill up the space with little left over.
"Draco! How did you get in here?"
"Potter let me in." For some reason, he found this fact amusing.
Seeing Draco in Gryffindor House was a lot like seeing a polar bear in a tropical rainforest. Hermione blinked to refocus her thoughts. He was looking intense and sombre, in all-black. And very handsome. He had obviously washed up for dinner. How lucky. She hadn't found the time.
"I thought Harry was already downstairs. We're doing this combined sit down for dinner."
"So I hear." He tapped his long fingers against his thigh. "Are you going to invite me in or shall we continue this conversation with me standing in the corridor?" There was a teasing quality to his voice.
Hermione blushed. "Of course. Please come in." How could it be that it still felt so awkward doing simple things with him? That was probably because arguing was the norm for them. She made to clear a spot on the bed, but he said he preferred to stand.
"Is something the matter?" she immediately asked.
Draco's face turned serious. "Yes, as a matter of fact."
Hermione frowned. "What is it?"
"Do you love me?"
She gaped at him, not certain if she had heard the question correctly. "Draco," she asked him carefully, "what's wrong? Is this about your promise?"
"Nothing's wrong, except that this is the part where you say it back to me."
Had she not been so flustered, Hermione would have noticed the uncharacteristic pout in his voice.
"You surprised me. I didn't expect to see you standing there, let alone saying what you justsaid." She caught herself before she started rambling to cover her nervousness. "I do love you," she whispered, staring at her feet.
She could feel her blush reach nuclear levels of brilliance.
His answering smile was toothy. He looked about ten years old. "You have no idea how good it is to hear that from you." He held out his hand. "I'd like to show you something. Come with me."
Hermione's eyebrows rose. "Now? What about dinner?"
"Screw dinner. It won' t take long," he assured. It was all very Draco. Hermione couldn't help but grin in response. She didn't want to appear too pleased that he had bothered to seek her out so soon after their afternoon encounter, but in truth she was beyond ecstatic.
"Okay, just give me a second." Hermione attempted to shut her trunk, but the sheer amount of clothing made the task difficult. She tried sitting on it. "By the way, I solved a little mystery earlier today."
"What mystery would that be?" he asked, leaning against the closed door.
She smiled. "The origins of your uh, fertilizer advertisement."
One second. Two secondsthree, three and a half. "Did you, now?" he replied.
That small delay was all it took. He had no idea about the Nutrisoil cap.
The realisation that she was not currently speaking to Draco struck Hermione with the force of speeding Bludger. Her blood froze in her veins. She prayed to God he couldn't see the colour drain from her face almost as if a plug had been pulled. Her eyes strayed over his shoulder, in what she hoped was a casual manner, to where her spare robes hung on the hook behind the door.
Hermione had shoved her wand inside the left pocket. The tip was just visible.
Harry could do wandless Accio at short distances.
Pity she was not Harry Potter.
"Do you need help with that?" he stared pointedly at her trunk. Her weight had not been enough to seal the thing.
Damn. She suddenly wished for Lavender's artful naivete or Pansy Parkinson' s impenetrable wall of indifference. Her own earnestness was going to bury her. She avoided looking at the Imposter directly in the eye, knowing her obvious anxiety would be the first thing to give