----
"And if love be madness, may I never find sanity again."
~John Mark Green
----

The days until New Year's Eve went on without further event. Hermione and Draco would meet everyday to study, each of them taking pains to be like they had been before the engagement party. Draco couldn't help glancing at Hermione ever so often, but he found that she never thought to sneak glances at him.

Maria's parents had recently insisted that they meet Draco's parents for dinner at the Manor. Maria had been hesitant, thinking Draco may not be willing to move forward so soon, but Draco had no reason to decline. Besides, his mother wanted the company, and his father could use a change of routine. So he had invited Maria and her parents over to dinner three days back. Having already been acquainted at the engagement party, their parents got on surprisingly well. Noah Hardingson was a good natured man, and Helena Hardingson's witty tongue kept them all amused throughout the course of dinner. Maria and Draco had later shared a walk in the garden, where she had quietly asked him if he really wanted this. 

He had said yes, having snubbed the thought of a single word that had popped into his head: Hermione. 

They had then shared a brief kiss, much like the one at the party. Neither were ready to take things further than just soft brushes of the lips, or soft touches of their fingers against the other's arms. 

"She's a good girl," was the only thing Pansy had said about Maria when asked, without even looking up from Witch Weekly. 

Draco noticed that Pansy had warmed towards Hermione, and that they now had what one would call a 'frenemity'. Pansy had said herself that Hermione had some guts and that she was smart, and Hermione had, on her behalf, claimed Pansy 'Strong, independant and rather nice after all'.

Mr. Blak had suggested that they meet him on alternate days at the apothecary for tests and practice. The apothecary, although closed for the Holidays, was open to emergencies and Ministry orders. Mr. Blak would ask them to brew potions and give them written tests everyday. It was an unspoken agreement to have a silent competition as to who scored better, but so far they were on a tie, with full marks in each test.

"Have you read through the lesson on Amortentia?" Mr. Blak asked on the second last day of the year. It was snowing outside, and having just arrived from the Leaky Cauldron, Hermione's hair had a fresh dusting of snow over it. 

Hermione and Draco nodded. 

"You will be brewing a cauldron each, and then you will be taking the test which I have prepared," Mr. Blak said, lifting two sheets of parchment up and waving them through the air, "You have an hour to brew the potion, go on. The second part of the brewing needs to be taken care of by you for the next seven days."

Hermione unwrapped the black scarf which she had designated her own property from around her neck, and Draco could see all the little flecks of snow that clung to her hair and shoulders. 

"You've got snow all over you," Draco said, dusting some of it off her shoulder. 

"I was walking in it," Hermione said with a small smirk, the challenging kind that only Draco ever got to see. 

They found that Mr. Blak had already arranged a cauldron on either workbench, with all the ingredients lined up in the proper order. 

Draco took off his own scarf, fondly and discreetly brushing his finger over the white 'B.F.' in the corner. 

And so they worked. Potion water went into the cauldron, the flame was turned low. Peppermint flowers and Peppermint leaves. Powdered moonstone, stirring thrice between each spoonful, added until the potion was saturated. A handful of rose thorns, carefully added so that they would not pierce skin. A silk cloth was quickly placed over the cauldron to trap the pearly vapours arising from it. 

"Done yet?" Mr. Blak asked when precisely an hour had passed. 

"Yes, we are," Hermione answered for both of them. They slipped their aprons off and went to the front, where Mr. Blak was waiting with two clipboards and some parchment. 

"Half an hour," Mr. Blak handed the clipboards and sheets of parchment to them, and they sat down behind the counter to begin writing. 

It was exceptionally easy. Draco breezed his way through the short questions first, then proceeded to the little longer questions. His quill, which had previously been Hermione's, scratched enthusiastically against the parchment. 

"I'm done," Hermione said, precisely two seconds before Draco put down his own quill. 

"You have nearly five minutes to spare," Mr. Blak said, nodding appreciatively, "Good time management."

Draco took Hermione's sheet from her and handed both of them to Mr. Blak. 

"Go home, if you want, or do whatever," Mr. Blak said, picking up his glasses from the counter and perching them on his nose to peer down at the answers, "Did you cover your cauldrons?"

"No, we left it out in the open," Draco joked, then quickly cleared his throat and added, "Sorry. We did cover them."

Mr. Blak was too absorbed in checking their answers to pay Draco any mind. 

Draco put his scarf around his neck again. In the time that had elapsed, it had begun snowing again. 

"Don't get frostbite," Draco said, feeling a surge of fondness when he spotted his scarf around her neck. 

"I have charms over my flat, you know," Hermione said instantly, slinging her bag over her shoulder, "You're the one who should be worried about frostbite."

"I'll have you know that the entire building I live in is temperature regulated," Draco said, and they waved to Mr. Blak when they walked past. 

Once outside, Hermione stooped down to tie her shoes. Draco didn't wait, but he slowed his pace. 

"Malfoy?" 

Draco turned around, "Yes?"

He was hit in the face with a cold, hard chunk of snow. It knocked the breath out of him, and some of it entered his mouth. He tried not to shriek, and hastily got the filthy snow out of his mouth, "You dare-"

Another ball of snow hit the side of his face, and he turned to look incredulously at Hermione. She was already bending to pick up another bunch of snow with a devilish smile in place. 

"Granger, don't," Draco warned, pretending to bend as well to warn her not to start a snow fight. 

"Fine," Hermione said, surprising him, but although she suppressed her smile, it didn't disappear completely. 

She walked to him with her hands behind her back. Draco kept a wary eye on her. 

"You have snow in your hands, don't you?" Draco asked, bending down for real this time and closing his fist around the snow. 

"No I don't!" She held her hands up to prove it, but Draco had already launched his lot of snow. 

It got her smackdab in the centre of her face, and she screamed, "I said I didn't have any!"

"Now we're even," Draco said, dusting his hands in a satisfied manner, "Get home before we both die of col-"

But she had thrown another snowball at him. 

"Now you've done it," Draco charged at her with his arms outstretched, "You got me thrice, and I got you just once, that's hardly fair!"

Hermione pelted up the snow covered street, laughing all the way. Their footsteps crunched in the snow with every step, snowflakes settled in Draco's eyelashes, and all he could see was Hermione's mane of bushy hair and the black scarf swaying from her neck. 

Increasing his pace the best he could, he barrelled into her, and they crashed into the snow. 

Thankfully, all the shops and stores were closed for the Holidays.

Hermione didn't seem to be able to stop laughing. With both his hands on either side of her, Draco looked down at her with laughter breaking past his lips as well. 

Draco pushed himself to his feet and held a hand out to her. She grabbed it and stood, not meeting his eyes, and still laughing. 

"Stop laughing," Draco said, while also beginning to laugh again. 

They walked as quick as they were able in their laughter-hazed state, and Draco couldn't stop looking at her. 

"Granger, everyone is going to think you've gone mad," Draco said, "Not that they hadn't known before, but still."

"There isn't anyone here, Malfoy," Hermione said, grinning, and widely gesturing around. 

She stopped then, the smile slipping off her face. Her hands returned to her sides, and - was Draco imagining things? - an expression of pain flashed across her face. In a split second, she had shoved her hands into her pockets, and her face had gone passive in a way that troubled Draco to no end. 

"What's the matter?" Draco asked, bending a little low. 

"Nothing," she said, giving him a smile. If he wouldn't have known her well enough, he would have taken the smile to be a real one. But he knew it wasn't. 

"Did something happen?" Draco grabbed her arm gently, turning her around to face him. 

Their eyes met. 

And there was the pain, the hurt, written over her face again. 

Then it was gone. 

Some strange force, a sixth sense, some would call it, made Draco want to memorise all the details of her face. Her snow-flecked eyelashes, her cheeks pink with cold, her untamable hair, and the way her skin looked so soft…

Why did he feel like he would never see her again?

His hold on her arm tightened by a fraction. Hesitant. Her gaze flitted down from his eyes at the same time he glanced at her lips.

Maria, his mind told him, Maria. Maria

Hermione smiled again, and something in Draco's heart splintered ever so slightly, just enough for him to feel it. 

Maria. Maria. 

She took a step away from him, "You've got snow all over your hair."

Draco couldn't find the ability to speak. All the breath had been squeezed from his lungs. A myriad of emotions tumbled all around the chamber in his chest, in his head, making him dizzy.

They had been so close…

To what? 

They were just friends. 

Just friends. 

"I've got to get home, Ron, Ginny and Harry are coming over," Hermione said, unable to keep the slight falter from her voice. 

Not Hermione. Maria. Maria. 

"Do you…"

Draco stopped himself. Pulled in a breath, his eyes never leaving hers.

Maria. 

"Nothing," he breathed out. 

They began walking again, no longer laughing. Both their hands were in their pockets. 

So close. 

To…

Nothing. 

Close to nothing. 

Hermione went home, and Draco met Maria as they had planned on doing so at a restaurant near Wizarding London. The snow continued to fall relentlessly, somehow not feeling so merry anymore. 

"Hello," Maria said, reaching up to place a small kiss on Draco's cheek, to which he couldn't help but blush a little. 

"Did you get the money to pay for your own meal?" Draco asked laughingly, taking her hand and leading her inside. Some people looked at Draco and raised their noses high, while some gave him cold looks. He couldn't care less.

His heart still hadn't recovered from the most recent onslaught of confusing feelings.

"Yes I did, you rude boy," Maria said, sticking her nose in the air and pretending to look haughty. 

"How is your father?" Maria asked, careful not to be too loud. 

Draco shrugged, "The same."

Maria only knew that Draco's father had an illness. He hadn't been able to open up to her about the blood malediction yet. He would tell her in time. 

"What are you planning tomorrow?" Maria asked, absently rubbing her hands together. The cold had followed them inside. 

"I don't know, what are you planning tomorrow?" Draco said, truly unsure of what he would be doing. He wouldn't be studying, not on New Year's Eve, plus Hermione was going to be at the Burrow. 

"Would you like to see the fireworks?" Maria asked, looking a little excited, "You can see them from the park across your flat, and I've heard they're really beautiful. People lie on their backs, on the grass, and look up at the sky."

Draco smiled, trying to reciprocate her eagerness, "It sounds good."

"It is good," Maria said, getting a reminiscing look, "I've seen them once, years before, with my brother."

Draco tilted his head to the side, "You have a brother?"

Maria shrugged slightly, "Sorry I didn't tell you. He died in the war. But…" Maria paused, and smiled again, "He didn't die in vain, and we're all proud of him."

Feeling like he was a large part of the cause of Maria's loss, Draco took her hand and briefly squeezed it. 

"I don't blame you, you know," Maria said, "It wasn't your fault, I know that now."

Draco gave her a grateful look. 

The sound of screeching tires rang through the air, followed by a crash and a cry of pain. The restaurant had gone silent. The manager, a plump man with a sweaty brow and a tail-coat, rushed to the doors to see what had happened. 

Maria was already standing, "We have to help."

Draco followed her, his throat dry. 

He could only think of how he had felt like he would never see Hermione again, and how this had happened so soon after. His heart in his mouth, he emerged on the street. 

A car had swerved onto the pavement. An overturned trash can lay close by, and, to Draco's horror, there was a mass of frizzy brown hair right in front of the car. 

He ran.

"Call the ambulance!" Someone, a muggle, shouted. 

"It's okay, it's okay."

That was Hermione's voice. Draco sagged in relief, but didn't stop.

Hermione was crouched on the ground, cradling the limp head of the Chosen One in her lap. 

"Granger," Draco was beside her in an instant. Maria went to check if anyone inside the car was hurt. 

"Hospital," Hermione said, "Hospital, we need to get him to a hospital."

Harry's face was badly bloodied, and his arm was bent in an absurd way that couldn't possibly be natural. Hermione was pressing a hand over the cut on his forehead, from where blood dripped steadily. 

"Are you hurt?" Draco asked, sounding strangely raspy. He raised a trembling hand to the thin trail of blood on Hermione's cheek.

"No, help me get him to the hospital!" Hermione shouted, distressed. People were beginning to gather around, and somewhere in the distance the wail of an ambulance could be heard.

"Harry, stay with me," Hermione took Harry's unbroken hand in hers, "Stay, okay? We'll get you help."

~~~~

Draco and Maria were waiting silently in the lobby of a muggle hospital. Maria had helped the muggle man who had been inside the car out. He had been badly hurt, but had been saved by the airbags and luck. It was Harry who had gotten the worst of it. 

Maria had fallen asleep on Draco's shoulder, and he didn't have the heart to move her. 

Finally, after what seemed like ages, Hermione came back to the lobby, looking awfully shaken. Her glistening eyes flitted to Maria's sleeping form, then quickly looked away. On hearing Hermione approach, Maria was instantly awake. 

The receptionist gave Hermione an empathetic nod. 

Draco stood, and she tumbled into his arms. 

"How is he?" Draco found himself asking. Maria had stood too, and after a little hesitation, she placed a hand on Hermione's shoulder. 

"He's on anaesthetic," Hermione said, taking in deep, shuddering breaths, "I sent message to Ginny and Ron…"

Draco held her for as long as she wanted, and Maria went to get some water for Hermione, who looked like she needed it. 

"It's all my fault," Hermione said, her fingers curling around Draco's shoulders, "It was me who suggested we come and get some takeout, when we could have had the food at home…"

Draco let her vent. It was the least he could do. Placing his chin on top of her head, he waited for her to calm down. 

Maria returned with the water. Hermione accepted it gratefully, and drank with slow sips. Someone had cleaned the blood from her face.

Ginny and Ron arrived in a matter of minutes. Ginny's cheeks were already tear stained, and she didn't even wait to acknowledge Hermione. The receptionist let Ginny and Ron know Harry's ward number, and they ran off. Soon after, Molly Weasley and Arthur Weasley walked into the hospital. 

They were more than a little surprised to see Hermione leaning morosely on Draco's shoulder while Maria soothingly patted her shoulder. 

Hermione hurried to stand, and Molly wrapped her in a hug, "Are you alright, dear?" 

"Yes, I am," Hermione said, looking apologetic, "I'm so sorry I let this happen, I should have been more careful, especially now that he's...he's a part of your family…"

Arthur placed his hands on either side of Hermione's face in a fatherly way, "You're no less, I'll have you know, and you will not believe how glad I am to find you safe."

Draco watched the reaction on Hermione's face carefully. She looked on the brink of tears again, but she only nodded, and wiped at her eyes with the back of her wrist. 

"Will they allow us in?" Molly asked, running a comforting hand up and down Hermione's arm. 

"Of course they will," Hermione said. She led Molly and Arthur to the reception, and they were gone soon after. Hermione glanced at Draco over her shoulder just before they disappeared up the stairs, and Draco's eyes stayed fixed on the spot she had been standing for a long time.

Half an hour later, Hermione was back, looking decidedly better than before, "He's regained consciousness."

Maria smiled, "That's wonderful."

"Thank you for staying and...and everything else you've done, I don't know how I can ever repay you," Hermione said, looking earnest and truly grateful. 

"Anyone would have done it," Maria said, waving Hermione's debtful words away. 

"You're staying here, aren't you?" Draco asked, tilting his head slightly to the left. 

Hermione lifted her shoulders, an action that emphasized her unwavering commitment, "I have to."

Draco nodded, "Send a message if you need anything."

"I will."