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"I will not let the darkness hide my inner light. I will burn with the brightest stars in the night."
~Christy Ann Martine
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The hum of chatter reached her ears as soon as she pushed the door of the examination hall open. People were already occupying the desks, some were undertaking last minute revision, some were talking with others to get rid of their nerves. 

"Nervous?" Draco asked from beside her. He was rocking back and forth on his feet. 

"A little," Hermione admitted, "I'll go find my desk."

They split to look for their assigned desks. Hermione found hers by the window at the far end of the room. Draco was ahead of her by four rows. Hermione put her bag down, and quickly went over to his desk. 

"You look like you've seen a ghost," Draco commented, while he himself looked like he had just had the misfortune of riding on the back of a water dragon. 

"I wonder who the examiner is going to be?" Hermione folded her arms across her chest. 

"Not that cow, anyone else is okay," Draco said immediately.

Hermione snorted, "Vinagodrova."

The Healer had just walked into the room, and by some strange bad luck happened to glance Hermione's way. Vinagodrova's eyes instantly narrowed as she wrinkled her nose disdainfully.

"Who's that?" Draco stood and pointed discreetly to a tall, balding wizard in deep blue robes. 

"American," Hermione said, more than a little surprised, "You can see his badge from here."

All the people in the room were murmuring and whispering. Sharon Sands, who had been sweating bullets a few seconds back, stopped muttering under her breath to look surprised. 

"What's he here for?" Hermione heard someone whisper the question, perhaps to a neighbour. The tall wizard's eyes darted to whoever had spoken, and the whisper died out instantly. 

"Everyone in your seats," Vinagodrova said, sounding more authoritative than usual. 

"Good luck," Draco brushed his fingers against the back of Hermione's palm. 

"You too," Hermione hurried away, shaken by how that simple touch had caused her heart rate to speed up ridiculously. 

Concentrate. Examination. Concentrate. 

"You will receive your questions shortly," it was the tall wizard who spoke. He had a slightly reedy voice, and spoke with unneeded flourish while pronouncing the letter 'R', "Before that, I have an announcement to make."

An anticipated hush fell across the hall. 

"The Rappaport Hospital for the Magical Community, situated in Albany," the man paused for dramatic effect, "Is one of the many prestigious wizarding hospitals in the United States. The RHMC has, recently, started a program to gather witches and wizards of high intellect and promising personalities to fill up the posts of Healers and Assistant Healers at the hospital for a period of three years."

Excited whispers passed through the room. Draco briefly looked over his shoulder at Hermione.

"I, Dorian Hailen," the man placed a hand on his chest, "Am here as a representative of the RHMC, along with few of my peers. I will be surveying your examination process, and will, in the end, select no more than three-" he held up three fingers, "-of you to be a part of the global program."

Hermione took a deep breath. It was an inviting opportunity, and although she didn't have any particular desire to go the States, she wasn't going to be uncaring either. She would give her best, regardless of the outcome. 

"Wands away," Dorian Hailen said loudly, and everyone hastened to stow away their wands. 

Vinagodrova flicked her wand once, and the stack of parchment and paper that had been resting on the front desk distributed itself amongst everyone. 

Hermione picked up her quill, willed herself not to be nervous, and began writing when Dorian turned the enormous hourglass on the desk. 

The written part went on for nearly two hours. Most of the questions Hermione knew, for she had reviewed the topic with Draco at some point. Some of the questions, although simple in reality, were asked in a twisted fashion. 

After the written papers had been submitted, Dorian and Vinagodrova called people by random to an adjoining room for the practical, ten at a time. There were more healers and three more Americans in that room, all waiting with cauldrons and ingredients in front of them. 

Hermione's practical examiner happened to be a stern looking American witch, who, Hermione found out, was Natalie Grimme. Hermione was asked to prepare a quick batch of Extract of Aconite, identify a few colorless potions by smell, sort some herbs based on toxicity, and distill Essence of Dittany. 

Another hour and a half later, Hermione net Draco outside Purge and Dowse, Ltd.. 

"Thank Merlin that's over," Draco said the moment he had stepped out of the glass. He was wrapping his 'blond ferret' scarf around his neck. 

"Who was your practical examiner?" Hermione asked, pulling on her coat and hitching her bag up. 

"Some bloke called Jim," Draco said, "He almost sent me away when I told him my name."

Hermione scoffed, "Some people…"

"What say we go celebrate?" Draco asked suddenly. Others were beginning to pour out of the dilapidated clothes store in twos and threes. 

"No drinking, I am not dragging you to your house," Hermione said instantly. 

"I wasn't about to suggest that," Draco said, a little annoyed, and Hermione gave him an apologetic smile. 

"Then what?"

"Chinese takeout," Draco said after a bit of thought. 

~~~~

"Has Maria written to you?" 

They were perched on the stairs of the fire escape of Draco's apartment, each carrying a box of steaming and delicious smelling sesame noodles. Hermione had long since discarded her chopsticks. Draco, who somehow managed to be capable of using them, clicked them together once. 

"Yes," he said after her had swallowed his mouthful, "She keeps talking about football, and by her description I think it's teally stupid."

"It's not all stupid," Hermione twirled her fork in the mass of noodles, before lifting the forkful to her mouth. 

"Eh, Quidditch is better," Draco flicked one of his chopsticks into the air and caught it again. 

"Show off," Hermione chided. 

Draco smirked at her. Their legs swung free over the side, and Hermione chose to swing her legs back and forth while still managing not to look childish. Draco's legs hung limp.

"Look at those two."

Draco nearly upset his entire box of food. Hermione snapped her plastic fork in surprise, then huffed. 

"Do none of you ever say 'hello', like normal people?" Hermione asked, looking accusingly at her broken fork. Draco silently offered her his unused one. 

"Not very often, no," Pansy admitted. She took the box from Draco's hands and snatched away his chopsticks. 

"Sure, you can have it," Draco grumbled, shooting her a filthy look. 

"Blaise didn't want to come to Diagon Alley with me, so I'm dropping him off here for babysitting, Draco. I'll pay you later."

"You know, I'm still here," Blaise reminded, pulling a surly look. 

"Granger, you want to come with?" Pansy asked, picking out all the chicken pieces and popping them in her mouth while Draco helplessly glared at her. 

Hermione was a little taken aback by the offer, but she handed her box to Draco, "Okay…"

"Astoria and Millie are occupied, and I don't have anyone to go with me, so you're coming," Pansy claimed. She handed the chicken-less box back to Draco, so that he was now holding both the boxes. 

"You going to eat that, mate?" Blaise placed a hand on Draco's shoulder. 

"Pathetic," Draco pushed the chicken-less box into Blaise's hands. 

Hermione quickly jumped off the last few stairs.

"Don't do anything stupid, do not drink," Pansy said sternly over her shoulder, "Granger, apparate to Madame Tukova's in Diagon Alley."

Hermione nodded and retrieved her wand from her pocket. She glanced at Draco once, and was surprised to find him already looking at her with a half smile on his face. 

Completely forgetting to smile back because of how surprised she was, Hermione twisted on the spot and apparated. 

Madame Tukova's turned out to be a bridal wear boutique, that looked much too expensive for Hermione to even think of stepping foot into. 

"I told Blaise that I was shopping for the wedding decorations," Pansy said, "Do me a favor and don't let him know what we're actually going to do."

"Sure."

Pansy straightened her back and walked in, and Hermione followed. 

"So, when is the wedding?"

"March seventh," Pansy answered, turning one of her rings a little to the right.

"Ah, Miss Parkinson," a busy looking woman who Hermione assumed to be Madam Tukova spoke from where she was fitting an extravagant gown for a snooty looking woman who was checking her nails disinterestedly. 

"I hope you have what I need this time," Pansy said, beckoning for Hermione to follow her deeper into the boutique. 

"Yes, yes, check the shelves at the back," then, thinking better of asking Pansy to do something, Madame Tukova tutted, "Lionel will show you around."

A spritely attendant sprang towards Hermione and Pansy, "This way, please."

"Granger, can you help me pick out a pair of shoes?" Pansy asked as Lionel rummaged through the mass of fluffy white dresses on a rack. 

"What kind do you like?" Hermione turned her head to look at the assortment of heels that Hermione would never dare to walk in for fear of falling off them. 

"Anything that doesn't have sequins or beads on it," Pansy said, then hesitantly glanced at Hermione, "I hope you don't mind. Let me know if you feel like you're a house-elf."

Ignoring her jibe at house-elves, Hermione waved her concern away and went to survey the heels as Pansy disappeared into a trial room. 

Hermione found several pairs of shoes she thought Pansy would like. There were ones with complicated strings and straps and some with the heel so high Hermione doubted anyone bar Pansy would be able to walk in them.

"I'll take that one," Pansy claimed the moment she was out of the trial room, dressed in an elegant white gown. Hermione handed Pansy the pair of shoes she wanted, and Pansy slipped them on. 

"Stunning," Madame Tukova commented when she bustled past Pansy to attend to a woman who had ended up tangled in her dress. 

"What do you think, Granger?" 

Hermione surveyed Pansy. The gown was, by all means, perfect for her. No unnecessary patterns or ruffles. It was grandoise in a minimalistic way.

"It looks great," Hermione said after a few seconds. 

Pansy sighed and turned a little to survey the back of her reflection, and Hermione noticed her eyes fill with tears. Her otherwise sharp features softened. 

"I never thought I'd experience this…" Pansy turned the right way again. 

"Why not?" Hermione had considered not saying anything, but something told her that Pansy needed to talk about this. 

"You know, the war and everything," Pansy said, trying to sound careless but failing miserably, "Everyday of that year, I woke up thinking about if Voldemort had harmed my parents, if he was coming for me next. I constantly thought I'd die before I even turned eighteen."

Pansy sniffed once. 

"You're here now, aren't you?" Hermione chose her words carefully, for their friendship was still rather fragile, "So enjoy it and savour the feeling, I guess. You have someone to love, and you have someone who loves you."

Pansy nodded, "Yea, I love him."

A pause.

"I called you a chipmunk once."

Hermione raised her eyebrows, "Yea, I remember."

"It's not true," Pansy said, avoiding Hermione's eyes, "I always thought you were the picture of perfect, you know. I was just jealous."

Hermione knew this to be Pansy's way of apologising, "That's...good to know."

Hermione was glad that Pansy had let some of her worries out, for over the short period of time in which they had become properly acquainted with each other, Hermione had begun liking her inspite of her unnatural perfectness and frankness that was sometimes rude. 

"What say, shall I take this?" Pansy had used the few seconds that had passed to revert back to her usual self. 

"I don't see why not," Hermione said with a smile, which Pansy returned without hesitation. 

"What should I tell Blaise so that he doesn't ask to see what it is?" Pansy quickly paid the galleons required, and they were back out  on the street. 

"Tell him you didn't buy anything," Hermione shrugged, "Shrink the bag, and keep it hidden."

Pansy smirked, "Sometimes I feel like you would have done well in Slytherin."

Hermione 'tched' teasingly, "How dare you?"